The cold stone corridors of Odessa base echoed with hurried footsteps. Tanya marched forward, her uniform crisp but her eyes darkened by fatigue. Behind her, Mila and the remnants of her battered squad moved in silence. They had survived Southeast Asia, but survival felt more like a curse than a blessing. The air in Odessa was heavy, not just with smoke and oil, but with dread.
Ramba Ral's booming voice cut through the hallway ahead as he arrived from another wing of the complex. "So, we're all called in for the same reason," he said with a grim half-smile. "If M'quve's in charge of this meeting, it won't be pleasant."
Aina Sahalin followed closely behind, her engineer's uniform smudged with grease and dust. Despite her delicate appearance, her steps were steady. Tanya noted the quiet resolve in her eyes and filed it away. That kind of steadiness mattered in the storm to come.
They entered the war council chamber. At its center, maps of Europe were spread across a massive table, tiny markers indicating troop positions, defensive lines, and known Federation movements. Officers stood stiffly along the walls, their faces pale with exhaustion and tension.
M'quve awaited them, tall and elegant in his pristine uniform. His long fingers tapped idly against the table, but his eyes were sharp. When the door sealed shut, he greeted them with his peculiar brand of smoothness. "Commander Tanya, Captain Ral, Lady Aina. Thank you for coming. The situation requires all our brightest minds."
Tanya scowled. "Bright minds won't mean much if we don't have the firepower to hold."
M'quve smiled faintly, as if expecting her bite. "Allow me to present what we do have."
He gestured, and one of his aides activated a projector. Images flickered to life on the wall: silhouettes of mobile suits, tanks, aircraft, and fortifications.
"Our current defensive strength," M'quve began, "is as follows: twenty-one Zaku II units, twelve Dom units, nine Gouf units, and one prototype Zudah unit. In addition, we have hundreds of Magella tanks and fighter planes, three Gaw carriers, and the fortified turret network installed when Odessa was first occupied."
The numbers echoed across the room. Tanya's eyes narrowed. Against Federation offensives, this was a fragile wall of paper.
M'quve continued smoothly. "With proper deployment, we can maximize efficiency. Every suit and every gun will count. But we must be realistic — the Federation will bring overwhelming numbers."
Ramba Ral crossed his arms, his gravelly voice carrying weight. "Static defenses alone will crumble. We'll need mobility, hit-and-run tactics, and proper reserves. The Federation will push with their Gundams again. If we stand still, we'll be crushed."
Tanya tapped the table sharply, her finger landing on one sector of the map. "We prepare layered defenses. Use the terrain, choke their advance, bleed them every step of the way. And when their line wavers, we hit back."
Aina raised her hand slightly, her voice calm but firm. "My engineers will keep the suits in the best condition possible. The Zudah is still unstable, but if we maintain it carefully, it can be a sharp spearhead. We'll make sure the Doms and Goufs are battle-ready every morning."
"Good," Tanya said, her tone curt but respectful. "Every machine counts."
M'quve's eyes glimmered with something unreadable as he shifted the discussion. "However, there is another matter. Reinforcements."
The room grew still.
"They may arrive from Granada or Solomon," M'quve explained, "but only if the Federation allows it. Their movements will determine if help comes in time. If they press forward aggressively, we may find ourselves alone."
Tanya's jaw clenched. "Alone. Again."
Ramba Ral placed a hand on the table, his knuckles tightening. "That means we prepare as if reinforcements will never come. Counting on hope is a good way to bury soldiers."
M'quve inclined his head, not denying it. "Practical as ever, Captain."
The conversation shifted to the Federation's strategy. Reports indicated their concentration of forces, the movement of supply lines, and their growing reliance on advanced Gundam prototypes. Tanya could already see the nightmare forming — a concentrated push designed to sweep Zeon out of Europe once and for all.
Her hand hovered over the map, tracing likely routes. "If they bring more than one Gundam, we'll be hard-pressed. My squad already faced one. The Strike alone could cripple entire lines. If the Federation brings others, Odessa will burn."
Ramba Ral's expression was grim but calm. "That's why we keep our forces flexible. Our pilots must be ready for anything. We can't afford rigidity."
Aina nodded. "And I'll ensure spare parts and ammo are stockpiled. We won't waste a single bolt."
Just as the tension threatened to ease into grim resolve, M'quve dropped the weight he had been holding back.
"There is… one final matter. A directive from Gihren Zabi himself."
All eyes turned toward him.
M'quve inhaled softly, then spoke. "The Supreme Commander has devised a bold strategy. While the Federation's main force is tied down here at Odessa, Zeon will strike at Jaburo."
Silence. A silence so heavy it seemed to crush the air from the room.
Aina's eyes widened. "Jaburo? The Federation headquarters?"
M'quve nodded, his voice as smooth as silk. "Indeed. The heart of their command. A decisive strike."
Ramba Ral's brows furrowed. "So Odessa is a lure."
Tanya felt her pulse thunder in her ears. Her fists clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms. "We're bait," she spat, her voice trembling with rage. "Expendable bait to buy time."
M'quve's expression did not waver. "If Odessa holds, the Federation will be forced to commit everything here. And in that moment, Zeon's forces will strike at Jaburo and sever the Federation's heart."
"Even if it means we die to the last man," Tanya snarled.
"Even if," M'quve replied calmly.
The weight of the revelation crushed over them. Aina lowered her gaze, her lips trembling, but she steadied herself quickly. "Then we'll protect as many as we can. That's all we can do."
Ramba Ral exhaled slowly, his face shadowed with grim resignation. "I've seen politics cost soldiers' lives before. But this… this is war by sacrifice."
M'quve's voice sharpened. "Sacrifice that could end the war."
Tanya slammed her palm on the table. The sound echoed like a gunshot. "Don't dress it up. You want us to die to buy your grand strategy."
For the first time, M'quve's mask slipped slightly. His eyes glinted, cold and calculating. "Then die well, Commander. That is all Zeon asks of you."
Ramba Ral stepped forward, tension rising, but Tanya held out her arm to stop him. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, forcing her rage back under control.
She looked around the room, at the officers, the maps, the fragile markers that represented soldiers who would bleed and die in the dirt. Then she straightened her uniform and met M'quve's gaze.
"Fine," she said, her voice low but steady. "We'll fight. We'll hold. But if we're bait, then the Federation is going to choke on it."
Aina's eyes softened, a flicker of admiration breaking through her fear. Ramba Ral smirked grimly. Even M'quve inclined his head, acknowledging her fury as if it were a weapon in itself.
The meeting ended, but Tanya lingered for a moment longer. She walked to the window overlooking the Odessa plains. The wind howled across the barren land, carrying with it the scent of oil, dust, and war.
She whispered to herself, her voice a blade of steel. "If this is where we die, we'll make them pay for every inch of soil."
And with that, she turned back to her squad, her eyes burning with fury and resolve.