The surviving Allied Forces soldiers on the ground were overjoyed, while the Coordinator soldiers naturally grew uneasy.
The reason lay in the massive aerial reinforcements arriving from the East Asian Alliance.
Following the assault by the large-scale drone formations, the main forces of the East Asian Alliance began their entrance.
At the forefront of the formation were the Kunpeng Large Transport Aircraft, produced at full capacity by the East Asian Alliance.
This transport model could hardly be classified as a conventional aircraft—it was more accurately described as an atmospheric airborne carrier.
With a length of 317 meters and a wingspan of 542 meters, it was the largest aircraft in human history.
Weighing 9,800 tons fully loaded, the vessel could simultaneously accommodate dozens of Mobile Suits.
Its cargo bay was equipped with comprehensive maintenance facilities, fully embodying the design philosophy of a "long-range mobile MS carrier."
The aircraft's wings were fitted with a total of 20 thermonuclear jet engines.
These provided powerful propulsion, while air cushion nozzles on the underside enabled low-speed flight.
According to East Asian designers, the Kunpeng Large Transport Aircraft could circumnavigate the Earth twice without refueling.
It was capable of maintaining extended airborne operations indefinitely.
"Hahaha, this has to be fake."
When this mountainous transport aircraft first appeared, gliding through the skies,
many Coordinator soldiers found themselves stunned by its colossal presence.
Fortunately, the East Asian Alliance wasn't wealthy enough to fill the entire sky with Kunpeng Large Transport Aircraft.
Otherwise, further resistance would have been pointless—the Coordinators' struggles would have been as futile as an ant trying to shake a tree.
However, smaller transport aircraft followed, adhering to the principle of compensating quality with quantity.
Though "inferior in quality," this was only in comparison to the Kunpeng.
The rest of the East Asian Army's transport fleet truly managed to blanket the sky.
They turned the bright midday sun into a pitch-black, starless night.
"It's over. All over."
As sunlight gradually vanished, the artificial intervention in the cycle of day and night became palpable.
Some Coordinators with weaker mental fortitude broke down completely.
Their mouths agape and pupils unfocused, they resembled utter fools.
Fortunately, the sky-filling East Asian transport fleet didn't immediately release their special cargo toward the ground.
Their target wasn't the enemy forces stationed in the peripheral defenses of the Allied Forces' Alaska headquarters.
The massive formation continued advancing inland. To the Coordinators, the passage of time felt eternal—an age suspended in dread.
"Are they leaving?"
The remaining Allied Forces soldiers watched the trailing edge of darkness recede with bewildered disappointment.
"Are they leaving?"
The ZAFT Coordinator soldiers erupted in relieved joy.
Regardless of what would eventually befall their comrades inland, at least they had survived—for now.
However, before the remnants of the Allied Forces soldiers could remain disheartened for long, or the ZAFT Coordinator soldiers could rejoice for much longer—
"Woo-woo-woo."
A sharp, hellish whistle-like siren sounded from where the sky met the sea in the distance.
The fully enclosed outward flared inward inclined flying shear bow cleaved through the waves as missiles roared vertically from the ship's central missile bays.
"Boom, boom, boom!"
If the missiles from the unmanned aerial vehicles had proven effective, then those launched by the massive fleet—formed by the convergence of several main East Asian Alliance fleets—naturally performed as designed.
Equipped with high-explosive warheads and deliberately targeting areas densely clustered with Coordinator soldiers and Mobile Suits, the justice descending from the skies once again cleansed the filth from the earth.
"Captain? What should we do?"
On the seas off Alaska, a soldier in the ZAFT fleet asked an officer.
"What should we do?"
The officer glanced toward the distant coastline, where allied forces had been crying out for their parents—or rather, had now fallen silent. After enduring repeated assaults, even though this second wave of enemies had not yet targeted their position, it seemed only a matter of time. The officer had no desire to become roasted chicken or a meal for the fish in the sea.
Instinctively, the officer wanted to suggest retreat. "How about—?" But just as he was about to utter the word, he caught sight of the captain tightening his grip on the spirit injection stick.
"Bastard!" the officer immediately roared, delivering a sharp slap across the soldier's face. "We are the glorious ZAFT Forces, the great Coordinator soldiers! How can we display such disgraceful weakness in front of mere Naturals? Hurry up and return to your post!"
"Yes, sir!" Clutching his stinging cheek, the soldier quickly scurried back to his position.
Unbeknownst to them, the captain, witnessing the scene, had initially intended to throw the spirit injection stick away. After all, he had used that stick to "inject spirit" into others far too often in the past. With the battle turning unfavorable, he greatly feared that some soldier, facing death, might seize the chance to settle old scores.
But with the officer and soldiers acting this way, discarding the stick in front of everyone would surely cost him face. So, clutching the stick, the captain found himself trapped—unable to throw it away, yet unwilling to keep holding it. He was at a loss for how to address the officer, who was now simpering at him, or the soldiers, who wore rigid expressions.
"Boom, boom, boom!"
Suddenly, towering columns of water erupted around the fleet, followed by dark brown oil slicks and scattered mechanical components floating to the surface.
"Submersible mothership?"
With a seasoned glance, the captain recognized the source of the debris. During the earlier unmanned aerial vehicle attacks, those comrades hidden beneath the waves must have had it easiest. In fact, just moments before, the captain had felt a twinge of regret—why had he chosen a surface combat role over a submarine role when selecting his branch? Had he chosen the latter, he could have avoided the terrifying drone assaults.
Now, however, it seemed the surface forces might have the better end after all.
At least I could die gazing at the blue sky, rather than perishing in the pitch-black, silent depths where even the sun remains unseen.
"Enemy submarine attack!"
Soon, the command center of the ZAFT fleet's flagship relayed the grim news across all vessels.
Before the enemy surface fleet's assault could commence, in the unseen depths of the ocean, along the tranquil frontlines, even the ZAFT Forces' best-preserved submersible mothership fell victim to a surprise attack by a swarm of hostile submarines.
The rapid advance during the earlier assault on the Allied Forces' headquarters in Alaska had stretched their forces thin, leaving gaps in the defensive lines. To compensate, numerous underwater Mobile Suits had been deployed to the land battlefield. Consequently, without MS protection, the fledgling underwater units—lacking both numbers and experience—suffered devastating losses.
"I don't want to die!"
"Bastards, where did these East Asian submarines come from?!"
"When did they get here?!"
The officers and crew aboard the ZAFT submersible mothership never understood, even in their final moments. Prior to the East Asian Army's attack, sonar had continuously scanned the periphery for warnings. How had these enemy attack submarines, stealthy as assassins in the dark night, gone undetected?
"Hahaha..."
A bitter laugh escaped as seawater surged through the breached hull, flooding the interior. The earsplitting screech of metal, buckling under immense pressure as the ship's integrity failed, echoed in their ears.
Only in death did the soldiers aboard the submersible mothership grasp the likely truth: the enemy had anticipated their movements. These hostile vessels had lain in wait, settled on the seabed like hunters ambushing their prey. With unwavering patience, they bided their time until the ZAFT forces had dispatched the bulk of their strength, striking at the moment of greatest vulnerability.
"So ruthless, so patient."
The ZAFT submersible mothership's commander, realizing this in his final moments, transmitted his deductions and his seething resentment toward the East Asian forces to the flagship of the surface fleet. Then, he, his submarine, and his crew—accompanied by the gurgling influx of seawater—became a natural haven for marine life in the years to come.
"A trap... it was all a trap."
The surface fleet's overall commander trembled, his hands shaking and heart quaking upon receiving the underwater ally's hypothesis. But by then, the realization was futile. With the underwater fleet annihilated, the surface fleet's doom loomed imminent.
The massive fleet in the distance would surely not spare this Coordinator-led joint fleet. Once sunk, the Coordinator forces on land—no matter how formidable—would be cut off from retreat, supplies, and reinforcements. How long could they possibly hold out?
The thought of over seventy percent of ZAFT's mobilized forces being wiped out here twisted the commander's heart like a knife. Yet, soon, he would no longer clutch his chest in agony—for the East Asian Army's vanguard fleet had already trained their dark, gaping gun barrels on the ZAFT surface combat fleet.
Volley after volley of coordinated fire, aided by the underwater attack submarines, rained down. Though individual Coordinators might surpass individual Naturals in strength, iron and fire would deliver the final verdict.
Warfare relies more on overall strength than individual combat prowess.
Moreover, Natural individuals are not lacking in personal combat abilities either.
(End of Chapter)