Just as Lacus and the others were taking refuge, the situation outside the PLANT space sector had already reached a boiling point.
"Refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit."
Sutherland's voice was now even colder. Though only four words were spoken, the threat behind them was unmistakable.
"Charge the main beam cannon."
"Yes...!"
After a brief hesitation, under Sutherland's icy gaze, the CIC officer quickly acknowledged and began operating the controls.
Meanwhile, Sutherland's actions soon translated into alarm signals echoing across the bridges of numerous PLANT vessels.
It was as if the Atlantic Federation had sounded the horn of attack against them.
However, in Fred's eyes, no one on the bridge showed the slightest sign of panic.
Only Patrick's voice rang out amidst the blaring alarms.
"Begin our plan."
"Yes!"
The adjutant responded, and the signal to commence the operation was instantly shared with allied forces throughout the entire space sector.
At the same time, twenty GINNs hidden on a nearby asteroid surged out in full force.
Bullets from their machine guns silently traced bright yellow trajectories through space, and under the aim of their glowing red mono-eyes, they struck the charging beam turrets on the Agamemnon-class ships with precision.
Explosions replaced the charging actions.
The tremors from the blasts quickly reverberated throughout the entire Agamemnon-class vessel.
"Are those the so-called MS of the Coordinators?"
Sutherland was no fool. Seeing this, he remained unflustered.
He simply signaled his subordinates, saying:
"Escort ships, activate joint defense mode. Load missiles."
"Destroy all these ridiculous mechanical puppets!"
Sutherland's voice carried an air of absolute confidence.
These mechanical puppets were clearly ZAFT's hope. As long as they were crushed head-on, the Coordinators' morale would plummet even if they didn't surrender.
It would also bolster the Atlantic Federation's reputation.
"Yes!"
Under the commander's calm and methodical orders, the Drake-class ships arranged in a box formation around the Agamemnon-class vessels soon launched missiles from their multi-purpose vertical launch systems on the flanks.
Simultaneously, on the opposite side of the Atlantic Federation fleet, the deep green high-energy convergent linear cannons and bright yellow railguns on the Laurasia-class ships fired one after another.
Instantly, Fred's field of vision was filled with a dazzling array of brilliant lights.
These radiant beams were so dazzling that they even obscured the surrounding starlight. In the dark expanse of space, only these lights competed with one another, each vying for brilliance—beautiful yet deadly.
"This is the beginning of the war,"
Fred thought to himself.
When he first arrived here, he never imagined he would be wearing a mask, standing beside Patrick, watching as the war officially unfolded before his eyes.
Thinking about it this way, perhaps he had indeed taken Creuset's place, assuming the role of the masked man.
Although the original story didn't detail it, he wondered if Creuset had also stood here, witnessing this very scene.
Fred felt a mix of emotions, but he quickly suppressed them.
Now was not the time for idle thoughts.
In the future, scenes like this might become commonplace.
His task was not to wallow in sorrow, but to seize this opportunity to clearly observe this battlefield, adapt to it, and ultimately master it.
Only in this way could he protect himself and his family to the greatest extent and achieve his goals.
With this in mind, Fred swiftly scanned the screens before him, each filled with data.
Currently, the Laurasia-class undoubtedly outgunned the Drake-class, equipped with two beam cannons, two railguns, six automatic Vulcan cannons, two medium-to-short-range cannons, and four multi-purpose launch systems.
In contrast, the Drake-class lacked beam cannons, railguns, and cannons. Aside from the most basic close-in weapon systems, it only had four missile pods capable of launching dozens of missiles in a single salvo.
Compared to the Laurasia-class, its weaponry could be described as pitifully sparse.
To put it bluntly, aside from serving as frigates, these Drake-class vessels resembled arsenal ships more than anything else.
They were loaded with an overwhelming number of missiles.
The concept wasn't wrong, but while the Drake-class could currently rely on the accuracy of its missiles to hold its ground, once the Neutron Jammer Canceller emerged in the future, it would undoubtedly be reduced to cannon fodder.
Building missiles also cost money.
The Atlantic Federation's expensive missiles would have most of their capabilities neutralized by a single Neutron Jammer, which alone would be a massive economic blow.
In contrast, the Laurasia-class carried no missiles at all, indicating that the higher-ups had long planned to deploy Neutron Jammers on the battlefield.
As Fred pondered this, Patrick observed the unfolding battle, which mirrored their earlier simulations, and cast a sidelong glance at Fred.
Unfortunately, with his mask on, Fred's relaxed lips gave nothing away, appearing as calm as ever.
After just a glance, Patrick quickly averted his gaze.
The most important thing now was to win this battle decisively.
Otherwise, any subsequent negotiations would be futile.
Only by winning first and demonstrating their strength would they have a chance.
With this thought, the missiles and beam cannons of both sides soon collided.
Watching the brilliant flashes of light before him, Patrick immediately followed up with an order.
"Second volley, fire the beam cannons! Aim for their weapon launch systems!"
"Yes, sir!"
Their weapons required no reloading—only charging—making them faster to prepare than the enemy's missiles.
By exploiting this timing gap, they could disable the Drake-class weapon systems first.
Patrick's command was undeniably restrained.
It wasn't that he didn't want those Naturals dead.
That Sutherland earlier had clearly crossed his line.
But if casualties occurred now, they would lose their moral high ground.
To allow the Moderate Factions in their respective countries to play their roles, they had no choice but to take a step back.
With the Atlantic Federation acting aggressively and the recent refugee ship incident fresh in memory,
enduring this round would position them as a righteous force with just cause.
Even without Fred saying it, they all understood this perfectly well.
Thinking this, Patrick's hands clenched tightly together in tension.
Under Patrick's anxious gaze, the battle outside the glass window unfolded exactly as he had predicted.
After the first wave of attacks destroyed most of the enemy's missiles, the numerous Laurasia-class vessels briefly charged their weapons before training their cannons on the enemy's weapon systems. One after another, the Drake-class weapon systems were blown apart.
Watching the grand fireworks display before him, Patrick's tense expression remained unrelaxed and unwavering, exuding the commanding presence of a strategist in control.
After all, the performance gap between both sides had long been calculated into their plans.
With that thought, Patrick took a deep breath.
Next, it would depend on whether the assault force could achieve results.
Success would prove the MS's worth; failure would naturally come with a painful price.
On the other end, hidden outside Junius City, Barnes watched as their side was disarmed after just two volleys from the enemy's Laurasia-class battleships, his eyes widening in disbelief.
He never imagined that the Coordinator battleships on the other side could be this powerful.
Every metric surpassed their own Drake-class.
Not to mention those MS darting around like flies—though he called them flies for their agility, their firepower was another matter entirely.
Watching the scenes of missiles exploding in the wake of the enemy's machine gun fire, Barnes had no intention of underestimating them.
The ammunition loaded into the assault rifles of those MS was clearly not ordinary Vulcan Cannon rounds, but something akin to high-explosive shells designed for anti-armor and anti-fortification infantry combat.
Only, both in size and power, they were far larger and more lethal than anything a person could wield.
"Captain Barnes, should we make our move?"
The adjutant beside him grew increasingly anxious, unable to resist stepping forward to ask.
At that moment, they were concealed near Junius City.
Aside from a few core members of Blue Cosmos, no one knew of their presence.
From this vantage point, they could see clearly: the fleet outside stood no chance of overpowering ZAFT's military forces right at PLANT's doorstep.
If the enemy hadn't held back, their side would have already collapsed like a landslide—surviving at all would be a blessing.
"No..."
Barnes calmly shook his head and continued.
"Our mission this time is only to observe and wait for an opportunity."
"We have no chance now."
ZAFT's new MS and new battleships were all superior to their current fleet.
In other words, they had severely underestimated ZAFT's strength.
Originally, their plan was to have the main force outside hold the line while they struck directly at PLANT's core, seizing the initiative.
But now, it seemed the main force couldn't even hold the line. What core were they supposed to strike? They'd only be delivering themselves as casualties.
Since the opportunity was gone, all they could do was observe the data and wait for the next offensive.
Moreover, while PLANT currently held the advantage, that was only under conditions of roughly equal fleet numbers.
If a full-scale invasion were to come, ZAFT's limited forces would still stand no chance.
"Understood."
Hearing this, the crew settled their restlessness, though the sight of their comrades being steadily pushed back on the screen grew increasingly terrifying.
Barnes glanced at his subordinates' emotions but offered no words of comfort.
After all, this sense of frustration was beneficial; accumulating over time, it could unleash tremendous power on the battlefield.
Meanwhile, Barnes also considered the research behind these battleships and Mobile Suits.
Although he despised the opposing side on ideological and political grounds, he couldn't deny that their technology was truly impressive.
What could be learned should be learned.
However, such learning would take time.
The best approach would be to directly bring back one of the key researchers from here.
Of course, if necessary, the primary developers might need to be assassinated.
But these were not concerns he needed to worry about for now.
His current task was simply to make flexible judgments based on the battlefield situation and meticulously record all relevant data—exactly what his superiors had assigned him.
While Barnes continued his observations, the situation on the battlefield was also shifting dramatically.
With most of the Drake-class Frigate's armaments destroyed, the frontline Mobile Suit Force carved eerie, azure trails through the dark expanse of space. Their machine guns fired intermittently, destroying incoming missiles, while they deftly navigated through the now-thinned missile defense network—sparse due to covering fire from Laurasia-class allies—advancing toward the lead Agamemnon-class vessel.
These were ZAFT's true Aces. Even piloting standard GINNs, they moved with ease among these behemoths.
Fred, meanwhile, had taken his position as the technical officer, his eyes darting between the data transmitted from several Mobile Suits.
He had to admit, they were all remarkably reliable, far surpassing his own skills in piloting a GINN. The white-painted Captain's unit, in particular, was exceptionally swift.
Truly worthy of the Tiger.
"Hmm?"
As Fred pondered this, the terminal in his hand vibrated faintly.
The vibration was subtle, but it immediately sharpened Fred's expression.
"Committee Chairman Zala."
Fred stepped forward, bending slightly beside Patrick and speaking in a voice only the two could hear.
"Our high-precision cameras deployed outside Junius City have detected ship signatures. They are still some distance from our alarm sensors."
As he spoke, Fred handed his tablet to Patrick.
"…I see."
Hearing this, Patrick snapped out of his focus on the smooth progress of the battle, his expression turning serious as he nodded.
His face remained tense, but inwardly, he couldn't help but marvel.
Once again, Fred had accurately predicted the enemy's intentions.
As for how they had detected the enemy so quickly without alerting them, it was all thanks to the extensive preparations Fred had made to guard against ambushes—especially around Junius City, April City, and February City.
They had implemented multiple layers of defensive measures in the surrounding areas.
The first layer consisted of alarm sensors visibly distributed throughout the vicinity.
However, these sensors were not foolproof. If the Atlantic Federation came prepared, they could likely avoid or even infiltrate them undetected using viruses.
Fred had pointed this out, and Patrick fully agreed.
The second layer of preparation involved high-precision cameras.
After all, this was not Earth. Telescopes here were unaffected by curvature; as long as they could mitigate interference from various radiation rays and had sufficient light sources, they could capture images from extremely far distances.
However, this type of camera has a certain delay and can only aim at specific positions, increasing accuracy through long exposure times. It is certainly useless on the front lines of battle.
But according to the coordinates Fred had set, they actually managed to capture traces of an ambush.
"Don't alert the enemy."
Patrick spoke, his gaze growing even colder.
Although Lenore had temporarily left, the enemy's actions had genuinely struck a nerve with Patrick.
Junius City was predominantly inhabited by civilians.
They had indeed turned the place into a food production base, but it was by no means a military base.
For Blue Cosmos to attack there was far too sinister and ruthless.
Of course, such tactics were not unheard of in war.
Destroying food supplies, cutting off water and electricity—these were all part of it.
But carrying out such actions was undeniably unjust.
If both sides engaged in warfare with such low moral standards, it would be a case of the pot calling the kettle black.
Yet, at the very least, they had come with some sincerity for negotiations.
This only made Patrick even more furious.
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