Ch.16: Shiva
She's calling me. I can hear her, all the time. Even when I'm not in battle, even when I'm on my bed and I'm just listening to silence, she whispers to me. I think humanity has got it all wrong, you know? They think that when you go out and kill a bad guy, they should reward you. But that's not being fair, is it? What if you were the guy that was killed? That's what she's saying to me. I could spare every last Victim I had killed if I had wanted to, but always, always I don't because then people would hate me. Humans are naturally selfish as well - I only kill living beings because I don't want people to hate me.
There. She tells me again that I can't stop, I can't stop. It's that rush, the rush of battle, the rush of death, and I can't stop doing it. Once a killer, always a killer. It doesn't matter if my enemy is the ugliest inside or outside, it just matters that they live. Oh yeah, that's right – I killed them. Never mind, then.
There's always a voice that tells me I can stop. It's actually quite easy for a person mad in battle to stop, just if he knows how to follow that voice. But I don't. I don't hesitate to cut down everything in
my path. And that's what makes me a killer. Even if you don't kill anyone, it's all the same - it's all hurting, it's all suffering. And when a person says, "That's some pretty good karma you get from piloting that Ingrid and making sure those Victims don't get to Zion", I find I don't care. It's killing. It's horrible. I guess my reply to that would be, "So what?"
I'll see you in Hell, Ernest. I'll be there soon, don't you worry.
I always wonder who that voice is. It kind of figures, though, after thinking about it. It's my Goddess, the vessel I pilot, the machine that I have labored so hard on to retain. She's always there, speaking to me. And once you become friends with something, it starts to influence you. Poison you, little by little, until she takes my hands in hers and it's not me who's killing anymore, but her. She's done this to all the pilots before her, I know. The only reason that she keeps the pilot alive inside of her is because a new pilot has to be broken in to her voice, trained to hear her voice in the back of their heads, telling them what to do, and making them do it without fully realizing what they had just done. After a little while a pilot gets used to being guided along by this little invisible voice. After a little while, they can't fight it anymore. It has become a deep part of them, and even though that makes it easier to pilot, it doesn't make
it easier to live.
The planet beneath me breathed, took a breath, suddenly. It shifted under my feet, tossing her hair into the clouds. Her voice wasn't clear like water anymore, like when I had been here last. It was sad, resigned, knowing that she would die soon. The last star of her kind. I pitied her; she had truly loved her inhabitants, given them all she could give.
She sighed again, full of melancholy meaning. Beautiful Hestia, lend me the last of your strength.
For a moment I wondered just what I was doing. Here I was, dead Victims all within fifty feet of me, and I was fighting still. Within myself, I wished I could find Erts, the one before, the innocent one before the capture of power. But even as I thought that, Ernest came to mind, and I leaned my head wearily on the shoulder of that memory. Ernest, you knew, all the time, didn't you, that Erts would become like this. He wouldn't know what was right and what was wrong anymore, would he? And Ernest didn't
need to tell me what to do - I knew it.
Reneighd Klein stood in front of me. She had stopped, and her hands lay limp at her sides. Ernest, forgive me. Hestia, forgive me. This will be another death to mar you surface. With the Eeva Leena, I grasped the neck of the Reneighd Klein and held it aloft. Inside, Erts didn't move. I wondered what he was thinking. Wasn't it he who had told me revenge would be sweet?
I suddenly understood. Erts didn't want revenge from me - he wanted me to take my revenge on him. Erts wanted to die. My hand trembled, and threatened to let go. I steadied it, and as I did I could hear his voice asif he were speaking in my ear. This wasn't the harshness I had detected in Erts talking when I had lifted off G.O.A., this was the soft, scared voice of the boy I thought had died in him.
"Brother", he was calling. "Brother, please stop."
I threw him into the cliff. I couldn't hear anymore. I covered up my ears and tried to make sense of my surroundings. But I couldn't. Was Erts lying? If he wasn't, then why was he here? Why had he killed so many living, humane being if he still loved and trusted the one he called brother? If he was still the innocent boy I thought I knew from long ago, why was I here? WHAT WAS I DOING HERE?
The voice spoke harshly in my ear, Get up, kill him. Finish him. I hesitated, and It continued. He murdered the one you love the most. You must kill him.
The Eeva Leena's hands faltered for a moment, then raised up when I raised mine. Slowly, I crept forward to the Reneighd Klein, still slumped against the cliff. Erts wasn't talking anymore. If he had been I might have stopped. I stopped many times, my wits failing me. I couldn't kill him. I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't. This voice, lose your power over me! I don't want to hear you anymore! My hands lift him up again by his neck, in the same position. My fingers find the exact same indent marks in the expensive, space-made metal. A mold, I thought. A Goddess pilot mold that candidates were perfected to
fill.
And slowly I squeezed.
As I did I could feel my insides crumbling to dust. My internal organs seemed to melt into goo, seemed to bubble and dry up in the sun. My vision became blurry as I sobbed. Erts was talking louder and fast now, words on how he wanted me to let go and something about not letting Ernest use some kind of computer and Ernest telling him he didn't want to use the stupid computer and that it wasn't worth it, wasn't worth it, wasn't worth it. I got it now – being a candidate, going through all those studies and classes - it was never, ever, worth it. We had to take lives. That was a pilot's job. And in the end guilt would eat you up whole and you would die. Being a pilot was to dig your own grave.
I barked out a bitter laugh. I had no one to blame for that except myself.
My fingers gave a little jerk and there came a crack from the Reneighd Klein's neck. There, you Stupid Voice. Are you happy now? I just killed another person. And this time it wasn't even a Victim, it was a human. It was Ernest's little brother. It doesn't matter if he was crazy in the end, it doesn't matter if his innocent, young self was corrupted and he was mad with grief and power. It matters that he was human, that he was a living, breathing person, and I had taken his life.
I suddenly wanted Ernest. In times of strife he was always there, beside me. I could lean my head on his shoulder and I could feel the comfort and warmth as it came in. His thoughts were flowing, smooth and clear like water, like my anger. But I wasn't angry now. I was tired.
Let me go, Voice. Yes, I'm talking to you, Goddess of Destruction. Let me go. I'm tired. I can't serve your purpose anymore.
And with that, I stumbled forward numbly a few steps. With a strength that bellied my weariness, I palmed the cockpit door open. Before I could stop myself, I tumbled onto the grass, completely spent, completely beaten. Ernest, Ernest, where are you? I dragged myself across the grass, creeping inch by creeping inch and put my arm over Ernest. Oh, my friend, my brother, my lover, your eyes are so dead, I am so tired, won't you help me? Then I lay my head on his shoulder, just like before, and tried to imagine bright, white wings before I fell asleep. And even as my eyes dimmed and a desert filled my mouth and Life cackled and turned my last card around, I cursed the Goddess for all she had taken from me.
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Author's note:
FINISHED!!!! Finally. I got this in, typed up at school today! Thank god, not I don't have to worry about it over the weekend. Well, that's the end - as I said, if you want an epilogue, please say so. And please understand - um, Garu IS dead here. He "fell asleep", realize...*sighs* another death. I guess I can't really be happy until I've killed several people.
Andrea Weiling
She's calling me. I can hear her, all the time. Even when I'm not in battle, even when I'm on my bed and I'm just listening to silence, she whispers to me. I think humanity has got it all wrong, you know? They think that when you go out and kill a bad guy, they should reward you. But that's not being fair, is it? What if you were the guy that was killed? That's what she's saying to me. I could spare every last Victim I had killed if I had wanted to, but always, always I don't because then people would hate me. Humans are naturally selfish as well - I only kill living beings because I don't want people to hate me.
There. She tells me again that I can't stop, I can't stop. It's that rush, the rush of battle, the rush of death, and I can't stop doing it. Once a killer, always a killer. It doesn't matter if my enemy is the ugliest inside or outside, it just matters that they live. Oh yeah, that's right – I killed them. Never mind, then.
There's always a voice that tells me I can stop. It's actually quite easy for a person mad in battle to stop, just if he knows how to follow that voice. But I don't. I don't hesitate to cut down everything in
my path. And that's what makes me a killer. Even if you don't kill anyone, it's all the same - it's all hurting, it's all suffering. And when a person says, "That's some pretty good karma you get from piloting that Ingrid and making sure those Victims don't get to Zion", I find I don't care. It's killing. It's horrible. I guess my reply to that would be, "So what?"
I'll see you in Hell, Ernest. I'll be there soon, don't you worry.
I always wonder who that voice is. It kind of figures, though, after thinking about it. It's my Goddess, the vessel I pilot, the machine that I have labored so hard on to retain. She's always there, speaking to me. And once you become friends with something, it starts to influence you. Poison you, little by little, until she takes my hands in hers and it's not me who's killing anymore, but her. She's done this to all the pilots before her, I know. The only reason that she keeps the pilot alive inside of her is because a new pilot has to be broken in to her voice, trained to hear her voice in the back of their heads, telling them what to do, and making them do it without fully realizing what they had just done. After a little while a pilot gets used to being guided along by this little invisible voice. After a little while, they can't fight it anymore. It has become a deep part of them, and even though that makes it easier to pilot, it doesn't make
it easier to live.
The planet beneath me breathed, took a breath, suddenly. It shifted under my feet, tossing her hair into the clouds. Her voice wasn't clear like water anymore, like when I had been here last. It was sad, resigned, knowing that she would die soon. The last star of her kind. I pitied her; she had truly loved her inhabitants, given them all she could give.
She sighed again, full of melancholy meaning. Beautiful Hestia, lend me the last of your strength.
For a moment I wondered just what I was doing. Here I was, dead Victims all within fifty feet of me, and I was fighting still. Within myself, I wished I could find Erts, the one before, the innocent one before the capture of power. But even as I thought that, Ernest came to mind, and I leaned my head wearily on the shoulder of that memory. Ernest, you knew, all the time, didn't you, that Erts would become like this. He wouldn't know what was right and what was wrong anymore, would he? And Ernest didn't
need to tell me what to do - I knew it.
Reneighd Klein stood in front of me. She had stopped, and her hands lay limp at her sides. Ernest, forgive me. Hestia, forgive me. This will be another death to mar you surface. With the Eeva Leena, I grasped the neck of the Reneighd Klein and held it aloft. Inside, Erts didn't move. I wondered what he was thinking. Wasn't it he who had told me revenge would be sweet?
I suddenly understood. Erts didn't want revenge from me - he wanted me to take my revenge on him. Erts wanted to die. My hand trembled, and threatened to let go. I steadied it, and as I did I could hear his voice asif he were speaking in my ear. This wasn't the harshness I had detected in Erts talking when I had lifted off G.O.A., this was the soft, scared voice of the boy I thought had died in him.
"Brother", he was calling. "Brother, please stop."
I threw him into the cliff. I couldn't hear anymore. I covered up my ears and tried to make sense of my surroundings. But I couldn't. Was Erts lying? If he wasn't, then why was he here? Why had he killed so many living, humane being if he still loved and trusted the one he called brother? If he was still the innocent boy I thought I knew from long ago, why was I here? WHAT WAS I DOING HERE?
The voice spoke harshly in my ear, Get up, kill him. Finish him. I hesitated, and It continued. He murdered the one you love the most. You must kill him.
The Eeva Leena's hands faltered for a moment, then raised up when I raised mine. Slowly, I crept forward to the Reneighd Klein, still slumped against the cliff. Erts wasn't talking anymore. If he had been I might have stopped. I stopped many times, my wits failing me. I couldn't kill him. I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't. This voice, lose your power over me! I don't want to hear you anymore! My hands lift him up again by his neck, in the same position. My fingers find the exact same indent marks in the expensive, space-made metal. A mold, I thought. A Goddess pilot mold that candidates were perfected to
fill.
And slowly I squeezed.
As I did I could feel my insides crumbling to dust. My internal organs seemed to melt into goo, seemed to bubble and dry up in the sun. My vision became blurry as I sobbed. Erts was talking louder and fast now, words on how he wanted me to let go and something about not letting Ernest use some kind of computer and Ernest telling him he didn't want to use the stupid computer and that it wasn't worth it, wasn't worth it, wasn't worth it. I got it now – being a candidate, going through all those studies and classes - it was never, ever, worth it. We had to take lives. That was a pilot's job. And in the end guilt would eat you up whole and you would die. Being a pilot was to dig your own grave.
I barked out a bitter laugh. I had no one to blame for that except myself.
My fingers gave a little jerk and there came a crack from the Reneighd Klein's neck. There, you Stupid Voice. Are you happy now? I just killed another person. And this time it wasn't even a Victim, it was a human. It was Ernest's little brother. It doesn't matter if he was crazy in the end, it doesn't matter if his innocent, young self was corrupted and he was mad with grief and power. It matters that he was human, that he was a living, breathing person, and I had taken his life.
I suddenly wanted Ernest. In times of strife he was always there, beside me. I could lean my head on his shoulder and I could feel the comfort and warmth as it came in. His thoughts were flowing, smooth and clear like water, like my anger. But I wasn't angry now. I was tired.
Let me go, Voice. Yes, I'm talking to you, Goddess of Destruction. Let me go. I'm tired. I can't serve your purpose anymore.
And with that, I stumbled forward numbly a few steps. With a strength that bellied my weariness, I palmed the cockpit door open. Before I could stop myself, I tumbled onto the grass, completely spent, completely beaten. Ernest, Ernest, where are you? I dragged myself across the grass, creeping inch by creeping inch and put my arm over Ernest. Oh, my friend, my brother, my lover, your eyes are so dead, I am so tired, won't you help me? Then I lay my head on his shoulder, just like before, and tried to imagine bright, white wings before I fell asleep. And even as my eyes dimmed and a desert filled my mouth and Life cackled and turned my last card around, I cursed the Goddess for all she had taken from me.
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
FINISHED!!!! Finally. I got this in, typed up at school today! Thank god, not I don't have to worry about it over the weekend. Well, that's the end - as I said, if you want an epilogue, please say so. And please understand - um, Garu IS dead here. He "fell asleep", realize...*sighs* another death. I guess I can't really be happy until I've killed several people.
Andrea Weiling