Crossing Orb: Newtype Commander

Chapter 119 The Thorny Road of Alaska

The underground command center of the Orb Dawn Society.

Char stood before the VEDA terminal, the holographic screen scrolling through the Archangel's maintenance reports from the past ten days. The silver-white behemoth had undergone a comprehensive overhaul in the dock at the orbital elevator ground station, including armor plate replacement, engine system recalibration, and ammunition replenishment for its weapon systems. Thanks to the round-the-clock efforts of the Dawn Corporation's technical team, this warship, which had fought its way from Heliopolis, had finally been restored to near-ship condition.

But Char's gaze wasn't on those cold, hard numbers. He was thinking about something else—the Archangel's next destination.

"VEDA, what's the response from the Supreme Commander for the Joint Operations?"

"General Halbarton has confirmed. The Archangel should proceed to the Alaskan base as soon as possible to report the details of the G-series' theft to the Federation Headquarters. Simultaneously, the Strike Gundam's combat data must be submitted to the Federation's technical department for analysis."

"As soon as possible." Xia repeated the word in a low voice, a cold glint in his eyes. "What they want is the Strike's combat data, not the Archangel's safety."

"Your assessment is accurate. According to intelligence, there is a division within the Combine regarding the Archangel. General Halbarton wants the Archangel to operate as an independent unit, but the conservatives at General Staff prefer to integrate the Archangel and the Strike Force into the regular army and place them under the direct command of the Combine."

Char turned off the holographic screen and leaned back in his chair. The Alliance—the organization infiltrated by Blue Cosmos, the organization that viewed Coordinators as "monsters." If the Archangel were incorporated into the Alliance's command structure, Murrue would lose command, Natal would be transferred, and Kira would be used as a "Coordinator tool." Everyone on that ship would become a tool for war.

They fight for the cogs in the machine, not for the "people" who have the power to choose.

"Inform Captain Marius Ramias that I have something to say to her tonight."

"Instruction recorded."

That evening, in the reception room of the Dawn Society.

Maru Ramias, dressed in casual clothes provided by Orb, sat on the sofa, holding a cup of hot tea. Her brown hair was loosely draped over her shoulders, and she wore no makeup, though the dark circles under her eyes were still clearly visible in the soft light. This was the first time she had truly "relaxed" since arriving in Orb—no alarms, no radar, no missiles that could strike at any moment.

Char pushed open the door and came in, dressed casually. He sat down opposite Maru and poured himself a cup of tea.

"How was your rest?"

"Great." Maru's lips curled up slightly. "The bed won't shake, the alarm won't go off, and I don't have to get up in the middle of the night to deal with ZAFT attacks. I'd almost forgotten what this kind of life felt like."

"Then stay a few more days." Xia picked up his teacup, his gaze falling on her face. "There's no rush in Alaska."

Murrue's smile froze. She put down her teacup and looked into Char's eyes. "Commander-in-Chief Athha, you know I have to go. The Archangel is a Union warship. If I don't go to Alaska to report, the General Staff will list the Archangel as a 'defector ship.' Then we'll face a Union-wide annihilation."

"Defected?" Xia's voice was calm. "You fought your way from Heliopolis, repelling countless attacks from the Kruze team."

This attack covered the retreat of the Eighth Fleet. Is that considered defection?

"In the eyes of the Allied high command, this is called 'insubordination.'" Maru's voice carried a hint of bitterness. "General Halbarton did his best, but his authority was limited. The conservatives at General Staff have been questioning the Archangel's loyalty because we had Coordinators on board, because we cooperated with Orb, and because we descended to Earth without orders. Each of these is enough for them to label us 'traitors.'"

Char paused for a moment. "So you must go to Alaska to prove the Archangel's loyalty."

"Yes."

"Even if you know that going there might mean losing command? That the Archangel might be scrapped?"

Murrue's fingers tightened slightly. "I know. But if we don't go, the Archangel will become the enemy of the Allied Forces. Then, we won't even have a 'choice' left."

Xia looked at her, his deep red eyes filled with a complex emotion—not worry, not anger, but something deeper, more fundamental: respect.

"Maryu, you are a good captain."

Maru paused for a moment, then lowered her head. "I was just doing what I was supposed to do."

"Things that need to be done," Char repeated, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Many people talk about 'things that need to be done,' but most people find excuses to avoid doing them when they actually have to. You haven't. From Heliopolis until now, you've never run away."

Maru looked up into his eyes. Her face was reflected in those deep red eyes—a tired, tense, yet still resolute face.

"Because I have nowhere to escape to." Her voice was soft. "If even the captain escapes, this ship is doomed."

That night, Char found Kira Yamato in the Dawn Company's hangar.

The boy stood at the feet of the Strike Gundam, gazing up at the machine that gleamed under the lights. Thanks to the repairs by the Dawn Corporation's technical team, the Strike had regained its combat capability—its left shoulder armor had been replaced, and its thruster system had been recalibrated. But Kira's gaze wasn't on those technical details; he was thinking about something else.

"Kira." Char walked up to him.

Kira turned his head, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "Commander-in-Chief Asuka, the Archangel is heading to Alaska, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"What about the people on the ship? The refugees?" Kira's voice was tinged with tension.

"The refugees will settle in Orb," Char's voice was calm. "All refugees who wish to remain in Orb can obtain Orb citizenship, regardless of whether they are Naturals or Coordinators."

Kira's fingers tightened slightly. "What about me? Can I leave the Archangel?"

Char looked at him, a hint of warmth flashing in his deep red eyes. "Kira, you were never a passenger of the Archangel. You are the protector of this ship. Without you, the Archangel might have sunk to Heliopolis long ago. Besides, you are citizens of Orb; no one forced you."

Kira lowered his head, staring at his hands. "Commander-in-Chief Athha, I don't know what to choose. I want to stay, I want to live in Orb, I don't want to kill anymore. But the Archangel is going to Alaska, and we might encounter ZAFT attacks on the way. If the Strike Force isn't piloted..." Char continued, "So you want to send them on their final journey," he continued, "to Alaska, and then back."

Kira looked up, meeting Char's eyes. "Yes, is that alright?"

"Okay." Char's lips curled into a slight smile. "The Archangel needs the Strike's escort, and you also need to give yourself an explanation. Get to Alaska, confirm that everyone on board is safe, and then come back. Orb is your home."

Kira stared at him for a long time, then slowly nodded. "I understand. Commander-in-Chief Asuka, thank you."

"You're welcome."

Kira turned and looked up at the Strike Gundam once more. His fingers trembled slightly at his sides, not from fear, but from anticipation.

One last time, the last time piloting the Strike, the last time protecting the Archangel, the last time sailing with his comrades who fought alongside him on the battlefield. Then, he would disembark in Alaska, return to Orb, return to Thor, Miriam,

Beside Sai, return to the days when you could protect people without killing.

"Strike," he whispered, "this is the last time, please."

No one answered. Only the hangar's air conditioning hummed.

Orb Rail Elevator Ground Station.

The morning sun shone on the deck of the dock, bathing everything in a warm golden hue. A sea breeze blew in from the southwest, carrying the humid heat characteristic of the equator, and also a faint hint of melancholy at parting.

The crew of the Archangel lined up in the dock. Some wanted to stay, some wanted to leave.

The refugees had already been settled in reception facilities throughout Abu the previous day. More than eight hundred people, not one was refused, not one was discriminated against. Abu officials smiled as they processed their paperwork at the registration desks, telling them in fluent, broken, or even halting English, Chinese, and Arabic, "From today onwards, you are Abu citizens."

Miria Haw stood in a corner of the dock, camera in hand, watching through the viewfinder as people said their goodbyes. She wasn't crying—at least not now. Her fingers pressed steadily on the shutter, click, click, click—capturing every hug, every handshake, every "take care."

Thor stood beside Kira, carrying a suitcase. His usual smile was gone, replaced by a heavy, almost oppressive silence. He wanted to say, "Don't go," but he knew Kira had to go. Because Kira was that kind of person—he wouldn't leave someone when they needed him.

"Thor," Kira's voice was soft.

"Um."

"Please take good care of Miria and Sai for me."

Thor's fingers tightened slightly. "You don't need to worry about that. You're just going to Alaska, not to die. Come back when you're done, we'll be waiting for you in Orb."

Kira's lips curled into a slight smile. "Okay."

Sai Agers stood a little distance away, adjusting his glasses, but didn't come over. It wasn't that he didn't want to say goodbye, he just didn't know what to say. He and Kira met in the classroom in Heliopolis, wrote code together in the lab, and hid together from ZAFT's fire in the vault. They were classmates, friends, "survivors together." But he wasn't good at saying "take care," so he just stood there, quietly looking at Kira, his eyes saying, "Come back alive."

Kira saw him and nodded. Sai nodded too. The farewell between the two young men consisted of only this one gesture, but it was enough.

Natal Bakiruru stood at the porthole on the bridge, watching the farewell scene in the dock through the glass. Her expression remained unchanged—her uniform was still impeccably pressed, and her hair was still neatly coiled behind her head. But the knuckles of the finger gripping the armrest were white from the force.

She knew Kira was going to disembark. In Alaska, at the Combine base, in that place that treated Coordinators as "tools." She should be happy—because Kira could finally stop fighting, finally return to his peers, finally be an ordinary teenager. But she couldn't be happy, because she knew that after Kira left, the Strike would be without a pilot. The Archangel would lose its sharpest sword.

"Captain Bugiluru." Maru's voice came from behind.

Natal turned around. "Captain."

Do you want Kira to stay?

Natal was silent for a moment. "I hope he can make the best choice for himself. Whatever that choice may be."

Maru looked at her, a slight smile playing on her lips. "You've changed."

"What has changed?"

"She's become more feminine."

Natal's face flushed slightly, a blush spreading from the base of her neck to the tips of her ears. She lowered her head, pretending to look at the data panel. "Captain, please don't say irrelevant things. We still have a mission to carry out."

Maru didn't expose her, but simply nodded. "Let's go. It's time to leave."

At 8:00 a.m. sharp, the Archangel slowly sailed out of the dock at the orbital elevator ground station.

The silvery-white hull gleamed in the morning light, the twin-mounted beam cannons at the bow pointed towards the sea, and the propellers at the stern spewed pale blue flames. The crew stood at the portholes, waving to those seeing them off on the shore. Those on the shore waved back; some shouted "Take care," some shouted "Come back alive," and some simply stood quietly, bidding farewell with their eyes.

Kira stood by the hangar window, watching the figures grow smaller and smaller. Thor stood at the edge of the dock, holding up a sign that read, "Kira, come back soon," the handwriting crooked and obviously hastily made. Miriam held up...

The camera, peering through the viewfinder at the departing Archangel, held the shutter button but didn't press it. She didn't want to record the farewell, only the reunion. Sai stood behind them, hands in her pockets, neither waving nor shouting, simply watching quietly as the ship disappeared below the horizon.

"Kira." A soft voice came from behind.

Kira turned around and saw Lacus Clyne standing at the entrance of the hangar. She was dressed in Orb-style casual wear—a light purple dress—her long pink hair cascading over her shoulders, and she was holding the green Haro in her arms. Her eyes gleamed with a violet light in the red glow of the emergency lights.

"Miss Lux, what are you doing here?" Kira's voice carried a hint of surprise.

"I've come to see you off." Lux walked to his side and stood beside him at the porthole. "Commander-in-Chief Ashar said that you are to escort the Archangel to Alaska and then return to Orb. So I've come to see you off—not as a farewell, but as a wish for a reunion."

Kira stared at her for a long time, then slowly nodded. "Miss Lacus, will you stay in Orb?"

"Yes," Lux said softly. "In Orb, I have things I need to confirm. I want to see what the future of this country will be like. Maybe I'll hold a concert in Orb again."

Kira's lips curled into a slight smile. "Then when I get back, I'll go to your concert."

"Okay." Lux lowered her head, looking at the green Haro in her arms. "I'll wait for you."

The Archangel sailed at full speed in Orb's territorial waters, waves crashing against its bow in white spray. On the bridge, Murrue stood at the tactical table, the holographic screen displaying the route to Alaska—departing from Orb, crossing...

The Pacific Ocean, bypassing the southern tip of Eurasia, enters the Indian Ocean, then heads north to the Arabian Sea, eventually reaching the United Integrated Supreme Command base in Alaska, located in Central Asia.

This route is long and dangerous. ZAFT has military bases in Africa and Oceania, and could send mobile suits to intercept them at any time. Moreover, although the Kruze squadron retreated after the Eighth Fleet battle, they will not give up the pursuit. That masked man is like a venomous snake, ready to bite his prey's throat at the most unexpected moment.

"Captain, radar normal, sonar normal, all systems normal," Natal's voice came from the fire control console, calm and restrained. "No trace of ZAFT found in Orb's territorial waters. But we need to be more vigilant once we enter international waters."

"Understood." Murrue turned around and looked at everyone on the bridge. "All personnel, enter Level 2 combat readiness. Kira, stand by in the hangar; Mu, stand by in the cockpit. Respond immediately upon detection of enemy activity."

"yes!"

Kira's heart raced the moment the Archangel sailed out of Orb's territorial waters.

It wasn't fear, but an inexplicable intuition—his SEED ability was warning him that danger was approaching. His fingers tapped lightly on the joystick, his amber eyes fixed on the radar screen. The sea was empty, only a few white clouds in the sky, and there were no unusual signals on the radar. But his intuition told him that something was there, at the edge of his vision, in the radar's blind spot, waiting.

"Kira, what's wrong?" Mu's voice came through the communicator.

"I don't know. Something feels off."

Mu was silent for a moment. "I trust your intuition. Sky King will remain above you, ready to provide support at any time."

"it is good."

On the sea, the Archangel continued its northward journey. Sunlight streamed onto the deck, and the sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, blew in through the portholes. The crew members were busy at their respective posts; some were checking the weapons systems, some were maintaining the engines, and some were preparing lunch. Everything was calm, as calm as the calm before a storm.

In some corner of the deep sea, at a depth undetectable by sonar, three ZAFT mobile suits are silently submerged. They are not Zono—Zono has already proven to be no match for the Strike. They are a different type of mobile suit, a type specifically designed for "sneak attacks."

Thunder Gundam.

Nicole Amalfi sat in the cockpit, her fingers swiping across the touchscreen, checking the status of the phantom particle system.

His heart was pounding, but his hands were steady. His mission was to infiltrate the Archangel's radar blind spot, use the illusion particle system to create optical camouflage, and then, when the Archangel was most relaxed, sever its bridge with a beam saber.

"Niccol, maintain depth. Don't surface," Aslan's voice came through the communicator, calm and restrained. "Wait for my command."

"clear."

Further out at sea, the Aegis Gundam and Duel Gundam were traveling at high speed. Their mission was to directly contain, not defeat, the Strike Gundam, but to hold it off. Their aim was to prevent the Strike Gundam from returning to reinforce the Archangel, thus creating an opportunity for the Swift Gundam.

Athrun sat in the cockpit of the Aegis, his amber eyes fixed on the approaching dot of light on the radar screen. The Archangel, and Kira. He was going to fight Kira again. In Heliopolis, in Artemis, on Junius 7, on the deserted island in the Red Sea. Every time, they were on opposite sides; every time, they were hurting each other; every time, they asked themselves, "Why are we fighting?"

"Aslan, you're hesitating," Yzak's voice came through the communicator, tinged with displeasure. "The assault is about to enter firing range. If you don't want to fight, I'll do it."

"No," Athrun's voice was calm. "I'll handle it. The matter between Kira and me should be settled by myself."

"Then hurry up. Don't dawdle."

Aslan didn't answer. His fingers clenched and unclenched on the joystick. Kira—the boy who told him "I'll wait for you" on the deserted island in the Red Sea. Now, they were going to fight again. Not because of hatred, not because of orders, but simply because they were on opposing sides.

"Kira," Athrun whispered, "this time, I won't hold back."