Gundam: Changing the World Even with a Mass-Produced Unit

Chapter 191: The Burning Colonial Satellite

Before Neue Ziel launched the nuclear strike against the Jamitov Fleet, and before Eli's forces began maneuvering against the Delaz Fleet, a critical discussion was unfolding among the people in Von Braun on the Moon.

"Is the intel confirmed? That colonial satellite—is it really heading for us?"

Inside a top-floor conference room of the Anaheim building, a group of Anaheim board members sat around a long table, confirming the information with one another.

The intelligence came from Director O'Sullivan.

"Yes. The intel came from within Delaz's ranks."

Director O'Sullivan didn't disclose the specific source, but just that alone was enough for the others to take the matter seriously.

"Well done, Director O'Sullivan."

The person seated at the head of the table nodded, offering the praise.

Not a single person had attempted to flee upon hearing the news. Instead, it had been promptly reported to the higher-ups.

That alone hinted at potential—perhaps this man might have a promising future ahead.

Unbeknownst to them, he had secretly modified and handed over the prototype Gundam Zero from the warehouse to the remnants of Zeon. The higher-ups were still contemplating how to reward him.

These were Anaheim's pro-Zeon faction members.

Of course, "pro-Zeon" here simply meant that aligning with Zeon served their interests.

That was also why Director O'Sullivan was still in charge of the GP Project.

Just like the chairman himself—who belonged to the pro-Federation faction.

Anaheim's true aim wasn't internal conflict. It was to build external alliances that would foster a favorable environment for its growth.

Whether cooperating with the Federation's parliament or the Zeon remnants, it made no difference.

"If the Federation is incapable of reclaiming the colonial satellite, then the only course left to us is to destroy it—to prevent even greater damage."

The chairman didn't dwell on why Delaz's fleet had suddenly betrayed Anaheim, who had long supported them, by launching the satellite at them.

There would be plenty of time to investigate that later. For now, the priority was to resolve the immediate crisis.

"I presume you, as the leader of the Titans, have no objections? General Bask…"

The chairman placed particular emphasis on the word General.

Technically, the highest commander of the Titans should have been General Jamitov.

But in practice, Bask had always been the real power behind the organization.

Yet despite that, Bask had never officially reached the rank of general—not even Eli, who had practically ensured peace within the atmosphere, had been promoted.

Thus, the chairman's implication was unmistakable.

"I understand. Since General Jamitov has now nobly perished, it's my duty to carry out his original orders—to establish the final line of defense between Earth and the Moon using the solar power system."

As Bask spoke, the brilliant flash of a nuclear fireball ignited.

Its light reflected in Bask's custom-made glasses, but the man showed no visible reaction.

"Solar system, begin targeting calibration. Notify our allied forces. They've fought long enough."

The colonial satellite was burning.

This project—into which Sayla had poured nearly all her efforts over the past few years—was now being scorched by the solar system's beam, catching fire over a vast area and beginning to disintegrate.

Completely irrational—utterly senseless.

Whether for space-dwellers, the Federation, or Moon inhabitants, the sudden strike to destroy the satellite offered no real benefit.

Or rather, it offered no benefit to ordinary people.

As the satellite broke apart, most fragments would crash into the Moon's uninhabited regions, but some would inevitably threaten lunar cities.

Some debris would also fall toward Earth. Many fragments might burn up in the atmosphere, but there was still a real chance some would reach the surface.

These falling remnants would create a stark narrative: Earth, once again, had been struck by a colonial satellite.

Such an event would undoubtedly shift the Federation's current conciliatory policy toward space-dwellers.

To those in space, it would seem like the Federation didn't care about their survival—sacrificing the satellite, which had been intended for food production, purely to safeguard Earth.

And make no mistake: the fact that the satellite ultimately fell on the Moon would never be disclosed. It would become a truth known only to a select few.

These conclusions were ones Eli would only come to much later.

At present, he and his troops could only watch the death of the colonial satellite.

Unlike the fall of Solomon Fortress, this satellite still contained vast amounts of breathable air, and rich soil resources transported aboard for agriculture.

All of it now served as the perfect fuel to fan the flames.

The satellite burned like a cosmic fireball, a phenomenon so striking that even those living in the upper levels of lunar cities could see the light reflecting off their faces through transparent domes.

Even people on Earth could see the sudden orange-red glow flare beside the Moon.

This day would be remembered in history.

"What do we do now?"

While Eli remained silent—shocked, remorseful, and furious—Arcadia, though her machine was immobile, had recovered from the shock and was the first to speak.

"…For now, return to your respective ships. Head to Konpei Island. This situation is no longer one we can resolve ourselves."

Not long ago, Eli had silently questioned and criticized Revil's cautious approach, but now, the first person who came to his mind was General Revil.

Just like a child lost in a terrifying world instinctively thinks of their parent, Eli turned to the one who had always stood behind him.

Without a doubt, it was General Revil's trust that had made Eli who he was today.

Otherwise, just his intimate relationship with Sayla would've been enough reason for Revil to confine him—just like what happened to Amuro before—as a political pawn.

Three Pegasus-class ships turned course and headed toward Konpei Island.

The Cima Fleet followed closely behind.

Anyone with a discerning eye could see: the Federation's crisis had been resolved, but a greater internal one had begun.

No one stopped them. No one followed.

The surviving remnants of Jamitov's fleet had no intention of returning—they likely wouldn't even make it.

They had to stay put and await rescue from Green Wyatt's fleet, which would tow them back to Luna II.

Green Wyatt wouldn't refuse. With General Jamitov dead, he was now the Federation Parliament's highest-ranking general in the military.