I stepped inside Shima Garahau's private room, and she closed the door behind me. The room smelled of alcohol and cigarettes (my kind of place), and it was much more spacious than my rooms in the Nordhausen and Gidoru. Perhaps Solomon Base had a lower population concentration, allowing the officers to have bigger rooms. There was also the possibility that the brass liked Garahau more than me, however.
"Is it true?" Garahau said from behind me. "Did you really gas Island Iffish?"
Turning around, I saw Shima Garahau fully for the first time. She was dressed in brown military pants and a white undershirt. It was the uniform I and most of those in the Zeon military wore to sleep. There was little more to say about her appearance other than the sex appeal was undeniable. It was difficult for me to maintain eye contact with her, to say the least.
"Yes," I said quietly.
"Then, why do you look like that? How do you look like that?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're not sad or disgusted or depressed; you're angry!"
"I'm angry?" I asked, confused. I didn't think I'd expressed any strong emotions ever since we started talking at the door.
"Yes. Here, see for yourself," she said accusatorily.
Garahau led me from the entrance to the living room. The TV was on, but all of the lights were turned off, bathing the entire room in an eerie glow. There was a large table in the center of the room, and more than a dozen empty bottles of beer, wine, and liquor were scattered on the table.
On the TV screen, Dozle Zabi was giving a speech, and I recognized myself talking to Lt. Wei in the foreground. Garahau pressed a button on the remote, causing the scene to rewind to a point where I was standing behind the podium with my hand raised. She pressed play.
"Sieg Zeon!" I shouted in the recording.
I looked myself in the eye, and I saw the unmistakable tension of hatred motivating my expression.
"You can't fake that," Garahau said, pointing at the TV. "You were angry then, and you're angry now."
"Sure, what of it? I've been pissed ever since I learned that Operation British wasn't enough to end the war. Does it matter?" I asked with more anger in my tone than I intended.
Garahau took a deep breath before speaking. "How do you do it? Ever since I released the gas at Santiago Colony, I've felt nothing but guilt and sorrow. Every time I close my eyes, I see the half-melted corpses of the innocents I killed. The landscapes of my dreams have been replaced by an endless field of bodies." She grabbed herself by the shoulders and began to cry. "Every time I sleep, I know that I just need to escape from that field, but it just goes on forever. There are millions of bodies, and each one was once a person with hopes and dreams."
The volume of her voice increased as she began to shout through her tears. "It would be so much easier if I could replace all of these feelings with hatred! If I could just hate the Federation and all the people I killed at Santiago Colony, maybe I could live again!"
Anger pushed me a half step forward, and I began to loom over Garahau. She was tall for a woman, but I was taller.
"I don't hate the Federation or the people I killed," I said with a cold anger in my voice.
"How, then? How do you keep going?" Garahau asked.
I took a step back and sighed deeply, getting control over my anger once more. My hand automatically went for the Lucky Strikes in my coat pocket, but then I realized I didn't have a lighter. Quietly, I asked, "Do you have a smoking station in your room?"
Shakily, Garahau pointed over to a small table next to an upholstered chair. I hadn't seen it due to the dim light of the room.
"Thanks," I said as I lit my cigarette and turned on the ventilation.
After a deep inhalation, I asked, "Has your life ever been in danger, Ms. Garahau?"
"I've been in the military for twelve years. What do you think?" Garahau said, and I could sense the sharp wit underneath the veil of guilt.
"Not like that. I'm talking about a situation where you know that you could be dead in one or two seconds and your life will end if you make the slightest mistake."
"Maybe, I'm not sure," Garahau said, confused.
"That's happened to me three times," I said. "Once in my life as a civilian, and twice when I was being fired at by the enemy. I was a teenager the first time, and that might have altered my perspective on it all."
"Where are you going with this?"
"Those moments were the most alive I've ever felt. Everything else in my life feels like a pale imitation in comparison. Do you know what I was feeling in those moments?"
"What?"
"'I want to live.' That was, by far, the strongest emotion I've ever experienced. I realized then that I'm just a terrified, screaming animal who would do anything to survive. I would kill every other human being in the universe if it meant I got to live, and the truth is that every other human is the same. That's why I'm angry at the Federation: they threaten my life."
"Maybe it's like that for you," Garahau said, grimacing, "but other people are different. If you're right, then why do people commit suicide?"
"Why do people step away from the ledge?" I asked with a wolfish grin. "There are countless stories of people realizing they want to live during a suicide attempt. It's the same concept."
"So, what? I need to almost die, and then I'll just be okay?" Garahau said, grabbing me by the shirt.
"Not necessarily," I said, moving my cigarette to not burn her. "My point is that you're still alive, and that's all that matters. We're all just animals." I grabbed her wrist. "The fact that you can still feel this is all that matters."
"You're insane," Garahau said as tears began to roll down her cheeks.
"You can be insane, too," I said. "That's what you want, isn't it?"
She grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into a deep kiss. Needless to say, I reciprocated.