03-Aug-2003
Title: The Longest Dream 19/?
Author: Hope of Dawn
Legal stuff: None of these characters are mine. Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency, among others--Xenogears belongs to Squaresoft. For time-wasting purposes only and not for profit, so don't sue, 'kay?
C&C appreciated!
Archive: GW Addiction at http://www.gwaddiction.com
Warnings: None, for a change. How amazing is that?
Notes: It's been so long, I'm almost ashamed to put this up. Almost... Anyway, for those new to the fic, this is a Xenogears/GW crossover, and you can find the rest at GWA.
Fair warning though: this chapter hasn't been betaed because my normal beta reader seems to have vanished into cyberspace. *wails* Masamune, where are yoooooou? But anyway, it's finally done, so--*throws fic and runs*
In retrospect, Billy decided to blame everything that happened on Bart.
After all, his own plans had included nothing more ambitious than sneaking out of the infirmary, getting some clothes and maybe some decent food. (How decent the cafeteria food actually was continued to be a matter open to debate. So open, in fact, that it had devolved into food-flinging on several occasions--again, due to Bart's involvement.) Two weeks of bed rest had left him with limp-noodle legs and a wobbly sense of balance as he made his slow way down the corridor, one hand on the wall, and the last thing on his mind was to get swept up in any mad adventures.
But then, as his Preceptor used to say, 'No plan survives contact with the enemy', and in all of the years Billy spent fighting Wels, he had been proved right more often than not. So when he looked up from his slow progress to see Bart flying around the corner at top speed, his surprise was tempered by a certain sense of resignation.
"Oof!"
"Oh, hey... Billy! I'm sorry--didn't see you there." Skidding to a stop, Bart accompanied the apology with a hand up, and Billy found himself fending off an enthusiastic dusting off. "There aren't any new bumps or bruises, are there? Fei would kill me if I undid all his hard work."
Leaning against the wall, Billy tried to pull his robes into some semblance of order. Some days he could swear that his friend was the living embodiment of chaos theory. "No... I'm fine." He fingercombed his hair, pushing fine strands out of his eyes. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"He was escaping, I believe." Trowa rounded the same corner at a more sedate pace, adding dryly, "I also saw Duo lurking around the Gear hangar, so he's probably in on it as well."
"I'm not escaping," Bart retorted, affronted. "We're going to go on patrol. Perfectly legitimate and everything."
Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Then why are you heading out of your way to avoid going past Operations to get there?"
Bart rubbed the back of his head. "No reason... "
Billy added his own skeptical stare to Trowa's. "Bart?"
"What?!"
"Who's on duty in Operations?"
Crossing his arms across his chest, Bart looked down at the floor. "... sign'son... "
"Ba~art... "
"I *said*, Sig and Maison. There, happy?" Bart glowered at them, stopping just short of an actual pout. "Look, we're just going on a perfectly routine patrol inside Nisan. Boring as all hell, even. But those two mother hens would make me take an entire damn squad as an escort, and then nag me to death the entire time I was out there." He turned an appealing look on Billy. "Me and Duo were just going to go out in a couple of the Gears--to help him learn the lay of the land and all. Y'know, for strategic reasons!"
Trowa gave a disbelieving snort.
"Look, you can even come with if you don't believe me. We can double up in the Gears and do a short little patrol run." He turned and appealed to Billy. "C'mon, Billy... it would do you some good to get out of here. Get some fresh air, see something besides the same four walls all the time. We'll get you suited up and everything!"
"I don't know... " Billy wavered. "I was just... " He waved in the direction of the cafeteria.
"Even better! We'll all grab some food to take with us." Sensing Billy's resolve wavering, Bart turned back to Trowa for support. "C'mon, Trowa. It'll be a hell of a lot more fun that lurking around here!"
Bart's enthusiasm was infectious. Despite his own misgivings, Trowa gave a shrug and a nod. Information was power, after all--and to tell the truth, he was more than a little bored himself. "Sure. Why not?"
"Great!" Bart grinned and grabbed Billy by the hand. "C'mon, let's get out of here before they find something else for us to do!" He started down the hallway, towing a flustered Billy in his wake.
From the rear of their motley little parade, Trowa followed with a small, unaccustomed smile on his lips. This looked to be... interesting.
The slow thumping sway of the cockpit was almost hypnotic, Trowa decided, and it felt good to pilot again. Despite the unfamiliar instrumentation the basic Gear controls were easy enough to learn, the smaller mecha proving surprisingly maneuverable. They were several klicks away from the outskirts of the city by now, the green-gold grass of the meadows parting around them as the two desert Gears wandered around the lake perimeter.
"It seems a bit strange to be piloting something so small," he remarked over his shoulder. "But it does seem to cover ground well enough."
"Even though this is technically a desert Gear, it's one of the more all-purpose models." Billy flashed him a smile as he warmed up to the subject. "It's a bit weak in the deep desert, since it doesn't have some of the more specialized thermal protection necessary for very high temperatures. But for a more hospitable climate like Nisan's, these kinds of Gears do just fine."
He had been answering questions as they progressed, as well helping to interpret readouts when Trowa's shaky grasp of the language failed him. Out here away from the gray, antiseptic walls of the infirmary, Billy no longer seemed quite so pale and drawn, and Trowa thought privately that it had done him a great deal of good to be shanghaied by Hurricane Bart--not that he would ever admit that out loud.
Instead he remarked, "Even so, it's amazing how smooth the movement is."
"Well, it would kinda suck to have our teeth rattled loose with every step, now would there?" interjected Bart via the open vid-link. "Last thing we'd need on a twelve hour patrol is to be going bumpity-bumpity-bumpity all the time."
Trowa gave Bart a wry smile. "I wish someone had told the Scientists that. Walking around in the original Heavyarms was a rather painful experience. They'd put in just enough shock absorption in so that it wouldn't affect my aim, but trying to walk long distances?" He shook his head. "Thankfully I only had to do it a few times; most of the time it was just easier to steal a transport. Wufei ended up crossing most of China on foot, and I'm still not sure how he managed it."
"Probably because the Wu-man is a born masochist," Duo put in, peeking over Bart's shoulder and wiggling fingers at the cam. "And they did get better on the upgrades, you have to admit."
"True," Trowa acknowledged. "It's still interesting, though; there are more differences between Gears and Mobile Suits than I had originally thought."
"Well, we have had a heckuva lot longer to refine the technology," Billy pointed out. "And even if we did slide backwards a few times, we always had a base level of Gear tech to draw off of. From what you guys have told us, it sounds like your Gears were pretty much built from scratch."
"Yeah, pretty much--and boy did Howard ever bitch about it." Duo chuckled as he remembered the engineer's many and colorful rants on the subject whenever Deathscythe needed repairs. The laughter didn't last long, however, as in its wake the inevitable thought followed, unspoken yet painful--
--that he would never hear Howard bitch about anything ever again.
Bart broke into the sudden silence, stomping unabashedly all over the somber mood. "Hey--see those mountains? Fei's got himself a neat little cabin up in on the mountain overlooking Nisan. Talk about a view; I swear, you can see *everything* from up there. Too damn cold for me, though... you should see how much snow piles up in the winter. But Fei grew up in the mountains, I guess, and he takes to it like a duck to water." He toggled up a camera shot of the mountain in question. "He's not a desert rat like me and Sigurd. Give me sand over snow any day--at least sand doesn't try to freeze important bits off."
Duo's sly grin made it evident that he knew what Bart was trying to do. "Wuss. Afraid of a little frozen water, are we?"
"Am not! I just don't see the appeal." Bart paused, then asked, "What's a 'wuss'?"
Trowa stifled a smile before Bart could see it. Oh, Duo was going to have fun with this one.
He wasn't disappointed.
"A wimp. A coward. A whiny baby," Duo listed off gleefully.
"Hey... !" Bart protested.
"A yellow-bellied, spineless son of a--"
"Wels!"
Duo blinked. "Well, I was going to say 'bitch', but I suppose that works too... "
"No, I'm serious; Wels at two o'clock, about four rells away." Billy squinted at his monitor, then fed the data over to Bart's Gear. "See them? They're moving along that low ridge."
"Oh, hey yeah! I see 'em. Good eye, Billy." Bart frowned. "Is it just me, or does it look like they're moving towards Nisan?"
"Hard to tell from this distance," Trowa said slowly. "But there's really no other inhabited areas in that direction. And if what you've told us about Wels is true, the battle may well have attracted them."
"Wels are drawn to blood and death," Billy confirmed, his face grim. "They feed off of it as much as anything else, and they're very good at ambushing their victims. They can't do much against Gears, but they can cause a great deal of havoc if they manage to sneak inside the city."
"Huh. Well, let's intercept them before they get that far." Bart turned his Gear towards the distant ridge. "They won't be able to outrun us here in the open. 'Sides, I'm in the mood to do a little butt-kicking."
Trowa shrugged and followed suit, turning his Gear to follow. He knew very little about these Wels things, and for the moment was content to follow Bart's lead. Billy, on the other hand, wasn't so easily mollified.
"Shouldn't we call for backup?" The former Etone clung to the back of Trowa's seat as their Gear jerked and picked up speed. "There's only four of us, and we don't know how many are out there."
"Pfft... for Wels? Why bother?" Bart waved a hand dismissively. "We're in Gears, after all. If we stomp a few, the rest will run away, no problem. End of story."
"'Stomp a few and the rest will run', huh?" Duo snapped, hands locked around the edges of his seat as their Gear bucked and jerked. "Great plan, genius!"
"Well they should've!" Bart shouted back, eyes narrowed. He slammed a howling, deformed thing down, shaking it free from the top of his Gear's whip arm. More Wels seized the opportunity, hurling themselves shrieking at the Gear's red-armored feet in an attempt to drag it to the ground. The cockpit lurched sideways as the gyros fought to compensate for the drag. "Deus damn them--where the fuck are all of these bastards coming from?!?"
In any other situation, Duo would have been amused at the number of English profanities that had seeped into Bart's vocabulary. As it was, all he could do was hold on and try not to think too hard about how much he wished it was his hands on the controls--or even better, in his own damn Gundam.
"No, Bart's right!" Billy said over the vidlink, hollow banging filtering through the com along with his words as Wels pounded on the outer hull of their Gear. "Even Wels would have backed off by now... this is just not normal for them!" Another wave of mutated monstrosities crashed against the beleaguered Gear, clawing their way over each other in an attempt to find a weakness. The Wels were tiny compared to the giant mechas they fought, but there seemed to be no end of them, and they threw themselves at the Gears with insane determination.
The mutated predators' shrilling howls grew louder as Trowa's struggling Gear fell victim to the blood-slick terrain and his own inexperience, crashing to one knee. Trowa hissed through his teeth, his face closed and set. "Shit!"
"Hold on, Trowa!" Duo clenched his hands helplessly. "Bart... "
"Working on it!" Bart threw the Gear forward, his whip humming through a series of quick strikes that tore holes in the howling Wels horde--holes that were filled almost immediately by more slavering bloodthirsty mutants. "Karsted Wels... !"
Metal shrieked as the Wels finally found a weakness and exploited it. They clawed away at Trowa's Gear, tossing away pieces of reinforced armor plate as they fought to get at the cockpit and the prey they scented inside it. Trowa tried to use the Gear's gauntleted hands to sweep away the Wels that were inside rifle range, but it was no use. For every one he managed to shrug off, ten more leaped into the fray.
He glanced over at Billy. "Any suggestions?"
Billy's face was pale, his jaw set. "Retreat. It's our only option."
Trowa shook his head, eyes locked on the forward screens. "No good. I can't get any stable footing in this mess. And I think they ripped out something important in the knee joint--it's not working." Red lights were popping up all over his boards, the computer beeping shrilly in mechanical distress as the Gear's armor was breached.
"Then... " Billy reached behind the seat and pulled out his heavy rifle, cracking it open and loading in shells. "I suggest we pray."
Trowa raised an eyebrow. "I see. Do you have a spare?"
"Under the seat--there should be a standard issue handgun. Nothing heavier, I'm afraid... Bart's troops don't generally carry around a lot of personal artillery for Gear combat."
A brief check under the seat proved Billy correct. Checking over the gun with casual expertise, Trowa slammed a clip home. "A serious oversight, that."
"So send me a memo!" Bart barked over the com. "Billy--are you sure about this?"
"No. But we're not going to have any choice in about... ten minutes, I'd say." His voice softened as Billy leaned forward towards the camera, rifle in both hands. "Bart--this isn't your fault."
"Like hell it isn't!"
"Bart--" The screen whited out, cutting off communications, and a belated blast shook the Gear a half-second later, sending Wels tumbling like leaves.
"What the fu--?!" yelped Duo, only to be cut off by Bart's triumphant yell.
"Yeah! It's about time! Broyer, am I ever glad to see you!"
The Aveh Gear slammed into the ground with a sudden crunch, flinging Billy and Trowa sideways, and another fusillade of shots followed, tearing apart the Wels horde. Their screens wobbled, then cleared to reveal Clawknight, armored in Nisan's blue and white and advancing from the ravine where he'd launched his attack.
Billy sighed in relief--he hadn't dared to hope that any of Elly's ex-Gebler squad had been out on patrol, much less have been able to respond in time. But another Gear could be just enough to tip the odds, and Broyer knew it as well as they. Taking full advantage of his surprise attack, his Gear tore into the Wels from behind, ripping them apart with brutal efficiency. Even without its normal Ether-powered artillery, the Solarian-designed Gear was much more powerful than the smaller Aveh Gears. Reactive shots gouged up huge craters as it annihilated the enemy, and it proved to be too much for the mutated predators to take. Flanked now on all sides, the Wels broke and ran, predatory howls changing to pain-filled shrieks as Clawknight continued to mow them down.
With the odds now firmly in their favor, the battle was over in a matter of minutes. Reducing one final straggler to a red smear, Broyer opened a channel and gave Bart a short salute.
"As much as I appreciate the sentiment, General, you probably shouldn't be so glad to see me."
The apparent non sequitur threw Bart for a loop. "Huh?"
In answer, a cruiser rose up from behind the shelter of the ridge, all guns trained on the two desert Gears. More Gears climbed out of the ravine behind Clawknight, their dark-green armor proclaiming their affiliation as they spread out to flank the two red Aveh Gears.
"What the--?" His Gear frozen in a half-crouch, Bart's confusion turned into slow mounting anger. "You sonuva--you sold us out!"
"Save it," Broyer advised, his broad, bluff face face grim. The Kislev Gears moved in, weapons at the ready. "And I'd advise you to surrender gracefully, *General*--especially if you value your men's lives."
The two Gundam pilots shared a brief look over the com. It didn't take a genius to realize they were well and truly fucked. Duo sighed, leaning back and crossing his hands behind his head. He gave Bart a ghost of his usual smirk. "Well... shit."
Billy watched him wordlessly from the com, waiting for orders. His face was white and set, a fine tremble in the hands that still held his rifle, ready for whatever Bart might ask of him.
Bart squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenched over the controls. Then he powered down weapons with a stab of a finger and raised his hands.
"Fine--you win. I surrender."
Moral quandaries were nothing new to Citan. Spending decades as the agent for a near-immortal Emperor had given him an almost unparalleled knowledge of the powers that shaped the world, and the dark secrets that they were designed to conceal. In a way, the revelations he had made near the end of the conflict with Deus were a relief; a confession of sorts that helped alleviate the burden of his own role as a friend and teacher... spymaster and Judas. And while he may not have found forgiveness for his actions, at least he received understanding.
Now he had a new secret... and no idea what to do with it. What's more, he was rapidly coming to the realization that he had no idea what would happen if he revealed the truth. The predictable patterns of the world during his days as a Solarian agent were long gone, replaced by the chaos of a fragmented post-Deus population that still struggled to survive. How would such a world react--and who was he to decide whether or not it deserved such a truth?
"... what I wouldn't give to be able to throw this at the SIC[*]," he muttered grimly. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes. "Even worse--what if I'm I seeing only what I want to see? What I wouldn't give for a little independent corroboration right now... "
"Feeling nostalgic, Citan?" Jessie's sarcasm broke through his reverie. "Never thought I'd see the day where you'd long for *more* paperwork."
He swiveled to face the older man, careful not to let his consternation show. Jessie leaned against the open doorway, arms crossed, while Emeralda peered around the lab with vague interest. Citan swung the chair slightly, subtly blocking the computer screen. As intelligent as Emeralda was, she knew very little about the nanotechnology that had gone into her creation. The data he'd been looking at would mean nothing to her. Jessie, on the other hand... .
Then he got a good look at Jessie's face, and his concerns were swiftly forgotten. A cold spike of adrenaline kicked old instincts into full alert as he half-rose from the chair.
"Jessie? What's wrong?"
Jessie shook his head, looking grim. "No time to talk--you're needed on the bridge." He paused, lips twisting. "We have a situation."
If there was one thing Sigurd hated, it was to be caught off-guard. To have it happen on his watch was even worse, tantamount to a personal slap in the face--and he had no doubts that Nicklay had planned it that way.
"Report, Mr. Hans!"
The distress on the officer's dolphin-like face was almost comical. "We have an incursion sir; Ft. Jasper reports a Kislev light cruiser about fifteen rells away from Nisan and gaining speed. It looks like it's making a run for the border." He punched buttons as he spoke, correlating the data feed and bringing the cruiser's flight path up on the central holo-tank.
"Alone? It can't be a straggler... " Sigurd scowled at the flickering projection, then snapped, "Who's assigned to patrol that area?"
"Nisan defense forces, sir--mostly Elly's squad, if memory serves. Ft. Jasper reports no response to any hails, however."
He drummed his fingers against the rim of the holo-tank. "Can we intercept?"
"Negative, sir." Franz shook his head. "They're already halfway over the mountains and still increasing speed."
"That doesn't make sense... why would they go to all the trouble to sneak in, only to leave before they'd done any damage? Unless... " A chill ran down his spine. "Hans! Verify Xenogears' position!"
"Xenogears is still in position on the overlook, sir. No signs of attack or sabotage. But--"
"Spit it out, mister!"
"Well, sir... Fei reports that the General was taking a patrol in that direction. Ft. Jasper confirms that they had been tracking two Aveh Gears in the area, but... well... they seem to have disappeared off the sensors, sir." Hans cringed under his commander's gimlet stare as he reported the news.
"I can confirm that, Sig." Jessie entered the bridge, Citan close behind. "I just spoke with the launch crews--they say Bart, Billy, and a couple of your new pilots took two Gears out to do a 'quick run around Nisan'." He shifted his rifle over his shoulder, his eyes flinty with silent accusation.
Sigurd's face was glacial; his response, immediate.
"Send our fastest cruisers after that airship. Tell them to burn out their engines if they have to, but don't let them make Kislev! Franz--chart a course to that patrol's last known position, and put a medical team on standby!"
"Sir!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Contact Ft. Jasper. Inform them of the situation and tell them we're on our way. Have them get reinforcements out there ASAP!"
The bridge crew sprang into a flurry of activity, systems lighting up as the Yggdrasil was readied for action. Sigurd watched, console creaking under his white-knuckled grip, and--for the first time in decades--prayed.
{{Holy Sophia--let us not be too late!}}
End Part 19
Note:
[*] Solarian Information Control
(:./hope/dream19)
