Chapter 6

C.E. 69

Space

(P.O.V.) Reinhard

Three hours had passed since I left the research institute and exited the colony. Now, as I flew toward Earth, a chilling realization struck me: I had no reason to go there. In another world, where Celestial Being existed, I would have wasted no time contacting them to rejoin the cause. But that organization was gone, and I felt adrift without purpose.

Before joining Celestial Being, I had wanted to travel the world in search of meaning. I had graduated from university with four doctorates and received countless job offers. Yet, deep inside, I felt empty. I had entered academia to escape my past. I had avenged my parents by killing those responsible for their murder, but that had only left me drifting in a vast ocean of blood. I often wondered what my life would be like if I had never discovered the truth. Would I have continued as a mercenary, fighting until my body could no longer endure? Or would I have faded into obscurity, forgotten by history?

Thanks to Aeolia, I had found a purpose—or perhaps an obsession. After joining Celestial Being, I dedicated every moment of my life towards the goal of eradicating war. I even constructed a Gundam equipped with a functioning GN Drive in my blind fervor. Yet now, I was lost once more. Instead of the blood-soaked seas of my past, I was adrift in the void of space, accompanied only by a VI companion and the Alpha—the very embodiment of my efforts to escape my history.

As I stared into the vastness of space, I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. The political situation between Earth and the PLANTs weighed heavily on my mind. Even without all the details, it was clear that war was looming. I could choose a side to fight for. If pressed, I might lean toward the PLANTs, but I had no desire to rush into battle. I had shed enough blood in my life and preferred to avoid any more conflict. The Earth forces were not an option for me, especially since many were tainted by anti-coordinator sentiment. Who could say if members of those groups had infiltrated the government? That could lead to catastrophic outcomes.

Returning to my roots as a mercenary was not an option I could stomach. And then there was the looming giant in the room: the Alpha. I had no idea whether mobile suits had even been created yet, but I knew the Atlantic Federation had developed mobile armors. I couldn't let the Alpha fall into their hands. The thought of them reverse-engineering its technology sent a shiver down my spine.

A headache throbbed behind my eyes from all this overthinking. Removing my helmet, I inhaled deeply. As I piloted the Alpha, I glanced at the particle reserves—98%, now inching toward 99%. I couldn't explain how the Fafnir had somehow become capable of recharging itself while active, which was supposed to be impossible. I wanted to inspect the GN Drive in detail, but I lacked the necessary tools. For now, all I could do was hope whatever had happened hadn't caused any extensive damage.

Hours ticked by as I passed through a debris field filled with destroyed satellites and remnants of human carelessness. Watching the floating trash, I couldn't believe how wasteful humanity remained. Once, they had no means to explore space and could only send probes, so recycling was impossible. But now, with spaceships at their disposal, what was their excuse? The idea of this debris falling from orbit back to Earth was chilling.

Just as I entered the debris field, Haru's voice crackled over the speaker.

[Sir, the Alpha has detected an SOS signal nearby from a ship belonging to the ORB Union designated as Horizon.]

Surprise flickered within me. I wanted to help, but revealing the Alpha's presence was risky. If I didn't help, however, there were no guarantees they would be rescued. With a resigned sigh, I said, "Well, looks like it's time for your debut, partner." I put my helmet back on and began to navigate through the debris, following the signal.

(P.O.V.) Uzumi Nara Athha

Debris Belt 

I was returning from Heliopolis after finalizing terms to assist the Earth Alliance with the G-Project. Rondo Mina Sahaku's decision to offer help without prior notice had irked me; it felt like a breach of trust. Yet, as I reflected on the situation, I realized I might have been too quick to dismiss the Earth Alliance's proposal.

I considered the potential benefits of supporting the Earth Alliance—my role as Prime Minister of the Orb Union demanded that I always prioritize the safety and prosperity of my people. Without the necessary weapons, how could we defend ourselves against potential aggressors? The Atlantic Federation had begun producing their first-generation prototype mobile suits, and their leadership was infested with the cancer known as Blue Cosmos, a group determined to eradicate all coordinators. If we were to navigate through these turbulent waters, we had to be proactive in securing our defenses. Thus, I had tasked Morgenröte with discreetly acquiring the plans for the Earth Alliance's G-Project technology.

As I pondered the fate of Orb, I reflected on my role as a leader. We were a neutral nation. We did not attack, nor did we allow others to attack us, and we refrained from intervening in other nations' conflicts. This principle had been passed down from one representative to another, and here I was, about to break it. I hoped my forebears would forgive me, but for the sake of Orb's independence, this difficult decision had to be made—especially with tensions escalating daily between the Earth Alliance and the PLANTs.

Suddenly, a violent jolt shook the ship, forcing me to grasp a nearby wall. "What was that?" I asked my bodyguard, anxiety tightening in my chest as he rushed to contact the bridge.

"Representative Athha, we are under attack!" he exclaimed, his face pale, devoid of the usual confidence I relied on.

"By whom?" My mind raced with questions, already formulating thoughts on the implications of such a situation.

"No time to explain. We must get you to the bridge immediately!" he urged, quickly guiding me through the narrow corridors.

When we reached the bridge, chaos reigned. The captain shouted orders at the crew. "Get us into the debris belt before they strike again! Is the SOS beacon finally online?"

"Captain, who is attacking the ship?" I asked, dread filling me. Surely Zaft or earth forces wouldn't target a civilian vessel. But if that wasn't the case, who could it be? Was it a rogue group furious over Orb offering asylum to coordinators, or had some bastard finally staged a coup?

"Unknown, sir! But they're using what appears to be decommissioned mobile armors," the captain replied, concern etched on his face.

Decommissioned mobile armors? Alarm bells rang in my mind. Were they rogue elements of the Earth forces, or was there an unsanctioned black operation at play? Why would they attack us, especially since Orb had just entered an alliance with the Atlantic Federation? "Captain, did we receive any message before the attack?" I asked, trying to uncover the reason behind their aggression.

His expression shifted to disgust. "Yes, sir. They commanded us to surrender any coordinators onboard and to deliver Uzumi Nara Athha for harboring coordinators and polluting the Earth with their existence."

At that moment, I recognized the attackers for who they were. Blue Cosmos—originally an environmental pressure group, their ideology had twisted into one of terror toward coordinators under the guise of preserving our "blue and pure world." I had known that by offering asylum to those in need, I would eventually face their wrath. But I hadn't expected them to acquire such weaponry or to be brazen enough to attack us. Regret surged through me; I had made the wrong choice by not bringing an escort, even as the ship shook violently again.

The situation deteriorated quickly. Fourteen mobile armors were in pursuit; while they were older models, they could still wreak havoc on our ship given enough time. Thanks to the captain's quick thinking, we had maneuvered through the debris fields, which hampered their agility.

"Sir, we've received a response from the SOS beacon. They're requesting a situation report," the communications officer said, cutting through the palpable tension in the air.

"Inform them that we are currently under attack by mobile armors with an unconfirmed affiliation and tell them to hurry; they're catching up to us!" the captain commanded, his focus locked on the monitor displaying the approaching threat.

Suddenly, an alarm blared across the bridge, and I felt time slow around me. I watched as the communication officer leapt from his seat in panic, shouting something about an additional enemy. The captain yelled at the helmsman to perform an evasive maneuver, desperation creeping into his voice. My bodyguard rushed toward me, shouting something I couldn't quite comprehend. Confusion washed over me; the mobile armors were still weaving through the debris, and we had created a safe distance.

It wasn't until I gazed forward that I realized the source of their fear. An additional mobile armor had snuck up on us, and had its main gun, aimed directly at the bridge. As I braced myself for certain death, memories flooded my mind: moments from university, the loss of the love of my life, and the cherished times spent with my daughter, Cagalli, when she was still an infant. I had lived a fulfilling life, but the one regret haunted me—I hadn't been able to say goodbye to my daughter. As I settled back into my seat, resigned to my fate, the mobile armor prepared to fire.

But then, a flash of green and white streaked past my vision. I barely registered the green and white beam shooting toward the mobile armor; before I could fully react, I witnessed it slice through the enemy unit, melting half of it before it erupted in a fiery blast. I didn't even remember standing. My voice rose in shock and disbelief as I shouted, "WHAT!"

"This is the pilot of the Alpha Gundam beginning rescue operation. By the way, on your right," rang out over the comms.

I barely had time to process the unexpected reinforcement before my heart raced at the sight of a mobile suit zipping past the starboard side of the ship. I could hardly catch a glimpse of the details due to its incredible speed, but I distinguished a white blur trailing green and white particles behind it, illuminating the darkness of space.

(P.O.V.) Reinhard

Man, I was really cutting it close back there. If I hadn't fired at the mobile armor, I was damn sure the bridge of that ship would have been obliterated. But what the hell were these mobile armors doing attacking a civilian vessel? What was so special about this ship? Shaking off my spiraling thoughts, I refocused on the immediate chaos surrounding me.

Fourteen enemies remained, their movements stifled by the debris belt that extended like a jagged scar across the battlefield. I had to think strategically—every second counted. After a moment's hesitation, I made my decision. Opening a communication channel, I said, "Attention mobile armor pilots, I suggest you turn around and retreat. If you do not, I will eliminate every single one of you." I couldn't help but hope they'd heed my warning.

Almost instantly, a cacophony of voices erupted over the radio, drowning out my calm demeanor.

"How dare you, coordinator scum!"

"Who the hell does this abomination to humanity think he is?"

"For the preservation of our blue and pure world, you will die, coordinator!"

"Your very existence is an insult to God!"

Listening to their rants, a sense of clarity washed over me. I quickly grasped the type of people I was up against—fanatics. This wasn't my first rodeo with such zealots; the last group had been a cult called Eden's Gate. They'd brainwashed people with drugs and preached about doomsday, eventually seizing control of a county before I was hired to take care of them. Reasoning with these bastards was about as useful as trying to drown a fish in water. With resolve, I cut off communications and prepared for battle, rifle and shield at the ready.

As I charged ahead, their firepower erupted in a chaotic display, rounds zipping past me. I dodged swiftly, strafing to the sides, raising my shield just in time to block their desperate shots. My pulse quickened; each heartbeat echoed in the confines of my cockpit. Finally spotting a clear opportunity, I took aim and fired, hitting two of them simultaneously. The satisfying explosions lit up the debris-strewn environment, rattling their remaining forces. They scattered like flies, weaving chaotically between the debris and taking ineffective potshots at me. The sight bordered on the comical, yet a creeping thought tugged at the edges of my conscience: was I becoming sadistic?

However, after a few moments of mindless combat, the thrill faded away. When I'd heard about mobile armors, I expected a stronger challenge than this. "Haru, keep track of each individual mobile armor and predict their next moves," I instructed, gearing up to end this quickly.

Moments later, several red dots blinked to life on the main monitor, revealing the locations of the enemy units. Trusting Haru's calculations, I fired my rifle again, destroying eight of the mobile armors as panic set in among the remaining pilots. Only five stood left, and their comrades' demise seemed to trigger some form of suicidal charge. A twinge of sympathy flickered through me; their desperation was palpable.

Yet, a colder reality gripped my heart—these were bastards who'd commit genocide against civilians while cloaking their actions in a twisted sense of duty. With grim determination, I pulled the trigger of my beam rifle, vaporizing four of the remaining mobile armors in an instant. The last one barreled toward me with reckless abandon. Just as it closed the gap, I raised my shield and bashed it aside. The impact sent it crashing into a massive piece of debris, which erupted with a brilliant explosion.

As I surveyed the wreckage around me, one might expect a moral dilemma to ripple through my consciousness—a normal person might feel regret over the loss of life. But I had long surpassed that point. I had given them a choice to surrender, and they had turned it down.

Letting out a deep sigh, I finally shifted my gaze toward the Orb ship, allowing myself to assess its condition. It had sustained damage along its hull, but nothing seemed immediately critical from my vantage point. Now that I had rescued the ship, all I wanted was to leave and avoid lingering longer than necessary. Yet, what if the ship encountered more mobile armors while attempting to resume its course?

Looking back at the vessel, I noted the glaring absence of armaments. It made sense considering its main role was civilian transportation, but what the hell were they thinking, traveling without an escort? It was just asking for trouble.

Deciding to initiate communication with a video feed, I pressed a button that darkened my visor to a black tint. "Horizon, do you copy?" I asked, wrapping my voice in calm authority.

After a brief moment of static, a voice broke through, accompanied by a video feed that revealed a middle-aged man in what looked to be a captain's uniform. "This is Captain Tanaka of the Horizon," he said, pausing momentarily before continuing. "First, I wanted to express my gratitude for the timely rescue. I'm pretty sure we almost bit the dust back there," he added, attempting to lighten the mood despite the underlying tension. I could tell the crew on the bridge still bore the weight of the harrowing encounter.

"Second, not wanting to sound ungrateful, I'd like to know what a ZAFT pilot is doing here."

That made me pause. Why the hell did he assume I was with ZAFT, some military outfit from the PLANTs? Could it be they had managed to develop mobile suits? If that was the case, the Earth Alliance was in deep trouble. I had just taken down fifteen mobile armors without breaking a sweat, and if ZAFT had mobile suits of the same caliber as the Alpha, they could conquer Earth before the year was out.

Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I weighed my options carefully. I could either lie or tell the truth; each path bore its own risks. However, given I had no base of operations or the necessary gear for basic maintenance on the Alpha, I'd eventually need to interact with humans. I shuddered at the thought of their possible reactions. Knowing the PLANTs could produce mobile suits was advantageous; they likely had the specialized tools required for full maintenance on the Alpha. But what if they found out about the Alpha's existence? They might attempt to seize it by force, which would be impossible since Haru had activated biometric security protocols, ensuring only I could operate the Alpha.

On the flip side, the Earth Alliance possessed mobile armors but likely lacked the technical infrastructure to deal with such advanced machinery. If dissident factions had truly infiltrated the government, I could easily find myself shot on sight as soon as I stepped out of the Alpha.

That left me with one option: I needed to align myself with a lesser global power, preferably one that maintained a neutral stance. The only candidate that sprang to mind was the Orb Union.

"First, you're welcome. Second, I am not affiliated with ZAFT or the PLANTs," I replied, my mind racing as I crafted a narrative to navigate this delicate conversation. While I could try to construct a fake identity with Haru's help, I had a gut feeling that would come back to bite me in the ass sooner or later.

"I apologize for saying this, but lying about your affiliation won't do you any good since only coordinators are capable of piloting mobile suits," he remarked, his tone growing stern.

Only coordinators can pilot mobile suits? That didn't make any damn sense. With enough training, anyone should be able to pilot a mobile suit. Just look at the mobile armors—they were practically a weaker version of mobile suits… unless Naturals still hadn't managed to develop an operating system that allowed them to do so.

"I'm not lying, and I am not a coordinator. Just to reiterate, I am not affiliated with the PLANTs or the Earth Alliance. What I'm piloting is a prototype equipped with an OS that allows Naturals to operate it," I stated, deliberately omitting details I deemed better left unsaid.

"If that's true, how did you acquire that mobile suit if neither the PLANTs nor the Earth Alliance constructed it?" he pressed, suspicion edging into his voice.

"The Alpha is an experimental mobile suit created by a private company, and I was designated as the test pilot. But during the tests, something unexpected happened." I took a breath, choosing my words carefully. "I know this sounds difficult to believe, and I admit I'm withholding some truths for personal reasons I'd prefer to explain in person. Also, Captain, may I inquire if you're the highest-ranking member of the Orb Union on board the Horizon?" I pushed, going out on a limb, hoping my role in saving their asses would earn me some goodwill.

Captain Tanaka's eyes subtly shifted to the left before returning to the camera, clearly deliberating. So it's safe to assume there's a higher-ranking member aboard the Horizon. "May I ask why you wouldn't want to know that information?"

Here goes nothing. "I would like to request asylum, along with the opportunity to explain my story," I said, pushing nearly all my chips onto the table while still holding back a few vital details.

The captain fell silent, pretending to consider my request while stealing glances to his left. The sight genuinely amused me, provoking a smile beneath my tinted visor.

After a moment of contemplative silence, Captain Tanaka cleared his throat and spoke. "We do have a high-ranking member of the Orb government on board, and he has agreed to speak with you personally." As a section of the ship began to open, a glimmer of hope flickered in my chest. "While this ship isn't designed for transporting mobile suits or armors, the docking bay should be big enough. Please dock your mobile suit and leave any weapons onboard before exiting."

Releasing a sigh of relief, glad I hadn't been flat-out rejected, I responded, "Understood," and set about docking my Alpha, determination surging within me as I prepared for whatever lay ahead.

(P.O.V.) Uzumi Nara Athha

As I watched the mobile suit glide into the docking bay, my thoughts spiraled back to the earlier battle, replaying the sheer ease with which it had dispatched those mobile armors. True, those armors were outdate, yet they could still inflict damage on a ZAFT mobile suit if given the opportunity. But the way this pilot fought—he made it look like child's play. I didn't doubt the mobile suit was equipped with advanced technology, but the pilot himself was undeniably the primary reason for its impressive performance.

"Sir, do you believe it's wise to allow a pilot of an unknown mobile suit, who denied any affiliation with the PLANTs or the Earth Alliance, aboard?" My bodyguard's voice was laced with tension, the remnants of his shock still evident from our earlier encounter.

Had I not heard the pilot extend a chance for surrender over the open channel, I might have shared my bodyguard's apprehension. The memory of how he dismantled his opponents with methodical precision made my skin crawl—he only fired when he had a clear shot, spending the rest of the time gracefully dodging attacks or blocking them with his shield. What sort of propulsion system allowed for such fluid movement? It was unnerving yet captivating.

"I believe our savior harbors no ill intentions; besides, he asked for asylum. This suggests his story isn't simple," I replied, continuing toward the docking area with determination.

When I arrived at the docking bay and laid eyes on the mobile suit in person, I paused, awestruck. It was more impressive than I could have imagined. The contrast between it and the latest GINN models developed by ZAFT was stark and telling. Unlike their suits, where the armor seamlessly integrated into the frame, the Alpha Gundam—as the pilot had called it—had armor affixed to its frame. It was a curious design that piqued my interest.

Moments later, the cockpit opened, and the pilot emerged. He approached steadily, and as he neared, he removed his helmet, revealing his face for the first time.

"Hello, my name is Reinhard Durandal. Can I assume you're the representative the captain mentioned?" He asked, a small, disarming smile playing on his lips.

Looking at him, I found it hard to reconcile the image of this young man with a warrior who had just decimated fifteen mobile armors. But part of being a politician is the innate ability to read people, capturing the very essence of their presence. When I studied Reinhard, the first impression that struck me was that of an old, scarred wolf—signifying that he was older than he appeared, at least mentally, and carried the weight of a seasoned warrior who had fought countless battles. What sort of life had shaped him into this complex individual?

"Greetings, Reinhard. My name is Uzumi Nara Athha, chief representative of Orb." I noted the momentary widening of his eyes before they settled back into their usual calm regard. Apparently, the young man hadn't realized I was on board the Horizon, which hinted that this wasn't some elaborate ploy for an assassination attempt. "I would like to thank you again for saving the ship and its crew during our time of need. Now, I believe you wanted to discuss your request for asylum."

"Yes, I would," he said, his voice steady but agreeable. "But may I request that we speak in a more private setting if possible? I'd rather not divulge certain facts in front of a group of... larger people. I mean no offense to the crew," he added, his tone respectful and measured.

My curiosity was ignited further by his request. "Of course. Please follow me to the meeting room." I cast one last lingering glance back at the Alpha Gundam, an idea blossoming in my mind about how I could convince Reinhard to collaborate with Morgenröte on developing a new mobile suit for Orb. He had mentioned he was assigned as the test pilot for such a machine, but I suspected that wasn't the whole truth.

As we moved through the docking bay, I could already see the wheels turning in my thoughts, evaluating the potential partnership we could forge.