Gary Lin hit the throttle and drove straight into the oncoming wall of green light.
The Strike Gundam's rifle barked twice in rapid succession. Two Gelgoog Jägers vanished in expanding spheres of fire, their reactors overloading before the pilots even had time to react.
"Two down," Gary muttered. "Good start."
The rest didn't even slow.
They split—not to surround him, not to engage. They flowed around him like water around a rock, engines flaring as they punched straight past his position.
"What—? Hey! Don't ignore me!"
Gary twisted the Strike hard, boosters screaming as he tried to cut across their vector, but it was already too late. Eighteen elite units were already accelerating toward Tianem's flagship.
His system chimed, mercilessly calm.
Warning: Objective slipping.
"Yeah, no kidding!"
A new signature tore past him from the Federation side—blue-white armor, heavier frame, unmistakable.
"Full Armor Gundam, entering combat," Samus Aran's voice cut in, sharp and focused.
Before Gary could answer, Samus opened fire. Beam cannons roared, thick lances of energy carving through space. Three Gelgoogs were caught mid-boost and erased in a single sweeping barrage.
Fifteen left.
Still, the remaining units did not break formation.
"They're not here to fight us," Gary realized, jaw tightening. "They're here for Tianem."
The flagship's guns finally spoke.
Twin mega-particle cannons fired in sequence, saturating the approach corridor. Two Gelgoogs were forced to break formation, another took a glancing hit that sent it spiraling. The elite unit's momentum faltered—just enough.
"That's it," Gary growled. "Now."
He and Samus hit them from opposite angles.
The Strike Gundam dove in close, beam saber igniting as Gary cut through one Gelgoog's torso at point-blank range. Samus followed with missile fire, forcing the Zeon pilots to scatter for the first time since launch.
Explosions lit the darkness.
But four of them broke through.
"Too many!" a Federation officer shouted over open comms.
Those four Gelgoogs ignored Gary and Samus completely. They lined up, locked on, and fired.
Four beams slammed into Tianem's flagship almost simultaneously.
The ship shuddered violently.
"Engine block hit!"
"Propulsion down to emergency thrust!"
"We're losing speed!"
Gary's stomach dropped.
"No—!"
The flagship didn't explode. The beams had torn through the main engines, not the reactor. Tianem was alive—but barely moving, a wounded giant drifting in the kill zone.
The surviving Zeon units closed in, forming a loose ring around the crippled ship, weapons tracking, patient and methodical.
Gary felt it then.
That sick, familiar pressure in his chest—not fear, not panic.
Regret.
"I failed," he muttered.
His system responded instantly.
Correction: Mission incomplete, not failed.
Gary didn't laugh this time.
He thought of what came after Tianem's death in the original timeline. A Federation without him. Without Revil's restraint. Power vacuum. Titans. A.E.U.G. Neo Zeon. Endless cycles of war, driven by politicians who learned nothing and forgot everything.
"I don't want that future," Gary said quietly. "I don't want to win this war just to start ten more."
He saw flashes in his mind—stars beyond the solar system, possibilities humanity never reached because it was too busy killing itself. He thought of alien life, not as enemies, but as inevitabilities. Gundam 00's ELS. The unknowns Seed hinted at. A universe that didn't care about Earth's petty politics.
And he knew why Tianem mattered.
"Samus," he said, voice hardening. "Cover the ship. I'm going in."
The Strike Gundam surged forward again, battered but unyielding. Gary threw himself between the Zeon ring and Tianem's flagship, beam saber flashing as he forced their fire away from the hull.
Samus mirrored him, her cannons roaring, driving the attackers back meter by meter.
The system chimed again, almost… amused.
Observation: You are contemplating galactic-scale outcomes during active combat.
Assessment: Unexpected depth.
Gary snorted even as he parried a beam.
"Oh, shut up. You thought I was an idiot, didn't you?"
Response: I underestimated you, Host.
Gary grimaced. "Yeah. Join the club."
Around him, the battle raged on—engines burning, beams crossing, lives hanging on the edge of decisions made in seconds.
And Gary Lin fought like hell, not for glory, not for points—
But because one man's survival might keep the future from collapsing into the same damn war, over and over again.
Gary Lin and Samus Aran held their ground in front of Tianem's crippled flagship, beams and missiles carving a temporary sanctuary in the chaos. Behind them, the Federation line was tearing itself apart and reforming at the same time.
On the bridge of White Base, Bright Noa made his decision.
"All hands," he said, voice steady, almost cold, "prepare for full launch. Target: A Baoa Qu. Primary objective—destroy that satellite system."
An officer hesitated. "Captain… what about Admiral Tianem's ship?"
Bright didn't even look back. "Samus Aran and Gary Lin are covering him. That's enough."
It wasn't indifference. It was trust—and calculation. If the satellite kept firing, there would be no fleet left to save Tianem anyway.
"Helm, full burn. We break through and hit the base."
White Base surged forward.
"Shirogane," Bright continued over comms, "relay orders to all units still capable of receiving. Attack A Baoa Qu at all costs. Ignore Tianem. Repeat—ignore Tianem."
There was a brief pause.
Then Shirogane Miyuki's calm voice answered. "Understood."
On Shirogane's flagship, the situation was barely controlled chaos. Minovsky interference shredded long-range coordination. Units blinked in and out of contact. Wreckage drifted everywhere.
Miyuki turned to Oreki Houtarou. "Should we try to take command of the scattered GM units? We've lost most of our mobile suits in the ambush."
Oreki adjusted his posture, eyes scanning fragmented tactical feeds. "In theory, yes. In practice, those units are dispersed, damaged, and panicking. Centralized command might collapse before it forms."
Miyuki frowned. "So we abandon them?"
Before Oreki could answer, a new alert sounded.
"Captain!" a bridge officer called out. "Multiple GM units requesting docking permission—same vector, emergency regroup!"
Miyuki's eyes widened slightly. "What?"
Oreki leaned forward. "They're converging here… because this ship survived. To them, this is the last stable node."
It wasn't strategy. It was instinct.
One by one, battered GMs locked onto the flagship's clamps. Some were missing armor plates. Some had thrusters barely functioning. But they came anyway.
"Twelve GM units docked," the officer reported. "And—two Guncannons."
Miyuki blinked. "Guncannons? I thought Hayato and Kai were down."
Oreki nodded slowly. "They were. Amuro pulled them out before their machines were destroyed. Infantry casualties only—light injuries."
As if on cue, the internal feed flickered to life. Hayato Yamaguchi and Kai Shiden stood in the hangar, bandaged, arguing loudly with mechanics.
"We can still fight!" Kai snapped.
"Just load the cannons!" Hayato added. "These parts still work!"
Miyuki exhaled sharply. "They're insane."
Oreki allowed himself a faint, tired smile. "But useful."
The hangar crew worked at a frantic pace, cannibalizing spare parts, restoring what they could. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't standard.
But it was enough.
"Status update," the officer said. "We have fourteen operational mobile suits. Twelve GMs. Two Guncannons. Combat readiness… acceptable."
Miyuki straightened.
"All units," he ordered, voice firm now, "this is Shirogane Miyuki. We are forming an ad-hoc mobile suit group. Objective: A Baoa Qu. Follow White Base's vector. We move now."
He glanced once more at Oreki. "This isn't optimal."
Oreki met his gaze. "Neither is extinction."
Outside, the newly assembled force launched, thrusters flaring as they joined the desperate Federation push toward Zeon's fortress.
And far ahead, the silhouette of A Baoa Qu loomed—untouched, waiting, and very much alive.