Chapter 11: At the brink of despair
"But they dare not fire... as long as the PLANTs Chairman is still on board..."
He could hear high pitch pixies voices echoing strangely at the region above his head…
"First Athrun, than Yzak, now even Kira!"
"Shouldn't it be Kira then Yzak?!" Said a second voice.
"Shut up!" Snapped the first, "…the point is all three of them are hurt badly!!"
Hurt badly…?
He could feel his fingers and toes, thought the sensation that met his right arm didn't feel right. He felt somewhat satisfactory and whole. He frowned, and could feel the expression change on his face. Suddenly a hushed silence fell over the two pixies. Someone then thought it was funny to poke him in the neck. Instinctively he shy away from the invasive finger and opened his mouth to scold the person, but as he opened his eyes and reprimanded, "What's the problem with you, haven't you got someone else you can offend at the bloody moment?" All that came out of his mouth was a series of incomprehensible 'hmm's and 'uh's.
The first voice, now two octaves lower spoke first, "Yzak?"
Yzak cracked open one eye, then the other. And a pair of enormous, brilliantly green eyes came into focus. "Big brother Yzak?"
"Oh, it's you, brat." He replied with a deliberate sigh. Max's eyes widened, in a small inquisitive voice he asked, "What's a brat?"
Upon Yzak's look of horror and utter resignment, Dearka laughed and came forward, "How're you feeling, buddy?"
"Great." He replied sarcastically as he made to lift himself off the bed, but as he attempted to prop himself up with his right arm, a stab of pain pierce through his shoulder and he barely stifled a gasp as he dropped back down.
"Hey, easy there!" Dearka exclaimed as he came to Yzak side.
"What…?" Yzak demanded through gritted teeth, still waiting for the agony to subside.
"Dislocated shoulder. Will heal, be easy on it…" Dearka said hastily, as if Yzak's arm might pop off upon exertion.
"And that's the best news of the day…" sighed Shinn.
"What do you mean?!" Yzak snapped.
"Shinn!" Dearka hissed.
"Strike freedom had been stolen."
"!!"
"What could we do?" Dearka said nonchalantly, "He was holding you at gunpoint!" Max nodded in agreement as he recounted dramatically. "That baaaad man was going to shoot you…"
"Did anyone inform Lacus?" Yzak paused, "Regarding Kira? The imposter…"
Dearka and Shinn gave each other a look that told him it were bad news.
"She's missing."
"She's not at PLANTs anymore. One night she just left, all her stuff left intact in the Amarfi mansion."
Yzak pinched the bridge of his nose, then decided it didn't help his headache one bit…
"Lunamaria and the kid?"
"Gone home while you were sleeping…" Shinn said mercilessly.
"The kid." Yzak suddenly remembered having left Spencer out of all the action, "Does the kid know?!"
"That's what we do not know…" Dearka said dismissively, "He left right after your pep talk."
Yzak's brow furrowed, and the other two looked down. Max gazed at the three adults, not understanding why they are so worried.
"He has too much power..." Shinn said finally, "Untamed, unharnessed, uncontrolable."
"He has the seed."
"And he can become a liability." Dearka added. "He can be made use of."
---
The first thing that hit him was the pain. And instantly he knew he was alive. He opened his eye, and observed the other man quietly, he appeared to be sewing something that looked like a rag, but he couldn't be certain, because he couldn't really see. The man whistled away cheerfully, the tune muffled by the surgical mask on his face.
In and out, in and out the curved and wicked-looking needle went, and when Athrun realized his wrist was being stitched up, he gave a small gasp of surprise. The man's eyes widened, and jumped up in equal surprise in a sharp federation salute.
"Sorry sir, I didn't know you're awake!" the soldier stuttered as he lowered his gazed, fiddling with the needle and surgical thread in his hand; then realized where Athrun's gaze was directed and quickly sat back down to finish the job with a weak laugh. The sound was genuine and sincere, and rang out oddly familiar to Athrun's ears. Athrun managed to smile a little, he hadn't heard laughter in weeks, and the stitching guy seems the sunshine type.
"Where…am I?" He asked, and realized his bruised side ached threateningly with the effort.
"Federation ship heading towards PLANTs, well…" he hesitated, "Originally." As he tied off the thread and taped a roll of clean bandage to the wound.
"And…" Athrun's groggy mind became clear, "Marlene?"
"The girl? So her name is Marlene huh...?" He replied with a hint of delight, "Here." And he pointed on the floor, where Marlene's round head popped up and bobbled up and down like a buoy in the open sea, three Uno cards clutched in her hands. "She didn't offer her name, but she's giving me a run for my money." He said affectionately as he disposed of his gloves and pat her head, she gazed at him, then placed down her last three 4s.
"What?" He replied, obviously taken aback as he looked at his own deck still resting on the table. Marlene merely smiled sheepishly, and dealt the cards all over again. The man recovered from his initial shock with a sigh, and as he removed his surgical mask, it was Athrun's turn to stare in shock.
"Ni…Nicol?!"
---
"Settle down…" Kira said, and Spencer did as he was told, trying to calm the butterflies fluttering around in his tummy. The first thing that happened after he left the ship was that Kira Yamato caught up with him in Strike Freedom and told him he has an audience with the Supreme Council, something about their expedition; and is asked to hurry up.
Spencer never stopped for a moment to think about why all his commands are all given second hand; nor why Kira didn't come with Captain Hawke. He was too busy worrying about the fact that the Supreme Council wants to see him.
He swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in his parched throat. It was when he felt that the chair he was sitting on will not fall out of orbit that someone entered the waiting with a clipboard and announced.
"Mr Spencer Gladys."
That sent his stomach doing flip-flops all over again.
---
"!...How did you know my name?"
"HOW?! Because I'm…" Athrun stuttered weakly, "I'm Athrun!"
"?" Nicol was baffled by the reply and it showed clearly on his face.
"Sir, everyone who hasn't been living under a rock in the past ten years knows your name. But how do you know mine?"
"We were in the same team!" Athrun cried, with all the fervency he could muster.
"Really?"
"Yzak, Dearka! Captain Rau!" He listed, hoping that something will slap him in the face, "Don't you remember?"
Nicol whistled, "Sounds cool." But shook his head all the same.
Athrun studied Nicol's heavily scarred face, and almost broke down and sobbed. The apple green hair and orange eyes was unmistakably his. And if he stared closely enough at his arms, there were a metallic slit joining flesh to metal at the elbow, indicating his arms were prosthetic. He had been maimed in battle, it was something that came to Athrun in a shocking manner.
Nicol must have sensed Athrun's distress, because he came forward and asked, "Chairman Zala, are you alright?"
Athrun looked away, unable to gaze into Nicol's eyes as he breathed deeply, telling himself to stay calm. Knowing that he needed time to collect himself. He swallowed a wave of nausea that came riding up his throat and closed his eye briefly, forcing himself to reply "Yes…" When all he wanted to do was to screamed, 'please don't call me that…'
"Huh?"
"I…must have been too..." He paused, catching himself before he said anything else he might regret. Swallowing, he closed his eyes briefly. "You really look like my friend."
Athrun had not been mistaken; of that he was certain. He looked at his friend is sitting barely a meter away, very much alive and kicking. Though deep down he knew this is not the same Nicol whom he had come to pamper and respect as a comrade, but an empty shell with the same face. Athrun hated that fact, and he hated to admit it. What he loathed with all his heart was the fact that he could not bring himself to tell Nicol what happened.
How he saved him from Strike and went KIA. How he sacrificed himself... to protect Athrun.
Athrun had questions of his own threatening to burst forth the moment he let down his guard. How did he survive? How come he does not remember?
He took another breath, trying to still the turmoil in his mind and heart. He hardly felt so messed up.
"…I'm sorry." Was what he decided to say finally, and he knew he sounded pretty pathetic.
"Did you just say 'sorry'?"
Athrun gave him a bewildered look, then nodded hesitantly. Feeling the world shake as he did so, and a hand went to his swimming head, trying to steady himself.
"I thought Chairmen don't ever say sorry."
Apparently Nicol thought it was unbelievable, and Athrun suddenly remembered the conversation he had with Dr Sas not too long ago.
Chairmen don't say sorry. Its wrong.
'Sorry' is reserved for friends.
"Chairman Zala…"
This time a wave of nausea hit him full in the stomach; and he half fell, half clambered out of bed as he made his way to the nearest bathroom. There was a sting on his right arm that followed in his wake, but he could not care less at the moment.
He leaned over the sink not a moment to soon and puked out everything there was in his stomach, which wasn't much; most was gastric juice that smelt foul and left an astringent taste and burning sensation in his mouth. He held on to the side of the sink grimly for support, and knew his legs would collapse the instant he lets go. His arms hurt, his body hurts, his head hurts. And he closed his eyes, waiting for the giddiness to go away. He gave another lurch at this point, feeling the sick ride up his gullet and burn the back of his throat, the foulness filled his entire head.
He felt positively pathetic.
Lacus had put herself in danger to save him, if she didn't manage to steal the suit start up chips, it will likely mean that she's still on the Zaft ship.
Maybe even locked up and interrogated...
The prospect scared Athrun, and he wanted to force himself upright, attempting to heave himself off by straightening his arms slowly so that he could stand. But the right one was broken and the other is numb. The slightest attempt left him outright exhuasted and afraid. He gave up and rinsed his mouth instead, realizing the dryness in his throat for the first time. Even the tap water tasted contrastingly sweet and inviting.
Perspiration dampened his forehead and limbs, dripping off the tip of his nose. He just remained there, crouching over the sink and panted, willing himself to find the strength to move. He was growing more tired by the moment that he knew if nothing changed, he would eventually exhuast what little strength remaining in him and collapse.
A hand patted his back gently, as one would a child. And for the first time Athrun realized the pair of hands had been there on his shoulders all the while; and is the reason why he did not fall.
"Better?" Nicol asked, Athrun nodded feebly, not trusting himself to speak. Feeling as if the moment he opens his mouth he'll be sick all over again.
Nicol gripped his numbed hand, and slung it across his back as he gripped Athrun waist. He flinched at the pressure on his wounds and bit his lip, trying to hide the gasp of surprise. If Nicol noticed, he did not show it. He merely redoubled his grip and helped him walk back to the bed- though carry is more like the word.
Athrun sat down again, feeling helpless and useless. Nicol arranged a modest number of down pillows such that he could sit up by leaning on them, and if he moved too much he could also trigger an avalanche of white, fluffly pillows- not that he wanted to. Though Marlene seemed more excited at the prospects. She came forward, stretched out her small hands towards him; out to comfort, but not sure where to start. She took a while to decide where to touch Athrun because she had to look pretty hard for a place that did not hurt. Finally, she settled on his side.
When the girl had nestled snugly beside him, he waited for his head to settle and attempted to wipe his face, but found it out the hard way that his arms were now as useless as the rest of him. It was Nicol who took the initiative, he dabbed Athrun's brow with a wet towel, wiping away the remnants of perspiration. Athrun nodded feebly in gratitude, is was all he was able to do.
He knew he looked awful and felt even worst, and was certain he will drift away into oblivion if he would just let himself. One thought formed in the span of a fraction of a second, only to be replaced by a blissful nothingness, then intercepted by another thread that whisps away when he tried to grapple with it. He gave up thinking in the end, and somehow convinced himself to relax. Marlene looked at him, worried.
Athrun looked away, and gripped the bed sheet at this point, wanting to find something to throw, but he knew he could not even manage that. He hated his own body for hurting so much, he thought he could die. He berated himself for being so trusting towards Tad Elthman, so gullible…
Tears welled up in his eyes at this point, and he blinked them away, not allowing the tears to taint his remorse. Frustration tore relentlessly at his will, mocked at his remaining pride at trying not to cry. Nicol looked away delibrately, as he spread the blanket over Athrun's legs. Marlene changed positions, choosing to sit at his feet instead and gazed at him with large, inquisitive eyes. Athrun could not bear to meet her gaze. He loathed himself too much for being such a poor leader, and to put all his friends at risk for trying to save him when he was not worth the effort. He hated the fact that Lacus might be in grave danger because of him, and Kira who has been tortured and now gone missing.
And…most of all, he was ashamed of himself for allowing all that to happen. The situation couldn't have been worst.
And it was all his fault…
Athrun could feel the breath getting constricted in his chest, as if an unseen monster was suffocating him. Choking him and killing him slowly.
A hand went gingerly to his chest, gripping the fabric of the t-shirt tightly. The ornaments met his palm and he was surprised there were still there in one piece.
It's all your fault…
Darkness overwhelmed him, and he couldn't see.
Lacus told him he could redeem the situation, but the job didn't come with an instruction manual. So what if he is Athrun Zala, did that name make him any less mortal than he is? Did that prevent Janurius from being blown up? Did it save anyone?
Tendrils of dark substance crept up from the very ground he was standing on, threatening to consume him. It tickled his fingers, teasing and inviting. Half of him wanted to scream and run, and the other half was inevitably attracted to the power and solace a merger would promise. He found himself drawn forward, suddenly yearning with an insatiable hunger to become one with it. To escape from the pain by destroying everything that had caused it. With that thought, power rise up with him, ready at hand, ready for use…And all he had to do is to wield it…
"Chairman Zala…?" Nicol asked. Athrun blinked. Marlene leaned her head on his lap.
"It's not your fault."
Two hands reached out, and yanked him back.
"It's not your fault." Nicol repeated, as if he read Athrun's mind. As if unsure Athrun had heard him the first time, then he looked away, realizing he had spoken out of place. Athrun couldn't care less, but clung on to his words. He looked a the man intently, waiting for him to continue.
"Chairman Zala…"
Athrun cried out silently, 'Can't you just call me Athrun?!'
"Ath…Can I just call you Athrun?" Nicol stammered as if he had read Athrun' mind, Marlene nodded as Athrun blinked in no small surprise. That's twice in a day, but he nodded all the same, Nicol's shyness seems to be affecting him. Nicol smiled, as one would to a friend.
"You're a rum one." Nicol commented with a hint of mockery, Athrun did not mind at all. In fact, the sentence warmed his heart.
The historical moment was punctured by the sound of Marlene's tummy growling…
She pouted, apparently angry at her own tummy's untimely announcement by curling up on his lap, trying to hide her face.
Nicol laughed, and Athrun along with him.
"Any chance... of grabbing some lunch?" He asked Nicol in turn, not knowing how else to source for food. This is a space vessel, for crying out loud.
"Well…" He hesitated, and Athrun knew it was something he has been trying hard not to let Athrun find out. "Not too high a chance. The cook died in the battle against that ship while walking along the docking area."
"This ship was in battle?"
"Yes."
"Against?"
"The Ragnorok."
"A Zaft ship?" Athrun asked in a rushed whisper, realizing where the conversation was going.
"Well…yes."
"Why?"
"Because we found you." He said finally, as if wanting to declare it for the longest of times. "We found your escape pod floating in space, then they found us. They demanded that we hand you over for 'safe keeping'," and Nicol lifted two wriggling fingers on each side of his head sarcastically for emphasis.
"But all of us know that's a big fat lie. I mean, look at you." And he looked at Athrun in the eye, there was genuine anger in his tone. "You're a little too smashed up for a politician, and you almost bled to death! How safe will you be?" He stopped himself at this point, trying to keep the anger from his voice.
It was unlike Nicol to be so flared up, and a ghost of the past Nicol flashed past in Athrun's mind eye. The concern that was being shown touched his heart, a heart which had unwittingly grown stone cold in the past weeks of abuse and resultant unconsciousness. But this is not the same Nicol. It made him want to laugh and cry at the same time.
"I've…" Nicol began, "…had my doubts about Janurius. Though it isn't my business as to what happens in PLANTs. But I've..." He looked up at Athrun with a confused smiled, "I've always been your supporter."
He did not reply, he did not trust himself to. Nicol took it as a sign to go on, "Too much time has been wasted, too many lives has been lost. But you went out and made the difference. You reformed PLANTs, you taught the Coordinator world acceptance. And the Naturals to make peace."
"You give me too much credit…" Athrun replied.
"That's because you give yourself so little." Nicol said with a finality that make Athrun blush. "Point is…I thought you did blow Janurius up." And he caught Athrun's eye. "Till I met you."
Athrun blinked, indicating he didn't understand.
"You're…" Nicol hesitated, "…so gentle. Too gentle."
Athrun was slightly taken aback, Lacus, Cagalli, Kira and Nicol all said the same thing about him. But he could not see that trait in himself. And even if he did, where did it take him in the end?
"Don't be so hard on yourself..."
He gazed at his friend, not knowing what to reply; what to say. When he remained silent, Nicol simply quirked his lips in a mockery of a smile, "Don't die…"
It was quiet apart from the ornaments that klinked lightly on his breatbone, and Athrun realized Marlene had fallen asleep curled up in his lap-in a way he had always found endearing. He laid a hand on her head, pushing the curly sideburns behind her ear with his thumb. He should have smiled, but he could not. Too much was at stake for any weakness to be shown on his part; he knew.
He could not breathe properly, and when he tried his side pained him terribly; as if daring him to do his best and burst the stiches. He felt as if the weight of the responsibility was crushing him. But it was a burden he had to bear; willingly bear. For too many trusted him not to fail again. Yzak, Dearka, Shinn, Lacus, Kira, Cagalli, now Nicol, they have all slaved away, or risked their lives for him. And his only way of showing his gratitude is to survive. To survive and rescue PLANTs from the deceiver. And in that intent there was no self to be found, no room for Athrun; only a perfect fit for Chairman Zala.
"I won't die." He told Nicol finally, in a voice so unlike himself, "I'm Chairman Zala."
---
Heart in mouth, he walked into the office. A man was walking out as he walked in, the man was about fifty, and looked familiar. He left with a positively photogenic smile, in contrast, Supreme Councilor Tad Elthman looked pale and sickened behind his desk, though he had just been installed as temporary leader.
He saluted, "Supreme Councilor Elthman, Spencer Gladys, code number 340982, assigned to the DSSD, Archangel, reporting."
The gaze thrown his way was enough to make him shrink back into his uniform. But before he could reacted, the expression was replaced by a welcoming smile, and it made Spencer wonder if it were just his own imagination. He had heard enough about Tad Elthman to make an impression, and was wary in his approach. Though the older man didn't look and sound half as evil as the way they described him.
"How was your trip? Did your crew manage to rendezvous with Chairman Zala?"
"No Sir, we didn't."
"And you presumed he was on the EAF ship and attacked."
"I didn't!" Spencer retorted defensively. "I was under the orders…"
"Relax." He interjected, "I didn't summon you here to question your judgment nor to condemn you. I am merely an old man who needs to find out what happened."
"I…My apologies." Spencer stammered, feeling his cheeks crawl with heat.
"Yes, about your orders. By whose authority are they issued?"
"Supreme Councilor Yzak Jule."
"Ah, the young and not-so tactful, not-so-nice one." The older man attempted a joke, and Spencer smiled in agreement. Deciding that Mr Elthman is not so difficult a person after all.
"What do you make of the situation?"
Spencer opened his mouth, and no words came, he stood there with his jaws agape till he remembered to reel them in. In his mind a maelstrom of thoughts fought for dominion, sending lancers of feelings prickling at his heart. Truth is, now he did not know who to trust, what to think. Who to doubt, who to blame.
Kira advise him on the way here to share his thoughts freely with Tad Elthman, because the man can smell a lie a mile away. On the other hand, Dearka himself tells him otherwise. Enemy or friend, Spencer could not decide nor differentiate.
Tad Elthman seemed to have sense his hesitation. And said, "I am as confused as you are."
Spencer was surprised, and it must have shown on his face.
"I watched Athrun grow up…and it never occurred to me…" He gave a low sigh, "That he would be capable of such atrocity."
Spencer nodded in agreement, realizing that the older man just used Athrun's first name. Reminding him of Mwu. "Neither am I."
"But cruel facts stare at us in the face. Within PLANTs there is an outbreak of civil war, people are taking sides, choosing what to believe, who to pin the hopes on. Some wants Athrun captured and apprehended, others want him reinstalled and given a chance to explain."
"What about you?" Spencer asked impulsively, and his eyes widened as he realized how disrespectful he sounded.
A flash as annoyance flash past the older man's eyes, but he overlook Spencer's behavior and replied. "I want to know nothing but he truth. I wish to campaign for a middle ground, till the truth is found. And that is why you're here."
Spencer gasped, stuttering, "…Me?"
"Yes. The truth has to be found, and there are few I can trust. Half the councilors have perished already, and I have to take care to ensure I'm not the next. Councilor Jule will very much like to destroy me if he could."
"Why?"
The older man clicked a remote control, and the screen that Spencer had not noticed crackled to life. It was a news telecast, first showing Amarfi mansion followed by Yzak's home. And the commentary given almost made his heart stop.
In the dead of the night, both landmarks have been utterly destroyed by who is suspected to be the hate-groups. Otherwise known as the PLANTs faction, those seeking to restore PLANTs to the 'original phase' before Chairman Zala stepped in. However, they speculate that this is in fact, a ploy. A ploy to close the case once and for all on the Chairman's disappearance by murdering the Councilor's most closely involved with him. The Jule mansion has been found this morning, stripped of all lifeforms within its walls by a mysterious technology. And behind me is the Amarfi mansion; and as can been seen, not a stone is left atop another. Who could be capable of such atrocity? Who could institute the mass murder of seven Supreme Councilors within the week?
"I can't believe this..." he uttered in horror, he did not want to hear anymore; but the woman on screen contiued relentlessly.
Could it be the infamous hate groups who plagued the PLANTs economy? Or is it in fact an act that will leave no witnesses, Chairman Zala himself...?
"Believe it." Tad Elthman said mercilessly. "Chairman Zala doesn't want to be found." He pointed his chin at the screen, where Amarfi mansion had been razed to the ground, and a blue ring surrounded the Jule mansion. "The people who know him best are all gone. Who would know where is he? Or what he intents to do?"
Spencer did not argue, he could not. Tad Elthman had apparently chosen to be candid with him, and he should reciprocate that trust at the very least.
"Can I trust you with that mission? To find the truth for me?"
"...Yes sir." Spencer tore his eyes away from the screen and managed to answer while trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"You'll agree without knowing the details of your mission?"
"I know the outcome is to keep Chairman Zala safe."
"And if he is found guilty?"
"Then with my hands… I will send him to the gallows." Spencer said, the sentence tasting bitter in his mouth, like woodworm, "The truth shall prevail."
"The truth shall prevail." Tad Elthman echoed, and he stood up, stretching out his hand towards Spencer; who immediately took it.
---
Mwu looked up, out of the observatory window.
"What is it?" Ramius asked, trying to keep the alarm from her voice.
"It's…" he hesitated, "A feeling…something big is going to happen."
"Something big?" Ramius echoed the ambiguous statement, knowing Mwu's instincts are as honed and sharpened as a sword. "Good or bad?"
"Bad, definitely bad."
---
"Captain, the Ragnarok is still hot on our heels."
"I know." He replied evenly. "But they dare not fire, as long our talisman is still on board."
"The PLANTs Chairman."
He nodded ever so slightly, "In the event they catch up, we'll drag him to the bridge and slit his throat." He turned to his vice captain, "Nicol is still in the infirmary with him?"
"Yes."
"Try to keep him there, or at least somewhere near. Makes it convenient."
"I'll make sure Nicol sees to that."
"You do that."
"What of the stowaway?" The vice captain asked impassively.
Behind the door Kira heard the exchange, and his heart skipped a beat.
"Nicol can keep him, The gene examination reveals that he's a coordinator too."
"Nicol likes picking up things…" The vice-captain replied with evident disapproval.
"Useful things, though he doesn't know it yet."
"Meaning?"
"Haven't you noticed his similarity to one of the Chairman's closest associates?"
The vice captain thought for a moment, then gasped softly.
"You mean…"
"Yes, the commanding general of Orb. The legendary 'White Wings'."
Kira blinked, the Chairman might know something. He didn't care if they killed him, but he needed to find out how much he knows first. He wanted to discover whether this person named Athrun exists, or was it a figment of his imagination. And whether he is the key to Kira's past. He knew his first name, that was all, he needed more than that to find himself. And that was all that mattered. Orb, general of Orb, another clue.
His heart palpitating in his chest, he left the two officers, a plan formulating in his head.
---
The conspiracy has emerged, and the key players have taken their places; the wild cards set free. Too many who cannot afford to lose, too much ambition, but only one will emerge champion. Who will be the one? Will Kira meet Athrun? Will he find himself?
This chapter is not exactly exciting, but its necessary.
Ming