[EXCLUSIVE] Gaia Gear Ch.11 (Full)

CHAPTER.11
Monologue in Darkness

1

　Emerging from the hatch below, Krishna Pandant's tan skin was visible above the collar of her bulky suit. Despite her previously carefree laughter, her present gravitas only heightened her innate charm. Was it prejudiced to think that her unique beauty was a gift from the various bloodlines she bore? Mixed heritage often lends strength to an individual in many ways. Her appearance made Affranchi momentarily forget the weight of the word "law" that Miranda had spoken earlier. Yet, he likely wouldn't forget that command.
　While Miranda inspected her normal suit, Krishna circled behind Affranchi and examined the pack on his suit.
　"I'll swap out the oxygen for you," she remarked.
　"Thank you," Miranda responded on Affranchi's behalf.
　Krishna fetched a solid oxygen compound from within the storage in the bridge and swapped it out. Even through the thick material of the normal suit, an illusory warmth from Krishna's hand seemed to make Affranchi forget his lingering concerns. Those final reservations... about Earth, Every Key, and the like.
　"Your helmet..." she began.
　"Ah, yes..." Affranchi, prompted by her words, pulled the helmet from atop his backpack and donned it. Reluctant to be encapsulated in a sealed environment again, he refrained from lowering the visor. But the normal suit would act on its own accord, closing the visor automatically upon detecting a vacuum.
　"As we venture into space, do we truly need such suits?" Affranchi mused aloud, caught between acceptance and skepticism.
　"The real question is..."
　Affranchi trailed in his thoughts, "There's a purpose to this alternate reality. It must have meaning."
　The very atmosphere clinging to the Earth is classified as a unique gas in the cosmic environment. Humans, after all, are but creatures who can only thrive under such rarefied gases. Whether it's good or bad, a right or a wrong for humans to journey into space, which answer resonates more truthfully with nature? To many, this endeavor might seem like an expression of the human frontier spirit. But is it genuinely progress for humanity? A question that remained nebulous.
　Now, Affranchi finally stood at the threshold of a profound contemplation: "What's the meaning behind this alternate existence we're stepping into?"
　Krishna's voice interrupted his reflections, saying, "Over here."
　On the other side, Miranda had already suited up. "From Krishna and Affranchi..."
　"Right."
　Krishna moved ahead of Affranchi and entered the airlock. Her normal suit was considerably shorter than Affranchi's by almost half a head. She pressed the button to depressurize the airlock.
　A swift whooshing sound filled the space.
　Sensors detecting the vacuum lowered Affranchi's visor automatically. The sealed space enveloped him. As the airlock's pressure dropped to zero, their suits expanded from the internal pressure, but they weren't made of old materials. The joints, even in cheaper normal suits, were embedded with shape-memory fibers to assist movement, ensuring no discomfort.
　However, being encased within the helmet, Affranchi could hear Krishna's regular breathing tickling his ears. This sensation could be aggravating if the breath was unusual or if one simply disliked it. Yet, shutting off the all-range radio of a normal suit was inherently dangerous. Such was the environment within a normal suit.

2

　"I'll go first," declared Krishna.
　"Lead on."
　As Krishna approached the space-side door, she unfurled a tether from the storage mechanism at her waist. With methodical grace, she attached the tip of the tether to an anchor near the airlock and then floated into the void. Mere meters ahead, a container loomed.
　Grasping onto the supporting bar of the container, she secured herself and turned her attention towards Affranchi.
　"Hold onto the tether and come," she instructed.
　"Right!" Affranchi complied.
　"Eyes on me! Avoid looking anywhere else."
　Krishna's voice, tinged with urgency, pierced through the silence.
　Though Krishna, as viewed through the visor in her normal suit, appeared calm and composed – almost indistinguishable from how Affranchi remembered seeing her on the shuttle. The normal suit was designed to erase individuality. Therefore, people often adorned their suits with symbols or wore different colors. The era when a normal suit had to be white felt like ancient history. Krishna's tension was palpable; new spacefarers like Affranchi were most prone to space-induced panic. That's why she tried so hard to keep his focus solely on her.
　Affranchi clumsily sidled along the tether, holding it with both hands. To an onlooker, his movement might have seemed comical. Yet, at that moment, his determination to follow instructions, no matter how challenging, was evident. Not merely submission but trained obedience that would serve him well if roles were reversed.
　Such intuition was paramount in monumental endeavors. Stubbornness and self-centeredness would only lead to failure, as history has repeatedly shown. Krishna, sensing his trepidation, steadied Affranchi's elbow.
　"I wouldn't have known what to do without you. Thanks," he murmured.
　"It's your guidance that makes this bearable," she replied. "We're almost there."
　As she said this, Miranda's voice caught their attention. She emerged from the airlock in her normal suit, pushing herself gracefully towards the container.
　"Krishna, which one?"
　"That one," Krishna gestured exaggeratedly, a necessity given the suits' bulk.
　As Krishna floated atop the container, Affranchi followed with the help of the tether.
　"Here."
　Opening a small hatch, minerals were visible. But beneath, a hidden compartment was revealed. Krishna's smaller statured normal suit slid underneath it.
　The light mounted on her helmet searched the void. Affranchi, in the meantime, surveyed the vastness of space. The stars shone brilliantly through his visor, with the Earth and the Moon standing side by side in the distance. The majestic view evoked a yearning in him to witness it without the constraints of his suit, even if such an act meant certain death. What did it mean to be alive, scavenging space, amidst such vastness?
　Interrupting his contemplation, Krishna's urgent voice and strong breaths echoed as she exerted herself, pressing a portion of the loaded minerals. A wall slid to the side, revealing the dummy hatch they had discussed.
　"I see..." Miranda mumbled, resonating in Affranchi's ears.
　"The weight's deceptive. Scanners won't detect any anomaly," Krishna explained.
　"I see..." Affranchi responded.
　"All good then?"
　"Oh, yes. No need for such meticulous planning; stowaways can be managed easily," Krishna's carefree expression became visible through her visor as they touched, sharing a moment.
　"Turn on your light, please."
　"Uh, okay?" Fumbling, Affranchi activated the light on his helmet, as instructed by Krishna.
　Miranda quickly embedded herself within the gap between the minerals. Following her lead, so did Affranchi. On the island, being led around by a woman might have been seen as somewhat emasculating. But such cultural notions held no bearing on him now. Especially when, without following, he wouldn't be able to breathe. The space was tight, just enough for two.
　"It won't be more than an hour," Krishna assured as she closed the hatch. In the confined space, with just the company of each other, they plunged into darkness.
　It was a profound blackness, almost tangible in its weight.
　"...?"
　Affranchi felt Miranda's hesitance, sensing she wanted to say something.
　"What is it?"
　"No, not now." Her voice resonated, helmet to helmet, vibrating the very material.
　"Fair enough..."
　Again, silence.
　The ship's movement remained serene.

3

　The silence was first broken by Affranchi.
　"Why, Miranda, would a learned woman like yourself choose to aid me?"
　"Learned, you say..."
　A prolonged pause held the space between them.
　"Perhaps I was enamored by Char Aznable..."
　"I wish you'd explain more about that."
　"The late Zeon Zum Deikun, Char's father, had revolutionary aspirations for mankind. Char, in carrying on his father's legacy, became the tragic hero... Perhaps there's a hint of a young girl's infatuation in my admiration."
　"You genuinely feel so?"
　"Yes..."
　After this, a faint chuckle seemed to escape from Miranda Howe.
　"Why choose to reside in Hong Kong?"
　"It was my aspiration towards Zi Zeon."
　"Not Neo Zeon?"
　The term Neo Zeon referred to the organization Char formed after the fall of the Principality of Zeon to continue Deikun's vision.
　"It's merely a codename, never meant to align with Neo Zeon. I chanced upon the role of Baam Segen's secretary. Through it, I uncovered the Hong Kong building's secrets. As for Baam's true objective, I'm not privy to it."
　"Sounds scarcely credible..."
　Affranchi gave a wry smile.
　"I suppose."
　A touch of humor was evident in Miranda's words.
　"I think the same of myself. But if I may defend myself just once, you must understand reality and rekindle those memories on your own accord..."
　"I'm all ears."
　"Right..."
　Miranda then seemed to chuckle once again.
　"Why did you stay in Hong Kong?"
　She had yet to answer this query.
　"Ah, that. I managed to secure a shuttle ticket in urgency. Can you deduce why? My father serves the Earth Federation government. A privilege, is it not?"
　"I assume your family remains unaware of your profession?"
　"Wouldn't they?"
　Miranda's statement made Affranchi reflect that her life wasn't without its tribulations. He closed his eyes lest he be overcome by the weight of the darkness and his urge to delve into her past. But, in true darkness, can one really discern whether one's eyes are shut or open?
　Opening his eyes, Affranchi could not tell. A darkness deeper than that of closed eyes was etched there, urging him to close them once more. It felt lighter that way...
　He could now see himself with a few islander friends, rowing a canoe. Yet, waves that had turned muddy brown loomed ominously. They rowed desperately, even in the water...
　"If Eva had been with us, she'd have panicked!"
　The tide's whirlpool tore the canoe, Affranchi, and his companions apart.
　"Ah...! They're here! But where's Eva?! Why?!"
　Amidst the turbid tidal waves, his scream sounded haunting.
　Mechanical sounds echoed, perhaps in response to his cries. There were clanks and clatters, all caused by his helmet making contact with a forming gap.
　From outside the Spasias' container came thudding and the hum of a low electrical motor.
　The vessel trembled.
　Although Affranchi opened his eyes in the darkness, doubting their function, he blinked. From the receiver, Miranda's breathing resonated, resembling the whispers of waves.
　"Miranda?"
　"Yes?"
　In the consuming void, her voice added a touch of color.

4

　"Just a little longer, and we'll be free," Miranda reassured.
　Affranchi felt a tether of tension snap within him. The silence that followed seemed eternal.
　Miranda's helmet light flashed on, briefly illuminating her checking an air sensor on her wrist. The hiss of her visor lifting punctuated the silence.
　"Still feeling the strain?" she asked.
　The voice didn't come over any comms; it seemed to emanate directly from the front of her visor. Affranchi, in response, lifted his visor too. Stale air enveloped them.
　"Do you know what kind of land this 'colony' is?"
　"Well," Affranchi began cautiously, drawing from snippets he'd gathered about the colonies from news, "one might hope they'd be orderly, given they're entirely man-made constructs."
　"Yes, this colony, Hellas, it's sheer human chaos."
　"Chaos, you say?"
　"A fitting word indeed... Such a myriad of races, all clustered here. I can't quite understand why such a colony was founded, but it began as a base camp during the construction of Side 2. Perhaps that tradition has simply lingered?"
　"Much like Hong Kong's bustling streets?"
　"Yes, but it's a more intense version."
　"I see. What of the other colonies?"
　"They've been selective about the races they admit during immigration," she began, but Affranchi interrupted, "Isn't that just a bias from the governing body?"
　"Perhaps. Those who have left their lands may promote mixed blood, but in essence, governing a populace of a single race or religion is more... efficient. Like Japan, Mongolia, or Ireland."
　"Is that so?"
　"Don't you recall the conflicts in the Middle East, Indian subcontinent, and Eutether where races mingled? They've erupted all too often in modern times."
　"Yes, if you put it that way..." Affranchi acknowledged, though the reality of these problems was still murky to him. On his island, racial differences had never caused any issues. He had always believed that to be the world's way.
　Suddenly, the darkness of the container shuddered, and all machinery fell silent.
　Miranda motioned for Affranchi to remain quiet, attaching a device to her helmet. She connected a cord to the container's wall.
　"It seems no one is around this ship anymore... We'll wait a bit longer."
　Miranda seemed relieved, offering a faint smile. But due to the backlight, Affranchi could only discern her teeth.
　"Yet, beyond racial issues, the class distinctions that have become apparent in the colonial era... they're far more significant for humanity," she continued.
　"What do you mean?"
　"There's a growing class consciousness among the intellectuals. Long ago, in Britain, there was an investor group called 'class.' It's a similar trend. This societal structure is surely progressing. A 'modern caste system' is taking root, subtly fostering discrimination."
　"The bureaucratic class?"
　"That's one aspect. But it's more than that which makes it problematic."
　"Why do you think it's not an issue?"
　"If it's a construct borne of knowledge, it's not about race. A solution should be possible."
　"On the contrary," she countered, a hint of anger seeping into her voice.
　Affranchi, having grown up believing in the hierarchy of his island, had become numb to the concept of class. The leader of his island, Gaba Suu, had preserved the island's way of life more than any government official. Gaba Suu would often say,
　"Some love to work. Some can only laze around. Some find contentment just gazing at the sea. But that doesn't mean they're useless. The idle ones possess the art of passing the time effortlessly, a treasure for the weary. Those who watch the sea can predict the coming of storms or fish better than any machine. Everyone is different. The world's notion that everyone should be equal is selfish and fails to appreciate these unique colors."
　For Affranchi, this worldview, watching the bureaucrats from Earth's Federation government lazily catching fish or sunbathing, was his understanding of class.