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00
You come to with a shiver, bright light cutting across your face. The acrid smell of fried circuit boards. Static of monitors. You straighten up in your seat.
The glass cockpit of the corefighter surrounds you, facing the sun, bright enough to make your eyes water. You shade them with your hand, head pounding.
Warning indicators, all tripped. Thrusters shot. The monitors, no signal, out of range. Wasting battery. You power them down and when the static cuts out, you’re left with the sound of your own breathing, heavy and shaking.
You close your eyes against the burning white sun.
-43
When you look at him, you expect to taste blood but you don’t.
Talking to him is easier than you would have thought.
And it feels so familiar. There’s no precedent for it. Just this uncanny feeling that when he looks at you, he’s seeing you clearly. Like he understands you.
Which is funny, because for years now, you’ve been losing touch with yourself. Your hands haven’t felt like your own. You forget your own name sometimes.
But his words cut sharp and clean through the confusion of faulty defense mechanisms and wounded pride.
You’re starting to recognize yourself again.
01
“Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. Drifting at plus-O seven-eighty-two degrees south. Longitude negative two-seventy-five outside quarter twelve. Please respond, over.”
Primary power output: 0%
Auxiliary battery: 47%
Cabin oxygen: 75%, two additional pressurized canisters for normal suit, ten hours each.
Water: 2 weeks supply, longer if rationed.
Food: 2 days supply, longer if rationed.
Severe combat damage, beyond repair. Drifting at a rate of 15km per hour.
Turning slowly; the sun now shines from the righthand side.
At least the radio transmitter still functions. You bring the hand-piece to your mouth again.
“Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. Drifting outside quarter twelve. Please respond, over.”
-39
“Do you really like it here?”
The sound of crickets, and a warm breeze. Clouds drifting across the stars.
“Beautiful place to visit, but I couldn’t stay,” he continues. “Being held down all the time. Doesn’t it bother you?”
“Why are you asking?”
He pauses.
“You don’t want to talk to me, I take it?”
“Why would I? Aren’t you just trying to get under my skin? Convince me I’m wrong?”
“Amuro, I know you might not trust me. But I do respect you. I’m trying to understand.”
“I’m not going back up. I’ve already told you that. Stop asking.”
03
Sunburned cheeks and dry lips.
No signals, friendly or otherwise. The silence rings in your ears.
You’re thirsty, but drink as little as possible. Every half hour you resend the distress call, waiting for rescue.
The alternative is obvious, but you’re not going to think about it yet.
Instead you think about the Argama. Char. Bright. Kamille.
You’re fairly certain they survived. But then again, your recollection of the fight is hazy. You’ve no memory of taking all this damage, no memory of losing consciousness.
Still, instinctively, you feel they’re out there.
You hope they sense the same for you.
-20
Bitter on your tongue, warm and sweet when you exhale.
“I should thank you,” he says.
You shake your head to dismiss it. “Just doing my part.” You take another sip.
From this height, the sunset is beautiful; spilling through the glass and soaking everything in golden light.
“I know. But I’m grateful for your civility. It’s more than I deserve.”
He speaks lightly, as though it doesn’t hurt to say, but when you meet his gaze (a new development; unnerving in its intensity), you know his words are heavy in his mouth.
You find it hard to look away.
05
You wake from sleep when the core fighter finally turns its back to the sun, the cockpit slipping into shadow.
It’s been days. And now night.
In the distance, you can see the shimmering edge of the planet Earth, a crescent suspended against the stars.
Beautiful. But so far away.
There’s something cold rising inside you.
Seven years you spent on that planet. You believed you would stay there. Die there, in the Earth’s embrace. Be buried in its dirt.
But instead you left again.
Why?
You can feel the sun’s heat beginning to fade away.
Because I was lonely.
-20
Later, in your cabin, he’s still here, still talking to you, sitting on your bed.
“Of course I have regrets.”
“Me too,” you manage, not sure how you got this drunk, or what he’s trying to say.
He pauses, a pained look on his face. “Because of my mistakes?”
“There’s a few things that I could hold against you, yeah. Mainly that you didn’t finish me off.”
You meant it as a joke, at least partially, but he doesn’t take it with any humor. When he touches your shoulder, you suddenly find yourself barely able to breathe.
“Don’t say that.”
08
“I just think it’s ironic, you know?”
Radio silence.
“I’d almost come to terms with it. Dying in obscurity on Earth, I mean. I couldn’t go through all of it again just to end up space dust in another fucking war. But I’m not really afraid of death, it’s just—”
Your voice breaks.
“I didn’t— want to die and think my whole life was wasted, because I never managed to get close to anyone, you know?
“I honestly thought— maybe if I went with you, it wouldn’t have to end like that. Maybe I wouldn’t be alone when it happened.”
-10
Weightlessness.
The familiar feeling of being lighter than air. Equal parts dread and exhilaration.
You push off and he catches you, taking your hand in his.
“Amuro.”
Even though you’re surrounded by the Argama crew, his words are spoken just for you.
“It’s good to see you.”
“Could have been better circumstances,” you respond.
He smiles. “Changed your mind, did you?”
“Don’t take too much credit. It was unavoidable.”
“I knew you would. You’ve too much of a conscience. Must be quite a curse.”
You want to be angry with him, but you aren’t, you aren’t.
His hands are warm.
10
“You said you thought I might meet the dead out here.”
Whispering, you can see your breath in the cold, holding the receiver to your mouth with stiff fingers.
“Wouldn’t mind it, at this point. I’d like to see her face again.”
You close your eyes.
“Wouldn’t mind seeing yours, either.”
There’s no static on the line now, the battery long since dead.
“It’s alright. Guess this was inevitable. I’m sorry, though. I’m sorry about what happened, I’m sorry about Lalah. I’m sorry for hating you. I don’t hate you anymore. Can you hear me? I don’t hate you anymore.”
-01
“Please be careful. I don’t want to see you doing anything stupid.”
“Are you saying I fight recklessly?”
“I’ve known you to take occasional risks, yes,” he says. His tone is measured.
You smirk as you fasten the collar of your normal suit. You can feel him watching you closely.
“Calculated risks are necessary,” you say.
“I know. But I want you to be safe. I want you to consider that when you calculate. And please ask for help if you need it.”
You stare at him, until he smiles.
“Don’t look so surprised. We’re on the same side now.”
11
When you climb into the cockpit, you find Amuro motionless in the pilot seat.
It’s dark and freezing cold. The oxygen is all but gone.
You think he’s dead for a moment— his skin is dry and colorless, lips tinged blue— but you can sense there’s still some life in him. A weak pulse, a breath against your hand, all but imperceptible.
After all. That’s what you’ve followed all this way.
Even through this infinite darkness, this vacuum of isolation, soundless and empty—
Something lead you here.
You put him back in his helmet and pull him into your arms.
12
Dizzy, lightheaded.
You stir against his shoulder, and he comforts you with a touch.
“Good morning. You're looking well. Something to drink?"
"How... how did you find me?" Your voice comes out hoarse and weak.
"Persistence. Intuition,” he murmurs. "I'm sorry it took so long."
Your dry lips crack and bleed; the sun comes breaking in; first a warm glow and then streaks of sharp light. He gently wipes your mouth with the back of his fingers. You shiver.
After a moment, you relax into the warmth of another person. His warmth.
You can't help your tears when they come.