Few days before broadcast.
The hangar lights flickered with a dull hum as mechanics rushed between scaffolding and mobile suits. Gundam's frame gleamed with freshly replaced armor plating, while Guncannon's legs still bore scorch marks from the last engagement. White Base stood as a battered fortress, not yet given the rest it deserved.
Bright Noa watched the bustle from the command deck, his hands clasped behind his back. The ship had endured more than most front-line vessels, yet there was no time for pride. Every hour brought another directive, another crisis. His crew was too young, his pilots untested, but still command expected miracles.
Mirai Yashima approached, holding a datapad. "Resupply complete. We've taken on enough rations for the trip to Southeast Asia. The refugees are… restless. Many of them thought we'd already be heading south by now."
Bright gave a tired nod. "They'll have to endure a little longer. Once we're out of this theater, things should calm down." The words felt hollow, even to him.
Down in the hangar, Amuro Ray sat inside Gundam's cockpit, running system checks. The displays flickered green one by one, but his mind was elsewhere. His hands moved on autopilot while memories of his mother's cold gaze lingered. Is this really what Gundam is for? To keep fighting… to keep killing?
Ryu entered the hangar, climbing up to Gundam's shoulder. "You'll burn yourself out if you keep running checks like this, Amuro. The engineers already cleared the machine."
"I'd rather trust my own hands," Amuro muttered without looking up. "If Gundam fails, it's not them who'll die."
Hayato, crouched beside Guntank, called out, "We're all dying a little every day, Amuro. That's war." His tone was sharp, masking his own unease.
Kai, lounging against a supply crate, scoffed. "Some of us are dying faster than others. Guess who they'll throw into the fire next?" He gestured toward Amuro and Gundam.
Before Amuro could snap back, the intercom blared. "Bridge crew, report immediately. Priority transmission from Jaburo."
The command deck grew silent as Bright, Mirai, and Sayla lined up before the central monitor. Static gave way to the grim visage of a Jaburo officer. His tone was cold, rehearsed, carrying the weight of bureaucracy rather than camaraderie.
"White Base, stand by for new operational orders. Effective immediately, your redeployment to Southeast Asia is postponed."
Bright frowned. "Postponed? Sir, we've completed resupply. Our orders were explicit."
The officer's expression didn't change. "Manpower shortages in North America demand immediate action. Garma Zabi's forces are overextending Federation divisions. White Base will initiate an ambush operation against Garma. Neutralize him before redeployment."
Mirai's eyes widened. "Ambush Garma… with our current strength?"
Bright kept his voice level. "Sir, with respect, we are undermanned and carrying civilians. White Base is not equipped for a prolonged offensive."
"Your objections are noted," the officer said flatly. "The loss of Garma Zabi will cripple Zeon morale. White Base is uniquely positioned to lure him into a trap. Success is paramount. Dismissed."
The screen went dark, leaving silence on the bridge. The air felt heavier, as though the very walls of the ship pressed down on them.
Sayla was the first to speak. "They're using us as bait."
Bright exhaled slowly, the weight of the order settling onto his shoulders. "Yes. And they don't care if we survive it."
In the mess hall, rumors spread quickly. Kai slammed his tray down, voice dripping with sarcasm. "So instead of leaving, we're supposed to fight Zeon's golden boy head-on? Perfect. Just perfect."
Ryu leaned forward across the table. "This isn't just another skirmish, Kai. Garma's a Zabi. If we can take him down, it'll shift the entire war."
"Or get us all killed," Kai shot back. "You think HQ cares which?"
Amuro, sitting quietly, finally spoke. "It means Gundam. They want me to be the centerpiece of their trap." His words carried no pride, only dread.
Frau Bow, overhearing from nearby, stepped over. "Amuro… don't talk like that. You're fighting to protect us, aren't you? That's what matters."
Amuro looked away, unable to answer.
Later, on the bridge, Bright gathered the senior crew for a tactical briefing. A map flickered to life, showing their planned route.
"We'll head south as ordered, but halfway through we'll change course toward a canyon system. White Base will act as bait. Gundam and the others will remain concealed until Garma commits."
Mirai studied the map. "It's risky. If Garma brings reinforcements, we'll be trapped ourselves."
Bright nodded. "I know. But HQ won't take no for an answer. Our only chance is to execute the ambush cleanly and quickly."
Sayla folded her arms. "And if we fail?"
"Then White Base is lost." Bright's answer silenced the room.
Amuro lingered after the briefing. "Captain… what if Gundam isn't enough?"
Bright's eyes softened for a moment. "Then you'll have to make it enough, Amuro. We're all depending on you."
That night, the hangar was quiet except for the hum of machines. Amuro sat inside Gundam's cockpit again, staring at the control screens. He whispered to himself, "Am I just a weapon? Or am I supposed to be something more?"
Sayla's voice interrupted from below. "You're still human, Amuro. Don't forget that."
He glanced down, startled to see her watching him. She smiled faintly. "Machines don't worry about the cost of fighting. Only people do."
The next morning, White Base lifted off under the guise of departing for Southeast Asia. Refugees clutched each other, hoping the war would finally recede behind them. The crew knew better.
Zeon scouts detected the movement. In Garma Zabi's command craft, the young noble smirked. "White Base is fleeing. Perfect. Their Gundam will be mine."
On White Base's bridge, Bright received the report. "Zeon forces are pursuing. They've taken the bait."
Mirai's hands tightened on the controls. "Let's hope we can spring the trap before they spring theirs."
In the hangar, Amuro, Hayato, and Kai strapped into their suits. Ryu's voice boomed through the intercom. "This is it! Don't think about dying—think about winning!"
Kai muttered, "Easy for you to say." But he still launched when the signal came.
The ambush zone loomed ahead, a canyon carved by ancient rivers. White Base descended into the gorge, making itself a conspicuous target.
Zeon's mobile suits appeared on the horizon, advancing eagerly. Garma's voice crackled over their comms: "Close in and capture that ship. The Gundam will be our prize!"
Bright's knuckles whitened around the armrest. "Now! Launch all units!"
Gundam shot from its catapult like a streak of white lightning, beam saber igniting. Guntank's cannons roared, shaking the canyon walls. Guncannon rained fire from above, pinning Zeon's advance.
Amuro gritted his teeth. "If this is what you want, Jaburo… then watch what Gundam can do!"
The battle erupted in chaos, but within it lay the first threads of Garma Zabi's undoing.
And though White Base fought with all its might, every crewmember knew the truth: they were pawns on Jaburo's board, pieces to be sacrificed if necessary.
Still, they fought—because survival left no other choice.