The depths and cold of space stretched endlessly beyond the bridge windows of the Starry Sky. Dark purple nebulae, like torn silk, wound around the distant Jachin Due fortress, which stood like a beast of steel. The energy shield across its surface glowed pale blue, an invisible barrier shutting out every approaching threat. Mei Hock stood at the center of the bridge, his white commander's uniform immaculate. Only the silver wing insignia on his cuff gleamed beneath the cold white lights-the symbol of the "Silver Wing Angel," once revered by countless ZAFT soldiers, now branded a mark of betrayal by Durandal.
Reports from the other ships came through the Starry Sky's communications system, their voices steady but tinged with gravity. Farther ahead, the formations of the ZAFT fleet were beginning to fall into disorder, like weeds battered by a gale. Akira quietly activated his ACCORD ability. Faint psychic awareness spread like invisible tendrils into every corner of the enemy fleet, clearly sensing the uncertainty and fear in its soldiers' hearts.
Morale was crumbling at a visible rate.
The atmosphere inside Jachin Due's command center was almost suffocating. On the immense holographic star chart, the points of light representing Mei Hock's combined fleet approached like a rising tide. They advanced slowly, yet carried an unstoppable pressure-a sword hanging over the heads of ZAFT's soldiers, refusing to fall and tormenting them with the endless wait. Chairman Durandal stood before the chart, his black formal attire making his face look even paler. The composure and confidence once present in his deep-set eyes had given way to barely concealed agitation.
He pressed his communicator and connected to the public channel for all ZAFT forces. His electronically processed voice carried a carefully cultivated blend of grief, anger, and passion, breaking through every warship's communications barriers