If they could defect to the Atlantic Federation at this moment, then naturally they could defect to PLANT as well.
But all of that was secondary now. What mattered most was that his subordinate had been taken.
Murrue—the one he had invested great effort in cultivating, the one destined to inherit his legacy—had been precisely targeted and abducted.
And without any harm done to anyone else at the scene.
If anyone tried to tell him ORB didn't have a mole in it, he would never believe it, not in a million years.
And that mole was probably someone from the very top of the leadership.
Otherwise, how could they have known Murrue's identity with such precision?
"We've already dispatched troops in pursuit."
Though there was some panic in his heart, Halberton's face remained calm.
"Of course we must pursue! Any fool knows we have to pursue!"
The Commander's expression remained unfriendly as he waved his hand forcefully, then continued.
"But if I recall correctly, it was you who proposed this cooperation with ORB?"
"...Yes."
After a brief moment of silence, Halberton lowered his eyes and answered.
"We will formally reassess ORB's trustworthiness—and yours as well."
"For the time being, we will be reclaiming your command authority over the Eighth Fleet."
The Commander's expression was cold and grim as he stared at him with chilling eyes.
There was clearly an undertone of blame-shifting in his tone—or rather, he was looking for someone to take the fall.
As the project's lead, with such a major incident occurring, he did indeed bear collateral responsibility. This much he could not refute.
Even if they had the basic data, even if the stolen Mobile Suit could simply be rebuilt, the entirety of the technology had been leaked to ZAFT.
This blame was too heavy to bear alone—many people, himself included, would have to shoulder it.
A mere suspension was probably already the result of internal mediation.
"I'm sorry. I understand."
Halberton did not argue, and quickly accepted it.
Even if he wanted to save Murrue, arguing now would only make them more impatient, and they wouldn't care anyway.
These people had never treated those below them as human beings.
Saying anything would be useless.
More than that, those people might even use Murrue as a pawn, making things even worse.
Most likely, he would have to find an opportunity to rescue her himself.
He just didn't know whether Murrue was alright.
Seeing that Halberton showed no intention of arguing, the Commander's expression improved slightly, and he waved his hand for him to leave.
...
"Kira..."
"Flay..."
Watching the two of them talking in low voices in the mess hall, Fred crossed his arms, looking somewhat troubled.
"Brother, something seems a little... off about their atmosphere."
Athrun whispered beside him, his eyes showing a hint of concern as he looked toward Kira and Flay.
Though he understood that the two hadn't seen each other in a long time and had a lot to catch up on, even Athrun could sense that the two blushing faces ahead of them were up to something less than innocent.
Granted, Flay was also his little sister, but Kira was a good person too.
At the very least, he had no objection to the two of them being together.
But in front of Fred—such a doting brother—he was genuinely worried for Kira.
He had no idea what Fred was thinking.
If Fred really intended to separate the loving couple, things would get awkward for him too.
After all, on one side was his brother, and on the other, his good friend.
"It is a little strange,"
Contrary to Athrun's expectations, Fred before him wasn't angry, and didn't even show the slightest surprise—only his gaze toward the two of them seemed a bit odd.
Athrun immediately felt a bit more admiration for Fred's magnanimity.
Unaware of Athrun's thoughts, Fred, for his part, was somewhat surprised by the scene before him, though he had imagined it might happen.
The two of them hadn't seen each other in so long, yet the moment they met, there seemed to be a hint of romance between them.
Was this the influence of the plot? Or was it true love?
After all, they weren't children anymore. If Flay felt it was right, he didn't intend to stop her.
Besides, the two of them weren't in the same state as in the original story—this romance should be quite a healthy one.
And wasn't he here watching over them anyway?
"What are you all talking about?"
Yzak curiously glanced around at the scene.
Then, looking rather bored, he looked away and turned back to Fred.
He had no interest in standing here watching two people talk—he might as well go train.
"Rather than that, I'd like to go prepare for launch."
"Go ahead."
As soon as Fred finished speaking, Yzak left just like that.
Leaving behind a speechless Athrun and the others.
"That guy, he really has zero awareness of that sort of thing, doesn't he?"
Athrun remarked.
That said, in truth, Yzak's popularity was in no way inferior to Athrun's or Nicol's.
After all, with his abilities, background, and looks all on display, it would be hard for him not to be popular.
"I heard someone has a crush on him."
Nicol said, looking positively gossipy.
"All right, you two go get ready as well."
Fred didn't let Nicol continue, simply waving his hand.
"The enemy could come at any moment."
They were still about six hours from the L5 Sector of PLANT, but the main fleet coming to meet them would appear in just two hours.
And since they were towing the Archangel, their speed was slow—the pursuing force behind them might actually arrive before their main fleet did.
After all, to avoid alerting the enemy earlier, the main fleet had been positioned quite far away.
But Fred wasn't afraid. Given the Atlantic Federation's current strength in space, plus these brand-new Mobile Suits, even if an entire main fleet appeared behind them, there'd be nothing to fear.
"Understood."
Hearing this, Athrun and Nicol both answered and left one after the other.
Just as Fred had predicted, before long the alarm sounded.
But since it was all part of the plan, no one in the fleet was shocked; they simply carried on with their work in an orderly fashion.
"Six Nelson-class, fifteen Drake-class—it seems we've really angered them."
The Captain said to Fred over the Communication Channel, who was already prepared for launch inside the Strike Suit.
"Right. Activate the jammers and use the Atlantic Federation's new battleship as cover."
Although the Archangel couldn't move yet, its Laminated armor could still be put to use.
The Atlantic Federation's Nelson-class now wasn't like the old Drake-class that could only fire missiles—it was equipped with Beam Cannons, its firepower in no way inferior to the Laurasia-class.
Getting hit by one would indeed be trouble.
"Understood."
The Captain didn't take any chances, answering quickly.
"Orphee, you lead them into action."
"All right. And you, Captain?"
Orphee asked.
"Me? Sniping."
As Fred spoke, he had already equipped the Strike Suit with the Launcher Pack.
However, since the ship lacked the corresponding replacement system, the replacement would take even longer.
"If only the Archangel could move."
Murrue should be able to pilot it.
But there was no way she would help him.
Besides, it was just a regret—things weren't so bad as they were anyway.
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