The White Base floated silently above the Southeast Asian archipelago, its sensors sweeping the dense jungles below. Officers moved between consoles, exchanging reports, adjusting tactical grids, and monitoring the deployment of three squads of GM units. Holographic projections displayed a facility known only as the Apsalus Project. Its defenses were only partially mapped, and intelligence reports hinted at experimental mobile suits.
Bright Noa leaned over the central console, voice sharp and precise. "We know the location, but details on the defenses are incomplete. We expect unknown mobile units and potentially hidden hazards. Proceed cautiously."
Amuro Ray's eyes followed the holographic map, noting potential choke points and areas suitable for the Ground Gundams' advance. Beside him, Lockon Stratos studied the screens, particularly drawn to the deployment of the three new Ground Gundams. One of them, piloted by Athrun Zala, moved with a fluidity that made Lockon's chest tighten in a way he couldn't explain.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to. Watching Athrun maneuver, instinctively adjusting to terrain and maintaining formation, reminded him of a machine he had piloted in another life. The movements, the rhythm, the subtle anticipations—they all struck a chord deep inside him. Nostalgia, unspoken and private, tugged at his thoughts.
Amuro glanced at him, curiosity in his eyes. "You okay?"
Lockon nodded briefly, voice calm. "I… it's nothing."
The commander in the briefing room addressed the assembled officers. "White Base will provide overwatch for the Ground Gundam units. They are to advance cautiously. Any unforeseen mobile suit activity must be reported immediately. Ground units must remain adaptable and maintain formation."
Bright stepped closer. "Unknown enemy units could appear at any time. Expect traps. We have limited intel on experimental suits."
The Ground Gundams shifted into position, engines idling as their pilots ran final checks. Athrun crouched over his controls, scanning terrain and recon data with absolute focus. His every adjustment was precise, instinctive, and silent. Lockon's eyes followed him, feeling that familiar, aching connection.
The new GM squads moved in the jungle below, careful not to stray from designated paths. Their sensors swept for hidden mines and automated defenses. Each unit maintained formation, anticipating potential ambushes even without direct orders.
Lockon's mind drifted further into memory. He remembered cockpits, the hum of engines, the connection to his own old Gundam in a world now distant. Watching Athrun, he felt a mixture of admiration and longing—an echo of past battles that no one else could see.
Bright turned to him. "Ground units advancing. Be ready to provide support."
Lockon's gaze never left Athrun. The Ground Gundam navigated the terrain effortlessly, every movement calculated for efficiency and safety. The instinctive synchronization between pilot and mobile suit reminded him painfully of the harmony he had once known.
Amuro studied the units closely, noting the performance of each Ground Gundam. "These pilots… they're good. Better than we expected."
Lockon gave a subtle nod. The admiration in his eyes wasn't for the mission—it was for the skill, the precision, and the echo of a past life that Athrun unknowingly invoked.
The command center buzzed with activity. Officers coordinated GM movements, adjusted support schedules, and transmitted orders to reconnaissance units. The mission was delicate; a single misstep could compromise the operation.
Lockon's fingers twitched slightly. He missed the feel of a Gundam under his hands, the perfect link between thought and machine. Athrun's actions evoked that memory, sharp and bittersweet.
The commander raised a hand. "All units, maintain vigilance. Unknown experimental mobile suits may appear. Ground units, keep formation tight and report every anomaly."
Athrun's Ground Gundam advanced steadily, scanning for any environmental hazards. Each step was deliberate, every turn calculated. Lockon's heart beat a little faster, caught between anticipation and nostalgia.
Bright's voice rang again. "White Base, hold position. Support is on standby."
Lockon silently observed Athrun's unit, the precision, the anticipation, the instinctive responses to the terrain and potential threats. It was familiar, hauntingly so.
Amuro leaned closer. "You're focused on him… or on the MS?"
Lockon shook his head, eyes fixed. "It's… something else. Don't worry about it."
Radar and sensor feeds flickered across the display. Hidden in the foliage, Ramba Ral's unit observed the advancing Federation forces, analyzing their approach without committing to engagement. His sensors were trained on the Ground Gundams, noting pilot skill and movement patterns.
Lockon's chest tightened further. He didn't speak of it, but seeing Athrun maneuver like that… it was like touching a memory long buried, of a pilot and machine he once knew intimately.
The commander continued the briefing. "Ground units, proceed on marked paths. White Base will cover advance. Any deviation or unusual contact must be reported immediately."
Athrun adjusted his sensors again, subtly shifting his unit to account for micro-terrain changes. Lockon felt the ache of longing deepen, a mixture of admiration and private nostalgia for the machine and pilot he had once known.
Bright barked instructions to the bridge. "Keep an eye on the perimeters. Don't underestimate potential experimental units. This mission requires precision."
Lockon nodded slightly, silently agreeing. Every decision Athrun made reflected skill beyond standard training. The movements, the foresight—it resonated with him, a quiet, aching reminder of past experience.
The GM squads advanced in formation, keeping in sync with the Ground Gundams, their sensors sweeping for traps and ambush points. Lockon's attention remained fixed on Athrun, noting every micro-adjustment, every anticipation of terrain or potential threat.
Amuro's fingers traced the edge of the console. "These units are solid. Ground Gundams, combined with GM support, should handle whatever they encounter—if they move intelligently."
Lockon swallowed, his throat dry. He missed the link of pilot and machine, and watching Athrun operate so seamlessly brought a painful, unspoken nostalgia.
In the distance, Ramba Ral's unit remained hidden, observing the Federation advance. He would wait for the right moment. The ambush would not come yet, but the tension of anticipation was palpable.
Lockon's mind wandered again to his own past, the Gundam he had piloted, the instinctive synchronization he had once felt. Athrun moved in echoes of that rhythm, a reminder of something lost but alive in memory.
The Ground Gundams approached the edge of the projected enemy perimeter. Athrun's sensors detected nothing immediately threatening, but every movement was deliberate, cautious, and precise.
Lockon's eyes softened slightly, the mixture of admiration and nostalgia evident even if unspoken. He longed for the cockpit, for the rhythm of battle, for the machine that had once been an extension of himself.
Amuro spoke quietly beside him. "You're quiet today."
Lockon only nodded. Words were unnecessary. The memory of a Gundam, the skill, the instinct—it was enough.
Bright's voice came again, authoritative. "Maintain formation. No engagement until the situation is clear. White Base is providing support."
Lockon observed Athrun, and a quiet thought passed through his mind: the pilot's skill could make all the difference when the ambush inevitably came. He didn't speak of nostalgia. He didn't need to.