Hey, peeps~! Here's the next chapter of The Phoenix Rising. I hope you guys are ready for what's coming next here. ;) This next one will showcase two potential adversaries before they clash against one another, as well as the debate on what destiny truly means... ;3

Review replies:

- CT7567Rules: You just have to see. ;) That will be unveiled as the story progresses. :) You'd be right, but to be clear, the resistance had no idea until the First Bloody Valentine War kicked off, and even a few years before then. And yes, Eisenhower does have a plan! XD And you'll see what it will be soon enough. ;)

- Dark Phoenix Jake: Thanks for that correction. Already fixed it. :)

- operation meteor: Hey, thanks for the review! :) I enjoyed that, too. :) It's always something to include. :) And yes, I wanted Ghoul Squadron to be imposing and menacing as well as skilled. :) And as for the camp, well, there is actually more than one hidden in the desert and other sectors of the country. This one just so happens to be the worst of the lot. So, yeah, they'll shut them all down and actually have them demolished via bombs so no trace remains.

- Spiceracksergeant001: Thanks for the review. :) And yes, everything is about to come to a head. ;) Just keep reading to see what happens next! XD

(A small light is shown flickering before it flares across the screen, fading to show the Strike Dagger S, Spray sitting on its shoulder, his trench coat fluttering in the breeze)

START MIKAKUNIN HIKOUSEN BY TAKAYOSHI TANIMOTO

(The camera pivots to show the mobile suit outside the main base of the resistance on Earth in Denver, the door open to show the interior of the warehouse with several shapes before the cylinders)

Oh yeah! Be strong, jump on, and become the wind (The camera zooms in on them to show President Eisenhower, Dr. Keith Martinez, Dr. Klaus Brand, Warren Thompson, and Marcus Wolcott with Turbine behind the warehouse itself)

Pass the orbit beyond the sky (The camera pivots away from them and out to show the resistance forces mobilizing to attack a camp in the desert, guards arming their rifles)

I can't hold back this rushing speed (The leading machine speeds in front, showing a NEMO armed with a clay bazooka, its pilot being shown to be a woman, her hazel eyes hard as she aims the gun and fires at a Destroy)

A familiar town becomes a diorama (The Destroy is hit by the explosive round, the flames engulfing the camera before it fades to show the camp in ruins)

Burst through the unclear skies (The camera pivots away to show another explosion as a Murasame blasts past, bearing an unfamiliar emblem)

Blow away your worries and discontent (The camera zooms in on the wolf head emblem before it starts to flutter as a flag, panning down to show the leader of Sicario, Arnold Franken, on the screen)

Who needs a journey that's by the book? (The commander of the mercenaries waves his hand and three mobile suits blast overhead, their pilots shown with their emblems behind them)

Even if you're lost or trembling, raise the altitude (The three engage a number of shadowy mobile suits before a beam engulfs the camera before fading to show Stella being held by Shinn in her agony)

Oh yeah! Show off, mess up, and stand back up (The boy is glaring as images of the Extended march past him, his eyes hidden in shadow before he looks up, his eyes in SEED Mode)

I'll watch the unknown horizon with you (The camera pans away to show the captain of the Archangel and Heero standing beside one another, their hands entwining)

Now be strong, jump on, and become the wind (The two look at one another before a mobile suit flies past, panning up to show the Strike Dagger with a new Striker Pack resembling phoenix wings)

Use the sun that lights tomorrow as a guide (A dark shadow looms behind the machine, its hand grasping for the image of the Earth as a ship is shown flying away, its name glinting in the light)

Fly off to the glorious world of freedom! (The image shows the resistance ship and their allies facing down the dark shadow, Djibril's face behind it as he looms over them)

GUNDAM WING: THE PHOENIX RISING

Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall

- Steven Jackson 'Spray' Krane

CHAPTER XXVIII: Changing Destinies

December 12th, CE 0073

Gibraltar

The base was a hustle and bustle of activity with residents and officials alike going about their day.

With the rise of tensions after hostilities had begun two mere months ago, the very idea that the Earth Alliance was already fighting harder against them made some of the people and staffers at the base wonder if there was going to be another near massacre like there was just two years ago. However, the calming effect of the woman many perceived to be Lacus Clyne was enough to stay their primal instincts for vengeance and blood.

It was just as well, too, because a calm, reserved populace only served to work in Chairman Durandal's favor. It meant he could focus more on the overall objective of the war, as well as the inherent vision he had for the post-war world. His vision was grand, it was immense, and it needed time and effort to prepare and carry out.

The fact he had taken great pains to hide this from even Terminal showed how little he wanted his potential adversaries to find out. The fact his inner circle was made up of people who were only loyal to him and no one else was a boon in his eyes. He smirked as he watched the last of the members of his inner circle leave the video conference, tenting his fingers as he sat back in his office, observing the wider world on various computer terminals and video screens.

It was a lot like a god observing from the omniplane, the world from which all else could be seen.

'It was a stroke of luck to find so many people who believe in my vision,' he thought as the door hissed shut. 'I must really thank Chairman Zala for inspiring so many to revolt in the end... as well as inspire people to remember what it almost cost us as a whole.'

It had been a simple matter of playing on their fears of losing those they loved - yet again - to the monstrosity that had been the Battle of GENESIS, or as some were calling it, the Battle of Armageddon.

And the analogy was perfect, really.

His eyes shifted from the battlefronts of his forces to the raging infernos of the attacks that had wiped out the three bases in the former country of Great Britain. Two of them had been wiped out by Terminal. That much was for sure. But the third one?

Now that was a rather interesting development.

The very fact that someone had managed to take it out alongside Terminal was one thing. But there were only a few groups that could even manage such a feat, one of them being Orb. Orb, on the other hand, was currently in alignment with the Earth Alliance rulers. The Eurasians did seem like the ones to pull off such a feat, but then again, their special operations units had much to do in order to catch up with those of the rest of the world. And the Kingdom of Scandinavia wasn't about to make any moves against the Atlantic Federation at the moment.

So that left only one possible force left fo him.

'This resistance...' Durandal mused, '...is far more capable than I originally anticipated.' His eyes narrowed dangerously as he studied the footage of rescue efforts under way. 'The very fact they were able to pull off such an attack alongside Terminal... this indicates to me that their numbers are in fact far greater than a few small cells.'

'This... is an entire network in operational practice.'

The very idea that such a large resistance could operate without being noticed was something unheard of. After all, any large organization would have to take great care at safeguarding against any possible moles and infiltrators. Spies were a common way to bring such resistance groups to a halt. But this one... He didn't know how, but if they were as large as he thought, then they had to have one hell of a means to keep out any moles.

And there had to be a factor behind that. But as to what, that was something of a mystery.

A small smile played across his lips as he looked up. 'A new factor in this game of mine,' he thought to himself, a chill of excitement running down his spine. The very idea that there was a third party involved really meant whole new slew of possibilities he could use to his advantage.

But that also played into a new angle.

If LOGOs had been outed before he could, well, then that could only mean that it had been the resistance that leaked data to Terminal.

And that in of itself was something to think about. If the resistance had intel that only he thought he had, then it meant that Terminal and the resistance, alongside the Eurasians, and possibly other nations, could take hold of those men before he could and hold them prisoner until international trials could be conducted. Now Durandal was not about giving those men a taste of the law. But in reality, any trial he set up was going to be nothing more than a farce. But it would at least give people the illusion of justice being served.

He had a lot of documents already dealing with the evidence of their crimes hidden away in his office's main safe.

But the resistance...

They had the sources of that information in their backyard.

'I have to give credit where it's due,' he mused. 'The man in charge has more access to the sources of war crimes these men have pulled off than even my agents in the Surface Intelligence Bureau have at their disposal.' His smile then faced as he leaned forward a bit. 'And that can be a very dangerous threat if not taken care of.'

He would have to find some way to get access to those men before the resistance and Terminal did.

The terminal at his desk beeped and he lifted his gaze long enough to see the head of the Surface Intelligence Bureau, Bikram Signh appear on the screen.

"Chairman Durandal, sir!" he said, saluting crisply.

"At ease, Bryan," Durandal said with a small nod.

Singh relaxed his stance. "You said to report to you if there were any new developments on the surface of the planet," he said.

"That I did," Durandal conceded. "I take it you have something for me?"

He nodded. "I do. It's from my agents in the Atlantic Federation."

"Oh?" Durandal arched an eyebrow. "Do tell. I was under the impression many of them had been rooted out."

"Not all of them were," Bikram admitted. "A few have made contact with people in positions within this resistance that has been brewing, though their actual rankings are considered very low amongst them."

Durandal had to suppress a smirk at that. "So, what have they learned?"

"There is indeed a substantial number of resistance fighters flowing in from all across the Atlantic Federation," Singh reported, holding up a sheaf of papers he had brought with him. He flipped it open and started to summarize the report.

"The resistance has acquired a number of agents and moles, mostly due to the rumors circulating that the Atlantic Federation's Federal Bureau of Investigation has been actively taking down a number of the secret police known to them as the Headhunters under the alias of the Court of Owls," he began. "They were also responsible for the sudden growth in the last two years of the resistance's presence in a number of key industries such as shipbuilding, banking, electrical, oil production, farming, medical, and even in political circles.

"This increased presence did come with a number of risks, although they have had a huge stroke of luck with the turning of the entire technical communications industrial complex to their side through the promises of better wages and recognition for their skills, as well as other incentives." He eyed Durandal with a keen gaze as the Supreme Chairman narrowed his eyes.

"Go on..." he urged.

"In the aftermath of the attacks on both Pearl Harbor and San Diego, according to one of our agents, the resistance managed to take control of both bases by using a mole in Washington, D.C. to place people who are not aligned with Blue Cosmos or LOGOs in positions of power at those two bases. And those two bases have since switched sides due to better treatment of the soldiers and personnel there." He adjusted his papers briefly before he flipped through them again. "And apparently, they've begun reintegration of women into the armed forces under the disguise of recruitment of more men."

"They must have some good personnel to be able to pull that off," Durandal mused thoughtfully. "It takes a lot more than just mere numbers and altering of records to pull off reintegration without tipping off LOGOs."

Bikram gave a firm nod. "It does. That is where the technical communications industrial complex comes into play. The resistance knows those bases are under surveillance and have acted accordingly to alter all digital and audial records coming from the bases to make it seem like women are not in positions related to combat there, least of all in command ranks." He cleared his throat before continuing.

"In regards to the Battle of Moscow, it was the resistance that took action to sabotage the Destroys that rampaged across the city. Two of them were forced into doing battle against one another thanks to some operatives adjusting the targeting systems to make hospitals and all other medical infrastructure forbidden targets. That alone is what allowed Terminal to get the upper hand during that fight."

"And what of the recent riots and rebellion up in the northern sector of the country?" Durandal asked.

"That's where it gets interesting," Bikram admitted. "Apparently the resistance was able to sway people into enacting riots in the wake of the declaration of the forming of the Kingdom of Gilead, which, as you know, was walked back by President Copeland. That leads me to suspect that they have not just the TCIC on their side, but also a whole network that takes full advantage of the Dark Web to remain hidden. Of course, our agents can't confirm that because they don't have membership in the resistance." He looked down to his papers and lifted one up.

"As for the rebellion in the former province of Quebec, the residents there have been discontent for years now, and the unrest was brewing. The declaration of the Kingdom of Gilead's formation was just the straw that broke the camel's back up there," he continued. He lowered the papers. "And, for all intents and purposes, the rebels up there have been gaining ground and holding their own against the overseer and his guards."

"I see..." Durandal was impressed by the subtle actions the man in charge had taken, but clearly he was planning to expose the entire resistance at some point. "Anything else happening abroad pertaining to them?"

Singh gave a nod. "Yes, sir. There have been developments in relation to the Kingdom of Scandinavia making covert actions to try and rethink their position of neutrality. There has also been a sudden cessation of activity in the United States of South America in regards to the Atlantic Federation's military actions. In fact, according to our agents down in the USSA, the Atlantic Federation forces there have actually defected and are forming the backbone of a new South American Army. The Army is still in the process of being formed in the fighting, but it seems like that the integration of former Atlantic soldiers and South American units is going much smoother than they thought possible."

Durandal narrowed his eyes as a frown crossed his face. "Hmm..."

'It seems like Lord Djibril is losing control of his armies abroad,' he mused grimly. 'This does not bode well for my plans...'

Durandal had not been sitting idly by during this war.

Even during preparations for the conflict, he had ensured that he studied his adversary well and made plans to counter him accordingly. But if Djibril was losing his forces to defection and losses at the hands of Terminal, and now this resistance, that meant he could not take credit for defeating him. And on top of that, with the resistance having leaked information to Terminal about LOGOs, and possessing more intelligence on them than he did, it was clear that his overall ambition was now becoming jeopardized.

On top of that, he had every intention to turn the world against LOGOs, and he was gambling on the world seeing all Atlantic Federation members as genocidal Nazi thugs. But now...

Even that was compromised.

Whomever was in charge was clearly a good planner and acutely aware of the geopolitical games being played.

Even the Equatorial Union, the one country that had managed to maintain true neutrality, was starting to perk up at the changing winds if the reports from his agents there were to be believed.

Everything was now changing.

And he had to change as well.

He turned his gaze to Bikram. "Keep me informed of the current situation as it develops," he ordered.

"Yes, sir!" Singh gave a crisp salute as he turned and walked off, carrying his papers with him.

Once he had left, Durandal turned his gaze back to the screens before him.

'Djibril... I thought I could outplay him. But it appears that someone else is outplaying him instead,' he thought. 'I clearly underestimated the resistance building.'

His eyes narrowed dangerously. 'The only issue is... how big of a threat are they?'

He closed his eyes as he recalled his latest attempts to stop Djibril as they should have gone. He sent the Minerva down to Berlin to stop the Destroy. He succeeded, alongside Terminal. Then he was to let the others rampage and carry out the attacks before he sent in the Minerva to save Moscow. But that was thwarted thanks to the resistance's actions.

They had somehow gotten the information to Terminal, he figured.

Then once Moscow had been saved, he was to send the Minerva to take down the Archangel. Once the White Legend was removed, he was to carry out a campaign of extermination against LOGOs, claiming that the ship had been working for LOGOs this whole time, complete with fabricated evidence.

But the resistance had, as he already knew, leaked information to Terminal and they in turn told the Eurasians about them, leading to them being ousted long before his plans could bear fruit.

While he didn't doubt the resistance had the same goals as he did, they were also a threat in that they derailed his plans completely.

But he was adaptable.

At least, he thought he was.

He closed his eyes as he began to ponder his next move.

However, that would have to wait, as the door hissed open again and he opened his eyes.

He knew who his next visitor was right away from the fact he was always punctual to their meetings.

"Ah. Dr. Peron. You're punctual as always," he said without even looking at the screen before him.

The Coordinator nodded. "Yes. I did say I had some progress on the new units."

Durandal turned to face him. "And how goes the progress?" he asked.

"Our units have been modified for the necessary squadrons," the doctor replied. "The matter of the pilots is still an issue, but we're making progress on that front as well."

"I see. It will be good to have some possible advantages should we have to face... other potential threats..." His voice trailed off for a moment, and Dr. Peron's eyes narrowed.

"Care to inform me, Chairman?" he asked.

"I assume you have seen the news, correct?" Durandal asked somberly.

"How could I not? Those attacks Terminal pulled were daring, if not outright dangerous for their positions," Dr. Peron mused. "But the third... how did they find someone to take out Devonport within those thugs?"

"It's not as clear cut as that, Doctor," Durandal stated as he clasped his arms behind his back and walking back to the front of his desk. "The Atlantic Federation, apparently, is not all ascribing to the same ideology as Blue Cosmos. In fact, based on recent reports, I have every reason to believe that a majority of the population are actually against that ideology."

"How can that be? You've seen the news and propaganda!" Dr. Peron protested.

"I have. But I have a sneaking suspicion that much of that was played up by the underground brewing beneath our enemy's nose," Durandal remarked.

"Underground..." Dr. Peron's eyes narrowed. "Then you are sure of the rumors swirling? That there is a resistance force rapidly gaining strength?"

"All evidence points to it," Durandal confirmed. "But the sheer scale of their numbers... to the point they have agents abroad in other areas of the country, and even within Eurasia to some extent..." He looked down briefly. "They are not just a small band. They have a highly organized and centralized network with perhaps an underground communications system."

"Your agents of the SIB have gotten some real good information," the doctor noted.

"Yes, but not to the degree I would have wanted," Durandal admitted as he came to a stop, looking down at the floor beneath his feet, shoulders hunched as if brooding or considering his next move. And for what it was worth, Peron could understand the sentiment. He looked up, and for a moment, the image seemed to show two men, one of genetics in background, and one of cybernetics and bionics, facing one another as if they were adversaries when in reality they were old friends.

Chairman Durandal finally looked up. "The real threat here is the fact that the resistance has intelligence assets that I simply do not have," he explained. "They have the ability to dig deep into the backgrounds and numbers and even the financial and economic resources of LOGOs. And through their contacts in Eurasia, they leaked that information to Terminal, who in turn told the Eurasians. That is the only reason they were exposed before the plans were ready."

Dr. Peron frowned as he turned to face his old friend directly. "Then I can only assume the resistance members are well connected in other areas, too?" he asked.

The chairman gave a single nod. "How else do they have this kind of strength?"

"I take it you rightly consider them a threat?" Dr. Peron asked.

"For the moment, they are a wild card. One we must be prepared to counter should the need arise," Durandal clarified. "However, due to the fact we know so little about their leadership, it's hard to even anticipate their next move."

"I see." Dr. Peron nodded. "Is there any way to find out who runs this group?"

Durandal sighed. "Unfortunately not. We just don't have people within the resistance who would be viable assets," he admitted. "I'm not even sure that we can put people in so easily."

"And yet you still insist on going through with it," Dr. Peron said seriously, referring to his grand vision.

"Because it is the only way to end all war," Durandal stated grimly. "Unless we end it, chaos will continue to spread and engulf the world. The near extinction of humanity at the hands of one man is but a mere symptom of the underlying disease. And we must take steps to prevent it from happening again."

The doctor did know what Durandal was getting at. And in his mind, it did make sense. After all, seeing the way that one man had manipulated the world towards near destruction was enough to convince him to throw in his lot with Durandal to begin with. As well as their old friendship dating back to even their days at the old Mendel colony.

"I agree, but with these setbacks, we have to be willing and able to adapt," Dr. Peron noted.

"I am well aware of that, Doctor." He then turned his gaze to the other man. "So... how soon before we have some units ready?"

Here the cybernetic expert smiled thinly. "No sooner than you ask it," he said. "We are nearing the necessary quota for the units in question. And the pilots will soon follow."

"Excellent." Durandal smiled. "I expect nothing less than that."

Dr. Peron nodded before he paused, his hand inches from the monitor on his end. He paused, however, and eyed Durandal for a few seconds more. "Also, one bit of advice, old friend." His eyes narrowed dangerously beneath his glasses. "The resistance... may prove to be more dangerous than even Terminal if left unchecked."

With that said, he cut the connection to his own computer, leaving Durandal alone to think on his old friend's words.

For what it was worth, Durandal was not about to underestimate the resistance. Especially not since they managed to expose LOGOs long before he was ready to. His eyes narrowed as he turned to focus back on the screens showing the events playing out across the world...

Unaware of someone else observing this as well.

Someone who would go on to become his greatest adversary ever in the political arena.

. . .

North American Desert

Kiddie Kamp Perimeter

December 12th, CE 0073

The hulking structure loomed out of the night sky like a sentinel before them, guarding its captives like an ancient titan lording over its subjects.

Pilot Mackenzie Samantha Allen frowned as she studied the camp through her binoculars, taking in the defenses and scanning the perimeter to see the number of guards.

She could already see that some of the guards were well-armed with Atlantian rifles, each one of the men sweeping the barrels over the sides of the camp walls, keeping an eye out for any possible intruders, defectors, or escapees. Something about the idea of people with guns to keep children imprisoned was enough to make her shudder against her will and she frowned.

"How's it looking?" General Landon asked.

The pilot didn't even answer as she adjusted the focus on her binoculars.

"Hello? Earth to Pilot Allen!" he barked.

"Sorry, sir," she apologized. "I'm trying to keep an eye on these guys."

"And I asked you how it was looking," he retorted.

"Things are still the same," she replied, not even taking her gaze away from the camp. She swept her sight over the walls, then to the large shape of the Destroy as it hunched behind the camp, acting like a huge mechanical guard dog of sorts. Just the idea was enough to make her grimace. "Aside from the Destroy conducting recon ops outside the camp perimeter, that is."

George grunted as he reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, battered smoking pipe. He stuck one end in his mouth, but didn't even bother to light it up; he only chewed on it out of habit as he had quit smoking two decades before he joined the resistance. He let his hand fall from the unlit end of the pipe and sighed. "Why they even feel the need to contain kids with that thing guarding them..."

"A lot of them don't think with practicality in mind," Allen noted. "They believe the old Nazi ideology about bigger being better, and that power is everything, even for prisoners. They use power to keep them in their place."

"Never pegged you for a psychologist," George joked with a wry grin.

"My parents and grandparents were all in politics," Allen retorted as she lowered her binoculars before putting them around her neck. "So I picked up a few things from them."

"Heh. Well, it shows," the general remarked.

"Yeah. And that brings me to my next question." Allen's eyes narrowed. "What's going on in Devonport and the rest of England's naval bases?"

General Landon reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "I was coming to show you anyway," he said. "And given your family's political reputation and understanding, I thought maybe you could help us figure out what the geopolitical situation will be after this attack."

Allen just held out a hand for the phone.

The general brought up the encrypted video link to the news stations and handed it over to her.

Once she held the device in her hand, she looked at the video with a keen interest in her hazel eyes. She pursed her lips as she observed the fighting raging at Portsmouth and Clyde, only for the news feed to suddenly shift to Devonport with the huge explosion that erupted, leveling the entire base, save for the city outside its borders. Her eyes went wide as she saw this, and then she rewound the video feed to show the explosion a few more times, taking in the results and the mechanics of how it had gone off.

"A Halifax 2.0..." she muttered. "Never thought we'd have done that."

"Believe me, when I saw it, I was also shocked," George remarked.

Mackenzie folded her arms as she thought back on the attack. She could see the political implications already. And while the resistance was far from ready to make its most critical move, it showed the world that things were not what they appeared to be.

"So, what do you think this will mean for us?" George asked as Allen looked down in thought.

"This will definitely show the world not all citizens of the AF are in line with the politics of its leaders," Allen replied. "But if one takes into account the fact the size of this attack, it shows the resistance is definitely not small, in any way, shape, or form."

"Go on..." George said, not entirely sure where she was going with this.

"The attack on Devonport was no small one. If anything, it shows we have the ability to act on an international level, which is something that no resistance force has done in world history," Allen continued. "So it shows the world that only a minority of citizens of the AF are for the genocide of Coordinators."

"Then... isn't that a good thing?" her superior asked. He knew more than he was letting on, but he wanted to hear Allen's thoughts, so he was playing dumb just to get her to speak her mind.

"In a way, yes, but it also shows we are a divided nation, which some could take advantage of, but during a war like this, that will matter little in the end, because even if the AF is divided, the majority of us in the resistance have combat training," Allen explained. "If anything, the size and sheer scope of the attack on Devonport shows that we aren't untrained civilians. So no one will take the risk of attacking us under that assumption."

George nodded in agreement. That last part was true, to an extent. While every member of the resistance was trained to fight, the older members or the disabled ones were not trained as hard.

"As for how the world will see this, I have no doubt it will throw the perception of all AF citizens being goose-stepping thugs out the window," Allen continued. "This attack, and its aftermath, will make interacting with other world leaders much easier, as it gives us more legitimacy; at least, it will make them more willing to listen to us when we have to meet with them in the future."

"You mean the other world leaders will be more open because of the perception about the AF being shattered," George summarized.

"Yes," Allen replied. "But it also will allow us to move around a bit more too. Yes, LOGOs will try to hunt us down, but now that we have made our first overt move, they will be on high alert for any other such attacks for a while. That will allow us to move about in other areas more freely."

George wasn't so sure he liked that though. "But that would put us in more danger, wouldn't it?"

"The political implications of this are more important, but the military implications are as well," Allen retorted. "Yes, we will be in more danger for a while, but as I said, this attack opens the world's eyes to what is really going on here, in the AF's own borders. It shows that Djibril's house of cards isn't as sturdy as he's made it out to be."

George chuckled. "That's true."

Allen smirked. "It also shows the world how an entire nation can't be brainwashed in just five years. Djibril may have put out lies on how the entire AF is against Coordinators, and is united in their crusade, but in the end, the Devonport attack only shows how much of a liar he really is."

George just outright laughed at her remark.

Allen then folded her arms again and looked down in thought. "But... the issue with ZAFT is more up in the air."

George looked at the pilot. "What do you mean?"

"It's obvious to me that Chairman Durandal will not take this news well," Allen explained. "The man might seem like a good guy, and he can certainly speak the language to sound like he cares about the people. But in the end, how others get treated by him reveals his true intentions. Yet we don't know how the man acts outside of the political speeches he gives."

George frowned. "So you think the chairman will not be so... pleasant around us?"

"It's hard to say," Allen admitted. "As I said, we don't know how he treats others outside of those flowery speeches he gives. For all we know, what he says and how he acts could line up, but... we need more information on Chairman Durandal." She then frowned a bit. "But... from my experience in politics... he may be up to something. Things have been going well for us so far, but we can't be too careless around the chairman."

"You mean we have to make sure to not broadcast our movements, right?" George asked.

"Yes." Allen replied. "The less we broadcast our movements, the more of a surprise we will have against Chairman Durandal."

"But why? Why do we have to keep our movements on the down-low from the chairman?" her superior asked.

Allen looked at her superior. "I do not trust Chairman Durandal, or his flowery words," she replied. "Something about that doesn't sit right with me, and I trust my gut on this. If anything, the less he has on us, the better."

George frowned, but if Mackenzie was not willing to trust someone...

"You think Chairman Durandal could become an enemy of ours?" he asked worriedly.

"..." Allen looked down, not really wanting to answer that, but just the way she was asked it compelled her to answer. "It's... possible, yes..."

"Why do you say that?" George asked.

"... It's... just a hunch..." Allen replied vaguely. "But I can't say anything more than that, because it's only that, a hunch."

"Explain then," George suggested.

Allen sighed. "Even if we were to win, and reclaim our country as well as break up the AF, who's to say Chairman Durandal would accept our withdrawal from the war so easily?"

George raised an eyebrow at the question. "Why wouldn't he? It means less opponents for him."

"Yes, but it also means more opponents for him as well," Allen retorted. "He might have less to fight on the side of the EA, but as a third party it means more opponents."

George blinked an the implications that began to form in his mind. "You mean... he may not accept a third party in the war?"

"Exactly," Allen replied. "The Chairman, from what I can gather about him just from the way he holds himself, seems to be a careful planner, and may like to plan things out in advance. If he has been fighting the EA and the 'Reich' the whole time, he may have planned how to defeat his opponents. A resistance force in the AF may throw a wrench into his plans."

"But that would be good, wouldn't it?" George asked.

"While yes, it would be a good thing ideally, Chairman Durandal may not like the fact a resistance has been growing under his nose the whole time," Allen pointed out. "The implications of a third party in a war that is supposed to be clear cut, seen as black and white, would throw most national leaders for a loop. Like in WWII, with the French Resistance, and their government-in-exile. That was a good example of a third party, and look what happened? It cost the Nazi party the war, because of French saboteurs and their operations, given orders from their exiled government."

"So the concept of a third party in a war that has been nothing but black and white is not exactly seen as favorable." George mused.

"Exactly," Allen replied. "Depending on how things play out, we could be seen as a threat, or we could be seen as an ally. The former means we would have to fight ZAFT, while the latter would mean we would be possibly used as pawns. There is no third option, as staying neutral after we withdraw from the fight against the Coordinators will not be viable."

George blinked. "So we can't stay out of the war?"

"No." Allen sighed. "If anything, we have to see this war to its end. Yes, it may have been started by the AF, but we can end it, showing we don't support the AF's goals. The second option would be preferable, but the first one may be more likely."

George sighed. "It sounds like we may be in for a fight regardless of what happens."

"Yeah, it does," Allen agreed. "Taking back our country will happen, but what happens after that remains to be seen. Either Chairman Durandal will accept our decision to withdraw from the war and see us as an ally, or, even if we withdraw and do not fight, he will see us as a threat and attack us after we have reclaimed our home."

That alone was enough to make him consider her words carefully.

Chairman Durandal was not one to let something this big escape his notice.

Especially as it was going to possibly determine the fate of the world as they knew it.

Allen finally turned her gaze back to the camp and scowled at it. "And all the more reason for us to take that thing down..." she growled.

"Yeah." George gave a nod. "Speaking of, there's also some information on Sicario that was recently sent to us."

"What did the info say?" Allen asked.

"Well, apparently they're going to be sending their own special operations group down to help with the liberation of the camp," George explained.

"Hold on. You're telling me that Sicario has its own SOG!?" the pilot blurted, surprised.

George didn't even answer as he folded his arms.

"That's... rather unusual for mercs to have their own SOG," Allen remarked.

"Not for them," her superior said. "They're the biggest and most flexible merc company on the planet. And, believe it or not, unlike other mercs like those employed by ZAFT and the AF, Sicario does not put money first and foremost. They have moral scruples, and they only see the contract as a means to an end. Their MO is more along the line of US soldiers than those of the other mercs."

Allen narrowed her eyes at that. "Meaning they prioritize the mission and avoid collateral," she deduced.

"That's right." George nodded. "They're like a private army in a way. They have seven ships, so they can act as an additional naval force for our blooming naval power, and their aircraft are a mix of Murasames from Orb and fighter jets. Coupled with the Aqua Dart fighters from the Eurasians, and they have at their beck and call a formidable force that can bolster our power."

The pilot pursed her lips at the thought. "I see..." Already she could see the implications here, as well as some significant advantages. A number of possible scenarios came into her mind, and she filed them away for future reference and use. She crossed her own arms and leaned back against the jeep she had used to drive out to the camp outskirts.

"What else can you tell me about them? What are their ground forces like?" she asked.

"According to the files sent by Home Base One, their ground forces are not incompetent like a lot of other mercs," he told her. "They are all trained to the highest standards possible for mercenaries, and they have extensive experience and military training. So they're more like soldiers for hire instead of true mercenaries."

"Soldiers for hire..." Allen frowned. "Not too keen on us getting some hired guns, but if it helps us abroad, then who am I to complain?"

"Also, their spec ops unit, dubbed Ronin, is comprised of both Natural and Coordinator, male and female alike," George stated. "A split down the middle for both races and genders."

Allen couldn't help but crack a grin at that. "Djibril won't be too pleased to see that," she remarked with a chortle. "He hates that stuff."

"Well, all the more reason for us to work with them," George told her. "I hate seeing how everything has gone downhill for us."

Allen gave a serious nod as she unfolded her arms and gazed up at the sky. "Same here, sir... Same here."

"So..." George's tone of voice made her glance over. "What do you think we should do to the camp commandant?"

The pilot merely scowled. "Define what you mean," she remarked, folding her arms. "Because if there's one thing we can't do, it's go down the same path of barbarism as these thugs who rule our country."

"It's hard to resist that, though," George pointed out. "But... basically, should we just arrest him and not read his rights, or should we do the official version?"

"Ah." Allen nodded. "I see." She looked at the camp and clenched her fists. "In my opinion, I believe that just arresting him in the middle of the operation may be our best bet."

The general gave a grunt. "Figured as much," he muttered.

. . .

North Africa

December 12th, CE 0073

The intense desert heat was enough to make anyone struggle if they were not acclimated to it.

In the Saharan Desert, it was even worse.

Given the lack of cloud and rain for the majority of the year, it was truly an unforgiving place.

But at the same time, it was a good place for any soldier to train for desert warfare.

And in the middle of this intense sea of sand, lurking near the infamous Skeleton Coast, a group of soldiers was undergoing an operation of their own, testing their mettle against a number of other forces from their same employer.

For Sicario, having a spec ops force meant greater flexibility and it also ensured that some of their more... darker missions... were kept off the public record. The unit in question was, in contrast to their name's origins, actually loyal to Arnold Franken himself, having personally been recruited by the man over the course of the years he ran the company. The PMC's commander proved to have made the right judgment call when forming the group, believing it to be of an asset that most countries would take for granted. It not only allowed them to save public face sometimes, but it also meant that they could get the job done when a country's special forces could not.

The special operations unit in question was known only as Ronin. Not only were they one of the only spec ops units in any mercenary company, it helped that some of them had been recruited from the Atlantian armed forces, including one who had been a part of the infamous Delta Tango unit, a unit dedicated to rooting out Coordinators amongst the Atlantian elite. The unit was comprised of both men and women, Natural and Coordinator, which was an anomaly in of itself. Most merc companies did not even consider recruiting as many Coordinators as Sicario did. But that was what allowed them to hold their own and become stronger than even Master Goose Militia.

Ronin Commander Arthur "Kelleher" Kong stood before his unit, observing them as they worked their way through the assembled beach defenses, cutting through the swath of sailors and soldiers that made up their opposing force, or OpForce for short. Sicario never skimped out on the training, and that included for the sailors and soldiers aboard their vessels. Pilots included. This allowed the mercenaries to be in top fighting shape, as well as prepared for what was thrown at them.

Arthur was a former Delta Tango member, having been in it for two years before being recruited by Arnold after he was transferred to a new job abroad on account of having failed his 'ideological duty in keeping Atlantian youth safe from the Coordinator scourge' or whatever the petty reason was. In truth, Arthur had protested the idea of even having a unit dedicated to finding and removing Coordinators from the Atlantian elite, seeing it as a petty use of military resources. The higher ups had not seen it as such, and after a week of being held in political limbo, he was assigned to work in the Atlantian Embassy in Spain as a security forces operator. But Arthur knew better. It was close to political and military exile at this point. But that was what allowed him to consider his next move, especially after he met Arnold and was informed of what was happening. He was quick to accept the deal, and became the first member of the special operations group dubbed Ronin.

At fifty years of age, he was far too old to even be a part of spec ops in the eyes of many. But he was still fit and trim, standing at an impressive six foot four with a powerful, muscular build, which hid some surprisingly very fast reflexes, something that caught many an opponent by surprise. His graying black hair was cut short close to his scalp in a variation of the buzzcut, but some parts still framed his face, accenting his piercing blue eyes. He had a short, smartly trimmed beard and he had several scars crossing his face from his time as commander of Ronin. He wore a black military uniform with a combat vest and his signature firearm was holstered on his left hip.

He had his arms crossed as he smiled to himself.

"So far things are looking good, eh?" a voice asked from behind him.

"Yeah. The guys and girls are at their best today," Arthur mused as he glanced back.

The captain of the Special Operations Forces' ship, the Integrity, nodded. "They're holding their own against my troops nicely."

"For what it's worth, I couldn't have asked for a better team, John," Arthur remarked.

Captain Johnathon Wilmington nodded, his gray eyes locked onto the ship just beyond the sea's treacherous grasp on the coast. "Speaking of which, there's been new orders issued to you from Command."

"Oh?" Arthur arched an eyebrow. "What orders?"

The captain reached into his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper. Arthur took it and read it over.

His eyes narrowed. "Care to run this by me, John?"

John took back the paper and nodded. "There's been a lot happening in the Atlantic Federation that's completely thrown things out of whack for even us," he admitted. "The presence of a vast underground resistance network is just the tip of the iceberg."

He proceeded to outline the whole situation, relaying the information he had received from Arnold himself. He did not skip any details, telling Arthur everything about the situation within the Reich, from the terrible wages being paid to the removal of all women in the armed forces. He told of the camp in the desert for the children of dissidents, the rebellion in Quebec that was raging, of the sheer scale of the movement, and of their acquisition of the three major intelligence agencies from the Atlantians. He also informed him of the demise of the Patriot Youth Act and the riots leading up to the walking back of the formation of the Kingdom of Gilead.

When he was finished, Arthur had his eyes narrowed dangerously. "I see..." he muttered. "So this whole time it was not elected leadership, but a select few who wormed their way into power using money and influence."

John nodded. "Yes. And according to the resistance leadership, the only way they could do that was by taking advantage of the financial clout of LOGOs. Both parties are like a parasitic symbiote. They feed off of one another, but only one will triumph in the end here."

The commander of Ronin didn't even make a comment as he folded his arms. "And the boss wants us to help in this upcoming operation, right?" he asked.

John gave a nod. "Yes."

Arthur took in a breath and let it out through his nose. "Hooh, boy... That's gonna take some time for us to get there," he remarked.

"He did say that Circus was en route to pick you up after today's exercise," John reminded him.

"That is good news then," Arthur stated. "But that still leaves the issue of actually penetrating their airspace."

"Leave that to Arnold," John told him. "Just focus on the mission at hand."

"Yeah, I know," Arthur countered. "I'm just trying to think about this realistically."

His friend sighed a bit as he rubbed his forehead. "Yeah."

"So, what can you tell me about this unit I'm supposed to be working alongside?" the commander of Ronin asked.

"Well, it's supposed to be a dedicated team for this mission," John replied. "The unit is commanded by a man named George Landon. He's a rebel operator, and one of their best when it comes to mobile suit warfare. He's got a number of talented people under his command, including a promising young woman named Mackenzie Samantha Allen, who's actually a part of the Allen Political Dynasty."

"So? Why mention her if she's only one woman?" Arthur wondered.

"Because of her innate understanding of politics," John told him. "She's also known for having that infamous Allen temper."

Now that he thought about it, Arthur did recall reading about the Allen family and their retirement from political affairs back in the CE 60s. He didn't know what drove them to retire, just that they did. And now to hear that their latest generation was fighting as part of a resistance movement? He guessed that they had not stayed retired at all, but instead were doing their damned best to help undermine the new nobility and regime within the Reich.

"Sounds like they're not staying retired for long," he mused.

"That's about the only thing that they've got going for them," John remarked. "They've still got political connections in the capital, and have extensive knowledge of the underground tunnels there."

"I can see how that will be useful then," Arthur noted.

Of course, the two men had no idea just how useful it was going to be in the future.

But at the moment, they had another issue to worry about.

"So that's who you'll be working alongside," John finished. "The unit's been well trained for dealing with that camp. But... they'll be needing someone to get inside from above and take out the guards from within."

"And that's where we come in," Arthur concluded. "Am I right, John?"

John nodded grimly at this. "Yeah. You are."

Arthur closed his eyes as he pondered this. "Care to inform me just what the resistance plans for this particular op?"

The captain of the Integrity shrugged. "I'm just as in the dark as you are in that regard. Sorry, old friend."

The other man sighed. "Well, at least it was worth a shot."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm just glad that people are taking action against those thugs," John remarked. "I never really thought that an entire country could be so hostile. And I was right on that."

Arthur had to suppress a grin at the thought. "I can't wait to see how Djibril will react when he finds out that not all his people believe his lies."

John chuckled at the image of a pissed off Djibril trying to control the people in the middle of a riot. "Yeah? You're not the only one who wants to see that!"

"Still, the objective is to assist this unit in liberating the camp's prisoners, right?" Arthur noted.

The Integrity's captain nodded. "Yep. That's the gist of it."

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. "Well, not really too keen on it, but... if it's what our employer wants, it's what we'll do." He opened his eyes. "Just give me the time and date and we'll roll out."

John nodded. "I'll get Circus in once we get the details finalized."

Circus, of course, was in reference to Circus Flight, their air transport team. A squad of six C/T-17 transport aircraft, they were responsible for transporting not just personnel, but also vehicles if the situation called for it. The six aircraft were marked with Sicario's emblem on their rudders to signify who they belonged to, as well as to render them as friendlies to any of their employees and soldiers. As it was, this gave Sicario increased ability to drop their forces anywhere they were needed, and when coupled with their own tank units, the mercenary company was very well outfitted for any situation on the battlefield.

Circus-1 was also a close friend of John's, having worked with him for several years before recruitment into Sicario. It was he who had insisted the man take six Atlantian aircraft and their crews and join the mercs for additional support, and so far the move was paying off.

He glanced back at the exercise, noting how Ronin had managed to get past the OpForce and was making their way back towards the Integrity for rest and a debriefing. He gave a nod. "Looks like your guys and gals came through," he stated.

Arthur gave a grin. "Yeah? Then that's good news right there."

John shook his head. "For now," he told him. "We still got a long way to go. And for that matter, better hope they're up for real warfare this time."

"We are. Always have been," Arthur remarked.

The Integrity's captain merely nodded.

It was now or never for them.

And the mercs all knew it.