19-Oct-2004
Title: Tetractys: Chesed, III
Author: Sol 1056
Rating: R for violence and language, some adult situations
Pairings (currently): 1+R, 1+2+3, 2x3x2, 4x5xM
Disclaimer: no, don't own 'em... duh.
Archived: sweetlysour and gwaddiction
Critiques: always welcome, natch!
The beeping of the perimeter alarmed startled Quatre awake, and he sat up with a start, staring wearily at the display before him. L1 was still a distance off; their last fuel was being saved for the docking procedure. It took him a minute to register there was a ship nearing them from behind, and he ran through the displays controls until he could see it onscreen.
"Fuck," he muttered, and opened a channel. "This is Shuttle XR-09982-T. You're a bit closer than--"
"State your purpose in this shipping lane," a man's voice drawled.
"My... " Quatre rubbed his head, glanced at Meiran and Wufei - curled up around each other in the pilot's seat - and stared at the unfamiliar ship. It was larger than a shuttle, but not a cruiser. It reminded him of the Sweeper ships he'd seen as a child. He wondered if it were one of the Foundation's inter-colonial transports; the colonies weren't allowed interaction except with Foundation permission, and there were no more Sweepers, from what Doro and Lena had told him. He squashed a chill, and wondered how he'd bluff his way out. "Delivery of colony repair parts," he said, blandly.
"Awesome, dude," the man said. "Anything good? We'll be right there."
"What?"
"Prepare to be boarded," came the reply, as though this should be obvious.
"On what grounds?" Quatre decided to take the tack of self-righteous indignation. "Our route's in order."
"Well, how's about we just... y'know, check it out, dude," the man replied. A screen flashed open, along with a communications link request, and Quatre took a deep breath before accepting it. A man with a thick gold-blond mustache was up close to the camera, then sat back with a grin. "Hey, man. Whoa, check out the chick."
Quatre frowned, and narrowed the beam on his end. The strange man pouted, an odd expression on an older face.
"You're not boarding us," Quatre replied.
"Not you, dude, but the chick?" The man leaned forward again, leering.
"Any of us. Least of all her," Quatre clarified.
"Geez." The man leaned back, yelling to someone off-screen. "Mikey! Mikey! Wake Audie, would ya?" The reply was inaudible, but the man grimaced. "Yeah! We found the buggers!"
Quatre ran through the options in his head. Wufei was stirring; Meiran opened her eyes, yawning, and gave Quatre a puzzled look. He could only hold up a hand, telling her to wait. The Gundams weren't prepped for space travel, although they had fuel, and they could siphon the rest from the shuttle and leave it to drift. But with only the bulky space suits in the shuttle's storage area, piloting the Gundams would be damn near impossible. The shuttle's suits were made for grasping large objects, dealing with the rudimentary functions on the shuttle during atmosphere entry and exit. Those gloves and large boots weren't made for the delicate throttles and buttons of a Gundam's cockpit. He swore under his breath. If they were boarded, they were goners.
The man on the screen was leaning in close again, one steel-gray eye almost pressed up against the camera.
"Dude, we've been watching you," the man said, then pulled away again, revealing a mouthful of teeth. "All of us have, but we found you first. Damn, we're good! Okay. So, we're the crew of the We're Not Here, and I'm Thayer. I'm the captain. Mikey's first mate. Audie's our communications guru." Thayer leaned to the side, and waved to someone off-screen. "Don't be shy, man, he looks just like you said he would."
Quatre glanced at Meiran, who shrugged. Wufei poked her, and she squirmed in his arms until he could also see the screen. A minute later, Thayer was gone from the view, replaced by a man whose face Quatre hadn't seen in ten years.
"Auda," he whispered, unable to breath.
Lena clenched her fists and reminded herself that she wasn't five years old. Hurling an ugly vase across the room might make her feel better, but it'd only frighten the men around her even more, and annoy the staff. Worse yet, she knew her anger was mostly a combination of humiliation - from being reamed by Doro - and frustration because Doro was right.
I should've been more aware, she berated herself, and eyed the vase. I should've stood up for myself, and not let them push me around.
The vase was looking more and more like it needed to be broken.
"What kind of fucking suicidal plan was that?" Lena spun on her heel, getting into Foliaux's face. He was backed up against the desk in the front parlor, his eyes glazed over with fear. Lena stalked off, furious and frustrated. "How the fuck did I let you talk me into that? If Doro hadn't shown up, we would have been toast. Everything! Lost! Like that!" She slammed a fist down on the nearest table. The table's lamp jumped; its shade rattled.
"Princess," Foliaux began, carefully.
"Lena! Goddamnit, the name's Lena!"
She stopped, panting, and tried to catch her breath. She wanted sleep, she wanted solid advice she could trust, and she wanted people around her who knew war, not the silly teachings of total pacifism. But most, she wanted sleep. Everything was fading in and out, and quite frankly she had no idea of how she'd managed to survive the trip to the post; she could barely recall the return drive.
"Fuck," she muttered. "I need my head examined for letting you people badger me into that."
"You're a Gundam pilot," someone interrupted. Cat trotted into the room, looking the advisors up and down as though they were somewhat amusing specimens of fancy bugs. "You need your head checked by definition." She settled down on the arm of the nearest sofa, casually crossing her ankles, and pulled out a butterfly knife from somewhere. She began flipping it open and closed, and the clatter was a cold undercurrent to her flat tone. "You're not going anywhere without backup again... Princess."
"Don't start," Lena spat, and collapsed onto the sofa. She glared at the men standing around. None of them met her gaze, and she scowled. "I can't believe I did that."
"You were tired, Lena," Cat said, calmly. She flipped the knife open, closed, open, closed. "Beyond tired." She looked over at the men, and her eyes narrowed. "I'm sure they won't take advantage of that again."
Before the stalemate could be broken, Major Marconi entered the front parlor. "Princess, we've received word that Mariemaia would like to schedule a conference."
"Figures," Lena groaned. She gave Cat a desperate look. "Can I have them take a message?"
"Why not?" Cat shrugged, and looked at Marconi. "The Princess is currently busy with her cabinet. She will be busy for at least three hours, at which point she may - or may not - be available. Set something up for this evening."
Marconi looked between Cat and Lord Foliaux, then Lord Cecil, who was watching everything with an intent expression. Foliaux frowned, but Cecil studied Cat for a long second, then nodded. Cat grinned; it was an unpleasant smile, but it made Lena feel safe. She'd wanted people around her to help; looks like for once she got her wish.
"Hey, Cat," Lena said, much calmer, suddenly. "I have a cabinet?"
"Yeah," Cat replied, tucking the knife away. She took Lena's hand, and pulled her to her feet. "Upstairs. We ordered breakfast, and we're meeting in your room. Then... " She turned to the gentlemen still waiting, and Marconi, who had remained, waiting dismissal. "We're going to be putting the princess to bed, and one of us will be on guard at all times. If you want to meet with Lena, you'll have to go through us, and you won't get to be alone with her again. Understood?"
No one answered. Cat didn't wait for any replies. She hauled Lena from the room and up the stairs, but Lena didn't protest. She was too busy hoping no one could hear the way her stomach had started grumbling loudly at the thought of food.
The door opened to reveal Duo, dripping wet with his hair in a twisted length down his chest. If Hil had ever wondered what her Duo would have been like as an adult, that single moment was enough to make her gut clench for everything she'd lost. A blue towel low on his hips revealed a few chestnut hairs, curls damply glistening. Up a tanned expanse of flat stomach into a well-defined chest, her gaze inadvertently followed the length of dripping hair to the broad shoulders and continued upwards to meet his amused expression.
"Hey," he said, but his gaze was stuck on the bundle in her arms. His smile widened. "Clean clothes?"
"Yeah," she said, and wondered if she were blushing horribly. "They were sitting in the hallway. Cat an' I ordered breakfast. She's gone to get Lena."
"Cool." Duo took the clothes, hesitated, then shrugged. "Come on in, but be quiet - Trowa's still sleeping. Heero's in the shower. I'll go tell him."
"Oh." Hil followed Duo in, and shut the door behind her, leaning against the frame and trying to act casual.
Across the room, rumpled bedclothes revealed Trowa's lanky frame. One foot was sticking out from under the edge of the blanket, and he was on his stomach, his arms up under the pillow. The blanket was down to his waist, showing a great deal of skin, and the position of his arms threw his shoulder blades into stark relief. Duo set the clothes down next to Trowa, sorted through them, and put several aside. Picking up the rest, he winked at Hil and headed into the bathroom, where she could hear him saying something to Heero over the rushing water. The voices weren't audible, and she stared at the curtained window opposite and tried not to rub at the bandage on the back of her neck.
Duo returned, dressed, running a comb through his hair. He tossed the comb onto the dresser and with nimble fingers divided and braided his hair at almost lightening fast speed. Tying it off with a hair-band, he threw the braid over his shoulder and opened the door.
"Oh, wait," he said, and turned back to the bed.
Hil paused, watching, while Duo leaned over Trowa's prone form. His whisper was again inaudible, but she noticed the hand that settled onto Trowa's back in a soothing motion, running light fingers down Trowa's spine and into little circles at the small of Trowa's back. There was an answering rumble from the bed, and Trowa shifted slightly. Duo leaned over closer, but Hil couldn't tell what he was doing, and then he was back, and hustling them out into the hallway.
"You get enough sleep?" Duo glanced at her, then up and down the hallway. "Where's breakfast?"
"I could sleep for another two days and it still wouldn't be enough," Hil said. "Lena's room is the next door down." She didn't move, though, trying to figure out how to phrase what she needed to say. "Look... I didn't know about... " She waved a hand towards her neck. "I need to apologize to you, and to Trowa, for screwing up the mission. And I... I was out of line yesterday, some of the things I said to him... "
"You can tell him later." Duo shrugged. "Or you can just keep on, and that's better."
"Hunh?"
"Look," Duo replied, and clapped a hand on her shoulder, shaking her a little. "We sort of have a motto... well, one of many. Don't say sorry. Just fix it. You fixed it, right?" His fingers slid up her shoulder to drift across the bandage before dropping away. "So, we're square."
"Square." Hil sighed, feeling the warmth where his fingers had been.
She pushed the door open to Lena's room, and Duo followed her in. A young girl was setting up food on the bed; she was dressed in conservative black, stark contrast to her white-blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail. The room was empty but for the bed and a small side table. Hil blinked.
"This is Lena's room? There's not even a bathroom," she said, puzzled.
"Yes, ma'am," the girl said, and dipped a curtsey, then frowned as if not sure whether she was supposed to do that. "The officer in charge of security picked it."
"No windows," Duo observed, and put his hands on Hil's shoulders, pushing her through the doorway. "But plenty of food."
"I'll be back with coffee," the girl told them. "That coffee is for you, and there's creamer and sugar, and hot water for tea. We have biscuits, scones, eggs, sausage, bacon, and fruit."
Hil's mind reviewed the girl's words. "There's coffee, but you'll be back with more?"
"Yes ma'am," the girl said, and her smile was saucy. "A pot just for the princess, the way she likes it." She bobbed and was gone in a swirl of black skirts and slim legs.
"Lena worked fast," Hil muttered, and perched on the edge of the bed.
Duo sat at the head of the bed, turning to face the spread of food, and crossed one leg under him. He grabbed a biscuit and a sausage. He had just put the biscuit in his mouth when Hil's sleepy brain decided it still required vacation time but forgot to tell her mouth.
"Are you... with Trowa?" Hil blinked at her words, and glared at the bare wall opposite the bed.
"Uh... " Duo was quiet, then nodded. "Yeah."
"How does that work?" Hil was rewarded with a choking sound from Duo, and he coughed a few times with his hand over his mouth. She mentally hit herself on the head, and kept her eyes averted. "Sorry. I'm still beat, I think. Just... the Duo I knew was... was... "
"Hetero," Duo replied, in a soft voice. "Yeah. I guess I am, mostly."
"Mostly?"
Duo leaned forward, grabbing another biscuit. He didn't eat it, though, but picked off pieces, his gaze distant and troubled. "Khushrenada messed with us. You know about the buffer, an' all that?"
Hil nodded.
"Well, if we have sex with someone - not one of us five - then we... we kind of lose control of our abilities. It goes haywire."
Duo shrugged; he sounded weary, and... old, Hil thought.
"So just up an' having sex with someone else is probably not a good idea. And I don't... " His voice fell to a whisper. "I don't want to live my life alone, y'know, not just celibate, but alone. So if this is what I've got, then I'll take it." He glanced up, a faint smile across his lips, but his eyes were sad. "An' I do love my partners. You can't go through everything we have, and not love a person."
Hil thought of Lena, and Doro, and Meiran, and Cat. "I know."
"And if that love is all I'll get, and not risk insanity... " Duo bent over the biscuit, now in crumbs across a green paper napkin. "I love th... Trowa, and it's not like being with him's all bad. Actually once I got used to the idea, it's actually pretty... " He flushed, and waved one hand. "Didn't mean to... uh, look, I'm sorry." He sighed heavily. "I guess that's not what you wanted to hear... since you and this world's Duo were... "
"Yeah." Hil sighed, and stared down at her empty hands. "I know you're not him. But sometimes it's hard not to... to get confused."
"I am sorry," he whispered. "But I love Trowa and... " A frown flashed across his face. "... the rest of my team, and I spent enough years being alone in the midst of them, rather than give that rat-bastard the satisfaction of thinking we were going along with his plan. If I'd had my choice, I don't know who I would want to be with, but if this is my only choice... it's turned out okay by me." He added in an undertone, "more than okay, maybe."
"But after the war," Hil replied, her brain sluggishly catching up, "what if there were a way to fix it, to undo that--"
"I don't know," Duo said. He turned away; his profile wore lines of exhaustion and once again she could see a younger Duo superimposed over the image. Duo shrugged, a rolling movement of his muscles. "I won't live based on what-ifs," and he glanced her way, blue eyes amused. "Just because I can see the future doesn't mean I want to bet on it."
Hil managed a small grin, and nodded, taking a slice of bacon. She nibbled on it, nervous, not sure how to proceed. I'm a Gundam pilot, she told herself, but it didn't change the fact that her heart still ached.
Cat and Lena were subdued, perhaps picking up on the hint of tension between Duo and Hil. Duo sighed and stirred more cream into his coffee. Normally he'd drink it black, on the rare times he drank coffee, but it was real cream, and that was even rarer. He shoveled in another teaspoon of sugar, and winked at Cat when she gave him a surprised look.
Someone rapped on the door, and Lena got up off the bed to answer it. She had just reached the doorknob when the door swung open and Heero stepped in, almost running into her. Trowa was right behind him.
"Oh!" Lena did a quick two-step to avoid him, and froze. Heero's hands had instinctively reached out to catch her in case she was falling. He dropped his chin, and Lena flushed, looking away. Behind them, Trowa raised an eyebrow, and smirked.
"You're blocking traffic," Trowa murmured.
Heero shot a glare over his shoulder, and guided Lena out of the way. He dropped his hands, but she caught one, and tugged him towards the bed.
"Breakfast is served," she announced, her smile a bit wider than usual, and a little nervous. "Not the fanciest, so find a place to sit."
Duo watched the entire scene, the apple still in his mouth, the bite made but not completed. Trowa glanced at him, settling down in the empty spot between Hil and Duo; he leaned forward and tapped on the apple, shoving it a bit further into Duo's mouth.
On the other side of the bed, Lena was subtly guiding Heero onto the pillow, and she sat next to him, cross-legged, facing the fruit bowl. She asked him questions in a low voice, and he listed his requests with a shy smile. Filling a napkin, Lena gave Heero the food, and then grabbed an orange for herself.
"We nearly fucked up," she said, without preamble. Cat looked up from where she was cleaning her fingernails with her butterfly knife. Hil looked blank, and Duo caught Hil's fingers twitch towards the bandage on her neck. Lena saw it, too, and shook her head. "Not that. This morning, while the rest of you were sleeping."
"Start at the beginning," Duo said, and took another bite of apple.
Lena sighed, and explained the plan to evict the Foundation from Sanq's nation-states. When she got to the point where Doro arrived, Duo nearly threw his apple core across the room.
"Damn it!" He made a face, somewhere between a scowl and a wide grin. "I knew a Gundam did the damage on those ports." Seeing everyone's raised eyebrows, he rolled his eyes. "I did the North African shoreline yesterday. Half the places I was gonna hit, had been. Didn't know who'd beaten me there."
"It was Doro," Lena said. "She said she was contacted by an underground Sweeper group, working with one of Treize's mechanics to build the Gundam Treize designed, ten years ago. It has a modified, stripped-down version of ZERO, too. She's got the plans on disk, for us to review later. Anyway, when they got word through the resistance groups of our plans, Doro decided to tackle Africa."
Lena sighed, and leaned a little to the side. Heero shoved the rest of a piece of bacon into his mouth, and shifted against the headboard, pulling Lena until her back was against his chest.
Trowa smirked again, and Duo hid his smile behind a piece of cantaloupe. Lena was focused on her news, oblivious, but Heero looked both startled at what he'd done, a little pleased, and a bit worried. Heero noticed his partners watching, and shot them a glare over Lena's shoulder. Duo choked on the fruit, but waved his hand at Lena to continue when she paused, confused.
"Ah... " Lena rubbed her forehead, and took a deep breath. "I spoke to her before I talked to my advisors, so if you're planning on giving me hell about going to the Foundation base without Talon, don't bother. Doro already gave me the riot act, up one side, down the other, and back up again." She yawned, and settled back against Heero. "Doro's gone to do backup on the eviction from the San Marino naval base. It's one of the largest, and usually has about a dozen Long at any given time."
"You should've woken one of us," Trowa said, but his voice held no accusation. "One Gundam against twelve Long... "
"Most of the mobile suits were dismantled," Lena replied. "The resistance fighters who infiltrated the Foundation bases took the liberty of tampering. Some fighting broke out in Thessaloniki and Naples, but the rest went smoothly. The Foundation troops should be reaching our borders now, and sent on their merry way." She yawned. "Tonight I'll be talking to Mariemaia via conference."
"Any word from Quatre or Wufei or Meiran?" Hil didn't meet Trowa's eyes, but kept her head down.
"They were in North America, last I heard," Lena said.
She wriggled, and leaned her head back on Heero's shoulders. His arms came around her, clasping at her stomach. The look on his face had a hint of fear, as though afraid he'd break her. Duo chuckled, but turned it into a cough when Heero glowered and flushed.
"I'll send out word through resistance channels for updates on them," Cat offered. "Are we done eating?" Everyone looked around at the mostly empty plates and bowls. There was some food left, and Cat gathered it up onto two plates, setting those on the single bedside table. "We'll clear this up... yeah, you too, Duo," and she handed Duo the stack of napkins and silverware. "Lena, sleep, and we'll wake you in three hours."
"Too late," Hil whispered, and jerked her head towards Lena. The woman was asleep with her mouth open just a little, her forehead pressed against Heero's neck.
"He shoots, he pilots, he hacks, and he makes a great pillow," Duo whispered, sotto voce. Heero's glare doubled in intensity, and Duo pretended to dodge. Trowa caught Duo by the scruff of his neck.
"Less talking, more cleaning," he ordered.
Two minutes later, the four were in the hallway, their arms loaded down with dirty plates, soiled napkins, and silverware. Lena's young assistant was coming down the hall towards them with another pot of coffee, and halted at the sight of the four of them.
"Oh, that's my job," she cried.
"Do we have anything we need to do for the next hour?" Duo asked Cat, who shook her head. He grinned, and shifted the plates and bowls in his arms. "Okay, miss... ?"
"Carrie," the girl said.
"Carrie," and Duo's smile grew wider. "I'll trade you. You can do the dishes, and I'll take the coffee. Just give me that mug off the top of the stack?" The two traded armfuls, gingerly, and Duo was left holding the mug and the carafe. He beamed at Trowa. "Have fun washing. I'm going to catch another hour of sleep."
"Hey," Hil said, frowning. "How come you're getting out of the work?"
"I've got to drink this excellent coffee," Duo replied, with a careless grin. "It's like oral sex, y'know... a dark and lonely job, but someone's gotta do it." His grin grew fiercer at Carrie's wide eyes, and he winked at her before stepping into the room he was sharing with Heero and Trowa.
Closing the door behind him, he closed his eyes to replay the startled - growing into pleased - look on Trowa's face. Hil had seemed as shocked as Carrie, and he sighed, thinking for a moment of what might have been, were he not brain-screwed and heart-fried after years of Khushrenada's games. Hil was cute, no doubt, but he didn't feel pulled to her, and he wondered what she'd been through with the other Duo; something powerful enough to create such a bond between them that she still mourned.
He poured himself a cup of coffee, and set the carafe down on the table. Settling onto the bed, he sipped the coffee and stared at nothing in particular. When the door opened a few minutes later, Trowa slipped into the room, and Duo smiled, patting the bed beside him.
"An hour?" Trowa's honey tenor was soft, almost teasing, though his expression was perfectly impassive.
"Yeah... but we do need the sleep," Duo replied. He smiled, then let the smile fall away to reveal his serious thoughts. "I talked to Hil, before everyone else got to breakfast, and... it got me to thinking."
Trowa grew very still, next to Duo. There was nothing visible, but a sense of expectation, and an undercurrent of pain.
"No," Duo stated, firmly. He rolled over, leaning over Trowa to put his mug on the side table. Balanced halfway across Trowa, he rested his head on Trowa's shoulder, his arms along Trowa's ribs. "Stop that. It's just... if sex with other people fries us... what are we going to do about Heero? He's falling for her, man... "
"Yeah." Trowa's hands came up to smooth down Duo's braid, and clasped at the small of Duo's back. He rested his cheek against Duo's forehead. "I don't know. If Quatre and Wufei were here, we could ask... "
"Actually," Duo whispered, and smiled up at Trowa. "I have an idea, but first, we need more practice... "
Wufei was the last into the airlock, and slammed his fist on the button to shut the exterior doors, while Meiran pulled down the locking mechanism. The light switched to blue, and the three stripped out of the bulky suits while air was vented into the space. When the light switched to white, the interior doors slid back to reveal Thayer lounging against the opposite wall.
"Come on, it'll take a bit for Mikey an' Bethea to hook up the trailer," he drawled, already heading off down the corridor on long legs.
Meiran shot the man an annoyed look, and trotted faster. Wufei smirked, and she elbowed him neatly.
"I don't trust him," she hissed. "Never have."
"Never... " Wufei stopped short, and glanced past her at Quatre. "You know him?"
"Only by reputation," Meiran said, and tugged Wufei along. Ahead, Thayer had turned a corner, and they could hear him chatting with someone. "He's Howard's son."
Quatre coughed, looked down the corridor, and then back again. He narrowed his eyes at Meiran. "I get the feeling you know more than you've told us."
"Not really." Meiran's gaze didn't quite meet his eyes. "I never really got along with the Sweepers. Mostly did my own thing during the war." She scowled, defensive. "I had Zhiyi to look after, and I didn't get along with Duo all that well." Her lips twisted, remembering. "The Sweepers kinda took it personally." She added quietly, "even though I don't think he did."
"And your world's Quatre?" Wufei cocked his head.
"I think he spent some time with them, after building ZERO," Meiran said. "But he... died not long after that. I don't know. I was dealing with L5 and... " She stared off down the corridor, her face closed off.
"If you're done with your power meeting," Thayer's voice called out, "Audie's been trying to jack a line down to Sanq for that cute little princess. Figured you'd want to contact her. Ready?"
Quatre took a deep breath, and looked at Thayer. "No, we're not. First, we want to know where you're heading, what you're doing, who was looking for us, what you want, how much you're going to expect in return for towing us, where your--"
"Yeah, figures," Thayer drawled. He grinned, and his gaze rested on Meiran for a moment. His expression faded, and he sighed, also looking away. "Okay, come have a seat in our fancy conference room here, and I'll see if I can hit it all."
The three filed into the conference room, which consisted of nothing more than a table and bench seats all the way around. A door on the opposite side led to the main hallway; Quatre could hear voices and the clanging of an airlock vent as it rammed shut.
Thayer sat down across from the three, and clasped his hands on the table. He was quiet for several heartbeats, and the lazy, careless smile was gone. In its place was a man who looked at least ten years older than the pilots, but to Quatre, Thayer felt twenty years older than that, even. His shirt collar was frayed, and his gold-blond hair had strands of gray scattered through. His hands were thick, fingers short, the nails chipped and broken. There were calluses on his thumbs from piloting.
"We're heading to L4, the topmost ring," he began, his index fingers crossed as though counting off a list. "The Winner family still holds some sway there, although they've been limited to that colony since Mariemaia came into power. They still have enough resources and influence to give us refuge when we need it, and keep the Foundation from looking our way." He frowned, and tapped two fingers, moving to the second point. "Who's looking for you... well, that would be the Sweepers and the Manganacs - what's left of each, that is. Maybe about eighty strong, on a good day. There's a Manganac on every Sweeper ship - we've got about twenty shuttles, and one mothership - the Peacemillion - that hides in the L2 debris. The Foundation doesn't bother sniffing around there, except to show up and drop junk."
"I thought the Sweepers were loyal to the Foundation," Wufei muttered.
"Yeah... " Thayer looked grim. "That would be the other five thousand people who call themselves Sweepers. Some guys call 'em dishonorable curs, but that's an insult to dogs everywhere. They're thieves and traitors. Sell-outs. Anyway... what do we want? Same as you. To watch the Foundation crash and burn. We want freedom to travel openly through space. We want public shipping lanes. Privatization of the economy. Capitalism and democracy, not communism masquerading as democratic socialism."
Meiran nodded, and Quatre felt her hand slip onto his thigh, as if she were seeking support. He let one hand fall under the table, and clasped her hand in his. Her body was stiff, muscles taut with exhaustion and suspicion.
"We won't expect anything in return for towing other than an explanation of what you're doing in space, when no Gundams have come this way in eight or nine years," and he leveled a sharp look at Meiran. "And maybe some help with our battles up here. That'd be good. Did I miss anything?"
"I retain the right to question you later if I decide you did," Quatre replied, a bit on the cool side, although he was in no doubt of the man's sincerity. "How do you plan on towing us all the way to L4 and get past the Foundation at the same time?"
"It's a big universe," Thayer replied, shrugging. "Foundation's had the colonies shut down in isolation for so long, they pretty much ignore most of space now. The only traffic from Earth to the colonies are Foundation-controlled supplies, and Foundation military shuttles. We just stay out of those lanes, and they never bother to notice."
"We're more flies buzzing around the dragon, as the Red Bitch puts it," a woman said, leaning in through the doorway. Her hair was dark brown and shoulder length, but the last two inches were jet-black. "Boss, tow's in place, and we're setting course. Signals've come back from the other ships."
"Good. Rendezvous at AF-89A," Thayer told her. "Any latecomers can meet us at the top of L4."
"Roger that." The woman looked over Quatre and his partners before leaving. Her heavy boots echoed down the hallway.
"So," Thayer said, "you can see you've got your work cut out for you. We've been boosting the offensive gear on our shuttles, but we can't really go in on a frontal attack."
"There are four colonies," Quatre began.
"Three," Thayer said, his voice gentle. "L5 and L2 self-destructed back during the One Year War."
Meiran lowered her head.
"I'm sorry," Thayer told her. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."
"Yeah," she whispered, not looking up.
Next to her, Wufei was silent, but he met Quatre's gaze across Meiran's lowered head. Quatre clicked the comm' twice, and Wufei replied in the affirmative with a return set of clicks. Quatre studied Thayer for several seconds before continuing. He'd gotten nothing but honest intentions from the man, under a veneer of the same casual joking that Duo used to display, when they were young. He wondered if it were a natural defense for all associated with the Sweepers.
"Three colonies," Quatre said, visualizing the Lagrange points. "How many resource satellites?"
"Uh... seventeen, and one lunar base."
"Are the satellites all Foundation controlled? Are any in private hands?"
"Two are mining, owned by the Winner family," Thayer replied. "The rest of the mining satellites are Foundation-controlled, but owned by the Barton family. There are two satellite and relay stations. One's for L3. The other was abandoned after L5... well, they didn't need it anymore after that."
"Do we need to head to L4?" Quatre narrowed his eyes at Thayer's surprised look. "We're aiming for L1, but if we jog outwards and head for L2's position... . Does the mother ship have the capability to convert our Gundams to space use?"
"And build vacuum cleaners from them at the same time, if you want," Thayer said, his good-natured look returning. "They're adrift in a sea of trash. You name the part, they've got it, or can make it."
"Send them a message we're on our way," Quatre told him. When Thayer opened his mouth to protest, Quatre smiled, a open challenge. Thayer stared for several seconds, then nodded, an almost reluctant respectful gesture. Quatre scooted down the bench and came to his feet, helping Meiran up as well. "Show us to our quarters, and wake me when we're in visual contact with the Peacemillion."
"Aye, aye," Thayer said, and gave Quatre a jaunty salute.
Duo flopped over on his back, and threw one arm across Trowa's knees. Trowa was panting hard, but it sounded like laughter between the breaths.
"Well?" Duo grinned at the ceiling. "You've got the knack."
"You're better. You've had more experience," Trowa replied, his breath still fast. He chuckled. "Maybe we should flip for it."
"Sure. There's a coin around here somewhere, probably." Duo didn't make a move, except to stretch lazily. He relaxed again, feeling completely sated. "I'll get it in a minute."
"Sounds good." Trowa didn't move either.
After a few more minutes, Duo prodded Trowa, and the two rearranged themselves, crawling under the covers. Duo made a face, and stuck his fingers in his mouth. Trowa raised his eyebrows, and Duo shrugged.
"Hairs," he said, and stuck his tongue out when Trowa blushed.
"Shut up and sleep, Maxwell," Trowa growled, and closed his eyes.
"Sure thing, Barton," Duo said.
In the next room, Heero stared intently at the wall, his arms wrapped around Lena, but stiffly. The 'comm had been off, but the sounds coming through the thin wallboard and metal studs were enough to let him know exactly what was going on. He ran a hand down Lena's hair, tangling his fingers in it, and she murmured something in her sleep.
"I want that, too," he whispered. She didn't wake, and he sighed, letting the sandy-golden strands slide through his fingers.
"Hey, we're almost there, sweethearts!" Thayer's voice came over the intercom, altogether too cheerful for Wufei's liking.
Wufei groaned and rolled over, throwing his leg over Quatre's. Meiran squeaked.
"Watch it," she complained, and pushed against Quatre's back. "You're squishing me."
"Suffer," Quatre said, grinning. "I'm nice and comfortable."
Wufei raised his head, and reached past Quatre to poke Meiran. She scowled and swatted his hand, but missed him. The smack hit Quatre in the shoulder, instead.
"Children, children," Quatre intoned, "do not tussle around naked men not wearing groin protection."
"Hah," Meiran said.
"Are you coming out or am I coming in?" Thayer's voice echoed in the room; the speaker crackled slightly.
"I think he's got the volume on high," Wufei muttered, and rolled away from Quatre, twisting to come upright off the small bunk. His partners peeled off the bed behind him, and they dressed in silence, their previous bantering forgotten.
Quatre led the way from the room, Wufei and Meiran flanking him, and Wufei was again surprised at Quatre's instinctive abilities around ships. The man just seemed to know where things should be, the same way Duo could just know the layout of a building, the logic of the construction.
Around a corner and into the main cockpit area, and Quatre came to stop between Auda, running several checks on the console, and Thayer, who was putting on a set of headphones. The shuttle's screen showed darkness, a few distant stars, and several dark shapes in the foreground, lurking near the shuttle's nose.
"You'll want to strap in," Thayer said. "Seats pull down." He waved a hand over his shoulder, and continued chatting with someone on the other end.
Wufei took advantage of the wait to look around; the cockpit was larger than most, and looked like someone had hit it with a blowtorch in a few sections, modifying as the person saw fit. A smiley-face toy hung from the ceiling, in the corner; a number of the switches overhead looked like they might control manual gear for lock and tow mechanisms. On the whole, it wasn't much larger than a six-person ground transport. Wufei noted the rough edges on the exposed metal were filed down, giving everything a smooth, lived-in appearance.
Thayer hit a few buttons and turned around, pulling the headphones off to rest around his neck.
"You're clear for entrance," he told the pilots. "Seven techs will be ready to catch the shuttle, and they'll begin conversion immediately. We should be there in fifteen minutes." He jabbed with his thumb at the screen behind him. "Those shapes, in case you're wondering, are trash. We're practically drifting, because we discovered the hard way that the Foundation does keep its eyes open for light on this side of the moon. So it's slow going, even though Peacemillion's not far." He grinned expansively at Meiran. "I've done this hundreds of times, so don't worry, cutie."
"He won't be thinking I'm a cutie when I shove my gun--" Meiran's near-inaudible muttering was cut off when Quatre frowned. She narrowed her eyes at him, and sniffed.
Wufei, meanwhile, was watching Thayer. When he'd said he'd done it hundreds of times, Wufei had only one impression: that's an understatement. The man was probably born with a shuttle's controls in his hands, and raised to adulthood in the depths of space. Wufei didn't like the guy, but he did at least trust him. Wufei nodded to Quatre, who relaxed a fraction. Meiran made a face at both of them.
"Line's clear," Auda reported. He spun his chair around, and gave Quatre a huge grin. "Master Quatre, if you'll pick up the 'phones to your right, that'll set you up on encrypted line down to Sanq."
"Sanq?" Quatre did as Auda requested, listening, then he grinned at Wufei. "I'm too far away to bring you more ammo, Barton," he said.
Wufei rolled his eyes; Meiran looked puzzled.
Quatre chuckled, and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "What's the status... cool. No, heading for Duo's old stomping grounds... good to hear... what? Fuck--"
He pulled the headphones off, and shoved them back into their slot, then turned to Wufei and Meiran. Auda was looking confused. Quatre turned his attention towards the screen, and Wufei tensed, waiting.
"Enough being careful, Thayer," Quatre ordered. "We're running out of time. Use the boosters and lasers, and get us to Peacemillon."
He waited until Thayer turned back to the console, remarkably subdued as he fired up the auxiliary engines and began maneuvering the shuttle and its cargo around the floating hunks of garbage. Quatre rubbed his forehead, and glanced at Wufei and Meiran, still waiting for the rest of it.
Quatre sighed. "Sanq's under attack."
The first bombs fell at two-seventeen local time. Five minutes' warning wasn't enough time. Trowa slammed the laptop shut, disconnecting the call. He bolted from the mansion's parlor past the startled guard and Major Marconi, heading for Lena's room and clicking the 'comm in warning the entire way. Trowa's long legs carried him down the hallway. He skidded to a stop and spun when Heero and Lena burst from the room, running straight towards him.
"Report," Heero yelled.
"We're under--"
The first explosion echoed through the large mansion, but it was some ways off. It sounded faintly like thunder.
"Bombing run," Trowa said. "Warning came over the lines."
He took off down the hall, knowing both pilots would be right behind him. There was a click and a snap; the sound of someone checking the magazine and readying their gun. Any bombs would be coming from mobile suits or fighter jets, but it was habit. He'd done it himself on the way up the stairs.
"We've got to get Lena--" Heero's words were cut off by the appearance of the Secretary of State and a handful of kitchen staff.
A second explosion followed. Closer. The windows rattled.
Warren was coming from the basement meeting room; the staff had been in the back part of the mansion. Carrie saw Lena and whimpered, but kept running, following the mansion's butler.
"This way!" Lord Warren turned back towards the basement stairs, the three pilots and four staff members joining him. At the bottom, he turned towards the elevator, and punched the 'down' button six rapid times, then hit the 'up' button once. "Come on, come on," he muttered.
A second later the doors opened, and they piled in. When the elevator doors opened, they were facing a long corridor. Lena gave Warren a bewildered look, but he was out the door and gone; Trowa grabbed her by the hand and pulled, right behind Heero. The staff spread out behind them, also running.
"What the hell is this?" Lena shouted behind them. Another roll of thunder echoed, coming down the elevator shaft, but it was muffled.
"The administrative buildings are connected by tunnels," Warren replied, panting furiously. "We've got to get to the command center before they lock it down." He waved down a side corridor, and the staff split off. Trowa could see Carrie throwing desperate looks at Lena, over her shoulder, and then she was gone down the side hallway.
"Where are they--" Lena twisted to look, and Trowa pulled harder, forcing her to keep up.
"Bomb shelters," Warren replied, turning a corner with the corridor. "There it is, up ahead." He waved his arms, and the guards beckoned them onwards from the door, two hundred yards ahead.
Trowa spared a half-second to contemplate why a pacifist nation would have bomb shelters in its capital city, but kept pace easily with Warren. The older man was red-faced and gasping, and Trowa couldn't think of a reason to keep running. He shoved Lena at Heero.
"Go," he yelled, and grabbed Warren. "Slow down, man. Having a heart attack now isn't a good idea."
"But the doors--"
Trowa rolled his eyes. "Slow down. Breathe." He forced the man to a trot, and threw Warren's arm over his shoulder. Heero and Lena were already out of sight, and Trowa helped Warren to the doors.
"We're the last," Trowa told them.
"The other pilots?" One guard looked nervously down the hallway, while the second began the lock-down procedure.
"At the shuttle port," Trowa replied, and guided Warren into the cement-lined room, no larger than Lena's bedroom had been. A simple desk sat on one side, and a corridor stretched out to the left.
There were two closed doors, and Warren jerked his head towards one. Trowa let go of the man and pushed the door open to find a large command center full of guards. It was a controlled chaos, with one large screen across the wall. Men and women sat at terminals, talked on radios; it appeared at least half of them were coordinating with people on the surface to make sure civilians made it to bomb shelters.
"Lena," Trowa said, grabbing the nearest man. When he blinked, Trowa frowned and considered shaking him. "The princess!"
"That way," the guard replied, shrinking away from Trowa. "Dignitary room."
Trowa looked around to see Warren heading in that direction, and followed the man. He paused to study the screen, noting the map of the city and the locations already damaged. A red circle appeared on the map, not far from a blinking white light, and Trowa frowned.
"What's that one," he asked a young woman nearby, who had just pulled off her headset. "The white dot?"
"That's us." She gave him a worried look. "The red circle's a bomb. The presidential mansion was just leveled."
"Ah." Trowa took a deep breath, and followed Warren into the dignitary's room. At the threshold, he paused, turning back to the guard. "Is there any exit and entrance from here? Now that we're in, can we get out?"
"No, sir," she answered, confused. "The lockdown procedure was just completed. It's for security--"
Trowa didn't stick around to hear the rest. Cursing under his breath, he strode into the dignitary's room, letting the door slam shut behind him.
Lena stared at the map broadcast on the huge wall. Various members of parliament were entering the room, talking in nervous groups. Some had brought their families; a few young children sat at the back around a table, looking scared. Several teenagers were clustered in the corner, giving the adults frightened looks.
The room was large, big enough to be a medium-sized auditorium, with rows of seats and a bank of terminals near the front. Command center, she thought, and disregarded the royal purple curtains along the wall that probably hid sound buffers, or the ornate plaster on the ceiling that had to be a cover for sixteen feet of concrete.
A third large circle appeared on the map, a few miles north of the city. Lena frowned; most of the damage seemed to be focused on administrative buildings and the downtown area.
"What's that one?" She caught a guard's attention and repeated the question.
"Confirming it now, ma'am," he replied, then looked up with a grin. "One of the Gundams took down a Foundation mobile suit."
"Patch into the visuals on Deathscythe," Lena said, picking a suit at random. "Frequency is ninety-eight-seven-point-five-five-oh."
The guard opened an inset window on the broad screen, and a second later it came alive, revealing the rather disorienting image of Sanq upside-down. A beam weapon was heading straight for the image, but careened off at the last minute. The image was shaken, then righted itself, spinning the horizon around, then suddenly Sanq was straight ahead. Fires burned angrily in the distance, black smoke billowing up from the city's center.
"Open contact," Lena said, then growled, pushing the guard out of the way. Throwing her loose hair over her shoulder, she pulled up a command window and moved quickly through the system until she could reach an outside line. Snatching up a set of headphones nearby, she set a signal through the lines, waiting anxiously.
"Who are you and what the fuck do you want," came Hil's aggravated voice.
"It's Lena. We're in the command center. We've got your visual up."
"Aw, shit, woman." Hil sounded relieved. "Everyone's--crap!"
The image onscreen showed Sanq rushing closer; several women in the room screamed. The image pulled up suddenly to reveal a Long, and the beam weapons clashed as Deathscythe moved in close. The Long twisted and angled for a better hit, but Deathscythe never stopped moving, dancing around. Someone not far from Lena moaned, and she realized vertigo had to be affecting some of the watchers. She threw the headphones to Heero.
"Get that line up on the intercom so we can all hear," she said, and turned to see Trowa staring up at the screen. "I need you to deal with the city's defense. Make sure our forces don't do anything stupid, like get in our way."
Trowa quirked an eyebrow at her, then nodded; he turned on his heel and headed to the control room. Lena looked around the room at the parliament, many hiding their faces from the battle scene in Deathscythe's window.
"All of you," Lena shouted, and couldn't be heard over the babble of scared voices, cries, moans. She shoved a stack of papers out of the way and leapt up on the table next to Heero's seat. "QUIET!"
The room fell silent, and Lena was momentarily relieved she hadn't had to fire a gun to get their attention. She stared them down, taking a deep breath.
"I want everyone here to sit down and shut up," she told them. "I'm going to be opening lines to each of the pilots, and having you in the background making all that blasted noise is not going to help us defend this city. Sit down." No one moved, and she thought twice about the wisdom of not pulling her gun. "NOW!"
Instantly eighty-two parliament members, twenty-seven spouses, and twelve teenagers flinched and ran for the nearest chairs. Within ten seconds, everyone was seated and staring at Lena with wide eyes.
"Now, you will be silent. If you cannot be silent--" A child in the background started to wail, and Lena narrowed her eyes. "Get those children out of here. This is not a movie, people, this is the real thing. If you can't shut up and stay out of our way, find somewhere else to gossip!"
About half the room cleared, almost as quickly; parents grabbing their children, the teenagers following. Lena didn't care where they went, except to make sure they didn't head through the control room.
"We're in," Heero said, calmly. He might as well have not even noticed her screaming, for all his reaction. "Waiting the all-clear to open the lines to the 'com."
"Yeah, gimme a minute," Lena growled, watching the last of the noncombatants file out of the room. "Okay. Open it up."
She hopped down off the table, and sighed heavily. Heero glanced up, his eyebrows raised. When he lowered his head again, he was smirking. Lena hit him lightly in the shoulder.
"What's so damn funny?"
"You." He grinned openly, and entered the command lines to put the Gundam's frequency on the center's intercom system. "Sounds like you went to the same school of diplomacy as me."
Lena snorted, and turned her attention to the battle.
End Part 27
(:./sol/tetra27)
