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05/21/10(Fri)20:02 No.9970168>>9970070 Garma sits at his desk, his face in his hands, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. He couldn't believe it, but everything David and Ramba had told him checked out. The tea cup had Gihren's prints all over it and traces of poison. Char, fucking Char came clean on the spot, about who he was. It took three soldiers to hold him back, to keep him from stealing a ship and heading off to kill Gihren. Garma was feeling the same way. Their father. He'd poisoned their father.
"I don't know what to do, Dave. I don't know what the fuck to do."
David stood silently against the back wall, his face obscured by shadows. He couldn't believe what he was about to say, but it was what he believed. "You have to kill him, Garma."
Garma didn't respond.
"It has to be quick. And quiet. I'm a soldier, sir. This is what I know. If you confront Gihren, it will be anarchy. Zeon will fall apart. The Feds will mop us up here on earth. Survivors will have to escape to space where it will be open warfare against everyone. A massive clusterfuck of epic proportions." David lit a cigarette. He'd picked up the habit recently. The occasions seemed to call for it more and more often. "But if Gihren were to die in his sleep. An aneyrism. Hemmorage. Heart attack. Stroke. Then no one has to know what he did. No one has to declare war on each other. And Zeon is unified."
"But where does it stop, David?" Garma looked up at him, his face streaked with salty tears. "How far do I go before I become the same as him?"
"You go as far as you need to. Until you can't anymore. You don't go for yourself. You go for your friends, you family, and Zeon. You do what is right. What you can, when you can, for as long as you can. Until you can't anymore."
Garma turned in his chair. Looked out a window at the hills of California. He swallowed hard. "Do it. Do whatever it takes. Get it done." |