The two forms streaked through the atmosphere, both gleaming fireballs by now. The highest form simply appeared to be a large meteor, maybe just a falling star. The lower form had the shape of a mobile suit, a mobile suit that was aiming its rifle.
I, the "perfect soldier" pilot of Wing Gundam Zero, am desperately trying to stabilize the suit's buster rifle. I know the suit is suffering huge amounts of damage from the unrelenting heat of reentry. Even the inside of the cockpit is heating up, "definitely a bad sign" I think to myself. At that moment, my eyes focus on only two things-the huge metal chunk in front of my viewscreen and the small crosshairs that will determine Earth and space's destiny. Warning lights blink on all around me as I pull the suit's control levers, trying to lock onto this target.
Suddenly, I realize my thoughts are wandering from the crosshairs on his screen, to the war, and what it would all mean if I didn't aim just right. I think back to Operation Meteor, to the battles, the pilots, the pain. It had all started here, at the atmosphere, when I fought off an OZ ship and plunged into the sea. Only then it was different, then I didn't really care. My mission was my life and I would allow nothing to stand in my way, even if I had to die for it. Then I had washed up on shore. And met that girl, Relena, the new queen of pacifism, only then a rich schoolgirl. She looked at me and spoke, not to give orders, fire a gun at me, or tell me about my next target, but just to see if I was all right. And I had jumped up and drove off in a stolen ambulance, running away.
Then I had met the pilots. A goofy, tragic character, a pacifist, a silent clown, and another bent on righting all wrongs. They showed me that missions weren't everything and that it was all right to feel a little human.
And then all the others on Earth. Those I've never met, but fought with, and after awhile, for. All of these people, the pilots, and a queen of pacifism are watching, waiting, and holding their breath, for they hang in the balance.
Thinking of all of this, something within my brain snaps. I realize the enormity of the moment, realize that maybe I did this just as a suicide move. I push these thoughts back with a yell.
"I will survive!!"
And then I find the strength to shove the lever over and I hear it. The beep that tells me I finally have a locked target. With no hesitation, I fire. The blinding flash from the rifle keeps me from seeing what happens, what I've done. It engulfs me.
There, time seems to hang. I'm waiting, waiting for the explosion, the fireball, possibly even my death. There it is, the unmistakable boom. I can hear the hiss of metal fragments burning up and the clatter as they bombard my gundam. I look up in wonder as the last of Libra burns up. Earth's doom, my mission, all engulfed in bright orange. I sigh and take control of Wing Zero, heading on through the atmosphere to Earth. I'm probably the happiest I've ever been, which admittedly isn't much. One by one everyone comes up on my vidscreen, to congratulate me and the only words I can muster out, even as I realize that my mission is finished, that the war can finally end, that I'm no longer a soldier in a meaningless battle, that I'm alive, are two words that seal up everything.
"Mission accomplished."