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?)

28. Chapter 28

Author's Notes: Hello there! Belated happy new year to everyone. Damn, hard to believe it's already February of 2023. Came down with a rather nasty cold a few weeks ago, so my new year hasn't been off to the best start. It's mostly gone now, but the cough's stuck around rather persistently. Also broke up with my girlfriend, though I suppose that was a while in coming. Long story short, we were dating for about two years, ultimately decided that we work better as friends. Actually went rather well, all things considered.

No music lined up for this chapter, couldn't really think of anything that fit.

Enjoy!

Episode Twenty-Eight: Storm Over Britannia

What Talia wanted more than anything else at that moment was to go to her quarters, collapse in bed, and not wake up for at least a solid week. The aftermath of the disastrous battle with Terminal had left her feeling utterly drained, yet her duties as Captain of the Minerva meant that she could not retire for the evening just yet. After making sure that her helmsman could at least get the ship on course to Gibraltar and that reinforcements were inbound to provide a badly needed escort for the heavily damaged warship, Talia had taken stock of the operation's losses.

They were nothing short of disastrous. The entire ground force dispatched from Diocuia had been wiped out or disabled, as had all nine of the Vosgulov-class submarine/carriers. The overwhelming majority of the force's mobile suits had been lost as well, with the only survivors outside of those flying from the Minerva herself being the four mercenaries ZAFT had hired for the mission, a testament to their skills. As for the Minerva herself, she had been practically defanged and crippled, and Talia didn't want to think about how long she would need in Gibraltar's docks to be restored to full operational status.

Compiling the after-action report was going to be a nightmare in and of itself, one that Talia was not looking forward to. She was determined to shield her subordinates from as much blame as possible; they had not asked for this operation, merely been ordered to carry it out. All things considered, they had fought to the best of their capabilities despite being put into what Talia believed to be an impossible situation, only further compounded by her belief that the operation had been compromised from the start. Still, there was a rather notable lapse in judgement from one of her pilots that needed to be addressed… though with said pilot having Durandal's favor, Talia had to wonder if anything she had to say on the matter would really have an impact.

Looking across her desk at Rey, Talia took a deep breath. "Before I say anything else, I want you to know that I respect your skills as a pilot and the difficulty of the challenge that you and the others faced today. The risks you and your comrades took in this battle, or in any other battle for that matter, are much more immediate than what is faced by those of us who remain aboard the Minerva. I appreciate your abilities and your bravery, Rey, and the results of today's engagement do not change that."

Rey inclined his head. "Thank you, Captain."

Talia's eyes narrowed. "All that being said… what the hell happened, Rey?"

"What exactly are you referring to, Captain?" Rey asked, his tone so frustratingly neutral that Talia couldn't figure out if his question was genuine or extremely well-hidden sarcasm.

Talia sighed wearily. "Let's not beat around the bush here, Rey. You tunnel-visioned on Shinn after he took out the Sword Silhouette Pack. You went after him without so much as a thought as to the wider tactical situation and your role in it. You were supposed to be the contingency against the Freedom should Athrun fail. That didn't happen. Why?"

Rey folded his arms. "I'm not the only one who failed to do my duty. Athrun was supposed to be our primary weapon against the Freedom, and he got taken down quickly and thoroughly. This falls upon him."

Talia scowled. "Whatever his faults, Athrun at least engaged his designated target. He failed to neutralize it, yes, but not because he didn't go after it. He fought the Freedom until he was taken down by it. You exchanged some shots and sword strikes before getting distracted by a damn fighter jet."

"An enemy doesn't have to fly a mobile suit to be dangerous," Rey pointed out, "What happened in today's battle is proof enough of that."

"Don't try that as an excuse," Talia snapped, "There was a clear prioritization of targets laid out in the operation plan, and you deviated from it severely. Was the Skygrasper dangerous? Yes, but not nearly as much as the Freedom."

"Shinn killed ZAFT soldiers today," Rey growled, "The Freedom merely disabled their machines. I wonder who the dead pilots would consider to be more dangerous between the two of them?"

Talia shot him a withering glare. "Those dead pilots at least attempted to fulfill their missions. You let yourself get drawn after a lesser target. Regardless of the Freedom's known tendencies for disabling shots rather than killing blows, it was still the greater threat on the field because of its ability to neutralize so many units so quickly. You know this just as well as I do. So, back to my original question; why? Why couldn't you go after your objectives when so many of your comrades did even at the cost of their lives?"

"Would you have preferred I be among the dead?" asked Rey in an almost mocking tone, "Would it be better in your eyes if I had followed my orders to the letter and succumbed as the others did?"

Talia slammed a fist on her desk. "Don't even joke about that, Rey! We lost a lot of good people today, and you know damn well that I don't take any of their deaths lightly. Now, quit trying to dodge the question. If you don't give me a straight answer this time, then I will throw you in the brig for insubordination. I don't care if the Chairman looks upon you favorably; I'd be well within my rights as Captain of the Minerva to lock you up until we're back at Gibraltar, and probably a good deal beyond that."

Rey sighed. "I suppose you would. Very well, then. Shinn's a traitor, Captain; that's the long and the short of it. He needed to be eliminated."

"That's too short," Talia countered, "There was more to your behavior in today's battle, and we both know it."

"He's a threat to us," Rey continued, "Look at how he shot down the Sword Silhouette Pack today. He understands the Minerva and the Impulse, knows their strengths and weaknesses, and he can exploit them."

Talia nodded, but she wasn't about to let Rey off the hook. "Valid points, but that still doesn't completely explain your actions. You zeroed in on him and excluded all other considerations. I daresay that you were obsessive in going after him, Rey. You've been one of the cooler heads amongst my pilots in the past, but that wasn't the case today."

Rey suddenly seemed uncharacteristically uneasy. "I… I wanted to punish Shinn for his actions. For betraying us and fighting against us. He… he deserves it, Captain."

"Eliminating a traitor is all well and good," Talia cautiously replied, "but that wasn't today's mission. Neutralizing the Archangel, the Dominion and their mobile suits was the mission. Regardless of Shinn's crimes, he was not a priority target. Is he dangerous, even in the Skygrasper? Yes; he proved as much today. That doesn't change the fact that taking him out was not the purpose of today's mission. With the Blast Silhouette Pack equipped, you had ample firepower to either take on the Freedom or assault the Archangel, both of which were critical targets for the operation. You went after neither. You expended the Blast Pack's firepower against a lesser target, and what did we gain in return? Nothing."

Rey inclined his head in concession. "I did fail in my efforts to bring him down… as I failed to carry out the mission objectives set out for me. My apologies, Captain."

Well, that's progress, Talia thought, I can't say it really makes up for what happened today, but it's more than I was expecting to get out of him.

"You and Shinn were close before, right?" Talia remarked carefully as she studied Rey, "You went through the academy together and have flown in numerous sorties side by side. When he abandoned us, it must have been a deep cut for you."

Rey briefly clenched his fists. "It… it was, Captain."

Talia took a deep breath. "Rey… believe it or not, I do understand where you're coming from on this, at least to an extent. You clearly took Shinn's betrayal personally, and given your previous close ties I can hardly blame you for that. That being said, letting that betrayal get under your skin to the point that you neglect the mission before you is taking things a step too far."

Rey slowly nodded. "I understand, Captain. It won't happen again."

Privately, Talia wasn't sure if she could entirely trust Rey on that, but she kept the sentiment to herself. "I'll be holding you to that, Rey."

"So, what happens now?" he asked, "Am I off the flight roster for the time being?"

Talia shook her head. "We can't afford that right now. Given just how badly damaged the Minerva is, we need every available pilot in case we come under attack. You're still free to fly, but I will be noting your behavior during the last battle in my report. I can't make any promises as to what our superiors may decide to do after reading it."

"Understood, Captain," said Rey, "Is there anything else that you needed from me at the moment?"

"No," said Talia, "You're dismissed. Get some rest."

Rey saluted before leaving the office. Once the door was shut, Talia leaned back and let out a weary sigh. She still had to get the actual report written up, write a very painful letter to Emilian's family, manage a ship that was well past its mobile suit capacity thanks to the submarine/carrier that had been serving as a base for the mercenaries being taken out, finish up a full inventory of what on the Minerva had been damaged and prioritize which repairs would be the most vital once they arrived at Gibraltar…

It was going to be a long night.

….

Finally, Lunamaria thought as she was discharged by the chief medical officer, I suppose I should be grateful for the inspection, but it wasn't really needed here.

It was true that the fall she'd taken when Duo had literally cut her mobile suit's legs out from under her had banged Lunamaria up a bit, but her helmet and flight suit combined with the chair straps had kept her from suffering any real injury. Still, the medics had been insistent on taking her in for evaluation, regardless of Lunamaria's protestations. At least she hadn't been the only one hauled in; Athrun had been in there as well, though thankfully he didn't seem to have suffered anything worse than a couple bumps and bruises. Given just how utterly the Freedom had savaged the Saviour, it was frankly amazing that Athrun had come out looking as well as he did.

Leaving the sickbay, Lunamaria stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a rather surprising figure standing in the hall just outside the door. "Wufei? What are you doing here?"

He studied her intently for a few seconds, and Lunamaria momentarily wondered if he'd even processed what she'd said. His priorities seemed to be somewhere else, at least if the keen attention his eyes were giving her as they swept up and down her were anything to go by.

"You weren't injured seriously, then," Wufei eventually said, "That's good."

Lunamaria's eyes widened ever so slightly in realization. "Wait… were you actually worried about me?"

"Yes," Wufei admitted softly.

Alarm bells began blaring inside Lunamaria's head; if Wufei was actually being open about something like that, then something was definitely wrong. "Wufei… are you okay?"

Wufei looked around the hallway before turning back to her. "You feeling up for a little walk? Topside?"

Lunamaria quickly nodded, her mind still racing as she tried to figure out just what was up with him. "Yeah, that sounds good. Could use a bit of fresh air."

Stopping along the way to grab jackets, the two mobile suit pilots eventually reached the battleship's exterior observation deck. While the deck itself was empty, not too far away Lunamaria could see the Raijin perched behind the mount of the ruined portside Tristan dual beam cannon, and Galm Two's GOUF Bombardier was situated on the flat stretch of hull behind the wrecked mount of the starboard turret. Overhead, Galm One's GOUF Ignited patrolled, along with one of the less damaged GOUFs from the team commanded by Heine and Rey; Lunamaria thought it was Kriyya, but she wasn't completely sure.

"The hangar's so packed that we have to store mobile suits on the upper hull now," Lunamaria remarked as she shook her head, "Never thought we'd ever have that problem."

She then looked down as she remembered Emilian's death. "Although… I guess there's one free space in the hangar now."

"I'm sorry," said Wufei.

Lunamaria's head jerked up in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"About Emilian," Wufei clarified, "I didn't know him, but… he seemed like a decent guy."

Lunamaria sighed heavily as the image of Emilian's mobile suit getting cut down by Deathscythe Omega flashed through her mind. "Thank you. I didn't really chat much with him outside of our drills, so I guess I didn't know him well, either. Still… he was nice. Kind. Maybe a bit naïve, eager to prove himself… a good guy, though. I wish… it didn't have to be like that. Like how it went down, I mean."

"He went up against a Gundam pilot," said Wufei, "Duo… the guy's always been a bit too relaxed for my tastes, but he's as deadly as the rest of us in a fight. Your comrade was doomed the moment he tried to intercept him. At least it was clean and quick. Duo would've made sure of that."

"Duo…" Lunamaria muttered before shaking her head, "It's strange… despite what happened, I'm actually… grateful to him. Not about what happened with Emilian, I mean. I wish he hadn't killed him, though I get why. The thing is, what Duo did in the fight… saved me. He actually saved the entire ship, in a way."

Wufei nodded. "By taking out the ship's heavy weaponry, he reduced the threat it posed to the Archangel. Probably worked that out with Heero before the battle even started. Otherwise, Heero would've plastered the ship with that opening shot of his instead of going for the mobile suits."

"Right," said Lunamaria softly, "I wonder if any of the others picked up on that."

"Probably the Captain, if I had to guess," Wufei remarked, "She strikes me as someone who's smart enough to put the pieces together. Your little sister, too; she seems to have a good head on her shoulders."

Despite the overall downer mood, Lunamaria couldn't help but smile. "Thanks. Meyrin's always been bright. Nice to see someone else recognize that."

"It's not hard to see it," Wufei replied, "Both of you are pretty sharp. There's a reason why you've lasted this long in the war so far, after all."

Lunamaria shrugged. "I'd always hoped it was down to more than just luck… though I'll take as much of that as I can get."

Wufei nodded. "You can never have enough of it in war, though that doesn't mean you should neglect your skills."

"Don't worry," Lunamaria confidently asserted, "I don't plan on that."

Wufei looked at her for a moment before Lunamaria saw the barest hint of a smile appear on his face. "Good."

He then turned his gaze towards the sea, and a dour air came over him. "Then again, no matter how much we refine our skills, even that might not be enough. Who we fight for, against… why… that matters, too. It has to. Pick the wrong cause, the wrong master… you end up somewhere dark. Doesn't matter how sharp your skills are then. Not if you can't understand what you're really fighting for."

Lunamaria's eyes narrowed. "I get the sense that we're not talking about me anymore. This got anything to do with the fight you and Heero had during today's battle?"

Wufei nodded. "It does."

Lunamaria leaned a bit closer to him. "You don't seem all that pleased with it. Wasn't fighting Heero what you wanted? He's your new worthy opponent now that Rodrigues is dead, right? The one who can give you the challenge you've been craving and all that jazz?"

"He is," Wufei confirmed, "but…"

His voice trailed off, leaving Lunamaria struggling to fill in the blanks. "But what? He didn't give you the fight you wanted? You're pissed about having to withdraw?"

Wufei shook his head. "No, it's none of that."

"Then what is it?" Lunamaria pressed, "Wufei, I can't exactly help you if you won't shoot straight with me here."

Wufei raised an eyebrow. "Who said I needed anyone's help?"

Lunamaria rolled her eyes. "Oh, please; you wouldn't have brought me up here for a chat like this if you weren't looking for help. Seriously, your pride makes you pretty damn dense sometimes. There's nothing wrong with needing a friend's help, you know? That's part of what friends are for. Now, pull your head out of your ass and level with me. What happened out there that's got you so mopey?"

Wufei bristled. "I'm not mopey."

Lunamaria let loose an exasperated sigh. "Fine, then you're brooding, or sulking. Whatever word suits you, it's all the same to me."

Wufei actually chuckled at that. "Fair enough."

The Gundam pilot was quiet for a few seconds before speaking again. "I got the fight I wanted out there… or at least part of it. I have plenty of disagreements with the path that Heero's taken ever since he came out here, but I'll give him this much; his skills are sharper than ever. Every move I made, he matched me. He even played on my terms, keeping it a close-quarters clash. Had the fight gone on longer… I'm honestly not sure which of us would've won. The thrill, the rush of putting my life on the line to go toe-to-toe with someone that I could acknowledge as my equal on the battlefield… it was all there… and yet… it didn't give me the meaning that I thought it would. Dueling him was supposed to give me affirmation, certainty that I was doing what I've always believed I'm meant to do… but it didn't. I came away from that fight with questions, not answers."

"What questions?" asked Lunamaria.

Wufei sighed heavily. "I guess the big one would be… where am I going with this? I used to believe that I'd always walk the path of a just warrior, that I could find keep finding meaning on the battlefield while still fighting for a righteous cause. That's not what happened today, though. When I fought Heero… he called me out. Not the first time he's done that, but… I guess it hit differently. I think it's because I didn't believe in the goals of today's battle to begin with. This entire mission… it felt wrong when it was announced, and it feels just as wrong now. I think it's a good thing that we lost so decisively… no disrespect to your fallen comrades."

Lunamaria shook her head. "None taken. Actually… I wonder if some of them might have believed the same thing. I know I do. Today's battle… nothing about it was right. Yes, I get that Terminal can be considered a legitimate target since we fought with them before at Gibraltar, but still… they're not the real enemy here. I'm not usually one for the big picture, but from where I'm standing, it seems pretty clear that the Atlantic Federation remains the biggest threat. This fight with Terminal… all it accomplished was getting a lot of good people killed… it didn't have to be like this. It's all such a damn waste."

Wufei's shoulders sagged. "I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. This isn't like back when I had Rodrigues to focus on. He made it easy. A dog of war willingly serving a regime hell-bent on genocide? No moral complications involved in fighting him, and he was good enough to give me the kind of duel I'd been looking for. Heero and the others, though… it's not so simple. Even if we go in different directions sometimes, I know that they've always fought for what they firmly believed was right. They're doing that now, and I'm sure that they're certain in the righteousness of their cause. I… don't have that certainty. Not in my cause… and not in myself. Not anymore."

Lunamaria tentatively reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Anything I can do to help?"

She half-expected Wufei to brush her off, but instead he simply reached up to place his hand over hers. "For now… you listening to me like this… that's enough. Thank you."

Lunamaria smiled before leaning over to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "Anytime."

It was only as she pulled back that she felt a surge of heat rush to her face. Lunamaria was certain that Wufei would recoil, but he did no such thing. He looked bemused, but not offended or repulsed. If anything, his puzzlement was certainly amusing.

Given the dour mood that had fallen over the ship in light of today's utter fiasco of a battle, Lunamaria would happily settle for that amusement.

….

December 10th, C.E. 73

Standing next to a blank screen with Major Gardinier to her left, Murrue waited patiently for everyone to file into the briefing room. Heero had arrived with her and was already seated in the front row, and the others settled in shortly. Turning to Sibylle, Murrue gave the Eurasian Federation a curt nod. The Major then pointed a remote at the screen and clicked a few keys. There was a flicker of static before the monitor partitioned itself into two segments, one blank while the other showed Natarle and those occupying the briefing room aboard the Dominion.

"Time for a mic check," said Murrue, "You getting us on your end, Natarle?"

"Loud and clear," Natarle confirmed, "Connection's established and encrypted. We're secure. Ready to get this show on the road?"

Murrue smiled. "I think so."

We've barely had time to catch our breath, Murrue thought, and already, we're setting up a new operation. I'd love it if things would slow down again, but something tells me that we won't get so lucky anytime soon.

Although the fight against ZAFT two days ago had resulted in a resounding victory for Terminal, Murrue and her comrades hadn't rested on their laurels. Booking it across the Mediterranean Sea, the Archangel and her accompanying warships had eventually surfaced off the coast of North Africa. The trio of vessels had then proceeded deep into the Sahara Desert, as if determined to lose themselves amongst the dunes. Once Murrue was reasonably sure that they were well outside of any major power's patrol patterns, her crew had set about repairing the damage that the Archangel had suffered during the battle with the Minerva. That work was still ongoing, with mobile suits from all three vessels flying combat air patrol while the white warship licked her wounds. Fortunately, the Eurasians had seen fit to provide the vessel with plenty of spare parts and workable materials during their stay in Moscow, and much of the damaged CIWS had already been restored to full operational status. The Archangel was already more than capable of going into battle again, but Murrue was not about to put her ship at risk until all possible field repairs had been completed.

Luckily, the operation they were in the process of preparing for wouldn't require direct participation from any of Terminal's warships. The job would be up completely to the mobile suits, and only those with the longest flight ranges at that. While Murrue knew that Heero and the other Gundam pilots were more than up for the task, she still couldn't help but fret privately.

Our nuclear-powered mobile suits might be more powerful individually than anything the enemy can muster with the exception of those Destroy units, she mused nervously, but they'll be striking behind enemy lines here. If our foe scrambles a proper response quickly enough, they'll be in trouble. We have to be damn careful about how we play this. Hopefully our allies are ready to do their part.

"I know we're still fresh off a major engagement," Murrue began, "but we'll be launching another operation in two days-time. This mission will be conducted in cooperation with our allies in the North American resistance and the Eurasian Federation, and its success will be crucial in relieving some of the pressure on continental Europe. Major Gardinier, you have the floor."

Murrue stepped aside, allowing Sibylle to take center stage. The Eurasian Federation officer pointed her remote at the monitor again, and the blank section became a map of western Europe.

"As you all know," said the Major, "the Atlantic Federation's ongoing assault on continental Europe is being supported by a steady stream of reinforcements from North America. These reinforcements are being conveyed through air and naval transportation, with both methods ultimately converging on a final staging area."

Sibylle clicked a few more keys on the remote, and the map shifted westward to focus on the island region formerly known as Great Britain. "The British Isles were the launching point for the initial forces that the Atlantic Federation placed in continental Europe under the guise of 'supporting' their ally. When they showed their true colors, those initial forces were then supplemented by new waves crossing the English Channel and the North Sea. Subsequent waves have come via the same staging grounds, and the purpose of this operation is to disrupt those staging grounds and diminish Atlantic Federation naval power to the point that the Eurasian Federation navy can begin contesting control of the seas. Ultimately, we want to make it too costly for the Atlantic Federation to continue shipping reinforcements across the Atlantic Ocean to continental Europe."

The Major clicked another key on the remote, and three blinking dots appeared on the map. Two were in the far south of the British Isles, while the third was situated in the northwest. The one in the northwest and the easternmost of the two southern dots were red, while the westernmost southern dot was orange.

"These are the three naval bases that are the most important facilitators of the ongoing invasion," Sibylle continued, "The one in the north is known as Clyde, and it serves as the main base of operations for fleet elements charged with protecting the trans-Atlantic shipments during the eastern half of the crossing. Much of the enemy's carrier strength on this side of the Atlantic Ocean operates out of there due to it being one of the few bases with large enough drydocks required to maintain and repair warships of that size, and there's also a supporting airfield. In the south, the bases known as Portsmouth and Devonport have served as major jumping off points for the ground forces being ferried into continental Europe."

Sibylle then turned to Murrue and nodded before stepping back, allowing the Captain to take over. "Terminal's role in this operation will be to strike Clyde and Portsmouth. For the former, primary targets will be the fleet drydocks and any associated heavy equipment, along with the airfield. Any warships or transports on site are considered secondary targets. Our goal is to render the facility completely nonfunctional as a fleet staging ground and maintenance hub. Regarding Portsmouth, the main targets there will be ship maintenance facilities along with any structures that can be used for housing supplies and troops. As with Clyde, any vessels at Portsmouth are secondary targets. By crippling operations at these locations, we can simultaneously weaken the Atlantic Federation's fleet on this side of the pond and significantly hamper the flow of reinforcements going into continental Europe."

"If we're hitting Clyde and Portsmouth, is anyone going after Devonport?" asked Duo.

Murrue nodded. "Our friends in the North American resistance have volunteered to take that target."

Yzak leaned forward. "Do they have the capability and resources for a strike like that? I thought their efforts were more focused on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean."

Murrue glanced at Sibylle, who then addressed Yzak. "The Eurasian Federation's contacts with the North American resistance assure us that our allies do indeed have that capacity. They have recently bolstered their forces with mercenaries who will be assisting in the operation."

Dearka's eyes widened at that. "Wait, they're bringing in mercs? Are they sure that's a good idea?"

"It feels like one hell of a risk," Kira chimed in, "How can they trust fighters who are only motivated by money?"

Sibylle cleared her throat. "I understand that your organization's past experience with mercenaries has left something of a sour taste in your mouths regarding them. I can certainly sympathize with that, but not all merc groups are of the same flavor as the Atlantic Federation's Desperado Enforcement or ZAFT's Galm Team. There are those with greater professional ethics and standards out in the world. The North American resistance has found and vetted one such group, and their leaders trust them enough to bring them into this operation."

"It might not be a choice that we're comfortable with," Murrue chimed in, "but given the powers that we're up against, we can't exactly afford to be picky with our allies. Major Gardinier has forwarded files on the involved mercenary group to me, and I'd be more than happy to make them available to any of you upon request if it will ease your minds."

"What about the Eurasian Federation's involvement in this operation?" Natarle interjected, "Will they be able to get sufficient forces into position in time?"

Murrue smiled as she gestured at Terminal's liaison with Moscow. "Major Gardinier's already informed her superiors as to our timetable. Eurasian Federation fleet and aerial units are preparing for sorties into the North Sea, with the goal of drawing out some of the enemy's defenders. Moscow is also preparing commando raids on the Channel Islands to knock out early warning radar installations. It won't be enough to completely clear our paths to the respective targets, but it'll definitely make the job easier."

"How are we splitting up Clyde and Portsmouth, then?" came Adaline's voice over the speaker, "Archangel suits get one, Dominion suits the other?"

"Mostly," Murrue replied, "but we are going to be mixing things up just a bit. Since damage to the facilities is just as important, if not more so, than actual destruction of enemy units, we want both strike groups to have an even split of raw offensive firepower. The strike team flying off the Dominion will be hitting Portsmouth, and Dearka will be joining that group; the Vayeate Kai can provide an extra bit of punch. The Archangel strike team will take Clyde."

Murrue then turned to face Heero. "Hit the fleet drydocks with everything you have. No matter what, those must be demolished."

Heero nodded. "They'll get my opening shot of the raid, and plenty more after that."

Major Gardinier clicked another key on the remote, and several blinking yellow dots appeared on the map. "These are radar installations on the way to your targets that the Eurasian Federation will unfortunately not be able to deal with. To maximize surprise in the target area itself, these will need to be taken out quickly while in transit."

Duo's eyes narrowed as he studied the map. "If you guys let me move out ahead, I can deal with them before they know what hit 'em."

Murrue saw Heero actually give his fellow Gundam pilot a very small smile. "I'd expect nothing less from you."

"Good thing we've got machines designed for just that kind of sneak attack," Lan chimed in.

"I almost feel bad for the schmucks manning those installations," Priscilla added, "Almost."

Heero then turned to Kira. "I want you to make Clyde's supporting airfield your first target, Kira. The more of their mobile suits that you can take out on the ground, the more breathing room the rest of us will have to hit the main facilities. If you nail any transport aircraft there as well, that'll be a bonus."

Kira nodded. "You can count on me."

"When do we launch?" Duo.

"In two days," Murrue replied, "All pilots involved in the mission will be running simulations. Thanks to data provided by Eurasian Federation intelligence, we've managed to work up some programs that should give at least a rough approximation of what you'll face on site. Of course, the enemy could always scramble a response faster than projected times and in greater strength, and there's the chance of them having additional forces already on site than what we're currently aware of. Be ready for anything."

….

"Take it easy," said Shinn as he stood behind Stella, "Just go nice and slow. I'll be right here to catch you if you fall."

Looking over her shoulder, Stella nodded before smiling. "Okay. I trust you, Shinn."

Shinn smiled in return and hoped he that didn't look nearly as nervous as he felt. Strictly speaking, his presence wasn't really needed here. A railing had been set up for Stella to steady herself on, and one of the ship's nurses was watching off to one side. Still, Shinn couldn't bring himself to completely relinquish a role in Stella's ongoing recovery.

Today's going to be easy, he remined himself, I mean, we're just focusing on making sure she can still walk since she's been bedridden for so long. We're not doing anything more complicated than that. Nice and easy, just the session yesterday…

He looked on as Stella tentatively took a few steps forward while keeping both hands firmly on the railing. She was rather shaky but still managed to keep moving forward, maintaining a very slow pace. There were a few times when Shinn thought she might slip, yet his intervention wound up not being needed, for she was eventually able to make it all the way to the end of the railing.

Turning around, the girl grinned. "I did it, Shinn!"

"I knew you could," Shinn replied, "Ready to go back the other way?"

"Just a minute," said Stella as she took several deep breaths, "I… I need time."

"Take all the time you need," Shinn reassured her, "There's no hurry here."

The nurse, a brunette in her early thirties with light blue eyes, looked on in satisfaction. "You're doing very well, Stella. Let's keep things slow and steady, okay?"

"Sure," Stella murmured.

Shinn was so focused on her that he was only dimly aware of the infirmary door sliding open. As Stella began making her way back along the railing again, Shinn's gaze stayed focused on her, so he wasn't aware of the newcomer's identity until the girl reached the end again. Daring to take his eyes off her once he was sure that she'd stay still for a minute or two, Shinn was surprised to see that Heero had come for a visit.

The ZAFT defector cast a nervous and surreptitious look at Stella, belatedly realizing that she'd never actually been conscious for any of Heero's previous visits. Heero had been her enemy back when she was with the Earth Alliance. Did she know what he looked like, or had she only seen his Gundam? What would happen if she recognized him? Studying her, Shinn saw that Stella seemed more puzzled than anything else. All things considered, Shinn would definitely take that over some of the alternatives.

Rather than greet Shinn as he'd done in the past, Heero looked first at Stella and nodded. "Good to see you're up and about, Stella. How are you feeling?"

Stella slowly nodded. "Better. Uhm… sorry, but… do I know you?"

Moment of truth, Shinn thought, Heero, I really hope you know what you're doing here…

"We've met, but you were unconscious when that happened," the Gundam pilot answered as he came up and held out his hand, "I'm Heero Yuy. It's nice to meet you, Stella."

Stella looked at Shinn, and he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "It's alright, Stella. He's a friend. He actually helped me bring you here."

"Oh, okay," said Stella, smiling before accepting Heero's hand, "Nice to meet you, too. Thanks for helping Shinn save me."

"You're welcome," Heero replied, "You look like you're doing much better than I last saw you. I hope your physical therapy's going well."

"It is," Stella confirmed as she turned her warm gaze to Shinn, "Shinn's been helping me out a lot. Oh, and so have the nurses. They've all been so kind to me."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Heero.

"What brings you here?" asked Shinn, "Not that I'm complaining, but I thought you were on drills with the others assigned to the strike mission."

"We're taking a breather before the next round of simulations," said Heero, "I thought that I'd check in. Looks like I picked a good time to do that."

Shinn was about to respond when he saw Stella suddenly wobble, and he rushed to grab her. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm… a little lightheaded," Stella murmured as she rubbed her forehead.

"She should lie down," the nurse suggested as she came forward to help Shinn keep Stella steady, "Heero, do you mind grabbing her some water? There are fresh bottles in the fridge by the doctor's office."

Heero nodded. "Of course."

While he went off to fetch a drink for Stella, Shinn and the nurse carefully guided the woozy girl back to her bed. Heero was already back by the time they got her settled in, passing the bottle to Shinn so he could help Stella himself.

"Here," Shinn murmured as he raised the bottle to her lips, "Nice and slow sips, okay?"

Stella weakly nodded, with Shinn watching her like a hawk. After a few sips, her eyelids began to flutter, and soon she was dozing off.

The nurse sighed. "I was hoping that we'd be able to exercise her a bit more than this today, but it seems she's not up for such exertion just yet. Then again, given how things previously were with her, she did quite well today."

"She's at least stable now, right?" Heero asked.

"Relatively, yes," the nurse answered, "The synthesized drugs we have her on to counteract what the Atlantic Federation was pumping into her are working well. Eventually, we'll be able to slowly wean her off them. In the meantime, it's imperative that we get her to exercise whenever she's up for it. Leg massages can only do so much to stave off atrophy; we need her up and about when she's awake, even if it's only for short bursts of activity."

Shinn reached out to place a hand on Stella's forehead. "She's a bit warm, but not as bad as before."

The nurse got up and returned a few seconds later with a cool washcloth. "This should help."

Shinn laid it over Stella's forehead and watched to see how she'd react. It didn't even phase her; she was firmly asleep now.

Shinn's shoulders slumped. "Every time I think she's getting better, something like this happens. Is she ever going to recover?"

"She is getting better, Shinn," the nurse reassured him, "but this was never going to be an easy process for her. With how much damage the Atlantic Federation inflicted upon her, her recovery will be a long and arduous road. She is making progress, though. Her being able to stay up for as long as she did today is proof enough of that. When she wakes up again, we'll see if she can stay on her feet for a bit longer."

"Slow and steady's the name of the game," Heero added, "Incremental progress might be frustrating, Shinn, but it's better than no progress at all."

Shinn sighed as he looked down at Stella. "Right…"

Heero turned to the nurse. "How long do you think she'll be out?"

"Likely a few hours at least," the nurse answered, "That seems to be the pattern for the past few days, anyway."

She then smiled and looked at Shinn. "I'll keep an eye on her, Shinn. You should go get something to eat, or at least stretch your legs a bit."

"But, I don't…" Shinn began to protest.

"She's right," Heero cut in as he gestured at the door, "Come on, let's go topside. You look like you could do with some fresh air."

Shinn wanted to argue, but with Heero backing the nurse, he doubted that it would do much good. In the end, he set the water bottle on the bedside table before following the Gundam pilot towards the exit.

"If she wakes up before I get back, let me know," he said before he left.

The nurse nodded. "I'll make sure word reaches you. Don't worry, Shinn; she's in good hands here."

When the infirmary door slid shut behind them, Shinn turned to Heero. "What are you really after here? You didn't come down just to check on me and Stella, did you?"

"Believe it or not, I did," Heero casually countered as he led Shinn through the corridor, "I'm not one to turn down an opportunity, though."

Shinn raised an eyebrow. "An opportunity? What are you talking about?"

"There was something I wanted to discuss with you," said Heero, "but I felt the subject matter might be a bit too heavy for Stella given what we know of her mental state."

Shinn eyed Heero warily. "And that subject would be?"

Heero didn't answer; whatever he wanted to talk about with Shinn, he clearly wanted to do so in private. For his part, Shinn resigned himself to sticking with the Gundam pilot until they reached their destination.

When they got out onto the external observation deck of the Archangel, Shinn found himself caught off guard by the chill. He'd figured that it'd be consistently warm given that they were in the desert, but it was evening now, and the temperature was dropping fast.

"Couldn't we have at least grabbed some coats first?" Shinn asked.

"We won't be out here too long," Heero replied as he headed towards the railing.

Shinn followed him, and when he reached the railing, he turned around and leaned back against it while folding his arms and furrowing his brow. "What do you want, Heero?"

"How are you feeling?" the Gundam pilot asked.

Shinn blinked. "Excuse me?"

Heero turned to meet his gaze, and there was a dark look in his eyes. "I asked how you're feeling. You crossed a line two days ago, but I'm not sure if the full weight of it's really sunk in yet. You've had more time to consider it since then, though."

A chill went down Shinn's spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. "You mean the battle… when I killed ZAFT soldiers."

Heero nodded. "You were questioning yourself after the fight, which is to be expected. The sorts of questions you were asking me in the aftermath don't come with easy answers."

Shinn chuckled ruefully. "Yeah, you made sure I knew that. Look, I've been trying to focus on Stella since then, not… what I did in the fight."

"Just because your focus is elsewhere doesn't mean your mind lets go," Heero pointed out, "Those who deal in death and understand its weight know that well."

Shinn let loose a heavy sigh. "Want to you want me to say, Heero? That it'll be easier for me in the future? That I can deal with it?"

"I want only the truth as you see it," Heero countered, "No more, no less."

Shinn needed a few seconds to put his thoughts in order. "Well, if I'm being honest… can't really say that I feel any better about it now than I did when it happened. Worse, maybe. I've been focusing on Stella, but… I guess that's been as much to forget about what I did as it's been to help her recover. When this war started, I knew that I'd have to kill people, but it was a lot easier when those people were Earth Alliance soldiers. I know that might not sound good, but you wanted the truth, so there it is."

"And I'm not here to say whether or not the truth 'sounds good'," Heero remarked, "I only want to understand what weighs on you."

Shinn's eyes narrowed. "So that you'll know if I can do it again?"

"Yes," Heero replied.

Shinn blinked a few times; he hadn't been expecting such a blunt answer. "Oh…"

"If all goes well, we'll be avoiding further engagements with ZAFT for the time being," said Heero, "The Earth Alliance is still the major threat to contend with. Still, future conflicts with ZAFT's forces on Earth and in outer space are unavoidable. When the time comes to face them in battle again, I need to know whether or not you'll be able to stomach it."

"Shouldn't what I did two days ago answer that for you?" Shinn asked.

"Yes and no," Heero remarked, "You proved that you could do it once, when push came to shove. Now, though, you're living with the fact that you just killed soldiers who would've once been regarded as comrades. It's a bitter pill to swallow once. Stick with us and stay on the flight roster, you'll have to swallow it again sooner or later. I need to know if you still have the stomach for it."

Shinn eyed Heero nervously. "What happens if I say no?"

Heero shrugged. "Then we work around that. If you want, you can still fly in operations where we know that we'll only be facing Earth Alliance forces, but you'd be benched in any missions involving ZAFT. If you prefer, we can take you off the flight roster altogether so you can focus solely on helping Stella with her recovery."

Shinn took a deep breath. "And if ZAFT comes after the Archangel again… what then?"

"Then you'll have to stay aboard the ship and hope for the best," Heero answered.

"But if ZAFT attacks the ship, then Stella will be in danger again!" Shinn snapped, "I can't just sit back and do nothing!"

Heero folded his arms. "So, you'd fly with us against them again? Even knowing that you'll be adding the blood of more ZAFT soldiers to your ledger?"

Shinn winced. "Well… I mean… I don't want to fight them. I never did in the first place. You know that."

Heero nodded. "I do, just as I know that you don't want to fight them again. That's all perfectly natural, Shinn. It doesn't change the reality of our situation, though. Yes, we're still focused primarily on dealing with the Atlantic Federation, but we're on ZAFT's radar and flagged as a threat now. I imagine Durandal will want to lick his wounds and consider his next move carefully, but make no mistake; he will come after us again. Either that, or we'll strike first. Regardless of who takes the initiative, future battles between Terminal and ZAFT will be inevitable. It's simply a matter of when and where. You came through for us big time in the first round against them, but now that you know the pain and sorrow that comes from slaying soldiers who were once on your side, can you honestly say that you're willing to take on a repeat performance?"

Shinn took a deep breath. "I… I don't know. I need some time to think about it."

"You'll have two days," Heero replied, "I'll need your answer before the strike. Since you'll be staying behind as one of the pilots with a non-nuclear powered unit, that means you'll be helping protect the Archangel if the Alliance or ZAFT attacks while the rest of us are away. I'm not anticipating such a move from them, but it pays have reserves on standby just in case. I'd like for you to be one of them if either party attacks, but only if you're certain that you can face ZAFT in combat again."

Shinn nodded. "I'll give you my answer before then. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," said Heero before heading towards the hatch, "Think it over carefully, and make sure the decision is one you can live with."

….

Athrun hadn't been expecting a warm reception upon the return to Gibraltar, but he sure as hell hadn't anticipated being immediately summoned to the Chairman's office on base. He could comfort himself with the fact that he at least wasn't alone; as fellow members of FAITH, both Talia and Heine were along for the ride.

Misery loves company, he mused, although I can't exactly say that I'm miserable about the operation's outcome. Not that I can say that out loud, of course.

While Athrun regretted the fact that so many ZAFT soldiers had lost their lives in the battle with Terminal, he was not as torn up about that as he might've been just a few weeks ago. Chairman Durandal had picked a completely unnecessary fight with his Operation: Angel Down, and he'd gotten exactly the humiliation that he deserved. It was a shame that so much blood had been shed in what had clearly been a compromised operation, but ZAFT had only its leadership to blame for it. If Athrun was worried about anything at the moment, it was the strong possibility that ZAFT might now see him as a suspect for the operation's leak. In truth, Athrun had no idea how Terminal had learned of ZAFT's plan, but they clearly had gotten wind of it all the same; how else would they have been able to pull off such a decisive win?

The scale of Terminal's victory had been apparent in not just the losses ZAFT had suffered, but in the fact that the prized battleship of the PLANTs had been utterly crippled. Athrun had frankly been amazed that the Minerva had managed to limp all the way back to Gibraltar, and he could only guess at how long the vessel would be stuck in dock undergoing repairs. ZAFT had dispatched warships to escort her in, and the voyage back had been an extremely tense one; had the Earth Alliance been in a position to launch an attack, the ship's survival would've been in doubt.

We lucked out, he thought, I guess with their invasion of Europe bogging down, the Atlantic Federation has more important things to worry about than going after one ZAFT warship.

If the Atlantic Federation did attack, Athrun would be in a rather tough spot. The Saviour had been utterly trashed by Kira, with the technicians aboard the Minerva writing the mobile suit off as a total loss. What he would fly going forward was up in the air, and that was assuming ZAFT saw fit to assign him a new unit at all.

As the aide leading them through the main headquarters building ushered them into the waiting room outside the Chairman's office, a familiar female voice called out. "Athrun! I'm so glad you're okay!"

Athrun's eyes widened as he saw Meer rush towards him, and he nearly called her by her real name instead of her cover. "M… Lacus!"

"Oh, I was so worried about you!" Meer proclaimed as she threw her arms around him, "Thank goodness you're safe!"

"Thanks," Athrun replied as he awkwardly embraced her, "Sorry to make you worry like that."

When Meer released him, she then turned to Athrun's companions. "Oh, forgive me. Captain Gladys, Heine, it's good to see you both alive and well. I heard that your most recent engagement… did not exactly go to plan."

Talia sighed. "That would be putting it mildly, Miss Clyne. My crew and I got off reasonably lucky. Most of our allies in the fight perished."

Meer solemnly inclined her head. "I'm deeply sorry to hear that. I will pray for their souls tonight."

Talia nodded. "I'm sure they would appreciate the sentiment. Thank you, Miss Clyne."

Heine eyed her curiously. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here, Miss Clyne?"

"Oh, I just concluded a meeting with the Chairman," Meer answered, "He and I were discussing measures to improve the morale of the troops stationed here. With the ongoing devastation in Europe, the mood in Gibraltar has been rather dour as of late."

"Maybe the mood would be better if the Chairman would deploy those troops to help stop the Atlantic Federation's invasion," Athrun muttered.

Belatedly, Athrun realized that such a remark might not be particularly helpful to his current situation, so it was quite surprising when Talia spoke in concurrence. "No soldier who takes their profession seriously likes sitting by while innocents are being murdered by the enemy. Our decidedly minimal actions in the wake of the invasion have almost certainly prompted questions from our troops as to why we're not doing more to intervene. A deleterious effect on morale is a natural consequence."

"At the risk of sounding callous," Heine interjected, "I would point out that this invasion is two Earth Alliance member states, its most powerful ones at that, fighting each other. There is a logical strategic case to be made for sitting back and letting them bleed each other out."

Meer shook her head. "I understand where you're coming from, Heine, but that logic doesn't sit well with me. It's a line of thinking that's uncomfortably reminiscent of the old regime. Shouldn't the new ZAFT under Chairman Durandal be willing to take the moral stands that its previous incarnation would not?"

Athrun regarded Meer in bemusement; given her role as essentially a walking piece of propaganda for the current PLANT administration, hearing her level any sort of criticism at Chairman Durandal's policies was rather jarring, though not an unpleasant development in his eyes. "You disagree with the Chairman's current stance on the invasion?"

Meer sighed. "I do, yes. While I can sympathize with his desire to preserve the lives of our own troops by staying out of the fracas, I do think it's a mistake. I believe we have a moral obligation to do more. That being said, I'm not the leader of the Supreme Council or ZAFT. Chairman Durandal must have valid reasons for the approach he's currently taking. I just hope that he knows what he's doing. The future of the PLANTs… no, of the entire Earth Sphere, depends on his wisdom."

Still more than willing to play her part as his puppet, Athrun mused, but she's not afraid to at least voice some criticism, even if it's minimal. I wonder if we can use that…

He watched as Heine nodded sagely. "All too true, Miss Clyne. Nevertheless, our place is not to question the decisions of our leadership and the orders they give us. We're soldiers, and good soldiers follow orders and trust the chain of command."

"Of course," said Meer as her tone softened, "although… I do wish that the order for your previous operation had not been given. Going after the Gundam pilots… it's quite regrettable, especially given our past cooperation with them."

A dark look came to Heine's eyes. "Maybe, but there's plenty of reason to go after them in the future now. They have the blood of many ZAFT soldiers on their hands, and all because they refuse to recognize that partnership with Chairman Durandal is the only path to true and lasting peace. We're in no position to bring them to account now, but another reckoning will come eventually."

Athrun shook his head in frustration. "We got our asses handed to us, a lot of good people died, and you're already thinking about Round Two? Heine, did you learn nothing from that fight?"

"I learned plenty," Heine seethed as he glowered at Athrun, "as did the rest of us. We've fought alongside the Gundam pilots before, so I thought we understood how to fight against them. That skirmish at Gibraltar should've helped, but it was just an appetizer. We didn't get a real taste for what it'd be like to fight them until two days ago. Next time, we'll know what to expect. Next time, things will be different."

The sudden intensity in Heine's demeanor was disconcerting; Athrun was so used to the FAITH operative being an earnest and optimistic figure, and this dark turn did not bode well. "Heine… what's gotten into you?"

Meer likewise was quite unnerved. "Heine, please, calm down. This isn't going to help anyone."

Talia put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Stand down, Heine. We're soldiers of ZAFT and members of FAITH; our feelings must not rule us. If you can't keep a clear head, you can't be considered fit for duty."

Heine blinked in belated surprise before taking a deep breath, almost as if he couldn't believe what had come over him. "Right… sorry."

There was a tense silence, broken only by one of Durandal's female aides approaching them. "Excuse me… Chairman Durandal will see you now. Are you all ready?"

Talia turned to the young woman and nodded. "We are, yes. Athrun, Heine; let's get going. We shouldn't keep the Chairman waiting."

Heine absently nodded, his mind clearly elsewhere. "Right."

Meer quickly hugged Athrun. "Good luck in there. I'll come find you later, okay?"

Athrun nodded, not exactly sure what he was supposed to do when she did come looking for him. "Sounds good. I'll see you later then."

The imposter songstress quickly left the waiting room while the aide led the three soldiers into the Chairman's office. Sitting behind his desk, Durandal rose in greeting.

"Welcome," the Chairman said with what struck Athrun as a surprisingly warm smile given the circumstances, "You have no idea how relieved I was when I heard that you all had returned to Gibraltar. Thank heavens that you were able to survive your ordeal."

Athrun and the others saluted by reflex, but Durandal shook his head. "Please, at ease. No need for ceremony here. After all, each of you are members of FAITH, and I would prefer my chosen few to be relaxed and open in a setting like this."

"That's very kind of you, Chairman," said Talia in a cautiously neutral tone.

Athrun could not blame her for being wary; Durandal seemed pleasant now, but his poker face was better than that of the average politician. Who could say what the man's true feelings were? Given the scale of the catastrophe that Operation: Angel Down had resulted in, Athrun would not be surprised in the least if Durandal was concealing some serious anger.

Durandal gestured at the chairs spread out in front of his desk. "Have a seat, please. I imagine the journey here was not an easy one. From what I understand, it sounds like a small miracle that the Minerva was able to reach Gibraltar under her own power. Keeping her steady and on course given the extent of the damage suffered must have been no minor feat."

Talia nodded. "My helmsman can certainly attest to that. The entire crew went above and beyond to get her back here."

Durandal inclined his head. "I don't doubt that for a moment. By rights, they should be commended for their efforts in ensuring the ship's safe return to base in light of the heavy damage she took."

Durandal's eyes then narrowed ever so slightly. "That being said, commendations unfortunately won't be forthcoming. No offense to the bravery and skill of your crew, Talia, but the outcome of this operation is not one that leads to accolades."

"I don't think any of us were expecting them," Talia replied.

"I read the report you forwarded earlier this morning," Durandal remarked as he leaned forward somewhat, "You were as frank as ever, something that I have always appreciated about you. However, in this case, your candor included a most troubling accusation."

Heine arched an eyebrow as he looked at the Captain. "What accusation might that be?"

"I think I know the one that you're referring to, Chairman," said Talia, not the least bit phased by Durandal's increasing scrutiny of her, "That would be my assertion that the entire operation was compromised, yes?"

"It would," Durandal confirmed, "I would like more detail as to what led you to such a conclusion. As you might imagine, the security implications in such an accusation are grave and must be addressed posthaste."

"I would certainly hope so, Chairman," Talia replied, "It wouldn't do for future operations to be leaked in a similar manner."

"I can hardly argue with that," said Durandal, "Please, tell me; on what basis do you make this accusation? What evidence do you have to support it?"

"The utter thoroughness with which the forces set aside for Operation: Angel Down were dealt with by Terminal," Talia answered, "Chairman, Terminal basically had our entire playbook memorized. They knew exactly what forces were assigned to the mission and where they'd be deploying from. They activated our tripwire ground force with the Gundam Albion and strung it along while using the Dominion to wipe out the eastern naval task force separately and stealthily. By the time the western group, including the Minerva, were in position to intercept the Archangel, the ground force was destroyed and the Dominion was able to position herself and her mobile suits to catch us from the rear. The only way Terminal could've gamed the situation so perfectly is if they had intel on the operation and the units tasked to carry it out."

"I concur with the Captain's assessment, Chairman," Heine chimed in, "As disconcerting a conclusion it may be, it's the only one that can logically be drawn given how events played out."

"Interesting," Durandal murmured before turning his focus to Athrun, "Your thoughts, Athrun?"

Athrun hoped he didn't look as nervous as he felt; while he knew that he wasn't the source of the leak, he didn't know who was, and ZAFT would naturally be suspicious of him given his history. "It's hard to think of any other explanation, Chairman. An intel leak is both the obvious and only sensible answer."

Durandal nodded. "Reasonable enough… and it dovetails with a very interesting recent finding."

Talia arched an eyebrow. "What finding would that be, Chairman?"

"Yesterday, Gibraltar's technicians were running some routine server maintenance," said Durandal, "They found evidence of a system breach, but it was so subtle that it nearly escaped notice. Classified files had been accessed, and among those files was data on Operation: Angel Down."

Heine's head snapped back in astonishment. "Someone hacked Gibraltar?"

"So it would seem," Durandal deadpanned.

"Who in the Earth Sphere could pull that off?" Talia murmured.

"That's what I would like to know," said Durandal, "along with Gibraltar's security staff."

"Do we know when the breach occurred?" asked Athrun.

"As a matter of fact, we do," Durandal replied as his eyes narrowed, "It was during the time period between that skirmish at Gibraltar with Terminal and the opening of the Atlantic Federation's invasion of continental Europe. In other words, it took place when the Minerva still had four of the five Gundam pilots in its roster."

Athrun fought fiercely to keep the mixture of apprehension and relief within him from spilling out into the open; if this was going in the direction that he thought it was, then it meant he likely wasn't a suspect, but it would be foolish to consider himself out of the woods just yet. "You think it was one of the Gundam pilots, then."

Durandal nodded. "I do. I'm willing to rule out Wufei given how he's continued to fight for us, but Duo, Quatre and Trowa are all prime suspects. Narrowing it down further has proven difficult, though. Gundam pilots are clearly more than just fearsome wielders of their mobile suits; they covered their tracks quite thoroughly. I'm frankly impressed and concerned that it took us as long as it did to uncover evidence of the intrusion. Clearly, our base security protocols are in need of some serious revision."

"I'm assuming there'll be an inquiry, then?" Talia ventured, "I imagine that the Surface Intelligence Bureau will want to conduct an investigation and assemble a list of needed improvements."

"They've already been notified," said Durandal, "They're sending a team down as we speak to conduct interviews and examine the scene of the crime. Since the three prime suspects operated from your ship, Talia, they will be interviewing you and some of your crew as well. I'm sure this is the last thing you want in light of the battle your crew just survived; I know time to rest and recuperate is needed, not to mention extensive repairs. I promise that you will have all that and more, but your participation in this investigation is mandatory."

Talia slowly nodded. "I understand, Chairman. If you'll be so kind as to have the SIB notify me when they're ready, I can have the desired crew members made available for questioning."

Durandal smiled. "I would appreciate that. Know that these won't be considered interrogations as such; I'll instruct the assigned team to go easy on your crew. None of your official subordinates are considered to be suspects, Talia. The SIB simply wants to talk to them because of their previous proximity to the Gundam pilots. They want to gain a greater understanding as to who we're dealing with here."

"With all due respect, Chairman," Heine interjected, "we already know who we're dealing with here. The Gundam pilots are all incredibly dangerous individuals whose talents extend well beyond direct combat. I doubt the SIB will uncover anything new by questioning Captain Gladys's crew."

Durandal inclined his head. "I understand your perspective, Heine, but the SIB is insistent upon pursuing all available avenues of inquiry. The perspective of you and your comrades on the Gundam pilots is needed for them to enhance the profiles that they've already compiled of these dangerous young men. I would ask you to partake in these interviews with that broader goal in mind."

Heine sighed reluctantly. "Very well, Chairman."

"Those profiles that the SIB are building," Athrun chimed in, "would they include one for Wufei?"

"Of course," Durandal answered, "While Chang Wufei's continued cooperation with our war effort is immensely valued, we must bear in mind his independent nature. So long as he continues to fight alongside us, the profile of him constructed by the SIB need only be an academic reference rather than anything we need to act upon."

I wonder if Wufei will see it that way, Athrun mused, especially seeing how prickly he can be.

Heine's brow furrowed. "Chang Wufei is a subject that I was actually hoping to bring up with you today, Chairman. He failed in the singular objective given to him in this operation. That failure cannot go without consequence."

Talia shook her head. "That depends on how you define his failure. Yes, he did not take down Heero Yuy, but he kept him at bay and thus limited the damage he could inflict upon our forces. Given the sheer destructive power at his disposal through the Gundam Albion, I'm inclined to view Wufei's actions against him as more successful than not."

"Glass half full versus glass half empty?" said Durandal.

"Heero Yuy is still alive," Heine shot back, "That's failure if I've ever seen it."

"Only if your perspective is so narrowly defined," Talia calmly countered while keeping her gaze fixed on Durandal, "If we go only by the explicit letter of the mission, then yes, he failed. However, given the potential carnage that the Gundam Albion could've wrought upon our forces had Heero Yuy been given free reign, I see Wufei containing him as damage mitigation. Not his primary objective, but a useful secondary one. It's likely the reason why any of us survived the battle. I believe that bears due consideration."

Durandal eyed Talia in curiosity. "May I ask why you're so keen on defending him, Talia?"

"Simple," said Talia, "I would hate for us to discard a valuable asset simply because of an objective that wasn't met. Need I remind you, Chairman, that since we are now in a state of open hostility with Terminal it behooves us to keep as many pilots as possible aligned with us that are capable of countering their top aces? In that capacity, Wufei is invaluable. The fact that he's fought Heero Yuy on even terms twice now and survived is proof enough of that."

Heine stiffened somewhat with wounded pride. "Captain, do you mean to say that ZAFT is incapable of producing pilots within the organization that are capable of such a feat?"

"I did not say that at all," Talia shot back, "I have no doubt that ZAFT possesses many fine pilots capable of growing into such a role with time. At present, though, it is an undeniable fact that the only ones who have proven themselves capable of challenging foes as powerful as the Gundam pilots on their own terms are primarily those who operate with us in an independent capacity. Whether it be another Gundam pilot like Wufei or mercenaries in the mold of the Galm Team, the current state of affairs demonstrates an irrefutable truth; ZAFT needs these independent pilots, at least until such time as our own can offer concrete proof of their ability to challenge our most powerful individual foes one-on-one. In light of that, holding the failure of Wufei to eliminate the Gundam Albion against him is unwise since he at least demonstrated the capacity to hold him at bay without the need of ZAFT resources backing him up."

Heine glowered. "There was a time when ZAFT didn't need those independent pilots to make up for such a deficiency. The Special Operations Squadrons of the old regime were amongst the top mobile suit units in the Earth Sphere. Maybe they couldn't take on Wing Zero one-on-one, but on the unit-level they could at least challenge Heero Yuy for battlefield supremacy."

"Are you suggesting a revival of the Special Operations Squadrons?" Durandal asked in keen interest, "FAITH was intended in part to offer a more flexible replacement for them. It was also politically cleaner to wipe the slate and start from scratch given the association of the Special Operations Squadrons with our deeply flawed past leader… no offense, Athrun."

Athrun shook his head. "None taken, Chairman."

Heine sighed. "It's not my place to offer such a bold policy change, Chairman. Forgive me. I suppose I'm just frustrated at the current state of affairs."

Durandal smiled. "Heine, there is no need for an apology here. Part of why I insisted upon investing power in members of FAITH was so I could have talented individuals such as the three I see before me now offer suggestions of bold change if needed. If reviving the Special Operations Squadrons is a valid solution to our current situation, then at the very least it should be explored."

"It's either that or any pilots who are members of FAITH need to be assigned new mobile suits," said Heine, "The GOUF Ignited is a solid machine, but it unfortunately was not up to taking on Terminal's mobile suits."

Durandal turned to Athrun. "Do you concur with Heine's assessment?"

Athrun took a deep breath. "Personally, I don't like blaming failures on equipment; a skilled mobile suit pilot should be able to make do with the machine that they're assigned. That being said, it's hard to ignore the fact that Terminal outclassed us in quality of mobile suits. I thought that my abilities combined with the Saviour's speed would be enough to let me stand toe-to-toe with the Freedom, but… well, you know what happened."

"Your thoughts, Talia?" asked Durandal.

"I certainly wouldn't say 'no' to any of the pilots under my command getting a machine upgrade," Talia answered, "Still, I consider the intelligence leak to be the primary cause of this operation's failure rather than the mobile suits assigned to my pilots."

"Duly noted," said Durandal, "You'll be pleased to learn that we are in the process of preparing new models for shipment down to Earth. They do still require some fine tuning before they'll be ready for action, but they are in the pipeline. Athrun, one of them will be assigned to you."

Athrun's eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?"

Durandal smiled. "Completely. Another is meant for Rey. Heine, you'll be taking over the Impulse once Rey receives his new machine. Will that be acceptable?"

Heine inclined his head. "Of course, Chairman."

Athrun was a bit puzzled by Heine's reaction, or rather lack thereof. Heine was a FAITH member while Rey was not, yet Rey was being assigned a new model while Heine would just be taking the Impulse. Most high-ranking mobile suit pilots would be miffed at the very least by what could easily be perceived as a slight, but Heine hadn't protested at all.

Also concerning to Athrun was the news that he would be getting an upgraded machine despite his blatant failure in the operation. Did Durandal still have confidence in his skills despite the crushing defeat Kira had handed him? Logically, Athrun supposed that Durandal had just taken the disparity in machines into account and determined that his skills warranted an upgrade despite his loss, yet Athrun didn't feel like that completely answered the question. Was this some sort of test?

"I look forward to seeing the new units, Chairman," said Talia, "I'm sure having them assigned to the Minerva will do much to boost the morale of my crew."

Durandal nodded. "I hope so."

The Chairman then steepled his fingers in front of him before speaking again. "I imagine that the Defense Council will be reviewing your report on this operation soon, if they haven't already. I'll reach out to them once we're through here to add some additional remarks. While some members of the Defense Council might believe that an inquiry is in order regarding the operation's failure, I do not think that you or your subordinates should have to suffer through their inquisition. With persuasion and a bit of luck, you shouldn't have to."

Talia seemed taken aback by that. "You're going to convince the Defense Council to not hold an inquiry?"

"Not a disciplinary one; that's hardly necessary," Durandal replied, "The SIB will conduct their interviews of your crew, but those will be solely concerning their past experiences with the Gundam pilots. You laid out a convincing case as to the root of this operation's failure; the intelligence leak from Gibraltar doomed your mission before it truly began. The fault lies with our information security systems, and those will be duly addressed."

Talia inclined her head. "Thank you for being so understanding, Chairman."

Durandal smiled. "I'm a firm believer in taking in the totality of circumstances before rendering a final judgement. Some on the Defense Council may be prone to premature finger-pointing, but I'm confident that they'll see reason here."

Durandal's eyes then narrowed. "You'll have the full resources of Gibraltar available to facilitate your ship's repairs, Talia. While the Minerva is being restored to operational status, I expect your pilots to maintain their training. They will be called upon to face the Gundams again in the future, and I expect them to be ready. Can I count on you to ensure that?"

Talia's posture stiffened somewhat, but she met the Chairman's gaze without faltering. "You can, Chairman."

….

Down at the docks, Meer looked on as Gibraltar's technicians did their work on the badly damaged Minerva. Meer was by no means an expert on warships and would readily admit as much, but even her amateur eyes could tell that the vessel had taken one hell of a beating in her its last fight. She'd overheard some of the work crews grumbling about how it might take weeks to get the ship back in fighting order, and she was inclined to believe them.

I'm just glad they made it back safely, she thought as a pang of longing lanced through her heart, but you're not with them this time. You were fighting them…

…weren't you, Trowa?

She had wanted to ask Athrun about him earlier, but given the mood of his companions and the circumstances of their return to Gibraltar it hadn't been hard for Meer to read the room and recognize that the timing wasn't great. So, here she was, waiting down by the Minerva for the man who was supposed to be her fiancé to return. Yes, she was genuinely worried about Athrun as well, but Meer would be lying to herself if she said that the famous ZAFT ace was the only man she was concerned for.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She had her role; she was Lacus Clyne, famous songstress, iconic symbol of peace and tolerance, and the fiancé of one of the top mobile suit pilots in the Earth Sphere. Her path had been charted out, and she had been determined to follow it. She wanted to follow it.

Or at least, that's what she'd once believed.

"This role is going to destroy you, both figuratively and literally. Some part of you surely recognizes that."

Those were just a few of Trowa's words that had been echoing in her head ever since that strange conversation they'd shared at Gibraltar before he'd abandoned ZAFT. They had shaken the foundations that she'd built her role upon; the certainty she'd possessed when assuming the identity of Lacus Clyne was no longer so firm. For all that Meer wanted to continue playing the part of her idol, to completely lose herself in her dream role, a part of her now hesitated at that commitment.

"Whether you like it or not, as you stand now, you're on the path to a confrontation with her. Even with Durandal and ZAFT in your corner, do you really believe that you'll come out on top here? In the end, there can only be one Lacus Clyne."

With ZAFT and Terminal now in an open shooting war with each other, Meer had to wonder if such a confrontation was on the horizon. There had still been no open addresses by Lacus Clyne to the people of the Earth Sphere, none of the idealistic and moving speeches or beautiful songs that had won her such renown during the First Bloody Valentine War. That didn't mean she was idle, though; Meer had studied her well enough to know that much. If Lacus Clyne wasn't acting in public, that only meant she was working behind the scenes, laying the groundwork for her eventual reemergence. When that happened, would Meer be ready? What would happen to the real Lacus if the fake bested her? What fate would befall the fake if the real one triumphed? Did Meer seriously think that she could go toe-to-toe with her idol?

Did she even want to?

That was when a familiar male voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "Lacus? What are you doing down here?"

Jumping in fright, she saw Athrun now standing before her. Had she been so caught up in her own head that she'd completely failed to see him coming?

"Oh, you're finally back," she said with a hasty smile, "I wanted to see you, so I figured that I'd wait here until your meeting with the Chairman was done."

"Right," Athrun replied in a somewhat distracted tone.

"Is everything alright?" Meer asked in concern, "The Chairman wasn't too hard on you and the others, was he?"

Athrun shook his head. "The opposite, actually. If anything, given just how bad the operation went, he might have been too lenient. It's strange… I honestly don't know what to make of it."

"The Chairman's not an unreasonable man," Meer reminded him, "I'm sure he took everything into account and realized that none of you were to blame for what happened. Given your invaluable service to ZAFT, punishing you for one mission that went wrong wouldn't be just."

"I guess that's one way to look at it," said Athrun, though he didn't sound completely convinced.

A chill wind blew through the docks, causing Meer to shiver. Athrun didn't look too bothered by it, but he definitely picked up on her discomfort.

"You want to head inside the ship?" he asked, "I know its not as nice as the accommodations that you're used to here, but it's definitely warmer than the docks."

Meer nodded and held out her hand. "I'd love that. Please, lead the way."

Athrun hesitated for a moment before taking Meer's hand in his. Immersing herself in the role, Meer leaned against Athrun as the two of them headed up the gangway into the ship. Many of the technicians working on the Minerva paused to look at the couple, with many of them smiling and waving as the recognized the celebrity walking among them. For her part, Meer returned both gestures, with the positive attention almost enough to make her forget her worries.

"Mind if we hit the mess real quick?" Athrun asked, "I haven't had dinner yet. We can take it back to my quarters if you'd like some privacy."

"Sure," Meer answered, "I could do with some food myself."

Entering the ship, the two of them worked their way through the vessel's corridors. The crewmembers that they passed along the way looked on in astonishment, with many of them doing a double-take as they realized just who Meer was supposed to be. Once again, she got a positively heady rush at the knowledge that they truly believed her to be Lacus Clyne; it was dangerously intoxicating.

This is what you dreamed of, she told herself, what you always wanted…

…isn't it?

"Perhaps you believed that when all of this started."

Once again, Trowa's words kept surfacing in her mind. The Gundam pilot was almost like a needle hovering mere centimeters above the bubble she wanted to live in, threatening to pop it at any moment. He might have been hundreds or thousands of kilometers away right now, but his presence in her head was unmistakable, and Meer was fighting ferociously to keep his warnings at bay.

I still believe it. It's the truth. It's what's right for me!

That was what she wanted to think, at least.

Some of her internal turmoil must have slipped through to the surface, because Athrun turned to her with a worried look. "Hey, are you alright? We could grab food at the base and eat in your quarters instead if you'd be more comfortable that way."

Meer shook her head and smiled, though the gesture was more than a little forced. "No, this is fine! I want to experience the life you lead as one of ZAFT's treasured soldiers, Athrun. I mean, I know I can never understand what you go through on the battlefield, but just being here on the ship with you helps me see things from someone else's perspective."

She wasn't sure if he bought it, but Athrun at least didn't push back on it. "Alright, then. Still, if you change your mind, just let me know."

Meer tapped her chin in thought. "It does seem a shame that you and the others must stay aboard the ship while it's at Gibraltar undergoing repairs. The base does have quite comfortable housing, and more than enough room for you and your compatriots. Wouldn't it be nice to get out of the ship for a while? A chance of scenery would probably do you all some good."

"I wouldn't mind it," Athrun admitted, "I'm sure the others would like it, too. Still, I don't think we're in a position to be asking for such favors right now."

Meer smiled. "Why don't you let me do the asking for you? Give me a chance to talk to the Chairman later tonight or tomorrow morning. I'll advocate on behalf of you and the ship's crew. Since the Minerva will be laid up here for a while, I think you all deserve at least a chance at relaxation. More spacious rooms on land as opposed to your confined quarters on the ship can be part of that."

Athrun's eyes widened slightly. "You'd really do that for us?"

"Of course!" Meer chirped before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, "The Chairman might be my superior, but I do have influence with him. Have a little faith; you'll be surprised what I can accomplish in a conversation with him."

Athrun didn't seem entirely sold, but he did smile nonetheless. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt. Thanks. I hope it goes well."

They reached the mess a minute or two later. It was sparsely populated, though amongst the occupants was a rather surprising figure; the last of the Gundam pilots still fighting for ZAFT. He was sitting at a table off to the side with a red-haired woman, one that looked familiar to Meer, though she couldn't quite recall her name.

"Oh, hello, Wufei!" Meer cheerfully called out, "It's nice to see you again."

Wufei looked up an arched an eyebrow. "You… hello."

It wasn't quite the response Meer might've hoped for, but it at least wasn't outright hostile, and it didn't stop her from turning seamlessly to Wufei's companion. "Forgive me, Miss…?"

"Hawke," the woman supplied as she rose in greeting, "Lunamaria Hawke. Welcome aboard, Miss Clyne."

"Please, just call me Lacus," Meer replied with a smile, "I'm sorry that I couldn't recall your name right away. I've met so many of ZAFT's wonderful soldiers these past few months, and I confess to having a bit of trouble keeping all of their names straight."

Lunamaria smiled and shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Would you and Athrun like to join us?"

Meer turned to Athrun. "What do you say?"

Athrun nodded. "I'm fine with it if you are, but… I thought you were looking for a quiet meal."

"I'm not opposed to some additional company," Meer countered, "They're your friends, right?"

"They are," Athrun confirmed.

"Then we should spend time with them if they're offering such a gracious invitation," said Meer with a cheerful smile before turning back to Lunamaria and bowing her head, "We'd be happy to join you."

Dishing up, the two of them joined the pair of pilots at the table. There was a rather awkward silence for the first few minutes, with Lunamaria in particular seeming rather taken aback by the sudden celebrity presence. Wufei kept on eating like nothing had happened; Meer's persona, performed or otherwise, had absolutely zero effect on him. It did sting a bit to Meer, knowing that the Gundam pilot could not be influenced in the slightest by her disguise, and she had to wonder if the real Lacus Clyne might have made a different impression on him.

Maybe he's beyond either of us, she thought, Gundam pilots do seem to be rather strange individuals…

Eventually, Lunamaria swallowed and cleared her throat nervously. "Uhm… Miss Clyne… I mean, Lacus? If, uhm, you don't mind me asking… why are you here? Not that I'm complaining or anything, I just… well, don't you have more important things to do than spend your time with the likes of us?"

Meer's eyes widened slightly. "Whatever do you mean? My work's no more important than what you all do as ZAFT pilots. I may put on performances and speeches to boost morale, but you risk your very lives on the front lines. We all have our part to play, and I think it's important to acknowledge everyone's role."

She then turned to Athrun and batted her eyelashes at him. "Besides, I haven't seen my fiancé in quite a while now, and I wanted to spend some time with him and those he works with. It's a nice change of pace from the people that I'm usually surrounded by."

Lunamaria smiled as her demeanor noticeably relaxed. "I can't think of many celebrities who'd want to spend free time on a warship. You're definitely a cut above other singers. Then again, I guess you're more used to surroundings like this."

Meer nodded, already picking out key details from her idol's life to sell her role. "Well, I did spend the last part of the old war with the Three Ships Alliance, after all. Military vessels actually have their own sort of charm once you get used to them."

"That's true," Lunamaria conceded, "I've been aboard the Minerva for so long now that she feels like a second home."

Meer turned to Athrun. "Is that how you feel now?"

"I suppose," said Athrun, though his tone was rather hesitant, "I guess it's easy to forget that I've been on this ship for a while now. It's… comfortable enough."

"What about you, Wufei?" asked Lunamaria, "You've settled in pretty well here, right?"

Meer watched as Wufei looked at Lunamaria for a moment before answering. "Well enough, I think."

She caught a fleeting glimpse of something strange in Lunamaria's expression. Was it… disappointment? Confusion? Doubt? It was awfully hard for Meer to tell since it had passed so quickly, but something about Lunamaria's reaction suggested that Wufei's answer wasn't quite what she'd been hoping for. Was there something going on between them? Perhaps Meer wasn't the only lady at the table attempting to win over a hotshot mobile suit pilot…

…though the imposter songstress's mind was somewhat confused on the matter of which hotshot pilot she wanted.

That's ridiculous, she thought, I'm Athrun Zala's fiancé. So many girls back in the PLANTs dream about having a guy like him for a partner! Of course, he's the one that I want…

…isn't he?

Yet again, Trowa's face surfaced in her mind, and the image brought far more questions than answers.

….

December 12th, C.E. 73

Running through his pre-flight checks, Heero's attention was diverted by a chime coming from his console. A small square opened up in the lower right corner of his main display, and Murrue appeared a moment later.

"Update from our partners in the north," she announced, "Several Eurasian Federation Navy flotillas have engaged their Atlantic Federation counterparts in the North Sea, and Moscow's got more ships on the way as we speak. Land-based aerial squadrons of both mobile suits and fighters from both sides are also clashing in that region."

"The diversion's on schedule, then," Heero noted as his brow furrowed, "Any word on the commando operations?"

"According to Major Gardinier, the radar installations on the Channel Islands are scheduled to be hit within the next three hours," Murrue replied, "That'll just leave the inland installations on the way to your targets for Duo and the Wraiths to take out."

"All this activity will have the local Atlantic Federation forces on edge," Heero remarked, "I hope Admiral Babych is able to sell that diversion."

"He's playing it to the hilt," said Murrue, "Enough naval firepower's been mobilized to spook even the Atlantic Federation fleet. If the reports that we're getting so far are any indicator, the enemy's taking it seriously. Patrols are already adjusting to focus north and east of the British Isles, and the southern approach is starting to show rather noticeable gaps in coverage."

Heero nodded. "Here's hoping those gaps widen during our flight. What's the word from our combat air patrol?"

"We got a transmission from Shinn a few minutes ago," Murrue answered, "No signs of anyone snooping around here. It's been the same from our other pilots. I'd say we're still in the clear."

"Good," said Heero, "Do we have a status update from our friends across the pond?"

"The resistance's plan is in motion," said Murrue, "Their move against Devonport should coincide with our strikes, and they've got their new mercenaries in play to keep potential enemy reinforcements tied up. Hopefully they're worth what the resistance is paying them."

"We'll know one way or the other soon enough," said Heero, "We good for launch?"

"It's almost time," Murrue confirmed, "How's your Gundam looking?"

Heero's eyes darted back to his pre-flight checklist and system status updates. "Green across the board."

"I'll hand you off to Miriallia, then," said Murrue before smiling, "Be careful out there."

Heero gave her a small smile in return. "Roger that."

Murrue vanished from the screen, and Miriallia took her place a second later. "Heero, move to the starboard exit. Duo will take the portside one. You two are first out of the gate. Weather conditions are clear; should be a smooth flight."

"Thanks," said Heero as he began moving Wing Zero Albion into position.

A few seconds later he was set, and the hangar doors slid open. Priming his thrusters, Heero waited for the go-ahead.

He got it from Miriallia a moment later. "Heero Yuy, you're cleared for launch."

He nodded. "Copy that. Wing Zero Albion, launching."

The Gundam rocketed out of the battleship and raced skyward the moment it was clear. To his left, Heero saw Deathscythe Omega flying in tandem with him, while a bit further away the Gundam Epyon Revenant and one of the Wraith's took off from the Dominion. It didn't take long for the rest of the mobile suits assigned to the attack to join them. The sun had nearly vanished over the western horizon as the strike force assembled and began its journey northwest, off to deliver a fresh round of Hell to the enemy.

Operation: Merlin was underway.

….

Standing on the edge of one of Portsmouth's large slipways, night shift Crew Chief Norman Walsh could only shake his head in aggravation as he beheld the shot-up transport that he and his subordinates were now charged with fixing. A gruff man in his late forties, with his formerly black hair now mostly silver and a scraggly beard covering his jawline, the grizzled veteran of a dockworker had taken hammer and welding torch to many a hull in his lifetime, and he knew a pain-in-the-ass job when he saw one. His dark green eyes swept up and down the length of the ship as he mentally noted impact points from shells, blast marks from nearby missile detonations, and even a few holes with formerly molten metal now cooled and hardened along the rim; penetration points from particle beams. So bruised and battered was the transport that Norman was frankly amazed it had survived the trip back to his dock; the temperamental English Channel had claimed ships in far better condition than this one. He hadn't even had time to clean up his orange and red jumpsuit from the last repair job he and his men had undertaken, and Norman knew it would get a lot dirtier before the latest hulk in front of him was fit for service again.

"What the bloody hell is the Navy and Air Force doing?" he grumbled to no one but himself, "Are they even trying to protect the logistics services? Morons, the lot of them…."

"Best not to let any of the officers hear that kind of talk, boss," came the voice of a young man from behind him, "They're getting awfully trigger-happy with enforcing discipline these days… and awfully touchy about what qualifies as a punishable offense."

Looking over his shoulder, Norman wasn't surprised to see Floyd Schultz behind him. While a good ten years younger than his boss, Floyd had struck up an odd friendship with Norman thanks to his studious nature and fine attention to detail. Sure, at first glance Floyd came across as a scrawny pushover, with an almost comically flimsy frame that Norman swore half the time could be felled by a light breeze and perpetually disheveled brown hair that only made him look even more like an unorganized whippersnapper. However, his light brown eyes had a keen edge to them, and he had a knack for spotting mistakes or potential trouble spots that Norman might miss. The lad was good at covering Norman's back, something that the grizzled old Crew Chief definitely appreciated.

That being said, he wasn't as worried as Floyd was about potential repercussions for his less than flattering opinions on the swabbies and airmen. "If they shot every mechanic with a mouth on them, they'd have no one left to keep their war machine running. Besides, you don't see any of those fancy-pants officers down here now, do you? They're all too good to bother with us grunts who patch up the ships that they can't keep protected."

Floyd shrugged. "They're not bothering with it now because it's a transport. If our next job's a ship of the line, though, you can bet that they'll have an XO with a stick up his ass breathing down our necks. Good to get in the habit of minding our tongues while the heat's still off of us, boss."

"Fine," Norman begrudgingly grumbled, "I'll be careful. You happy?"

Floyd sighed as he studied the ship in front of them. "Not as happy as I'll be after we've kissed this blasted hulk goodbye. I just finished up my interior sweep; she's even messier on the inside than she is on the outside. Got blasted with some late-blowing high-explosive rounds. Us and the day shift are both going to have our hands full with this one."

"Well, at least we'll have some nice weather while working on her," Norman remarked as he turned his gaze skyward, "Almost unseasonably nice, come to think of it."

"Rare break in the rain," Floyd noted as he looked up at the partially cloudy sky, "I wouldn't count on it holding off for more than a day or two."

Norman then saw his subordinate's eyes narrow slightly. "What the bloody hell?"

He eyed Floyd curiously. "What is it, lad?"

"Could've sworn I saw something," Floyd answered, "Like… I don't know… a ripple or something? Maybe I've got something in my eyes."

Looking in the rough direction where Floyd had been focusing on, Norman's brow furrowed. It took him a moment, but then he caught it; a slight distortion overhead, at least a few dozen meters above the ship that they were set to start working on.

Norman was still trying to puzzle out just what he was seeing when two linear cannon rounds and two particle beams suddenly materialized from the distortion. In the blink of an eye, they struck the battered hulk that Norman and his crew were set to work on and hit it in the worst possible place; the fuel tanks. The ensuing explosions ensured that Norman and Floyd would not have to worry about repairing the transport any more.

Or would have any worries ever again.

….

Her target had just exploded beneath her Wraith, but Lan wasn't bothering to watch the fireworks. Instead, she immediately locked onto the various cranes, heavy machinery and storehouses closest to the dock that the transport she'd just reduced to superheated steel fragments was in and let fly with six Lancer Dart missiles. The slender projectiles rushed out and found their targets posthaste, resulting in a string of fresh blasts around the drydock that ensured no vessels would be getting repaired there anytime soon.

Deactivating her Mirage Colloid and powering up the Wraith's Phase Shift Armor, Lan moved her mobile suit over the next drydock that had been designated as a target for her. As she did so, she saw Adaline and Priscilla take out their targets in unison, reducing two more drydocks and the ships within them to flames, smoke and rubble.

The non-stealth units should be joining us shortly, she thought as she fired off a salvo of particle beams and railgun rounds into another transport, hitting it in the exact same spot as her previous victim and achieving mirroring results, I almost feel sorry for the schmucks working night shift here. Almost.

Air raid sirens blared while anti-air artillery began filling the sky with wild volleys of shells and missiles. Gaining altitude, Lan locked in on several of the emplacements and unloaded her remaining six Lancer Dart missiles on them. She saw Adaline and Priscilla do the same with the missiles that they had left, and the volume of anti-air fire was immediately and noticeably reduced by the combined volleys. That gave the girls free reign to turn their guns on the rows of warehouses that stretched inland from the docks, and they wasted no time in opening up on them. The first one that Lan hit must've contained munitions, for it went up in a blast so spectacularly violent that her Wraith was rocked by the shockwave.

"Nice one, Lan!" Adaline called out as she methodically strafed a line of storage facilities.

Lan nonchalantly shrugged even as she shifted her aim over to untouched structures and opened fire. "Lucky shot. No big deal."

"Tell that to all the poor bastards who got fried in the blast," Priscilla quipped while laying waste to a stack of shipping containers.

Lan winced but said nothing. Raids like this were messy by nature, and no matter how precisely they might shoot, Lan and her friends were inevitably going to take out much more than just supplies, transports and drydocks tonight.

Doesn't exactly feel good to catch dockworkers in the crossfire, she mused grimly while turning her guns on another warehouse, but that's war for you. These people might not be frontline soldiers, but they're a link in the enemy's logistics network. Whether they like it or not, their facilities are valid targets.

As she took out her next target, Lan saw several new contacts pop up on her sensors. All were friendly; the rest of the strike team was moving in. One unit lingered at a higher altitude than the others, and Lan could see a glowing pinprick of yellow light that rapidly transformed into a descending column of hellfire. Dearka had taken his opening shot, and the unfortunate target of the blast was another drydock and its surrounding heavy machinery. The raw power of the Vayeate Kai's Beam Cannon reduced it all to a smoldering crater, and Lan knew that would hardly be the last slipway to receive such treatment from Dearka before the night was through.

While Dearka lined up his next target, the other arrivals swooped in for more up close and personal levels of destruction. Streaking downward like a scarlet comet, the Epyon Revenant dived into a cluster of transports floating in the harbor awaiting their turn in dock. The Valkyrie quickly got to work with her Beam Sword and Heat Rod, carving one vessel in half with the former and ripping another apart with the latter. Stationary cargo and troopships were hardly Shemei's favorite targets; Lan knew that her flight lead much preferred enemies that could actually put of a fight. Nevertheless, those ships were primary targets for this mission, and the Valkyrie set about demolishing them with ruthless efficiency.

It wasn't just logistical craft floating in the harbor; though they were in the minority, several warships were also on station. They mostly consisted of destroyers, though a few cruisers were interspersed with them. Their cannons and missile launchers flared to life as they attempted to fend off the base's attackers without heed of collateral damage. Lan briefly considered shooting at them when she saw none other than Quatre and Trowa moving to engage, and she knew that her help would hardly be needed.

As she turned another storage facility into a fireball, Lan saw Sandrock Saladin charge headlong at one of the cruisers. Cannon rounds and missiles from the warship detonated against the mobile suit's Gundanium alloy frame with no noticeable effect, but Quatre's counterattack was another story. When the Gundam closed the distance, the Desert Prince raised his twin Heat Shotels before driving them downward into the vessel and cleaving it cleanly in half. Pulling its blades out of the mortally wounded ship, Quatre then gunned his engines and went for one of the nearby destroyers. Like its larger brethren, the warship's shells and warheads did nothing to halt the Gundam's advance, and Quatre sliced the ship up in short order.

The remaining active warships in the harbor found themselves under the guns of Heavyarms Arsenal, and Trowa Barton wasted no time in demonstrating just why his Gundam had that name. A rain of bullets from the mobile suit's Gatlings swept across the upper deck of a cruiser, ripping apart cannons and missile launchers while setting the superstructure ablaze. This was followed by a hail of missiles that pummeled two destroyers, blasting through the warship's decks and detonating their munitions magazines. A salvo from Heavyarms Arsenal's Double Assault Beam Cannon punched into the damaged cruiser amidships on the portside, and the vessel was soon listing heavily while smoke and flames continued to belch from its upperworks.

Lan didn't have time to admire the fireworks, though. Alarms rang in her cockpit as several new contacts appeared on her sensors; the enemy had finally managed to scramble a response to their strike.

"We've got Jet Windams inbound!" Adaline announced.

Shemei's voice came over the tactical channel next. "Ladies, Dearka; keep hitting the drydocks, ships and supply storage facilities. Quatre, Trowa, on me; we'll take out the mobile suits!"

"Copy that!" Quatre replied, his Gundam already gaining altitude.

"Acknowledged," said Trowa, likewise ascending and angling towards the incoming hostiles, "Moving to engage."

"Enemy reinforcements already?" Priscilla remarked as she blew apart a transport, "That was faster than we'd anticipated."

"Must've kept some local patrols active rather than sending everything up northeast," said Adaline while slicing up a dock crane with her beam saber, "Shemei and the boys can take them, so let's keep focused on our part of the operation."

The mission was paramount, but Lan couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt as she trashed another dock with particle beams and railgun slugs. She, Adaline and Priscilla were part of the Valkyrie Team; they always backed up their flight lead. Continuing to blast drydocks and supply stockpiles while her commander went to fight enemies that could actually shoot back didn't sit right with her.

Keep your eye on the ball, she told herself as she turned a transport into a fireball, Quatre and Trowa will watch her back. Trust them.

As she switched over to a new target, Lan briefly glanced over at Sandrock Saladin. Quatre was already tearing into the incoming Jet Windams alongside Shemei and Trowa, his Gundam's twin Heat Shotels already claiming their first mobile suit kill of the night. He was operating to Shemei's left while Trowa was flying off to her right and ripping into a Jet Windam with a barrage of bullets. The two Gundam pilots might not be members of the Valkyrie Team, but they were acting much like Lan, Adaline and Priscilla would; covering Shemei's flanks while she plunged into the enemy formation head-on. Her beam sword sliced a Windam in half while her Heat Rod ripped another to shreds, all the while Quatre and Trowa continued to watch her back.

Confident that her commander had things under control and was well supported on her end, Lan brought her focus back to the task at hand; reducing Portsmouth Naval Base to smoldering rubble.

….

"Their response time's not bad," Quatre noted as he blocked a beam saber strike from a Jet Windam with his left Heat Shotel before slicing the unit in half with his right blade, "We might not have as much time on target as we'd like."

"It's not unmanageable," Trowa countered while shredding two oncoming machines with a hailstorm of bullets, "We've faced worse odds than this."

"We're fine for now," Shemei confirmed as she impaled a Jet Windam through the torso with her beam sword before whirling around and carving up another with Epyon Revenant's Heat Rod, "but let's stay on our toes. If it looks like we're about to get swamped, we pull out."

Quatre nodded before locking blades with another Windam and reducing it to chunks of metal. "Copy that."

Taking a quick glance at his sensors, Quatre saw that Trowa wasn't wrong about the numerical situation. Only a couple squadrons of Jet Windams had shown so far, and their ranks had already been seriously depleted thanks to the three pilots' combined efforts. Given the strategic importance of their target, Quatre normally would've expected a much heavier aerial response to their raid. The fact that they were facing such limited enemy forces right now seemed to attest to the effectiveness of the Eurasian Federation's diversionary naval action to the northeast.

Not to mention the mercenaries hired by the North American resistance, Quatre reminded himself, I doubt they're getting as much attention as Moscow's flotillas, but they've clearly succeeded in at least taking some of the heat off us. It'll be interesting to check and compare the after-action reports once the intel's been shared between us, the Eurasians and the resistance. Maybe the resistance was onto something with bringing in hired guns. I suppose only time will tell.

The edge of his display lit up with a bright yellow glow, and there was a thunderous blast just a split second later. Quatre didn't need to turn around to know what the source was; Dearka was pounding away at the base with Vayeate Kai's formidable main weapon. Of all the mobile suits involved in tonight's operation, his was the most important. The Wraiths and Gundams could demolish mobile suits, ships, buildings, and trash the drydocks, but only the Vayeate Kai had enough firepower to render the entire facility truly unusable for a seriously prolonged period of time. With a bit of luck, that time period would include the remainder of the war.

"Heads up," Trowa chimed in as he blew apart a Jet Windam with his Double Assault Beam Cannon, "Got two more squadrons inbound from the northeast. Looks like they recalled some of the units the diversion drew off."

Quatre checked his display and found them as he cut up another Windam. "I see them. There are probably more behind them. Shemei, what's our play?"

"We can't pack it in yet," the Valkyrie replied as she shredded two more machines with her Heat Rod, "We need to give Dearka and the girls more time to trash the base. I'll get started on the new arrivals. You two mop up here and then come join me."

"Copy that," both Gundam pilots replied in unison.

Gundam Epyon Revenant streaked off like a crimson shooting star, leaving the Jet Windams it had been fighting before in its dust. Perhaps their pilots might've counted themselves lucky that the Valkyrie had decided to go after new targets, but that just meant they now came under the sights of Quatre and Trowa. The two young men were more than capable of handling this remnant by themselves and wasted no time in laying into them. Quatre's twin Heat Shotels flashed arcs of silver through the night as cut down one machine after another, while Trowa filled the sky with shells and missiles to overwhelm the survivors. Fresh explosions detonated in the distance as Shemei went to work on the new arrivals, while behind the Gundam pilots there was another flash of yellow light as Dearka continued to pummel the base in a methodical and unrelenting bombardment.

Quatre and Trowa completed their mop up of the initial reinforcing wave in short order, and both moved to join Shemei in taking on the new arrivals. Before diving into the fray, though, Quatre spared a quick glance back at the units assaulting the base. It only took a moment for him to find Lan's Wraith, which was in the middle of reducing a troop transport to a hunk of charred metal. Her companions were likewise continuing to maul any ship and storage facility that was still standing with ruthless efficiency.

A angel of death when she wants to be, Quatre mused, I suppose that I'm no different. For all that the two of us might seek peace…

…we're right at home together in war.

….

On the bridge of the Atlantic Federation Spengler-class carrier Rabaul, Captain Oscar Gallagher fidgeted nervously as reports streamed in. In his late thirties and of average height, his blond hair already showing some flecks of grey while his blue eyes had a perpetually apprehensive look to them, the carrier's commanding officer had to fight hard against his old habit of biting his nails when under stress; it would not do for the bridge crew to see such a blatant lack of composure on his part. He had thus far been able to keep anxious gestures limited to repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fists behind his back, though how long that might last was anyone's guess.

In theory, he should have had no reason for fear. Yes, the reports he was hearing of sudden fleet action in the eastern part of the North Sea combined with word of massive strikes down at Portsmouth and Devonport were very much concerning, but the naval base that Oscar's warship currently found itself laid up in was both secure and far from the action. Clyde was a veritable fortress, as was befitting the facility that provided the bulk of maintenance and repair facilities for the Atlantic Federation's fleet carriers on this side of the pond. Even with many of its assets currently out at sea either engaging the Eurasians or covering shipments from North America, Clyde was still heavily defended. Its supporting airfield alone was full of Windams ready to scramble at a moment's notice, while the harbor was lined with anti-air and anti-ship artillery and missile launchers. The warships floating within waiting for work in the drydocks were still fully armed as well, and there was a considerable number of them. Destroyers, cruisers, even a few carriers like the Rabaul; a potent fleet in its own right. No enemy could threaten them here.

That was what Oscar wanted to believe, anyway. The relatively short history of the Second Bloody Valentine War thus far, though, showed examples to the contrary. Pearl Harbor, San Diego, Cagliari; no base or fleet anchorage was truly secure in this conflict. Intellectually, Oscar knew that Clyde was no different, yet he still held out hope that no foe would dare attempt such an assault. After all, every conceivable avenue of attack was either guarded by roving fighter and mobile suit squadrons or under surveillance by a network of air search radar installations. A surprise attack should be completely impossible.

And yet…

While the Rabaul sat in drydock undergoing repairs thanks damage incurred by Oscar accidentally running the carrier aground not two days ago, the unnerving reports kept coming in. Not just of clashes between opposing flotillas of warships, between mobile suit and fighter squadrons out over the frigid waters of the North Sea and Atlantic Ocean, or even of the massive destruction wrought upon the bases of Portsmouth and Devonport. No, there was a trickle of lesser reports coming in that somehow had Oscar more terrified than any of the others.

Reports of radar installations, one by one, suddenly going silent.

The first one, Oscar's communications officer had picked up almost by accident; the man had been trying to sift through the sudden surge in radio traffic that had come with the combination of the fleet action in the North Sea and the strikes on Portsmouth and Devonport. It had been an almost innocuous update compared to the rest of the incoming news, and Oscar had nearly dismissed it as nothing more than an anomaly, likely a problem caused by some sort of mechanical failure. However, a steady drip of subsequent notifications regarding additional sudden radar blackouts had continued, putting Oscar further on edge as a result.

Granted, in his position, it wasn't like he could do anything about it. His ship was laid up for repairs, after all; the Rabaul wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. More to the point, he was a naval officer, and land-based air search radar installations fell under Atlantic Federation Air Force Command's jurisdiction. Surely they were tracking the issue and trying to work out what was causing it. They'd only get agitated if a Navy Captain butted in on their turf, and Oscar was willing to bet that they were already in a sour mood given tonight's current state of affairs. No need for him to kick that hornets' nest.

Still, he was unable to completely push the issue aside. There was a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him this problem very much did concern him, inter-service branch jurisdictional feuds be damned. Unable to let it go, Oscar went over to the command chair, took his seat, and started typing furiously on the miniature console built into its right arm. The black slate that was the upraised screen flickered and shifted before resolving into a map of the British Isles. Sifting through the latest intel updates and filtering specifically for those concerning radar failures, Oscar was eventually able to plot out those failures on the map.

And that was when he nearly had a heart attack.

The failures weren't random. They were proceeding in a general direction; northwards.

More specifically, straight towards Naval Base Clyde.

Before he could say anything, he was blinded by a sudden flare up of green light that came from outside the main bridge viewport. When the glare receded enough for Oscar to see again, his eyes widened in horror at the crescent of emerald energy floating just outside the carrier's bridge tower…

…and the long pole attached to it, which in turn was held by the mobile suit embodiment of the Grim Reaper.

Where had that thing come from? How had it taken out the radar installations without being detected in turn? Those were only two of many questions that flashed through Oscar's mind in the span of a terrified second.

Then the God of Death swung his scythe into the carrier's bridge, and all of Oscar's questions went with him to the grave.

….

Duo almost felt pity for the crew of the drydocked carrier that he'd just sliced and diced. Here they were, sitting in their ship, not even in an active combat zone; they'd probably all imagined that they were safe for the night. Now they were dead and their ship was in flames, and he was already moving on to the next one.

Having moved out ahead of his compatriots to take care of the radar installations covering their flight corridor, Duo knew that he'd be operating solo for a precious minute or two while his teammates caught up, so he had to move quickly. Already leaving his first victim behind, he gunned Deathscythe Omega's thrusters and hopped his Gundam over to the next drydock. This one only held a destroyer as opposed to the much sweeter prize he'd just claimed previously, but that didn't stop Duo from plunging his signature weapon into the warship. Dragging his blade along the hull, he split his target open from stem to stern, fuel tanks and munitions magazines detonating in the wake of his beam scythe.

"Not a bad start," he muttered under his breath while ascending and searching for another target, "Now, who's next on the docket?"

Sirens blared as the base belatedly responded to the attack, with the nearest anti-air emplacements swiveling to get a lock on him. Shells began pinging off his armor, while a cluster of missiles was blown out of the sky courtesy of Deathscythe Omega's head-mounted Vulcan cannons. Swinging his beam scythe in a wide arc, Duo carved a swath of destruction through the cranes and other various heavy machinery supporting the two drydocks whose occupants he'd just trashed.

Can't really do much to the docks themselves, Duo thought, Deathscythe Omega isn't really built for that kind of destruction. Come on, Heero, where are you?

Gaining a bit of altitude while weaving through anti-air fire, Duo turned his gaze skywards. He then grinned deviously when he saw a pinprick of glimmering azure light overhead. The blue light was then joined by two tiny yellow spots, and those spots swiftly grew into twin pillars of golden-yellow hellfire that slammed into two drydocks on the other side of the facility, reducing both them and the warships that they held into smoldering ruin.

"Now it's a party!" Duo declared before sighting in on a cruiser floating in the middle of the harbor, "Come on, guys; let's bring the house down!"

….

Waiting for a few seconds to make sure that Duo was out of the blast radius, Heero sighted in on the drydocks that Gundam Deathscythe Omega had left ruined warship hulks in and let fly with another pair of shots from his split Twin Buster Rifle. Just like before, two rivers of energy raced down and slammed into the massive concrete berths, turning valuable maintenance and repair facilities into nothing more than glowing craters. Surveying the destruction, Heero pondered how his own handiwork might compare to the devastation that had been wrought down south.

I'm sure Shemei's strike team gave Portsmouth a good working over, he mused, and as for Devonport… well, if that massive explosion and smoke cloud from earlier was any indication, I doubt there's much left of the facilities.

Heero had been curious as to what the resistance had planned for the Devonport base, but it had only been a tertiary concern since it wasn't his target. Even so, he'd kept an eye and ear out for radio chatter from that base, though it had ultimately proven unnecessary. While Heero's strike team had been on their way towards Clyde, a truly titanic blast had detonated a considerable distance behind them. He hadn't been able to make out much beyond a great flash of light and an echoing roar, but the eventual column of smoke had stretched up into the sky for miles, and the distant southern horizon had become bathed in an orange glow. Whatever kind of attack the North American resistance launched had clearly been a doozy, though Heero would have to wait for the debriefing to get details on how they'd accomplished their task.

As Wing Zero Albion sent its next pair of shots down into two docks occupied by a carrier and a destroyer, respectively, Heero saw Duo wreaking havoc on the active warships in the harbor. The various destroyers and cruisers threw up wild barrages of cannon and CIWS fire, along with swarms of missiles, but they accomplished little against the God of Death. Deathscythe Omega swung its signature weapon in a series of wide arcs, each strike cutting deep into a warship's hull and either outright detonating it or causing it to rapidly flood and list. The Atlantic Federation Navy would weep before the night was out.

It wasn't just warships and drydocks that were being subjugated to such furious attacks, though. Further inland, Heero saw a series of explosions rip across the airfield as an opening barrage from the Freedom obliterated parked mobile suits and aircraft. Additional particle beams from the Mercurius Kai added to the carnage, with Yzak focusing his fire on mobile suits that were starting to ascend. With the two Coordinators savaging the local airbase, any serious response to the attack would have to come from returning patrols and more distant facilities, which would give the strike team valuable time to complete their mission.

Switching from paired salvoes to alternating shots, Heero set about his task of methodical destruction. Walking his shots up and down in a grid he'd prearranged by running detailed maps of the base through the Zero System to plot the most optimal target points, it didn't take Heero long at all to reduce entire blocks worth of naval support infrastructure to a swath of fire and slag. Multiple columns of smoke billowed skywards, and Heero could only imagine what any survivors on the ground might make of the carnage.

As ever, war is hell, Heero thought with grim resolution as he reduced another drydock and the cruiser it held to charred ruins, and plenty more people will suffer that hell before tonight is over.

….

Sweeping his beam rifle across a series of aviation fuel storage tanks and watching as the ensuing inferno spread across the airfield, Yzak could not help but grimace at the sea of orange flames and black smoke before him. Yes, he was attacking a legitimate target, yet he still recoiled at the utter terror he'd unleashed here. The fires he'd set here would take a long time for emergency response personnel to put out tonight, and Yzak didn't even want to think about whatever poor bastards had gotten caught up in the blaze.

"I don't think they'll be using this place for a while," Kira remarked as a pair of plasma beams from the Freedom demolished one of the few remaining hangars.

"Got that right," Yzak grimly murmured while shifting aim to the aircraft control tower and shooting it up.

The airfield was only a secondary target, though, and the two pilots had already wasted enough time on it. All of the mobile suits occupying it had been destroyed, as had any aircraft and supporting facilities. Checking his sensors, Yzak saw his display light up with a series of new contacts approaching from the northeast, and those were what requires his and Kira's attention now.

"Come on," he said, already gunning his thrusters and gaining altitude, "Looks like some of their squadrons are returning from patrol. We need to intercept."

"Copy that," Kira replied.

Moving to meet the new arrivals head-on and angling his Planet Defensors up front to tank incoming fire, Yzak took a brief moment to observe the chaos and destruction behind him. Between Wing Zero Albion's relentless bombardment of the fleet maintenance and repair drydocks and Deathscythe Omega ruthlessly dispatching the active ships one after another, the two Gundam pilots were amply demonstrating to the Atlantic Federation just how 'secure' one of their most valuable naval bases truly was. Any anti-aircraft ordinance that tried to take a shot at either machine quickly found itself silenced by a blast from Heero's split Twin Buster Rifle, and thanks to Duo there were increasingly fewer combat effective warships to defend the facility. Even if the majority of the Atlantic Federation's fleet on this side of the world was currently at sea, the losses they took in harbor here would be keenly felt and only amplified by the destruction of their support facilities.

The only other base that's not on North America's east coast and can support their heaviest fleet units is in Iceland, Yzak thought as particle beams splashed against his shield, and that'll give the Eurasian Federation Navy free reign on this side of the Atlantic. Pity their Iceland base is so well defended, otherwise we'd be hitting that, too. Maybe we will someday, now that we've got some powerful new friends on our side…

Any potential operation against the Atlantic Federation fortress of Heaven's Base was a future concern, and one that Yzak did not have time to ponder at the moment. Taking aim with his beam rifle, the former ZAFT ace let fly with a precise volley that caught one Jet Windam right in the cockpit and another in its head. With the former destroyed and the latter disoriented thanks to the loss of its primary optical sensors, Yzak raced in and ignited his beam saber. While the pilot of the damaged machine switched over to his lower resolution backup cameras, Yzak closed the gap, and by the time the enemy brought up their beam saber to guard it was already too late. Yzak effortlessly brushed the Jet Windam's energy blade aside before thrusting his own straight into the mobile suit's torso and turning the machine into a fireball.

His charge had placed him right in the middle of the enemy reinforcements, and several Jet Windams were already fanning out in an effort to encircle him. Their efforts were interrupted by one of Kira's pinpoint barrages, with a hail of particle beams, railgun slugs and plasma bolts blowing apart the rifles of the surrounding machines. Yzak took advantage of the chaos to gun his engines and climb above the new arrivals, sweeping his beam rifle back and forth as he laid down a volley to cover his ascent while maneuvering his Planet Defensors into a new array that covered the lower front of his Gundam. With the enemy's return fire once again bouncing off Yzak's shield, he began picking off his attackers one by one.

Meanwhile, Kira let fly with another salvo from the Freedom's artillery before igniting a beam saber. As his hail of shots destroyed the weapons of additional units, Kira charged in and began slicing off the arms and heads of any mobile suit unlucky enough to be in range. With Kira now taking point, Yzak took on the role of fire support and started aiming for any machine that tried to flank the Freedom.

I'm the one who's supposed to be front and center, he mused, since the Planet Defensors can cover my blind spots. Well, guess I don't mind playing backup.

It was almost funny; Yzak's mindset now was practically a 180 compared to what it had been back when he had been operating with ZAFT. With Athrun's old team, Yzak had constantly been jockeying to take centerstage away from his leader. Yet here he was, assuming a support role without fuss. It probably helped that it wasn't Athrun he was flying with right now. True, his rivalry with his fellow former ZAFT pilot had mostly been put to bed, but Yzak still couldn't help but get a little competitive whenever he and Athrun had done simulator exercises together.

"Be nice to have one of those with him again once he comes back," Yzak muttered while picking off another target, "If he comes back…"

"What was that, Yzak?" asked Kira as the Freedom's beam saber sliced a Jet Windam's rifle in half.

Yzak shook his head, mentally berating himself for forgetting that he was still on the tactical channel. "Nothing. How's the horizon looking?"

"Clear for now," Kira replied while shooting the heads and arms off three machines, "but there are probably more hostiles on the way. The enemy must have figured out by now that the naval action was a diversion."

Yzak nodded before blowing out the thrusters on a Jet Windam's Striker Pack with his rifle. "Think we should start packing it in?"

"That's Heero's call," Kira reminded him, "He's the boss on this op."

"Right," Yzak muttered.

Making sure he was momentarily in the clear, he looked for Wing Zero Albion. The Gundam wasn't hard to find; Heero's bombardment of the base continued unabated, with his shots now progressing back into the storage areas since the docks themselves had been thoroughly demolished. Out on the water itself, Yzak saw Deathscythe Omega rip through the base's outer defense picket, with the larger warships in the harbor having already been eliminated. He wondered if any sailors had managed to get off the burning hulks that their respective vessels were now reduced to, and how many of them would survive the night.

We've racked up one hell of a butcher's bill, Yzak thought grimly as he returned his attention to the targets in front of him, and it'll keep growing until this war is over.

….

With the base's major storage facilities destroyed, Heero had duly shifted his bombardment over to lesser targets such as barracks, administrative offices, and the motor pool amongst others. It was criminally easy to reduce those structures to craters and smoldering debris, nothing more than a chore. Calling this a 'battle' would be an outright lie; any serious opposition had already been ruthlessly crushed, right down to the last of the base's anti-air emplacements. There was the occasional shoulder-mounted missile that streaked up from the ground, but those were aimed at Kira and Yzak; Heero's altitude was too high for man-portable weapons to reach. He doubted that the pilots of the Freedom and Mercurius Kai even noticed the attacks given just how durable their machines were.

Missions like these might be a necessity, Heero mused, but it's difficult to find much satisfaction in them. Sure, the damage we're inflicting will hamper the enemy on both the tactical and strategic level, but… well, bombarding a base isn't really a challenge compared to taking on opposing aces. Guess I'm not as different from Wufei in that regard as I might like to believe…

After methodically obliterating pretty much ever free-standing structure except for the base's hospital, Heero took a moment to survey the wider area. As it turned out, he wasn't the only one running out of targets; Duo had wrought such carnage upon the Atlantic Federation's warship on station that he only had smaller patrol craft to occupy himself with, and Heero knew that those wouldn't last long. The airfield had been equally devastated thanks to Kira and Yzak, with only the runways themselves still intact. Taking aim with both halves of the Twin Buster Rifle, Heero quickly corrected that oversight and cratered the runways.

Checking his display, he saw that the northeastern edge of his sensors was lit up with a host of new contacts. Turning his focus in that direction, he saw the horizon lit up with dozens of tiny blue pinpricks; the light of thruster fire from multiple squadrons of returning mobile suits. More were doubtlessly behind them, and there would only be limited value in engaging them.

As if reading his mind, Kira contacted Heero just a moment later. "Hey, we've got reinforcements incoming. Looks like you and Duo did your jobs thoroughly. You ready to call it?"

Heero nodded. "Shemei's team should have wrapped up things on their end already, so we should do the same. Begin the withdrawal southwest. I'll lay down a bit of covering fire and then join you."

"Copy that," Kira acknowledged, "Yzak, let's go."

"Don't need to tell me twice," the former ZAFT ace replied.

"Duo," said Heero as he took aim with the split Twin Buster Rifle, "we're commencing the retreat. Get going."

"You got it, buddy!" Duo called out as he sliced up a patrol boat with a casual swing of his beam scythe, "Think I've had enough of this place, anyway."

"That makes two of us," Heero quipped before pulling the trigger and sending twin rivers of energy downrange.

The enemy had clearly learned a thing or two over the course of the war, because their pilots were so spread out that Heero's shots only took out a total of three machines. The rest fanned out even further, and Heero fought the temptation to let fly with one last volley. They had done what they'd set out to do here, and further engagement was pointless. Besides, the four of them could easily outrun the enemy's Jet Windams.

"Objectives fulfilled," Heero proclaimed to no one in particular as he set course for the south and gunned his engines, "Withdrawing now."

And so, the four Gundams flew off into the night, leaving a sea of fire and death behind them.

….

Far across the Atlantic Ocean in a luxurious estate outside of Washington, D.C., Djibril had been looking forward to a relatively quiet night. Still a busy one, to be sure; he had reports from his fellow chief honchos of LOGOS to review which included updates on the economic situation and armaments production, not to mention an evaluation of the rather shaky foundations their puppet in the Orb Union was on these days. Even with that agenda set out, though, it really should've been nothing more than a night of reading and sending out emails, with perhaps a couple of phone calls to his compatriots to discuss finer points and responses.

All of that had been thrown completely out the window when Djibril had sat down in his private chamber lined with monitors showing news outlets across the world, and all of them were broadcasting the same story.

Massive attacks on Atlantic Federation naval bases in the British Isles.

Djibril's face paled in utter shock as he beheld the devastation and what it meant for the war effort. Portsmouth's facilities reduced to rubble, the Devonport base utterly flattened by what was reported to be a truly titanic explosion, Clyde transformed into a charred landscape and its warships trashed beyond hope of salvage…

…it was a complete calamity.

His entire body trembled in impotent fury, and he had to clutch both arms of the chair tightly just to keep himself upright. If Djibril had a mirror handy, he might have seen his eyebrows twitch repeatedly, not to mention see his own eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. His teeth ground together so harshly that it was a miracle their crowns were still intact.

His very mind fractured, with one part so consumed by enraged disbelief that it was barely aware of the other processing the consequences of what had just occurred. The Atlantic Fleet could no longer be safely based or repaired in the British Isles; it would have to operate out of Heavens Base or the North American east coast now, and that would give the Eurasian Federation Navy freedom to break out and threaten the supply shipments supporting the invasion. The invasion of continental Europe itself was now untenable; the two bases that served as the linchpin for the final leg of the supply chain were now apocalyptic hellscapes. The troops still in Northern France and central Europe would be forced to consolidate and assume static defensive positions; they would not have the resources to launch new offensives. The Eurasians now had time to recover and initiate proper counterattacks. How long would it be until the invasion force was thrown back into the sea?

"No…" he hissed, "It will not end like this…"

This was a setback. A big one, to be sure; it meant a big chunk of LOGOS's plans for Europe were now out the window. Conquest and full integration of the continent's war economy into that of the Atlantic Federation were no longer feasible. The Eurasians, thanks in no small part to their contemptible allies, were now scoring conventional victories. Their morale had recovered, and further losses against their forces by the remnant of the invasion army would be inevitable.

So it was on to Plan B, then.

If Europe could not be taken through conventional means, if its infrastructure and industry could not be secured and harnessed for the Atlantic Federation's ends, then harsher measures would have to be enacted. If the Eurasian Federation would deny LOGOS their incredible wealth and resources, then no one else could have them. They would be utterly destroyed, and the terrorized populace that survived would be forced to toil under the heels of their betters.

The means for Djibril to achieve these new goals were not yet at his disposal, but the day was coming when that would change. At Heaven's Base in Iceland, one of those implements was even now taking shape. Others were being assembled at the lunar bases of Arzachel and Daedalus, along with the L2 shipyards and black sites in the depths of space. Until they could be brought online, the invasion force in Europe and the battalions which had reached the British Isle would have to serve as fodder for Djibril to feed the Eurasians.

If Europe could not be seized and put to productive use, then once LOGOS had its new toys Djibril would drown it in fire and blood. He would make such an example of them as to put the ravages inflicted upon Northern China, central Asia, the Middle East and Eastern Europe by the Mongols to shame. Djibril would see his empire dwarf that of Genghis Khan himself by orders of magnitude, both in size…

…and in the carnage required to forge it.

Preview for next time!

With the Eurasian Federation now going on the attack and the Atlantic Federation forces compelled to consolidate and regroup, Terminal switches its focus from the west to the east. The Seiran family's position at the top of the Orb Union has only continued to deteriorate since the death of Yuna and the destruction of the nation's First Fleet under his command, and Terminal seeks to lay the groundwork with their allies back home for Cagalli's return to power. Meanwhile, ZAFT continues to lick its wounds in the disastrous aftermath of Operation: Angel Down, with PLANT Supreme Council Chairman Durandal plotting a political move aimed at swaying the narrative surrounding the Second Bloody Valentine War back in his favor. Next time, on "Destiny's Call", Episode Twenty-Nine: Parallel Machinations.

There is nothing more universal in humanity than political guile and subterfuge. Good or evil, light or dark, all must partake if they seek ultimate victory.

Author's Notes: Hope you all got your action fix over these past couple of chapters, because the combat's going to be on hold for a while. Sure, the war's still raging in the background, but the next chapter or two will be taking a step back from the battlefield. As the preview indicated, the schemes of our respective players on the grand strategy and political side of the conflict will be moving to the forefront. War is simply politics played out by other means, after all; one cannot exist without the other.

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Feel free to review, stay safe, and see you all next time!