Mobile Suit Gundam SEED - Pain

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Phase 03 - What the Heart Wants

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“Goddammit!”

The three nurses on hand watched uneasily as Orga cursed and sputtered in the ship‘s modest gym, trying to lift his arm with a weight strapped to it. He pulled the arm up towards his chest, muscles rippling, and scowled as he struggled to move it back to his side.

“Take your time,” McCormick urged. “You’ll hurt yourself if you do it too quickly.”

“Why is this so hard…?!” Orga growled, finally putting his arm back at his side.

“You’ve been lying in a bed for about six months,” McCormick said. “Your muscles were starting to weaken. You need to strengthen them.”

Orga frowned as he began to lift the other arm. “But I was…always good at this…” he muttered, teeth clenched.

“Like I said, take your time,” McCormick answered. “Strength won’t come to you overnight.”

Orga grunted as he pulled his right arm back down to his side. “Get these damn things off me,” he growled. “Don’t you have anything better for me to do?”

One of the nurses pulled the weights off his arms, as McCormick took a step back. “There’s always the treadmill,” he said. “But I still suggest that you take a break for now. We can work more tomorrow.”

“No!” Orga exclaimed. “I want to be strong again!”

“If you go too fast, you’ll hurt yourself again,” McCormick replied. “And that will mean more lying around in bed, and that will mean you’ll get weaker.”

Grumbling curses under his breath, Orga glanced around the room. “I could do this all so easily before, when I had the drugs…”

“But when you had the drugs, you felt pain,” McCormick pointed out. Orga blinked and looked back at him. “You may not be as strong now, but at least you’re without the pain.”

Orga nodded dourly. “I guess,” he agreed.

McCormick smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be stronger in time,” he said. “Just don’t overdo it, or you’ll hurt yourself, and then you won‘t get anywhere.”

Orga sighed heavily, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Okay, okay,” he said, “but I wanna come back tomorrow.”

——————————————————————————————————————————

“The Atlantic Federation isn’t getting involved in this one,” Richards said to his executive officer, sitting back in his chair on the bridge and looking up at the screens, pulsing with images of war. The Israeli Separatists, backed by Eurasian air power, were rolling through Muslim League troops to seize Tel Aviv.

“I don’t understand where they got all this strength,” the XO said, shaking his head. “Weren’t they just a bunch of guerillas?”

“They know their territory and they believe God is on their side,” Richards answered with a shrug. “Plus they inherited a strong military apparatus from the AD era. Being surrounded by enemies does that to you.”

The XO sniffed dismissively and crossed his arms. “You could say the same for the PLANTs,” he said.

Richards chuckled, draping one leg over the other. “It is rather strange that we’ve gone so far into the world and we still can’t put down our weapons long enough to go any further. We had to start up the DSSD and make them totally neutral in regards to the Alliance and the PLANTs. And they still take funding from both sides, so if one goes down, it takes half the DSSD’s funding with it.”

The XO shook his head. “I wonder how this will end,” he said, gesturing towards the screen and the pictures of war. “You think they’ll win?”

Richards shook his head. “ZAFT’s intervening, and Eurasia wouldn’t want to pick a fight with them again. I think they’ll be rolled back. Might take a while, but they won’t last.” He sighed. “What I’m more worried about is how the PLANTs and the Muslim League will take this. Eurasia is participating too, so this is an act of war on their part.”

The XO shook his head again. “I guess another war’s starting up,” he sighed.

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Grunting in frustration as he pedaled furiously on the exercise bike, Shani ignored the ache building up in his legs. He had felt worse pain than this, and if he was strong and fought through it, he wouldn’t be useless anymore. He would be able to move again.

“Shani, Shani,” Lily interrupted, taking him by the shoulders. The bike’s pedals kept going as she pulled him off the seat. “Calm down, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Shani blinked at her. “I want to be strong,” he protested quietly.

“I know,” Lily said, “but if you go too fast you’ll hurt yourself, and then you’ll have to spend more time in that bed.” She pulled him to his feet. “Anyway, there’s another checkup that Doctor McCormick asked me to perform.” She pulled a pen flashlight from her pocket. “Sit over here,” she said, guiding him towards a bench. “I want to check your eyes.”

Shani went white in horror. “My…my eyes?”

“Yes, your eyes,” she said, kneeling in front of him and clicking the light on. “The doctor said— ”

Shani backed away, his eyes wide in terror, clutching his face. Lily blinked in surprise, standing up.

“What’s wrong?”

Shani shook his head, burying his face in his arms. “My eyes!” he exclaimed. “They’re okay! You don’t need to see them!”

Lily took a cautious step towards him. “Doctor McCormick said that he noticed something about them— ”

“You don’t need to see them!” Shani cried, his one visible eye flashing angrily. “I don’t want you to see them!”

“Look,” Lily said, extending a hand towards him and putting on a smile. “The doctor told me that your eyes are different colors, and he wants to know if your vision has been affected by it. It’ll be a really quick test— ”

“I don’t want you to see them!” Shani shouted.

Lily paused for a moment, before putting the flashlight back in her pocket. “Alright,” she said, “why don’t you want me to see them?”

Shani stared at her desolately for a moment. “You’ll think I’m a monster!” he growled. “I’m a monster! Normal people don’t have eyes like mine!”

“That doesn’t make you a monster,” said Lily. “And I’ve seen a lot worse things wrong with a man than having eyes that aren’t the same color.”

Shani gave her a suspicious glare. “Like what?”

“Well, some of them are really pompous jerks,” she replied with a shrug. “Never date a mobile armor pilot.” She smiled down at him. “And some of them are really cruel. I think the guys who made you like this are really cruel.”

Shani glanced down at the floor.

“I’ve been taking care of you for months now, Shani,” she continued. “A little mismatched eye color isn’t going to make me think any less of you. But we do want to know if it has affected your ability to see, so that maybe we can help.”

Shani looked back up at her guardedly. “…you mean…you can fix it?”

Lily blinked back at him. “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said, “but you have to let us get a good look at your eyes before we can talk about that.”

Shani was silent a moment, looking around anxiously, before he muttered assent. Lily smiled and knelt in front of him again, taking up her pen light and clicking it back on. She brushed his hair back.

Two mismatched pools of color greeted her on the mutilated young man’s face. His right eye was the familiar blue she had always seen, but the left one was an odd, discolored fuchsia, mottled with green. It was clear which eye was the natural color, and which one had been somehow altered.

“That’s not so bad,” Lily said encouragingly. Shani blinked painfully at her. “I’m guessing the left eye is the one that got changed?”

Shani nodded brokenly.

“Okay,” Lily said, “this’ll only take a couple of minutes.” She shined the light into his eye, peering into the discolored orb, and moved her hand over his right eye. “Follow the light with your left eye only.”

Shani blinked again, staring fearfully at the tiny flashlight, watching it with a quivering gaze as she slowly moved it around in front of him.

“It looks okay to me,” she said, “but the doctor will probably want to do his own test. But he just wants to make sure you’re okay, so don’t worry about him either, okay?” Shani nodded again. Lily took a step back, letting Shani pull his hair back over his face. He stared down at the floor silently— Lily pulled him up to his feet, but he said nothing as she led him out of the gym.

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Orga glanced tiredly across the infirmary at Clotho, sitting almost petulantly on his bed, staring at the wall.

“You’re not playing the game anymore?” he asked. He looked around for the familiar Wonderswan, and found it in the corner near his bed. “Hey, what’s it over here for?” He reached down and picked it up.

“I don’t wanna play it anymore,” Clotho said. “It hurts people.”

Orga arched an eyebrow. “It hurts people?” he asked. “How does it hurt people?”

“It makes them sad,” Clotho added quietly, “and then they cry and hold the bodies. Like on the TV the other day.”

Orga blinked in surprise, thinking back to the other day, and remembered the broadcast about the battle on Earth. There was some bunch of rebels attacking a handful of cities on Earth, and hundreds of people had died. He remembered the images of people running away from the crushing feet of mobile suits and clutching bloody corpses. Was that what had Clotho all upset?

“The game isn’t doing that, though,” Orga said. “It’s just stuff happening on a screen.”

“Well, so was that,” Clotho complained. “But that guy was holding that boy, and the boy was dead…”

Orga paused, nodding in agreement. They weren’t the same.

“Well, still, the game is just a game,” Orga said. “You’re not really killing anyone.”

“But how can you make a game out of it?!” Clotho exclaimed. “How can you make something fun out of it?! Is killing people fun?!”

“No,” Orga answered, “but sometimes you have to, y’know? Kill or be killed.”

“That’s bullshit!” Clotho shouted. Orga blinked at him in surprise. “I don’t wanna make people feel like that! I just don’t wanna die!” He shook his head. “If we go hurting people, then we’re just like Azrael!”

Orga looked back up at the ceiling. “Y’know, I read a lot of stories,” he began.

“So?” Clotho shot back.

“And some of the stories are about these great heroes,” Orga went on, ignoring Clotho’s remark. “And they went and protected people. And they had to hurt the bad guys to do it, but they only did it to protect the people and the stuff they cared about.” He glanced down at the Wonderswan in his hand. “Maybe that’s why we have to fight. I mean, we don’t wanna see people get hurt, do we?”

Clotho said nothing, staring resolutely down at his hands. Orga sighed and tossed the Wonderswan back towards him.

“It’s just a game, man,” he said. “If it makes you happy, then play it. You aren’t hurting anyone with it.”

Clotho caught it numbly and stared down at it.

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“Status report!” the thundering voice of Nanto Fredrik boomed across the Wyoming’s bridge. The bridge crew scrambled to attention.

“The ship is running at optimum levels, and the engines are running at full capacity,” the captain reported nervously.

“Push the engines to their limits!” Fredrik roared. “Flank speed!”

“But sir, we’re already running at one hundred percent capacity!” the helmsman protested. Fredrik glanced disdainfully at him.

“Then give me one hundred and ten!” he scoffed.

“Sir, please, what is the hurry?” the captain asked. “I’m not authorized to exceed maximum reactor capacity except in times of crisis or war!”

“Authorization be damned, this is a crisis!” Fredrik shot back. “There is a rogue ship in our ranks that is tampering with important military hardware, and we have to find them at once! Sensors! Begin scanning for the Agamemnon-class carrier John Adams!”

He crossed his arms as the Wyoming sailed into the darkness. The John Adams was somewhere out there, sabotaging their Extended, but they would be stopped.

He smiled. The thirty heavily armed infantrymen he had brought with him would see to that.

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McCormick clicked his pen light off and patted Shani on the shoulder. “It looks like your eye is alright,” he said. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can do anything to change the color.”

Shani blinked once. “…why?”

McCormick put his light back in his lab coat pocket and sighed. “We had to do a number of surgeries to try to undo some of the things Director Azrael had changed in you,” he explained. “We couldn’t get rid of everything. It looks like the discolored eye is one of those changes we couldn’t fix.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t look like it’ll be a problem, though. Lots of people have naturally discolored eyes. There are even some Coordinators who intentionally have it done so they can look different.”

Shani blinked again. “…you mean…it’s not bad…?”

McCormick laughed. “Not at all,” he said. “It’s just a quirk. You can still see perfectly well and it shouldn’t bother anyone.”

Shani looked down blankly at the floor. “He said it was bad,” he murmured.

“Who said it was bad?”

“Azrael.”

McCormick nodded dourly. “Well,” he said, “Azrael told you a lot of lies to scare you and make you fight. But trust me when I say that having two different color eyes is nothing to be ashamed of. Like I said, some Coordinators purposely get different color eyes to look unique.”

“I’m just…unique?” Shani mumbled.

“Well,” McCormick said, taking a step back, as if he was about to leave, “you’ve lived a very unique life.” He smiled. “Thanks for being so cooperative, though. I hear it’s a touchy subject for you.”

Shani nodded slowly.

McCormick patted him on the shoulder again, turning to leave. “Hang in there, Shani,” he said. “You’re almost free.”

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The gym was a different place, Orga noted, with Clotho in it. There was a lot more cursing. He tuned it out and focused on the treadmill, evening out his breathing and feeling his pace fall into a rhythm. He was getting stronger by the day, and someday, he promised himself, he’d be able to use this strength, for something, anything, as long as it was something good.

“Five more minutes, Orga,” Lily reminded him. “Clotho wants to use that thing too.”

“Hurry up, you jackass,” Clotho snapped.

“Clotho, don’t,” McCormick cut in. “I told you two not to fight again.”

Orga swallowed his profanity-laced retort and glanced around the gym, where Shani was frenziedly pedaling on the exercise bike. Clotho stood behind him, arms crossed, waiting impatiently.

“You seem to be at the level of an ordinary healthy human,” McCormick observed, arms crossed and watching with a thin smile. “I’m impressed.”

Orga switched the treadmill off and hopped onto the floor, wiping the sweat from his brow. Clotho immediately leapt on, and Orga paused to lean against the wall, out of breath.

“You want to take a break?” Lily asked. “You’ve been at this for a couple hours already.”

Orga nodded tiredly, glancing over at Shani, as his legs pumped furiously at the pedals, staring ahead with steely determination.

“Are you okay?” McCormick asked, glancing towards Orga and away from Clotho for a moment. Orga nodded again, slumping down on a bench and watching them both wearily. He was strong again— he could feel his muscles surging with as much strength as they had when he was Azrael’s servant on the Dominion. He had strength again— he had use again.

“What do they wanna do with us?” Orga asked quietly. Lily blinked and looked over at him.

“Who?”

“Them…the guys who were working for Azrael.” He paused, trying to think of the name. “The Alliance.”

Lily and McCormick shared a dour glance at each other. “Don’t worry about that,” McCormick said. “Just focus on getting better.”

“Why?” Orga asked. “What’s wrong?”

McCormick glanced meaningfully at Lily and took Orga aside. “Listen,” he said, “when you’re better, we’ll talk to you about this again. But for now, just don’t worry about it.”

Orga studied McCormick’s grim face carefully for a moment, before he nodded tiredly.

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Nanto Fredrik couldn’t help but smile as the image of a tiny flicker of light appeared on the main screen. It was nothing to the untrained eye, but Nanto knew that finally he had caught up with his prey.

“Commander,” the captain said, “we’re still about 36 hours out from the John Adams.” He paused meaningfully. “Shall we hail them?”

Fredrik sat back in the captain’s commandeered chair. “They’re committing crimes against our forces on that ship,” he said, “tampering with important weapons. High Command fears that they may attempt to sell these weapons to ZAFT.”

The captain blanched. “That…that’s treason!”

Fredrik nodded grimly. “It’s treason,” he repeated. “If necessary, you are ordered to deploy the Strike Dagger complement and destroy the ship.”

The captain, horrified as he was, looked on in even more horror. “Sink our own ship?!” he exclaimed. “Commander, shouldn’t they be brought before trial?!”

“Trials be damned,” Fredrik scoffed. “We have time for the sentence, not the hearing. I fully expect you to fulfill your duties as an officer of the Atlantic Federation.” He cast a sidelong glance at the captain. “That is reasonable, isn’t it?”

The captain reluctantly saluted.

Fredrik sat back again. “I am no barbarian, captain,” he said, smiling. “My orders are clear.”

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Orga glanced worriedly at Clotho and Shani as they stood in the captain’s office. Seated silently behind his desk, Samuel Richards studied them for a moment.

“You’re looking better,” he said at last. “Glad to see we could help you.”

The three pilots glanced at each other. “Why did you call us in here?” Orga asked at last. Richards closed his eyes grimly.

“You’re healthy enough,” he said, “so an explanation is due.” He looked at the three of them, steadily and earnestly. “You aren’t supposed to be here. We aren’t supposed to be doing this. The Alliance High Command has been trying to take custody of you, and for the past six months, I’ve walked a procedural tightrope in getting them to let me keep you here, while they had access to the machines— what they truly cared about. But now I’m out of excuses, and they’re out of patience. They’re probably sending someone to seize you. But this has timed out well, because you’re finally healthy enough to do something about it.”

Orga’s eyes flashed angrily. “You said they’re not gonna take us back,” he said.

“And they will not,” Richards answered. “But now you are strong enough to take that matter into your own hands. So long as I am able, I will protect you. But you are no longer invalids, and as long as the Alliance does not realize that you can fight, there is still a chance that you can escape.”

“What about you?” Clotho asked.

Richards sat back somberly. “We’ll have to see what God wants to do with us,” he said. “But that should not be your concern. You have an excellent opportunity for freedom. And we have not taken you in, healed you, and tried to undo Azrael’s changes, only to see you sent back to go through it all again. So go, and get out of here, somehow, someway, while you still can.”

“But they’ll kill you!” Orga protested. Richards shrugged somberly.

“Maybe my reason for helping you is selfish,” he said, “but I have seen the Alliance do terrible things, and I never lifted a finger to stop it. Perhaps by helping you three, I can atone for all those sins. But I guess that just makes me too kind a man for the Alliance.”

Clotho looked down at the floor. “We could take you with us,” he said softly.

Richards smiled. “You three are far kinder than me,” he said. “But no, you couldn’t take me with you. I’m an old man. I would slow you down, the Alliance would capture you, and then what? You would go back to the drugs and the pain. We didn’t save you so that that would be your fate.” He paused. “If there’s one thing you take with you, though, then I hope it is this. Not all adults in the world are like Azrael. Not all of us will take advantage of you and turn you into pawns. There are some of us who still see human life as sacred. I know you will leave here as men in boys’ bodies, but please, remember that not all of us will tell you that life is nothing more than ‘kill or be killed.’”

There was silence for a moment.

“You shouldn’t have to die,” Shani said. All eyes turned in surprise to him. “Because…you helped us.”

Richards smiled back. “If the universe was truly just, then we wouldn’t have had to help you in the first place,” he said. “But if you can escape, and have freedom…then that is justice enough for me.” He glanced over the three of them. “However you do it, though, I ask you to escape.”

Orga looked away in frustration.

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They were silent as they shuffled down the corridors, back to the infirmary.

Clotho slammed his fist angrily into the wall. “Dammit! Why does it have to be like this?!” He looked over sharply at Orga. “There’s gotta be something we can do!”

“But he doesn’t wanna go with us!” Orga shot back. “It’s like he wants to die!”

Clotho shook his head angrily. “Dammit, this doesn’t make any sense! They saved us, why do they have to die?!”

“…we should go,” Shani said quietly. Clotho and Orga looked back at him. “…because he said if we leave…then there will be justice.”

“But how?!” Clotho yelled. “They helped us, and then they’re gonna die! They’ll be like that guy on the TV! That’s not fucking fair!”

Orga closed his eyes sadly. “There’s nothing we can do about it,” he said.

“Yes there is!” Clotho exclaimed, running out in front of him. “He said that somebody was coming to get us, right?”

Orga glanced inquisitively at Shani, who offered no answer, and nodded dubiously. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, we could protect them when that guy comes!” Clotho said. “We don’t have to let them die! We can protect them!”

“But that’s not what he wanted,” Orga responded.

“I don’t want to let them die!” Clotho cried.

Orga glanced over at Shani, and then nodded slowly.

“We could try that, I guess,” he said. “But he asked us to escape…or else they’ll send us back.”

Shani clenched his fists behind them.

“We’re not going back.”

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To be continued…