Smoke hung over the ruins of Odessa like a wounded god's breath.
Dawn bled through the haze, pale gold streaks cutting across the shattered horizon.
The wind carried the scent of ozone, burnt oil, and iron — the perfume of victory, if such a thing existed.
Inside the Federation command post, floodlights flickered over maps and data screens.
Officers whispered in disbelief, their eyes red from sleepless nights.
Gopp stood at the center of it all, broad-shouldered and still wearing the grime of yesterday's battle.
He stared at the reports streaming in and muttered, "They… retreated?"
No one answered.
The word itself felt unreal after days of relentless slaughter.
Outside, engines idled, and medics shouted over the moans of the wounded.
The sound of life returning, uncertain and fragile.
An aide cleared his throat. "Sir, Zeon's elite units and ace pilots have withdrawn to orbit. Ground troops left behind are fighting in small, scattered pockets. Most refuse surrender, but the line is broken."
Gopp's jaw tightened. "They left them to die," he said softly. "Their own men."
He slammed a fist on the holo-table, the projection rippling like disturbed water.
"That makes no damn sense. If they wanted to retreat, they could've done it before bleeding half their army dry!"
He turned to his staff. "Secure the Odessa perimeter. Hunt down any Zeon holdouts and prevent them from regrouping. We'll not waste what we've won here."
Outside the tent, dawn crawled over wreckage. Federation flags were raised over smoking hills, fluttering weakly in the wind.
The battle had ended, but no one felt like cheering.
---
At the forward hangar of the White Base division, mechanics worked among sparks and twisted metal.
The RX-78 Gundam stood silent, its white armor marred by soot and bullet scars.
Amuro Ray sat at its feet, helmet off, staring up at the war machine that had once seemed invincible.
His reflection on the scorched armor looked older than it should have.
Sayla Mass approached, wiping dust from her gloves. "You should rest, Amuro."
He shook his head. "I can't. Not yet."
Bright Noa appeared beside them, holding a datapad. The circles under his eyes were darker than ever.
They stood together in silence until Amuro finally asked, "Why retreat now? After fighting so hard? It's like… they wanted to lose Odessa."
Sayla frowned, her golden hair catching the light. "Zeon doesn't do meaningless retreats. They're reorganizing for something else."
Bright sighed. "If they're abandoning Odessa, their next move must be strategic. My guess—"
He looked at both of them. "—is Jaburo."
The name hung between them like a warning bell.
Amuro's eyes widened. "Then we don't have much time."
---
Kai Shiden leaned against a crate nearby, chewing gum and pretending to look casual.
He had that look — half amused, half exhausted — the way only survivors could look after a fight like Odessa.
"Or maybe," he said, "their commander finally sobered up and realized fighting us was a bad idea."
Hayato looked up from his rifle maintenance and sighed. "Not funny, Kai."
"Hey," Kai shrugged, "I'm trying to lighten the mood here. You want me to cry instead?"
Sayla gave him a withering glance. "You could try being serious once in your life."
Kai smirked. "Seriousness is overrated. Look at Zeon — they took themselves too seriously and look what happened."
Despite herself, Sayla almost smiled.
Even Bright chuckled faintly before shaking his head. "You're impossible, Kai."
"That's why you keep me around," Kai replied, grinning. "Comic relief's important in a tragedy."
---
A low hum rolled through the camp as a transport ship descended nearby.
Dust billowed; the ramp hissed open.
Lockon Stratos stepped out first, helmet tucked under his arm, the smell of burnt plasma still clinging to him.
Athrun Zala followed, his red pilot suit streaked with smoke and oil.
Lockon stretched his neck, looking around the ruins. "So this is what winning looks like. Smells like burnt circuits and bad coffee."
Athrun folded his arms. "No army retreats without reason. Maybe they're planning a regrouping."
"Or maybe," Lockon said with a half-smile, "they're luring us somewhere worse."
Bright walked over to greet them. "Glad you made it back in one piece. Reports say Zeon's elite forces escaped to orbit."
Lockon raised an eyebrow. "Escaped, huh? That word doesn't fit someone like Char Aznable."
Athrun's eyes narrowed. "Char…" He looked toward the smoke-filled sky. "He never runs without purpose."
---
Not far from them, Gary Lin stood beside the Strike Gundam, its armor scarred but standing tall.
He watched engineers patch its joints, his helmet tucked under one arm.
The wind brushed his hair as the System's familiar voice echoed in his mind.
> [Mission Result: Success. Objective: Odessa Secured.]
[New Task Received: Support Jaburo Defense Operations.]
Gary blinked. "Wait… Jaburo? That's thousands of kilometers south! You're telling me to jump straight into another war?"
> [Affirmative. Priority: High. Estimated Zeon offensive ETA — classified.]
"Of course it's classified," Gary muttered, rubbing his temples. "Next thing you'll tell me is it's another crossover event. Let me guess — now it's Char and Darth Vader attacking?"
> [Sarcasm detected. Humor level: 67%.]
[Recommendation: Maintain focus. Your efficiency rate has dropped by 23%.]
"Maybe because I just spent twenty hours fighting a psychommu freak in a Gelgoog!" he snapped. "You ever think about that, System?"
> [Negative. I do not think, I calculate.]
Gary exhaled. "Yeah, yeah. You and spreadsheets. Alright, what's the ETA on the Strike's repairs?"
> [Two hours. Sufficient for travel to Federation HQ, Odessa Command Post.]
"Good. I'll tell Gopp myself."
He started running across the airfield, boots pounding against the dirt.
> [Reminder: You can make a call instead of physically running, idiot.]
Gary stumbled mid-stride. "…Oh. Right."
[Sarcasm registered. Efficiency rating now: 21%.]
"Shut up," he muttered, but kept running anyway.
---
Inside the command tent, Gopp leaned over the map, watching red indicators vanish one by one as Zeon pockets collapsed.
"Almost over," an aide whispered.
Gopp didn't look away. "Wars don't end that easily."
The tent flap burst open.
Gary Lin stepped inside, panting. "Commander Gopp! We've got a problem!"
Gopp raised an eyebrow. "You're that engineer-pilot, aren't you?"
"Yeah, the one who didn't die, lucky me. Listen — intel from my friend in Jaburo shows Zeon's next target is Jaburo. They're already moving."
The tent fell silent.
Bright exchanged a glance with Sayla. "Jaburo…" he murmured.
Gopp folded his arms. "How reliable is this 'intel' of yours? Also why HQ not send any Intel?"
Gary hesitated, then sighed. "Let's just say my source is… unconventional. But it hasn't been wrong yet. And maybe zeon jam the communication"
Gopp's eyes hardened. "Then we prepare. Get every ship ready to move. Jaburo must not fall."
And he thought then why Gary's friend can call him
> [Update: New mission parameters acknowledged.]
Gary glanced upward at the unseen text in his vision and muttered, "I didn't even confirm that yet…"
[Too late. Commitment logged.]
He groaned softly. "You're worse than auto-renewal subscriptions."
---
Outside, the remnants of Odessa's battlefield stretched endlessly.
Federation medics moved among wrecked tanks, pulling survivors from the rubble.
The air shimmered with heat and ash.
Some soldiers laughed weakly; others stared blankly at nothing, too tired to feel.
In the distance, the white flag of Zeon's surrender fluttered over a ruined hill.
A handful of their troops still fought, firing until their rifles overheated, shouting oaths to a nation already gone.
Federation squads advanced slowly, weapons raised — not in triumph, but in pity.
---
Amuro climbed atop his Gundam and looked toward the southern sky.
"I wonder if this really means victory," he said quietly.
Sayla looked up at him, her expression soft. "Maybe it just means we survived long enough to see tomorrow."
Bright gave a short nod. "Then let's make sure tomorrow's worth surviving."
---
Gary Lin stopped at the edge of the camp, watching the sunrise through drifting smoke.
The Strike Gundam stood behind him, silent and waiting.
He took a deep breath and smiled faintly. "Guess it's not over yet. Jaburo, huh? Figures they'd save the boss stage for later."
> [Observation: You appear excited.]
"Excited?" Gary scoffed. "Nah. Just… motivated. Also, maybe a little terrified."
[Normal human response acknowledged.]
He chuckled. "Good. Means I'm still human."
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of oil and fire.
Somewhere far above, unseen beyond the clouds, Zeon's retreating ships burned their engines toward space.
The war had paused — not ended.
And as the first rays of sunlight touched the ruined earth, Gary Lin whispered,
"Round two's coming."