Glory to Mankind (Nier Automata) ch 11

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Anemone stepped forward, her voice sharp with fury. "Sir, I protest! She's admitted that our entire movement—our very reason for existence—is a lie!" She turned abruptly to White, her glare piercing. "She cannot be trusted! Her and YoRHa!"

Smith's gaze shifted to White as he spoke, his tone deliberate and calm. "Would you hurt me, Commander?"

White's expression flickered with shock, then revulsion. "What? No, never!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "I have lived for humanity. I would die for humanity!"

But Anemone wasn't convinced. Her fists clenched at her sides as she took another step closer, her face twisted with rage. "No.2 trusted you! They all did! And they all died for nothing! You—"

"Enough!" Smith's voice thundered as he stood abruptly, the force of his words like a hammer striking steel. Both androids flinched, their protests silenced. "Colonel, you overstep. Outside. Now."

Anemone's lips parted as though to argue, but Smith's glare cut her short. Her jaw tightened, her eyes glistening with restrained emotion. For a brief moment, pain flickered across her face, but she swallowed it down. She turned to White, her gaze seething with a mixture of anger and something deeper—jealousy—before spinning on her heel and storming out.

Smith exhaled heavily, closing his eyes as though the weight of the moment bore down on him. Slowly, he sank back into his seat.

White remained standing, but her composure was unraveling. Her stomach twisted violently under the roil of emotions—anger, indignation, guilt—all boiling to the surface. Everything she'd done, every unforgivable decision she'd made, had been for the greater good. She had sacrificed her honor, her heart, to hold the line—to stop them all from plunging into the abyss. And yet—

"Sit down, Commander," Smith said quietly.

She blinked, caught off guard. "Sir?"

He gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Sit."

For a moment, White hesitated, biting her lip. Then, reluctantly, she complied. As she settled into the chair, Smith opened his eyes and fixed her with a steady, piercing gaze.

"Tell me everything," he rumbled, his voice low but firm. "YoRHa. The Army of Humanity. The Twins. I want to know it all."

White's shoulders stiffened, and she looked down at her hands, which had curled into trembling fists. She took a deep breath.

"As you know, the Gestalt Program failed," she began, her voice tinged with bitterness. "The Replicants... the last of them died off. When that happened..." She faltered, her lips tightening. "...we fell into despair. Humanity was gone. Our purpose—our reason for existing—died with them. We were lost. Aimless. We didn't know what to do."

Her voice sharpened as she continued. "Some of us… they refused to serve a dead cause. They called themselves the Independists." She spat the word out like venom. "Traitors. They believed that since humanity was gone, they were free to do as they pleased."

Her fists clenched tighter, her knuckles white. "We declared war on them. We fought battle after battle, driving them back until they retreated to Oceania. But if we thought they were despicable..." Her voice trailed off, and her expression shifted—anger giving way to something darker. Fear. Trauma. "...we were not prepared for what came next."

Smith's brow furrowed, but he stayed silent, letting her speak.

"They came in numbers we couldn't imagine," White whispered, her voice trembling. "Machines. Steel Legions blotting out the sun. They descended on us, wiping out settlement after settlement. We had no hope. We were fighting for a dead world. Many of us wanted to give up. To submit to the end."

She paused, her eyes distant, as if reliving the nightmare. Then, suddenly, her expression brightened with something akin to reverence.

"It was then that the Moon began broadcasting. The Council of Humanity. Living humans—alive—on the Moon." Her lips trembled as a faint, euphoric smile crossed her face. "Humanity lived. Humanity needed us."

She let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, her voice steadier now. "That was the reason we needed. A reason to fight. For our gods. For their home. That was why we gave everything."

Smith listened intently, his expression unreadable, though a storm churned within him. Horror bubbled in his chest at the thought of androids fighting for so long, for so little. But another feeling crept in, too.

Pity.

"It wasn't perfect," White admitted, her voice quieter now. "Some androids… they discovered the truth. That it was all a lie." She bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the desk. "Measures had to be taken to ensure morale didn't collapse."

Smith's eyes narrowed slightly. "I see."

White's tone grew colder, more clinical. "That was YoRHa's prerogative. To ensure the ranks remained pure."

Smith shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a pang of unease shooting through him. He cleared his throat. "Anemone mentioned something about a No.2. What was that about?"

White's face hardened, her voice turning brittle. "YoRHa needed data. We had to know how best to counter the machines. So we sent prototypes—units designed for testing—into the battlefield. No.2 was one of them."

Smith nodded slowly. "Testing capabilities isn't a bad thing."

"It isn't," White agreed, but there was a bitterness in her tone now. "But No.2 and her squad..." She hesitated. Her voice cracked faintly as she continued. "The Council of Humanity deemed they had outlived their usefulness. So they were abandoned."

"Abandoned?" Smith's brow rose.

White's jaw tightened. "Once a prototype's purpose was fulfilled, it made sense to… set them aside." Her words were clinical, but there was a tremor beneath them—a bitter aftertaste she couldn't hide. She looked up, her eyes fiery with determination.

"I carry regrets, Lieutenant Colonel. But I would have so much more if I did not accept the duties offered to me. I knew it was all a lie but we had nothing else to keep us forward. We needed that lie. We needed a God worth fighting for." White hissed. "Hate me. Curse me. Set me aside. I know I deserve it. But if we did not do as we did, as the Council thought, I would not be here talking to you. This planet would have been remade into what horrid image the Aliens and their Machine Lifeforms would have turned it to."

By the end of it, White was a mess. Shaking, steaming. Pain was on her voice but so too was defiance. Smith took a moment to process what he had just heard. It was not new for leaders to lie to their men to keep morale from dropping. Morale was one of the most important pieces to keep an army fighting. Beans, Bullets, and Bandages were a synergy for armies. Food to eat, bullets to shoot, and medical to keep them alive. But armies also needed morale too. A cause they believed so just, so sacred that they were willing to endure deprivations if it meant victory.

"What do you think you deserve, Commander? In your role for all this?" Smith asked gently.

"I imagine I deserve to be punished," White dropped without a beat. "I participated in a lie. I sent androids to their deaths or ordered it. All for nothing."

"Is that what you really think?"

White paused. Then, she nodded. "I owe it to the dead."

Smith nodded, his expression thoughtful. "If you weren't a Commander, what would you be doing?"

White froze. A pang of unease rippled through her. The question unsettled her more than she cared to admit. "I... I don't know," she finally said, her voice small.

Smith studied her for a moment, his gaze softening. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. "You and the androids. All of you. You've been through so much, haven't you?"

It was those words—simple, unadorned—that shattered her.

White's composure crumbled, and a dam burst within her. The Commander of YoRHa, forged from steel and fire, broke into tears. She cried openly, her frame trembling, the weight of her sins and the endless war crashing down on her all at once. It was not the quiet, restrained kind of crying, but the raw, unrelenting sobs of someone who had carried too much for too long. Her tears, warm and salty, fell onto the sterile floor below, pooling like her pain made tangible.

Smith rose from his seat, his movements slow and deliberate. White didn't look up. She couldn't. Her eyes were locked on the floor, unwilling to meet his gaze. She felt unworthy. Unworthy of humanity, unworthy of forgiveness. She was a murderer. A liar. A tool built to serve, and yet here she was, falling apart. She felt warmth—unexpected, gentle—on her shoulder.

Smith had pulled up another chair beside her, his hand resting lightly on her. His voice was soft, kind. "It's okay, Commander," he said. "You don't have to be strong anymore. You don't have to pretend. Humanity isn't gone. We're here. And we're not going anywhere."

His words broke her further. White sobbed harder, her tears flowing freely now. She was tired—so, so tired. She didn't want this anymore. She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to lead. She didn't want to carry the burden of sending more androids to their deaths. She didn't want to execute those who, like her, were too tired to go on. She wanted it all to stop. She wanted rest. Peace.

After what felt like an eternity, her sobs began to slow. Her breathing steadied, though it hitched every now and then. Her eyes were red, her hair disheveled, her face streaked with tears. She didn't look like a Commander anymore.

Just someone scared. Someone broken.

"I'm sorry, sir," White whispered, her voice hoarse. "That was... undignified of me."

Smith clicked his tongue softly as he withdrew his hand, much to White's disappointment. Still, he didn't leave her side. "Think nothing of it," he said. "You and the androids have been fighting for so long. The fact that you're still standing… it's remarkable."

"Sir?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"When stones break and animals flee, only men endure," Smith said, his tone carrying the weight of experience. "You and the androids—you've done more than endure. You've refused to give up, even when it would've been easier. You do yourselves credit. You honor us more than we deserve. For that, you have our thanks. You and all your fellow androids."

White felt shame bubble up in her chest—shame, but also a faint spark of pride. "It was asked of us," she replied softly.

"It is what it is," Smith said as he stood and returned to his seat. His voice was firm now, but not unkind. "As a military man, I understand what was at stake. That doesn't mean I like it, but the logic is there."

White nodded slowly, composing herself. "Now that humanity has returned," Smith continued. "I would like a review of the entire strategy. Reforms. Changes that will make this war just again. I can't make that decision myself, but I will push for it regardless."

Smith straightened in his chair. "No more lies. No more unnecessary deaths."

"That would be welcomed," White said quietly.

Smith's gaze bore into her. "That aside, Commander, you've made your feelings clear to me. Do you want to step down?"

The question hit her like a blow. Horror crept into her expression. "Step down? Now? When humanity has returned? When you are all flesh and blood and not lies?" She stood abruptly, her voice rising with desperation. "You are gods, Lieutenant Colonel. Humanity is here. Our purpose is here. Punish me for my crimes, but do not send me away from the fight—not when you are all finally here!"

Her voice cracked slightly, but her resolve did not waver. She was ready to face whatever censure Smith had in mind, but she would not abandon her post. She refused.

Smith's face remained impassive, though his thoughts churned. The zealotry in the android ranks was something they would have to address. "But you're tired, aren't you?" he said evenly.

White hesitated, her voice quieter now. "Not tired enough to leave my post," she muttered. "If it pleases you, I will step down. But I wish to fight for humanity. You are my purpose. My reason for being. Our reason for being. Stomp us, abuse us, do whatever you wish. Just… let us be with you."

The sincerity in her eyes disturbed Smith. There was no malice, no anger, only a raw, unwavering devotion that unsettled him. "There will be no abuse. God, no," Smith said firmly. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The reason I'm asking you these questions, Commander, is because I don't want you—or anyone else—to do more than what you already have. You've all fought for so long. You deserve a break."

Warmth swelled in White's chest, a flicker of gratitude piercing the fatigue. "The sentiment is appreciated, sir. But we don't have a choice."

"Such as it is," Smith said with a nod. "Are you sure you want to keep fighting?"

White rose to her full height. Her voice was steady now, resolute. "I've never regretted fighting for humanity. You gave us life. Purpose. Meaning. And I will not abandon it now—not while you are here. I will fight because..."

"Because?" Smith prompted.

"You gave me hope again," White said, her voice softening. "You've given others in this bunker hope again. We're no longer fighting for nothing. We're fighting for something."

Smith nodded, his voice carrying an air of finality. "Glad to have you aboard, Commander. Humanity is fortunate to have you all."

"And I am fortunate to have you," White said, her voice firm yet reverent.

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She left shortly after, heading off to organize a few other things.

Smith leaned back in his seat, his gaze distant. Then he spoke. "You heard all that?"

Fujikawa's voice crackled through the comm. "I did."

"Thoughts?"

"They hold us in high regard—too high a regard. It's fanatical and overbearing." Fujikawa hummed thoughtfully. "It might almost be endearing, if it weren't so desperate."

Smith nodded, his tone measured. "We're going to need them, though. Rebuilding without their help isn't an option."

"I'm not suggesting we don't need them," Fujikawa replied evenly. "What I'm saying is, we need to temper their fanaticism. We need allies, not servants."

Smith considered this for a moment. "I doubt they'd oppose that," he pointed out.

"Of course not. But this isn't about what they'd oppose," Fujikawa said sharply. "We're not turning them into slaves." She sighed, her frustration bleeding through. "And she didn't say a word about the Twins."

"She was falling apart, Doctor," Smith said gently. "Cut her some slack."

Fujikawa's tone softened, though only slightly. "Right. I'll handle this Council myself."

Smith raised an eyebrow. "You're really going up there?"

"Yes," Fujikawa said firmly. "There's no one better qualified."

Smith sighed, letting the silence stretch for a moment before breaking it. "How are you taking all this?"

Fujikawa hesitated. "...What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Smith pressed. "You and Gregory worked hard on them."

A long silence settled on the line. Then, Fujikawa spoke, her voice quieter now. "They've exceeded even my expectations. More than I thought they ever could."

She paused, as if weighing her words. "They've demonstrated incredible will and drive. They're capable of learning, of laughing, of loving. But…" Her voice faltered briefly. "They're also capable of lying. Of terrible atrocities. They take so much after us... you'd almost think they are human."

"You realize we'll need them for that very reason," Smith said softly. "You know that as well as I do."

"I know, Lieutenant-Colonel." Fujikawa's voice was bitter now. "But Gregory and I—we thought we were building something for a safer world. Not this."

Smith exhaled, his tone gentle. "We'll give them the choice. We'll ask if they're willing to bear that burden."

A faint, almost desperate laugh escaped Fujikawa. "Please."

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"What did you tell him?"

White had barely left the room before Anemone ambushed her.

Anemone's glare was sharp, her fury palpable. Anger burned in her eyes as she closed in, but 2B and 1D stepped between them, ready to intervene. White raised a hand, waving them off. Her troops obeyed, though 1D hesitated for a moment longer than the other.

"The truth," White replied, her voice calm but heavy. "I told him everything. Everything."

Anemone's rage faltered for just a second. She looked at White closer now, noticing the redness in her eyes, the faint streaks of salt left on her cheeks. Her lips quivered. "And then what?"

"He asked if I wanted to step down. To retire," White said simply, as if recounting a mundane detail.

The androids froze, staring at her in silence.

"I told him no," White continued, her tone resolute. "Why should I stop fighting now that humanity is here? Now that our Gods stand before us in the flesh?" Her voice gained an edge of fervor. "The lie will end. The Lieutenant-Colonel and the others—they will do away with it. We will usher in a rebirth. A new fight." She smiled, her expression bordering on euphoric. "Why would I not want to be a part of that?"

"Commander... no more killing?" 2B asked softly, her voice almost apologetic.

"Orders have not yet been given," White replied, her eyes gleaming. "But the Lieutenant-Colonel will have some for us soon."

"Understood," 2B murmured, lowering her gaze.

"And why would he just… go with you?" Anemone challenged. Her tone was sharp, defiant. "We're the Regular Army. You? You're just sitting in your bunker. He'll spend far more time with us."

White turned to face her fully, a sweet but cutting smile spreading across her lips. "Because of what YoRHa can offer, Colonel," she said smoothly. "We possess orbital assets. The finest arms and equipment the Army of Humanity has ever produced. That's something your Regular Army can't claim."

The tension in the room thickened as the two leaders locked eyes, the weight of unspoken challenges hanging between them. 2B and 1D shuffled uncomfortably, unsure of where to look.

Finally, White broke the silence, inclining her head slightly. "I must report back to the Council. They will be most anxious to hear from me."

She turned on her heel, her girls falling into step behind her.

Anemone watched her leave, her glare cutting into White's back like a blade.

And then, she sneered.

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A/N: Updoot.

As much as White has baggage, she really is just a middle manager stuck with the unenviable duty as Commander for Project YoRHa. But it was a necessity.

​The humans imagined that the world afterwards would be free of Legion and thus, safe to indulge a free and peaceful world with android booty. Literally next to no one imagined aliens would come. Now that idea kinda feels iffy because the androids are literally ptsd mofos with a ton of emotional baggage. Trying to take advantage of that would be iffy.

White's staking her claim. 2B is excited for the possibility of finally not being a murder hobo. Much promise for the future.