Secret Santa
Read the Terms of Usage
When Did You Forgive Me?
Chairman Durandal took the white uniform, pristinely pressed and folded, from the assistant and turned to the platinum-haired youth before him.
“I hereby promote you, Yzak Jule, to the rank of Commander and present you with your White Coat and all the responsibilities it represents.”
Yzak saluted before outstretching his hands to receive his new uniform. Holding it delicately across his palms, he turned to the assembly. The rainbow rows of ZAFT soldiers, who were lined according to their station and rank, raised their gloved hands in salute.
“This hereby concludes the ceremony,” Durandal announced in a loud voice despite the microphone. “Please give your new commanding officers, and above all your comrades, a round of applause as they depart from the hall.”
Cheers accompanied the roar of clapping hands. Yzak followed his fellow officers as they left the bright glare of the stage and descended into the crowd. He scanned the faces at either side of the aisle. He was greeted with much applause and many congratulations, but not from the one for whom he searched.
There’s no reason why he’d be here anyway, he scolded himself. His grip on the uniform tightened, crushing it slightly. He stared straight ahead, even as he left the hall and passed through the maze of near-empty corridors that led to his temporary quarters.
Yzak admired himself in the full-length mirror. He brushed his hands down the white fabric stretched across his chest. His hand paused over his abdomen. Frowning, he turned sideways. He pushed against the small bulge, which he swore was not a part of his imagination. His other hand ventured to the curve of his backside, which was rounder than it should have been.
Without the balanced ship rations or the option of his mother’s cooking, Yzak had resorted to buying food from the building’s canteens and nearby vending machines. He hadn’t had time for proper meals, let alone hard exercise, between all the preparations and rehearsals for his promotion.
“Shit,” Yzak growled at the mirror.
He pulled his standard-issue tracksuit from his bag and tossed it on the bed. He started searching the room for his towel, when a melodious beeping came from his door.
“It’s open,” he called, tossing the towel on his bed. The door whooshed aside and Yzak froze.
“Yo,” Dearka greeted with a mock salute and a wink. Yzak pulled the blond inside before manually shutting the door and encoding the lock.
“What the hell are you doing here!?” he snapped.
“Woah, easy,” said Dearka, holding up his hands defensively, “I came to see you, of course.”
“You don’t have clearance.” Yzak paused to look over the pressed green uniform Dearka wore. He quietly added, “I wasn’t even sure you’d rejoined.”
“I never left. Besides, you really think I’d try something as stupid as sneaking in? You don’t think I know that I’d be shot on sight?” Dearka replied, a disbelieving whine in his tone. Yzak remained silent. Dearka shrugged and settled on the bed. “Actually the Chairman gave me special clearance as an errand boy to the new commanders.”
“Oh.”
Dearka grinned. “That really suits you. Like it was designed for you or something. Or maybe you were designed for it.”
Yzak frowned, absently brushing his hand down his chest and middle again. Dearka noticed, but knew better than to comment.
“Dinner?”
Yzak’s head jerked up and his eyes met Dearka’s. “What?”
Dearka offered his brightest smile. “I was asking if you wanted to go out for dinner.”
“I can’t,” Yzak replied, yanking the towel from under Dearka. As Dearka shifted he noticed the tracksuit. He rolled his eyes.
“You’re going to the gym, at this hour? Why, Yzak?”
“Because I need to!” Yzak snapped, reaching for the tracksuit. Dearka grabbed Yzak’s arm and stood, moving them both in front of the mirror.
“You do this every time you get a new uniform. Now, look!” he commanded. He stood slightly behind Yzak but made sure his figure was still mostly visible in the reflection. His message was clear as always, impossible for Yzak to deny as they stood side by side.
You’re too thin for your own good.
Yet it wasn’t his own reflection that caught Yzak’s attention. He was staring at Dearka’s mirrored face, realizing for the first time, what seemed wrong about Dearka.
“You’ve lost weight,” Yzak finally mumbled.
A sad smile spread across Dearka’s features, but he didn’t meet Yzak’s gaze, instead focusing on his own reflection. “Being in solitary confinement tends to do that to a guy.”
There was an awkward pause before Dearka’s bright grin returned. He clapped his hands over Yzak’s upper arms. “Let’s go.”
“What, in uniform?”
“The place I booked at is ZAFT property so, yes we have to go in uniform.”
Yzak pushed the blond away to look at him. “You booked?”
“Private table for two with a view.” Dearka winked. “It’s pretty quiet at the moment so no one will see you and your invisible white bulge dining with a green grunt.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Yzak snapped.
“I know, but it’s the truth.” He whirled Yzak around and nudged him towards the door. “Now let’s go.”
“Okay! Quit shoving me!” Yzak snapped, though he was already punching in the lock code.
They were seated, as Dearka had said, at a private table next to a window on the second floor. Elegant wooden screens separated them from the few other diners. Yzak couldn’t help but to feel at ease with the warm burgundy theme surrounding him, the glitter of the colony at night beside him, and the fine cutlery set before him. Even the low lighting was a welcome relief for his tired eyes.
Dearka raised his glass, the sparkling white liquor swirling within. Yzak raised his.
“To your promotion,” Dearka toasted. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Yzak affirmed, as they clinked glasses. They brought the wine to their lips at the same time, and took a sip. Yzak swilled the liquid over his tongue before swallowing. His eyes widened and he stared at Dearka.
“Dom Pérignon, CE54. Had it sent up from Earth,” Dearka said simply. “You like it?”
“Of course, but how’d you get it through?”
“I got Athrun to send it up.” Another simple reply, as though the statement had less weight than it actually did.
“Athrun!?” Yzak’s brow furrowed. Suspicion crept into his voice. “Why?”
Dearka sighed. “Well, firstly Athrun is the only one who can, thanks to his new position as the Orb Princess’s right-hand man. Secondly, you deserve the real thing to celebrate your promotion. And thirdly, I wanted to surprise you since it’s the first time we’ve both been old enough to publicly drink together.”
“At least,” Yzak corrected, “it’s the first time we’ve had the chance to.”
Dearka replaced his glass on the table. “I had wanted to do this for your birthday, but things got messed up. I’m sorr-”
“Now’s as good a time as any,” said Yzak, cutting him off and effectively halting that train of thought.
The waiter returned and lowered a plate of smoked salmon salad before Yzak. The green of the salad on white porcelain seemed to clash with the burgundy tablecloth. Dearka’s porterhouse steak however had the opposite effect, even complimenting the warm setting.
Yzak took his knife and fork and started on his meal. Dearka fell silent and did the same, cutting a portion of the meat and bringing it to his mouth. They chewed the rest of their dinner without another word, except for when their plates were cleared and Dearka requested the dessert menu.
“Must we?” muttered Yzak.
“Don’t start, Yzak. I’m betting you haven’t even seen a real dessert since we all went out for ice cream sundaes on our last day at the academy.” Dearka looked up from the list to smirk at Yzak. “You ordered the biggest thing on the menu.”
“That’s because Athrun ordered the biggest thing on the menu!”
“Yeah and that little stunt had you both bed-ridden with a stomachache the entire next day.”
“Shut up, Dearka!” The usual cry was a whole pitch lower, as though it were more a reflex than an actual retort. Though subtle, the change was enough to make Dearka look directly at Yzak and wonder when it was the youth had taken this tiny step towards ‘growing up’. Now that Dearka thought about it, Yzak seemed more controlled, more stable, more mature.
I wonder what else has changed.
“What are you staring at?” demanded Yzak.
“You, of course,” Dearka replied with a grin. “You know you really do look good in that uniform.”
Yzak wasn’t expecting a direct response. It caused a blush to creep across his cheeks. “Whatever,” he muttered, lifting his own dessert menu.
“Thought you weren’t having any.”
“Well I changed my mind.” Yzak’s eyes scanned the list for a moment before muttering, “I’ll have the White Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake.”
“The whole thing? You really are going all out.”
“One slice, you idiot.”
Stifling a giggle, Dearka raised a hand to motion for the waiter. The young man was instantly at his side, digital touch pad in hand. “Yes, sirs?”
“
One slice of White Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake and a slice of the Strawberry Swirl Cheesecake.” Dearka winked at Yzak, which caused both Yzak and the waiter to glance up at him. The waiter quickly recovered himself, noted their orders and took the menus.
“You do know that it has real strawberries in it?” Yzak said pointedly, as the waiter retreated.
Dearka smirked. “I was going to feed them to you from the end of my fork.” He made a motion as though he were pointing the said utensil at Yzak.
Yzak glared back. “You ordered them, you eat them.”
It was just before midnight when they finally departed the restaurant. The short journey back was free of observers and fellow officers.
Finger pressed against the button, Dearka held the lift door open for Yzak and motioned for him to step out first. It was a customary practice between lower ranking soldiers and their commanding officers, but the sense of formality between them caused Yzak to frown.
“What’s with the look?” Dearka queried. “You’re my superior officer now, and we’re still in uniform.”
“Is that why you insisted on paying for dinner too?”
“No, I did that because I’m the one who invited you out. Besides, it wouldn’t be much of a celebration if you had to pay, now would it.”
“Hmm,” replied Yzak, not bothering to comment on the fact that Dearka was walking the designated two steps behind him. He knew Dearka was doing all he could to appease everyone whose trust he’d lost and most of all Yzak, but to Yzak it felt more awkward than satisfying. Despite this, Yzak knew that no amount of words from him could compete with Dearka’s stubbornness.
They rounded the dimly lit corridor in silence and arrived at a point where the path split in two. Yzak made for the left but Dearka placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s go this way,” he said, motioning in the other direction. “There’s something I wanna show you.”
This time Yzak followed Dearka. They reached the observation lounge - an area with various vending machines and two sofas. It was laid out before a long curve of glass, which gave a panoramic view over the colony.
Yzak stopped. He knew those vending machines well, and as spectacular as the view was, he’d seen it many times in the past few weeks. Dearka stepped up to the glass and glanced down over the city. He looked back at Yzak, who still lingered behind.
“Dearka-”
“I know, I know,” Dearka said with a gentle smile, motioning to the sofa before the window. “Trust me, Yzak.”
Yzak still didn’t move. With a glance at the nearby wall-clock, Dearka added, “Hurry, there’s less than a minute to go.”
“Until?”
“Would you just sit down.”
Yzak finally stepped forward and seated himself on the sofa. Dearka sat beside him.
“I still don’t get what it is you want to show me,” Yzak muttered.
“You’ll see. Any second now.” At Dearka’s words, a chime sounded from the wall clock. At the first strike, the faint lights of the corridors went out. By the twelfth, the lights of the entire colony below them had faded to a dim glow. A quiet gasp came from Yzak.
Without the bright light of the colony, the galaxy beyond shone through the walls of PLANT, giving the colony below a milky backdrop of sparkling stars.
Dearka gazed at his best friend, who was gaping in awe at the sight.
“It’s beautiful,” whispered Yzak.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
Yzak’s head whipped towards Dearka, who stole the opportunity to press his lips against Yzak’s. Azure eyes flew wide, but Yzak could neither pull away nor respond. The kiss only lasted a few seconds before Dearka withdrew.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, looking away from Yzak. “I just missed you, and with you being assigned to a new ship tomorrow, I thought-” Dearka’s voice trailed off. “Anyway, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Yzak said in a flat tone. He stood. “I’m going back to my room.”
Out of military custom, Dearka cautiously followed Yzak out of the observation lounge. An awkward silence lingered between them, even as they reached the door to Yzak’s quarters.
Yzak placed his palm flat against the access panel. It beeped once and the door whooshed aside. Dearka stood to attention and raised his hand in salute. “Good night, Comman-”
Yzak grabbed his arm and roughly pulled him inside. “Knock it off with the formalities already,” he said, keying in the lock code once they were both inside. Dearka stared blankly at him. Yzak hadn’t met his gaze once since Dearka’s little stunt at the observation lounge, and it didn’t change even as Yzak motioned to the bed.
“Sit down,” he said. “I’ll get some tea.”
He disappeared into the kitchenette. As soon as he was gone, Dearka slumped down on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.
He’s either going to kill me with tea or complete silence.
“Hey.”
Dearka’s head jerked up. Yzak was standing over him, a mug of tea in one hand and another steaming mug outstretched to Dearka. Their eyes met for the first time since the observation lounge.
“Uh, thanks,” said Dearka, quickly taking the mug and averting his eyes. Yzak seated himself at the study desk across from Dearka.
“About earlier,” Dearka began between sips of tea.
Yzak cut him off. “Don’t bother apologizing. As long as we weren’t seen is the main thing.”
“Uh, right.” Dearka’s eyebrows rose in confusion. He’d been expecting some kind of explosion from Yzak, or worse still complete silence from his best friend.
Who I snogged in the observation lounge. Dearka tore his eyes away and swore to himself. He was so busy mentally kicking himself that he hadn’t noticed Yzak finish his mug and set it down. He suddenly realized that Yzak was standing in front of the mirror again. He was patting his middle,
yet again.
Dearka sighed and was about to protest, when Yzak unfastened the white coat and slid it off his slender shoulders. He grabbed a hanger from the mini-closet and hung the coat on the rail, before returning to stand in front of the mirror. After prodding his middle again, and this time peering at his behind, Yzak stepped out of his boots, undid the pressed white slacks and slide them down his creamy thighs. The boots and slacks were also neatly arranged in the mini-closet. Yzak now stood in front of the mirror in his standard blue shirt and shorts. Dearka gulped but then rolled his eyes as Yzak’s hands returned to his waist.
“Oh for crying out loud,” muttered Dearka, setting his mug down on the side table as he stood. He nearly jumped out of his flushed skin as Yzak’s cool hand grabbed his. Yzak brought the hand against his own chest before sliding it down to his middle.
“I’m telling you,” said Yzak in a level tone, “there’s a bump.”
“No, there isn’t!”
“Fine!” Yzak pushed Dearka’s hand away and gripped the edge of his shirt. In an instant, he pulled the shirt up over his head and threw his bound arms over Dearka’s neck. Dearka’s eyes widened as Yzak pressed his lips to the blond’s in a fiery kiss.
Dearka’s hands were shaking. They closed in around Yzak’s back but hovered just above the skin. Yzak’s hands were now free of the shirt and roaming wildly across Dearka’s broad back. Yzak’s tongue was tracing along Dearka’s lips, demanding attention, demanding entrance, demanding some kind of reaction. Dearka groaned. He gripped Yzak’s shoulders and pushed him back to look into his face.
“What the hell, Yzak!?”
“It’s called a kiss,” said Yzak, with a frown.
“Yeah, I know that. Why the hell were you kissing me?”
“You’re the one who started it,” Yzak replied, pulling away from Dearka, “back at the observation lounge!”
“Yeah, but I thought you were against it,” Dearka snapped back.
“I never said that! I just don’t approve of you doing it where we could be seen.” Though his frown was still in place, he added in a calmer tone, “It would cost both of us our careers, and probably land you back in jail.”
Dearka grinned. “Aw, you’re worried about me.”
Yzak whirled around to glare at him. He opened his mouth in protest but Dearka seized his lips in a tender kiss, pulling the young Commander close. His tongue slid into Yzak’s open mouth, Yzak meeting it passionately with his own. Yzak’s hands snaked up around Dearka’s neck to play with curly, blond locks. Dearka moaned at the attention, his own hands reaching for the buttons of his new green coat. Yzak pulled away. He strode to the mini-closet and retrieved a spare hanger.
“Boots,” he barked. Dearka pulled them off. Yzak arranged them neatly beside his own. He saw Dearka slide the green jacket off one shoulder.
“No, pants next.”
Dearka pulled the jacket back up. He noted with a smirk, “Someone’s desperate.”
The smirk disappeared and Dearka gulped, as Yzak dropped to his knees before the blond. Yzak’s slender fingers gripped the belt buckle. He paused, looking up at Dearka, who was gaping down at him.
“We could always stop.” There was a slight purr in Yzak’s voice. A smile played on his lips.
“Uh no. Please continue.”
Yzak unbuckled the belt and undid the fly. He slid the pants down to Dearka’s ankles. Dearka automatically stepped out of them. Yzak took them and, standing, neatly draped them over the bar of the hanger. He held one hand out expectantly. Dearka shrugged out of the uniform jacket and gave it to him. Yzak draped it over the shoulders of the hanger and hung it next to his own uniform.
“There. Now it won’t get crushed,” he said, admiring his handiwork. Dearka stripped off his undershirt and snuck up behind Yzak. A sharp gasp came from Yzak as Dearka hugged him from behind.
“Yeah, but now everyone’ll be wondering why I’m leaving your room in the morning.”
“Which is why,” began Yzak, wriggling free of Dearka’s grip and turning to face him, “you’ll be properly dressed and out of here with an errand from your superior officer before they’ve even noticed you missing.”
Yzak silenced Dearka’s response with a series of deep kisses, and backed Dearka towards the bed.
The rustle of fabric against fabric caused Dearka to stir. He groaned softly, his eyes opening in slits. He heard the sound of pouring liquid, before a light clunk on the bedside table.
“It’s ten o’clock,” came Yzak’s voice from above. “You’d better move it. That’s an order.”
Dearka’s eyes sprung wide and he bolted upright. Yzak was standing next to the bed, dressed in his immaculate white Commander’s uniform, hat tucked under his arm.
Dearka rose from the bed in all his nakedness and closed in on Yzak.
“Yessir,” he slurred with a smirk, before pressing his lips to Yzak’s. Yzak responded to the kiss, closing his eyes and applying pressure with his lips. It lasted only until Dearka’s tongue slipped free, which caused Yzak to push him away.
“Okay that’s enough. Shower and get dressed. I meant it, Dearka.”
Dearka picked up the mug of coffee Yzak had placed on the bedside table. He took a few sips before replacing it and moving towards the bathroom.
Dearka pulled the damp towel from his hair. He was about to toss it on the bed when Yzak snatched it from him and slung it over a rail in the bathroom. With a knowing smile, Dearka pulled on his green jacket and buttoned it.
“Dearka.” Yzak held out a data cube. “This contains the entire crew manifest for my ship, and is encrypted with a Level 1 code. It’s to be delivered to Head Office on the 4th floor. Its contents, as well as the ship it pertains to, are to remain strictly confidential. Is that understood, Second Lieutenant Dearka Elthman?”
Dearka straightened and saluted.
“Yes, Commander, sir.” He received the cube and held it tightly in his palm.
“That will be all,” said Yzak, officially dismissing him. Dearka ended the salute and inspected the cube.
“This is the whole crew? How many are there? Uh…sir?” Dearka added with a grimace.
“Drop it. I’ve dismissed you,” Yzak replied, with a wave of his hand. “There are 500 essential crew. The rest, mostly cadets and technical staff, will be assigned by the Board tonight.”
“You picked them? When?”
“This morning, while you were asleep. Most of them I’ve worked with before, so it didn’t take long. That’s all you need to know.”
“Right, well I guess I better get going then.” Dearka made for the door.
“Dearka.” He turned at the sound of his name, only to feel Yzak’s lips against his. His eyes slid closed as he pulled Yzak against him. Yzak’s tongue slid across his lips and Dearka parted them to meet it with his own tongue.
They were locked in that kiss for what was either five minutes or an hour, Dearka couldn’t tell which. The kiss was deep, and sincere - a goodbye kiss. Yzak slowly withdrew.
“Never kiss me in public again, no matter what time of day or night it is.” Yzak’s tone was scolding but his voice was a murmur. He averted his eyes from Dearka, who gave him one last tight squeeze as he hummed in agreement.
“We may not see each other again for a while,” Dearka whispered into Yzak’s hair.
“We’ll meet sooner than you think,” Yzak quickly replied, pushing Dearka towards the door. “Now go and deliver that thing before both our necks are put on the line.”
“Yessir,” said Dearka, stepping out as the door slid open. He turned, stood to attention and saluted.
“Excuse my previous intrusion,” he stated in a loud voice for all to hear. Yzak returned the salute. As the door slid shut, Dearka could have sworn he saw a sly smile spread across Yzak’s features.
“That bastard!” Dearka yelled in the otherwise empty lift, though a smirk played upon his lips. The image of Yzak’s smile from the previous morning flashed through his mind. “He damn well knew I’d be on the Voltaire, HIS Voltaire, even if I am part MS pilot, part maintenance crew.”
The lift came to a halt at his floor. Dearka hitched the strap of his duffel bag a little higher up his shoulder. The door opened to reveal level one of the crew’s quarters. The corridor that stretched before Dearka was lined with plain doors along either side. Each door had an access panel on the wall directly beside it, labeled with a number.
“105, 105,” Dearka wandered aloud, glancing at the doors as he half-walked, half-floated down the corridor. He reached a dead end, marked by the door of another lift. The final door to his left was numbered 106. Frowning, Dearka turned. Upon looking back at the way he’d come, he noticed another corridor, slightly concealed as it veered away to the right. Dearka found his room at the head of this second corridor.
After punching in his access code, Dearka submitted to a fingerprint scan. The access panel gave a series of beeps. Next to the number of Dearka’s room, his name and rank lit up in green box letters. With another beep, the door whooshed aside. The fluorescent lights were already on as Dearka stepped inside. He froze, his duffel bag sliding off his shoulder.
He knew he’d been lucky enough to receive a single share room but he hadn’t expected the king-single bed, wide study desk, matching office chair, kitchenette, and en suite bathroom, complete with a fully enclosed shower.
A Red Coat would be lucky to receive such living arrangements unshared. It was unimaginable for a Green Coat to get them at all, unless he had a special purpose or position. Or friends in very high places.
“Yzak must be pulling some serious strings for this,” Dearka mumbled to himself. He peered into the kitchenette, mostly hidden from the entrance by a plain divider that blended in with the pale white walls. He grabbed his duffel bag and plopped it on the desk, before reaching down to pull off his boots. Grinning, he whirled around and collapsed backwards on to the bed. The springs sighed with his weight but gave no other sound of protest as he rolled to and fro on the softness.
It wasn’t unusual for military bedding to be comfortable on large ZAFT cruisers like the Voltaire. Lack of good sleep, as earlier ZAFT Heads had discovered, did not make for good cooperation amongst the soldiers during long missions. However, a comfortable bed of this size was yet another addition to the list of things Dearka now owed Yzak big time for.
The flashing of a small red light on the opposite wall caught Dearka’s attention. Righting himself, he realized it was coming from the room’s com unit. Dearka stood in front of it and pushed the flashing button. The pretty face of a young woman appeared on screen, a headset pinned over her green uniform cap.
“Second Lieutenant Elthman, please report in to Commander Jule upon your arrival. Message end.” Her picture disappeared.
Dearka pressed another button to link directly to the bridge. The same young woman from the message appeared on screen.
“Second Lieutenant Dearka Elthman here. I was asked to report in to Commander Jule.”
“One moment, please.”
The screen flashed to the ZAFT logo momentarily before Yzak’s familiar face, wearing his usual look of disdain, appeared on screen. Judging by his surroundings, he seemed to be seated at a com station on the upper bridge.
“I see you made it in one piece.” His remark was casual, but his tone was all-knowing. “How do you like your new quarters?”
Dearka grinned. “You sly son of a-”
“You’d better not finish that sentence or I’ll have you thrown in the brig before we’ve even left the dock. Now report to the bridge in person ASAP.”
“Understood,” Dearka answered with complete seriousness. The screen flashed back to black.
“First day on board as a Green Coat and I’ve already been ordered to the bridge,” Dearka mumbled to himself. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come back.”
The lift door slid aside. Dearka kicked the floor just hard enough to launch himself out on to the upper bridge. When he’d nearly reached the front rail, Yzak appeared from beside him. Dearka briefly felt Yzak’s grip on his wrist, which promptly stopped his drifting before releasing him.
“Communications. Begin broadcasting,” Yzak called, looking down over the lower bridge from beside the Captain’s chair. Dearka shrunk back as ten sets of eyes glanced from Yzak to him. All of the crew were soldiers, trained to follow orders and appear of neutral mind, but through their heavy gaze, Dearka could feel their suspicion boring into him.
“You’re live, sir,” announced the young woman at Communications. Yzak looked straight at the large viewing screen spread out in front of the bridge. The image flickered from the black of space and powder of stars, to a mirror image of the upper bridge. The number of eyes on them had instantly increased seventy-fold, but it was only the voice in Dearka’s own mind that whispered, “Traitor!” into his ear. Dearka gulped.
“This is your Commander, Yzak Jule,” Yzak began in a tone that demanded complete and utter attention. “As most of you are aware by now, I have specifically requested Second Lieutenant Dearka Elthman to serve aboard my ship. I don’t care whatever unfounded grudges you may harbor against him. None of you have had his guns aimed at you, nor have you looked down the barrel of your own gun at him. I, however, have experienced both, and despite that, there was no hesitation in my decision.
“Which brings me to the second part of my announcement. Although Elthman is listed as part of the mechanics division, that will not be his main duty. During his time serving under me he will act as my personal strategic advisor and Acting Commander in my absence. He will also take command of all mobile suit squadrons when I am not on the field.”
The wide-eyed looks he was receiving from both Dearka and the Captain didn’t go unnoticed by Yzak. “However,” he added with a rise in tone, “in my presence, or when out of my command, Elthman will officially hold no authority higher than his own rank. And before I receive seven hundred written objections on my desk, this decision has been approved by the Chairman himself and cannot be disputed. In short, you are to show Elthman the same respect you would any of your fellow officers. That is all.”
The mirror image disappeared from the main screen, replaced with a view of the dock from outside the ship.
Yzak glanced at the Captain. “Prepare for departure sequence. We’re leaving in two minutes.”
The Captain nodded and pressed a com button on his chair so his announcement would be heard throughout the ship. “All hands prepare for departure sequence.”
“Yes, sir,” the pilot responded from the lower bridge.
“I’ll be expecting a lot from you, Dearka,” said Yzak, not bothering to face the stunned blond. Dearka grinned.
“Of course.” The casual response evoked an immediate reaction from the Captain, who was now eying the blond suspiciously. Yzak folded his arms and glared at Dearka. Dearka quickly stood to attention and raised his hand in salute.
“I mean, yes sir, you can count on me,” he corrected. Yzak made a ‘humph’ sound before returning his attention to the main viewer. The Captain also faced his chair forward. “Report on the crew manifest,” he ordered, looking at one of the technicians to his right.
“All registered crew are aboard,” answered the technician.
“Clear the main airlocks of any stragglers and then seal the doors.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Change the viewer back to front visuals,” Yzak called down to the lower bridge.
“Yes, sir,” came a voice from below.
Yzak looked to Dearka who had started to relax at his side. “I like to see where I’m going.”
Dearka smiled. “Is that why you have me up here instead of polishing your GOUF Ignited?” At Yzak’s curious look, Dearka added, “I saw it on the list as being yours.”
“No, I have you up here so that I have someone who will actually listen to my complaints and do something about them.”
“Oh great, I’m your verbal punching bag now?” The formality had completely dropped from Dearka’s tone. He was fully relaxed, content to be working at Yzak’s side again.
“Sirs?” interrupted the Captain, with a pressing tone. “We’re ready for departure.”
Yzak nodded. “Let’s go then.”
“Begin departure sequence,” the Captain affirmed. “Get us clear of the dock and head towards the coordinates.”
The Voltaire shuddered slightly as the locking clamps released and the ZAFT cruiser pushed forward. On the main viewer the stars shifted. A distant greyish sphere that was Earth’s moon came into focus as the Voltaire cleared the dock.
Dearka’s gaze shifted from the screen to Yzak at his side. He smiled as he observed the delicate profile of his best friend, commanding officer, lover. The platinum-haired youth’s features were not creased in the usual indignant frown, but instead it seemed that a rare moment of peace had fallen over Yzak.
Azure eyes caught Dearka’s amethyst gaze, and Dearka felt the same air of peace fall over him as Yzak looked his way.
“Thank you, Yzak,” he said in all sincerity.
Yzak returned the gentle smile with one of his own, before returning his attention to the main viewer. Still smiling, Dearka did the same.
