Crossing Orb: Newtype Commander

Heliopolis.

The artificial sky has been completely extinguished. The colony's outer shell was damaged in many places during last night's battle, and starlight seeped in through the cracks, casting mottled silvery-white spots of light on the ruins.

The air was thick with the smell of burning and the metallic tang of metal. Occasionally, sparks would burst from the broken cables, flashing briefly in the darkness before going out.

The Archangel sat quietly in the shipyard in the industrial area. This giant ship, which was over 300 meters long, had hastily left port during the surprise attack last night, but turned back due to the return of the Strike Gundam.

Now, it has temporarily become the most secure haven in this ruin.

In the bridge, Marlene Lamias stood by the porthole, holding a cup of coffee that had gone cold. She hadn't slept all night; her uniform was still wrinkled, and her long brown hair was loosely tied back.

Her gaze fell on the shattered interior of the colony outside the window—the once orderly streets had become piles of rubble, the once bustling commercial districts were reduced to twisted steel frames, and the once lush parks were now covered in grayish-white dust.

"Captain Lamias, report from the search and rescue team." Natal Bakirulu's voice came from behind, calm, restrained, and devoid of any unnecessary emotion.

Maru turned around and took the data panel. The screen displayed the search and rescue team's preliminary statistics: 312 survivors found; 47 seriously injured; the death toll, still being tallied, estimated to exceed 200. Her fingers slid across the panel, her gaze sweeping over the cold numbers; each line represented a life.

"What's the situation with the supplies?"

"Food reserves are enough for two weeks, fresh water for a week, and medical supplies—" Natal paused, "are severely lacking. Especially hemostatic agents and antibiotics. If the number of seriously wounded continues to rise, we'll run out within three days."

Maru closed her eyes. Within the Atlantic Federation's military system, she had received countless training sessions in logistics management, but those training sessions were all designed under the premise of "supply line integration".

Now, the Archangel is a lone ship, with no fleet behind it, no satellites overhead, and its only support is this collapsing ruin.

"Continue the search and rescue." She opened her eyes, her voice calm. "Save as many as you can. At the same time, send out technical teams to search for usable medical supplies in the colony's civilian facilities. Pharmacies, clinics, hospitals—search them all, as long as they haven't been completely destroyed."

"Yes." Natal turned to leave, but paused. "Captain, regarding Commander-in-Chief Askha—"

"No news yet." Maru's voice was flat, but her fingers tightened slightly around the data panel. "The search and rescue team has been searching the Industrial Academy area for three hours. The buildings there are the most damaged, but there are still survivors. He'll be alright."

Natal looked at her, a complex light flashing in her blue eyes. She said nothing more and turned to walk towards the bridge exit.

Maru stood alone by the porthole, the liquid in her coffee cup completely cold. She picked it up and took a sip, the bitter taste spreading across her tongue. Kira's words from last night still echoed in her mind—"Commander-in-Chief Athha was grazed in the shoulder by a bullet while saving me. Then he sent me to the Assault Forces and stayed behind at the Armory."

He remained at the arsenal. The place repeatedly bombed by ZAFT in the early morning. The place that is now in ruins.

"You said," she whispered, so softly that only she could hear, "that the door to Orb would always be open for me. So I can't accept that you died before you even opened it."

Nine o'clock in the morning, the ruins of the Industrial College.

Kira Yamato stood on the rubble of the library, his hands covered in dust and dried blood—not his own, but the blood of those he had dug out of the ruins. Deep dark circles clung to his amber eyes.

He hadn't slept a wink since climbing out of the Strike Gundam's cockpit last night. First, there were the wounded in the medical bay, then the bridge briefing, and then the search and rescue team mobilization. He wasn't assigned to a search and rescue mission—Maryu said he needed rest—but he still secretly followed a group of volunteers ashore.

"Kira, over here!" Thor's voice came from the other side of the rubble.

Kira ran over and saw Thor and several volunteers moving a concrete slab. Underneath the slab was a small triangular space where a middle-aged woman was curled up, holding a five- or six-year-old boy in her arms. The boy's eyes were closed, his face was pale, but his chest was still rising and falling slightly.

"Alive!" Thor shouted.

Kira jumped down and carefully caught the boy. The child's body was unnaturally light; he could feel the ribs rising and falling slightly beneath his hand. He handed the boy to the volunteer above, then turned to pull the middle-aged woman away. The woman's leg was trapped, and blood seeped from the cracks in the concrete.

"Auntie, please bear with it." Kira used his hands to dig through the rubble, his fingertips were cut by the sharp edges, and blood mixed with dust, turning into black mud.

The woman didn't speak, only looked at him with her cloudy eyes. There was no fear, no pain in her eyes, only a calm, almost numb waiting. She had been waiting under the rubble for too long, so long that she no longer had the strength to feel fear.

When Kira pulled the woman out, her left leg was gone below the knee. Blood had congealed into a dark red scab at the cut, and the bone, stark white, protruded from the muscle.

"Stretcher!" Kira shouted.

Volunteers ran over with a stretcher and carefully lifted the woman onto it. Kira stood on the rubble, watching the stretcher being carried towards the distant first-aid station. His fingers were still bleeding, but he felt no pain.

"Kira, your hand—" Thor walked over and handed him a roll of bandage.

"It's alright." Kira took the bandage, wrapped it around a few times casually, and said, "Keep going. There are still many people down there."

Thor looked at him, and the light in his amber eyes was exactly the same as when he piloted the Strike earlier that morning—neither courage nor determination, but rather a kind of numbness after being pushed to the limit.

Kira, you can't save everyone.

"I know." Kira lowered his head, looking at his bandaged hands. "But I can't let this life slip away. Commander-in-Chief Asuka probably saved me for the same reason. I won't let this life, which I was saved, be wasted like this."

At the same time, on the outskirts of the colony, in the debris belt.

The Möbius Zero glided silently through the debris. It was an MA—a mobile armor, the pinnacle of technology for the Atlantic Federation before the MS era. It featured a wire-controlled cannon, high-mobility thrusters, and an experienced pilot.

Mullah La Vlada sat in the cockpit, his face pale with exhaustion beneath his helmet. His Möbius Zero had been badly damaged in the previous night's battle—the left-wing thruster had been hit, reducing its output to half its normal capacity; two of the wire-guided gun cables had broken, leaving only one still functional; and the canopy was riddled with bullet holes, nearly pierced through.

But he was still alive. None of his wingmen, the young pilots who had taken off with him from the lunar base, survived.

"Major Vlada, this is the Dawn Agency's temporary communications relay. Please respond upon receipt."

An unfamiliar voice came through the communicator—not from the coalition channel, but from Orb's civilian frequency. Mu pressed the call button: "This is Mu la Vlad. Who are you?"

"I am a technician from the Dawn Society. We have detected your body signals. Do you need assistance?"

Mu remained silent for a moment. He could choose to return to the Allied front, but where was that front? Heliopolis had fallen, the lunar base was too far away, and Earth was unreachable. He was now a ship without a port.

"I'm in the debris field on the outskirts of Heliopolis. My machine is damaged and needs repair. Is there any safe place inside the colony?"

"There's a Combine warship in the shipyard in the industrial zone—the Archangel. It's still operational. If you can get inside the colony, that's probably the safest place."

The Archangel. Mu had heard of this name—General Halbarton's G-Project warship, over three hundred meters long, equipped with the latest weapon systems and MS hangars. He hadn't expected that this ship was still in Heliopolis.

"Roger. I will attempt to enter the colony. Please inform the Archangel that Mu la Vlada requests landing."

"Message delivered. Be careful, Major Vlada."

Mu switched off the communicator and pushed the control stick. The Möbius Zero's thrusters emitted faint flames as it dragged the damaged machine toward the hole in the colony.

At 11:00 AM, the flagship of the Kruse team, the Wesalis.

Kruze stood before the holographic screen on the bridge, his fingers lightly tapping the handrail. The screen displayed live surveillance footage of Heliopolis—the colony's hull was riddled with holes, and smoke billowed from many places inside, but the Archangel's signal remained intact.

"Captain, the reconnaissance aircraft reports that the Archangel is still in the shipyard inside the colony. The Strike Gundam is also on board." Athrun Zala stood behind him, his voice calm, but there was a subtle, almost imperceptible, tremor in his eyes.

"Where are our mobile suit units?"

"The Yzak and Diego teams are resupplying, and the Nicole team is repairing and maintaining their damaged units, which will take more time. Only six GINNs are available for immediate deployment, and—" Athrun paused, "and the four units I seized."

Kruze turned around, his gaze from behind the mask landing on Athrun's face. "Athrun, you know that boy who piloted the Strike, don't you?"

Athrun's fingers tightened slightly. "Yes. His name is Kira Yamato. We... met in PLANT when we were kids. He's a Coordinator."

"A Coordinator?" Kruze's voice held a hint of amusement. "A Coordinator, piloting a Union mobile suit, opposing PLANT. Interesting."

"He's not the enemy—" Aslan's voice rose a half-octave, then fell back down, "He's just protecting himself. He was caught up in the war; he had no choice."

Kruse looked at him without saying a word.

"Captain, I beg you—let me go and talk to him. Perhaps I can persuade him to leave the battlefield."

Kruze remained silent for a long time. He stared at Aslan's face, his green eyes gleaming with an almost stubborn light. Young, passionate, and still believing that "dialogue" could solve problems. Kruze sneered inwardly, but didn't show it.

"Okay. But there's one condition—if the dialogue fails, you must personally destroy the Strike Gundam. That's an order."

Aslan's pupils contracted. He lowered his head, remained silent for a few seconds, then raised his head. "Yes."

After Aslan left, Kruze stood alone on the bridge, gazing at Heliopolis on the holographic screen. A slight smile played on his lips, but there was no joy in his eyes.

"Kira Yamato... Interesting. This boy will become the spark that ignites an even greater flame."

He turned to his adjutant behind him and said, "Order all teams to prepare for the next phase of the operation. Objective—completely destroy Heliopolis, as well as the Archangel and the Strike Gundam. Leave no survivors."

"yes!"

Inside Heliopolis, in the ruins of the industrial zone.

When the Möbius Zero crawled through the hole in the colony, it saw a scene of apocalypse.

The streets were now piles of rubble, buildings twisted steel frames, and parks a greyish-white desert. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of burning, with occasional flames flickering in the ruins, billowing thick black smoke. In the distance, the Archangel's hull gleamed in the sunlight, seemingly the only thing still alive amidst the devastation.

He piloted the Möbius Zero and slowly landed it on the open ground outside the dock. The canopy opened, and he climbed out, his feet touching the dusty ground. The moment his boots touched the ground, they made a dull thud, the echo reverberating through the empty dock.

"Is anyone there?" he called out.

No one answered. Only the wind whistled through the holes in the colony.

Mu retrieved his rifle and helmet from the cockpit and headed towards the Archangel. His boots crunched on the gravel. After walking about two hundred meters, he heard another sound—not the wind, not the gravel, but footsteps. Someone was approaching him.

He stopped, raised his rifle, and pointed the muzzle in the direction from which the sound came.

A figure emerged from the shadows of the ruins. Deep red eyes, a dark blue military uniform, and a patch of dark red blood on his shoulder—dried but still quite large. His steps were steady, his breathing even; he didn't look like a wounded person.

"Major Vlada," the man spoke, his voice calm, "I've heard so much about you."

Mu's pupils contracted. He recognized the face—Char Langlad Ashar, the Commander-in-Chief of the Orb Defense Forces, the Red Comet. He had seen this face no less than ten times in the internal bulletins of the Allied Forces, every document marked with the words "dangerous person" in red pen.

"Commander-in-Chief Askha," Mu lowered his rifle, but remained vigilant, "what are you doing here?"

"Just like you." Xia walked up to him, extending his hand. "I'm trapped."

Mu looked at the hand, hesitated for a moment, then grasped it. The palm was warm and strong, the fingers calloused from years of piloting mobile suits. "Your shoulder—"

"It's a superficial wound. It's already been treated." Xia released his grip. "Major Vlada, do you have a way to contact the Archangel? My communicator was damaged in the explosion."

Mu took a spare terminal from the communicator at his waist and handed it to him. "Use this. It's on civilian frequency, but it should be able to connect."

Char took the terminal and pressed the call button. "This is Char Langlad Athha, calling Archangel. Please respond upon receipt."

The communicator was silent for a few seconds, then a woman's voice came through—trembling slightly, but still steady: "Commander-in-Chief Asha... This is Maru Ramias. You... you're still alive."

"Still alive." Char's voice was calm, but the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned. "Captain, I'm currently in the open area outside the dock with Major Vlad. We need permission."

"Permission granted... Of course. I'll send a car to pick you up right away."

Communication was lost. Char returned the terminal to Mu. "Major Flada, let's go. We need to talk."