They were now on the verge of a direct confrontation with the Atlantic Federation, yet Patrick was still chatting casually with this masked young man.
No one knew what the two were discussing.
Generally speaking, those who could appear by Patrick's side and engage in back-and-forth conversation with him were usually individuals he held in high regard.
But as Patrick's trusted aides, they had no idea where this young man had come from.
This was what surprised them.
And it made their gazes all the more curious.
On the other hand, Fred paid no mind to the subtle glances from those around him. He simply leaned down and whispered softly into the other's ear.
"Commander Zala, I didn't expect you to come in person."
The boy's voice was calm, as if the approaching army in the distance didn't exist at all.
His words were soft, but upon hearing them, Patrick was somewhat taken aback.
It wasn't because of the boy's composure—after all, they had discussed the response plan for this situation countless times beforehand.
The Atlantic Federation was, after all, entirely part of the plan. Even without his specific orders, his colleagues already knew what to do.
Rather, he had thought the boy would still call him "Uncle."
The Bridge was filled with elite Coordinators, many of whom had sharp hearing. Some could overhear their conversation.
It wouldn't have been impossible for Fred to use this opportunity to establish a closer relationship.
Unexpectedly, though thick-skinned, Fred also knew his place.
After all, this was the eve of battle, and they were on a Battleship. Calling the Commander "Uncle" here would have been inappropriate.
Despite years of interaction, this was the first time Patrick was collaborating with Fred before a battle, and he couldn't help but feel surprised.
Moreover, Fred's earlier schemes against the Atlantic Federation had succeeded perfectly, giving them a significant advantage.
Whether in research or strategy, Fred was second to none.
While his MS skills were still somewhat weaker compared to the Aces, Patrick never expected Fred to charge into battle.
As long as his strategies were sound, that was enough.
Running through Fred's achievements over the years in his mind, Patrick felt even more satisfied with him.
His tone, as he spoke, carried an added touch of warmth.
"This is likely to be our first war. I had to come."
Hearing Patrick's unusually gentle response, those around them were once again taken aback.
Though Patrick's expression remained stern, he had spoken more than usual.
For the typically reserved and serious Patrick to say so much was a clear sign of the high regard he held for this young man.
"And you? Why did you come?"
Patrick's question carried a double meaning.
He was asking why Fred had come this time, as well as why he had come in the first place.
This wasn't a sudden test—just an opportunity to ask.
If even one step had been misjudged, Fred would have ended up on the opposite side.
"To gather firsthand information and guard against an Ambush."
Fred replied.
Upon hearing Fred's words, Patrick also furrowed his brow before quickly relaxing it again.
"You still think they'll ambush Junius City?"
"Yes!"
As he spoke, Fred turned his gaze to the data of the opposing fleet displayed on the screen before him.
It wasn't the Fourth Fleet led by that renowned strategist, but the Second Fleet of the Atlantic Space Force.
Seeing this, Fred wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or not.
At least from his interactions a few years ago, his impression of the strategist was favorable. If necessary, he could be saved.
Someone like that might actually be capable of ending the war.
Of course, the most important factor remained the conglomerates behind Blue Cosmos.
Like a centipede that refuses to die, it would take considerable effort to completely eradicate them.
Naturally, if everything went smoothly, he could also use this opportunity to secure a position in the military.
At the very least, conducting covert operations required some official pretext; otherwise, even if Athrun truly enlisted in the future, it would be difficult for him to serve under Fred's command.
This could also overlap with the assistance of the Clyne Faction.
As Fred's thoughts drifted further, Patrick spoke up again.
"I've already stationed three battleships over there. Don't worry."
Of course, even as he said this, his own Lenore had returned to December City, while Fred's family had gone with Lacus to April City.
Since this cunning Fred had spoken so convincingly and with such sound reasoning, he couldn't afford to take risks.
"Understood. Thank you for your trouble."
Fred acknowledged, his gaze once again fixed on the Atlantic fleet before him.
At this time, the Atlantic's Moebius was still considered a new type of Mobile Armor, not yet deployed on a large scale, with only a few elite units equipped with it.
Facing a battlefield dominated mostly by Mistrals, their MS would undoubtedly wreak havoc.
As for the ambush on Junius City, according to the original plot, it wouldn't happen so soon.
But the plot had already been significantly disrupted by his butterfly effect.
Who knew what variables might arise?
Although his own family, along with Athrun, Lenore, and others, had evacuated, the lives of over two hundred thousand people in Junius City were an undeniable reality.
After reviewing his plans in his mind for what felt like the umpteenth time, the Atlantic fleet drew ever closer.
Their massive hulls blotted out the starlight ahead, advancing with an imposing and formidable presence.
Fred had already taken a step back, returning to Patrick's side and resuming his role as Adjutant.
The others had long since averted their eyes from Fred, holding their breath, their expressions tense and vigilant. Some, amidst the tension, even revealed a fanatical anticipation.
With a massive force pressing down on them, a single misstep could spark a localized conflict, or even ignite a full-scale war.
But if handled well, the Atlantic might retreat, and they could potentially establish themselves as a nation—a nation solely for Coordinators.
Amidst these complex thoughts, the bridge fell silent, filled only with the hum of machinery, so quiet it felt suffocating.
Meanwhile, as the two sides slowly closed the distance on a cosmic scale, the soldiers of the Atlantic fleet caught sight of the strangely shaped, dark green battleships before them.
They stood like iron mountains in the dark expanse of space, blocking the path to PLANT's numerous space colonies.
Witnessing this scene, everyone aboard the lead Agamemnon-class battleship instinctively turned their gaze toward the Commander seated calmly at the center of the formation.
Some eyes burned with fervor, others held solemnity, and a few betrayed fear.
Yet without exception, they were all here, facing this perilous task.
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