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"Well," Meyrin said with a start, "that's pretty cool."

Rotating and flickering on the Minerva's auxiliary screen sat the schematics of a sleek mobile suit with the face of a Gundam, studded with verniers and two large thruster blocks on its back, with beam wings, a long rifle, and a segmented razor-edged whip on its left arm. By her side, Shinn and Athrun looked up at it in approval.

"Emily's lucking out," Athrun said. "I see they took seriously the combat data we sent them."

Meyrin shrugged. "Not that they had a choice one way or the other," she said. "But they don't have the nuclear engine or the core components to finish it. So we'll still have to get to Terminal first."

Shinn crossed his arms. "The Alliance has been poking around here, hasn't it," he started, and glanced up at Burt on the sensor console.

"I guess," Burt said with a shrug. "Arnhelm isn't sharing much, but I've heard rumors over the comm of an Alliance warship squadron that keeps passing close by."

"If they were going to attack, they would have done so already," Meyrin said thoughtfully. "Even after we got here. There may not be any enemies there."

Athrun glanced out the bridge windows, where the Minerva was still missing its starboard Tristan cannon. "Let's hope so."

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Ivan Danilov sat uneasily in the Charlemagne's captain's chair as he listened to Joaquin and Whittington argue over the comm. Three Phantom Pain field officers with five warships between them was really just a recipe for trouble...especially since one of them was the irascible Colonel Joaquin.

"First of all, Colonel Whittington," snarled Joaquin, "they won't all be killed. Not if we broadcast the surrender warning. And if the refugees are too stupid to head for shelters they deserve to die. And second, a few thousand refugees is a small price to pay for destroying the Resistance and depriving ZAFT of an ally."

Whittington scowled on the screen. "I'm rather surprised that you aren't off fighting them yourself, colonel. Aren't they supposed to be our focus?"

"On the contrary," Joaquin said, with what Danilov thought was a downright evil grin, "intel suggests that the Resistance's leadership is in preliminary talks with ZAFT. Best destroy them now, while they're weak and disorganized, while we pick off the ZAFT units and prepare for the final thrust against Messiah. And that's why I'm here. If we have to destroy the Arnhelm Colony, then so be it. That's better than what ZAFT would do with it."

With a disgusted snort, Whittington cast a pleading look toward Danilov, but the Charlemagne's captain could only squirm uneasily. Joaquin did have a point. The Resistance's space fleet was formidable but manageable, and ZAFT's apparent strategy was time-consuming to counter but likewise manageable. But what if they joined forces and worked in concert?

Well, not likely, according to the intel from L4. ZAFT units had attacked and heavily damaged the Minerva at the DSSD's Troya Station. If the Resistance and ZAFT were mulling an alliance, that wasn't going to help...or else the Minerva was bait, or about to go rogue.

"Colonel Joaquin," Danilov spoke up, "I still vote for exercising caution. We will accomplish nothing but inflict losses on ourselves by storming the colony now."

Joaquin arched an eyebrow in annoyance. "Odd that a man who commands a ship like that would vote for caution."

Danilov frowned. "All these guns don't make a difference," he answered, "if you don't know when to shoot them, and when to keep them quiet."

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Lily put on a pensive look as she strode down the halls of the Arnhelm Colony port with Emily. "Well," she said, "I dunno, I've only been here for like a month or so..." She shrugged. "I think we were going to move on soon." But with that, she immediately latched onto Emily's arm. "But you're not gonna leave me behind, right?"

Emily winced. "Err, about that..."

"You wouldn't leave me!" Lily wailed. "It's boring and scary here! Everybody's mean and they make me go on those boring patrols and nobody wants to be my friend!"

"We're not really planning— I mean, we have passengers already— " Emily started, but Lily rooted herself to Emily's side. "Lily, really, I don't think you can come with us."

"That's not fair!" she cried. "Come on, Emily, we're friends, right?"

Jeez, I just met you the other day, Emily thought testily as Lily dragged her down the corridor. "We're going to leave soon. The Minerva is going to Terminal. Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah! I used to be on Terminal!"

Emily held back a groan. "Why do you want to come with me so badly anyway?"

Lily's face fell with sadness for a moment, and Emily instantly regretted it. "I'm lonely here," Lily said quietly. She perked up. "I'll help out! I got a mobile suit! Come on, I'll show you!"

"Lily, wait a minute," Emily sputtered, as Lily dragged her down towards one of the side passages.

"It's kinda old, but you can't judge everything by its age, y'know?" Lily went on, with a beaming grin. "Come on, slowpoke! It's awesome!"

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With arms of fire stretching out from the colony's hull and ripping pieces of it off into space, the Gagarin City space colony shuddered under the unstoppable fire of the Fortuna. On the darkened bridge, Lyle watched from the captain's chair as the colony writhed as though in pain. One of the mirrors had been blown off, and that was throwing off the colony's rotation. One more shot would pierce through and sever the axial shaft— and once that was broken, the colony would begin to collapse.

Lyle glanced over his shoulder, towards the bridge doors. The Marshal rarely watched these actions for himself. Lyle and the rest of the crew knew why— because his heart was sick at the slaughter.

But that was just like the Vice Marshal of ZAFT. Kira Yamato was a good man, a saintly man, far better than even the Coordinators who exacted their just and proper revenge and brought balance to the scales of justice as they swept the Earth Sphere up in terror. He had sympathy for even these vermin Natural, sympathy they did not deserve. He had steeled himself to do what the Coordinator nation required, but his heart was too kindly to feel nothing at the sight of it.

The colony rumbled as a Tristan salvo blew off another mirror. Gagarin City's hull was riddled with holes from missile and Isolde shell impacts. Lyle narrowed his eyes.

"Tannhäuser, lock onto the target and...fire!"

The Fortuna sent forth a shimmering column of positron energy that plowed through the colony's openings. Gagarin City began to crumble as the axial shaft snapped in two— and Lyle sat back and watched with satisfaction as the rotating colony began to break apart.

The Vice Marshal may have sympathy for you parasites, he thought with a smirk, but I sure don't.

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"Okay," Emily said with more nervousness in her voice than she wanted, "what is that?"

She floated on one of the observation decks of Arnhelm Colony's massive spaceport, with Trojan and Lily at her side. Together they all stared out into the space around the dock— where the lime-green hull of a Laurasia-class frigate could be seen pulling into the port.

"That's not one of ours," Trojan said thoughtfully, "and I don't recognize it as a Resistance ship." He glanced at Emily. "Do you?"

"Not at all."

Lily squeezed Emily's arm. "What's going on...?"

"This could get bad," Emily warned, and looked over apologetically at Trojan. "We were attacked by ZAFT forces before we came here. They're our enemy. If that ship notices us in the dock and decides to attack, there will be a battle here."

"And all the refugees would be in danger," Trojan murmured. "Oh, Jesus Christ...Emily, we've got to do something."

Emily looked back down at the port. The Minerva had been moved to a different bay, out of sight from the bay where that Laurasia ship seemed to be touching down...but that was no guarantee of anything. The Minerva was still badly damaged and short four mobile suits. A fight here would wreck the spaceport and endanger the entire colony. Seven million lives suddenly pulsed around her, stronger than ever.

"Well," Emily said quietly, "I'd better get back to the Minerva." She tried to smile reassuringly at them both. "Don’t go doing anything dumb."

As she took off down the hall, she turned her eyes back towards the Laurasia frigate.

Not yet...

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Vermin Naturals, everywhere.

Captain Amos dusted off his ZAFT Black-Shirt uniform compulsively and straightened up. The Naturals in charge of this colony were due aboard his ship any moment, and he had his orders straight from Marshal Sunogachi. Win the allegiance of enough Resistance leaders and the Resistance would be neutralized as a threat— and then they could be disposed of at ZAFT's leisure. Amos would certainly look forward to that part.

Amos glanced out the bridge windows. Marko Jeremiah had every reason to accept ZAFT's officer. If he didn't, it would be child's play for the Avicenna— even the Avicenna, a lowly frigate of the obsolete Laurasia-class— to blow the colony apart. Amos almost hoped that Jeremiah would in fact be that stupid.

Naturals. What did they need Naturals for? The Resistance was full of them, and look where those inferior creatures had gotten themselves now. Lord Djibril had crushed them on Earth. Were the ones in space supposed to be any better? It would be like the ZMA all over again.

He shook his head. Then again, the ZMA had always been meant to fight the Martian Civil War in ZAFT's stead, and it had been their incompetence that forced seasoned Coordinators to risk their lives on the battlefield. Here, if Marshal Sunogachi's plan went as intended, these Resistance creatures would just be meat shields as ZAFT did its work, and they would be dispatched in due time.

The bridge doors hissed open and Amos forced himself to salute the hard-bitten old admiral and his hawk-nosed adjutant in that damnable Earth Alliance uniform. "Welcome aboard the Avicenna, Admiral Jeremiah. We have much to discuss."

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"No doubt about it, colonel," said Jackson, the Tripoli's dependable captain. "ZAFT IFF code checks out. It's not Resistance."

Whittington's countenance darkened as he considered the implications. "Command said this could happen. ZAFT has been sending out feelers to other Resistance units and places like this, and intel suggests that Chiao Xu is in negotiations with Sunogachi." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "No chance they're on a humanitarian mission?"

Jackson snorted. "'Humanitarian' is the last word I would use to describe ZAFT lately, sir."

"True." Whittington studied the image on the screen before him. The Laurasia frigate was backed into the port, its bridge facing out into space. One good salvo to the ship's prow would turn it into nothing more than a giant smoldering obstacle for whatever Resistance forces were inside colony. And the Minerva had showed up here too. Technically, once the Minerva had showed up here he already had probable cause to launch an attack, and now that a ZAFT unit was here duty practically demanded it. All Phantom Pain and Alliance Space Force units were to destroy any ZAFT units they encountered on sight.

But there were still seven million refugees in there.

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Colonel Joaquin's exultant laughter filled the bridge of the Lucifer, and the harsh old man whirled around in triumph towards Ortega.

"No more dawdling!" he cackled. "Ortega, get our mobile suits ready for immediate sortie. Contact the Tripoli and Charlemagne and inform them that we're moving in."

Ortega shifted awkwardly. "Colonel, shouldn't we confer with them first— ?"

"Danilov and Whittington are too soft-hearted for this sort of thing," Joaquin snarled. "We have the Minerva still licking its wounds and we have a ZAFT unit there now. We've wasted too much time observing and waiting. The time to act has come."

The bridge doors slid open and all eyes turned towards another figure stepping into the room. Only a black, round mask with a single green eye in its center stared back from the man in a customized black, blue, and white Alliance flight suit.

Joaquin grinned in recognition. "There you are, ND. I trust you overheard?"

The masked man straightened up and saluted. "Of course, sir."

"The Raigo will perform well, I'm sure, and the Hyperion Gs will be necessary to storm the colony and make a breakthrough. Take the Sumbullet equipment." Joaquin turned back towards the bridge windows, where the Arnhelm Colony spun lazily in the distance. "Just because ZAFT is back doesn't mean the people should go welcoming the Resistance. Make an example of them, you hear me?"

ND HE did not miss a beat. "Yes sir."

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As the bridge went dark and slid down into its combat position, Meyrin did her best to ignore the growing headache. First this ZAFT ship appeared, now the Alliance was on its way. "Burt, enemy count."

"Judging by the heat signatures, we're looking at the Charlemagne, a Nelson-class, two Drake-class, and an Archangel-class," Burt answered. "They're all launching mobile suits."

Meyrin glanced over at Abbey. "And Arnhelm's security force?"

"About a hundred mobile suits, three Drake-class destroyers, a Laurasia-class frigate, and a Nelson-class battleship. All pre-refit."

"Well, shit," Roxy put in. "Whaddya say we hightail it out of here?"

"No," Meyrin said firmly, "we're obligated to help, and we would have to fight our way through anyway. Roxy, have our pilots gotten a hold of some mobile suits yet?"

Roxy frowned at her display. "Yeah, but only from another Resistance outfit that was docked here. They're not gonna make up for the Gundams."

"They don't have to. Go to Condition Red. Malik, get the engines warmed up. Chen, get whatever weapons we have functional ready for combat. Burt, keep an eye on the Avicenna. Hopefully that captain has enough sense not to go taking shots at us with the Alliance breathing down all our necks, but they might be idiots." She scanned the tableau of Arnhelm's spaceport and the drifting wreckage outside. The things we have to do to get to Terminal...

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"Arnhelm Colony is sending out mobile suits," the sensor officer reported. "Our surrender message has been disregarded."

"I thought so," Danilov grunted, and picked up the intercom. "Captain Bayan, the Crusader is finally getting its chance to shine. Begin launching our mobile suits."

"Yes sir," Sven answered.

"And before you go," Danilov added, "tell your men to be careful. That colony has seven million refugees on it. Under no circumstances are you to damage the colony or attack civilians. Your targets are restricted solely to Resistance and ZAFT combat units. Understood?"

Sven arched an eyebrow dubiously. "Even if they retreat into the colony?"

"Especially if they retreat into the colony."

"That will make destroying them very difficult, and costly to our own forces." Sven frowned. "We will not target the refugees, but I can make no guarantees of their safety."

"I understand. Get going. Bridge, out."

Danilov pushed down the intercom and swallowed the growing lump in his throat. With Joaquin charging into the fray and Whittington and himself reluctantly following, all after the damaged Minerva, some Resistance stragglers, and an isolated and outgunned ZAFT unit, things were about to get ugly on the Arnhelm Colony.

"Charlemagne, all ahead, full!" Danilov barked. "Flush out the warships in the space dock with smoke missiles!"

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