Gundam SEED Fan Fiction ❯ Helpless ❯ Chapter 1

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Helpless?

I can feel my chest tighten as the moment draws near. The entire scene is bedlam, with personnel running this way and that. But, above it all, is the weary, war-torn figure of Andrew Waltfeld, barking orders left and right. A long time ago, in another life, he was the Desert Tiger, a loyal but disillusioned soldier of the ZAFT militia. But that part of him is gone, taken with his arm, eye, and a person he held very close.

I can sympathize. Oh, you may think me ignorant and foolish for saying I can understand how a crippled veteran feels, but there's more to us than meets the eye. After all, I'm the pink pop princess with the collective good will of the Coordinator race and even a considerable chunk of the Natural populace sitting in my lap. He's a grizzled veteran who's seen too many young men butchered by war, physically and emotionally. What could we possibly have in common?

Loss…

It's such a simple word with such a simple meaning, but it speaks volumes. That's doubly true for times of war. It doesn't matter who you are or where you're from when you find that a loved one has died. It still burns deep into the core of your being, where it smolders and festers until you contemplate terrible things. It changes you irreparably. Even the saintly, in all their piety, burn with rage at the people guilty of robbing them of their precious person.

Don't tell me otherwise. I watched Athrun—sweet, gentle Athrun—turn into such a cold person after his mother died. He was once so full of life, laughing as a boisterous boy should. But then, almost overnight, the grief gave way to something new, something alien. He wasn't the Athrun I knew. No, the hatred had worn the kind boy away, forcing him to protect himself in the armor of aloofness. If someone like him can change, who can't?

God, I'm trying so hard not to be like that. I don't want to become bitter, or tired, or angry. There's already so much of that poison in the world. But as the Eternal's guns thunder, blasting away our obstacles, I can't help but feel a spark of malicious excitement. It occurs to me how lovely it would be to place Patrick Zala, the man who orchestrated my Papa's murder, in front of those guns.

But that wouldn't really solve anything, would it? It wouldn't bring my Papa back. It would only rob Athrun of his and I'm sure, in spite of it all, that he still loves his father. There's no shame in it. Patrick raised him well for the years of his life that weren't consumed by the boiling pit that rose up inside of him after his wife died. In fact, I can still remember when he helped teach me how to ride a bike. What would happen then, if I killed another person who was once so good and kind? Athrun would surely hate me for it. Even if he were to realize it to be the greater good, there's no doubt in my mind that he would hold resentment for me, feeding that inner cauldron, until the day he died. Or would boil over one day and take the shape of murder?

I couldn't possibly know. I don't have that power. I don't even have the power to save my Papa. I can bring hundreds of thousands to part with incredible sums of money for overpriced tickets and CDs. I can lull boys into stupors. I can incite both envy and adoration in girls. I can even use my influence, borne of both my family name and my star status, to sway political opinion. But the one thing that really matters—the one thing I would give my life for—protecting those precious to me—is so far out of reach.

I feel so helpless. Even with this ship and all of these people surrounding me, willing to lay down their lives for me, I feel trapped. The ZAFT forces aren't to be taken lightly. Even now, they're swarming all about the ship. Andy and the others do their best to use counter-measures, but there's only so much a lone ship (even one as powerful as the Eternal) can do against a cadre of mobile suits.

I'm so scared. I'm scared that I'll die. I'm scared that I die without accomplishing anything beyond being famous—something of real value. I'm scared of dying without avenging my Papa. I'm scared of letting everyone down when they've put so much faith in me. But, most of all, I'm afraid that this is, that here is all there is. I don't want to die and cease to exist; I need to know that there's something beyond all of the prejudice and racism, something wonderful waiting where we can be with our loved ones when it's all over. I don't want to die.

And then, like some wonderful God-sent angel answering my prayers, he appears. He cuts through them all like a scythe through a field of wheat. He does it beautifully. He doesn't even take a single life, knowing the value just one carries. Kira Yamato is everything I could have hoped for and more.

With people like him, maybe my dream really is possible. Perhaps, we really can overcome the odds. We can challenge both the Alliance and the corrupt members of the Council and come out on top. There doesn't have to be anymore killing. Any solution that could have come of that would have come a long time ago. Now, all this war is doing is pushing us all to the brink of destruction. I refuse to let it happen.

That can't happen. Too many people are bereft of friends and family. Too many people have died. What makes it all the more tragic is that ZAFT and the Alliance use their names as justification for increasingly brutal forms of warfare. Is their no shame in what they do? Don't they feel even a minute degree of remorse?

We can't afford to act like that. Kira is the shining of example of how we need to conduct ourselves. He doesn't enjoy the war, but he fights. And as he fights, he put the utmost emphasis on not taking a life. We should all aspire to that virtue. We need to become like him, better than all the rest. How else are we going to lead Mankind into a new age of prosperity?

It may be a daunting task, but someone has to do it. Whether we have one or one thousand ships at our disposal, we will strive toward a brighter, better tomorrow with all our hearts. We already have plans to join with the Archangel, Kira's once-Alliance mother ship, and the Kusanagi, the wayward vessel from Orb. They share the vision. The men and women of the Kusanagi have lost so much and don't want to see anymore senseless bloodshed. The people aboard the Archangel have seen the evils of ZAFT and the Alliance firsthand, narrowly surviving both.

And still, pariah though we may be, we have allies. The Junk Guild risks itself in order to aid us in our crusade. The Guild is immune to attack from both sides of the conflict as a neutral entity, but this is only a theory. The same could be said of Orb months ago, but there are still stains were soldiers perished. The fires still burn. Even in this time of cutthroat violence, we have so many people helping us, whether the Junk Guild or sympathetic members of the ZAFT forces. Even men who once fought under the banner of the Alliance (aside from those aboard the mighty Archangel) have rallied to our cause, putting aside their own oaths in the realization that they must fight for the greater good that we represent. That, in and of itself, is a grand sign that out cause is just.

Even so, it won't be an easy road. Already, people have died. My Papa and the men who endeavored to do everything to protect him have perished. Members of the Guild have been targeted by ZAFT operatives. I even overhead a spy within ZAFT was discovered and brutally tortured to death for information. So much blood has been spilled on my account. Sometimes, I just can't take it.

I wonder if it's really worth it. Won't the war burn itself out? How far can people really take something? Oh, Papa, I wish you were here to answer these questions for me. I felt it was my responsibility, as your daughter, a Clyne, leader of the group that bears our name, to do something about the war. But did I choose the right path? You always were a pacifist. Even when you knew Athrun's father had sent assassins to every corner of Earth in search of you, you insisted that we “stay the course.” You kept on running a propaganda campaign against him.

I hated you for that. Maybe that's why I acted so impetuously and gave Kira the keys to Freedom, as it were. I didn't want to feel so small and afraid, hiding out in strange places and sleeping with one eye open. I thought you were…weak. I can see now that it wasn't the case.

You were just set in your ways. There's nothing wrong with your method, but it won't get the kind of results we both so earnestly hoped for. The only thing the Alliance and Patrick Zala understand is force. While we practice a non-lethal variety of it, it's still force. I wish you could have seen that, Papa. Peaceful resistance is all well and good until the target of that resistance becomes so cruel as to barely be human anymore. People like Patrick Zala and the Alliance will grind people like us into the dust if we don't rise up and defeat them.

I don't regret what I did. But, even so, know that I'm truly sorry for what I did. I know that's a paradox, but it's true. Giving Kira that machine was the right thing. He saved lives with it and I'm sure he'll save many more. However, it also gave Patrick more ammunition for his campaign against you. I hope you can't hear what he's saying, Papa. He crucified you after you died. But I'll set it right; we all will. We have the power now.

I'm tired of feeling weak and sick and helpless. I hated cowering underground, speaking out to the masses over the radio. That's why I insisted that the Clyne Faction stop skulking about in the shadows and take a stand here, on the Eternal. If no one else is willing to stand up and tell the world that the system is flawed, then I'll change the system. I can't bring my Papa back, but I can spare others the pain. So long as the guns stop firing, I'll do anything to make my dream a reality. The world will be better place for it, I'm sure.