Boom!
"Range twenty-five! Our main guns hit the enemy warship!"
"Report the damage!"
"Zero damage!"
"Damn it! That technology called PS Armor can withstand our main guns repeatedly? What kind of joke is this?!"
"I think this may be why the Supreme Council ordered the Le Creuset Team to ensure its safe return to the Earth Alliance base at any cost."
"That makes sense! No matter the price, we absolutely cannot let those technologies fall into the hands of those damned Naturals."
"Fire! Hit them hard! I refuse to believe it can take more than a dozen hits and come out unscathed!"
As the ZAFT Army forces lying in ambush all around opened fire at full power, the Archangel and Strike were immediately caught in the predicament of being attacked from every direction.
Although Captain Murrue launched a large number of smoke shells and decoy flares to reduce the chances of being hit, the problem was that the Archangel was simply too large. Even firing toward a general area gave them at least a twenty percent chance of scoring a hit.
Moreover, most of the Desert Tiger's subordinates used solid ammunition, so they were less affected by interference.
Watching the Archangel struggle miserably amid the artillery fire, Andrew Waltfield couldn't help curling his lips into a faint smile. In a voice only he could hear, he muttered, "It seems their commander is quite composed. Even at a time like this, they still don't intend to deploy that other, more important mobile suit."
But at the very instant the last word left his mouth, a streak of light suddenly shot out from the opened electromagnetic catapult.
Because it was so fast, most people saw only a flash streak across the night sky.
The next second...
Bang! Bang!
Boom! Boom! Boom!