Crossing Orb: Newtype Commander

Inside the hangar of the Wesalis, four G-series Gundams were neatly arranged on maintenance racks. Technicians, like ants, clung to these steel giants, holding testing instruments and recording every set of data.

Kruze stood before the observation window of the hangar, his expression hidden behind his mask. Behind him, Aslan Zala stood ramrod straight, his uniform still reeking of gunpowder.

"You did a great job, Aslan." Kruze's voice was calm, with a hint of approval. "Recovering four G-series tanks intact is an achievement beyond expectations."

"But, Captain—" Athrun's voice held a hint of hesitation, "the Strike Gundam was taken away by that boy."

"Just one." Kruze turned around, his gaze behind his mask falling on Athrun's face. "The Union's technology samples are already in our hands. PS armor, phase transfer technology, variable frame, new type of reactor—these are the core components. Although the Strike Gundam has excellent performance, its technological foundation is not fundamentally different from the other four. We have obtained the most valuable thing."

Athrun lowered his head, remaining silent. The image kept replaying in his mind—Kira Yamato's face, pale and terrified in the red glow of the emergency lights. He was a friend from his childhood memories, now an enemy.

"Athrun, go back and rest," Kruze said. "The PLANT technical team will take over these mobile suits. Your task is to prepare for the next phase of the operation."

"Yes."

Aslan turned and left. Kruze stood alone by the window, watching the machines surrounded by technicians. A slight smile played on his lips, but there was no joy in his eyes.

"The power of technology," he whispered, "never belongs to anyone. Whoever gets it, it belongs to them."

At 4:00 PM that same afternoon, at the PLANT Supreme Council's affiliated Technology Development Center.

When the data from the four G-series units arrived, the entire technology center erupted in excitement. Engineers surrounded the data, their eyes gleaming with fervor—not just out of patriotism, but even more so because of the technology itself. PS armor, phase-transfer technology, variable skeletons—these were all areas PLANT hadn't fully mastered. And now, the Union's technological samples were right before them, ready for them to disassemble, analyze, and replicate.

Patrick Sara was present in person. He stood in front of the screen, looking up at the data, his eyes filled with a complex light—sadness, hatred, and a kind of almost obsessive ecstasy.

"This is the Alliance's secret weapon." His voice echoed in the technology room, "But now, it's ours. Engineers, I need you to fully analyze the core of these technologies and apply them to our own next-generation MS development as quickly as possible."

The head of the technical team was Yuri Amalfi, a balding engineer in his fifties, a member of the Amalfi family. He adjusted his glasses and walked up to Patrick.

"Chairwoman Sara, the technological sophistication of these machines far exceeds our expectations. The PS armor requires a massive energy supply, which our current battery technology cannot sustain for extended periods of combat. The theoretical framework of phase transfer technology is completely different from our Minovsky particle research, requiring us to build a mathematical model from scratch. While the variable frame's transmission system is ingenious, its structure is complex and difficult to maintain."

Patrick looked at him, his gaze icy. "I don't need difficulties, I only need results. PLANT's survival depends on whether we can technologically overwhelm Union. You have three months to digest all of these technologies."

Yuri was silent for a moment, then nodded. "I'll do my best."

"It's not just about trying your best. It's about having to."

Yuri bowed deeply and turned to walk towards the Aegis Gundam. He held a data terminal in his hand, on which was a 3D model of the machine scanned by the screen—every skeleton, every piece of armor, every line was clearly visible. His fingers lightly swiped across the screen, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

These technologies, if used for peaceful purposes, could benefit humanity. But now, they only create more killing.

But he had no choice.

February 11, underground laboratory of the technology center.

The reverse engineering work began. The technicians carefully conducted multi-faceted attempts.

"It's incredibly sophisticated," a young engineer exclaimed. "The level of technology from the joint venture is far higher than we expected."

"No." Yuri shook his head. "This isn't Union technology. This is Orb technology. Dawn Society—the research institution of that neutral country. Only they have this level of precision. The Union only provided funding and the platform."

"Orb? The neutral nation whose commander-in-chief piloted a mobile suit and repelled an entire fleet?"

"It's him. Char Langlad Ashar." Yuri's voice was low. "That man is far more dangerous than we imagined. He possesses technology, he possesses ideals, and he possesses—an army capable of defending itself. If he chooses to side with the Union, PLANT's future will be even more difficult."

"But he remained neutral," another engineer said.

"Neutral." Yuri sneered. "In war, neutrality is the most unstable state. Today's neutrality may mean tomorrow's enemy."

He didn't continue speaking. He lowered his head and continued recording data.

Three days later, the preliminary analysis report for the four G-series units was delivered to Patrick Sala's desk. The report was thick, filled with dense data and charts, but the core conclusion was only a few lines long—

"PS Armor: Extremely strong defense, but consumes a huge amount of energy. With current battery technology, continuous combat time is no more than ten minutes. It is recommended to develop a higher output power energy system, such as nuclear power. However, neutron jammers have been deployed, and nuclear fission reactors cannot be used on the battlefield. An alternative solution needs to be found."

"Variable Frame: A unique technology of the Aegis Gundam, enabling the transformation between MS and MA modes. It has a complex structure and high maintenance costs, but its tactical value is immense. It is recommended that this technology be retained in next-generation MS."

"New Furnace Body: While the combined battery technology is not as advanced as PLANT's, its energy management system efficiency is worth learning from. It is recommended to optimize the energy allocation algorithm of ZAFT's existing MS to extend combat time."

"Phase transfer technology: derived from PS armor, it can be used in armor, skeletons, and even weapon systems. The theoretical framework is not yet complete and requires further research."

After reading the report, Patrick remained silent for a long time.

"Prepare to launch the next-generation MS development project." He said to his adjutant, "Codenamed ZGMF-X series. Based on the technology of the G series, develop PLANT's own next-generation Gundam. Performance standards—completely surpassing the Union's GAT series."

"What about the budget?"

"Regardless of the cost."

The ZGMF-X series development plan has been officially launched.

Using the G-series chassis as a blueprint, the technical team began designing PLANT's own next-generation mobile suit. The design goals were clear—higher power output, stronger PS armor, greater mobility, and longer combat endurance.

But there is one problem that cannot be avoided: energy.

The G-series PS armor requires a large amount of energy, which PLANT's existing battery technology cannot meet. Neutron jammers have rendered nuclear fission reactors unusable on the battlefield, and while PLANT has researched nuclear fusion technology, it has not yet reached a practical level.

"We need new energy sources," Yuri said at the technology conference. "Batteries are nearing their limits. If we want the next-generation MS to reach the performance level of the G series, we must achieve a breakthrough in energy systems."

"What's the plan?" Patrick asked.

Yuri hesitated for a moment, then said, "Nuclear energy. But not fission, it's fusion. If we can start a nuclear fusion reactor on the battlefield, the neutron jammer won't be able to interfere. In theory, Minovsky particle technology can be used for nuclear fusion control, but our research in this area is still in its early stages."

A glint flashed in Patrick's eyes. "Then increase the investment. Get more intelligence from the Dawn Society—no, from Orb. I need to know how they built their Minovsky nuclear reactor."

"Chairwoman Sara, that's probably difficult. Orb's secrecy is extremely tight."

"Then we'll use drastic measures," Patrick said coldly. "In war, nothing is off-limits."

Yuri lowered his head and did not refute.

ZAFT executives held a secret meeting to discuss mass production plans for the ZGMF-X series. Attendees included Patrick Sala, several key members of the Defense Committee, and Kruse.

Kruse participated in the meeting remotely via video, listening quietly to the technical data and budget figures. A slight smirk played on his lips—not out of agreement, but out of sarcasm.

Humans are always like this. Acquiring new technologies leads to the desire to build even more powerful weapons. More powerful weapons bring about greater wars. Greater wars create more hatred. Hatred, in turn, fuels the development of even newer technologies.

It's a vicious cycle, but he won't say it aloud; he might even enjoy it. Because he needs this cycle to continue.

"How long will the development cycle for the next-generation MS take?" Patrick asked.

"At least a year," Yuri replied. "If all goes well, the first prototypes of the ZGMF-X series can roll off the production line in the first quarter of CE72."

"Too slow." Patrick frowned. "The war won't wait for us. The Union's mass-produced mobile suits could be on the battlefield within six months. We need to have an overwhelming technological advantage before then."

"That's impossible, Chairman Sara." Yuri's voice was calm but firm. "Technological development has its own inherent laws; it can't be accelerated by simply investing more resources. We need time—to understand the G-series technologies, to assimilate them, and then to innovate upon that foundation. This process cannot be compressed."

Patrick stared at him for a long time before finally nodding.

"One year. I'll give you one year. But if you don't deliver results by the deadline—"

I know the consequences.

After the meeting, Kruse walked up to Yuri and whispered, "Dr. Yuri, thank you for your hard work."

Yuri glanced at him, his eyes filled with a complex, indescribable emotion. "Captain Kruze, do you believe these technologies will allow PLANT to win the war?"

Kruze was silent for a moment. "Maybe yes. Maybe no. But in any case, the war will continue. As long as there are people who believe that 'stronger weapons can bring peace,' the war will not end."

Yuri was stunned. Kruse had already turned and walked away.

8 PM, Archangel bridge.

The Strike Gundam was strapped to a maintenance rack in the hangar, its white armor riddled with bullet holes and burn marks from beams. Technicians were busy inspecting the damage, but they were short-handed—most of the technicians had been killed, wounded, or gone missing in the Heliopolis raid.

Kira Yamato sat in a chair in the corner of the bridge, hands on his knees, head bowed. He was wearing the standard pilot's uniform of the Combine—a hastily found and given to him by Murrue, the size not quite right, the sleeves a bit too long. Murrue stood in front of him, holding a cup of hot coffee.

"Kira, would you like something to drink?" She handed him a coffee.

Kira took the coffee but didn't drink it. The cup was warm, the warmth transferring through the ceramic to his palm, but he couldn't feel the temperature.

"Captain Ramias," his voice was hoarse, "I killed someone."

Maru's hand paused slightly.

"During the battle, I hit that green machine. I hit its body. I don't know if it's dead, but I know it might already be—"

"Kira-kun," Murrue crouched down to look him in the eye, "that wasn't your fault. That was war. In war, no one can choose not to hurt others. You were just protecting yourself, protecting the Archangel, protecting everyone on board."

"But I wrote that code. MS's OS—I wrote it. Without my code, those machines probably wouldn't have been able to move at all. I am the real culprit in this massacre."

There was a moment of silence on the bridge.

Natal Bakiruru turned from the fire control panel, her blue eyes fixed on Kira. "Yamato boy, if you think writing code is murder, then the person who makes guns is the murderer, the person who makes bullets is the murderer, and the person who issues combat orders is also the murderer. By that logic, the whole world is the murderer. But there's only one rule on the battlefield—it's either you or me. You have no choice, and neither does the enemy. That's war."

Kira looked up and gazed into her cold blue eyes.

"Captain Buggyuru, have you ever killed anyone?"

Natal's expression remained unchanged. "I am a soldier; I have seen death many times before. My duty now is to protect this ship and the people on board, not to protect my own conscience."

Kira lowered his head.

Murrue stood up and gently patted his shoulder. "Kira-kun, go and rest. There's a lot to do tomorrow."

Kira stood up and walked towards the exit of the bridge. When he reached the door, he stopped and glanced back at Maru and Natal.

"Commander-in-Chief Askha... is he still alive?"

Maru's fingers paused slightly. "I don't know. But he's the commander-in-chief of Orb, the Red Comet. He won't die so easily."

Kira left. Only Maru and Natalie remained on the bridge.

"Captain Bakirulu," Maru whispered, "what do you think will happen to us? We are a warship of the Atlantic Federation, and we have joint military secrets on board."

Natal was silent for a moment. "I don't know. But Commander-in-Chief Asha once said, 'The door of Orb is always open for you.' I believe he wasn't just saying that casually."

"You've changed too?"