21-Jan-2002
Title: The Longest Dream Part 17 - Gundams and Omnigears
Author: Hope of Dawn
C&C appreciated!
Archive: GW Addiction at http://www.gwaddiction.com
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?
Writer's Notes: In the game, the Omnigears (with a couple of exceptions) were simply the party's existing gears 'boosted up' by merging with the Anima Relics. However, there are some inconsistencies in the story about the how/when/why this occurred, so I'm writing this with the assumption all of the Omnigears are actually separate mecha in and of themselves. Apologies in advance if anyone doesn't like me fudging canon like this...
Warnings: AU, X-over, shonen-ai.
Notes: Hey everyone, I *finally* got this part out! I realize it's been a long time coming, and I apologize, but RL has not been kind lately. Anyway, hope this makes up for TLD's long hiatus. Also, I apologize for the rather abrupt ending--there just didn't seem to be any good stopping place on this chapter. *sheepish grin*
Anyway, on to the fic!
Straight-backed and stony-faced, Fei stalked down the corridor away from the commissary. Frustration roiled, souring his stomach. Even now he could feel the weight of their stares burning a hole in his back as he had left; weighted by their distrust, their anger...
...their fear.
'Of course they're afraid... The Demon of Elru is not so easily forgotten.'
The thought was quiet, menacing, and smug. A cold knot solidified in his gut, like a snake coiling, about to strike. He resisted the urge to fling the tray down, to spin and confront the soldiers' unspoken condemnation, and shook his head, trying to negate the very idea. It would do no good. After all, they would forget--eventually. They just needed some time.
Almost before the thought was formed, the reply came, darkly malicious. 'Time? You think time will make them forget how you/we bathed in the blood of their loved ones? We destroyed their lives, and reveled in every moment; and you're as adept at lying to yourself as you ever were, little Coward.'
His hands clenched on the edges of the tray, denting the metal. Abruptly, he headed for an outer hatch. Some fresh air would do him some good, remind him that it didn't matter what they thought--what *anyone* thought. And it certainly didn't change what he needed to do to protect Nisan--or to protect Elly.
'No? You think you can walk among them, protect them, when they hate and fear you? They're nothing but sheep, boy. Born and bred for the slaughter.'
He growled in frustration, flipping an errant strand of hair out of his eyes. There was the dry rasp of a sardonic chuckle in response. 'Careful, little Coward. You're showing your fangs.'
"Shut up!"
"Uh... sir?" A green-coated petty officer hesitated in a nearby hatchway, eyeing him warily.
Belatedly, Fei realized that he had stopped walking to stand dead in the center of the corridor--and arguing out loud with... nobody.
"Were you, uh, talking to me, sir?"
A malicious chuckle whispered between his ears as Fei gathered together the shreds of his composure. "No, Lieutenant..."
"Mihau, sir."
"Lieutenant Mihau. I was just, uh, thinking out loud." He tried to give the man a reassuring smile.
"Yessir." The smallish man bobbed in an abbreviated bow, and much to Fei's chagrin, beat a hasty retreat.
The cold clench of his gut intensified, fed by Id's contempt, and Fei shuddered convulsively. Turning, he hurried down the corridor, desperate to get out--get *away*, even as he realized how futile it was. You couldn't escape an enemy locked in your own skull.
He knew what those around him believed. Id's existence was almost common knowledge now, though an unspoken one. Most outsiders, including many of his friends, believed that Id had been born in an explosion of white-hot spite, fueled by anger and rage. That belief caused even his closest friends to be cautious around him at times, careful in both word and action; annoyingly obvious in their attempts not to do anything to trigger that rage. That was bad enough. What they would do if they learned the truth, Fei feared to even guess.
No. It was better that they kept their illusions; and it was up to him to keep the truth safely hidden, locked away from anyone's eyes.
For the truth was that Id wasn't born of something as ephemeral and easily defeated as fire. Id was hatred, glacially cold and implacable in its advance, and brutal in its efficiency. A hate that wished to see the world suffer as he had suffered, turning inward and extending even to the very core of Self. For three years, he had been free of that hate--free to grow up with a clean slate, with no memory of what he... what Id had done--or what had been done to them. But the events of two years ago... of Grahf's manipulations, his betrayals of both body and spirit...the constant hounding of Solaris...and Deus, always Deus, tugging at the chains of fate... They had all conspired to rip that weak barrier away, allowing Id to rise. And though he, Id, and the Coward had been forced to reach an uneasy truce in order to survive and triumph, the hate remained, like an icy fissure through his soul.
'Face it, little Coward. Those sheep don't want to be saved. Certainly not by the likes of us.'
Fei clamped his mouth shut, stifling another outburst. Determined to ignore Id's goading, he shoved open the outer hatch, blinking in the sudden flood of bright sunlight. Stepping out, he looked around--and almost tripped over a crumbled bit of rubble, dumbfounded by the sight of a Gundam... dancing?
A second look corrected that first ridiculous thought--but Fei was hard pressed to come up with an explanation for what it *was* doing. Oblivious to its audience, the giant, red-gold Gundam flapped its arms up and down, looking for all the world like it was trying to fly as it took smooth, ponderous strides--forward, back, a side-step to the left, a pivot to the right. Every now and then a spasmodic jerk shook the frame, and one arm would fly out, causing the Gundam to hop sideways, shaking the ground as it tried to regain its balance.
Bemused, Fei stared, his internal arguments forgotten.
"How's it working now, Wufei?"
Jerking his gaze from the flapping Gundam, Fei spotted two heads, one topped with blonde, the other auburn, behind a collection of diagnostic boxes and trailing cables. Quatre popped up from behind a console long enough to look at the Gundam, then grimaced. "The second CV joint still giving you trouble?"
"Yes!" crackled Wufei's peevish voice. "Damn it, Quatre--what did Trowa *do* to this thing?" Thankfully for Fei's peace of mind, the Gundam stopped flapping its arms. Curious, he wandered over to the small huddle of Gear pilots and equipment.
"It's not Trowa's fault, Wufei. I think it's the cannon; it just wasn't designed to be fired under atmospheric conditions. The recoil isn't buffered well enough, and it's tearing up all the joints in that arm, the CVs especially," Quatre replied, frowning at miniature screen and its readouts. "We should probably be grateful that it hasn't torn the arm completely off."
"Just when we'd gotten the problem with the shells solved, too. We shouldn't have to baby a Gundam like this. It's damned embarrassing." Over the com, Wufei's grumblings were interspersed with the tinny sound of snipping wires and the occasional thump.
"Problems?" Fei asked.
Looking up in surprise, Elly smiled. "Fei! Good morning!" She gestured to an empty seat.
Pulling up a short-legged stool, Fei slid his tray onto the cluttered surface and nodded at Quatre, who gave an absent-minded wave in response as he concentrated on the scrolling green lines of data. A slim finger stabbed out, freezing the readouts. "There. Elly--what do those characters mean?" He looked over at Fei, giving a belated smile of his own in greeting as Elly leaned forward to inspect the readouts. "Problems? Oh--you mean the shells. Well, they didn't work."
"What do you mean, 'they aren't working'? They seemed to work well enough against Neo-Kislev."
"A fluke, I'm afraid," Quatre replied, eyes flicking back and forth between Fei and Heavyarms. "Trowa tried doing some tests after the battle, just to gauge what kind of firepower he had, and not a single one of the shells detonated. It turns out that the catalyst for the detonators fizzles out under atmospheric pressure. The only reason the first shot actually went off is because the enemy plasma fire actually detonated the shell for us. Don't worry, though--Wufei and Trowa think they've figured out a way to get around it."
"It looks like you have conflicting data lines coming from two separate sensors in the joint, Quatre," Elly interjected. "See here? This character, and this--" she pointed at two sets of symbols, "Are range-of-motion parameters. They seem to be conflicting."
Quatre leaned over, nodding. "I think I see what you mean. Wufei, can you get around to check the joint visually?"
"...after I shut everything down, yes."
Taking advantage of Quatre's momentary distraction, Elly leaned against Fei, twining her fingers with his. "Are you okay?"
He hunched his shoulders noncommittally, poking at the lumps in his breakfast. "I'm fine." It was a not-quite-blatant lie--both he and Elly knew that he was anything but. It was a complete surprise, however, to be called on it by Quatre.
"It does no good to pretend, you know."
Fei stilled, spoon frozen in mid-stir in the rapidly congealing gruel. A lump of cereal dripped off the spoon, hitting the edge of the bowl with a slithery *plop*. "Pretend what?"
Quatre cocked his head, settling his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands as he regarded the martial artist sitting across from him solemnly. Having Quatre's full attention focused on you was an unnerving feeling, Fei discovered; rather like being pinned naked under a high-powered searchlight. Those luminous teal eyes betrayed nothing but compassion--but noticed everything. "You don't have to pretend that you aren't angry."
"I said I'm fine."
"You're lying." Fei blinked, surprised at the sudden steel in Quatre's voice. "You're afraid and angry--so angry I can feel it, like a fist around my heart. But it's turned inward so far, I can't tell why you're angry."
Fei rocked backwards, startled by Quatre's bald accusation. For once Id stayed quiet, for which he was dimly grateful. "I--" He struggled for an answer. "You don't pull your punches, do you?"
Quatre smiled, a slight upturning of lips that couldn't mitigate the sorrow in his eyes. "Waking up here--in this time, this place... I left too many things unsaid before we left, because I believed I would have time once we returned. I will regret that for the rest of my life." His voice shook slightly, then steadied. "I'm not about to repeat my mistakes. I won't ignore your anger, even if it makes you uncomfortable."
"I--" At a loss for words, Fei looked over at Elly for assistance. The clasp of her hand in his tightened, offering support, but no answers. Staring down at the dented and stained surface of workbench, he tried to swallow down the sullen resentment. "I... appreciate the concern. But really--it's nothing that you--that anyone can help with." From somewhere he dredged up a smile of his own. "So. What are you two doing, anyway? Besides playing with explosives, that is."
After a long, probing look, Quatre decided to accept his deliberate change of subject without comment, much to Fei's infinite relief.
"Trying to make our Gundams battle-worthy," he replied, turning away from the readouts with a small huff of frustration. "It's proving to be a rather tricky task. Since neither Wufei or I was familiar with your diagnostic equipment, Elly graciously offered to help us out."
"Ah." Fei looked back over at the Gundam that was still twitching spasmodically as Wufei continued to test the offending shoulder joint. "I guess I don't need to ask how it's going, huh?"
"It's not as bad as it looks. It's just that we're forcing them to do things that they're not really built to handle--not anymore, at least." Quatre shrugged, keeping half an eye on the diagnostic board. "So we've been dealing with a few more glitches than we're used to. All things considered, it's a small price to pay."
"I guess." Heavyarms had settled onto one knee as Wufei began to shut the Gundam's systems down. Fei watched the mecha pensively, poking at the lumps in his now-cold gruel and trying in vain to ignore the soundless whisper that reverberated in the silence of his skull.
'It is a beautiful killing machine--even if it doesn't hold a candle to Us.'
(Two weeks later, Ft. Jasper.)
"Oi!"
"Shhh!" Bart peered warily around a corner.
"..." Duo shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming in the darkness. "...oi."
"What?"
"I can't see a thing. Where are we, anyway?"
"The royal mausoleum."
"Oh." A pause. "You mean I'm stumbling around in the dark with a bunch of dead guys?"
"Yup."
"...Cool."
*crunch*
Another pause. "Uh--what did I just step on?"
"Umm... trust me." Bart's disembodied voice was wry. "You really don't want to know."
"Oh. Why are we doing this again?"
"Because the lights don't work this far in. And because I wanna show you something. "
"Show me what?"
"You'll see."
Duo grunted. "Not if I break my neck on the way there, I won't."
"We're almost there."
"That's what you said two hours ago." Resignedly.
"Hey, it's not my fault all these corridors look alike!"
"You mean to tell me that you're *lost*?"
"No I'm not. We've gotta be somewhere in Fort Jasper by now."
"Somewhere in--? How big is this fort?"
"Ummm... kinda large."
"Help me out here. Bigger than a breadbox?"
"Well, yeah. Obviously."
"Bigger than the Yggdrasil?"
"Definitely."
"Bigger than Nisan?"
"Umm... probably?"
"And you got us lost!?"
"No way! I know this place like the back of my hand."
"I'd like to point out that you can't *see* the back of your hand right now." Duo waved his hand in the gloom to illustrate.
"You know what I mean. Aha!"
"What?"
This is the right door--I'm sure of it."
"That's what you said with the last two doors. Bart, admit it. You're lost... whoah! What's that weird light?"
"Told ya. Come on!"
"So what's with the sculpture? And why is it missing a wing?"
"It's a religious thing--ask Elly." Bart's face was shadowy and pale in the shifting blue glow that filled the room. "Here. Look in this light."
"Why? Is it going to melt my brain or something?"
"Don't be stupid. It's just the security lock for the Omnigears."
"The Omni-what?"
"Just *look* already!"
"All right, all right. Sheesh..."
*whirrrrr* *bleep!*
"Looks like it worked."
"Yeah... looks like."
"Fascinating," Citan remarked as he stepped out of the shadowed hallway.
"Yaah!" Bart jumped nervously, grabbing for his whip. "Citan! Don't *scare* me like that!" Duo smirked, keeping one eye on the slowly opening doors.
"My apologies, Bart." Citan folded his arms and regarded the younger man's guilty expression. "Showing off Andvari, are we?"
"Well..." Bart scuffed a boot against the decking.
Duo looked back and forth between the two. "Andvari? I thought we were going to look at omni-whatzits."
Bart pointed at the now open door, revealing a gleaming form under the hangar lights. "We are. That's the Fatima Omnigear--Andvari." Glinting scarlet and gold and shadowed by mantling wing extensions, the Omnigear stood impassively in its berth. Duo whistled appreciatively as he looked it over.
"Oh, that is one *sweet* machine. Mind if I take a look?"
Bart waved a hand magnanimously. "Go ahead."
"Thanks!" Duo walked slowly forward, running a hand over the gleaming metal. "Andvari, huh? Pleased to meetcha..."
As Duo moved out of sight, Bart turned to Citan, dropping his flippant mask. "I was just... conducting a little experiment." He folded his arms defensively, drumming his fingers. "Me and Sig were right, weren't we? He *does* have the Fatima Jasper."
Citan nodded slowly. "I had assumed it was just a coincidence--a random fluke of eye color..."
"Having blue eyes is one thing, Citan. Having *that* particular retinal pattern is something else entirely." He waved at the computer lock. "You saw what he did. Only the descendants of the Fatima dynasty are supposed to be able to unlock the the Fatima Omnigear. So how do you explain this?"
"I don't know, Bart." Citan looked over at the hangar, watching Duo inspect the Omnigear with casual expertise. His eyes narrowed. "It is a very intriguing question, however. Stick out your arm."
"What?"
Citan pulled out damp swab--and a needle. "It'll just be for a minute."
"What are you--Ow! What was that for?" Bart jumped, startled, as Citan tied off a tourniquet around his bicep with practiced speed, turning the bend of his elbow upwards.
"Hold still, or I'll miss the vein," Citan replied. "It's for the yearly nanite testings, remember? With so many people deployed out in the field, the medical staff and I agreed that it's much easier to just take our samples on the fly, so to speak, than try to drag everyone into the infirmary. I've already gotten Helmholz and Stratski, since they were on duty up in the control room. The rest of the crew is also being tested, along with everyone else I can get my hands on, so as long as you're here..."
Bart yelped as the needle was stuck into his arm. "Dammit, Citan! I am not your lab rat!"
"Something for which I am forever grateful," Citan said smoothly, watching the vial fill with dark, purplish blood. He withdrew the needle with casual expertise and pressed gauze to the spot, eliciting another yelp from his victim. "I'm sure you'd manage to skew the results of every test I tried." Nimble fingers secured the vial, secreting it away safely in the depths of his medical kit.
"Gee, thanks." Making a face, he manfully resisted flipping Citan a nonverbal (and rude) reply as he turned back to Andvari. "Hey Duo! Whaddaya think?"
"Well, even though it doesn't even come close to approaching Deathscythe's studly good looks, I'll have to admit that it's pretty wicked looking," came the reply, echoing slightly as Duo peered over a whip-housing.
"Oh yeah?" Bart growled. "Well, if we still had Ether power, Andvari could show your junkheap Gear a thing or two!"
"Promises, promises," Duo called back, flipping his braid out of the way as he climbed higher up the ladder. "So--are all of these others Omnigears, too?"
"Yup." Bart peeled away the gauze from his elbow, grimaced, and flicked it onto the floor. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his red jacket, he strolled down into the Gear pit that encompassed the entire center of the cavernous room, naming off Gears as he went.
"Regres-she's Elly's. Citan's Fenrir, my own Andvari, Rico's El-Stier... " He stopped and rocked back on his heels, thoughtfully staring up at Stier's squat, massively armored frame. "We figured this was the safest place for 'em. We didn't want anyone getting their hands on them, even if they aren't functional anymore." He rapped his knuckles against dark green armor plating. "There's a lot of memories locked up in here."
From his perch high above, Duo couldn't help but agree. Unlike the royal mausoleum that they had navigated in order to get here, the air of Ft. Jasper wasn't stagnant and stale with old decay. Instead it was hushed and solemn, the gleaming metallic walls glinting with reflected color off of the Omnigears' armor, like faded mosaics from the past. There was a weight here--the burden of time fulfilled. Listening to Bart's litany of names, Duo was impressed in spite of himself.
"Sad thing is, if any of our Omnigears were still functional, this war would have been over before it even started." Bart tilted his head back to meet Duo's gaze, his voice bitter. "Nicklay may be a bastard, but he's a smart one. There's no way he would've tried his little takeover bid if he knew that he'd have to go up against our Omnigears."
Crossing his arms on the railing, Duo leaned over the empty space and contemplated the top of El-Stier's vivid orange crest. "Hate to say it, Bart, but if Nicklay's as determined as everyone seems to think he is, then this war was inevitable, Omnigears or not. He probably just would have been sneakier about it in the beginning, is all."
"Maybe so--maybe not." Bart shrugged. "Guess it doesn't matter now."
"Hey, look on the bright side. You may not have Omnigears, but now you've got something even better on your side--Gundams." He grinned cheekily. "Not to mention five incredibly handsome and talented pilots who specialize in last-minute, oh-my-God-we're-all-gonna-die, last-stand-at-the-Alamo and saving-the-world-type stuff."
"You forgot modest," Bart pointed out, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, that too."
Bart snorted. "Now I know the *real* reason why you guys went off to that colony."
"Real reason?" Duo continued to stroll along the catwalk.
"Yeah. There obviously wasn't enough room on the planet to accommodate you *and* your ego."
"Hey!"
"He's got you there, Duo," a new voice called. Wufei stepped cautiously down the ramp, nodded at an amused Citan, and looked up at the assembled ranks of Omnigears. His eyebrows rose fractionally at the sight of such massed firepower before he could cover it with his usual stern expression.
Duo stuck his tongue out at his fellow pilot. "Laugh it up while you can, justice-boy. Just remember though, that I've got a--" He stopped, and looked down at the unfamiliar weapon hanging off the shoulder of the Gear below him in confusion. "--whatever it is, and I'm not afraid to use it!"
"That would be a 'Kijin'," Citan pointed out, smiling slightly. "And unless you're more fond of swords than I've been led to believe, Fenrir's weaponry will not aid you very much."
"You're kidding, right?" Turning, Duo gave the Omnigear a thorough once-over, eyes lingering on the massive hilt protruding over one shoulder. "No beam sabre? You actually use a real *sword* in that thing?"
"Of course. It's quite effective. Is that so strange? After all, Fei manages to fight hand-to-hand in his."
"Gee, I guess I was too busy watching him obliterate whole squadrons, 'cause I must have missed that." Duo shook his head in disbelief.
"It does bring up some interesting possibilities, though, doesn't it?" Wufei said slowly, running a hand over gleaming plate.
"Ya lost me, Wufei."
"Think about it, Duo. Une herself told us that our rebuilt Gundams were faster, more structurally resilient. Shenlong's response time alone is phenomenal compared to its predecessors'."
"So... you're saying that we should fight hand-to-hand...in *Gundams*? That's seriously messed up, Wufei."
Wufei shrugged. "Perhaps, but it's something to contemplate. After all, it's becoming abundantly clear that if we try to rely on our normal fighting techniques, we may end up with crippled Gundams."
"Wait a minute--I know you guys were having a few problems, but I thought our techs were helping fix that," Bart protested.
"They are, and they've done an admirable job considering their unfamiliarity with the technology," Wufei replied. "But in some ways, our Gundams are too dissimilar to your Gears. So far we've been lucky--we've managed to adapt or work around our problems using your existing Gear parts. But if a moly-polymer circuit blows, or part of the gundanium plating needs to be replaced, well..." He shrugged helplessly.
"We're shit out of luck," Duo finished succinctly. "As advanced as you guys are, you just don't have some of the space-faring technology we'd need."
"Hm. I think you might be underestimating our capabilities...but I see your point," Citan said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Which, incidentally, brings up why I'm here." Wufei looked back up at the catwalk. "Duo, could I have a moment of your time? I need you to look at Shenlong--I think we're losing one of the backup superconductors to the lower lateral thrusters."
"Sure thing, Wufei." Duo clambered down one of the ladders, punching Bart's arm in passing. "Gotta run, man--but thanks for showing me this. It's really damn cool."
"No problem; maybe someday I can show you what Andvari can *really* do." Bart grinned evilly, and Citan winced.
"As much as I would like the Omnigears functional again, Bart, I sincerely hope that never happens. I'm not sure Nisan would survive."
End Part Seventeen
(:./hope/dream17)
