The jungle night in Southeast Asia was thick with humidity, each breath tasting faintly of oil and earth. Tanya von Zehrtfeld stood on the observation platform, her arms folded behind her back, eyes fixed on the half-finished bulk of the Apsalus. Floodlights cast long shadows across the scaffolding, highlighting the jagged edges of metal and machinery. Engineers scurried like ants below, checking circuits, tightening panels, and measuring energy flows. The base was alive with nervous energy, but Tanya's gaze was still, cold, and unyielding.
Mila leaned against the railing, a faint smile masking the tension she felt. "Another night in paradise, huh?" she murmured. Tanya did not respond, only tilted her head, evaluating the Apsalus's structural integrity like a general surveying a battlefield.
Aina, hands wrapped around a wrench, stepped closer. "Commander… everything looks fine. Systems are within spec." Tanya's golden eyes flicked toward her. "Specs don't win wars," she said softly. "People do. And people die when the machine fails." Her words lingered in the warm air, chilling even those accustomed to conflict.
Ginias Sahalin approached, his cane tapping on the concrete floor. "Progress is steady, Commander," he said, his tone filled with fevered conviction. "Soon, the Federation will see the true power of the Apsalus." Tanya's eyes narrowed slightly. "Steady progress doesn't matter if the enemy knows you're slow. Time favors the bold—or the foolish. Don't forget which one you are."
The hum of machinery was interrupted by a crackle over the intercom, startling engineers and guards alike. Tanya's gaze shifted to the speaker system as the familiar Zeon insignia appeared across every monitor in the base. Mila gasped softly, hands clasped over her mouth. The broadcast began, and a chilling weight settled over the assembly.
Gihren Zabi's voice rang out, precise and commanding. "Citizens of Zeon, it is with great sorrow that I announce the passing of Garma Zabi, beloved son of Sovereign Degwin. Garma fell in battle against the Federation's Gundam. His sacrifice will be remembered as a beacon of our nation's strength and resolve. Let his life inspire all of Zeon to rise against our enemies."
The words hit like artillery fire. Tanya's jaw tightened, but she did not flinch. Mila's eyes welled with tears, and Aina whispered, "No… it can't be true…" Ginias, though, allowed a bitter chuckle to escape. "Even the princes can fall," he murmured, "and still, the people will follow."
Tanya's voice cut through the murmurs, sharp and unwavering. "Prepare yourselves. The Federation will take advantage of this chaos. Garma's death is not just a loss; it is a signal. They will test us harder now." She glanced at Mila and Aina, her tone softening just enough to convey grim assurance. "Control your fear. Use it."
Mila shook her head, unable to suppress her anguish. "He believed in us… He was the one Zabi who didn't see us as tools!" Tanya's gaze softened for a heartbeat. "I know. And now that trust is gone. Remember it, and act with precision."
Outside the hangar, the jungle seemed to hold its breath. Crickets, frogs, and the hum of distant machinery all fell into quiet submission as if acknowledging the weight of Gihren's announcement. The Apsalus towered behind them, indifferent to grief, a testament to ambition over sentiment.
Far away in Granada, Lelouch von Zehrtfeld leaned over the Zudah schematics laid out across his table. The engineers around him worked quietly, their hands trembling slightly as the broadcast crackled to life on the colony's speaker system. Rezen muttered under his breath, "Another prince, taken before his time… The Federation shows no mercy."
Liam's young face was pale, eyes wide. "But… he was a Zabi. If Garma could die, what hope do the rest of us have?" Lelouch's gaze never wavered from the monitors. "Hope is irrelevant. What matters is understanding the chaos that follows. Listen closely: Gihren will spin this death into a weapon of rage."
The broadcast filled the room. Lelouch's violet eyes glinted as Gihren's words rang out: "Garma Zabi's life and death shall ignite the hearts of all Zeon citizens. Let his sacrifice guide our future victories. For Zeon, we shall avenge him!" The engineers stiffened, some murmuring agreement, others muttering unease.
Lelouch's pen fell to the table, the weight of strategy pressing against his chest. "Notice the absence of Garma's voice," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "No panic, no desperation—only Gihren's narrative. That is intentional. Propaganda, carefully tailored to control grief." Rezen leaned closer. "So the boy's real death is hidden?"
"Precisely," Lelouch said, his tone cold. "Only the public's perception matters. Facts are irrelevant when politics are at play." Liam swallowed, trembling. "And what about Char Aznable? Where is he now?"
Char, at that very moment, was not in Zum City. The Red Comet moved with methodical precision on the battlefield in North America, observing Garma's forces with a detached eye. His Zaku's crimson paint blurred across the dust and smoke of battlefields as he orchestrated each move, every command designed to guide Garma toward the fate Char had long deemed necessary.
Garma's last moments had been private, unheard by the world. Only Char and the Federation could witness the fleeting panic, the realization of betrayal. For Zeon citizens, all they would ever know was Gihren's speech: their prince had fallen nobly, a martyr for the cause.
Back in Southeast Asia, Tanya's squad began organizing defensive positions, each member moving with precision despite the sorrow. Mila whispered, "He didn't deserve this…" Aina's hands trembled, and even Ginias looked momentarily unsettled. Tanya's tone brooked no argument. "The world does not grant fairness. Only preparation and resolve."
She walked among them, inspecting each weapon, each console, each station. "This is no longer a drill. Every decision now carries the weight of vengeance. Not for Garma—his life is gone—but for Zeon's survival."
The jungle beyond seemed darker somehow, the air heavier. Even the constant hum of the generators felt subdued under the shadow of Gihren's words. Tanya paused at the edge of the observation platform, staring at the horizon. Somewhere out there, the Federation moved, emboldened by the news and unaware of the precision waiting for them here.
In Granada, Lelouch's thoughts had already shifted. "Chaos is predictable," he said quietly. "Emotions can be quantified. Rage, grief, anger—they are weapons as much as any suit or cannon. Gihren will wield this death like a blade." Rezen frowned, uncertain whether to be impressed or frightened.
Mila, back at the Southeast Asian base, tugged lightly at Tanya's sleeve. "Are we going to be alright?" Tanya's gaze softened for the briefest moment. "We will survive. That is all that matters now. And we will strike with clarity, not blind fury."
The engineers in Granada began coordinating updates on the Zudah, adjusting parameters for combat readiness. Lelouch allowed himself a calculated sigh. "If the Federation senses panic among Zeon forces, they will push harder. We cannot let them. Every blueprint, every calculation, every test—it must account for the storm Gihren will unleash next."
The base in the jungle thrummed with activity as Tanya oversaw preparations, ensuring every unit was in place. Each soldier, each engineer, each squad leader took her calm authority as their anchor. Yet beneath her composure, a flicker of unease remained. This was more than grief; it was the first ripple of a tidal wave that would sweep across Zeon.
Even as she prepared, she could not ignore the rumors creeping through the comm lines: whispers that Char Aznable had maneuvered Garma into disaster. Mila's brow furrowed. "Do you think…?" Tanya cut her off, voice level. "We do not speculate on ghosts. Our actions must be tangible, not haunted by what-ifs."
Lelouch, back in Granada, nodded to himself as he reviewed Zudah performance reports. "Speculation is a luxury we cannot afford," he muttered. "Data, strategy, prediction—that is all that survives the battlefield. Emotion is a tool, not a crutch."
Char, miles away, executed each order with ruthless precision. The Red Comet's legacy was already shaping the battlefield, guiding events from the shadows. Each movement ensured that Garma's death would be remembered not as folly, but as Zeon's rallying point.
Tanya's voice carried across the base once more. "Defensive protocols active. Every system, every weapon, every unit—ready. No hesitation. The Federation will test our resolve tonight, and we will respond with exacting force."
The squad moved with disciplined speed, shadows of their motions stretching under the floodlights. Even Ginias watched with a newfound respect, recognizing that Tanya's control over fear and action was absolute.
In Granada, Lelouch glanced at Rezen and Liam. "We must be ready. The Federation will act swiftly to exploit this loss. And Gihren's speech will stir zealots, fanatics… and opportunists. Predictable, yet dangerous."
Mila whispered to Tanya as she observed her squad, "Do you ever… regret choosing this?" Tanya's gaze swept the base. "Regret is wasted energy. Resolve is what matters. Tonight, we survive. Tomorrow, we fight