The camp smelled of smoke, oil, and metal shavings. Tanya stood on the hull of a half-dismantled Zaku II, her arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the gray horizon. The ground around Odessa was cold and damp after the rains, turning into thick mud that swallowed boots and left tanks caked in filth. It was the kind of scene Tanya had come to know too well — retreat, regroup, rebuild.
Her mind was still replaying the battle from Southeast Asia. The scream of the Apsalus cannon, the blinding flash when it fired, the moment that cursed new Gundam cut through Ginias's masterpiece like a blade through paper. Her squad had fought like demons, yet even their ferocity hadn't been enough to prevent the retreat.
Mila walked up behind her, her arm still in a sling from a cockpit shock impact. She looked exhausted, her usually crisp voice softened by fatigue. "Commander," she said quietly, "no sign of Federation movement in the last forty-eight hours."
Tanya narrowed her eyes, saying nothing at first. Then she finally spoke, her tone cold and measured. "That's wrong. They had us beaten. Why haven't they finished this yet?"
Zhou Wei approached next, carrying a datapad with patrol reports. His face was streaked with dirt, but his voice was steady. "If I had to guess, they're waiting for reinforcement. They lost plenty of mobile suits back there too. Commanders like to consolidate before the killing blow."
Richter, the youngest of them, joined reluctantly, helmet under his arm. "Or maybe they want to draw us out. Force us into open ground and finish the job where we can't use this terrain."
Tanya's golden eyes gleamed sharply as she turned to them. "Whatever they're doing, we're not going to sit here like targets. Double the perimeter patrols. Have the Dom crews rotate readiness shifts every two hours. Everyone else keeps their machines hot and armed. If they want a fight, they'll get one on my terms."
Richter frowned. "Commander, the men are exhausted. They've barely slept since we got here."
Tanya spun toward him, her expression hard. "They can sleep when they're dead. You think the Federation will wait until everyone feels rested and happy before they attack?"
Before Richter could respond, a calm, gravelly voice cut through the tension. "Lieutenant."
Ramba Ral approached, his coat billowing slightly in the wind. He looked like he'd been carved out of the battlefield itself, solid and commanding without raising his voice. "Pushing them too far will get you killed. Fear sharpens them. Exhaustion dulls them. Find the balance."
Tanya glared for a moment before exhaling slowly. She respected Ral's experience, even if his tone irritated her. "Fine," she said. "Rotations every two hours, but make sure the patrol coverage stays full. I'm not letting them catch us with our pants down."
Ramba nodded approvingly, then looked over the wrecked suits being patched together. "We've got enough working machines to bloody their nose if they come at us. And I'd like to give them that chance."
Nearby, Norris Packard was crouched by his Gouf Custom, running a hand along the repaired armor plating. His face was serious, but there was a quiet intensity in his voice as he spoke to Aina Sahalin, who stood beside him. "When they come, I'll be out there first. I won't let them get near you again."
Aina placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression calm yet resolute. "I trust you, Norris. But we have more work to do than fight. If Tanya's going to hold this line, she needs every mobile suit we can scrape together."
Tanya hopped down from the Zaku hull and approached, brushing a streak of mud off her gloves. "Exactly. Lady Sahalin, can you have your engineers prioritize the Dom units? We need mobility more than raw firepower if they try to surround us."
Aina nodded once. "Consider it done. We'll have at least three Doms combat-ready by tomorrow."
"Good," Tanya replied. "And make sure the Zaku repairs don't get neglected. We'll need them for screening runs."
Aina smiled faintly, just for a moment. "You sound like someone planning to win, not just survive."
Tanya's expression didn't soften, but her voice lowered just a fraction. "I don't intend to die here. Not before we finish this war."
Zhou Wei glanced at her, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Commander, do you really think the Federation will come at us this soon? They lost a lot of men and machines too."
Tanya turned her gaze toward the distant horizon, where the wind swept over the open plains. "They will. And if they don't, it only means they're planning something bigger."
Mila shifted uncomfortably. "You think they've got another one of those… things? Like the new Gundam?"
Tanya's jaw tightened. "I don't know. But if they do, we'd better be ready to face it. Because next time, there won't be an Apsalus to take the brunt of it for us."
The soldiers nearby fell silent. Even mentioning the Apsalus felt like invoking a ghost — a reminder of Ginias's brilliance and madness, and the price they'd paid for it.
Tanya snapped back into command mode. "Enough staring. Get back to work. I want the camp fortified and all patrol routes updated before nightfall."
As her squad dispersed to carry out orders, Tanya climbed back up onto the wrecked Zaku hull and stood with her arms behind her back. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, her mind racing.
She thought about the Strike Gundam — the mysterious machine that had cut their last hope apart. Its pilot was skilled, almost unnervingly so. Whoever they were, they'd moved like someone who had done this a hundred times before.
Her grip tightened until her glove leather creaked. If that machine became standard issue for the Federation, Zeon's advantage in ground combat would vanish. And then…
No. She wouldn't allow that.
Somewhere above, the clouds parted slightly, letting a single ray of sunlight fall across the camp. Tanya's gaze didn't leave the horizon. "Come on, Federation," she muttered under her breath. "Try me. I dare you."
Behind her, welding torches flared as Aina's engineers worked through the day and night. Ramba Ral spoke quietly with his men, preparing them for the inevitable. Norris stayed by the Gouf, silent but ready, while Mila and Zhou Wei checked ammunition stores. Richter climbed into his Zaku's cockpit, running through the pre-startup checks despite the machine still missing half its armor.
The base became a living thing again — tense, breathing, waiting.
And Tanya, standing watch over it all, felt her pulse steady. Whatever came next, she would meet it head-on.
Far from Odessa, inside the Earth Federation high command's war room, the atmosphere was heavy with urgency. Holographic maps of Eurasia, orbital space, and Zeon supply routes shimmered above the round table.
General Revil stood at the center, hands clasped behind his back, his face shadowed by the glow. "Zeon's lines in Southeast Asia have collapsed. Their remaining forces are retreating to Odessa. This is our chance to end their ground campaign."
A grizzled colonel leaned forward, brow furrowed. "Sir, an immediate strike would be costly. Odessa is fortified. We'd lose divisions—possibly whole brigades—before we broke through."
A younger officer snapped back. "If we wait, we give Zeon time to dig in. Worse, they'll resupply from space and prolong this war. Every day we delay is another day of Zaku production."
The war room broke into low, tense arguments.
"We can't bleed ourselves dry!" one strategist barked.
"If we leave Odessa standing, they'll regroup!" another shouted back.
Revil let them speak for a moment before raising a hand for silence. "There's another factor to consider."
The projector shifted to show the combat footage of the Strike Gundam, gleaming in its Phase Shift armor as conventional shells ricocheted harmlessly off its frame.
"This machine has already turned the tide once," said a technical officer, voice low but intense. "If Zeon learns from this, if they build their own equivalent, every battle going forward becomes far bloodier."
A murmur of unease rippled through the room.
"So we should double down," the younger officer pressed. "Commit everything to one decisive strike before Zeon can adapt."
The older colonel shook his head sharply. "Or we do the opposite. We bypass Odessa, strike their space infrastructure, and cut their supplies. Without fuel and munitions, Odessa will collapse without a fight."
The room fell into a heated deadlock again, voices overlapping, strategies clashing.
General Revil stayed silent this time, his eyes locked on the glowing map of Odessa. In his mind, he weighed the cost of every option — the lives that would be spent on the ground, the risk of overextending the fleets, the unknowns surrounding the new Gundam's pilot.
Somewhere deep inside, he knew there was no perfect answer.
---
Back at Odessa, Tanya stood outside the makeshift command tent, watching the horizon glow faintly in the evening light. The battlefield was eerily quiet.
"They're too quiet," she muttered under her breath.
Mila approached from behind, her expression serious. "Maybe they're gathering strength. Or maybe… waiting for reinforcements."
Zhou Wei crossed his arms. "Or they've decided to hit us where we least expect it. If I were them, I'd strike our supply lines in space before coming here."
Tanya frowned. That thought made her skin prickle. "We prepare for both. No one rests easy tonight. If they're planning an ambush, we'll be ready to bite back."
Ramba Ral stepped forward, his tone steady and calm. "Commander, keep your head. Panic spreads faster than bullets. The men will fight better if they see you calm."
Tanya nodded, though her jaw stayed tight. She wasn't panicking — she was furious. Furious at the Federation, furious at the Strike Gundam that had ruined the battle, furious at the quiet that felt like the eye of a storm.
Somewhere, the Federation was deciding her fate.
And she refused to wait idly for them to choose.