Tianem stood on the bridge of his flagship, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the expanding tactical sphere that represented A Baoa Qu.
The fortress filled the display now—vast, angular, bristling with weapons. Zeon's final redoubt. The place where the war would either end cleanly… or refuse to die quietly.
"We have superiority in every measurable category," Tianem said evenly. "Numbers, supply, pilot quality, and mobile suit performance."
No one argued. The data supported him.
Still, his gaze sharpened.
"That does not mean we underestimate Zeon," he continued. "Gihren Zabi does not lose with dignity. He loses by trying to take everything with him."
An aide nodded. "All logistics are green, sir. Ammunition reserves at ninety-eight percent. Medical ships in position. Repair tenders standing by."
"Good," Tianem said. "I want no delays once we commit. No heroic improvisation from the rear."
The tactical clock ticked down in the corner of the display.
00:19:47
Nineteen minutes until contact.
He allowed himself a slow breath. This was the moment commanders lived and died for—not the chaos of battle, but the clarity before it. When the board was set, and every piece was exactly where it belonged.
"Signal the fleet," Tianem ordered. "Final readiness check. Remind all captains: expect irregular countermeasures. Zeon may attempt internal traps or layered defenses once we breach."
"Acknowledged."
Tianem's eyes shifted to a separate feed.
White Base.
The ship's silhouette floated calmly among the fleet, scarred but unbowed. Around it clustered the Gundams—Alex, Strike, Aegis, Buster, Duel, Blitz, Full Armor. Icons that had come to symbolize inevitability.
He watched the pilots' status lights—steady, synchronized.
A small, private smile crossed his face.
"They'll hold," Tianem murmured. "They always do."
The Gundams had become more than weapons. They were morale incarnate. Wherever they appeared, Federation lines stiffened. Panic receded. Confidence surged—not reckless confidence, but belief.
Tianem straightened.
"All units," he said, voice carrying across the bridge, "maintain formation. When we enter weapons range, we advance without hesitation. This battle ends today."
The countdown continued.
00:12:03
He felt it then—not arrogance, not complacency—but certainty.
Zeon could still be dangerous. Zeon could still be desperate.
But Zeon could no longer dictate the war.
And as A Baoa Qu loomed larger on every screen, Tianem allowed himself one final thought:
With these pilots… with these machines… we will finish this.
The fleet surged forward as one.
Gary Lin floated beside the Strike Gundam, hands light on the controls as the massive bulk of A Baoa Qu grew larger on his forward display. The fortress looked less like a base and more like a continent forged into a weapon.
The system chimed.
[MAIN MISSION UPDATED]
Objective: Victory at A Baoa Qu
Conditions:
– Survive the battle
– Ensure Federation victory
Reward: Large-scale point acquisition, unlock conditions pending
Gary squinted. "That's it? No 'optional objective: look cool while doing it'?"
[SYSTEM RESPONSE]
You are already doing the bare minimum. Please focus.
Gary snorted. "You say that like I'm lazy. I'm literally in the front line."
[SYSTEM RESPONSE]
Complaining consumes less energy than combat. Data consistent with host behavior.
"Wow. Betrayed by my own UI."
He exhaled and leaned back slightly in the cockpit, eyes drifting to the surrounding formation. That's when he noticed Alex Gundam, flying a little off-pattern.
Amuro Ray.
The kid wasn't checking weapons. Wasn't adjusting thrusters. He was just… staring at A Baoa Qu.
Gary nudged Strike closer and opened a private channel.
"Hey," Gary said casually. "You look like you're about to monologue internally. Everything good?"
Amuro startled slightly, then relaxed when he saw who it was.
"…I don't know," Amuro admitted after a pause. "I just… have a bad feeling."
Gary raised an eyebrow. "Define 'bad feeling.'"
Amuro hesitated. "The kind that feels… final. Like this battle is different. Like maybe—" He swallowed. "Maybe I won't come back."
There it was.
Gary let out a short laugh. "Hey, don't say that. That's how you jinx things."
Amuro looked at him, surprised. "You're not worried?"
"Of course I'm worried," Gary said. "I just refuse to let the universe hear it. Superstition is a survival skill."
Amuro gave a small, uncertain smile, but his eyes were still distant. "I can't explain it. It's like something is pressing on me. Pulling me forward."
Gary glanced away for a moment, his expression turning thoughtful.
System, he said silently. Amuro's already awakened as a Newtype, right?
[SYSTEM RESPONSE]
Confirmed. Amuro Ray has entered active Newtype cognition phase.
Do Newtypes get foresight? Like… seeing the future?
A pause—longer than usual.
[SYSTEM RESPONSE]
Newtype perception includes heightened spatial awareness, emotional resonance, and probabilistic intuition. It is not deterministic foresight.
Gary's grip tightened slightly.
So… is he really going to die here?
Another pause.
[SYSTEM RESPONSE]
I cannot observe the future, Host.
Gary clicked his tongue internally. Great. Comforting as always.
He turned back to Amuro, forcing his usual grin.
"Look," Gary said, "this place is scary, sure. Biggest fortress in space, Zeon throwing literally everything they have left. Anyone with a brain would feel uneasy."
Amuro listened quietly.
"But you're not alone," Gary continued. "You've got White Base, you've got us, and you've got a Gundam that's been cheating death since day one."
Amuro blinked. "That's… one way to put it."
"And besides," Gary added, "if you really were about to die, I'm pretty sure the universe would give you a flashback episode first. You look fine to me."
That actually earned a soft laugh from Amuro.
"…Thanks," he said. "I'll try not to think about it too much."
"Good," Gary replied. "Save the thinking for after we win."
As they separated to rejoin formation, Gary's smile faded just a little.
He looked back at A Baoa Qu.
System, he thought, if this battle really is as bad as it feels… make sure I have enough points to keep everyone alive.
[SYSTEM RESPONSE]
Request acknowledged. Survival remains statistically uncertain.
Gary sighed. "You really know how to hype a finale."
The countdown ticked closer to zero.
Amuro drifted out from the hangar catwalk, the echo of his conversation with Gary Lin still lingering in his thoughts. The distant hum of engines and launch preparations filled the space like a low, constant heartbeat.
He noticed Sayla standing alone near the observation window.
She wasn't doing anything—just watching the mobile suits being armed and refueled below. Her hands were clenched, shoulders tense. Too tense.
Amuro slowed and walked over.
"Sayla," he said gently. "Why are you standing out here by yourself?"
She didn't turn at first. When she did, her expression was calm—but tightly held, like something ready to crack.
"I want to pilot the Gundam again," she said plainly.
Amuro exhaled. He had expected it.
"Bright won't allow it," Sayla continued. "He says it's too risky. That my current piloting skill isn't enough for A Baoa Qu."
She looked down. "And… he's not wrong."
Amuro nodded slowly. "He isn't."
Sayla met his eyes, sharp and unwavering. "You agree too."
"I do," Amuro said honestly. "This battle isn't like before. Everyone out there will be pushing past their limits."
Her fingers tightened. "Then listen to me anyway."
That made him pause.
"There's something I need to finish," Sayla said quietly. "Something I can't leave undone. If I stay here, I'll regret it for the rest of my life—assuming I live that long."
Amuro stared at her.
Not as a pilot.
Not as a crewmate.
But as someone who understood that feeling all too well.
He felt it again—that pressure in his chest. That sense that Sayla wasn't speaking out of impulse, fear, or pride. This was resolve. Heavy. Absolute.
"…You're serious," he said.
Sayla nodded once. "I am."
Amuro closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.
"I'll talk to Bright," he said. "And if he still refuses… I'll talk to Lockon."
Sayla blinked. "Lockon?"
Amuro shrugged slightly. "General Revil trusts him. He believes Lockon has the judgment to lead the Gundam units during the battle."
Sayla absorbed that, then asked softly, "That includes Samus Aran too, doesn't it?"
Amuro answered immediately. "Yes."
She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
"…Thank you, Amuro."
He gave a small, tired smile. "I'm not promising anything. Just… that I'll make sure they hear you."
Sayla nodded, her expression lighter but no less determined.
As Amuro turned to leave, she watched him go—then looked back toward the hangar, toward the Gundams waiting for pilots who might not return.
This battle was coming.
And none of them could walk away from what they needed to face.