Crossing Orb: Newtype Commander

CE71, February 13, L4 space, Archangel.

This is the thirty-second hour since the end of the Battle of Heliopolis.

The ship's mess hall has stopped serving hot meals. Not because the cooks are on strike, but because food reserves have fallen below the critical level—the excessive number of survivors and wounded, combined with the original crew, exceeds 800. This warship, designed to carry no more than 200 people, is now crammed with four times its rated capacity.

They were crammed into the corridors, into the hangars, into every corner where a person could squeeze in. Children lay on makeshift canvas beds, the elderly sat against the bulkheads, and the wounded filled every inch of the medical bay floor. The air was thick with the smells of sweat, blood, and fear, like some invisible plague spreading.

Kira Yamato carried his tray down the corridor. On it were only two compressed biscuits and a glass of water. This was his first and last meal of the day. The cafeteria had announced that starting tomorrow, each person could only receive one compressed biscuit and half a liter of water per day.

"Kira." Thor's voice came from the crowd. He stood up from beside a canvas bed, his face covered in sweat and dust, but his smile remained—that optimistic, hopeless smile. "There's an empty seat here."

Kira squeezed past and sat down next to Thor. The compressed biscuits were hard and needed to be softened with saliva before swallowing, but Kira didn't complain. Beside him, a five- or six-year-old boy was clinging to his mother's arm, his eyes fixed on the biscuit in Kira's hand. Kira broke off half and handed it to him.

The boy's mother looked up, a flicker of gratitude in her cloudy eyes. "Thank you... thank you..."

"You're welcome." Kira stuffed the cookie into the boy's hand and lowered his head to continue eating the half he had left.

Thor watched this scene, his smile vanishing. "Kira, we're not enough even if we're on our own..."

"He's still young," Kira said calmly. "We can hold on."

Bridge of the Archangel.

Maru Ramias stood at the tactical table, a list of supplies spread out before her. The numbers were coldly arranged on the screen, each line reminding her of a harsh reality: food, lasting only two days; fresh water, lasting only a day and a half; medical supplies—the hemostatic agents were used up, the antibiotics were down to their last few doses, and even bandages had to be used sparingly.

"Captain, at this rate, we won't make it to the moon." Natal Bakiru stood beside her, her voice steady, but her fingers gripping the data panel were slightly white. "At our current speed, it will take at least five days to reach the moon in a straight line. And our supplies—will last at most two days."

"I know." Maru closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, "Are there any other options?"

Mu La Fraga leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. His eyes were closed, but his mind was racing. "There's a place, but we probably won't be welcome there."

"Where?"

Mu opened his eyes, a complex light flashing in his blue pupils. "Artemis. The Eurasian Federation's space fortress."

A moment of silence fell over the bridge. The Eurasian Federation—a member of the Earth Federation—had always harbored its own agenda during the war. They had signed the Mondalia Treaty and joined the Earth Federation, but their military had never truly participated in combat against PLANT. They had their own MS development programs, their own strategic objectives, and their own ambitions.

"Fortress Artemis possesses an absolute defensive barrier." Mu sat up straight, his finger bringing up the fortress's data on the tactical table. "Its light wave barrier covers the entire asteroid, completely reflecting all conventional weapon attacks—beam weapons, physical bullets, missiles, and even lasers cannot penetrate it. ZAFT has been fighting for six months and has never managed to break through it."

Natal stared at the data on the screen, her blue eyes narrowing slightly. "If the Eurasian Federation is willing to provide supplies, we can hold out until we reach the moon. But the question is—are they willing?"

"Whether they're willing or not depends on what we offer," Mu said with a hint of sarcasm. "The Eurasian Federation isn't a charity. They won't give us food and medicine out of 'humanitarianism.' What they want is profit—technology, or political leverage."

Maru fell silent. She knew Mu was right. The Earth Federation was never a monolithic entity—the Atlantic Federation wanted to be the leader, the Eurasian Federation wanted a share, and the East Asian Republic wanted to play both sides. Under the banner of war, each nation had its own agenda.

She looked up, her gaze falling on the sofa in the corner of the bridge. Char sat there, the bandage on his left shoulder faintly visible beneath his uniform, his deep red eyes fixed on the space map on the tactical table. He hadn't spoken for a long time, simply listening quietly, like a silent observer.

"Commander-in-Chief Askha, what's your opinion?"

Char stood up and walked to the tactical table. His steps were still steady, and his breathing was still even, but everyone could see his exhaustion—an exhaustion that seeped into his bones and could not be concealed.

"Artemis isn't a good choice, but perhaps the only one." His voice was calm as he traced a path on the tactical table with his finger. "Colonel Garcia of the Eurasian Federation is Artemis's commander. He's an arrogant man, arrogant enough to believe the Eurasian Federation can stand alone against ZAFT. He won't let us go easily."

"You know him?" Mu raised an eyebrow.

“I have my own intelligence network.” Char didn’t answer directly. “Colonel Garcia’s weakness is greed. He wants the Archangel, he wants the Strike Gundam, he wants anything that can increase his political leverage. If we go to Artemis, he will definitely try to seize them.”

Maru's fingers tightened slightly. "So, are we still going?"

Char looked at her, his deep red eyes holding a calm, almost cold, clarity. "Go. Because on the way to Artemis, we have a chance to survive. If we don't go, we'll starve to death, die of thirst, or be caught up with and killed by Kruze's fleet in space. Between bad and worse, choose the bad."

No one spoke on the bridge.

"But we must be prepared," Char continued. "Before entering Artemis, the Gold Frame will be hidden. The Strike Gundam's OS will be locked, preventing Eurasian Federation technicians from accessing the core code. The Archangel's weapon systems will remain online, ready to depart at any time."

Natal nodded. "Understood."

Kira stood at the bridge entrance, half a compressed biscuit clutched in his hand. He heard every word Char said, each syllable weighing heavily on his heart like a stone. Artemis—not a refuge, but another trap. In war, there are no safe havens, only temporary shelters.

"Kira," Char's voice came from inside the bridge, "come in."

Kira walked in and stood before Char. His uniform, worn for three days, was stained with sweat and dust, but his posture remained ramrod straight. Deep dark circles shone beneath his amber eyes, but there was no sign of retreat in his gaze.

"Can you lock onto the Strike Gundam's OS?"

"Yes," Kira nodded. "I can set a biometric lock. At the designated time, the system will automatically lock and require my biometrics to unlock. Even if the Eurasian Federation's technicians get their hands on the machine, they won't be able to activate it without my authorization."

"how long?"

"Six hours. If I don't reauthorize after I've finished setting it up, the system will lock."

Xia looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Well done."

Meanwhile, on the outer edge of L4 space, the Wesalis.

Kruze stood in front of the holographic screen, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest. The Archangel's trajectory moved slowly on the screen, turning from the debris field to a southern route—the direction of Artemis.

"Captain, the Archangel has changed course," the adjutant's voice came from behind. "Expected destination—Artemis Fortress of the Eurasian Federation."

Kruze's lips curled into a slight smile. "Artemis...that turtle shell."

"Should we pursue them?"

"No. Let them go." Kruze turned around, his gaze behind the mask icy. "Artemis is not a refuge, it's a trap. Colonel Garcia of the Eurasian Federation won't let the Archangel and the Strike Gundam go. They'll fight each other themselves; we don't need to lift a finger."

"but--"

"No buts," Kruze interrupted him. "Keep your distance and continue monitoring. Wait for them to slip up on their own."

The adjutant withdrew. Kruze stood alone before the holographic screen, staring at the slowly moving dot of light. The Archangel—no, that golden machine. What would the man known as the "Crimson Comet" be doing in Artemis? Would he, like in Heliopolis, fight the entire fortress alone?

"Interesting," Kruze said softly. "Char Langlad Ashar, I'm looking forward to it. How will you deal with Garcia's greed? By force? By wisdom? Or by your all-seeing eyes?"

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

On the morning of February 14, outside the Artemis Fortress.

The Artemis Fortress was built inside an asteroid about ten kilometers in diameter. Engineers from the Eurasian Federation hollowed out the asteroid, constructing docks, barracks, warehouses, and a command center inside, before covering the surface with thick layers of rock and armor plating. From a distance, it appears as just an ordinary rocky celestial body—but any enemy attempting to approach will witness its true power.

Light wave barrier.

As the Archangel approached the fortress, Char saw the barrier through the porthole—not a physical wall, but a translucent, faintly glowing energy field that covered the entire asteroid like a soap bubble. Light refracted on the barrier's surface, displaying rainbow-like colors.

"The light wave barrier...it's truly beautiful." Mu stood by the porthole, a hint of admiration in his voice. "It's said that this thing consumes a huge amount of energy and can't be deployed constantly. It only activates when enemy forces are detected, otherwise it's in standby mode. ZAFT has been fighting for half a year and has never managed to break through it."

"Even the strongest shield has a weakness," Xia said calmly. "The energy source for the light wave barrier comes from an energy reactor inside the asteroid. If the reactor is destroyed, the barrier will disappear."

"Destroy the reactor?" Mu smiled wryly. "Even ZAFT couldn't do that."

"Because they're fighting from the outside." Xia turned around, a glint of light flashing in his deep red eyes. "Fighting from the inside is a different story."

Mu looked at him, a hint of amusement in his blue eyes. "Commander-in-Chief Asha, have you already figured something out?"

Char did not answer.

The Archangel slowly entered Artemis's dock. The hatches closed, air was injected, and the gravity simulation was activated. When the view of the fortress's interior appeared outside the portholes, everyone breathed a sigh of relief—finally, they had reached a safe place, and finally, they no longer had to worry about Kruze's pursuit.

But this relaxation only lasted a few minutes.

"Archangel, this is the Artemis Fortress Command Center." An arrogant voice came through the communicator. "This is Colonel Garcia, the fortress commander. Welcome to Artemis. All crew members, assemble in the designated area for quarantine. All weapon systems must be shut down, and mobile suits must be parked in designated locations and not moved without permission."

Maru pressed the call button: "Colonel Garcia, the Archangel needs supplies—food, fresh water, and medical supplies. We have over 800 survivors on board, including several wounded."

There was a few seconds of silence on the communicator, then Garcia's voice came through again, tinged with impatience: "We'll discuss the supply issue later. Now, execute the orders."

Communication was interrupted.

Maru's fingers tightened slightly. "Captain Buggyuru, what do you think?"

Natal stood before the fire control console, her blue eyes fixed on the defensive structures surrounding the dock—four gun emplacements, two missile silos, and at least a battalion of soldiers. Their weapons were already aimed at the Archangel; though no shots were fired, their intentions were clear.

"We've been treated like prey." Natal's voice was calm, but every word was chilling.