The meeting room aboard the Musai-class cruiser Iron Serpent was drenched in artificial light, its air thick with tension. Outside the viewport, Earth hung like a wounded jewel, scarred by smoke and fire from the Odessa front. The hum of the ship's engines was steady — but the silence within the room was not.
Tanya von Zehrtfeld stood with her hands behind her back, posture razor-sharp, eyes cold and calculating. The insignia on her Zeon uniform gleamed faintly under the sterile light. Across the table stood Char Aznable, arms folded, his expression calm behind the glint of his visor. At the end of the table, M'quve scrolled through field data, every gesture polished, deliberate — like a man pretending to be in control of the chaos below.
Tanya broke the silence first.
"So, this retreat," she said flatly, her voice controlled but heavy with frost. "You're telling me Zeon's elite and ace pilots were recalled to orbit… while ordinary soldiers bleed to delay the Federation advance?"
M'quve didn't look up. "That is correct, Commander Zehrtfeld. The order came directly from Gihren Zabi. Our strategic objective has shifted."
Her eyes narrowed. "Shifted? We've spent days holding Odessa to protect supply lines, to keep Earth's resources flowing. Now you tell me to abandon all that because of a 'strategic shift'?"
Char's calm voice cut through the air. "Odessa is no longer the battlefield that matters, Commander. Jaburo is. The high command believes striking there will cripple the Federation entirely."
Tanya tilted her head slightly, studying him. "So we sacrifice an entire front — tens of thousands of men — just to make a symbolic strike?"
Char's lips curved faintly. "Symbolism has always been Zeon's greatest weapon."
The tension rippled across the room. Tanya's expression didn't change, but her eyes were a storm.
"Symbolism doesn't build weapons, Captain Aznable. It doesn't feed armies. You think we can win a war on morale alone?"
M'quve finally looked up, his composure smooth as glass. "We fight not for morale, but for destiny. Jaburo will be the heart pierced through which the Federation collapses. All resources, all sacrifices, are justified if the end is victory."
For a moment, Tanya said nothing. Her gaze drifted to the window — to Earth, glowing beneath a haze of smoke.
"Victory…" she murmured, the word more like an equation than a belief. "And what happens after victory, M'quve? When the mines are empty, the soldiers dead, and the Earth we rule is ash?"
M'quve's smile didn't falter. "Then Zeon will rebuild. From the ashes of the weak."
Tanya's eyes sharpened. For a fleeting second, there was the ghost of something darker behind her disciplined calm — the remnant of a soldier who'd once stood before God and spat defiance. But it vanished just as quickly.
"Very well," she said finally. "Then tell me — who commands the Jaburo operation?"
Char met her gaze without hesitation. "Your twin, Lelouch von Zehrtfeld."
The air went still. Even the quiet hum of the ship seemed to fade.
Tanya's golden eyes flickered — not in shock, but in calculation. "Lelouch…" she said softly, her tone unreadable. "So that's how it is."
For the first time since the meeting began, she allowed herself a small, almost imperceptible exhale. Then she straightened her uniform and turned toward the door. "If that's the case, then Odessa's loss had better be worth the cost."
As she walked out, her boots echoed across the steel floor — each step controlled, deliberate, but heavy with unspoken thoughts.
---
Jason Arkadi sat silently near the wall, half-forgotten in the hierarchy of the room. He had said nothing the entire meeting — didn't need to. His face was calm, his posture disciplined, but inside, his thoughts were chaos.
Tanya von Zehrtfeld… that face, that voice. No, impossible.
He'd seen her before — not here, not in this world. In another life. On a glowing screen back on Earth, in a story called Youjo Senki. The girl who declared war on God. The infamous salaryman reborn as a monster in a child's body.
And now she's real. She's here. She's leading Zeon's elite.
Jason's system pinged softly in the corner of his visor, running mechanical diagnostics on autopilot, but his attention was nowhere near it. His hands trembled slightly, hidden beneath the table. If Tanya's here… and Lelouch is here… then what kind of world is this becoming?
He forced his expression back to neutral — the poker face he'd learned from surviving in chaos. Outwardly, he looked calm. Inside, he wanted to scream.
God help me. Please tell me Goku's not next.
When Tanya exited, he caught a glimpse of her profile — the calm precision, the steel posture. She was exactly like the character he remembered… yet different. Sharper. Real.
He swallowed hard and turned away as Char and M'quve continued their quiet, political murmurs.
---
Later, in the dim hum of the Iron Serpent's hangar, the atmosphere was heavy with smoke and welding sparks. Mechanics swarmed around the Psychommu-type Gelgoog, repairing scorched armor and torn cables. The machine loomed like a wounded beast — half alive, half myth.
General Griveous stood before it, cloak flickering under the orange lights. His four mechanical arms were gone — reduced to two after the duel with Gary Lin — but his presence was still suffocating. His eyes, those twin molten circles, burned with restrained fury.
Jason entered quietly, carrying a maintenance log. The moment he saw Griveous, he froze.
The cyborg didn't look back. "You're late, technician."
Jason steadied his voice. "Sorry, General. I was attending the commander's meeting. Orders came from Gihren himself."
Griveous turned slightly, the light reflecting off his damaged armor. "Orders…" His tone dripped with disdain. "They retreat while I bleed. How… strategic of them."
Jason's system flashed a warning — stress level elevated — but he ignored it. "You'll have your chance, General. They say Jaburo's next."
Griveous stared out the hangar viewport, where the Earth turned slowly below. "Then perhaps I'll finish what I started with that boy in the Strike." His mechanical hand clenched. "Next time, I'll make sure he doesn't leave orbit alive."
Jason said nothing. He just stood there, watching the reflection of the blue planet against the battered Gelgoog's armor — and wondering how long this strange, impossible world could keep holding itself together.