The silence before war had its own gravity.
Out in the black gulf of space, the Federation fleet drifted like a continent of metal and light, its ships arrayed in countless lines that stretched beyond sight. The shadow of Jupiter's distant glow painted the hulls in gold and red, as though the stars themselves were holding their breath.
General Revil stood at the bridge viewport of the flagship Tianus, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp beneath the weight of command. He had seen wars end and begin again in the same breath. Yet Solomon—Solomon would be different. It was the last citadel of the Zabi family's power, and he intended to crush it.
Beside him, officers murmured tactical readouts. The Minovsky particle density was at combat threshold. Communication would falter once the first volleys began. He studied the distant glimmer where Zeon's fortress waited, wrapped in asteroid armor and arrogance.
"Have the vanguard squadrons ready," he said quietly. "We strike before they can reform."
A young officer saluted. "Sir, intelligence confirms Zeon has deployed large numbers of cadet pilots to reinforce their lines."
Revil's expression didn't waver, but his heart sank a fraction. "Cadets. So, even they've run out of soldiers."
Behind him, a holographic display flickered to life — tactical maps, ship designations, and new assets added by one enigmatic officer: Gary Lin. Revil's analysts had long debated how the man's unconventional logistics and sudden influx of capable pilots had turned the Federation from a force on the verge of collapse into something sharpened.
For now, Revil didn't question miracles. He used them.
---
In Solomon's shadow, alarms rang like heartbeats. The fortress trembled with preparation. Zeon's soldiers rushed through the corridors, adjusting helmets, sealing suits, loading ammunition. In the command chamber, Dozle Zabi loomed like a storm in uniform, voice thundering over the intercom.
"Listen up! We fight for every stone of Solomon! No retreat, no surrender — I'll personally crush anyone who abandons their post!"
His officers shouted in affirmation, but their eyes betrayed dread. Dozle felt it too, though he'd never show it. He'd built this fortress, trained these men, seen them laugh and die. To him, Solomon wasn't a base — it was his home.
Outside, mobile suits were being armed — the last of Zeon's Gelgoogs and Doms lining up in glistening ranks. They were superior machines, in theory, faster and stronger than the Federation's mass-produced GMs. But their pilots were boys and girls who had barely survived simulation drills.
Dozle gritted his teeth. "Zeon doesn't lose to numbers," he growled. "We'll show them the pride of the Principality."
---
In another section of the fortress, beneath quieter lights, Lelouch von Zehrtfeld adjusted his gloves. His reflection in the briefing room's mirror looked calm — almost too calm. The uniform suited him well, perhaps too well for someone whose loyalty was built on illusion.
Reports came through his tablet — units reorganized, Tanya's GED squad reassigned to forward observation, Chalia Bull's detachment supporting eastern sectors. His mind processed every data strand like a grand chessboard.
Then, something in the reports made him pause. Zeon's reserves — 38% cadets. Barely trained. He frowned.
"Insanity," he muttered. "Dozle intends to hold Solomon with children."
Behind him, a junior officer saluted nervously. "Sir, orders from Kycilia's command. We are to maintain position until her fleet reinforces from Granada."
Lelouch smiled faintly. "She always arrives after the storm, doesn't she?"
The officer hesitated. "Do we… trust her strategy, sir?"
Lelouch looked up, eyes dark and cold. "Trust is a luxury for the dead. Prepare my unit."
As the door closed, he allowed a rare exhale. Tanya… where are you now, sister? You, who obeys without question — would you still call this duty? Or have you begun to see through it too?
He tapped his console, bringing up the fleet map. Solomon's defense lines shimmered like concentric rings of blood. The Federation advance would come from the south, splitting into three axes. He could already sense the rhythm of their attack. Whoever commanded them was precise — surgical, like chess incarnate.
Revil, perhaps. Or… someone else behind him.
---
Far across the void, Tanya von Zehrtfeld's forces were already in motion.
Her GED squad — once fifteen strong — now stood at half-strength. Mila adjusted her visor beside her; Zhou Wei and Richter double-checked their Zaku's reactors. They were veterans now, though youth clung to them still.
Tanya watched from her cockpit, expression cold, calculating. Solomon loomed ahead — her assignment, her battlefield, her cage.
She received Kycilia's encrypted message an hour earlier: "Hold the southern perimeter. Delay Federation advance. Reinforcements will arrive."
She'd smirked bitterly at that. Reinforcements never arrived on time.
Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Lelouch. He was within Solomon's inner lines. She'd seen his name on deployment charts — "Tactical Advisor, 2nd Command Staff." That fool. Always thinking three moves ahead, never realizing the board is rigged.
A red alert tone cut through her musing. Federation ships had entered firing range. Tanya's eyes sharpened. "So it begins," she whispered.
---
On the Federation bridge, Revil's command tone was a blade. "Begin stage one deployment. GM squadrons 01 through 07, launch."
Thrusters ignited across space. Hundreds of mobile suits emerged from hangar bays like a swarm of luminous insects, forming diamond formations against the black.
Gary Lin watched from his monitor, fatigue etched beneath his calm. His system interface pulsed faintly — a silent reminder of what he had just done. The last summon.
He'd played his final card before the storm broke.
He glanced at the readouts. No response yet — the new presence hadn't appeared before him. That meant the system had scattered it, as always. Somewhere out there, his final "ally" had been cast into the Federation's chain of command, unseen, unacknowledged.
He muttered under his breath. "Please let this one not destroy the ship…"
---
On Solomon's outer shell, explosions began to flicker like dying stars.
Missiles and railguns screamed across the void. Zeon's turrets returned fire, turning the black into a storm of light. Inside the command room, Dozle barked new orders, his voice a thunderclap.
"Activate all defensive batteries! Launch every mobile suit capable of fighting! Solomon does not fall while I breathe!"
Officers shouted confirmations. The ground beneath them trembled as anti-ship guns roared.
In the hangars, young pilots — barely seventeen — climbed into Gelgoogs and Zakus. They recited the anthem under their breath, trembling hands gripping control sticks. One of them muttered, "For Zeon…" before being sealed inside.
Lelouch watched their departure through the observation deck. His heart ached — not with compassion, but with cold fury. "Children," he whispered. "We're feeding children to war machines."
He opened his comm to his aide. "Patch me through to Commander Dozle."
"Sir, he's—"
"Now."
Static crackled, then Dozle's booming voice filled the channel.
"What is it, Zehrtfeld?"
"Sir, our cadets lack real combat experience. If you push them into direct formation—"
"I know!" Dozle snapped. "But we've no choice! Every man and woman fights today!"
The line went silent. Lelouch closed his eyes. "Then the Zabi name dies with them," he murmured.
---
Meanwhile, on the Federation side, Revil studied the shifting radar signatures. Solomon's first defense line was cracking under artillery, but Zeon's counterfire was brutal. His fleet's outer ships already took losses.
He turned to his officers. "The Zeon defense grid is too concentrated. Divert the third line to flank through debris channel seven."
A lieutenant hesitated. "Sir, that corridor's filled with Minovsky turbulence."
"Good," Revil said. "They won't expect us to risk it."
Behind him, another officer received new data. "Sir! The GM units led by Commander Lin have reached contact range."
Revil nodded. "Tell him — the first blood of Solomon is his to take."
---
Gary Lin watched the comm flicker, then smiled faintly.
"System," he muttered. "You better be proud of me for this."
The holographic text shimmered across his visor: Daily Mission: Complete Strategic Operation Engagement (Reward Pending)
He almost laughed. The absurdity of fighting a real war with game notifications never faded.
---
Deep within Solomon, Lelouch looked toward the starboard viewport. The horizon beyond the fortress was ablaze — like two suns colliding.
His screen blinked with an incoming encrypted signal. Tanya.
He read it quickly: We're holding the southern front. Don't die, idiot.
He smiled faintly, whispering, "You too."
Outside, the Federation lines closed in, endless and unstoppable.
---
Dozle raised his hand high, voice echoing through the fortress loudspeakers.
"Men of Zeon! The Federation comes to take what is ours! Show them what it means to defy the Earth!"
Thousands of throats roared in unison.
Revil's fleet surged forward, engines igniting in synchronized fire.
Between them stretched the void — silent, infinite, merciless.
The first wave of GM units crossed the threshold.
Solomon's guns began to glow.
Revil's voice rang out through his fleet:
"All ships — launch all forces. Begin the assault!"
Dozle's command overlapped in fury and faith:
"Defend Solomon to the death!"
And in that instant — when light eclipsed darkness and steel met flame —
the Battle of Solomon began.