Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asahi. Sainan no Kekka and all original characters and plot copyright 2000 by Quicksilver and Gerald Tarrant. Please ask permission before reposting.

 
SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING

SAINAN NO KEKKA
ACT VIII, PART II

 

Itsuwari no jiyuu ni
Shibareta kokoro ja
Shinjitsu wa tsukamenai

Genjitsu mo mirai mo
Tatakai no honou ni
Tsutsumarete subete wa yume sa

Dakara ore-tachi no inochi to
Kiete yuku egao ga
Atarashii sekai o tsukuru kanarazu

A heart which is bound
To false freedom
Cannot grasp the truth

Present and future
Are engulfed in the flame of battle
Everything is a dream

So our lives and
Our waning smiles
Will surely make a new world

--Gundam Wing, Ai wa Ryuusei
[Love is a Shooting Star, Trowa Barton image song]

 
 
Scene V: The Valkyries' Dance

 

"But I just can't be
The girl that you want to see
I'm who I am
What else do you expect from me?"
--Matt Murphy, Tale of a Daughter

 
They finally managed to land the plane after a stopover in Lyon due to a terrorist attack somewhere. Milan, she thought they had said; she hadn't really been awake enough to pay attention. Dorothy had ranted and raved at how impractical it was to stop the flight, but the stewardess had gently informed her that all inbound traffic for Geneva had been suspended. It would be three hours before flights resumed, and would she please go wait in the visitors lounge? Maybe a cup of tea would help her pass the time?

The look she gave as an answer had sent the stewardess scuttling for safety.

After two coach flights in a row, Dorothy's infamous temper was just below the boiling point. The seats had been cramped, and on the trans-Atlantic flight, a crying baby had been right behind her. No matter what the child's mother did, it refused to be calm, and Dorothy had been about ready to offer to euthanize the thing to put it out of its misery. Her plans on catching up on her sleep just weren't feasible because of the brat. She really wished that they had bumped someone in First Class- really. Either that or she just should have chartered her own plane.

The unexpected three-hour layover did little for her mood. She considered renting a car and driving the rest of the way, but she realized that in the long run, it would still be quicker just to wait it out. Still, as she reboarded the plane to continue her journey, she was ready to strangle the next person who irritated her.

By the time she arrived in Geneva, all she wanted was a decent meal (airline food would not pass her lips to save her life), a hot shower, and to sleep at least once around the clock- not necessarily in that order. She wasn't a fan of travel, and whenever she arrived at her destination, she was always cranky and tired.

Dorothy hired a cab to take her to one of the many townhouses that the Catalonia family owned across the world. It was actually part of her estate, and while not the largest or most elaborate, it was a favorite of hers. Her father had spent a lot of time there, due to its location. Geneva was the world's political hotbed- it had been for centuries. Sometimes she thought she could almost feel his presence there, and it was comforting to a girl who had grown up almost as an orphan. The small house was elegant and contained a salle, which was all she needed.

That and a wonderful water heater.

As she pressed her hand against the palm lock to let herself in, she started to fantasize about the shower she'd be taking shortly. Reaching up, she dragged the hair tie out of the remnants of her ponytail, and shook her head, finger-combing some of the worst knots. Her nails caught easily, and she winced, dreading the inevitable battle she would face with a comb. She was vain about her hair, but the long blonde locks carried a price.

Most people would have been ravenous or exhausted and seen to those needs first, but Dorothy felt grubby. She was dirty, and she simply couldn't stand being that way. Cleaning up would obviously take priority. She wouldn't be able to do anything as long as she could feel the dirt against her skin.

The lock beeped as it recognized her fingerprints, and she sighed with relief as she swung the door open. "Swenson!" she called. "I'm here- do me a favor and have one of the maids get me a bathrobe while I duck into the shower, okay? And burn the outfit I'm wearing."

"Yes, my Lady!" a voice echoed back, not questioning the unusual request.

"Well, at least that's one good decision," she head someone else say, and she spun around with a feeling of dread pooling in her stomach. She would have recognized that voice anywhere.

"Mother."

Duchess Emily Khushrenada Noventa looked her daughter over with a raking glance, one that stripped Dorothy to the bone. Her eyes noted the worn uniform, messy hair, and dirty face, and narrowed. "I must say that I don't approve of your wardrobe. Really, Dorothy. What were you doing with the Preventers?"

The contrast between mother and child was dramatic. Emily was her usual perfectly groomed self, with her hair swept back into an elegantly braided crown accented by pins decorated with precious jewels. While she wasn't entitled to a wear a tiara, the complex hairdo gave her the appearance of royalty without overstepping her social bounds. Her long flowing dress was a deep red, one that accentuated her pale gold hair. She looked every inch a lady, and Dorothy was self-consciously aware that her clothes had seen better days.

She ground her teeth. "That's really none of your business. If you'll excuse me, I need to get a shower."

Uncharacteristically, Emily stepped aside, gesturing. "I couldn't agree more. You smell a little rank from the downwind side. I'll have Swenson tell the chef to get dinner started, and we can have a discussion while we eat."

Dorothy barely refrained from wincing. She hated "discussions" with her mother- they always ended up at each other's throats. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Until you turn twenty-one, I am your guardian. I have the right to go to whichever of the Catalonia estates I want to. And right now, Geneva is the place to be. Things are... interesting. But we'll talk about that after you've cleaned up. I'll even be nice and have dinner delivered to your sitting room- that way you don't have to dress for it... though even your nightgown would be a vast improvement to what you are wearing right now." She sniffed derisively and started for the stairs.

"Mother..." Dorothy called to Emily's retreating back.

Emily paused on the stares, turning around gracefully in a carefully studied movement of dignity. It was a pose designed to draw attention, but Dorothy had seen it before. "Yes?"

"Is he here?"

She didn't need to elaborate further. Emily's current husband, who was her seventh, was not one of Dorothy's favorite people. Duke Nicolas Noventa had always struck her as weak and wishy-washy, and she detested spending time in his company. He was a dandy, and while he was the perfect consort for someone as ambitious as her mother (rich, nobly born, handsome and connected), he had little to recommend him as a person. She considered him an airhead; he considered her an inconvenience. The mutual antipathy made Emily's life trying at times, for the fights between the two people who were supposedly closest to her could erupt in a moment's notice, and were notorious for being ugly.

"Yes. And I will thank you to be courteous. He is your stepfather."

"One of many," Dorothy muttered, heading for her suite.

The hot water from her shower did much to ease the tension in her muscles, and gave her time to regroup. She hadn't been expecting her mother's presence- she had been planning on merely getting some clean clothes, a decent night's sleep, and a hot meal before heading off to see Relena, for Relena was undoubtedly involved in the political fray. Now, though, the equation had been changed, and she was sure it wasn't a good thing.

She stayed under the hot spray for a good forty-five minutes, until her skin started to wrinkle. Her hair had been washed three times, and she'd scrubbed her skin until it turned red. She wanted A007 off her body permanently.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a plush towel around her slender body and headed to her dressing room. To her relief, a satin set of pajamas had been set out with a matching silk kimono to go on top. It slid onto her exhausted body easily, and she luxuriated in the sensual feel of the smooth fabric on her skin. For a moment she contemplated skipping supper and headed straight to bed, but avoiding the upcoming confrontation would only serve to annoy Emily. And lord knew that this was going to be difficult enough without Emily feeling like she had been slighted.

Dorothy pulled the bell rope to summon a maid. Normally she did her hair herself, but today the effort of managing it was simply too much for her in her current state. Besides, she had servants to pick up her slack, and they were well-paid to do so. To her relief, it was Rosalie who answered. Rosalie was one of her favorites- a forty-something woman who had served as her nursemaid, confidant, keeper, and now lady's maid. She was confident and had a tart tongue, but could keep anything secret even under the pain of torture- and her loyalty was to the Catalonias, not Emily. Rosalie had always disliked Dorothy's mother, considering her an interloper, a gold digger who had traded on León Catalonia's love for her shamelessly.

"Could you do my hair, please?" Dorothy asked.

The woman nodded, picking up a silver comb from the dressing table. She tsked reprovingly when she saw the state of Dorothy's hair. "What have you been doing to your poor hair?" she asked as she liberally doused it with a heavy-duty detangler.

"The question is what I haven't been doing," Dorothy admitted. "I haven't had time to deal with it properly lately. I've sort of been just knotting it back."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times- if you're going to have knee-length hair, you have to take care of it. Otherwise cut it off."

Dorothy pouted playfully. "I don't wanna!" she declared, putting her hands on her hips the way she had when she had been five years old.

Rosalie laughed and started to work on the ends. "In all honesty, you need a trim. The split ends are horrid. If you want, I can arrange to have Georgio come over with his scissors later this week."

"Could you please?"

"In a couple days, then." She was silent for a minute as she pulled through a particularly nasty snarl. "Have you been keeping up to date with your family?"

"It's been hard. I've been a colony away," Dorothy admitted. "From your tone I'm guessing my much-respected mother is up to something?"

"You could say that. She's fallen in with Fatima bint Narish- that women's even been over here a few times, if you can believe it," she said, her tone scathing. "Her Grace has officially declared her support for the Winner trial, and has even gone so far as to suggest that the Preventers be disbanded and replaced with a more... reliable military force with a non-military commander as the Commander-in-Chief."

Dorothy could read between the lines better then most. "A military under the control of the World Nation?"

"Yes. Needless to say, she wasn't happy when she heard that you were with Colonel Peacecraft. Luckily the newsies didn't find out, or else they would have been crawling all over the house. You and your mother's political philosophies don't mix that well."

"Teach me to suck eggs, why don't you?" Dorothy muttered. Rosalie gave her hair a warning tug. "Sorry, Rosalie. It's just that I'm tired, cranky, and in no mood to put up with my mother."

"When are you EVER in the mood to deal with her?" Rosalie asked. "Though I can't say I blame you. That woman could try the patience of a saint."

It took another fifteen minutes to finally run a comb through smoothly, and then they decided to braid it back. When it was done, Dorothy couldn't help but reflect on Duo Maxwell. A small part of her gloated that her braid was longer then his had been.

"I'd better go," Dorothy said reluctantly.

"I'll turn down the bed for you," Rosalie said. "Chin up, child. You're ten times the woman your mother is."

Dorothy smiled in thanks for the compliment and headed to her sitting room.

Emily was sitting on a chair, her skirts carefully arranged around her. She set down the delicate china cup she had been sipping from and studied her daughter. "Much better," she approved after a glance. "That horrid uniform did nothing for you." She gestured at the table, which was set with two platters covered with silver lids. "I had Swenson get us something refreshing for mind and body- you need it. Have you been eating?"

"I eat when I remember to," Dorothy replied, taking the chair across from her mother. All she really wanted was to collapse into her bed, but Emily wasn't about to let her do that. So she might as well make the best of it and eat.

"You're looking thin," Emily said, daintily wrapping a bit of pasta around her fork.

"I have a high metabolism," Dorothy answered, deciding to start on the soup. She was starving, but she doubted her appetite would remain. Her mother had a way of making her forget about things like that.

Emily nodded, and they were silent as they ate for a while. Finally Emily broke it. "I've been patient long enough. Would you please explain to me why you were with the Preventers?"

"Because a friend asked me."

"Milliard Peacecraft?" her mother asked. "Still chasing after him like a bitch in heat?"

Dorothy clenched her fist. "You're one to talk. I'm not the one with five ex-husbands."

"Six," her mother corrected calmly. "Tea?" She held out a teapot.

Dorothy accepted by offering her cup, wondering if she could get away with slipping a little arsenic into her mother's. Surely no one could blame her for committing matricide... "Five. Papa died, you didn't divorce him."

The Duchess nodded and continued to eat her pasta. After swallowing, she said, "I must compliment you on your taste. He's well connected, rich, handsome, and royalty to boot. A little bit strong-willed for my liking, but he'll make a wonderful ally on the political field. I was beginning to despair of you, you know."

"Nothing will come of it. We're merely friends," Dorothy replied as she added a little pepper to her soup. Emily liked bland foods, but Dorothy had acquired the taste for spicy foods- the hotter the better. Much like their respective taste in men. She wondered if Milliard even considered them friends anymore. She would like to be his friend... maybe. She had so few of them.

Emily sighed. "Then what were you doing?"

"Classified."

"You can't even tell your own mother?"

"Not when she's one of Fatima's allies. Really, mother," she said in an uncanny mimicry of he mother's earlier irritation, "I thought you had better sense then that. Fatima is one of Une's worst enemies. We need the Preventers now to keep things as stable as possible."

"When they're part of the problem? Right now the general public views them as scapegoats, and supporting them is political suicide." She watched her daughter dip a bit of bread in the soup, frowning. "That's disgusting," she said.

"Tastes better this way," Dorothy retorted as she swallowed, ripping off a larger piece and dunking it with deliberate slowness. "Just because it may not be popular doesn't mean it's not right."

"What do I care about right? It's not good politics..."

Dorothy dropped her food. "What do you believe, then? Personally?"

Emily shrugged. "What does what I believe in matter? I'm siding with the winner."

The two women glared at each other, neither willing to back down. Emily's lack of principles disgusted Dorothy, and Emily couldn't understand her daughter's ideals.

"What about what's right? What about doing what you believe in? What about standing for yourself? You have so little principles that you let that bint Narish chit dictate what you think?"

Emily's gray-green eyes flashed dangerously. "I don't let anyone "dictate" what I think... I think for myself. Right now Fatima's star is ascendant, or else I would have nothing to do with her. When she falls, I will be there, and I'll scoop up the remains. I've been waiting for an opportunity like this for years- now that the Federation and OZ are gone, the field is wide open for new players."

Dorothy felt rage wash through her. "So it's a game, is it? What about the people who are dying?"

Emily sensed her daughter's anger, but didn't comprehend how deeply it ran. "I have nothing to do with that. People die all the time, whether through war, or famine, or old age. I'm not holding a gun to their heads; I'm merely taking advantage of the situation."

Dorothy had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. "Don't you care?"

Emily's knife cut through the tender veal on her plate like it was made of butter. She chewed on a small piece delicately before washing it down with a sip of wine. "Of course I'd prefer them not to die- I'm not completely heartless, you know. But since they do die, I am merely being an astute politician. Politics is a fascinating game, one you must use every advantage you can find to get ahead. You should know that, dear. It's why I keep telling you to get married- Duchess Dermail will be much more influential then Lady Dorothy Alicia Veronique Catalonia."

"Whatever happened to marrying well? Working behind the scenes? I thought that was your strategy?"

Emily snorted almost rudely. "Nicolas isn't the brightest bulb, but he's exactly what I need right now. A docile husband with a title. The fact that he's handsome doesn't hurt, but I could cope with him even if he was ugly. This time it's going to be me in power- I'm not hiding behind anyone anymore. I've had enough of that. Besides, I'm not getting any younger. You're old enough to make me a grandmother."

Since Emily had pretty much just confessed to Dorothy's own opinion of her, Dorothy couldn't find an argument. Still, having such a conniving, unscrupulous mother infuriated her. "You're a bitch, you know that?"

Emily shrugged. "That makes you a bitch's daughter, and everyone says children learn what they are from their parents."

"I hate you!" Dorothy hissed, unable to think of anything more damaging then that.

"I don't like you much, either. Just because you're my daughter doesn't mean liking goes along with it. I honestly can't understand where you got some of your ideas.... I honestly shouldn't have let your grandfather have you for so long. He warped you."

"If it means I'm not like you, then I'm glad," she retorted, setting her plate aside.

Emily picked up her teacup again and calmly took a drink. "You're too much like your aunt. Every time I see you, you look more and more like Alicia. That woman got herself killed for those pointless ideals that your grandfather brainwashed you to accept. Not only content to ruin his own daughter, he had to warp mine as well."

It all came together for Dorothy at that moment. For the second time in less then a week, she had been compared to a woman she had never met, but one who had had a profound influence on her life... one whom she resembled more than she had realized.

The dead live on through the children of the living...

An epiphany... a realization of something she'd been denying for so long that she hadn't even been aware that it existed.

Causes don't stop mattering. People do.

"I am not your daughter," Dorothy said calmly. "You may have given birth to me, but that means nothing. You did not raise me; you instilled none of your beliefs into me. I am a Catalonia, something you can never understand. Catalonias understand honor and duty... and know that power must be used for the betterment of all, rather then the service of self." She rose to her feet, leaving Emily searching for words as she headed for her bedroom.

Rosalie was waiting for her. "My Lady, are you all right?" she asked with concern as she help Dorothy slide out of her kimono and into the bed.

All of the sudden the fatigue of days caught up with her, and she realized she was on her last legs. Still, even that knowledge couldn't stop her from smiling. "I'm all right... in fact, I couldn't be better." Then her eyes shut, and she plunged into the most restful sleep she had had since Operation Meteor began.

 
Go to Dermail side A Daughter's Sacrifice

 


 
Scene VI: Acceleration Towards Destiny

 

"All I wanted was a piece of the night;
I never got an equal share."
--Jim Steinman, Original Sin

It was down seven floors through two locked doors and more security alarms that had been set to trigger if someone with the wrong genetic structure even attempted to pass through. When he had been younger, Milliard had wondered about the Khushrenadas' seeming obsession with security, but he was glad of it now. No matter what happened to the mansion, even if it was a nuclear holocaust, whatever was stored down in the lower basement levels would survive.

Whether the owner survived to claim those items was another matter.

He passed the last barrier and placed his hand on the auto-lock mechanism panel beside the heavy lead door. It beeped gently, twice, and there was a click as a lock sprang open. Taking a deep breath, Milliard removed his hand from the identification panel and gave the door a gentle push.

The space behind the door was dark and as the door slammed shut with a resounding bang, he couldn't help feeling a little tingle of fear rush down his spine. The pitch black lasted only for a second. With the sound of the door slamming, there was a humming sound and the automatic lights flickered on with a harsh snap.

He was standing in what could only be described as an underground hangar. The walls and floor of the cavernous space were of cement, and steel beams crisscrossed the high ceiling in a dizzying pattern with various hooks and pulleys attached at regular intervals. Walkways lined all four walls and the hangar doors were set into the middle of the ceiling. Not as large as a regular military hangar, certainly, but it was large enough to comfortably house at least ten mobile suits, or even four or five Gundams.

But he wasn't concerned with any of that now. He hadn't been down here since after the war had ended. He had hoped he wouldn't have to.

It had been almost a week since his fever had broken and he had awoken in his childhood room with the old Greek servant by his side. Dimitrios had been with the Khushrenadas for years, Treize had told him, long before Treize's parents were married and Treize had been born. As the majordomo of the estate he was the one to turn to if anything went wrong, and both Treize and Milliard had grown to trust the old man immensely with any number of important tasks and even secrets. When he'd gotten up this morning, knowing what he had to do, he had considered telling Dimitrios. The old servant had no access to the underground hangar, but perhaps it would be good to let someone else in on what was about to happen.

Dimitrios?

Yes, Master Zechs?

Where is my Epyon?

The old servant hadn't known, of course, but Milliard hadn't exactly been in the best state of mind. Every day, when Dimitrios had come into bring him meals or change his bandages or to give him his medicine, he would ask that question.

Dimitrios? Where is my Epyon?

And Dimitrios would reply, as if talking to a small child, I don't know, Master Zechs.

Like most everyone else, Dimitrios believed that Epyon had been destroyed in the last battle of the war, and there was no reason to believe otherwise. Milliard had kept his own survival a secret from the entire world until he'd felt he was ready to show himself, after all. For all anyone knew, his Gundam could have been destroyed along with him.

Three months before he returned to Cinq and Relena, when he had finally decided to go back and see what had become of the mansion that he had inherited from Treize, it had been close to falling into total disrepair. Treize had dismissed all the servants in a fit of...something a few months before the end of the war and had locked up the house and moved out completely. When Milliard had unlocked the gate to enter the grounds, he'd found that the rose bushes that Treize had so loved had grown almost up to the gate, effectively blocking any entry. While it was comforting in the fact that it would deter any would-be-thieves, it was also a damned inconvenience for him. He'd resorted to using his sword to whack off the largest chunks of rosebush so he could squeeze past the gate, leaving them lying like discarded rubble on the entry path.

The grounds inside the walls weren't much better, and neither was the inside of the mansion itself. The front door's hinges had rusted and as he entered, he could have sworn he heard the pattering feet of rats or mice scurrying off back into their holes, suddenly evicted from the domain that had been theirs for the past year. All the furniture and the floors were covered with dust and rat droppings, and there were holes in the sofas and bedspreads and curtains where various vermin had unraveled loose strings and carried them off to line their nests.

In the dining room, on the long, mahogany table, there was a single cup of coffee. Someone had drunk half of it and then left it there, and there was green and white mold growing on what was left of the brown liquid inside.

Somehow though, looking at that coffee cup, Milliard had felt that Treize was right there with him. Perhaps that coffee had been Treize's last meal here.

He'd spent the next month fixing up the mansion. He wasn't particularly fond of home improvement or gardening, but he knew enough about it to be decent, and most of it simply involved tearing down and wiping off, or, in the case of the wild garden, snipping and whacking. At night, he'd build up the fire until it crackled high and bright in the fireplace, and then he'd sit in one of the overstuffed armchairs with a stack of selected books he had taken from Treize's overstuffed library, and read the night away, stopping only when he was so tired that he couldn't hold his eyes open anymore.

It wasn't exactly an ideal life, but he was happy there, and it kept his mind off other things.

Such as the war.

Such as the kingdom that he'd betrayed and the sister whom he'd left.

Such as Lucrezia Noin.

Such as the man who had started and ended everything. As far was he was concerned, there was only one man.

Strange...they'd only been a few years apart in age, but Treize had always been like the father he had never had.

But the most important thing he had done during that month was hidden in the massive underground hangar that lay under the Khushrenada mansion. The hangar had been there, Treize had said, as long as he could remember, and no one had ever used it. He knew that Treize had stored Tallgeese there for a few weeks during the war, and that was what gave him the idea.

In this age of peace, Epyon was useless...but destroying it would be to rip out a piece of him that wasn't quite dead. So he did the next best thing.

He hid it.

He hadn't told anyone, not even Dimitrios, whom he'd decided to seek out during the last week of his stay there. The old man had taken the news of his mysterious survival calmly, though Milliard could see that he was a bit bewildered, and perhaps even a little convinced that he was seeing a ghost.

Will you look after the house for me, he'd asked, while I'm gone?

Dimitrios had loved that house, and Milliard of all people could only imagine how the old servant had felt when Treize had dismissed him. There were a few other servants that Milliard would have liked to call back, but he had not the time, and he'd told Dimitrios to look them up.

He didn't say a word about Epyon.

So it was no small wonder that the old man thought that perhaps the incident on A007 had injured Milliard more than it appeared, for him to be asking so insistently after something that didn't exist anymore, but as the fever came and went, he knew that it was here. The memory was not, however. Everything that had happened before A007, everything that had happened before she had died was fuzzy and indistinct, growing fainter and fainter the farther he tried to go back. The only thing he could see was her face and the burning rubble of melted and twisted metal.

He'd awakened on the fourth day feeling well enough to get out of bed, and as he had paused beside the door, his hand on the doorframe, he had remembered. And because his mind was clear now, he knew what he had to do.

Milliard had come close to telling Dimitrios at breakfast, and then during the interval afterwards when his wound was being dressed with the day's fresh bandage. But somehow he couldn't. He'd look at the kindly, wrinkled face, open his mouth, and then feel the ghosts of Treize and Noin looking down on him, staring at him accusingly.

This was something he had to do alone.

He took a deep breath and crossed to the right side of the hangar, where a number of various sliding metal doors, closed and locked, were built into the wall. There was another control panel in between the third and fourth doors, but the standby light on this was unlit. Stopping in front of it, he stared at it, burning the image of it into his eyes until he could memorize every crack of the metal scanning board, every curved and straight line that ran up into the mechanical framework underneath the smooth, deceptive covering of the device. Raised his hand slowly and placed it firmly on the panel.

The panel hummed and the light blinked red and then green. He felt a flash of heat under his hand as it activated and then it fell silent.

With a slow grinding, the doors began to open.

He closed his eyes, seeing the image of her face imprinted on the surface of his eyelids. Seeing her smile at him.

"I'm sorry, Noin," he said. "Forgive me."

The grinding came to a halt and he opened his eyes slowly, as if afraid of what he might find, but behind each open door there were only crates and metal boxes and chests upon chests of...something. He sighed.

Might as well.

Most of the crates and boxes were on automated carts, but that required him to start the carts and drive each of them out into the center of the hangar floor. He'd forgotten how much trouble it had taken him to store all of them inside the doors, and when he had finished, he looked out at the mess of boxes and wondered if it was worth the trouble.

Without you, Zechs, OZ ends up allowing worthless actions by worthless people.

What do I do, Treize? he wondered silently, staring at the carts and boxes and crates as if their contents would spill out and magically rearrange themselves back in the order in which they were meant to be. Where do I go? What have I become? Who am I?

Open up, Zechs. You're hiding far too many secrets.

The memory of her was like an open wound, still bloody, still too fresh even to fester. He'd never even told her that he loved her, and she was gone.

If...something happens to me, I don't want you to grieve. To regret...anything. That's happened between us.

His words to her, and yet they'd come eerily true . He heard her voice on the comm, between the bursts of fire and the explosions, say just one word. One word, before she'd headed into the inferno which had become her grave.

Zechs.

"I did love you, you know," he said to the empty hangar. "I loved you, Lucrezia. I did." Hearing the echoes of his voice come back to him. "I did," he said in a small whisper, feeling his knees give out beneath him and he fell to the ground, staring at the blank, gray, concrete, as if it would somehow comfort him.

Zechs, she had said, not knowing that she would never have the chance to tell him anything else, but that in itself spoke volumes.

Is that my name? he wondered, as he pushed himself to his feet, carefully unpacked the ancient tool chest he'd found in the back of the storage unit, laying the tools straight, parallel, side by side. Treize, help me...

He straightened, went to the first crate, and pried open the top with a crowbar. It was full of metal scraps, as was the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He wondered why he'd ever even thought of taking Eypon apart. He could have left it here in the hangar, whole and safe, awaiting his return.

Because I thought that maybe...maybe there was the chance I wouldn't need to use it again.

The largest box was a steel container set upon a large flatbed mechanical sled, and he had to pry that one apart with the mechanical drill, making the incisions at the right point so that when he released his hold, the front side of the box simply dropped away and fell to the hangar floor with an ear-splitting crash. He'd almost been afraid of what might have happened to the contents of this container, even though there was no possible way anything could have touched the inside in a sealed environment such as this, but...

It was almost with a shock of relief that he looked up and saw the great head of Epyon silently staring back him from inside. The rest of the Gundam was in pieces in the crates scattered around the hangar, but this he had kept intact. He held the drill in his limp hand, staring at the haunting features of the machine which had become almost human to him, and then hesitantly set it gently down on the floor, reached out and fiddled with the wiring, pushing the small emergency switch on the side of the box.

The green eyes of the Gundam lit with a sharp pinging noise, and the green luminescence flooded the hangar, a tiny room compared to the vastness of space.

As long as mankind exists in this world, there will always be war.

"Is that true, Treize?" he said, placing a hand on the side of Epyon's face, wondering at how dwarfed, how small, how insignificant he was compared to this machine of mass destruction, and wondering just how he had come to be here.

The value of life versus war is something you can't even compare!

Which one was right? he wondered. Noin or Treize? The angel or the devil? Or perhaps Treize hadn't been so much of a devil after all.

"To me," he said softly, "you were angels. Both of you."

And he looked straight into Epyon's glowing eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'll do it, Treize," he said, feeling very much like a traitor returning home, asking for forgiveness. "I'll go back...I'll finish what you started. Can I...can I still do that? Even after so long? You believed in me...I failed you. I failed you both."

I won't let your deaths be for nothing...I'll take back what I threw away. When the Libra was destroyed, I should have died. Milliard Peacecraft should have died.

He saw that now, that there was never a Milliard Peacecraft, that there never had been, because Milliard Peacecraft had died in that last battle in space, along with Treize Khushrenada, and all that was left was the mask. But that didn't matter, because he was a ghost now just like them, and they were counting on him to set things right. That last battle, which should have accomplished so much, meant nothing at all in the grand scheme of time. There would be continue to be war, and people would continue to die. And he wouldn't let that happen, because they had believed in him, and he couldn't let them down.

They had believed in Zechs Merquise.

I'm sorry, Relena. I couldn't be what you wanted me to be after all.

Epyon seemed to stare accusingly at him, and he squared his shoulders, picked up the mechanical drill from the ground and addressed the Gundam.

"My name is Zechs Merquise," he said. And smiled. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

 


 
Scene VII: Phantoms of the Waking Day

 

"Maybe there's a God above,
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you."
--Rufus Wainwright, Hallelujah

 
Helena had been asleep for at least half an hour against Shinobu's right side when he finally got up the courage to gently place her head back on the headrest behind her and stand up to stretch and use the restroom. Across the shuttle, Hilde and Duo were also asleep. The young pilot, who was so vibrant in waking, was slumped bonelessly against the seat back, exhaustion showing in the lines of his face. Hilde was snuggled up against him, but she looked peaceful. Safe.

He looked down at Helena. Her mouth was slightly open and there were red marks on her cheek from where her face had been pressed up against his shoulder. Wisps of fine blond hair fell across her chin and fluttered in the slight exhale of air from her lips. He almost reached out a finger to brush them away, then realized what he was doing and snatched his hand back, heading to the back of the shuttle, closing the door of the bathroom and leaning against it to stare up at the ceiling.

What was I thinking?

He'd always considered himself a noble person, had tried to be, no matter what his family had said. There was more to life than the scheming and the squabbling and the occasional feuding that went on with the cartel, and that was why he had left L1. Cliffside had been a breath of fresh air, and he would have been content to stay there forever. Compared to the Breaks, the little dramas between students were like heaven to him, and he had vowed never to go back to the Black Diamond. That he would do everything in his power to sever the ties between him and that organization that called itself his family, that he would grow up and go out and make an honest living.

He'd broken his promise when he had asked his grandfather for help.

Granted, Duo had needed that information, and there wasn't any other way he could have gone about getting it, but it burned at him. It was like stooping to a criminal level. He knew his grandfather had been surprised. Their last parting had ended badly, and it had been almost two years since they had spoken, and he knew that his grandfather would ask something of him in return for the information. And he did it anyway, because Duo was his friend, but still, it burned.

And now here he was, having spent a few days close to a pretty girl who he hadn't even really known before all this happened. A pretty girl who happened to be someone else's girlfriend, who was still grieving for the loss of the boy she had loved and who would never look at him in that way, even if he were to tell her. He wasn't even sure when it had happened...perhaps he hadn't even realized it when he'd started thinking of her like this. All he knew was that this was happening too quickly, and it frightened him.

This was even lower than crime...it was like petty thievery. Chronic petty thievery, because he couldn't get her out of his mind.

When he emerged out of the bathroom, he found that Helena was awake, staring out the window at the sunlit clouds out the shuttle porthole, and he sat down by her wordlessly. His stomach did a little flip when she turned to smile at him.

"It's beautiful outside!" she said. The sunlight accented the blue of her eyes and he could barely restrain himself from blurting out something he would regret. Instead, he nodded and looked out the porthole and the scudding clouds beneath.

Footsteps sounded from the cockpit and Sally emerged, looking tired. "We're almost there," she said. "A few more minutes and we'll be over Geneva." Gesturing to Duo and Hilde. "You might want to wake those two up."

"I'm awake," Duo said in a deadpan voice, though his eyes were still closed and he hadn't moved since the shuttle had taken off.

Shinobu expected Sally to say something in response, but she simply turned as if she hadn't heard him and slammed the door to the cockpit. Duo's eyes opened and he stared at the door. "Geez, what's wrong with her?" he wondered.

"It has been a long journey," Shinobu said quietly. "She is maybe tired."

"Definitely tired, you mean," said Duo, reached out a hand to shake Hilde softly awake. "Hil? Hey love, time to get up." Hilde mumbled something and buried her face a little deeper into Duo's chest, making him laugh softly. Shinobu turned away.

Ridiculous...he wasn't jealous of Duo and Hilde. He couldn't be.

A soft hand on his shoulder made him jump. "You ok?" Helena said worriedly.

"Yes," he replied shortly. "Fine."

"Are you sure?"

He allowed himself a nod, then gently shrugged her hand away from him. "We should put on our seatbelts," he said. "We are landing soon."

"That's my man," Duo said, grinning. "Always prepared. So serious. But I guess he's got a deadly side too, huh?" Shinobu made a non-committal grunt, and Duo grinned even wider. "You know," he began, then a spasm crossed his face and he fell silent.

"What?" Hilde wondered groggily, and he patted her absently.

"I was just gonna say that Shin reminds me of someone."

"Who?" Helena said, now interested.

"I forgot," Duo said roughly and pushed himself to his feet. "I gotta go use the bathroom."

As the bathroom door slammed, the three of them looked at each other, and Hilde sighed.

The click of the intercom brought them out of their thoughts, and Sally's voice filtered into the cabin. "We're approaching Geneva. When we drop down out of the clouds in just a moment, you can see the city out the windows. We'll be landing at the Preventers' Base in about ten minutes, so be sure to buckle up. Duo, get out of the bathroom. You've been in there for five minutes."

Helena and Hilde were still snickering when an affronted-looking Duo emerged back out into the cabin, water dripping from his hair and face. "Hey, a guy needs his beauty prep time, you know?"

Shinobu turned to look out the window, feeling the shuttle drop in altitude. As they passed through some clouds, the sunlight vanished for a moment and then reappeared. Beside him, Helena made a little "ooh!" sound of wonder.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Duo said, sounding impressed. "Oh, look! That must be the base."

Shinobu and Helena hurried over to peer out of the portholes on Duo's side of the shuttle. The city of Geneva lay beneath them, not sprawling and obese like most large cities, but surprisingly neat and compact, almost exquisitely refreshing in its layout. Shinobu guessed that the square block located a little off-center, with what looked like a large tower jutting from the middle, was the base.

He knew he was right when the shuttle banked a little to the left and began to descend. Landing pads and buildings came into view, tiny at first and then larger, condensing from square building blocks and pieces of cardboard into large, imposing structures even from the air. They could hear the pilot from inside the cockpit communicating with the radio control tower. The shuttle flew in low and fast, circling once before settling with perfect precision onto the landing pad.

"There sure is a lot of security here," Hilde observed. Shinobu peered out the window again, for the first time registering the light armored vehicles and uniformed personnel that stood armed and silent in a ring around the pad.

The cockpit door slid open again. "This is it," Sally said. "Let me get off first, and when I signal, Duo comes first and the rest of you follow."

"Why me first?" Duo objected, "These guys need to get out of here...it's me that those guys are here for, right?"

"Which is why," Sally said, "they need to see that you're indeed you before any of the others get off. No objections?" Duo opened his mouth but she ignored him. "Good. Don't do anything stupid while I'm out there." The hatch opened and sunlight flooded the compartment, and then it slammed shut again.

Duo blew out a breath. "Mattaku."

Shinobu smiled, then blinked as Duo tapped him on the shoulder. The two girls were absorbed in staring out the window, and he didn't object as the American boy pulled him to one side. He felt something cold and smooth being pressed into his hand, looked down and saw it was a pistol.

"Take this," Duo said in a low voice in Japanese. "It might come in handy."

"You don't trust the Preventers?" Shinobu wondered.

Duo gave a short laugh. "At this point, Shin, I don't trust anyone."

He nodded and tucked the gun into his boot with expert ease, noting the lack of a surprised expression on Duo's face. Obviously, Duo had picked up on the fact that Shinobu was definitely not what he seemed, and he seemed to be fine with that. Shinobu smiled at him reassuringly as they rejoined the girls at the window.

They watched as Sally was greeted by an older man with general's stars on his shoulders. The minutes ticked by and the four inside the shuttle began to lose interest in the proceedings as Sally and the general stood there, apparently having a heated discussion of some sort. Duo yawned, starting to turn away from the window, and Hilde slapped him lightly.

"Pay attention, baka! She'll be calling you out in a minute."

"I hate politics," Duo mumbled, just as the conversation seemed to come to an end and Sally gestured over her shoulder. "I guess that's me."

The hatch slid open and they watched as Duo reappeared outside and walked over to the general, then Shinobu stood and followed him, grabbing his bags.

It was very warm but not hot, a few degrees cooler than it had been the last time Duo had stepped outside in China to look for Wufei, and there was a pleasant breeze. He could hear Duo conversing pleasantly, if a bit shortly, with the general. Sally watched as the three of them came across the landing pad in a huddle, then waved them over.

"This is General Brown," Sally said, gesturing to the tall, white-haired general, who bowed. "General, friends of Duo's. Hilde Schbeiker, Helena Rosenbaum, and Matsuura Shinobu."

Shinobu saw the general arch an eyebrow when she mentioned his name, but there was no other reaction in his face except for a friendly smile. "Pleased to meet you," he said pleasantly. "I get the feeling you'll be seeing a lot of me in the near future."

From the corner of his eye he saw Sally frown at the general's words, but at that moment, Duo jumped in.

"Oi...I'm sure this is nice and all, but didn't you say that the rest of the gang's here? Heero and the rest?" Brown nodded, and Duo crossed his arms in front of him, looking stubborn. "I'd like to see them, before we do anything else."

"I'm afraid that's impossible, at least for the time being," Sally said. "We need to figure out what to do with your Gundams."

Duo set his jaw and Shinobu knew that meant the beginning of a long and exhausting argument, but before the other boy could open his mouth, Hilde crossed over to Duo and touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Sally's right," she said. "This time I'm the one to say it...you need to make sure your Gundam and Wing Zero are safe before you do anything else. We risked so much to get them."

He stared at her for a second, then nodded reluctantly. "Fine." To Sally, "where are we storing them?"

She nodded at General Brown, who offered Duo a sympathetic smile. "It was short notice, but we managed to commission one of the smaller hangars for you. It's classified, of course." He gestured around at the security personnel. "All these people are specialized security maintenance crews who normally work on our state-of-the-art classified projects. They'll be taking care of your Gundams."

"Taking care?" Duo echoed.

Brown nodded. "Well, your Gundams have been neglected on the Colony for more than a year now, so before we store them away, I think it's best we do a maintenance check on them. We need you on hand to help out."

"Maintenance check?" Duo said, now sounding a little stunned and not at all pleased. "But Deathscythe Hell and Wing Zero have been through a lot worse and come out fine...they haven't even been used at all. I'm sure they're-"

"As a precaution," General Brown said. "It's standard procedure here, and you are on a Preventers' Base."

Once again Hilde nudged Duo. "You better do what he says," she whispered.

"How long will this...'maintenance check' take?" he wondered, sounding suspicious.

Sally sighed. "Duo, I swear that your friends are safe and sound on base. It's not a trap. We need these Gundams stored safely away in perfect condition so that they can be activated at a moment's notice. It's not a game anymore, Duo...this is war all over again. You of all people should know and accept that."

"Wing Zero is Heero's Gundam," Duo persisted stubbornly. "Shouldn't he be on hand to supervise it?"

A shadow crossed over Brown's face and he exchanged looks with Sally. "That wouldn't be...advisable right now, I don't think."

"What do you mean?" Duo demanded. But Brown had already gestured to some of the personnel, who were moving towards the shuttle and the cargo compartment in the back. "Hey! I want an answer!"

"Duo!" Sally said sharply. "Show some respect, to him as an elder at least, even if you don't respect his rank!"

But Brown shook his head. "It's all right, Sally. If I were in his place, I would be thinking the exact same thing."

"I doubt it," Duo muttered under his breath, and Hilde elbowed him warningly, then turned to Brown.

"General...if it's all right, I'd like to go with Duo to help check out the Gundams."

"That's a good idea," Sally said. "Brown, take Hilde with you. She could be of help."

Brown nodded and motioned to them. Shinobu watched as the Gundams were lifted out of the cargo hatch by a crane and then transported carefully to flatbed trucks and covered. "All right then. Hopefully this won't take more than a few hours, and then you can go find your friends."

Duo waved a despondent goodbye and climbed into one of the trucks with Hilde tagging along behind him, and the engines roared to life, swinging off the landing pad and onto the road beyond. Shinobu glanced at Sally, who seemed lost in thought, then to Helena, who looked frightened.

"General Po?" he began, but Sally's eyes focused and her head shot up.

"Who's in command here?" she called out to the remaining security troops. One of them stepped forward and saluted.

"I am, ma'am."

"Kindly send two of your troops to escort the young man and young lady to their guest rooms." She fixed Shinobu and Helena with a glance that, while not threatening, was not kind. "You two, under no circumstances are you to reveal why or with whom you came here. You got that?" Helena nodded frantically and Shinobu longed to put an arm around her to calm her. Outwardly, she was calm and composed, but he could tell that she was scared.

He had hoped to catch her alone after they were shown to their rooms, but Helena had bid him a good day, saying that she was tired and needed sleep. The guard that had taken them to their quarters had given them a map of the base, an intercom number to call in case of emergency, and a mealcard and schedule of mealtimes. If they needed anything else, he said, they were to go to the front desk of the building they were in, and someone would help them.

Shinobu took a long-awaited shower and then sat down on the edge of his bed, staring at the curtained window. He had thought that being on a military base would be an adventure, but so far it wasn't turning out to be much of one. Sighing, he slipped his feet into his old tennis shoes and headed outside. They hadn't forbidden him from going anywhere, and he was going to take advantage of the freedom that he had.

Turning left from the front door of the lodging building, he headed down the sidewalk, his thoughts on Sally and Duo. He hadn't known Sally for very long, but even he could tell that her demeanor had shifted suddenly when they had landed. It was as if she was impatient about something, or perhaps worried, the way she had kept throwing glances at Brown. Perhaps she'd gotten new orders that she hadn't told them about?

He almost smacked himself mentally for that thought. Of course she'd most likely gotten orders that they knew nothing about. He and the other members of Cliffside were just civilian teenagers, after all, and military secrets were military secrets. He thought of Duo, thought of the shadows in the violet eyes and the strange fate that had led their paths to cross each other.

It was getting towards late afternoon and he was growing hungry, and according to the map, the dining hall was just a block away. He crossed the street, glancing around him at the base, so clean and new, as if the entire thing was a sculpture made of white stone. Were all military installations like this? he wondered. The design was linear and spare and almost austere, but with an underlying noble beauty. He'd always loved architecture, had even considered it as a career while he was at Cliffside.

He'd never be an architect now, but it was still a fond dream.

Entering the dining hall, Shinobu stuffed the map into his pocket and set about ordering food. The hall was built along the lines of a school cafeteria, so he found it easy to navigate, and the people behind the counter waited patiently as he mulled over the English-labeled menu choices. His English was much better now than it had been even half a year ago, but ordering in English still proved a challenge sometimes.

He'd gotten his meal and was turning away from the drink fountain carrying his glass of water over to his tray when he felt someone collide into his left side. His hand shook and dropped the glass. It fell to the ground, shattering, and he jumped, backed up a few steps, looking around for the culprit.

The boy was about his age, with dark skin but decidedly Asian features, slim almost to the point of frail thinness, but there was a strength and agility about him that belied that assumption. "I'm sorry," Shinobu offered, seeing that the other wasn't going to be the first to offer an apology. A young airman emerged on the scene with a broom and dustpan, motioning for them to step out of the way while he swept up the mess, and the dark-skinned boy shook his head an muttered what seemed to be something along the lines of "It's ok."

"I am new here," Shinobu began, wondering what a boy like that would be doing on base, but the boy shook his head at him in confusion.

"No English," he said, and Shinobu blinked. That was a Japanese accent if he had ever heard one.

"You speak Japanese?" he asked in his native language, and was rewarded with a nod. He grinned and stuck out his hand. This might actually not be so bad. "Nice to meet you. Matsuura Shinobu."

To his surprise, the boy glanced at his outstretched hand as if it were a snake waiting to bite him, then shook it guardedly. "Call me Darkflight," he said, and Shinobu raised an eyebrow.

"Darkflight?"

"Yeah."

He didn't seem to be very talkative, but he spoke Japanese, was probably the only person around who did so at the moment, and Shinobu wasn't about to let him go that lightly. "So where are you from?"

"L1," the boy called Darkflight said shortly. "Just got here yesterday."

Shinobu laughed lightly. "I just arrived this afternoon, myself. Where in L1 are you from?"

"Nosy, aren't you?" the boy said darkly. "If you must know, I'm from the Breaks. That help any?"

Shinobu froze. "The Breaks?" he said, cautiously.

"That's what I said the first time. You deaf?"

"You don't have to be so angry," Shinobu said, trying to stay calm. Perhaps talking to this boy was a bad idea. "I was only being polite."

"Well, save it." The boy's dark eyes were angry, the mixed African and Japanese features grim with an emotion he couldn't name.

African and Japanese?

A nagging suspicion crept into his mind, and he put on hand on the boy's shoulder. "Where in the Breaks?"

Darkflight's shoulder muscle tensed, and for a moment Shinobu thought he was going to start a fist fight right there in the dining hall, but he only shrugged his shoulder out of Shinobu's grasp and walked away without an answer. Shinobu stared after him as the door swung closed behind him, then grabbed his tray of food and sliding into an available seat without really paying attention to what he was doing.

There were few people of African descent in the Breaks, fewer even with mixed blood of any kind, much less mixed African and Asian. Of course, there was always the odd immigrant or two, but all in all, it was rare. Except in one certain case.

Shinobu finished his dinner in ten minutes, gulping down his water and dashing out of the dining hall. Back at the front desk of his building, he asked if there was a computer lab he could use.

"Certainly," the lady behind the counter said in a kind voice. "Straight down this hallway, the first right turn. It'll be the second room on your left."

"Thank you," he breathed, heading down the hall in a brisk trot.

The computer was a decent one loaded with only the most basic programs, but that was no obstacle. He was on the network in less than a minute, flying past various level one Holes and Bugs set in place by low-level hackers. Shinobu didn't consider himself to be an expert in the field, but he was good enough to usually get what he was looking for, and in this instance, what he was looking for could only be found on the Black Diamond Cartel's private network.

His grandfather wasn't a believer in storing vital information in places where anyone could access them, but his father had convinced the stubborn man that in certain cases, it would be beneficial, such as to agents who needed information quickly but had no access to a proper communication terminal. The network was still virtually inaccessible to other hackers, even top-level hackers, though there had been break-ins once or twice, but it wasn't really a worry. There was no classified cartel information stored on the network, but there were certain things on there that could be of use.

With a few strokes of the keys, he was in. Hopefully, he would be in and out before the server managed to unravel the encryption code he'd placed on the computer. If that happened, it would leave an identification stamp on the network, indicating access from an unauthorized computer, though the stamp would point to a military computer and not to Shinobu personally. Still, better safe than sorry. He scrolled down, tapping keys quickly and quietly, hoping no one would come into the lab and catch him at work, though there was little chance of repercussions even if someone did, because the information on the network was all in Japanese.

Got it!

SHIONJI KOUHITO, the text scrolled down the screen. AC ? - AC 173. There was no picture, but Kouhito's features were easily recognizable to every last member of the Black Diamond cartel. Shinobu scrolled past the few statistics that the network had on the man. Kouhito had been the brother of the last Shionji Cartel leader, Shionji Toburo, and he'd also been the one personally responsible for the downfall of the Shionji drug empire. Shinobu hadn't relished memorizing the cartel history when he had been younger, but now it might actually be of use.

TOKAGAWA MALAKANI, SECOND WIFE, the text read. MIXED AFRICAN-JAPANESE DESCENT. DECEASED AC 163.

He bit his lip, then hit the keys to instruct the computer to run a network search. The box came up on the screen and he thought for a moment more, then typed carefully. OPERATION ARES PROTOTYPE TESTING

The screen went blank and then blinked. NO RESULTS FOUND.

Shinobu sighed. It had been worth an effort, but he should have known that they wouldn't place that information on the network. Shionji Kouhito had been involved in the genetic superman testing that the Black Diamond cartel had sponsored back in the 130's, and though the project had failed, the Black Diamond Cartel had long suspected there had been some survivors. It was only after the project's failure that word had leaked out that it had been sponsored by the colonial resistance group that called themselves Operation Meteor. With that in the open, the cartel had drawn back, breaking any ties they ever had with the project and denying their involvement. When he had grown a little older, his grandfather had imparted to him the basics of the project, warning him never to become involved with the military in any way, shape, or form.

They'll as soon cut your throat as take your help, Seki Hikaru had warned him. Remember that, or else you'll end up dead.

But that was not the reason he was searching for information on the project now. The myth circulating among the members of the Black Diamond was that the Shionji cartel had fallen because it had impure blood. Because one of their members had married an outsider, a non-Japanese, and had bred impure heirs. As a result, they had been destroyed. Shinobu wasn't one to believe in ethnocentric fairy tales, but Shionji Kouhito had married a mixed African-Japanese woman as a second wife, and he had had two children by her. Neither of them had been in direct line for the succession of the cartel, but the eldest, a girl, had been killed by her siblings when the succession quarrels broke out in AC 173, and the younger boy had disappeared years earlier.

It was the boy he was concerned about.

Shinobu put his fingers to the keys, eyes hardening. If his hunch was correct, which he suspected it was, it might lead to some interesting times. The boy Darkflight was from the Breaks, L1. He'd said that himself. He was gaunt and underfed and had the telltale marks on his arms, which meant that he'd been living on the streets for some time. He was obviously not pureblood Japanese. Of course, for all Shinobu knew, there could be hundreds of homeless African-Japanese drug addicts roaming the streets of the Breaks since he'd moved out, but he doubted it. Besides, why else would such a boy be here, in Geneva, at this time?

Something was going on, and he was going to figure out what before anything worse happened. He didn't necessarily love his family, but it was his duty to protect them, and it was his duty as a friend to protect Duo. This Darkflight was far too young to be the missing boy himself, but if he was even a descendant of the son of Shionji Kouhito, he would have to be...disposed of.

He put his fingers to the keys, but before he could begin typing in the next search, there was a rustle at the door. He froze, then was out of his chair and in a combat crouch in the next second before he could even think, gun in hand with the safety off, pointed up. "Don't move," he growled, "or I'll kill you!"

He heard a startled gasp and then looked up to see Helena backing out of the doorway, a hand to her mouth.

"Wait!" he shouted, as Helena made a sound like a strangled sob and disappeared from view. "Helena! I-!"He could hear her running footsteps down the hallway and swore, lapsing back into Japanese, flinging himself back into the computer chair and logging off, picking up the gun and dashing into the hallway.

"Helena? Helena?"

She must have run outside, he realized, and cursed himself for not thinking, for being so involved in his work that he had forgotten his surroundings. Her best friend was missing, perhaps dead, her boyfriend had deserted her, and she was alone in an unfamiliar base with unfamiliar, even frightening circumstances. And the one person who she had remotely trusted had just threatened to kill her.

He should never have let Duo give him the gun.

He was out the door of the building and halfway down the front walk when the explosions began.

 
Go to Heero side
Scars

 


 
Scene VIII: The Diamond Age

 

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
--Semisonic, Closing Time

 
She'd checked that the security camera was still off before donning the goggles, but she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

She'd finished her work early that day, and Une was in another staff meeting, so she wouldn't be bothered. Yet as Li maneuvered carefully past some of the top-level Holes in the system, she wished for once that she wasn't on the network. This time her task wasn't to set a Bug or collect information or even to patrol the area. This time her mission was linked irrevocably to her own position in the non-virtual world, and she didn't like that.

Data connection ports and blinking boxes signifying security keyholes moved past her at a slower rate than she was used to while traversing the network, but she was taking her time, as if on a leisurely stroll through the virtual domain that every good hacker this side of the galaxy knew that she owned. Though of course, they knew her by another name. Still, it was good to know that she was still in fine form. No upstart young computer genius would be taking her title away from her anytime soon.

She skated past several Bugs designed to trap any unsuspecting young acolyte, placing her mark on them in passing to warn whoever had set those that it was not to be tolerated. If they were still there the next time she came through, there would be no mercy. A virtual network on this plane, she maintained, was not for fun and games. People who were here because they had nothing better to do needed to take their simulations and petty revenge elsewhere.

A message drone flashed by, searching for someone's IP address to deliver a message. Li watched curiously, wondering if it was perhaps a message for her, but it passed her without a second glance and she sighed. Things had been very quiet around here lately. She had to wonder if it was the current Gundam crisis that had suddenly caused the network rats to become extra careful about the footprints they left. Whatever the case, many of the most active Holes had suddenly gone into hibernation, and some of them had disappeared altogether.

Which was not making her job any easier.

Wearing the goggles while surfing the network was an interesting experience, since the visualization mode, usually programmed exclusively for work within Holes and not out of them, could be tampered with to produce some unusual effects. Li had worked on hers for months until she'd come up with a visualization option that made it seem as if she was underwater in a sea of transparent liquid mercury. Holes were giant sparkles of silver light, while Bugs were dark spots, quivering black holes. Data transmissions were beautiful diamond bubbles rising and falling from the surface of the mercury ocean to the endless abyss beneath.

Li usually preferred to tread the middle ground in her ocean of mercury, though sometimes if she was feeling particularly ruthless, she'd venture down several levels into where the ocean became deep and dark, where the scum of the earth and the colonies dwelt and dealt their private business of life and death far beneath the shimmering universe of a normal hacker. Today was one of those days. She wasn't feeling ruthless or even adventurous, but work was work, and she'd been given an assignment.

She just hoped that someone would be crazy enough to take her up on it.

The waters were quite dark and murky by the time she had gone down far enough levels to be sure that the people here had what she was looking for. The Holes were no longer shimmering pools of light but skeletal structures placed upon floating platforms, pyramids of bone-like fragments topped with grinning skulls, crooked, crumbling buildings around which Bugs flitted like bats. It was hard not to be impressed with these structures, which had obviously been constructed with the visualization goggles in mind, advanced to the point that their visualization matrices superseded and neutralized those of her own goggles, making her see what they wanted her to see.

She'd only spoken with the inhabitants of the Dungeons, as they liked to call their home on the network, a few times before, but they'd always been very helpful, even polite, which she hadn't expected from people like them. They held disdain for the term "hacker," preferring to be called "splicers" or "runners," referring to their real-life counterparts who made their living in the narcotics trade. The Runners' drug was the network itself, more powerful and addicting and deadly than any solid substance.

Li slowed her pace and then stopped, looking around at the encircling Holes, each smiling mockingly at her with empty eyes, wondering which one was best for her first gamble. She'd taken two steps towards a smaller one on her right when she suddenly saw digital streaks of light flash before her eyes, which meant that someone was Pulling her, hacking her goggles and trying to force her into one of their Holes without her permission.

Ridiculous...she hadn't been Pulled since her first six months on the network years ago. Before she could even begin to figure out what had gone wrong and how anyone could have found a weak point in her already enhanced goggle system, the black mercury ocean had disappeared and she found herself in Hell.

It wasn't really Hell, but a realistic enough simulation of Hell to make her think for a second that she'd somehow dropped into a storybook. The jagged ground, a nightmare mass of ridges and craters, appeared to be solid enough, but shone as if coated with a sheen of the same liquid mercury that made up her network ocean. Walls of fire roared from the ground up, changing direction midway through the air and suddenly shooting sideways or diagonal, creating shimmering distortions of reflection onto the wet rock-like surface beneath her feet. At first she ducked whenever a tongue of fire spiraled her way, but after a few attempts, she found that the flames crackling around her were curiously cool to the touch. She walked forward cautiously, changing her appearance several times, debating whether to be human or android before settling for a cybernetic-type body visualization, complete with headgear and a deadly looking gun tucked into a holster at her hip.

"Hello, stranger," someone said from behind her in Japanese.

She spun around to see a monstrous spider-like creature waddling towards her on sixteen legs, bulbous eyes fixed on her with a beady stare. Resisting the urge to grimace at the sight, she took a deep breath.

"I'm looking for Masamune," she said.

The spider peered at her. "And who might you be?"

"Tell him," she said quietly, "that Aidoru wants to speak with him." She smiled grimly. "He should know I'm here."

The spider waved one antenna but otherwise made no other sign of recognition at the name. She watched as it scuttled off, wondering what in the world would make anyone want to choose a visualization like that. The hellfire cast strange glows on her metal bodysuit and she reached behind her to smooth down her hair, finally giving up and making it disappear with another quick command.

"Aidoru," a voice said gravely.

This time when she turned around, she found herself staring at a sixteenth-century Japanese samurai in complete battle gear, standing with his arms crossed. The flickering firewall behind him made for impressive contrast.

"You are Masamune?" she said.

The samurai nodded. "I have heard much of you, though I must admit it is a little startling to meet you in person. Or as in person as we may achieve here." He laughed softly at his own joke and she stared impassively at him. If her stare fazed him, he didn't show it. "How may I help the lord of the network domain?"

"I'm hardly that," she said mildly, amused by the fact that he, like all the rest, had never bothered to question the assumption that Aidoru was male. It was an old assumption from when she had been an amateur hacker and one she had never bothered to correct, preferring to remain safely enigmatic. One more puzzle for the cyber police to crack. "More of a...patroller."

"Well, aren't we all?" he said. She was aware that he was testing her, wondering if she was going to give away anything in the first five minutes of her conversation. She stood her ground. If there was any bargaining to be done, it would be done on her terms. He stared at her for a moment more, as if hoping she'd take the bait, then nodded. "I see. Come with me."

The trip over the cratered landscape took less time than she expected, probably because Masamune or one of his cronies had adjusted the visualization matrix in order to make it seem as if the Hole was bigger than it seemed. It was a common practice, and Li had done it herself once or twice. That was a long time ago, though, and she had since grown good enough to increase the size of her networks without any artificial means. It was all a matter of skill, a matter of art and beauty just as much as pure programming.

That was why she was the Aidoru, the Idol, with an almost meteoric rise to fame, or infamy, as it were, dancing through a maze of zeros and ones with balladic grace. But like her namesake, she recognized the success for what it was, a quick jump to stardom that could leave her crashing down in the middle of nowhere if she wasn't careful.

She'd joined the Preventers to test her abilities. To see if she was capable of transforming an idol into something more permanent.

So far, she hadn't found an answer.

Masamune stopped and she almost bumped into him, then found herself teetering at the edge of a vast pool of lava. Flaming bubbles rose to the surface and popped with an oozing, squishing sound, and little crimson lizards crawled in and out of the lava, apparently unaffected by its temperatures.

"All right," he said, turning to her, his voice hard. "What do you want?"

Li pursed her lips in approval. This Masamune was a hard dealer, just like they'd said. "You must be pretty good, to Pull me in here. I haven't been Pulled in years. Anyone else would have said it was impossible."

"I specialize in the impossible," he deadpanned.

"I need an assassin," she said, not bothering with any formalities. Simply laying it down on the table. "A few, if possible. Very very good ones. I pay well."

He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed." A datapad appeared in front of him and began inscribing the conversation. She ignored it.

"I have a big fish to catch and you're the one I trust to provide me with the assets to do it right."

"How big a fish?" he wondered.

"Big," she said. "I'll leave it at that for now."

"I can't get the people for you if you won't tell me."

"Find me the best there are," she said. "And we'll talk."

They stared at each other for a moment, neither willing to back down, and finally he nodded unwillingly. "Fine." Turning, he fiddled with something and a tiny panel opened in the ground, a control panel emerging and floating up to Masamune's hands. He grabbed it, pushed a few buttons. An image of a screen appeared in front of him and she could see he was typing, though in some kind of language that she couldn't read.

"Code language?" she wondered.

He smiled, showing his teeth. "It's called Scat." Paused. The lava pool boiled, and a particularly large bubble popped with a squelching noise. "The best I can offer you for a job like this is a team called Shadowwing. Ever heard of them?"

Li hissed between her teeth. She'd had a feeling he'd say that. "No good," she said.

"Oh? You don't trust me?"

She almost laughed. "No, I trust you implicitly. It's just that Shadowwing is...absent at the moment. They won't be able to do the job."

He frowned. "I haven't heard anything about this."

"It's true," she said. "Trust me. I need someone else. Someone with the same level of talent."

Masamune shook his head. "There are no other groups with their level of talent. You're asking the impossible."

"I thought," she said, favoring him with a disdainful glance, "that you specialized in the impossible."

It was his turn to hiss between his teeth, and for a moment she thought he would walk away from her. But he held down his temper with an air that spoke of long practice and the tension vanished after a second, leaving him the calm, collected man of a few moments before. "Give me two days," he said.

"I need this by tonight," she said. "It's urgent."

"Tomorrow afternoon," he countered.

"Tomorrow morning." Fixing him with a hard glare. "Like I said, I pay well. When the job is conducted according to my standards."

He considered, then shrugged. "Deal."

She was about to reply, to give further instructions, but suddenly her vision blurred and the fire and lava and moon-crater ground turned into indistinct pixellated blobs of matter, and she had the sensation of falling before everything turned black and the network was just a pair of goggles fastened around her eyes linking her to a world that had suddenly disappeared.

Cursing, Li removed the goggles, her mind racing rapidly, wondering what in the hell had caused the network to go down. Only a total on base network failure would cause something like that to happen, and there had never been a total network failure. The connection icon on her computer was blinking, and she clicked it, keyed in the password.

"The network is not available," the computer said, and she cursed at it, throwing the goggles onto her desk and massaging her temples. The sudden disconnection had left her with a headache and a vague sense of distortion and weightlessness, along with a queasy stomach, and she wished she had some medicine with her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her nerves-

-and nearly jumped out of her skin when the alarms went off, twisted around in her chair to see that the alert light installed in her office was blinking a violent red. "What the fuck?" she snarled angrily, springing out of her chair and hurrying to the window. If this was someone's idea of an evacuation exercise, it wasn't funny.

A large cloud of smoke was rising from one of the outlying buildings at the southwest entrance to the base. As she watched another puff of smoke appeared, then another. Smoke bombs. It had to be smoke bombs.

Before her stunned mind could grasp the entire concept of why smoke bombs would be going off at the entrance to the base in the middle of the day when no exercise was planned, the intercom squawked and a voice filled the room. Une's voice, calm and commanding.

"Attention all personnel. Evacuate the building immediately. We are under attack. Repeat, evacuate immediately. We are under attack. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill."

 
Act VIII Part I | Act VIII Part III | Back to Sainan no Kekka