Synopsis:
A mutated gene, resulting from a recessive allele triggered in random second generation coordinators is all that separate the Scindogen Coordinators from their Unigen Coordinator kin. With no where else to turn, young Scindogen seek safety and are given instead an ultimatum: fight or die where they stand. These young people, thrust into a cycle of events they have yet to comprehend, may bring about revolution or universal holocaust.
Through these distorted eyes of mine I've seen many things. I've seen human pride and ignorance and hatred. I've seen human humility and compassion and love. I've seen the truth and lies of our time. I've seen life through the eyes of a Scindogen.
My name is Jahel Chayah Nadab. My name is irrelevent. My identity is F1079. I exist only as a number taken flesh. Should my flesh fail I will be returned to the database and given seven new identities; oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, phosphorous and waste. ZAFT is a more efficient military machine than many think. When this whirlwind of death that I now spin precariously in first began, I was apalled by how easily myself and the rest of the nation had been fooled. We all sat at home, content to watch things flash by on our televisions, blissfully ignorant to the monster that was silently spreading tentacles of awareness across one colony after another.
Aprilius was the first to fall. As if by the hand of God, we are all struck deaf and dumb in our homes.
The lights on the street went out; one by one. Then the hallway light blinked off. I recall my mother, a tall, noble woman whose face is blurred in my memory, walking to a darkened window. Even though her face it lost to me, her posture was one of defeat. As I crept out of the darkened hallway towards her, still in my Lacus Clyne pajamas, I heard a soft sound that made me pause. Sleep weary eyes locked onto the ventilation grate on the ceiling a few paces before me. Too many horror films had axe murderers and assassins crawling out of ventilation shafts. The fact that I had been out earlier to see such a film made my heart leap to my throat. Vividly I can still recall the hot adrenaline waking every nerve and muscle.
Something plinked to the floor. Cautiously I kneeled down to investigate. I rolled the cool metal between my fingers, then brought it to my face. It was- a screw? My head whipped back to stare wide-eyed at the vent. Like a frightened animal I crept back into the darkened hallway. When I finally felt the cool shadows envelop my face I tore my gaze from the vent. I uncurled my fingers and peered at the ominous screw.
There was a thud to my right that sent the hairs on the back of my neck on end. It was a metal sphere, glossy and... ticking. My mind whirled. What ticked? Bombs ticked! My body sprang to action before my mind had a chance to register what had happened. I skidded into the living room, dashing towards my mother as fast as I could. Adrenaline coursed through my veins and thrummed behind my eyes. We had to get out! A coffee table thrust itself infront of me, ramming my knees with such force that I crumpled atop the table like a limp doll. Behind me the ticking stopped.
Biting back the pain in my legs I pushed myself up on our Queen Anne coffee table. I looked back at the metal sphere. It cracked in half. From the crack a small stream of pale colored gas plumed. My first reaction was relief that it wasn't a bomb. Not caring how the table had moved itself to block my path, I jetissoned myself towards my mother, who remained impassive at the window. Searing pain lanced through my left knee as I strained towards my mother and her blurred face. All I could see were her ebony curls and a faint reflection in the window. Behind me the steady hiss of the sphere grew louder, but I refused to look back. The lights on the endtables blinked off. I turned, my panic mounting. Out of the coner of my eye I saw only darkness where the sphere was. But in that darkness I knew plumes of gas hung like deadly aerosol clouds. The only light in the house was now by my mother. It was the only place I could go. It was- as I limped closer the reflection came into focus. Despite the darkness I could clearly make out a face. A man's face.
My feet sprout roots. I turned to run, even if it was into the effluvial trap, I just wanted to run. Mother stood impassive. She couldn't escape. But I could, I just had to run! My wrists were suddenly yanked foreward and I plunged into the darkness. The odorless mist swirled around me as I fell. I remember the clammy dew it formed on my skin, how it clung to my hair and how it burned my tongue. My eyes squeezed shut as I continued to fall. Beyond my floor and beyond my consciousness I fell.
My head was filled with the mist. It swamped my thoughts and filled my ears with a steady droning. My tongue felt swollen, and my throat burned. I fell. I don't know for how long, but it seems as though I fell for an eternity. Through darkness and mist. When consciousness slammed me to the floor of my living room I couldn't open my eyes. I couldn't breath. I couldn't speak. The wood beneath me was clammy with dew that soaked through my thin pajamas. I felt... Even though my skin was numb I could feel pressure on the bridge of my nose. My eyelids fluttered open involuntarily. The darkness burned my eyes like daylight. A sun passed before my eyes. My distorted eyes.
There were shapes beyond me, shapes I couldn't quite distinguish. Blinking rapidly I dispelled whatever ill effect the mist had on my eyes. The shapes became faces and bulky bodies. Mother! I could make out her shape. It was the farthest away. The man from the window was beside her, speaking though it didn't seem she could hear him. She didn't look at me, though I was laid flat on the floor in clear view.
I felt weightless. My mind sluggishly realized that I had been lifted from the floor and was now being carried by one of the black shapes. My head lolled to the side. Mother was still by the window. Her shoulders twitched and she crumpled to her knees. She curled into herself, her blurred face hidden from me. The black shape carried me through the black door and into the yard. I could feel the wind on my face and my exposed arms. A black shape crowded our small backyard. Its dimensions were lost in the shadows. But even if it had been exposed, I would not have recognized the SR-Wraith. It doesn't even exist. At least that is the official statement.
I felt more than heard the pneumatic door slide open. From one shape to another I was passed. Someone came foreward and placed a cloth over my nose and mouth. I tried to jerk my head away, but in my numbed state, all I succeeded in doing was lolling my head to the side. As my body was laid out an insufficiently padded cot of some sort I felt whatever had been on the cloth begin to take effect. As my eyes drooped I felt thick leather straps being pulled tight across my body, my neck, and my wrists. I wasn't even conscious when we left my house. It's sad really.