"Oh, here you are Athrun." Nicol found the star pilot sitting idly in the changing room. Athrun had been lost in thought
until he heard Nicol's voice. "I just received word that Yzak and the others have landed safely on Earth."
Athrun looked up and saw Nicol staring at him. "How are Yzak's wounds?"
"Don't worry," Nicol answered. "He's still able to pilot his suit."
"Good."
"I am relieved to hear that you both made it to Gibraltar safely," Klueze said smoothly. Gibraltar was one of ZAFT's frontline
bases. Both Dearka Elthman and Yzak Jule, pilots of the Buster and Duel mobile suits, had been pulled into Earth's gravity
during the battle with the Eighth Fleet. The only reason they'd survived the ride through the atmosphere in mobile suits
without any heat shielding was because of the Phase Shift Armor. They were also fortunate enough to land in the waters of the
Mediterranean, near friendly lines. There was no doubt it had been a wild ride, and it was an experience neither of them
wanted to repeat. Now they had to face their silver-masked commander - the enigmatic Raww Le Klueze.
"Unfortunately, the Paw and the Strike escaped because of your reluctance to obey orders, but it may yet prove fortunate that
you landed on Earth together." Dearka hated the man's dulcet voice. It didn't matter that he sounded less cold and deadly over
the speakers. "The Paw is now the target of out land forces, but I want you two to stay on deck. Of course, none of this would
be necessary if you had successfully completed your mission."
The message ended. Dearka leaned back in his chair, and looked at his bandaged comrade standing beside him. "This sucks. Does
he want us to crawl around the earth looking for the Paw with the other forces?" Both Dearka and Yzak were aces. They wouldn't
even be on Klueze's team if they weren't the best of the best. So it vexed them to no end that they were grounded. It
was their contention that the mobile suits belonged in space. Of course, that was normal belief of second-generation
Coordinators who had spent their entire lives up in space. To them, being on Earth was highly unnatural.
Dearka was surprised to see Yzak carefully removing the bandage that hid half of his face. Yzak had been wounded in the first
battle with the Strike. Dearka didn't think it was that serious, since he had joined in the last battle, despite his wound.
But now that he saw the extent of it, he gasped. A large, ugly scar diagonally crossed Yzak's youthful face. Dearka knew that
current medical technology could heal such scars. It only remained because Yzak wanted to keep it as a grim reminder of the
battle.
His face twisted in anger as he spoke through clenched teeth, "We will find them. And when we do, we will destroy them
without mercy!"
DaCosta looked out at the Lesseps' deck from the gunwale window. A transport unloaded the red-bodied ZuOOTs along with some
unfamiliar mobile suits. Two young men walked down the transport's gangway wearing red flight suits that marked them as ace
pilots. "They also sent us two people from Klueze's team."
"Great," Waltfeld jeered. "I'm sure they're experienced at fighting on land."
"They are an elite force," DaCosta pointed out. However, DaCosta worried that the pilots would be egotistical, hard to handle,
and disturb the harmony of the team. "Klueze's an ass!" Waltfeld suddenly remarked. DaCosta wondered if it was the man's ego
speaking. After all, Klueze ranked high in the military echelon, and perhaps Waltfeld didn't like the idea of competition.
"How can you trust someone who won't even show his face?"
DaCosta wondered if Klueze was a coffee addict or conspicuously disguised himself while wandering around enemy-occupied
territory. Every military genius seemed to have their own eccentricities. Nevertheless, DaCosta was certain he preferred the
oddities of his own commander to that of the masked pilot, famous for being strict and deadly.
DaCosta went out to greet the new arrivals. Both pilots held their hands against the dust-filled wind. Waltfeld hailed them.
"What an awful place," said the one with the blond hair. A deep voice spoke behind them. "You have to learn to adapt your
body to the desert." The two newcomers turned around, blinking because of the sand. DaCosta hadn't expected Waltfeld to join
them on deck.
"Welcome to the Leseps. I'm Commander Andrew Waltfeld."
Both young men came to attention and saluted. "Yzak Jule of the Klueze Team, reporting for duty!" DaCosta involuntarily stared
at the large scar that crossed his face. "Dearka Elthman, the same."
"Welcome. You must have had a hard time adjusting from space." Waltfeld's words were insincere. Then, staring at Yzak's
face, he said, "When a solider doesn't correct a correctable scar, it's because he's sworn something on it. Am I wrong?"
DaCosta shuddered when his superior officer didn't mince words. Yzak looked away as if his feelings were hurt, but Waltfeld
pursued it. "Is it a sign of disgrace?"
Enraged, Yak shouted, "Never mind my face! Where's the Paw?!" DaCosta sighed. This was hardly an auspicious beginning. It was
Waltfeld's fault for challenging Yzak but the boy shouldn't have snapped at his commander on their first meeting. Waltfeld
remained nonchalant. "It's at a location one hundred and twelve miles west of here. We're sending out unmanned recon drones
if you'd like to see the images?"
Waltfeld wandered past them and looked up at the two X Numbers that had been lowered to the deck. He seemed almost entranced
by the Duel mobile suit. "This looks a lot like that other one," Waltfeld muttered.
"Commander Waltfeld," Dearka called out. "I've heard that you've already battled the Federation's mobile suit." Waltfeld
turned, surprised, as if he'd been lost in thought. He shrugged his shoulders and laughed. "Yes, that's right. I fought it.
Just like the Klueze Team." DaCosta's anxiety mounted. His commander almost seemed timid. DaCosta shook off the feeling.
That was impossible. Who could possibly defeat the Desert Tiger?
"They've moved out? Where are they now?" Waltfeld demanded as he entered the Lesseps' bridge. "Yes, sir! They're advancing
eastward."
Looking at the monitor, Yzak shouted, "It's the Paw!"
Waltfeld checked the map. "They're heading for the Talpatia factory ruins? Hm, an interesting move. Probably what I would have
done if I were their commander."
"Your orders, Commander?" DaCosta stood at attention. Waltfeld shook his head, puzzled, yet amused. "Hm... I wanted to wait a
little longer, but it can't be helped."
"Are we going to fight?!" Yzak leaned forward, his voice excited.
Waltfeld nodded, and ordered the crew. "Lesseps, launch! Code Two! Inform the Petri and the Henry Carter." Waltfeld folded his
arms and smiled bitterly. "We shall greet them with a grand display of fireworks."
Waltfeld wore an orange and black striped flight suit, resembling a tiger. Fangs were drawn on his hemlet. As he briskly walked
toward his mobile suit, an angry voice called out, "This is outrageous!" Waltfeld turned and faced the young pilots from
Klueze's team. Yzak's face was nearly purple. "We were sent to fight the Earth Forces. Why are we being stationed on the
Lesseps?!"
"Because those are my orders," Waltfeld answered.
"But we have more experience fighting against them."
"Yes, the wrong experience," Aisha interrupted. "Losing." Both pilots watched as she joined Waltfeld's side. She wore a pale
pink flight suit. Waltfeld gave her a look, silently asking her not to antagonize them any further. Then he turned back to the
pilots. "Your machines are built for space. They can't keep up with the speed of BuCUEs."
"But that's--!" Yzak would have said more, but Dearka grabbed his shoulders and stopped him. "Enough, Yzak. That's an order.
Excuse us." Dearka led Yzak away, while Waltfeld and Aisha continued toward their mobile suit. Waltfeld thought that if those
boys could pull of a stunt like rewriting a friction program during battle, he wouldn't mind letting them join in. But Waltfeld
feared that they would get in the way of his ultimate prize - facing the Strike alone.