Crossing Orb: Newtype Commander

L4 space domain, Archangel.

The ship's mess hall has been completely closed. Food reserves have been reduced to zero—the last thirty compressed biscuits were distributed to the children and wounded four hours ago, and adults have been drinking only water since yesterday. Fresh water reserves are also running low, with the daily ration per person reduced from half a liter to two hundred milliliters, barely enough to maintain vital signs.

Kira Yamato stood in the corridor, his amber eyes fixed on the emergency light on the wall. His stomach churned. The Archangel's supplies were exhausted, and if it didn't receive resupply within the next forty-eight hours, the more than eight hundred people on board would face the dual threats of hunger and dehydration.

"Kira, the captain wants you to go to the bridge." Thor's voice came from behind. The boy's face no longer had its usual smile, but instead a heavy, almost numb weariness.

Kira turned around and saw Thor leaning against the bulkhead, holding a half-full glass of water. He didn't drink it, just held it, as if waiting for something.

"Thor, aren't you going to drink?"

"Wait a minute." Thor looked down at the water in his glass. "Kira, can we make it?"

Kira was silent for a moment. "Yes."

"Why are you so sure?"

"Because Commander-in-Chief Asha is still on the ship," Kira said calmly. "He hasn't given up yet. So neither can we."

Thor looked up into Kira's eyes. Those amber eyes held a determination beyond his years—not innate, but forged in the crucible of war.

"Let's go." Thor handed Kira a glass of water. "You drink it. I'm not thirsty."

Kira looked at the half-full glass of water but didn't take it. "You drink it. Your voice is hoarse."

They looked at each other for a few seconds, then laughed simultaneously. It wasn't a happy laugh, but a bitter laugh of mutual support in dire straits.

The atmosphere on the bridge was even more somber than in the corridor. Maru Ramias stood before the tactical table, a data tablet in her hand, the screen displaying the last few lines of the supplies list. Natal Bakiruru stood before the fire control console, her eyes fixed on the space map, her fingers lightly gliding across the touchscreen. Mu La Vragja leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed, but his lips moved silently—he was calculating.

Char sat on a sofa in the corner of the bridge, the bandage on his left shoulder faintly visible beneath his uniform. He held an encrypted terminal in his hand, the screen displaying the latest intelligence from VEDA. His deep red eyes were fixed on the data, his expression calm, but everyone could see the gravity in his eyes.

"Everyone," Maru spoke, her voice hoarse, "I need an answer. Where do we go next?"

Natal was the first to answer, her voice steady but tinged with suppressed anxiety: "At our current speed, it will take at least five days to reach the moon. But our fresh water supply will only last two days. Reaching any Combine supply base will take more than three days—provided those bases are still willing to accept us."

Mu opened his eyes, a hint of weariness flashing in them. "Artemis has fallen. The Eurasian Federation is too busy taking care of itself to help us. The Atlantic Federation's lunar base is too far away, and—we have Coordinator refugees on board. If they know about this, it's questionable whether they'll even let us into port."

There was a moment of silence on the bridge.

Kira stood at the bridge entrance, a half-full glass of water clutched in his hand. He heard everyone's words, each one weighing heavily on his heart like a stone. No food, no water, no supplies, no port to dock at. The Archangel was a lone ship, adrift in an endless universe.

"There is a place." Char's voice came from the corner, calm and deep.

All eyes turned to him. Char stood up, walked to the tactical table, and swiped his finger across the screen. The space map moved rapidly, finally settling on a coordinate—L5 space, the outer region of the PLANT colony.

"The Junius 7 wreckage area." Char's voice was calm, but every word carried weight. "That's where the war began, and where PLANT holds its annual memorial service. On the outskirts of the wreckage area, there's a zone uncontaminated by the nuclear explosion—both the Allied Forces and ZAFT consider it a 'demilitarized zone.' Neither side will deploy troops there, nor will they attack each other."

"Why?" Maru asked.

"Because that is the resting place of the dead. If fighting breaks out in such a place, both sides will be put on the defensive in terms of international public opinion."

Mu sat up straight, a glint in his eyes. "You mean—go to the Junius 7 wreckage area, and use its special status as a 'demilitarized zone' to temporarily shake off Kruze's pursuit?"

"Not only that." Char's finger traced a path on the screen. "On the outskirts of the Junius 7 wreckage, there's a small PLANT supply depot. Before February 14, CE70, it was a transit hub for agricultural satellites, storing large quantities of food and fresh water. The nuclear explosion didn't affect that area—because it's on the outskirts of the satellites, about 2 kilometers from the blast center."

Natal's eyes lit up. "You mean—there are still supplies there?"

"I'm not sure," Char said honestly, "but it's possible. PLANT evacuated most of its supplies after the war broke out, but there might be some left. Even if it's only a small amount, it'll be enough for us to make it to the moon, and since it's a transit station and not satellite debris, we can avoid disturbing the sleeping souls."

Murrue stared at the coordinates on the space map, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. Her mind raced—risks, rewards, and every possible contingency. What would PLANT think if the Archangel entered the Junius 7 wreckage area? How would ZAFT react? Would Kruze abandon the pursuit? Too many unknowns, too many variables, and was it even humane to do so?

But she had no choice.

"To Junius 7," Maru's voice was firm. "Captain Bakiruru, set course. Full speed ahead."

"Yes."

At the same moment, in the L5 space domain, outside the Junius 7 wreckage area.

A PLANT condolence ship is slowly sailing towards the center of the wreckage area. It is a civilian vessel, painted white, with a pink cherry blossom crest on its side that stands out vividly under the starlight. On board are approximately two hundred people—including PLANT Red Cross members, representatives of the victims' families, and a special passenger.

Lux Klein stood at the porthole on the bridge, her eyes fixed on the desolate wreckage outside. The debris of the satellite spun slowly in the vacuum, some still retaining their original shapes—broken frames, twisted armor plates, and unrecognizable pieces of metal. In the gaps between the fragments, smaller things could be seen—pieces of clothing, broken appliances, and things that had once belonged to humans.

Today is February 15, CE71.

A blood-stained Valentine's Day, one year later.

Lux wore a white dress—not the glamorous gown she wore to concerts, but a simple, almost mournful white. Her long pink hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes reflected the cold fragments of her past. In her arms, she held the pink Hello robot, whose screen displayed a crying emoticon.

"Miss Lux, the memorial service will begin in thirty minutes." A staff member approached her, his voice low.

"I understand." Lux's voice was soft, but carried a hint of barely perceptible weariness. "Let me stay a little longer."

The staff member bowed and withdrew. Lux stood alone by the porthole, her gaze fixed on the depths of the wreckage. There, amidst the broken metal and frozen corpses, Aslan, her mother—Lenova Zala—rested in peace.

Harrow emitted a soft electronic voice, as if to comfort her.

At that very moment, the alarm shattered the tranquility of the bridge.

Red warning lights flashed frantically along the edge of the porthole, and the communications officer's alarmed cry came from behind: "Miss Lux! Unidentified aircraft signal on radar! Approaching at high speed—"

Lux turned around, a flicker of unease in her eyes. "Who is it? ZAFT? Or the Combine?"

"Unidentified! Signal characteristics—it's a Combined Forces MA! Number—six! They are approaching this ship, and weapon systems are activated!"

People on the bridge began to run. Some shouted, "Start the engines!" Others yelled, "Call PLANT for help!" Still others shouted, "Miss Lux, get to the escape pods!" Fear was written on everyone's face—not because of death, but because of this place. The Junius 7 wreckage area, the place where the dead rest in peace, and someone was actually making a move here.

Lux did not move.

She stared at the approaching dots on the radar screen, her eyes reflecting the red warning lights. A thought flashed through her mind—this wasn't an accident, it was premeditated. Someone knew she was coming; someone was waiting for her.

"Miss Lux!" A staff member grabbed her arm. "Quick, let's go! The escape pod is ready—"

"Where are the others?" Lux asked calmly.

"What?"

"What about the rest of the crew? What about them?"

The staff member's lips trembled slightly, but he did not answer.

Lux closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, her eyes held a resolute determination. "Take me to the escape pod. But on one condition—everyone else must get on. As many as you can. That's an order."

The Allied forces' mobile armor (MA) began its attack.

Six Möbius rifles deployed in skirmish lines, their linear rifle shells exploding around the visitor ship. The first volley penetrated the bridge armor, flashes of light from the explosions glinting outside the portholes as shards of glass flew. The second volley struck the engine room, shutting down the propellers and sending the ship spinning uncontrollably.

Some were screaming, some were crying, some were praying. Lux stood at the hatch of the escape pod, her eyes fixed on the approaching mobile suits. In her hand, the pink Haro screen displayed an angry emoticon.

"Miss Lux, hurry up and get in!" The staff pushed her into the life pod.

"Wait—" Lux glanced back towards the bridge, "Everyone else—"

"They'll be in other life pods! Quick!"

Lux was shoved into the cramped single-person escape pod. The instant the hatch closed, she saw the scene outside the porthole—a mobile armored vehicle was firing a missile at the bridge, its orange contrail tracing a deadly arc in the vacuum. Then, everything turned to white light.

The shockwave from the explosion propelled the escape pod outwards. Lux's body was slammed into her seat by the inertia, her eyes fixed on the burning fireball outside the porthole. The comfort ship—the white vessel carrying two hundred people—was slowly disintegrating in space. Debris flew, sparks flickered, and then silence fell.

"No..." Lux's voice caught in her throat.

The escape pod's automatic program activated. The pod drifted deeper into the Junius 7 wreckage area. Lux sat in the cramped pod, her arms around Haro, her eyes reflecting the cold starry sky outside the window.

Her tears slid down silently, floating in the zero-gravity environment, forming crystalline spheres that shimmered in the dim light of the porthole.

L4 space zone, Archangel bridge.

Char's pupils suddenly contracted.

It was a violent fluctuation at the level of consciousness. He had experienced that feeling before. The first time was at the Equatorial Union, a premonition of killing intent. The second time was at Heliopolis, a premonition of death. But this time was different—this time it wasn't killing intent, nor death, but something more complex, more essential. It was a kind of… resonance.

Someone is crying.

It wasn't a physical cry, but a silent, tearing cry from the depths of the soul. He knew that person—no, not just "knew," but "sensed"—he had sensed that person's emotions. Her singing flowed like water, her sorrow was as deep as the sea, and her hope was as faint yet tenacious as starlight.

Lux Klein.

"Commander-in-Chief Asuka, what's wrong?" Maru's voice came from behind.

Char closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "Lacus Clyne is in trouble. I can feel it."

The air in the bridge froze. Murrue walked to the tactical table and pulled up the intelligence data for the L5 space zone. The screen displayed the last known location of the PLANT comfort ship, along with a distress signal from a civilian channel: "This is the PLANT comfort ship 'Illustrious.' We are under attack from unidentified mobile armor (MA). Location—outside the Junius 7 wreckage area. Requesting support. Repeat, requesting support."

Signal sent five minutes ago.

"VEDA, analyze this distress signal," Char's voice was calm.

"Signal confirmed. Source: PLANT civilian vessel 'Radiant,' registered as a memorial service transport ship. Signal lost one minute ago. Reason—ship sinking." VEDA's voice was calm, but every word struck everyone like a hammer blow. "Method of sinking—concentrated attack from six MAs, multiple hits on the hull, with the engine room directly struck and exploded. Currently, the ship is completely disintegrated."

"What about the survivors?" Kira's voice was hoarse.

"It's uncertain. But based on data from before the signal was lost, at least ten small escape pods were ejected. The signal from one of them is drifting deeper into the Junius 7 wreckage area. The signals from the other escape pods have disappeared—they may have been destroyed or affected by the blast wave."

No one spoke on the bridge.

Char stood up, his deep red eyes burning with a light no one had ever seen before—not anger, not sorrow, but something deeper, more essential. It was resolve. "Captain Ramias, change course. Head to the depths of the Junius 7 wreckage area."

"What?" Murrue's voice held a hint of surprise. "That's PLANT territory—"

"That's the resting place of the dead," Char interrupted her. "People are being slaughtered there. Lacus Clyne—the songstress of PLANT, the symbol of peace—her escape pod is drifting in that wreckage. If the Combine or ZAFT find her, she'll die."

Mu leaned back in his chair, his eyes slightly narrowed. "How can you be sure it's her?"

"I just know."

A moment of silence fell over the bridge. Murrue stared into Char's eyes; in those deep red eyes, there was no hesitation, no doubt, only an almost obsessive determination. She thought of Heliopolis, of Artemis, of the choices this man had made in every desperate situation. He didn't rely on data, nor on intelligence—he relied on intuition. And his intuition had never been wrong.

"Captain Bugiluru, change course. Full speed ahead."

Natal's fingers flew across the control panel. "Navigation set."

At the same time, outside the Junius 7 wreckage area.

A ZAFT reconnaissance Kin was slowly navigating through the debris field. Its fuselage was painted dark gray, and the sensor array on its back shimmered faintly red in the starlight. Inside the cockpit, Shiho—a young female Coordinator—slid her fingers across the touchscreen, her eyes glued to every dot on the radar screen.

She was sent by ZAFT's intelligence department to "monitor the Combine's movements." But when she entered the perimeter of the Junius 7 wreckage area, she saw them—six Combine mobile suits—attacking a PLANT civilian vessel.

"This is Shihe, requesting backup." Her voice was urgent. "United Army MA detected outside the Junius 7 wreckage area, attacking civilian targets. Requesting instructions—"

A burst of static came through the communicator, then silence. The fleet was too far away; the signal was being jammed by debris. Shihe gritted his teeth, pushed the control stick, and the reconnaissance-type King flew towards the direction of the explosion.

When she arrived, all she saw was wreckage.

The white civilian ship had been reduced to wreckage, floating in the vacuum, slowly rotating. Among the debris were pieces of clothing, broken furniture, and other unrecognizable items—she dared not look. Her gaze searched the wreckage, trying to find any signal from any life pod.

Then she saw it. A faint, almost invisible signal, drifting deeper into the wreckage. The escape pod—there was only one.

Poetry pushed the control stick, and Reconnaissance Kim set off in the direction of the signal. Her heart was pounding, and her palms were sweating. But what she didn't know was that behind her, six Allied MAs were changing course. Their target wasn't her—it was the escape pod. They wanted to make sure there were no survivors.