revised: 13-May-2000
<A soldier is always prepared.>
Shinigami appeared from his flank as he touched down, taking giant steps that were oddly muffled on the springy forest floor. The trees were enormous and less dense than they seemed, so that it was possible to maneuver even the girth of a Gundam.
In school he had learned that this area had once been the site of a nuclear reactor explosion. For centuries the radiation had lingered, driving all civilization away. Remaining unpopulated, it had earned the name of "Wasted Valley." The land was remote and by tradition unvisited. In A.C. 12, when greenery first began to climb over the rim of the bowl, it was realized that lush plant life had long since returned. The new growth included these trees, a species of unusual size, theorized as products of a rare beneficial mutation.
Now they held a military research facility.
Strangely he could not shake the sense of awe which dogged him as he made his way past the dark, upright giants. They were older than his Gundam, and in some way seemed as strong. He reminded himself that there was very little that could pierce Gundanium alloy. Ahead of him now, Shinigami ghosted through the trunks.
Maxwell was a skilled pilot, he conceded. It took focus and reliance upon his peripheral screens to navigate swiftly. Deathscythe moved more erratically, although maintaining a sure sense of direction. It was if the pilot progressed with more instinct than caution. It was the same as when the two had first met--with no direct evidence of an alliance, he had allowed Wing to use the hangar. He could not fault Heero for taking what he needed when it was offered. It was the price for careless trust.
The fool, he found himself thinking, will get himself killed.
"Heero." The sound startled him and he berated his drifting attention.
"Hn."
"...I'm getting strange radar readings." Duo sounded vaguely puzzled.
"Is something there?"
"Not exactly..."
"Explain."
"We're surrounded by trees. I've been getting signals bouncing back to me regularly. But the patch in front of me is different."
"Get to the point."
"I see trees, but I'm getting nothin'."
"Wave interference."
"On the nose, Yuy."
"So you've found it then."
"I was hoping we--" the word was stressed lightly, "would have something more specific to go by. Much as I'd like to go back to bed, I'm not about to start blasting chipmunks."
"I'm switching to infrared."
"...I wonder if they know we're here."
Within minutes, he found an unusually varied patch. Upon closer inspection, he could make out a low wall. Beyond it, low domes sloped out of the earth, widely spaced. One gray building stood in the middle, taller than the domes by several meters. It was still smaller than he had expected. He wondered how far the research had progressed.
"Hn."
"Got it?" Soon the L-2 Gundam stood beside his. "Aha."
Something in Shinigami's posture disturbed him. He kept an eye on the mobile suit as he scanned the small artificial clearing.
Static crackled faintly, a sign that the other pilot had turned on his intercom. But no words came through right away. Then, "The domes--" Duo said abruptly.
"Most likely storage areas. They must be destroyed."
"No! It's not that. It's almost like..." He could picture the long-haired pilot crossing his arms in the cockpit, struggling to explain. "It reminds me of--something. I just can't put my finger on it."
"Hn." He began to move towards the wall. "I'm going to start on the building."
"Heero, wait! This is wrong, there's something wrong."
He snorted. The boy was balking despite his bravado, afraid to kill outside of a fight. But he was a trained terrorist and knew the importance of the mission. This was necessary. He had to take lives now to spare them later. It was of no consequence whether the victims were in a suit or not. Had he not killed countless OZ soldiers in battle?
He stepped over the wall.
Instantly, a beam of whiteness slashed through the air. It turned slowly until it came to rest on the two Gundams, frozen by the first of the low domes. He turned on the outer com-link just in time to catch the words.
"--entify yourselves."
Neither pilot said a word. Somehow, although his gun arm swung towards the tower, he was reluctant to begin. Perhaps it was Shinigami's premonition holding him back, making him more cautious. Caution was a virtue, as long as it did not hamper the mission.
"Identify yourselves immediately or we will radio headquarters."
They could not stand there forever. Slowly, he raised the gun.
"NO!" Duo's wild yell froze his action and he turned to see what the matter was. To his shock, he saw the hatch open and the black-clad pilot leap out of the cockpit. He dashed out as far as the short platform would permit and stood there, motionless, shielding his eyes against the beam with one hand. Harshly outlined, he was dwarfed by Deathscythe's giant mass.
In that brief moment Heero felt bizzarely disoriented. Would he look like that, moments before the self-destruct? So--small. He was determined to die an honorable death. But Duo's eyes held none of the joy. Then he shook his head and shouted into the com, "What are you doing? Get back in there!"
Duo, if he heard, paid no attention. He waved his arms above his head, knocking off the cap in the process. Even through the screen Heero could see the glint of his hair. "Listen!" His voice sounded disproportionately loud in the stillness of the night. "We're going to destroy this base in five minutes! And believe me, this baby can do it. If you surrender and offer no resistance--" he paused, "We won't blow you to shreds." He folded his arms, and became somewhat quieter. "Take the offer, folks. 'Cause Shinigami doesn't give second chances."
Heero waited, every muscle tensed in anticipation of their response. A part of his mind was furious: Bakayarou! We're not prepared to handle prisoners! Our orders were to destroy cleanly! Yet another part was busy calculating the possible outcomes. The staff would have to accept. After all, they had no resistance to offer.
For a long minute the silence stretched. Then, they heard a door open on the other side of the building. A sound, a familiar but misplaced sound came to Heero's ears and his eyes widened--
Too late.
From the darkness there streaked a blur that whistled of destruction as it came, so quickly. And he knew that there was no way that the other pilot would see it and react in time. Frozen, he saw the mouth open in alarm, saw the arms come up in a futile attempt at self-defense.
The explosion rocked the Gundam on its legs, although he knew it was not badly damaged. Its exposed pilot was different. Amidst a small shower of shrapnel he saw--
"No--" His hands thrust forth blindly and crashed into the screen as his eyes followed the falling figure, knowing that he could not cross the space between them fast enough to break the impact. There was not enough time and still it fell so slowly, the long way to the ground. The ridiculous braid drew a tight line upwards, a rope which could not save him. Nothing could save him. He needed wings.
Finally it hit and lay still.
<No...NO!>
AKI-Babble: Next up (visualize the dome scene)--Let's play Wac-a-Mole!
<There is never room for error.>
"How..." his mouth was dry. The facility was not unarmed. They had been misinformed. But the silence went on and Deathscythe stood tall. Almost he thought that nothing had happened, except that he could see the crumpled figure at the Gundam's feet and felt it falling in his mind.
He tried, he thought with strange distance, and they shot him.
Why did he try? he wondered, still from that odd remote corner of his mind that never went numb because it could not feel. It was true that the boy was far from an ideal soldier. He was loud. Impulsive. Intrusive. But the L2 pilot was also pragmatic, had an uncanny knack for survival and was clever at beating the odds. This was uncharacteristic of him. It was careless of him. The fool. Jeopardizing the mission. He should have known better. He should have...
He shook his head and moved in front of the L2 mobile suit, between it and the darkness. And then he heard it again--the unmistakable sound of machinery. He waited.
Within a few moments a mobile suit emerged from the shadowed side of the building.
He studied it. The model was unfamiliar to him--not a Leo, and missing the distinctive thrusters of an Aries, it was at once slimmer and heftier. Analysis yielded that the torso and head had been greatly reduced, while greater weight had been sacrificed for heavy firepower. He wondered whether it was equipped with the field generators supposedly being researched.
Perhaps that was false information as well.
With his ally down, he would have to move quickly. It would be better to destroy the opposition as efficiently as possible. He noted the space of the cockpit, reduced almost to flimsiness, and again there was that dim pulse of hatred for the Federation. They valued no lives, not even their own. They made it too easy for him to sacrifice himself for their destruction, to die so that he could stop them, so that he did not have to see them. His life was so worthless, and there was always the knowledge of what it could buy in return.
He fought for peace.
Aiming for the unseen pilot, fleetingly he regretted the wings--he had hoped to follow them. Just once, he wanted to see them fully, without the fear. But soldiers never did, in life or death. The shot shattered the air and the enemy suit jerked back, quickly but too slow to avoid the saber. A wide chunk of the armor covering the cockpit was ripped away and he turned away, not wishing to see the look of surprise. He could see it, even when he could not see the face. They always looked surprised, because it came too fast.
A soldier should always be prepared.
An explosion knocked him forward and through his shock he felt several systems flashing red. He had incurred some damage.
How were they still firing?
He regained balance, and whirled the mech suit around. The enermy MS was reeling, but righting itself. And the torn, gaping hole slashed with his rifle--
Was empty. There was no cockpit, no pilot.
Remote control--his mind was whirling--he had not been informed of this! And as he assimilated the information, more suits moved with mechanical precision from the building.
There were so many: ranks of them, forming a wide line to enclose and entrap. He took a deep breath. Ninmu...He was the only one now and the stakes were higher. And he would have to fight harder; it was now necessary to destroy the suits' capacity entirely.
Amidst the gunfire he thought suddenly that it was wrong to call them suits. No one wore them, they were mere shells. Hollow dolls. No wonder the cockpit had seemed vulnerable. It simply didn't matter. There were no faces here. No room for wings.
Somehow, he was frustrated by this change of rules. But a soldier had to be flexible and so he fought. Brought down the first few with his gun as they advanced. Dodged most of the bullets and left the rest to dent against Gundanium or *thunk* softly into the earth. Dashed to the right and let them fly by, rattling off of Shinigami. Some plowed into the dirt by its feet, close to where--
He circled back to the left, although it restricted his mobility to one corner. It was wasteful to allow another valuable mecha to be damaged beyond repair, and Deathscythe was a Gundam. He could easily cannibalize it, or use it as a back-up. But where was--? He squinted, feeling an unusual tightness in his throat. A blast damaged his arm--they were closer now, but still coming slowly because there was no need to hurry. He turned back to the line, and prepared to charge them. Against dolls, it would never do to be outgunned and at a distance.
"Hey--man..."
<What?>
He grabbed the com link. "Duo?"
"The one and only..."
"You're not dead," and now the bullets were flying again. His blood pounded loudly in his ears. The beating of wings.
"Feels like it, though--think I broke a couple ribs. Not like you, falling without parachutes. But Shinigami didn't want me today--the ground was soft." The pilot's breath came labored. He could hear it over the transmission.
"LOOK UP!"
With agonizing speed the buster shield came up in time to block off a missile, brother to the one detonated against the Gundam's hull. With a curse Heero turned back and faced the enemy. Now he needed to finish things. He parried, thrusted, dodged and struck in motion after titanic motion; the new suits were quick, unlimited by human capacity and difficult to spar with. Yet he found there was a peculiar joy in destruction now that there were no faces to see.
Except for one.
He was fighting in a mission to save his colony and yet it helped to fight for something closer as well. Beside him Deathscythe pivoted and slashed through another mecha. But they were losing ground, being forced back. Perhaps if Maxwell had been in perfect condition they would have stood a chance. He could sense that the pilot was almost imperceptibly slower than usual and they needed his speed. Shinigami was built for speed and dog-fighting. It required a pilot who was fearless or careless of his own life to maximize its operation. Like all the Gundams.
Like all the Gundams...he frowned.
"OI! We're gonna bite the big one if we keep this up!" "Do you have a plan?" he grunted as he impaled a suit and felt another fall onto his arm. He spun out from under it and fired a shot upwards, knocking it back and down. "These are being controlled! It's like a snake, we gotta take out the head!"
Of course, Maxwell was right. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? "Where?" "I'm not sure--wait! Rashid!"
"What?"
"Rashid, the Manganacs! That's what I was thinking of!"
"Explain and fast."
"Aah--go easy there, fella--" he heard Duo mutter, breath hitching. He looked to the right and saw the Gundam down on one knee, blocking the gun arms of the pilotless suit with the handle of the scythe. It was an ugly situation: the other end of the line was closing in, and the angle of the gun was lowering. Any second it would be low enough to fire into the Gundam's head and Deathscythe would be surrounded by enemy units. Already it was down on two knees, holding both arms up and he knew Duo was slipping. If Maxwell failed to reach for the cannon's lever quickly enough he would bear the brunt of the bullets at close range.
He aimed the laser rifle carefully and shot off the closest gun arm. The scythe, freed of pressure, flung upwards. In a flash Maxwell transferred the momentum into a horizontal swing and the upper half of the suit flew through the air. The lower legs crackled with current, then staggered and fell. "Agh--" he heard a cough. "Thanks, man."
Broken ribs. He had climbed back up the Gundam. The strain of manipulating the controls must be--"Now explain."
"It's like the desert base...Quatre's friends, their base is underground. You c'n barely see it but it's so big. Hidden."
Duo's voice was distractingly weak. "Underground--the domes." "That's my guess."
"Good enough--" and he turned to attack them. But they had been forced back too far, and now the line stood between them and the domes in a semi-circle at the fringe of the clearing. It would be difficult for him to fight through the suits, and impossible for Maxwell. Either way, Duo would be caught and he clenched his teeth in frustration. There had to be a way around this.
"We're going to have to make a run for it...break through or we're done for." Those words were so thick, as if Duo were unable to focus.
"Omae--" Heero felt a strange reluctance to see the boy fail. It was only because there was no way that he would be able to maximize Deathscythe's capabilities himself; adjusting to the different tactics would take time. It was more efficient to have two operating pilots. And--he had been surprised, caught off-guard by Duo's unauthorized behavior. He had not been entirely prepared for its consequences.
He didn't care to be surprised again. "Wait--use your jammers. De-focus the beam."
"But they're not as powerf--hey, right! Good one, Yuy. Yoshi, on the count of three..."
"One. Two. Three--"
Both jammers were activated at full force, and despite the subsequent energy drain Deathscythe had enough power to bull through the line. As he had hoped, the jammers interfered with the controlling mechanisms of the mobile shells. They arrested their assault just long enough for him to fire three shots, scattering the rank before him. On the fringe of his vision, a green blur of energy cut a swath of open space and rushed through the gap. It took them only a few giant strides to reach the domes. They dashed behind one each and crouched under the low cover.
"What now?" Maxwell hissed. In the small cockpit the echoes of Duo's voice came back at him with his own harsh breathing.
"The domes..." The dolls were turning more slowly than he had expected. Either Shinigami's jammers had been upgraded or the shells' mechanism for mass mobilization was still inefficient. It bought them a few precious seconds. There were only a hundred or so meters between them.
Forty...
To his left he knew Maxwell was staring at the dome as well, inspecting the smooth paneled sides which he had initially assumed to be solar cells. Before them the gunfire started up in bursts.
Thirty...
As he scrutinized it, a panel lifted before him. He heard Duo shout, and intuition shoved him aside just as the hidden muzzle fired a heavy shell. Through Wing's glare-proofed window he saw it explode in a flash of searing light and smoke across the clearing, just above the other domes. An unearthly orange glare begin to smolder in the undergrowth. The trees were burning, again.
The panel slid shut and he pounded a fist against the unseen attacker. It gave beneath the blow, denting inwards. Another one opened to his left. "There are defense systems installed. Watch for those," he warned somewhat belatedly.
Twenty...
The other pilot's voice crackled over the intercom. "I can't break the hole fast enough! I have to dodge these damn shells!" "Aim for the panels which hide artillery. It's thinner there," he grunted, pounding relentlessly as he spoke. Faster--faster--the scythe had settled into a rhythm as well--now for a final shot--
Ten...
"Yatta!" Almost simultaneously the black Gundam and the white smashed through the side of the domes. He looked into the broad chamber below ground, and saw the chilly glare of electric light coming through.
Five...
"Hn."
The dolls marched. He jumped.
<It's not over. I'm not dead.>
End part 2
(:./aki/wings2)
