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Another day, another hard-bitten guerrilla of the disparate forces of the Resistance. This one had seen fit to stay put and ignore Chiao Xu's call to assemble at Carpentaria, which was probably why he was still alive. He had also assiduously avoided working with other, more famous Resistance units, which also probably had something to do with his not being dead yet. And judging by the disgruntled look on his face, he knew that as well as anybody else.

Sahib Ashman stared back in a mix of annoyance and sympathy on the Minerva's main screen. "I'll do what I can," he said with a shrug, "but it won't be much. You know the Desert Dawn makes do with as little equipment as necessary."

"I know," Meyrin replied, "but I also know that you've gotten new shipments recently and made some new friends in the region. And we could use their help. After all," she risked a smile, "we're all Resistance, aren't we?"

Sahib snorted bitterly. "If only it were that easy. I'll be honest, Captain Hawke. This plan of yours will require a lot from you. My men in Benghazi report Alliance warships in the port. There's nothing they can do about them there without jeopardizing the rest of our operations. And even if this works, once you get past Khartoum you'll be on your own."

"I understand," Meyrin said with a nod. "All we need to do is get down to the Indian Ocean. We can link up with Gigafloat from there."

"If you get that far," Sahib warned. "Khartoum and Port Sudan will be on alert if you can get past the bases along the Mediterranean."

"Well," Meyrin said with a smile, "that's why we're asking for your help."

Sahib heaved a sigh. "Confident to a fault, I fear, captain." He looked back up. "You will have our help in breaking through the Libyan coastline into the continental interior. But we cannot accompany you past the Sahel. We are people of the desert, and our forces are too thin to go any further."

Meyrin nodded. "We appreciate your help, Mr. Ashman."

"Appreciate it if it works. Desert Dawn, out."

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Grand Harbour was the name of this place, and from the bridge of the Charlemagne, Ivan Danilov had to admit that it was definitely a harbor and it was pretty grand as well.

Too big even for the harbor's extensive naval docks, the Charlemagne sat in the middle of the harbor, waiting for its prey to glide past in the wide Mediterranean— much to the annoyance of the local merchant and shipping fleets. But Grand Harbour made for a suitable hiding place to spring the trap. The Minerva was edging out into the sea over the mountains west of Algiers, and if she wanted back into Africa, Captain Hawke would have to choose some of the flat, poorly defended desert coastline of Libya or Egypt— which would take them straight past Malta. And from there, the surface ships could fan out from Benghazi, and with any luck the Charlemagne could drive them to their doom in the Gulf of Sidra.

Assuming, of course, that everything went to plan.

Danilov sat back on the bridge and idly watched a shipping vessel chug past towards the sea. It was peaceful here— and if his plan worked, it would stay that way, and it would stay that way along the Mediterranean coast as well. The sea was the ideal battlefield. The innocent could not get hurt out there.

As the cargo ship drove out to sea, Danilov felt his mind drift back to Admiral MacIntyre's words in Athens. A change in political power in the Earth Alliance— one that would result in Lord Djibril losing power. Certainly the admiral had not mentioned it to have him do anything about it; he intended Danilov to join this little coup. But who was going to carry it out? Who was the leader? What did they intend to do with that power— and with ZAFT?

He looked out towards the sea again and hoped the Minerva would show up soon. Fighting his winged foe was always the simpler option.

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The airlock door slammed shut, and on the external deck, Rau Le Creuset smiled. He had been waiting for this moment. Behind him, Emily von Oldendorf walked slowly up to him and came to a nervous stop at the railing by his side. The turmoil within her was all too easy to source. Shinn Asuka was more clever than Rau had given him credit for— but not clever enough.

"I need to know," Emily said at last. "Shinn told me about what you did at Junius 7." She looked at him with earnest eyes. "Is it true?"

Rau smiled back. "Didn't I tell you? Everything must burn before it can be set right."

Emily blanched and took a step back. "Y-You helped them?!"

"In a manner of speaking— "

"You helped those terrorists kill a quarter million people?!"

Rau turned to her with a sweep of his coat. "If you put it like that," he said, "then I sound like a ghastly murderer. But you're not looking at it in the right way— "

"You killed a quarter million people!"

"Yes," Rau said, with enough force to stop her, "in a manner of speaking, I did. But," he raised a finger, "I did tell you about this, at Anori. Using your power has consequences. The world does not passively accept the imposition of one person's will. It resists— and when it does, people die."

Emily glared back. "I didn't mean for what happened in Anori to happen."

"And I didn't mean for Junius 7— "

"But you helped them!"

Rau raised a hand. "If you'd let me finish..." He waited until Emily made no sign of interrupting. "I will say that I didn't mean for Junius 7 to happen in a larger sense." He spread his arms. "Do I want people to die as a result of my efforts to force the world to change? Of course not. Must they anyways, if my efforts are to be successful? Unfortunately, yes." He grinned down at her disbelieving face. "This isn't something you can't relate to, Emily."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why, your entire career on the Minerva." He leaned down. "Your entire life." He swept an arm out towards the horizon. "In a small way, you've been doing what I've been doing for years. You impose your will on the world— to create, for example, a world where that Extended in Karelia, Kyali, might be safe. Or to create a world where Sagan City would not be gassed by ZAFT. Or to create a world where the Minerva wins a battle or lives to fight another day. And the world resists, so you fight its resistance, and people die as a result." He smirked as the disbelief slowly began to fade around the edges. "That's what you were made to do. That's what the Angel of Death does. Humans resist their destiny to the very end, but you must impose death upon them, and that is what your power is for." He leaned in close. "And all I've told you to do— all I've said— is to take it."

Emily frowned back at him. "By killing so many people?"

"Oh, your method may not require that," Rau said with a shrug, "but then again, it might. It's your power to choose, after all."

Silence reigned between them for a moment. "You said you were trying to change the world," Emily said after a moment's thought, "but look what you've turned it into."

"Oh, yes, a work in progress gone awry," Rau said with a wave, "but this too serves our purpose. Because if anything will shake humanity out of its stupor, it will be an awful enough war, right?"

Emily glanced away. Her father wormed his way back into her thoughts— her father, preening and strutting before his hired goons about what a brilliant little weapon she had become. A weapon, a thing made only to destroy...

She turned around. "I won't do it that way."

"Of course not," Rau said. "After all, nobody can control the Angel of Death."

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Varder Ehrmacht watched with crossed arms and Lilith at his side as the Seraphim came to a halt amid the Sahara's burning sands. The ship stopped— and the bridge's occupants looked up towards the auxiliary screen, magnified to show the towering hulk of an Earth Alliance Hannibal-class land battleship. The hulking vessel, with its heavy armor and mass and mobile suits escorting it from the air, would make an excellent test target.

In front of the Seraphim, the Arrhenius moved forward, and the grim young face of Eli Esram stepped forward on the other ship's bridge with an intercom in hand. "Target has entered range. Beginning the test now. Kent, Gomez, you may fire when ready."

Varder frowned as he watched the next shape move into position— the hulking chunk of armor with a long cannon over its shoulder, hovering on jet engines taken from the DOM Trooper, painted in mottled desert camouflage. A red monoeye flashed to life, the cannon ticked downward silently— and then the world shook.

The massive ZAKU Ranger let loose a shuddering blast from its hyper-velocity rail cannon. An instant later, far away, the Hannibal-class snapped in two along the center and a column of fire erupted from its innards.

"Wow," Lilith breathed as the smoke curled up from the ship's ruined, smoldering hull, "one shot and it took the whole thing out."

"Muzzle velocity and projectile impact force are as expected," one of the Arrhenius crew reported. "The test was a success, commander."

On the Arrhenius, the pride of a creator watching his creation flickered across Eli's face before he brought the intercom up to his mouth again. "Six Jet Windam mobile suits have survived the ship's destruction and are on the move. Begin the second test. Give Unit X3000Q clearance to take off."

Varder blinked and glanced over at Lilith. "Second test— ?" she started.

The Arrhenius shuddered as a mobile suit rocketed out of its hangar. They both blinked again at the sight of the gray Providence ZAKU, shoulder shields and beam rifle and all, roaring towards the approaching squad of Windams. Varder threw a switch for his own communicator.

"Commander Esram," he said, "we weren't informed of a second test today."

"Yes, about that," Esram said with a shrug, "my apologies. My orders were from Vice Marshal Yamato himself to keep this secret, even from you."

"Even from us?"

"From as many people as possible. Nothing personal, I'm sure."

Varder frowned as he glanced after the gray mobile suit. "We were only told of the ZAKU Ranger's testing," he said. "Nobody told us you'd be testing the Providence ZAKU as well."

Esram smiled back. "It's not the Providence ZAKU we're testing, commander."

Varder opened his mouth to reply, but Lilith's gasp cut him off— and in disbelief, he watched the Providence ZAKU plunge into battle. It flung itself into the center of the Windams' lines before they could react and opened fire with its DRAGOONs, and two of the Windams went down in flames before they could react. The ZAKU whipped around and fired again with its beam rifle as the Windams split apart, and speared another Windam through the cockpit. The three remaining mobile suits scrambled for distance behind beam rifle blasts and missiles; the ZAKU danced elegantly around their shots and roared up close towards the closest opponent. With a blinding flash, a beam saber appeared in its left hand from its right-hand shoulder armor; with another, the blade went slicing through the Windam's waist.

As the defeated mobile suit exploded, the ZAKU blasted up over its foe's fiery death throes and showered the remaining two mobile suits with beam fire. It lined itself up for a full barrage from its DRAGOONs, forcing the two Windams apart— and with a beam rifle blast, the one on the right went spiraling down towards the sands in flames.

The last Windam poured beam fire after the ZAKU as it backpedaled, but the gray mobile suit expertly navigated the storm— and with another burst of light, the ZAKU's saber slammed through the Windam's cockpit. The Windam shuddered once and slumped backwards, off the ZAKU's blade, to plummet towards the ground and explode.

Monoeye blazing amid the smoke and flames, the Providence ZAKU turned back towards the Arrhenius.

"Magnificent," Esram said with a clap of his hands. "Reaction time, snap decision-making skills, precision, control...it's all there. Better than predicted."

Varder and Lilith stood on the Seraphim's bridge, mouths hanging open in disbelief. "Th-That mobile suit took out six Windams in less than a minute," Lilith gaped.

"Commander Esram," Varder began shakily, "what the hell were you testing here?"

The Providence ZAKU approached as Esram grinned proudly.

"Let's just say that even angels can fall."

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Gibraltar.

Nathanial Hatias remembered that place well. That strategic rock that stood as the castle gate of the Mediterranean Sea, controlling all entry and exit into Europe's little pool. Its capture by ZAFT in the Valentine War had been a major coup once coupled with the capture of Egypt and the Suez Canal; they had trapped two whole fleets of the Alliance navy in the Mediterranean at the height of their power. And Gibraltar had been the home port of his old command. Back then.

Back then...

Camwell had demanded an attack, but one pass by an AWACS DINN had put that idea completely out of the question. With the Mediterranean's gate back in their possession, the Alliance had greatly expanded the base's various defenses and capacities, and now it was all the Aristotle could do just to sneak past. And this little passing at night, barely submerged in the shallowest point with the silent drive at full tilt, bore the risk of discovery at any moment. Everything was silent. All unnecessary power was switched off. And the ship was damned cold.

Standing on the darkened conn as the Aristotle made its perilous passage, Nathaniel watched the scopes amid the palpable tension. The base was sliding by overhead, and earlier the periscope had caught dozens of Alliance warships in the base's prodigious docks. Another warship chugged by overhead. Nathaniel cringed; the torpedo tubes were flooded and doors opened, ready to fire, but if they didn't have to use them, so much the better.

"Arriving at Point Quebec," the navigator said, his voice barely a whisper. "Time to Point Romeo: seven minutes."

Nathaniel nodded and held back a sigh. On this target, he could understand Camwell's frustration. Attacking Gibraltar and slipping into the night would be a most devastating blow to the Alliance. But it would come at a cost that could not easily be replaced, and Nathaniel was not willing to take that kind of risk.

Besides which, he mused as he glanced towards his imposing executive officer, he had to wonder just how far Camwell would go once let off the leash.

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The door hissed open and the Charlemagne's bridge fell silent at the sight of the new arrival. Rising from the captain's chair, Ivan Danilov suppressed a cringe. He always hated these bureaucrats and their last-minute demands.

But as he laid eyes on this one, he felt a shiver run down his spine as he realized that this man was no ordinary paper-pusher. Instead, as he looked into the eyes of Gerhardt von Oldendorf, he saw a man with a purpose and a steel rod down his spine. He wasn't here merely to do something; he was here for something.

The Angel of Death, he realized, this is her father.

"Welcome aboard the Charlemagne, Director Oldendorf," Danilov said after a moment's pause, and extended his hand for an icy shake. "I apologize, but since your arrival here was so short-notice, we only have an empty crew bunk open for you." He glanced up awkwardly at the blonde Phantom Pain officer that had arrived with him. "And for Lieutenant Ramos."

Lieutenant Ramos merely smiled back and offered a dutiful salute.

"It will do," Gerhardt said with a wave. "I don't expect to be spending much time there anyway."

"If I might ask, sir," Danilov said, and showed the younger man to an empty chair on the bridge, "the message alerting us of your arrival did not specify what you would be doing here."

Gerhardt settled into the offered seat. "Observation," he answered. "Phantom Pain Command has taken great interest in the Minerva's new Gundam."

"And they sent the Director of Military Procurements?"

"Apologies, captain, but much of my work will be above your pay grade. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, sir."

Of course, mused Danilov, the Minerva's new Gundam...and its pilot. He had wondered why Captain Chevalier's report from Terminal had disappeared so quickly. And now, here was her father— and the director of Project Evolution.

The sensor board lit up and the sensor officer turned in his chair. "Captain, infrared signature," he said. "It's the Minerva. Passing to the northeast at flank speed."

Danilov glanced at an intrigued Gerhardt. "Looks like you were just in time, director." He turned towards the helm. "All hands, prepare for flank speed. Commence the operation."

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Sahib Ashman felt the sand crunch underneath his boots as he leapt out of the jeep with his bodyguards and made his way towards the dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of Benghazi. The city itself was seething with Resistance operatives and most of them were his, but there was also a sizable police presence and a military garrison. Prudence was always the name of the game.

The door obligingly creaked open as a few of the young, grimy fighters of the Desert Dawn greeted him in the shadows. Sahib stepped past the threshold and the past the notice proclaiming this structure to be uninhabitable. Uninhabitable, yes— to those who didn't know better.

"We don't have that many mobile suits for this, Sahib," a voice from behind said. Sahib turned around in the darkness and arched an eyebrow at the figure silhouetted against the sunlit doorway. "Twenty one mobile suits that can fly, after spending who knows how much money getting together all that flight equipment. Are you sure this is worth it?"

Sahib stepped forward. "It's not like you to have doubts, Coniel."

The brown-haired girl shook her head indifferently and stepped into the scant light inside the warehouse. "Charging into whatever trouble the Minerva is dragging behind it isn't my idea of a combat debut." She came to a stop at the railing with Sahib, and they both peered down past the nets and tarps— at the transformed Murasame lying down below, pointed upward on a launch track. "We've never had combat experience as a unit. We only have the pilots who already have experience, and simulator exercises. And we're up against the Alliance Navy. Maybe even the Phantom Pain."

"Are you saying you can't do it?"

Coniel sniffed in annoyance. "I can. But what about the others?"

"That's your problem. We've been marshaling these resources, but we've never really had a goal to use them for. Now we have one."

"And we're going to attract their attention in a big way," Coniel warned.

"I will deal with that. You just worry about your part of the plan. Understand?"

Coniel heaved a sigh. "Yes sir."

"Good. I have enough to worry about without you getting all squirmy on me."

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"So your new Gundam turns into a giant crab? Seriously?"

Sitting in the chair in the Minerva's computer room, Athrun Zala did his best to hold back a sigh of resignation and slowly turned around to face Viveka. His heart sank further at the sight of her not making any attempt in the slightest to hide her amusement.

"Technically," he grumbled, "it's a dragon."

"Well technically I ain't never seen no dragon that looks like it just needs some butter and boiling water to make a decent dinner." She crossed her arms and smirked back. "Why did they make it turn into a crab anyway?"

Athrun let out his awaited sigh and decided that he should probably close the schematics for his new Gundam before she found something else to mock about it. "It was supposed to be for greater versatility in combat roles," he said, "and it was supposed to be a dragon."

"Yeah, whatever." She leaned down over the seat. "So where's my Gundam, eh?"

With another sigh, Athrun duly called up the next set of schematics, and Viveka promptly cooed in delight at the sight of the sleek, crimson Aurora Gundam. "It's pretty much an upgraded Savior," Athrun explained with a shrug. "They gave it a couple missile launchers and a major upgrade to its speed and maneuverability. You'll see."

"Now that looks like a dragon!" she laughed. Athrun rolled his eyes. "But seriously, I hope we get to Gigafloat soon. Sitting around here with nothing to do is driving me nuts. The only thing we have left to do is— "

"Drive me nuts?"

Viveka smirked down at him. "That's not what I was thinking of."

"O-Oh."

"You're hopeless, Zala."

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