Crossing Orb: Newtype Commander

Chapter 106 Winning Over

White base, bridge.

Char stood on the command platform behind the captain's seat, his crimson eyes fixed on the holographic screen in front of him. The screen displayed the Archangel's trajectory, the location of the Butterfield forces, and the planned route of the White Base. From L4 space to North Africa.

It requires breaking through the atmosphere, navigating through ZAFT's air defense network, and then landing in the desert. Every step carries risk, and every risk could lead to mission failure.

But Char did not hesitate.

"Captain, atmospheric breach preparation complete." A young voice came from the helm. It was Ron Mitchell, the interim captain of the White Base. A former technician from the Dawn Corporation, he had stood out in the selection process for the Griffin Squadron and was appointed captain of the White Base by Char. His expression was tense, but his eyes were firm.

"Breakthrough." Xia's voice was calm.

The white base's thrusters roared to life, the ship sliding out of the dock of the orbital elevator space station and hurtling towards Earth. The ship's heat shield heated up with friction, and the atmosphere outside the portholes changed from deep blue to orange-red, then to incandescent white. The temperature inside the ship was rising, but no one was paying attention to the temperature—they were waiting, waiting for ZAFT's anti-aircraft fire.

"Radar detected!" The radar officer's voice held a hint of tension. "Six ZAFT orbital defense turrets are targeting this ship!"

"MEGA Particle Cannon, warm up," Char's voice was calm. "Aim at the foremost turret."

"MEGA Particle Cannon warming up—30%, 50%, 70%!" Ron's fingers flew across the control panel. "90% charge complete!"

"emission."

The ship shuddered violently. A massive, golden beam of light shot from the bow of the white base, hurtling towards the ZAFT orbital defense turret at the speed of light. The beam struck the turret's core, the explosion silently blasting through the vacuum. The turret's armor melted instantly, its internal ammunition detonated, and fragments flew everywhere. When the light faded, the turret had vanished without a trace.

The bridge was deathly silent.

Everyone stared at the disappearing dot of light on the holographic screen, their expressions shifting from tension to shock, and then to awe. One shot—just one. A ZAFT orbital defense turret couldn't even last a second against the MEGA particle cannon.

"Continue descending." Char's voice broke the silence, still calm. "Don't stop. Break through the atmosphere before ZAFT can react."

"Yes—yes!" Ron's voice trembled slightly.

The white base's thrusters sprang into full power, propelling the ship toward Earth at an astonishing speed. Behind it, the remaining five turrets began to fire, but the threat of the MEGA particle cannons made them hesitate—they didn't know if the silver-white warship would fire again, or if the next shot would land on their heads. This fear was more deadly than any weapon.

As the white base broke through the atmosphere, the North African desert unfolded outside the porthole. Yellow sand, rocky hills, and dried-up riverbeds—it was a desolate and harsh land, but also the Archangel's last hope.

"Radar has detected the Archangel's signal!" The radar officer's voice carried a hint of excitement. "Distance—300 kilometers. Heading northeast, speed—500 kilometers per hour. ZAFT's Baku forces are approximately 150 kilometers from the Archangel and are rapidly approaching."

"Goddess of Justice, launch!" Char turned and walked towards the hangar. "Ron, maintain altitude at White Base, do not land."

Support the Archangel with naval guns, but do not use the MEGA particle cannons unless absolutely necessary.

"clear!"

When Char entered the hangar, Justice was already ready for sortie. Its silver-white armor reflected a cold gleam in the red glow of the emergency lights, and the pale green light of the GN Drive flickered in the cockpit. He climbed into the cockpit, swiped his fingers across the touchscreen, and activated all the systems.

"Char Langlad Athha, Goddess of Justice, launch!"

The catapult activated, propelling the machine into the desert sky with tremendous thrust. The Goddess of Justice emerged from the hangar at the white base, its form tracing a silvery-white arc through the yellow sand. GN particles erupted from its backpack, leaving a pale green contrail behind it.

Ahead, on the horizon, sand and dust formed a wall. There were Butterfield's forces—a dozen or so Baku tanks, thirty armored vehicles, and that orange command aircraft known as the "Desert Tiger."

Char pushed the joystick, and Justice charged towards the enemy lines.

Deep in the desert, Butterfield sat in the cockpit of the orange Baku, his eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching dot of light on the radar screen. It wasn't an Strike—he had memorized the Strike's radar signature from previous engagements. This dot was different; its energy reading was higher, its speed faster, and… "The concentration of Minovsky particles is increasing," Elsa's voice came through the communicator, tinged with tension. "Andrew, that mobile suit is releasing Minovsky particles."

Butterfield stared at the point of light, a complex glint in his dark brown eyes. "Not the gold one. It's another silver one, completely different in appearance." His fingers tapped lightly on the control stick. "Commander-in-Chief Ashar, you've really come."

He pressed the communication button, and his voice came through the full-band communication: "Commander-in-Chief Ashar, I've heard so much about you. This is Andrew Butterfield. I heard your Red Declaration in the desert. Humanity knows no race—a beautiful slogan. But slogans can't feed you, can't drink you, and can't bring the dead back to life."

The goddess of justice hovered above the sand dunes, her silver armor reflecting a blinding light in the sunlight. Char pressed the communication button, his voice calm: "Commander Butterfield, I know slogans can't change reality. But the reality is—the war between Earth and PLANT has killed far too many innocent people. Junius VII, Heliopolis—behind every name are countless corpses. Do you still want to continue?"

"I fight to protect," Butterfield's voice turned cold. "To protect the people of PLANT, to protect the future of the Coordinators. If you can't understand that, then we have nothing to talk about."

Char paused for a moment. Then, he pushed the control stick, and Justice slowly descended, landing on the sand. The mech was less than 300 meters from Butterfield's Orange Baku, a two-on-one line of sight.

"Commander Butterfield, I'm not here to fight," Char's voice was calm. "I'm here to give you a choice."

"What choice?"

"Join us. Not for unity, not for PLANT, but for those who have lost everything in the war."

The world of the future needs experienced, principled, and capable soldiers like you. Not for conquest, but for protection.

Butterfield stared at the silver-white machine, a complex emotion flickering in his dark brown eyes. He remembered Elsa's words—"You're hoping he can convince you." Perhaps he was indeed hoping. Hoping someone could tell him that the "future of the Coordinators" he believed in wasn't the only answer.

But he was the "Desert Tiger." He was a ZAFT soldier, the supreme commander on the North African front. If he betrayed PLANT, his men would be purged, and his family would be implicated. He couldn't abandon everything for "expectations."

"General Asgard, your offer is very tempting," Butterfield said in a low voice, "but I can't. Not because I don't believe in your ideas, but because I have too many things I can't let go of."

"Your lover? Elsa Trein?"

Butterfield's fingers paused slightly. He didn't answer. But the silence itself was the answer.

Char paused for a moment, then pushed the control stick, and the Goddess of Justice slowly retreated. "Commander Butterfield, I won't force you. But I hope you'll remember the day when war becomes even more brutal, when the hatred between PLANT and the Union reaches its peak, when your protection turns into slaughter," I hope you'll recall your words today. The gates of Orb are forever open for you.

The thrusters of the Goddess of Justice ignited, and the machine soared into the air, flying towards the white base. Butterfield stared at the departing silver-white machine, his fingers gripping and releasing the control stick.

"Asgard Char," he whispered, "you've shaken me."

No one answered. Only the desert wind howled in their ears.

Back at the White Base, Char stood by the porthole on the bridge, gazing at the desert outside. The Archangel's signal had entered the Allied-controlled zone, and Butterfield's main force ceased its pursuit. The mission was complete, but the objective had not been achieved; Butterfield did not choose to join the pursuit.

"Commander-in-Chief Asha, do you think he will change his mind?" Erica's voice came from behind.

Char didn't turn around. "I don't know. But at least he knows there's another path. The seed has been planted; whether it sprouts or not depends on him."

Erica walked over to him and stood beside him at the porthole. "Yes. Scatter the seeds everywhere and wait for them to sprout on their own."

"Because forcing won't make anything grow."

Outside the window, the desert sunset bathed everything in a golden-red hue. In that golden-red glow, the orange-clad figure of Baku moved deeper into the desert. Char stared at that figure, his eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun.