Editing KSGU:Volume 8 Chapter 3 (section)

===Part 14===

“Understood. Bring a few men from the Garencieres and head over. Don’t let the Republic soldiers know…right,  I’ll leave it to you.”
 
The red uniform finished the call with Angelo, and the large body facing the communication panel looked back at Zinnerman. His attitude and the masked face were still suspicious to a point where one would want to keep staring at him. “It seems we lost contact with the guard keeping watching over Her Highness.” The voice sounded like an act, and Zinnerman gave a look at Frontal, not even bothering to give a surprised look.
 
“It seems the last point of contact was at the infirmary. Do you have any clues?”

“No.”
 
Marida’s face appeared in his mind, but in his current state, he could not think of how Marida would be involved in this current situation. The atmosphere alone with Frontal was remarkably lull ever since Banagher was brought away from the reception room, and Zinnerman felt that he was imprisoned by some fatigue. Even though he knew that he could not relax too much, he had a sense of fatigue telling that nothing mattered, that anything goes at this point. He admitted that he was tired, and that it was not the uneasiness of betrayal of the pain of the conscience pricking him. All that had been done here was making him tired, the several hours that passed since the occupation started, the one month they spent chasing the “Box”, the 16 years after the war, everything—
 
“I do apologize sincerely for hiding the Side co-prosperity ring from you.”

Frontal was seated at the sofa in front of Zinnerman, sounding as if he had realized what Zinnerman was thinking. The latter lifted his tired eyes.
 
“But I never thought of betraying the agreement to have Her Highness Mineva be the leader. I said that I don’t care about the name of Zeon, but the Zeon Republic is the only one that can be the leading country in the Side co-prosperity ring. Once we pave the path, we can make Her Highness be the leader. This is a huge position neither Minister Monaghan and I can take up.”
 
It was a fact that they agreed as a condition to view Mineva as the princess when Zinnerman affiliated himself with the “Sleeves”, but at this situation, he started to feel that it did not matter at all. Mineva was need to gathered the efforts of all the people related to the Principality, but she had no other value. It was the same whether she was involved in the Sid co-prosperity ring, but there was a role she could take up if there was a need. Zinnerman had no strength in hating Frontal for this implication and looked away from the masked face. “You’re not interested, right?” These words came in at this moment,
 
“That’s fine too. It’s because you’re like this that I let the Garencieres team act freely, Captain.”
 
“…What do you mean?”
 
“Since you were entrusted with the child, you naturally wanted to protect Her Highness, and you have the sense of responsibility to your own subordinates. But those are mere responsibilities; you never had any particular interest in reviving Zeon at all. You hated the Federation with a vengeance, but you know that this isn’t a grudge that can be cleared completely just by taking revenge.”
 
The eyes covered by the anti-glare filter did not seem to be reflecting light, and Frontal let his body rest on the sofa’s back.
 
“And thus, even if it was for a moment, you were on a Federation ship. But as time passed…no, from the moment you stepped aboard this ship, you felt that you couldn’t erase your hatred, and you did what you had to do.”
 
The hand reaching for the coffee was trembling. Frontal did not let Zinnerman’s eyes escape as the latter drank the cold coffee, and continued with a smile on his face,
 
“Activists succumb easily as they’re used to justifying themselves. However, for people like you, captain, who don’t harbor much hope in humanity and the world, it’s hardly for you to succumb because you aren’t fixed. Once you understand the innermost self within you, you’ll be the most reliable partner.”
 
The hands in white gloves closed up at the knees, and Frontal finished his words with an unchanging cold tone. There was no room to interject, and upon hearing this self-analysis even he could not explain, Zinnerman first showed a smile. But he did not have the courage to laugh it off; he looked into his barren inner heart while pretending that it had nothing to do with him, “You seem to be saying…that you’re the same type as well.” He answered with a hollow voice. Frontal still had a thin smile on his face, but did not answer back.
 
“How do you actually feel deep inside, Captain?”
 
“What do you think?”
 
“Well…I’m not very good at such word games, but I did hear of a rumor before. It was said that when the Second Neo Zeon War was about to break out, Supreme Commander Char’s plan to send a nuclear winter onto Earth was just incidental. His real intent was to fight his sworn enemy since the One Year War, Amuro Ray, and have a decisive battle.”
 
There was no need to play along with his pretense. Zinnerman knew very well that the moment he said it out, their relationship would never be the same again, but he still chose his words carefully. “Oh?” Frontal merely made a short reply as he kept his unmoving expression.
 
“I understand how he feels. He has an enemy he wants to beat, an opponent he can vent his frustrations on to feel fulfilled. He can forget his despair by chasing after the enemy. But Amuro’s dead, and Supreme Commander’s Char’s uprising was turned to nothing, yet the Earth Celestial Sphere had not changed. Even if he were still alive, what does he want to pursue this time? There’s nothing for him to compete again. The ideals of Zeon Deikun became something not worth believing. What does a sad man who felt despair for the world and humanity feel deep within him—”
 
“Isn’t this the same as you, Captain?”
 
Frontal immediately interrupted Zinnerman and got up. The lips under the mask were clearly stiff, and though Zinnerman felt that there was a sense of emotion there, he did not want to confirm as the tall and burly turned away to look at the landscape portrait on the wall, and let out a sigh. In the end, he felt the weight of the words he said return back to him. “Grudges won’t vanish…” he muttered.
 
His hatred for the Federation, hatred for the who that was unwilling to change, hatred for himself as he was unable to do anything—the hatred he had when his wife and child felt terror and despair as they laid dying. He wanted to crush the emotions rising up in him, but was unable to do so, “It’s true that vengeance won’t disappear that easily.” Zinnerman said as he subconsciously looked at his weak hands.
 
“But sometimes…I do feel tired too. It’s not emptiness, but simply tired. I’m just wriggling in the darkness, having given up on everything…”
 
And thus, he accidentally reached his hand out. Even though he knew that he could not handle it once it reached him, he was still attracted by that irreplaceable light. Marida, Mineva, Banagher; he saw the light remains of these names under his eyelids, and his face was contorted as he was unable to make a self-depreciating face. “That’s to be expected for a man.” Frontal said with his back turned.
 
“If Char Aznable is still alive…perhaps he’s no longer human?”
 
The line that was thrown out was stuck at the chest, causing the icy air to scatter, and Zinnerman inadvertently looked up.
 
The red profile giving off an inhuman presence looked like an ornament decorating the landscape portrait as it floated in front of the wall. ''No longer human—this isn’t a metaphor, ‘what exactly’ is this man? He’s right in front of me, but he doesn’t seem to be here; it doesn’t feel like this man’s breathing the same air as me, and where in the world is he born in anyway?'' Zinnerman started asking himself while ostensibly being driven by fear, but got an answer that Frontal may not be from this world, and felt goosebumps all over. ''Impossible, this isn’t possible.'' He wanted to laugh, but his stiff cheeks could not move, and the moment he clenched his fists that were about to tremble, the coffee cup on the table started to rattle as it ostensibly took the tremors from the fist.
 
Frontal turned his head in surprise as he heard the rattling of the porcelain. After that, a tremendous sound of impact rang from the floor, and all the coffee cups were thrown into the air. The table bounced up, covering Frontal’s body, and even the sofa was floating. Before he could get down for cover, Zinnerman tumbled onto the floor.