Crossing Orb: Newtype Commander

Chapter 102 Change

"Miss Lux, you should rest." Shihe's voice came from the tent entrance. She wasn't wearing her ZAFT military uniform, but had changed into civilian clothes. There was a complex emotion in her eyes—not hostility, not vigilance, but something indescribable, almost guilt.

Lux didn't turn around. "Poetry, tell me, why do Coordinators and Naturals kill each other?"

Shihe walked to her side and looked down at the injured young man. "Because of fear. Naturals fear the abilities of Coordinators, and Coordinators fear the hatred of Naturals. Fear makes people unable to see the other person's face, only their labels."

"And what about you? What are you afraid of?"

Shi He was silent for a moment. "I fear—that one day I will wake up and find myself becoming the kind of person I once hated."

Lux looked up and met Shihe's eyes. There was a heaviness in those deep brown eyes that was beyond her years—not the heaviness of a warrior, but the heaviness of a "thinker."

"Shihe, you won't become that kind of person."

Why?

"Because you're still asking yourself that question."

Shihe was stunned. She looked into Lux's eyes, those violet eyes held no judgment, only a calm, gentle light. She thought of that man—Char Langlad Ashar. In the hangar, he had asked her, "Why did I kill you?" On the bridge, he had said, "You saved Lux's life, thank you." He hadn't treated her as an enemy, nor as a tool, but simply as a human being.

"Miss Lux," Shihe's voice was hoarse, "do you think Commander-in-Chief Ashu can end this war?"

Lux looked down at the pink Haro in her arms. "I don't know. But I know he's someone who never gives up. Never gives up on peace, never gives up on hope, never gives up on anyone willing to lend a hand. If even he can't do that, then no one can."

Shihe remained silent for a long time, then took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. "I found this in the Junius 7 wreckage area. It floated out of a life pod."

Lux took the paper and unfolded it. It was a photograph—a young woman holding a baby, standing in a PLANT agricultural satellite, sunlight streaming through her golden hair, her smile warm and serene. On the back of the photograph was written: "Renoir and Aslan, Spring CE54".

Lux's pupils contracted. Renoir Zala—Athrun's mother. The woman who perished in the Junius 7 explosion.

"Poetry and this photograph—"

"I intended to return it to Lieutenant Aslan," Shihe said softly, "but I didn't have the chance. If you see him, please give it to him."

Lux pressed the photo to her chest and closed her eyes. Aslan's face appeared in her mind—a face cold and stern on the battlefield, gentle in memories. He had lost his mother, his homeland, so much. But he continued to fight, because he believed he was protecting something.

"I will." Lux opened her eyes, tears glistening in them. "I will hand him over myself."

Orb, Dawn Corporation Technology Development Center.

Erica Simmons stood before the holographic screen, her fingers flying across the touchscreen. The screen displayed a theoretical model of the beam shield—a semi-transparent energy barrier composed of compressed Minovsky particles, covering the surface of the mech. The principle behind this barrier was that when a projectile or beam struck it, the high-density Minovsky particles would interact with the attack energy, dispersing the kinetic or thermal energy across the entire barrier surface, thus preventing localized damage.

"Theoretically perfect." Erica turned to look at the technical team behind her. "But there are two problems—first, energy consumption. To maintain a stable barrier layer, a large number of Minovsky particles need to be continuously output. With the current output, it can only last for ten minutes at most. Second, heat dissipation. The particle barrier will generate a lot of heat when it is attacked. If the cooling system cannot keep up, the cockpit will become an oven."

Hiroshi Kato stepped out from the crowd, holding a silver-white metal plate. "The heat dissipation problem can be solved with a new type of heat pipe. We embedded a network of micro heat pipes inside the E-carbon fiber to quickly conduct heat to the back heatsink."

Test results show that the heat dissipation efficiency is three times that of existing systems.

"What about energy consumption?" Erica asked.

Kato remained silent. Everyone looked at Char, who stood in the corner of the conference room, his deep red eyes fixed on the data on the screen, saying nothing.

"The energy consumption problem will be solved with the pseudo-solar furnace," Char said calmly. "The output power of the pseudo-solar furnace is more than twice that of the Minovsky nuclear reactor. If equipped with the pseudo-solar furnace, Field 1 can operate continuously for at least thirty minutes."

Thirty minutes is enough on the battlefield.

"But the simulated solar furnace is still under development—" a young technician said cautiously.

"Therefore, we need to speed things up." Char walked to the holographic screen, swiping his finger across the control panel to bring up the design blueprints for the pseudo-solar reactor. "The prototype of the revolutionary pseudo-solar reactor will be launched in three days. At that time, I will personally test the performance of the I-field. If the data meets expectations, the beam shield technology will be fully implemented in subsequent units of the 'Spark Project.'"

Erica frowned slightly. "You're going to test it yourself? What if there are problems?"

"There won't be any problems." Xia turned around, looking into her eyes. "Because I trust the technology of Dawn Corporation."

A moment of silence fell over the meeting room. Then, applause erupted—not the polite, formulaic kind, but a heartfelt, excited, even somewhat frenzied applause. Because they knew they were making history—not as appendages of some great figure, but as "world changers."

Late that night, Char stood alone on the observation deck of the Dawn Organization, an encrypted terminal in his hand. The screen displayed the latest message from Murrue: "The Archangel has successfully concealed itself at the Resistance's stronghold, Valley of the Wind. Engine repairs are complete, and freshwater reserves are plentiful. Butterfield's main force hasn't appeared, but ZAFT patrols are still active in the area. We will leave North Africa as soon as possible and move towards the Allied-controlled territory."

At the end of the message was a photo—not a photo of the battlefield, not a photo of a tactical map, but a photo of "life." It was taken by Miria, showing a scene in a makeshift canteen: Kira and Thor were eating together, Miria was taking a selfie, Sai was feeding water to a wounded resistance member, and Mu was leaning back in a canvas chair with his eyes closed and a slight smile on his lips.

In the corner of the photo, Lacus Clyne is holding a pink Haro, standing in the shadows of a tent, her eyes looking in the direction of the camera—no, not in the direction of the camera, but further away, in the direction of Orb.

Char stared at the photo for a long time, the faint light from the screen reflected in his deep red eyes.

"VEDA, send a reply to Maru Ramias. Message: Received. Be careful. The 'Transformation' is nearing completion, at which point I will personally travel to North Africa to meet you. Until then—survive."

'

"Instruction recorded."

He turned off the terminal, looked up, and gazed at the stars in the night sky. In some corner of that starry sky, deep in the Sahara Desert, someone was waiting for him. Not for battle, not for politics, but simply to "meet him alive."