Crossing Orb: Newtype Commander

The command center of the Orb Dawn Society.

Erica Simmons had been working continuously for thirty hours. She sat in front of VEDA's terminal, the holographic screen scrolling with the Archangel's trajectory, the Kruse team's position, and the real-time status data of the Golden Machine. Her eyes behind her gold-rimmed glasses were bloodshot, and the liquid in her coffee cup had been changed countless times.

But she didn't rest. It wasn't that she didn't want to sleep, it was that she couldn't fall asleep.

After the Battle of Heliopolis, she immediately accessed the combat logs of the Gold Machine through VEDA. She watched every frame and analyzed every set of data. Char's piloting skills were as excellent as ever—no, even better than before. The Newtype's abilities were fully activated in actual combat; his reaction speed, judgment, and awareness of the battlefield situation had all reached new heights.

But his health is declining.

At the end of the combat log, the golden machine's movements showed obvious distortion—not a technical issue, but a physical one. Its left shoulder reacted 0.3 seconds slower than its right, the thruster's operating frequency decreased, and even the accuracy of its beam rifle fluctuated. He was fighting while injured, and seriously so.

"VEDA, Asha's injury assessment."

"According to the biosensor data from the Golden Machine's cockpit, Commander-in-Chief Asha's left shoulder wound continues to bleed, his heart rate rose to 120 beats per minute in the later stages of the battle, and his blood pressure is low. It is recommended that he rest immediately and undergo a full medical examination."

Erica's fingers tapped lightly on the console. She wanted to send a message; she typed a few lines, then deleted them; typed again, then deleted again. She wasn't Mina—Mina could say in public, "I only care when you're coming back," but she couldn't. She would get nervous, blush, and stammer.

But she still wanted to say something.

Finally, she typed a message on the encrypted terminal: "Watch out for that masked man. By the way, I miss you too." After pressing send, she stared at the screen for a few seconds, then abruptly shut down the terminal. Her ears turned red, the red spreading from the tips of her ears all the way down to her neck.

"VEDA, that message has the highest access level. No one except Commander-in-Chief Asha can access it."

"Instruction recorded."

Erica took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Outside the window, the lights of Orb City flickered in the night. The cables of the rail elevator shimmered silvery-white in the moonlight, like a string connecting heaven and earth. She gazed in that direction and silently said in her heart—come back alive. Not just for Orb, but for me too.

Bridge of the USS Wesalis.

Kruze sat in the captain's seat, his eyes behind his mask fixed on the holographic map of space. The Archangel's path meandered through the debris field like a snake trying to shake off its predator. But no matter how fast a snake runs, it can't outrun a venomous viper.

"Captain, the Archangel has entered the depths of L4 space." The adjutant's voice came from behind. "If we continue deeper, we will enter Orb's airspace. There are Orb's patrol fleets there."

"Ob will not intervene," Kruze said calmly. "Commander-in-Chief Asha will not allow Ob to be drawn into this war. Neutrality is his bottom line, and also his constraint."

"but--"

"No buts." Kruze stood up and walked to the holographic screen. "Order all teams to maintain distance. Do not approach, do not attack. Wait."

"What are you waiting for?"

Kruse didn't answer. He stared at the Archangel's trajectory on the screen, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Wait until they are exhausted. Wait until they make mistakes. Wait until they are desperate.

In the previous battle, he witnessed the limits of the golden machine pilot—the limits of his body. Char Langrad Athha was incredibly strong, almost inhumanly so. But he was still human; he could be injured, he could tire, he could bleed. When enough blood is shed, even the strongest warrior will fall.

The others on the Archangel were not worth his worry. The boy named Kira Yamato was talented, but too gentle. Gentle people don't survive long on the battlefield. The female captain named Maru Lamias was responsible, but too sentimental. Sentimental people hesitate on the battlefield. The female officer named Natal Bakiruru was professional, but too rigid. Rigid people break down on the battlefield.

Only Ashar is a true adversary.

"Hate is the only language that doesn't need to be learned," Kruze said in a low voice. The adjutant didn't hear him clearly and asked, "What did you say?" He didn't answer, but simply waved his hand, signaling everyone to leave.

He was the only one left on the bridge. Kruze stood before the holographic screen, watching the Archangel's trajectory, a slow smile playing on his lips behind his mask. It wasn't a smile, but a more complex expression—expectation, admiration, and an almost morbid longing.

"Char Langlad Ashar," he whispered, "Will you despair? When you've bled to death, exhausted your strength, and lost all hope—what kind of expression will you wear? I'm looking forward to it."

Outside the window, the starry sky was silent in the darkness.

Archangel, medical bay.

Char sat by the hospital bed, the bandage on his left shoulder being re-bandaged by a nurse. His military jacket lay on the chair beside him, his shirt half-removed, revealing the wound on his left shoulder—the wound had been torn open again under pressure, and the bleeding continued.

"Commander-in-Chief Askha, you need rest." The nurse's voice carried a hint of command. "At least eight hours. Otherwise, the wound will become infected, which will affect—"

"I know," Xia interrupted her.

The nurse glanced at him but didn't try to persuade him further. She was used to these soldiers—they always said "I know" and then continued doing things they shouldn't. She finished bandaging his wound, packed her medical kit, and turned to leave.

Char sat by the hospital bed, holding an encrypted terminal in his hand. Two unread messages were displayed on the screen—one from Mina and one from Erika.

Mina's message was brief, each word carrying her signature style: "Be careful. Come back." No extra words, no emotional expression. But Char could read everything she wanted to say in those five words—worry, concern, and the threat of "I won't let you go if you don't come back."

Erica's message was longer, but equally brief: "Watch out for that Kruze. By the way, I miss you too."

Xia stared at the words for a long time. A slight smile played on his lips, then he shook his head with a wry smile. These two women, one expressing themselves with silence, the other with clumsiness, were both telling him the same thing in their own ways—come back alive.

"VEDA replied to Mina Sahak: 'Received. Will be careful.' Replied to Erica Simmons: 'Received. I miss you all too.'"

"Instruction recorded."

Char stood up, put on his shirt, and draped his military jacket over his shoulders. His left shoulder still hurt, but it was better than before. He stepped out of the medical pod; the corridor was empty, with only the red glow of the emergency lights flashing in the darkness.

He stopped when he reached the bridge entrance. Through the porthole in the door, he saw Kira Yamato—the boy sitting in a chair in the corner of the bridge, holding the plastic puppy in his hand, staring at the floor, his expression calm but his eyes empty.

Char pushed open the door, walked to Kira's side, and sat down in the chair next to him.

"Can't sleep?"

Kira looked up, his amber eyes filled with a weariness beyond his years. "Commander-in-Chief Asuka, you can't sleep either?"

"Um."

The two remained silent for a moment. Everyone else on the bridge was busy with their own things—Maryu was discussing the course with Natalie, Mu was checking the status of the Möbius Zero, and no one noticed the two people in the corner.

"Commander-in-Chief Ashar," Kira suddenly spoke, "Aslan said he won't show any mercy the next time we meet. He said Yzak, Diego, Nicol—they'll kill me."

Are you scared?

Kira lowered his head, looking at the plastic puppy in his hand. "Fear. Not fear of death. Fear... of fighting him."

Char was silent for a moment. "Kira, do you know what the most painful thing on the battlefield is?"

"What?"

"It's not about killing, nor being killed. It's about killing someone you don't want to kill."

Kira's fingers tightened slightly.

"Athrun is a Coordinator, and you are a Coordinator. You are friends, but you stand on opposite sides. This is not your fault, it is the fault of the war. War turns friends into enemies, comrades into outcasts, and kindness into cruelty."

"What should I do then?"

Char looked at him, his deep red eyes almost black in the red light of the emergency lights. "Protect those you want to protect. If one day you must fight Athrun—don't hesitate, don't be soft-hearted. Hesitation will kill you, and soft-heartedness will kill your friends. Athrun won't be soft-hearted either, because he also has people he wants to protect."

Kira remained silent for a long time.

"Commander-in-Chief Asha, have you ever killed someone you didn't want to kill?"

Char didn't answer. Images flashed through his mind—the deaths of tens of thousands on Junius VII, and every enemy plane he had shot down on the battlefield. Each time, he could feel the emotions of those pilots—fear, pain, and their final, desperate will to live.

"Killed."

Kira looked at him, and there was a complex light in his amber eyes—not fear, not disgust, but something deeper and more essential.

"So how did you get out?"

Char remained silent for a long time. "I haven't moved on. I've just gotten used to it. But getting used to it doesn't mean becoming numb." He looked into Kira's eyes. "Don't get used to killing, Kira. Never. Once you get used to it, you can't go back."

Kira lowered his head and pressed the plastic puppy against his chest.

"I've got it."

In a corner of the bridge, two men sat silently in the red glow of the emergency lights. One had killed someone he didn't want to kill, the other was about to face the choice of whether to kill or not. They were both caught up in the war, both had no choice, both were trying to find a way out in the darkness.

February 12, CE71, the first day after the Battle of Heliopolis.

The pursuit by Kruze's team continued, and the Archangel struggled through the debris field. Mina kept watch aboard the Izumo, Erika waited at the Dawn Company, and Char continued to fight despite his injuries.

Kira Yamato is becoming someone he never imagined he would become.

It wasn't because he wanted to, but because he had no choice.

"In war, no one has a choice." — Rau Le Creuset.