Crossing Orb: Newtype Commander

Chapter 112 Thoughts

Bridge of the Archangel.

Murrue stood by the porthole, staring at the receding red dots on the radar screen. Zono had retreated, and the Archangel was safe. But the price of the battle was heavy damage to the Strike, Kira's body needed further treatment, and even Mu said, "Don't let me hear the word 'I'm fine' again."

"Captain, a communication from Commander-in-Chief Ashar." Natal's voice came from the fire control console.

Char's face appeared on the screen. His background was the bridge of the Izumo, with Mina Sahak standing behind him, her red eyes fixed on the screen. Char's voice was calm, but Murrue could see a hint of relief in his eyes.

"Is the Archangel safe?"

"We're safe now." Murrue's voice was hoarse. "Kira repelled Zono's forces, but the Assault was damaged. We need time to repair it."

"What you need is supplies," Char continued. "The Izumo is heading towards the Red Sea and is expected to rendezvous with you tomorrow morning. Until then, remain vigilant. ZAFT won't give up easily."

Maru stared into his eyes, those deep red eyes holding a reassuring light. "Commander-in-Chief Asuka, thank you."

"You're welcome." Xia's lips curled into a slight smile. "We'll meet again alive."

The communication was cut off. Maru turned around and looked out the window at the horizon that was gradually brightening. Dawn was breaking, and a new day was about to begin.

Deserted island, early morning.

Aslan climbed out of the Aegis's cockpit and stood on the beach, gazing at the dawning sky in the east. He hadn't slept all night; his eyes were bloodshot, but his mind was still relatively clear. The Aegis's systems were functioning.

It's been too long.

He squatted on the beach and scooped up a handful of sand. The grains of sand shimmered with a golden light in the morning sun, warm and fine.

This desolate island, though barren, is at least peaceful—no gunfire, no explosions, no screams of death. Only the waves, the sea breeze, and the cries of seagulls.

"Kira," he whispered, "are you looking at this sea too?"

On the other side of the distant Red Sea, in the hangar of the Archangel, Kira Yamato sat in the cockpit of the Strike, his eyes fixed on the sea outside the window.

"Kira, it's time to rest." Lacus's voice came from outside the cockpit. She was standing on the maintenance rack, holding a pink Haro in her arms, looking at him.

Kira turned his head and looked at her face. Her face, which appeared exceptionally soft in the morning light, possessed a gentleness that he couldn't refuse.

"Miss Lux," his voice was hoarse, "how is Athrun?"

Lux's fingers paused slightly. She looked down at the pink Haro in her arms. "He's probably confused right now too. I can feel it."

Why?

Lux looked up, meeting Kira's eyes. "Because he's a gentle person. In my heart, and in your heart, that's who he is, even when forced onto the battlefield."

Kira stared at her for a long time, then nodded. "I understand."

He climbed out of the cockpit and stood in front of Lux. The two looked at each other in the morning light and remained silent for a moment.

"Kira, go and rest," Lux said softly. "The war won't end today. Nor will you die today."

Kira's lips curled into a slight smile. "Okay."

He turned and walked toward the medical bay. Reaching the hangar entrance, he stopped and glanced back at the Strike Gundam. Its armor was covered in burn marks from the beams, but it stood there, like an unyielding monument.

"Strike," Kira whispered, "thank you."

No one answered. Only the sea breeze blew in through the cracks in the hangar, making a low, mournful sound.

That afternoon, at the Obu Dawn News command center.

Char stood before the VEDA terminal, the holographic screen displaying the real-time battle situation in the Red Sea. The Archangel had safely left the combat zone, and the Izumo was sailing at full speed towards the rendezvous point. Kira's injuries were not serious, but the Strike would require at least two days for repairs.

But one piece of news made him unable to relax.

"VEDA, location of Aslan Zala confirmed."

"According to ZAFT communications intelligence, Aslan Zala's transport plane was shot down over the Red Sea. He crash-landed his Aegis on an unnamed desert island; the coordinates have been marked. ZAFT's rescue team is expected to arrive in 48 hours."

Char stared at the coordinates, remaining silent for a long time. The image of Athrun flashed through his mind—a face cold and stern on the battlefield, gentle in his memories. He was Kira's friend, Sara's son, and a red-clad elite of PLANT.

But he was also a boy who had lost his mother in the war and was being consumed by hatred.

"VEDA, send an encrypted message to the Archangel. Content: Athrun Zala's location has been confirmed. He is on a deserted island in the Red Sea, awaiting rescue. Kira Yamato has the right to know this message. Whether to take action is his own decision."

"Instruction recorded."

Char turned off the holographic screen, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling with his deep red eyes. His Newtype abilities were unusually sharp at this moment; if Kira wanted to go, he could pilot the Strike to that island within hours. But would he go? And if he did, what would he say? Would Athrun listen?

"VEDA, do you think they'll understand each other?"

VEDA paused for three seconds. "Based on my analysis of human emotional models, understanding requires two conditions: a willing listening ear and a willing open heart. Kira Yamato possesses the first condition. Whether Athrun Zala possesses the second depends on whether he is willing to move beyond hatred."

Char's lips curled into a slight smile. "Your analysis is becoming more and more like a human's."

"I'm just imitating your way of thinking."

Outside the window, the lights of Orb twinkled in the night. Further beyond those lights, towards the Red Sea, the fates of two boys awaited their next turning point.

That same evening, the Archangel.

Kira Yamato sat on the hospital bed in the medical pod, an encrypted terminal in his hand. The screen displayed a message from Char: "Athrun Zala's location has been confirmed. He is on a deserted island in the Red Sea, awaiting rescue. Kira Yamato has the right to know this. Whether to take action is his own decision."

His fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the terminal. Aslan—in the Red Sea, somewhere in this region, on a deserted island, awaiting rescue. Less than two hundred kilometers away, a few hours' journey in a assault vehicle. But what could he do there? Convince Aslan? Fight alongside him? Or simply sit on the beach, look at the sea, and say things like, "None of us want to fight."

"Kira, what are you thinking about?" Thor's voice came from the doorway. He was holding a bowl of porridge, his face full of worry.

Kira turned off the terminal and tucked it under his pillow. "Thinking about something."

"What's wrong?"

Kira was silent for a moment. "Thor, if you had a friend who was on your side, what would you do?"

Thor paused for a moment, then sat down next to him. "You mean Aslan?"

Kira did not answer, but his silence was the answer.

Thor put down his bowl of porridge and looked at Kira's profile. "Kira, I don't know what Athrun is thinking. But I know one thing: you're my friend. Whatever decision you make, I'll support you. Not because you're right, but because you're Kira."

Kira's lips curled into a slight smile. "Thank you, Thor."

"You're welcome." Thor stood up, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Drink the porridge while it's hot. It won't taste good when it's cold."

He's gone. Kira sat alone on the hospital bed, staring at the steaming bowl of porridge. The image of Athrun flashed through his mind—in the Heliopolis armory, bathed in the red glow of the emergency lights. The expression on that face wasn't anger, not hatred, but pain. He chose to fight in pain, and in battle, he had no choice.

"Athrun," Kira whispered, "what should I do?"

No one answered. Only the air conditioning in the medical pod hummed.

Late at night, Kira did not go to the bridge.

He stood in the hangar, gazing up at the Strike Gundam. Like an unyielding monument.

"Kira, have you made up your mind?" Murrue's voice came from behind.

Kira didn't turn around. "Captain, if I go to Athrun, will you stop me?"

Maru walked to his side and stood beside him at the foot of the Strike. "No. Because I know that if I don't let you go, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. But there's one condition—don't go alone. Take Mu with you. If you encounter a ZAFT rescue team on the island, he can protect you."

Kira turned his head and looked into Maru's eyes. There was no blame or worry in those brown eyes, only a calm, trusting light.

"Captain, thank you."

"You're welcome." Murrue's lips curled up slightly. "Kira, you are one of the most important people on this ship. Not because you can pilot the Strike, but because you take on the immaturity and powerlessness of us adults. Athrun is lucky to have a friend like you."

Kira lowered his head, looking at his hands. "I don't know if he'll think that way."

"Maybe not. But at least you tried."

At dawn, the Strike Gundam took off from the hangar of the Archangel and headed towards the depths of the Red Sea. Mu's Sky King followed closely behind, air-to-air missiles hanging from its wings.

Kira sat in the cockpit, his eyes fixed on the endless sea ahead. His arms still ached, but his hands gripped the controls firmly. He was going to see Athrun—to have a conversation. To let him know that on the other side of the Red Sea, someone cared about his life. Not for PLANT, not for the Union, but simply for "Athrun Zala," to tell him he wasn't alone.