Editing KSGU:Volume 4 Chapter 2 (section)

===Part 7===

The activation switch was pressed, and the low buzzing of the power flow shook the exterior of the machine, and the aged motor sound roared as it spun. The conveyor belt soon started operating, and the gears of the crusher could be heard activated it rattled.

“Amazing!” It moved!” Tikva ignored the cheers of the children as he poured the rocks on the cart onto the conveyor belt. The large fist-sizes rocked would first get crushed by the crusher, and then get polished by grease before being washed by a jet stream of water. The minerals would be stuck on the grease, so they would not be washed away by the water, and the remaining rock scraps would be removed easily here. The chosen pieces of minerals would then be set aside and poured into a bag at the end point.

This machine was set up behind Gilboa’s house, in a workshed smaller than a garage, so it was definitely not a large machine. The minerals they could obtain were just a teeny-weeny portion, but to Tikva and the rest, this was an important machine supporting their family income. “How did you do it?” The second son asked with excitement. “The gears had oil stains all over it. I just cleaned them up.” Banagher answered as he covered the maintenance hatch of this sorting machine. He used the towel hanging on his neck to wipe away his sweat, and the 4-year-old daughter pointed at him and laughed, “Your face is all black!”

Banagher touched his face, and noticed at the towel was already stained thoroughly by grease. Gilboa’s wife seemed to chuckle unwittingly as she said, “You helped us a lot.” and handed a new towel over to him.

“It’s a lot easier now. I did ask my husband to repair this before, but he would always be busy doing something during the rare times he come back...Tikva, you have to learn from big brother Banagher here. You have to learn how to repair it on your own even if daddy’s not around.”

“Got it. I saw it and remembered.”

Tikva sat down on a barrel of machine oil and answered with a tantrum. There was no reason for a prisoner to teach him…or rather, it could be said the reason why Tikva threw a tantrum was because that at his age, he would resist those who treated him like a child. Banagher inadvertently gave a smile and switched off the power source for the time being. “I’m telling you, mama used this to sort the rocks that can and can’t be used!” Banagher patted the young daughter who got over to his side and explained, and looked up at the sky through the roof workshed. The light that shone in through the brown clouds was the artificial sun of “Palau” he got used to seeing after the second day.

During the day, most of the men would head out to the excavation field, while the women would focus on choosing the rocks, or make screws or all sorts of things. The proper quarry plant was located outside the “Palau”, and they did everything from refining to molding, so the families’ factory produce as a whole was just a small percentage. The rocks inside the rocks storage of the living quarters—all the rocks dug out when the living block round cylinder, the shield machine was working—would be moved out, and one of the work specifics was to sort out these rocks scraps, and in nature, they were just ‘family handicraft’ where they could only earn so little despite working so hard. The efficiency here was very low compared to the automated system of “Industrial 7” and the machinery here was so old it was reminiscent of the Middle Ages. But the residents of “Palau” had viewed this form of living as a way of life, and spent many days doing so. The reality Banagher himself faced at this point was to kill time by repairing machines.

Marida and Gilboa went out, and the children had to head to school. He was left alone as a prisoner, and had nothing else but time to spend. Banagher went around Gilboa’s house randomly, found this faulty machine, and told himself to repair this on Gilboa’s wife request.  He borrowed a set of tools that was said to be left behind since Gilboa’s grandfather’s generation, and wrestled against this installation that could be said to be an antique. It was better than being alone—and even though it was just this level of manual labor, but after hearing the sound of this sorting machine regain its life, and heard the cheers of the children coming back home, Banagher had to admit that he felt a sense of fulfillment he never had before.

No matter who that person was, it was not a bad feeling when someone got thanked by another person. Banagher could feel that he was actually helping someone by doing this, and to him, it was a source of hope that could help him continue to live. ''Don’t think of any unnecessary things when working. Just focus on the job at hand. What will happen to me after this, and what I’m doing—I don’t have to worry about this. It’s true that I’m running away from reality, but it’s true that I can relax my mind by moving my body and working out some sweat. I never worked seriously on the machines when I studied like an apprentice monk, studying for several hours—or maybe that’s because I’m being relied for something?'' Banagher recalled Marida’s face inside the cave church, and landed his sights on the grease-stained hand. “Where did you learn such things?” Tikva said, and he lifted up his head.

“From school. Anaheim Electronics Industrial College. That’s a place to learn how to take care of machines.”

“I know Anaheim. It’s a company that produces mobile suits, right? The “Geara Zulu” daddy pilots and the Captain’s “Sinanju” are made by Anaheim.”

Tikva said confidently as he let the toy glider fly. Banagher associated the term ‘Captain’ with the masked man, and asked back, “The “Sinanju”, as in that red mobile suit?”

“Yeah. But the rumors that Neo Zeon stole it were all lies. Anaheim did not want to show that it was helping Neo Zeon, and said that it was stolen.”

“…Oh.”

Banagher had no other way to answer. Tikva did not allow him to reflect on these words, and asked curiously, “Can I go to that school?”

“Of course…you want to?”

“Yes. Neo Zeon will be willing to use me if I’m familiar with machines, right?”

“But if you join the army too, no one can help your mother.”

“Stupid. It’s because I want to help mama that I want to join the army. She herself said that we can’t survive for long just by working in the quarries. Daddy said that he didn’t know when something will happen to him…”

TIkva bit his lips and threw the glider out like he was throwing stones. The anxiety and anger this stubborn child had was thrown out, and the glider could not ride on the wind as it landed right inside the yard. Banagher turned his back around, picked up that toy that resembled the “Homo Avis”, and said, “You’re amazing, Tikva.” as he realized his ignorance. He did not have the right to speak like an adult, but he had no other words to express this form of self-defeat within him.

“But I wonder if things can stop?”

“What can?”

“The war. Whether it’s your dad or Marida, I don’t think they like to fight, right? Both sides got battered, and everyone suffered, so I think it’s about time we should stop.”

“Are you telling us to surrender?” Tikva started to give a disgusted look as he said this. Banagher felt that he said unnecessary things, but continued, “I’m not talking about who wins or lose.”

“What I want to say is whether both sides can back off a little and talk.”

Banagher could not say anything more as he looked at the glider. They had a leader like Mineva who could think, and a soldier like Marida who could control herself. It seemed that such people alone would be able to end the war, but reality kept forcing children like Tikva to consider joining the war, continuing the situation. This could only be described as reality, and Banagher could do nothing but shamefully admit his ignorance. ''Are these the things Zinnerman wants me to ‘study’? To understand the current situation, and to realize that what I learnt in this current situation is just knowledge; this original ‘knowledge’ is to consider what’s after this and having the power to change the current trend, and this learning is a process to integrate thought elements.''

''The power to change the present, the possibilities''—the unfamiliar memories pulsated in his temples as he stared at Tikva’s face. Tikva gave a somewhat doubtful look back at him, and started shaking the legs reaching down the oil barrel, patting his retreating head as he said,“…I don’t really understand.”

“But without war, daddy and the rest will lose their jobs. More people will be without jobs. I’m wondering if that’s a bother.”

“Now that you say it…”

This time, he really had nothing to say. This was the difference between those involved and those not involved—no, Banagher just felt that his knowledge which had no considerations for others were crushed, and he looked away from Tikva. There wasa saying that knowledge alone would not have power, and this scenario in front of him was a prime example of this. However, his temples kept pulsating, and he in reality could only say child-like words to a child, even though he was merely someone who could not use any useful knowledge…

A sense of shame, and anger, rose up within him. He switched hands to pick up the glider and threw it at Tikva. The glider became a vent of frustration without an exit as it flew above Tikva’s head, over the short wall outside the house, and disappeared.

“You’re bad at it!” Tikva teased. “Sorry, I’ll get it back.” Banagher said and left the workplace. He heard the singing of the daughter as he passed by the outside of the short wall beside Gilboa’s house. The glider with a wing that was about to fall off landed in the midst of a path covered with dust. Banagher was about to pick it up, and detected a shadow moving up to him on the road, darkening his sights.

He looked up, and saw a man he never met before standing there. He had medium build and high, and was wearing dirty work clothes with a hunter’s hat. It was obvious that he was like the quarry workers that were often seen, but in the midst of his drunken red face, there was a sense of tension in his eyes. Banagher inadvertently backed away, and the man spoke, “You’re Banagher Links, right?”, causing him to nod.

“Wait at the 3rd dock of the 14th Space Gate at 6pm. Someone will be there to receive you.”

The deep yet fine voice grazed past his ears as it moved by Banagher, and something was stuffed in his hands. Before he recovered, the man had already turned around the corner of the alley, and he could only vaguely see the fluttering of his shirt. “Erm, excuse me…!” But even with that call, the man never responded, and Banagher looked at what was stuffed into his hand.

Two A4-sied monitor sheets were rolled up. One of them was a 3D visual of the “Palau”, indicating the full view of the location in a grid format. The other was the actual scene of the space gate, and one would think that it was a crude visual recorded secretly, and the red light that probably designated the location was blinking.

Banagher checked that there was no one else around, and stared at the monitor again. As his face approached the monitor, something dropped onto the floor. Banagher picked up that thing which looked like a ball-point pen, but it was a little heavier. Most likely, it was some small transmitter—this instinct caused Banagher’s hairs to stand up, and he could not help but kick the floor.

That man passed through the alley and was about to turn around. Banagher called out to him, “Please wait!” as he tried to catch up with all he had. He grabbed the man, who kept moving, by the shoulder and asked, “What do you mean that someone will come pick me up? Who are you?” The man shrugged his arm off and gave Banagher a sharp expression, saying, “Don’t make too much noise.”

“Follow these instructions if you don’t want to die. This place will become a battlefield immediately.”

Banagher gasped, and this man did not let go of this opportunity as he quickly turned around the corner. Banagher frantically followed him, but did not see the man on the road surrounded by old unit houses on both sides. The man disappeared like a puff of smoke, and the only one there was an old granny with her back arched.

“You say this place will become a battlefield...”

Banagher gripped onto the ball-point pen that felt very heavy, and looked around at the streets that looked rather blurry in the afternoon. The regular sound of the grinder could be heard like a machine gun at this point, and Banagher felt that his feet swaying. ''Is it the Federation? Is that man an undercover spy or something? Don’t joke around. This is just a pitstop the Neo Zeon Army often use, not some military facility. A spy like this around should know. Why exactly is the Federation here—'' 

As he thought about this, a jolt shot up his spine. It did not matter where the location was. The Federation had been aiming for the “Laplace Box”. They were preparing to take action, just like how it was in “Industrial 7”. They wanted to take back the crux of the Box…the “Unicorn”. They never cared about anything else, and the reason why they sent a spy over to contact him was to ‘take back’ the only pilot who could activate the “Unicorn”. The Federation was about to arrive. The vicious fangs of violence that gnawed “Industrial 7” to bits would strike “Pala”.

The glider slipped out of his hand and silently fell onto the floor. Banagher’s left hand, which was holding onto the monitor sheets, was frozen like stone, and his numb right hand picked up the glider as he started running.

First, he had to meet the man he just saw. He wanted to use that man to contact the Federation to tell them to stop the invasion of “Palau”. He knew that this definitely could not be done, but he could not stop his running as he ran mindlessly through the narrow alleys with the ‘hill’ of oxidized rocks as a reference. He ran down to the subway station through his own memory of the previous day. He passed by a cart full of dirt , and after an umpteenth turn, Banagher’s head nearly knocked into an oncoming person.

The person stepped aside before Banagher stopped. Banagher barely managed to stop himself from falling, and gasped as he faced the person around the corner.

“What is it? Why are you here?”

Marida was not really taken aback as she asked with a clear voice. “Well…” as Banagher was about to speak up, he met Zinnerman, who was behind Marida, right in the eyes, and immediately hid the monitor sheets behind him.

''If I explain everything here, they will tell everything to the entire army. The Federation army will be ambushed, and the man just now will be caught. Riddhe, Mihiro, Daguza, the Captain whose name I didn’t manage to remember, the operators, they’re not just fighting units called soldiers, but people with flesh and blood;'' the faces of the “Nahel Argama” crew members appeared in Banagher’s mind, causing him to shut up. ''Of course, they might not be the ones approaching. Since they have such damage, and Daguza and Audrey are on board, it’s reasonable to assume that another squad is attacking, but it’s not fine even if it’s like this—''

This thought appeared for a short moment, “Banagher?” as Marida frowned and asked, causing him to recover. He reached out the glider in his right hand and pushed it at Marida. “Erm, please return this to Tikva.” and backed away like he was about to trip.

“I’ll be back soon. So then.”

The siren indicating 3pm rang, “Banagher!” and with Marida’s cry behind him, he started sprinting wildly again. ''What should I do? What can I do?'' The melody of the siren seeped into his mind that was repeating his musing, and the thoughts that could not find any solutions became even more corroded. There were still 3 hours until the operation began. Banagher felt the transmitter in his hand become heavier as his feet never stopped moving, kicking up the dust on the way.