The colony's emergency lights dimmed slowly, replaced by the soft hum of backup generators. Elysium had survived, but barely. Burned fragments of mirrors and debris floated in the outer ring, drifting lazily through vacuum as technicians worked to stabilize the structure. The faint smell of burnt wiring still lingered in the corridors.
Leon Hartmann sat at the edge of the hangar, legs dangling from the maintenance platform, staring at the RXG-01 Aegis. Its white armor was scorched and scratched, evidence of its first combat. He didn't need to hear the technicians' chatter around him to know that the colony had suffered more than just minor damage.
"You know," Mira said, stepping beside him with her helmet tucked under her arm, "you're terrible at celebrating victories."
Leon didn't look at her. "I'm not celebrating. We just survived."
She smirked. "Aren't you happy?"
"I'm… relieved," he admitted after a pause. "But happy? Not yet. There's more out there. They'll come back. And next time…" His voice trailed off.
Mira frowned, sensing the unspoken weight. "Next time, we'll be ready. We have to be."
Leon looked at her, then at the towering white Gundam. For all its unfinished edges, it had protected the colony today. That alone was enough to quiet some of the fear in his chest. But the uncertainty remained, gnawing at him like a shadow he couldn't shake.
Rolf Brenner appeared, walking silently toward them. His face was calm, as always, but there was a tension in his shoulders that Leon hadn't noticed before. "Damage reports?" he asked.
"Minor hull breaches in two habitation sectors," Mira said. "Several civilian pods destroyed. Repairs underway."
Rolf nodded. "Good. And the Aegis?"
Leon gestured toward the machine. "She's fine. Just a few scratches. Functionally, she's ready for a second sortie, but the armor needs reinforcement. And the energy systems—" He hesitated, realizing he was thinking aloud. "—they pushed past recommended limits."
Rolf's eyes softened slightly. "She held. You held. That's what matters."
Mira crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Leon. "See? He's trying to make you feel better."
Leon shook his head, finally letting a small breath out. "I don't need that."
Rolf's voice turned firm. "No. You do. You need to understand that what you did today saved lives. That's the first step. Accept it before the next fight."
Leon said nothing, but he let the words settle.
---
Later, in the bridge of the LFS-01 Argonaut, the atmosphere was tense. Engineers worked at stations, monitoring the colony's structural integrity. Communications officers sent damage reports to Federation command, while Rolf coordinated repairs and strategic updates.
Leon and Mira sat quietly at one of the auxiliary stations, watching as the repaired outer hull slowly stabilized. The Argonaut had barely avoided a direct strike from the Vagan, and Leon knew that any further engagement could be catastrophic.
"This is just the beginning," Mira said softly.
Leon nodded. "I know. And we have to be ready. Not just the Aegis… us too."
Rolf's voice came through the comm system. "Leon, Mira, get a status on all three Trident units. We need to know exactly what we can count on if they return."
Leon tapped the controls, running diagnostics on the Aegis systems. Thrusters were fully operational, sensors intact, energy levels stable. "We're at about ninety-five percent capacity," he reported. "Valkyrie and Bastion are functional as well, no critical damage."
"Good," Rolf replied. "We may not have time to perfect anything before the next engagement, so knowing our limits is crucial."
Leon glanced at Mira. "Limits. That word doesn't inspire much confidence."
She smirked. "Limits are just guidelines."
Leon allowed himself a faint smile.
---
Meanwhile, light-years away, on the edge of the solar system, a boy named Flit Asuno gazed out at the sky from the balcony of his family home. His world felt safe, quiet. His mind wandered to machines, schematics, and concepts he could barely articulate. Somewhere in the distance, the faint echo of war trembled across the stars, but here, it seemed impossibly far away.
Flit didn't know yet that the same day that Elysium Colony had faced its first attack would mark the beginning of a path that would change his life. He didn't know that a boy named Leon Hartmann had piloted a white mobile suit into battle, that he had faced death and survived, that the world outside the safety of colonies like his was shifting, slowly, irreversibly.
Somewhere, unknowable and distant, the first threads of fate were weaving together, drawing future pilots toward the machines that would shape the next age.
---
Back on the Argonaut, Leon stood before the Aegis, watching as engineers made minor repairs. The quiet hum of machinery surrounded him. Mira approached from behind, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets.
"You ever think about why we do this?" she asked quietly.
Leon didn't answer immediately. "I think about it every day. We're not doing this for medals, or ranks, or approval. We're doing it so people can live. That's it."
Mira nodded slowly. "And that's enough."
He looked at her, really looked, and saw the same determination mirrored in her eyes that he felt in his own chest. The weight of responsibility, the fear of failure, and the faint spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could make a difference.
Rolf's voice interrupted from across the hangar. "We've received a transmission from Command. They're demanding a full report of today's engagement. Prepare your statements."
Leon exhaled. "They're going to want heroes and numbers, not the truth."
"Then give them what you can," Mira said. "We know the truth."
Leon nodded. "We'll give them the truth… and keep fighting."
The Aegis stood silently before them, a symbol of both fragile hope and terrible responsibility. Leon reached out again, fingers brushing the cool metal. He felt the weight of it. Not just the machine, but the lives it had protected, the lives yet to come.
Somewhere in the distance, the faint echo of engines drifted through the colony. More Vagan suits, perhaps. More danger. But for now, for the first time in hours, the Argonaut crew allowed themselves a moment of stillness, knowing the fight was far from over, but that today, they had survived.
And for Leon Hartmann, that small victory, fragile as it was, would have to be enough to carry him through the trials yet to come.