Gundam Wing/AC 1. Chapter 1

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 1/??

Series: Mobile Suit Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Genre: Adventure, Mystery

Pairings: eventual 6x2, past 2xH, 2+H, 6x9, 1+R others as they crop up

Warnings: It will be 6x2, even though it does not start out that way. After all, Zechs and Duo never met in Gundam Wing and only spoke briefly over a com line in Endless Waltz. I've tried to keep them in character as I saw them in the series. The pairings are not up for change and are set in concrete.

Summary: Directions is set post Endless Waltz and roughly 2 years have passed. Gundam pilots are now 18 years old. Zechs and Noin are on Mars and Duo, after spending some time with Hilde in a relationship leaves L2 to join Preventers. Hilde was not happy about his decision. I guess enough said. This is also AU for the standard Setting [our universe, as well as the series and Endless Waltz.

Spoilers: Gundam Wing Series and Endless Waltz

Rating: Definitely PG in Australia, at the moment, but probably safer to say R for later chapters. Not sure about international ratings. I believe these translate to

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me. I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you.

Alternative Directions: Options

// ……// Thoughts

"…." Speech

……+ Flash back

…..++ Vision

/…../ Text

Chapter 1

New Port City

Sanc

Year: AC 198 Date: January 26th

Duo POV

Time: 02:53

I stared at the screen without really seeing the words written there. This whole thing had an unreal quality to it. Almost otherworldly. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought the search would have shown this type of result. This was the stuff of fiction. Hell, it dated right back to the twentieth century, when that maniac tried to take over the world. Hitler. Hitler and his ideas of a superior Arian race. God, was this stuff real? It couldn't be.

That was when it started, though. At least, that was the earliest references to it that my search had found so far. It had taken me six months to dig up what I had to date. The mission I had been on for the Preventers to shut down a laboratory experimenting with genetic research to produce the perfect soldier had seemed straight forward. Heero and I had had very little trouble finding the laboratory. He was intense, furious in his cold way. Determined to stop the research. We opened up a can of worms I know I had not been expecting to find. I'm sure Heero didn't expect it either.

That place gave me the creeps. It was unreal. Why can't I get that out of my head? Unreal. Otherworldly. Science fiction. Yeah. Yeah, that's what its like. Science fiction—only I know its not. It's real. The proof of it is in front of me now, on the screen. The proof of the mad doctor's existence. Okay, not mad as in Mad, like Frankenstein. At least they didn't experiment with body parts. Ah, well, I suppose in a way they did. All those references to the taking of DNA samples from the identifiable family members. Teeth mainly, especially from the ones who had been dead for hundreds of years. It was so carefully stage managed. Romefeller.

God, what didn't they have their hands into? We found evidence fairly early on into our investigation that they were involved in this research. It well and truly pre dated their backing of Oz. Hell, it pre dated the Alliance. Okay, Maxwell, be honest. It probably had its roots somewhere before the Dark Ages. Evidence keeps coming to light that pushes the dates further and further back.

To begin with, the old Romefeller seem to have been like an international stud book. Only the livestock were not animals, but people. Yeah. The nobility and royalty of the early ages were watched and recorded, particularly marriages. Even the other side of the sheets' births were registered and some attempt at a family history added into their files. Some of those bastard children had their own books' opened on them that now trace for hundreds of years, if Romefeller liked the results of the breeding'.

I always thought I was fairly liberal minded but—hey, I begin to wonder. Around the sixteen hundreds some of the marriages in the European courts were actively pushed or broken up by Romefeller interference. I have found references to assassinations being necessary to stop the contamination of highly desired bloodlines on a number of entries. I never really bothered with history, certainly not history pre dating the colonies founding, but I've done a fair bit of research in the last few months and it's given me a new perspective on life. Freedom of thought, freedom to love and freedom in general being the prime areas. I am so glad not to have been born into one of these families.

Romefeller still exists. I have no doubt of that. They're in hiding. I have dated entries in front of me from yesterday. The Romefeller Foundation we fought during the war was not the true Romefeller, just their public front. I don't know how we are going to catch the real guys in charge of this, but we will have to, somehow, because they will not give up. This lab was only one of many they have. Heero knows it. I know it. By now Une knows it too. They don't know this though. Not yet. I don't know if I should reveal what I now know, or if I should delete all references to it and pretend that it does not exist. Never existed. I wish I never read this.

I might have to reveal some of it. Yeah. I like that better. Some of it. Not all of it. There are still a hell of a lot of families out there who tie into these genetic charts. A lot of the old nobility and royalty still live and have power enough to cause a lot of problems. Most would probably be horrified at what I have found. Romefeller wasn't afraid to kill or blackmail to get what it wanted. It certainly wasn't afraid to lie or play with the truth.I have even found kidnappings here. These guys are sick.

God, I don't know what to do about this. I can't think. It's three in the morning and I am going to have to make a decision soon. I have no choice about that. Une is expecting a report and I haven't even started it yet. What I now know changes so many aspects of the war. No doubt she wouldn't like knowing that her bloodline has been nurtured for the last six hundred years. Nurtured? No, not really, but controlled, certainly.

I can't reveal all that I know yet. I don't know enough. Just the tip of the ice burg. That's all I really know. Bits and pieces. Okay, some of it is pretty big pieces, but it's not the whole thing. I can do my report leaving out what I have found in my private search, stick to the information I found with Heero. He's thorough, but he hasn't been into these files yet. Hasn't found the reference that tweaked my curiosity. I have to get some sleep. I keep going in circles.

Yeah. Sleep. Sounds good. Maxwell, you are not your usual self. You got to sleep, man, or you will never know if you're right or not. Nothing hasty. I don't know enough, but I have to do something. Romefeller are still playing dynastic games and I happen to know people involved in those games. God, I wish I didn't. Your rambling, Maxwell.

Okay, crunch time. Down load what you've found so far, shut the bloody computer down—no, scratch that. First hide your tracks. These people are ruthless and if they find a hint of what your search has found you will be a target. Down load. Takes a while with what I have accessed so far. Yeah, done. Lock it up tight so no one can access it—enough to keep even Yuy scratching his head for a while at least. That should be enough to protect the information, keep it secure.

Now cover my tracks—ah, no! Damn. A hound. They found something and set a hound on me. Got to redirect—yeah, that should do, but I think I need to disappear for a while. Find a new place just in case they can identify me somehow. Heero's Dog Catcher should take their hound around the world a few times and hopefully back to home base.

Time to pack. Just as well I don't own a lot. Nothing cumbersome, at least. Always quick and easy to pull up stakes and move on. Ah, yeah. Rent was paid up for another week so that's okay. Have to find another place and make some decisions. A hotel for today at least. Right, out of here and find a place to sleep.

I have to think. Decide what to do. Someone is going to start killing people before too long. The question will be who will be first? Shit, it had to be raining, didn't it? Who will be first? Yuy? He won't be a push over to kill and he'll be able to protect Relena, but everyone has bad days, and these people in the past have been known to take huge bites when a nibble would do. I wouldn't put it past them to blow up the entire building just to get one person. I'll have to sneak in a general alert for Relena's safety without letting it be known who sent the warning. Problem is I don't know which will be their target. Do they target Relena and anyone she gets romantically involved with—namely one Heero Yuy—or do they target Him.

Gah! Just what I need, ice cold rain water down the neck. Well, at least I won't be going to sleep immediately. That was enough to wake anyone up. Hmm. Was that-? Ahm. Just slip into this alley, I think, just to make sure. Yeah, someone just entering the building— shit, it's Yuy. I am so not ready to talk to him about this. What does he want me for, anyway? Oh shit, yeah, the report.

It's late. No, damn it it's early. Five in the bloody morning. Still, this is not a civilized hour of the day to come calling. Time to vanish and write the bloody report already. Might put in for a little r'n'r. Yeah, I just might. Give myself time to think about what to do.

t.b.c.

00000000000000000000

Note that though it started just before three in the morning it did take Duo time to down load the information and to make sure the Hound set on his heels was dealt with. So roughly two hours passed between the beginning of the chapter and the end.

I apologize now if I screwed up the formatting of this, but it is my first try at working out the system here. Hope I got it right.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

New Port City

Maidens Arms Motel

Sanc

Date: January 30th AC 198

Time: 23:13

Duo

No one's asked any awkward questions, yet. Gives me a breathing space. Now, let's see what… oh yeah. Hitler and his breeding program. Romefeller wanted to bring the common bloodlines into a clearer gene pool. Yeah, right. They were all so sane. Were? No, they are still around. Just get on with it, Maxwell. Right, Hitler. He controlled Europe for ten years before he was finally taken down, tried for war crimes and executed in London in 1962. Under the cover of his regime the first genetic experiments into DNA recognition for later manipulation was started.

Oh, this is cute. _The megalomaniac commoner will give our scientists the perfect opportunity to sample a wide gene pool of the population. Under no circumstances are any samples of Hitler to remain viable. When he has served his purpose the entire gene set that produced him is to be hunted down and eliminated. Should we require another in this vein no doubt we will find many candidates amid the common stock._

Lovely. Mmm. What's this foot note? _ Total elimination in subject 2343887b N gene pool. Elimination to the 5th gene-link. Deaths 345. Hitler variant reproduction. Identity list for elimination. _God. That's sick. Three hundred and forty five people eliminated to ensure another Hitler wasn't born. Yeah. Right. As if genes are the only thing to make a person. I need a coffee.

So, it was Hitler where they started the gene sampling for DNA and developed the techniques. I have to go into that more if I hope to ever understand the full implications of this. Sugar, where's the sugar - ah. I think I hate history. Donut? Sure I had a donut - yep. There you are. Okay. Hitler was used to start DNA research. That was only the first stage of the experiments they ultimately ran. Now they had far different ideals than his Arian Super race. Just exactly what those ideals are I have to learn.. Umph. Hot.

Let's see. Hitler executed by electric chair in November 1962. Yep, so move those files into section C327. Better lock that up with a few firewalls. I know that I have to look into all of this, but it just keeps getting bigger. I know shit about this stuff. I don't know what's really important and what I can afford to leave. The problem is I can't find an overall synapses on what they are aiming for. I really need that before I can decide who to take this to. Just who would be the appropriate people?

I got into this on a Preventers assignment. So should I take it to Une? Gees, I don't know. Her family are involved in this, though not knowingly. Or maybe they are, or were. That goes for all the nobility tracked by the Romefeller. Let's have a look at that last entry again. Yeah. There it is.

_Re report from Agent Chameleon. Confirmed DNA sample as belonging to Milliardo Peacecraft, aka Zechs Merquise. Subject 839741KPsiWP subtype. Status: Deceased; has been lifted. Location of subject now gains rating 1A priority. Subject 839741KPsiWP subtype is preferred breeding subject to sibling 839561N. The enhancements must not be lost._

_  
Recommended that subject 839741KPsiWP subtype be located and acquired. Presumed death by the world is to be maintained. This could present a unique opportunity to follow projected breeding program in controlled conditions._

_Re report by Agent Chameleon on subject 839741KPsiWP subtype. Directive sent to Agents Shadow and Panther. Acquisition of test subject is imperative, as is secrecy. Maintain surveillance of 839561N. Assign Agent Purple to the surveillance team. Designate resources for 839741KPsiWP subtype: search unlimited._

Okay, Zechs is obviously 839741KPsiWP subtype. Sibling would make Relena 839561N. Who blabbed? How did Romefeller find out that Zechs was still alive? Wish I knew what all their coding stood for. Make life a lot easier. To confirm a DNA sample as being his means someone who had access to Tallgeese III after the fight or to Preventer headquarters in those first few days after the Mariemaia incursion. These entries are dated over a week apart, the last being four days ago.

Makes no sense. None at all. The Tallgeese should have been cleaned up after the fight. Would definitely have been. That was over a year ago. They've found recent samples that they have identified as Milliardo Peacecraft. How and where? How did they get them and where from? Now for the biggie. Why is he so important to them?

They're looking for Zechs. That's obvious. I don't know where he is. He and Noin vanished a few days after the Mariemaia incursion. Over a year ago. No idea where they went. Une hasn't said anything about either of them in my hearing. Neither has Relena. Mmm. I wonder if Relena knows where her brother is?

Cold coffee. Yuck. Damn. How long have I been going through this shit? These files are hard to break into. So damn hard. Even using Yuy's software it's taking too long.

Une has to know. I'd think Relena would know where he is. Although, she was pretty unhappy with her brother after that world destroying trip he was on. I wonder how much of that was Epyon and how much of it was Zechs? Unhappy? Man, Maxwell, that didn't begin to describe that scene you walked into on MO2. If Zechs had been alive-ah, there at the time-she would have handed him to the execution squad without a trial. Would she still feel that way? He did turn up to hold Mariemaia's army until we could get here. Guy can't be all bad. If the World Nation representatives had walked in on that scene between her, Une, Dorothy and Heero they'd know just how Pacifist the Peacecraft daughter is not.

Hmmm. Dorothy. She's pretty low profile now. Haven't seen or heard of her in a few months. She was on Libra working with Zechs. Would she know where he is? Okay, list of possible sources of information. Une. Relena. Dorothy. Noin, but she's likely to be with Zechs. Heero? He's pretty tight with Relena. He might know if she knows and let slip something. Yeah, maybe Heero knows something. Maybe. Pagan? That old man's pretty cluey. Been with Relena since she was little and from what I learned he knew Zechs survived the sacking of Sanc the first time. It's a start, anyway. These other people have Relena under observation. I'll have to be careful. Can't afford to tip anyone off that I know what's going on. Not that I really know what's going on, of course.

I need to hack into the site again. Not now. I need information, but I haven't gone through all this yet. There must be stuff in here that I need to put more pieces into the puzzle. I need help, but I don't know who I can go to. Dr G wasn't into genetics, not that I know where he is or if he survived. Not that I know if I could trust him, anyway.

Being alone never bothered me before.

t.b.c.


	3. Chapter 3

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter Three

Mars

Base Dome

February 2nd AC 198

Time: 11:05 [Martian Standard Time

Noin P.O.V.

He loves me, but I know he's not IN love with me. I can't ask for more than what I have, really. For a long time I despaired of having anything. He was always special. Different.

I could never understand why, until I learned his secret. Prince of Sanc. There are a lot of secrets about him. Secrets I will never know. Some I suspect, but never want confirmed. I lie beside him at night and I can see and hear what the nightmares do to him. He's so alone.

Yes, I hold him and I love him, but he is alone. I can't reach that place deep inside him. I think no one can. No one alive, at least. I don't know what split him and Treize apart. I don't think I want to know. That would come under the secrets I do not want to explore category. I am pretty sure they were lovers. He's never said anything, but I think they were. He still has not said anything about the year he vanished. I did try to get information out of him at first, but I soon learned it was guaranteed to make him clam up worse than an oyster. One look from those blue eyes, so full of hurt and loss and I left the subject alone.

I wonder if that was wrong? Maybe I should pursue that subject again. Maybe. He's a lot more settled now since Lucian and Katerina were born. That's another thing I despaired of having. His children. God, dreams can come true. Lucian, after my father and Katerina after his mother. Twins. The first Martians. The first of four now. We are a small community, but we are tight. We all know each other. We all care about each other, but none of us can get really close to Zechs.

I have to be blushing. Glad there is no mirror in here. None of us can get close to Zechs, huh? Then why do I have twins? Simple, really. I got the poor man roaring drunk and seduced him. Big time. Well, not roaring drunk. It's not good to get Zechs drunk. He's quiet enough at the best of times, but get him drunk and he goes into a depression that is deeper than the Grand Canyon on Earth. Huh. Comparing it to Terran geography. Canyons here make that look like a line drawn in the sand with a stick. He was paralytic. At least I did it in the privacy of his quarters here. No one else saw it. I will never do it again. Never.

Judging by what happened he was pretty much virgin territory-and that makes me wonder about Treize. Just what their relationship really was. But I suppose it's different between men. I am so ashamed of what I did to him that day. I didn't dare leave him alone after. I was too afraid of what he might do to himself. When the guy you are madly in love with breathes another mans name at a time like that, you pretty much know where you stand.

He doesn't belong to me. He never will, but while he's here I'll take what I can get. He never said a word when he woke up, but when he never ordered me out of his quarters I just, sort of, stayed. He's never turned down any of my advances since then, but I know he'd be just as happy if I left him alone.

I can't though. I can't go and take his children off of him. He smiles now.

When he holds either of the babies I can see the Zechs I always thought was lurking under that noble soldier. Warm, caring. He loves the twins. That's something another man can't have given him.

Not nice Lucrezia. Not nice. Not even called for. His Excellency was only ever a gentleman to you. He doesn't deserve that. Zechs doesn't deserve that. I have to respect what they might have had together, if I want Zechs to stay with me. It's a part of him I can never touch.

I smile as I watch him with Lucian. Katerina is sleeping in the crib Mako made for the children before they were born. He's smiling and that is too rare a sight for me to disturb. I have work to do anyway. I can leave them to each other for a while. They are not due to be fed for another hour and Zechs can shout for help if he needs it. He has before.

I smile at the thought of how helpless the great Lightning Count had looked the first day. Helpless, but absolutely gorgeous.

Relena has abandoned him. Us. Her promises have amounted to nothing. Her assurances have amounted to nothing. She doesn't even call him.

It's a prison. A prison we walked into. I believed her when she said she would have us out of here in a few months. I trusted her and she has abandoned him.

I'm on stolen time. He does not belong to me. I have him now. I have Lucian and Katerina. It's enough. At least for now. I am still working on more. No need to give up, Noin.

Look what you have now and smile.

I wish he was really mine.

-----------------------------------------------------

11:10

Zechs P.O.V.

I should love her. I know she is standing in the doorway, watching me, but I can't acknowledge her. Not now. Not yet.

Lucian and Kat are wonderful. She gave them to me. I never asked for them though. I never particularly wanted children. Never thought about having them, but they're here now and they do make life different. I can't see Noin in them. Not to look at and they don't have personalities yet. Maybe that's where I will find her. In the parts of a person not so easily seen.

I'm sorry, Noin. I should love you, but I can't.

This is a whole new life for us to live, but it's not right. The dreams have started again. You must hear me at night. You've never said anything, but you must know the dreams are getting worse. I don't go a single night anymore without waking up in a cold sweat or screaming my head off. You think it's the past, don't you? You think I am remembering the past. The war. All the blood. No. No, It's not the past that haunts me. It's the future.

Epyon. What have you done to me? I don't understand. I don't understand why the dreams have come back. I thought after the war that it was all done. The dreams stopped. I never dreamed again, not even of Mariemaia. Now they are back and I have to find a way through them.

I should love Noin, but I don't. Not the way she would like me to. She's a friend. I know what she wants, but I can't be that for her. God. What does she see in me? I have to be such a disappointment to her.

I don't even know who I am. Hell, I don't know what I am. Epyon changed me. No one can understand what that monster did to me. It was lover, enemy, friend. It was everything. They don't know what it was. None of them understand what it was; what it could do to you.

Yuy flew it. He had a taste of it. I wonder what it did for him? Was he really strong enough to defeat it? In defeating it did he explore it fully, or not? Did he just ignore what he wanted to ignore? Did he look at what it showed him? If it showed him anything at all. If he did, why did he give it to me? Did Epyon tell him to pass it to me? Treize used it.

Ah, God. Treize. I can still feel you. You're dead, aren't you? You have to be. Surely you would have gone to claim your daughter if you were still alive? Epyon showed you, you had no future. Did you look deeper? Like I did? Was anyone fool enough to look deeper except me?

They still don't understand why I did it. They call me insane. Criminally insane to have threatened to destroy the earth. None of them understand why I had to do that. None of them seem to have looked into my reasons. None of them even asked me why. They just assume they know.

Depression and despair over having lost Sanc twice. Yes, I suppose I was depressed. Hell I was so depressed I really didn't realize that I had agreed to Quinze's proposal. I hadn't realized that I had given in and accepted what Epyon had shown me.

What have you done to me, Epyon? Now, when I think things are settling down and I can have something resembling a normal life, the dreams start again. You start again and you are destroyed. So much garbage floating in space and the scrap yard by now. How? How can you start up again when you're scrap? I have had no dreams for nearly two years that I can remember. No dreams to disturb this new life.

Until the twins were born.

Yes. Now I think on it, it was the night the twins were born that I had the first really intense dream. I had had dreams a few times before that, but I only remember uneasiness. Nothing at all except that feeling of warning.

I can't remember what I dreamt, that night you were born, my son. No vivid memory. I have to wait to see the final outcome. But it was disturbing know that. I can only remember snatches now. Each one seems more intense.

Warnings.

I am dreaming warnings, just like I did before the Barton's started their uprising. I thought it was the rumors I was hearing that started the uneasiness. Maybe not. God. I don't know enough. Why? I don't understand, but I am going to have to fight again, am I not, Epyon? Will I always have to fight?

Hungry, Lucian? Hey now, son of mine. I hope you never have to know what your father did, but I know someone likely will take great delight in telling you what a bastard I am. Someday. Some when in the future. I'm not, really. I'm not. Please believe that Little One. I had my reasons. There was no choice that I could make, other than to go through with it. For your grandfather and what he wanted for the world.

Peace.

There is always a price to be extracted for what we want, Lucian. Sometimes the asking exacts a terrible price. Someone has to pay it. I only hope you can be protected from it.

Was I wrong, in what I chose? Ah, God. I don't know. I changed things. I was too much a coward to choose as Epyon showed me was best. I couldn't allow that to happen. It was all for peace. The one thing I chose for myself, turned out wrong. Not what I had thought it to be.

There was no ending for me.

The wars are still out there, Lucian. Still waiting for key events to spark them. The dreams are worse . It is not done, even now. It is only started.

I am sorry, my son. You are now dragged into this. You and your sweet sister.

I am so sorry.

t.b.c


	4. Chapter 4

Alternative Directions: Options

Earth: New York U.S.A

Date Feb 19th AC 198

Time: 16:35

Duo

//Kushrenada. Heinrich Alphonso Kristian. Kushrenada nee Catalonia. Anna Kristabel. Kiev. Yes, that's got to be the parents of Treize Kushrenada. Wow. Infertility treatment. Red flagged. Okay, got to be getting somewhere here. Now, let's follow the red flag. Damn. Password required. Okay, let's fire up the old cracker and do some hacking here. Won't take long if I'm lucky. Some of these files are not so heavily coded.//

Late afternoon sunlight streamed into the small lounge of the apartment in New York. The latest assignment from the Preventers had enabled him to change location without arousing suspicion. He had been careful in those last few days in Sanc, but he could detect no activity that seemed out of the ordinary. He had notified his land lady that he would not be returning and paid out his lease. Really, when he thought about it, he was not really in Sanc long enough at any one time to warrant a permanent residence.

The one thing that did disturb him was the arrival that morning at his apartment of one Heero Yuy. What had Heero been doing there? When he had delivered his report to the offices later that day he had tried to discover what Heero might have wanted him for. Nothing. Unfortunately his sometimes partner had left for an assignment hours before. He would have to wait. Or hack the files to find out Heero's latest assignment. He had decided he could do without that knowledge for now. It seemed harmless enough and he had made a New Years resolution to try to not be so paranoid this year. Not so easy to do when he now knew that Romefeller still existed.

Then he had been reassigned. As it turned out he had enjoyed the assignment. He had needed a diversion from the mundane day to day living with his paranoia. It served to get his mind off matters he had no time to investigate. Assignments meant he was free of his watch dog until he reported back to Earth the success of his mission. The assignment now completed he was due to return to New Port City in Sanc the next day. He had this night to delve deeper into the hidden files he had uncovered from the Romefeller Foundation's pet project. He was packed and ready to go and his flight scheduled to leave at six a.m. He could sleep in-flight to Sanc.

Time to learn more. It was none of his business, but his curiosity had never been easy to ignore, and he was far from inclined to change that habit. Listening to his instincts had kept him alive to date. His instincts said he needed to delve deeper into these files.

//Come on, come on. What's taking so long? It's only a simple password… Yes! That's more like it. Ah, crap. More encrypted files. Sheesh, I'm getting fed up with having to go through this shit every time I access the data base. At least the hound hasn't shown up again. If it's out there still its chasing my decoys. Now, which disk had Heero's program for decryption… Yep, that's the one. I'll have to see if he has updated any of these when I get back. Coffee break while it works.//

The kitchenette of his rented apartment was hideous in white and cream with dark blue checked curtains over a window that likely had not been washed for years. At the moment it was also cluttered with dirty pots and pans and take out cartons of Chinese food and pizza boxes. Glancing around Duo winced. Somewhere under all of that there should be a cup and some spoons. With a resigned sigh he began to gather up the evidence of his diet during this assignment. He had also made a New Years resolution to clean up his eating habits. Well, he would just have to work on that one. He did, just this morning, buy the makings for a great sandwich.

Having discovered that yes, there was a bench under all that junk, he set coffee to brew and set about making the best sandwich in the world. He firmly believed that you could buy some really good sandwiches, but the absolute best was one you lovingly laboured over yourself. You were thus guaranteed to get just as much of everything in it as you wanted. It was also healthy food and that sort of fitted in with his New Years resolution. He had completed the delicate work of crafting the world's greatest sandwich, and poured himself the complimentary best coffee in the world, when a series of beeps from the lounge room announced the completion of the decryption program. Grabbing his drink and food Duo settled in front of the lap top.

"Yes. A not so hard one for a change. Sometimes life is extremely good."

//File 21154638. Subjects 118675K series, Kushrenada, Heinrich Alphonso Kristian and 126574K series, Kushrenada nee Catalonia, Anna Kristabell. Ages, dates of birth, general health. Blah, blah, blah. Ah. What's this? Conception 15th February AC 170. G.M. for KPsi series within safety parameters and implantation completed of three viable embryo's.//

"Mmm. G.M.? K series. I need a translator. There's that KPsi again. What does it mean? Has to be a link between Kushrenada and Zechs then. Before they were born. Hell, this is five or six years before Zechs was born. Wait a minute. G. M. Gene Manipulation?"

Duo bit into his sandwich, considering the implications. "Test tube baby. Petrie dish conception and Romefeller playing God? Need to know more."

//Follow up report. One fetus confirmed. General health of mother, good. No indications of abnormalities in examination of in vitro infant. Sex confirmed as male. A lot of follow up exams. They were keeping a close eye on the mother, that's for sure. Uhm, yes. Birth took place on the 20th November AC 170. General stats. They did an EEG? On a new born baby? What were they expecting? File link after that to file 138957KPsi. If I go there… Yep. One Kushrenada. Treize Kristian Hansel. Brought into the New Generation Corporation for a physical every six months for the first five years then reports from observers. Every time he was brought into the center he was given an EEG. Link to - Oh ho. Oz Medical records. Romefeller kept a close eye on Kushrenada. A very close eye. Why the EEG's?//

Duo sat back and considered the laptop for a long while, alternately sipping coffee and munching on his sandwich.

"Genetic Manipulation. Has happened before. Hell, that's how I got into this mess. We raided a Romefeller Research Laboratory and they were working on gene research for the perfect soldiers. So what was this- forerunner for that? Genetic research. Mmm."

In the days before the founding of the Oz Specials within the Alliance Treize Kushrenada had been the elite of the Alliance Mobile Suit pilots. He had been the Ace before the arrival of Lucrezia Noin and Zechs Marquise. Those three, Kushrenada, Noin and Marquise had been at the top of the performance rankings. Coincidence? He would have to check on the others. Was Noin somewhere in these files? He had to learn more.

//Okay, lets see if there are any similarities with the Peacecrafts. Back up a bit and enter Peacecraft. Yeah. There we go. File 362114621. Subjects 116251K series, Peacecraft. Stephan Charles Thor Edwardo and 186431K series Peacecraft nee Wayridge. Katerina Elizaria Letitia Marianna. Ages-gees I never realized King Peacecraft was so much older than his wife. Dates of birth. General health, good but a red flag on the fertility of the king. Man, they really wanted kids bad. Six attempts over three years failed and they kept coming back. Conception took place on March 3rd AC 176. G.M. for KPsiWP series within safety parameters and implantation completed of two viable embryo's. Follow up reports on visits to the fertility clinic by the Queen. One confirmed fetus. File link to 839471KPsiWP series. DOB 25th December AC 176. What's this …The King and Queen returned for a second child and the Queen was discovered to be pregnant on initial examination. That makes Relena naturally conceived. Yep. There's the number I found referring to a sibling before. 839561N. Makes sense, considering the difference in their identification numbers.//

A quick tapping at the keyboard.

"Punch up Relena just to confirm it. Yeah. Birth: Female delivered Sanc Memorial, Port City, Sanc, 13th March AC 180."

Duo sat back on the couch, frowning. //Relena was born at Sanc Memorial? No entries here about a visit to the clinic after six months from the Queens initial visit. Just general listing of good health and general blood tests which are standard. Basic statistics taken from Sanc Memorial Medical Records Department.//

"Mmm. They have Relena's birth details and records for the first six months. Not much else. Not a lot of detail there. Almost as though they were not interested, beyond recording her existence. I need to pursue that. Find out how much interest they do have in her. This file is marked as active and there are some links here, I'll pursue that later. They probably were not overly interested in her then, just enough to mark her in their stud book until she is old enough for them to start playing god with the next generation. They would sit up and take notice if they want to continue the Peacecraft bloodlines. Okay, Milliardo, lets have a little peek at what they have listed for you, shall we?"

Beep.

"Well damn. Why is his locked and Relena's not?" Duo gave a disgusted grunt. "Fine, send the hacker back in."

An impatient wait ensued until another beep sounded.

"Good."

//Subject 839471KPsiWP series. Peacecraft: Milliardo Edwardo Lovernius Christopher.// Duo blinked, jaw falling slack for a moment. //Oh, man, fancy saddling a kid with that handle. Business, Maxwell. Get on with it. Brought into the clinic at six monthly intervals for examination. Yeah. There it is again, the EEG. Every six months. Mmmm. Orange flag? Date on the flag entry would be about the time of the fall of Sanc. Ah, hell. Christmas night. I hadn't realized… I hadn't really thought about when they invaded Sanc the first time. Christmas, but it was more to you than that. Sanc was invaded on your birthday. What a present for a little kid.//

Sudden visions of blood and dust and dirt assailed him and Duo fought to keep the tide at bay. Not now. No, he would not give in. He had seen too much of that scene since it had happened. Another of his resolutions for the new year had been that he would not allow himself to dwell on the past. He had lost family repeatedly. He would not wallow in it. Not his, or another's. It was a brave new world. A world of peace. He could forget now. He could let go of the anger and move on. He could and would move on to better things.

A series of beeps pulled him from the brink of falling into those visions of another time and place, and Duo quickly locked down the lap top and pulled out the vid link. He would not chance anyone glimpsing what he was working on.

"Reaper."

The face on the screen was of a young man, dark haired and known to Duo. His assigned contact with the Preventers this assignment.

"Early recall. Earth wants you here ASAP."

"On my way. Reaper out."

//Now what?// Duo glanced at the laptop and sighed. Not today, it seemed.

"Man, Mill, you and I have a date, but it will have to wait. If it's ASAP guess no one can complain if I commandeer a shuttle. God, I love pulling weight.'

t.b.c.


	5. Chapter 5

Alternative Directions: Options 5

New Port City, Sanc

Preventer Headquarters

Date: Feb 20th AC 198

Time: 07:14

Duo

//Gaah. Jet lag. God, I hate meetings when I have to prop my eyelids up just so I look awake. My own fault. Purely my own fault. I should have timed that warning a little more Duo friendly. Mmph. Sludge, but I suppose you can't expect to get a decent cup of Java at this hour of the morning.//

The conference room was not by any means crowded, but the lack of quantity was more than made up for in quality as far as he could see. Earth, Lady Une, sat with a small clutter of papers in front of her, loose brown hair falling to half shield her face, softening her profile. Preventer Agent Dragon, Chang Wu Fei was standing at the windows, watching the first traces of dawn lighten the eastern horizon, far beyond the city and seascape of the Sanc coast. Ice, also known as Heero Yuy stood near the door, messy brown hair looking messier than usual after the five hour long meeting, reviewing the next month's security arrangements for the Vice Foreign Minister's engagements. Water, Dr Sally Po, sat nearest to Une. She had been in Australia, Duo recalled and probably looked worse than he did. Trowa Barton code named Chameleon had been called in from L1 where the circus he worked with was currently resident.

//Hmm. Chameleon.// Duo studied his friend from the cover of pushing his bangs from his face, eyes narrowed, allowing his fatigue to show for just a few seconds. Chameleon. The Preventers had Romefeller spies. The Preventers had been infiltrated. Trowa's specialty was infiltration. //No. Surely not Trowa.// he mused.

Trowa was a former Gundam Pilot. He was one of THEM. Yet how well did Duo really know him? His past was a mystery. Being a Gundam Pilot had not stopped Chang Wu Fei from making the mistake that saw him serve under Dekim Barton.

//I have to stop this. I have to trust someone. We went through a lot in the war. I have to make up my mind who I can and can not trust. I need sleep.//

"Duo? Duo, are you awake?" Earth's voice dragged him out of his contemplations.

"Uh? Sorry. Must have drifted off there. What was that?"

Lady Une sighed, but glancing to her right noticed Sally Po, head resting on folded arms, soundly asleep.

"I think we need to adjourn for now. Agent Chameleon will search for the source of the warning. We believe it originated from the L1 cluster. Agent Ice will resume his position as personal bodyguard to the Vice Foreign Minister until further notice. Agents Dragon and Reaper will liaise with the Vice Foreign Ministers Security Office. You all know what you have to do."

Under the cover of lowered lashes, pretending to doze, Duo waited for Une to nudge Sally Po awake and exit the room. Yuy grunted and walked out with Chang Wu Fei while Trowa moved to gently nudge Duo, standing almost at arms length away to do so. He was not fool enough to encroach on the personal space of any of the other pilots.

"You're not asleep, so stop play acting. I've never known you to sleep at a briefing. What's up?"

"Man, what's up?" A massive yawn took Duo by surprise. "What's up is that I haven't slept for around fifty hours. I think." He frowned. "I get confused with jet lag".

"Better get some shut eye, then. You're due at the Palace in ten hours." Trowa studied him for a long moment. "You don't look so good."

"Yeah, and I haven't eaten anything besides donuts for at least twelve hours. I need something to eat that isn't round with a hole in its centre or ultra sweet. Never thought I'd say that. And a bed for at least twelve hours. Since I'm not going to get the ideal, I'll just have to settle for a snack and maybe eight hours, if I'm lucky." Duo stood, stretching. "When are you returning to L1?"

"This evening. I have a few things to check out. What do you think about this ambiguous warning?"

Duo shrugged, leading the way out of the conference room. "I dunno. No actual threat was made against Relena, was it?"

"No. Just a warning given that there is a threat to the Vice Foreign Ministers safety."

"Someone's always got a problem with someone else. I wonder what the point of fighting the wars was, sometimes, Tro. No one seems content for long. Not even after coming so close to destroying the planet."

"Human nature, Duo." Softly. "I wonder sometimes myself. So what have you been doing with yourself since the war? I remember you were talking about a Scrap Yard and that brunette, Hilde."

He almost winced. His parting with Hilde had not been on the best of terms.

"Signed the scrap yard over to Hilde and joined up with Preventers. I was bored to tears by a month after the One Year War. Stuck it out until the Barton Incursion, and then I knew for sure I was just fooling myself. Seems I can't settle down . I needed some excitement. That's why I joined Preventers. You?"

"The circus keeps me occupied and I do missions for Preventers where I can. The circus gives me good opportunity to travel. I'm not just a clown there now."

Duo narrowed his eyes, glancing at the former pilot of Heavy Arms.

"You still let that girl throw knives at ya?"

"Yeah. Cathy sort of adopted me. I've got a home now, Duo. I hope one day you find one that suits you."

Duo grunted as they entered the elevator and pushed the button for the basement car park. He had thought he had found one, on L2, with Hilde, but it had not taken long for him to realize that quiet and laid back just was not him. Not yet, at any rate.

"Yeah. One day. Seems a bit much though, to have your sister chuck knives at you all day."

"She doesn't miss, Duo. I trust her." Lips twitched into a faint smile.

"Better you than me, man. I tend to shoot people aiming weapons at me." He grinned.

Trowa's smile widened, and he saw the shorter man's eyebrow arch in surprise.

"Yes, I do know how to smile, Duo Maxwell. Heero said he hasn't seen much of you for the last few weeks."

//Ah, third degree time.// The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

Duo grinned and gave Trowa a saucy wink. "Une has kept me pretty busy."

"He said you moved out of your apartment?"

"Sure did. Nosey neighbors. Couldn't have old Mrs. Timble constantly banging on my door. Nice old bird really, but man, if I had to hear one more word about nice young girls living just down the hallway, boys my age should be in school and what sort of work did I do that kept me traveling so much-I probably would have shot the old girl. Besides, Une has had me traveling constantly for the last four months. I only had a three month lease on the place. I don't actually own much so it's not a problem to pull up stakes and just move."

"So do you have a place to stay now?"

Duo grinned. "Yeah, booked into a hotel for two days until I found out what Une wanted me to do. Didn't know where I was going to be sent this time. Guess I'll have to find a place here for a while, if I'll be liaison with palace security. Not too sure I can stand living at the palace for any length of time. Place is like a mausoleum."

"Heero has permanent rooms there."

Duo glanced around the car park as they stepped from the elevator and sighed. There were more cars here now than when he had parked. The day shift of Preventers headquarters was arriving and he really needed some sleep. He waved the key tag in the air and the rental car he'd hired at the shuttle port beeped at him. With a nod he started toward the car, realizing that Trowa was still with him he gave him a friendly wave.

"Hope you don't mind man, I'm wiped out. I got to get some sleep."

"It's okay Duo. I hope to see you before I have to go back to L1."

"Should do, man. G'night."

As he drove out of the garage and into the brilliant light of early morning Duo winced. Well, he hadn't told a single lie, but he really had to get some sleep and decide who he could trust. He could not let his curiosity over Romefeller take over his life, or make him second guess about his trust of his friends. He needed a lot of things, but priority now went to getting into a bed and sleeping himself out. Even food could wait.

The drive to the hotel was dogged by the early morning traffic and he wished he had had the presence of mind to get a taxi. Driving while he was this tired was not a smart idea, especially when the snow and ice was so thickly blanketing the streets. Snow plows were blowing the powdery snow in miniature blizzards but it was too late now. Just two blocks left till he reached the car park.

//Liaison duty with the bloody palace. Great. Just great. Could be worse I suppose. I've definitely had worse. Why did Trowa want to know where I'm staying? I'm doing it again. I'm letting paranoia get a hold on me. Are you still there, little tail? Ah, yes. There you are. One of these days I'll get someone on my tail with imagination. That would be a change. Are they trying so hard to be obvious? I should slit the bastard's throat. Wouldn't that go down well? Nah. Too much to do. I need to chase down this business with Romefeller. Can't let myself get distracted with such pleasant thoughts.//

Pulling into the basement car park of the hotel Duo almost fell into the elevator. The thought of the bed awaiting him upstairs was comforting. He really was tired. He really did want nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep. Just so long as he remembered to set an alarm. Wouldn't do to be late.

//At least while I'm at the palace I can start to chase down Zechs. Someone has to know where he is. At least I'll have a few people to ask some questions. Pagan, Relena and Heero are all going to be there. Oh, God. Bed. I just want to sleep. Everything else can wait until later.//

Never the less, old habits die hard and he checked the security of his suite before trusting enough to fall onto the bed and immerse himself in blessed darkness.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	6. Chapter 6

Alternative Directions: Options

Sanc Palace

Date 21st Feb AC 198

Time: 17:49

Duo

//I wonder why no one does anything with that old place? It just sits there and no matter how you try, you can't not look at it. Took more damage in that second attack. Wouldn't be too safe to walk through it.//

On the low hill overlooking the manor now called the Palace of Sanc arose the ruins of the true Palace, seat of the ancient Peacecraft monarchy. Duo had seen vids of the former glory of the palace. A gleaming white edifice of marble and gold accents, windows reflecting the sun and the distant sea. Surrounded by lush well tended gardens it had given the impression of peaceful nobility. It had been a place to draw the eye then, too.

Now it drew the eye and brought to mind death, destruction and massacre. Bathed in the setting sunlight, the snow banked around it glowing golden, it had an odd, surreal beauty. It was hauntingly beautiful, but tragic at the same time. The white marble was blackened by fire, softened by weather, silvered by time. Sunlight glinted off piles of snow which softened the ruins lines and seemed to whisper of grander days.

//I wonder what it was like growing up here? It's a pretty country. A lot different to L2, that's for sure. I can't remember anything before I was on the streets, and you couldn't get further away from this quiet than on the streets of L2. Yeah. Definitely different. I wonder how He survived the inferno it must have been?//

"May I bring some refreshment for you, Mr. Maxwell?" The quiet voice intruded into the moment.

"Huh?" Duo turned and grinned at seeing Pagan, Relena's old family retainer. "Nah, man. I'm fine. Just checking out the view."

The old servant moved closer to the window and his eyes immediately sought out the ruins now turning blood red in the light of the setting sun. It was surreal. For a moment he thought he could see dancing flames and the shadows of people running amid the ruins. He could hear screaming and shouting and the sobbing of the women seeking their children. He sought to go past the blood shed that had sullied the beauty of the old palace, to go back to the gentler days, when laughter had rang in the lush gardens and music had played through the halls.

"It was beautiful. A different world. There is the chance now that it will come again. Better, no doubt, than it was before." Wistful, low voiced. Almost a sigh. "Yet different."

"Why hasn't someone demolished it?" Duo watched the man, seeing haunting memories in his cloudy eyes.

"It stands as a memorial to what was." Pagan returned quietly. "What Sanc lost. The Peacecrafts were well loved, Mr. Maxwell. I for one do not want to see the old palace removed. It reminds me of what can so easily be lost. Miss Relena seems to disagree, though."

"Oh?"

"Miss Relena is making plans to have it removed and the site used to build a new government centre for the Preventers. She believes people do not need reminding of war."

Duo considered that for a long moment. Sighed. "I survived the Maxwell Church Massacre. It took them six months to clear everything away and then they built a government building. I doubt many people remember where Maxwell Church was, now." He met the old mans hooded gaze. "I remember. I won't forget. When I die who will there be to remember it? Humanity forgets too quickly, Pagan. You're right. That place should stay just how it is, as a memorial. In another two generations if we keep the peace, no one will remember what war is. What we fought for. Something has to remain to remind them. Or they may make the same mistakes again."

"I believe Master Milliardo tried to give them a lasting memory of the horror that is war. Perhaps Earth will know peace for a little longer, this time."

Duo counted silently to ten and then sighed. "You know, Pagan, I think I could do with a cup of coffee. Would you care to join me?" Perhaps the old man could tell him what he needed to know. He surely would not get a better opportunity than this to begin his enquiries.

"I believe I would, Mr. Maxwell. Would the first kitchen be suitable? I believe no one is there at this time, as the evening meal is being prepared."

Duo followed the old retained through the labyrinthine halls of the palace constructed for the former governor appointed by the Alliance. Relena had moved in here when she accepted her Peacecraft heritage during the One Year War. It was a large rambling structure built in the style of a centuries old manor. The former Governor had had pretensions at grandeur. The palace boasted three kitchens, the first and smallest of the three was a small kitchen Duo would have expected to find in a large but modern house in any suburb in L2's more affluent areas. There were two larger kitchens, one being exclusively for the food preparation during a banquet. The intimate kitchen Pagan led the way to made Duo feel more at home than anywhere else in the rambling structure.

"So how formal is the dining tonight?" Duo queried as he took a seat at the table.

"I believe Miss Relena is entertaining fifteen delegates and their partners this evening." Pagan returned, opening cupboards. "Delegates from L3 and L4. I believe young Mr. Winner will be arriving for the evening within the hour."

"Quatre? Cool. I haven't seen him for a long while. Be nice if I get the chance to talk to him, but I'm on security in the east wing tonight. Probably won't have much of a chance to socialize."

"If you are working this evening would you like me to prepare you something to eat?" Pagan glanced at the young man and beneath the bushy moustache he smiled. "I generally make myself a little something about now to tide me over until after the evenings entertainment and duties are completed."

Duo grinned. "Well, if it's not an imposition. Guess I could do with something to eat."

Pagan fired up a hot plate and began heating a pan. "It was pleasant meeting someone who appreciated the meaning behind the old palace. I find that many do not wish to be faced with tangible reminders of what occurred back then. This city is built on the ruins of the old. It is so easy to wipe away the past if one does not face a reminder of it every day."

"How long have you served the Peacecrafts, Pagan?"

Have to start somewhere. This was as good as anywhere else.

Pagan set coffee on to brew and then collected some ingredients. "My family have been retainers to the Peacecrafts for the last fifteen generations, young sir. I am the last. My family died in the Raising of Sanc." Pagan broke eggs into the pan as he spoke, and for a moment his shoulders slumped before he straightened his back, fortifying himself.

Duo was quiet as the old man sprinkled herbs and seasonings into the pan, stirring before fetching fresh bread rolls from the pantry.

"You must be pleased that peace has been restored and that the Peacecrafts survive."

"Yes, Sir." After a moment of silence the old man sighed. "Though I would be happier if Master Milliardo was home."

Duo counted to ten before moving to a cupboard that held dishes and fetched two, beginning to set the table. This was the perfect opportunity for him to start asking questions and he had not had to push to open the topic. It was almost as though Pagan was deliberately offering information. He could not know that Duo sought it, so what was going on?

"Do you know where he is?" Duo asked, careful to be casual and seem not too interested in the answer.

"No, Sir. He never returned to Sanc." Pagan's voice seemed heavy with unspoken hurt.

"I'm sure he had a good reason. Maybe he couldn't face the memories he associated with this place. I'm sure he'll come back." //Gee. The old guy seems really upset Zechs didn't come to Sanc.//

"Unlikely, Master Duo. I very much doubt he will be permitted to return home, Sir."

Duo studied the old man for a lengthy time as Pagan spooned the seasoned eggs onto plates and poured wine. He considered the old retainer in silence as he watched the man garnish the plates with herb sprigs. The verbal bomb shell had been dropped casually, but he had caught it and did not like the implications at all.

//Permitted? Now who would stop Zechs from coming back to Sanc?//

"Who would stop him? It's his home."

"I suggest you not mention Master Milliardo in anyone else's hearing, Master Duo. The staff are under instruction that he not be mentioned. Ever." There was, very clearly, a wealth of hurt in the old man's tone.

"Ever?" The breath of a whisper. "Who gave that order, Pagan?"

The old man placed fresh butter on the table and motioned Duo to sit again as he removed a bowl of salad from the fridge and returned to the table.

"Miss Relena has made it clear that her brother no longer exists. He died in the war. As a traitor to Sanc and the Earth." His voice thickened at the end of that statement.

Duo stared at the old man in disbelief. "She - Oh, man. That's cold. That's bloody cold." //I knew she wasn't happy with him, but man, that's even worse than I thought. I thought she would calm down with time. Seems not.//

"Miss Relena will not see any view on what happened other than her own. Master Milliardo should have listened to her and returned to Earth when she instructed him to step down from White Fang. Did you know there is a standing arrest order for him, should he be found anywhere on Earth? Or in the colonies, for that matter."

"No. I thought there was a general amnesty after the war." //Even if it's conditional for some of us who fought. If he's found in the colonies he's to be arrested? So, where could he go if he can't come home and he can't live on the colonies?//

"There was. For everyone except Master Milliardo. One must have a villain, Mr. Maxwell, to whom one can point one's finger and cast all the blame. Someone must be the villain so that others sins may be forgiven. Or overlooked entirely. It has ever been so in the halls of power."

"Surely that was lifted when he held off Dekim Barton's army?"

Pagan considered the fork full of eggs he held of a moment and sadly shook his head. "I would have thought so, but it was not the case. Miss Relena returned to Sanc from Brussels in a temper because her brother had escaped justice for his crimes and cast further stains of blood upon the Peacecraft name."

"Hey, he and Noin never killed anyone in that fight in Brussels. They fought for hours and only disabled the mobile suits, never killed anyone." /Fair's fair. He held Barton's troops and kept him busy long enough for us to get there. He never killed those Mobile Suit pilots.//

"Master Milliardo destroyed the Mobile Suit carriers in space, Master Duo. It is believed there were people remaining on the resource satellite when he destroyed that too."

"Oh." Duo considered his bread roll for a long moment. "You know, I was angry when he destroyed Barge. Horrified, actually. Took me months after the war to look at the whole thing and remember that not so long before that I had almost done the same thing. If he hadn't gotten to Barge there is no doubt that they would have destroyed that colony. No doubt of that at all. Maybe more than one in trying to take down White Fang. They didn't seem too concerned with casualties. We were intending to disable their canon, but to do so we probably would have had to destroy Barge itself. I don't suppose Milliardo was any worse than we were. He did save that colony."

"Master Milliardo has not had an easy life. I believe him to be in space, somewhere and it no doubt disturbs him greatly that he can not return to Earth. The Peacecrafts are not known for half measures, Master Duo. When they make a decision they give their all to see their vision complete. Also, it is known only to a select few that he survived the war."

"What do you think Relena wants?" Duo considered Pagan, blue-violet eyes intense in the bright light of the kitchen.

"A united Earth Sphere. No wars. An ideal world as her vision sees it." Came the instant response.

"What do you think Zechs wanted, Pagan?" Honestly curious.

"Peace, Mr. Maxwell. Peace." There was no doubt in the old man's whispered words.

"Where do you think he is?" The all important question, out in the open. Duo held his breath, afraid to breathe before he got an answer. Would it be as simple as this?

"I am very much afraid he is confined, Mr. Maxwell. Imprisoned somewhere to salve the wounds of politician's conscience. I believe he would have been in touch with me were he free to. I believe quite firmly that Master Milliardo is held against his will. A Peacecraft in chains, Master Duo. A sorry thing indeed. Particularly that Peacecraft. His entire life seems to be one horror after another."

Pagan glanced up at the clock and rose, collecting his plate and moving to the sink. "If you will excuse me, Young Sir, I have duties to attend."

Duo contemplated the last of his eggs and salad in silence. Not what he had expected, but definitely food for thought.

t.b.c.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Alternative Directions: Options

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--------------------------------------

Mars Colony

Base One

Date: 22nd Feb AC 198

Time: 18:37 [Martian Standard Time

Noin

"The breakdown in the third hydroponics unit has been repaired. No substantial loss of production resulted from its failure. The charts register no appreciable loss in the atmosphere, so air generation was not affected. We were lucky this time."

"What caused it?"

"Faulty unit. We really need to get some updated equipment. That man of yours is something else, Lucrezia. He seems to be able to make something out of nothing half the time. Has a talent for converting old equipment into usable components."

Lucrezia Noin grinned. "Zechs was always talented, Mako . He has an inventive streak in him. We will requisition parts for the hydroponics units. Get them sent out as soon as possible."

Her Zechs had always been under appreciated in her view. She did admit, and freely so, that she was prejudiced. He was now doing something that meant a great deal to him. He was not killing. He was not expected to kill. He had seen too much killing, too much destruction. Too much war. Some days she despaired that he would ever learn to go beyond the memories of the war.

"Requisition again, you mean. There have been assurances on those parts being delivered and the last two shuttles have not had them. They are vital to our survival. Do they think people can breathe the air outside the dome? I'd like to see them try. I don't know how long we can keep jury rigging some of those components."

"We are due a supply shuttle in the next week. Hopefully some usable parts for more than just the hydroponics generators will be in the shipment. If they don't get the parts right this time I'll skip the official channels and get the parts from other sources." Noin grinned at his look and winked. "Yes, I have other sources and yes, you do not want to know about them. Enough said. I believe we will be getting a population boost off this shuttle, too."

"Yeah. Like we really need it." Joe Mako shook his head in disgust.

He was a short dark haired man of Japanese descent, but born and bred for three generations on L1. A skilled engineer he had been eager to start the work to found a planet bound colony on Mars and had not regretted his decision, despite the times he groaned about bureaucracy on Earth and the Colonies holding back the project. As Project Chief and head engineer of the team he was only too well aware of the needs of the colony. At this time they were at a critical point of development. He personally thought they needed another three month window before bringing in the specialists to primp the Alpha Dome for the colonists.

Noin grinned. "We are supposed to have the Alpha Dome ready for occupancy in six months, Mako. Stands to reason they would send a shuttle load of workers and security personal up soon. We get the basics up and running and they send the luxury specialists to take the glory for turning bare basics into a sparkling tourist attraction."

"We can well do without the luxuries, Lu. This is to be a working colony, not some holiday resort for the rich and famous. We need another three months, minimum, before they start increasing our population. Not that politicians and pen pushers ever listened to reason. We are almost ready for the next phase, but not quite there by my books."

"Can't stay the same forever, Mako. Doesn't work that way."

Mako moved to the view port and stared out at the panorama. Martian red. Unique shades of red from a distance he had found only here. The yellows and browns of the Martian desert blended into a curious redness that was unique to this desolate place. Low on the horizon Phobos hung in the pink sky. Unless you had lived here as long as the Terra Forming Team, you would not be likely to mark that vague blur in the darkening pink as the moon. A deepening sky. Soon the brilliant stars of the Martian night would give the stark desolation of the landscape a softened beauty. It was a pretty world, in a spartan way. Someone who had lived in a desert environment would appreciate the beauty of Mars, he mused.

The working dome looked down on the wide expanse of the canyon floor. Alpha Dome glinted in the last of the sunlight. The newest dome, almost complete. Space for ten thousand people to work and play. Which would not now be long. The hydroponics fields in the Alpha Dome were in full production, providing air for the Alpha Dome and food to supplement the diet of the two thousand and sixteen people currently working on the colony at this base dome they called home. Soon enough it would need to feed the additional colonists expected to come here. The Beta Dome would be started when the Alpha was ready for colonization. Not so long now.

The expected shuttle from Earth would contain not only supply parts, but also workers to complete the cosmetic work on the buildings in the Alpha Dome. It also would contain a number of Mining experts and crews of miners to begin the mining operations. Once they could produce their own metals the greater need to import materials from the Earth Sphere would ease. The shuttle also contained more security members than he thought necessary for their fledgling state.

"They're sending security to keep him separated from the new workers, aren't they?"

"Most likely." Noin returned without hesitation. "No doubt they all have been extensively screened but there may be some amongst them who will react to Zechs. In a variety of ways."

Mako frowned. Him. The Terror of Earth. The prisoner of Mars. Expansion way back in history was often carried out from the need to find a new place to contain prisoners. He had never expected for Mars to be considered in that light. A Penal colony. That is what the ESUN government had made of the Mars Colony project. Even one prisoner was too many in his view. His dark eyes dropped to the carry baskets set on the floor beside Noin's seat at the consol. The twins slept, platinum blonde angels tucked securely under pale covers.

Four babies now on a colony not slated to have a breeding population for another three years at least. Four babies and another two pregnancies not so far from coming to term. They were lucky not to have lost any of the children or mothers to the conditions they now lived under. No one was certain what conditions on Mars would do to the human body, or what effects it would have on pregnant women or the children they carried. So far they had a good success rate. He knew it could not be relied on to continue indefinitely. No one knew if the children would live long or what, if any, bacteria or infections native to Mars could have on the innocents. Parents needed to nurture their children and love them while they could.

"Go home, Noin. Its almost shift change now. I'll take the last half hour."

Noin shook her head. "That's okay, Mako . Zechs won't be back from the work shop for another hour yet anyway."

"Does Her Bitchiness know about the twins, Lu?"

Lucrezia Noin winced at the tone of his voice. Not that she blamed him. Mako had had more than one run in over the vid com with Relena Peacecraft's office. There was no love lost between the Project chief of the Mars Colony and the Vice Foreign Minister or her staff. Mako came from a large family who were close and lived in each others pockets before he had come to Mars. He had strict family values and a definite dislike for the Vice Foreign Minister who refused even to speak with her brother.

"I never mentioned them through the pregnancy or at the last contact we had." Noin sighed. "I suppose it's possible she knows, but I would hope no one saw fit to tell her."

"She has fingers in too many pockets, that one. All politicians do." Mako hesitated, but she needed to know. It had happened too often to be ignored. "We tracked another signal from outside the base, aimed at the L4 cluster."

Noin sighed, looking sorrowfully at her children. "Then if she doesn't know yet, she will soon enough. Still no idea who it is?"

"No. Can't break the coding, either." He hesitated. She was stubborn, this ex soldier and likely would jump down his throat for suggesting this but... "Zechs probably –"

"No." Noin stiffened. "Leave him out of it Mako. Just let him be. He's been hurt enough by his sister and those bastards back on Earth. Keep him out of this."

"He's not a fool, Lu. He knows she keeps her eye on what he does here. Her and others." He wanted to talk frankly to her, but he was very much afraid that Zechs was right in his reading of Lucrezia Noin. Some days that man frightened him and he was not afraid to admit it.

"I know that. He hasn't seen fit to comment, so leave it alone. For now, at least."

The engineer rumbled his disgust of that and her obstinacy. Blindness, he privately considered it. He leaned over the carry baskets to lightly caress Katerina's cheek.

"Have you given consideration to their future? Do they stay on Mars?"

Noin snorted, amused. "Really, Mako. There will be every comfort a colony can have here in a few years. That includes schools, universities and hospitals . It will also include dance clubs, parks, and cafés. What more could the twins want? What more can they be given elsewhere? So it's a bit rough on Mars now. It won't be forever. Besides, truth is I don't trust Relena and the ESUN government not to make them pay for Zechs past indiscretions."

Well, he could admit she had a valid fear there. He had no trust in them either, though not for the same reasons as she. "I'll have to see about arranging a proper crèche shortly. You see the Doc today?"

"Yes. The twins and I are fine, Mako. No complications. I'll be cleared for normal duties in a week."

t.b.c.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Alternative Directions: Options

New Port City

Sanc Palace

Date 25th Feb AC 198

Time: 22:25

Duo

The array of screens dominated the east wall of the room, the consol controlling them blinking and beeping softly in the dim light. Duo idly flicked through the sequence, mind far from the views offered by the hidden camera system of the palace. He was uncertain what to do. He had sent the warning to the Preventers concerning the security of the Vice Foreign Minister through a dozen or so decoys to stop it being traced back to him. It was also made from a point where there was no security camera working over a public terminal. So it could not be traced to him. It just was not possible for Trowa to trace the source. That was not what worried him. What caused him concern was what was going on in the palace of the Vice Foreign Minister and Princess of Sanc.

Relena had dissolved all national borders when Romefeller had set her up as Queen of Earth. The naive teenager had sprouted so much idealism without realizing what would be involved in the facts of life. All around the Earth people were clinging to their national borders. Some of those people had been fighting for centuries to preserve that line on a map. Generations had fought to keep their little piece of Earth secure. How could a teenage girl, Duo wondered, honestly expect hundreds of thousands of people who had been enemies for centuries to stop and pat each other on the back and call themselves brothers and sisters?

Idealism sucked.

She was Vice Foreign Minister, not Queen of the World now, but that didn't stop her from dictating what her view should be to all comers, even those who didn't want to hear it. In the last few days he had watched from the anonymity of the security rooms how the girl had worked her charm on the disgruntled and the fawning sycophants alike. She had charm, alright and the driving need to enforce her will on others, all for the good of the people. Wars were wrong and must never happen again. Dissidents must be dealt with, re educated to be of use to the people.

Duo shook his head slightly. Idealists. It was all black and white to too many people. Living on the streets of L2 had taught him that things were rarely as they seemed. Keep alert, keep aware that the world was constantly changing and that things did not necessarily change in the broad light of day. Keep your eyes open, an ear tuned behind you and you might stay alive. Just announcing that borders no longer existed would not stop centuries old disputes. It was, if anything, likely to start some. Was there a difference between a Dictator and a Pacifist stripping national identity? Was it not one and the same thing?

Light from the hallway spilled into the control room. "Duo."

"Come in Heero. I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it." Duo turned from the bank of screens to face his fellow agent.

"So was I. Relena wanted to go over the plans for the security at the forum next week."

Heero wore the Sancian Imperial Guard uniform and damn, Duo thought, it looked good on him. He was a good looking man. At eighteen Heero had grown a few inches, but would likely not grow more, maybe fill out a little, but that would be all. About average height he was all muscle and cool steel. The blue eyes were cold as ever, very little emotion ever cracked those baby blues. About the only time Duo could recall emotion flickering there for more than a passing instant was when they had raided the Romefeller laboratories some months before.

"Relena wanted to perv on you for a while." Duo grinned, unable to resist the dig.

"What did you want me for, Duo? Found something wrong in the palace?" Heero ignored both the comment and the grin. Being partnered with Duo for so long he was used to the insinuations.

"Something wrong? Yeah. Not necessarily here, maybe. Something I want you to see. I need some help hacking, maybe into a data base. Certainly into some files I downloaded. Have you updated your systems recently?"

The blue eyes blinked. Once. Twice. "What database and why?"

Duo sighed. //Here goes, then. Time I trusted someone and I need Heero's skills as a Hacker. Especially after what I found last night. I can't tell him everything. Not yet, but he needs to see this.//

"You remember that assignment Une had you and me on a few months ago? The genetic research laboratory that was Romefeller's attempt to create the perfect soldiers?"

"Of course." Blue eyes acquired a glacial chill.

//Ah, now I think it did upset the Perfect Soldier. The temperature in here just went down drastically. Interesting. //

"I was curious about a few anomalies I found in their computer records when I reviewed the reports. So I, ah … borrowed… some of your programs to investigate."

"Does Commander Earth know?" Heero chose, for the moment not to comment on the acquisition of his programs. More important things were obviously to be of interest.

"No."

Heero considered that for a while and then nodded, moving to take the seat beside Duo. "I had wanted to talk to you about that investigation, actually. I thought that maybe you could …" Heero hesitated. "It's okay for now. Personal. Later, maybe. What did you find?"

Duo produced his lap top and set it before him on the consol. He considered Heero for a long moment, debating what he was about to do. This was not revealing the investigation he was conducting. No, but it was related to it. He could do this and not reveal what he was doing at this time. At Heero's curious look Duo shook his head, shrugging.

"No way I'm putting this on a system not fully controlled by me, man. You'll see why." He shrugged again and booted the system. "I found a lot I don't understand. Some stuff we would need experts to explain to us, but what stumped me was this. I found it last night and the programs I borrowed from you can't get through the protection on it." //Not a lie in that. All gospel truth. If I'm careful I don't need to push my luck. I'm not sure just how far I can trust him yet.// "I thought you might have more luck than me."

Intrigued now Heero moved the laptop to face him and started to scowl, blue eyes acquiring an intense gleam. The screen opened to the main desktop and Duo quickly inserted the required codes, watching Heero as the information he wanted to share was loaded.

//Yep, he skipped the frown entirely and went straight to that scowl of his that defies description.//

The words on the screen hadn't changed since Duo found them the night before, but he knew that they would soon. The look on Heero's face said it without doubt.

//Got you. Yes, you can see the implications.// Duo sat back and allowed Heero exclusive use of the keyboard, sitting angled so that he could keep an eye on both Heero and the monitor screens.

_Romefeller File: 621589KVW514_

_Genetic File Review. Re Search: Gundam Pilots_

_Search parameters Genetic tracing. Identity confirmation. Genetic History._

_Status: Ongoing. Classification: Ongoing. Security: Blue_

Duo waited, running an eye over the bank of monitors and reached for the com system when he saw a shadow move in the east garden. "Jacynth."

"Reporting, Reaper."

"Check out the east garden. Someone's moving in there."

The east garden incorporated the maze, a massive hedge system Duo rather liked. The maze was a great place to wander with a nice little private sitting area in the center. Perfect place for a romantic interlude, if you didn't know it was under security monitor. A series of beeps from beside him caused Duo to break out into a grin. Heero would take out the security and then Duo would find out what was in that file. He'd tried everything he could think of to break into that folder. He had to know what that file contained.

"Jacynth. Roger that. On my way."

"So what made you go through the records?"

Heero's voice pulled his attention off the screen and Duo glanced at him, then down at the laptop where rows of numbers were scrolling. Turning back to the screens he shrugged.

"Curiosity mainly. A gut feeling that there was more. I didn't like what I found there. What was done with the children, by the way?"

Heero hesitated and then shrugged. "Earth has them in retraining, teaching them to be kids." His voice was toneless but Duo knew him well enough to know he was more affected than he wanted to be.

"Good conditions. Family environment."

"Good. What about the older ones?"

"Same thing, only they're under tight security until they are able to realize the changes in their circumstances and what that entails. Foster parents are Preventer Agents." He considered saying more for a while and then shrugged. "They're me. I…I wanted to talk to you about them. About me. I went to your apartment to see you, but you had moved out. They're me, Duo. When I look at them I see me. Like I was raised. It won't be easy to change them. To teach them to be … normal."

"What's normal?" Duo shrugged. //Guess that explains the visit at such an hour of the morning. Yeah, it would bother you. Why talk to me about it though?// "Do you visit them?"

"No." Almost a whisper.

"Maybe you should. They would relate to you." Duo leaned forward to the mike again. "Got you on screen Jacynth. Three degrees east. Probably lovers amongst the staff but check it out and be careful."

"Roger that, Reaper."

Duo waited for Heero to comment on the kids again, but he didn't, just went back to typing on the keyboard.

//I can see we are going to have to have a talk about this when we are off duty. Too big a chance we might be overheard here. We were Gundam Pilots. Not exactly normal, and I guess that of us all Heero really is the one with the strangest past.//

Turning his attention fully to the screens Duo watched Jacynth. She was a pretty girl, ex OZ Specials officer. Efficient. Not in the same league as Marquise, Noin or Une, he mused, but good none the less. She used the deeper shadows well and Duo knew she was quick and quiet. No doubt she had something cheeky to say to the young maid and stable boy making out in the maze, too. He saw them bolt and chuckled. Personally he thought outside just too cold at this season for a make out session in a garden.

"Reaper, just ousted two lovebirds from their nest. I'll do a quick survey of the maze anyway."

"Roger that, Jacynth. Reaper on standby." Duo shook his head, grinning. These Sancians just did not seem to feel the cold as he did . Fancy making out in a snow laden winter garden, even if the hedge did offer some protection from the elements.

"Hn." Heero shook his head at the screens, thoughts mirroring Duo's and looked again to the laptop.

"Awe, come on, man. Young love. Nothing like it." Duo's trademark manic grin flashed into existence.

"You have a girl friend, Maxwell?" Heero's attention remained focused on the keyboard and screen.

The question surprised Duo into glancing away from the screens. "Nope. Said my goodbyes to Hilde before I joined Preventers. Haven't seen her for almost a year. Haven't felt the need to look for anyone since. Too involved in work, I suppose." He returned his gaze to the monitors with a shrug. He really had not given a thought to dating since he had come to Earth.

"She's an agent now."

That surprised him. When he had left Hilde had been all against his joining Preventers and returning to a life of suspense and violence. They had had some fiery arguments about it when he had been thinking it through, and he knew she was furious with him when he accepted the offer and joined. Their last argument had firmly closed the door on their association, he had thought. Last he had heard she was on L2 running the Scrap Yard.

"Why? Why would she do that?" He frowned. "She was dead set against me joining, that's for sure."

Heero sighed and after a few minutes of furious typing on the laptop he glanced up. "Maybe because she was pregnant and wanted the extra income?"

"What?!" It came out as a whispered gasp, voice strangled by his total disbelief in what he had just heard.

"You have a son. He was born three months ago. Bright healthy boy. Hilde does run the scrap yard, but she is a researcher and localized agent for Preventers. Don't worry. Une wouldn't give her anything that would endanger her or the baby." Heero's voice was actually gentle, soothing.

For one of the few times in his life Duo was floored. Speechless. //Hilde had been pregnant when I had left? Had she known it? Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't she let me know when she knew she was going to have a baby, if she didn't know when I left? God, I've worked for Preventers for a year and she hadn't let on. I've spoken to her a number of times via the com line, just to see how she was, and even seen her on L2 about two months after I joined Preventers. She hadn't looked pregnant. She had to have known then. Why didn't she tell me?//

"Reaper, maze is clear. Returning to base. Jacynth out."

It took Duo three tries to respond and clear the line, shutting down the link finally. Heero was watching him but Duo didn't know what to say. How could Hilde do that to him? Not even letting him know. Was she that pissed with him because he had come to Earth instead of staying with her?

//I liked Hilde. A lot. Once I thought I loved her, but I realized that it wasn't love. Well, not the lasting I-love-you-to-death-forever kind. I loved Hilde as a friend. A close friend. We hadn't jumped into bed after the war immediately. We dated for months before we settled down at the junkyard. It was after the Mariemaia incident that I had gotten really restless, but I had been restless and discontent before that happened. I knew it and I knew Hilde knew it too. We had started to fight because I couldn't hide what I was feeling. I'm a father? I have a son? Is this real?//

"Does she know that you know?" Duo finally asked.

"No. I found out through a mission I was on to L2 three weeks ago."

"Damn. Why would she do that? I have to talk to Une. I need some time off to see Hilde."

Heero considered the laptop for a while. "Will you go back to her?"

"No."

As soon as he said it Duo knew what he was going to do. She wouldn't like it, but he was his son and he had a right to see him and help provide for him. He had loved Hilde, but now that love was as a friend, not as a lover anymore, but he could respect that she wanted a clean cut from him. However, he mused, he did have rights too. He wanted to see his son.

//My son. I have a son. I want to help provide for him. I want to see him. I want to watch him grow up, become a man. I'm allowed that, surely? Why didn't she tell me?// The last almost a mental wail of anguish. //Does she hate me that much for leaving to join Preventers?//

"I'll have Une send money out of my pay and I am going to go to L2 to see him. I won't cause trouble for Hilde. She's … by this she has made it plain she doesn't want to be involved with me again. If I can see him occasionally I'll have to be content. I don't have the safest of jobs and I never know where I will be from one day to the next, but… " //I need to shut up. I'm babbling.//

Duo scanned the monitors again, anything to avoid looking at Heero just now. He needed time to absorb this. To come to terms with just how much Hilde must have been angry with him. Anger just did not seem an adequate description. "What did she call him?"

"Aidan." Heero's voice was soft over the typing of his fingers on the keyboard.

"Aidan. Aidan Maxwell." Duo tried out the name. //Not too bad. Of course, not what my choice of name would have been.//

"Aidan Schbeiker." The typing fingers stilled, waiting.

Duo did look at him then and the pilot of the Deathscythe was surprised to see the honest sympathy in his eyes. //Damn. I'm not used to seeing the human side of Heero Yuy.//

"Aidan Maxwell." He said slowly and deliberately. He had some rights and the right of the only name he had that he knew of was going to be his son's name. Damn Hilde anyway. What right did she have to cut him out so completely just because she did not agree with him joining Preventers?

"This will take a while, Duo. Why don't you report to Earth? I believe it's your turn today?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I will. I'll be back in a couple of hours." He would be only too glad of the opportunity to get some breathing space to think. The drive to Preventer Headquarters would provide him with that. He needed to calm down.

"I'll keep an eye on security and work on this." At Duo's glance at the laptop Heero nodded "No one will see it. What measures have you taken to avoid discovery?"

"Set up your A3 world system. Seems to have kept the Hound they set after me occupied when I go direct to their files. I have saved what I can, but nothing to give me a clear idea as to what is in that locked system of theirs." And that was definitely the truth.

"I'll see what I can do about that. I have a few things I can try and I'll see how much I can get from their systems, not just the files you've isolated here. It will take hours, maybe days. Go see Earth."

"Thanks, man. For everything."

He had protected the other files on the laptop as best he could. If Yuy got curious and browsed the hard drive's contents no doubt he could break into what he had thus far copied from Romefeller. He could only hope that Heero would be too occupied for that. He was not sure about fully trusting the Wing pilot, but now he had more to think of than that.

Duo stood, eyes once more sweeping the bank of alarms and monitors. Every day, by midnight, one of them was expected to issue a report in person, to Lady Une. It was not his turn to do this, but he would take the offer to present his case to Earth. He had to find out why Hilde had not told him. Had to make some decisions about his future. Suddenly it was not just Duo Maxwell anymore.

t.b.c.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Alternative Directions: Options

New Port City

Sanc Palace

Date 26th Feb AC 198

Time: 15:55

Duo's P.O.V.

Une had listened in silence when I told her what I wanted, and to my surprise she had just nodded and called the pay officer in. In front of me she arranged for a part of my salary to be transferred into an account and for Hilde to be notified about the account. When the pay officer had left she called an acquaintance with the Registrar of Births, Deaths and Marriages and I found myself looking at my sons birth certificate. Nowhere in the document was my name mentioned.

"Your genetic information is on the Preventer Medical database. The required gene sample was taken at his birth and encoded. It won't take a moment to confirm paternity."

I wondered why she bothered. She was confident enough to dock my pay before checking to see if he was mine or not, but in a few minutes the comparison confirmed it. He was mine. Une had obviously known it, so Hilde must have made a clean breast of it to her.

"If you wish I can start proceedings to have the appeal for your son to be listed under the name of Maxwell. You realize, I hope, that the appeal may be denied? Do you want custody of him?"

Shit, I couldn't take care of him, I knew that and so did Une, but I suppose we had to do this by the book. I wanted to be able to see him and to hold him and to watch him grow.

"Visiting rights and I want to be listed as Next of Kin if anything should happen to Hilde."

"Very well." I thought I saw a faint smile at that. "I will start proceedings. I will need you to sign a few forms. I can have them drawn up and ready for you to sign by this time tomorrow."

"I will be here."

Lady Une shook her head in denial. "No need. I will be at the Palace tomorrow evening for dinner. I will bring the necessary documentation with me."

I had found myself wandering around New Port City, in the freezing winter air, thinking about my past and my future. I was not alone. I could not remember family beyond Solo and the street gang or Father Maxwell and Sister Helen at the orphanage and mission. I had family now. Real family and I had no idea what I could do about it. It was not real. It could not be real. Eventually I found my way back to the palace, bone weary and not ready to sleep. I had duty as coordinator of the security detail later today and I should have slept, but it just was not possible.

So now I found myself walking through a dimly lighted internal hall of the palace still in a state of shock. I had a son. I was a father. God, I wasn't alone anymore. Yeah, it was then, as I walked along that hall and saw that huge portrait of the old King that I realized that I was a father, that I had responsibilities to a part of me that was different, but had need of me. I stopped and looked at the old man in the portrait. A spotlight shed soft light on him and I found myself looking into the blue eyes that seemed to stare at me not with judgment, but with gentle concern. One father to another.

Looking at that face, knowing he had gone to so much trouble to have his son, brought it all home to me. It was real and I really should move past the shock.

"I have a son, Your Majesty." I told him quietly. This was between him and me. No need for anyone else to hear and think me a raving loony. "I have a little boy. A part of me. Where's your son? Somehow I don't think you'd approve of what's been happening. No, I don't think you would have approved of the war, or what he did. Thing is, he did it for you. To bring about your ideal of peace. I wonder what my son would do for me? Hilde has to let me see him. So we can get to know each other."

I studied the old man's face. A strong face. Despite what the flowing beard covered up you could see a wealth of character in that face. Patriarch. It was the face of a patriarch. The last of the Peacecraft kings. Relena was Princess of Sanc and I had the feeling she wanted nothing to do with the idea of being crowned Queen. Which left her brother, Milliardo. Zechs.

"I don't think he believed in it, you know, your exact idea of perfect pacifism. From what I have learned of him I think he's too different from what I've been told about you, to see it your way. But he gave his all to see your ideal come into reality. Not the way you'd intended, but he did it anyway, the only way he could see it coming, I think. So what would you think of what he did? What would you think of what Relena is doing? What would you think about Relena turning on her brother? Would you have disowned him?"

Somehow I thought King Stephan Peacecraft would advocate forgiveness and understanding. Had Relena even tried to understand what her brother was doing, or did she see only the war and not beyond it? What I had witnessed on MO2 didn't speak highly of her, but she was younger then. Hell, we all were young. Too young . Even Zechs and Noin. They were only nineteen during the One Year War. I keep forgetting they're not so much older than me.

I'm not so sure about the wars now. Not so sure about the motives of the Doctors. Not so sure about my motives, even. There was too much politics in the One Year War. There is always politics in war. I never thought about it then. Never considered looking deeper into anyone else's motives. If I am going to be honest, I guess I never even looked at my own motives. It was better than life on the streets.

Politics. This place stank of politics.

"I don't know, Your Majesty, but I think something is very rotten in the palace and Sanc in general. History is rarely fair, I was told once. Seems to me its just bloody well written from the victor's point of view. Takes a generation or two for someone to write something about the other participant's views. So what happens when no one wins, Old Man? What happens then? 'cause I don't think anyone really won this war. Shouldn't the perfect peace principle incorporate forgiveness? I wonder what He thinks about what he did now? If he regrets it? If he would do things differently if he had the chance?"

Duo

With a sigh Duo turned and walked away, absently toying with the end of his braid. One day soon he would see his son. Maybe he had chestnut hair too. Would Hilde let him grow his hair long and braid it for him? What kind of a world would his son see? Earth was already a hot bed of disputes over this no border policy. Some countries had their own currency system and were resisting having to go to the trade credit system. It was going to take a lot of work to make the people of earth unite into one working nation. Maybe Relena was now realizing that. Maybe she would see soon that not everyone saw everything in exactly the way she envisioned it. She would not be able to convince everyone of her ideal's benefits to them.

"Heero?" He looked into the security room but Heero was not there.

"Ice said he would be a waitin' fer ye in his room, Reaper." Agent Thunder, the red head from Scotland who was once an Alliance pilot glanced up from the consol. "Yer no lookin' good, mon."

"Thanks, Jimmy. All quiet?"

"Aye, Duo. Nae alerts. The delegates hae arrived and are in tae dining room now. We took tae liberty o placin' their security guards in tae east wing; in tae yellow sitting room with their monitorin' equipment. We scanned all their gear. Nought suspicious."

"Fine then. I'll go find Yuy."

He might not think much of Relena Peacecraft's views, but he had to give her credit for working for her goals. Almost every night delegates from countries around the earth and the colonies came for discussions and social chatter that hid negotiations and deals. The Palace was active twenty four hours, most times, delegates and their staff arriving and departing at all hours. Duo hated it. Security wise, it was a nightmare but he had other reasons to dislike the situation. He did not like politics at the best of times, but being a Preventer Agent had given him a closer look than he had ever wanted. The back stabbing and flattery that went on was sickening and he wondered how anything ever got done. Surely they would be further along by now if they would just speak plainly.

"Mrs. Darlian." He nodded in greeting to Relena's foster mother. He rather liked the woman who had moved into the palace for an extended stay a few days ago.

"Mr. Maxwell." She nodded briefly. "Off duty?"

"For a few hours. Just thought I'd take a stroll."

He climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and nodded to the guards stationed there. The fourth floor was used to house Relena's security contingent and it was considered a plausible threat that someone could threaten the Vice Foreign Minister by attacking her security staff as a diversion. So the body guards had body guards, a fact that amused Duo to no end, especially since he trusted no one anyway. Yuy's room was halfway down the hall and Duo heard movement beyond the door as he paused, casting a glance up and down the darkened hallway.

"Come in Duo." Yuy opened the door to his knock, glanced the length of the hall both ways and shut the door, leading the way to the small lounge of the suite Relena had assigned him. "Sorted?"

"Done." Duo returned. "Une is working on it. I talk to her again later tonight. Got some papers to sign. I'll ask for leave and go see Hilde. Try to find out why she never let me know."

"Have you had any sleep yet?"

Duo sighed. "Nah. Can't stop thinking about things. I'll sleep tonight. Just got to get used to things having changed."

A faint nod and Heero settled at the lounge, four laptop computers plugged into power packs and satellite receivers set on the low table.

"Fair enough." He flicked a finger at the working computers. "I'm in."

Duo grinned, fire coming into blue-violet eyes. He felt the fatigue and his musings fall away, interest sparking. Maybe now some answers would be forthcoming.

"Good. Ah, Heero, what's all this then?" he motioned to the lineup of computers, three screens filled with scrolling numbers, the fourth was tilted away from him so that he could not see the screen.

"You might want to sit down, Justin."

Duo looked suspiciously around the room, even behind him. Upset. Heero was supposed to keep all of this secret. It showed how much trust he could not put in the Wing pilot. Damn. Now who did he have to worry about? "Who you talking to? Who did you invited in on this?"

"I was talking to you, Justin Anthony Simpson." Heero's eyes were bright with an unholy light that Duo realized was amusement.

When Duo just stared at him Heero pulled him down to the couch and turned the fourth laptop to face him. Duo stared at him for a few minutes until Heero nudged Deathscythe's pilot and then Duo looked at the screen. He had recently seen just such a certificate as was displayed on the laptop. It was a Birth Registrar with a genetic bar code. A birth certificate stating that Justin Anthony Simpson was born in the General Hospital of colony - Duo could not read any more and looked back at Heero.

"It gets better." He grunted, leaning close to tap at the keyboard for a moment and then leaning back so that Duo could see. "Wu Fei." he said, showing another registrar of birth, then stabbed at the keyboard again. "Quatre. He's going to be pissed. His records are not supposed to be able to be accessed anywhere on the United Net. The Winner Corporation spends a fortune on security. Then you have Trowa."

Duo looked again at the screen and there was another certificate with genetic bar code on it under the name of Triton Amery. This one with a curious adjunct, a logo for identification in multicultural zones, and a foot note that the parents, Tristan Amery and Dorothea Bloom were transients, circus performers. Heero, blue eyes intense, was watching Duo closely.

"Heero?" Duo looked at him expectantly. "This can't be right. Can it?" It all seemed so surreal. First finding out he had a son and now, this. It was a dream, leading into a nightmare. Nothing seemed real. He had another identity? Trowa's name was Tristan?

He knew Heero had no idea what his real name was. He had no memory of his early life before Odin Lowe found him. Duo almost pounced on that. He knew Heero had tried to find out who he was before Odin Lowe had acquired him and Heero had failed. There was no information on anyone who remotely could have been the now recognized Heero Yuy.

"If Romefeller had tracked us down, even Trowa, then have they managed to track down who Heero Yuy was before he became Heero Yuy?" //It's all fiction. It has to be. Heero tried and failed and no one is better than Heero at hacking information.//

Heero crouched over the keyboard again and typed at the keys and Duo watched the screen change. Stared at the now very familiar opening logo of the genetic laboratories of Romefeller, only this laboratory was coded for L1.

_Subject File : 6118954SNI series. _

_Parental Genetic Files: 5471K684. _

Before he could read more Heero was punching through more information and the screen changed again. Duo found himself looking at an Oriental man who looked quite like Heero and a delicate European woman with the very familiar intense blue eyes he knew so well.

"My parents." Heero stared at the screen like a starving man stares at a banquet set beyond his reach. "They were on L1 and worked in a laboratory. I was genetically enhanced, Duo. At least now I know. My name was Shuichi. They were killed in a lab accident." Heero hesitated then shrugged. "I suspect it was deliberate. They ran a genetic Research Laboratory for the Space Exploration Program. Genetic alterations that would mean we could go beyond the solar system eventually. I know why I am different, Duo. I was a prototype for a deep space explorer."

Hero was at the keyboard again, changing the screen to once more display Duo's birth certificate and then sat back. He was willing to wait however long it took for Duo to come to terms with this new information. It had not been an easy night for either of them, but Duo had had it rougher. First the discovery of his being a father and now the totally unexpected knowledge of who he and all of the other pilots were. Heero admitted it felt surreal to him. He had not slept either and he felt no need to as yet. Whether that was a result of the genetic alterations performed prior to his birth or the fact he was too keyed by this whole affair he did not know. It was unimportant.

Duo reflected that it was not what he had expected to find when he had asked Heero to crack the data file. Hell, the last thing Duo had expected was to find out who he really was. Or who he had been born, because he did know one thing, and that was that he was Duo Maxwell, product of war, not Justin Anthony Simpson, the son of L2 accountants. He could not accept that this was who he was. It just was not so.

"That's not me." he whispered. He had read the information the file contained through twice, and still it remained separated from him. He knew why. He knew it only too well. "That is not me, Heero."

"That is you." Heero said just as quietly and Duo could see he had understood what he meant, despite his assurance. Then Heero explained his comment. "That is who you might have been. Who you could be again if you want to be."

He stared at the screen. Accountants, both of them. Working for the L2 government. That's what they had done. He was the first child, according to the birth certificate, no siblings listed. If he wanted to, he could become Justin Anthony Simpson again and make an ordinary life for himself anywhere in the colonies. There was only one problem.

He was Duo Maxwell, the God of Death.

He was anything but ordinary.

"I was Shinigami during the war. Not an accountant's son. I grew up on the streets. I became a thief, an assassin, terrorist and Gundam Pilot. There was no way, is no way, I could be Justin Simpson." He met Heero's intense blue eyes. "I am not an accountant's son. I am not that Justin Simpson."

"Think about it for a while." Heero said quietly, blue eyes alight with understanding sympathy.

"No." Duo looked at him. "Make a copy on disk and then wipe it off the data base. That kid died years ago, but I do want to keep it. Just to know."

Duo watched as Heero slipped a mini digital disk into the drive and made the copy. When that was done cobalt blue eyes locked with blue-violet and Duo nodded. He knew he would not regret this. A long time ago a door had closed. He could not turn back the hands of time. He was who he was, now, not who he might have been. When he had left Hilde to become a Preventer he had, unknowingly provided an answer to the dilemma of having two identities. He had already made his choice between being ordinary and being Duo Maxwell. Dr G and others before him had made changes to him that forever made him Duo Maxwell.

"Yes, I want it off the database. Not only off Romefeller's system, but off whatever system they found it on."

"I am still trying to trace the source of their information. This is huge, Duo. It will take time to trace their systems."

Heero deleted the reference from Romefeller and then hacked into the Colonial Birth Registrar Data Base and brought up the records that pertained to one Justin Anthony Simpson. He hesitated a moment and then looked at Duo and pushed the lap top toward him, making it Duo's choice to wipe Justin Simpson-himself-out of existence. With the information on disk it was possible at some later time to hack the system and re enter the records, but at this time Duo could not foresee any circumstances in which he would want to. With a deep breath he deleted the file.

It actually felt liberating to do it.

"We need to speak with the others, to see what they want to do about this. What I can do is copy all of the information down to disk and delete it all off the Romefeller data base. When the others know of this they can make their own decisions and then we can delete their records; or not; depending on what they want. Trowa might want to leave it on the net. He's not known who he was for so long, and I know it bothered him."

//God, I've never heard Heero speak so much. Never. He's always been the strong silent type.// Duo watched him down load the information for each of the former Gundam Pilots and Heero himself, finishing with deleting the entire section of the Romefeller data base pertaining to the Gundam Pilots.

Someone somewhere was now going berserk. Alarms had to be responding to the system purge Heero initiated. Duo only hoped they had enough off that thing to serve when he needed it. It was a pretty sure bet he'd not be hacking into the protections they would now put up. What's more, they would have a fair idea who had done it. It had to be one of the Gundam pilots. Who else would be interested? Unless they muddied the trail by wiping out whole sections of the system and other systems linked to it.

Duo owned up.

He told Heero what he had found, specifically how he had found the files on the Gundam Pilots.

Through the explanation Heero sat in silence, listening and watching the three computers working. It took him hours to tell it all and during that time Heero worked on the three computers, even going so far as to install external hard drives to carry extra information they copied down from the source computer. Gradually the information dwindled, but Duo noted a series of links amongst the downloads on one computer. They had not yet completely copied the systems of Romefeller, and who knew if the information they had copied would assist them in any way? It could take them years to filter all the information and determine if any of it could be of importance to them. They may have left vital clues they would need because they ran out of storage space.

One by one their available secure hard drive space was filled and Heero closed down the three computers. When the last computer beeped its completion Heero initiated a worm to wipe Romefeller's genetic stud book. Romefeller would salvage some of it, no doubt, but hopefully not much. Maybe they had a backup system somewhere where all of this information was duplicated, but Heero was fairly confident that they would loose good sized portions of their system. It would have to slow down their machinations. If the worm could penetrate to a quarter of the system Duo would be happy. He found himself grinning as the worm was set loose.

Heero motioned to the three computers now with dark screens. "I have down loaded everything I can with what hard drive space I had available. I also set up a watch dog on the systems you had accessed that had nothing directly to do with the stud book, but had listed the locked files that I think might well be the records of genetic modifications. A key word alert. Any one accessing those files will trigger the alert. Their access codes will be recorded and we will then have access to those files. It will take me some considerable time to break into the files that we now have. There are so many. Any work they do for me, unknowing on their part, will be appreciated."

Duo sighed softly. It was late. He wasn't alone anymore. It felt good. Even cold Heero Yuy had a soul and he had glimpsed it repeatedly over the last twenty four hours. It had been Heero who had told him about his son. How many others knew about Aidan? How many people that he associated with on a daily basis knew that Hilde had had his baby and not wanted him to know? It was more than that, though. Much more.

Romefeller was up to something. Heero knew now that there were infiltrators in Preventers and spies in the palace. He even knew that it had been Duo who had sent the warning to guard Relena just a little more diligently. Heero knew and had understood why he had been so cautious about who he thought he might be able to trust concerning the problems associated with Romefeller. Why would Romefeller initiate a search for Zechs? Alone Duo had been pushed for time and had had little opportunity to make inroads into the files he had copied. Now, with Heero to help, he knew progress would be made. Already Heero had initiated a search for Zechs and Duo had confidence that if anyone could find Zechs Merquise and Lucrezia Noin, it would be Heero.

It was not his intent to disturb Zechs if he had made a life for himself, and he was not involved in anything that would threaten the peace. He had only glimpsed him in person once, just after the Mariemaia Incursion. He had looked tired and sad then, as though the worst had still not happened and he waited for the next blow to fall. As though he expected it to fall at any time. No, it was not his intention to disrupt what ever life Zechs had managed to make for himself, and Duo determined to make sure that Heero didn't take it into his head to shoot the renegade Peacecraft on sight. He was uncertain of what Heero's views on the Peacecraft son were, so caution was needed.

No, he did not intend to interfere with Zechs, not unless he absolutely had to. When Duo had fleetingly watched the blonde man, Zechs had looked like he was close to collapse and just wanted to crawl into a dark hole and sleep. Duo had felt like that often enough. Like now, he reflected. Something about the man had made an impression that Duo as yet did not understand, yet could not ignore.

//Man, he is one fine looking man. I keep having to remind myself what he was capable of. I've thought long and hard on the One Year War and I think I seriously misunderstood both Zechs Merquise and Treize Kushrenada. Une always said Kushrenada wanted peace, but I notice she didn't say much about Zechs. There seems to be a lot of ill feeling there. Ah, time. It's time for my security rounds. The delegates will be leaving shortly and Heero is on duty in the foyer tonight. He's got copies of all the files now and he'll work on them when he can.//

"Make copies of all the files, for me, huh? I have my rounds to do."

Duo quietly left Heero's suite and headed for the staircase. //I think he found something in those files of his from Romefeller's data base that he's not mentioned yet. That's okay, because I think I might know what it is. I've read more of this stuff than he has and I know about Romefeller's breeding programs. Well, something about them, at any rate. I wonder how much he likes Relena? I wonder if Romefeller would smile or frown on the Peacecraft daughter having it off with Heero Yuy; or Suichi, as his name really is. Was. Damn. I can't think of him as anything other than Heero anymore than I can think of me being anyone other than Duo Maxwell.//

Rosemount Station

Asteroid Belt Orbit, sector 5

Date: 26th February

Time: 22:17 EST [Earth Standard Time

Beyond the protection of the screen most would call a window, the cold vastness of space caught the eye. The panoramic view was impossible to ignore. The entire outer wall of the study was taken up by the plasti-glass expanse. Visible to the naked eye asteroids seemed to hang motionless in space. However, the star pointed darkness was far from empty. Even as she watched a scout ship crossed her view, heading out toward their eastern borders. She smiled at that. Why did they give compass points in space? Yes, it did sit better with her than just sector numbers, but it still seemed odd. East side, sector nine, sub sector J. Probably another survey craft for one of the big mining consortiums or a freelance prospector searching for a prime asteroid to snare as a resource satellite. Until they knew for sure how deep into the belt the trespasser would travel they had to be careful. It was too soon for anyone to know where they were. What they were.

The junior officer glanced up at the soft chime, studying the array of blinking lights and pursed her lips, eyes widening. It was unexpected. Few calls were received from that source and she half turned, watching as her superior leaned against the wall. It still unnerved her, that great seemingly open expanse of wall. More than the modern molded glass protected them. This close to the asteroid belt micro meteors were a very real danger. The entire flotilla was protected by the energy screens, but even knowing that it still was unnerving.

"Madame Lilac. Message alert from Rose Errant, ma'am."

The piercing blue gaze swept over her and flicked to the door, a tactic dismissal and the junior knew well enough when to leave silently and quickly. The commanders study was spartan, a work place with no trace of personal effects. It served to remind her assistants that they had little time for anything other than the project. Alone the hard eyed commander settled at the consol and sighed, steadying herself. It was usually bad news when Rose Errant contacted her. Too soon as yet for reports on the trespassers in the area, but not too soon to ruin her day. It had been a quiet day.

Somehow she had the distinct feeling that that was over now. HE never called unless it was urgent.

Taking a deep breath Lilac toggled a switch. "Here, sir."

There was no vocal acknowledgement, but a screen cleared on the consol and words quickly flowed in elegant flowing script.

_Increase search for Zechs Merquise. Other parties now involved. Imperative Marquise location discovered._

"Understood. I will increase our efforts immediately." She resisted the urge to groan. Her resources were stretched as it was. Too few agents still free to walk the halls of power in the ESUN.

_Discreetly, please. It is imperative for his safety that we locate him first . Romefeller now has confirmation of his survival. We need him. We need him alive and healthy and we need him soon. _

"I understand, sir." She could swear later, when she had revised her assignments. It was not only the Peacecraft that she had to locate and acquire.

_Lilac. Some enterprising soul has set a worm loose in Romefeller's database. Do what you can to help the little beastie feed well. _

Lilac stared at the screen and then laughed aloud. "Priceless. Certainly, Sir. I shall endeavor to ensure the creature is positively bloated."

_Out. _

Chuckling quietly at the thought of Romefeller's misfortune to have attracted a worm Lilac found herself happily revising her agents assignments. With some judicious juggling she could perhaps spare six-no … no more than five. Yes, no more than five or the overall time table would suffer irreparably. It took only a few minutes to relay her instruction to set another five of her too few agents on the task of finding the misplaced Peacecraft. Her instructions given, Lilac settled back to consider events.

"Now who might have set a worm on Romefeller? Whoever you are, I wish you luck. I'll even give you a little helping hand."

She turned to the task of accessing sealed sections of Romefeller. It had taken them years to crack the Romefeller database. More years than her life numbered had gone into the infiltration of the organization. She was horrified when she had the chance to read within the files they had acquired from the data base. Romefeller was corrupt. So corrupt. No doubt they would have back up systems, but this would hold them at bay for a time, while they sorted their security systems out and rebuilt the data base. It would give her own cause a breathing space.

Opening a few cracks they had so carefully placed and nurtured in Romefellers security system so that the worm could more easily do its work was an absolute pleasure. She smiled as she eased back in her seat at the thought of the very select doorways she had opened to allow the worm to run that little bit deeper. Somewhere out there someone else was upset with Romefeller. She wished them all the best. The advent of the worm in the system quite made her day. It somewhat compensated for the loss of five agents available to pursue her acquisition program.

"Now if we could only just access all the crew. We could be free of Romefeller and the policies of this system for good." With a sigh she turned back to the panoramic display. "Soon. One step at a time. One acquisition at a time. It will all begin soon."

t.b.c.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Alternative Directions: Options

New Port City

Sanc Palace

Date 27th February AC 198

Time: 20:05

Duo

"Coffee, Master Duo?"

Duo glanced up from the reports set before him on the desk, the refusal on his lips dying. The light spilling into the semi darkened control room revealed the old retainer looked haggard, ready to collapse and had a tray, mugs and coffee pot with sandwiches in hand. The old man clearly wanted company.

"Don't mind if I do. Care to join me?"

"I was hoping to have a word with you in private, if possible, Master Duo." Pagan settled into the seat across from the desk and proceeded to pour coffee.

Pagan, Duo reflected with a smile as he watched the process, had learned of his deep aversion to fine delicate cups that looked as though they would break at the slightest touch. Large mugs now made up Pagan's offerings of coffee for the Preventer Agent and there were no delicate little sandwiches that were gone in one bite and a brief chew. Duo liked to know he was eating something and Pagan had ensured the menu was very much to Duo's liking, including a liberal sprinkling of Hamburgers in the diet. Of course, to salve Pagan's sensibilities, Duo had had to accept the odd exotic ingredient in said hamburgers and sandwiches. The ex Gundam pilot admitted he'd had the pleasure of tasting some really exceptional hamburgers since Pagan had spoken to the chef. The mutual compromises made between Pagan and the agent further cemented a growing friendship between the two and Duo worked hard to nurture the relationship. He liked the old man and thought he worked harder than he should at his age, though Pagan assured him that his function all too often lately, was as an adviser and supervisor to the younger and newer staff.

"Don't have to be anywhere for a while, so I'm all yours. What can I do you for?"

The old man smiled at the turn of phrase and poured himself a mug of coffee. "Just company, mainly." He returned as there came a light tap on the door.

"Yeah?" Duo called.

Agent Jacynth popped her head around the door. "Oh . Sorry. Did I interrupt?"

" 'S okay. What's up?"

"The delegates are settled for the dinner and I was wondering if I couldn't take this opportunity to go fetch something to eat?"

"Take an hour off. I'll log you as off duty but keep your ear piece on receive, just incase there is a need for you."

"Excuse me, Miss. If you go to the first kitchen you will find a buffet set out for the agents this evening. If you do not mind eating something of the menu the delegates are enjoying, that is." The last was said with a smirk big enough to escape the moustache and quick glance at Duo.

Jacynth chuckled, well aware of what Duo thought of gourmet meals. "Thanks, Pagan. You do look after us."

"My pleasure, Miss."

The door closed behind Jacynth and Duo lifted the club sandwich and took a huge bite.

"So wa'cn'd'fo'u?"

At the arch of one bushy eyebrow Duo choked on the sandwich, chewed quickly and choked down the food, following it with coffee and grinned sheepishly at the retainer's disapproval.

"Sorry, Pagan."

"One enjoys the food more if one eats at a more leisurely pace, young man. I believe it is also better for one's digestion if the food is taken in smaller and well chewed portions."

"Man, you'll end up civilizing me, Pagan."

"That would please me to no end, Master Duo." Carefully blank faced, but sparkling eyes gave him away.

"Yeesh. Okay, I'll behave. What did you need me for?"

The old man seemed to consider his words with a gravity that sparked alarm bells ringing in the agents mind. Over the days that he had been resident in the palace Duo had come to have a deep respect for the retainer. He never raised his voice nor expressed obvious disapproval. Usually a look was enough. He ruled the service staff with a gentle authority that no one questioned and he seemed to be respected by all.

"Master Duo, I just do not know what to do. I have served the Peacecraft household for my entire life. I saw the funeral of Miss Relena's grandsire, and the coronation of her father. I saw the fall of Sanc and I took her from the fire and to Mr. Darlian, the King's friend. I returned to Sanc to try to find evidence of Master Milliardo's death-or survival. It took me nine months to find him and then I had to find a place where he might be safe. I returned to the Darlian's with the Prince and it was made very plain that he was not wanted. No one wanted to take on the heir to Sanc's fallen crown. He was only six. A very impressionable boy who sincerely loved his little sister and mourned that he was not loved enough by anyone to take him in. Everyone offered to take the Princess, but no one wanted the Prince, and they said so, all too often, in his hearing. The most I could garner for Sanc's heir was anonymity in a boarding school."

Duo watched the old man in silence, offering no comment as Pagan paused to wet his throat with the coffee and for a time stare at his hands, wrinkled and worn, wrapping the mug. The old man had the air of someone who had come to a decision, and it pained him greatly to have made it. Duo waited, deciding that patience was needed here. Patience and silence to let the old man consider his thoughts when needed.

"I placed Master Milliardo in the school and promised him it was only temporary; that I would find another place for him, one more to his liking and station. The hardest thing I have ever had to do was leave that child in that school, after all that had happened to him. I traveled Europe and the continent, going to friends and then acquaintances of the King, searching for a family to take the boy in. I feared leaving him in the school for any appreciable length of time." The old man sighed. "Many are the friends of a King if they expect to gain something by the association, Master Duo. Many indeed. Few are willing to admit to friendship with a murdered King. Fewer still are willing to put their lives in danger for the King's heir."

Still Duo remained silent, watching Pagan and wondering why the old man chose now to speak of this to him. He had the feeling that something had happened that the retainer could no longer ignore. He had given Duo the impression that he was extremely loyal to Relena. He could not see where this was going, but he had the impression he was about to learn something really interesting.

"I was desperate. Those I felt I could trust and that King Stephan would have approved of had no inclination to assist. I had begun to investigate those I would ordinarily not consider, but I felt I had no choice. One of these families had close ties to the Alliance, but also blood kinship and various ties through marriage to the Peacecraft family. They had a young son, though he was five years older than Master Milliardo. I almost never went to see them. For a year they had been touring the colonies, a gift to their son who would be entering a military academy in the New Year. The two boys had gotten on well at their last meeting, almost a year before Sanc fell, despite the age difference. I did not know if I could trust them not to hand the child over to the Alliance. Duke Heinrich was a part of the Alliance Military, after all."

"What happened?" Duo prompted when Pagan fell silent and stared into his empty coffee mug for a time.

"It is strange that quite often it is the people you least expect to help, who are the ones who assist you when you need it the most. Duke Heinrich and Duchess Anna insisted that Master Milliardo be brought to their Kiev estate immediately I considered it safe. They would not hear of him going anywhere else. I was assured any number of times that he would be protected, and that the Alliance would not learn of his continued survival. He was wholeheartedly welcomed into the Kushrenada family, a tired, broken hearted little boy who had had his world destroyed on what should have been a happy day. He had lost his sister and been told to his face so many times that he was not wanted. Is it any wonder he gave his loyalty to those who proved he could trust them? Was it so unreasonable that he would trust those who showed him love and simple honest caring again?"

Duo watched, uncomfortable at the sight of tears in the old man's eyes. Pagan saw this as fresh, not old hurt. Duo could only wonder and wait patiently to learn what had happened to stir up this old pain that surely had been dealt with years before. It had all happened a long time ago.

"No. Not at all." Duo whispered. "Treize Kushrenada was the son?"

"Yes. He took Master Milliardo under his wing at every opportunity. I left him with the family as it was considered safer that way, but I communicated regularly with Master Treize over the years and with Master Milliardo weekly. The Kushrenada's were not told of the princess's survival. I deemed it safer and Master Milliardo promised not to tell. In his letters I saw him gradually come alive again. I told him of his sister as she grew. He always wanted to hear about Miss Relena." A tired, shaky sigh. "He would write to her, but Mr. Darlian would not allow me to read the letters to her and had them destroyed. I was forbidden to associate with her when I disobeyed his instructions to destroy the letters and they were found. You see, I had decided to keep his letters to his sister and give them to her when she was older. After I was discovered my mail was vetted and any letters to Relena from her brother were destroyed. I was threatened with dismissal if I did not put a stop to the letters."

Duo poured more coffee, silent and watched the old man. He ran an experienced eye over the bank of monitors on the east wall and looked back to Pagan. He had not, before, wondered about the early life of the heirs to Sanc. He had had other things on his mind, like his attempts to crawl out of the slums of L2 and carve a future for himself. It was far from a boring conversation, however and, indeed it put a new perspective on the relationship between Zechs and Treize Kushrenada. There was, too, the fact that Pagan had not broached the actual reason for his presence here this evening. That gem had still to work its way into the conversation.

"I wrote to the Duke and explained to him about Relena and the need for secrecy. I knew it would hurt Master Milliardo, but I could not foresee any other action. Duke Heinrich understood and after that, while I received mail from Master Milliardo, the letters for Miss Relena stopped."

"What happened today, Pagan?" Duo set aside his coffee mug. It was time to get to the bones of this discussion.

"It appears that I overstepped my place, Master Duo." For a long moment he was silent, then sighed heavily. "I defended Master Milliardo to Miss Relena."

"Oh." Duo was uncertain exactly what to say. Uncertain what Pagan wanted him to say, or do. Milliardo Peacecraft was a taboo subject in the palace. What could possibly have made Pagan breach that rule?

"Miss Relena was spoiled outrageously by the Darlian's, who failed to have children of their own. I have waited patiently for her to show maturity. She seems to be showing that maturity in every regard, except where it comes to her family. It appears that the peace of mind of every politician on Earth is more important to her, than for her to accept that she has a brother who has a will of his own."

"Exactly what is Miss Relena's problem when it comes to Zechs?" Duo was hesitant to ask, but he felt he owed it to Pagan to try to understand. Besides, if he was lucky it could lead to information he desperately sought to make sense of Romefeller's hunt.

"Everything." Pagan breathed, wincing.

Duo hesitated a moment, uncertain, then replied. "Could we be, maybe, a little more explicit here?"

"She has known only what a spoiled child from an exceedingly rich family knows of life. I do not believe that she has any true concept of what life is like, for the less privileged than those of her station. She has not lived with the children of the streets in a country ravaged by massacre. She has not found every door shut in her face. She has not lived as one of lower class. She has been the princess in the ivory tower all of her life. Master Milliardo has lived a much varied life. He has lived as a prince; trained as a soldier, not just as an elite soldier, Master Duo, but as a common soldier. He had to earn his place in OZ, as did Colonel Kushrenada. Neither were handed their positions because of their birth. They were just one of many in the academy who had to earn their ranks. They were brilliant and suited to lead. Both served time amid the rank and file and as special agents under the Alliance and both had ample opportunity to gain an understanding of life beyond gilded halls."

Pagan stood and moved to the bank of monitors and watched the screens depicting the dinner party in progress in one of the dining rooms of the palace. This evening it was a party of thirty delegates from Earth's European area and from the L3 colony. Trade discussions, Duo knew. Relena was resplendent in a gown of pale blue satin with white and blue flowers in her hair. She was the gracious hostess, polite, soft spoken. Perfect.

"This is what Miss Relena knows. The Darlian's raised her as a princess, with all the privileges and very little of the responsibility. She feels that she must attain King Stephan's ideal of the Perfect Peace Principle, yet she is struggling with it, because she misunderstands it." Pagan sighed, hanging his head. "King Stephan advocated forgiveness and tolerance above all. That is the basis of his vision of perfect peace, not just the wholesale abolition of weapons. Forgiveness and tolerance of others views are integral to peace being a viable way of life."

Duo watched the old man as he turned from the monitors and resumed his seat. Pagan shook his head slowly and hunched in his seat, for the first time looking his life, Duo decided. Pagan had been around a long time, and seen much tragedy in his years. Duo could see it all too clearly showing on his face this night. Pagan actually looked like a tired old man. That just was not the man Duo had come to know.

"Master Milliardo may have been wrong in going about his ideas the way he did, but his heart was in the right place. Yes, people died. People would have died had the wars continued. May still die, as the future will reveal, but I can not believe that he intended the destruction of the Earth. He wanted humanity to see the ugliness and the tragedy that is war. The colonists know how fragile their worlds of metal are, but those of the Earth did not give thought to how fragile this planet is. What could threaten the lives they lived here? In a colony a war would destroy everyone. The colony itself would become so much rubble floating in space. On Earth, it is different. Yes, there have been wars. No sooner does one end than another would begin. A cycle that had to be broken. But how? It was drastic. I do not say that I agree with his methods. I do not, as a matter of fact, but I believe I can understand his reasoning, knowing him as I have. The people of Earth had to look at their planet just once, as a colonist has been forced to look at their fragile metal shell for all of their lives. They are panicked, just now. Working together. What happens when the fear that woke them up to the vulnerability of the planet fades? A generation. Two. By three generations at most, who will be alive to remember? Has he frightened mankind enough to make them pacifists forever? No. I do not believe that was even his intention."

Duo arched an eyebrow. "No?"

"No, Mr. Maxwell, I do not think so. I do not claim to understand all of his reasoning, but I do know him well enough to know that he was never a cruel or heartless young man. Exactly the opposite, in truth. There was a lot of love in that little boy whom no one wanted. It scarred him in many ways. He would never forget. Never. He would never forget King Stephan, but he is his mother's son and Queen Katerina was not half the pacifist many presumed her to be."

"What has Relena done, Pagan? What made you defend Zechs to her when you know she's banned all mention of him?"

"A sense of fair play, Mr. Maxwell. I know that you have duties and that I can not keep you much longer, but I have a request to make of you. You were a Gundam Pilot. You are now a Preventer. I find you to be a very intelligent young man and quite capable. I was wondering if you might not do an old man a favor."

Duo rubbed absently at the tip of his braid, threading his fingers repeatedly through the loose hairs. "What might that be?"

"Could you find Master Milliardo? Before Miss Relena makes a very serious mistake."

"The mistake being?" Duo tensed. Here it was. The reason for all of this old man's pain.

Pagan lowered his head and heaved a heavy, tired sigh. "I am too old to stand between the two, nor is it my place to do so. Where ever Master Milliardo is, he will not remain there despite what ever precautions Miss Relena and the Earth Sphere Unified Nation Government have taken; should Miss Relena carry out her threat." Pagan met Duo's eyes, his own intense. "Taking custody of his children from him and bringing them to Earth where they can be properly educated, away from his influence, will serve only to shatter whatever love he may still hold for her and Earth. Family should stick together, Mr. Maxwell. Master Milliardo has lost too much in life, to allow any child of his to be taken from him. The breach between the two would be irreversible and bitter indeed. I am very much afraid that war between the Peacecraft siblings could drag in the entire Earth Sphere."

"Children? Wha-? When?" Duo stared in disbelief at Pagan.

"I do not know. I chanced upon Miss Relena and a woman I believe to be an agent of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. The Agent reported that it has been confirmed Master Milliardo has two children. Twins, born recently, I believe. The agent has delivered to Miss Relena the information, and also has given her a week to make her recommendations concerning the children. I waited for the agent to leave before I approached Miss Relena. Perhaps I should have waited for her to recover her composure. We argued and Miss Relena would not tell me more, nor is she under any obligation to do so, I admit. I just think it is wrong to confine her brother as he has been bound, and an horrendous thing to threaten to separate him from his children."

Duo was aware that he was gaping at the old man and hastily closed his mouth. Of all the possible things he had been expecting, this was surely the least likely. One he had never given thought to considering.

"Ahm, who's the mother?" Duo dared to ask. "Miss Noin?"

"I do not know, Master Duo."

"Relena better hope it's not Miss Noin if she tries taking those kids. Somehow I can't see Noin taking that quietly."

"Yes, Mr. Maxwell. My thoughts exactly."

t.b.c


	11. Chapter 11

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 11

New Port

Sanc Palace

Date 27th February AC 198

Time: 23:45

Heero's POV

The last of the delegates cars drove away and I supervised the sealing of the main doors. The night guards nodded briefly in passing, both having known me for some time. They had been with Relena's security staff for more than a year now, and I was confident enough in them. I had, after all, run enough checks on their backgrounds and that of their families, to probably know more about them than they themselves did. It had been a long few days. I was beginning to think that this week was cursed never to end.

I was confident I had been right to tell Duo about Hilde and his son. Of course, I knew why Hilde had acted as she had. Why she had taken the actions she had. I also thought she was dead wrong, but since I'm not a pregnant woman with mixed up hormones, who has just split up with her lover, who am I to say? I do think that Duo had a right to know. She should have told him. Admittedly she had not known when they had split. I checked her medical records to see when she had seen the doctor. It was more than a month after Duo left. I so don't want to be around when Duo goes to L2. That could get very vocal and a glimpse of Shinigami might again be seen. Not that he would be violent with her. No, but Shinigami is his dark side and he's a war orphan. He lost family young, twice. No, more than that. His real parents. The street gang headed by Solo. The priest and nun at that orphanage. I'm sure of one thing. I do know he'll treasure having a real family. How much more real can you get than your son?

The caterers would arrive in the morning to clear away the trappings of the dinner party. Relena had given the kitchen staff the night off and brought in outside caterers for this dinner. Not in itself unusual, but I had noticed something odd in this pattern. Its always one of three catering companies who get the call, but no matter which company get the contract, there is one particular waitress who always arrives early to help setup. I've seen her too many times to mistake her, and I intend to find out who she really is, and who she really works for. She's no waitress. Servants from catering companies do not talk to the Vice Foreign Minister in her private salon, on every occasion they come to serve at a dinner party. The caterers are always chosen with at least two days notice. There is really something odd going on here. I will get to the bottom of it. Someone is having sometimes lengthy discussions in secret with the Vice Foreign Minister. Someone who thinks they can bypass appropriate security measures.

Did they honestly think I would not notice?

I suspect her to be an agent for the world government, passing on classified documents. I caught the signal that went direct to Relena's private study this time. It was two days ago and lo and behold, the kitchen and serving staff are given the day off and caterers brought in within two days. It's a pattern. Someone should change their style. They're becoming predictable.

I really need to talk to Relena. About a number of things, not the least of which is what she is doing to that old man. I saw him this afternoon. He knows what she and that agent were discussing and it upset him. He's been nothing but loyal to her, and I hate to see him hurt by her. Sometimes she can be so naïve. Sometimes she has no idea what her actions can mean to others.

Spoilt little rich girl, I've heard Duo call her. He's right. I can't deny it, nor can I deny that I feel something for her. I was taught to hide my emotions and that personal relationships can weaken you. Drag you down. So what do I do about this? I don't know how to talk to her. I don't even know if I want to remain Heero Yuy, or if I want to be Shuichi. Shuichi is-no-one. Shuichi is … I can't even explain to myself what I think. How did Romefeller find out all of this? If I wanted to do something about the way I am starting to feel about her, do I do it as Heero Yuy, or do I do it as Shuichi?

"Ice." Duo's unmistakable voice intruded into my consciousness.

"On line, Reaper. Problem?" I adjusted the ear piece a little, settling it more comfortably.

"Relena has taken off into the maze. She looks pretty upset. Something happen at the dinner that I missed?"

"Dinner was without incident, or resolution, I might add. I'll follow her. Keep an eye on her until I get there."

She had seemed alright during the dinner. Perhaps a little more tense than usual? A reaction to the news she received today, from that agent? Or was it whatever had happened between her and Pagan? I had to find her and learn what was going on. I did not like the idea of Relena hurting. Odd. Once that would not have bothered me at all. Likely I would be the one who was doing the hurting, thinking that I was doing her a favor. She never listened to me, though, just continued on her way, doing as she originally intended. It amazes me that she is still alive. Some days she does not seem to care whose toes she steps on.

"Roger that, Ice. Reaper on standby."

"Hn."

There was practically no moon tonight and the east garden where the maze was located was in deep shadow, the usual decorative lights turned down to a dim glow, colouring the snow where it had not been shoveled aside from the paths and patios. Not that I needed the lights to find my way. I have very good night vision. I know why now.

When Duo told me about Romefeller and I hacked into their file on the Gundam Pilots, I never expected to find so detailed a report. I had expected a file with scanty personal details and references to each of the missions they could definitely tag us as having participated in. Yet the files had contained information on who we actually were, not on what we were doing but on who we had been, before we had become trainees for the Gundams. Long before. Where had Romefeller found this information? After the war I had looked for my identity. I had failed. At least I now know why. My gene sequencing had never been taken for the public offices information database. Dr J had hinted that there might have been genetic enhancement carried out on me at some time, but stressed that he had not done so. He had taken what was there and trained it. The old bastard.

I would sooner have led an entirely different life to the one I had been forced into. Who was I? Did I have a right to still call myself Heero Yuy? I need time to consider all the alternatives. I have the information now. I just need the time to study it and to decide what I am to do about it. Shuichi had been designed for space exploration. I read enough to know that before Duo had joined me. Shuichi was to be a space explorer and became Heero Yuy, assassin, terrorist and ultimately Gundam Pilot. I have so much more to learn. About myself as Shuichi and as Heero Yuy.

"Hn."

Yes. Duo Maxwell. On L2 just about now there was probably one very upset young lady. Yes, it would be about now that she would have received the court application on Duo's behalf. Une took it quite well. In fact, a lot better than I thought she would have. She had glared at me when she had attended the dinner last evening, but that could have been over anything, not necessarily that I had told Duo what I had found out. She knows I was the one who told him, but as yet she has said nothing about it to me. She knew already, I am certain of that. Yes, she had to know that Hilde was pregnant. That would have been blatantly obvious to anyone when she applied to Preventers, but she must have honored Schbeiker's wishes that Duo not be told.

The hedge reared as a deeper darkness in the night. I paused at the gate, glancing around the garden, but it was all quiet. A white shape ghosted over the snow covered lawn, the white owl hunting for any food it could find. It was a relatively warm night, for the season. There would be rain before dawn, I knew. I listened to the silence and the distant call of an owl, not the one that dived into a snow bank and emerged with something that struggled briefly and then was still. No, the night was quiet, peaceful. The natural night creatures were the best clue as to something being wrong near me. No danger here.

"Reaper, come in." I adjusted the com microphone, turning up my collar a little. It was getting cool in the garden and in the maze it always seemed colder. At least there was no wind blowing tonight.

"Reading you, Ice. Got you on the monitor. She's in the center of the maze. Looks like she's crying."

Oh, God help me, not that. I don't know how to handle tears. She lately seems to be able to wrap me around her little finger when she cries, and I find myself doing the strangest things. All because she wants me to. All because of the damn tears. She had better have stopped crying by the time I get through this thing. I so can not deal with tears. I have no training on how to deal with crying women. Why was it during the One Year War even tears had no effect on me? The mission was all I needed concern myself with. Her crying meant nothing to me then.

I am going to have to decide what to do about the feelings I am having for her. I'm only seventeen … no. I now know when I was born. I am actually eighteen. Not all that far from being nineteen. I have a real birthday. I might just have the inclination to celebrate a birthday, too. Shuichi. I have a name. A real name, and a birthday. Maybe even relatives somewhere. My parents could have had family. Shuichi Lee Song. Odin Lowe. Heero Yuy. Who was I? Which was I? Why did finding that file and digging into it have to change so much of my outlook? Heero Yuy was an unknown nobody. No family. No home. No prospects to offer anyone, not even a real name. Odin Lowe Jr. was an assassin. End of story. Shuichi however, had a past. A family, though they were now dead. Shuichi could have any future he wanted, because he had a past and a family that could be related to. He had a past that was official.

"Hn." Turn left here, pass three intersections and turn right here.

Life was rather like this maze.

Where did that crock of bull come from? I was once Shuichi Lee Song. Once. Yes. Better. I had a family. I know their names and in time I might find out I still had relations out in the colony. Somewhere. Maybe. I needed time to investigate. Time to decide what to do about that information. What did it mean now? Well, it meant little, if anything at all, except it gave me more of a sense of self. If you have a past you have a future ahead of you. In your future you might dare to have something of a normal life. Like a partner. A life mate. A wife? Maybe. No, off that now. Not the time or the place for that.

Last three turns. Please don't be crying. Please don't be crying. Please don't be …ah, shit. That is not good for my sanity. Crying females leave me feeling sick. What do I do?

"Duo?" I whisper, activating the link.

"Yeah, Hee-chan?"

"Don't call me that, Reaper." Damn. How does he do that to me all the time? How does he manage to deviate my attention so often? "Duo, she's crying."

"Weell. No shit Sherlock? I'd never have guessed." He drawled.

"That is not helping, Duo." //Braided baka!//

"Well, what do you want me to do about it, Hee-chan?"

I so do not want to admit this, but I can't avoid it. I am not prepared for this situation. "Help me. And don't call me that. //Don't you dare laugh, Maxwell.//

"Yeesh. What do you do when you see a young lady crying, Heero?"

//"Run away?"// No, I could not say that. He'd probably fall off his chair laughing at me. I was so hopeful he would say yes, if I dared just say it, but I knew he wouldn't. "Come back when she stops?" I did expect him to laugh. I did not expect to hear him go into hysterics, though, nor to hear Pagan's deep voice come over the line.

"Run away? Heero Yuy wants to run away from a girl?"

I had said that aloud? Noooo. Oh, no I can not have done that. Someone tell me I can not have given that much ammunition to Maxwell to later be used against me.

"Mr. Maxwell, that is not nice. Mr. Yuy the appropriate behavior is to quietly approach the young lady, though not too quietly, mind, and offer your shoulder or knee for her to cry on."

Why did I want to whine do I have to? and bolt out of the maze? I need to be somewhere else. Far away from mazes and weeping females and hysterical idiots who don't know when to shut up!

What was Pagan doing in the control room?

"Be brave, Hee-chan." I could hear Duo cackling like a lunatic in the background.

"Master Duo if you do not get control of yourself I will personally inform the chef that hamburgers are off the menu for the next month."

"Pagan! You wouldn't?"

I sniggered and turned the volume down as Pagan began to inform Duo of just what he was capable of doing if pushed to it. Oh, yeah. That's right. I forgot Pagan was actually palace security for a while during the old King's time. I found myself listening in a detached sort of awe to the graphic description Pagan began to tell Duo on the uses for … could you really do all of that with a pizza? Eeewww. Mental note to self, be careful of that old man. He could be down right dangerous.

Right, now then. Chin up. Can't be hard. She's just a girl and it's just salty water. Yeah, right. The just-a-girl is Relena and I don't know what she means to me yet and she's sobbing. Gaah. The things I have to do. I wish Duo and Pagan would shut up in the background, but I don't dare turn off the com. I might need Pagan's advice.

"Mr. Yuy, just walk up to her, sit down and ask her if it's alright if you join her, and can you be of any assistance. One word out of you Master Duo and I will take appropriate measures."

"You're no fun, Pagan." Duo almost sounded sulky.

"So I have been told on innumerable occasions. NOW, Mr Yuy, not this time next week. I am sure she will have finished crying by then."

//Oh, good. I'll come back then.// I do not want to be here. She's half stretched out over the marble bench, sitting on the snow covered paving, sobbing into her arms. I so do not want to do this. I'd rather be back in Wing facing a hundred OZ Aries, than go through with this.

"NOW, Mr. Yuy!"

Ome o - no without doubt Pagan could understand Japanese and he would probably turn out to be a mind reader. I have already decided I do not want to piss off that old man. I took a deep breath and walked out into the center of the maze. As per Pagan's instructions I made certain to scuff the paving stones once or twice and then sat on the bench.

"Mind if I join you, Relena?" //Please stop crying . Please stop crying. Please stop crying.//

"He-Heero. What are you doing here?" She sat up quickly, wiping her eyes and cheeks and turned away so I couldn't see her face.

"Offering you a knee or shoulder to cry on?" I ventured. At least the tears had lessened. Why do females do that? They know you know they've been crying but they pretend otherwise and hide from you. I don't understand women.

"Mr. Maxwell, shut up or I will order you to take Mr. Yuy's place!"

Duo became conspicuous by his silence from then on, and I suddenly had an arm full of sobbing young woman. Yes, young woman. This was no girl's body I was holding. Funny, how I had not noticed how Relena was nicely curved in what felt like all the right places. She wasn't heavy either as she practically crawled onto my lap. I sat there with her while she started crying on my shoulder, thinking how nice she smelled when Pagan suggested I gently pat her on the back or rub her back. He whispered that I should be able to take it from there, but he was available if I should feel stranded and in desperate need of help; and that about then I should offer her a handkerchief and ask her what was the problem. Oh. Yes. I should do that.

"Can I help, Relena? Tell me the problem."

"I can't."

Why did I just know she would say that? "Of course you can. I might be able to help." Snuffles, not sobs now. That was progress.

"No one can help."

A series of sobs followed and as I thought no one could possibly talk, let alone breathe, while all of that was going on I just sat there, rubbing her back. Waiting while the chill from the marble bench numbed my backside. I thought I had been making headway. Apparently not. The water works were in full flow. It's cold and my collar is getting wet and starting to freeze. What gem could I offer to get her to open up?

"If you don't tell me what the problem is, I'll kill you."

"Mr. YUY!" Pagan practically roared in my ear and I could hear Duo howling with laughter in the background.

What mattered, though, was that Relena gave a little laugh and cuddled closer to me. The tears noticeably lessened too. She felt nicely warm and comfortable on my knee, almost as though she belonged there. I think I could get to like cuddling.

"Pagan hates me." She said in a small voice. "I said some truly horrible things I didn't mean, and now he hates me."

What? I never expected that and from the silence in my earphone, neither did Pagan. What had I missed today? Had I been on another planet entirely to have missed this? They had had some sort of disagreement, that had been obvious, but for her to be so-so …Where do I go from here?

"Pagan doesn't hate you. It would take more than a few words spoken in anger or haste to turn him against you, Relena."

"No. It only takes Milliardo." A hitch in her breath at the name.

"What's Zechs got to do with this?" Did she know where he had vanished to?

"Everything. It was the only thing I could do, Heero. I had no other option and now they'll go in and take even this away from him, and he'll fight and I know he no longer wants to fight, but he will. They can't expect him not to."

Yeah. Someone get the number of that bus? Why did I have no idea what she was talking about?

"Ah, Relena, you're not making any sense."

"Oh, I know. Sorry." I offered her the handkerchief and she wiped her eyes and then blew her nose. "Thank you. Would you mind dreadfully if I told you what is going on? I can't deal with it myself any more, and I've been too afraid to tell Lady Une. She'd do something that would bring it all to a head and Brother would get hurt."

"I think you had better tell me what is going on. I'll help if I can."

//Please, please tell me what is happening. I feel that I will burst if I don't start making sense of things soon. Romefeller. Stud books. Genetic manipulation. Past history so suddenly coming to light. Pagan and his Torturers Guide to Using Pizza. I feel so small. So insignificant.//

Her eyes are so blue. I've only had occasion to be this close to her once or twice. I keep forgetting just how blue they can be.

"It started after the Barton Invasion. I should not have spoken to Brother that way. I was strung out. Exhausted and stressed and-oh, Heero, I have made such a mess out of everything. I didn't understand why he joined White Fang. I still don't, but he is my brother, and I want to get to know him and try to understand. To at least ask him why and this time actually get an answer out of him."

"Do you know where Zechs is?" I felt like holding my breath. An answer in the affirmative would be a start to the larger mystery here.

"Of course I do." She sniffed a little, nuzzling against my neck. "He's on Mars, with Noin. They've had twins, you know? A boy and a girl. I'd like to see them, but it looks like I never will. They'll take them away from Brother and hide them."

I am more confused than ever now and from the silence I'd say Duo and Pagan are too. That truck keeps going around the block and running me down. I have to make sense of this. "Why are Zechs and Noin on Mars, Lena?"

Silence. Then "You've never called me that before, Heero."

Damn. I hadn't and I didn't know where it came from either. It just came. Damn. I shouldn't be this close to her. It's causing strange things to happen. She's so nicely curved and warm and …

"Sorry. I won't do that again."

"Oh no, I rather liked it." She smiled at me. A soft smile I am sure I never saw from her before.

"Oh. Ahm. Mars, Relena. You were telling me about Zechs." I'm dying here. Help? Someone? Can't I go and blow something up? That would be easier.

"Oh, yes. I was stressed. I said some things I really had no right to say to him that day. I even shocked Lady Une. Sally Po took Zechs away, saying I was overwrought after all that had happened and I really didn't know what I was saying. She was right, you know. I slept for more than twenty four hours and I was horrified when I woke up, about what I had done. I asked to see Brother again, to apologize. Before I saw him I was visited by a representation of the ESUN government. Security section. Heero, they had an arrest warrant for Milliardo for war crimes. I said there had been a general amnesty but they said it never applied to Brother. They wanted to know where he was, so that he could be arrested and taken into custody. That there would be riots from frightened citizens if he was seen."

"What did you do?" So that caterer was ESUN Security. Had to be.

Relena was quiet for a while and finally bowed her head and whispered. "I lied. I said I did not know where he was. Which was sort of the truth because I didn't know where Sally Po had taken him, or if he was even still at Preventer Headquarters. I doubted he was there though. When I said I had an appointment at Preventers they came, too, and informed Lady Une that they had the warrant and they were there to arrest Milliardo. She ordered them out of the building when they demanded to search for him. It was horrible. I was desperate to come up with a solution to the problem. When we thought it was safe Lady Une took me to see Brother. We talked and in the end he agreed with an idea I had, only Noin would not allow him to go alone and insisted that she go too. She's so in love with him."

//Oh, oh. That has to be the starry eyed look I hear other agents talking about. It means trouble. Have to get her back on subject.//

"To Mars?"

"Yes. To the Terra forming project on Mars. I was going to hire lawyers and work on that arrest warrant but they tied my hands. They know where he is and have him watched. If I make one wrong move they will kill him, Heero. Noin thinks I don't want Brother back on Earth; that I am not working to get him pardoned. Now he has babies to think of, too. They told me about the twins just today, and they want me to sign an authorization for them to take the twins into protective custody. They are to be raised in a protected environment on Earth, far away from any influence Brother may have on them. If I don't sign the agreement, they will kill Milliardo and Noin, too. I just don't know what to do, Heero."

"Does Zechs know he's watched?" I was sure I knew the answer to that, but while she was talking she could not cry. That man was no one's fool.

"I presume so. Brother is not an idiot."

"Do you know if he knows for certain that they know where he is? Did they reveal their knowledge before he left for Mars?"

"No. No, I don't know if he … oh, Heero, I just don't know for sure. Lady Une had a supply transport almost ready to go at the time. Two days after our talk Milliardo and Noin left. I promised I would push through the paperwork to make the colony on Mars a reality as quickly as possible, so that they would not have just the bare basics any longer than necessary, and more people than just the exploration party as company."

"They are soldiers, Relena. Hard conditions would not have bothered them at all."

"That's what Noin said." Relena whispered. "What can I do, Heero? It's just too cruel if they take the babies away. I don't even know how they discovered so quickly where Brother went. So few were told."

"Marquis Wayridge." Pagan's voice over the ear piece startled me. He whispered the name, repeating it quietly but firmly. "Talk to Marquis Wayridge. He is their grandfather and on the Council. He has considerable influence in many circles of power. He may be able to have the arrest warrant and this idiocy squashed."

Time to put myself back in charge of this situation. Much as it was nice to cuddle Relena we can't sit here, in the middle of a maze, freezing while we talk. If we need to go to Luxembourg tomorrow, then I have to get her in out of the cold. I'll have to change her agenda for tomorrow.

"Well, first you're going to wash your face and have a good night's sleep. Then, tomorrow-later today, I mean" I said after a quick glance at my watch. "if we can rearrange your appointments, you and I will fly to Luxembourg and you can tell all of this to Marquis Wayridge. We shall see what he has to say about this. Oh, and tomorrow morning, first thing before breakfast, you will see Pagan and tell him what you have told me."

"He will hate me." A whisper.

"No, Relena, he will not." I set her on her feet and stood. "Come on. I will escort you to your suite."

I now had a lot to do tonight, before I could even consider getting sleep. Her schedule was going to need major rearrangement and I would need to have a shuttle readied. First, though, I had to get her safely to her rooms.

t.b.c.


	12. Chapter 12

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 12

New Port City

Sanc Palace

Date 28th February AC 198

Time: 02:45

[Same night as chapter 11

Duo

"You did not help, Maxwell." The patented Heero Yuy death glare pierced the room the second the door opened.

"Awe, c'mon, Heero. You got to admit it was funny." A manic grin defied the glare.

"Not from where I was sitting."

Pagan was still in the room, tidying a tray of fresh coffee, tea and sandwiches. He set out three mugs and poured coffee in two and then looked expectantly at Heero.

"Green Tea, Mr. Yuy, or coffee?"

"Tea, please."

"Set your bones down, Hee-chan. We need to talk."

"Duo, when will you stop calling me that?" // Braided idiot. How ever did he get so good at what he does, with an attitude like that?//

"Dunno. Maybe when you get a life?"

"Mr. Maxwell. You will play nice." Pagan rumbled, piercing Duo with a glare, then turning to Heero. "Mr. Yuy, it is not considered to be good form when you are comforting a young lady, to threaten to kill her if she chooses not to confide in you. Would you please recall that should you ever be called upon to repeat the performance."

// I saw Heero Yuy blush and lived to tell the tale. Nyah. Not that I'm likely to spread the story around. No, not with Heero's penchant for shooting what annoys the hell out of him -which I try to do on a fairly regular basis when he's around. Or when this deceptive old man who looks like everyone's favorite grandfather is around. Man, Pagan has so many sides to him. I like the old dude, I really do. Hey, how many people would threaten to do away with Shinigami's favorite food?// Duo mused.

"We need to discuss this matter of the imprisonment of Master Milliardo." Pagan continued.

"Did you know he was on Mars?" Heero pinned Pagan with a stare which the old man, to Duo's delight, ignored.

"I did not, Mr. Yuy. I had come to speak with Master Duo concerning my fears for Master Milliardo this evening. Miss Relena and I had a disagreement over the young master earlier today. I felt something had to be done."

Heero settled in a seat before the bank of monitors and Pagan took his seat across from the desk where Duo sat. Duo chose to take a sandwich and watch the other two men, who seemed to be avoiding any eye contact at all. Both seemed lost in their own thoughts.

"Well, we know where they are now." Duo shrugged. "The ESUN Security Agents won't be leaving for Mars for another three months. The government can't take the kids unless they send up a special flight. Those inter-planetary shuttles are few and far between. One for emergency use, one in transit and one on exploration beyond the asteroid belt, heading for Jupiter, isn't it?"

"Hn." Heero shook his head in the negative. "A supply shuttle is due to land on Mars in a couple of days. It carries the first of the workers for the interior constructions needed for the Alpha Dome. According to the manifest I saw, it also carries with it a force of ten security officers to maintain order among the workers on the shuttle and on Mars. Those security officers are not Preventer agents. In fact the shuttle was scheduled to take up two Preventer Agents to set up an office in the Alpha Dome. Their inclusion was cancelled at the last minute due to a weight anomaly. Someone miscalculated the load capacity."

"Yeah, right." Duo drawled. "Convenient. And you know this because?"

"Because after I settled Relena with her maid I did a quick hack of the Colony Settlement Agency's recent activity. The shuttle due to land on Mars in two to three days time is also slated to leave on the return journey to Earth a week after that. They could take prisoners back with them. There is also one of the ESUN patrol cruisers, the Wellington, in the vicinity of Mars, I believe. Two or three days behind the shuttle. Her mission, as far as I can determine, is to search for Raiders in the vicinity of the Asteroid Belt. She's a hunter killer."

//A week. That would give us a week at most to do something. What could we possibly do about this whole thing in that amount of time// Duo mused.

"Master Milliardo and Miss Noin would not willingly allow their children to be taken." Pagan contemplated his coffee. "Marquis Wayridge is our best hope to forestall any further action by the Earth Sphere Unified Nations Security Agents. If the agents on Mars do not receive instructions to abduct the children, then there will be no need for either Master Milliardo or Miss Noin to place themselves in danger."

//An ideal solution. Somehow I can't see us being lucky. // Duo mused.

"Always presuming the people in charge of this little exercise are working for the Unified Nations." Duo commented. "Or that instructions have not already been issued."

"Miss Relena certainly believes them to be from the ESUN." Pagan returned.

"I doubt that Relena knows the whole story, only what they wanted her to know, or believe." Heero took a sandwich and munched thoughtfully. "The whole thing smells fishy."

"Romefeller?" Duo questioned.

"Romefeller was disbanded after the one year war." Pagan replied. "The Council of Nobles that took its place is headed by Marquis Wayridge. I suppose he might have considered Master Milliardo as too unknown an element in the current situation, and may have had a hand in this, though I do doubt it. I do not believe that the Marquis knows Master Milliardo is alive. Someone else on the Council, most likely. If the Council is involved."

"Pagan, you were telling me about what happened after Sanc fell to the Alliance. Why didn't you take Zechs to his grandfather?" Duo leaned back in his seat folding his arms behind his head and watching the old retainer thoughtfully. He would avoid mentioning his certain knowledge that Romefeller still existed and had an interest in Milliardo Peacecraft. At the present time only a select few needed to know that.

"I did, Master Duo. The Marquis Wayridge deemed it an unnecessary risk to his freedom to work in politics, should he sanction protecting the heir to Sanc." Pagan sighed. "It was from Marquis Wayridge that I received the money to enroll Master Milliardo in the boarding school. That was the extent of the assistance he extended to me. To his grandson."

Heero frowned. "That does not allow much hope that he will interfere now. He is still active in politics."

"Miss Relena can be very persuasive. It is my hope that the Marquis will not deny her this. He sees Queen Katerina in her, and thus far has rather indulged her when they have met. While he has had no time for his grandson, he has made time for his granddaughter."

"Hn. If he will not help, then we need a back up plan."

Pagan refilled his coffee cup and Duo's, arching a bushy brow at Heero, who nodded and received a refill of his tea. During this Duo considered the happenings of the night and the best options available to them.

His views on Relena would have to be realigned. He had not thought highly of her at all for the last few months, especially the last few days while he had been resident at the palace. He did not for an instant agree with her pacifist ideals, and that had not helped his opinion of her. Yes, she did work tirelessly for her goals; he had to give her points for her dedication. He now also had to reconsider her family values since she had not abandoned her brother, but had tried to cover up that she did indeed care for him. She had seemed sincere enough.

So, what were they to do? Relena was being threatened by the very government she was working so hard to aid. Her political standing was in jeopardy. Her personal safety was now surely coming into question if she denied the will of those out to influence her. If she denied them would they strike at her, or at those on Mars, where it seemed they now, or very soon, would have agents to do their bidding?

"Earth." Duo said. "Zechs is still a Preventer agent. Une knows he is on Mars. Does she know about this latest development, though? I think we need to talk to her. I don't know how much we should tell her about all of this. Hell, she's head of Preventers. She may have had a hand in this. In keeping Zechs confined on Mars. She could be working with the ESUN Security Agency. If not, she needs to concern herself with Relena's safety."

"Your job. I can't see Earth working with the ESUN Security Agency to this extent. I know she has a very low opinion of that agency just now. Something I overheard, that did not make sense then, but does in light of what we now know, suggests she may know something of this, but not all of it. Talk to her." Heero decided. "Pagan and I will be flying to Luxemburg tomorrow morning with Relena. You need to see Earth about personal matters, I believe. Perfect opportunity to inform her."

00000000000000000000000

Sanc Palace

Time: 03:35

Duo

// Man. I really get stuck with the dirty jobs. //

Duo considered the darkened grounds of the palace. He sat on the windowsill in his bedroom, looking at the snow covered grounds and not really seeing a thing. He was tired and not in a pleasant way. Too much had happened tonight for him to feel in any way content with the day. Hilde should have the court papers by now and who knew how she was taking that? Then Pagan comes to him and out of the blue gives him almost a running commentary on the childhood life of Zechs Merquise.

He did not want to know what the errant Prince of Sanc had lived through as a child. In too many ways it reflected his own childhood. Very unpleasant. He still had nightmares about Maxwell Orphanage.

// Pretty rotten way to speak about a kid in his hearing. Never gave it any thought before. My whole world was the street gang and the mission. When the mission was gone I was lucky enough to get a berth on that Sweeper ship. Then I met Doctor G. He wasn't such a bad old guy. We got along fairly well. Guess I always knew others had it bad, not just me. Still, why do I feel this way? I don't even understand what it is I am feeling. //

Somehow the vision of a little blonde boy sitting in a darkened room full of shadowy adults, all of them disclaiming responsibility for him, would not be banished. Solo had taken Duo in. Cared for him until the plague had changed his world again. Then Father Maxwell and Sister Helen had found him and he had become a part of the Maxwell House Church Mission. A home, albeit temporarily, as it turned out. He had found a place amid the sweeper crew and it seemed he had always fallen on his feet. Duo suddenly found himself thinking that maybe he had had rather a fortunate childhood. At least he had fallen on his feet.

// Why should it bother me? Pagan was there for him. Hey, that's odd. He never said where he found Zechs when he went back to Sanc. Nine months, he said it took to find him. What was he doing for that long// Duo shook his head, beginning to run the brush through his heavy mane of chestnut hair. //Never really thought about the war from another's point of view, I suppose. Guess he had a reason to fight the Alliance alright. Not so different to my own reasons. Yeah. Guess he had a reason to be so loyal to Kushrenada. I wonder what split them up? Heero seems to think they were working together to destroy the massed weapons on Earth and in the Colonies. Were they ever really enemies?//

Long practice saw the braid quickly woven and secured and Duo left the window seat and finally crawled into bed. It was more than forty eight hours since he had slept. It was becoming something of a habit. A habit he did not want to entertain with any frequency.

//Guess I will learn what Hilde will do soon enough. Man. I wouldn't want anything to happen to my son. Aidan Maxwell. Aiden Shbeiker. Aiden Schbeiker-Maxwell. You know, Zechs, I think I can see why you went a little loony there at the end. Nah. I still don't know what makes a guy like that tick. Well, Une, you and me, we got a date to discuss more than my boy. //

000000000000000000000000000000

Preventer Headquarters

Date: 28th February AC 198

Time: 10:05

Duo

"You can go in now, Reaper."

Duo flashed the secretary his trademark cheeky grin, no outward sign of his unease visible. He was very much not looking forward to Une's possible reaction to his news. The woman known as Earth stood at the plate glass windows overlooking the view of New Port City and the harbor. She was trim, neat in her uniform, her hair down, softening her features.

"Have a seat, Duo. Then you can explain to me why the Vice Foreign Minister is on her way to Luxembourg, when she should have been attending a reception in the Japanese Embassy?"

Earth, of course, knew about the abrupt change of plans. He and Heero, with Pagan's aid, had begun preparations for today's flight last night, notifying the necessary officials and security staff of the changes. Before the departure of the Vice Foreign Ministers shuttle, Relena had suggested all manner of means by which Duo should approach Lady Une over this matter. All of which entailed what Duo termed 'kissing ass' and 'avoiding the real issue' and even 'beating around the bush'. He was not and never would be a politician or diplomat. Duo by far appreciated the direct approach and figured that Earth herself would do so as well.

"Family emergency. Relena is on her way to see the Marquis Wayridge in Luxembourg."

"I am aware of that, Reaper. I was informed of her destination. I am aware of a great many things, not all of which I am supposed to know, I am sure. What I want to know is why? What is the nature of this 'family emergency'."

The Lady turned and settled into her place behind the desk. As she did so she drew Duo's attention to the softly glowing light inset on a ornamental carving bordering her desk. Duo nodded briefly, recognizing the security precaution. They were protected from listening ears. It was a device that should not have been active in the office at all, not for a meeting of the purposes this was supposed to be. What the ESUN did not know was that Heero had made some modifications to the device, at Une's request. It was good to see just how far Lady Une, known as Earth to the Preventers, did not trust the ESUN government.

"Miss Relena had a visit from an ESUN security agent yesterday, before the dinner party. She held together for the reception, but after the guests had departed Relena broke down. She was informed that she was required to sign a document stating it necessary to abduct, from Mars, the children of Milliardo Peacecraft, a.k.a. Zechs Merquise, and Lucrezia Noin."

He was impressed. Not so much as a twitch out of Une, but somehow it felt that the temperature in the room dropped around ten degrees. He was sure she knew. Certain of it. Something at least about what was going on on Mars was known to this woman who once had terrorized even her own people. For a few minutes the Lady remained seated, brown eyes turned to the window as she considered the implications. Not a flicker of emotion betrayed her to the avidly watching agent.

"The reason given?" No inflection in her voice hinted at her emotions. She continued to stare out the window, just the faintest narrowing of her eyes betraying her intense thoughts.

"The twins are to be raised in controlled conditions away from the influence of the maniac who tried to destroy the earth." He wondered if she would react to that.

"I see. Why the Marquis Wayridge?" Not so much as the flicker of an eye lid betrayed her thoughts to Duo's somewhat provocative statement.

"Miss Relena hopes he can use his influence to stop any instructions being relayed to agents we believe will shortly arrive on Mars concerning the abduction. Perhaps even have his cooperation in having the arrest warrant against Zechs lifted."

"Well, there is no chance he could do the latter. The ESUN government is afraid of its own shadow. They'll never have Zechs anywhere he might cause them the slightest trouble. I doubt the Marquis would lift a finger to interfere in the matter, one way or the other. As for the other matter, when did Noin give birth?"

"I gather very recently." // Hmm. Did she know? I'm not sure. It's hard to read her. //

"The shuttle is due to land within a day, I believe. I suspected there might be a problem concerning Zechs when they made certain no Preventer Agents were onboard that flight."

A small smirk tilted her lips and with a touch of a finger to a hidden control under her desk the softly glowing light died. Any listener now would hear what was said. Duo straightened imperceptibly, tensing.

"Duo. Hilde is waiting for you. She has agreed to your proposal for maintenance payments for your son and for visiting rights, including your being listed as the child's father and next of kin should anything happen to her. The matter of changing the child's surname is still under discussion and I would advise you not say anything about it whilst you are on L2. You have a visitation listed for twenty three hundred hours, Earth time, tonight. I have a shuttle booking made as per the usual arrangements and you are slated for time off to sort your personal problems. At the present time, I have not listed you for a return date to active duty."

"I …" This was fast. Unexpected. He had work to do with those Romefeller files and had not expected such quick action. Hilde had raised no objections? There had to be more than this. He had not expected Lady Une to push for a settlement of the matter so quickly.

"No arguments, Reaper. You will be of no use on a mission if your personal problems get in the way. Is that understood?" Lady Une was writing quickly on a sheet of paper which was then slipped into a waiting flight schedule.

"Understood. How long do I have off? An estimate?" He reached to take the schedule, sliding it across the table and into a pocket.

"Take as long as you need. Hilde was cooperative. More so than I expected, but I think you have some serious matters to deal with. Not only concerning your son, but your relationship with Hilde as well. Having a child means more responsibility than merely paying maintenance and seeing the child every week or so."

"I'm kinda new to this. It's gonna be strange."

"Take all the time you need. I'm sure I can trust you to treat the matter with kid gloves, Duo, and to not abuse the privilege of the time off I have slotted for you. Hilde believes she had her reasons for the actions she had taken. We all believe we have reasons for what we do, Duo." Her brown eyes stared intently in to blue-violet orbs, conveying a message. "Don't just judge anyone on past actions. Listen carefully to what they say and be open minded." Lady Une seemed to apply subtle inflection to that comment and then to subtly relax, the intensity easing. "It hurt you, but give her a fair hearing. I have always considered you to be fairly open minded and willing to give everyone a fair hearing. Don't change that now."

"I don't intend to start a ruckus." Why did he get the impression she was talking about more than his problems with Hilde?

"Good. Your flight leaves in a few hours." That was a tactic dismissal if he had ever heard one.

Walking through headquarters Duo made his way to the locker room he used when on duty here. Checking the room was empty he settled at his locker and opened the flight schedule. The ticket was a standard class shuttle pass, no name listed. A standard ticket for use by a Preventer Agent on short notice. He was to call the Service and supply his name. The flight was listed to depart in three hours. What really needed his attention was the note from Une.

_If you can be trusted to be discreet and not kill Zechs on sight signal Earth at 13:00. Contact will be made. I will alert my agents on Mars to the problem and to be on guard and watch for the ESUN agents. Preventer Agents were on supply shuttle as precaution. Details to be supplied later. There is an alternate site on Mars that is unknown to the ESUN. I may have to make them hide there for a time, until we can have them picked up. _

_Be certain to take a present for your son._

Duo sat in silence, rhythmically shredding the note into tiny pieces. In seconds the pieces were burning to ash in a metal tray and for good measure he scattered the ashes. So . Indeed, he would need a little time to sort his personal problems. How long did it take to get to Mars? With the new shuttles, about three months, he believed with Mars current position in relation to Earth. What transport could Une provide? To the best of his knowledge the ESUN had the most advanced ships for long range space travel. Three months. It would all be over by then, surely? All over and not even a mess for him to clean up.

He sighed, his thoughts turning to the foot note on the missive. "A present? What do you buy for a baby?"

"Problem, Reaper?"

"Huh?" Duo turned and then grinned, noting who had entered the changing rooms. "Oh. Hi, Wu Fei. No. No problem. I'm off to L2. Got to see my son and I was just wondering what I should take."

Dark eyes widened. "Son?"

Chang Wu Fei had not changed dramatically in the three years since Duo had first met him. He was still short and a Justice Freak, with dark hair tied back into a tight pony tail, though now his hair was considerably longer, hanging past his shoulders even in the pony tail. His facial structure had thinned and firmed with the years, showing the more mature features and hinting that he would, in a few years, be a very handsome individual indeed.

"Yep. The God of Death has a little demon. Catch ya later, Wu-man." Duo grinned wickedly heading for the door.

"Maxwell!" Duo turned at the door with a cheeky grin. Wu Fei cracked a smile. "Maybe a teddy bear?"

Duo smiled, no trace of the manic grin he was renowned for, simply a pleasant smile that turned his eyes a bewitching shade of lavender. "Thanks, Wu Fei."

"Maxwell. Maybe a scythe, even?" At the shocked look on Duo's face the Preventer chuckled. "Don't call me Wu-man, Maxwell."

Laughing Duo almost skipped out of the locker room and decided he had time to do a little shopping before heading to the palace to pack a few things for his trip. He'd have to leave a message for Heero, too. Not an obvious message, but a hint that he should talk to Earth about his sudden departure. He was uncertain just what he should take with him, if he was to take an extended space flight. Best to fetch nothing that would not be considered normal for a flight to the colony. He would need to take copies of the Romefeller Files, however. There was no way he was going to leave that little mystery behind him. He would have to shop on L2 for anything that he considered he might need. Like normal reading material. What did you do on an extended flight except get bored to tears?

A bored Shinigami was not a pleasant thought, even for Shinigami himself.

With a faint shrug Duo shelved the notion. He could consider that en route to L2. He had never considered that he might have to remain in a confined space for months at a time. The thought almost terrified him. By nature he was not a solitary individual. He liked people, to be active and entertained. Just what would he do to keep himself from going stir crazy in space?

"Teddy bear, Maxwell. Maybe you should buy yourself one to cuddle too."

t.b.c.


	13. Chapter 13

Warning about this part. Lots of changing perspective. Hope it doesn't bother you, but it was the only way I could get the story to talk to me and make sense. I'm sure other writers out there will understand.

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 13

Luxembourg

Date 28th Feb AC 198

Time: 11:45

Relena

Relena had requested a private meeting with her grandfather, and the old politician's secretary had sent a confirmation and the location of the meeting as the Marquis's private manor on the outskirts of the city. A rambling house rebuilt after the destruction of Luxembourg by Romefeller's OZ retaliation against the Treize Faction. The house was constructed from original blueprints dating from the 1800s, pre-colony era. As the black limousine rolled through the high gates after passing the security check, Relena silently admired the sprawling classical manor house and then shuddered. Everything looked so ordinary. So ordered. As though the war had never happened. As though there was no strife on Earth. It seemed as though she was stepping into another world. A world where time had not changed. She half expected to see ladies in flowing gowns walking the gardens. A much more sedate, genteel era.

The footmen at the door were even dressed in period regalia, in royal blue and gold jackets and snow white breeches. Relena noticed that Pagan seemed ill at ease and wondered why. The old retainer had always been there for her and she had hated being at odds with him. It seemed he had forgiven her readily enough, but she had the distinct impression that Pagan knew far more than she had told him.

He seemed quite relaxed with Heero in their company as well. She had had the impression at one stage that he disapproved of her near obsession with the former gundam pilot. Lately though, his resistance had seemed to soften, but then, she admitted, she had stopped pursuing Heero so obsessively. She was eighteen, after all, not a silly young girl infatuated with a dashing young man who constantly threatened to kill her.

She had had to grow up quickly over the last two years. She had had to deal with more than her girlish dreams of dangerous men threatening to kill her and imagining them falling in love and him coming to her rescue. True, some of those things had happened. He was darkly mysterious, her Heero and he had, indeed, threatened to kill her. However the romance she had dreamt of had failed to eventuate. Heero had been conspicuous by his absence for much of the time between the Barton Incursion and now. He was her on again, off again bodyguard supplied by Preventers. It had been little more than a year since he had enlisted in Preventers and she had no idea where his many wanderings had taken him, though he seemed to have most of the wanderlust out of his system. She knew how serious the threats against her were when Heero was assigned to her protection.

Where had time gone? Where had she lost control of her life? Had she ever had control since she had met a particular Gundam Pilot? It seemed her greatest challenges were fought with or about the gundam pilots. Not just Heero, but the whole five of them had actually needed her protection, and she had fought hard for them. Her quiet struggle against the ESUN Security Agency had not been just about her brother. She and Lady Une had had to work tirelessly to keep all of the Gundam Pilots out of the justice system.

The general amnesty that followed the war had enabled them to keep the pilots identities from being widely known. The fact the pilots had fought the White Fang and prevented Libra from impacting Earth had earned them freedom, provided they could be contained and controlled. Yes, Relena admitted, older as she now was, she could admit that the pilots had been Terrorists with a capital T. They had killed thousands of people. They had controlled such power in those machines and they had used that power to kill. They were soldiers. Killers when needed, not that she considered it necessary to kill.

She was a Pacifist. The true daughter of the King of Pacifists, and the foster daughter of the man who had worked tirelessly to bring about peace between Earth and the Colonies.

She blushed, biting at her lower lip. She oh -so- clearly recalled herself ordering Heero to kill her own brother. "Heero kill that man!" She, the advocate of total pacifism, had screamed that out over an open channel. Miss Noin had been so disappointed in her. No, not disappointed, she reflected. Not exactly. Hurt. Very hurt. Noin loved Milliardo and now they had children. Relena sighed. She was an Aunt. Would she ever see her nephew and niece? Would she ever really get to know her brother?

"The Marquis is waiting in the solarium." The servant bowed and led the way through the gold gilded grand foyer and out into a great glass enclosed room filled with tropical plants.

The heat in the room was a sharp contrast with the freezing chill of the air outside the manor. The air was perfumed with the exotic scents of tropical plants and steamy with tropical heat and high humidity. Brilliantly coloured butterflies fluttered from vibrantly coloured flower to flower as they stepped out of the small hallway connecting the house to the enclosed environment of the solarium. With the door securely closed behind them the servant assisted with the shedding of winter clothing and led them into the rainforest setting toward the sound of running water.

"Thank you, Peterson. That will be all."

Seated on a cane settee in a white painted gazebo the Marquis Wayridge stood to greet his guests, extending both hands toward Relena. A beaming smile greeted his granddaughter.

"My dear granddaughter, you look more like your mother with every passing day. It is a pleasure to see you again and outside the halls of power is a rarer thing." He embraced Relena and then turned to the two men who followed her. "I know Pagan, of course, but I do not recall ever having met this young man."

"A very close friend, Heero Yuy, who is also my Security Chief." Relena introduced, deliberately avoiding mentioning any more about Heero. "Heero and Pagan have convinced me that I should talk to you about a rather serious matter that, I am afraid, I have lost total control over. I need your help, Grandfather."

"Please, be seated, My Dear." The old politician settled himself on the settee again, drawing Relena down with him. "Tell me what an old man can do for you?"

-----------------------------------

Pagan

Pagan stood beneath the fronds of a massive fern, watching the old Marquis. He looked almost the same as on another day so many years before, when Pagan had come to him. Desperate. In his arms had been a very tired, very disheveled six year old boy. It was not a conversation the old retainer would forget in a hurry. Less than an hour they had been on the estate belonging to the Marquis. Less than an hour it had taken for the Marquis to turn his back on his grandson.

He had been heartbroken that the child had had to remain during the heated discussion that had resulted not in a safe and secure, loving home, but in the promise of funds for a boarding school. They had been hustled out quietly and quickly lest anyone learn that they had appeared. Exile to a small boarding school in the middle of nowhere, where he knew no one and that only after Pagan had reminded the noble, repeatedly, that the child was his much loved daughter's son. Pagan was in no way happy to see the Marquis again.

"What did I do wrong, Pagan? Why do we keep getting sent away?" The sleepy, heartbreaking whisper still remained with him to this day, and seeing the Marquis now only brought his anger surging back. He only hoped that the Marquis would give aid for the granddaughter, where he would not for the grandson.

-----------------------------------

Heero

"I need your help. I know it will be asking a lot on a very sensitive subject, but I can not leave this alone. The general amnesty offered after the One Year War was, I assumed, to apply to all participants in the fighting. It was to apply to OZ soldiers, the army assembled by Treize Kushrenada, the Gundam Pilots and to the White Fang."

"Yes, I believe that is the case."

"The ESUN Security Office has, however, issued certain documents that defy the amnesty. In one case the Gundam Pilots were to be arrested and tried as Terrorists."

The Marquis nodded slowly. "I know of this. Though the young men involved did have a major role to play in the destruction of the Libra, they were, never the less, terrorists, Relena. Still, the warrant was suspended. I believe that you and that woman, Lady Une, handled the appeal. Quite well, actually. I know you were associated with some of the pilots. Really, My Dear, you should watch out and be more careful of who your friends are. You could do severe damage to your political standing."

Heero shot a fierce look at the old man, but then looked to Pagan quickly. He was standing right next to the old retainer and he saw the fierce light in his faded eyes that wiped away years from him. He also heard the low growl of anger and was more than surprised. Pagan had always seemed the unflappable one.

He himself was not too amused by the Marquis's words, or their implications both to the past and to any future actions that might take place. He could see that Relena was not happy about it either. Suddenly he was not so hopeful Relena was going to get any help here.

A discreet cough interrupted the conversation and the servant returned, placing a heavily laden tray on the cane table near the Marquis. An elaborate tea service and plates of delicate sandwiches and pastries was set out and the Marquis dismissed the servant, watching as Relena chose to pour the tea and offer her grandfather something to eat.

"Ah, thank you, My Dear. Now then. What is it you want of me? You have successfully defended the Gundam Pilots. They may be under probation, but they are free to come and go as they please. You must realize the necessity for this type of action. One can not have trained soldiers running around wily nilly without some checks and balances. This is still a fragile peace and we must work to ensure it grows."

"Milliardo." Relena whispered the name.

The Marquis winced and set aside his tea cup. "My dear, your brother's life was a tragic thing. I wished so much more for him. Had he not come under the influence of those people I am certain he would have been a very different man. The Kushrenada's …"

----------------------------

Pagan

" …Took Master Milliardo in when his own grandfather threw him out on a winter night. Those people sheltered him for many years and saw to his every need. Those people loved him more that his own blood kin." Pagan fairly snarled, glaring at the Marquis in rage.

"You really need to mind your place, Pagan." The Marquis snapped back. "You know nothing …"

"I know more than you ever credited me knowing. Miss Relena" Pagan turned to the wide eyed girl staring at him in amazement.

He had never interrupted before as he did now, but he could see that she needed to understand very quickly where they stood on this matter. If she did not suspect it from this beginning then she was not half the politician he knew her to be. No, it was better that he take the Marquis's anger than Relena. They were old men and there had never been any love lost between the two of them. Relena might yet be able to salvage any damage done to her standing with her grandfather over this matter. He already knew how it would end.

"I apologize to you for my behavior, but I can not listen to this man insult the only people who were willing to protect your brother. It was a long time ago, and I had hoped the Marquis would recall what his last decision concerning Master Milliardo resulted in. I assumed he might have learned to see beyond politics. I appear to be wrong. I doubt you will receive the help you had hoped for here. I apologize for raising your hopes."

------------------------------

Relena

Heero lightly touched the old man's sleeve, a gentle touch offering more comfort than restraint, aware that Relena was watching Pagan with wide eyes. Her eyes had deepened with her tumultuous emotions and she looked to the Marquis, face pale.

"Milliardo came to you? You turned him away?"

The Marquis sighed and bowed his head. "Your brother came to me, yes. Pagan brought him. It was not safe for him, or I, in those times. Do you think I enjoyed turning away Katerina's child? How much use do you think I could have been in reigning in the Alliance excesses if I had taken in the boy? We would have been discovered. Alliance officials were forever in and out of my estates in those days and I traveled constantly. Your brother was just too noticeable to be safely hidden on my estates."

"Yet the Kushrenadas managed it." Relena glared at her grandsire. "From what little I know he was with them for many years. If they could manage it, why could you, his grandfather, not?"

"Relena, the politics of the time made it too dangerous for me to offer more than the finances to place him in a boarding school. I will not apologize for my actions then. Past is past. Had Pagan not removed your brother from the boarding school and given him to those people, we would not have faced the situation we did. Your brother would not have become the leader of the White Fang and might well be alive today. Your father and mother would have been horrified at what he did. I can not forgive him his warped view on the pacifist principles of your father. He would have been disinherited had he survived the war. He was no true son of the Peacecrafts."

Relena gasped, horribly reminded of her own similar words on a number of occasions. Reminded she had rejected everything to do with her brother since the Libra incident. //I am no better. I did the same thing, but I have had time to think. To consider new information. Grandfather has had even more resources than I, has he not chosen to learn why my brother became so desperate//

"How dare you! Grandfather that is a horrible thing to say. Even I can understand what Brother was trying to do. I had to step back from it and take a really long hard look to see it, but I could, in the end. That is not to say that I agree with what he did, or how he did it, but the fact remains that we have the peace we all sought. And that we have it because of what he did. Directly because of what he did."

The Marquis sighed and waved a hand in the air, dismissing the topic. "The point is moot, anyway. Yes, we have peace. Now we must work to maintain that peace. Relena, you have your mother's fire and passion, and you focus that on your father's drive for the total pacifist principle. You can go far in this world and will bring about that peace, but you must control your passions. You are a diplomat. You must see the broad picture, not concentrate on a narrow field of vision. Your brother was a tragic mistake on my part. It's done. He's dead and we must go on and ensure that there is no cause for anyone ever to enter into a war again."

For a long moment Relena struggled to retain control. She could not believe she was hearing this from her grandfather. For a moment she loathed politics. For politics he had betrayed the blood that they shared. Betrayed a little boy's need for family when his world had fallen apart.

//Oh, Milliardo, I'm sorry. I never understood. I never knew everyone turned away from you. I turned away from you on the Libra. When you put your arms around me I-I didn't hug you back. You really did only have Treize, didn't you? I need to understand you, Brother.//

"If you want to stop any further chance of war, and if you are sincere about being sorry for turning Milliardo away, then there is something you can do, grandfather."

---------------------------------

Heero

Pagan looked as though he would erupt into a rage or pass out, Heero wasn't sure which. The old retainer was clearly reliving bygone days, and they were not pleasant memories. Given the attitude the Marquis had shown to date, Heero knew he considered Pagan as a servant who had stepped out of the bounds of his profession. Marquise Wayridge was hide bound in traditions where the nobility knew how to rule and the servants were not to step above themselves.

He himself felt anger. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a family. He had watched from hiding the warmth and love in many families and between people in general, and wondered at what he had missed out on. He could not recall his parents. What would his life have been like had they survived? He could see the hurt in Relena. The pain that her grandfather had caused her by his callous disregard for her brother, and his placing of politics first. Suddenly he wondered if he was not better off not having family.

--------------------------------

Relena

"What might that be, Relena? I have no wish to hurt you, My Dear, but you must be made aware of the facts as they are. In our station we must put many things above our own lives. Or the lives of our family. It distresses me, the fate of your brother, but we must go beyond that. He made his choice. A choice that his parents would never have sanctioned, let alone understood. I still do not understand what he thought he could accomplish. The Kushrenada's turned a Pacifist into a War Monger. That was shameful of them. More shame to your brother for allowing it to happen. It is past. What can I do to further the peace?"

Relena trembled, fighting to control her shaking. She was deeply ashamed. Ashamed that she found she could not believe her grandfather's protests of distress over the results of his actions. He said it too mildly, with shallow emotion. She was a politician and she could read just how distressed he was not. Yes, she could see that he preferred to place the blame of her brother's shame squarely on the family that took him in.

"You can help me stop the ESUN Security Office from plunging us all back into a war. Milliardo joined the White Fang and threatened to destroy Earth, for our father's pacifist principles to be embraced by all. What do you think he would be capable of doing if someone stole his children 'for the good of all mankind'?"

"What?" The Marquis looked stunned. "What are you talking about?"

"Milliardo is alive. He has two children and the ESUN Security Office is trying to force me to sign papers, that will allow them to abduct those children and have them reared on Earth, in protective custody, away from their parents. Do you think Milliardo would allow that, grandfather?"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Alternative Directions: Options

Sanc

New Port City

Date: 28th February AC 198

Time: 12:50

Duo

Duo ran his fingers through the shaggy black fur, gazing deep into the golden brown eyes. A satin bow of a rich deep blue circled the bear's neck and the inner curve of the ears were lined with a dark red velvet. The pads on the paws were rich dark brown velvet and he ran a finger over the soft plush pile. He had looked through a dozen toy stores and specialty baby stores until he had found this bear. This was the one. This bear was the one he would give to his son. He had a son. Somehow it seemed more real now that he held the bear. What would he feel when he actually saw the baby? Touched the baby.

Within hours he would, again be on L2, place of his birth. The place where his life had been shaped by one disaster after another. He had returned to L2 after the One Year War and quickly become discontent with his new life style, though he had loved Hilde. After the Barton Incursion the discontent had begun to change, and Hilde could no longer ignore it. Nor could he. He had made a decision, and he was not about to go back on that choice. He doubted Hilde would tolerate it if he did. She was and had always, been fiercely independent.

The beeping of his vidwatch alarm drew his attention from the bear and he nodded slightly. Ten minutes to go before he called Earth to acknowledge the mission he was not officially going on. Ten minutes. He could still change his mind. He had time. He certainly did not want to be cooped up in a interplanetary shuttle for months, but … It was the but that stopped him. Someone had to do it. Someone had to go to Mars and stop what could turn out to be a very nasty situation. If not stop it, then tidy up the mess it would leave.

He knew that the ESUN Security Office still had him watched, as part of the deal Miss Relena and Lady Une had brokered on behalf of the Pilots. It would be another three years before he would come off their probation, provided, of course, he did nothing to aggravate their delicate sensibilities. So he was going to have to break the tail they would undoubtedly have waiting for him when he reached the colony. That would not be hard. The agents had progressively relaxed as he had made no move to lose them in the past. They always remained outside of any missions he worked for Preventers, to preserve his cover and not tip off his targets. This was to be personal leave, so he could expect the tail.

He would have to await final instructions from Preventer Earth, before he took any actions of his own. He trusted her enough to wait to see what she would provide to ease his way. He also had to trust her to look out for Hilde and the baby. That rankled just a little. He had always been independent, but he had always been on his own. Now he had another who could be held accountable, however unfairly, by those in power. What ever he chose to do, he would have to consider the repercussions for his son.

// I can refuse to do this. All I have to do is let the clock tick over the hour and she will get someone else to go. Just let the clock tick over the hour. Ah, damn. Who you kidding, Maxwell? You always wanted to see strange and exotic places. Someone has to do it. You tried settling down and look where that got you. Working with the Preventers because you couldn't take the peace any more. Civilian life doesn't agree with you. You need adrenalin rushes like other people need coffee.//

He shrugged and sauntered over to the vid-consol. Punched out the code and waited. Ringing. No answer. Again, for show, he shrugged and strolled away from the public unit to the nearby café and ordered an espresso. Mission accepted. He had an hour before he had to be at the shuttle terminal and all he would need was in the tote bag already at the terminal. He hoped they enjoyed their hunt through his underwear. There was no doubt that the ESUN Security Agents would search his luggage, he had found the evidence of their handy work before. They really were fools if they thought a Gundam pilot would be fool enough to put anything other than clothing in his public luggage.

But, then, he had already long ago decided they were fools.

He had the Romefeller files, really the only thing he thought needed hiding, hidden on encrypted disks. He trusted Heero's computer skills to ensure that only a very select few individuals would be able to access that information. The portable player secured to his belt contained one of those minidisks and would only play music unless you knew how to access the information stored there. The belt pouch he wore contained the other diskettes. He would not have chanced the snoops finding them.

For show; he was certain his current tail was the oh-so-proper-business-man three tables behind him, he ejected the diskette in the player and rifled through a few others before choosing a selection of fairly old music. Nothing really old and classic that someone on his paycheck could not afford. No, music from thirty or so years ago that was still played and covered by new artists. He liked the style. If it was ever played by anyone else nothing would be out of the ordinary. He allowed a brief moment for the music to be heard softly in the café, settled the ear plugs and then settled back to enjoy his espresso.

// I wonder how Relena's doing in Luxembourg? If the old Marquis will come through for her? Damn, but I hope so. Pagan told me more than I really wanted to know about that old man. Seems cold to me to throw his grandson into some boarding school, in the middle of nowhere because it could damage his political career. Man, couldn't he have found a better place? Someone willing to look after the boy? I had more of a family from what Pagan's let on. Solo and the gang . Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. Now I have a son and responsibilities. I think I know why Hilde never told me. He's my son, though. I had a right to know, even if I don't live with them. I had a right to know. //

He watched as a young couple with a baby boy in their arms entered the café. A bundle of pale blue blanket with a dark spiky, but somehow soft looking crop of hair. Sighed. What did his son look like? Him or Hilde? Black hair or chestnut? What colour eyes? Was he a quiet baby or did he cry a lot? He was going to miss out on a lot of his son's life, but he would be there if he was needed. He would make sure of that.

He just hoped that he would not be needed when he was on this mission to Mars. Yet if he was, if something happened to Hilde while he was gone on this mission what would happen to his boy?

// A safe place. Someone to look after him until I can get back. I don't have anyone I could turn to who could look out for him, do I? God. I hate feeling helpless. I felt that enough when I was a kid. I don't need to feel it now . Nothing will happen to Hilde. She's okay. I'm okay, just going away for a while, but if something did happen, what would I do? I couldn't just drop a long range flight and pop back. Seemed to always be alone when I was a kid. Don't want Aidan to feel that. The other pilots sort of became my family. Trowa's at the circus most of the time. Don't know how much of a family life he has. Heero's certainly not suited to be a substitute dad. Wu Fei- ewee. I can't think of that. No way. I'll not have my son brought up to run around swinging a Katana and screaming "Justice". Got to be at least a scythe. Damn. Where did that come from? That would be frightening. A mini me running around waving a scythe and screaming Justice at the top of his lungs. Be worth seeing, that. The only one of us who has really had a family and still does is Quatre. I wonder if he would consider standing in for me? If he would look after Aidan if it became necessary? All those sisters and their kids. Maybe he could arrange for one of them to take in my boy? That's a thought. Maybe I should call him before I go?//

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Luxembourg

11:55

Marquis Wayridge

He paced the length of the gazebo well aware of the eyes of his granddaughter upon him. Pagan, that interfering old servant, glared at him in undisguised disgust and the young security officer was carefully blank faced. That boy had shown no reaction to anything spoken about here at all. He was what that servant had never been, the Marquis reflected, a servant to the nobility. Pagan had never known his place. He had even heard Pagan be named as a friend by King Stephan. As if one of the nobility, let alone Royalty could call a servant a friend.

He would make one concession to Pagan, though, and that was his loyalty. He had been fiercely loyal to the Peacecrafts. It was no poor sign of his discretion or intelligence either, that he had, in the end chosen to continue in service to the Peacecraft daughter. That was where the hope for the family lay. In Relena. It was a pity about the boy, but he had known from the boy's birth that he would never been the son his Katerina deserved. Never.

That was not the problem now, though. What he now had to decide was what it was best to do. The Peacecraft Prince was still alive. Impossible as it seemed after that explosion in space. How? Immaterial. He had heirs. At least he had done that right. Further the family line, although, of necessity, it would need to be Relena's children who would be reared to power. Relena's offspring who must be shaped to be the Ruling Heirs of the ancient dynasty. Milliardo's heirs would need to be protected from their father's reputation, and possibly could never be publicly acknowledged as Peacecrafts. That information would rock the Earth and the Colonies were it to be known on a general public level.

How had he survived? How could he possibly have survived that explosion? With Milliardo Peacecraft's survival the Earth's peace became even more fragile. He needed to ensure that this matter remained discreet.

"Where is he?"

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Relena

Relena considered her grandfather in silence for a moment, reflecting on just how much she could reveal. It was now obvious that she could expect little in the way of help from this source. So now she must reveal as little as possible and extricate herself as quickly as was polite. One day, she might need her grandfather's help. It would be best if she could leave here now without letting her anger become too obvious.

There was not going to be a magical solution to this dilemma. She could not rely on someone simply waving an arm and removing the problem. She really was going to have to out grow the fairy tales. It was time to grow up.

"Not in as safe a place as I had hoped would be the case." Relena returned, giving nothing away.

"Relena, you must understand that our first concern here must be the preservation of the peace. Should his survival become known he would be a figure head, willing or unwilling on his part, for any dissident factions that could gain his cooperation or capture. Milliardo is cursed. He can never return to a normal life and any child who had the misfortune to have him as a father, would be better taken and reared as someone else entirely. Protected from any knowledge of who their father was. I know it's not what you wanted to hear, child, but it's the truth. As much as you might like it to be otherwise, Milliardo cursed himself the day he enlisted in the White Fang."

000000000000000000000000

Pagan

Pagan stiffened, and if it had not been for Heero catching his arm and restraining him, gently but firmly, he knew to his shame as a servant that he would cheerfully have strangled the old noble. For an instant Pagan fought the pilot's grip, straining against the iron fingers and staring into the cold blue eyes. With an effort he regained control, forcing himself back into the mold of the family retainer, not the one time hot headed security officer from years past.

Control restored, he noted how very white faced Relena was. While the Marquis had his back to him, Relena had seen his anger and Heero's quick, silent action. He drew a deep, calming breath and bowed slightly.

"Your pardon, Miss Relena. With your permission I will wait in the car. I find myself unable to listen to this any longer."

"Of course, Pagan. I believe I shall not be long in joining you."

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Heero

Pagan bowed stiffly to Relena and then nodded to him, dark eyes under bushy brows meeting his own blue ones. An unspoken but clearly understood message passed between the two. For Pagan to remain here any longer was courting disaster. The safety of the Princess was up to Heero and he accepted that charge as was both his duty and, he found himself reflecting, more a growing sense of Right. It just felt Right to be so close to her, making certain that she was safe.

Pagan bowed to him and strode into the false rainforest, ignoring protocol by ignoring the Marquis in his departure. Heero watched the old man walk away, back ramrod straight, unbroken, despite what must have been a terrible blow to him. Pagan seemed to have more paternal instincts for the Peacecraft children than their grandfather, he reflected.

It was clear that Relena would fail here. Something else would have to be done about the trouble that would spark on Mars. He had known enough of Zechs since their strange meetings during the One Year War to know that he would have no choice other than to fight. If his children were all he had-and it certainly looked that way-then he would resist the ESUN Security Agents. People were going to die and it could very well spill over into trouble in the colonies and ultimately on Earth.

It presented them with a dilemma. Relena had come up with Mars as a safe haven for her brother, who must remain dead if the peace on Earth was to have a chance of succeeding. It had been an ideal solution, but now it was revealed to be only a stop gap measure. It was temporary. It left them with the question, that if not on Mars, then where could they hide the fugitive Peacecraft Prince?

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Relena

"I think it likely that you cursed him the day you sent him away." Relena whispered. "I am, more and more, beginning to understand my brother. I think I see now why my surrendering Sanc to Romefeller broke him. He had nothing else. He had given everything that was in him to free Sanc from Alliance rule, and in thirty seconds I threw it all away. To me it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. For Milliardo, though, it was the greatest wound I could ever have inflicted upon him."

Marquis Wayridge shook his head and waved a hand in the air dismissively. "It was the politically expedient thing to do. The only method left open to you and the right thing to do to keep some part of Sanc and its people preserved."

"I know that, well enough . It was not a decision I made lightly and I would likely do the same thing again if I needed to."

// But I disbanded the nation that was Sanc, that day. I threw away the national identity of the people who lived there. I wonder how I had the colossal gall to do it. Sanc still exists. The people have refused to be anything other than who they were before I announced to the world that I surrendered to Romefeller. All I could see was that my vision was in flames in the city below the palace. I thought of the vision. I thought of myself, surrendering to the unknown, and I made no provision for the people. They reformed Sanc without any help from me. How could they accept me back//

"Then do it now, Relena. Stay out of this matter of your brother's future. Sign the papers. The ESUN will have the children well cared for. I give you my word that I will see to it they are well cared for, and are taught as befits the grandchildren of King Stephan. They will be reared as Pacifists and they need never learn who their father was."

"And Milliardo?"

"If he does not see the reasoning behind it then, no doubt, he will fight the agents and likely die. As he should have done when the Libra was destroyed." The Marquis lightly touched her cheek. "It is not a nice thing to say, I know. It hurts to have to make some decisions, Relena, but they have to be made. It is not an easy life, emotionally to be a diplomat in power. We have a responsibility to the people of Earth to maintain this peace. It is the unfortunate truth that sometimes there must be sacrifices made."

"So I should sacrifice Milliardo?"

"Hard as it is, My Dear, yes. Your brother will have to fend for himself. His death is already a foregone conclusion. He died when Libra was destroyed. He is not alive now." The Marquis shook his head, moving to run a finger lightly over a vibrant red flower, bending to inhale the exotic perfume, before turning back to her. "What sort of a life is he leading, hm? Not a productive one. Not the life of a Peacecraft Prince. He should be in the very heart of the halls of power, advocating the Perfect Peace Principle."

"Oh, stuff the Perfect Peace Principle!" // Oh, Lord, I'm shouting at my grandfather, but I can't help it. // "I am fed up with the Perfect Peace Principle. What is the use of peace if you can't have your family enjoy it with you? What good is peace if it does not work for everyone? Perfect Peace. I am beginning to think there is no such thing. I should have listened to Milliardo on the Libra. He knew what I wanted was an ideal that would never be real. There is no perfect peace in this life, and this just proves it."

The Marquis returned to his seat, giving his attention to pouring another cup of tea for himself, choosing to ignore the outburst entirely. Sipping his tea he looked up, to meet fiery blue eyes, and smiled.

"Relena, you're overwrought. I am sorry, my dear child, but you are not a little girl now. You are a young woman. A diplomat. You are a world leader and you need to act your station. Nothing in this world is perfect. We can not expect it to be. We must do the best we can to provide for the people in the best way that we can. This world is at peace now. Yes, there are still rumbles of unrest. I do think you went a little overboard when you abolished national borders. A person's sense of identity is tied up with the land they were born and raised to. The land we love is an integral part of our identities. You need to concentrate your efforts in this direction and the people will settle down. The love a person holds for his homeland is shown to you in your brother's every action. Learn from the lesson, Relena. Leave Milliardo to his fate. I will do what I can for his children when they are brought to Earth, for King Stephan and my daughter's sake, not for your brother. I wash my hands of him. You should too."

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Heero P.O.V.

"Thank you, grandfather, for making your views clear. Now, please excuse me. I have work to do in Sanc."

Relena stood, and I could plainly see that she was trembling. She desperately needed to get away from this cold old man.

The Marquis nodded. "It was pleasant to see you again, My Dear. Let it not be so long until next time."

I moved to flank Relena when she curtsied to the Marquis and escorted her through the conservatory. I could see that she was very close to crying and that her trembling was growing worse. I wondered how she had managed to retain her composure for most of that confrontation.

"Relena?" I barely whispered, uncertain if she could retain her composure just a little longer.

Would she start screaming in rage or crumple into tears? I'm not sure which I would prefer, but if she asked me to kill him, I think I could happily do so, despite my promise to myself not to kill any more.

"When we are far away from here, Heero, would you mind very much holding me again? While I cry?"

"Not at all." And it was the truth.

I very much felt as though I needed to hold her just now. Not just for her sake. It frightened me that I had not realized that my control had slipped. I was shaking. I did not lose control. Not before I started to have feelings. Not before I had become so entangled with this young woman who walked the deceptively clean looking halls of those who purported to have the best interests of the people at heart. More and more I was noticing a foul stench in those pristine halls.

"I don't want to become him, Heero." Awhisper. "I think I am going to have to find a new career, because I think I would rather die than become that cold."

"I think I would kill you before you got that bad."

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Marquis Wayridge

He considered the entire conversation as he sipped his cup of tea. The girl would make a wonderful leader, when she hardened to her position. It was a sorry thing to do, but it had to be done. Someone had had to do this, to teach her that she knew very little of true power. Relena Peacecraft had to learn all the sides to power, including the ugly side.

Yes, it was ugly. Politics was never a pretty place. Idealists had to be taught the realities of politics. It was not a game to be played by the foolish or the novice, not at the levels they played. Few stayed the course, but she was a Peacecraft. She was his daughter's child. She was his daughter's true child. Unlike her brother she was strong. She would get through this and once her brother was finally dead, she would settle to her place. Eventually she would be World President.

Yes, she just needed training.

"I must see about having a hand in the education of the children. They could still become world leaders when the time is right. If we can give them a suitable up bringing. Hopefully they do not resemble him in looks. He was too pretty as a child, and age did not change that. People never truly trust a politician who is too pretty. Still, I suppose I could pass them off as distant cousins of some degree. Properly educated they could be molded to serve Relena's heirs. Yes, they could be reared to further the true Peacecraft line. I'm sorry, Katerina. Your children have had to grow up in a torn world. It has cost your son his very soul, but your daughter is strong. She will survive. I will ensure that she survives."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson


	15. Chapter 15

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 15

Mars

Base Dome

Date: 28th February AC 198

Time: 04:40 M.S.T. [Mars Standard Time

Noin

"Shh. It's only a dream, love. Only a dream. You can sleep in peace now." Noin lightly ran her finger tips over the furrowed brow, lightly touching her lips to satin soft skin, her voice a soothing whisper. "It's alright, Zechs. It's only a dream."

The low voltage light from the opposite side of the bedroom offered eyes starved of natural night lighting the chance to orient and move around without distress. It gave her sufficient light to see the wide cradle where the twins slept and it allowed her to admire with breathless wonder the form stretched out beside her.

He was silk and satin under her hands. That mane of white blonde hair was in glorious disarray about him, spread over the pillows. She delighted in running her fingers through the silken lengths. Always like silk. Only one part of him that she loved. Long strands of pale silk crowning his head and tight curls at that most intimate place she loved to caress. That was the only hair on him. The smooth muscular chest was hairless and she delighted in running her palms over his ribs, up to caress the darker gold nubs of his nipples. He was delightfully sensitive to the lightest of touches. The slightest caress would draw some response from him. It was his downfall on the night she had gotten him drunk. His own body had betrayed him.

// I am not proud of what I did, but- God// she grinned as she lightly drew the covers lower, displaying the slender waist, tapering toward narrow hips. He was all hard muscle and sleek flesh. // I have no regrets. I never thought I would actually get my hands on his body. When I look at the twins I definitely have no shame about seducing him. You are a bad girl, Lucrezia. A very bad girl. //

He shuddered under her hand, not the small ripple of pleasure she could arouse in him, but the deeper tremble she recognized as troubling dreams and she sighed. The nightmares were getting worse. It seemed he never slept now without the dreams haunting him. Memories, she was sure, of the war. He had never been a rabid killer, despite what so many thought. Never a rabid killer, but definitely efficient. Like most everything he did, he was efficient. Did he dream of fighting the Alliance? Or further back? The old nightmare of the fall of his home? Watching them kill his family. He had lost so much in his life. She had lain in their bed and soothed him on so many nights.

Perhaps this time he dreamt of the time he spent healing after the Libra exploded. The scars were surprisingly few on that glorious body. Most from training accidents, she mused, some she certainly recognized as being from the early days at the academy. Most were barely visible, the most recognizable one being the oldest. Curiously, it was the one scar that never seemed to fade as time passed. The bullet hole from the night Sanc was taken the first time. So few scars, though, considering the life he had led. She had more scars than he. Almost all old scars on him. A few she could point at and say with certainty came from the time of the war. She had delighted in learning his body since that night and it puzzled her that few scars looked fresh enough to be from the destruction of Libra. She had never had the courage to ask him how he had survived and with what injuries. Some scars she remembered from minor wounds sustained over time were faded almost entirely. He had always healed well, physically.

He rolled away from her, a low murmur of protest she knew was not against her touch, but against the dream. Sometimes he woke at the slightest touch, and at other times it took her half the night to draw him out of the dreams. That roll did, however, give her the advantage of that deliciously broad expanse of back open to her exploring touch. He had pulled the sheet with the move and her hands had a life of their own, curving over the satin skin of his buttocks. Lucrezia snuggled close, pressing her length against him, spooning to his shape and pressed her lips between his shoulder blades, blowing the silken hair gently to tantalize him. So much creamy golden skin open to her seeking fingers. He tasted divine.

"It is only a dream, Zechs. You have to wake up." She kissed the lobe of his ear, sucking gently. "Just a dream, love."

" 'S not." The breath of a whisper, almost a groan, almost inaudible in the darkness.

"Just a dream, baby." Soft assurance.

"You'll die, Lu." A whisper in the dark. "They will come and you will die."

Lips pressed to his shoulder she considered him in silence. Sometimes he made no sense, either while he was sleeping or newly awakened, she made absolutely no sense of his mutterings. She carefully levered herself up, leaning over him to lightly brush aside the long bangs he hid behind, only to find his eyes closed against her. Perhaps this was one of those conversations they would have while he slept. Or chose to pretend to sleep.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes." A whisper.

"It was just a dream. You've had them before." Lightly she stroked his arm, finger tips tracing shoulder to wrist, a light caress, soothing. "I'm still here."

"They will come for them. To take them from us . From me. You could go with them. They will allow you to mother them, so long as you don't talk about me to them. Do it, Lu. Go with them. Don't give them cause to kill you."

"So long as I don't talk to who about you?" Frowning she touched her lips to his shoulder.

Sometimes, if she got him to talk about the dreams he would be reasonable. Sometimes he just did not make sense. Sometimes they would just talk circles, nothing coming of it. Who would come and take their life apart this time? Could the man not have just one pleasant dream, for a change?

"To our children. I'm not a fit parent, Lu. That's why they are coming. I'm sorry. It's because I survived. It's all because I survived the war. I changed things when I took Heero's place, destroying that section of the Libra. I was supposed to die. I'm so sorry." Whispers in the night, the dark room only a shadow around them.

A sigh. "Zechs-" He would not open his eyes. Would not allow her that expedient method of judging how bad this session would be.

"Noin, listen to me. You've never asked me why I did it. Why? Why didn't you ask?"

Tonight was going to be bad. He would make absolutely no sense and she resisted the urge to curse. For a time he had been almost at peace, but the dreams would always return. For days, weeks-no dreams; then months of nightmares and he would make little sense. She could only hope the cycle of dreams would break soon. This was wearing her down.

"I know why you did it. For Peace to happen. It's in the past. We have two beautiful children. This is an independent colony. We have a right to be here, Zechs. We helped build this place. Our own blood, sweat and tears have gone into the forming of this place. Our children are the first Martians. This is their world."

"You don't understand at all." The deep voice whispered. "The ESUN won't allow me to be near them. We were not supposed to have children, Noin. They were not happy when they learned you had come with me. If you had remained on Earth, you would be safe from what is to come. It would not have been necessary for this to happen."

"I don't understand why you dwell on things that no one has control over, Zechs. No one can know what will happen in the future." Her fingers tangled in white blonde hair and she resisted the urge to tug gently. Some days she could pull his hair out, he exasperated her so.

"If you could know all possible futures, what would you do, Noin?"

// What?// She stared at the cascade of white and silver silk entangled in her fingers. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

He shrugged against her breasts, a lifting of broad shoulders. "If you had it in your power to see all possible futures leading from a certain event, what would you do?"

She slipped her arms around his waist, pressing against the broad back, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder blade. His scent was exotic, alluring. Heaven help her if he continued to wax philosophical. If only he was feeling amorous, not talkative. Sometimes that happened and she could only wish tonight had been one of those nights.

"From what event?" Better to humor him and try to nudge the subject around. Try to interest him in more than mind games. Physical games were so much more rewarding.

"From any event you might choose to focus on. From the moment Sanc fell. The second time. What would you do, if you saw all possible futures from that point in time?"

"Even the greatest psychics could not face off against that one, Zechs. All possible futures? I don't understand what you want me to say."

God, his voice was so alluring. So sexy. Deep and low, husky and-just too sexy. One hand slipped to trace light, teasing patterns over his hip, slowly, slowly, teasing. Inching lower.

"I don't want you to say anything. I want you to think, Noin. I want you to think about what you would do if you knew how things were going to be. What if you saw your best friend run over by a car and die because a drunk driver was let through a road block? If you could change it by pointing out to the police that the driver was drunk, even though he looked alright, would you do it?" He pressed a hand to cover his eyes, a shudder rippling through the large body. "What if then you learned that your friend had overdosed on drugs and died? If you could do it again, go back and change things. What if you let the driver through the road block, but you run out into the road and pushed your friend out of the way? He's hurt but he's taken to hospital and they realize he has drugs in his system and he is saved that way. What do you do if you saw all those possibilities, Noin? Which future for your friend do you choose?"

"The last. He would be hurt, but alive."

//I have no idea where this is going. Sometimes it's best to just humor him.// Her teasing fingers were turned aside, gently but firmly by a larger hand grasping her own in a secure, though tender grip.

"And a year later in a fit of depression he looses control and takes a gun and kills people walking through a shopping mall. For no reason. For no sane reason at all he kills ten people. If you had let him die in the first place, those ten people would not have died. What is worse, one of those ten people was a heart surgeon, who in a few years time would have saved the life of a person who would bring peace to the world. Yet another of those ten would murder seven women before he could be caught and brought to justice."

For a long time Noin was silent, thinking. //God. Where the hell has this come from?// Confused.

A hypothetical situation that sent shudders down her spine. What was he thinking about? Where had this come from? What was he trying to tell her? She just did not understand the complexities of his mind. He had had many sessions with psychologists after coming to Mars. One of them, Dr. Janet Marshall had worked with him for months and in the end had been confused by him. She had said he was many things, but insane was not one of them. She had not known what Zechs needed - or thought he needed. Noin knew that her psychiatric report on Zechs had not been well received on Earth.

"I don't understand. I don't understand what you want me to say, Zechs."

"I don't want you to say anything, Noin. I want you to think about it. Was it the right thing to do? Was your choice of possible futures the right one? Which choice was best?"

"We can't know the future, Zechs. It doesn't work that way. It does no one any good to pursue 'what if'." Noin lightly stroked his hip. "I know you are not yet over Libra. I know it still makes you dream. I've listened to you scream often enough. It's past, Zechs. 'What if' will not help. That's just dwelling on the past. We need to think about our future. Mars has a bright future ahead and our children are a part of it. We are a part of it."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Zechs

He sighed. Deep, heavy. Tired.

He was so tired. No one understood. No one even tried to understand. No one could see it as he did. No one had done the things he had done and perhaps in the entire Earth Sphere there was only one who could truly understand. He was very tired of being alone in the midst of a crowd. Tired in general, even physically. It was a physically demanding life style they led on Mars.

No one ever took the time to look beyond. Here and now, or in the immediate future. That was what people were guilty of. Thinking only of the here and now. No one really sat down and thought through the consequences of every decision they made. Every decision. No, why should they when one would spend one's life wasting away, afraid to even breathe. But sometimes there was no choice. Sometimes one had to make those choices. Then live with them.

Why had he not died?

000000000000000000000000000

Noin

"Zechs? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Noin. Just tired."

// Back to whispering and ignoring me again, I suppose. //

"Sleep now. No more dreams." She planted a kiss gently on the blonde head, nuzzling into him. "Shh."

"Yes. No more dreams. Tonight at least."

0000000000000000000000000000

Zechs

He knew, but he had yet to choose. It was so murky. Not like before. Everything was different. So different. It could not help but be murky. There was no Epyon. There was no Epyon to loom over him. Protector of him. Guide for him.

There was no Epyon.

He could not do this. Not without Epyon.

"What have you done to me, Epyon? What have you done?"

000000000000000000000

Noin

Noin shook her head, worried. He brooded all too often lately. He also whispered that monstrous suit's name in his sleep. That evil red monstrosity. What had His Excellency built that obscenity for? Why would Treize Kushrenada have felt that there was a need for that evil machine? His Excellency had had such a clear vision when the war had begun. To overthrow the Alliance had been a good thing. She had lost her family to their excesses. Amazing how the crimes of the former regime were forgiven and forgotten in favor of everyone hating her lover.

//Epyon.// she lightly kissed his shoulder. // You call out to that monstrosity in your sleep all too often. What did it do to turn you into The Terror of Earth? They can't understand you, but I do. I did. Once.//

She had once spoken to Heero Yuy about the suit. What his thoughts were on both the weapon it was, and what it might have done to Zechs. That was when everyone had believed Zechs was dead, before the Barton Incursion. She could still see the way he had looked at her with haunted eyes.

"Epyon." He had breathed the name. "You don't want to know about Epyon, Noin. Believe me, I try to forget it."

So much emotion out of Heero Yuy had been frightening. She had backed off. Perhaps a mistake. Most likely certainly a mistake not to try to get Zechs to talk about it.

She was afraid to talk about the monster.

His breathing evened out and deepened and she knew he slept, but she thought again of his question. What would she choose, if somehow it was revealed to her? Three possible futures, each unsatisfactory in their own right. Each not having anything like a happy ending. Which would she choose?

Her friend's life or the ten people she did not know? No, not just ten people. Not ten. There were the victims of the murderer and their families. There were the other people the surgeon would save in a possibly long career. There were the people the diplomat would affect in the bid for peace and a unified future. There were the families of the other people who would have been killed. Children who might have been born, lives that might have been touched in some seemingly insignificant way that later might affect many. It only made the question harder too answer.

Noin shuddered as the question worked its way into her. Growing larger with each possible turn. Not just the friend. Not just the people he might kill. Not just those who might be affected. What might have happened if one did not interfere at all with the arrest, and had chosen instead to have drug therapy and …

"Oh, Zechs. I just don't understand."

t.b.c.


	16. Chapter 16

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 16

Sanc

New Port City

Date: 28th February AC 198

Time: 16:25

Relena

It was a subdued group who left the private shuttle and made their way to the black limousine waiting to one side of the tarmac. The chauffeur wore the uniform of a Preventer and nodded politely as he held the door open for the Vice Foreign Minister. Heero glared and then nodded, recognizing the man as an agent he knew well.

"Earth sends her compliments, ma'am."

"Thank you." Relena slid onto the wide rear seat and lowered her head.

For much of the flight from Luxembourg she had slept, but not before a truly shameful display of weeping and raging against her grandfather. It had left her with a headache and scratchy eyes and done nothing to ease the despondency that the interview had left her with. For much of the flight Heero had held her, saying nothing, merely offering silent stoic comfort. She had never cried like that before. Not even over the death of her foster father.

She felt that something inside of her had died when she had left that manor house near Luxembourg. Something she had never thought would shrivel into a pained little ball, and surrender without so much as a whimper of protest. She had enjoyed her power and position. A little too much, she now realized. She was naïve and too young for the brand of politics that ran the Earth Sphere. Her grandfather had shown her the other side of politics and it was a side that frightened her. Terrified her.

Could she become her grandfather? Did she want to become her grandfather? Could she walk away from family to further a career in politics? He had claimed that he had stepped away from her brother to curb the excesses of the Alliance. She had seen no evidence that any of his actions had resulted in a reduction of abuses to human dignity. It was something she would have to investigate, because she wanted to know what had been worth so much that he would throw away all responsibility for his family.

She was aware of Heero and Pagan climbing into the car; Pagan sliding into the front seat with the Preventer Agent and Heero settling next to her. Then the car was moving and they were driving into New Port City, heading for the palace. Heero lightly touched her shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"No. I don't know what to do. About Milliardo. Or about my career. I can't become cold like that. If I left politics what would I do? I could not help Milliardo then. I am as good as useless now to Brother. What can I do to help him, with my hands tied as they are? The only thing I am certain of is that I can't sign those papers, Heero. I can't do that to him."

"We will think of something." A quiet promise, though Heero admitted to himself that he had no idea what their next move should or could be.

Relena bowed her head, wiping at a tear that threatened to all too visibly slide down her cheek. It was one thing to cry in private in front of Pagan and Heero, another altogether for her to weep in public. At the moment even the chauffeur constituted 'public'. The other two, Pagan who was so like a grandfather should be, and Heero who was something else again, constituted family. Almost the entire family she could claim, in fact.

"I am a figure head. I know that. They use me to help settle disputes. Everyone respects the former Queen of the World. I have been told it often enough. Why? No one seems able to explain it to me. Why do they do that Heero? I was Romefeller's puppet. Could no one understand that? I was never intended to wield any viable power. Now I am the puppet of people like grandfather. It was Marquis Wayridge and others in his central group who made it possible for me to turn the tables on Romefeller. Grandfather and his core group, now most of whom are Councilors of the ESUN Council of Representatives. They're mostly from Romefeller, Heero. I never really thought about it before. Near half of the council are the same people who ran Romefeller. They set it up for me to oust Duke Dermail from power over them, but are they any better than he was? Are they not chaining me as effectively as Dermail did?"

"Dermail and his mobile dolls were not conducive to a peaceful world, Relena." Heero sighed. "Much as I hate to see it, I think you are needed to keep reminding the Council and government of exactly what the war was fought for. Peace."

"It's not peace, though, Heero. Not true peace. I really begin to see that now. Our political system is flawed. Too many of the representatives are from the days when the Alliance ruled. No one has attempted to overhaul the brand of politics that survived the war . Some people have too much power. The same people who had power during those days still retain it now. Not everyone is using their power to their advantage, but too many are. I still have nightmares of being Queen, you know. It terrifies me. I am Vice Foreign Minister, formerly the Queen of the World. The delegation from Sanc's council have asked me to consider accepting the Crown of Sanc twice now. They want me to become the Queen of Sanc."

"Will you?"

Relena sighed, shaking her head slowly. "There are no national borders, Heero. There is no kingdom to be Queen of. Why do people refuse to see that? There is no kingdom of Sanc, but the people refuse to accept it. I took Sanc away from them when I surrendered to Romefeller. No one seems to acknowledge that there are no national borders on Earth anymore. As Queen of the World I decreed that all such were abolished, leaving only the World Nation. Why do they want a Queen, Heero? Why do the people of Sanc want to place me on a throne I certainly don't want? If anyone should be crowned it is Milliardo. He was born the heir. He was the one who fought to free Sanc from the Alliance. I was the one who gave in to Romefeller when they repeated the massacre. I was the one who surrendered."

"Hn. Why?"

"Why? Why what?" Bewildered. She met deep blue eyes with her confusion clear in her own eyes.

"Why did you surrender to Romefeller?"

Relena shook her head slightly, a small tremor of movement. "To stop the killing." she stared at where her hands lay neatly folded in her lap. "It didn't stop it, though. When I surrendered to Romefeller half the city was again in ruins, hundreds of people killed. The city was burning and Romefeller's Oz was storming the streets. The people who had been fighting died or were injured. For what, Heero? They put their lives on the line to defend Sanc. You were one of them. Quatre. Noin. The Treize faction soldiers who sought refuge here. Not just the city, but the whole country. You fought to defend it and everybody in it. It was a sacrifice I didn't understand. After I surrendered myself and their national identity they moved on to defend against Romefeller elsewhere. I gave in to Romefeller, and they had to go and find somewhere else where they could make a stand. Romefeller moved in to occupy Sanc and I have learned of the atrocities that occurred after my surrender and departure from the palace." Relena shuddered, and then sighed. "I didn't stop anything."

"It was not an easy time, Relena. Do you understand what we were all fighting for? What it was all about?"

"I don't know. I honestly do not understand the need to fight. I don't think I will ever understand what makes a soldier. Or why people would want me to be a Queen."

"A Queen is a figure head. A symbol." Pagan turned in the front seat and spoke quietly, his voice grave. "You would stand for all that they feel themselves to be. Their identity in this place and time. When they look at you they see a future of hope that their children will be free to sleep at night, without fear of waking to bombs falling and mobile suits trampling their homes. A Queen is a symbol of future prosperity for the people. A tradition that has stood for hundreds of years in Sanc. It is the simple truth that while there has been a Peacecraft on the throne, Sanc has endured and prospered."

Pagan's voice was soft, but clear and firm. He watched her from the front seat and in her saw her mother. His mind saw again the days before the invasion and massacre of Sanc's innocence. Saw again the beauty of the young woman who had come into the country and won the hearts of the people, not just the aging much loved and very preoccupied King.

"Queen Katerina was a fighter. A beautiful woman who was a mother at heart to everyone who was graced with her presence. She took upon her slender shoulders the welfare of the people of Sanc who needed her. King Peacecraft worked for Peace in the world and loved his people, but as he grew older he worked more for the world than this small corner of Earth. When he wed your mother, he wed a mother not only for his children, but for his country. It was a role the Queen was happy to take on. She was loved for it. She became the symbol of Sanc. The King was respected and loved, but it was the Queen who took him to task, reminding him always that Sanc was their responsibility. Sanc was their home. Sanc's people had looked to the monarchy for over a thousand years for stability."

"I don't think I could be all of that." Relena shook her head.

"No, perhaps not, Miss Relena. You are young yet, with growing and maturing to do. Your views on life will no doubt subtly change as you mature. You are, however much you look like Queen Katerina, your father's daughter. You have his driving need to make everyone see your view on peace. To have everyone share that peace that you envision."

Heero scowled. "You say that as though it is a bad thing."

"In many ways, Mr Yuy, it is. When one can not see the whole picture. When one chooses to ignore the views of others and force only your vision on them. People want peace. People also want to feel a sense of security and belonging. We also have a need to be individuals and to be recognized as such. Individuals who live in this place we call Sanc. Individuals who live in England, or America, or Arabia. The principle that the King sought was for people to learn to tolerate, if not understand, the ways of others. We all are of common genetic stock. We all are born to this planet. To different parts of this planet, but still from this one lump of rock floating in space. We all have our own ideas of what peace is. The people also have an inherent sense of belonging somewhere. All people have it. It is ingrained in us before birth, imprinted on us as we grow and mature. It is our home, the place we identify with as being our homeland, be it one we were born too, or one we choose to make our own. It can not be ignored by those who have come to power. Sanc is my home. It has been the home of my ancestors for seven hundred years. Before that my family came from Germany and before that from France. However, Sanc is my home. In my blood and bones I identify with this very soil. Those who have been here for generations also feel it. It is in your blood too, Miss Relena, but you were not reared to the traditions of Sanc. It is tradition that helps bind us to our land. How we are raised is reflected in how we live. Sanc means more to them than you could know. They want to share their national identity with you. You are the daughter of the King they loved and the Queen they adored."

"But Pagan, I want the whole world to be able to live in peace. I want no more war. I want peace for everyone. No more bombs. No more mobile suits. No more blood in the streets. I want the people, all the people, not just in Sanc, but in the whole world, to feel that about the World. All of the Earth. Not just this little piece of it."

"Being Queen is not about bombs or mobile suits or blood in the streets." He gently returned.

"I just don't understand. You say that I am like my father. Not in looks, but ideals. You mean King Peacecraft, not Mr. Darlian, don't you? If I am so like him, then what about Milliardo?"

The old man sighed and shook his head slightly. "Master Milliardo is so like your mother. Not to look at, no. He is like his father to look at, but his heart. That is purely your mother. She would take your father to task if he began to neglect the needs of the people tradition made his own. She would bring him back from dreams of world peace to see the reality of what they had before them. A people who looked to them for stability. A country that was a model for what he sought to bring to others. Dreams are all very well, she told him once, but one must ensure one's own backyard is in order, before you tend your neighbors garden. Queen Katerina would take Milliardo everywhere with her as he grew older. He identified strongly with the people. Do not think him a cruel or heartless man. He is not. He saw Sanc die, Miss Relena. He saw his people butchered. He saw his father murdered. He saw his mother thrown from a third floor balcony, a bayonet wound in her back. He saw it and he was old enough to remember it. Like the Queen he determined to care for his own back yard. If not he, then who else? It took him thirteen years, but he restored Sanc and gave to them what he considered the only choice for the future."

"And that was?" Heero queried.

"Miss Relena. The Peacecraft Princess who had not grown up seeing the atrocities he had. The Princess the people could look to for the Restoration of the place Sanc had been when he was a child."

"Hn."

Relena smiled and shook her head. "Yes. Hn. I don't know what to do. I wanted so much to have the world nations become one unified place. One country, if you will. It just is not working, is it? Even before the Barton Incursion, it was falling apart. People were not as united as I had thought; hoped. No one seems to want the same thing. Peace, they say, but they seem to mean something different to how I see Peace."

"Not everyone sees Peace in the same way." Heero scowled as Pagan turned back to face the road. After a moment he continued, blue eyes intense. "To me, during the war, peace meant no more fighting. I would not have to go and kill again. I did not see then that killing is just about all I know. I was reared to be a killer, Relena. I wandered around for a while, lost. I didn't have a war to fight. I did not have to go out and blow people and buildings up. I was lost. I could not find comfort in something I had so desperately sought and in the end I joined the Preventers. Preventers had something I desperately needed. A structure, a discipline that I found lacking in everything I did. I did not join Preventers to kill, but to find a niche I felt I belonged in. Peace just was not what I expected it to be . I felt lost."

"Exactly. I think people are lost. I think, I thought that if the wars ended and we had peace, then the whole world would instantly be happy." Relena gazed out the window as the last of New Port City gave way to the sculptured parks that would lead them to the Palace. "No more wars. People would be laughing all the time. Well, the truth is that the dancing in the streets only lasted for a day, then everyone went back to their lives. Except the soldiers. Lady Une was quick to see that they were given retraining, but not quick enough-some joined Barton's army. Do you know there are still thousands of soldiers who can not accept the peace? They just seem incapable of adapting. Most are not killers. They just can not seem to adapt to the changes. Lady Une thinks some of these are behind the raids on the mining fleets."

"Many had no families to return to." Heero murmured. "Many families had to adapt to the loss of loved ones lost as Soldiers, not just in the war at the end, but against the Gundam pilots. OZ was initially trying to take over from the Alliance. It is too late now, but maybe if things had gone differently then Kushrenada might have succeeded, but the Gundams attacked both OZ and the Alliance. Those were our orders. We were not encouraged to think about what we were doing on a human level. They were the enemy. That is what we were taught, Relena. At least Kushrenada and his people taught their soldiers more than to kill. OZ soldiers were fighting for their families, oppressed by the Alliance."

Heero glanced at Pagan and the chauffeur both watching the road as they drove through the small residential sector fronting the palace, where most of the staff chose to live and then faced Relena. He had had time to think since the wars had stopped.

"Not all of them. There are rotten apples in every barrel. Not all Alliance soldiers were bad and much of the blame must fall to the leaders. But sometimes soldiers have to question orders. When those orders are wrong. At least most true soldiers see the faces of people. They see the people in the cause they fight for. Their ultimate goal. We Gundam Pilots were taught to be Terrorists, not soldiers. All true soldiers have hearts."

Relena tilted her head, studying Heero for a long moment. "How do you mean?"

"I never saw people, Relena. I saw civilians and I saw enemies. Then I learned to see allies, the other pilots. I never saw individuals until I saw you and the pilots. All the faces were a blur, except for a little girl and her dog." He sighed and shook his head. That hurt would never fade. "I killed them. I could not forget what had happened to them. It was unacceptable that I was distressed over killing that little girl and her dog, so I was retrained. I was to be a soldier, I was told, but the truth was, I was an assassin and a terrorist, not a soldier. A cold blooded heartless killer. That is what I was trained to be. Your brother fought for Sanc. To have revenge, yes, but he fought to free Sanc. That was his heart. When that was done, he lost himself. He gave everything to free Sanc and have you come here, for the people. I lost myself after the war was over, Relena. Just as Zechs did. I understand why he changed as he did, after Sanc fell, the second time. We are no different. I am no better than he was or is. We are no different to the politicians who are now in power. They are fighting in the only way they were taught, for what they see as peace. Their versions of peace. You are right when you say no two people see peace in the same way. We don't. We can only move in our own ways, for what we can see and understand as our ideals of peace. Not everyone has access to the means by which to make their personal vision of peace a reality, as you do."

The car rolled through the last of the houses and out into the parkland immediately bordering the palace grounds. Relena gazed out at the snow covered world and sighed. "I wonder if there will ever be a world where the people are united and see the same thing we call Peace."

"It would be a dead world. Differences make the human race what it is. Differences give us strength to strive for change. If we all were the same and all saw the same thing, who would want to live? We need stimulation, Relena. We need a challenge. When we try to force others to see exactly the same things we see, then we become dictators and that is when wars start. We have to acknowledge that no two people are the same. We have to see that to make someone into a copy of ourselves is wrong. It will lead only to war. We are too different to be the same, yet in those very differences we are identical."

Heero saw Pagan nod and caught the lift of the heavy moustache as he smiled. He was beginning to see that Pagan was very important to Relena's future. He was the grandfather figure she needed. He had seen war and peace. He had had access to people in powerful places, and watched as the world was shaped and reshaped time and again. Pagan could be a great help to Relena. He was afraid that Relena was going to have to be a politician. To remain human, to keep that common touch and stay in touch with the people, she would need Pagan, and others like him.

"What should I do, Heero? What should I do about the World Nation? What should I do about the ESUN and the Colonies refusal to see eye to eye? What should I do about the Security Office taking my brother and his family hostage to ensure I cooperate with them?"

The elaborate wrought iron gates opened smoothly as the car approached, the security contingent waiting for them. Heero sighed, watching as the car slowed to a stop.

"I don't know, Relena. The best you can sounds an awfully pathetic thing to say, but it's the best thing I can offer."

t.b.c.


	17. Chapter 17

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 17

Sanc

Sanc Palace

Time: 17:55

Heero

Heero settled at the security console running an experienced eye over the bank of monitors and the readouts on the multiple of screens spread before him. He checked the daily reports, noting who had come and gone and noted that two listening devices had been removed from Relena's study and the primary conference room. It was a fairly common occurrence when talks were scheduled to take place on sensitive matters. Tomorrow Relena would be hosting the second round of talks with the trade delegations from L3 and L4. They would run a sweep of the palace again before the delegates arrived.

He was far from happy with the events of the day.

Not only had the interview in Luxembourg been a total waste of time, but he had returned to find Duo gone. Word had been left with the agents at the palace that Duo had departed for L2 on family matters. A quick check of his email and he found the coded note Duo had sent. _ Check with Earth_, had been the code. Nothing more. Check with Earth, hidden in the message that he was off to the L2 cluster to see his son.

So it was not so straight forward. Family matters was not the only reason the braided pilot had taken to his heels with no warning. He wished Duo had waited for him to return, so that they could talk. They had not had a chance to adequately discuss this business with Romefeller. They had not had the chance to plan their best options for finding out just what was really going on. He was not pleased with the day at all. Things seemed to be spiraling out of control, not that they had been under control at all, in the first place.

He had a few hours before he saw Earth. She was to attend a small dinner party at the palace this evening and he planned on having a very private interview with her before she departed. He needed answers to too many questions. Answers there was no guarantee that Lady Une would, or could, provide.

That something would have to be done concerning the ESUN's blackmail of Relena was not in doubt, but as to what that something was, well-that was another matter entirely. For Relena to work properly as Vice Foreign Minister, to maintain the fragile peace that they so far had enjoyed and to further it, they needed her rested, happy and able to function with a clear head. That certainly was not the case at this present time.

For now, the monitors were all clear, the message banks quiet and he was not on duty in either the dining hall or the foyer. That gave him the opportunity to browse a little amid the files that Duo had found. It gave him the chance to begin the investigation and to consider the implications of Romefeller being active.

Romefeller.

Relena was right, he decided. A very large part of the World Council was made up of former Romefeller patrons. They went by a different name now, but they all had belonged to that organization. Were they likely still to belong to it and how many of them knew about these hidden files? Was it general knowledge amid the nobility of so many countries of the world that their blood lines had been controlled for tens of generations in some cases, and WHO controlled this element of Romefeller? Just how many ESUN Councilors still belonged to Romefeller? What was Romefeller's objective?

There had to be an objective in this type of selective breeding. Genetic manipulation had been practiced by controlling who married whom in the nobility for a couple of thousand years, now. He had the evidence on disk. More precise genetic manipulation had been practiced since the mid twentieth century. Here it was in what would equate to the twenty third century by the old reckoning and Romefeller was still playing God. Choosing the traits to be passed on in selected families. Why? He had a long list of questions. It was time to see if he could come up with answers.

Romefeller had been breeding the nobility for hundreds of years, but more recently they had shown their hand in other breeding programs. The nobility were still being controlled for the Stud Book, but there were also those children who were the results of the laboratories. Children such as he himself. He had been designed and bred to be a Space Explorer. The children rescued a few months ago from a laboratory controlled by Romefeller were designed to be soldiers. Perfect Soldiers.

There was so much that needed investigation. Just where did he start.

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Relena

Relena ran a light, caressing finger over the discoloured picture in its battered, stained frame. She had found the picture soon after returning to Sanc from her flight to the Antarctic. Before that fateful flight she had not known she had had a brother. While deep in thought about the revelation she was not an only child, she had found herself wandering in the ruined halls of the original Palace of Sanc. Noin had not told her when they had worked together after their first meeting of her brother. Noin had brought her to Sanc and helped her settle herself in as the returned, long lost Princess, never once even hinting that she was not the only heir to the Peacecraft Monarchy.

The picture was stained by time and the fires that had raged at the fall of the old palace. It was the only time she had ventured into the ruins of the place where life had changed for her. From princess to senator's daughter to escape the slaughter, and no word in all the intervening years said to give a hint she was not the Darlians' daughter. Only at the point of his death had her father revealed to her the truth of her heritage, but even then, no word that she had a brother. Perhaps he would have told her, if he had had time.

The portrait of her real father had come from there in the great hall, now blackened and rotting with time and neglect. This tarnished, battered old frame had been found on the side board under the portrait of a murdered King. She had refused to allow either the portrait of King Stephan or the photograph and frame to be repaired. People needed-she needed- to see them in that condition. A kindly somewhat stern looking old man, with crystal blue eyes. Eyes just like the happy eyes of the tassel haired little boy holding his little sister in a battered framed picture.

"I'm sorry, Brother. I just don't know what to do." A whisper, fighting against the onslaught of tears.

"Relena? My dear, what is the matter? You're crying."

"Oh, mother." The slender arms were very welcome around her, and the light French perfume one of her very favorite comfort smells. "Mother, what should I do? I just don't know what to do anymore!"

She was ashamed that it came out as a plaintive wail as she buried her face against her mother's breast, instinctively seeking the comfort and scent she always associated with her mother. She had only ever known the Darlians as her parents. It would only ever be so. She had not even the faintest memory of another mother. A mother an entire country had loved.

Seeing the old photograph clasped in shaking hands Mrs. Darlian sighed and led her daughter into a small private salon, where she rang for tea and waited, allowing Relena to find her composure again. Not once did she let go of the slender shaking form, as they settled to a deep burgundy settee and she lightly stroked the honey brown hair in offered comfort. Words were not needed, just her presence. Only after Pagan had brought a tray and quietly left did she ease her daughter out of her embrace and wipe her eyes.

"I think we need to talk. I was told that you had flown out of the country and now I find you here, in tears. What brought this on, My Dear?"

"I went to see Marquis Wayridge in Luxembourg. I don't ever want to be like him, mother. He... he... was so cold. I could not stand myself if I turned out like him."

"What happened?" Concern was evident in the quiet words, but caution too.

Alice Darlian knew Marquis Wayridge. Her husband had had many encounters with the nobleman in the years since the fall of Sanc had given them Relena. It had not been easy to hide her from him as she had grown up. Had the Marquise spoken out against them? Decried them for hiding his granddaughter from him all these years?

"I needed his help. I still do, but he won't give it. In fact, he agrees with the ESUN Security Office. I can't ever be that cold, mother. It/s not in me. I can't be a politician or diplomat if I have to grow that cold."

For a long moment Mrs. Darlian considered her response. Personally she found the old man to be a hard man. That he was astute went without saying. He was very aware of the world around him, both the political world and the general world that most people lived within.

She also had no liking for him at all. A fact she would not inform her daughter of, at least not at this time. He was, after all, Relena's grandfather. "The Marquis is a very astute politician, Relena, with much more experience than even your father had."

Her father. Her foster father who had been Vice Foreign Minister before her. He had been in political circles for some twenty years. A Senator in Sanc in his younger years. An adviser and friend to her actual biological father. Both father's politicians, one a King. She had grown up with one, lamented and sometimes thrown tantrums because he had always seemed to be running off to solve the world and colony problems. He had so often seemed not to care that she too had had problems that she felt her father should solve. Instead of spending time with her discussing her problems the call to solve the world's conflicts seemed much more important to him than the needs of his daughter.

"What was my brother like, mother? You were at the palace when he was born. Father knew the King. What was Milliardo like when he was a child?"

A frown marred her beauty as she poured tea into two cups, sweetening them then passed one to her daughter. Where had this come from? She had watched her daughter with pride, walk in the footsteps of her husband. Where had this insecure child come from, to replace her strong willed, world wise daughter? Relena had been making such progress and now, suddenly, without warning, she was that naive teenager again.

"He was a happy child. Perhaps a little too serious for his age. I can remember quite clearly the day that photograph was taken. He skipped more than walked that day. He had been allowed to hold his baby sister, and when would she be big enough to play with him?" She said softly. "I am sorry to say that I do not understand why he changed so much, that he would threaten such terrible things when he grew up."

Wiping her eyes Relena took a few minutes to calm herself and regain her composure. A sip of tea left her feeling more able to broach a question she felt she must ask. "I am beginning to understand only too well. Mother, why was he turned away when he was brought to you?"

Alice Darlian frowned, titling her head to study her daughter. "Relena, Milliardo was not brought to us. We assumed he had died that terrible day. I never told you about him because I thought there was no point. He had been dead so long. You had no memories of him. Your father said it was better that way. There was no need to disturb you over something none of us could control. When I saw him as the leader of White Fang, I prayed that he was not, truly, Milliardo Peacecraft, the child of my friend. The King would never have forgiven him."

It was Relena's turn to frown. Why would her mother lie to her? Especially about this. Why was it everyone, including herself, said repeatedly that the King would not have forgiven Milliardo? Didn't anyone realize that if the King had been alive none of this would have happened in the first place? She sighed, acknowledging to herself that Pagan was right. Her father, King Peacecraft had advocated forgiveness and tolerance. Why then did everyone say that he would not have forgiven his son?

"I know, Mother." Relena met her mother's eyes with wide eyes and a firm line to her chin. "I know that Pagan found him, and brought him to Father and he was turned away. I also know that later Milliardo's letters to me were burned, and that Pagan was threatened with dismissal if he did not put a stop to the letters."

For a long time she considered her tea cup. A pretty, delicate classical design of red roses and pale blue forget-me-nots with a gold border. Such a delicate piece. Rather like her daughter looked. Delicate. Fragile. There was, however, a core of steel in Relena. If she had ever doubted it she had been a fool.

Where had her daughter heard this? Where? When had she learned it? All these years and she had not known what had been done so long ago. To her shame, she was not certain if she was happy not to have known. Katerina Peacecraft had been her friend. Finally she met Relena's pleading blue eyes.

"I did not know, Relena. I did not know that Pagan had found your brother. I thought he was dead." A whisper, wanting desperately to believe her daughter had been deceived. Knowing her husband enough to believe he would have done it.

How dare her husband have kept this from her? How dare he leave this for her to deal with. Why had he made such a decision? No consultation with her at all. Now she must pick up the pieces and deal with the hurt. Yes, she could all too easily see him making this choice. Deciding it was the right thing... no... not the right thing, but the expedient' thing to do. Now she must salve her daughter's hurt over something that could not be changed. It was done long ago. Her husband was dead, and so was that poor child that had become the Terror of Earth. Katerina would have been devastated by her son's fate. He had been such a happy little boy and the pride of his mother.

"Everyone sent him away. No one wanted to look after him." Relena knew her voice was thick and close to breaking. "I've found out so much I did not know before. So much I wish I still did not know. Its better that I do know, though, but it hurts, mother. No one but Pagan cared about him. Until he found the Kushrenada's. Why would they take him in, mother? Why would the Kushrenadas take him in when no one else would?"

Why, indeed, she thought. The Kushrenada's had been far from the pacifists that the Peacecrafts were. Very different to the King and Queen, yet she could not deny that Duchess Anna and the Queen had been firm friends. True friends? Perhaps, but she would never know, and she was the wife of a politician, so she looked for ulterior motives.

"No doubt to use him, I am afraid, My Dear. It is a horrible thing to say, but an abandoned prince, let alone any lonely child, is terribly vulnerable to manipulation. Pagan should have taken him to the Marquis. Your grandfather would have provided better for him. Given him a true home with family."

Relena's eyes seemed too large as she leaned back to watch her mother. "Grandfather would not suffer him to be on the estate. Pagan did take him there, and grandfather sent him away. He told me himself, Mother. The Marquis told me Milliardo was an inconvenience to his political career."

She was uncertain what she could say. A politician and diplomat's wife, she well understood the call of the halls of power. She also understood the loneliness of being abandoned for that call. She had spent too many nights alone not to resent her husband's calling. She had nursed Relena through childhood illnesses alone, because he had been in meetings he could not postpone, or in transit to far away places where he said only he could make a difference. Yes. She understood what it was to be abandoned for politics. She could see and understand only too well her daughter's shock and hurt at learning this news, old as it was.

"I do have to admit that sometimes family takes a back seat to politics, dear. You know that. Your father often got called away on short notice. It was not pleasant for us, you and I, nor for your father, I am sure, but it was part and parcel of your father. We learned to live with it. You know that he loved you. I am sure the Marquis loves you too."

"No one loved my brother. No one. You think the Kushrenadas only took him in to use him? I do not know if that is true or not, but at least someone gave him something like a home."

All this upset was over her brother, not her own abandonment as a child for the realities of the political circle her father had moved in. Alice Darlian sighed, setting aside her teacup and gently taking her daughters, placing it on the tray. They really needed to get this into the correct perspective.

"It was not so good when you consider what your brother did, Relena. What must they have taught him, the Kushrenadas, to see him turn from a Pacifist to the leader of White Fang?"

"What did my brother do, mother? Yes, he fired on the Earth, but he did not fire on a city. He fired on a wilderness area. Yes, people died, but how was anyone to know that they were there? Everyone keeps telling me it was war and there must be casualties in war. Tell me why it was alright for other people to kill in the war, but it was not acceptable for my brother to do so? Why is everyone forgiven but Milliardo? Why? Why does he alone carry the weight of the war on his shoulders?"

"He was the Commander of the White Fang, Relena. The Commanders always bare the responsibility." Her daughter was so young and still had so much to learn. "War is a truly horrible thing, My Dear. People do things they would not ordinarily do. I'm not saying he was a bad man, but I very much doubt that he was entirely sane, Relena."

"He was nineteen. Only nineteen. One year older that I am now." A deep sigh. "So what about Treize Kushrenada? What about Bunt, Noventa and Septim? What about Duke Dermail? Colonel Tuberov? What about them, mother? They all had a hand in it. Not one of them was innocent. None of them was innocent of blood on their hands. I have learned some shocking things about the so called Alliance Peace leaders in the last year, mother. Horrible things. Whether OZ, Alliance or Romefeller it makes no difference. I have seen secret reports on all of them. All had blood on their hands. They massacred thousands of people and much of it was covered up. Blamed on others. Their names were kept clear of the dishonor now associated with those deeds. Yet it is Milliardo everyone screams about. It is Milliardo who is painted as evil."

"I am sure he was not evil, dear. I suppose they just need someone to blame."

"Yes, they do need someone to blame and that person can not possibly be themselves and the system they have worked with so long. I am so tired, mother." Relena sipped at her tea, considered for a long moment "I am so tired of fighting everyone. No one wants to see more than their views. I'm guilty of it. I can see that only too well now. I thought I could control events and bring about my father's peace. I can't. I thought I could bring the world to peace. But I can't, Mother. Not true peace. I just don't know what to do anymore."

Mrs. Darlian lightly touched her flushed cheek. "You are a young girl, Relena, who has had the weight of responsibility on her shoulders for some time now. You need a rest . A change of scenery, perhaps, would help. The chance to relax and then you might see that it is not as bad as you think it is."

Relena winced. It had been a very long time since she had been a young girl. So long since she had had the cares only of a teenager. The weight of her position would not allow for anything but excellence and her total devotion. "I can't. I have too much to do as Vice Foreign Minister. I have to maintain the peace. I have to do something for my brother."

Mrs. Darlian sighed and lightly touched her daughter's hair, smoothing it over her shoulder. "Your brother is dead, My Dear. The dead do not care about what is said of them. It is only the living who care about that. In his way he achieved what he said he wanted. The Earth and the Colonies are at peace. It is strained a little at times, but it is peace. That is what he wanted. To stop the fighting, is that not so? Let him lie in his grave, Relena. Let him have peace."

"Milliardo is on Mars, mother. He was the pilot of the Tallgeese 3, that suit that held Dekim Barton's army at bay for hours until Miss Noin and then the Gundam Pilots, arrived. He was to be arrested and tried for war crimes and executed." She stared into her mothers wide eyes, seeing the disbelief there. "I sent him to Mars to keep him safe. The ESUN Security Office allowed it, calling it a life sentence, as no one outside of a select circle was to know he survived. He was never to leave Mars, a prisoner for life. Miss Noin went with him and now they have babies, Mother. I am an Aunt. Now the ESUN Security Office has demanded that I sign a statement, and documents, that will allow them to take his children away from him. They want them raised on Earth, by the ESUN and taught how to be good little citizens. If Milliardo objects he will be dealt with' in a suitable manner'."

Mrs. Darlian set aside her tea cup and contemplated her daughter's passion flushed face for a long while; considered what she had learned. She knew this information was classified. Not to be spoken beyond these walls. She had been the wife of the Vice Foreign Minister. She knew many state secrets. More than she hoped her idealistic daughter ever suspected. Her daughter had kept this secret for so long. Not a word breathed in the media that the Terror of Earth was alive and well. Not a word.

Relena had sent her brother to Mars. That far away, desolate place was not far enough to hold him. Was any place isolated enough and secure enough to protect them from HIM? Earth shook whenever he was mentioned, she was sure. A Peacecraft turned Soldier, turned prisoner. Relena seemed not to consider him so awful. What had changed? Her daughter's attitude had suffered a complete turn around from after the One Year War. She had certainly not looked on her brother kindly then.

"There was a time when you had not a single good word for your brother. Why, now, do you tell me that he is alive, and that it was you who arranged for him to go into exile to save his life? This is the man who threatened to destroy the very world we stand upon. This is the man you struggled against to bring about a peace and to end all wars."

"I said some truly horrible things to him, Mother." A whisper. "I was horrible to him. I never understood what his life had been. I made no effort to understand him. Or to understand his reasons for any of the actions he considered necessary to take. When he held me on the Libra, I did not hold him back. I rejected him Mother, but he never rejected me. Even then. He still loved his little sister, whom he had not seen for so many years. He loved me, unconditionally. He loved Sanc and gave everything he had to return Sanc to life from the ashes. I hate myself, Mother. I was the only family he had left he still cared for, and I rejected him. I have so messed things up."

She sighed. Relena was becoming more distraught as they spoke, not calmer, which had been her intention. Damn Milliardo Peacecraft for being alive and for shaking the foundations of her faith yet again.

"No, My Dear, I do not think you have messed things up. Yes, things are a little confused now, but we shall have to see to that. You are a politician and diplomat Relena. You are also a young lady who has had a lot of stress." Gently she stroked her daughter's hair. It had been a long time since she had felt she could take that liberty. Until this moment, her daughter had seemed too adult for such actions. She had felt it would be seen as a threat to the young woman's self esteem. "You do need the vacation. For the moment, why don't you allow me to make a few calls? I will need a secured line and some time."

"Of-of course. But why?"

"My dear daughter, I was a politician's wife for more than twenty years. Your father was not the only one with connections. Let me see what I can learn about this matter of stealing babies from their parents."

"Protective custody, they call it." Relena whispered. "He's not a bad man, Mother. He would not have destroyed the world. He only wanted people to open their eyes and see how fragile this world really is. Just like the colonies, mother. He wanted us to understand that the Earth was no different to the colonies. There the people are only too aware of the fragility of their worlds'. An explosion could destroy the entire colony. I am slowly beginning to understand what he intended. We had to see that we were not on an invincible, indestructible world. Earth is every bit as fragile and vulnerable as those artificial worlds."

"Mmm. You think that is what he intended? I myself am not so certain. However, that is in the past. You say your brother has children and that something must be done to protect them. Let me see what I can learn. How much time do we have?"

Relena shook her head, despairing, not daring to hope that of all people her mother might offer a solution to the problems haunting her.

"Days, Mother. Only days. ESUN agents are due to land on Mars tomorrow." Relena studied her mother for a long moment. "Mother, I don't just want the children protected. I want Miss Noin and Milliardo to be safe. I want them to be able to enjoy their children. They have a right to be able to keep their children. What right does the ESUN have to go to Mars and order them to give up their babies?" she sighed. "I am an Aunt. I would love to see my nephew and niece, but if it means that Milliardo and Miss Noin are to be threatened, I will gladly go without seeing them. Milliardo has had no family to love him. Why can't he be allowed to have a family of his own?"

"Then I shall have to have that secured line quickly, shall I not? I can not make you promises, Relena, you must understand that. I can not promise to make a difference, only learn what is happening. I can assure you that I will try my hardest to sort out this mess you are involved in. Katerina was my friend. I will do what I can for love of her. For my friend and for you, My Dear."

Relena sighed, nodding. For the love of her and her biological mother. Again, tragically, not for her brother.

"Mother."

"Yes, Dear?"

"What would you have done had Milliardo been brought to you, and not to father that day? Would you have sent him away?"

Mrs. Darlian sighed as she studied her daughter's face. Relena looked so disillusioned. This had not been a pleasant day for her and the day was far from over. It was a question she would have preferred time to consider, but her daughter was sitting there, within touching distance, waiting. It was a question she had never had to consider before. When he had brought Relena to her she had held the child for hours, weeping for her friend and the King and the little boy she had thought dead. Damn her husband for leaving her to deal with this.

"I like to think not, Relena."

"I hear a but' in there."

"You will find in life that there are usually a great many buts' involved. I honestly do not know what I would have done. I like to think that I would have taken him in my arms and been a mother to him, as I was to you. That is what I like to think. It did not happen that way, Relena. I can not say what I would have done."

t.b.c.


	18. Chapter 18

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 18

L2 Cluster

Colony L2-0397 [La Grange point 2. Serial Number 0397

28th February 198

Time: 19:25 [Local time

Duo

Duo walked the streets of the colony, looking with interest at the signs of progress. He was pleasantly surprised at the amount of change to be found in his home colony since the wars had ended. In the years since the One Year War had concluded, investment and government aid programs had changed the world he had grown up in. Even the oldest and poorest of the colonies was undergoing a change.

Relena had made a difference here. Her position as Vice Foreign Minister and her knowledge of the Gundam Pilots had helped her to see where aid to the colonies was needed. He well recalled the long conversations he had had with the newly appointed Vice Foreign Minister. Reticent at first about revealing too much about his past he had, in the end, found himself telling Relena about the street gangs. He had told her what it was really like growing up in abject poverty, with no family you could rely on. He had been one of the lucky ones, finding himself a part of the group run by Solo. They had been as close to a family as Duo had ever known. His earliest memories were of Solo. He had grown older and become Solo's right hand. Until the plagues had decimated the ghettos.

L2 had its affluent sections, but it also had ghettos. It was on the streets of the worst of these ghettos that he had been reared. Solo would not now recognize the streets of the L2 colonies. Money had been poured into the colonies, directed into aid programs and the rebuilding of the slums had been a large part of that aid. He found himself now walking streets far cleaner and ordered than he had walked not so many years ago. In truth, he thought it almost a different colony. This was so unlike the neighborhood he knew. Missions had sprung up everywhere and he found himself standing before the plot of land that had once been the Maxwell Mission.

The ruins of the mission and church he had known had been cleared away after the massacre. The last time he was here it was to stare in disgust at the concrete and steel monstrosity of architecture that had been erected in its place. Gone was the small mission hall and the little wooden church built out of left over timber and bits and pieces. Gone had been the small play ground where he had learned to play as a kid. It had been here, under the care of Father Maxwell and Sister Helen that he had found there was more to being a kid than picking someone's pockets, or planning how to break into a house, or scrambling in garbage dumps for food. He had learned to play as a child in the small play ground on the rusted equipment. All had been gone. Nothing left. Not that there had been much left after the massacre. In its place had been erected a government office of concrete and steel, where no one cared about the street kids. No one here provided help for the homeless, hopeless and the hungry. No one had cared.

Now he looked at that same drab government building with surprise. One thing he had learned was that life did not remain static on the colonies. Even in the slums life changed, usually for the worst. When it changed you had to adapt, and quickly, if you did not then you died. You learned that quickly when you lived on the streets.

It appeared that with the influx of finances and aid that had recently been allocated to the L2 cluster, someone had made changes here. The streets were cleaner there was a vitalized look in the people he watched. None of the children were dressed in rags and looked like near skeletal waifs. He stood across from the concrete monster he had expected to see and stared at the sign above the doors and fought the tears that threatened.

It had to be Relena's doing.

He had told her about his past. About Solo and the street gang. He had told her about Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. He had told her about his life, reluctantly at first, but as they had talked he had found her to be a good listener. The many interviews they had had, had left him wondering just how much she had really understood of the way he and too many others like him, had been forced to exist. He had wondered if she had understood. He was going to have to make a point of thanking her when next he saw her because he saw before him the proof that she had not only listened to him, she had quite plainly heard him. That much was obvious. Someone had listened and heard what he had been trying to say.

Maxwell Memorial Orphanage.

Duo shook his head slightly. A series of large bronze plaques were placed on the front facade of the building, telling of the massacre of the Maxwell Church. The deaths not only of the people who had lived and worked there, but of the children who had stayed there, were listed in tragic detail. The plaques told of the hope Father Maxwell and his staff had been for the area until the orphanage and mission had been wiped out. Now there was new hope. Duo could not resist. He had to see what had been built here.

The walls, formerly drab gray concrete were painted in vivid colours, bright greens, yellows, reds and more somber browns and blues. The foyer within the glass doors was tasteful in faux wood paneling, but what caught the eye was a cross raised above the desk set opposite the doors. A simple wooden cross, timbers scorched and discoloured. A plaque beside it claimed the wood for the cross came from the original Orphanage buildings.

Duo took a few minutes to steady himself. He felt as though he would cry at any moment. It had always been Father Maxwell's dream to have a Mission that would care for all of the children on the streets. A place where they could be fed, clothed and loved as they deserved. It looked very much like his dream had become reality.

"Hello? May I help you?"

He turned to see a young woman in the black work uniform of a nun of Sister Helen's old order. She was much younger that Sister Helen had been, but she had similar coloured hair and just the same helpful smile that he remembered. He felt his throat tighten, half expecting to see Sister Helen walking towards him. Horribly disappointed that she could not do so.

"Ah, sorry to be a bother. I just... well...I was one of Father Maxwell's kids. I've been away and I didn't know that this place was here." He felt suddenly shy and awkward. "I just... I just thought I'd...well... look around, if I could?"

"You were one of the children who sheltered here before the massacre?" She studied the gangly limbed young man, admiring the sharpening bone structure of a boy turning into a man. Not a boy any longer, but a young man. A striking young man, she thought who would have been all too cute as a child, especially if he had had long hair then. That thick, luxurious braid that wound down to a tight derriere was certainly hard to ignore. "Would you like a tour? We are quite proud of our work here and I would love to show you around."

"I would like that, if you would. I'm Duo. Duo Maxwell."

"Come right this way. My name is Sister Mary. Maxwell?" She smiled, but he could tell she was deeply curious about the coincidence of his surname.

Duo found himself blushing. "No one really knew who I was. I was a survivor of the plagues and I was only known as Duo. After the massacre, I took the name Maxwell. I couldn't forget what happened here. I took the name to honor the Father."

Her smile turned more gentle and she nodded slightly, signaling her understanding. "We can start with the soup kitchen." Sister Mary motioned toward a side door. "We try to keep to Father Maxwell's original plans for the mission. He wanted it to be more than an orphanage. It was to be for everyone on the streets. Still, you would know that better than most."

For the next three hours Duo found himself immersed in the Mission. It was more than an orphanage, just as the Father had long ago told him he dreamed of. It was a drop in point for the homeless who needed food, clothing and shelter. With the passing of the wars the staff now found added work to do. Not just the homeless were fed and sheltered. Now the workers tried to relocate families separated during the wars. Here they sought out relatives for those orphaned hoping to relocate them into their true families. If no relations could be found amid the L2 cluster, they attempted to perform gene traces for relatives amid other colonies.

Here, too, was the actual orphanage. A very different place from the Maxwell Orphanage he remembered. Much more modern and with none of the shortages he had known, but the genuine caring for the children was the same. Duo was a very happy man as he left the orphanage later that night. He had eaten with the children and heard some of their stories, and somehow it eased the terror he had always felt from the memories of that time when his world had died, again.

There was hope.

He could see it in the children's faces. He could see it in the faces of the homeless as they came in to eat. He could see it in the smiles of the staff who worked here. He could feel it when he walked through the corridors and stood in the playground.

//It was everything Father Maxwell told me he hoped he would one day create. A proper mission to minister to those in need, he called it. He would have been so pleased. //

It was growing late and near to the time he was to meet with Hilde. The tour of the Orphanage had helped him get through the time while he was waiting, and now he made his way to the junkyard where he and Hilde had lived together for a year. He was nervous. Very nervous. Uncertain what to say or do. He wanted to see his son. Hold his son. He wanted to talk to Hilde. To understand why she had not told him. They had seemed to part amicably enough, though he knew she did not understand his decision, so why would she not let him know?

He was almost afraid to ask. How was he to ask without causing a fuss he really wanted to avoid? He still liked Hilde, very much. He still wanted to be friends with her. Best friends, not acquaintances. Not just the ex boyfriend who just happened to father a child before he left.

"Duo. You're early."

He knew that voice. He froze, afraid to turn. That was so stupid, he had come here to see her, so why could he not bring himself to turn around. He could not mistake that voice. With a deep breath Duo forced reluctant limbs to move and managed to turn. Finding that he could move he simply looked, drinking in the sight of her.

It was Hilde. Not quite the same Hilde he had known for years. Slender, pretty and smiling. Yes, that was the same as he remembered, but this Hilde was dressed in a conservative suit of deep green and was pushing a pram, and had a basket of groceries balanced on one hip. This Hilde looked much more sophisticated than the girl he remembered.

What did he say?

"Ah, hi? Can I help with the groceries?" He felt like a fool. The pavement should swallow him up, it would be a blessing.

Hilde smiled slightly and shrugged, holding out the bag toward him. He so desperately wanted to have a look in the pram, but sudden fear held him back. Une had told him to be careful with Hilde. He didn't want to seem pushy. He knew her temper of old and he knew only too well that she did not understand why he had left her to work for Preventers. Hilde had never accepted his reasons.

"Sure. Come on. I'll make coffee when we get home."

He almost crushed the groceries he was so nervous. His tote bag slapped him rhythmically on his thigh as they walked, stuffed full by the teddy bear he would give to his son. His son. Somewhere in the darkness of the pram lay his son. So close. Lost in the darkness of the pram where the street lights could not reach, was the tiny life he had helped to create. He was so close. Did he dare edge closer and try to get a peek? Would that be a mistake?

"So, how have you been?" Hilde glanced at him and began walking again.

No. At this time, he thought it would be a mistake to make the move he so desperately wanted to make. He could be patient. He would be patient. He would not move too fast and ruin everything. Hilde had been cooperating with Lady Une who was working on behalf of him. He would not make it any harder to get what he wanted.

"Fine. Earth keeps me busy." He hesitated and decided to plunge. He had to talk about something and maybe he could begin with a question that had haunted him since he had been informed. "I hear you joined Preventers."

"Yes. It seemed the logical thing to do." Hilde glanced quickly at him in the fading light of a flickering street lamp. "I had a long think after you left. I got to thinking about what you said about what you wanted. About how you said you wanted to make a difference. I understand, Duo. Really I do."

"Hilde." He hesitated. Uncertain. He did not want to fight with her, certainly not in public. A fight was the last thing he intended. He wanted to see his son, to remain friends with her, and to know that she was safe. That his son would be safe.

"I was wrong not to tell you." She shrugged. Words simply were inadequate for what she had to say, but words were all she had. "I'm sorry. I was confused and hurt. You left me for something that at the time I did not, and could not, understand. I was angry. Actually, that was an understatement. Then I learned I was pregnant and I just did not know what to do. I thought you had made your choice and I did not feature in it. I felt that I did not measure up to... I'm sorry, Duo. I can't explain it very well. I know I hurt you. Can we still be friends?"

How he had wanted to hear those words. Can we still be friends. Oh, yes, he so desperately wanted for that to happen. "Ah, yeah. Yeah, sure, we can be friends. Forever." He wanted to believe her so badly. "Friends would be good. Is-is he a good baby? Does he keep you awake too much? I've been told babies do that a lot."

Hilde laughed softly, looking more relaxed. "Well, he's three months old and yes, he does keep me awake some nights, but there is usually a reason for that, Duo. I just have to figure out what the reason is. Soon as we get home would you like to hold him?"

"Yeah." Eager. "Hilde." He had to get this said. She had to know that he meant it. So far things had gone so much better than he had dared to dream. "I'm sorry if I hurt you when I left. I wasn't ready to settle down. I thought I was. I really tried, but I found that I could not just sit on the side lines. I knew I could help keep the peace. I fought for it to happen, and I just could not stop caring about it. It wasn't me to sit on the side lines and watch. I... I'll be honest Hilde. I wasn't angry with you or anything like that. It was me. I just could not settle."

"Are you ready to settle down now?" She was so going to slap him if he lied to her. She knew just how not ready he was.

Duo sighed softly as he walked beside her. He could not quite see into the shadowed recess of the pram. Not in this poor light. He could not lie to himself. Having a son made a difference. A big difference in his life, but the world had changed. In too many ways, but in one thing it had not changed. Peace was still delicately balanced. If anything the world situation and its relations to the colonies was on shakier ground than before, when he had made his decision. If Hilde expected him to settle down with her now, she was not going to be very happy with him.

"No. No, I'm not, Hilde. Sorry." //I might run and hide but I still don't tell lies.//

"Don't be." She sighed. Relieved. He was still the same Duo. He was still honest. "Duo, I told you I understood. It's okay. I had a long talk to quite a few people about what happened between us. I was pretty messed up for a while. It's okay now, though. I had time to think about us and about the colonies and Earth. I had help to look at the real world around me. Having a baby changes your perspective on life quite a bit. I am happy with how things are now. Lady Une was very understanding when I talked to her. She helped me, perhaps more than most of the councilors I spoke with did. I do understand why you wanted to help keep the peace. Your one of her top agents, aren't you? You don't need to think I want you to come back and play happy families. I understand that we both have our own place. We both have different responsibilities."

Words just did not seem to come out quite the way she intended them to. She only hoped that he understood the meaning behind the words.

"You are a special girl, you know? A very special girl." He flashed her a manic grin, feeling lighter in the heart. He was sure it was going to be alright. He could stay friends with Hilde. Maybe one day they might be more than friends again. Maybe. He would not discount that possibility.

"Actually, Duo, I am a young woman, not a girl." Hilde tartly commented. "I am a mother with responsibilities, and I am a Preventer Agent. I am also a business woman running the scrap yard on my own. I'm not a girl any longer, Duo."

He blushed. "Sorry, Hilde." Yeah, that look in her eye told him plainly he was heading into thin ice and to back off. Lady Une was so right. He would have to be careful around Hilde.

Motherhood had changed her. More that in her attitude and outlook to life. Duo took the time to really look at her, noting the changes that had been brought by pregnancy. Physically Hilde had changed, her figure showing a roundness and curves he had not noticed before, if indeed they had been there to be noticed. She was fuller in the breast than he remembered and she definitely had a bouncier step and if possible a healthier blush to her skin. Always pretty she positively bloomed now.

"It's okay, just don't forget. Come on. It's getting late and I don't see that we have to stand on ceremony. I am sure we can still be friends and we have Aidan to talk about."

"Why did you cut me out, Hilde?" He could have bitten his tongue when it slipped out, but done was done. He could have sewn his lips shut at the look he received.

"I already said I'm sorry, Duo. Lets not talk about this."

"I... I just wanted to know why you at least didn't tell me. Or give my name to him." He had started it and his mouth seemed to want to run away with itself. // God, I have to shut up. Why can't I shut up//

"Your name? You mean call him Duo?" Surprise evident in her voice.

"No." Well, he was committed now. He might as well get it dealt with. "Maxwell. You could have called him Aidan Maxwell."

"Duo, I had a fit of pique, okay? Leave it." She was glad the darkness covered her blush. She really wished he hadn't asked, but he had and she had no intention of answering.

Duo sighed. "Sure." He might not get a whole heap of answers, he reflected, but he had time. He had to control his tongue and he would eventually get his answers. He could be patient, when he had to be.

The scrap yard had become a little more ordered, he noted as they walked through it toward the small house. Hilde ran things in a more ordered fashion than he had, Duo had to admit. He had, of course, hacked the records of the scrap yard during his flight to L2, just for something to do, of course, and found that Hilde was very efficient, and making a reasonable living from the yard. Quite a reasonable living. His son would have everything that Hilde could provide for him, but Duo intended that they do the providing together.

"Are you happy, Hilde?" The question, again, slipped out without him intending to ask it. If there had been a wall handy he would be beating his head against it in despair. He was supposed to be getting on her good side, not annoying her into banishing him.

She paused at the door of the house and glanced at him. Shrugged. "Happy with what, Duo? Happy you left me? No, certainly not. Happy to be making a go of the business? Yes. I proved to myself I can make a go of things on my own. Happy with my work for Preventers? Yes. I actually do enjoy the work Lady Une has me do for her. Happy to have Aidan? You bet your boots I am. He's everything to me now. Happy to have met someone who, I think, will care for me in a different way to you? Yes."

Hilde entered the house and the lights snapped on automatically, brightening a room full of well used comfortable furniture. Nothing in the room was expensive, but it was comfortable and durable and generally gave the house the impression of a home. In one corner of the living room a small pile of soft toys were stacked neatly. Brightly coloured toys.

"Come on in and take your boots off. I put Aidan on the floor a lot."

Duo was still trying to sort out her list of happy 'yes' answers. He kept getting stuck on the last. For some reason the 'Happy to have met someone who, I think, will care for me in a different way to you' kept refusing to compute. Did that mean what he thought it meant?

"You have a boyfriend?" Duo finally managed to get out.

Hilde's voice floated from deeper in the house, a touch stilted. "Is it any concern of yours if I do? Boots, Duo. Get them off. We went our separate ways. You went off to do your rescue the world thing and I stayed with the scrap yard. We had separate lives. Nothing was said that we could not date anyone else. We split up. That means we were free to meet someone else. Free to date other people. You don't have to worry. Aidan will be alright. I'll see to that. I'll always see that he is safe."

"Hilde. I just need to know that you and Aidan are going to be alright. I need you to know that I'll be here when you need me."

"You'll be here when we need you?" Hilde appeared in the lounge room, frowning. "Come inside so I can shut the door and let Aidan out of the pram. There's a draft. And do get your boots off. Going to put your rescue the world career on hold, to stand in the shadows in case we need you, are you?"

Duo blushed. "No, but I'm not going to vanish either." He slipped his boots off and ducked in the doorway, closing off the night air. "He's my son. Lady Une did a genetic scan for me. He's mine and that gives me certain rights. More rights than to just pay a bit of money for you to use for him."

//Oh, God, now I've done it. Why can't I keep my big mouth shut?//

"We don't need your money, Duo. We don't need you running our lives because you don't approve of some detail we see differently to you. We don't need you, but we will accept your part in our lives where it is needed. That does not mean interfering in my love life or telling me how to care for Aidan."

"I know you don't." Softly spoken. He was trying desperately to keep his wayward tongue under control. "You have the scrap yard and you are on the Preventers pay roll. You are going to be comfortably well off between the two. I'm a field agent for the Preventers, Hilde. It's what I do best. You knew me as a Gundam Pilot. Did you honestly think I could just sit at home and play with the scrap yard? It was a nice dream, but just not me. I found that out. I tried it that way and it just was not me."

Hilde sighed and took the groceries into the kitchen, returning after a moment to bend over the pram. When she straightened it was to reveal a tiny figure wrapped securely in a blanket. Gently moving the blanket she turned to Duo and offered the bundle to him.

"This is Aidan. Hold your arm up a little so you can support his head properly. That's better. Now sit down over there and get to know him while I make coffee and get ready to change him. You and I are just going to have to agree to disagree on certain things."

Duo had been uncertain what his reaction would be to seeing his son. He had desperately wanted to see the baby and hold him and be a part of his life. He had not known how to go about this and his mouth kept running away with itself, ruining any chance he might have of Hilde looking favorably on his having prolonged access. Now, suddenly, instead of fighting with Hilde he had a tiny very warm and nice smelling bundle in his arms. A totally helpless, lovely bundle that looked at him with eyes a cross between blue and violet. Aidan Maxwell had a heart shaped face and the softest, pinkest skin Duo had ever felt.

"He will have your eyes." Hilde commented from the kitchen. "Are you sitting yet?"

Duo parked his rear promptly. "Yes, I'm sitting."

"Good. He's quite definitely your son. Just look at that hair."

Brushing back the blanket Duo found himself caressing chestnut brown, thin wisps crowning the tiny head. The baby stirred, tiny fingers flexing as they fought free of the blankets confines. He felt suddenly very proud that his son had more hair than that baby he had watched at the café on Earth.

"Why are his eyes such an odd colour?"

"Lots of babies are born with blue eyes, but the eyes change colour gradually. He'll have your eyes, no doubt about it. Blue that change colour with his moods."

"Oh." He was pleased about that, too. "Will you let him grow his hair long and braid it?" He wasn't even sure where that question came from, and glanced up quickly to find Hilde standing in the doorway to the kitchen, an odd look on her face as she watched him with the baby.

"I don't know, Duo. That's a long time away, yet. You look good, holding him." The last said softly, with a gentle smile.

"Oh." He glanced down at the baby. "He's so small."

"Babies come that way. He's a lot bigger than he was when he was born." Hilde chuckled.

He could so easily get lost in the big blue-violet eyes. So easily forget that there was a world beyond the tiny body in his arms. "I brought Aidan something. It's in my bag. Would you get it for me, please?"

The teddy bear was more than four times the size of the baby and seemed to have developed an inordinate liking for being stuffed in the tote bag. Hilde, when she finally extricated him from the bag, gave a delighted giggle and subjected the bear to a deep, stuffing threatening cuddle and chuckled softly. Caressing the tufted ears she planted a kiss on his nose and turned to Duo. "It's lovely. So you."

"Huh?" He dragged his eyes up from the baby.

"Don't worry about it." Hilde waved off the comment. "I know what I mean. I'll finish getting the coffee."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	19. Chapter 19

Alternative Directions: Options

Part 19

Sanc

Sanc Palace

1st March AC 198

Time: 02:15

Lady Une

Lady Anne Une, known as Earth to the Preventers, motioned Heero Yuy to take the seat opposite and settled onto the divan. The small sitting room had been swept for listening devices by Heero when they had first entered. She was confident in the security of her best agents, and knew that fewer secure locations could be found for this conversation to take place.

The tastefully chosen antiques gave the room a genteel, old worldly air. One she had grown comfortable with as a child. In too many ways, however, this old world charm reminded her of the war. Or rather, of the one person who had meant the world to her. Everything about the elegance of the room reminded her of His Excellency, his elegance, his charm, his irresistible charisma.

She could hear his rich voice whisper to her if she allowed her attention to wander. She could still feel the touch of his hand. She looked for him in a crowd, knowing she would not find him there, yet unable to resist. Realistically she knew he was dead, that he had sacrificed himself for this peace, and unlike that blonde fool who was still causing trouble, he had succeeded. Why should His Excellency be dead and that nuisance still be alive and still be disrupting the plans for peace?

// Not now, Anne. Later. //

"Ice."

Heero had never felt nervous in her presence, unlike so many other agents. He knew of her reputation, both during the One Year War and later as Earth of the Preventers, and neither bothered him. For that reason amongst a few others she found herself liking the young man, and more importantly, trusting him.

She was a very different woman to who she had been three years ago, but she was still sharp, keen edged and no one's fool. She knew he understood she was still the woman who had threatened to blow up colonies if the Gundams did not surrender. She could still call on that cold brutality if the situation ever called for it. She had found her softer side in the intervening years was not up to running Preventers, but combine her two personalities best points and she was afraid of no one. She thrived on running the organization and preserving the peace He had died to achieve.

Beyond the palace the night was dark, the moon hanging low on the horizon, almost set, shedding a silver light as it reflected from the snow covered lawns. Two hours after midnight and the dinner party over, the guests gone home. Relena had retired for the night, exhausted by the stresses and uncertainty of the day.

Earth had waited until they were assured the Vice Foreign Minister was settled to bed before they began this briefing. Heero had checked that all the permanent residents had retired, even Pagan, who was generally the last to retire and the first to rise to supervise the household. Preventer agents patrolled the grounds and walked the halls of the house. The surveillance and alarm systems he had personally designed were working faultlessly. Heero was confident they could have this discussion in complete privacy and she trusted him.

"Tell me about the visit to Marquis Wayridge." Lady Une began.

"A total disaster. Relena had a very rude awakening. The Marquis is a political creature. He sees the needs of the world over the needs of what little family he has left. I think he made a mistake and it is one he can ill afford to make. Relena will not soon forget what he said to her. If she ever forgets. The look in her eyes when he told her to forget she ever had a brother, and that he should die, just as he was meant to when the Libra core blew, was devastation. Family seems much more important to her than it is to the Marquis."

"Marquis Wayridge has ever been a political creature. He married his daughter to Stephan Peacecraft for political reasons, not particularly caring if Katerina agreed to the pairing or not. I recall people commenting on how surprised they were that the royal couple actually appeared to have a genuine liking for each other. It was surprising to many that the marriage worked so well, considering the age difference of the two involved. Wayridge was very active in the push for the world to unite and accept the ways of the Perfect Peace Principle. Until the massacre at Sanc, of course. He decried the principle within days of the fall of Sanc, as all good politicians did, who wished to remain in control of what power bases they had built."

"Pagan took Milliardo Peacecraft to the Marquis. In less than an hour the Marquis had them out of his house, handing over finances enough to establish Milliardo in a boarding school." Heero offered.

"A very small, very out of the way boarding school, where there was next to no chance of Alliance officials children being enrolled." Old, distant memories stirred in her brown eyes. Memories of times when she had been a very different person. When she had been neither Colonel Une, nor the Oz Representative to the Colonies. Nor the self she now was. "Yes, I know. It was not the best place to send him. I recall that after Milliardo was removed from the school it was audited and closed down. By an Alliance Investigation Committee. Treize told me about it a year or two after it happened. The methods used there to educate the children were less than savory. Duke Heinrich Kushrenada had a hand in closing it down, when Milliardo was coaxed to tell how he received the bruises he was covered in."

Earth rose from her seat and moved to the window, watching as the moon lowered toward the horizon. It was a clear night and she watched a security patrol cross the wide expanse of the front lawn. The dog was all attention to the night, but calm. All was quiet. No trouble.

"I had hoped the Marquis might have changed and that he might have a greater appreciation for family than he had shown in the past. I should have known better, but it had to be tried. His daughter was used in a political marriage. His grandson disposed of as being inconvenient and too recognizable. Now he has what he wanted he could prove to be dangerous. A blood relation in power. A young granddaughter he can influence and train in his particular methods. I had hoped we might have been able to ally with Marquis Wayridge. Unfortunately, it seems not."

0000000000000000000000000000

Heero

Heero watched her, silent. He had been intending to broach the subject of Duo's abrupt departure from Earth, but somehow he knew that needed to wait. This was leading somewhere and he had the feeling it was going to be an important 'somewhere' and that he should not distract the subject. Lady Une was leading toward something, deliberately or inadvertently, he would find out shortly.

"Ice, are you willing to remain as Relena's body guard for the moment?" Une turned on him, brown eyes narrowed, watchful. Dismissing, for now, the shadows of the past.

"Yes."

He was, in truth, more than willing to have official sanction from Une to remain in Relena's company. For more than official reasons. He had a lot of thinking to do that was entirely personal in nature. He had to decide who he was going to become, and just how far he was willing to take his association with the Vice Foreign Minister.

"Good. Various factions in Earth Gov are positioning themselves, and I do not like what I see developing. There have been too many former Romefeller members elected to positions of power in the last twelve months or so. Some of the resignations that have taken place to see this current political assembly form worry me. It will shortly look like an old school reunion."

Heero almost smiled at that. Almost. He could see that Une was serious, that she was genuinely worried about the power bases forming in Earth Gov. The top Earth Government officials were the ones who dealt the most with the officials chosen by the Unified Colony Government. Together the two governments made up the ESUN governing body. It was disturbing to consider that of the two hundred and fifty strong Assembly in the Earth Gov Council, some one hundred and eleven councilors now were ex Romefeller members. In the last fourteen months some thirty individuals had resigned from the Council and all of them had been replaced by the nobles who once had filled Romefeller's halls.

"Relena has rather a unique position in the political community. She plays an important role in controlling the interaction between Colony and Earth Gov Representatives. She is about the only truly neutral political figure in the entire ESUN. As such she is valuable as an ally. If it is determined by any faction in the Council that she can be influenced or outright controlled, then she may easily become a liability. Those who have arranged this fiasco on Mars are an example. There may be others in time. The simple truth is that Relena is a lamb and they are the wolves. We are the sheep dogs, Ice. She is too inexperienced to retain her position and influence on her own. She has many years before she can hope to stand against the political forces opposing her."

Heero nodded, seeing that easily enough. Relena was barely eighteen. She had three years at most in political circles. You could not possibly count her growing years under her foster father's grooming. She had, more over, resented the training he had been giving her, taking her to the colonies with him with more frequency to introduce her to colony leaders was only one small part of the training she had been given. He had fully intended that his foster daughter take up the fight of her biological father for peace to be found between the colonies and the Earth.

"Her pushing for Milliardo's release and for the children to be left on Mars, will cause all parties to look at her with doubts as to her continued usefulness to them." Heero was beginning to understand where this conversation was leading.

"Yes. Anyone who knows what is happening on Mars, now, will be watching her avidly. I believe that there is only a small core group of individuals who are entertaining this deplorable method of influencing her. Five or six, maybe. We need to acquire trustworthy mentors for her. Milliardo can be used against her. His children can be used against her just as effectively. Whoever controls them has control over Relena. She feels a deep sense of guilt over the way she treated him after the Barton Incursion, and that guilt will ensure that she stands balanced on a tight rope. She is vulnerable while Milliardo can be used against her."

"She was exhausted after the abduction." It was only recently that he had heard Relena had apparently spoken out of turn after the battle to contain the forces of Dekim Barton. At the time he had been in hospital, unaware for days of the world around him.

"Yes, she was. She was a sixteen year old girl who let her mouth run away with her, a thing a politician and diplomat can not afford to do, regardless of age. I am beginning to fear that Relena is not cut out to be a politician, Ice. While we have her, we must make the best of it, because I am more and more suspicious that it will not last. Eventually the pressure will get to her. She is eighteen years old and the weight of the world and the colonies rests on her shoulders. There is an entire Council of Representatives out there who are more than capable of running the Earth fairly, but who sit on their Laurels and allow a child to run herself ragged because she is the ideal figure head. Queen of the World. She will likely never be free of that bit of doggerel. Romefeller were nothing if not efficient in securing such nonsense a place in peoples psyche. She has now had a taste of the tasteless tactics that are all too common in the political arena. She will lose heart. Especially when she fails to ensure her brothers freedom." Lady Une met Heero's blue eyes, firm, resolute. Confident in her assessment of the situation. "She will fail, Ice. I have no doubt of that. If the ESUN Security Office can not control him, they will have no qualms about killing him as an example and then leaning on her using the children. They will break her to their hand, one way or the other."

"What do you plan?" He did not like the idea of anyone controlling Relena. Especially old politically minded men like the Marquis Wayridge.

The Lady turned from the window and settled again on the divan, studying the ex gundam pilot for a long moment. She knew his past history. Since joining Preventers he had filled in numerous blanks in the details OZ had gathered on him. She knew they did not know it all. Knew there was a great deal that even Heero himself did not know about his past, but she knew, also, that she could trust him. Especially where the safety of the Vice Foreign Minister was concerned. His growing attachment to the girl had not gone unnoticed by her. He was very much still a mystery, but a mystery that the politicians were wary of. Though he had vowed not to kill again, she could trust him to kill should any threat to Relena require such drastic action.

"Duo Maxwell will be on special assignment, shortly. He has agreed to the assignment and as far as anyone knows he is visiting family on L2. A situation will arise; if I have to I will arrange it myself; but I am hopeful that something suitable might come up that I can use, that will require he go undercover. Needing to work undercover will stop the ESUN Security Office from enforcing his parole, as per our working agreement with them. You will see that Relena is able to function free of interference, by upset individuals in the Earth Gov power sphere. That may just include her grandfather after this failed interview with him. I do not believe that killing Milliardo is on the ESUN Security Offices agenda. Not yet, at least. It is more likely they will have him sedated somehow, and remove the children to a safe location. Should that happen, I will set up a group to learn of that location, and have the children removed to a safer and more protected environment. We will have to determine a solution to the dilemma that Milliardo presents at some other time. For now the safety of the children and Relena has top priority."

"Miss Noin?"

"I am doing the best I can to offer assistance to both Milliardo and Noin. I am uncertain how far Zechs will allow this to go. He may go quietly. Or he may lose it entirely and fight back. His mental state after what has happened is in doubt." She noted the curious look and sighed. "He has been interviewed by half a dozen psychologists over the time he has been on Mars. Even the latest one can not adequately determine his mental state. He could go either way. Lucrezia Noin, on the other hand, will be a fore gone conclusion. She'll fight. Her psyche evaluations leave me in no doubt of that. I have agents already established on Mars. They will offer what assistance they can, as the situation progresses. If Milliardo can make it to the alternate site on Mars, then we may have a chance to get him and the children free of ESUN control. If we can do that, Relena will have a great deal of pressure relieved. She may stay in the power structure that much longer."

"You're expecting war if she leaves it?"

Une considered him for a long moment and then sighed. "I am expecting trouble, Ice. Of varied forms. Not just war. Not only war. The best case scenario I can entertain is that we somehow solve this situation to the satisfaction of Relena and then manage to acquire some suitable Mentor or Mentors amid the political parties to act as a counter balance, and give some much needed support to her. That would allow her to know that not all of the politicians in power are corrupt or addicted to game playing. The problem is to find such a person or group who we can trust not to manipulate her if we relax our guard when the current situation eases."

Personally, he reflected, he was not likely to relax his guard over her. However, for now, he had another question.

"Duo's assignment is?" A prompt.

They had worked as partners repeatedly under the umbrella of Preventers and it bothered him that they were to work separated on the same case. If Duo was to go on assignment he had to know if there was any secure method of contacting him in his new circumstances. With their private investigation they would need to exchange information as they discovered it, and its very nature demanded that it be secret.

"Duo will get Zechs off Mars, if at all possible."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	20. Chapter 20

+ Flashback

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 20

Mars

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 06:59 M.S.T. [Martian Standard Time

Noin

"If you could know all possible futures, what would you do, Noin?"

//If I could know all possible futures. What would I do? I'd have you in bed screaming for me never to stop... Damn, Zechs, what is wrong with you? What is wrong with me? I have more important things to consider than word games. That shuttle is due to land in a few hours and we have no idea just what is waiting for us on it. You seem so sure it is disaster.//

In her arms Katerina stirred, tiny hands massaging her breast as she fed. Across from her Lucian was secure in the arms of his father, sucking contentedly on the bottle, the pair settled comfortably in one of the larger chairs that seemed such a sinful luxury in their spartan quarters. The twins fed alternately at the breast of their mother, a routine they had decided on before the actual births. Their mornings now had a comfortable routine Noin never wanted to change. For so many years she had loved Zechs Merquise and on those rare days that she was honest with herself, she admitted she had despaired of ever having this domestic tranquility.

She had cheated to get it.

All that she had in front of her now, the man himself and the children that made up her entire life, she had not earned. She had cheated. Had not won him to her suit. She had to be honest with herself, now if at no other time. She had cheated to get him. She had never even had the grace or sheer manners to ask him if he wanted her to stay with him. She had never asked him if he wanted her in any physical way, shape or form; nor had she dared to ask him if he wanted her out of his life forever, after what she had done.

Since their childhood days in the Lake Victoria Specials Academy she had wanted him. From the time she had laid eyes on the pale haired preteen she had dreamed of him. Imagined him taking her in his arms and crushing her to his strong body and plundering her mouth in heated, fiery kisses.

//Be honest, Noin, you didn't just want him, you lusted after him.//

It had taken some time for him to accept her overtures of friendship. Friendship was as far as he was willing to go, always hesitating, always holding back, always ignoring her pushing for something more. So unsuccessful had she been to win more than friendship out of him that she had wondered if she had been too subtle about courting him, but a comment from a friend had buried that notion.

+ "My God, Noin. It's a wonder the poor boy doesn't run whenever he sees you. Could you be any more obvious if you tried? There's a knack to stalking... or courting. Which is it you're trying to do?" +

After that comment and the subsequent discussion with her friend Jennifer, she had toned down her pursuit, and she had been somewhat stunned by the way he had seemed to relax and accept her company. He had become comfortable with her. Perhaps their relationship as friends had become too comfortable. Perhaps she had eased off too much, but then, the events of the time had accelerated, and their training with it. It had left little time for anyone to consider courtship, social occasions or anything other than the desperate need to fall into bed at night and get some much needed sleep.

Reflecting on the past she admitted to herself that he had never dated. Too wrapped up in his own agenda. Too focused. Yes, now that she thought about it, not in all the time at the academy that she had known him, had she known him to ask any other girl out on a date. He had attended all social requirements without a formal date, often asking her openly to accompany him if she was free, as he had no wish to be saddled with an assigned companion just to balance seating arrangements. He had made it clear each and every time that this was not a romantic interlude in their training, but merely a necessary action to avoid the simpering young girls of noble families invited to many of the Specials social functions. Each and every cadet, male or female, was expected to have exemplary manners as befitted a noble or well bred male or female. Social niceties had been drilled into them, day and night, along with more mundane skills for a soldier.

//He never asked another girl, other than me. That made my infatuation with him worse. Still, at least he never asked a boy. // The rumors had been there, she admitted.

He couldn't have been gay, though. She had the proof of that in her arms, massaging her breast with tiny, warm fingers. Not gay, no, but maybe bisexual? Rumors. Damn rumors. People spent too much time inventing interesting bits of drivel and then spent too much time listening to that very drivel and speculating.

He'd been friends with her for a very long time. She had given him an ultimatum during that battle in Brussels. He had said, in response, only the one word.

+ "Understood." +

Understood. She had quickly enough learned that his attitude toward her had remained unchanged. Friends was how he had treated her after the fight. Just good friends. No hint of a lovers touch. No soft words. Hell, he had practically ordered her to remain on Earth and not consider coming to Mars with him. She was never very good about taking the hint.

He'd become more after that night. God. That night. No, she was not proud of herself. From that night when she had found him so low in depression and she had plied him with drink, she had not dared to examine her actions with honesty. She had not dared to look at her actions and own up to just how low she had been. She had been half drunk herself on despair that he still put up barriers between them. Finding him in that condition, her own judgment impaired, she had taken action she normally would never have considered.

No. She had not been that drunk. She could not blame it on the drink. No, she had seen him vulnerable and like a killer who had stalked its prey for so long she had leapt at the opportunity presented and moved in for the kill. Her mistake. She knew he kept himself distanced from women, not just her in general, but all women were kept at a certain distance. Even Relena, she admitted, though that was likely the result of their confrontations in the past. There had been rumors about him. Rumors about him and His Excellency. If she asked... if she dared to ask him about his sexuality before she had seduced him, what would he have said? What would he do now, if she asked? If she dared...

He had feelings for her, but not as she wished. She knew that. He did not love her as she burned for him. Her desperation to win him had ended her patient assault on him. All of her carefully laid out plans, made when she had learned he was to come to Mars, had gone to naught, the night she had found him huddled in a corner, silent, staring inward.

He had been unaware of her to begin with, of that she was certain. In truth it was as though he had not been in the room at all. Depressed, she recalled thinking at the time. Depressed that he was on Mars, when his heart was not here. Depressed he had survived the Libra to exist on this dustbowl of a planet. Depressed that after all he had done as the leader of White Fang there had been war once again. The Barton Incursion had pulled him out of hiding. He had been forced to fight once again for the peace he had so desperately craved. A peace, she knew, he had never found for himself.

Where had he been during that year after the Libra exploded?

Hurt, the scars said, but not for the whole year. He had been in top physical condition when he had appeared to pilot the Tallgeese III. Who had treated him? Where had he been? Was it a place he could return to? Would he have gone back there if he had had the chance, after the battle in Brussels? Would he have vanished again, perhaps into the vastness of space, beyond her reach, had she given him the chance?

He was a prisoner on Mars. It was not a new start for him. Not a fresh start free of the blood of his past. It might have been, except for the ESUN Security Office. There was no escaping the simple truth of what Relena's offer of a fresh start had become. He was, without doubt, a hostage. A prisoner.

"Zechs."

Ice blue eyes, warm with content looked up at her and she started. He had never looked like that before. His silver-white hair hung freely about him, bangs half hiding his face, flowing over broad shoulders. The light golden skin accented the colour of his eyes and a faint smile curved his lips. In his arms Lucian stirred, tiny fingers gripping a lock of hair as he worked on emptying the bottle of formula. He wore only sweat pants, the lights of the room glinting off his skin, drawing her eye to that broad expanse of naked chest. Her fingers twitched at the memory of the feel of that warm skin under her touch.

"Mm?"

"Would you have come here if you had had other options? Would you have come to Mars?"

"There are no options for the leader of White Fang, Lu. It was a choice I made, before I even set foot on Libra. I knew what would happen if I went through with accepting the leadership of the White Fang. Only I thought I would die and escape from my conscience and the accusations."

"Where were you? Where did you disappear to after the Libra was destroyed?" It was late to ask him about the past. Late for her to get up the guts to ask the questions. Yet it had never seemed the right time before. Something had always held her back, made her hesitate and the moment would be lost. Now did not seem the right time to ask either, but when would be? When would be the right time? From what he had said in the past, he had been expecting her to question him for a long time. He had given her subtle openings and she had chosen to cowardly ignore the chances that circumstance had not ruined for her.

"I was found more dead than alive, and put back together by a passing trader."

He did not want to remember that, she could see. There was a subtle tension in the broad shoulders as blue eyes looked down again to the light of his life now. Delicate baby soft skin under his calloused hands.

"Trader?" A soft prompt when no further information seemed to be forthcoming. Sometimes talking to him was less productive that extracting blood from a stone.

The empty bottle was set aside, the baby settled against one broad shoulder and those competent long fingers began gently to rub the delicate back. Lucrezia watched with a gentle smile as he touched a light kiss to the tiny blonde head on his shoulder.

Zechs Merquise, the Lightning Count. Milliardo Peacecraft, the notorious commander of the White Fang; the Terror of Earth. That man was not the quiet, blonde God so gently burping the baby before her.

"Please." A whisper. "I would prefer not to talk about that time. I remember pain more than anything else. It does not belong here, with this time." // Please Lu, don't start the questions . Not now. If you do, I may not be able to protect you.//

A quiet sigh. Just last night he had asked her why she had never asked... but no, that was not what he had said. That was not what he had meant. She had not been paying attention to him.

"You've never asked me why I did it."

No. Certainly not the same thing. It. The entire fiasco as Leader of the White Fang. The Libra. Yet she did know why he did it. Not why he chose to do it that way, but why he did it, yes, that she knew. How could she not know when his entire agenda from the first day she had met him focused on that one goal?

He did it for peace. He did it so the world and the colonies would work for peace.

"Our children will know a better world. A world of peace. A world in which there are no more wars. No more massacres. No more blood shed in the streets." At her breast Katerina stirred, fussing, finished with her feed. She smiled, caressing white hair before dropping a kiss on the babies forehead. "They will have freedom and a chance we never had. They will have Peace". The last a sigh.

For an instant she glimpsed pain and hopelessness in blue eyes. She tensed, frowning, astonished that he seemed so disappointed. "Zechs? What is it?"

"Nothing." Softly. "It's nothing."

Lucian burped, a tiny breath accompanied by a comic face and his father was quick to catch the reflux with a waiting cloth. He had acquired a wide variety of skills he had never thought of before. In his life there had never been any time to give thought to having a family. He had never once given a thought to himself having children and what must be done for the children's welfare. His life had been a quest for revenge, a thirst to win for his people the rights to their homeland once again. He had not thought beyond that goal being achieved.

His memories of children were restricted to vague memories of Relena. An infant in his mother's arms. A tiny bundle in his fathers big hands. The nurse and their nanny . He'd never been allowed in the room when Relena had been fed as an infant. Never been present when she had needed bathing or changing. That had all been done away from him. He had been a prince then, and such was not for him to see, let alone participate in. He had known her more when she was older, nearing two and was more able to play with him. While she was younger he had been permitted to hold her under adult supervision, but never for as long as he had really wanted. Young babies had been a mystery to him. They still were, though not so much a mystery now.

He had made a point of learning it all. From bathing a baby, to how to mix the formula. He could change a dirty bottom, fold a breech clout for the infants, burp them and dress them. He had tried so hard to learn everything that was needed to know. He had even done extensive research on the base computers, accessing archives on child care, child illnesses and education. To do research on how to care for babies he had been given permission to access the main colony computer. Always under supervision, of course.

They, the ESUN Security Agents had given explicit instructions on what systems he was never to be permitted to access. They would not trust him with their precious computers unattended, but that was alright. He would never have been stupid enough to try accessing the main frame.

"Zechs. We need to talk. We can't keep putting it off." Lucrezia set Katerina to her shoulder, tucking her breast back into her shirt.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Us. Mars. Earth. ESUN. Everything. She sighed . Where to begin? Just where to begin? She had waited so long to have this talk with him. Plenty of opportunity before, but she had not taken the chance. She knew it was her fault, he had on a number of occasions tried to talk to her about the past and more often their future. Time and again the chance to talk had come up, but she had avoided taking that opportunity. Well, no longer. It was time and she would ask the questions she should have asked before.

"Zechs... I want... I think... I apologize." God in Heaven, that had not wanted to come out. It was certainly not what she had wanted to say.

Long silver white bangs hid his eyes and much of his face. Beneath their protection he closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against the infant's silken hair. A shudder wracked him, delicate, a faint ripple along his nerves and he silently begged for this to end. For him to be wrong. It was all so familiar though. Too familiar.

//Please, don't. Not now. If you do it will all happen. I may not be able to control any of it. I may watch you die. I may watch the children die.//

"Apologize? For what? There is nothing to apologize for." Low, but firm and quiet in tone desperate to change the sequence. To break the cycle.

"I have a lot to apologize for. No, now that I've started, let me finish. I... I never asked you about ...about your.." //Damn. Damn. How to say this? How to say... Say… I can't even say it to myself. // "Zechs, that night that we… that I... I had no right to get you drunk, let alone seduce you. I had no right to even be in your room."

//Please, no, Lu. Please don't do this.//

"Ever since we met at Lake Victoria Academy I have carried a torch for you. It was never just a girlish infatuation. Never just that . I knew I loved you from the first moment I saw you and I couldn't look at another man after seeing you for that first time. Some times it happens like that. Love at first sight can happen. I was infatuated with you. In love with you. Not a crush. Not that sort of infatuation. Christ. This is not easy. I... I... I heard the rumors. I could not help but hear the rumors, but I would not allow myself to believe them. When I learned who you were... who you really were, I knew that the rumors were just rumors. That I might have had a chance. You'd need... need heirs. I could see that He knew who you were and he supported you. Like I decided to after I learned you were Milliardo Peacecraft. People misunderstood. You were not gay. Just careful . I could understand why."

//Nooo. That came out all wrong. He'll never understand what I mean.//

"Please, Noin. Don't."

"I have to. I have to tell you this . If we are to go beyond this point... progress in our relationship, then I have to say this. I have been in love with you since Lake Victoria. I decided to support you when I realized who you were, not because of who you were, but because I loved you. I know you did not ask me to. I know you did not want me to. I know it took you a long time to come to terms with my... obsession. I admit it. I have been obsessed with you. Obsessed with the idea that you could love me the way I love you. When I found you here that night, I... well, I could not keep my hands to myself. You needed someone that night and I could not wait any longer. I had to show you that I loved you. I had no right to do what I did. I know that. I admit that. I practically raped you."

// This is not coming out right. He won't understand what I am trying to say. God. I don't even know what I am trying to say. //

"Zechs, I got you drunk. I deliberately plied you with drink and then I seduced you. I didn't even have the decency to apologize afterwards. I didn't even have the grace to back off and let you recover. Hell, I just moved in. I didn't even ask if it was alright to move in, I just... did it. I... I never asked if... if... if you had anyone else. If there was another you were... were in love with. Maybe mourning for?"

Silence. How loud Silence can be. In the silence Katerina burped, the communications unit in the background chimed the alert to an incoming message and Lucrezia stared at her lap and then continued speaking, relentless. She had to speak. Had to get this in the open between them.

"There were rumors about you and... and His Excellency. I refused to believe them. I refused to give them any credence at all. I thought... I thought that as the Prince of Sanc you... well, that you would need heirs." // I can't do this. Is he even listening? He hasn't even moved. // "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I... No. I'm sorry that I overstepped the line. I had no right to just assume anything. Your sexual preferences were for you yourself to know and entertain. I violated your privacy time and again. I just... I just wanted to live my dream. You never threw me out. You never told me to go, Zechs. I didn't know what to think or do. So I stayed. I'm sorry."

"So have you had your fill of me now?" Just above a whisper.

His tone was neutral, giving no indication as to his thoughts. He just sat there, the infant curled protectively to him, hiding behind those damn glorious silver white locks. Face hidden. Very still. Lucrezia shuddered. This was not turning out as she had expected, not that she had gone into the conversation knowing what to say or expect. She had stumbled and bumbled her way and mixed up what had been meant to be an apology for her actions, not accusations on his sexuality or life style. If the time had been right for her to front him, her words certainly were not.

Had she expected him to assure her that it was alright? That he did not mind her past actions, both when they were cadets in the academy together, and now here, on Mars? God, he had told her not to go with him to Mars when Relena made the offer. Practically pleaded with her to remain on Earth. He had his reasons for every action he had ever taken. Maybe not the reasons she had assumed. How could she know if he would not tell her about his thoughts? How could she know if he bottled up his emotions and refused to explain himself?

Maybe... maybe... Too many maybes. Did he think she would hate him? Never. Never could she feel anything other than love for him. Well, to be honest there was quite a bit of lust in there too. If she could not tell him in plain English what she was trying to say, then how was he to understand it? How could he answer her and say what she so desperately wanted to hear him say?

"I'm sorry. That did not come out the way I had intended." She sighed.

"It makes no difference how you had intended to say it. What do you want to know Lucrezia Noin? Do you want to know if I was in love with Treize Kushrenada? Or if he was in love with me? Do you want to know if I mourn his death? Do you want to know if I love you at all?" He touched his lips ever so lightly to the infants cheek. "Do I have a right to love anyone, Lucrezia? I am supposed to be dead . I should be dead, but I survived the Libra. I did not die when Sanc fell when I was a child. More recently Epyon would not allow me the release that death would have been. Did I love His Excellency? Yes. Most of his soldiers did. I was no exception. Did I ever go to bed with the man? You should know him enough to know the answer to that, and you should know me well enough to know that that kind of thing is not allowed in the ranks, and that I agree with the reasons behind it. It only leads to trouble. Did I want to go to bed with him, and would I have if he had ever asked? Love is not all about sex, you know. That is only a small part of it. Even I, who had to remain apart from it, who had to stay apart from loving anyone, knew that." A tired sigh. "I respected that man more than you can ever know and yes, Lucrezia Noin, I do mourn him. Do I love you? Yes, I do. You are my friend." He faltered, touching a kiss to the baby's cheek. "If it makes you feel any better, I was a virgin the night you seduced me. Okay? Is that what you wanted to know? If I had ever bedded or been bedded by anyone? I don't know the first thing about personal relationships or sex, Noin. That was not necessary to my education. Treize was the only one to understand where my focus was. He understood I had people to protect and I could not afford relationships interfering with the plans so carefully devised. I was a danger to everyone near me. I was to remain apart, for the safety of others, not so that my identity would remain secret. He knew what my life had been like after Sanc fell. He knew more than you can ever know about those days. You are not him, Noin. You never can be him. Sex had nothing to do with our relationship. Are we done now?"

Silence. Again. What could she say to that quiet, matter of fact tone? What could she say to ease the very obvious hurt he was feeling? Damn her tongue. It got her into more trouble that it ever got her out of.

In the silence he stood, ignoring her aborted attempt to reach out to him. He moved to the communications consul and clicked to read the message. Sighed. As he had known. Just as he had known it would be. He was so tired. So very tired of what was happening to them all. The truly horrible thing was that it was only just beginning. How to wend ones way through the maze and have the most good come of it? How to not only survive the trials to come, but have the end results be something to look at with pride?

//I don't want to do this. After waking and finding myself alive I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to protect those who have, for whatever reason, loved me. Any chance of that is gone. Now I am not alone. My children are now in the weave. I have to do the best that I can for them. And for their mother, though she will not understand and may not allow me to save her. You can be such a stubborn bitch, Noin. Stubborn or not, I do love you. In my own way.//

"Lady Une sends her greetings. ESUN Security Agents are on the shuttle to take custody of the twins and to take them to Earth. She is doing what she can, but she can not stop them." He heard her sharp intake of breath behind him.

"Relena! That bitch!"

A flash of quick silver temper, quickly squashed. She would not listen to reason. She had an idea in her head and she just would not let it go, despite all the effort he had put into trying to convince her of his sister's innocence.

"My sister has nothing to do with this. Wake up, Noin. Relena has not been in control since the ESUN realized I was alive. In truth, she has never been in control. She would realize this now, though I doubt she understood it before. They will use her as best they can to achieve their desired goals. To that end I am hostage for her good behavior. I would have thought that you would have figured that out by now. She is an eighteen year old girl who has acquired a remarkable amount of influence in certain circles and they have control of her through me. Even were Relena not involved in this, I survived the war. They will not forgive that."

Noin hesitated. "You... you did not start the war. It was not your fault. Why should you be held solely accountable for what happened? Most of the politicians in power now are the same politicians who had power back then."

"Exactly the point, Noin. One must have a scapegoat, or someone may remember that there were other people involved. People who still tread the halls of power unchecked. I knew it would happen. It stood to reason when Relena would not be guided by them when the war ended. She was too headstrong to be subtle about her powers. They were beginning to realize that the lamb had teeth. That she had friends who could aid her. Relena was getting dangerous. She needed to be brought under control as speedily as possible. They would find a means to contain her, or they would eliminate her at the first opportunity to present itself. Then Barton appeared on the scene and I returned. They had their means to control Relena. Enough of them realized if they held the threat of me over her head, she would bend when they wished it. Sanc has had enough to deal with. For Sanc we both would cooperate."

"How did they know it was you? How did they know it was you piloting that mobile suit, Zechs? Did one or more of them exist in Dekim Barton's pockets?"

"Very likely one or more knew what Barton was up to. He must have had influential backing to have gotten as far as he did. Someone knew I was there. Still, I have been told I have rather a unique fighting style. Anyone familiar with my past history could have picked up on that."

Noin lightly stroked her daughter's hair, eyeing the broad back before her. He was very erect, tense, but oddly relaxed. There was no temper in evidence, as though he had known it all would come to this and was far from surprised. He gave every indication of having expected exactly this action would be taken against him. Against them. If the ESUN expected to lay a hand on her children they were severely mistaken. As for Relena, well, she would consider her one time protégé at some other time.

"I don't care why they are doing this. They are not going to take my children anywhere. This is not Earth, Zechs. This is Mars and these are the first natural born Martians. This planet is their home and here they will stay."

He sighed. "This is a colony in the forming, Noin. It is not independent of the Earth Sphere government, but dependant on their financial backing. The Mars Colony can not contest Earth for independence. Not yet. Not for another twenty or so years. You and I are insignificant to the people who have worked to make this colony what it is to date. They are scientists and engineers. You can not expect them to go against ESUN Security Forces. It is not their place to. It has nothing to do with them. The ESUN rules here."

"Beside the point. They have no rights to my children. They will not be dragged into this to protect a politicians ass from any enquiries concerning the wars."

"They already have been dragged into this." Quietly. "We can't change the fact that they exist, Noin. We can't change the fact that they are known to the ESUN. They are pawns in the game of politics. They always will be, because of their bloodlines."

"It changes nothing. The ESUN will not have my children, Zechs. I will not argue fine points of law with you. What I want to know is what are we to do about it?"

"Events are already under way." Zechs touched a sequence of keys on the main com board and nodded slightly. "Noin. It would be better if you stayed out of this. They don't want you. They will leave you alone if you don't take action against them.

//Why won't he face me? Why won't he turn around and face me?// "You have no chance in hell of keeping me out of this, Zechs Merquise. No one comes to lay a hand on my children and gets away with it."

"Even if it means your death?" Quietly stated, no trace of emotion other than simple curiosity.

"Shit happens, Marquise. No one stands between me and mine. No one."

//I mean no one, Zechs. The twins are mine and I will defend them. If they come for you, then they will learn that you belong to me and I won't allow them to threaten what is mine. They are the enemy if they come to take what I claim. If they come and dare to try to take my children, then they will be dead.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	21. Chapter 21

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 21

L2 Cluster

Colony L2-0397 [La Grange point 2. Serial Number 0397

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 09:25

Duo

"Hey Q-man. How's things hangin'?"

On the vid screen Quatre Raberba Winner looked much the same as when Duo had last spoken to him, not so long ago in the Sanc kingdom. The L4 Cluster's representative and the owner of the Winner Enterprises corporation still looked somewhat cherub like, but anyone who really sat down and took the time to look at the young man, would see the hint of steel in him.

Quatre was an empath and over the years he had been forced to learn some measure of control and restraint over his abilities. Some of that restraint had been in controlling his own reactions to people. Let a strong empath loose in a crowd and without adequate shields and control the empath would go down in a screaming sobbing heap. Take the crowd away and place the empath in a corporate board room with big business executives and the result would be the same. Sharks, Quatre had once described executives to Duo as resembling. Voracious creatures out for all they could get, constantly pushing and shoving and maneuvering and stimulating scenarios to benefit their own position.

It sounded uncommonly like a room full of politicians to Duo.

Quatre was young, yes, but he was certainly not a child. No one who had piloted a Gundam was a child, despite their chronological ages. No one who had physically fought and survived the wars they had, could be considered a child. His business opponents were certainly finding that out to their displeasure and Duo suspected that too many assumed it was Quatre's fellow board members who were making all of the decisions at Winner Enterprises. It was so easy to look at that too handsome face, with those too large blue eyes and see an angel. That angel had horns hidden in pale golden hair.

"Duo. Good morning. Why the call? I'll be at the palace in a few hours. What could not wait until then? Are you in the security detail for the garden party?"

Quatre sat at what looked like a desk with his back to a wide expanse of sky and in the left upper corner was a glimpse of a mountain range that Duo was sure he recognized. To see that view Quatre had to be at his company office in New Port City, not at the hotel as Duo had expected him to be at this hour. It was as well that he had called using the private com lines Quatre had set up that would allow the pilots to access him no matter where he was, be it on any of the Colonies or on Earth.

"I'm not in Sanc, Quatre. I came to L2 last night. To see Hilde." He flashed his manic grin.

"Ah." A quiet sigh. "Heero mentioned that he told you about Aidan. Is everything alright? You and Hilde have not argued?"

"Yeah, its okay. Hilde and I have got some more talking to do, but so far, things are fine. We'll get there."

"Good. I'm glad. What is he like, your son?"

Duo beamed, unable to help himself. His arms could still feel that small warm bundle. He could still smell that subtle baby scent and he could see that heart shaped face so clearly in his minds eye. Babies were so small and so helpless it had frightened him at first, but there was a certain magic in knowing that he had helped to make that small life.

"He's... Quatre, I can't describe what it was like, holding him for the first time. Seeing him and touching him. I fed him a bottle and Hilde and I talked. We talked late into the night and she let me hold Aidan all that time. I can't describe what it felt like."

Quatre's grin was wide and he shook his head slightly. "I think your face just did a pretty good job, Duo. I am pleased that Hilde allowed you access to him. Did you call me to tell me about Aidan, or did you want something else?"

He could see someone moving behind Quatre, momentarily blocking out the view of the mountains and winced. The former gundam pilot had a business that spanned Earth and the Colonies and his time was precious. No time for chit chat over the com lines. Besides, he had some things to do and a son to visit. He had no idea how long he had on L2 before Lady Une called for him to undertake the mission to Mars. For the time he had free he needed to ensure that arrangements were in place to protect his son no matter what might happen to him.

"Well, I was sort of wondering if you could maybe do me a favor? I mean, if something happened could you maybe do me a favor?" He had never asked for help before on personal matters before this matter of having a son came up.

First he had had to go cap in hand to Lady Une and enlist her aid, and now he was turning to Quatre. It felt so odd. He had always been independent, making his own way since the massacre of the Maxwell Church. He had grown up quickly and he was not accustomed to needing others help for personal problems.

Quatre's gentle blue eyes softened. "Duo, I don't understand. What do you want me to do?"

He knew he was blushing. He could feel the burning in his face, but there was no help for it. He had never asked for favors from Quatre before. Nor from any of the other pilots. He had always made his own way, both before the war and after it. Yet he had been alone then. Now he had responsibilities. He had a son who would have needs he hoped he would be around to meet. He was, however a realist. He had thought a lot about this since returning to L2.

"Well, I was sort of wondering. If something happened to me, I... Well, you and the other pilots are like the only family I have left." How best to say this? Maybe simply plunging and letting his mouth run away with itself was the best way. "If something happened to me and Hilde I was wondering if you could... well, look after Aidan for us? I mean, you know what line of work I'm in. Any time I do a job for Preventers I might not come back from it. I just was sort of hoping if something did happen to me, if you would keep an eye on Hilde and the baby?"

Blue eyes widened considerably at that. "Duo! I... I'm honored, of course, but nothings going to happen to you."

"Yeah, well I know that we all like to think that, but I need to consider more than myself now. I just thought I'd ask. Things can go wrong on a mission, Quatre. I've come close to buying a boat ride across a certain dark river a couple of times. I'd just feel better every time I go out on a job if I knew there was someone looking out for Aidan. If the worst should ever happened."

"Hilde will be there, Duo." Quatre's blue eyes were very gentle and he totally ignored the hand that touched him on the shoulder, trying to draw his attention.

"I know, I know. Just - Quatre, I'd really appreciate it, if you would agree to become Aidan's Guardian if anything did happen to me and Hilde. You're the only one of the pilots I know who has a real family to back them up. Heero... well, you know what he's like. Wu Fei, don't make me laugh over the very thought of it and well, Trowa's always on the move with the circus. I just want to know that he will have a home. Someone to care for him."

Quatre sighed. Shook his head slightly. "Duo, nothing will happen to you or to Hilde, but if you really want me to, I will agree to act as Guardian to your son, should the need ever arise. It would be my pleasure and I thank you for the trust."

Duo sighed, not realizing how tense he had been about this, his body almost trembling with the release of tension. "Thanks, man. You don't know how much that means to me. I never thought about this stuff before. Never thought that having a kid would mean the kind of changes I'm now facing. Having a kid really makes you open your eyes. I guess I need to have this written down somewhere? Make it official, like."

Quatre nodded, grinning. "Yes, you do need to do that. If you like I can get you an appointment with a solicitor on L2. He can make all the arrangements for you and forward the papers to me to sign. Do you have a Will, Duo?"

"Ah, no?" Hesitant. "I never really saw the need to, before. There was just me and I don't have much."

// All my family were dead. All accept for the four people who are just as crazy as me. Of them all, Quatre would have to be about the sanest person I know. Gah, what am I thinking? Sanest? Most established and reasonable, maybe, but are any of us sane after what we went through? And there was that Zero incident. With all your sisters surrounding you and keeping you in their sights, guess you have no choice but to stay sane. Some of those sisters of yours I have met are damn scary. But they all seem to really love their families. I want that for Aidan. If I can't give it to him. //

"Okay, that will need to be dealt with too, then. Where are you now? I'll have a solicitor drop by and discuss all the details with you before you do anything else. You should also inform Hilde of any decisions you make that will affect her or your son now or in the future." Quatre was writing something quickly and passed the memo to the person standing behind him.

"Okay, I'll tell her. I just want the best for my boy if anything should happen."

"That's understandable, Duo. I'll make a couple of calls and get my people on this as soon as possible. You give me your number and address and I'll have a solicitor get in touch with you in the next hour. That be okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, man, that's okay. That's good."

"Alright. I'll make those calls as soon as I get off the line." A classic Quatre smile beamed at him from the vid screen. "I am honored that you thought of me for this, Duo."

He hoped the blush was not too obvious over the vid screen, but he was so relieved that Quatre was willing to help him. He had been the unifying factor in their days during the war. It was Quatre more than anyone else who had brought the pilots together in those terrible days before Libra.

"I don't have many friends, Quatre, but those I do have are quality. Real quality, who help when you really need it. I'm staying at the Astoria Arms on L2. I won't go out until I hear from your solicitor."

"Alright. I will make the calls and see what I can arrange. You should not have to wait long."

0000000000000000000000000000000000

Silver Lady

Sector 433A [Vicinity of the Asteroid Belt

Ships Day: 13:05

"Captain, the ship does not answer our hails. No response on any channels."

Beyond the ship at the relatively close distance of some two thousand kilometers, the asteroid belt loomed, making the object of interest on the screens an insignificant speck of dust. Distant sunlight reflected occasionally on the hull as the target ship rotated on its axis. On the observation screen the scrolling information from their scans revealed the ship broadcasting the distress call to be a class three Ore Carrier.

"Any sign of life?" The captain, a dark eyed ex-patriot of the now disbanded Oz forces, half turned to face his scanner operative.

"Heat sensors are registering no life signs, Captain, and the engines are cold. No heat sources from major life support equipment. Sensors indicate all life pods are still on the ship." The young man at the consul glanced up to meet the Captain's gaze. "She is totally dead in space, Sir."

Captain Derek Horatio Sandler, known as Sandy to his friends in off duty hours, scowled at the screen. Long range sensors revealed the ship to be a somewhat shiny spec spinning slowly against the ever changing backdrop of the asteroid belt. Just far enough out of the danger zone to avoid being hit by the chaotic field of rocks. He did not like this at all. Instincts that had seen him survive the One Year War unscathed were screaming that this was trouble with a capital T.

"What do the drones report?"

"Alpha Drone is feeding us the heat sensor readings. Beta Drone is now in position to relay visuals."

"On screen." Sandler settled back in his command chair, turning brooding dark eyes to the main view screen.

The ship was definitely an Ore Carrier he noted. As she revolved slowly on her axis, an uncontrolled though slow tumble in space, he noted a logo on her hull and called for an enhancement. He nodded when the view changed to show the logo of the Patrice Mining Operation and the registration number of the ship.

"Validate Registration as being L1, A3379."

It took only seconds for the ships computers to call up a validation that a vessel registration number L1 A3379, McEvory, did actually exist. It was also listed as missing with an entry date some two months previous. That placed it as a possible salvage bonus for the crew. Patrice Mining was a big player in asteroid mining and would pay well for the return of one of their ships.

Something bothered him, though. It was just not right.

"Proximity alert?" He queried.

"Drones Kappa and Delta report no sign of any other ships in the area to a distance of five thousand kilometers. No jamming of radio. Nearest asteroid is at two thousand, four hundred and twenty seven kilometers. Area is clear, Captain."

It stank to high heaven. He could smell it. Trouble had an odor and he had smelt that stench too often to miss it. Something was very rotten about this whole thing.

"What have you got on the sensors for exhaust emissions?"

"Space is clear. No residue from the engines of the ship, Sir. She's been dead and drifting for at least three days, possibly longer. We do have exhaust emissions from Kappa and Delta Drones."

That was not at all comforting. He just could not shake that itch between his shoulder blades. Either that was a dead hulk with a dead crew, or it was a patsy; bait. A lure for lurking predators. Come investigate me and while you do I will have my compatriots take your ship apart for your cargo. Raider tactics.

His crew, all Oz veterans he had worked with during the One Year War were watching their instruments with varying degrees of distrust. They felt it too. They sensed it. He knew them. Knew their thought processes. It was easy to read the growing tension in their body language. They had been a team for upwards of seven years now. He was not about to ignore the warnings of experience. They had survived too much to go down now from ignoring their instincts.

"Back us off another two thousand k's. Extend sensors to extreme range. Recall Alpha and Beta Drones."

"Aye, aye, Sir. Engines in reverse. Withdrawing to four thousand kilometers. Alpha and Beta Drones acknowledge instructions to return to base ship." Patsy O'Brian was busy at her consol, green eyes on the instruments.

The vibration of the engines picked up and he watched as on the screen the McEvory shrank to a pin point of light. Out the view port the ship was now invisible, not even the odd glint off its metallic hull. He waited. Tensed. It was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. It was nearing, whatever was wrong with this entire setup.

"Extreme sensor range for the Kappa and Delta Drones. Extending in full three hundred and sixty degree sweep... now."

There was a tense pause as the scanner operator programmed and relayed his instructions to the automated drone satellites and studied his instruments as he received the data. "Contacts. Multiple contacts incoming off our stern side. At the speed they are traveling they will overtake us in fifteen minutes."

"Raiders." He spat. Grinned, a feral grin his crew knew only too well. "Make a run for that Preventer ship we passed about four hours ago. Lay in a course for the closest contact point with the Preventer cruiser. All ahead full. Set Kappa and Delta Drones to fly our course and follow at two thousand kilometers. Are we being Jammed?"

"Affirmative, Sir." The com officer was busy at her consol.

"Bastards. No matter. For pirates those bastards have some damn fine technology. Won't catch us though. Not this time. Derry, Paul, man the lasers. If they get close enough, shoot the bastards out of the ether. Soon as we clear their Jammers, send a message to the Preventers ship. Report the presence of Raiders in this area and the ruse they used. Christ knows how many ships they've caught with that ploy. If their commander's worth his salt he should be calling off the pursuit any time now."

000000000000000000000000000000000

Dark Star Rising

Raider flag ship.

"Damn. Someone has good instincts." He considered the telemetry readouts and shook his head. The ore ship was pulling away from them, no mean feat considering the power he had at his command. The Dark Star Rising was no snail, but one of the fastest of the ships in the fleet. "Notify the pursuit ships to return to base and bring in the hulk with them. We will be leaving this area immediately on their return."

"Sir? Give up on the target ship?" The woman who turned to him looked her disbelief. She had wanted her first raiding foray into the mining lanes to be a success.

"You heard the order."

Damn the woman anyway. They had successfully trapped four ships and raided two mining outposts on this foray. She was greedy and no doubt would never get to command her own ship if she did not know when to cut her losses.

"The Captain of the freighter sensed the trap. He twigged to the ships coming at him from the rear. From the turn of speed that ships currently displaying, her engines are not stock standard for a freighter either. She's probably armed, too. Learn to read your opponent, woman. How many freighters have you seen with four Drones? No, we let this one go. There will be others."

"Sir." The more experienced com officer half turned to face him. "Recalling all pursuit ships now. We have identification on the freighter confirmed. Ship is identified as Silver Lady, L4 registration No. 667384E. Captained by Derek H. Sandler."

The tall, darkly bearded man barked a laugh. "Derek Horatio Sandler. No wonder." He shook his head and grinned. "Lucky bastard has one hell of a survival instinct. The Silver Lady would carry a number of not so legal modifications, knowing him of old." He sighed, grinning. He appreciated a wily opponent and one day Sandler would make a mistake. Or he would join the Raiders. Not today, though. "Well, we have enough in our holds now to make an early return to base, I suppose. This area of space is likely to get a visit from the mining consortiums police force. Or those bastards, the Preventers. Jam the Silver Lady as long as she is within range. May as well keep her from bleating our presence all over the air waves for as long as possible. How long before the advance ships have the derelict in tow?"

A rhythmic buzzing impinged on the general activity on the bridge. "Proximity alert." from the sensor operator.

"Identify." The Captain demanded.

"Contact lost, Captain. May have been a glitch in the system. Might have been a reflection from a metal heavy asteroid that came too close to the edge of the field. Sensors now give no evidence of a ship in the area. Our database has no identifiable ship in our data storage to match the partial configuration our sensors recorded."

He scowled, glaring at the darkness of space. They were close to the asteroid belt, lurking behind a relatively stable asteroid that was on the far fringe of the belt, out of the heavily populated danger zone. They had given their asteroid haven the terribly inventive name of Shield. They had been here now for near four months and he would admit he was going to be pleased to leave the area.

In the time since they had taken up this position they had experienced too many unexplained contacts on the scanners. In the four months they had been here they had had fifteen contacts that had turned out to have no explanation. Investigations he had ordered into the contacts after the second one had revealed no asteroid, ship, or debris from destroyed ships and stations. No space junk to corrupt their scanners and no computer anomalies to explain the occasional contacts. Just an instant of contact when the computers insisted that something was out there and then nothing. A Ghost. Maybe it was just a spatial anomaly curious to this area, but it gave him a good case of the willies.

He had had enough of space ghosts. They had had a productive tour of duty in the area and it was time to return to base.

"Raider Pursuit ships three to seven will ETA in thirty minutes with the hulk in tow, Sir. Drones one to seven will be in flanking positions at fifteen thousand kilometers in one minute."

"Plot course to Station One and engage course when the ships are secured in the bay. I'll be in my quarters."

00000000000000000000000000000000

Silver Lady

"Jamming disruption cleared, Captain." The com officer reported. "The com lines are clear."

"Pursuit ships have altered course, Sir. No longer in Pursuit."

Smart Captain. The Raiders were not fools. They were out here to make a profit and expending fuel, time and man power on long range pursuit was not cost effective.

"Send the alert to the Preventers ship, giving them our identity and the location of the trap. It won't be there when they investigate but their presence will oust the raiders from our local area for a while. Paul, Derry, maintain alert for another thirty minutes. If no sign of pursuit, stand down from alert and power down the lasers. If there is no proximity alert issued by the Drones in fifteen minutes, recall the Drones to a one thousand kilometer range."

00000000000000000000000000000000

Scout Three

"Scout Three to Base. Raider activity in Sector Four has been confirmed. Fish spat in the anglers eye. Expect movement of the Raiders base of operations imminent. Over."

The drop down screen cleared of momentary static to reveal a bearded, chestnut haired young man sporting a wicked grin. "Anglers slipping, Scout Three?"

"Affirmative, Base. The Minnow thumbed its fin at the sharks. Expect word will spread in no time and the school of Sharks will withdraw to a new location ahead of the Piranha coming to investigate."

"Confirmed." He glanced aside at a low voiced comment from someone on the bridge. Nodded in response and looked back to the screen. "Base is receiving an alert from the Silver Lady, L4 registry, to a Preventer cruiser in the area. Return to Base Ship, Scout Three. We will observe using remote scanners for now. No need to chance the Preventers suspecting we are in the neighborhood."

"Scout Three acknowledged. Out."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	22. Chapter 22

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 22

Sanc

Sanc Palace

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 07:05

Relena

Relena Peacecraft considered the view from her bedroom window for a long while, sitting on the window sill, the chill morning air ruffling her hair. Her room overlooked the west gardens and in the distance she could even make out the sea. It was a beautiful view, one she had not taken the time to appreciate before. One she had largely ignored in favor of concentrating on the day to day business and long term plans of her duties as Vice Foreign Minister. She had always leapt out of bed and into the activities she found gave her a deep sense of satisfaction. That was changing though, her interest and enjoyment suffering under the pressures exerted on her.

In the past year or so her very secure world had come to a crashing demise. When had she lost control of her world? Not just the politics of the Peace Process, either, but her personal world? Her enjoyment at the challenge was gone, nor was it an overnight occurrence. It had begun within months of the end of the Barton Incursion, but if she looked carefully at the time before that brief war she could see the seeds of her discontent. Even before her brother had reappeared she had been manipulated. Subtly to be sure, but on reviewing the past two years performance it was there to be seen.

For a long time she had been fired by the drive to attain and maintain that wonderful state called Peace. The Perfect Peace Principle. What a fool she had been to think that the older, experienced politicians who had held power for years would so willingly give it all up. She had not understood half of what was happening around her. She had been so naive. Too naive. Not once had she suspected the string pulling and the deal making that was going on around her until the Barton Incursion had pulled the blind fold from her eyes. Before the Barton Incursion she had seen only what she wanted to see. What she had expected to see. She had understood only what she had wanted to understand, blind to so many subtleties in the actions and speeches of others that now caused her to shudder. She had been so assured that the whole world wanted the same thing she did. The entire world saw the Peace Ideal as she saw it.

"Fool." A whisper. "You see it now though, don't you? You are being used by them. Not just by Romefeller. It was not just by the Romefeller faction loyal to Duke Dermail, but other politicians too. Even the group led by Marquis Wayridge. How did you ever have the temerity to think that you could play in the same league as them? Relena, you are a stupid little girl, playing in the big league. Being used by them to amuse them."

Men and women who had been in power for twenty, thirty, forty years. How did she ever think they would ever allow themselves to be ruled by a fifteen year old girl? They had forgotten more of the nuances in this game they played than she could possibly know of politics in double the extent of her short life. Queen of the World. She had been named Queen of the World by Romefeller and had at least understood then that she was their pawn. Now she was Vice Foreign Minister. Her foster father's position. Yes, she had accomplished much, during her time in office, but how much of that was because she was led by the nose by the older politicians who had wanted something done?

She was blocked now. Effectively held prisoner to their wills. She had no idea really which politicians held the balance of power over the affair with her brother. There were some ten individuals she was almost certain were involved to some level and certainly five that were definitely key instigators. She knew who they were, but on their own even they could not have arranged this whole sordid episode. There were others who backed them and forced her into this corner.

A gilded cage, but a cage none the less. These walls and the trappings of influence that the Vice Foreign Minister could claim were a cage surrounding her, imprisoning her. At least hers was a comfortable prison. Still, a cage was a cage, whether it was the comforts of palaces or a red ball of rock floating in space. Mars. Her brother was caged even more effectively that she. While those who controlled this power struggle within the ESUN controlled Milliardo, they effectively controlled her.

To her shame she had not realized until he was again, miraculously alive, that she had so desperately wanted to know him. Her brother. When a very young child she had wanted a brother or a sister and over time had come to accept that she would be an only child. When Noin had revealed the pilot of that massive white suit she had seen in Antarctica was, in truth, her brother, all her day dreams had come crashing back. Then she had ruined it all, turning against him without knowing him ,or trying to understand him. Not once had she tried to see the world through his eyes. She had demanded that he see the world through her eyes often enough. She had turned her back on him and quite bluntly told him that God would not forgive him.

"I'm sorry." She whispered to the snow covered view. "I'm so sorry."

There was too much responsibility wrapped up in the Peacecraft identity. She had led a privileged life as the spoiled daughter of the wealthy Vice Foreign Minister. The Darlian's were old money and used to prestige and privilege. She had been raised in luxury and never once considered the world beyond the mansions of her foster parents and their friends. Her safe, sheltered existence had ill prepared her for the realities of the world. Yes, her father had been a politician, but she had grown up to resent his work and the way it always took him away from her. She had hated him being a politician, always at the beck and call of the rest of the world and of the colonies, in particular. She had hated that. Hated that he always had been called away...

"Oh, listen to yourself. Big baby. Spoilt child. That's what you were and that's what you still are." She watched as two birds landed on the hedge and vanished within its green depths, just a soft dusting of snow clothed the top of the hedge. "You haven't changed at all. Still resenting him for what he had to do to keep the peace. Still angry that he would leave at a moment's notice no matter what he had been doing. It cost him his life. Politics cost you both your fathers' lives, and one mother's life so far. When will you learn, Relena Darlian Peacecraft? When will you learn? Politics. It has cost me so much and it is very likely to cost me more, and not just my brother's life. I wonder what is happening on Mars? The shuttle must be just about due to land."

A light tap on the door turned her from the window and she smiled in greeting as her mother answered her call to enter. Her smile faded slowly at the serious look in her mother's wide blue eyes. Slowly Relena closed the window and faced her.

"Mother?"

"We will go down to breakfast shortly, Dear. I needed to talk to you first."

"About what is to happen on Mars?" Sudden cold fear crawled its way through her. Was it too late? She HAD misjudged the time. Had she waited so long that nothing could be done? She should have spoken up sooner. Her silence was going to cost her brother the only family he had had that he could call his own. Was it all over? Was her brother dead?

Mrs. Darlian settled on the bed and motioned to her daughter to join her. "Yes, Relena. We need to discuss some things about what is to happen on Mars. I am sorry, Dear, but from what I have learned there appears to be little that we can do. It is too late to call off the agents. Their instructions have already been issued. They were issued before the agents departed from L4, where they were training. We can not stop whatever happens on Mars. Between the distances involved and the radio delays in reaching Mars, even with the relay and booster stations, it is simply too late to have the orders changed."

"Did you at least manage to learn what orders had been given? What they are to do when they get there?"

"You must understand, Dear, that I am not deep into the confidence of the people involved. Nor are the people I contacted, but they did know certain things. I don't know it all, but I know enough to make some very astute guesses. I believe your Lady Une knows more, but we have never been on speaking terms and are not likely to be." Mrs. Darlian took Relena's brush and absently began to brush out her daughter's dark blonde hair.

"Are they going to kill him, Mother? Are they going to kill my brother?"

"It appears he is not easy to kill, Dear. From what I have learned the colony on Mars will be placed under martial law should he protest in any way the actions of the agents sent to Mars. I was told that your brother and his family will be taken into custody and the children will be brought to Earth. No one could tell me if your brother and Miss Noin would be brought with them or remain on Mars. I have lobbied those politicians I have known for some years through the medium of their wives, and I believe that, perhaps, it might be possible to have custody of the twins assigned to me, so that you will have access to them. Your Grandfather, by the way, has wasted no time in putting forward his bid to have custody of the children assigned to him. It will be a close thing as to who wins custody. He has a lot of influence in the council and the government. The ESUN Security Office intends the children be reared in secret, their identities hidden under false records. For their own protection from those who may blame them for their father's sins. Relena, you need to think carefully before you make a decision here. If we are not careful we could find ourselves in deeper than we really want to be. I need to know just how far you want to go with this matter."

Relena looked around her bedroom, at the pale cream walls touched with gilding, at the artfully arranged flowers and the antique furniture. The cream and pink bed suite and quilt on the bed and then her eyes settled on the teddy bear given to her as a gift from Heero on her sixteenth birthday. Happier days. She had been blissfully unaware of the true currents and eddies in the political circles she had had the temerity to think she knew so well.

//Welcome to the real world, Relena. This is the extent of the power you wield. Nothing. You are just as helpless as the maid who keeps your room tidy. As the gardener who weeds the flower beds and the child who sleeps at her mothers breast in the city. What am I to do?//

"Is there truly nothing I can do for Milliardo?"

"We are too far away to affect what will happen on Mars, Dear. As I said, instructions had already been given and will not be changed. With the delay in radio signals even reaching Mars from Earth, what ever is to happen will likely already be over before any new orders could be sent. I am not certain, but I believe it likely the agents on Mars are to maintain radio silence with their command until after they have completed their mission."

"Then...then I have to assume the worst, don't I? I have to accept that they will kill my brother and steal his children if he or Noin resist them." A frightened whisper.

Alice Darlian did not even hesitate. Her daughter was no longer a child and had to face reality. "Yes. Yes, that would be fairly safe to assume. He will either be killed or contained in some fashion."

"Oh, Mother. I have no choice in this."

"There is always choice, Relena. Always. You may not like the choices, but there is nothing that can be done about that. Once you have the information there is always choice." Mrs. Darlian began to braid her daughter's hair.

"So what are my choices? I can ignore what is to happen on Mars and go on and rip out the throats of those power hungry old bastards-"

"Relena!"

"My pardon, Mother." Soft apology accompanied by a deep blush of mortification. She certainly had not intended to say that in her mother's hearing. Think it, yes, oh what a pleasure to think it! But to actually say it, certainly not. Well bred young ladies did not behave in such a manner.

"I know you are upset, Dear, but losing control and common sense will do nothing to help the situation. If we wish to gain anything out of this situation we need cool heads and informed decisions."

"Yes, Mother. I know that. It's just that its so unfair. I want to know my brother and I don't have even a chance to get to know him. I ruined any chance of that when we first met. I've done nothing but accuse him of atrocities and abuse him. I never tried to talk to him. When we spoke on the Libra I never talked to him, Mother, I talked AT him. I even went so far as to order him in my best Queen of the World voice. I tried to force my ideals down his neck."

Mrs. Darlian winced. She knew her foster daughter and she knew only too well how strong willed Relena could be. How stubborn. Yes, she had spoiled this child outrageously as she grew, but Relena was proving to her that she had learned sense as well. Alice Darlian was not a politician, but she was a Politician's wife. She had known her foster daughter was royalty of a House that could trace its lineage back over a thousand years, and she had trained her accordingly. She had found a natural arrogance that could be traced back to the bloodline which could be traced much further than many other of the old noble houses could seek to prove confirmed bloodlines. All that old blood, all that natural confidence and arrogance could still stand her in good stead. Those who sought to dominate her little girl would find that the Peacecraft bloodline did not bow down easily to the will of others.

Unfortunately Relena was not the sole existing Peacecraft child to have that natural defiance and strong will. Likely there was going to be serious bloodshed on Mars in the next few hours.

"Perhaps you were never meant to know him. It is regrettable, but personally I think the King would have disowned him for what he has done, but that is neither here, nor there. Done is done. I do not see how he could have survived that explosion, but he did. He seems very hard to kill. Perhaps he will survive this too. Hopefully he will realize that he really has no chance against the agents and resign himself to the situation. If you wish it, I can try to gain custody of the babies. There are certain venues that I can try that may influence the decision of who takes the children in hand. Perhaps you can get to know the children, where you have had no chance to know the father. You could teach them the Principles of their grandparents. Perhaps that is the very best we can hope for." She met her foster daughters eyes, her own gaze serious but gentle. "If you want to take the chance, Relena. It is a very dangerous thing to do. The ESUN is already watching you. Keeping you in protective custody, as it were."

"Keeping me as much a prisoner as they have my brother."

"Yes. You have realized it, have you? He's a prisoner so that while they control him, they keep you in their control. You are as much a prisoner to ensure his good behavior as he is contained to secure your cooperation. There is the matter that should it be widely known that Milliardo Peacecraft survived the battle there would be panic. That much is true, though perhaps not as serious as certain people have played it to gain the cooperation of others who were not so eager to back this action. I do not know a great deal about your brother, but I have learned something of him overnight. I have spoken to a few people who had occasions to speak to him in the past. He loves you and he will do whatever he can to ensure that you are not hurt. There is speculation that he may let them take the babies Relena. If the agents threaten you, he may allow them to take his children."

"Noin won't. I want custody of my nephew and niece, if the worst happens and it comes to the children coming to Earth. But Mother," Slowly and with certainty Relena shook her head. "Noin will not allow them to take her children."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	23. Chapter 23

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 23

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 10:49 MST [Mars Standard Time

Base Dome Control Center

Noin scowled at the readouts on the consol. The approach vector for the arriving inter-planetary shuttle was off from the standard allocated lane that would see it dock at Base Dome, yet no alarm had sounded. Her scowl deepened when she checked the flight path of the ship through the computer controlled link and noted it was being guided not by the Base Dome shuttle control, but by the newly completed Alpha Dome shuttle control. The computers were in control of the shuttle, as was normal for any landing that took place on Mars. All readouts showed the systems scanned as fully operational, yet the trajectory was wrong.

"The flight path is correct."

At the low comment from behind her she turned, her scowl easing. Zechs stood in the doorway, watching as a grid displayed the broad laneway in which the shuttle glided toward the planet.

"You altered the flight path?"

She was shocked, that he would have the audacity to alter the protocols by which they lived. When you were part of a project as large and as inherently dangerous as this, everyone had to live by the rules. The conditions on Mars were not ideally human friendly, so certain standards and protocols were rigidly adhered to.

"The shuttle will land at the Alpha Dome, as all other flights will, now that the dome is completed and ready for habitation. The port facilities are prepared and the crews in place to handle this and all other traffic we receive. Only planetary traffic will now be handled from Base Dome." He moved to study the screen and the blinking light with the three numbers that denoted the identity of the incoming shuttle. "You missed the memo sent out this morning?"

Noin frowned at the screen. She had been too upset to check the mail, an unforgivable error on her part. Alterations in scheduling and the day to day running of the complex were important to everyone's safety. She had not even thought to check the in box before she had taken the children to their carer. Their fight had upset her too much.

"It won't hold them for long. They will not be deterred by this." She suspected he had had something to do with the transfer of shuttle facilities. It seemed an odd coincidence that today of all days saw Alpha Dome's shuttle port initiated. Still, it did place a little welcome distance between her and the ESUN agents.

"Long enough. Have you made up your mind, yet?"

Intense blue eyes locked with violet as Noin spun in her chair to face him. She felt the power of that gaze. He was focused, determined. All morning he had been at her to stay out of what ever happened. How could she? How could he expect her to stay out of the conflict? Her children were involved. More, her man was threatened. There was no way she would stand aside and let either be threatened by the lackeys of politicians from Earth. She had made the decision to make Mars her home when she had chosen to go with him into his exile. She had claimed her man. Even if things were far from settled between them; a fact she could not deny after the fiasco this morning. She had succeeded this morning in placing a gap between them. She had given birth here and made Mars her home and she would not be dictated to by distant morons who scrambled, however they could, for power at the cost of her family.

"I don't intend to stay out of what is to happen. Nothing you could say will affect my decision."

A low sigh answered her. "They will come. They will come for the children and they will expect trouble from you. If you don't do anything they will leave you alone. Restrained yes, but alive, Lu."

Blue eyes flicked to the time display counting down the shuttles arrival. The shuttle had entered the safety zone he had designated and his time grew shorter. She was so stubborn, though. So obstinate. How was he to protect her if she insisted on becoming involved? When had she stopped trusting him? When he had gone over to White Fang? He had thought she was over that, after she had trusted him before he had blown the core. Or was that why she was so stubborn now, because he had blown the core, and she feared he was going to turn self sacrificing again?

"How many do you think there will be?"

"Lady Une says that there are ten security guards on the shuttle, all ESUN Security. I would imagine that at least that many are also hidden amid the specialists on the shuttle. There are also the agents here, at the Base Dome to consider."

"How many do you think are in Base Dome? Someone has been feeding information back to Earth on a regular basis. Someone tattled about the twins. Someone tattled months ago that I was pregnant. This shuttle has been in transit for three months. How long do you think they knew before they made this decision? Or is it only convenient coincidence that they sent these agents here?"

Zechs moved to the monitor station, watching the trajectory of the shuttle. He studied the readouts on the engines, noting their power output for the second stage of the approach flight, shuttle speed dropping to safety regulations. Noting that there was another thirty minutes until it would be secured in the main bay at the Alpha Dome. Just a few more minutes remained to convince her to act as he wished so that he could get her safely away with the children. Only a few minutes left. He could not just knock her out and throw her on the shuttle, which he only wished he could do. She was needed to fly the damn thing. With a low sigh he lightly touched Noin's cheek.

"There are five Sleepers here, who are ESUN agents that I have positively identified. I have known about them for a long time. I am certain there are others I have not identified as yet. I believe there are more who work, not for the ESUN, but for the mining consortiums, checking out the potential richness of the Mars resources. Who can say how they will react when the trouble starts? Likely they will not stay out of this mess if it becomes violent, Noin. Will you stay out of this? Will you protect yourself, so that the twins will at least have a mother when this is all done?" He cupped his hand over her cheek, turning her head to meet his eyes.

Noin lightly cupped her hand over his, holding his touch to her cheek, surprised by the supremely gentle touch. Surprised to see longing and grief in those intense blue eyes. For a timeless moment she allowed herself to lose all thought and intent, just to enjoy the beauty of those eyes. Timeless. Did she... did she actually see...love? Did he love her? Was that passion? Did she see love and passion in those eyes that for so long had mirrored depression?

"Zechs." A whisper. Breathless. Hopeful. He had never actually told her he loved her. He had never admitted to any emotion of a personal, intimate nature. He only had said she was his friend.

"Please stay out of it." A low, husky voiced plea.

"I love you." A whisper. She turned her head to touch her lips to his palm. To taste him and drink in the scent of him. "There is no way I can stand aside and see this happen. Not for anything would I let those bastards come here and disrupt our lives. We have the right to live in peace, Zechs. We fought for that right. We won that right. In the One Year War and again during the Barton Incursion. We won the right to live in peace. Not just for the people of the Earth and the Colonies. Not just for them, but for you. Me. Our children. They have the right to live in peace. We gave them that right when we brought them into this world. Our children are no different from any other children in the ESUN. I have fought for those rights before. I'll fight for them again. I fought for others to have the fundamental rights to live and love in peace. No one can tell me that our children do not have those same rights. You have those rights too."

Stubborn, foolish woman. Why did she not understand? He was trying to give her the chance to watch her children grow up. Why was it when these instances happened no one understood what he was trying to do? Did no one ever try to see things beyond their own noses? He was so tired of never being credited with perhaps having a brain, and the ability to reason a course of action that might be to the benefit of others. No one ever understood that he sought the best solution to hurt the least number of people possible.

"I knew when I agreed to command the White Fang, if I survived the war I would be an outcast, Lu. I would have no rights." He sighed. There was not enough time for this. Why did she argue? "I knew there would be nowhere for me to go. I knew that, and I was willing to pay that price. There is no need for you to involve yourself in this on my account. There will never be a place for me in the ESUN. Not even Mars can become a home to such as Milliardo Peacecraft, the Terror of Earth. That is who I am, as far as they are concerned. I will forever be hunted by those who are afraid I will come back to finish what they presume I started. Relena will never be safe while I am alive, Lu. In the hands of the ESUN I am a pawn. A bargaining chip. Our children will become the same. A means to an end for those who have the power to claim them. If you don't listen and do as I ask, they will have no chance against the politicians who hunt us."

Lightly he took her head between his hands. Kissed her gently and looked into wide violet eyes. Why did she resist him? Was it because he could not love her as she so desperately wanted him to? He could not love her. He could not love anyone. It was not safe for anyone to love him. It was not safe for him to love; unfair to anyone he might love. Even his children, whom he did desperately love, were in danger from him. He had been told long ago he would bring ruin to anyone he dared to love. So true. Even when he held those who tried to love him at arm's reach it hurt them. A lesser pain, he hoped, than if he allowed himself to answer that love. No one deserved to be touched by the terror he was hopeless to control. He was so tired of trying to control it. So tired.

"Lucrezia Noin, take the twins and run." He spoke slowly, clearly. She must understand him. "Take our children and the shuttle docked in Base Dome's terminal three. It's a short range scout shuttle, but it has enough fuel to get you into the flight lane of the mining ships. There are four mining freighters due to pass Mars in the next three hours. One of them will take you onboard. Get our children out of here."

"And where to then?" He had never held her like this.

Her arms slipped around his waist and she drew him closer. His eyes held her. Begged her. She could see so much passion in their icy depths. He had always held himself so aloof. Separated from her and everyone else around him. Now she could see the passion he was capable of. She need only convince him to spend that passion physically, with her. To give all of himself and hold nothing back. She could see so much potential for love in his eyes.

"Go to ground. Contact Howard. The Sweepers would help hide the children, for his friendship and respect for you. Quatre would help you. You were close to him. For you and your children he would help you to hide. Help you to start again. If you could get word to Lady Une she would arrange a place for you to disappear. Sally would give you every assistance to vanish with the twins. There are options for you, Lucrezia. Take them."

"You would not be on the shuttle, would you?" A whisper.

"No. No I would not be on the shuttle. I have to remain here. To give you the time to get away. To distract the security agents I have to be here."

"No." Simple. Direct. Denial.

"No?" A sigh. Tired. Resigned.

Lucrezia shook her head, standing to lean against him, to feel the hardness of his tall form. To feel the heat of that magnificent fool she loved so well.

"Zechs, we have known each other for a long time. I know you. I know you better than anyone now alive."

// You think you do, Noin. You only think you do.//

Noin lightly caressed the flowing hair, wrapping her fingers in the white glory of that silk. "You are not sacrificing yourself for us. I want my children to be safe. I want you to be safe. I want us to be together as a family. As a family, Zechs. That means together. All of us. For that I will fight and not even you will stop me. I am no simpering, weak female who has to run and hide at the first hint of trouble. I am a trained soldier, boy'o. Don't you forget that. I fight for what I want. If that means I get hurt, well, shit happens. The ESUN has declared war, Zechs. You didn't. I didn't. If they come here and demand my children, then it is on their heads what happens. They will have cast the first stone."

"What good will it do the twins if you die?" Blue eyes flared with intensity as he crushed her against him. "Lucrezia, don't be a fool. You have the chance to get away. You have the opportunity to take the children away from this. Do it, for them. Get the twins out of this mess and get them to safety."

"No." She returned the hug, luxuriating in the feel of him, the solid warmth and strength of him. "I have my family to think of. All of them, Zechs Marquise. Lucian, Katerina and you. If I can keep you safe, then it is worth any price I might have to pay. Even my life." //You've never been like this before and I am damned if I will lose this chance. I will win. I'll finally have you.//

"It's not necessary. Not if you leave now." Desperate. The clock was ticking. "Take the children and run. They come before anything else."

"No. No, Zechs. I am not leaving. I am not going on that shuttle without ALL of my family. If you will not be on it, then I will not be on it. I suppose I will just have to compromise with you. I can ask Shanna if she would act as Nanny and take the twins on the shuttle to safety. It makes no difference if it is me or her, so long as someone gets the babies out of harm's way. I stay here, with you."

He sighed. Why? Why did she argue with him? "Shanna is ESUN security."

Her eyes widened in disbelief and she shook her head slightly. Shanna? ESUN Security? Shanna had held her hand through the labor before Zechs had arrived. Shanna had befriended her from day one they had met. Shanna had been kindness itself to her and adored the twins.

"No. No, you must be mistaken. Shanna can't be security. I'd know if she was. She would have had to make mistakes. Being so close to me, I would have tagged her."

"She is good. I will admit that. She is very good at what she does, and the deception was helped because she genuinely likes you. Lu, time in running out. There are only ten people capable of piloting that shuttle, and two of them are in this room. Shanna, your best friend is a plant by the ESUN. A Sleeper agent. I know who some of them are, remember? You can believe me or not, your choice, but it makes no difference, unless you want it to. The facts still stand. There is a window of opportunity for you to take a shuttle off this planet and get the twins to safety. What are you going to do?"

He would not like her choice but how could she choose otherwise? He had displayed more emotion, more fire, more passion in these last few minutes that in the last months. Which likely did not say much for how well he had accepted her presence in his bed, but it was grounds for her to work on him. To get him fired and honestly wanting her.

"I stay with you. Whatever it takes. I want to be with you. I want us to be a family together. They will not hurt the twins. They want them too much to hurt them. I'll take my chances."

//There is no way I am letting them interfere when I am so close to winning you. They are pushing you into my arms and I suppose I should thank them for that. I can see that you do love me. Even if you haven't admitted it to yourself. I will have you. I will marry you. I can see it. Those bastards will not interfere with that.//

"It does not have to be that way."

"Yes, Zechs, it does. I have no intention of handing my children over to others. I will protect them with everything I have, including my life. You obviously do not agree, but there is nothing I can do to change that. I may not be the world's greatest mother, or have the instincts of a mother you seem to think I should have, but I know what is mine and I know how to defend it. We made Mars our home. You may not have wished to be here, but you were realist enough to know it was your only option. Well, I am realist enough to know it too. This is OUR home and I will not be chased out of here by mealy mouthed, power hungry politicians, frightened that their asses will burn if someone starts an investigation into their activities during the wars. Ultimately that is what this is about. Mars is our home. Mine. Yours. The twins. Home, Zechs. I will defend my home. I will defend my family."

// Home, Noin? I always thought home was where the heart was. My heart is not here, not on Mars. It's with the children, wherever they may be. The only ones I dare to love, and look what having me for a father has earned them//

Zechs released her and sighed. The clock on the wall relentlessly ticked on. The window of opportunity was closed. The slight safety margin was gone. Even if she had agreed in time, in just minutes there would be no escape. By the time they took the twins to the shuttle bay it would be too late. The shuttle would have been found before they reached it and be sabotaged by the under cover ESUN agents on the base, and there would be no escape that way. If she had not fought him on this she could have safely escaped with the children. Now there was no option.

"So be it. Will you at least listen to what I have to say?"

The computer control consol chimed, the third stage of the shuttle entry to the Martian atmosphere having been entered. Only a short time now until it started.

"I have listened, Zechs. No more listening. Now I act. Before they get here."

She kissed him fiercely, almost brutally, asserting her determination not to step aside. She was in this fight and she was intent on winning it, not just surviving it. Whether he liked it or not.

"Noin. If you go out there without knowing what I have to tell you, you will pay the price. You need to be briefed."

"On what? Those bastards from ESUN are almost here. There are moles in the Base Dome, so I can't trust anyone. I know all that. What more is there to know?" She turned and began to walk away.

"Lucrezia Noin, you are a fool! Have you forgotten everything you were ever taught as a Soldier?" He grasped her shoulders, shook her, the snap of command he had learned in his years as an Officer of Oz was unmistakable.

She hissed a breath, startled. "Zechs, what do you think you are doing?"

"What am I doing? I am trying to get you to stop making a mistake. A stupid mistake. Where is the Oz officer, Noin? Where is the instructor? Have you forgotten so much? Standing here arguing is working to the advantage of those agents. You have closed one window of opportunity already by refusing to take the shuttle. Thanks to you and your obstinacy I can't get the twins off Mars now. They have to remain here. Any shuttle that leaves now will be shot down. The last shuttle I had secured from prying eyes has been found and sabotaged. There is no escape from Mars for anyone. Will you go off on your own and get yourself hurt, or killed? Or will you act like the officer you were trained to be and listen to commands that are designed to keep as many people alive as possible?"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	24. Chapter 24

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 24

Earth

Sanc Kingdom

Preventer Headquarters

1st March AC 198

Time: 10:13

Lady Une

Lady Une sighed as she sipped the coffee, a sigh of utter pleasure. At least her secretary could brew a decent cup. There were not many pleasures the Lady found in life, but a decent cup of coffee was one of them. The last secretary she had knew how to poison the palate. It was no great loss when she was moved. A plant by the ESUN, Lady Une had allowed her to remain in her position for fully six months, feeding her carefully chosen information to pass on, before arranging for her to be employed by the Winner Corporation. Quatre had agreed to take her and had placed her where she could do the least harm and be available when they needed to feed information to the ESUN. It had been getting too dangerous to have the woman in Preventer headquarters. Lady Une was not at all sorry to see her depart, her current secretary was much more to her liking, both for her coffee making skills, and for her loyalty.

Her eyes moved unerringly to the clock. It would have started by now, the affair on Mars. The shuttle would have landed about now, and what would transpire on that distant planet would rock the Earth Sphere, one way or the other. That blonde on Mars could start another war. The psychologists, not one of them, could give her an indication as to which way he would jump. He was a certified genius at doing the unexpected. She knew that from their days in Oz. He had proven time and again to be infinitely capable. To be wildly inventive, and to be able to read others like a book. He had never given her, or anyone else, cause to dismiss him lightly.

So why was the ESUN Security Agency making a glaringly stupid move?

How had he survived the explosion of the Libra?

Yuy and Merquise had been on the Libra when the power core had blown. She had taken the opportunity to speak at length to Yuy about that time. He had been on the section of the Libra falling toward Earth when Zechs had blown the power core and he had survived. It should not be so surprising, she supposed, that Zechs had survived too, but how had he survived later, when Heero Yuy had blown the piece of Libra out of the sky with the Buster Rifle? She had reviewed hours of footage taken of the battle, from various positions around the battle field. Nothing had indicated Zechs had escaped either of the explosions that had taken place on the Libra. There had been nothing that might even suggest the red suit had survived the destruction.

When she had put the question of whether or not he thought Milliardo Peacecraft, aka Zechs Merquise, could survive the destruction of the Libra to him, Heero Yuy had shaken his head, no; then paused, reconsidering and responded with words that had given her no real indication.

+"I don't know. I should not have survived the self detonation of Wing."+

Later, after the Barton Incursion had been settled, when she had time to think, she had gone to the pilot and demanded to know how he had survived. When she had put the question to Zechs he had merely shaken his head and declined to comment.

Yuy had survived the self detonation of Wing Gundam. Merquise had survived the Libra. Trowa Barton had survived against Quatre in the Wing Zero, when the Oz prototype Mobile suit had been destroyed. Why then, could Treize Kushrenada not survive the explosion of the Tallgeese II?

The thought startled her. She had thought she was over that. Thought she was beyond recriminations and reproaches. The past was the past and she had to get over the loss of the one man she had ever found it in her to love. Or obsess over, as she knew certain other people believed. Who was Noin to talk, though? Look at the obsession there.

// Noin. You could not get anymore obsessed than she is with Merquise. It has started, out there. Just how great an effect it will have on the Earth Sphere is yet to be determined. What is he likely to do? Will he be the biggest problem or will it be Noin? She will be a problem, no doubting that. She will not allow them to go in there and dictate to her. She will not allow them to take her family.//

Just what action she would take Une was almost afraid to contemplate. Noin had lost her family during the height of the Alliance's power on Earth, in a power play between political factions. With that history in her past, this current state would not be well received by Lucrezia Noin. It would bring back old memories, old hurts. As for Zechs, well, try as she might she could not formulate a plausible scenario.

//I don't see what she sees in Zechs. I never did understand her infatuation with him. For that matter, I never understood why Mr. Treize backed him to the extent he did. Milliardo Peacecraft. Heir to Sanc. Did Mr. Treize intend to place him in a position to rule, as Relena was placed by Romefeller? That is possible. There was so much Mr. Treize did not confide in me. So much, even now, I do not understand of the plans you made. I wish you were here. You would know what to do about this idiocy. What could be done about this. I have to keep that girl alive. She is a symbol of the Peace you wanted and whoever controls her, controls the Earth Sphere. With Zechs alive and in the hands of the ESUN she is unable to work independently, as is needed to maintain the peace. Maybe I should have her brother killed? Would you consider that? Solving the dilemma that way. Another assassination. No, no, no. Are my hands not bloody enough, after the wars? Have I not learned other ways of achieving my goals? You wanted the world and the colonies to be at peace, Mr. Treize. You would not have ordered the death of your friend, even though he betrayed you, I am sure.//

The buzz of the com on her desk distracted her and she sighed, pulling herself together. No time to sit and reminisce about old times. No time to wonder what actions might have been taken in the past to avoid this current problem. No time to moan that she could not affect what happened on Mars beyond what she had already done, or about how inadequate her preparations had been. It was up to the players, on that far away planet, to complete the act. To start a new round of disasters or not. What more could she do?

"Yes, Joan?"

"We have received a report from a Patrol Cruiser in the Asteroid Belt, ma'am. I think you need to see this."

Reality bites. The Asteroid Belt could mean the Raiders were active again.

"Bring me the details."

Une set aside her coffee when the door opened and the dark haired Preventer agent hurried in. The folder she carried was red, denoting the urgency of the situation and Une nodded a dismissal on taking the folder. If it was from one of the cruisers patrolling the asteroid field then it was likely trouble with a mining transport.

She had four cruisers in the vicinity of the asteroids. Four cruisers. It was no wonder the Raiders were so productive there. The area was just too big to be adequately patrolled. Even with the addition of the Mining Consortiums own Security forces, and the ships of the ESU,N the area was just too vast to police. Flipping open the folder she settled down to read.

0000000000000000000000000000000

L2 Colony L2-0397 [La Grange point 2. Serial Number 0397

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 12:15

Duo

//So small. So helpless. A part of me. I never thought about having kids before. About the changes it would mean. It hurts that Hilde never told me. Never wanted me to know. She could have said something. I could have been there, when he was born. I could have watched him come into the world. I'm not really happy with what she said about why she didn't tell me. It's not any sort of an explanation I understand. Not really any explanation at all. Would she have let me know? Eventually?//

Duo lightly ran a finger over the delicate soft cheek. Chubby cheeks. His son would never grow up amid the slums and streets of L2. He knew what that was like. Only too well. He was determined that no matter what the future held, his son would never know the depravation that was living on the streets of L2. He had told Hilde what he had done. Wincing at the thought of the scene that had provoked he sighed and, bending over the cradle, he touched his lips lightly to the soft cheek.

He only hoped he had managed to convince her he was right to do this. He was a Preventer field agent, not a desk jockey. He put his life on the line every time he accepted an assignment, and he had never refused an assignment, no matter the dangers involved. He wanted to protect the peace, so that his son and other children like him never knew the wars and despairs that he had known. He had even more incentive to work for the continuing peace, now that his son's future was involved.

Hilde just had to understand how he saw this situation.

In the background he could hear her in the kitchen preparing a bottle for Aidan. He was uncertain if she would talk to him again, at least civilly, after his bomb shell. She had been furious that he was interfering in her life. Why couldn't Hilde see that what he had done had needed to be done? He was not interfering in her life, but providing a safety net should it ever be needed for his son.

Their son. If the absolute worst case happened who would look after the boy? He just needed for her to have some time to think it over. He had no family. Hilde had no family beyond some cousins she admitted she did not know well. Surely she would see that Quatre was the best choice of guardian if anything should happen to both of them?

//Did she expect me to give up Preventers and return to her when I found out? No, that makes no sense. None at all. If she had, she would have told me, wouldn't she? Maybe she wanted me to come back subconsciously and give up Preventers and... I don't know. I don't understand the way she thinks.//

Vaguely he registered the sound of a com consul chiming in the background and the sound of Hilde answering it. Aidan stirred, beginning to wake for his feed, not fussing yet, content to wake and think baby thoughts. He smiled, wondering what babies dreamt about? Must be a boring life to just sleep and eat. To sleep, to eat, to be loved and to be safe. That was the right of every baby on Earth and in the colonies.

That was just one of the things he fought for by staying in the Preventers. Hilde herself was now a Preventer. Not a field agent, of course, but a Preventer none-the-less. She had to have some understanding of why he did this job. It was no use arguing with him that someone else would do the job, either. If everyone thought that way then no one would do it and the peace would already be ruined.

"Duo." Hilde motioned him to leave the room and when he joined her in the lounge she indicated the com. "Earth wants you. There's trouble."

"Secured line?" Duo queried, making his way to the com.

"Level five security. Monitored for hacking." Hilde returned, leaving the room to Duo and the Lady waiting on Earth.

"Earth." Duo settled on the seat fronting the console.

"Reaper, my apologies for disturbing your vacation. You are, however the best qualified agent I have for this assignment, who is free to act at this time. We have a strong lead on the current activities of the Reavers working the asteroid field. A shuttle will be waiting for you in two hours at the docks at port station three. Take it and rendezvous with the cruiser Bounty in sector three, La Grange Point four. I know the Reavers are likely to be a long way away from the location we have been given when you get there, but investigate. It is the best lead we have had on their activities in the last year. There is a cruiser already in the area who are investigating. You will take charge of the unit. I want those sick bastards. They've harassed the asteroid miners too long. A full report will be waiting for you when you rendezvous with the Bounty."

"Anyone hurt in the latest raid?"

"No. It's all in the report. Mid way you will need to rendezvous with the ship Silver Lady. She is an independent L4 registered vessel No. 667384E. The Captain is a Derek H. Sandler. Find out why they were suspicious and if they are conducive to joining the Preventers. Initial reports from our ship in the area suggest the crew, or at least the Captain, may be Preventer material. Two hours Reaper. Again, sorry for the interruption to your leave."

Hilde was not going to like this, Duo thought as the screen darkened. He sighed softly. Two hours. Two hours was barely enough time to get back to his hotel and pack his bag, let alone time to get some solid reading material and entertainment disks together for a protracted flight. Not enough time to smooth things over with Hilde either. The asteroid belt? No way. This was how Lady Une would get him to Mars.

Mars. Just what was happening there? That shuttle would have grounded by now, surely? Would the trouble start immediately or would the ESUN Agents wait until the shuttle was serviced and ready for departure? Just what Lady Une expected him to do there was beyond him. It would all be over long before he could get there. It was a three month journey to Mars in its current position in relation to Earth.

While it was true that the current engines were faster than those used in past excursions to Mars, it was still the simple truth that he was well out of any effective time frame to be of use in the current circumstances. He had to face the facts, and the facts were that he was obviously just the Preventers investigator into the incident, and the deaths it no doubt would cause. After all, everyone knew Milliardo Peacecraft was supposed to be crazy.

//So they say. So they say.// Duo shook his head. Lady Une would have full briefing material on both of the missions he was assigned to, the Reavers and the secret mission to Mars. He could better judge what his expectations would be when he had gone over the files that would await him on the Preventer Cruiser.

"Duo?" Hilde stood in the doorway, Aidan held in her arms.

//Oh, boy. I can't help it, though.// "I have to go, Hilde. I'm sorry. Really I am. I wanted to stay around and get to know Aidan, but I seem to be the only one available for this mission right now." Duo stood waiting for the eruption he just knew was coming.

"It's alright Duo. Lady Une already apologized that she has to assign you to this case. I've grown up, since you left. Having Aidan has really taught me that I can't be a kid anymore. Not everything will go as I so fondly wish it to. It's okay."

//Wow. What just happened? That's not Hilde!// Duo blinked. Stunned. The fights they had had in the past had been volcanic and now, after all his expectations, she simply said it was alright?

"Uhm." What was he to say? He had to say something. "Yeah."

Hilde smiled, knowing what Duo's problem was. "I'm sorry, Duo. Really I am. I know that we never got along really well toward the end of... well, you know. I wanted everything to be perfect and I... I apologize for some of the things I said. Only some of them, mind you. I am a Preventers agent now. I have acquired a broader view of the situation than I used to. I really do understand. I can send you pictures and vids of Aidan. It will be a long while before you are back."

A long while. That was an understatement. "I am not certain how long it will be, but I would think a year. Maybe more."

"The Reavers killed a number of friends of mine, who were working at the Patrice Mining Corporations new resource satellite project about seven months ago, Duo. It was one of the reasons I started to have a real good look at the way I was viewing the world. Teach the bastards that payback can be a bitch for me? For my friends."

There was a look in her eyes Duo had not seen since the One Year War. The last time he had seen it she had found a way to board the Libra and steal the blueprints for the fortress. She had nearly died. He had hoped never to see her look like that again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll do that." Duo hesitated. "I'll find the Raiders, Hilde. For your friends. They've caused enough trouble. Uhm, can I hold him? Just for a minute?"

"Of course, Duo." Softly "If you have the time, you can even feed him his bottle."

"I'll make the time."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	25. Chapter 25

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 25

Mars Colony

Alpha Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 11:45 MST [Mars Standard Time

Alpha Dome Shuttle Bay

Commander Patrick Simpson nodded briefly to his subordinates report on the continuing progress of unloading the passengers and equipment from the interplanetary shuttle. Dark eyes scanned the light reflecting down through the sealed shaft of the massive elevator unit, and he fought the urge to shudder. He had no liking for this mission. From the moment he had been briefed on the mission he had experienced forebodings. It was one thing to be told what he was to do, another thing entirely for him to find the means by which to do it.

Merquise and Noin. He had a very bad feeling about this. He had read their dossiers. He had more than just read the offered reports and psyche evaluations that had been given to him. He had performed a background search of his own, and his findings only added to his general dislike for this duty. Duty. That was the key word. It was his assigned duty to come to this God forsaken hunk of rock floating in space and kidnap babies.

Babies.

What was he, a glorified baby sitter? He was a Soldier, for the love of God. A soldier, not a nanny. If they wanted these kids why the hell did they have to pick him and his team to do the stealing? Simple enough answer, really, when he thought about it. They were terrified. Terrified of the skills owned by the parents of the babies. More than that, though, those who saw this as a necessary mission were afraid of the power still attached to the one called the Terror of Earth. All this trouble and expenditure of men, machines and finances was to ensure control over the Peacecraft siblings.

Did his superiors think he had no idea what this was really all about? Did they think him stupid? Did they even care what he or anyone else thought of the mission he was now undertaking? With a sigh he considered the distorted light coming from the shaft. What was life coming to, when an elite commando team had to resort to stealing babies for men ensconced in their cocoons of power and luxury to feel assured of their positions?

Relena Peacecraft Darlian. Too much power in so young a woman's hands. Too much will to use it. All of this because she had given no thought to the reactions of the old guard in politics and incurred their wrath. That was where this all stemmed from. He was the grandson of such a politician, no small reason why he had been given this odorous duty. He had listened to his grandfather expound on the failings of Ms. Peacecraft Darlian too often to not understand what this whole abduction was over. In her youth and ignorance she had failed to understand the proper protocol with which things in the political circle of the day should follow. Because of her presumption and her uncanny ability to actually get things done, despite attempts to reign her in, she had earned their attention and a means had to be found that would not fail to insure her cooperation.

She was, without doubt, efficient. Her father, the former Vice Foreign Minister had trained her well, and she had a certain natural aptitude for the work. She was a babe in arms, however, and she had tweaked too many noses to be permitted to continue. With the reappearance of her brother they had found the means by which to establish control over the fledgling politician and diplomat. Raised a Darlian, she was, nevertheless, a Peacecraft. She had found it in her to reconcile with her brother, and that could not be allowed.

He was just too dangerous to have wandering around without being adequately controlled. Should he ever decide to counter his sister's declarations and step into power himself he could do it. They did not doubt that. He was reared in Kushrenada's shadow, and they would not chance the education he would have gained. Kushrenada was enough of a warning about this younger generation who meddled on a grand scale in the affairs of the world. Largely Merquise was an unknown element, but he had proven already he could earn trust and gain followers. Should he team up with his sister, the old guard would undoubtedly have to make way for the new wave of infant politicians, who just could not understand the appropriate protocols that needed to be followed.

One Peacecraft running loose in political circles was bad enough, but a Peacecraft trained in the arts of war was unthinkable. Action had to be taken lest he have too much influence over his too young sister. She was infinitely preferable to having a warrior Peacecraft in control of any power base in the Earth Sphere. Relena Peacecraft would never be able to handle her brother and they had not allowed it to become a problem, choosing to act first. It was just fortunate for all parties concerned that Relena had forgiven her brother, and actually appeared to have developed a desire to get to know him. Or at least decided that she did not have sufficient family that she would allow him to be tried for war crimes and take the brunt of the world's anger over the wars. With the birth of the children matters had shifted firmly in favor of the politicians seeking to establish checks on the siblings. Control of both adult Peacecrafts would no longer be so tentative. Neither would do anything to chance the safety of the babies.

Hence his assignment to this planet, to round up the rebel Peacecraft and to secure the ultimate hostages to control the situation.

It was not an auspicious beginning though. Warning bells were already ringing. He had not been notified before leaving L4, or on the approach to Mars, of the change in landing procedures. Expecting to emerge from the shuttle into the hanger of Base Dome One, he had instead emerged to find himself beneath the glaring Plexiglas doors of the massive hanger of Alpha Dome's interplanetary shuttle port. Not a good beginning to a mission he was disturbed over in the first place. Perhaps a fair warning that more than just location was going to change from the mission briefing.

Standing under the sealed hanger doors, looking up the shaft to the sky far above, he resisted the urge to cringe. It was all wrong. The sky was all wrong. The colours were all wrong. The sky should not be pink. Skies should be clear, pristine blues, with white clouds or brooding gray with rain threatening or soaking the earth and bringing a renewal of life. Not that so wrong shade of pink. So far nothing was right.

"Commander. Company."

He grunted, glancing quickly around, getting his bearings. He had studied the blue prints for the Alpha Dome as well as those of Base Dome One, and while he would have preferred to deal with the matter at the smaller Base Dome, he could deal with it just as well here. His team was the best and he was certain the location would make no difference. He just needed to adjust for the unexpected when it happened, and happen it would. His targets were just too experienced for it to go smoothly if they chose to argue his mission statement.

To his right were the service bays for the huge interplanetary shuttles, where the vessel that had brought him to Mars would shortly be moved. Beyond that were the five smaller service bays for the local flight shuttles. Storage and engineering equipment lockers were clearly marked on the appropriate doors flanking the shuttle bays. To his left the huge shuttle was still being unloaded of men, women and equipment. He noted the placement of each of his men, including the three female officers included in his team, whose sole purpose here was to care for the charges he was to collect. All of his team were now off the shuttle and placed in surveillance positions, as agreed before they had arrived at the dome, all-be-it adjusted somewhat for the change of location. The remainder of the shuttle's passengers, the miners, designers, builders, and professionals whose job it was to make this colony a viable economic society, had disembarked and were now making their way to the luggage racks slowly filling with crates and packages.

Beyond the shuttle itself was the emergency equipment, at this time being returned to storage positions. The shuttle had landed without a problem, but he was pleased to see that all standard procedures had been undertaken, including the emergency vehicles deployment. Service personnel swarmed over the huge shuttle, some now spraying the engines with a cooling fluid that shed a foul odor into the air as it was pumped from the waiting tankers. Another group of ground crew personnel were attaching the towing cables to the ground vehicles, preparatory to moving the shuttle into the waiting service bay. Coming towards him and his second in command was a small party of individuals all wearing the navy blue coveralls of the colony terra forming administration, except one, who wore the black and green of the Preventers.

A quick glance at his Second whose nod confirmed these were the expected welcoming committee and he chose to wait, making no move in their direction. Let them come to him. He had expected certain individuals to greet the shuttle, and certain people to be conspicuous by their absence. The absentees had not disappointed him. No doubt they were in Base Dome, staying well away from the new arrivals. He was a little surprised when the welcome committee paused at the area where the new personnel for the project had gathered. Absently he listened to the welcoming speech delivered by the Asian who would have to be Mako, the Project Chief. While he was certain this was intended to be a snub by the committee, in truth he was pleased at the extra time to survey the hanger. He had added time to scout the area and it would allow the grunts to be cleared from the area following Mako's speech, and his own team to secure their position and complete their own surveillance.

"Commander Simpson. I am Joe Mako, Project Chief. Quarters have been arranged for you and your team, and office space has been assigned. Welcome to Mars."

Dark eyes clashed and there was instant dislike. Mutual dislike. Simpson forced a pleasant smile. He was here to do a job and it was not to set up adequate security arrangements to cover the new arrivals at the project. Both he and Mako knew that for the lame excuse it was, but it was unseemly to be blunt about it. His job did not involve slapping down the Project Chief, unless he interfered with the mission he had been assigned. Sometime in the next week, he suspected, it would be necessary to teach this upstart his place.

Sleeper agents had reported that Mako was on friendly terms with both Merquise and Noin. Simpson was, in fact, expecting the entire Project team to become involved and interfere, one way or another, in this matter. A serious mistake on their part if they should interfere. He wished to avoid the prescribed parameters of his mission should matters slip his control. For now, cool disinterest and disdain, not antagonism was needed. He would give no clue as to when he would strike. He needed to contact the Sleeper operatives before making a move and be briefed on the latest circumstances that might have a bearing on the mission.

"My team will set up a security rotation immediately to keep discipline within the ranks of your staff and the new arrivals. Some of the passengers from the shuttle will be feeling the need to let their hair down after the confines of the flight."

Mako nodded slightly. "We expected there may be a little trouble while they settle to their new environment, so I have placed our existing security team on alert. Simon Barker, Preventer Agent Eagle, heads our security division. I am certain you can liaison with his team. I want no trouble at the base, Commander. Of any sort."

Simon Barker was a big, gruff looking ex Alliance officer, who swept a hard glance over the Commander and his team, tagging them as ex Alliance commando's, Blue Squad. He recognized most from the latest information sent to him from Earth and knew there was, despite Mako's wishes, going to be trouble. He had known Blue Squad's reputation during the One Year War, and prior to that they had been notorious as the dirty deeds boys of the Alliance Commanders. Blue Squad still had a tendency to run riot, according to the reports forwarded to him by Preventer Earth, but this new Commander, the reports suggested, had managed to curb the worst excesses of the squad. Even so, Blue Squad was an unsavory bunch who delighted in being heavy handed.

"We were sent to maintain order during this integration of personnel, and to set up offices for ESUN Security when the division is formally installed here. You have a number of hard core ex miners now at your project, Mr. Mako. Do not expect them to play nice." He surveyed his team for a moment and turned back to the waiting officials. "I believe my team can handle anything they throw at us. I am also under orders to check on the security surrounding the Vice Foreign Minister's brother. It is my understanding there may be elements on the shuttle who are interested in him. The source of their interest is currently under investigation, but until then I have my instructions concerning his safety and the security of his family. I trust there will be no interference in the completion of my instructions?"

"That depends on what your instructions are. Zechs Merquise is a vital member of my construction team and I will not stand for his duties being interfered with. I have a schedule to maintain, and I have no intentions of delaying the opening of Alpha Dome to colonization because you and your team were heavy handed with my valued personnel. Run your security checks by all means, Commander, but do not interfere in the running of this project."

Barker held his breath at that comment from the Project Head, noting the flicker in the Commanders dark eyes that bored into Mako's cold stare. He had the uneasy feeling a confrontation between these two was not going to be bloodless. After a lengthy staring contest the Project Head spun on his heel and began to stride away, but not before delivering a final parting shot.

"There is a briefing scheduled at 09:00 in the command center of Alpha Dome. I will look forward to your attendance, Commander. All traffic to Base Dome is restricted to permit travel only. Earth seems to believe we do not have security protocols here. I assure you that we do, and we do not appreciate violations of those protocols. You will be shown the way to the conference room by designated guides in the morning. I suggest you settle your men for the night. My assistants will show you to your designated quarters. Now excuse me, I have a project to run."

//Cocky, arrogant little bastard. You won't be smiling for much longer. I can see you won't stay out of what does not concern you. Well, I'll enjoy restraining you. No one said I had to be gentle with anyone who aids and abets.//

"If you and your men will follow me, Commander Simpson, I will escort you to your quarters." The feminine, sultry voice broke the uncomfortable silence following Mako's departure.

Cold dark eyes flicked to the tall woman with flaming red hair and sea green eyes. She oozed sexuality, he thought as he turned, briefly enjoying the view she presented in her very well fitting tan work clothes. He had no trouble recognizing her, though the description and vidpic in her file had failed miserably in doing justice to her. She oozed sex appeal when she smiled like that, and knew its effects on men only too well. It was a pity for her game that he knew all too much about her reputation to be taken in by her charms.

"You are?"

"Shanna McIntyre, Commander, your designated guide for this evening. I have been assigned by Mako to show you around the facilities of the Alpha Dome. I assure you, by the way, that he's not usually so grouchy. We had a few problems develop with the computers while bringing down the shuttle. Nothing serious, just minor glitches. No danger to anyone on the shuttle, I assure you. Come this way, please."

0000000000000000000000000000

12:54

"They are at Base Dome, Commander. At the present time Noin's roster places her in the command tower and Merquise is in the engineering bays, repairing the latest batch of damaged mobile suits."

He was not sure he believed his ears and glared at her. "The notorious Lightning Count is allowed access to Mobile Suits? I do not believe you people." Disgust was evident in his voice.

Shanna McIntyre laughed, a soft, sultry sound. "Really, Commander, think about it. Where can he go, hmm? Nowhere, that's where. This is Mars, Commander Simpson, not Earth. You are looking at the extent of civilization here as it stands. Civilization consists of Base and Alpha Domes and the smaller original dome we now use largely as storage for the obsolete equipment we have no further use for, or have not found time to revamp for additional uses." She smiled sweetly. "We make use of his skills to further the project. He is quite skilled at more that piloting mobile suits; and I assure you he can not access the shuttles. Our supply of construction Mobile Suits are very limited in the hours they can be used, and have a nasty tendency to break down at inopportune moments. Merquise is good at salvaging scrap and making it work. He is an excellent recycler of obsolete parts, and he has to have something to do, besides sit on his neat toosh and stare at the walls. This project has been assigned nothing but junk from the start, and Merquise skills have kept us on schedule."

He snorted at that. "You allow him too much freedom. The man is not a fool from all accounts and should not to be taken lightly. He is probably the most dangerous individual in the Earth Sphere, and you allow him free run of the facilities." He could not care less about the quality, or lack of it, in the equipment used at the base. His duty here would be brief.

"I assure you we do not take him lightly. He is under constant observation by my fellow agents, as is Lucrezia Noin. There is nothing they do that I do not know about. There is nowhere other than Base Dome and Alpha Dome for him to go. In case you had not noticed, it is not exactly possible to take a pleasant stroll outside. He is permitted limited computer access and no radio time at all. Certain sections of the base are off limits to him, and he has not tried to test his limitations."

That alone had warning sirens screaming in his mind. Merquise was said to be a sneaky bastard, and just because he had not been caught pushing their rules, did not mean he had not tried. He was not amused by the laxity of the security surrounding Merquise. Did they think the man was this easy to contain? He would not sit idle while they entertained the notion he was helpless under their measures.

"Where are the children?"

They were in Simpson's assigned quarters, a spartanly furnished room consisting of fold down bed, two chairs and a fold out table with small functional bathroom attached. They were taking the opportunity to relax and brief each other on their individual assignments. Her team was going about their day to day business of watching their prisoner and building a viable colony.

Her assignment of keeping her eyes open for the ESUN at the Terra Forming Project, and specifically on the prisoner, was now nearing its completion. His assignment was to take charge of the children and neutralize any possible retribution against the ESUN from irate parents. Said retribution was not limited to Zechs Merquise or Lucrezia Noin. Any one at the project who interfered would have to be dealt with, a fact they both knew only too well. He must secure the children and contain Noin, while Merquise was packaged for transfer to an appropriate facility where he could adequately be detained.

"At the present time, they would be on their way to their mother in the control room for feeding, otherwise they are placed in our equivalent of a crèche during working hours. We have four children and three pregnancies to date." Shanna shook her head in disgust. "If professionals would keep their legs closed we would not have this problem of juggling facilities to deal with unexpected pregnancies."

"I was led to believe that all women on the project were injected with long term contraceptives to avoid this type of thing."

"Typical male view. Pump a woman full of contraceptives with no thought to the long term consequences. Contrary to popular belief contraceptives are not infallible. Depending on the individual the chemicals term of suppression varies. In all honesty six pregnancies after so long a mission period is a good record, for a project of this size and duration. Now you tell me why it is women who should always take the precautions, hmm? There are male contraceptives out there, you know." She flipped her red hair, thinking of the men who were eager to make advances toward her, and how they responded to her advances. She was no one's fool and no casual tumble. No unwanted pregnancies for her, and she never lacked for a partner if she desired company. You could have sex and not chance an unwanted pregnancy if you were clever and simply took precautions. "Anyway, that has nothing to do with the mission. The twins are usually in an impromptu crèche set up in the third sector in the living quarters block. Their keeper's depend on the work rotation. I'll see what I can do to be the roster carer on the day you want to take custody of them."

Simpson considered that. It would definitely make the transfer of custody of the children easier and less likely to get messy if this woman, or one of her other agents, could be with the children at that time. Depending on the difficulties of gaining access to the now restricted Base Dome, he might give the okay for that plan.

"How much trouble can I expect from Mako?"

Shanna considered that and shrugged. "Not really sure. He's very chummy with Noin, and at first I thought he was interested in her, but I think it's just friendship. He's definitely a Family Man, comes from a big family on L1, and he has become very protective of the children."

"What about his relations with Merquise?"

Shanna chuckled and moved to the window of the small room, taking in the view of the great expanse of Alpha Dome. Before her spread the cityscape, with young parklands breaking the sectors neatly, reminiscent of the slices in a great circular pie. Base Dome was not graced with views to compare with this. The best view on the above ground working dome she considered to be the view of the hydroponics domes, and that was down right boring. Alpha Dome was much more enjoyable to visit.

"Mako loves anyone who can help keep this project running on schedule, and Merquise has come up with some inventive jury rigging of systems to keep vital systems functioning. A lot of respect has developed there, for his skills if nothing else. That shuttle you came on had better have some decent equipment and replacement parts on it. If we keep having to repair junk someone will end up dead before too much longer."

// If this goes wrong someone will end up dead, alright. Why concern yourself with spare parts when there are more important considerations? If Merquise puts up a resistance you know as well as I do what we will need to do.//

"I don't care what is on the shuttle that is of no concern to me. My only concern is achieving my objective, and that is the safe removal of Merquise and the children to adequately secured institutions. Who would you say will be our major trouble? Noin or Merquise? The psyche evaluations on Merquise were not conducive to effective supposition."

"Noin. Never underestimate a female in defense of her young, especially when said female is a trained soldier. Don't let your guard down around her. She can be a cold bitch when it suits her, and I do not doubt for an instant that she will kill if she feels it necessary." For a long moment Shanna considered the view, reflecting that she had no idea herself how Merquise would react when the time came. He was a hard one to read and he seemed haunted, never truly relaxed, never quite 'there', in the room with you most of the time. Crazy, they said, and she was inclined to believe it. "When will you take them?"

Simpson glared at her, giving consideration to the greeting he had received from Mako and the additional information this agent had given him. Teamed with the 'bad feeling' he had entertained since receiving this mission he was certain trouble would not be long in coming. He had already decided that Noin was going to be serious trouble, and he was pleased that his instructions did not include keeping her alive if she resisted them. Merquise, of course, had to be handled with kid gloves. He could be battered and bruised, but largely he had to be taken alive and in reasonable condition for an extended space flight.

"When can you get me into Base Dome?"

"On the Q.T.? Or openly?" McIntyre turned from the view, green eyes dark and serious, no foolery or seduction now in evidence. It was time to be serious, and when she considered this entire affair seriously she shuddered at the thought of Noin finding out her deception. Noin would not be a forgiving sort.

"Both. I want to know when Mako would be likely to give us that permit to travel to the dome. He has informed me that travel to the Base Dome in now restricted, a circumstance I presume is new?" At her nod he snorted, amused. "I am, I am sure, expected to believe that that is a security measure against the new grunts now on this project. It takes no special genius to know why that measure has actually been taken. What about the Preventers at the base?"

"There are only four, and they are all currently in Alpha Dome. They have had little contact with Merquise or Noin, but they have kept an eye on their movements, and have reported back to Earth regularly concerning their security."

"Good." He did not need Preventer agents running around Base Dome when his team went into action. For all they were pests, Preventers were well trained. "When can you get my team into the Dome?"

//The sooner we get this over with the better. I want as few combat trained agents running around in there as possible.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson


	26. Chapter 26

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 26

L2 Colony L2-0397 [La Grange point 2. Serial Number 0397

Shuttle Bay

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 14:05 [Standard Colony Time

Duo

The shuttle bay was deserted, not even tech staff in evidence as was standard procedure when a Preventer shuttle was about to leave on a mission. Duo had already checked on his tail. The man had left him at the shuttle port entrance, as per the agreement when he was acting for Preventers. He had no doubts that his bag had been searched, as usual and he hoped one day he would get a tail who was inventive and had a bit of individuality, but for now, he mused, the unimaginative type was good.

He was not looking forward to three months of boredom. On the good side of the equation that three months was better than the six months it had once taken to travel to Mars, and that when Mars was in a favorable position in relation to the Earth. With advances in technology it was possible to service a permanent base on Mars, hence the new Colony nearing completion. In his view further advances were needed in the propulsion systems of ships, because three months was still a damn long time.

He had no idea what kind of entertainment would be available on the ship he was to rendezvous with. Just what did crew do on a long haul mining ship, explorer or supply shuttle? It was a certainty that those ships and this Preventer ship would be nothing like the Sweeper Family Ship he had spent time on.

What amusements were going to be available to him on a Preventer Cruiser heading on a tour of duty slated, he believed for a circuit of the asteroid belt. With twelve months duration, not counting travel time there and back again amounted to a year and a half in space. The thought was frightening. With this monumental hole in his knowledge he had purchased a selection of entertainment disks covering the classic years and current, found a collection of books on disk of the classics ranging from the historical classics such as Plato through to the twenty first century and modern novels, and even included some history texts on disk. He had also included, as a last thought, some educational programs to further his education.

He might have been born on L2, he reflected, but he was not uneducated. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen had started his thirst for knowledge, and during his time in the Sweepers he had enjoyed taking part in lessons. The Family Ships of the Sweepers were a world in their own right, with everything you could possibly need to raise a family, including teachers. Under Professor G his education had been more intense and he had not lost his thirst for the challenge of learning something new.

He could not afford bulk in what ever he took with him. Weight was all important on long hall space flight, so his entertainment and reading had to be on disk; light and easily portable. He did, of course, have the disks full of coded Romefeller information to work on, and he reflected this was probably a good thing. He could concentrate on those disks far better on a boring space flight than running around the Earth Sphere chasing the bad guys to keep the peace. He would have to send coded text to Heero and arrange a signal they could use, secure from hacking so they could exchange information. Most of the chasing down of the Romefeller organization would likely now have to be done by Heero. It was damn certain he could not do it once he took this shuttle into space. The ever lengthening radio delay as he traveled further from the planet and colonies would hinder any links he made with even the best computers.

//Romefeller and their hidden agendas. Hilde and Aidan. Space Reavers. Trouble on Mars. Damn. Life is getting interesting. Have to get my priorities right. I'd rather be on L2 with Aidan or on Earth finding out about Romefeller's aims, than be stuck on a ship heading out into the frontier. Huh. Fine explorer or new settler I would be. I guess I like the trappings of civilization too much to rough it carving out a new colony on a new world. Have to give them credit for it. Not easy to start all over with nothing but bare basics, and no quick back up available. Mars is a bloody long way away from Earth if something should go wrong.//

Setting his bags into the storage unit and checking that all equipment was secured properly, Duo began his security checks of the shuttle. He knew that Preventers service staff had already been over the shuttle, but he had learned long ago to trust himself. Although, he did admit to himself, if he was boarding a shuttle from a Sweeper facility he would likely have trusted the staff servicing the shuttle.

With his checks of the mechanics of the ship complete he sealed himself into the shuttle and settled himself into the pilot's seat, beginning to run safety checks and the pre flight warm up for the ship. He was not one to lightly trust his life to someone he did not know and trust, and all checks were to be completed before he would contact the tower. For too long his life had depended on his attention to detail and he was loath to slip up now.

"Tower to Preventer Shuttle E 106. You are cleared for departure, trajectory and course details have been received by traffic control. Your departure zone is cleared of traffic and the flight lane logged."

Right on time, he reflected, reaching to grasp the head set and then settle to the serious business of leaving L2. "Roger that, Control. Flight checks complete. We are good for take off."

"Shuttle E 106 from Control, depressurizing docking bay now." Duo watched on the screen as the air pressure in the sealed docking bay decreased, equalizing with the exterior of the colony. "All indicators are green for departure, Shuttle E 106. You may start your engines." The voice of the traffic controller revealed more than passing boredom and no small amount of exhaustion. The controllers worked long shifts and this departure was coming in near to shift change.

Duo did not doubt that the bored operative would be only too glad to get rid of him, so that he could get himself home. The trained controllers were in high demand on the more affluent colonies, and had many perks to go with the high stresses of their job, but L2 was not rich.

L2 could not afford to pander to the needs of simple humans stressed and fatigued by long hours of work and little recreational down time. If something was not done soon, Duo reflected, an accident could very well happen in L2's air space. The computers that ran the system were just as obsolete as most other systems, and the human element was judged to be more reliable than the automated systems. Duo had not found that to be comforting.

"Roger that, Control. Activating maneuvering engines now. Main engines activated." A pause, while he listened to the throaty roar of the main engines. With a smile he flipped switches to peg back the power. "Main engines at idle. Maneuvering jets on line."

"Control to E 106. All indicators are green. Opening hanger bay doors."

Duo sighed softly as the great doors before the shuttle began to slide back, revealing the darkness of space. To the left of the doors he could make out the bulk of the dark side of the moon, a deep darkness blocking the starscape. L2 never got to see the moon lit by the sun.

Literally built in the shadow of the moon the colony rarely gained full sunlight. Unlike the other colony clusters who could regulate their day and night cycles and power needs by using the sun, L2 was more reliant on generating its own power by other means. In the shadow of the moon little sunlight existed to be used. Day and night were generated by machines that were meticulously serviced, unlike less vital mechanics. The simple truth was the colony could not afford to lose power or the vital life support, so delicately balanced, would fail with no hope of repair. More than a million people depended on the smooth running of the machines for their every need.

Duo had always wondered why the powers that were, more than two hundred years ago, had decided to construct this colony on the Dark Side of the Moon. It made absolutely no sense to him. No doubt there was a reason, but it certainly eluded him. Initially money had been poured into the colony and the upkeep had not been considered a problem. He believed it had been some kind of scientific installation, later converted to a standard colony to relieve the growing pressure on resources in America. It had been constructed in record time, too, the entire colony completed in only ten years. For the time period, with its limited resources, that had been an astonishing accomplishment.

Duo had heard there was a project on paper at this time discussing the possibility of erecting giant reflector dishes to reflect natural sunlight onto the colony. It would lower the cost of lighting the colony and generate additional power. He understood there was some question of the cost not being feasible, and the possibility of harmful radiation. It was something he had been meaning to find out more about, but that would have to wait. He had a job to do. Several, in fact.

"Shuttle E 106 from control. You are cleared for departure. Releasing shuttle locks now."

"Roger that, Control. Preventer Shuttle E 106 now leaving the hanger."

It was no difficult task for him to guide the shuttle out of the bay using the maneuvering thrusters. He had done it so many times before he was certain he could do it in his sleep. The shuttle slid out of her berth and into the cold void, and he grinned as the darkness of space enveloped him. He felt like he had come home and that was amusing, and disturbing, since he had just left his home. Space felt so much like home, though. Maybe he would better understand his views after the marathon space flight to Mars was over. He would certainly have the time to consider his feelings.

"Preventer Shuttle E 106, now engaging main engines and entering flight mode."

"L2 Flight Control to Preventer Shuttle E 106. Acknowledge your status. You are now entering your designated flight plan. L2 Flight Control now handing control over to you."

"Roger, L2 Flight Control. Shuttle E 106 is in the lane and independent of your control. Have a nice day, people."

Duo chose to pilot the shuttle for the first hour, keeping a close eye on the traffic coming and going from L2. It would be a four hour flight before he was to rendezvous with the Preventer cruiser bound for the asteroid belt. Once assured there was no unusual activity in the traffic from the colony he set the auto pilot and found the information packet that was common to all Preventer craft. The computer link to the latest information for agent's general viewing. It kept all the agents up to date on the activities of the organization in their bid to maintain the peace, and allowed each and every one to know the location of their top officials movements should they need to be contacted.

He quickly ascertained that his mission was not considered to be general information. Yes, shuttle E 106 was listed as leaving L2, but its destination and pilot's identity was not mentioned, nor was the mission to the asteroid belt logged at this time. Nor was it likely to be, Duo reflected as he reviewed the entries. Une would not want to tip off anyone that the raiders were about to receive visitors, even though said visitors would be months arriving. Satisfied Duo unstrapped himself and found the supplies. Over a snack of ration bars he would finish reading the updates on the network and then get ready to rendezvous with the cruiser Bounty. He would also compose a coded message to Heero. They needed to get their communications up and running as soon as possible. There was roughly a half hour delay in communications between Earth and Mars as it currently was positioned. By the time he got there, a somewhat longer delay would be in effect, even with the aid of the booster stations en route. It would complicate things, but they had to have a means by which they could exchange information.

000000000000000000000000000000000

Preventer Cruiser Bounty

16:43 [L2 time

The Bounty, Duo noted, was sleek in design and very obviously armed. A long range cruiser fully equipped for space combat. He noted the bulging middle section that told him the vessel was capable of generating a gravity field should they rotate the ring. His briefing contained in the sealed instructions Une had sent to him contained information on the crew, who numbered thirty four, all professional soldiers, three from White Fang, fifteen from OZ and the remainder Alliance personal. All were very professional individuals and well adjusted to the rigors of long range space flight, long having buried their personal differences. A crew on a long haul ship could not afford to be anything other than harmonious. Captain and officers monitored the crew diligently to nip any trouble in the bud. Any personnel who could not cut it were quickly transferred off ship at the first opportunity.

He was met at the docking bay by the Executive Officer who greeted him civilly, handed him a sealed envelope and key card and promptly escorted him from the bay, where the bay crew were even now working to secure the shuttle securely.

"You have a private cabin, Sir, as per Preventer Earth's instructions. There is an independent com link as powerful as the ships master com and an independent computer system installed in your room. Earth has also forwarded some amusement material for your use. If it might not be an imposition, the captain was wondering if the crew might make some use of the entertainment packs at some time, Sir? It can get pretty boring on a long flight and... "

"It's fine." Duo grinned. "I'll look over exactly what Earth sent up and see that the entertainment stuff is shared with the crew. In fact, I brought some stuff with me the crew is welcome to share."

The officer looked relieved and continued. "The Captain requests that you dine with him this evening, in the Officers mess. I will assign an ensign to escort you there, and he will be assigned to show you around the ship until you are familiar with it." At Duo's nod the exec officer smiled. "We are not overly formal on board, but we tend to start out adhering to formality and relax protocols of rank when we are further out. The Captain is always the Captain, however and the First Officer is always the First Officer."

"Oh good." Duo flashed a manic grin. "I don't usually go all stiff and formal myself. I will try not to disturb your crew in their duties, but I hope you will understand that I can not remain in my cabin all the time."

"Of course, Sir. The facilities of the ship are at your disposal. We have a variety of entertainment and an extensively equipped gym. Our medic has requested that you see him concerning testing you for the required dosage of muscle stimulants you will need to take during the flight. We work at zero gravity ninety five percent of the time during the flight. No artificial gravity is used unless it is a medical emergency, so you will need to take medication to ensure that your body does not deteriorate during the course of the voyage. The doc will test you for any sensitivities you may have and adjust accordingly."

"Alright if I see the doc in the morning?" //Damn. I hate needles and popping pills. Can't be helped though. Not if I want to stay fit and healthy.//

"Yes Sir. If you want Medical, just follow the green stripe on the floor. Red is engineering sector, blue is the command deck, yellow is for crew quarters, purple is communications and the pink is hydroponics. Recreation deck is deck four. We are currently on deck three."

Duo surveyed the strips of colour laid over the floor of the corridor they walked along. The exec officer motioned to a hand rail and Duo caught the hand hold, allowing the device to effortlessly pull him along, the Executive Officer following, their magnetic boots carefully held off the deck and clear of the wall.

Michael Tanning, the Executive Officer, was closely studying their guest and was silently wondering if half of what he had heard could possibly be true. This young man, a teenager, not yet a full grown man, was Reaper? A teenager was one of the most deadly agents in the Preventers? Rumor had it that Reaper was a Gundam Pilot, but surely this eighteen-year-old could not possibly be the Reaper who was fast becoming a legend in the Preventer Ranks. Still, they did have explicit orders for dealing with him. The captain had had a long interview with Preventer Earth and emerged from that conference to warn the entire crew to tread carefully around their guest.

"Your ident chip is coded to all sections of the ship, except private crew quarters, and the ships computer is programmed to accept your voice patterns. The computer in your suite is programmed to you alone and no one goes in or out of another's quarters, unless specifically invited. Within a few days you'll understand how we value a space that is just ours. Privacy is important on board ship. We are on Earth standard time, for the eastern seaboard of Australia. Bounty is registered in Sydney and I believe that puts you effectively in another time zone? You were on L2, I believe?"

"I was and it does. It was 16:43 hours when I docked the shuttle. What time is it now?" Duo queried, displaying his wrist com and the time display.

"18:32 hours." The exec motioned Duo to leave the transport conveyor. "Your assigned quarters are this way."

"Just a sec. I'll change the time now. What time is the Captain expecting me for dinner?" Duo paused, adjusting the time display on his unit.

"20:30 hours, Sir. I will have an Ensign call for you and also have you guided around the ship tomorrow morning, to familiarize yourself with the layout. The ensign will be on call to you at all times. There are orientation maps in all main corridors at major intersections. It won't take long for you to familiarize yourself with where everything is."

"I'm sure it won't."

"The ship is now engaging engines. We will be clear of the standard flight lanes in one hour. At that time an announcement will be made to all crew that we will be initiating the first burn of the engines. Acceleration will last for fifteen minutes and initiate an acceleration force of 4 g's. You will be requested to strap yourself to your bunk during all burns. The second burn has be scheduled for 00:30 hours. Most of the crew generally strap themselves into their bunks for the first day, if they are not on duty. There will be four acceleration burns, each lasting fifteen minutes. You will be notified before each burn."

"Just how fast is the Bounty?" Duo queried. "How long would it take to reach, say, Mars orbit?"

"The Bounty is the latest of the Preventer ships. Her engines are every bit as good as the Inter Planetary Shuttles the ESUN uses to explore and service the Mars colony and the Asteroid Belt. It will take us approximately eighty seven days to reach the Martian orbit. To reach the Asteroid Belt it will take us approximately one hundred and one days. The ESUN IPS ships can't do it any faster."

"Impressive." Duo murmured, inwardly quailing under the days he must remain confined to so small a vessel.

"These are your quarters, Sir." The exec officer stopped before a door that looked exactly like every other door in the long hallway. "Your id chip, please Sir."

Duo handed over the tag containing the chip in question that he had been handed as soon as he had left the shuttle. The exec, a tall, slender man in his early twenties with a shock of dark blonde hair fed the tag into the slot beside the door. A chime sounded and the door slid open, revealing a small metal walled room that boasted no furnishings at all. The exec handed Duo his card back.

"Everything you require should be here, Sir. If there is anything you need, please inform the Deck Officer. The control panel operates all the conveniences. Do not drink out of the taps, Sir. The bathroom sink has bubble taps. You insert your hands in the receptacle, seal the unit and activate the water. The water is then sucked back into the recycling unit. Drinking water is bottled and a daily allowance is handed out every morning. We have gravity unit showers just down the hall where it is possible for you to take a shower."

Duo made his way to the control panel and studied the array of buttons and lights. The exec followed him.

"In order as we go right to left, Sir. Writing desk and lamp," At the touch of the control a section of wall lowered into a small desk with a light shining in the nook it had come from. A repeated touch and the desk raised itself into the wall again. "Chair, latrine, table and bed." After naming each convenience a button was pushed and the walls dropped to reveal each item. "The cabins are small, but we have every convenience we need. This master control station houses your computer and communications center, as well as entertainment unit."

"Neat." Duo returned, sitting on the bunk and testing the mattress. "Good."

"If you begin to feel the effects of middle ear disorder due to the zero gravity, it is requested you see the medic with all speed, Sir. I doubt you will have a problem if you have not already experienced it on the way here. It is expected that if you show signs of depression, or what we term 'flight crazies', that you will cooperate with the crew assigned to restrain you until the medic can treat you. At some point or other most of the crew go through that stage on long trips, Sir. We are fairly adept in picking the early warning signs and rarely experience difficulties in dealing with the problem. If that will be all, Sir, I will leave you to get settled in. The Ensign will be along to collect you for dinner."

"Fine, fine." Duo grinned, forcing the grin to look as natural as possible.

//Flight crazies? Oh, God, what have I let myself in for? I forgot about that little problem some people have with long term confinement.//

He looked around the small room where currently a desk and chair were the only relief from the stark metal walls painted a horrible pale tan. "Not a problem. I have some things to do, unpack, that sort of thing and I will be using the communicator. I have some reports to send off."

"Sir." The exec nodded and slipped out the door.

Duo pushed for the desk and chair to retract and for the bunk to drop into position. He settled on the bunk, dropping his tote bag onto the floor, fished out a pair of socks and threw them into the air, away from him, watching as they settled, one floating near the bed, the other near the door. It did not help at all to make the space feel homey. With a quiet, but profound sigh he surveyed the blank metal walls and the computer consol near at hand, and then slowly folded up onto the bed, tucking himself unconsciously into a fetal position.

"Oh, God. I am going to be sooo bored!"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	27. Chapter 27

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 27

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 13:05 MST [Mars Standard Time

Simpson

Commander Patrick Simpson chose to ignore his indignation that his concept of Mars was all wrong. He had expected the planet to live up to its reputation as the Red Planet. There should have been a vibrant red tint to everything around him. Red dust should have coated his survival suit and blurred his view through his visor. It should have been everywhere. Though he had been on the planet only a few hours he was already fed up with the dust. He would be glad to go back to the green bounty of the Earth.

Why anyone would want to work on this god forsaken dead world was beyond him. It was, however, ideally suited for a prison, he reflected. He hated the place already. Nothing was as it should be. For God's sake, the bloody dust wasn't even red. It was a mix of yellows and browns. Not much red visible at all. And he so did not want to look at that god awful pink sky.

Around him half of his team moved in silent deadly precision. Ahead loomed the bulk of the Base Dome construction facility.

"Com traffic?" He snapped.

"Usual construction codes. No indication of our presence being noted. There is a pre flight call sequence from a shuttle prepping for launch. Countdown is at ten minutes, thirty eight seconds." His communications officer was quick to respond.

"We will be in before then." A satisfied comment. "Maddock. Runtridge. Go ahead. Scout the duct."

He knew a mobile suit construction group was working on the far side of the dome, repairing condensers broken down in the last dust storm to have ripped through the area. Those repairs would keep most of the Base Dome staff occupied on the far side of the dome, allowing them to infiltrate the dome unseen.

Their point of entry would be a ventilation duct not far from the shuttle terminal of the base. Shanna McIntyre would have the seal deactivated for a set period of time in which his team must enter the ventilation system undetected. It was a monumental pain to have to go about this business in such a fashion, but he had no intention of having to handle irate scientists at a mass invasion. Mako had restricted access to the Base Dome and if the Project Chief expected that inconvenience to stop the mission he was sorely mistaken.

//All of this to take custody of babies. God. I'm a soldier. An elite soldier, for Christ's sake. Not a bloody nanny. I don't trust the psych evaluations of Marquise. I don't want to deal with irate women. I don't want to deal with squalling infants. Marquise was a nut case. I don't care that they say he has calmed down. You never know what a psycho will do.//

The duct was found to be unguarded by anything other than the two men he had sent ahead. He glanced at his wrist com and noted they had all of a minute to wait before the seal would be deactivated. He sighed, satisfied. They had made good time on the walk between the domes, the lighter gravity had aided them in the climb up the steep rise and then the small cliff face to the Base Dome.

He would admit that the view was spectacular from this vantage point, but it was still all wrong. The horizon was capped by that horrible pink sky and there were no majestic mountain ranges or forests in sight. Spread before him was the view of the Alpha Dome down on the lower plateau, and beyond it a rock field that spread to a cliff face rising to loom above the Alpha Dome. While spectacular from this vantage point it was, none the less, wrong. There was no ocean or fields, nothing but endless rock and dust. No doubt the scientists who had first sent the probes to Mars had been excited by the planet and its differences and similarities to Earth, but he was just plain disappointed. He wanted to go back to Earth where everything was at least the right colour.

"Com?"

"No alerts, Sir."

Still undetected then, that was good, but it said exactly how much attention to security these people took. It was deplorable security if it was so easy for his men to enter the dome. How could anyone think this level of security would contain someone of Merquise expertise? For all Simpson did not like the man he had to admit the files he had read suggested Merquise was an elite soldier. Some said the Specials were all aristocrats who were promoted according to blood lines and family connections. He knew otherwise.

He had become privy to old Alliance reports on the back ground of certain key individuals in the Oz Specials after receiving this assignment. According to those reports Marquise had been the best, Noin had been listed as second and the great Kushrenada listed third. Oz had only recruited the best from the Alliance armed forces, and in some cases snapped up the really brilliant individuals before they even completed basic training. He had also had the opportunity to review their basic training procedures and found them to be brutal. He had been privy to the investigative reports on the training techniques of the Specials, and knew their physical requirements needed to be a mobile suit pilot far outstripped the Alliance standards. He had also had the opportunity to view the training schedule at the Lake Victoria Academy for a second year cadet.

He had been destined for an elite squad when he had enlisted in the Alliance Forces, obeying his grandfather's instructions that he do so, and he had not had to undergo that level of training until his fourth year in the regular service. He knew just how well trained the Specials had been, and he was not expecting Merquise or Noin to be an easy target to take down.

A click and faint hum heard over his external audio systems drew his attention to the ventilation shaft and the cover that lifted. A grunt and hand signal sent his team into action. There were rungs leading down into the shaft so no climbing gear would be required, but they had only two minutes to get seven people into the shaft before the seal would be reestablished. The lighter gravity of Mars could be both help and hindrance there.

He had no need to give verbal instruction. His team was well briefed and well trained at this type of work, and knew exactly what had to be done. They had been provided with a map of the ventilation system and the expected locations of work crews and key individuals in the dome at this time of the day. He needed confirmed locations first. The team's priority at this stage was to spread out and locate the crèche the twins were kept in, and pin point Merquise and Noin.

He also needed to know whether or not there were Preventer Agents assigned to this dome and where they were located before he made his move. He did not doubt that the Preventers had more than four agents in this Colony, and as far as he was concerned they were to be listed as expendable if they stood in the way of the mission.

"Com?"

"No alerts."

A nod sent the man into the duct, and Simpson cast a final look about him at the barren landscape and the nearby dome. All quiet. It was time to begin and to round up his targets. Descending into the duct he had reached the tenth rung when, with a hum, the seal reestablished. Satisfied with the timing he continued to descend, silently marveling how long it took to descend a hundred feet straight down. Midway down the shaft a vibration alerted him to the take off of the shuttle and he gripped the hand holds tightly through the worst of the vibration, only moving when he deemed it safe to do so.

"Com?"

"Clear. No alerts."

Simpson stepped off the last rung and began to remove the enviro suit. They would not need them for now and they were too bulky to wear while going through the ventilation shafts. Neatly placing the suit on the pile already stacked to one side of the shaft he looked around him. Steel shafts, slightly less than two meters square, led off to the west. His team were in the ready position, the last shucking their suits into the neat pile for later collection, the first down the shaft standing in guard position. He adjusted his throat microphone and checked his weapons, concentrating on remembering the blue prints for the shafts. All shafts narrowed, but were fairly large and not likely to be a problem maneuvering through.

"Keep the scientists and workers alive if possible. We need no flack from civilian authorities over heavy handling of their personnel. For now your mission is to locate and report. I want to know where the Preventer agents are at all times. You all saw the vids of the suspected agents and if you find them, you follow them. If you find Noin or Merquise do not approach them without backup. I mean it. They are not scientists, and if you forget it you are likely to be dead very quickly. I want to know the base before we move, so this is a locate and mark mission at this time. Keep low key."

Their agent in the base had assured them that for the first two hundred meters there was no chance anyone wandering in the base could overhear them moving in the ducts, but from then on stealth must be maintained. When they started moving he winced from the echoes resounding in the steel enclosure. So many moving was not conducive to secrecy for long periods.

At the first junction the team split up and their commander began to breathe easier. In pairs they would survey the base, checking there had been no last minute additions to the blue prints they had studied. Colonials, and the people who built colonies, were notorious for adding last minute additions. He had rough locations for the primary targets of this search and he intended to tag them, secure their location and bag them neatly, with as little fuss as possible. If at all possible he would make his move now, snatching the children and sedating Merquise before the locals expected him to. He had no doubt Merquise had allies here beyond the Preventer agents.

000000000000000000000000000000000

Alpha Dome.

13:35

Simon Barker shook his head slightly, watching the display on the screen. As predicted. Exactly as had been predicted. The man was uncanny. Just how did he so accurately predict what would happen? Not only the time they would choose to move, but the method of entry to the base as well, and the number of agents involved in this first attempt. He turned from the screen and glanced up to meet Agent Thorn's eyes.

"Eight of his team are accounted for in the Alpha Dome. The Commander and seven of his team are missing, including two of the three women. Our agents off the shuttle have been confirmed and moved to appointed locations." Thorn's eyes glittered with emotion, the man was ticked off that the members of Blue Squad had managed to leave Alpha Dome undetected by their normal security measures.

"They are going after them immediately." A sigh and Barker shook his head in disbelief. "I really thought they would wait until the shuttle had been serviced. Well, obviously they expected us to presume exactly that. They also presumed we would not be paying too close an eye to their activities, or they would have been more careful. Pity they assumed wrong." He reached for the com. "Alpha Dome to Base Dome One. Medical confirmation on tests for that virus are now confirmed."

It did not help him at all to know they would have succeeded in exiting the Alpha Dome if he had not been pre warned of their means of egress. Sneaky bastards definitely had assistance from within Alpha Dome to leave as they had. They also had help from within the Base Dome.

"Confirm that Alpha. Containment of subjects will begin. Isolation of all persons who may be carriers, and have been exposed to the contamination, is recommended." The deep voice, unmistakably that of Zechs Merquise, responded.

//He was in the control room and waiting for my call? How does he do it? He always seems to be exactly where he should be, where he is needed, when he is needed. It's uncanny. //

"Confirm that, Base Dome One. Isolation in effect." Preventer Eagle stood and nodded to his subordinate. "Lock down Alpha Dome, Thorn. It's time to show these ESUN bastards that we know what we are doing."

000000000000000000000000000000

Base Dome One

13:37

Zechs

Lucrezia Noin glanced up at Zechs and nodded. "They have an infiltration unit on the way into Base Dome."

White blonde hair caressed her face as he straightened from the com board, where he had leaned over her to answer the alert.

"Already in the base. Came in through a ventilation duct. Duct Five was opened for two minutes, five minutes ago. They will scout the base first, looking for us and the twins and marking the locations of anyone else in the dome. Placing the location of the base personnel."

Lucrezia nodded slightly. "How did you know? How did you know they would act so soon? I expected they would at least enter the dome under Mako's escort the first time. Likely come for us in two, maybe three days, when the shuttle was nearly ready."

Ice blue eyes narrowed at her question, for an instant looking distant, as though he watched something she could not see. "Is it not enough that they are here?"

"I want answers, Zechs." She watched him, frowning. He had had a lot to say before, when they had argued over her abandoning him to their non existent mercies. Now he seemed extremely reticent about making any comments at all.

"I have already given them to you, Noin, you just were not listening. I have to go. If you follow the instructions given, you will come out of this alive, Lu. So will the children and so will the people on the base. If you go your own way... people will get hurt."

"With this infiltration of the base the ESUN has declared war on us, Zechs Merquise." Softly stated. Deadly cold in her tone. "I will not forget what they have done with this decision. I will not allow them to touch the twins. My children will be safe from the ESUN and any others who think to use them. I will use deadly force to ensure that."

He paused in the doorway, back tense, silent for a full minute as he considered her words. God, she could be stubborn. So stubborn. It was likely to get her and others hurt. If not killed. If she would only follow the instructions he had given, then something other than death could come out of this. It all hung on a so precariously balanced mother's instincts. One little nudge could send everything spiraling into a blood bath.

"It is not war if you do not pick up the glove and strike their cheek in return, Lu."

Lucrezia Noin was not a woman to cross. If only she had remained on Earth. None of this would have happened if she had not insisted on coming with him into exile. Yet, if such had been, there would be no little bodies that meant the world to him. No tiny, delicate bodies that felt so warm and so right nestled in his arms. Catch twenty two. You could not have one without the other. Anyway, it all stemmed from that decision. She had not listened to him then. To his despair he knew she was not likely to listen to him now.

//It is time I started to accept what has happened in the past and deal with it as best I can. I can not change what I have become. I can not change other people; it is not my place to force them to change. If I can accept that and live with the consequences of their decisions, and what it means to me and to everyone around us, then I might stay sane. Perhaps. I can not make them do as I see. I can not make them take certain actions. Every body has free choice. Every body must have free choice, or we become nothing but a race of programmed drones. God in Heaven. Do you really exist? Do you exist in some plane tied in some way to this time and place? Do you watch us and do you despair? How do you cope with the human race?"

He would try once more. He would try just once more to get the message across to this stubborn, beautiful woman. Likely she would not listen, even now, with the agents already infiltrating the dome. Or she would choose not to even try to understand what he had to say to her. He could only try, one final time, and then he must act as best he could. Likely most of his preparations would come to naught.

"You are the crux, Lucrezia. If this sparks into a blood bath, it will start with you. It started with you coming to Mars instead of staying active with the Preventers, on Earth. It started with you deciding to come here, and how it will finish will depend on you."

"Zechs." The warning was evident in her tone, a low growl of frustration and brooding temper. "Are you blaming me for what is happening here?"

"No one person is to blame. Everyone is to blame. We all have to claim some of the guilt. If you had not made certain choices things could be very different, Lu. If I had made certain choices, things would be different again from how they are now. We all interact. We all influence others. It is how things must be for the world to turn. That's just the way reality is. Everything we do, and everything we say, changes the circumstances that surround us. I've told you what will likely happen and when it will happen. To the best of my abilities. Decisions people make, and the things people do, change certain things. If you should choose to remain in this room, you will remain alive. ,If you choose to leave this room and go and sit in the canteen and don't move from there, you will remain alive. If you go and fetch the twins and go to the canteen you will die, because you will not allow Simpson to have them when he comes for them. And he will come. If you walk down corridor A3, you will kill directly two of his men, and cripple Jenny Santos, who will be caught in the cross fire. If you had taken the twins on that bloody shuttle hours ago, you and they would not now be stuck in this morass. Things change, Lu. We change them, with every decision we make. We have to deal with them as best we can."

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Noin

Noin frowned, watching as he walked to the door. He was infuriating. He never seemed to understand what she said, always taking it with a somewhat slanted perspective, that somehow was never what she meant to say, or so it seemed. However angry she was with him, she did admit one thing. So far he had been right.

How had he been so accurate in his assessment of the situation? She was surprised that so far he had been right about the time schedule of the agents and their every action. She would have thought they would have waited until the shuttle was ready for departure before coming after the children. How did they think they were going to retain custody of them for a week before the shuttle was ready to leave for Earth? Yet Zechs had said that they would come within hours, to the Base Dome, and that they would come quietly, secretly. Stealing into the facility and immediately begin to search for the children.

Zechs paused in the doorway, turning back to her, long blonde hair sweeping over his shoulders as he leaned forward slightly. "By the way, Lu. Sometimes safety is not what we should strive for. You should remember that there are more important things. I have to go."

Noin watched him walk out the door, confused, frowning. Exasperated she shook her head, glancing over the control consul and then back to the empty door.

"He makes less sense every time I try talking to him."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	28. Chapter 28

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 28

Sanc

Sanc Palace

Date: March 1st AC 198

Time: 13:24

Relena

Relena was certain no single day in her life had been longer than this day. Even the day when Sanc fell for the second time, when she had surrendered to Romefeller and then had to make the decision to surrender not just her freedom, but her pride. Pawn of Romefeller, Queen of the World. She knew she was blushing. It was not a time she looked back on with any pride. That it had turned out so well was through no real effort on her part, but through the efforts of her grandfather and his followers. Yet it had contained more undercurrents that she had ever considered. She had beaten Romefeller, yes, but it was a hollow victory indeed, when the War had not been ended, but escalated at the hands of her brother and the White Fang.

No. No, she had not defeated Romefeller. She had managed with the aid of certain Romefeller factions, to best another faction of the organization. She had to understand where the real power lay. Most of the assembly of Romefeller who had not been involved with Duke Dermail's faction were now regaining their former positions; becoming active in political circles once more. Where was the victory in that, if the same people ruled once more? Where was the improvement if the people who had stood back and allowed Dermail to rule and encourage war, were now back and influencing policies that, if not watched and controlled, could lead to another war.

Watch and control. Watch every faction and control them. That was so reminiscent of the old days. Watch and control the political factions, circling amid them to keep checks and balances in place or to influence decisions to push your policies and become the leaders in political circles. Everything was done to advance position and prestige. It was coming full circle and it was barely three years since Romefeller was defeated. How they had ever manage to make advances in improving the living conditions for the people of Earth and the colonies was beyond her, but they had made improvements. There was certainly room to improve, of course. There were vital trade negotiations that needed to be made and she was a part of it, but could she continue to be a part of it if she was nothing more than a puppet?

The hands of the clocks all through the palace crawled around the clock face. It seemed to her that there were hours between the chimes, not the fifteen minute intervals there usually were. She dreaded hearing the com links chime, fearing what news would come in. Things were happening on that distant planet that she could not influence and it dragged at her, weighed her down. It was depressing and all too real, her helplessness. She could not concentrate on the work that had been her challenge and joy. Nothing made sense to her. The words all blended into each other. She stared and stared at the documents she needed to learn for the talks to take place after the dinner this evening, but the words were just scratches on the paper.

Through it all, her mother sat quietly, a silent presence that should have been soothing and was, instead annoying, because it was so normal. Too normal. Her mother sat near the window, reading. That grated on her nerves more than anything, that her mother could be calm and collected and read while who knew what was happening on Mars. How could her mother be so calm?

Pagan came and went with refreshments and correspondence, a silent figure usually, speaking only when he needed to inform her of the correspondence she just could not bring herself to deal with. She felt ill. Sick to her stomach, unable to eat or drink. Tense. Heero came twice to tell her no news had been received from Mars, and on each occasion she thought she would burst into tears, but something, some vestige of control had saved her. Near noon her mother had sighed and made a com call that produced no results. No one seemed to know what was happening.

Lunch was a dismal affair, no one seemed to want to eat, yet felt compelled to eat. Relena wanted to crawl into a corner and make the world go away. She hated the silence. The palace had never before seemed so huge and silent. Like a tomb. Great silent halls and ghost people who walked in silence. Not even the occasional whisper broke the silence in the halls that once had seemed to resound with voices. The staff knew something was wrong, picking up on the tension that just seem to escalate as the day wore on. She was certain she could not deal with it much longer.

There were duties to fulfill this afternoon. How could she possibly attend that stupid garden party? How could she possibly go to a garden party and chat as though nothing was wrong? It was a charity fund raiser that was for a children's charity, and she had accepted the invitation to attend months ago. She had no choice but to attended, and Relena forced herself over lunch to face the fact that she really had no choice. It was her duty to attend the garden party. It was for a good cause, the children's charities on L2 had been one of her most ardently adhered to pursuits. Since talking to Duo Maxwell she had made improvements to the street children's quality of life her personal business. She was now surprised that those who pulled her strings had allowed it. So, she mused, it must have met with their approval, or else they simply did not care. Had it not been important enough for them to take notice? Or did they allow her certain victories to keep her content while dangling from their strings?

//It's for Duo's home. I'll go. I really have no excuse not to attend. There is nothing I can do to influence anything that happens on Mars. Life goes on. This is my personal problem, and those children are not a part of it.//

She glanced up as Heero entered her office after the most cursory of taps on the door, not waiting to be summoned. Mrs. Darlian frowned, but said nothing. She was only too well aware of the feelings her daughter harbored for the taciturn ex-Gundam pilot. Ex-Terrorists were not exactly on Alice Darlian's most likable list, but she was a realist. A politician's wife had to learn to deal with people from many walks of life, and she had to admit that at least the pilots were polite and generally well-mannered. They were now finding useful functions for themselves. Her daughter felt safe around them, though she herself was not so certain that was a good thing. Still, when you looked at it from a slightly different perspective, the one who did have good breeding, her daughter's brother, had threatened to blow away the entire planet.

Breeding was obviously not everything.

"Heero? Any news?"

"Lady Une sent word. The shuttle is down and all quiet so far. They think the agents may wait for the shuttle to be serviced before they make any moves. Apparently the Commander requested to see Zechs and review his security while they are on Mars. It could be three or four days before they take any action."

"Do you think they will wait?" Mrs. Darlian questioned, curious.

"If it was me, no. I would not wait. Not if I was properly briefed on Zech Merquise past military record. I'd go in fast and in secret. Strike before anyone could prepare to oppose me. You may not like to hear it, Relena, but of all the Oz soldiers, none was better than Zechs. He was their elite. He was the one who could take out a Gundam Pilot on his own. I fought him enough to know. Those men on Mars are going to be in for one hell of a fight if they go against him."

"The psych reports don't seem to indicate how my brother will react to this threat."

Heero shook his head. "What do the reports say about Miss Noin?"

"She will resist anyone touching her babies." Relena returned softly, thinking of the woman who had been her mentor and protector when first she had come to Sanc. "She will not take it quietly."

Heero nodded. "Exactly. Noin will fight back against anyone who comes for her children, and Zechs will not allow her to fight alone. The news from Mars is around three hours old, Relena, the routine acknowledgement for the safe landing of the shuttle. There has been three hours for it all to change up there. I'd say it has started. Lady Une sent me the report on the agents sent by the ESUN. Most of them are Blue Squad, an elite Commando unit who worked under the Alliance during the One Year War and before. They did not have a very savory reputation. Their Commander was replaced shortly after the Barton Incursion and seems to have the squad in firm control, but I don't have all the information I need on him just yet. The updated report is due in a few hours. I'll better know how to judge the situation then."

"I was under the impression the Oz Commanders were promoted through bloodlines and influence with Romefeller." Mrs. Darlian said, closely studying Heero.

"Fantasy. The Alliance Commanders would have liked to think that, but most were not so foolish to believe the rumors Romefeller circulated. The Specials Officers were put through a harder training program than the best the Alliance Military had. An Oz private had better training than the best of the Alliance non commissioned Officers. I have seen the training records of the highest officers in Oz. No, I will not say how I acquired them or why. Your brother and Miss Noin were elite soldiers, even Treize Kushrenada. He was enrolled at a private military academy when he was eight years old. He might have looked elegant, but he was deadly. All the top Officers were elites. Romefeller might have bankrolled the Oz military faction, but bloodlines were not so important on the front lines. You had to win the war, and when you were as outnumbered as Oz was, you had to have the best. Yes, the Alliance had more than ten times the men and equipment, and they went down to Oz. War will break out on Mars. The only question about what is happening there is how large the casualty count will be."

"It should never have been allowed to happen. If I had taken action sooner this would not be happening." Relena sighed covering her face in a gesture Heero had seen her brother use often. Almost placing a mask over her face. "I was never fair with my brother. I never even tried to see things from his point of view. It is my fault for starting this situation. I have been so blind to what is happening around me. If I had not surrendered Sanc to Romefeller what would the world be like now?"

"Relena, what ifs do not work. What ifs are designed only to give headaches." Mrs. Darlian sighed. "We can not turn back the hands of time, My Dear. It simply does not work that way."

Heero grunted. "I need to return to the control room. Your security arrangements for the garden party have been okayed. I will let you know more about Mars when I know more, but you should be aware that it could be tomorrow or even later before we learn anything."

"Thank you, Heero." Relena smiled, but it was a small shadow of the smile he was used to seeing on her.

"Trust your brother, Relena. I have a feeling if more people had trusted him... " He sighed, shrugged and left the room.

Mrs. Darlian frowned, looking from the closed door to Relena. There had been a wealth of unspoken emotion in that shrug, and it was not what she had expected from the young man who so often seemed almost robotic. "What did he mean by that, Dear?"

Relena in turn shrugged, and then apologized at her mother's disapproving look. Young ladies did not shrug, she recalled with a sigh. "I suppose he means himself, Mother. Brother offered him the command of White Fang while we were on the Libra. I didn't understand at the time, but I think Heero understood then what my brother was really trying to do. I think he understood and chose to watch from the side lines, until he felt he had no choice but to act. I believe he did not think whatever my brother had planned would work and that now he is not so certain he was right."

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13:43

Heero

_The treasure is with the War God._

Heero stared at the screen, the simple words having just flashed up and now were there, silent and uninformative. He was monitoring all communications in and out of the palace, and this one caught his attention above all others. What did it mean? Could it mean what he thought? A message concerning Zechs?

He initiated a search on the message, trying to trace its point of origin within the palace, his frown deepening when the search returned no information on the terminal used to send the message. That rang alarm bells in his mind. Someone had the means by which to send a message via a palace terminal and keep its point of origin secret. It had to be sent from a terminal within the network in the palace, for the security system to bring it up on the routine scan.

//Romefeller?// He wondered.

War God. Mars was the God of War . At this time all hell was probably breaking loose on Mars. The Treasure. Zechs Merquise, perhaps? Or the children? Something or someone else? There were various factions within the palace who reported to their controllers, that was unavoidable in the political environment of the day. This, though, was something that was almost personal and had his attention almost by default.

A soft beep alerted him to a trace he had established on the Romefeller communications lines after Duo had confided in him. He touched a control quickly, eyes flashing to the small screen on his personal lap top.

_Target located on Mars. Possible elimination of target by ESUN Security force imminent. Additional information. Priority message to genealogy division. Target has progeny. Request instructions._

Heero stared at the message in disbelief and then glared accusingly at the first message still on the screen, captured there until he released it.

//Damn. How many people are interested in you Merquise? That's two different messages within minutes of each other. Why are you so damn popular for a guy who is supposed to be dead? If that message is to Romefeller,// He glared at the second message from the monitored lines of communication. // then who the hell is that one to? There is another party involved. There has to be, but who, and why?//

Returning to the first intercepted message he initiated a trace, not of its origins, but this time seeking to find its destination, and very quickly Heero winced, sitting back from the screen. In the space of a few minutes it had bounced to two hundred locations and was still bouncing. With a defeated sigh he left the trace running, doubting that he would trace it to its true source, as anyone of those points it already had contacted could have been the intended target. Very clever to have it bounce so quickly, and to so many locations, to cover its tracks.

He had to accompany Relena to the garden party, and the time was fast approaching when they must depart. He would check on the search results when he returned and see if Romefeller had issued instruction in reply to their agent's message. At least he could positively identify the faction this message was aimed at.

As he changed his clothes preparatory to acting as Relena's escort and security agent he considered the messages. He was disturbed by the first message more than the second. The second was clearly Romefeller's agent in the palace. The second represented an unknown party, and he did not like unknowns cluttering up his neat security arrangements. He would need to review the personnel yet again. He needed to determine who was the Romefeller spy, and who this unknown Other was. If not for his key word monitoring of the communications network he would not know of that message. All references to Mars, and key words listed pertaining to Mars, were being monitored by his search engine. 'God Of War' and 'War God' were only some of those key words.

Heero locked down the search so that only he could access the results, hung up his Preventer uniform and left the control center. Work to do. He found himself wishing that Duo was there. He had gotten too used to working with that braided menace, he supposed. It was probably best that they had been separated, as going solo again would reawaken and sharpen his skills. It was disturbing, though, because it brought back too many memories of a time he would rather forget.

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14:52

Quatre

Quatre Rarberba Winner studied the screen for a long while, staring at the flashing logo with a sense of foreboding. The message logo flashed silently in the bottom right hand corner, blinking on and off. He was curiously reluctant to open that message. Something deep inside told him the instant he did, things would change, and not necessarily for the better. Sometimes he hated the empathy that had served him so well during the war. More often than not the empathy seemed more of a curse than a blessing. It was also disturbing that in the last few years his empathy had been increasing steadily. Since he had gone insane under the stress of his father's death, he knew. Nor had it helped that the Zero System had changed him.

Zero. He shuddered at the very thought of the system that had ripped into his mind and changed something that was fundamentally him. It had changed him. Altered his perceptions of people and places in a fashion he was finding it hard to deal with. Zero had opened his awareness to the wider stream of humanity.

His ability, while stronger than ever, was also more controlled, which was a blessing. The last thing he wanted to deal with was an out of control empathic ability in the world he circulated in. High finance was a cutthroat business. It was not something that he enjoyed, but he was the head of the Winner Corporation and it was his duty to do his best for his board members and investors. Out of control empathy was not conducive to good business. It did, however, help him to read his business associates and that was fine, but if he was not careful he would find himself relying on his empathic abilities and not on himself and his advisors.

He had also noticed that he had developed an odd sense of awareness that seemed to reflect changes in his personal life, and that of his friends and close acquaintances. A sense of 'something' that would shift, and become something else. He could not describe with words what he felt, he had tried, if only to himself, but he had not satisfactorily found the right words to describe the feeling. That sense of 'something' was active again, and it concerned this flashing icon on the computer and curiously he thought it might concern Duo and Heero.

Something was going on. Heero had been more taciturn than usual over the last few days, and out of the blue Duo had vanished, left L2 with no warning or word sent to him. His agents had sought to confirm certain points with the agreement that he become young Aidan's guardian if something should happen to Duo and Hilde, and they had reported to him the disappearance of his friend. Unless this message was from Duo, and somehow Quatre doubted that. It did not feel like Duo, nor did it feel like Heero or Trowa.

Not that he understood that. He could not pick up on emotions off of an email. No, he admitted, it was the air around Sanc that upset him. Something intangible in the atmosphere of the city, and particularly at the palace that he picked up on. It was purely a coincidence that this message arrived when the atmosphere was so tense.

With a quiet sigh he double clicked the email message alert. Best to just get it over with and deal with it, and he could see how ridiculous it was to stare at a computer screen with a sense of growing dread. He frowned at the message screen, something deep inside that had been tense before now threatening to explode into screaming rage. Quatre printed out a copy of the message, folded it carefully and placed it in his pocket and left the room. He had a garden party to attend.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	29. Chapter 29

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 29

Sanc

New Port City

Palace Hotel

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 15:04

Relena

To say it was annoying to be here, talking and listening to inane chatter when so much was going on that was important to her, was a gross understatement. Mars was so far away. Her family was so far away. She had thrown away her chance to know him, not really recognizing that he was her family until much later. Her childish dreams and ideals of what her big brother was like when she had learned of him, now made her blush. It was no failing of his that she was in the circumstances that now surrounded her. It was her own fault.

If she had accepted him for who he was and what he was, likely none of this would ever have happened. Yes, she admitted, she did not understand him. Or what drove him. He saw the world through very different eyes to her. His goals, while being a desire for peace, were not the goals that drove her. Yes, they both sought to bring about peace, but they sought it in such different ways. It was clear that she had not given enough thought to how he and others saw the world.

The politicians who drove this disaster happening on Mars feared her. They feared Milliardo too. Relena sighed. The truth was, surely, that they feared what would happen should she and Milliardo reconcile and work together, as they should. If she could ever get over what she saw as his betrayal. Yet he had not betrayed her. Not once had he betrayed her or their country. Everything he had done was designed to bring her to Sanc, and to free the country from the oppressive regimes that had come to suppress it. When he had accomplished his goal, he had turned to freeing the colonies and protecting them. Or trying to.

He had needed something to protect. She understood that much. Her brother seemed to have a deep need to protect a cause dear to him. Heero had told her how lost he had felt after the wars ended. Had said that he understood why Milliardo had done what he had. She would need to have longer chats with her Chief of Security. Perhaps he could help her to better understand her brother's thoughts.

//I should have tried to understand him. I should have asked questions about him when I learned who he was. I did not even think to ask who Zechs Marquise was. Milliardo Peacecraft. Zechs Marquise. Two very different men? I don't know. Same man, two personas. I don't know either one and that is shameful. All I wanted was to be rid of the blood thirsty person they claimed was my brother. He divorced himself from Milliardo Peacecraft when he began attacking the Romefeller carriers being sent to Earth. Became Zechs Merquise again, to protect Sanc. To protect me. He knew I would disclaim... disclaim... Oh, damn. I have to stop this. It's a garden party for charity and I have to start paying attention to the people. I'm just being selfish, wallowing in my misery.//

Family. Milliardo was in all sorts of trouble and far away, and she was powerless to help him. Hind sight was a marvelous thing when it allowed you to look back with cool thoughts and see the mess you made of important things. Important relationships. She had resented her father, the Vice Foreign Minister, because he was always leaving her. Now she had his position and unlike him she was a puppet. At least he had the strength and freedom to act on his good conscience. She had her mother, too, and the trust and love was there. She so needed her mother now, when the world seemed to be falling apart around her. Her mother. Alice Darlian was the only mother she had ever known. To her shame her birth mother was a name only, and she had never really asked many questions about her. She had no memory of her. She also had a grandfather living-and was far from happy with him after their last most dissatisfactory meeting. He was in agreement with the entire sordid business.

//Oh. He... he never... I did not realize. He seemed surprised to learn that Milliardo was alive, but he never said anything about... No. No, that's silly. He acted when Romefeller were using me, but he never said anything about this situation, other than he would try for custody of the children, and that Milliardo is dead to him. He never... never asked if I needed help... If I...//

Someone asked her a question and she plastered a smile onto her face, apologizing prettily that she had been lost in thought and could she have the question again. A few minutes meaningless conversation, a quick glance at Heero who gave her a quizzical look, knowing she was not concentrating on the matters at hand, and she had a moment alone, to draw breath and berate herself.

//Grow up, Relena. You can't be a spoiled little rich girl all your life. The meeting did not go as you had planned it. Deal with it. He comes from a different school of thought. Politics is all that matters to him. It was how he was reared. You lived with politics all your life. You know that your father was a politician. Both of your fathers were. But principles seemed to mean much more to them than they do to Marquis Wayridge. Your real father died for his ideals. The Perfect Peace Principle. Senator Darlian, the man who raised you as his daughter and is the only father you have a memory of, taught you those principles and died for it too. Just how many people have to die because of this Principle of Peace? Grandfather will probably give you just enough rope to really hang yourself and then move in to rescue you, and have your undying gratitude assure him control over you in the future. Hnn. I am becoming so cynical.//

Relena smiled at a socialite who was introducing her daughter to society for the first time at this function. She was a rather pretty young girl, strawberry blonde hair, a quite pretty pale blue dress and something of a vacant smile. The girl clearly wanted to be elsewhere, and Relena felt nothing but sympathy for her. She, too, wanted to be elsewhere.

Somewhere where she did not have to watch the endless parade of passing people; greetings offered, false smiles and hidden thoughts of advantage. That's what these functions always resulted in. People maneuvering to gain some form of advantage or insight into others so that it could later be used. The fact that money was raised here for a good cause was purely coincidental. Most of the participants could not care less about those street children who would benefit from this social gathering.

To think, that once she had enjoyed them. When she had been innocent. That seemed so long ago. She was, after all, only eighteen. She felt so old.

"Relena."

"Quatre." Relena smiled in relief. Someone she really knew. She would not have to pretend with Quatre. "Nice to see a friendly face."

"It is." Quatre smiled, all too aware of the people about them. All too aware that they were watched for the slightest signs that might be exploited for gain later. "Let's take a walk deeper into the garden."

Relena sighed, only too willing to get away from the people for even a short time. Too willing to run away from the people and her less than flattering thoughts on certain relations and their principles. At least the Marquis was not in attendance of the garden party. She was not certain what she would do if she had to meet with her grandfather so soon. She was very much afraid that she might have made a public spectacle of herself by saying a few very unlady like remarks in very public hearing.

She was not the only dignitary at this event, only one of many. Nor was she the hostess, merely a guest, so the onus of keeping the event running smoothly, and being on display all the time, was not on her. It would be nice to have the opportunity to act like a young lady for a change, with no cares other than to be on the arm of a really rather handsome young man. Even if she could wish he was Heero. She had learned early to see Heero in his work persona and the private Heero as two separate people. One day, if she was lucky, she could work on blurring the two personas together, but for now, Heero was working and Quatre had offered her the opportunity to forget her troubles, even for a short time, and take a walk in the garden.

She supposed it really was a decadent opulence to have this glass covered area where it seemed to be perpetually either spring or summer. Beyond the thermal dome it was snowing gently, likely one of the last snow falls of the season, but under the dome, the lawns were green, the flowers blooming and people wandered around in their finery as though it was not five degrees below zero outside. It was beautiful, and it was a recent innovation of the hotels, so that they could cater to all occasions at all times of the year, even to those odd eccentrics who lusted after a garden wedding in the middle of winter. If you had the money to pay for it, likely someone would give you just what you wanted.

It was a pity that no one could give her what she wanted. No amount of money or prestige could give her that.

Quatre smiled, took her hand and placed it on his arm in a most courtly, gallant fashion and nodded at Heero, who stood two paces behind Relena and offered his hand to him. "Nice to see you, Heero. I'll just take Relena for a walk in the rose garden. She looks like she could do with a quiet few minutes."

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Heero

"Hnn." Heero nodded slightly, fingers curling around the note Quatre had given him in the handshake. "I will just run a quick security check and join you."

Quatre nodded and placing one hand politely in the small of Relena's back, he whisked her off in the direction of the nearby rose garden. Heero considered their retreating backs, wondering why he had the sudden urge to punch his friend solidly on the nose, and then nodded to the Preventer agent beside him to follow at a discreet distance and motioned to another to join him. A quick glance around and he stepped behind a pillar holding up a lattice work arch and turned his attention to the note.

_Quatre._

_At exactly 15:08 hours the L3 representative will be assassinated. Two guests, one in a cream dress with red rose corsage and another in a butter yellow sun dress with hat, will get the Minister to walk near the fountain at the east side of the lawn garden. Get Relena away from the lawn garden. Four armed men, suicide killers from K5, will crash the party and open fire on the guests. The L3 Representative is the target of a personal vendetta . Heero should mind the cream cake._

_ Zechs_

"Cream cake?" Heero blinked. "What the hell?"

Zechs? This was supposed to be from Relena's brother, who was at this very time possibly playing tag with ESUN security agents on Mars? Scowling he re read the missive, reflecting that it just did not make any sense at all. If it was from Zechs, then how would he have even been able to send it? He knew, through his discussions with Lady Une, that as part of the security arrangements surrounding Zechs, he had no access to out going communications equipment.

// Not that that would stop me. Zechs is capable. He'd likely be able to get around that minor inconvenience.//

Glancing up he looked around the crowded expanse of the garden for the L3 representative, blue eyes intense. The man had been wearing a conservative dark blue suit and had been standing over by the buffet tables. He noted Mrs. Darlian standing near the buffet, talking to the elderly gentleman he recognized as being the representative from L2. The man looked pleased about something, gesturing around at the people and then overhead at the dome. A flash of yellow caught his eye and he half turned, still hunting the L3 representative. Blue eyes widened when he spotted the man with a young lady on each arm walking toward the fountain in the center of the lawn.

Heero glanced at the paper... +_ at exactly 15:08 hours_+... and then at the young women. Butter yellow dress and hat... His gaze flew to the other young woman who wore a cream dress and had red roses and... He glanced at his watch and stiffened.

15:07:51

"Shit!" He breathed. "I can't take the chance on it being some kind of stunt! Get down! Everyone get down!"

Everything seemed to move in slow motion around him as he began to run toward the crowd near the fountain, shouting at everyone, screaming for them to get down. Shouting into his throat mike to get Mrs. Darlian to safety and for all Preventer Agents to go to code red. The two Preventer agents who had been a part of his personal retinue of guards moved with him, not understanding what had moved him to this action, but knowing his reputation enough to trust he knew what he was doing. He dodged and weaved through a multitude of bodies he was certain had just appeared out of nowhere, reaching for the gun in his shoulder holster.

A young socialite spun at the shouts, startled. Around her bodies surged and swayed as people began to run, pushing and screaming. The plate she held containing a rich cream gateau slipped from her fingers as she was pushed roughly from the side by her panicked escort, who was suddenly shouting about guns. She sobbed in terror as right next to her she saw two men with guns drawn lunge through the crowd. Screams broke out and people began to run. She fell, half dragged down by her escort, pain spearing into her hip as she was bundled in close to him. A wild shout near her and something heavy landed on her with a curse that would melt gundanium, and she would have screamed except the pain was too great and she suddenly had no air left in her lungs.

Heero rolled, pain lancing into his leg. Shots fired, screams filled the air, bodies running every which way. Clutching at his ankle he stared in disbelief at the cream and cake smeared over the grass and paving stones where he lay. Beside him a young woman gaped like a fish, a young man was trying to help her get her breath back, tears of pain streaming down her face. Near him someone, a woman, screamed high and shrill, choking off abruptly at the sharp bark of gunfire. Then it was quiet.

Too quiet.

"Two gunmen down." The voice at his ear registered after a moment, the unmistakable brogue of the Scot, James Cameron. The man knelt beside him, reaching for his ankle.

"Two? There are four." He glanced at the agent. "There are four, Thunder. Four."

"Got ye. I'll spread t'ae word t'start t'ae search."

A quick volley of gunshots shattered the silence and a renewed bout of screaming and scrambling from the guests ensued. Agent Thunder was talking into his mike and Heero half rolled, pulling down a young woman who scrambled to her feet and made to run. He held her down, disgusted with himself for his current predicament and in no sweet temper. Quatre had Relena safely away from the area and would not allow her to return until things quieted down, leaving him to deal with this mess. For that he was thankful.

"Stay down and don't move." He warned the whimpering woman. "They will fire at anyone who moves. Just stay still."

A whimper answered him and he took that as assent, looking then for the shooters. As he glanced around he saw a man armed with an automatic pistol fall from the upper terrace of the hotel. A hotel security guard and one of the Preventer agents appeared on the balcony a moment later, calling the all clear. Heero glanced at his fellow agent.

"How many now?"

Thunder spoke rapidly into his throat mike, kneeling over Heero as he scanned the shambles of the buffet and listened for an answer even as he shouted for all guests to remain down until they were certain all hostiles were dealt with. Heero gathered the ear piece of his own unit where it had fallen and thrust it into his ear, hoping he had not crushed the radio pack when he had landed.

"Four. Four hostiles taken out. Two in the lawn garden, one on the overhead terrace, and one escaping through the car park."

Heero heard over his ear piece. Blowing a relieved sigh he relaxed.

"That's it, Thunder. That's all of the shooters. Get into the Rose Garden and check on Relena and Quatre." Heero motioned the man away when he began pressing on his injured ankle, hissing at the sharp pain that produced. He'd had worse. Indeed, his bruised dignity was what hurt the most. "Supervise sweeps of the area and roundup anyone without a valid reason for being here. They may have had support and we need to find them if they did. Start the questioning with the staff. I want all staff validated in case they were infiltrated."

"Lucky he took her in to t'ae rose garden when he did. Should h'ae been safe enough. I don't think ye broke yer ankle, just sprained it." Thunder stood, turning toward the rose garden.

"Go. Check Relena." Heero waved him off. "When its safe get her back to the palace and increase palace security to red, until we are sure she was not a target. I want to see Quatre when she is safely out of here. Find out if Mrs. Darlian is alright and have her escorted back in a different car to Relena."

As Agent Thunder loped off to do his bidding Heero stared gloomily at his ankle and the remnants of the cake that smeared his shoe.

// Damn.//

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2004


	30. Chapter 30

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 30

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 13:25 MST [Mars Standard Time

Noin

//That bloody man has got to be more trouble than he is worth. Talking in riddles half the time, and when he is coherent he just looks at you as though you should know exactly what he's talking about. For hours he will sit in one spot and stare into space, ignoring the world around him and you may as well not be on the same planet as him. Then he acts as though nothing has happened and you're talking drivel when you ask if he was off in Never Never Land with Peter Pan. With the way he has been pushing for me to stay out of this, I'm beginning to think he wants me to hand over the children to the bastards.//

Lucrezia Noin marched down the corridor, temper stewing to greater and greater heights. There were days when she could not help but wonder why she had to be so madly in love with that blonde fool. Over time it was getting worse; these spells where he seemed not to be in the same room with her. He rarely made sense lately. Slipping further and further into a world of his own.

He seemed even worse than the time when she had broken her own self imposed rules. Hands off, she had told herself. Hands off until she was certain she had won him. It had been a long struggle, but when they had come to Mars she was certain she had won. When she had given him that ultimatum during the Barton Incursion his one word response had given her hope that she had broken through to him. Yet after it was over, when he had had a chance to rest, he had said nothing, even refusing to tell her Relena was banishing him to Mars, presumably for his own safety.

So he believed, but she knew better. It would be oh, so inconvenient to Relena to have her brother resurrected from the dead. Political factions would cause uproar and yes, likely they would arrest and prosecute him. She had foolishly believed Relena when she had said she would work to have him returned to Earth. She should have known better. Not even after Relena had learned his identity during the One Year War had she asked about her brother. Not once had she wanted to know more about him, concentrating instead on her infatuation with the pilot of Wing Gundam.

Zechs had resisted her every advance for many years, gently turning aside the worst of her advances and quietly ignoring the hints constantly thrown his way. During the flight to Mars it had been the same, though he had spent time trying to convince her to return to Earth on the shuttles return flight. He'd resisted her a long time, but she had determined she would break his shell and when she had...

It had been a strange day. She had felt something was brewing, building up to an explosive point. He had been quiet and withdrawn for weeks, each day getting worse, drawing into himself, ignoring everybody. He had performed his assigned work as usual, but the minute his work was completed he had vanished into his assigned room. She had felt furious with him for some reason that day. She had expected to get him to herself for the three months of the flight, and failed miserably to get him to so much as kiss her, let alone take her to bed. He had been polite, reserved and the perfect gentleman, not once taking advantage of their isolation. Three months was a hell of a long time to be together and not take advantage of the situation.

No, it had not been until that night, after work, when she could not help but drown her sorrows with Mako that it had happened. Drunk, bemoaning his damn honourable ideas to Mako, and how much she just wanted to jump his bones. Mako's + "Well for god's sake, why the hell haven't you taken the initiative?" + had burst the dam of long held emotion. Whether he knew it or not her blonde was going to get propositioned in very dirty language, she had determined. She had broken the sanctity of his quarters, violated his right to privacy, and ignored the fact that he probably needed a doctor or psychologist because of the depression he was feeling, and she had plied him with drink. It had not taken much for her to get him pliable, draw him out of his thoughts and get him to stop pushing her hands away.

//God. What a night. Glorious body. Gorgeous face. Gorgeous everything. Noin, you sound like a love struck teenager. Fool. You had him. In the literal and biblical sense, girl. You had him, but you didn't win him. You still haven't.// She sighed. //I am beginning to think that I never will. He holds himself so bloody aloof. He won't let me in, to the deeper parts of him. Why? After all that we have been through, why does he still hold himself back? He does not love me. Not as I want him to. Yes, we are lovers, but it's not the fire and passion I wanted from him. He's just not able to give it to me. I've got him now, and I don't regret forcing the issue that night. He does not love me, but he does love the twins. I'm not wrong about that. He would not let anything happen to the children. He would not let the ESUN have our children.//

He was due to be in the engineering bay at this time, working on the last of the mobile suits that needed repairing for the trip to the solar collectors on the high plateau, slated for tomorrow. With the Alpha Dome now into the last stage before open colonization began, they needed to be doubly certain of the power grid. Martian sand storms wreaked havoc on the solar collectors and wind generators, and there was always maintenance needing to be performed. And as for the dust. Well. The less said about the dust getting into everything the better. It literally got into everything. Whether or not he was actually doing the work he was slated for today, she was uncertain. She hoped he would be doing something to counter the agents prowling the base.

"Hey, Lu. Heard anything from Alpha Dome on those ESUN agents?"

"Hello, Jenny. The shuttle landed hours ago. They are supposed to be setting up an office there before they bother us. Might be a day or two before we have trouble. If we have trouble at all." No need to worry Jenny that there were intruders already on the base. She was not their target.

Jennifer Santos, leading geologist of the team and all around nice girl, grinned. "So long as they stay there, in the Alpha Dome. We don't need their kind at Base Dome. No trouble here of our making."

She was an attractive dark haired woman, some seven years older than Noin. The difference in age had not stopped them from forming a close relationship, and Jenny had baby sat for Noin on a few occasions since the twins had been born. Now that they had a crèche of sorts there was less need for a baby sitter, but Jenny occasionally called around to see the children. She would make a good mother Noin thought.

"That's true." Noin replied. "If they would just stay away from the Base Dome, all would be well."

//Only too true. If they stayed there and left on the shuttle and did not disturb my nice little world. No one gets their hands on my children, and no one gets their paws on my man. They will learn that if they dare to come here.//

"How are my babies?" Jenny had a million credit grin and it beamed now, green eyes gleaming.

"Just fine. Time to feed them, actually, that's where I'm going now." Noin answered the grin with a smile.

"You're so lucky, Lu. You have two wonderful kids and the best looking stud on Mars warming your bed. How do you get it all?" A wistful sigh punctuated her remark, and she fluttered a hand playfully over her heart.

"Planning, Jenny. Planning." Noin laughed as she waved, walking on down the hallway. "Got to go feed the kids. See you tonight, in the rec room?"

"Would think that would depend on whether or not you have that stud of yours in bed, heh? Honestly, Noin, if I had him he'd never be out of my bed. I'd do the horizontal tango with him every chance I got."

The parting comment drew a bark of laughter from her as Noin turned down an adjacent corridor. Planning indeed. Just look at what her planning had accomplished? Not what she had intended, true, purely and simply because she could not stick to the plan she had settled on. The 'don't touch' rule had gone out the window, and because of that she had two wonderful kids and access to His bed at will. It was wonderful, but it was not the one thing she had intended above all else. His heart was not hers. Sorrowfully it seemed to belong to no one.

When she had dared to question him he had made it plain that he had emphatically NOT had a sexual relationship with Treize Kushrenada. He had stressed they had been friends. No relationship that should threaten her with His Excellency, nor with anyone else, for that matter. To know that she had been the first to savor that delightful body was heady stuff indeed, yet it sobered her to know that he had kept himself aloof, isolated from everyone emotionally.

Why? Had his childhood affected him that much? Had he really needed to isolate himself from others to the exclusion of all but working relationships? His need to hide who he was from everyone would place distance between anyone near him a necessity, she supposed, but surely he could have been allowed to love. There was no need for that aloofness now, at any rate. Those days were long gone and he had to acknowledge that.

A rasping sound warned her moments before the overhead vent access buckled. Startled she leapt backwards, as with a harsh rending of metal the access hatch gave out under the excess weight, and a huge man in full battle gear fell with a sharp crack to the floor and deep grunt of pain directly in front of her. She glimpsed dark hair, a dark combat suit and the automatic weapon clattering as it hit the floor, skidding a little down the corridor away from her.

Noin hissed in rage. She needed no formal introductions to know who this man was. One of the ESUN agents loose in the compound. One of the bastards who had come to spirit her children away from her care. One of the bastards who had come to disrupt the happy little world she had been working so hard to create. Rage clouded her vision as she took a quick step forward and lashed out with one foot, solidly connecting with the dazed man's jaw.

"Bastard! Think you'll steal what's mine, do you? I have news for you!"

His head snapped back, his eyes crossing as he slumped unconscious from the kick, his head snapping back to hit against the nearest wall with a sickening crack. Noin snorted, fuming, adrenaline pumping through her. She waited for her target to move, to get up and face her, but he did not move again and she snarled with frustration. She so badly needed to hit something now. Preferably another couple of these bastards.

"Bitch. You'll pay for that."

She spun, dropping to one knee as she did so, swinging her free leg out and around. Pure reflex. The second agent grunted as his swing with the butt of the weapon he carried missed her by an inch, and her foot slammed into his solar plexus. Noin hissed as the weapon he carried fired in a brief burst, fiery pain lancing along her upper arm. He was going down, gasping for breath, but she was enraged.

How dare they invade the dome and attempt to snatch her babies. This had been hanging over her head too long for her to let it go at a simple kick. Besides, he was only winded, stirring even now. He was a better target than his friend who was still unconscious. Noin had been spoiling for a fight for a long time, and a sore gut and a little shortness of breath certainly was not sufficient punishment for the crime.

"It's impolite to call a lady a bitch, bastard!" She snarled, snapping out a hand curled into a fist.

Gasping for air he managed to roll with the punch, gaining himself a few precious seconds to gasp for more air. The Amazon stalked towards him, blood staining one sleeve, violet eyes deep with rage. He recognized her with a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut, somewhere behind the pain. All the warnings he had been given about Lucrezian Noin flashed through his mind, as he scrambled for just a little more distance. He just needed to get his breath back under his control.

"You... ain't... no... Lady." He gasped.

"Lesson one. Don't waist the breath you need for fighting." Noin faked a blow with her right arm, at the last moment spinning and dropping to one knee, her right leg connecting solidly with his chest. Ribs cracked audibly. His weapon fell from nerveless fingers. "Lesson two, never point a gun at a lady. It's considered bad form." Completing the turn she lunged, caught the gun and reversed her momentum, slamming the stock between his eyes, producing a sickening crunch. He went down with something that vaguely resembled a whimper. "Lesson three. You wouldn't know a lady if you attacked one. Which you did."

Straightening from her crouch when he did not move, she stepped cautiously closer to check on him. Something caught her eye and she froze, staring at it. A sense of impending disaster reared within her as she stared.

Two large dark letters were stenciled on the wall. She had walked past the letters hundreds of times since coming to Mars. After the first week she had not noticed them any more, and before this moment they had never filled her with cold dread. Never before. Never had her heart stopped to see them. Before now.

A3.

+ "If you walk down corridor A3, you will kill directly two of his men, and cripple Jenny Santos, who will be caught in the cross fire." +

Cold, chill fingers crept along her nerve endings, racing throughout her body. In a daze she bent over him, searching, feeling for a pulse. Almost desperate to find it. Nothing. Her blow with the weapon's stock had shattered his nose, sending bone slivers into the brain. He was dead. With a strangled sob she turned, eyes going to the first of the intruders. The other lay on the floor, neck at an odd angle, and she remembered the crack that had sounded as he had hit the wall. Just the wrong angle. Dead. Neck broken. With growing terror she looked up and back the way she had come.

"Oh God, no. Jenny."

Jenny Santos lay in a growing pool of blood at the turn in the corridor, hit by that brief spray of bullets that had caught Noin in the arm. Having overheard the struggle, brief as it was, she had come to investigate.

00000000000000000000000000000

Zechs

Zechs Merquise closed his eyes, for a fleeting instant pain clearly visible on his face. He lowered his head, blonde bangs falling to shield his eyes from anyone who might have been watching, and he drew a shaky breath. His senses shifted, altered. Realigned. Settled into a path from which he felt no divergence, only certainty.

"You would not listen." A whisper. "I tried to tell you. Lu, you would not listen."

A moment later alarm sirens began to scream throughout the base. "Medical Emergency. Corridor A3. Security Alert. Intruders in the Dome. Repeat. Hostile intruders in the dome. All personnel to emergency stations. Medical Alert. Corridor A3."

With a sigh Zechs turned away from the engineering section he had been about to enter. There was no going back. There was no choice for him. She had not wanted them to get the children. For her, for his Lucrezia, he would ensure that it would happen as she wished. He would keep the twins out of the hands of the ESUN. It just would not be as blood free as he had hoped.

"So be it."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	31. Chapter 31

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 30

Sanc

New Port City

Medical Wing, Preventer Headquarters

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 16:34

Heero

"Well, I am pleased to say that the x-rays agree with me and say that you broke no bones. However you have badly sprained it." Dr. Sally Po turned from examining the x-rays to the young man seated on the examination table. "You will need to keep weight off it for a week or so. I'll strap it for now and frequent ice packs will help. The more rest you can give it the sooner it will heal, and the sooner I can clear you for active duty."

Heero grunted. He could not believe what had happened. He could not believe he was sitting here listening to Sally say he was banned from active duty. He had finished missions with far more serious injuries than this minor inconvenience, but the woman was giving him a look that promised dire consequences if he dared to breach the limits she prescribed.

To make matters worse he had more problems than this trivial inconvenience. He had to talk to Quatre. He had to get hold of Quatre and find out about the note. There was very little time for them to plan how they would handle this matter, but he considered it important that as yet no one knew about that piece of paper Quatre had given him. He had to know so much about what had happened. He was not one to believe in coincidence and this was too whopping big a coincidence to be even remotely believable.

A anonymous tip? Yes, he could believe an anonymous tip made to Preventers. Lady Une might believe that if they presented it to her in a believable fashion. He'd had the time to prepare a false note while he had waited to be brought to the Preventers Medical Clinic. Lady Une might believe it if they got their stories straight, though he doubted he himself would believe it.

Quatre had to know more. The wording of the note Quatre had passed to him was all wrong for an anonymous tip off. The wording and the context were all wrong for someone other than Zechs to have sent it. In his false note he had made no mention of the brother of Relena. He had needed to be quick in what he arranged, but he believed it would do if Quatre would cooperate.

Zechs Merquise had been on Mars. Was on Mars. He was unable to leave the planet. He was unable to have much in the way of contact with the rest of the Earth Sphere. No open contact, for certain. The ESUN would not allow there to be open communication between Zechs and Relena, let alone the rest of the Earth Sphere. Therefore, how had he known that there would be an assassination at that garden party? For that matter, how had he known that there was to be a garden party at all? It was not as though he had access to Relena or Quatre's personal diaries to ascertain their daily activities.

More to the point, how the hell had he known about a bloody cream cake? That was what so upset Heero, and he freely admitted to himself that it was the cake incident that worried him the most. Heero wanted answers.

Sally Po stopped in front of him, laying the x-rays on a side table and turned to him. "Lady Une has sent word that she wants to see you when you leave here. You will do so on crutches. No walking without them for the next four days, do you understand?"

"Hn."

"Yes, well, I will take that as agreement." Sally Po returned, reaching for strapping and beginning to bind the ankle firmly. "I'll give you a cold pack to use during your interview with Lady Une and in the car on the way to the palace. I will send word to Pagan to have cold packs sent to you at regular intervals for the next twenty four hours and you will use them, Heero. I don't think I really need to remind you that the more you keep off the foot, the better, do I? While I have taken you off active duty, I have cleared you to work in an advisory capacity. There are other people to do the leg work."

"I will see that he remains off the leg, Dr. Po." Quatre Winner stood in the doorway, looking as though he had just come from a pleasant afternoon stroll with a pretty girl.

Sally smiled at him, completing the strapping as she glanced over her shoulder and nodded in greeting. "Nice to see you again, Quatre. It's a bad sprain and it needs taking care of. If he wants full use of the ankle as quickly as possible, he had better see that he obeys my instructions."

"He will." Quatre met Heero's eyes and grinned, glancing again at the doctor. "If you are finished with him, I will accompany him to see Lady Une. I have a few things to tell her that pertain to this business, so we can deal with it all at once." Quatre glanced back at Heero. "Relena is secure."

Heero felt as though a weight lifted from his shoulders. He had been concerned that Relena was now in the hands of others, though Quatre had seen him before he had left the hotel and assured him that he would accompany Relena to the palace, along with her security contingent. Quatre had also refused to allow Heero to go anywhere other than to the Medical Clinic and Relena had backed him.

"Mrs. Darlian?"

"Mrs. Darlian has a few scrapes and bruises, nothing more." Sally commented stepping away from Heero and tidying her tray of bandages. "I looked in on her before you were brought in. No doubt by now she is back at the palace and having tea with Relena."

"Exactly." Quatre was quick to confirm. "I checked with the palace security before I came up to Medical. Mrs. Darlian has been returned to the palace and all is quiet there. Cancellations have been sent for the dinner and negotiations this evening. I believe that Wu Fei has been placed in charge of the investigation, so it is in good hands. If you are ready, Heero, we had best see the Lady."

Heero resisted the urge to throw away the crutches as soon as he left the medical center, as the look in Quatre's blue eyes said a great deal might happen if he did, and he admitted, if only to himself, that his ankle, despite the strapping, was hurting a lot. Once, not so long ago, he would have ignored the injury as unimportant. The more he lived the kind of life others found normal the more he realized just what his life had been like. He had not found it in him to revert to the days of the One Year War, when the mission was everything. He had a high pain tolerance, no doubt due to the genetic modifications, but he had learned over the intervening years that it was perfectly acceptable to be human. He could acknowledge that he hurt without being weak. He was silent until they reached the elevator.

"Where did you get the note? When?" He was careful to make certain they were alone in the hallway before he questioned his companion. He winced when he realized he sounded as though he was accusing Quatre of something underhanded.

"I'm staying in that hotel, remember? I could not have gotten to you any faster than I did, Heero. The note came in as an email, no address supplied. I've tried to trace it but failed so far." Quatre called the elevator and motioned Heero in ahead of him when it arrived. "Heero, I want to know what is going on. I get an email off a guy I have not seen or heard from in years, and you accuse me of something to do with this assassination attempt? I had nothing to do with the assassination, as you would very well know, if you started to think about more than Relena's safety and her pretty blue eyes. Where is Zechs? What's more, how did he know my email address? It was the private one I gave only to you and the other guys. Is he working for Preventers undercover, or something?"

"We have to talk." A sigh. "I'm sorry Quatre. I know you did not have anything to do with the assassination. I'm sorry if it sounded that way. No, Zechs is not working undercover for the Preventers. In actual fact he's being confined by the ESUN Security Agency. Held as insurance by person's yet to be positively identified; who wish to ensure Relena cooperates with them. We have to talk as soon as we can get away from here. There is much I have to tell you and I don't know who we can trust."

Quatre nodded slowly, accepting the apology, feeling with his empathy that Heero was generating sincere apology, confusion and unease at this time. There was also a background of pain in the contact, a result of the injury he had sustained.

"Alright. We do need to talk. In the car, on the way to the palace would be a good start, I suppose. You say that Zechs is being held by the ESUN? To ensure Relena cooperates with them? I thought Relena could not care less about her brother? She certainly gave me that impression after the Barton Incursion." He shook his head. "I'm confused. I think I have been missing a great deal." After a moments silent consideration he glanced at Heero. "What do you want me to tell Lady Une?"

"Nothing about the note. I took the liberty of having a fake note prepared. I know, I don't like lying to her, but we need time, Quatre. You'll understand when I explain to you what is going on. We tell Lady Une that you were passed an anonymous tip that there would be trouble. Someone you did not see clearly gave you the note, or it was delivered to your door before you left your suite. Your choice how you present it. You passed me the note since I was designated security and you were there as a private citizen, not as an agent. It just says the L3 representative would be assassinated at that time. Nothing else."

After a moments consideration Quatre nodded. "Well enough. I trust that you know what you are doing."

"There is a lot going on that we don't know, Quatre, and I intend to find out what it all is about. Don't mention Zechs. Don't admit to knowing anything. It was an attack against the L3 Representative. I want it investigated by someone else to check against the information in the email." Heero shrugged. "I have made no mention in the note of the K5 or the personal vendetta against the victim. I want to see if that is correct before I do anything else about it. At the garden party, to all concerned, I acted on instinct and a tip off. There was no time to validate the warning, only time to act."

"Fine. You tell me the truth in the car."

"I'll do more than tell you what I know. I have something you will find interesting, Quatre. Very interesting. Duo started this all off. I'll explain later."

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open, depositing them on the executive offices level of the building.

000000000000000000000000000000000

Sanc Palace

Time: 20:53

Quatre

"How's the ankle?" Quatre questioned, settling into the large overstuffed arm chair across from Heero's settee, pulling a foot stool closer and propping his feet up as he leaned comfortably back.

"I've had worse. A lot worse, in fact."

"I know." The blonde chuckled, knowing what Heero was like during the war.

Duo had told him about the incident when he had broken Heero out of the Alliance Medical Center, when Heero had walked away with a broken leg and later set the break himself. He had seen how dedicated Heero was, himself, during their time together in Sanc, before its fall to the Romefeller controlled Oz. Heero could be quite scary a times.

"That's less than a scratch compared to what we used to incur during a mission. Now, you promised to tell me what is going on, Heero? You promised to tell me on the drive back to the palace and we got lumbered with extra security in the car and then when we returned we've not had the chance for a private conversation since we have been back. So spill. No ladies now fussing to make sure you put your foot up and rest."

Heero blushed a rather becoming shade, ducking his head. He had not expected Relena or her mother to fuss when they had returned to the palace. He had to go straight to his room and be settled to a couch, his foot propped up on a pile of cushions, pillows and cushions supporting his back. While they had fussed and had ice packs brought and refreshments, Quatre had stood in the background and barely restrained his amusement beyond a smile. Heero had looked to be in something of a daze as he was fussed over.

"Now that the ladies have retired and we can expect some time in peace, I can tell you." Heero returned, waving at a tray. "Pagan brought supper. With the garden party ending the way it did the dinner party tonight was canceled, so the entire palace staff can retire early. He made sure that we have enough to keep us occupied half the night. That old man does too much. I assured him once we had supper he could go and get an early night."

Quatre sighed, watching Heero closely. Confused. It looked like Heero was actively avoiding the subject. "It's not like you to avoid the subject."

"I'm not. Just assuring you that we should be undisturbed for the remainder of the night. Now. What do you want first? The fiasco at the garden party?" Cobalt blue eyes pinned Quatre to his chair.

"However it comes, so long as it comes." Quatre returned, plumping a couple of cushions and settling himself more comfortably into his chair. "What's K5? I've never heard of it. The note said they were K5."

For a moment Heero looked pained then shrugged. "K5 is a very select group of assassins. They are very expensive to hire. Many of their members are fanatics, prone to suicide missions. I first learned about them from Odin Lowe. Not many people outside the business know of them."

Quatre resisted the impulse to wince at the oblique reminder of Heero's checkered past. The former Wing pilot had noticeably developed emotionally since the war, the human side of him creeping into more prominent display. Quatre had not expected to face a reminder of Heero's past, nor the bland delivery of the report.

"So, likely this email was not from Zechs? How would he have known of them?"

"Maybe Oz had dealing with them? I don't know. The warning was sent to you, specifically. Containing information about the assassination, clearly identifying the target and his location at the time of the attempt. So, one question would be were the women involved? Were they K5, getting the target into a pre determined position for the kill?"

Quatre shrugged. He had no way of knowing. "I was to get Relena away from the area, that was clear, but if it was Zechs who sent the note, how would he have known so much? I mean, how would he know what the women were wearing or exactly where the target was to be at the time of the shooting? He knew the number of assassins that would be involved, he knew Relena would be there and he knew what those two women would be wearing. One thing the email never claimed was that the women were K5."

"Wu Fei will uncover that." Heero responded. "If the women were involved he'll know it within days. Maybe Zechs found out about the attempt and if the women were involved, they would have planned things right down to what clothing they would wear, to aid in identifying them to the shooters. No, it's not the women that bother me, not even the assassination attempt itself. What bothers me is that he knew about the cake, Quatre."

Quatre blinked. His empathy received such a jumble of emotions from Heero that he hesitated, confused. Cake? Heero was concerned about cake? What cake? Why would cake offer up this complex mix of anger/humiliation/curiosity/exasperation that he sensed coming from his companion?

"Cake? You've lost me... Oh, that's right. The email said something about a cream cake, but I don't get the reference. Is it a code of some kind? You recognize it?"

Heero 'hnned' and shook his head. He was almost embarrassed about it. "Not any code I recognize. I don't see how he could know about it, though. It's not possible. The way it happened, it's just not possible for him to know about it."

Quatre sighed, reaching to pour tea from the tea setting supplied by Pagan. He could feel the total confusion in his companion. Waves of confusion and humiliation poured from Heero, the genuine embarrassment felt by his friend intrigued Quatre.

"Heero. What about the cake?" Quatre passed the first cup to Heero, poured a second for himself and settled back, waiting.

"I was running toward the L3 Representative, yelling for everyone to get down. There was a woman. She was pushed over in the crush. She had a cream gateau on a plate. It fell." Heero's voice was barely above a mumble. A faint pink tinge crept into his cheeks.

Quatre looked confused, watching that faint pink tinge deepen slowly. "Huh? Some woman had a cake? What's that got to do with it?"

Heero irritably jabbed at his injured leg. "That's how I got this, Quatre. I slipped on the damn cake and came down hard on my ankle."

Mercifully Quatre looked blank, but then blue eyes widened as he realized what Heero was saying and then he fought the urge to snigger. It really was not funny, but honestly, the Perfect Soldier laid low by a cream cake. The snigger quivered into a shudder somewhere deep inside him, visions of a running Heero and then like some cartoon character slipping on a banana peel, legs and arms flailing... Who was he kidding? Of course it was funny, especially with Heero pink eared with embarrassment. The snigger slipped out and became a gurgle, the shudder deep inside tightened and erupted, finishing with a full bellied laugh.

"Quatre, it's not funny!" Heero snapped, the pink tinge turning a flaming red.

"Oh, I don't know. It definitely had its moment, don't you think?" Quatre grinned, sniggering when at last he was able to banish the repeating vision of slips and falls; the falls being in various ludicrous cartoon characterizations.

Heero scowled and death glared the blonde, picking up a cheese stick and waved it threateningly in the air. "You just watch it or I will slay you with my mighty cheese stick. If cream cake can get me, a cheese stick can do away with the mighty Quatre Winner. If I eat the evidence, no one will ever know it was me."

The blonde gurgled his shocked delight before dissolving into helpless laughter. He was utterly delighted! When did Heero develop a sense of humor? When had he missed that? He was really rather shocked but delighted in this new version of Heero Yuy. The Heero from the war would never have cracked a joke and certainly would not have seen the funny side of being downed by a refugee from a bakery.

"You've been spending time with Maxwell, haven't you?" Quatre grinned, his wide smile reminiscent of Duo's famous manic grin.

"We worked together on a few assignments." Heero affirmed, thinking of the past assignments he had been on involving the former Deathscythe pilot. After a moment he shrugged. "He grows on you, after a time."

Quatre grinned, finally gaining control of errant visions of a cheese stick wielding Heero taking pratt falls. Mention of Duo reminded Quatre of the current location of the long haired pilot, and the matter of his now being designated Guardian for the infant son of his friend.

'It was you who told him about Hilde and the baby?" At Heero's nod Quatre sighed. "I'm glad. He had a right to know."

"Hn." Heero absently bit into the cheese stick. "There is a lot going on at the moment, Quatre. Lady Une has assigned me to Relena's protection. We have to keep her safe as long as possible while this business is dealt with. She will retire from politics, there is likely nothing we can do about that, but we can't afford to have her retire just now. Too many important projects are in delicate stages of negotiation."

Quatre sipped his tea and considered Heero for a few minutes. Heero emanated concern/anger/confusion when he thought of Relena. He also subtly softened her name, Quatre noticed. He resisted the urge to smile at the private thoughts that occurred to him then. At one time he despaired that Heero would ever drop the Perfect Soldier persona enough to realize just how much Relena liked him. Or allow himself to respond to her advances.

"Why would Relena want to retire?"

Heero drew a deep breath and finished off his cheese stick, giving his entire attention to Quatre. "After the Barton Incursion the ESUN Security Agency found out about Zechs. They confirmed that he was the pilot of the Tallgeese III and they came to arrest him. They wanted to prosecute him for war crimes." Heero paused and shook his head slightly. "No, they just wanted to kill him, no trial involved, really. If they could have gotten away with it, they would have, too, until they realized that they had another use for him. To stop the ESUN Security Agency from taking him Relena and Lady Une sent Zechs off to Mars, to become a part of the Terra Forming Project. When Noin found out she insisted on going with him."

"I had wondered what had happened to Miss Noin." Was the low rejoinder. Quatre considered in silence for a few minutes, the implications of what he had been told, and Heero waited, patient. "But why, Heero? I don't understand why they are using Zechs to try to control Relena. She made it plain enough on MO II that she wanted nothing to do with her brother."

"Relena had a change of heart. The year after the war seemed to give her the chance to think. She had time to consider and mellow her views on her brother, despite what he did. I think she is finally realizing what he was trying to do. The Security Agency learned where Noin and Zechs went. Likely they knew before they even left Earth. As a result, they have been blackmailing Relena with their knowledge, claiming the panic in the Earth Sphere would bring about war, if it was widely known that Milliardo Peacecraft had survived. It seems to have progressed beyond just that, though. She has been told that if she does as she is told, her brother will not be harmed. If she does not conform to their will, they will kill him."

"No. That would remove their power over her. They would never do it." Quatre shook his head in denial.

Heero considered that and admitted to himself that that was true. For those councilors involved in this blackmail to kill Zechs would remove any control they had over Relena, and she would be free to retaliate however she wished for their rude treatment of her, if not her brother. He shrugged and shook his head, choosing to leave repercussions from the aftermath of however this turned out for later consideration.

"Regardless of how extensive their control would have been, then, they now would have the means to blackmail her. Two, to be precise. Relena received word that Noin gave birth recently."

"Ah." Quatre sighed softly. While he was happy for Miss Noin, he could only too well understand how the implications of the birth would be used to strengthen control over the Vice Foreign Minister. "A baby would complicate matters and Relena always liked Miss Noin."

Heero shook his head, "Noin doesn't figure in this. Two babies. Twins, a boy and a girl. We now know that the ESUN has sent a team to Mars to remove the children from their parents and place them in protective custody, here on Earth, to be reared as loyal citizens of the new age."

Quatre stared at Heero, his mouth a perfect 'O' of surprise before he regained control of his voice. "I see. If they could do that and keep Zechs alive, they will have three levers to pull to get Relena to jump when they wish something to go their way. They could even afford to make their point by killing Zechs or harming one of the children. If Relena has had a change of heart over how she feels about her brother, then they will exercise every advantage they have to gain what they can, while they can. It would be more than just controlling Relena, though. Those children are a part of a very old, select bloodline. Bloodlines still mean something in political circles, Heero. Those children would mean considerable power to whoever controlled them."

"As we speak, Quatre, their plan is in operation. The supply shuttle that landed on Mars this morning, our time, contained a ESUN Security Force. We won't know what is happening for a while. If anything is happening at all. The last report we had suggested the ESUN team might sit tight until the shuttle was ready for the return flight. That would be in seven days."

"They would be fools to." Quatre whispered. "Zechs and Noin would have more time to plan their resistance and protect their children."

Heero nodded. "I know. I think it is all happening now, and that is why we have heard nothing in the last few hours. Aside from this matter on Mars, there is also the matter of Romefeller to be dealt with."

Quatre blinked, thrown off center for a moment. "Romefeller? Romefeller was disbanded after the One Year War."

Heero sighed and shook his head in a negative gesture. "It would appear that they have not been dealt with as thoroughly as we assumed. I have some information to show you that Duo managed to lift from the Romefeller central data base. You'll find it makes for interesting reading. Some of it is very personal. For us, and certain individuals that we know. One of the things that will interest you is that Romefeller has a file on all of the Gundam Pilots."

Quatre shrugged, choosing a cheese stick from the pile on the tray. "Not so surprising. It stood to reason that once we started blowing up Oz bases they would make files on us."

Heero shook his head slightly. It would be interesting to see what Quatre's reaction to this would be. He knew that Winner Enterprises prided itself on its security. Personal information on the Winner family was jealously guarded and he could just see the stir amid their security when this news was made known to them. He had no doubt that when Quatre heard of this a storm would shake up their security division. Someone somewhere within Winner Enterprises was leaking information. Not unusual when you considered industrial espionage was a lucrative enterprise, and what was wrong with selling off some personal information on your boss and his family? Not so surprising to Heero, either, having delved into something of the history of the Romefeller Foundation. It appeared that if they wanted information they found a way to get it.

"Did you know that Duo's real name is Justin Anthony Simpson? His birth name?" When Quatre stared at him in shock, Heero continued. "His parents were L2 Accountants, killed in a riot protest against the Alliance. Thanks to those records I now know what my real name is. My birth name. I am a genetically modified human being, Quatre. I was modified not to be the Perfect Soldier, but to be a crewman on an exploration vessel, that would go into deep space. I was modified to survive extended exposure to space flight. According to my file there are others out there, just like me."

"How did they know?" Quatre almost whispered, eyes big and very blue as he stared at Heero in something very close to total disbelief.

Heero shrugged, a slight lift of his shoulders and ducked his head, choosing another cheese stick and a strawberry from the platter on the tray. "Your records are there too, in the files. I can show you them. I know Trowa's birth name. I know what his parents names were. I know a lot, Quatre. Romefeller exists. They are still out there. What was disbanded after the One Year War had to be their public front, but not Romefeller itself. They have been keeping stud books on the nobility and aristocrats of Europe for centuries. Duo and I are trying to access their data files, to learn what else they contain. To date we have found genetic records for a lot of the nobility of Europe. The older the family the more detailed the genetic records are. There is information in there that is pertinent to what is going on now."

"Allah." A soft oath. Quatre stood and paced the length of Heero's room. After a few minutes of pacing and thinking he returned to his seat, settling down and subjecting Heero to an intense look. "They have records on me? On you? Show me the records, and then tell me everything you know. I don't know what is going on, but we do need to find out. If they found such records on us, then what else do they know that no one else knows? What records did you mean, when you said they pertain to the current situation?"

"Duo found a back door into the main frame of the Romefeller computer center, where ever that is. Through the files that we have accessed so far, we know that Treize Kushrenada and Milliardo Peacecraft were genetically modified. How or for what purpose, we don't yet know. That's just the tip of the iceberg, Quatre. I don't know what was done to them, or why, but I think we really need to know what was going on then. It might help us to understand what is going on now. We know that someone in the palace reports to Romefeller. Duo found messages that alerted their agents to their search for Zechs. Romefeller are actively searching for him, and I intercepted a message from their agent here to Romefeller. They now know he is on Mars, and that he has children. Not a good thing, I think. I believe there is also another agent, in the palace. Whether they are Romefeller and from another faction, as there were different factions in Romefeller in the war, I don't know, but I intercepted another message that I believe pertains to Zechs and his current location. Some people are very interested in him. Somehow I doubt the second message I intercepted was an ESUN operative. There is a third faction involved in this entire mess involving the Peacecrafts. Romefeller, this other, unknown group and the ESUN Security Agency, working for a group of politicians who want control of Relena. We need to know who these people are and we need to know why they are all after one man. We also need to know how they found this information on us."

Quatre finished his cheese stick, considering Heero for a long while, sipping his tea occasionally. He was beginning to see just the tip of the iceberg, he thought. Romefeller still very much active, just working quietly in the background was not a comforting thought. In fact, it frightened him. He needed to know more information before he could clearly formulate a broad picture and a plan to work from, but that was going to take time. Romefeller, political parties in the ESUN and a third party, whose identity at this time was unknown.

"Whatever help I can be, Heero, you have only to ask. If we need to use Winner resources we can do so discreetly. There would not be much in the way of resources unavailable to Winner Enterprises."

"The fewer who know the better. For now we need to keep this just between us Gundam Pilots. As yet, only you, I and Duo know about this. I want to tell Wu Fei and Trowa in person, as I don't trust putting any of this over the air waves, even supposedly secure ones."

"Wu Fei is likely to be the easiest to reach for a private conference. If his investigation does not take him off Earth, that is. Trowa won't be back for another week or two, will he?"

"Perhaps longer. We need him to wind up the investigation as quickly as possible, though. He won't find the identity of the person who sent the warning to us about the threat to Relena. Get my lap top and I will show you our files."

"You are so sure that Trowa will fail? Why?" Quatre rose from his seat, but watched Heero, making no other move.

"Because I know who did send the warning. Duo is far from sloppy when he chooses to go unknown. Trowa will not find proof of who sent the information or why it was sent. I'll explain, just bring me the lap top. It's all there."

"Duo? Duo sent the warning? This just gets better all the time." Quatre sighed and shook his head. "You say there is information on me in these files? The Winner Corporation security is supposed to stop that kind of thing." Quatre retrieved the laptop and set it on the low table near Heero.

"I am beginning to wonder if anything can stop Romefeller." Heero sighed. "They are a lot more than we assumed, Quatre. They have been around for a lot longer than we thought and they are, I believe, not what we took them to be. Something is very wrong with the information that Doctor J gave me about Romefeller. Whether he was misinformed or if the misinformation he gave to me was deliberate, I don't know."

A chime drew Heero's attention to his wrist communicator and he grunted as he read the message, noting the scramble code and adjusting the settings accordingly. He sighed after a moment and leaned his head against the pillows and cushions he was propped against.

"Damn."

"Heero?" Quatre queried.

Heero groaned, shaking his head with a growing sense of dread. As he had feared. "Lady Une. Word has just come in from Mars. It's old news to those on Mars, but I guess it gives us a fair indication of how bad it's going to get up there."

"So?" Quatre prodded softly. "How bad is it?"

"The Preventer team in Alpha Dome have sealed the Dome, effectively separating half the known ESUN security team. There are eight of the ESUN agents missing from Alpha Dome. They are reported to have infiltrated the Base Dome complex. At the last count Noin had killed two of the ESUN team, with there being one casualty in the Base Dome personal. Report says the person is not critically injured, but she has been seriously hurt. No word given of the location of Zechs."

"Damn."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	32. Chapter 32

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 32

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 13:49 MST [Mars Standard Time

Simpson

"Parks and Wilder have missed the scheduled check in, Sir. There is an alert on the com lines for the Base Dome. Security alert for intruders in the dome and a medical emergency in the area Parks and Wilder were checking." The communications officer glanced up at his commander, ear piece pressed to his ear.

"Fucking screw up." Simpson scowled, glowering into space, contemplating what could have gone wrong.

Explicit instructions had been issued for the teams to avoid contact with scientists, engineers and especially the intended targets themselves. Who would it have been? Marquise or Noin? The crazy one was likely, Simpson did not trust psych reports at the best of times, but when the subject was an acknowledged nut case, well...

The alarm sirens were no longer screaming, that was something at least. Someone had the sense to cut them off. Probably Marquise, he reflected. It should not have happened that he had lost two of his people so early in the mission. Dead? Possibly. He did not expect any of the team to find mercy at the hands of a madman and his whore. Two of his men taken out on a recon operation. How had that happened?

"Can you confirm status of Parks and Wilder and their location if they are prisoners?"

The com officer sighed, returning his attention to the chatter over the monitored com lines of the base. "From what I have heard so far, Sir, I think they are dead. The base is on alert, all personnel to report to emergency stations."

Simpson drew a steadying breath. Alright. So his bad feeling bump was itching something fierce at the moment. He knew this mission was trouble, but they were only two people and he had a full team, half of which were held in reserve. There were also the Sleepers to be considered. They could be brought into action, though he preferred to keep them out of the game. Bringing them into play acknowledged that they had no hope of performing this mission without taking the ultimate step, and that he was loath to perform.

Two men permanently out of action. He could deal with that. Despite the presence of Merquise and Noin most of these people were scientists and engineers. Definitely not fighters. Yes, he had no doubt that some were good in a bar room brawl, but they were not trained fighters. Not killers. That still gave his team the advantage. He had to contend with two people who were a threat and a couple of thousand others who were a nuisance. Those couple of thousand would now be cowering in their respective rooms and a few at emergency stations. The alert could still be used to their advantage in that it would clear the corridors of the base. His problem remained Merquise and Noin. They had to be taken down.

"Contact the Beta Team. Have them take control of the Alpha Dome's control center. If they have to, activate the sleeper agents to assist. I want Alpha Dome secured ASAP."

00000000000000000000000000000000000

Alpha Dome

Control Center

Time 13:50

Barker

Barker stepped into the room and with a sigh nodded slightly, motioning to the recent addition to the control panel. The series of switches had been added to the control board only in the last week and it was a measure he had taken only because Preventer Earth had specifically instructed him to cooperate with Agent Wind if it was likely to avoid blood shed at the base. After long discussions with Wind he had agreed to the suggestion made by the man to avoid blood shed. The woman seated at the consol nodded and began to trip in sequence the five switches. Both slipped on the face masks, adjusted them nervously and waited. Behind him Joe Mako grunted, scowling at the screen, playing with the face mask he wore. All of them in the control center had portable oxygen cylinders strapped to their hips. They had half an hours oxygen, enough to see them safe until they could remove the masks.

"How long will it take to work?" Mako queried, voice thickened and muffled by the respirator he wore.

Barker did some quick mental calculations, watching as the gages above each of the switches began to climb. Each switch and gage was for one section of the pie that was the overall design of the Alpha Dome. The switches led to gas cylinders spliced into the ventilation system of the Alpha Dome.

"Works in seconds, once it gets into the air ways. It should take about five minutes to circulate through out the entire domes ventilation system. It's possible that one or two may catch on to what is happening and manage to take precautions, avoiding the effects of the gas, but most of the dome will be in the Land of Nodd for the next six hours. My team will check on anyone moving and contain them. We will see that they and the Sleepers are moved to secured sections for containment until we have this business sorted."

Mako shook his head slightly, watching the gages. "It was Lu, wasn't it?"

Barker nodded, turning to face Mako. "Yes. Yes, it was. Two dead. Jenny is being taken to medical now and the surgeons and emergency team are ready to work on her."

"Everyone says Merquise is insane. Violent. He doesn't have a patch on Lu, though. She is a powder keg waiting to explode. How bad is Jenny hurt?"

"Pretty bad. We will hear as soon as the doctors have the time to deal with us. I think it is safe to say that Lucrezia has already exploded. There is no going back now."

Mako scowled under the mask, motioning in the general direction of the Base Dome. "Zechs? Any word from him?"

"I'm not sure where he is at the moment. Not since he sent word to seal down the dome and put the errant children to sleep. He did promise he would try to keep the dome intact."

"Shit." Mako shook his head, visions of absolute disaster running through his mind. "Wonderful."

Barker frowned, glancing over at the gages showing the level of sleeping agent in the domes oxygen supply. "We can always assist the security agents, Joe."

"Not likely." Mako snarled, waving away the comment. "I don't trust the bastards in control on Earth any more than Merquise does. Besides, I'm not likely to offer Lucrezia Noin a stab at my back. That woman is dangerous."

"Pity the Earth Gov didn't think about that. Agent Fire was well named in my opinion. Why the bloody hell those idiots on Earth had to start this..." He sighed, shaking his head in denial of the obvious. "I still put my money on Zechs."

000000000000000000000000000

Base Dome

Time 13:53

Noin

+"If you walk down corridor A3, you will kill directly two of his men, and cripple Jenny Santos, who will be caught in the cross fire."+

Noin paced the room, Katerina cradled in her arms. Lucian slept on the hospital bed, a tiny bundle surrounded by pillows to ensure he did not roll off. He was due to be fed and would stir soon enough. He tended to sleep more soundly than Katerina, for longer periods, and more deeply than his sister. It was a blessing, for now.

+"If you walk down corridor A3, you will kill directly two of his men, and cripple Jenny Santos, who will be caught in the cross fire."+

How had he known? How had he known what would happen? The words would not leave her alone. They repeated over and over again in her mind, never leaving her consciousness, damning her repeatedly with her actions. Two men dead. Two men dead and Jenny in the operating theatre. Had she killed Jenny too?

+"If you walk down corridor A3, you will kill directly two of his men, and cripple Jenny Santos, who will be caught in the cross fire."+

God. How had he known? Where was he now? Where was he and what was he doing? She needed to talk to him. She needed answers and the answers to the questions she had to ask could only be given by him. She had called the emergency team and sounded the general alert and all that time she had silently screamed within.

She did not like to kill. She had trained her soldiers during the war to stay alive, blaming any deaths in a combat situation on poor planning and inadequate officers in charge. She had been so proud of herself and her teachings, certain she was right. She might very well be right, but it did not change the facts. She had lost an entire year's worth of cadets to the cowardly attack of a terrorist planting bombs in the student barracks. Even after all this time she had not really forgiven Chang Wu Fei his massacre of the student pilots at Lake Victoria Academy. Now, here, she was faced with a situation where people were dead, possibly dying and she had started it. She had been the first to kill.

After sounding the alert she had gathered the twins from their carer and come here, to the medical wing, to await news of Jenny. Crippled? Had she crippled Jenny by taking out those bastards who had come for her children? Here was not safe. Not for her. Not for her children. Where could she hide her children until the threat was past? Where would be safe? Would the threat ever be past?

The ESUN would send more and more agents to Mars until they had their way. They would keep coming, barring her family from leaving Mars, but not allowing them to live here either. Not in peace. Not as a family. She could see it now. What had she done? She had not intended to kill them. She had only struck out because they were there, and they were obviously looking for her babies and she... she had reacted. There it was. The hard core of it all. She had reacted without thinking, seeing only that the threat was suddenly in front of her and that she really needed to hit someone. She had argued with Zechs and had not been able to make him see that she was right and they had to resist. Now... Now she had killed and her friend was fighting for her life in the operating theatre and Zechs was not here.

+"If you walk down corridor A3, you will kill directly two of his men, and cripple Jenny Santos, who will be caught in the cross fire."+

Yes, well he had been right about that much, at least. Damn him. Damn him to hell and back for this entire bloody mess. How had he known? Corridor A3. Two agents dead. Jenny wounded. He had been right on the mark, as though he had seen it. As though he... as though he had known it would happen.

Noin froze.

"Oh, Zechs, no. No. You can't have meant..." Shaking her head she settled the now sleeping baby on the bed, beside her brother. "You can't. You can't have known."

+"Standing here arguing is working to the advantage of those agents. You have closed one window of opportunity already by refusing to take the shuttle. Thanks to you and your obstinacy I can't get the twins off Mars now. They have to remain here. Any shuttle that leaves now will be shot down. The last shuttle I had secured from prying eyes has been found and sabotaged. There is no escape from Mars for anyone."+

"He had escape plans. Multiple, multi layered plans." The certainty of it weighed heavily on her.

She stared, unseeing at the children who in their innocence were the victims of this entire mess. Her mind wandered back over the conversations they had had over the last weeks, feeling sick to her stomach over the oh, so clear meaning behind his words. Clear now, but back then making no sense. She saw again the constant distractions he had seemed to absorb himself in, shutting himself off from her. He would stare into thin air, apart from the reality of their rooms, frozen away from her and the world around him. Seeming almost as if he could see something that only he could see.

+"If you could know all possible futures, what would you do, Noin?"+

What was it he had said to her? What were his exact words? She had dismissed it. Just another instance of his fazing out of reality; another instance of his wanting to avoid the harshness of the reality they lived in. Another instance of his reluctance to commit himself both to this life they led and to her as her mate, her partner in spirit and flesh.

She was such a selfish bitch. She had not tried to understand. It had all been about something very different to their relationship. She had only seen it as a reaction to her forcing herself into his life. She had taken his growing disinterest in the world around him as dissatisfaction with her and the fact that she had stayed, made herself comfortable in his rooms, in his bed. She had thought he was disturbed by their living arrangements, reluctant to acknowledge that he had feelings beyond friendship for her. What if... what if she had been very wrong with her assumptions?

+"What if you saw your best friend run over by a car and die because a drunk driver was let through a road block? If you could change it by pointing out to the police that the driver was drunk, even though he looked alright, would you do it?"+

"Oh, God." //No. It's not possible. Just not possible.//

+"What if then you learned that your friend had overdosed on drugs and died? If you could do it again, go back and change things. What if you let the driver through the road block, but you run out into the road and pushed your friend out of the way? He's hurt but he's taken to hospital and they realize he has drugs in his system and he is saved that way. What do you do if you saw all those possibilities, Noin? Which future for your friend do you choose?"+

"Shit. No. He can't mean it." Cold, hard knots of dread formed in her belly.

+"And a year later in a fit of depression he looses control and takes a gun and kills people walking through a shopping mall. For no reason. For no sane reason at all he kills ten people. If you had let him die in the first place, those ten people would not have died."+

"No. Not possible. It's not possible." Her hands clenched in her dark hair as she closed her eyes, but the memory would not leave her in blissful innocence.

+"What is worse, one of those ten people was a heart surgeon, who in a few years time would have saved the life of a person who would bring peace to the world. Yet another of those ten would murder seven women before he could be caught and brought to justice."+

"But... What if... what if he... he..." Her eyes went to the infants sleeping in blissful ignorance of the harsh realities of life. Sweet innocence. Innocence she had lost years ago.

+"I don't want you to say anything, Noin. I want you to think about it. Was it the right thing to do? Was your choice of possible futures the right one? Which choice was best?"+

"Oh, God."

00000000000000000000000000000

13:55

Simpson

"I want Merquise and Noin found ASAP. I want them found and I want them isolated. If they resist, take them down. Find the children. Response acknowledgement from Beta team?" Simpson paced, listening for any sound in the ventilation system that could mean they were being hunted here.

Jacob Frazier, the communications officer glanced at his commander and quickly back at his instruments. "No communications with the Beta Team, Sir. Not even an acknowledgement of your orders."

Simpson's scowl deepened. They could not possibly have taken out Beta Team. Could they? They were not that good. There was no way they could even know how many people were actually included in the mission. They. Preventers. Glorified cops. No, something was very wrong here. Very wrong indeed. He had to get to the bottom of this, and that meant getting both Noin and Merquise under control. Fast.

"Keep monitoring communications, Frazier. I want to know when they find Merquise. Take him alive and leave him conscious if at all possible, but take him down fast. I need him to get some answers. The more time we give them, the better their defenses will be."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	33. Chapter 33

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 33

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 13:53 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

Ice blue eyes watched from the cover of deep shadows as the engineer moved through the mobile suit bay. In any emergency that arose it was Jeremy Carver's job to ensure all equipment was safely stowed and secured. The inspection of the bay equipment was almost done and then Jeremy would report that the bays were secured. Zechs was patient. So far no unexpected random elements had entered into the equation he must work from. It was still very possible that he could work this so that few people, friends or enemies, died. He could still keep the children safe. He still had a chance to keep Lucrezia alive.

Stubborn, foolish woman. He had so tried to make her see. He had tried to help her to understand that he had plans that could keep people alive and unhurt. She had refused to listen to what he had told her. He could not blame her though, it was so far fetched and so... odd. Yet, because he could not explain adequately, or purely from her stubborn refusal to listen, already disaster had struck.

Jenny. Jenny was the first to pay in the long term.

No. No, he could not say that and be honest. It was not Jenny who was the first to pay the price for this battle that must now be waged on Mars. In truth the first to pay would be the, as yet, unknowing wife and son of the first man Lu had killed. Without having seen the body or contacted anyone he knew the man had died from a broken neck. He would need to check, to be certain it was as he had seen, but the up shot was simply that he was dead. His family would get a pension from the ESUN, after this was all settled, but that meant nothing. Nothing.

The child would grow up without a father to guide and love him and because of that the child's life would be very different to how it could have been. Should have been. In a few years, depending on the outcome of certain circumstances, that child's mother would become attracted to a man who would, in time, become a wife and child abuser. On a certain day, in a certain place, in front of her son, she would be beaten to death. The boy...

Zechs shuddered, forcing control. No. He could not afford the distraction. Not now. He could not afford to pursue the fate of the child or the mother. If he did it all would be worse. There would be other wives and children who must pay a price for what happened here in the next few hours. He would do what he could for that man's family when he had dealt with the safety of his own children and brought matters under control.

The heaviness of vision still hung over him, and it would be too easy to descend into possibilities of events that might or might not happen. He had to clear his mind, not allow himself to become enmeshed in the web of distraction and possible events. Now he had to concentrate on the safest path he had found in the multi visions he had already experienced and pray that he did not become confused and lose the tracks of the best of the possible options he had gleaned. It was so hard without the filter and generator that Epyon had been. It was so hard to keep his focus. Hard to stop the distractions that off shoot visions caused. The hardest of all to do, though, was to choose that one course that led to the best options for everyone who played a major roll in this event. If he chose wrong, then he chanced countless deaths and the chance that the cycle of war would be sparked again.

The engineering bay was deserted, sometime in his musings Jeremy had completed his inspection and moved on to his next duty. He waited, just that little bit longer, to be certain that the feel of the vision matched the reality around him, and then he slipped into the air vent. They were up there, he knew. In the air vents. Waiting. Hunting.

It would not go the way they intended. He was determined to change the course they were spiraling into. To successfully alter the course toward war he had to become the hunter and those who thought themselves to be the hunters would become the hunted. He had raided the stash in this bay where he kept some of the equipment that he felt he would need for this time, all the while acknowledging that he had to get to the other caches where he had secreted items over the last months. He had the basics, for now, that should see his freedom preserved and he just needed to gain access to the other caches when the time was right. While he prepared himself he had to hope Lucrezia Noin would hold her actions. She had to control her anger or else all his carefully laid plans would crumble into ruin and there was no hope of saving anyone from the long term repercussions.

It all hinged on Noin. He did not doubt that she was the focus for this horror they now experienced. Mars had been free of the blood that stained the hands of man as a race. Until now. Free of blood shed in anger until Lucrezia had killed. The first war had come to Mars.

A small war, yes, that was true. Personal, but it was still war. Nor would it likely be the last conflict to bloody Martian soil. If he failed to make something of this fiasco then they would come again and again until they finally achieved what they wanted. The outcome of this he could not decide alone. To his despair he was not the focus, just the instrument, the comb if you would, to comb out the knots of entanglement. By carefully examining each of the visions he could remember over the months, and adding in the vague unease he would wake with before he could remember the dreams, he had managed to determine that it was not him but Lucrezia, that stubborn, foolish, wonderful woman who was the focus. The key. It was her decisions, not his, that drove this situation to a conclusion. He could only work around the decisions she made, hoping to control some of the damage.

Safe, she had said. She wanted her children to be safe. That was her directive. The safety of the children. So, then, why would she not allow him to work to ensure their safety? What did she call safe? What was her view on safe for their babies? She had not listened. It seemed to him that she had not even tried to understand what he had told her. To his despair he feared she would understand only when it was too late.

Must it always be that way? For the human race understanding always seemed to come only when the death toll mounted. Why should it be that at the moment of death it always seemed clear, as though divine wisdom was bestowed in that last instant of life?

//I have found there are thirty seven ways for you to die today, Lu. Please don't entertain any of them. Please.//

He paused to take his bearings in the shaft. The whisper of the exhaust fans was fading, replaced by the soft humming of the generators. Good. He was on the right path. He had had plenty of opportunities to explore the ventilation systems in the time he had been on Mars. A left turn up ahead and then out of the duct system to allow the hunters ahead of him and coming towards him to pass. Yes, this felt right. This path avoided unnecessary deaths.

000000000000000000000000000000000

Maintenance Room

14:25

Zechs

Crux point approaching. He could feel it. Just like before. Just like on the Libra. He was not likely to forget in a hurry what that crawling, painful sensation felt like. An event change of importance. He had made the choice then, on the Libra. He had decided that it would be he who destroyed the Libra and paid the ultimate price with their life. It had been he who decided that Heero Yuy had more right to life than he had. He had been only too willing to give himself over to the total blackness of death.

Death, he had presumed, was to be his release from the horrors his life had been filled with since he turned six years of age. Death, but no. In the end it had not been death, that black void he had seen so many times in the possible outcomes of the destruction of the Libra. Not that. Instead, it had been a blankness.

Blank. Yes, the visions had ended at the crux point, the destruction of Libra. At that point, if Yuy had been the one to destroyed Libra by blowing the core, the remnants would have fallen over the earth and still caused the devastation and winter that would have made the planet unlivable for centuries.

If he blew the core, then he sensed life beyond, for the people of the Earth. Life and the promise of generations of lasting peace. In the end, that was what it had all been for. He had planned with Epyon the means by which to bring about the right conditions for that crux point to exist. Yuy had had to make his choice to self detonate and then he had had to take Yuy's place, leaving Yuy to take out the remnants of Libra. The blank nothingness he had seen for himself had not been the welcome release of death, as he had assumed.

Death, he had thought. His very welcome escape from a life that had been intolerable pain and sorrow for so long, it had even begun to hurt to breathe. A clean slate. In his passing the people would go on. Mankind would move on and the peace the visions had promised would become reality. The wars of his visions only the faded past possibilities he had chanced all to end. No one need know the heartache and pain of the decisions he had to make. The world would look forward to peace and prosperity and the chance to grow out of the mentality that had for so long produced war.

It had been worth the hurt and the sorrow. It had been worth blackening the Peacecraft name to ensure that all the wars; the millions of people who would die in the next three hundred year span of continuing war, would end. No great wars for them to send their children to fight. He had been resigned to it, knowing in his heart that Relena would be able to redeem the Peacecraft name.

It had been worth it.

So much war. So much devastation. So many lives broken. It had been worth the price since so few had died. Oh, they said so many had died, but none of them saw what he had seen. None of them saw the unending dance of death and destruction that would be mankind's legacy to future generations. No one saw that the price they had paid during the One Year War was paid back to them, in the generations who lived without war taking their children. No one but him. He did not understand why he saw it, but he had learned it was not delusional fantasy. No, it was horrifyingly, hideously real. He had, in the end, determined to carry the responsibility of seeing that the Generation Wars did not happen. No one would understand. He had understood that his name would be anathema. He had known it. He had seen it in the visions. In the end, since no one had loved him or understood him, what did it matter? Not if the wars were stopped.

Any price to himself was worth that.

Yuy had had to live. He had sensed that at the moment Wing Zero had tried to blow the core and had had no ammunition left to do it. He had understood that Yuy was needed for the future. How, exactly, he had not known then, and even now he was still uncertain. He had not seen why it was so important. The Sight had not been made clear then, or even now, but Yuy now started to feature more and more in the episodes of vision. He had been faced with the blankness as his own future and he had presumed it to be the void of death, but he had been wrong. So wrong.

He had survived.

His survival led to this.

He could not make the crux decisions this time. That was not his place. He just had to carry through as best he could, and keep the peace in effect. He had paid too high a price in the lives of others for the wars to be permitted to return. Peace had to be maintained. To keep the peace he had to have clear direction, and to get that Lucrezia Noin had to make the decisions.

//Lucrezia. Tell me what you really want. I can't do anything until you do, except clean up the mess you make. Decide. Tell me.//

He needed the key event to happen, so that he could take the final actions and push for the future that would best be of benefit. Lucrezia had to decide what must happen here on Mars. Yuy was alive and active on Earth. That much had worked out from his misreading of the end of Epyon. Yuy was safe and would play his part at need in whatever was to come.

The blankness had not worked out as his death, but a year and more of no visions, while his body and some part of his mind had healed. During that time he had heard rumors of what was now being termed the Barton Incursion. He had not seen that in his visions, nor had he seen any hint of his savior. He knew that he was not infallible. He knew that he could be wrong. There had been no Sight of that brief, bitter war. No visions at all since the Libra's end.

Yet during the gestation of his children the visions had made a gradual return, first as disturbing feelings, half remembered from dreams he could not recall. Feelings of foreboding and moments of wrongness leading to this point in time. There was still that suggestion of the wars. Still the chance that the price he already had paid might not be enough. He might still have to pay a further price to keep the peace.

//I am so tired of paying the price. I am sure I was meant to die. What else could that darkness, that blank in the Sight have been? What did I miss that has led to this? What possibility; what option did I miss that saw me survive? I do so want to return to Earth. To walk along the shore at Sanc, on that little beach where mama used to take me. Never again. Only in my memories can I ever do that. You're a fading memory, mother. Fading more and more. I haven't been able to remember the sound of your voice for years. I suppose my memories are only a shadow vision of better times. It would not be the same any way, to go back and walk along the shore without you there. Still, it would have been nice to take my children for a walk along that beach. To tell them about you and father. I've never seen it in a vision. I've never seen myself return to Earth, so I know it never will happen. None of the visions showed a return to Earth. Mama. I'm sorry for being a disappointment to you. But I gave them Relena. Forgive me.//

He had not seen himself walk upon Earth feature in his visions since the dreams had returned. He had witnessed possibilities that would occur on Earth if the circumstances were right. He had even chosen to act and interfere in some of those events, too. Something was coming. He could feel it. Something he did not understand. Something that he felt the visions were reacting to, but not revealing to him. It left him feeling alone and adrift. How was he supposed to deal with whatever it was that was threatening if he had no idea what nature it would take? Good? Bad? He had no idea. It was hovering there, somewhere beyond his sight; somewhere beyond his ability to reach. It told him clearly enough that circumstances must not be right to bring it forward into the sphere of his limited abilities.

//Epyon, I miss you. I hate you, but I miss you. What you woke in me... Treize, did you know what that beast would wake in me? What it would do to me? I have had no life since that beast changed my perceptions of reality. Not that I had a life beyond war and revenge even then. There's another blank coming. I can't read what it is. It's a darkness that feels similar to what I saw before and assumed was my death. I don't know enough. I don't know of anyone I could see to help me control this. Not true. There is maybe someone who could help me... but... No. I will not. I see a merging in the future. I think it is a merge. It feels similar to the merging of possibilities that Epyon sorted for me. I have no focus. Epyon was like a lens, funneling and clarifying the visions. It offered me a clarity I lack now. Epyon offered me a strength to survive the horrors I saw. I don't have his strength to lean on any more. You were alive, in a strange way, Epyon. The Gundam pilots alone might understand that. Ah, God. I don't want to see war anymore. I have had my fill of seeing mutilation. Of battle fields and massacres and solitary deaths where people die and know that they are alone; no one caring for the lives lived and lost. Why must it be war? Why must it always be war that I see? Why can't I see life for a change? Hell, it would be a novelty to see a flower in a field, without seeing that field torn apart by conflict, bodies watering the few surviving seeds with blood. Could I not just see a pretty flower wave in a breeze?//

Zechs shook his head, resting against the wall of the maintenance room. He had to stop that. He had to stop looking back at what was, and what might have been if he had chosen a different course. He had to stick to the path he had gleaned through the web work of possibility. It would all come to a head soon. There were more than thirty ways for Noin to die today. So many ways for her to die, and three possible outcomes. Only three. Managing how events were to progressed to one of those three was the trick. He wanted one event to come about. He wanted Noin alive, and peace restored at the dome. He had to do what he could to see the better result. If it was at all possible.

Blue eyes flicked to the door. The maintenance room was in the medical center, a storage room for cleaning tools, blankets, bandages and other items safe to store here. He had only to walk out of that door and go five doors down and he would find Noin. He knew where she was, but to go to her now was a mistake. First he had to wait. He flicked a glance up at the vent hatch on the wall to his left. Soon the two who prowled there, once just a little way ahead of him when he had crawled through the vent, would come back this way. If he did not deal with them now, then one of them would kill Noin.

It was not going to be allowed to happen.

Gathering his thoughts before they could wander and chance plunging him into depression or worse, another round of visions, he glanced around, noting the positioning of the shelves and the placement of cartons by the back wall. A little judicious movement of the local furnishings to cover up his retrieval of goods from the cache he had had here, and he would also have his hiding place from which to strike at them. The hunters would be along soon and he had to be ready to greet them.

000000000000000000000000

Time: 14:53

Zechs

He drew a deep, steadying breath, checking that his equipment was in place. The short metal pipes he had chosen so carefully rested on the stacked cartons, in the small nook he had fashioned. A slit allowed him clear sight of the space directly under the vent hatch and to the door opposite it. He probed quickly in a pocket and crouched, ready, one hand curled around each pipe.

He tilted his head slightly, frowning at the sounds issuing from the vent. He could hear them if he concentrated hard enough. Small sounds that would normally be lost under the constant noise of the air conditioning fans. In only a few more feet they would reach the hatch. Did they think people were deaf? They seemed to be making an incredible amount of noise in these last few seconds. Still, he admitted, sound did resonate more in the maintenance room, and he was so keyed that a pin dropped would sound like a thunderclap to him.

The hatch popped, was caught before it could slam into the wall beside the vent and the first of the men dropped feet first through the hatch, weapon raised at the ready before his feet even hit the ground. A harsh glare and he peered around in the dim glow of the stand by lights.

"Clear."

The second agent dropped through the hatch, pausing to peer into the dim recesses of the small room. Zechs slowly picked up the first of the pipes, the second following the first up to hold near his mouth as the man grunted softly and relaxed. He aimed carefully, a puff a quick, sharp breath into the pipe and the second of the ESUN agents slapped reflexively at the back of his neck.

"What the..."

"Sam?" The first to enter the room spun at the startled gasp in time to receive the sharp sting himself, a pin prick at the base of his neck. "Hey. What was that?"

Sam peered blearily at his companion and shook his head, his legs failing him and sliding quickly down a shelf unit at his side. "God. I don't... feel... so..."

"Damn." The first staggered; a whisper as vision blurred and his arms slapped useless against his side. His mind fogged as his legs gave way and he never even saw the blonde leave his safe nook and approach.

"Good night, gentlemen. May you have pleasant dreams."

//Twenty six ways to die, Lucrezia. That's progress.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	34. Chapter 34

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 34

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 15:03 MST [Mars Standard Time

Noin

//Zechs, where are you? I need to talk to you. I need to know.//

Lucian began to stir, in her embrace, a tiny bundle of wiggling humanity. Tiny innocent life. So small, so delicate. So young to be caught up in the politics of the times. All this tiny creature asked was to be fed and kept warm and to be loved. Noin gently caressed the pale cheek, admiring the chubby baby lines of the perfect little face. A mini version of his father. Would he grow to be as magnificent? Of course, he would, she thought. In time his chubby baby face would become leaner, acquiring the high cheek bones of the Peacecraft line. His eyes would become a clear, crystal blue. The same crystal blue that could set her heart racing with love, sorrow and the most fascinating thoughts of lust running through her mind. How this son of hers would grow was up for debate, though. He was only fifty seven days old. Less than two months in this world and already a pawn for politics for those who lived on another world. A key. A tool to be used in certain hands.

Not even being born to another world was enough to keep him safe.

//I want them to be safe. I want them to grow up free of manipulation. Free of vultures out for all they can get. God. I went through enough politics when I was in Oz, then helping Relena against Romefeller. I swear politics is bloodier than a war. The only difference is most of the time you just don't see the blood that is shed openly. It's stabbing in the back, fighting behind closed doors, deals done in quiet, out of the way places. The ESUN wants control of my children and I am damned if they will have that. I want them safe. Safe from manipulation.//

Heirs to an ancient monarchy. They had blood claim to the throne of Sanc, which thanks to Relena's efforts recently was largely considered the shining example of the peaceful world that was the ideal. She had restored Sanc and given it back to the people and she shone as the public representative of the ESUN. So much did she succeed that she frightened the survivors of the Alliance and Romefeller political circles. Because of her success the children of her brother were considered invaluable as leverage to control her.

//Tools. Tools to allow die hard politicians to force others to their ideals. Their versions of peace. Always tools to be controlled and manipulated by those in power. That's what my children will become if they are taken to Earth. Tools. Tools to be nurtured, protected and trained to be obedient little slaves to others will. Reared to obey the directives of those in power.//

The ESUN was, she admitted to herself, a crushing disappointment. Once she had been almost as idealistic as Relena had been. She was guilty of seeing the ideal, and not the reality needed to attain or maintain that ideal. Still, everyone was guilty of that, not just her. Maintain. Yes, that was the key word. Achieving peace was one thing, but maintaining the Peace was the real key. Maintaining the peace that they had now. Some saw the need to maintain peace as needing to control it. No two people saw the same thing and as far as she could see there was a vast difference between maintenance and control.

This reality was far from what she had always thought of as peace. Peace did not see a family holed up at the edges of civilization, fighting to keep their children away from power hungry individuals out for all they could get.

//I want more for my children than to see them become the pawns of those in power. When I look at the assembly in Earth Gov I see that too many of them have hands more bloody than the hands of veteran soldiers. Too many of them have been in power too long and do not see the very real need to change the manner in which we run the Earth Sphere. To keep the power they have attained over the years, they would use my children.//

Some politicians, she corrected herself.

There were politicians out in the Sphere who genuinely did wish to maintain the peace. Some politicians did have scruples. Some few did have a genuine wish to improve on the peace for all in the Earth Sphere, not just for personal gain. If she had to be honest, and she admitted that she did need to be, it was only fair not to judge all the same, because they all wore the hated name. She had to say, if only to herself, that it was the older politicians of the day who were the ones who had the lust to control. Not all of them, no but a few very well placed in political circles. Romefeller had been run by such a breed and if she thought about it, many of the politicians on the council and in charge of Earth and the colonies were from Romefeller, or influenced by Romefeller. There were many from the Alliance assembly who were the mirror image of the Romefeller, and just as guilty of lining their own pockets and giving advantage to those in their influence.

The old school tie syndrome. To be fair she could not place Romefeller as the be all and end all of the troubles that plagued her family now, but they surely featured strongly in this mess.

"I want you to be free, Lucian." Gently she stroked the downy white curls, kissed the tiny nose. "I want you to be free of control by anyone. I want you to grow up to be your own person, not the person someone decided you should be. I want you to have the chance to be happy and to have your own ideals reflected in everything you say and do. I want you and your sister to follow your own path of destiny."

"Even if that freedom is not the SAFE you said you wanted, Lu?"

She turned. The door swung shut behind him, sealing them in the single bed ward where she had brought her children to await word on Jenny Santos' condition. He looked magnificent. So tall and so very handsome. Men were not supposed to be beautiful, so she called him handsome, but that word just did not do him justice.

Before she could say something to him she noticed the long sweeping strands of silver-white silk did not lay over his shoulders, framing that too beautiful face and softening its sharp lines. A knot of dread clawed at her middle as she took in the tan work clothes, with the utility belt similar to those worn by the maintenance techs. It was not the tool belt that disturbed her, though it looked to be different from the one he usually wore when drafted to work on the mobile suits systems. What caused her to tense was that he had tied his hair back. He meant business if he tied his hair back into that high sweeping pony tail. Strands of pale silk escaped to fall engagingly over his cheeks and ears, but there was a cold gleam in blue eyes that clenched her gut.

The only time he ever tied back his hair was if there was trouble that had to be dealt with physically. Not even when piloting the mobile suits did he tie his hair back. In their academy days for all their field assignments he tied his hair back as a matter of course. When he did so and she was on the opposing team, she knew to be wary of him. When he did so and she was on his team she had learned to be sorry for the opposition. On field assignments during their days in Oz she had learned just how he changed when he felt the need to resort to business of a physical nature. She wondered if the significance of the symbol he presented to them would be lost on the ESUN agents now seeking them in the dome.

His words came back to her as she drank in the sight of him. Freedom and safety. There was a definite difference between safe and free.

She had said to him that she wanted the children to be safe. Safe from the ESUN security forces. Safe from the manipulation of others. Safe. His pale blue eyes were on her, intent, expectant. There was a tension in him she had rarely seen before, if at all. There was an air of expectancy about him, as though he knew something she did not and he waited for it to overtake them. As though he was waiting for her to decide the fate of the world.

"What do you want me to say? I want my children to be safe." She hesitated, staring into the crystal blue depths that seemed an ice cold, very deep pond of water and she sighed. "But I also want them to be free."

"Sometimes, no matter how much we want it, we can not have everything that we want." Softly.

He made no move toward her or the children, just stood in the doorway, waiting. Watching her. His blue eyes so vivid and unblinking. His body tense, a drawn bow ready to be released and send the arrow flying to its fate. Waiting.

"You know what will happen, don't you?" Accusation could not be kept out of her voice.

"No." Softly.

"Damn it, Zechs. Don't lie to me. You know what will happen. You knew they were coming to Mars. You knew they were coming to get the twins before they even left the Alpha Dome. You knew they were in the base dome and you knew how they were getting in. You knew I would kill those men!"

He shuddered. Visibly shuddered at her words and she saw the hurt in the blue eyes, there, then gone. So quickly. Then he was watching her again, waiting. Not impassive, no. He was not divorcing himself from this, he was in fact very much involved in it, but he refused to give her what she wanted. He knew what she wanted to know. She knew he knew. Why would he not tell her? Why would he not give her the explanation she needed?

//Not fair, Lucrezia. That is not fair to him, because he did tell you. He tried to tell you. For months he tried to tell you and you... God. I'm blaming him and it was me. I killed those men. I killed them, not him. I hit out without thinking, only feeling, only reacting and because of that two men are dead and Jenny is in the operating theatre. I have to be honest with myself. He did tell me. Why won't he tell me more?//

"Zechs. I'm... I'm sorry. I'm just... I can't think just now. Jenny... Jenny may be dying and... it was my fault it happened. I know that. It wasn't your fault. You warned me. You said it would happen, but I didn't listen. I didn't understand. Not until it was too late."

Blue eyes lidded for a moment, hiding the pain and intensity of his soul from her. He made no other acknowledgement that he had heard her apology. He still remained silent and in the depths of that silence Lucrezia felt like screaming.

"Why? Why won't you talk to me?"

"I do not know what will happen, Lucrezia." Again he denied her demand that he tell her.

"Damn you, Zechs!" She spat at him. "You do know! You knew I would kill those men. You knew it. You told me. Don't you dare stand there and deny it."

0000000000000000000000000000000

Zechs

//This may be the last time that I see her like this. The last time that I see the fire in her eyes as a reflection of the fire in her soul. She is beautiful. An apt name for her, Preventer Fire. Why, Lu? You have made no effort to understand the differences that are so obvious to me. You ignored how much I had changed after the Libra. Before the Libra too. You have not listened to me since coming to Mars. You stand there and accuse me of lying to you and I can feel the fear in you. I have not lied, Lu. I have never lied to you.//

"Noin, I don't know what will happen. I can not tell you what I do not know. I do not know what will happen today. I do not know what will happen in five minutes from now or in three hours from now. I can't tell you what you want to know."

"Why not? You knew I would kill them. You don't deny that, do you? You knew that Jenny would be... Why deny it?"

Soon. It was coming. He could feel the building pressure of event. It was all up to Lucrezia Noin. She must cast the stone in the pond of destiny and create the next wave of ripples that affected so many. She had begun this years ago and now it was time for her to give the direction that only she could give. She must complete what she began; no one else could make her choices.

"We all make our own future, Lu. Sometimes our choices affect entire nations. Worlds even. I can't tell you what to do. Some things only you can decide."

"You told me I would kill those men!" She screamed at him, her frustration exploding into rage.

Lucian wailed, tiny fists flailing in the air, shrill baby wail in protest to the tension in the room. Protesting the loud, angry voice so close to him. Protesting the tension that warped the mother scent he knew her by. Startled Lucrezia rocked him, tears gathering in her eyes.

It was all wrong. Nightmare. It had become a nightmare. She had been a soldier and she had killed before. Not just in mobile suits, but hand to hand in very dirty combat where to fail was to die in a dozen horrible ways. Why was this so different? Was it because her children were in the equation now? Her children were defenseless. If she did not defend them, who would? If she did not act others would have control of her family and she simply would not allow it.

"No, Lucrezia Noin, I did not tell you that you would kill those men."

He moved from the door, blue eyes intense, and gathered his daughter up from the bed as she began to cry, reacting to the shouting and the fearful cries of her brother. He kissed the tiny cheek, whispering softly to her before he again looked at Noin.

"I did not tell you that you would kill those men. What I said was that there was the possibility that you would kill those people if you went down A3. There were and are multiple possibilities. Everyone has free will, Lu. Everyone. I can not control their actions by any means available to me, nor can they control my actions or your actions. Just as they can not control our choices, we can not control theirs. It is called Free Will, Lu, and if you do not have it you are a sorry creature indeed. If you had not walked down that hallway at that exact moment in time, they would still be alive. Just as if you had not reacted instinctively, without thought, they would be alive now and you would be restrained, their prisoner and the twins in ESUN custody. And Jenny Santos would not be facing life in a wheel chair."

Colour drained from her face as she thought over his words. Did he mean... Pale, she stared at him. "Possibilities?"

"Yes. Possibilities. Possible futures. Possible events. Possible actions. I never see exactly what will happen around me. There are too many people who influence events. Too many people are involved in this, Lu. There are too many players for one person to control the situation."

"Libra. The war."

She would have to bring up the greatest source of his pain. The nightmare he had chosen to live so that peace could come. Free Will. It had been his choice to live with the consequences and he did not fight it. He would live with the results of his actions until the day he was finally graced with death.

"The outcome was not determined just by one or two people. It was shaped by the interaction of many people who sought for the same thing, though they misunderstood each other. It took many people to shape the War, and to make something good come out of it. Many people. They only needed the right conditions." A whisper. He met her gaze, voice strengthening "Lu, that was then. This is now. This is the future of our children. What do you want me to do? What would you have me do?"

"You just said you can not know what will happen!" She ground out through clenched teeth.

"I don't know what will happen, Noin. What I do know is what MIGHT happen if you say you wish me to do one thing. I know what might happen if you say you wish me to do another thing. What will happen will be determined by decisions made by people, not by looking into a crystal ball and picking a future as you would pick a blouse to wear for an evening out. What I do know is that if you do not decide soon then it will not be you who decides the fate of our children at all. Not you and not I."

00000000000000000000000000000

Noin

//Bastard!// She watched him, rocking the baby gently, soothing her daughter with touch, eyes never leaving hers. //You know what will happen. God. I don't... I don't understand this. He can't know the future. No one can, but... I don't understand what is going on. I don't know what I should do!//

"I am trying very hard to understand, Zechs. I am trying to understand how you knew about corridor A3. If Jenny dies, I don't..."

"All I can tell you, is that to the best of my knowledge, Jenny will live, confined to a wheel chair."

Cold chill silence as she hissed in frustration. "There, you see? You know that Jenny will survive, but be in a wheel chair. How do you know that? How do you know these things? How did you know the incident in the hallway would happen?"

"Might have happened, or not." A whisper.

She hissed, furious with him. He was not telling her what she wanted to know. "HOW DO YOU KNOW!"

"Give Lucian to me. Until you calm down."

The baby was wailing in her arms and she realized she was holding him too tight, her arms squeezing him to her breast and that he was screaming in discomfort, if not outright pain. Forcing herself to relax she found herself giving in to the calm blue eyes and accepting that Zechs took her child into his own arms, cradling both twins to his chest. The door to the adjoining room was wrenched opened and she glared at the intruder with blood in her eyes, until the nurse, Sharnice Mathan, winced and retreated, closing the door behind her.

"How do you know, Zechs?" Forcing calm. She must be in control. Her arm throbbed, the wound only minor and dressed by the medical staff. It served to remind her of what had happened when she had lost control and acted without conscious thought. Two men dead. Jenny perhaps crippled. Because she had not thought out her actions.

"How do you know what MIGHT bloody happen?"

"I don't know. It was something Epyon did, I think. From the first time that I used it, things became different. I saw the world in a new, different way. I can't make your choices for you, Lucrezia. If I have learned nothing else since this all began, it is that I can not make anyone else's decisions for them. It is for you to decide. You must be aware that while you are making up your mind, others are changing circumstances to suit themselves and the decisions that they have made. That influences the repercussions of the decisions that you make. As near as I can determine, it is you who are the major instigator of change at this time. You have featured strongly in all of the options that I have seen. You should also be aware that I have not seen as clearly or as thoroughly the options to result from decisions possibly to be made, as I did when I used Epyon."

"Epyon" She breathed. "That bloody thing. That monster. Zechs, this is not possible. It can't be possible for you to know what will happen... alright, what might happen."

"Time is running out." A whisper, intense yet gentle. He rubbed his cheek over Lucian's, touching his lips to the child's cheek as he sobbed, though the baby began to calm now that he was in the gentler, more tender hold. "They are hunting us. They are hunting you and me and the twins. Whether it is possible or not, it simply is. It's not something that I enjoy, or even want. I am what I am, Lu. I can't block it. I can't control it. I have no say in it. I just am."

For a time she stared at him, while their children's wails quieted to sobs and she considered what he had told her. So unbelievable and he expected her to take this seriously? What if he was right? What if he really did see the possibilities stretched out before him?

Taking a step closer to him she lightly touched her palm to his cheek, caressing the smooth skin, marveling that even at twenty one years of age, approaching his twenty second year, he did not need to shave. He was unique, she mused. Very different.

"I love you." A whisper. "I know... I know that you don't love me and that's alright. If I had tried harder, you could have. We have two lovely children and if I have my way I want more. I want a dozen Lucian's and Katerina's running around my legs. I want to win you, Zechs Marquise. I want you to be mine." Silken strands of pale hair were twined in her fingers. "I want you, heart, body and soul to belong to me and me alone. I want us to be together. A family. I want us to be safe and at peace and I want us to be free of the ESUN. What choices do I have to make for that to happen? Tell me."

The twins were locked in his arms, the bed against his hip, Lucrezia pressed hard to his side. He could not move, either away from her or toward her. Trapped he could only stare into her deep blue violet eyes and read the intensity and truth of her desires in these mirrors of her soul. He dropped his lashes, hiding blue eyes from her, ducking his head to hide behind long pale bangs.

"I can't, Lu." A whisper.

"Can't or won't?" Equally as soft. She had expected it.

"I don't know what you want to know."

A sigh, heart felt. He did not know. Lying? Was he lying to her? Did he avoid telling her the truth because he did not want what she wanted? Did he lie because he was tired of her presence in his life? She had not won him to her suit. She had tried, but not won him. Not yet, at least. Not yet.

In the future, then. She would win him in the future, after this idiocy had been dealt with. She would have her man and her children together, as she had long dreamt. She would have her dream as she had longed for it for so long and if it was not to be, then she could at least pray that her children would be safe from danger and loved. He needed to be loved. The need was there, in him, hurting him, and he would not let it loose. Likely he did not even realize what it was he longed for. She had tried so hard to force him to let it out and kindle for her. She had tried. She would have her dream and the ESUN be damned!

"I want to live with you until I am old and gray. I want to love you and show you what it is like to be loved. I want to consume you with the fire of lust and bring you back to earth sated, content. Knowing you belong to me. I want to understand you. I want children running around our feet. I want to be free of the ESUN. I want us to be free of their prisons and their manipulation. I want us to be free, Zechs. I want you and I to be free to come and go as we please and I want you to love me, as I love you. I know that's not up to me. I know that I can't force you to love me the way I live for you too. I know I can't make you love me, but I know that I want to try. I want you to be free to love, if not me, then someone who loves you just as much as I do. I want our children to live free and grow up to find the kind of love I want with you." She drew a ragged breath. That was not what she wanted to say, but it was true. If not her, then someone out there had to love him with all the fire and passion he could not accept from her. "I want us to be free. I will die, to see that my children are free, if I must. Have no doubt of that Zechs Merquise, Milliardo Peacecraft. I will die to see that our children are free and that you are free of their control. I will be happy to die, if it means that the ones I love are free. If you can't love me, then I would have you free to love another, but above all, I want our children to be free."

00000000000000000000000000000000

Zechs

How could he tell her she had just written her own destiny? How could he tell her the destiny of their children now stretched before him, into that darkness he could not penetrate? He was blind within that darkness. He felt the stir of change, the wave of alteration swirl around him, teasing his senses and telling him nothing to help or hinder at this time. Her determination to see what she wished in life for her children would not be denied. Yes, he had been right. She was the crux. The focus. He had felt this same swirl of forces before, when he had made the choice to take Heero's place. He had felt it then, the aligning of forces he could not begin to comprehend.

It was not to be as she wished. The darkness was out there. Waiting to plunge him into an unknown future. Other players, bit players in the cosmic scheme of things now bowed out and others known and as yet unknown to him, now stepped forward, into the breach that was left. Darkness blocking vision, hiding faces and events and yet... and yet just barely noticeable in that darkness was a feeling of warmth.

He did not understand it. It was too soon for him to make any sense of this change she had wrought. He was too inexperienced to know what he sensed. Just barely he caught a glimpse of movement and shape in the darkness. A lithe human form, perhaps? A new crux point birthed from the decision of this beautiful woman who looked at him with such fire in her eyes? Yet into the darkness he saw his twins step, forming and changing and growing up as they moved only to be lost in the darkness. He had to see that he managed events as best he could to ensure the twins survived and were free of ESUN control. Free to come and go as they pleased and shape their own destinies. As his dear, stubborn Lucrezia wished it to be.

She had chosen. Crux point passing. At a quick estimate, a lightning fast review of the options available he was pleased to determine that there were less ways for her to die. Fifteen? Yes, there were now only fifteen options for her death to eventuate and still three results. If he had still had access to Epyon he could have made more sense of the choices, but she had chosen. Instead of wishing for the twins to be safe, she had chosen to wish for their freedom. Not that wishing featured in this process called life. Wishes had no power. The only power in this life was the power of the human, the power of blood, sweat and tears.

"I do love you." His hands were occupied with the twins, so he could not reach out to touch her, but he could talk to her. He could tell her what he could to salve her hurt. To try to make her understand his feelings.

"I know." She touched her lips lightly to his in a tender kiss, bending to kiss the children before looking up to meet his eyes. "I know you love me, just not the exact way I would have it be. You have said we make our own fate. Our own destiny. Well, so be it. I make mine, now. I love you Zechs Merquise. I always have, from the day I first saw you. I always will. To the hour of my death and beyond, I love you. Take care of our children and keep them free. Keep them beyond the control of the ESUN."

"No. Lucrezia, no!" His arms were full of babies. He could not reach out to her with anything other than his words. "They don't need you as a soldier, Lu. They need a mother."

She stopped at the door back stiffening against the appeal in his voice and glanced back. "Yes. Lucrezia, yes. My choice, Zechs. My choice to live or die. I choose to leave it up to God, whether he will forgive me the lives I have taken in the past, or any I might take in the future. I failed at Lake Victoria, to protect my students. It's time I paid to the children of tomorrow and the children of today, what I failed to do for the children of the past. I am going to fight the bastards who would destroy us. Get my children out of here."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	35. Chapter 35

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 35

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 15:13 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

"Sharnice! Sharnice, get in here!"

Too long. It was taking the woman too long to answer him. It amazed him that a grown woman could be such a coward as to run at just a look from Lucrezia. Well, maybe not a coward, he reflected, more a woman who was aware of her survival instinct and willing to listen to it. He did admit Lucrezia had looked ready to kill when Sharnice had come to investigate all the noise.

Noin was well known amid the Terra Formers to have a volatile temper and be willing to display it when she warranted the situation deserved it. It was the Italian in her. Usually when she felt he did not pay her the attention he should, and that was usually when the visions distracted him. Few enjoyed the experience of having her ire turned on them. Few in the base would interfere in a domestic dispute either, preferring to keep out of the way until things cooled down, hence Sharnice's rather hasty departure.

Her judicious retreat however, did not help him at all and he needed her to care for the twins. He had to go after Noin before she could kill herself by doing something stupid. Why would she not understand what he was trying to explain? Even now, after he had tried so hard to make the explanation plausible and easy, she did not seem to understand what he had told her. Was he explaining this matter the wrong way?

How else was he to explain it? What were the right words that he just could not seem to find to say to her? God, he could not even explain it to himself properly, not in words at least. Words were so limited. He just did not have the vocabulary to help her to understand that he could not tell her what she wanted him to. He could not lie. He could not lie to her.

He honestly did not know how events would turn out in the dome. He only had an idea of what might happen, despite her making the decision that she had. He had learned early on that other people's influence on events could cause more than just small changes. Quite often it was the small, seemingly insignificant things that made the greatest difference. Changes he might not be able to compensate for. Changes that might even help what he pursued in the outline she had given him.

Even Lucrezia herself affected her own intentions. Taking off the way she had affected what he glimpsed of the future options. He needed to try again. The shaping was there, though. The shaping for the future was in place, he could see the general form, but not the finished result. It was, in all probability, too late for him to make a difference where Noin was concerned, but he would not again be able to look at the twins without feeling crushing guilt if he did not again try to save their mother. She made it so hard, at times, to shape the future around her. To help her. To give her what she most wanted.

Did he want to give her what she said she wanted?

//Ah, God. Noin. I'm not good for you. I'm not good for anyone to love. You deserve so much more than I can ever be. You should be on Earth, working with Preventers, finding someone who can love you the way you should be loved. You should not be stuck in the middle of this mess.//

It did not help at all that this mess had been entirely of her making. Had she not followed him to Mars, there would have been none of this.

Might it have been worse? No. Likely it would have been much better, for her at least, but he had not had control of her decisions.

"Sharnice!"

Both twins were screaming in his arms, reacting to the shouting, to the tension in the air. He could so strangle that woman. Both women. One going off in righteous anger to get herself killed in one of fifteen bloody ways, and the other for running from Noin's dirty look when he needed her here. The nurse was not one of the five he had tagged as ESUN agents and he had felt no warnings or experienced any feelings of foreboding involved in her appearances in his visions, so he felt he could trust her with the children. He really had no choice at this point in time other than to trust someone. He could not watch the children and influence events in the direction best suited to the better options he had gleaned. He needed help, and Sharnice was it. If he could ever attract her attention.

"Zechs? You and Noin done now?" Her blonde head peeked around the door, hesitant, looking only too ready to bolt should Noin be present and looking ready to kill.

Calm. He had to remain calm. It was no use if he panicked, that would serve no purpose. No panicking or he would prove to be just as bad as Noin was at this point in time. Gleaning the options spread before him he knew she had gone to one of three places. Was she really out to kill herself? Did she honestly think that she could take on everyone, ESUN agents and the Sleepers hidden in the dome and win? She was just not thinking, he was certain, only feeling and that would serve only to get her killed and people hurt.

He was uncertain which of the three options was the most likely, but thankfully they were close together in location at least, and he could try each, starting from the closest to the medical centre. As he neared each of the possibilities he might be lucky enough to get some clarity in the fog of choices he peered into. Options. So many possibilities.

"Take the twins. Please, Sharn. Don't let anyone near them. There are ESUN agents amongst us, not just those who came on the shuttle today. Just you, Sharn. Please. Lucian is due for a feed and Katerina may need a feed to settle her down. I'm sorry. I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but I have to go after Noin."

She was one of seven nurses at the base and though childcare was not the major field in her training, she was competent in the care of the unexpected additions to the community. The appeal in the ice blue eyes clenched her heart and she gently relieved him of his squirming, sobbing burden. She held both to her, still staring into his eyes, seeing plainly the gratitude and the fear before he turned from her and ran for the door.

"Zechs! What do you want..."

"I'll be back for them! Just keep them quiet so the ESUN agents can't find them. I have to go. I have to find Noin."

The door swung closed behind him and she sighed, staring at the door, then at the children wailing as only the very young could do.

"I don't understand her. I really don't understand your mother, kids. She's got a man like that and she runs off to play soldier, instead of staying here, protecting you."

She had not known what to expect when the base personal had been informed that the infamous Milliardo Peacecraft was coming to Mars. The Terror of Earth. The Commander of the White Fang. She had been born on L2 and been one of the fortunate ones to have earned a place in an exchange studies program that had seen her leave L2 for Earth and train to become a Nurse.

It had taken her years to complete her studies and earn her qualifications, but she had succeeded and even felt brave enough to try the offered posting to the Terra Forming operations on Mars. She had followed the One Year War from the remote distance of Mars and thought that the whole thing was distant, remote, divorced from her reality. Distance put a new light on such matters.

When he had arrived on Mars and stepped off that shuttle the first thing that went through her mind was that the vid pictures they had monitored did not do the man justice. No male should look that good. He made half the women look plain. The second thought was that he was clearly property of Lucrezia Noin. That woman had made it perfectly clear from the start, glaring down any female who dared to look at him with anything remotely resembling interest. She was like a predator standing over a trembling newly snared rabbit who knew it was one bite away from its fate.

The snared rabbit had put up a quiet, dignified opposition to her intentions, quietly resisting her every advance, though he had not accepted any attention from any other woman either. Or any of the men. They had a gay community at the base and the luscious blonde had drawn their attention quickly enough. Neither male nor female had had any success at drawing his interest and then, one day, Noin had appeared with that overly smug smirk of success from his quarters, making it plain that she had spent the night there. She had moved in the very same day.

A nice enough woman, Sharnice reflected as she carried the twins to the bed, settling them there while she dealt with the necessary task of making formulas and preparing breech clouts. A nice enough woman in herself, but she definitely had issues where it came to possession of the blonde. Overly possessive and she tended to treat him like an errant child. Was this quiet unassuming man really the Terror of Earth? Surely such a man as they reported Milliardo Peacefcraft to be would not take it quietly, the pursuit of his heart, body and soul? Noin sometimes seemed a little overboard if she caught you talking to him.

//'My possession' should have been written on a huge sign and hung around his neck// She reflected. //I honestly don't know how he has put up with it so long. Maybe he is insane. If it had been me I'd have taken a piece out of her for the way she treats him long before now. Wish he would run after me the way he just ran after her.//

"There, now little ones. Just give Shanice a chance now. A good feed, a clean backside and a nice cuddle. That's what we will do, hmm?"

That would settle the babies until their father or mother returned. It came as something of a shock when the latch on the door clicked and she spun as the door behind her opened.

00000000000000000000000000000000

Noin

//He would not tell me what I wanted to know. Why? Stubborn fool. I'll not allow them to dictate to me. My children are not their toys. I am not their toy. Zechs is not their ticket to more power. They'll learn that the hard way, if they so wish. Damn him. Why? Why won't he tell me?//

Where to first? Where should she go to begin her campaign to take down the bastards who insisted on disrupting her dreams? She had no idea where the agents were. Either those from the shuttle, or the Sleeper agents in the domes. Well, that was not exactly true. There was one person who should be in a certain place at this particular time. One whom she had been assured was an agent for the Earth bound politicians who dared to interrupt the life she had chosen.

Yes. Her so called best friend. Shanna McIntyre had some explaining to do. It would be good to get that explanation out of her, too. Satisfying, even. It was even likely that she would know where the other Sleeper agents were and their identities, perhaps even the location of the agents from the shuttle. She knew exactly where Shanna should be at this time. The back up control room had been used to open the air vent into the base and it was not likely that she would still be there. All personnel had been alerted to the intrusion and had been instructed to take emergency procedures. That should place Shanna in the main control room.

//Likely Zechs will be on my tail as soon as he can get the twins settled. He's resourceful enough to have managed to take care of that by now, so I had best move my butt. I don't want him involved in this. It's my fight. It's my family. My children. My man. God. He will be mine. I'll not let it be any other way.//

Fine noble sentiments, she reflected, wincing at the recent altercation between them and her private thoughts.

//If I can't have him I want someone else to love him. Yeah. Right.//The last thing in the world she wanted was for him to be in the arms of anyone other than herself. //Be honest with yourself, Lucrezia. Just be honest. You're out for these bastards because they have forced the issue you were trying desperately to avoid. You were getting too comfortable with your life, girl. Too settled. You had him in your life and in your bed, right where you wanted him, and you were selfish enough to not care if he really wanted you there. With these bastards now here things will not settle down. Whether they're here or not it will never be the same again. Things have changed. //

Her hands closed around the weapon, sliding it neatly into the back of her belt. The second automatic pistol went into the front of her belt. She stared at the small pile of items scattered over the table, the items removed from the men she had killed. She was only interested in the guns for now. Not enough time to search the bodies lying on the tables to one side of the room. Turning she moved out of the make shift morgue and headed off down the hallway. Time to hunt.

//I stopped trying to win him. I had him right where I wanted him. I had the chance to win him and I slacked off. I took it for granted that he had settled to the way things were, content to have me there and my hands on him. Maybe he had. Maybe he had, but now it's all changed. I resent them for that. In fact, I hate them for that. It's happened before, this disruption to what has become a very settled, contented existence. Chang took away my life at the Lake Victoria Academy. He entered the picture and he killed my students. He killed more than my students that day. He killed my ideology, my way of life. I was so bloody naive. It's no different now. Not really. The irony is that I ended up working with Chang, though I can't say he was ever exactly pleasant company. At least as Preventers the issue of us working together never came up. I honestly don't know if I could have worked with him for any length of time. I never did forgive him for Lake Victoria. Not really. Learn to get past it, yes, I did learn to get past it, but forgive, no. No, not honestly. Nor can I ever forget. They were my children. Mine. I was teaching them how to stay alive in a fight and he came along and killed them in their sleep. Where is the honor or justice in that? Now it's all come back. No one will have my children.//

Rambling. Shock, a small voice whispered in her ear. She was in shock. She did not want to face the fact that they had come to take her babies. She did not want to face the fact that without an instant's hesitation she had killed two men. She certainly did not want to face the fact that as a result of her actions Jenny Santos was in danger of dying. A wheel chair, Zechs had said. Offering her hope that she had not killed her friend. Maybe, maybe not. The fact remained that she was the one who had instigated the damage. She was the one who had hit out, reacting, not thinking, a thing she had slapped her cadets for doing. The soldier in her was as strong as ever. Stronger, perhaps for the very fact that she had ignored it for so long. Only a thin veneer had covered the soldier. So thin.

She peered cautiously around the corner, checking that no one was there to see her. Clear. With a cautious eye to the ceiling vent near her she jogged quickly to the end of the adjacent hallway and peered around the corner. Zechs would not take long to deal with the problem the twins presented him with and she had to hurry before he pursued her.

The communal lounge was empty, as it should be in an alert situation and she heard no movement, and so hastened to the far side, peering around the wall to check the hallway beyond. Clear. The elevators looked to be within easy reach and to have no guards or traps in evidence. That was good, she thought, because she was uncertain if she would have restrained herself had she met any of the agents running loose in the base.

That thought sobered her. One moment of unthinking retaliation had already resulted in the present situation. Jenny was in the operating theatre. Would likely be so for hours yet to come. She did not want to make that mistake again. None of the innocents in this should be involved. Restraint had to be exercised. It was her responsibility to exercise control. She had to have control. She had full intentions of whopping ass and then getting back to family life. If she massacred her friends in the process what chance would any of them have for simply resuming their lives?

It was glaringly obvious that they could not remain on Mars. The ESUN had shown that even Mars was not safe for Zechs Merquise. Milliardo Peacecraft had died when the Libra was destroyed and the press had joyfully proclaimed that the Terror of Earth was dead and no longer a threat. It still rankled that the politicians and media had lauded Heero Yuy with the salvation of the Earth. No one had ever mentioned in public that it was Zechs who blew the core. Milliardo had died the villain.

Before that Zechs Merquise had died after that business in Antarctica. Oz had lauded the Lightning Count a hero who died fighting a battle with Alliance suits. Treize had not defended him. Romefeller wanted him gone, out of their hair, finding him too much of a handful to control. Kushrenada had not seen fit to defend him, giving him up to Romefeller's machinations, using him to further his own aims.

Where was there left for them to go? Who was there left for Zechs to be? He would always be Zechs to her. Always. He had never been Prince Milliardo Peacecraf to her mind, after the first half hour of little girl dreams when she had learned his true identity.

Princes did not get down on their bellies and crawl in the mud in the middle of a rain drenched African rainforest. Princes did not wear combat fatigues, or have brambles and debris tangled in tightly restrained, filthy hair. Princes did not silently pull leeches off them in tight lipped silence and eat field rations cold because there was no way to heat them. Princes did not go for days on end crawling in the most appalling conditions to track down terrorist factions who had slaughtered an isolated community in the middle of the African jungle. No one else had wanted to know about the small villages being victimized by the terrorists. Princes did not do that sort of thing.

Zechs Merquise did.

He had blown the core of the Libra on that day and Yuy had known that. She had heard him tell them all about it when he had come to MO II after it was all over. Noin knew it. Relena had heard it and despite being told her brother had sacrificed his life to stop the Libra, she had decried him and disowned him. Lady Une had heard it. There had been others who had heard it too. The other Gundam Pilots, Duo Maxwell and Trowa Barton had been present, though not for long. They had gone to check on Quatre. The people in the control room had heard it, including a delegation from the Romefeller council who had followed Treise into space. Even a reporter or two had heard it. Why had they hidden his sacrifice? Why had none of them protested that his sacrifice went unacknowledged?

Politics.

In the end, it always came down to politics.

None of them had even suggested that they reveal to the Earth Sphere that Zechs was alive after the Barton Incursion. None of them had wanted anything else but to remove him from Earth as swiftly as possible. If not that, then arrest him and remove him from the picture before anyone else realized he was alive. He had not even been given a thank you for holding the invasion until the Gundams had arrived. Politicians left a sour taste in her mouth.

She was guilty too. She had wanted him off Earth as quickly as possible. Not for their reasons, of course. It had been her ideal chance to claim his attention and begin in earnest her courtship of him. She had taken it as her opportunity to make him see that it was time he settled with her, regardless of whether he loved her or not. He would learn to love her in time. She had been just as bad as Relena stalking Yuy. No, worse. Relena had had the excuse of being fifteen years old. She had no such excuse.

//This is not getting you where you need to be. This is not an improvement on your current situation. Face it, shall we? The world just ain't a fair place, Lucrezia Noin. Get over it.//

00000000000000000000000000000000

Time: 15:20 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

The dining hall was empty, shockingly so when he reflected that there was usually someone there having coffee or tea and a chat. Even in the small hours of the Martian night, when sleep had been impossible and he could ease out of Noin's embrace without waking her and wander the base, he had never found the dining hall totally empty before. The lights were switched down to a dim glow to conserve power in this emergency state, and it lent the silent hall an eerie quality.

Option one down. No Lucrezia. How far ahead of him was she? Had she headed straight out on her crusade to clean up the ESUN personnel without thinking things through? Had she found weapons or gone out bare handed? He would not even put that idiocy past her at this point in time. Cursing Zechs considered.

The worst possible option he could think of, and had seen as a possible option for her to pursue, was for her to go after Shanna McIntyre. Therefore, he could see her doing it. Damn. Of course she would think of Shanna. Her actions would be considered a personal betrayal by Noin, and she would not likely soon forget the insult. She had probably forgotten the other options he had given her hours ago.

McIntyre should be in the Main Control room at this time, in this emergency situation. If she wished to keep her affiliations with ESUN security a secret, then she would go to her assigned emergency station. Noin would head for there.

He froze, head snapping up in reaction. It had been a subtle noise, but he was so keyed he could not have missed it. With a soft hiss he slipped into the deeper shadows and ghosted his way toward the kitchen door. He had passed through the kitchen on his way to the dining room not two minutes ago and he knew the room had been empty. No one was assigned kitchen duty when the base was on full alert. No one.

He gasped, choking off the gasp as for an instant the world around him wavered. Possibilities crowded him, pushing for his attention, dragging at him to enter the well of options now forming. He struggled to maintain control. He could not afford to go down under the weight of possibilities now. He had to maintain his focus. What was happening elsewhere to bring about this surge in options that was strong enough to threaten to send him to the floor in a whimpering heap?

He had to find Noin, but he could not leave his back exposed. That was just asking for trouble. Nor did he have the time or safety just now he needed so that he could deal with the threat of more possibilities. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted Noin to survive, he had to suppress the options trying to crowd his perceptions. One thing at a time and hope he did not make a fatal error.

He crept to the kitchen door. In the interests of moving silently he had left it ajar, carefully balanced so as not to snap shut noisily when he had entered the dining room. Glancing around he suppressed a grin and picked up one of Trent Hastings highly polished silver trays from its place near the door, crouching as he nudged the door, angling the tray to catch a reflection of the kitchen through the door. He was just in time to see the second woman drop from the overhead vent onto the food preparation table. She reached up to push the vent hatch back up and slipped off the table.

"Map says Medical is just around the corner. Next hallway to the right." A soft whisper.

He scowled, silently cursing as he considered the situation. He now had a fair idea what that crowding of options might have entailed. He was unwilling to invite it back to check, as it would deplete his resources so he could not react to this threat. If they investigated the medical centre they would, without doubt, find the twins and Sharnice Mathan would not stand a chance of stopping them. The ESUN would gain the children and use them to draw Noin and himself to them. Noin would kill him for allowing the agents to get the children.

"It's likely this place has a room they have converted for use as a morgue. The reports said that some twenty people had died getting this place set up. We may find the bodies there. Simpson wants it confirmed that they are dead."

"So much for the macho studs." A snort of disgust. "Think it's true that Noin took them out?"

"Likely so. We check medical for their bodies first and we restrain anyone we find there. The less people wandering around here the better. God. What an incredible screw up this mission has been."

Ice blue eyes ran a quick inventory over the weapons he could see as they moved toward the far door. Automatic weapons, both using pistols he noted. Each also carried the experimental electro shock stunners secured to their belts. The presence of those weapons disturbed him, as they were not cleared for use to his knowledge. He shook his head in bemusement, both at the fact they had weapons whose side effects could be deadly, and that they wore combat fatigues. While the clothing would work well on Earth, the colours and design meant for Earth was not exactly the best camouflage for the Martian desert.

It was senseless anyway to wear desert combat gear considering they had had to come overland to gain entrance to the dome, and that meant they had to wear environment suits over the fatigues. Nor were they really well suited for the interior of the base. They would stand out like sore thumbs. It would have made more sense for them to wear Urban combat fatigues to allow them to better blend with the interior of the base.

Automatic pistols, shock weapons and at least two knives each. Bowie knives from the shape of the hilts and the sheaths. They walked with confidence if care and that told him they knew how to handle themselves. He had to decide what to do and he had to decide quickly.

They were going into the medical centre to chase either the children or a confirmation of their comrades in arms death, the latter being the one most likely. While checking on the deaths they would have to search the rooms, no one not a first class fool failed to check their backs, and that meant he was going to have to delay chasing Noin. He had no choice. If they checked the rooms they would find the twins.

They must not find the twins. He had to keep the babies out of their hands or all was lost. As much as it pained him to turn from trying one last time to make Noin understand, he had run out of time. He would have to trust in Noin. He would have to trust that she would come through this in one piece and they could then talk. He would do anything she wanted him to do if she would just not throw her life away.

It was not a certainty that she would die. There was hope.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	36. Chapter 36

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 36

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 15:22 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

Both women had ear pieces, he noted as they moved and that meant throat mikes. It was both bonus and bane, as it meant he could listen in on their radio communications if he could get their equipment, and bane if they managed to sound the alarm. Where the equipment from the two dead men had been placed he had had no time to inquire. His concern had been Noin and trying to make her see reason; to stay out of the action and to stay alive for their children. He had been in too much of a hurry to speak to Noin about anything other than that and to compound his errors he had not thought to relieve the two men he had incapacitated earlier of their equipment.

Noin insisted on rushing things. He had rushed to get to her, knowing she would act and he had succeeded in giving her the perfect opportunity to literally leave him holding the babies, while she rushed off to face her death. Stupid woman. Stupid him for not having devised a way of avoiding that option, which he had not foreseen, he admitted to himself.

He was sure he could control events along certain guidelines if she would just give him the chance to. Were they under his command, these people would be under orders to maintain radio silence at this time. He would have to go on the expertise that he had gained through his training in the Academy and later in Oz, and hope their commander was not a total idiot. Open airways would cause all kinds of trouble to a covert operation. Likely they had at least six secure channels and an operator monitoring all channels used by the Terra Forming Base.

He would find a use for those stun weapons, too. If the infiltration team carried those then they were not too worried about problems caused in the long term by the lethal side effects of the shocks. That could mean greater trouble yet to come, or they were confident that their superiors could cover up the use of the weapons at the base. So, the stun weapons if he could get them, and a radio, definitely. Automatic weapons were definitely not on his shopping list at the mall of opportunity these ladies offered him. Too noisy for his liking in such a situation where stealth would serve him better than brute force.

Nor was he going to get cocky. One slip and everything was ruined. He had to take them out quickly and quietly and efficiently. If he could incapacitate these two women then that would leave only two of the infiltrators who had come into the base from the Alpha dome, and the five at the base who were the ESUN's plants. He could not forget that there were likely other plants here who might become active if the opportunity presented itself.

No more mistakes. No more oversights. Too much depended on him getting his part right.

//Be smart, Lu. Be careful.//

Careful not to brush against anything stored on the table and trolley near his position, he backed away from the door, slipping between the tables and chairs to reach the door that led from the dining room to the communal lounge area. They were heading for the door leading from the kitchen to the hallway and he could not get ahead of them at this time. That was alright, though. He knew how he could do this. He was not untrained in the ways of unarmed combat and he was not entirely unarmed either. He had spares of the blow darts. He just had to get into position.

A quick check of the lounge through a carefully measured opening of the door and he slipped out, careful to open it only enough to allow him to slip through, and not allowing it to swing heavily back. Stealth was the key. He eased behind a potted plant, crouching into the deep gloom, and settled to wait. He did not think it would be long.

In the dim light he caught the surreptitious movement of one blonde head peeking around the far corner into the lounge area. He had no fear that he could be spotted from her position. The auxiliary lighting that normally illuminated the plant he hid behind, nominally to give a relaxing atmosphere, was not a problem. All non essential systems were off line until the emergency was declared over. This included mood lighting and offered him a nice dark corner to hide in. The lack of lighting nicely covered the work discoloured shirt and trousers he wore which far more effectively camouflaged him than the ESUN agents combat fatigues offered them. His usual work uniform was not so far off in colour from the uniform tan of the base walls.

The head vanished back around the corner and he counted slowly to ten. No return peek. He glanced at the door from which he had entered the lounge in time to see a head peer out into the lounge and held his breath. He was not so well hidden from that side of the room, but he detected no sign of alarm, no stiffening of the body or reflexive reach for weapons. After a moment the agent slipped out of the door and ghosted across the room after first peering around the wall and down the adjacent hallway leading deeper into the base. He waited as she crossed only a few meters away from him, trusting in his camouflage to keep him undetected, until she crossed the lounge to join her comrade around the corner, near the kitchen door. After a moment's contemplation of the circumstances of his current position, he ducked back into the dining hall and made his way to the kitchen door.

No sound from the kitchen and he dared to nudge the door a little. Nothing. No sounds of movement from within. Again taking the tray he eased open the door and positioned the reflective metal to better view the room. Empty. Satisfied he set aside the tray and entered the kitchen, moving across its length to listen at the other door. Nothing.

Debating for a moment on the options open to him, he turned back and made his way to the preparation table. Lightly he hoisted himself up onto its surface and pried the vent cover open. A quick, short jump and pull and he was in the vent, leaning out into the kitchen to catch the vent cover and snapped it carefully back into place. A careful crawl and three turns later he let himself out into the maintenance room where only a short while before he had taken out two of the infiltrating agents.

Quickly checking on those sleeping men he nodded in satisfaction at the signs of their condition and with a feral grin relieved one of his ear piece and throat mike and both of the shock guns.

"Much better. Hope your enjoying your dreams, boys. Believe me, you're a lot safer sleeping this one out."

Tucking one of the experimental weapons into the back of his belt and the other into the front he picked up one of the blow guns and moved to the door. One of the items he had left in the room before was a small dentist's mirror. He had been rattled before, too concerned with reaching Noin to mind what he had been doing. Too many mistakes.

Maybe that was what would get Noin killed. Maybe that was the main problem he had here. Himself making a mistake. Himself getting rattled and making stupid mistakes as he tried desperately to control events. He could not be everywhere and he could not do everything himself. No more. He had to calm himself down and establish control of his own reactions. Ride the adrenaline, yes, but keep a cool head. He had been taught in the school of hard knocks that to panic was to lose. So now, he would not make any more mistakes. He would have to trust Noin to her own abilities for just a little while longer. He moved to the door and kneeling down he eased open the door and slipped the dental mirror into the hallway.

Three doors down from the maintenance room the ladies were listening at a door, preparatory to entering. He knew that room was empty at this stage, but two doors down was the room, almost across from his current location, he had left his children with a nurse who had absolutely no chance of stopping these combat trained women. Whether Sharnice had taken them elsewhere he did not know, but he doubted it. She would surely not have had enough time to do little more than prepare a formula for them to drink. Regardless of whether or not they were in there he was not going to take the chance. He eased the door closed again and found his store of stashed equipment.

"Frazier, go." A male voice whispered.

Zechs froze. The voice whispered in his ear and he tensed, glancing at the bodies on the floor. A call check in? Or orders being given? The opposition might just learn that they had lost more men and there was nothing he could do about it. He did not know these men's names to fake a call in, nor could he even attempt to copy voices he had never really had the chance to learn. One had had a husky voice, not so unlike his own, he supposed, but the other had been more a tenor.

"Simpson, go." A deeper voice, also male.

A call check in. He silently cursed his bad luck. He had no idea what these men were called.

"Cambridge, go." Female response.

"Fannon, go." Second female response.

Likely the two just down the hall from him, unless they were activated from the ranks of the Sleepers, and that he doubted. Three women had come in on the shuttle, a part of the security team, and he firmly believed that they were two of those women. He held his breath, counting slowly. Five. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.

"Delta frequency." The voice identified as Simpson broke the silence.

"Damn." Zechs sighed. Now he had no choice other than to get one of the radios from the women.

These people were not rank amateurs, he admitted. They knew what they were doing. They were even good at it. He would not find the new frequency hidden on the bodies of the two unconscious men on the floor behind him. Nor did he have time to skim frequencies waiting for his opponents to speak just so he knew he had the right frequency. Tossing the radio mike and ear piece aside he snapped the additional belt pouch from his stash to his belt and moved again to the door.

A scream drew a snarl from him, but he resisted the urge to bolt from the room and assist his children and their nurse. Forcing calm, again using the dentist's mirror, he checked the hallway was clear and checked which door was open. As he had both thought and feared; the door to the room he had not so long ago left was open, the sound of babies wailing now echoing the scream of a thoroughly frightened woman.

"Put the baby down! Get on the floor!" A strident shout issued from the room.

"You, hands in the air! I said hands in the air!"

"Put the baby down and get on the floor! Both of you! On the floor! On the floor!"

Under cover of the shouting, sobbing and wailing Zechs slipped out of the maintenance room and made his way to the door. Two women? Two women screaming in the room? Sharnice had been alone when he had left. He noted absently that the door had been opened violently enough to break a hinge and so stood open, unable to close. All to his benefit. Even as he slipped into the doorway he took in the scene.

Shanice and another nurse, Maria Latham, were sobbing, just now hesitating as they were screamed at to put down the children they were carrying. Wailing babies and bottles were being placed on the bed beside the women while the agents were screaming at them to get down on the floor, terrifying them into submission. An old tactic and one that worked only too well.

Give them no time to think and incite terrified automatic obedience.

"On the floor, bitch! Now! Now! Ow! What...?"

No time to insert the second dart in the blow gun. Dart in hand Zechs rolled through the door, coming up behind the second woman and slapping the dart against her upper thigh, feeling it penetrate clothing and skin and sink into muscle.

"Merquise!" The first of the agents threw herself into a roll, away from Zechs, and between the sobbing women, hand reaching to activate her throat mike. "Merquise is here. Med... med...ic... med..."

He had chosen the anesthetic because it was a fast acting chemical and by the time she came out of her roll, she was already too far gone to finish her alert to her Commander. Collapsing instead of rolling onto her feet she huffed a breath and lay still. The second woman spun, kicking out, snarling. Zechs, already rolling away, took the hit as a glancing blow on his left shoulder, hissing against the sudden pain.

Not broken, he hoped, nor dislocated, but deeply bruised at least. Even with Mars light gravity that blow hurt. His own steel toed boots were just as heavy and solid as hers and he spun, lashing out with a foot to connect solidly against the leg supporting her weight. Out of position to defend herself she was helpless to avoid it. A sharp crack split the air and with a wail of agony she fell. The pained cry became a whimper as blissfully the anesthetic took effect.

He regretted the broken leg, but he had no sympathy for her. Not after today. Not after fighting for his children against these invaders. He knew that the old adage of 'Only doing their job' was their defense. He knew the phrase only too well. Soldiers doing their duty. He had been one once and had been just the same, and for their shared history he felt sorry for the blow, but for now, they were the enemy. At least she was alive and would live to talk about it. She was fortunate not to have come across Noin.

"Zechs!" Sharnice was at his side supporting him, helping him settle to kneel at her feet. "How... how did you know?"

"They have no luck on the day." He grunted, cryptic and not caring. The pain from his shoulder was a burning brand he could not afford to distract him. "Get me some anesthetic spray. I need a clear head and I need to use this arm."

"I don't understand what they want with us." Maria had her arms full with the babies, trying to quiet them, looking over her shoulder at him, green eyes wide with fear and confusion.

"They are under orders to take the twins to Earth." He slipped the shirt from his shoulder, gritting his teeth at the knife sharp pain the action caused. When he had the time, he would feel this, but for now it was just an inconvenience. He could not afford to feel it as more than a discomfort, and that was too dangerous. "Hurry, Shanice. I have to catch Noin."

"But... but why? What do they want with the babies? Should we keep the children here?" Maria queried.

He ripped the ear piece from the ear of the woman with the broken leg and pushed it into his ear, motioning Maria to wait, desperate to know if the agent had gotten the message out to her Commander.

"...bridge? Report, Cambridge!" Frazier's voice, he identified.

"Fannon, report." The one he identified as Simpson fairly shouted over the ear piece. He sounded royally pissed, Zechs mused. "Fannon!"

After a moment the ear piece went dead and Zechs sighed. Useless. Useless to take the radio sets now, they would have changed the radio frequency again. From the information he had been given from the Alpha dome, and from his visions, only two of the assault force who had infiltrated Base Dome now remained at large, and the five Sleepers he had identified, plus the as yet unknown number of unidentified agents. No doubt Simpson, who seemed to well and truly know his business, would now be forced to activate them to complete his mission.

He slumped against the unconscious woman, thoughts racing to deal with this new turn in the situation. He had hoped that he could deal with the Commander early on in the situation, but that simply was not to be. He needed to get the brains out of commission and then take down the remainder. It was not a favorable situation for him to be in with the Commander running around loose in the dome.

He glanced at the women, finding only Maria in the room and in looking at her he shuddered. Just for a fleeting instant the swirling tide of options surrounded him and he glimpsed her lying in a growing pool of blood, green eyes staring up at a ceiling raining arcing electrical sparks above her. From the mess of her chest he knew she had been shot in the back.

"Take the children to your quarters or to Sharnice's rooms. Doesn't matter which. Do not allow anyone in. Don't open the door to anyone, Maria, even if you consider them to be a friend. Pretend you are not there if at all possible. We have ESUN agents on the base, infiltrated from the Alpha Dome. There are also hidden agents. Sleepers. Once they have been activated they'll take you out to complete Simpson's mission."

Sharnice returned with a spray of anesthetic solution in time to hear. She hesitated for an instant, nodded decisively, and helped him to turn, kneeling to aid him in getting off the shirt.

"Maria came in just after you left. Frightened the life out of me and then went all gooey over the twins. I take it I can trust her if you are sending us off together? You will have three, maybe four hours once this takes effect, before the pain returns. How effective it will be will depend on how hard you punish your shoulder."

Her hands moved over his shoulder, testing muscle and bone, probing deeply before she began to spray the already bruising flesh.

"I'll take that with me, if you don't mind. It would be best for you to stock up on food and water for yourselves in your quarters. Take what you need for the babies. Enough for a few days at least. If it turns into a siege who knows how long it will take to settle the situation? They may try cutting the power, so if you have access to candles it might pay for you to get some."

"Your shoulder isn't dislocated. Just bruised, but the more you use it the longer it will take to heal. Do you think it likely they may try to cut the air supply? How long do you think we have before they come?" Sharnice queried.

"You have access to oxygen cylinders? If you do, it would probably pay to take some, if at all possible. It likely will not be necessary, but it never hurts to take precautions. You can't trust anyone other than yourselves. You don't know who could be a Sleeper working for them. Check the hallways before you enter them. Go quietly and quickly. I have to get Noin. Try to convince her to stay out of this mess. If I can I'll take out the agents as I go. Remember. Be aware that they have Sleepers in the base personnel. Trust no one. Once you get the door closed, open it to no one except Noin or I. No one."

"This can't be real." Maria whispered, cradling a still sobbing Katerina in her arms.

"It's all too real, I'm afraid. Go to ground. Keep the twins with you and try to keep them silent. Try to let no one see you. Don't give away where you are until you get the all clear."

He moved to the door, glancing quickly out into the hallway to be certain that there was no one coming toward their location. All clear and he moved to each of the unconscious women, relieving them of their shock weapons and hastily disabling their more conventional weapons. No need to give anyone who came along the chance to use the extra ammunition against him. Behind him he could hear the women gathering the baby's bottles and soothing tiny bodies. The wails began to ease off into delicate little sobs and he felt his heart clench. It brought back too many memories.

Sanc. There had been babies in the palace. He had had cousins. The staff had had children. The stench of smoke was teasing at his nostrils and he could distantly hear children screaming and gun fire blazing. He forced the visions away, desperate to retain control. No time now. No time to relive it, not that he wanted to at any time. This was here, now, not there, then. Time to move.

"Go." He whispered at them. "Go quickly and go quietly. And please..." He reached to lightly touch his children, a blessing, almost a benediction. "Look after them."

"They'll be safe. Watch your back, Zechs." Sharnice whispered as he slipped out of the room.

It was only seconds before she and Maria left the room, babies and bags of supplies bundled in their arms, but he was nowhere to be seen and around them the base was eerily silent.

Across the hall, in the maintenance room, Zechs swiftly disabled the automatic weapons of the unconscious agents and hoisted himself into the ventilation ducts once again. He needed to find Noin.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	37. Chapter 37

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 37

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 15:20 MST [Mars Standard Time

Noin

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Silence greeted her. Three seconds. Five. Still no sound from beyond the doors. Noin, standing to one side of the doors, back pressed to the cold metal and gun in hand, finally glanced out, eyes sweeping the area and grunted softly. No reception committee. Good. She was almost surprised, but they could not be everywhere, these people who came as invaders.

Stepping out she glanced up at the dome overhead. With the emergency lighting set to strobe, the dome flashed intermittent various shades of red. The pink of the Martian sky was usually visible through the transparent panels, but now the plexiglas was tinted blood red by the red glow of the lights and it was not so easy to see beyond.

The immediate area about the elevators was deserted and to her left one of the three hydroponics garden domes dominated the view. Behind her position, on the far side of the elevator block the control tower for the shuttle bay reared three stories high. All seemed quiet. Her goal lay to her right where the main administration block housing the control room for the project itself stood, the tallest structure in the Base Dome.

In an emergency situation there should be twenty seven people in that building, not counting herself of course. By rights she should have gone to her station in the control tower when the alert had been raised, but she had remained with her children. Now she eyed the structure with brooding hatred, considering her course of action. Not knowing who was ESUN security was a danger. She could not trust anyone, and she wanted to encounter only one of them. The only one she knew was ESUN. Oh yes. She had a few words coming with Shanna.

//I have to trust that he knows what he's talking about. He's been right so far. God, Jenny. No. Not now. I can't afford the distraction. Zechs, you bastard. It would help me if you trusted me enough to tell me all of it. What are you keeping from me? Damn, the man. He knows but he just won't tell me.//

Noin settled on her course toward the control center, noting every possible cover she might be able to use. She really had no desire to advertise her presence to her so called friend. The eerie silence of the base caused her to glance uneasily around. It was a rare occurrence that the base did not resound with the sounds of activity. It seemed so deserted. In her time at the base they had gone through Meteor strike drills twice and she had had occasion to be out under the enviro-dome. It had been an unsettling feeling then, but now, it was much more.

The buildings under the dome, and above the ground level, all had windows. Windows were made to be looked out of. Anyone could see her if they were at a window. There should be up to ten people in each of the three hydroponics habitats, twenty to thirty in the third dome on this day, attending to plantings. While the hydroponics domes were opaque it was quite possible to see into the major dome from a number of positions and who ever did would likely have a pretty clear view of her. It was more than possible from the control tower and the shuttle control tower that anyone within, especially from the higher floors, could have an uninterrupted view of her actions. She felt as though she was striding naked in public, inviting their attention and commentary.

//Get a grip, girl. Your better than this.//

No one moved within her sight. No machinery rumbled and grumbled as she was accustomed to. There were no voices or laughter in the background. There was not even music playing, where someone worked on broken down machines as there usually was. It was eerie. Too quiet. It served to heighten her perceptions.

She did not mind the time she took in moving from cover to cover, working her way slowly toward the building. It was safer. From elevator to packing crates usually stored in the supply dome, to the trolleys where the young plants were waiting to be moved into the third hydroponics dome. She paused there, smelling the earthy scent that was subtly different to the earth smell of their distant home, eyes roving over the area, seeking any hint that she was not alone. Slowly, slowly and with great care to lessen the chance of a hasty, rash action alerting the enemy to her presence.

She had to believe in her abilities. Already once today she had failed to listen to her instincts. Well, no, not really. Her instinct had said danger, kill, without her reading the message sent from brain to hands and feet. She had not intended to kill, but she had hit hard enough to do so, and if she did not want to face that situation again she had to exercise more care. She had been trained to be the best, and it was not all that long ago that she had been a soldier. She had not liked to kill. She was not a cold blooded killer and she would never become a rabid dog.

Leaving the shelter of the mass of trolleys she skimmed the ground in the shadow of the third dome. For an instant she thought she detected movement on the other side of the plexiglass dome and with her heart in her mouth she slipped behind a forklift, glaring at the dome, waiting for the hue and cry to go up, but there was only silence. Breathing a sigh of relief after a count of sixty had produced no alarm she left the shelter of the old vehicle and ghosted up to the door.

Somewhere in this building was her nemesis. Her betrayer. She would be quick and she would learn why the bitch had chosen to work for the ESUN. She would learn who amongst the Terra Forming Team were Sleeper agents. She would teach Shanna bloody sex pot McIntyre what it meant to cross Lucrezia Noin.

She grasped the handle in steady fingers, senses alert, eyes scanning the door for any indication of a possible booby trap. All the trust was gone. She could trust no one because that bloody blonde menace she had the hots for would not tell her who she could not trust. The door to the tower was unlocked, as it should be, even in an emergency situation, but she paused, her hand poised on the knob as it turned too easily, alarm tingling through her senses.

Something was not right. Something felt wrong. Instincts she had not had occasion to listen to for well over a year warned her, coursing through blood, bone and brain. Something beyond the door was wrong. Taking a deep, steadying breath she nudged the door open sufficient to allow her to peer into the foyer.

A quick glance in the foyer and she scowled at the very obvious emptiness of it. This was all wrong. There were supposed to be guards here. Two on duty at all times, and in an emergency there should be four, one at each of the two doors leading into the building, one at the elevators and one behind the security desk. Not good.

Feeling her heart pound as she had not since the war she slipped into the room, body tucked into a low crouch, presenting as small a target as possible. Across the length of the room angling her direction she made her way to the security desk. It was supposed to never be unmanned. She crouched in its shelter, glaring at the elevators and the doors in the walls on either side of the foyer and then slipped around the desk.

She gasped, spinning, gun drawn and held in a firm hand as she swept the room again. Satisfied that for the moment she was alone she knelt over the prone form sprawled behind the desk, reaching to feel for a pulse. The pool of blood gathered around his head was not a good sign and she sighed, confirming what her first impression had told her. Dead. Not good. Not good at all. She examined him quickly, checking the wound for how he had died and fighting down the urge to vomit. Not so much as the means by which he had died, but by the cold bloodedness of it. Who ever had done it had been quick, silent and ruthless. Slit throats were somewhat difficult to do from a distance. Likely he had known and trusted his killer.

"Damn." A whisper. "Sorry, Johnny. I'm sorry you had to get caught up in this."

She had known him well, having chatted with him just this morning on her way into work. Every morning or afternoon he would offer her a cheery comment and a friendly wave. One of the good guys, he had been. One of the few people who could easily draw a laugh out of her.

Rising from his side Noin turned to the desk, pursing her lips and whistled softly at the array of blank screens displayed there. The surveillance cameras were all down. Almost every inch of the Base Dome was under surveillance, with the notable exception of the bedrooms, bathrooms and community showers. Scowling she fairly attacked the keyboard, running every system check she could think of and inventing a few on the spot. Nothing she tried would bring them up and while it meant no one would see her coming using them, it also meant that she had no way of knowing where anyone else was.

If the cameras were down, and Johnny had been killed and left so openly on display, then more than she had thought was happening here. Her lust to hunt down Shanna McIntyre suddenly took a back seat. Why take out the security system? Would it not be safer to commandeer the facilities and use them to their benefit? Why would the agents kill the cameras? It made no sense and she had no time to think about it now.

Beyond the security desk, to the north of the room lay the elevator, the doors standing invitingly open. Near the elevator, but on the western wall of the foyer, the door to the stairs was closed. The door to her left, the west side of the foyer, led to the canteen, storage rooms and first level offices. It too was closed. If she was where she was supposed to be, then Shanna McIntyre would be in the control room itself, two levels up. Decision made Noin moved to the nearest door, the one leading to the canteen and other facilities of this floor and pressing her side to the metal of the wall near the door she pushed it open.

Nothing.

Not a sound. No movement.

Counting silently to thirty Noin waited. Still nothing.

With a sigh she glanced around the foyer, slipped to the elevators and wedged the elevator doors open. No one would be coming at her back from there. She returned to the west door and taking a deep breath she ducked around the door, aiming to hide behind the potted plant placed to the south of the door and cursed fluently.

The plant and the ceramic pot lay in blasted shards around the body of the second of the security team in charge of the tower. There was no doubt that he was dead. No one could survive with a hole that large in him.

"God." Noin whispered. "What the bloody hell has been going on here?"

They were not long dead. Only minutes. He was still warm to her touch. She had heard nothing as she had approached the tower. From the condition of both men she had found thus far she estimated they must have been killed around the time she was riding the elevator up to the surface. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes, not much longer than that. Twenty at most.

The eerie silence of the building set her nerves tingling. Fighting the urge to start shooting indiscriminately at everything in sight she turned, glancing down the hallway behind her. Soldiers instinct set the hair at her nape on end, warning her that she was being watched. All three of the doors she could see were closed. The silence was broken only by her own breathing. Her heart began to race.

MOVE

Instinct demanded and Noin threw herself back to the side, out of the door she had only just entered by. The chatter of an automatic weapon shattered the silence, impact points chipping the floor where she had stood seconds before. Not pausing Noin rolled to her feet, calculating how many seconds she had before her assailant entered the room.

//Too long. It's been way too long since I had to survive combat.//

Nor did she have in her possession her preferred type of weapons. Not to worry. She had not been a slouch at hand to hand combat, if it came down to that. She was one of her Masters best students. They would come through that door hard and fast, likely in a diving roll, shooting as they came. She had the two hand guns she had taken off the men she had killed. She could set them to one shot, semi automatics or full barrage and waist the clip of ammunition if she chose to. There was also the hunting knife she had always carried since her first days at the Lake Victoria Academy. The bullet graze on her arm was an inconvenience, nothing more.

Sweeping for cover she cursed, realizing just how bare of cover the foyer was. The room had always been spartan in its furnishings and now she regretted that as she had not before. No where to hide. The shelter of the security station was no shelter at all, which, on a second glance around the room left her with one option. Nothing for it.

No other choice, time was running out. A running jump toward the door she had just come through and she caught an overhead beam, arms and shoulders straining to pull herself up into the open network of beams. Thanking fortune for the lower gravity of Mars she swung her legs up, wrapping them around a beam and crossing over her ankles. She would only need a few seconds if she could just secure herself.

The door slammed open, a figure with automatic rifle blazing threw itself forward and tucked into a roll, coming up in a kneeling position. A second form remained standing, shooting over the head of the first, both strafing the foyer, cutting the security desk to ruin. Circuit boards exploded, glass and shrapnel flying everywhere. From her position she could see the guards body shudder and jerk as it was hit repeatedly. Noin grunted, a gun now in each hand as her legs took the strain of her weight, lowering herself a little, thumbs flicking the selection of firing rate on the weapons. In her heart there was no hesitation. They had killed. What they had done here was cold blooded murder. There would be no questions asked and no quarter given, by them or by her. They deserved what was coming.

It was war.

The first bark of her weapon was answered by a grunt from her chosen target, the back of his head exploding in a fountain of blood. Before the second assailant could get his bearings on the source of the attack he knew an instant of pain and then nothing as the bullet Noin gifted with his name took him from just behind the left ear and came out somewhere along his lower right jaw.

Two single shots. Two thuds as bodies hit the floor, weapons clattering across the floor. Noin flicked her eyes to the door that now hung from one hinge, the other broken by the force of their entry.

Noin hung from the rafter, metal bruising her thighs and calves and waited, weapons at the ready.

Ten seconds. Twenty.

Her body screamed to get down from its unnatural position, her heart beat thundering in her ears.

Thirty seconds.

The building was silent. No screams. No running feet of anyone coming to investigate.

Forty seconds. Fifty.

Noin began to breathe again, ignoring the pain in her thighs. It hurt. Even in light gravity she had body weight and the beam she hung from was metal and only fifty centimeters wide.

Sixty.

With a soft hiss of protest to the pain flaring in her thighs and ankles she tucked one gun into her belt, keeping the other in hand. Stretching her free hand up to take some of her weight, and easing the pain in her legs. Somewhat more comfortable she hung from the rafter and waited. Only after another full minute had passed did Noin dare to lower herself from her precarious perch, careful to do so silently, wincing at protesting muscles, eyes darting around the foyer.

Silence.

Breathing a little easier, eyes still darting around, she knelt beside the bodies, turning them to identify them if she could. One was a security guard, assigned to this building and seeing that she spat a curse. That would have explained about the guard with the slit throat. Johnny had been friends with Craig Chandler. Good friends. She wondered if Chandler had had any regrets about killing him. The second man was Richard Muir, a quiet, easy going hydroponics engineer from hydroponics dome three.

//I think I am going to be sick. Just as soon as I have the leisure time to indulge in it. How could they have done it? How could they have made friends with everyone and so cold bloodedly kill them?//

No time. No time for that now. She had to pull herself together and check the remainder of this floor. There was no help for it. She could not afford to take the chance on leaving anyone at her back she could not trust. The deaths of the two security guards at these people's hands, friends for God's sake, clearly said it. The identity of the two killers made that clear enough. She could trust no one.

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15:47

Everyone was dead. She felt ill. How could they? She had found the bodies of twelve people so far. Most had been taken down from behind. Three had had their throats slit. Most had been gunned down where they worked. She was sickened. What did they think they were doing? How did they think they were going to explain this cold blooded slaughter?

One more room on this floor to check. One more room and that was the room where Shanna McIntyre should be. Would she find a corpse? Was Zechs wrong about her? If he was, she would be in there dead, either gunned down or with an extra grizzly mouth. If he was right, she would likely be gone, one of the hunters now picking off the personnel. If that was so, where would she chase her down?

Noin paused, peering through the window down into the dome, careful to keep out of the direct line of fire should there be a sniper. She would put nothing past these people, not after the horror she had found in the first three floors of this building. She did not doubt that on the fourth floor she would find carnage. They had been thorough.

The ground below her vantage point was deserted. No one moved. The deserted area was bathed in the pulsing red lights of the emergency warning. No one moved. Even in the emergency there should have been some sign of someone down there, checking on the machinery, on the functions of the dome. How many other people had they killed? Were they only targeting the control tower? If this main control tower had come under fire, then why not the shuttle control tower too?

Noin shook her head. Too many questions. She needed answers, but she would have to get those answers later. She had not thought they would go this far. She had never thought they would slaughter the terra formers to get to her children and her man. If they did this to the team they had worked along side for years, then what would they be likely to do to herself and Zechs if they caught them? What would those new agents, the paramilitary group brought in to take her babies, be likely to do? There was no way she would allow those animals to take her children.

The door to the control room was closed. She considered its featureless blue self in silence, weighing options. Locked? Perhaps. If so, likely Shanna dearest was behind it. Hiding in there. Unlocked? Possibly trapped. She would not put that past them either. Unlocked, would be an open invitation to come in. Probably face a gun in the face.

No, she did not trust entry by that door at all. If the door should be unlocked that likely meant they had sabotaged the control systems and had no fear of anyone entering the room being able to use the systems to track them down. It would also mean the room beyond was empty. So many possibilities and none of them good.

The floor above her was still unchecked, an unknown question at her back. Dare she make a move to enter that room without checking above her? If she left the room and went upstairs, she might be leaving an enemy at her back. Options. Decisions. Considering the possible consequences of each action she felt sickened.

Zechs.

Was this what he experienced? Possibilities, he said. Possible events, each leading to other events, making a path difficult to find. She had a sudden better understanding of what he had been trying to tell her and blistering shame speared into her. She had not understood. She had not understood what he had been trying to say. She had demanded that he tell her what would happen. She simply had not understood.

She did now.

Considering the layout of the control room and thinking on the layout of the building Noin studied the door and nodded slightly, decision made.

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15:55

Shanna McIntyre

Shanna McIntyre replayed the message and smiled. Yes, that would do the trick. No blame could be laid at the feet of the ESUN Security Council when this little gem was leaked to the media. No one would believe that the security agency was responsible for the damages done at the colony and terra forming base. No one would be able to take the ESUN to task over the lives lost, or the set back to the founding of the Martian colony.

It would not be long now before Noin and Merquise were run to ground and placed in restraints. She had to admit they were better than she had formerly given them credit for. Likely one if not both of them was out in the control building somewhere even now. Craig and Richard had not joined her in the control room, so likely either Merquise or Noin had gotten to them, possibly taking them down permanently. That brief spate of shooting she had heard a while ago had been the last sound she had heard in the building.

She would need to send off this message before she was interrupted, but she had time yet. Perhaps not long. Just a few more things to do and then it made no difference if she lived or died, the matter would be irreversible. No one could stop it. Not she, not Simpson. No one. Certainly not Merquise or that sniveling bitch Noin.

God, how could she have wasted so much time bemoaning the fact that Merquise would not take her to bed? Overall she liked the woman, but she had been an utter fool when it came to Peacecraft. Three months on an interplanetary shuttle and she had not once got into his pants? Was the woman a total fool when it came to men? Honor and love be damned. If you wanted to get laid by a man you took matters into your own hands, you never gave the idiot a chance to refuse you. Men were walking sex bombs. You just needed to know which switches to flip and they were easy to defuse, too, if they wanted sex and you did not. It was all a matter of control.

With a sigh she glanced around the control room. No more useless time wasting. Work to do. Standing in the control room in a building full of the dead did not bother her in the slightest.

Casualties of war. You got used to them after a while, she reflected. Yes, you found yourself able to ignore the dead and get on with the job. She had thought that her days of daring do were over, when the Alliance fell to Oz, but she had been offered a position by a certain individual who had plans for the future, and he had been right. She chuckled as she programmed the computer.

She had been called within days of the Barton Incursion and assigned to the Terra Forming team on Mars. She had had two months to train and then boarded a research shuttle to Mars, arriving well after Noin and Merquise arrived, but her cover had been perfect. They had not suspected she was ESUN Security and she had taken charge of the Sleeper agents placed here when the colony had first begun to form. He had long sight, her superior, and he had not missed much.

It had not been boring to be Merquise's keeper. She was a trained engineer and fitted well into the terra forming team, no one having suspected she had another reason to be on Mars. Shortly she would be able to play Miss Distressed Innocent for the cameras, and there after resume her position when this was all done, unless she was to be reassigned, of course. Likely they would not be leaving Merquise on Mars, and he would have other keepers where they took him. He would be removed to a more controlled environment.

"The man should be dead." She chuckled. "More lives than a cat, that one. Right then. The virus is ready to go. The message sounds suitably panicky to get their attention and it's just a matter of time." Smiling she keyed the send. "Done." She whispered, smiling as she activated the virus. "And done."

Shattering glass erupted to her side, showering her with shards and something hit her full on and threw her across the room. Stunned she slammed into the wall, sliding to the floor with a groan. Pain pounded through her head and vaguely she heard the dim sound of crunching glass under booted feet, and a hand caught in her hair, jerking her head up.

"Bitch." Noin snarled into her face. "What did you just do?"

Noin shook her when no response was forthcoming, hand fisted in long flame tresses. Snarled and threw her to the floor and began searching her pockets before straightening, eyeing the automatic pistol she had taken from the engineer and tucking it into her own belt.

"You won't be needing that. What did you just send and to whom?"

Again silence. McIntyre glared sullenly at her, her only consolation was that it was too late to stop it now. It would begin any time now. Any time.

"I am not really in a good mood, bitch. I have not had the best of days, you know? Some asshole is trying their damn hardest to see it stuffs up even more. Your bully boys downstairs are dead. Just desserts from what I've seen of their handy work. How do you think you are going to explain this, Shanna? How the bloody hell do you think you can explain this away? People can't keep secrets. It's not possible to cover up slaughtering people."

A short, harsh bark of laughter escaped her, as she forced herself to overcome the pain. She was not done yet. "How did you know the door would be trapped?"

Noin looked at the door, eyes sweeping the set up there. Crude. Very crude. Tied to the door knob was a string which attached to the trigger of the automatic rifle set up directly in front of the door. Shaking her head Noin drew her knife and carefully cut the cord, then moving the rifle away from the door, never taking her attention completely from the woman sprawled across the floor.

"It was obvious that something stank. I went upstairs and came down, through the window. People tend to think more of doors when they trap a room, you know? It is a universal failing, I think. What did you send?"

Green eyes flashed to the clock face and she frowned. 16:01. It should have happened already. Maybe it hadn't been as long as she had thought, but she was certain her time schedule was right. She cried out in protest when Noin back handed her. Maybe the clocks were a few seconds out. A minute maybe.

"Don"t push me, Shanna. Answer, or your body will join the others here today. What did you do?"

Her eyes were a deep violet blue she had never seen before. An unusual, intense colour and a chillingly cold colour too. This woman radiated violence. Barely controlled violence. Lucrezia Noin had always struck her as a strong woman and now she thought she could be a cruel woman, when she turned her mind to it. Shanna knew of her history as a Specials Officer in the Oz forces, but she had thought she had known this woman. Dangerous, yes, but not a killer. Now she was not so sure. Those eyes. Despite the briefing and the reports she was suddenly certain that those who had briefed her had erred.

"I sent a message." No harm in her knowing. She could not do a thing about it.

The gun cocked and Noin glared coldly at her, warning in the violet eyes.

"I sent a Mayday call." //What will you make of that, bitch? Likely think I'm lying and slap me around again.//

"What?" Startled Noin backed a step. "A Mayday call? To who?"

"Broad band. Everyone will pick it up. Everyone." //Not a thing you can do about it. It's already gone out.//

Noin shook her head, violet eyes widening, understanding coming. Understanding and a grudging respect for this woman who faced her down, and for whoever had devised the plan.

"Raiders. Your going to blame the deaths on a raid. How many are you bastards planning to kill?"

"As many as it takes. The explosives are already set. All around Base Dome. All over Alpha dome. They'll go any second now. Nothing anyone can do to stop it. Raiders attacked the colony. It will be all over the ESUN. The media will make a circus of it. No one will believe it was anything other than Raiders."

Horrifyingly true. The Raiders were already a media circus. The perfect scapegoats. There would be a hue and cry from all corners of the Earth Sphere; an outcry against the lawlessness of the outlying areas of the ESUN. Demands would be made of the Preventers and the ESUN forces to clean up the raiders. The few who knew or guessed the truth would not be heard above the howling of the press and politicians and mining corporations, who already complained that the Preventers were not doing enough to protect their ships and transports.

"Anyone who tries to say otherwise will be dealt with. Or their families will be dealt with. You can't win, Noin. Give it up. Let me have the children. They'll have the very best of care. The best education. They can't stay here on Mars. You know that. Even if you had succeeded where would you go? This is Mars, where is there for you to hide here? There is nowhere in the ESUN that you, your children or Merquise can hide. No where. Better to let the children have a normal childhood on Earth than to try running from colony to colony. If you do that, they'll only get hurt."

"Shut up." A savage snarl. "If you value your life, just shut up."

"I'm talking sense, Noin." //Rattled her. Good. She'll be easier to handle.// "You know it. Zechs is too noticeable. You can't hide him. What makes you think you could hide his children?"

00000000000000000000000000000000

Noin

Noin swung the butt of the gun against her jaw, watching her crumble, unconscious to the floor. "I did tell you to shut up."

She moved to the communications board and shook her head. Message sent and even as she watched the computer was failing. A virus, most likely, to disable the bases communications systems. Likely Alpha Dome, too, was down. No coordinated effort could be made against them without reliable communications. Even internal inter dome communications was down. She briefly wondered what was going on over there, in the Alpha Dome and quickly pulled her thoughts back. She was more concerned with what was happening here. One problem at a time.

"I don't know how, but I'll not let you bastards win."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	38. Chapter 38

// ……// Thoughts

"…." Speech

……+ Flash back

…..++ Vision

_Italic_ Text

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 38

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 15:32 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

He hated ventilation shafts. Having never had a reason to frequent them before, he had never given any consideration to the design of them. Now, after due use and consideration, he decided that he loathed them. Even big ventilation shafts. After his now reasonable exposure to the bland, featureless metal, and the not to forget endlessness of the damn things, he was surely going to end up a claustrophobic.

To increase his discomfort he could feel the upsurge in the possibilities. Some event or events had to be in the making that increased the variations of future possibilities. Havoc was breaking out in his head. Changes. Something was causing changes. The throbbing headache was getting worse, harder to ignore, harder to contain. If he was not careful he would lose control and go down into the well of options.

At this moment he sorely missed Epyon. With the wide variety of options he already had witnessed how was he to choose the better course? He could not do this on his own. How could he, without the aid of the Epyon system, sort the multitude of possibilities that surged on future tides of event? He could not sort possibilities, probabilities and improbability at this point in time. He had tried. He did not have the training, the knowledge to handle the surges or the knowledge how to look into and beyond what he saw. Epyon had been the means by which he could handle the flow of impressions and sort some balance into events. That had taken time, too, the sorting and choosing and the debating with the machine that was not a machine.

Epyon was gone.

He had no time. It was all happening now.

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++ The Base Dome reared above him, the doors to the shuttle bay open to the Martian atmosphere. What passed as air swept into the shuttle bay, laden with red dust from the rising storm. A storm caused, not by natural weather, but by the explosions that ripped through the dome.

A ragged sound in the thin atmosphere and the doors were thrown into the air, flames leaping high into the Martian sky, fed by the escaping oxygen from the dome. Sections of the dome itself flowered into flame, great cracks appearing in the clear material. He could hear the alarm claxons loud even over the roaring of flames and explosions and the screams of people dying as the air in the dome was breached.

Thinning, mixing with the poisonous atmosphere of Mars. ++

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Gasping he hugged the vent floor, gagging, fighting the urge to vomit the last meal he ate. The world spun crazily about him, shudders wracked his body and his lungs could not suck in enough air. Control. He needed control.

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++Noin ran toward the Shuttle Control Tower screaming "bomb" with every step. The ground around her was strafed with automatic fire. Four people leapt from behind the shelter of buildings, each wearing enviro suits, all shooting at her. She dived for cover behind some drums and ahead of her the tower erupted into flame.

Beyond the dome the doors to the shuttle bay blew open to a great flower of fire and metal shrapnel. The metal pierced the dome, even as other, minor explosions went off around the dome itself, cracking their life giving seal, allowing the atmosphere of Mars to enter and corrupt their environment.++

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Groaning Zechs pressed his face to the cold steel of the vent floor. It was so hard to breathe. He was on fire, his blood burning in his veins. Cramps clawed at his gut and the pain grew in his head.

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++ In the small room the shelves all looked the same, uniform size, uniform colour, uniform shapes. The black box lay secreted behind a cardboard box, innocent, unobtrusive. Boxes of all shapes and sizes were placed on the shelves, boxes each stenciled with the informative word _Machine Parts_. All around, machine parts.

Shelves and shelves of them. The box sat, hidden in the shadow of the larger box, only the clock face changing. The room was deserted. No one moved here. No one watched the clock count down, its red digital numbers ever decreasing as the seconds passed.

00:02. 00:01. 00:00.

A brief sound from the box and the room trembled in response to explosions on the surface. ++

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He pressed his face into his arm, fighting back the nausea. Desperate to regain control. He could do nothing about this development until, and if, he could retain control of himself. How long did he have? That he was starting to think again was a good sign for the return of control. That he could separate himself from the possibility of this disaster and know it had not happened yet, that he was lying in...

//Think, damn you. Think what it is you've seen. The room was... was a... Maintenance Room? Was it a maintenance room? Storage locker, perhaps? Ah, God, no, I can't. Hurts. Think you wimp. You know which one. You know where it is. You've been all over the bloody base. Think. It was... the timer was a... a radio controlled detonator? No. Yes. Yes. A Maintenance Room? Got to get to the maintenance room."

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++ Alpha Dome. He recognized the great dome of the main colony. Burning. Venting oxygen and smoke into the atmosphere of Mars. He walked the streets of the dome, stepping over the broken bodies strewn about the streets. The buildings they had worked so hard to complete lay in ruins, some still burning. On the plateau above the broken dome, small and distant, the burning broken shell of the Base Dome. ++

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No.

No, he would not allow it.

Shaking his head he forced himself to his knees. No, he would not allow it to happen. Too many people would die. Why? For what reason would it happen? So many people in the domes above ground would die an agonizing death. Those who had the good fortune to be in the underground complexes would survive the breaching of the dome, but more than a thousand people worked above the subterranean bases on any given day. Anyone at work, or on station above ground, would have no chance. Perhaps if they made it to the sealed units that were the hydroponics domes?

He would not allow it to be that way.

//Think. You know that maintenance room. You have been there. You have made it a point to be in every room of the base. Know your territory. Old rule. Never break it. Remember it. Remember which one of the rooms it is. They're not the same. They don't all look the same. Look for a difference.//

A point in his favor was that the engineering sector was not far from his current position. Boxes of Machine Parts meant that it was in engineering and he was not too far from there. While he tried to determine which room he needed to find, he could be on his way.

No time to be ill. No time to acknowledge the nausea or the cramps, or the shaking of his limbs. No time to pander to the headache from hell. No time to sort much of anything.

Move. Move and strength would return. It had before, when he had experienced this sharp spiral into insanity. Move and look for the room with shelves and boxes of machine parts and... and...

Just move.

Trust Noin to watch her back. She was smart. Clever. She had survived the One Year War. She had survived the Barton Incursion. She would understand why he did this. She would understand why he did not follow her and forgive him. He had to find the hidden detonator. No time to find the bombs themselves. No time to even wonder what they thought they were doing, trying to blow the domes. What possible motive could they have for destroying all they had worked so hard for over the years?

//I don't understand.//

"God. I feel sick."

He forced himself from belly to knees, wavering on all fours, fighting a rebellious stomach and to lock his limbs to support his weight. Move. One arm, forward, lock at the elbow. Now a leg. Yes. Movement would settle down his physical reaction to the visions.

"Epyon, I could do with you about now."

Moving was forcing control. He tried to ignore the visions hovering just beyond his sight, not daring to look further. Was this what would happen? Would they blow the domes? Why? He could not take a chance on this being a false possibility. He had to check. He could not leave this one alone, uninvestigated. It was too vital to their security for him not to take the time and effort to check out this possibility. He could only hope that the pressure he felt from other impending visions were not so disastrous or important as this.

He might get to the engineering sector and discover it was only a probability that they had set bombs. A thread that was loose from a weave already horrifying enough. He might waste valuable time chasing this possibility down to no avail. False vision. It could be a false vision. Not precisely false, but one that had so slight a possibility that it was not worth pursuing against more likely options. He could not take the chance. He just could not take the chance. Too many people could die if he ignored this option above something that seemed far more likely to happen.

By the time he reached the engineering bays he had regained his equilibrium, his physical as well as emotional stability. That was one thing movement was good for, making him focus on just the simple necessity to breathe, to move a hand, arm, leg. He was calmer, determined to waste no time and find this vision to be what it was, praying it was false. If they had plans to blow the dome then they cared nothing for the lives of the people they worked along side.

The Sleeper agents.

That moment of clarity shook him. Not the agents who had come in on the shuttle, but the agents who had lived and worked here for years. They were so willing to destroy the hours of work they had done to create the colony. They had no care for their work mates.

He reached the outlet he wanted, dropping the vent grill in the small engineering bay, startling the three engineers seated at the center table, sipping coffee and chatting. A quick glance at them to make sure they were who he had been expecting to see here in an emergency, and he dropped his feet through the vent and landed on the table.

They sprang back from the table as coffee mugs danced with the force of his landing. He hardly registered himself grabbing a cup and downing its contents as he slid from the table.

"We have only a few minutes. There is a radio transmitter around here, either in this room or in the big repair bay. A Maintenance room, I think in one of the bays. It is set to trigger explosives to breach the domes here and at Alpha."

"Zechs, what the shit is happening?" Paul Markos, dark eyes bright in his dark skinned face stood, hands on hips, glaring. "What is going on around here, and why the emergency?"

"We have been infiltrated." He snatched the coffee pot, emptying the contents into the cup and drinking as he waved toward the main doors. "I have it on good authority that we have bombs planted around both domes and in the shuttle bay. If we don't find that transmitter we can kiss goodbye to everyone on the surface."

"What's it look like, man?" Mighty Joe Lee, the engineer originally from the L1 cluster was already hunting around the shelves closest to him, having understood instantly the significance of the threat.

"Small, plain except for the digital face counting down. Black, I should think. These things are never made with imagination. I think it's on a shelf full of machine parts, probably for the mobile suits. I'm not sure."

He clamped down on the urge to bring back up the coffee, sliding the cup away from him. What had he been thinking? Coffee was not the best on a stomach as abused as his felt at the moment.

"We'll find it, man. These guys... Raiders? We being attacked by Raiders? I hear tell they're always on the lookout for new sources of parts for repairs to their ships and suits. Surprised we haven't been bothered before." Preston Kurtz was already at the door. "I'll start in the other bay. How long we got?"

"Not long." //I don't know. I just don't know how long we have. Damn. I can't remember details so soon after a vision. It takes time to sort it all out. God. I feel sick. I can't let them win now. I can't let them do it.//

"You don't look so good, Zechs." Markos commented. "You look sort of green."

He waved aside the concern, fighting the nausea. Maybe if he moved? "Hurt my shoulder. No time to deal with it now."

"I'll help Preston in the other bay."

"Keep your eye on the doors. Don't turn your back on them. Some are in ESUN combat fatigues and they are likely to shoot first and think about it later."

"Combat fatigues? Where the hell did they score those from? Bloody Raiders have no respect."

Pressure. Time was passing. The pressure was building, headache pounding in time to the beat of passing time. This could not be just another option. Not with the way he felt. Frighteningly it felt like another crux point; a focus point, but so soon? Surely he should have had more warning? A hint of this happening months before? What had he missed? He had to have missed something for this to be happening. He did not know enough about this ability. This curse. It was a curse. A curse that had brought him nothing but pain since it awoke. Epyon had sentenced him to this.

//No. You knew this before.//

Something deep within him, hidden in a deep and secret, safe place, quivered in terror. He drew a sharp breath, clenching the machine part he had picked up off the shelf near him tight enough to draw a gasp of pain as a sharp edge bit into his hand. Something... some 'thing' stirred. A terror. A long ago terror that quailed in dread.

No. Not now. He could not deal with this now.

//Bomb. Focus. Find the bloody transmitter.//

"Zechs? Hey, man, you really don't look so good. You look green, man. You alright?"

"I will be, Joe, when I find this transmitter." He poked around behind the boxes nearest to him.

"You look like you gonna puke."

"Feel like it too. Just reaction to my shoulder." // Don't say it, Joe. Ah, God. Just don't say it or I'll do it. I won't be able to help it if you keep reminding me how shitty I feel.//

How much longer? How much longer did they have?

//Damn it, it had to be here. How much longer before it was too late? Think. There had to be something. Think. Black box. Small black box. Hidden behind another box. A larger box. They all looked the same! Okay, what about the room? Something about the room. A small room. Yes, small. It had not felt large. It had not felt as large as this. This is the smallest of the bays for repairs.//

There was, of course, the storage lockers, but on reflection he was sure that was wrong. It had felt larger than a locker. Larger than a locker, smaller that this, the smallest of the repair bays. So where... His eyes lighted on the door in the corner of the room. One storage locker was larger than the others at the facility. It contained spare parts for the fusion generators. There?

"Check the locker."

"That locker? That one is locked, Zechs. You know that." Even as he protested Might Joe Lee tugged at the door and stared in shock as it opened. "Damn! That's not supposed to happen."

His gut clenched. Wishing he had not drunk the coffee he motioned urgently to the engineer. "It's in the locker. It has to be. Check the shelves, behind every box there is. It has to be there."

Both crowded into the locker, Zechs taking the higher shelves and Mighty Joe taking the lower. The engineer was a small, slender man but he was a bundle of energy at the best of times. At this, the worst of times he was dynamite, checking quickly shelf after shelf, feeling behind those boxes he could not move or peer behind, until he found the one box that hid the small unassuming black box with the clock on countdown.

"Here, here! Got it! Ah, man, it's counting down. Is it safe to touch, do you think? I don't know nothing about disarming bombs."

"It's not the bomb. It's a timer and it transmits a radio signal that triggers a detonator hidden elsewhere." Zechs crouched down beside the engineer, trying to peer around him.

"You know something about bombs?" He pulled back out from under the shelf level with Zech's calves.

"I know something about them. Let me have a look."

"We dare move it?" Joe wriggled out of the way, wedging his butt on the next shelf over to maintain his view.

"Not yet." Zechs stretched out as best as his 6' 2" frame would allow in the cramped space, choosing to ignore the fire that provoked in his shoulder, and thrust his head under the shelf. A moment's visual examination and he grunted, carefully turning the box with just the tips of his fingers. "Can you get the shock gun out of my belt? Pass it to me."

"Shock gun?" Joe Lee looked in shock at the weapon tucked in the back of the wide belt. "Where did you get that?"

"From our visitors. Pass it here."

He felt the weapon pulled from his belt and had a sudden sickening feeling that Mighty Joe was a sleeper agent and he could go down into darkness here, taken out of the game entirely because he needed to trust someone.

"How you learn about bombs, man?" The engineer wriggled closer, stretching his wiry form against the larger, solid bulk of the tense man.

"Oz."

"Oh. Right. Forgot about that. Here you go."

The butt of the weapon was pressed into the hand he stretched behind him and he chose to ignore the pressure of the man's body against his, and the hand that ran lightly down his thigh.

"Now hide your eyes."

"What are you going to do, man? Is it safe?"

Zechs adjusted the setting on the weapon carefully, more feeling the settings than seeing them in the dim light. He was uncertain just how much power these weapons could discharge, but he had been privy to the original blueprints and design specs on the weapons. They were an invention of Oz, thought up in the latter days of the One Year War. Unless their design had undergone radical modifications from the original specs, there should be enough of a kick on maximum setting to short circuit the transmitter. Totally frying the insides would be even better, but he would not even begin to think about that. The way things were going it was likely to set off the transmitter. The weapons delivered a short electrical shock to their targets, enough to stun a man on low settings and enough to kill on maximum.

"It's our only hope, Joe. I don't have the tools or the time to defuse it any other way."

"Ah, sure, man. If there's no other choice." He wriggled out from under the shelf, turning his back on the shelf and hooked a hand in the waist of his companion's trousers, slipping fingers under the tan shirt and running his fingers over silken skin.

"Joe!"

"Just gonna help you out of there." But his hands retreated quickly.

Resting the barrel just off the box Zechs twisted his head around, away from the box, ignoring the screaming pain in his shoulder where he was taking the pressure. He chose to use his left arm, unwilling to chance injury to the uninjured right arm. Taking a deep breath he squeezed the trigger.

//God, I hope this works.//

A flash of blue light and a bang accompanied by a blast of heat and foul smelling smoke set both men to coughing. The stench of ozone accompanied Zechs wriggling frantically to get out of the confined space, hacking and coughing to get the smoke out of his lungs. He rolled off the shelf and onto the floor, scrambling to put some distance between himself and the smoke pouring out from the shelf. The coughing fit eased and he leaned back against the wall, beside Mighty Joe Lee who was waving his arms frantically in the air in a useless bid to disperse the stench and smoke.

"Foul, man, foul." Joe grinned. "It worked?"

"Well, either it had no effect on the box, or we blew the whole base up." He paused, waiting and then sighed. "No bangs, shudders or booms from upstairs, so I guess we didn't trigger the bombs." Zechs waved away the smoke still issuing from the shelf and when it thinned enough to allow him to crawl back he slipped carefully back under. Following a moments investigation he eased himself out again, a charred, ruined box in one hand.

Joe leaned close, studying the scorched and warped box. He shook his head and grinned, deepening his voice. "I think its dead, Jim." [1

Zechs shook his head. "Where did that come from? Never mind, I don't want to know. Where's the first aid kit?"

Joe noticed for the first time that Zechs still held the stun gun. The hand holding the weapon was flaming red and blistered from the proximity to the contained explosion. He gingerly eased the weapon out of the burned fingers and motioned toward the engineering bay.

"I'll do what I can for that, but you need to go to Medical to get it seen to properly."

While he could still use his hand it was not going to be comfortable, he reflected, as he regained his feet, and led the way into the larger room. He would have to bandage the hand quickly.

He still had Noin to find, somewhere in the base. Instinct told him she was above ground, under the enviro dome. At least now the pressure of the vision was off. The possibility of the destruction of the domes was defeated. No choking pressure now pushed inexorably at him, no sickening visions pushed at his consciousness. It was one good thing to come out of this.

He had been right to pursue this course.

He had not failed on this occasion.

"How did Raiders get into the base? How did they even get near the base?"

For an instant Zechs considered correcting Mighty Joe, glancing at the smaller man, sorely tempted to tell him the truth. He sighed, shaking his head in defeat. No. If it got out and became known that the ESUN was behind the destruction of the domes then the colonies and the people of the Earth would lose faith in their government. The peace would go down in screaming revolution.

Enter the wars he had done so much to avoid.

No, as much as it stuck in his craw, he could not destroy the peace he had lost so much to achieve. Let them believe it was Raiders. He would not be the one to so threaten the peace.

"We have infiltrators. They have worked alongside us. Now must have seemed a suitable time to raid us." He commented.

"Suppose it makes sense. We have equipment they could use and with a shuttle just in we would have added parts for them to choose from. Let's see about your hand."

Zechs glanced at the clock on the wall. 15:58. The day seemed intolerably long.

t.b.c.

[1 Dr McCoy's main scripted phrase in Star Trek.

Karina Robertson 2004


	39. Chapter 39

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 39

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 15:26 MST [Mars Standard Time

Simpson

"Merquise! Merquise is here. Med... med..ic... med..."

Simpson froze. The flat, tinny voice blasted through the earpiece, panic all too clearly evident. It was followed by the ominous looming silence of doom.

Frazier glanced at his Commander, eyes wide, expecting an explosion of curses and no doubt wondering why he had bothered to get out of bed that morning. The day had started bad and it was evidently not going to improve any time soon. The silence from the radio seemed loud, and he found himself counting silently. He had reached twenty before Simpson stirred.

"Call back." Simpson ordered, tone ice cold, eyes blazing.

"Cambridge, report."

Simpson used a finger to press the earpiece deeper into his ear, as though that would make it easier to catch any reply. The only sound to be heard was a faint hint of static.

"Cambridge? Report, Cambridge!" Frazier's voice held no hint of panic, just cold professional urgency. Panic would serve no purpose, except to aggravate the already annoyed man standing beside him.

"Fannon, report." Simpson's voice cut into the network, demanding, furious that yet another thing had gone wrong. "Fannon!"

With a snarl Simpson signalled to cut the communications with his team. He considered in silence the fiasco that had been a very well detailed plan of action before they had actually executed it. Merquise was responsible for this. There could be no doubt about that. No doubt. The two men he had sent to investigate the suspected deaths of two of his team were unaccounted for. Two men dead. Likely dead, he corrected. Their deaths were not confirmed as yet. The two sent to investigate that matter were missing and now the women had been taken out of the mission.

Things were out of control. To say that it was getting messy was something beyond an understatement. The upshot of the matter was that his options were limited and getting worse with every passing minute. They had been sloppy, though where he had made the mistakes that had led to this point in time he could not see. Not without time to review what they had done. Time they did not now have.

Alpha Dome was still off the air. No word from any of his team left there to act as backup should the need arise. Neither from the other half of his team or from the undercover operatives secreted amid the grunts and professionals who had come on the shuttle. Something was seriously wrong down at the Alpha Dome, and he was loath to consider it possible that all of his people had been taken down. The silence did mean he had no option but to scratch any aid from the main dome.

Events were out of control, so it was now his obligation to bring them back under his control. The means by which he must do this was not really an option he had ever wanted to contemplate. That option he had really wanted to avoid if it was remotely possible. To now consider it meant that as a professional he had failed in his mission's prime objective. He had wanted a surgical strike. He had intended to get in, secure Merquise and Noin, get the children and get out. Surgically clean. Get in the base, secure the objectives and get out with the babies and Merquise.

That ultimate objective was still achievable. It was still possible for them to secure their targets, though, admittedly, not cleanly. That was the problem. Not cleanly. There was not just a mess in that he had lost team members, but that his mission was known and there were witnesses and evidence to link the affair back to the ESUN Security Office. It was more than just a mess. It was regrettably irreversible, so, it was time to initiate their cover. Time to set up their camouflage. Time to initiate the last resort instructions for the mission, and no time to regret what needed to be done. It could not be helped.

//No help for it. I have no other option. Time to contact the Sleepers and have them set operation Raider into motion.// He sighed. He really had preferred not to kill so many, but his orders were clear. "Any word from Beta team?"

"No contact with the Beta team, Sir. No significant logged communications between Base Dome and Alpha Dome either. I have only the teams working outside of the dome on the com, and that is the usual one would expect from a mid shift conversation."

Simpson scowled. If they had had contact with the Beta team he could have held off initiating Raider, but putting it off would serve no purpose. "Set Operation Raider into motion. Contact the Sleepers with the go ahead for their mission. We move from here to site three."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

15:28

Shanna McIntyre

"...peration Raider. Repeat, commence Operation Raider. Confirmation code Simpson, Beta Delta Delta Three. Confirm by impulse."

Shanna sighed, leaning her head back against the chair rest, contemplating the ceiling of the control room. So Noin and Merquise were giving them trouble. Serious trouble. Operation Raider was the dirty tricks option to cover up their activities at the domes if they failed, or were more violent than they had hoped to be. She had been privy to the mission details when Simpson had spoken to her in the Alpha Dome that morning.

She would be lying to say that she had been impressed by the entire matter. Either the main mission or the agenda of alternative scenarios they had covered. To her it had lacked something in the details. Exactly what it had lacked she could not have actually said, but it bothered her as the day had progressed, and she wondered now if it was not that by acting immediately Simpson had not given his team, or himself, enough time to get to know the lay out of the bases. It had also not given Simpson the advantage of actually meeting Merquise and Noin. Perhaps if he had delayed a day or two and given himself time to adjust to the local conditions, and to formulate his own impression of the targets, they might not now be in this mess.

Be that as it may, it was a done deal. They had to work with the results of what looked to her like a decided failure.

She knew that two men had been injured or killed, but she had no idea if the remainder of the infiltration team were still loose in the dome. Likely not, considering the instructions now being issued to her as Team Leader of the Sleepers. What had happened to warrant Simpson calling for operation Raider to be initiated was not good, but it was not her primary concern. What concerned her more was that they had lost all communication with the Alpha Dome.

Her agent in the big dome had not communicated with her at their scheduled contact. In fact, it was coming up to the second scheduled contact, and she had the feeling that she would hear nothing from him. Something had happened over there. Something they had not considered in their plans. Something they had missed when they had so carefully planned this mission. With communications between Alpha Dome and Base Dome off line, her doing, and her private line to the agent in the domes team also inoperative, decidedly not her doing, she had to agree with Simpson.

Drastic measures to cover up were required.

While it might prove to be a minor problem it might also prove to be a major hurdle they had very little means to counter. Had she heard from her agent she would have considered going against Simpson's directive and delaying Operation Raider, but since that was not the case, she had to concur that it was a necessary precaution. She had blocked both Alpha and Base Dome communications between each other, but more importantly off planet as well. The teams working outside the domes had personal communications equipment, but only short range affairs and they were ignorant as to what was happening anyway. At the scheduled shift change they could deal with the returning personnel.

Straightening in her chair she fronted the control panel, touching keys in quick succession. First the acknowledgement of the instructions to Simpson, and then the prearranged signal sent to the personal pagers of her team and she settled back as she watched the small screen, watching as one by one the team acknowledged their instruction. Everyone knew their place. Everyone knew precisely what they had to do and where they had to be to fulfill the operation successfully. They all knew what key personnel they had to kill and where they would be. After the initial strikes they would begin taking out the workers under the dome. Silence and stealth was the key to Raider success.

She sighed. No acknowledgement from her man in the Alpha Dome. Not good.

"Sorry, people. You're in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, it must be done. Can't have the general population know what is happening here. You're all just casualties of war."

Her first duty was to lock down the communications in the Base Dome, so that only she could operate the system. Must not have anyone contacting the outside maintenance workers with reports as to what was happening under the dome. Or realizing that the system had been tampered with. She would then have to go upstairs and kill everyone on that level, as neatly and quietly as possible. Her agent in the security team in the foyer would be starting from the ground floor and working up, floor by floor. She could use this time and bloody work to psyche herself up for the taping of the mayday call. She would need to be disheveled and only one tiny point off hysterical. It was imperative she make the distress call believable.

A quick glance at the schedule revealed she had a two hour window before a mining transport would pass within the range of Mars, close enough to pick up the signal. A little closer than she would have liked, but they could work around that. All going well the Dakkar System would have been tampered with by now, initially as a precaution against the Preventers interfering and getting word out.

The most likely scenario was that the mining ship that would pass near to Mars would turn tail and run, not wanting to get involved in a Raider operation. No Preventer ships were scheduled to be anywhere near Mars for at least two weeks, and that would be one returning from the asteroid belt patrol en route to Earth for maintenance and a change of crew. There was also an ESUN patrol ship within six days travel time of Mars, but this would be long over before then. Word would be blazing around the Earth Sphere days before any Preventer or security ships could act. The only possible witnesses she would have to worry about coming from space would be the mining transports, or any Sweeper ships that might be in the area.

Neither of which she would expect to be a problem in this situation. The miners would run from possible Raiders and the Sweepers kept to themselves, refusing to get involved in direct conflict, though they would certainly spread the word, passing on the mayday. The beauty of it was that all emergency communications would be automatically rerouted to broadcast over the supposedly secure Dakkar Satellite System, and that system had been compromised as a necessary precaution to contain the situation on Mars. News would get out, but not until they wanted it to. All nicely packaged and time logged on the satellite. The Raiders, of course, would get the blame for that as well.

The ESUN pickup ship was due to arrive in two days. When the Mayday was received by them they would know that some cleaning up would need to be done and that they should hasten their arrival. They would receive the call hours before the Dakkar System would relay the mayday, allowing them that little extra time to act. A total clean sweep of the base would then be possible.

The only problems would arise if any ships, mining, private research, executives, Sweepers or whatever, were in the immediate area though not slated for a fly past of Mars, and were within two days of the planet. Only if an unexpected ship with a captain brave enough, or stupid enough, to respond to the distress call by charging to the rescue, would they be in trouble and need to extend their action to cover their tracks.

No, it was a sad and sorry truth that the Raiders that attacked Mars base would leave no survivors to be rescued, other than a few who would swear that it had been Raiders when asked questions. The media would hype the story out of all proportion. No one would think to question it, not with the past record of the pirates who prowled the mining lanes.

"Kill two birds with one stone. Get Merquise and his kids in security confinement and give a push to cleaning up the oh so handy Raiders. First things first." A low murmur. "Clear the floors."

000000000000000000000000000000000000

15:50

Alpha Dome

"Well?" Joe Mako turned from the consol to front Eagle as he entered the control room.

"Sectors A to F have been swept. All in dreamland. We have placed them in confinement until this is over. Another two hours should complete the sweep and we will know that the Dome is secure. As expected, we did find a few who escaped the gas, but they are in restraint. Everybody known to be in the dome is now accounted for."

"Good. I can't afford to have riots or sabotage destroying the dome." A surly grunt responded, but Mako's eyes told how frightened he was by the necessity of this action.

"Any word on Jenny Santos?"

"Nothing coming in. Base Dome had contacted us to pass the time of day. Shanna McIntryre is on duty in the main control room, but now the com link is nothing but static. The interference is coming through the Base Dome's channels. Started about twenty, twenty five minutes ago."

"Mmm, well we do not want to talk to her just now anyway. Better if she just sits and wonders."

Mako nodded. "Just so. I wish this was over, Simon."

The Preventer could only agree with that. He had orders from Preventer Earth to contain the situation and ensure that as few people as possible were hurt. They could not afford to have it generally known that Milliardo Peacecraft was alive and well on Mars. Eagle had never met the man before he had been assigned to follow agents Wind and Fire to Mars and take over security at the terra formation project. Having now met the man, he could not understand the terror that swept what had become the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. The man he knew as Zechs Merquise was not the man who had threatened to destroy the Earth.

Just what had happened to change that man?

Milliardo Peacecraft was the Devil in disguise, so he had been told. Media hype added to the unreasoning fear generated when his name was mentioned. Clearly the ESUN government knew just how powerful an agent it had in controlling what information went out over the media to the general public. Information on more than just the Sanc Prince who had threatened to wipe out the civilization of the planet. There were people on Earth who were dangerously wise to the powers of the media being used to widely sway public sentiment.

"It won't be much longer and it will be over."

Zechs Merquise seemed so different to all the reports he had been privy to. Preventer Earth had ensured he was very well briefed on Milliardo Peacecraft when he was assigned to this mission. He knew he had been chosen to fill this post because he had not reacted with automatic terror and hate for the man who had threatened to destroy a civilization. The truth was that the Earth would not have been destroyed by the repercussions of the White Fangs plan, but the planet would have been stripped of more than ninety percent of life. Another mass global extinction, similar to that which was credited with wiping out the dinosaurs would have occurred. In so many thousands of years life would have started to develop again. Faster, when you considered that in a few hundred years time, when the planet had settled, the descendants of the current colonists would have started working on the planet to bring it back to life.

The man he knew as Zechs Merquise seemed more concerned with keeping people alive than killing them. It made no sense to him. Especially when you considered the trouble Zechs had gone to, to convince he and Mako to install the gas cylinders in the ventilation system of the Alpha Dome. He was in no doubt that Marquise had saved lives, property and injuries with that single action.

Mako grunted. "The situation was under control. He was hurting no one here. Why they had to do this is beyond me. Where could Zechs go? What could he do here? For God's sake, Simon, this is Mars."

"They had plans. That's all I know. The Alpha Dome was going to be opened up for general colonization in less than a year. It would have been harder to keep Zechs' presence here secret. That would have figured in their plans, but likely we could have gotten around that hurdle." Likely he would learn more of the ESUN's plans at a later time. When this was over. "I hate not knowing what is going on over there."

"Sir, static on the line from Base Dome is still in effect, but there is a message originating from the Base dome. Its going out on a broad band sweep" The com officer looked around, frowning. "There's a lot of interference I can't account for. There's no cause for it to be on the com link."

Mako grunted and spun his chair around, watching as on the screen Shanna McIntyre, wide, terror filled eyes streaming with tears, blood on her face and uniform, wept. The picture was somewhat fuzzy and there was static disrupting both picture and sound, but it was clear enough to ensure the message was understood.

"Mayday! Mayday! Help us. This is Mars Base Dome. The Raiders... oh, God... The Raiders are here! They're killing everybody. Help us..."

With a violent hiss the screen dissolved into one final static display. Silence filled the control center as the com officer snapped off the link, staring at her hands for a long moment before looking to her Project Chief and the Preventer who was her Commanding Officer.

Preventer Eagle glared at the screen, in total disbelief. The implications were certainly not lost on him. Zechs had informed him of the identity of the ESUN agents on the team that were known to him, stressing that there were others he did not know. He himself had independently checked the backgrounds of the agents when he had learned of them and he concurred. Zechs was not mistaken. Shanna McIntyre was the top name on that list of Sleeper agents. She was the commanding officer for the undercover team. Any doubts he had of her culpability in this situation were now firmly laid to rest. Zechs had said repeatedly there were more and he did not know who they were, or how many of them there were.

"Shit. They intend to kill us all." He whispered.

"Sir! The communications array... Damn!" The man worked quickly at his consol, finally shaking his head in disgust, looking helplessly as red light after red light appeared on his instrument panel. "The whole system is going down. Mains, secondary, backup... everything! I can't even establish communications with the maintenance teams outside the domes. Some type of virus I think."

Preventer Eagle growled softly, for a moment resting his head in a hand. They were thorough. He had to give them that. He understood now, and he was horrified. Lead everyone to believe the Raiders were responsible; take out communications so no one who knew the truth could contact anyone to pass the word along. Likely they would have some means of mass destruction to seal the fate of the terra formers, and it was his job to keep these people safe.

Yes, it was his job as a Preventer to keep these people safe from the scum of the Universe. He had not known just how low that scum was willing to go.

He had already sent off a preliminary report to Preventer Earth via the usual communications channels. Further reports would need to be sent on the independent communications array he had brought with him to Mars. That unit was sealed and he doubted any of the sleeper team was capable of corrupting the unit, if they even knew where it was currently located. Still, what you could not take out with a virus you could still destroy with a few solid blows. He had to make certain that the only secured system remained secure. It was time to send a report anyway. If the worst happened he had to get some type of warning through.

It would take time. Thirty minutes for the radio waves to reach the Earth. Then Preventer Earth would have to receive the report and determine a course of action. Then another thirty minutes for the return instructions to be received back on Mars. Possibly up to two hours before he could receive new instructions. It all amounted to one conclusion.

They were on their own.

"I need three people in suits ASAP. We need to get the maintenance crews into the Alpha Dome as soon as possible."

"What about Base Dome?" Mako queried.

"Alpha is our first priority. Zechs and Noin are in Base Dome with two undercover operatives if they need the assistance. We have to trust in them to handle the situation."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	40. Chapter 40

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 40

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 16:10 MST [Mars Standard Time

Noin

//Damn. I can't get anything out of this unit. What ever they used to corrupt the data it was efficient. I can't get word out to let anyone know what is going on here. I can't even raise an internal system.//

Taking deep measured breaths she forced calm. Now was not the time to lose control. Adrenaline highs were great, when you needed action, but now she needed calm, measured thought. From her behavior McIntyre was obviously expecting something in the way of a bomb to go off. From their past modus operandi Raiders would strip the base of everything useful and blow the remainder apart. Four mining settlements in the asteroid belt had met their end in such a manner, and it was likely such would be used to cover this operation.

Not all raids had been destructive. She had viewed reports that had come in over Preventer channels of Raiders relieving ships of their cargo, but ships and crews being allowed to depart intact. It was suggestive that there were factions or...

//Not now, fool. No time to waste.//

Bombs had to have been set throughout the dome and, from McIntyre's reaction, she suspected they should have gone off by now. So, perhaps a mechanical glitch or a timing error, which could mean the explosions could come at any time. She needed to know how many devices there were, where they were located, and the means by which they would be detonated.

Considering her options Noin turned and knelt beside the unconscious woman. She'd hit her just a shade harder than she needed to, but she had really pissed her off. Now, however, was not the time for personal pleasure to be indulged. Time enough for that later, when matters had been dealt with. Lifting her head by means of fisting that flaming red mass she slapped her sharply, seeking to wake her. No success, though she might well be faking, biding time, Noin mused. Waiting. There were other means to accomplish the same ends, and Noin strolled over to the water cooler, filling a large jug and sauntering back, glaring balefully at the red head.

"Bitch. You've ruined my nice perfect world." A hiss. "Now I have to start all over again, and it's all because of you. Traitor. Traitor to all of us, not just to our friendship."

The jugs contents were unceremoniously dumped over that bright red cap of hair. Gasping and choking in shock the woman roused, blinking furiously in the light, water soaking her face and blouse. Smirking Noin knelt down, just beyond arms reach of the ESUN agent. Darkened violet eyes glared from a face few people had had the misfortune to see, making it plain that she was an unhappy lady and it was McIntyre's misfortune to be the object of her ire.

In truth, Noin was uncertain when she had last felt this unhappy with a situation. Certainly not since the Libra battle when she had worked against her Zechs, not understanding his aims. She had not been able to understand what he had thought he was doing, and she was certain she could turn him away from the path of madness and destruction.

Even when she had gone to him she had not understood his intentions, only chosen to stand by, near him, not interfering. Not working against him, no, but not aiding him either. Not really trying to understand what was in his heart. Perhaps not even then had she felt this degree of rage. Then it had been more confusion and despair that they were seemingly on opposite sides. This was a very different situation to that war.

//This ability of his. I never asked him if it had something to do with what happened with the Libra. That is something I have to do. It might help me to understand why he joined White Fang. Ah, we look just about ready for question and answer time, Shanna my friend.//

To begin with, there had been no formal declaration of war on this occasion.

Until just a few hours ago, that was. War had been declared between the ESUN and one Lucrezia Noin. A very personal declaration of war, declared between some power hungry old farts who thought they owned the ESUN and one extremely aggravated Lucrezia Noin, who had had her world disrupted once again by an act of terrorism.

This kidnapping she classed as terrorism. In the same league as Chang Wu Fei's assault on the Lake Victoria Academy.

"Now, then, let's have a little talk, shall we, Shanna dearest? Let's talk about your plans for the people you have worked with for more than a year now. Let's talk about how many of them you were planning to kill in cold blood." Fiery violet eyes bored into sullen green. "Let's talk about how you were going to cover up the ESUN's actions. Oh, and while we are at it, lets talk about how you were planning to get my babies off this planet."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000

Shanna

"It's too late. For you. For them."

While she admitted to herself her newly acquired fear of this woman, Shanna also had confidence in herself and the planners of this entire operation. She had taken the time to pour over Noins psych records, well aware of the vital nature of her role in befriending the woman. She was confident while Noin might rough her up, she would not kill her. All the reports and her association with her for the last year plus assured her Noin was not a killer at heart.

"Look at the time, Shanna. Yes, that's right. Your bombs have not gone off. Doesn't that tell you something, hmm? Doesn't that let you know you have a little glitch in your plans?"

Time was worrying her; she need not hide that fact, which should be obvious. Give the clock quick nervous glances, work the bitch up and work on her. Make her make mistakes. Yes, time was a factor, it was true, but all the time in the world was not going to help Noin. It was already too late.

Yes, she had expected something to have happened by now, and while Noin could well guess that it was a couple of well placed explosives, she could have no idea of the extent of the plan. She had no idea the dome itself was the target, not a few buildings within it to cause wanton, needless destruction.

The question now was how well the woman had been trained. Noin would put pressure on her, pushing for answers, trying to make her fold under interrogation. Time was all on Shanna's side. She could afford to wait where Noin must act.

"Do what you like. It will make no difference. No difference at all. Mars base will be destroyed, whether from the ground or the air, it makes no difference. No difference at all how it happens or when. You have no one to help you, Noin. No one. You were defeated before you even began to fight."

"Odd. I'm not the one looking down the barrel of a gun." Noin smiled.

This woman was not what she had expected. Noin had a cold streak in her that had not even been hinted at in the reports. It was not in her voice or even in her attitude, or stance. It was the eyes, Shanna decided. Those eyes that shone with an utterly unholy light that shook her to the core. Eyes somewhere between amethyst and deep blue. There was a look in them that would make the arctic of Mars look tropical. McIntyre resisted the urge to shudder. She was a professional. She had long ago learned to have faith in her information. The Psyche reports said this woman was not a killer.

"It's the endgame that matters, Noin. Not the beginning or the middle. Only the endgame matters."

Noin smirked. "Still no booms, Shanna. Your bombs seem to have a problem."

A careless toss of fire bright tresses and she shrugged, allowing her eyes to flick to the clock, continuing the play. It was all about time, after all. She was playing for time. "For which you should be thankful, Miss Noin. If they had gone off, there would be no one alive up here now."

"Ah, so you have one or two on the Dome, do you? Thank you, Shanna dearest. No, it will kill a few people, that is true, but you forget. It will kill you too." Noin grinned. "If we go down, so do you."

"I don't matter. As a whole, Noin, we don't matter in the scheme of things. Only the mission matters. Your ex military. You should appreciate that. I assure you the mission is well in hand. You've lost."

Noin sighed. "You are so full of it. Just like so many who can't see the whole picture."

"Oh, I see the picture. Certainly I see more of it than you do." //Let us see just how well the bitch can play games.// "You just wanted to get in his bed, didn't you? You couldn't wait to claim that blonde stud you pursued to Mars. Got him in the end, didn't you? Did the poor bastard have a chance? Did you give him a chance to tell you to go to hell? Did he have a say in it, Noin? Just how much about his past don't you know, Noin? I know things you don't. I know things about him that would make you sick."

//Let's see how well you play the game when we play on the personal level. God, woman, you made a fool of yourself over that man. You will be so easy to play.//

"We are not discussing Zechs or my relationship with him. I was Oz Specials, Shanna." Noin smirked. "There is no interrogation technique that I don't know. No interrogation technique and no evasion. I know all the psyche outs. I've used them. It won't work on me. So, will we get to the real topic, hmm? My children."

"Your children? They are ESUN citizens." Shanna laughed "The government has the right to remove them to safe custody in the event of a threat, Miss Noin." //Just a little subtle influence on the Miss.// "Well, guess what? You and that man of yours are considered a threat. No. No, that's wrong. I have to be more exact here. We have received orders to remove the twins and Milliardo Peacecraft from Mars to safe ground, because of a threat to their security. Do you know what, Miss Noin? The orders did not say to remove you, my dear friend, to safety. So I guess that places you as unimportant in the scheme of things. Or it places you as a threat to their safety. Resisting the best intentions of the government leads me to believe you are a threat to the children and the man himself."

"Twisted bitch." A soft hiss.

//Ah, so sensitive. Good. I can work with that.//

"I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you. All Peacecrafts are to be placed under ESUN protection, Miss Noin. Ah, Miss Noin." A low, sultry laugh, emphasis placed on the 'Noin'. She shook her head slightly, resisting the urge to smirk. "That's your name, isn't it? Noin. Miss Noin. Not Peacecraft. You got to bed him, but not wed him, eh? Not got him quite under your heel, have you?"

000000000000000000000000000000000

Noin

She was getting to her. To her disgust she could feel herself rising to the bait and that she could not afford. Noin knew it and lashed out, dropping the agent again into the darkness of unconsciousness. Damn. She was good at the psyche outs. She knew just where to go to exploit Noin's weakness.

For a moment she buried her head in her hands, shivering. Damn psycho bitch. She knew too much about her and her dreams. Shanna had been her friend. Her confidant.

Marrying Zechs had been what she had intended. Court the man. Win him to her suit. Show him how much she loved him. Teach him that he was allowed to be loved and that he could love her in turn. That had been her plan. The plan she had confided in Shanna one night over a shared half bottle of whisky. The plan she had abandoned when the first chance to get him into bed had presented itself. Hearing her failure from this bitch hurt.

"Not now, Noin. Later." A sigh. "Time for regrets later. Time to start again later, when this has all been resolved. Too much to do. What next, hmm? Bombs. Bloody bombs. Blow the dome, will they? Something's already gone wrong there, but I guess I should check out the dome, just to make sure. I'll need help to do that and that means I need to trust people. Damn, this would be so much easier if Zechs had told me who not to trust. If I go to the wrong people... Don't go there, Noin. Just don't go down that path, not here and not now. Comes a time when you have to trust someone. There should be enough people in the shuttle control tower to check the domes integrity. That's if there were not agents there who have slaughtered everyone. Yes, I'll just go check that out. I can't take a chance with the dome's security. I need to set people to locating any bombs that might be set, just to be sure."

Noin glanced down, considering the unconscious woman for a long moment. "If the dome was to blow, were you really so willing to sacrifice yourself? I wonder. Anyway, we need to keep you secure, so you can't warn any of your friends. Now how to do that, hmm?"

Some minutes later a softly humming Lucrezia Noin closed the door to the stairwell and slipped to the head of the stairs. No need to advertise her presence by using the elevator. No need to chance her safety or freedom by being careless now. Shanna was not the only one she needed to be wary of. There were others out there who meant to take her down. It was easier to check ahead of her using the stairs. While she did not expect to find anyone alive in this building she would not be stupid enough to make assumptions.

00000000000000000000000000000000

Shanna

Shanna McIntyre slowly regained consciousness, groaning in pain. Her shoulders screamed at her and she found breathing difficult, her body seemed to hurt all over. Her wrists were a source of burning agony and her head throbbed. It was agony to open her eyes, but she needed information. When she did she grunted, unable to even move her legs beyond a useless flailing. Useless because she could not force her legs to separate and there was nothing near her for support anyway.

She was strung up over the main computer consol, her hands cuffed together with standard issue Preventer hand cuffs. A chain was suspended from the cuffs to run up and over the overhead beam of the ceiling, leaving her dangling from the ceiling a good distance above the computers, unable to support her own weight.

Her wrists and shoulders were one huge ball of pain, taking the strain of her full weight. Her mouth was sealed shut with some type of tape, muffling her protests and her ankles were tied together tightly. She could not see her feet to determine what the bitch had used to incapacitate her. The full stretch of her body placed pressure on her lungs, making her short of breath, as though she was stretched on a rack, and the gag did not help her draw breath.

//God! My head. That bitch. That bloody bitch. It's not over, Noin! It's far from over between us.//

On the wall opposite her position the clock display changed by the second, inexorably taking them closer to the final conclusion. Despite her predicament she smiled under the gag. Though she was down just now she knew who would win this, and it was not one Lucrezia Noin. Down she might be, but not out.

They would face each other again. Noin had made a mistake keeping her alive, but the very fact that she was alive proved her point. Noin was not a killer at heart. If Noin was not in her death throes when next they met, then she would be by the time Shanna was through with her.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson


	41. Chapter 41

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 41

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 16:13 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

He had options. He had to remember that at all times. It still was not hopeless. He had tried the base communications system, but that had been disabled. He had suspected that would be the first thing they did, but he had needed to make certain. There had been that one possibility he might have gotten a message to Noin before they had taken down the com lines. No such luck. They were out of communications, unless she thought to grab a personal com set and set the device for one of the old Oz frequencies they had used.

To do so would be daring, in that the enemy would be monitoring the air waves and might stumble on the frequency they might choose. It was a chance he was tempted to take, but of the multiple glimpses of possibilities he had seen of a time that seemed to match the conditions of this time, only one had shown her actually doing that, and he was not prepared to take the chance on her giving her location away to the opposition.

He had no time to set up the scramblers they would need to secure their frequency and even if he did, he would have to get a secured head set to her. No, it was best if they worked independently of each other just now. Much as it pained him to think of them working apart. They had worked well together in their Academy and Oz days.

His first option should be to continue looking for her, not trying to set up a communications system with her before he even knew where she was. The best option would be to track down Shanna McIntyre, as he knew Noin would hold a grudge there. That meant a trip up side, to the control tower. McIntryre should be in the control tower and it was logical Noin should head there. That was what his heart told him to do. Pursue Noin.

His head, however, his experience and training told him it was time to ensure the Commander of this whole mess was taken out, before it progressed to the stage where everyone at the dome would likely perish. Head or heart. He had a choice to make.

//Noin. What am I meant to do? I can't just leave you, but if I don't find him and take him out of the equation, we will all go down.//

His hand throbbed constantly, a reminder he could not escape that he was not in the best of shape. Between his shoulder and hand he was not in prime condition for a fight and he had no doubt Simpson would be a fight he had to win. If he hoped to have any control over this situation and save lives, then he had to gain control of the Commander of the invading forces. He needed to either incapacitate or kill him.

Nausea threatened to hit him again as he made his way to the airlock and he sucked in a deep, calming breath. Why had he drunk the coffee? God, he was going to pay for that. Coffee was not his preferred beverage, and to have drunk so much of it, so fast, was purely an automatic reaction to dehydration. No time now to regret it, just time to act.

He had to make up his mind one way or the other what he was to do. He distrusted the elevators to the upper levels of the base. It was entirely too easy for the agents to watch them and eliminate anyone using them. Events were moving if they were willing to blow the dome and that frightened him. He had not foreseen the bombs being used, yet this instance, now with him leaning on the wall, sick to his stomach, felt so familiar to him. No, the elevators were out of the question and besides, he had another means of gaining the upper base without alerting anyone to his presence. The question was whether Simpson was up there, or hiding down here?

"Noin" Softly. "Why can't you get your butt into a safe place and stay there?"

He had to decide and his feet made the decision for him. Without conscious will he found him facing the door to the reservoir room. Here, in this huge room, in four massive tanks, the bases water supply was managed with loving attention. Life was water and they guarded the tanks contents zealously. Huge pipes pumped the water up into the hydroponics domes for the colonies food producing plants and natural filtration system for treatment. The pumps were on hold, during this emergency period and the water pipes empty. Inspection ladders were set within each pipe and that was his ticket to the surface dome.

The doors were locked, as expected during this emergency situation. That was not a problem. He had made it his business to learn the recognition codes and the pass codes for strategic places throughout the base, both those that featured in visions as well as those he considered important regardless of whether he might need to know it or not. Watch him as they might, he had managed to learn the base as they would not believe possible. Much of it was learned through vision, but he had not erred to date on that information, and the locks clicked into the disengage position to the first code he punched in.

The huge reservoir room was unattended at this time and it was easy enough to disable the number three pump. In two possible futures he had seen the pump activated and watched himself drown in the tube. The first such vision of his own death by drowning had sent him into a choking bout that had Noin convinced he was having a fit. He had barely been able to convince her it was just a nightmare, though he had had to undergo a physical to convince her he was healthy the next day.

Death by drowning. Not a very desirable end. One he took pains to ensure would not happen. Much as he thought he should not now be alive he was not going to offer his life on a silver platter to the ESUN or even an accidental death. He had more to think of than himself. He had children to think of. His own and two others, and a colony's worth of people who did not deserve to die, just because they had had the misfortune to work where he was confined.

//Freedom, Noin? You want freedom for the twins. How about freedom from stupidity for us all? It's all so bloody stupid. If I had died in the Libra explosion none of this would have happened. I don't understand why I am alive. I should be dead. I was sure I would die.// He sighed. "I wanted to die."

Should be and actually being were, however, two vastly different things. He had not died and since he had survived the Libra to come to Mars, he now had to survive as best he could, because he had children to think of. Noin would not abandon him. She had made that abundantly clear to him, refusing the safety of remaining on Earth and continuing as a Preventer agent. It had been her choice to accompany him to Mars. He certainly had not asked her to abandon the life she had made for herself after the One Year War. No, it had not been his choice that she had left that life behind, but he felt guilty for their situation, regardless. He had to stay alive and get her out of this no win situation. Somehow he had to fashion a win option that kept Noin alive for the sake of their children.

He knew what it was like to grow up without his mother.

Why had she been so stubborn? Why had she ruined the safest option, the one he could have almost guaranteed would keep her and the children free? A new life, protected from the ESUN by either the Sweepers or Quatre Winner. Why had she been so stubborn?

//Get past it, Marquise. Done is done. You should know that better than anyone else. Move on and do the best you can. Scream about it later, when you have time and opportunity. If you have time and opportunity.//

The pump system disabled and jammed for added security he opened the inspection hatch and climbed into the big pipe that fed water through out Hydroponics Dome Three. The pipe had a two meter diameter and water splashed around his feet as he stepped into its core, closing the door behind him. If a snap inspection was carried out or if one of the agents checked the room, he did not want it to be obvious where he had gone.

The metal rungs of the inspection ladder were slippery with water and the pipe dripped around him, huge droplets of water falling from the darkness above. Light spilled into the pipe from the reservoir room allowing him to find the rungs imbedded into the wall of the pipe. He dared not activate the lights, but high above him he could just make out the dull glow of the emergency light that marked the inspection hatch above.

He had not climbed more than ten meters before he was soaking wet from the dripping water. He had a total of three hundred meters of pipe to climb before he would reach the hatch exiting the pipes, before they narrowed into the smaller units designed to process the water. Already his hand and shoulder were screaming in protest to the strain of the climb. He pushed himself forward, knowing it was only going to get worse.

His hand, more than his shoulder, at the present time protested the abuse. Even in the lighter gravity of Mars this climb would not be pleasant. Had he been doing this on Earth, he knew it might well have been impossible in his present condition. The rungs were marked with blood from his abused hand by the time he had climbed fifty meters, and he gritted his teeth, focusing on a point above that bleeding mass of abused flesh.

He should have searched the lower base for Simpson, but he ignored the nagging voice and continued to climb.

There was the possibility he would find Simpson above ground. In a number of possibilities he had found him to be within the main control tower, slaughtering the base personal. In other possibilities the ESUN Commander had taken up command position in the main hub of the ventilation system for the subterranean base, but other visions had shown him also in the main mess hall, the power generator room and the shuttle control room. Too many possibilities. The ventilation system option had, he admitted, appeared more often than anything else. That was very likely to be the place he would be found, Zechs admitted to himself, but his body continued to climb. It made more sense to the Commander inherent in Zechs that the ventilation system hub was the most suitable command position on such an operation as this.

He could not get past his fear that Noin could meet her fate in her foolishness.

//If she had listened she could have had a life with her children. She could have left Mars on that shuttle and taken the twins to safety.// He growled to himself, blocking out the pain that was a rising tide of distraction. //Both Howard and Quatre Winner would have given them sanctuary, kept them hidden. For Noin's sake. For her they would have protected the children, despite what they might think of me.//

For Noin they would have helped and forgiven the children the identity of their sire.

He clung to the ladder, panting, sweat as well as water soaking his uniform. He had to rest a moment. He hooked his good arm through the rung, closing his fingers around the railing. He was blind within the darkness of the pipe, and that distant red glow seemed no closer. Cradling his burned, bleeding hand close, pressed close to the rungs to support his weight and not place too much strain on his one working side.

He had no doubt that the bandage on his hand would be blood stained. The pain was like a fire and the wetness was warm, not like the ice cold drops that fell on him from the pipes invisible upper echelons. Blood. Like the blood of the thousands who had died in the wars. Blood he had determined would not spill in massive quantities ever again, if it was in his power to make a difference.

If he could make a difference. Never mind that he would be hated for it. That was unimportant. Never mind that no one would ever understand why he had done the terrible things he had. That too was unimportant. Never mind that he hated himself for the necessity of it. He knew what he had seen. He could not forget the visions that had shaped his decision. He knew that what had shaped his determination to command the White Fang and threaten the Earth were not the demented ravings of an insane mind.

It was so much more. So unbelievable.

Maybe he was insane.

With a grunt he forced himself to move. To resume climbing. He must not doubt. He must never doubt what he had done. That way did lie insanity, as it only increased the possibilities that flowed around him. Doubting himself only made more choices. He had to narrow down the options, not insight more to weaken him. He had to guide events to the best possible solution. The best solution for all.

The least amount of blood must be shed. The least amount of destruction of people and property. He had to choose the least bloody, but most acceptable, resolution and already two people were dead and there were implications for the families of the dead men. Maybe more were dead. Had Noin killed again? Had the Sleepers begun their bloody work? They had set bombs. He had glimpsed the possibilities of whole sale slaughter.

Nausea threatened. The coffee threatened to come up and he sucked in air, shaking in every limb. No. Some of the things he had seen... Some of the horrors he had witnessed he had to avoid at all costs. He could not allow the horror to come. Would he be too late? Was it already too late?

No. No, he must believe he could stop the slaughter.

It was good that he had found the transmitter and destroyed it. That had stopped the visions. No visions of explosions to breach the dome and kill those in the above ground base. The pressure had finally relented, giving him breathing room, even if it had not settled his stomach. Easing his throbbing head. That fate, at least, he was certain they had succeeded at avoiding.

Before he had left the engineering bay he had advised Mighty Joe to make himself scarce and secure, and to warn his fellow engineers to do the same, warning him that he might not even be able to trust the one he considered his best friend. He knew with certainty that there were five Sleepers in the community, but that there were only five was not so certain. He had seen five individuals and positively identified them amongst the base personnel. There could be more. Most likely were more. Professional's who worked for ESUN security, even other agencies. Private agencies.

Just how many people knew he was here? How many people knew that the Terror of Earth was confined on the planet Mars? In Oz he had been taught the intricacies of politics and big business. Mars was not just the latest colony to be constructed. Mars had advantages over the orbiting colonies at the La Grange Points around Earth and her Moon. There was no need to spend huge amounts of credits on bringing resource satellites to the colony. Mars was a planet. It had its own resources. Of course the big companies would have their agents here.

Perhaps not immediately the plans were made to found the colony, but they would have filtered in over the course of the supply shuttle runs. When the Base Dome was completed and the construction of the Alpha Dome was under way the big companies would have considered sending their own agents to the planet. The companies would want to know the extent of the resources they could expect to exploit.

Good business dictated it would not suit the big conglomerates to have the citizens who brought their goods know that the boogie man had survived. No, they would not wish the existence of Milliardo Peacecraft to be widely known. That would undoubtedly be considered bad for business. It would explain why his presence here was still a well guarded secret. How likely would it be they would hold their silence about his presence here if the ESUN slaughtered their agents? For suitable gains they might keep their silence, if they approached the ESUN in a careful manner.

On Mars it was not so easy to determine who worked for whom.

He was thinking too much. His stomach churned and his headache lifted a degree, intensifying and he cringed away from the thoughts he had been entertaining. If he was not careful he would end up triggering another round of visions, and that could not be permitted. Not while he was over a hundred meters up a water pipe. Not now. He had things to do and the visions would only interfere. He had to have his head clear.

Only a few more rungs and he would be at the door. Don't look down into darkness and don't look up at that red glow that never seemed to brighten. He must keep his focus.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

16:25

Noin

"Adrian, have them check on the dome's surface itself, not just the machinery and installations adjacent to it."

"Are you sure about this, Noin? We intercepted the message from Shanna and she was screaming about Raiders. I can't contact the control tower to confirm, but I think I have heard gun fire."

Noin barely resisted the urge to hit the idiot. He was a good enough man in peace time, but in stressful situations like this he turned into a blithering idiot. She could not believe the garbage he was sprouting.

"Do you see the ships? Do you see unknown men and women running around the dome shooting anyone who moves? Do you see anyone dismantling machinery for spare parts? Does the radar show any ground troops assaulting the dome? Has the planetary grid picked up any unauthorized craft near Mars that could possibly be Raiders attacking the dome?"

He shook his head slowly, unwilling to believe her, gaze creeping to the stations monitoring the dome and the environs of the planet. He could not believe this woman. She charged in here spouting off about bombs and ESUN agents and killing their own people. Did she think him an idiot? It was ludicrous to even think the ESUN would attack their own people. Yet, he had to admit, she was right about the lack of vehicles in the spatial neighbourhood, and yes, there were no figures running around shooting everyone in sight.

"No. No, there are no craft near Mars at this time. The nearest is around two hours away, an Ore Carrier on its way to L4. It's just that... Noin, I can't believe we would be under attack by ESUN agents. What ever reason could they have?" //And they call Marquise insane. Did anyone run checks on her?//

He was a good man, but he had no imagination, she reflected. "To cover up a balls up, Adrian. They came on a covert operation and they have failed their mission. Now they have to secure their positions and ensure that no word gets out. Look, organize your people to check for explosive devices around the dome. Just do that much. Then you will know if I am insane or not."

She had used every trick she knew to gain access to the shuttle control tower unobserved. On leaving the main control tower she had sought out every scrap of cover and made the best use possible of it. The red emergency lighting had disturbed her more that the silence, it made everything look as though it was stained with blood. Since she had not found herself under fire in crossing between the two buildings, she could only assume that she had succeeded in reaching the shuttle control tower unobserved.

To her immense relief she had found the foyer occupied with three security guards, the fourth, she was informed, was on his rounds. Had she seen any sign of the Raiders? A broadcast had been received that the base was under attack from the Raiders and she was lucky she had arrived when she did, as they were about to lock down the control tower.

Now, in front of three of the controllers for the tower she had warned them to check on the security of the dome, and to beware the agents prowling in their midst. So why did all three stare blankly at her?

"Look, Noin, we have computer problems just now. I heard the alert that has placed us on emergency. It said intruders were loose in the base. Intruders, Noin, not ESUN agents. That backs up Shanna McIntyre's message. The communications computers are down and I have to find out what is causing the disruption so I can contact the sub base and the Alpha Dome."

"Anyway, we are a close knit community. Do you honestly thing we could be fooled by anyone posing as a specialist in terra forming..." At Noin's patient, but glaringly intense expression, the woman, Evylyn Matther sighed. "I already assigned two men to have a look when you first came out with this nonsense."

"Look, you were just sprouting off about McIntyre's warning! Now whether you believe me that it is ESUN agents, or her that it is Raiders, don't you think it is patently obvious that something is wrong?"

Noin was well aware of the two operators at the main consul watching the four of them with widened eyes. Maybe she should have taken this argument outside, but she had to impress on all of them the urgency of the situation. Those people needed to hear what she had to say. If their controllers would not listen then maybe the people who worked under them would listen and save themselves.

"I suppose you are right." A resigned sigh. "Something is definitely wrong here." Adrian nodded, eyes flicking behind her. "We have to do something about it. Can..."

Pain exploded in her head as her knees buckled and her vision swam into brilliant light, and then threatening darkness. She swore silently, unable to so much as grunt, let alone scream. She was aware enough to watch as Adrian Myles gaped, his chest exploding into a shower of blood. She dimly heard Celia Petersen, the second of the controllers scream and the low, unmistakable bark of a silenced gun. She was on the floor and had not felt herself fall, or the impact of the landing. She stared at the very dead face of the controller lying beside her. She had been arguing with him only moments before, and now he was kicked aside, boots filling her vision. Heavy combat boots. Had she been shot in the head? What had happened?

//Oh, God. Oh God, I can't move. It hurts... Pain. I've never felt this before. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Zechs. I should... should have had more faith in you. I can't... I can't feel... just pain.//

"You'll be useful, Ms. Noin."

Military issue boots filled her vision. A hand gripped her shirt just under her chin and hauled her up. The pain in her head blurred her vision before a face swam into focus. An unknown face. Dimly she noted he wore an earpiece and throat mike. He was grinning, an evil leer of unholy satisfaction. The grin turned to a sneer and the blue eyes were dark with malice.

"How does it feel to be the recipient of the stun beam, Ms. Noin? Hmm? I believe it is you I have to thank for the deaths of two of my men? Oh, don't try to talk. You won't be able to. The effects will not wear off for some time and when that starts, they tell me you will sweat blood with the pain."

Her vision darkened and faded, but sensation and hearing remained a little longer. He patted her cheek, a gentle pat, almost a lover's caress, and laughed softly.

"He'll come for you, Ms. Noin. He'll come. When he does, we'll get him. And your brats."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	42. Chapter 42

++…++ Vision

+…+ Flashback

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 42

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 16:44 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

Pain.

His shoulder was on fire.

The treatment he had received from Sharnice seemed long ago, now seeming to have no effect in reducing pain levels from the exertion of the climb. Each slow reach up for the next rung, each tensing of the muscles to pull up, each flexing of the muscle to release his grip for the next reach up, blended into one long, agonizing movement. His hand was another source of distracting pain. The blood soaked bandaging threatening to cause stiff, reluctant fingers, barely capable of grasping the metal rungs, to slip. It was so hard to maintain his grip on the rungs.

His body hugged the ladder, scraping over the rungs. He was exhausted, but he must go on. He dared not lose physical contact with the ladder. If his injured hand lost the grip in the darkness he might not be able to find a grip with his good hand in time to save himself from a long fall into darkness. He needed the orientation of the cold metal sliding over chest and belly. He doubted that he might have made the climb had he made it on Earth.

His only aid here was the lighter gravity of Mars.

Only a couple more rungs. Grip, forcing abused fingers closed. Only a few more rungs. Gritting teeth as he pulled himself up, sweat running down face and back. Grip. Pull.

//Never ending. I'll be in the dark forever. Never find my way out.//

Grip. Tense. Pull up.

//Ignore the pain. It does not exist. Only a little further. Just another few steps.//

Grip. Pull. Reach. Grip. Pull. Reach. Grip. Pull. Reach.

Reach. Hand flailing for solid, cold metal. Reach. Somewhere.. Some...where…

It took him a few seconds to realize he had reached the narrow metal landing fronting the door, and that the red before his eyes was not the red of exhaustion, but the lights of the landing. So clouded in pain had his mind become that he stared blankly at the landing level with his head, taking in the metal mesh of the flooring, the railings above his head and the steady red glow that originated above the metal hatch in the wall.

He finally shook his head, attempting to wake himself out of the daze, forcing trembling fingers to grip the side rails and haul his body over the edge, onto the landing. He lay there panting, knowing this space was too small for him to remain here. One injudicious movement would have him plummeting into the darkness. He crawled to the wall, dragging himself slowly up its cold, smooth length to front the hatch controls, forcing abused muscles to the bar on the door and push his good shoulder up under the latch, lifting and pushing with his body weight. The heavy steel portal opened, swinging inward, taking him with it.

He more fell through the door than stepped, crumpling to lie with his back resting against the side wall and he stared at the door, ordering his body to close it. Order as he might, it did no good. His body refused to obey until it could garner sufficient strength to crawl to his knees and drag the thing shut. Another few minutes passed before he could get up the strength to lock the bar down. That done he could only sink down to his knees and pant, hugging his abused arm to his chest.

How long? How long had it taken him to climb that distance? It felt like days and was probably hours, but most likely minutes.

"Please God, let it not have been hours." A whisper. "God, I hurt."

Had he hurt this much before? Of course, yes, of course he had. Libra. The aftermath of the Libra had hurt more than this, but that was lost in time gone by and this was here and now. Fresh. Real, not faded memory. The only blessing was that the shoulder and hand injury were on the same arm. Restricted to an isolated place. After Libra his entire body had been a battlefield of pain. Of course this was not as bad. Get past it. Get beyond it.

//Just a couple of minutes. Just a couple of minutes to rest. I'm no use to Noin or anyone if I can't stand up, let alone fight. I don't give a shit about the consequences. Next time I take the elevator. I don't care who could be waiting for me. Its got to be better than this.//

With fumbling, shaking fingers he dug a ration bar out of a pocket, needing the calories. Knowing he had so much work ahead of him he had to replace calories lost to the climb. Had his children and the children of his friends not been in the dome he would be sorely tempted to release gas into the oxygen supply here, as he had had done in the Alpha Dome. He had no idea what dose would be damaging, or lethal to the twins or the other babies of the colony. Certainly a lot less than it would have taken to knock out a man.

Therefore, it was not an option, easy though it would have been. That had worked down at Alpha dome, but not here.

//I am running out of options. I wish my stomach would settle. Why didn't I see the domes exploding before? Why? What else have I missed? Epyon. Damn. Damn, I need you now. I can't do this. I can't see all of it. I'm probably following the wrong course.//

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

++ The predator seemed suspended above the red planet, her sleek shape spoke of power and speed. She was big, her hull reflecting distant sunlight as the gravity wheel slowly revolved in the center of her length. She was all sleek power with massive thruster pods at her rear sections. Her design was unmistakably that of an Interplanetary Cruiser.

Her gleaming hull bristled with missile pods and laser turrets. She was a war machine and she existed in an era when there was no war. Her designated purpose was as a patrol vessel designed to go against the raiders who prowled on the weak mining ships and the vessels that cruised the private shipping lanes.

Huge though she was, and fast too, still she was at a disadvantage against the Raiders. Space was so vast. Even this mammoth vessel could not be everywhere. She would still not make much of a difference to the abuses caused by the Raiders, but she would not be alone for long. Others were being constructed and she would have help patrolling the shipping lanes. Distant sunlight reflected off the dark hull, illuminating the registration numbers and the name painted on her hull. ESUN 3051C Wellington.

She hung in fixed orbit over the slowly revolving planet. A small, insignificant dot.

A spec less than the spec of dust that was nothing to the majesty of the world revolving before her, ignoring her as insignificant to its needs. Mars ignored the predator who had come and hung above her, silently threatening. Waiting.

Her lower bay doors stood open to space, the tiny shapes descending from her dark depths. They were small, even less significant to the rusty coloured planet and their dark hulls were lost against the rust red of the dust below. Small single man assault ships.

One after the other emerging from the transport bay, descending to the planets surface. Her guts spewed forth three larger, clumsier vessels that descended more slowly than the nimble quick fighters.

Even so, the predator was as a dust mote against the vibrant colour of the Red Planet. ++

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Zechs groaned, a soft protest to the nausea that wracked his body. He could not move, but lay curled around the pain clawing at his gut. He could barely draw a breath into starving lungs before wave after wave of cramps assaulted him.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Report, Osprey Leader."

The big man stood at the view port, face carefully blank, displaying no emotion as he watched the red world revolve slowly, majestically, beneath the ship. Behind his chosen position the bridge crew was at their stations, the chatter of computers loud in the normally quiet area. The low murmur of voices stilled at the request for Osprey Leader to respond with the needed report.

He glared, almost accusingly, at the planet's surface. This was not something he had ever envisioned himself doing. He had been an Alliance captain ten years before this day. His military career had seen him promoted steadily through the ranks, gaining position and prestige and no little respect from his peers and superiors alike. In that time he had carried out his fair share of distasteful duties, but he had thought those days were behind him. Distasteful, yes, but never so disturbing as this. It was time, and he only wished he had made the decision sooner. He was certain now that it was time he retired. He did not have the stomach for this.

When he had been given the Captaincy of the Wellington he had thought he could enjoy an active career, spiced with the occasional skirmish with Raiders along the shipping lanes, and trading insults with the captains of other ships. Until he felt himself ready for the forced idleness of retirement. So he had thought. The ESUN was at peace. No need for war ships. Just regular patrols and a minor skirmish or two to keep his interest going.

"Osprey Leader to Blue Whale. The packages are in the post. Repeat. The packages are in the post. Mail van is en route to Post Office."

"Captain? Instructions for Osprey Leader?" The com officer twisted in her chair to face him, expectant.

He did not want to give this instruction. He had thought those days of the abuse of human dignity to be long gone. He did not want to do this, but he had his orders. He had even, to his surprise, been given an explanation for the necessity of this extreme action. No help for it. He was just the messenger boy. The one who passed on the orders and carried the blood stains by default.

He signaled for the com line to be extended to the bridge area he occupied, activating the wall control and, with a deep breath to fortify himself, obeyed his given instructions. He was a ships Captain, not the President of the ESUN.

"Acknowledged, Osprey Leader. When the van is clear of the post box, you may close for the holidays. Repeat. When the van is clear of the post box, you may close for the holidays."

A long moment of silence followed.

The captain closed his eyes, praying. Willing the fighter's pilot to refuse the order. Praying that someone else would have a conscience and the courage he lacked.

That they would have the strength to listen to their conscience. Unlike he.

"Roger that, Blue Whale. Osprey Leader, out."

He felt ill. He might not like his orders, but he had his duty to perform. He was a ships Captain and it was his duty to preserve the peace in the Earth Sphere. Much as he disliked this duty it was necessary to the preservation of that peace.

If he told himself that often enough, he just might believe it. One day.

Fighting down sudden rage that he was placed in charge of this shameful duty, he drew a deep breath and straightened his spine. He was an Officer of the Fleet. He must maintain decorum at all times. He must be the example for his soldiers to follow. He might personally disagree with the contents of his instructions, but it was not his place to judge. It was his place to do. It was his duty to the people of the Earth Sphere.

One day, he prayed, those bastards in their air conditioned offices would face the business end of their decisions. One day.

He signaled to the com officer. "Notify Doctor Sampson that his patients will be arriving shortly. Status of the gravity generators?"

"Gravity generators are on line and all indicators are in the green. Gravity is currently maintained in the med section at one third of that of Earth standard. Pod revolution is stable."

The med bay would be ready to deal with the delicate cargo soon to arrive. He had to ensure that that cargo was delivered to Earth in prime condition.

"Have extra security in the Brig. I don't want our guest getting loose."

"If he does get loose, I hope I am the first he takes down. I deserve it for this." A low whisper, meant only for his own hearing." ++

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Zechs wretched, dry heaving. He had long ago emptied the contents of his stomach. He ached in every bone and muscle in his body and he ached in his very soul. Pain throbbed in his temples, squeezing his head mercilessly. He could see the world as a pain filled blur.

It had never felt so bad before.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

++ The fires had been kept down to a bare minimum, the dangers of them getting out of control presenting an unacceptable risk to his own men. They had blown holes in the dome, but they were for effect more than intended to cause actual damage. The poisonous atmosphere of Mars would eventually need to be cleared out of the dome, but that was for crews who would come in the months ahead to do.

The shuttle bay doors had been hit by missiles and shattered and the fighter crews had pulled away, allowing the three troop carrying shuttles to land in the shattered bay, speeding their entrance to the complex. The security forces under his command, garbed in unmarked fatigues and body armor, had exited the shuttles, their environment suits stripped of all insignia and labeling.

Black, the colour of the Raiders who hunted the shipping lanes.

Beyond the dome he could make out the unmarked fighters that patrolled the skies above. Both domes had been holed. The fires carefully and quickly extinguished. The troops on the ground were professional, specially trained for this type of work. They knew their work well and were quick and thorough in their bloody duty.

As per their instructions there would be no survivors, other than those who were considered secure. There were to be no survivors who could reveal what really happened here. There would be, according to his instructions, only ten survivors who would tell the story of the raid. He already had positively identified three bodies, day's dead, from that tally of ten. The final count would be interesting. Perhaps there would be only the one survivor of the Raiders massacre of Mars.

"Osprey Leader to Raider One. The merchandise is in transit."

"Raider One to Osprey Leader. Message acknowledged. The merchandise is now in transit. The shopping list is being filled. Repeat, the shopping list is now being filled."

"Raider One from Osprey Leader. Acknowledged. You have thirty minutes to complete the business transaction."

"Raider One to Osprey Leader. Acknowledged. Thirty minutes to transactions end. Out."

Raider One, a small, hard jawed man with cold brown eyes and gingery brown hair looked at the bodies arrayed around the engineering bay. Seven dead here. Six men and a woman who had not stood a chance against the attack. Quick, hard and ruthless. That was the way they were trained to make their kills.

Seven people. That was more than he had been led to believe would be in the bay at this time. Still, they had carried out the extermination of witnesses with out loss of life amid his men. That was acceptable, and he could not expect every piece of their intelligence to be correct. People moved about when they panicked and he had no doubt people were panicking when the first of the missile strikes had hit the base.

It had not taken a lot of time to kill the terra formers. Not really, considering they had had Merquise helping them put up a defense. He might still be engaged in action were it not for the Sleeper agent who had not revealed himself until the fire fight. Marquise had not known what hit him and the defense of the base had fallen apart after he went down.

His team now went about the task of relieving the base of every piece of equipment that Raiders would feel would be worth the effort of the raid. Spare parts for their ships and their hidden bases were not so easy to come by. In truth the Mars Colony was a prime target for the likes of the Raiders and why they had not attacked the colony over the last few years was an intriguing thought, but it was a thought that would have to wait. There were better things to do than think of that.

"Jackal to Raider One. Charges set for erasure of target den."

"Raider One to Jackal. Erase den. Repeat, erase den."

"Jackal to Raider One, acknowledged."

It was only seconds later that he felt the explosion. Satisfied he surveyed the engineering bay, now emptying of spare parts and tools quickly. Nodded. All evidence removed. ++

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The quarters where he and Noin had lived for so long.

Gone.

The rooms where they had lived and fought over his constant evasion of reality.

Gone.

The rooms where she had taught him what making love was. The rooms where he had held his children.

Gone. Everything gone.

The explosives designed to ignite chemical fires that would cleanse everything that might possibly identify the owners of the quarters in a quick fiery burst and then burn themselves out just as quickly.

All gone.

The truly horrible thing was, that he had not once thought of it as Home.

Not even now.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000

++ "Captain Sampson. Raider One reports all computer records containing information on Zechs Merquise, Lucrezia Noin and the children have been erased. All hostile witnesses in the Base dome have been accounted for and eliminated."

It was done then. Almost over. He would not sleep well with the weight of their souls on his for a long time. "Recall the teams from Base Dome. The Alpha Dome teams?"

"All hostile witnesses have been reported to be eliminated. Computer specialists are now working on the computers to eradicate all information pertaining to the targets." Came the carefully neutral tones of the Com Officer.

"Notify Commander Simpson that his mission is complete. What is the status of ships in the area?"

"We have a window of eighty seven minutes before the Winner Corporation's Ore Carrier, Fatima, enters detector range of Mars. Our scouts report she is on full burn and that an unsecured transmission was made from Mars on a scrambled frequency. We are attempting to confirm the destination of the transmission."

So someone on Mars had likely gotten off a distress call about the attack. Damn.

Complications. Could he take the chance on the information containing positive identity on the Raiders being transmitted to that incoming ship?

Scrambled. Likely a code it would take days to decipher. Merquise? Or had the Winners had an agent on Mars? The incoming ship would receive that transmission in minutes and could pass it on. There was also the matter the ship might be close enough to detect something that might be enough to positively identify the Wellington.

Might. Could. Possibly. Maybe.

He had specific instruction about that, too.

"Launch squadron two. Eliminate the Fatima." //There can be no witnesses.//

"Ensure all communications lines are jammed. I want no more loose ends." ++

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Two thousand dead.

Everyone.

More than two thousand dead, just to get him and his children off Mars. The entire population of the Mars Colony except for the Sleeper Agents of the ESUN would be slaughtered. Even the ship responding to a distress call. How many people manned the ore carrier?

Eliminated.

He could not allow it.

Why had he not seen this before? What had he missed? What clues and decisions had he missed that brought about this undeserved fate on the people who had become his friends? What else was waiting, hidden in ignored visions of possibilities?

He could not see everything. He had been tried and tested and he had been found wanting. He was incompetent. He could not process all of the information he had already garnered from the visions. He was so useless.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He so needed Epyon to sort and focus and process the possibilities. He needed Epyon to glean the most likely turn of events to avoid a conclusion that was the least desirable. Or to attain the most desired result.

Epyon could sort the wheat from the chaff. He was useless. Hopeless.

"I can't do it." A sob. "God. I can't do this. I don't know what I need to do to stop this."

It took precious minutes for his rebellious stomach to settle. He desperately needed water. He tended to dehydrate quickly when he experienced dreams. Waking visions were worse. He had to find water. Tears streaming down his face he fumbled for the spray somewhere in a pocket, intending to spray his shoulder.

He had to ease the pain. He could not think. His body was in too much pain for him to think. If he could only ease the pain in his shoulder he might be able to think, to process information. He had to find water and to do that he had to move. To move he had to ease the pain.

Slowly, stage by stage. Find the god damned spray. Step two, regain some movement in his shoulder. Step three, get off the bloody floor. Crawl if he had to, but he had to get moving. If he was to have any chance of influencing events he had to be able to defend himself, his children, Noin and the base personnel from the horrors that might come.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	43. Chapter 43

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 43

Mars

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

16:58

Noin

"…word from McIntyre?"

"None. The com lines are clear."

In the haze of pain the voices swam in and out, loud and soft, rising and falling.

Annoying. Some small voice deep inside whispered that she must lie still and listen. If she listened she might learn what she needed to know. She must lie still and react to nothing if she would learn.

"Matther. Any word from your Commander?"

//Matther. Matther? Familiar name. Where…?//

"Last communications received was for Operation Raider to be initiated."

//That voice. Evylyn? Evylyn is… Damn. Think Noin. Why the fuck do I hurt so much?//

Her mind felt as though it was smothered, deeply resistant to coherent thought. It hurt to breathe and she did not even want to consider the thought of moving. She lay on her side, with something hard pressed against her back. Hard. The hard thing hurt where it touched her and burned, but was it a burn from heat or extreme cold? She could not decide how to describe the pain. Metal wall?

//What happened to me? Where am I? God, I ache. Did I have an accident? Where am I and where is Zechs?//

"McIntyre has missed her scheduled check in with us." The male voice spoke softly and there was a soft clicking sound near him.

"Do you have to play with those bloody things?"

"Shove it, Evy."

"I will thank you both to recall the current situation. This is not a Sunday outing. If your Controller has missed her check in then you may now consider yourselves under my command, at least until we discover what has happened to McIntyre. Do you have a problem with that? No? Good. Now where would she likely be, given the hour of the day, the emergency situation we currently find ourselves in, and the last commands she issued?" Slightly raised male voice. It sounded vaguely familiar.

McIntyre? Shanna McIntyre. Red hair, green eyes, sex pot extraordinaire. Sudden flashing view of furious emerald eyes and trickle of blood from swollen lips where she had hit her. Swollen lips? She had hit Shanna McIntyre? Why? Why would she do that? Shanna was her friend.

+ "Shanna is ESUN security." + The low, husky voice whispered. A voice out of the darkness, somehow removed from the here and now.

//Shanna. ESUN Security. I… I was in the control room. Talking to Zechs. He… wanted me to… he wanted me to… A shuttle? Go on a shuttle? Yes. Why?//

"At this hour and in the emergency that was called, she should be in the control tower, in the main control room. If not there, then on her way to the sub base to begin preparations for the take over down there." The other male voice. No. She had heard three male voices. That was the… third?

"Or she might have met up with our vindictive friend in the corner, in which case I would not give much for her chances of being amongst the living."

That had been Evylyn. What were they talking about?

"I need this dome locked down ASAP. Where can I find the lock out codes for the entry to the Dome?"

Silence. Ten. Fifteen.

"Mako would have them, as project Chief. McIntyre too, probably. That Preventer agent, Barker."

"Wonderful. Well, then, we need to find Ms. McIntyre, don't we? Let us hope she did not run afoul of our Ms. Noin."

The pain was a rising force she was having difficulty dealing with. She was filled with steadily creeping, prickling pain that seemed to want to wrap her lungs in a vice of thorns and shred her. Her head still felt thick, but it was clearing slowly, but in doing so she was made aware that the pain was there, too, in her head.

"The main control room would be the most likely place to find her. It will take us time to eliminate the people in the dome."

"Frazier. How are you doing at that com board?"

"The system is wiped, Sir. No chance of using it without rebooting the entire thing and killing the virus first. It would take hours."

"Fine. You can set up our own com system using the Dome power supply?"

"Yes, Sir. Take me around fifteen minutes or so to isolate a power junction and secure it."

"Do it. I want the message to the Wellington gone ASAP."

"Sir."

//Wellington. I don't… I can't think straight. God, it hurts.//

"Any word on the location of Merquise?"

"None. Not since he was last seen by one of our agents. That placed him in the engineering bays, doing his job."

"Yes, well, we know he's not there now. You will contact your agents and pass on my instructions that he is to be located, but not approached. Consider him to be extremely dangerous. You may also inform your agents that I want those children in protective custody. Find them."

Noin groaned as her body reacted before her mind could catch up with it.

Children. Her children. Memory surged back, the fight with Zechs, storming off to take down the ESUN agents on her own, without back up. Finding the massacred staff of the control tower and the fire-haired bitch who had delighted in rubbing her nose in her failure. With her physical movement the pain exploded around and within her, threatening to send her right back into blessed darkness.

Heavy footsteps stomped towards her, combat boots glimpsed amid the fiery streaks that obscured her vision. Even her ears hurt. What was wrong with her? She remembered that she had been in the control room of the Shuttle Control, talking to Adrian.

He had looked behind and beyond her and his eyes had widened. Blood. She remembered seeing his chest explode into blood and a voice. A voice that threatened to use her. A face swimming in and out of blurring vision.

His voice. His face. Him. The Enemy.

"Well, well. Back amid the land of the living, are we? Faster than I expected, but then you've already proven yourself to be both tough and resourceful, haven't you, Ms. Noin?"

The dark shape in the red of her vision resolved itself into a somewhat handsome face with intense eyes and a strong square jaw. He chuckled softly, grinning down at her, an intolerably smug expression on his features.

"You think you can win, do you? How? Just how do you think you can defeat the entire ESUN? Think you're better than everybody else? You're a fool, woman. A bloody fool."

Noin lay in growing agony, every cell in her body screamed at the piercing, consuming pain growing stronger with each passing second. She was tensing her body, half expecting to be hit by the bastard looming over her, but her muscles were screaming with the pain and it was all she could do not to scream in response. She would not give him the satisfaction.

"Yes, the shock beam's wearing off. You'll feel it for hours, you know. It won't always be this bad, though. It will get worse before it gets better. However, it will improve. I believe the average time frame for improvement is in the vicinity of about four to six hours before you can move without screaming. That's not to say you're not in pain, you understand, just that most people can tolerate the level of discomfort by then. Of course, I've never felt it myself, you understand, but I have had the pleasure of seeing it before."

She sobbed breath into her lungs. It hurt to even breathe. Her lungs felt like they were on fire with every ragged breath she managed to suck in. She could feel the breath travel over her airways as piercing needles, too hot, too cold, too everything all at once.

He grinned at her, watching carefully each tiny spasm of muscles and nodded slowly, savoring the moment. This bitch had taken down two of his men without blinking. It was time she got some of her own back. He had heard the report from the agents in the shuttle control when they had removed the bodies from the room. He still did not know about the fate of the other four, but he could guess.

"I've seen a man die while coming out of the shock, you know. The pain got so bad his heart could not stand to beat. That's what the doctors determined as the cause of death. Heart failure. Admittedly, he was an older man. All of thirty one, my dear Miss Noin. Ever so much older than you. Still, tell me, Miss Noin. Can you feel it yet? Can you feel every beat of your heart? Can you feel the pain it causes, even in your toes? That's the thing about hearts, Miss Noin. They have an effect on every part of your body. There just is no escaping it. The pain will get more and more intense. This is just the start, what you are feeling now. It's nothing compared to what will come."

He studied her for a few seconds, nodding slightly at the very faint noise that escaped her. "I will admit, I could have reduced the setting, but I decided not to bother . I owe you for the death of my men, after all."

"Ass… hole." A gasping, shuddering breath.

Pain exploded in her throat, feeling as though her vocal cords and throat and the lining of her mouth were on fire.

"You've got balls. I'll admit that." Simpson grinned. "Won't do you any good. We have you. We'll get Merquise next. Then it will be time to collect your brats. You'll be pleased to know that you're not wanted. My orders only cover your man and your children."

"'uck…'ou." The pain spiraled in throat and mouth and she sobbed, and that only served to make her eyes burn worse as tears trickled down her cheeks. God. She could feel every bit of that agonizing slow glide over her skin.

"I'm quite free to kill you. I'll enjoy doing that. You've cost me, Ms. Noin. You've cost me dearly. I won't forget that. Oh, and let me tell you, I will see to it that Merquise pays for the trouble he has caused me, and especially, I will see that he pays for every bit of the trouble you have caused me, all the way back to Earth. It's a three month flight, remember, Ms. Noin. I'll enjoy that, but I assure you he won't."

"Zechs… take… 'ou… dow'." A hissed breath, defying the pain, willing herself to ignore it.

Simpson arched an eyebrow. "You think? I'll allow that if his record is accurate that he might just have a chance. Might, bitch, but that's as far as I'll allow. He'll be a little distracted, you see. I think his concern for you will do my job for me." He grinned. "I'll have to leave you to your pain for now. Work to do, you know. I have our back up to contact and our ride out of here to call in. Must have a suitable vehicle to carry my spoils of war away in. Be a good girl now."

Now that her mind was working properly she could see that she lay in a corner of the shuttle control room. The bodies of the two controllers had been removed at least, while she was blessedly unconscious. What had happened to the station operators on duty she shuddered to think. Unless they were undercover ESUN. If that was the case, then one of them had likely shot that poor idiot, Adrian.

This rising tide of pain was fast becoming the only thing in her universe and that was not acceptable. She was better than this. She could conquer it, but to do so she had to eliminate distractions. The bastard in charge of this raid enjoyed her pain far too much. She would not bite at his jibes. At his throat, Oh God, yes, she could go for his jugular.

//You said I could die, Zechs, well, I agree. I could. I might. I probably will, but I'll be damned if I will give these bastards a free show. I've hurt before and conquered. Shit. Oh, shit. Even giving birth didn't hurt like this. I'll not be useless. I'll not be the fabled damsel in distress. We Amazons save Princes, not the other way around.//

Focus. Concentrate and focus. That was the key to this horror she found herself in. The old Chinese Master who had worked at Lake Victoria Academy had considered her to be one of his prize pupils, despite her gender. He had been her rock at the academy in her third year, when she experienced her crisis over the career options available to her. She had never wanted to be a combatant in the war, though she had trained as such. Year three had required her to make a decision and she had done so, with the aid of the old Chinese gentleman who chose to disregard his dislike of the female gender, and aided her to clear her mind and focus on what she truly wanted out of the instruction modules available at Lake Victoria. Her many talks and meditation sessions under his watchful eye had eventually seen her choose to train as an instructor, and not focus her talents to lead her directly into combat situations, as Zechs had chosen.

//And after all of that, after the fight with myself to decide what my direction would be, I end up back in combat.//

It had been a long time since she had thought of Master Chen. He had been a strange old man, usually quiet and unassuming in appearance, yet always vocal in his disapproval of women training as warriors. Occasionally an unholy terror and always impossible to please. He had been held in the utmost respect by every cadet at the academy and his death in her fifth year there had been mourned by cadet and instructor alike. He had been an original character, one it was impossible to ignore, despite, or perhaps because of, his unassuming ways. When Master Chen spoke, you listened. When Master Chen instructed, you obeyed. When Master Chen frowned you quivered in your boots.

+ "Focus, Lucrezia. You do not need distraction. You do not need to feel, only do. This is your task. Until you can complete it, I will not speak with you again." + His voice, wispy and thin, yet commanding for its very quietness.

He had never needed to raise his voice to be heard. He had never been ignored. His presence had filled rooms and quieted rowdy cadets by merely walking through a door.

Focus, indeed. The situation was different, but the need was the same. More, actually. This was not a training exercise, but deadly serious need. Lives now hung in the balance and she would not allow a little pain to take her out of the picture. She had children waiting for her, to take them to safety and love them. She had a man out there somewhere, doing Lord knew what to have pissed off Simpson so much.

She had to draw a line in the sand, and this was the defining moment. No more distractions. No more delays. There was an obstacle in her path and she would remove that obstacle with all speed possible. She did not like to kill, but she swore silently to herself that she was going to enjoy taking Simpson down. She would get past this obstacle and she would get her children to a safe place where they could live free of the ESUN.

//Zechs Merquise or Milliardo Peacecraft, I don't care what you decide to call yourself, but you are going to decide, one way or the other. Just as soon as I get out of this mess and we are free to leave, you are going to find yourself in front of a minister with a ring on your finger and me on your arm. I've had it, Zechs. Your mine and no one will take you from me. No one. Certainly not fat assed politicians who are pissing themselves with fear.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	44. Chapter 44

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 44

Sanc

New Port City

Preventer Headquarters

Time: 21:05

Sally Po

"For the distance Mars is to Earth at this time, that communication has taken too long to reach us. Investigation leads me to believe while it has not been tampered with, it has been delayed. That means the ESUN is interfering with the communications satellites."

Doctor Sally Po glanced up from reading the communications last received from the Mars Alpha Dome. Preventer Earth stood at the windows of her office, gazing down at the lights of New Port City, one hand resting flat against the glass.

Beyond the window a gentle rain was beginning to fall. and all day there had been the subtle hints of spring beginning to be felt, but a definite improvement in the weather was still some weeks away.

"From what I know of the time difference between Earth and Mars this was sent around three hours ago. Perhaps a little more."

"Exactly. At most it should have taken around forty five minutes with Mars in its current position. Usual communication between Mars and Earth is thirty minutes, with the Dakkar Satellite System amplifying the signal. I am having the feed checked now. It will be no surprise to learn there has been tampering to contain communications."

"The Dakkar System is the emergency and military relay system. Who would dare tamper with that? Who could tamper with that?"

"I know of a number of people who might consider themselves above the lives of others to warrant sabotaging communications. It is the need that worries me. What they felt was a serious enough threat to warrant tampering with a system that is supposed to be tamper proof."

"Nothing is tamper proof." Sally observed, a smile twitching her lips.

"Obviously." Une commented dryly. "They know that we know what they are up to on Mars, so why delay us receiving word? It's just progress reports."

"Nuisance value?" Sally mused. Shrugged and sighed "It goes without saying that Noin will not sit idle."

Lady Une sighed, lifting her gaze to the rain drenched sky and nodded, well knowing the temper of the ex Oz Specials officer. She had known Lucrezia Noin for many years, though it was only in the years after the One Year War that she had allowed herself to get to know the volatile Noin as more than just a subordinate. Lucrezia was one to be filled with passion and fire and had always been wholly dedicated to the pursuit of one Zechs Merquise.

Whatever would be happening on Mars would have far reaching repercussions, of that she had no doubt. If they could not contain and control the situation on that distant planet then the repercussions of it would ripple through the entire Earth Sphere. Ripple? Knowing Noin and Merquise, that ripple would likely be an avalanche of destruction. The fiery Italian born woman had already, according to the intelligence they had received from Mars, killed twice. They were likely not to be the last of the deaths to be tallied from this fiasco.

"No. No, she will not. As events progress she will get more and more violent. After so long she has what she wanted, Zechs Marquise as a bed warmer, and she will not give that up easily. It is likely she will not even realize that she may be playing right into the hands of the ESUN."

Sally winced, both at the reference to Zechs Merquise as a 'bed warmer' and at the notion that Noin may well be playing into the hands of the ESUN. "They are expecting her to lose it. To fight."

"I believe so. Her psyche report certainly indicates so to me and I am not a professional psychologist, who would make much more of it that I can. Since going to Mars she has achieved what she wanted. Zechs in her bed, and what she would see as a bonus; his children. Her hormones won't allow her to think beyond that. I have no doubt the ESUN Security Office will have calculated that and will make use of it to their best advantage."

"Coffee." Sally poured fresh cups for herself and the Preventer Chief, taking her time about the task, using the time to consider the implications of the events on Mars. "What is it you expect to happen?"

Lady Une continued to stare into the darkness of the clouded night sky, seeing not the rain swept night, but the past years. Her time knowing both Noin and Zechs, and in particular the year following the One Year War, when all the world had believed the Peacecraft heir to be dead. All the world, except for one person. Lucrezia Noin had refused to believe he was dead, despite all evidence to the contrary. When she spoke her voice was quiet, her tone flat.

"I expect Noin to become a professional, cold blooded killer for the first time in her life. Even in Oz, despite her training, she was not a killer. She trained her pilots to stay alive. She turned out very good pilots, I might add. Chang Wu Fei handed her a blow she is not soon likely to forget, when he attacked the Lake Victoria Academy and killed a large portion of her cadets. She had taken to looking on her students as her family. Her children. After that incident she joined Zechs in combat situations, but never before that, with the exception of the training exercise under Mr. Treize that went wrong during her years as a cadet. There were a few special assignments, yes, but generally she avoided combat. She has blamed the loss of those students on herself for so lightly dismissing the threat when Zechs warned her a Gundam was coming her way. On Mars, she now has a replacement for the cadets that she lost. Her children in truth, now are threatened by outsiders. She will not allow any harm to come to those babies. For them she will take on more than a few agents, no matter how elite they are. She will see them as a threat and act accordingly, meting out sufficient violence as she deems necessary to the situation. In defense of her children she will kill, and I do not doubt she will do so smiling. She'll face the consequences later, and no doubt there will still be a smile on her face."

Sally sighed, very much afraid that, from her own personal experience with Noin, that Une was right in her reading of Noin's response. "What about Zechs?"

To Sally's surprise Preventer Earth shuddered. A delicate, but very noticeable ripple ran through her slender body. Earth turned from the view and moved to settle at the desk and sipped her coffee, considering the question at length before turning dark brown eyes up to meet Sally's blue gaze.

"Zechs is the wild card in all of this. No one has settled on a decent psyche profile of that man. None of the psychiatrists can agree." A careful sip of coffee and some consideration before she continued. "What they do agree on, is that he is to be handled with kid gloves. One described him as a powder keg ready to blow. Another said he had no fight left in him. A third said he was too intelligent and out psyched her. Zechs has them stumped."

Sally nodded slowly, considering what she had gleaned from the psyche profiles that had briefly crossed her desk in her capacity as Chief Medical Officers of the Preventers. "And you? What do you have to say about him? You knew him for years during Oz. He was subordinate to you."

"That bastard was subordinate to no one. Not to me, not to his instructors at the academy, nor to Mr. Treize." Une grimaced, remembering past days when she had contested against the platinum blonde for the attention of the one person who had ever aroused passion in her. "Zechs Marquise was always different. He would obey an order because he chose to obey it, not because it was his duty to obey his instructions. He had his own agenda from the first day he walked into the Academy at Lake Victoria. He was allowed to get away with it because the bastard was good at what was needed from him."

Sally considered her mug for a long moment, considering the glint in brown eyes and the subtle inflections in her speech. "You never liked him, did you?"

Une shrugged, staring into her coffee. "There were a lot of people I did not like. Him no more than others."

"Not true. The way you talk about him is different." Sally murmured, sipping delicately at her coffee.

"Normally he would not have gotten one foot in the door at Lake Victoria." Une almost snarled. "His close association with Mr. Treize was the sole reason he made it that far. The Kushrenada family connections were used to place him there, and to smooth his way when he flaunted the rules."

Sally shook her head. "Bullocks."

Une blinked, eyes widening as she raised her head and stared at her Medical Officer and friend. "Bullocks?"

"Bullocks. That is a load of crap and you know it. I was an Alliance Officer, Anne. I was, moreover, a Medical Officer. I had access to records few people ever knew existed. Contrary to popular belief some of the high ranking officers in the Alliance actually had brains. The Alliance did actually keep tabs on the Specials. I was assigned to General Noventa's enquiry into the Specials at the beginning of 190. I was part of a program that kept watch on the elite of the Specials Forces and the bright eyed boys and girls they were initiating into their ranks. I even had access to medical records and through that access I know a little about Zechs Merquise. I know enough to know, without any doubts, that he was not handed into that Academy without earning his place. I know his IQ and I know his aptitude test scores. They were something a medical officer in my position stared at in awe, thinking all the while that someone had made a mistake. I know the results of every physical he had at the academy and for the first year beyond that, as an officer in Oz. It was around then that I was assigned to another duty and had to leave the task force. Before I left the unit I had occasion to view the psyche reports on him, and they made it plain to anyone who saw them that he had issues where the Alliance was concerned. We looked into the records of a number of elite Oz cadets and officers, Anne. Treize Kushrenada. Zechs Marquise. Lucrezia Noin. Another was Anne Maree Une."

Lady Une scowled, brown eyes dark with fire quickly contained. "So? You have a point with this?"

//I have a point, alright, but I'm not sure what it is yet. There was something about all of you that was different. It was the same with other Oz officers, most of them from the noble families of Europe, but you four in particular were different. I don't quite know enough to comment on it with any certainty, but it will come.//

"My point is that Zechs earned his right to enter the Specials, it was not handed to him as a matter of course. You didn't like him because you considered him a threat."

"A threat? Merquise?" Une snorted, a very unladylike expression of her contempt for that opinion.

Sally smiled, a small very knowing curve of the lips, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. It was no skin off her nose if Une had had an infatuation for the leader of Oz, or a pet hate for the one she construed to be a threat to her aspirations.

There was little doubt in her mind that Zechs was accused of assignations with the Leader of Oz and his innocence had been found wanting by the jealous Lady Une.

"Yes, a threat. He threatened your fascination with Treize Kushrenada. You knew the rumors. Hell, even in the Alliance ranks the rumors were rampant. They were wide spread. Kushrenada was just too damned elegant to be straight. Or so too many people thought. Homosexuality was nothing in this day and age, compared to the stigma it used to be, unless you are unfortunate enough to be from one of the rigid Religions. Of all the officers in Oz only Merquise seemed elegant enough to be his match."

//Ah, I see that bites. Anne, my dear, you have to face facts. That boy is just too good looking for his own good. He stood a lot of shit because of his looks, but he ignored it as being beneath his dignity to respond.//

She set her coffee carefully on the desk. "It was unfounded, you know? Both of them, Zechs and Kushrenada, knew of the rumors. They could not help but know them. They ignored the insinuations and snide remarks and continued with the plan. You knew it too. Both were too proper to consider a relationship in the military. Fraternization in the ranks was a strict no no. Both were reared to be nobles and gentlemen. Both had a high regard for the other. Few would dare comment in Kushrenada's hearing, but that did not give them pause in picking on Zechs. He stood a lot of shit from a lot of people; both of higher and lower rank, and said nothing. It was not on his agenda, so it was not of importance what others thought. Even you."

"Just what has this to do with the current situation?" Une's voice was a sharp snap, showing her disfavor with the current topic.

"Add it to his psyche profile and see what you come up with." Sally promptly returned.

Une blinked, surprised. "The man is more than half way to insanity, even now."

Sally sighed and shook her head, stretching in her chair. "I believe he is more sane than anyone I know. Oh, don't look at me like that. I know exactly what I am implying. You think no sane person would do what he did?" She shrugged, sighing and met Une's eyes. "I thought so, initially, but I've had time to reconsider a few incidents that, at the time they happened, seemed odd, but not significant. He was stressed. He was depressed. He was unstable. I will admit that is without a doubt, what we all saw and knew to be true. I guess losing everything will do that to a person. Losing it all can also push you into a desperation that seems insane to most other people, but proves, on investigation, to be not quite so psycho as it seemed initially."

Une scowled, considering the other woman and the implications of her words, finally shaking her head, eyes wide in realization. "Zechs told you why he joined White Fang?" A wealth of curiosity and wonder came through in her tone.

Sally sighed and shrugged slightly, neither confirming nor denying the accusation in Une's voice. This conversation was, thus far, going the way she believed it had to, and she refused to get side tracked.

"Zechs joined White Fang because people made mistakes, Une. People disregarded him and that is a fatal error. The man is no fool. I believe if he had not become separated from Trowa and Heero in Antarctica, things might have been very different today. He went into space, as Milliardo Peacecraft, and he was disregarded by those in power, except, curiously enough, a colony of Alliance holdouts. They were destroyed, of course. He joined up again with Howard who is one of the very few people who never thought Zechs was a fool, I might add. Says a lot for that man's insight. He could not believe that Zechs joined the White Fang in the end, but I digress. Back to subject. If Chang Wu Fei had not rejected his overtures of alliance after L5 was detonated, things would have certainly not resulted as they had in him joining White Fang. And if, before most of that had happened, Relena had not treated him like a lower life form and her personal servant, and then proceeded to frighten shit out of him by ordering Heero to kill him, who knows what we would have been doing now?"

Une blinked in surprise at Sally's recitation of the events of the One Year War. "I ... Relena ... "

Sally shrugged, unwilling to dance around that tender subject. Relena, in her view, had a lot of growing up yet to do.

"Relena was behaving in a very un-pacifist like manner, Une. The exact opposite to what Zechs needed to bring about a return to the former days of the Sanc kingdom. I've had a lot of time to think and I can see only too well how we managed to place ourselves for that final, abysmal battle. He planned it all. I have no doubt of that. Zechs planned every last move after the second fall of the Sanc kingdom. I think he directed every move we made, and I would not be surprised to find out one day, that Kushrenada helped him do it. Knowingly, or unknowingly, I don't know. I'll probably never know. My point in all of this is, don't disregard Zechs in what is happening on Mars. Don't think he will act irrationally or in a cold blooded massacre of ESUN agents. He's too methodical for that. He has an uncanny insight and he is not afraid to use it. Noin is the one who will act first and think later, not Zechs."

Sally watched as Une absorbed and then began to consider her words, satisfied to have given her pause and make her think from a slightly different angle. She had been increasingly disturbed that Lady Une had been blinding herself to a few truths about the past recently, not the least of which was that Treize Kushrenada was dead. Une rarely, if ever, spoke of Treize Kushrenada, or His Excellency, as she continually termed him, in the past tense. She was doubtful that as yet anyone else had caught on, but Sally certainly had noticed and it was disturbing to her. They needed Lady Une, just as they needed Relena in the position she filled.

Initially Une had blamed Zechs Merquise for the death of the man she was infatuated with, despite the fact it was Chang Wu Fei who had delivered the killing blow. Admittedly she had been scrupulously fair in her dealings with Zechs when he had reappeared, probably because of the regard she had developed for Relena, but Sally had noted it, and kept an eye on it. She did not need Une declaring war on Zechs for imagined past slights. Then, too, if she had noted it, who else might notice, and to what use might they eventually put that knowledge?

"It does nothing to help with the problems of communicating with Mars." Une waved aside her argument, disgruntled. She had more to do than sit out a psyche session with her Chief Medical Officer.

"Of course it does not help, but I was more hoping that it would stop you from worrying for the wrong reasons. Don't just think automatically that any problems stirring up there are the fault of Zechs. Likely they're not. The ESUN is out to control Relena, because of the influence she has managed to gain with the colonies. You will agree with that assessment, won't you?" When Une nodded her agreement Sally continued. "You have near as much influence, Anne, courtesy of your days as the Representative of Oz to the colonies. If they have used this deplorable method to bring Relena to heel, don't you think it likely that at some time they may try controlling you?"

Une scowled shaking her head in denial, then reconsidering. It was true that due to her change in personality as the representative of Oz to the colonies, she had gained a certain reputation with influential colony representatives. She also had acquired one weakness that could fill the possible scenario that Sally suggested. Mariemaia Kushrenada. Treize's daughter was her Achilles' heel. Brown eyes widened slightly with the realization and the plethora of possibilities it opened up.

Sally nodded. "Yes. You can see it. If Relena can be brought to heel by the simple expedient of controlling Zechs, and now his children, how long before the controlling factions in the ESUN Council decides to bring Preventers under their control? Don't blame Zechs for this mess. Truth to tell, he did not have to return to deal with the Barton Incursion. Nor was it his idea to remain a few days in New Port City for his sister, the great Vice Foreign Minister, to get over her snit. As I recall, it was Lucrezia Noin who proposed that he stay, and clung to him like a limpet the whole time. Admittedly, I had my hand in that. He was in no condition to take off into the unknown at that time, and I acted as a medical professional. Likely I would do exactly the same thing again in similar circumstances. I never considered the consequences of his being vulnerable if the ESUN Security Office caught wind of the identity of the pilot of the Tallgeese III. What ifs, Une." Sally stretched in her chair, working tight shoulder muscles, rotating her neck. "We can't help being human and considering the 'what ifs'. Now we have this situation and we must deal with it. However, with the current situation, I believe we have a problem that you have not considered. You may not have, but I am certain the ESUN security agency has given it the critical attention it deserves. What you have not considered, Une, is the condition of the children."

Une shook her head, frowning at the abrupt change of topic, just when she found the subject of interest to her. Mariemaia's safety was paramount to her. "What do you mean?"

Sally sighed, leaning forward in her chair to capture Lady Une's undivided attention and to emphasize her point.

"How are they going to get the children off Mars?"

Lady Une waved a hand in dismissal. "The shuttle will have its window in seven days. By then it will be serviced and refueled, ready for departure. At the earliest, it could not be prepared for that flight for at least five days, and that is pushing the safety net dangerously."

"No." Sally shook her head, emphatic.

"No?" Puzzled.

"No." Sally gave her best professional look, the penultimate doctor who must explain the simplest of medical information to a layman. "Une, the ESUN faction that has arranged all of this wants to use those children. Both now and in the future, they need them alive and well. If they sent the children off Mars in the shuttle the children might, or might not, survive to reach Earth. In my professional opinion, it's a death sentence. If they did survive the three month journey then they would not survive the re-entry to Earth, let alone living here. They would be crushed."

"What?" Une looked her confusion.

"You can't indiscriminately pump drugs into an infants system." Sally explained. "The drugs that enable us to survive long distance space flight in zero g will kill a baby. The muscles and bone structure of the human body deteriorate in protracted space flight, in zero g; that is why we take the drugs when going into space for long periods. The body needs gravity. Our bodies were designed for a world; for the pressure of gravity pulling us down on to the planets surface, forcing blood, bone and tissues to work at all times. That does not happen in zero gravity. Your organs float around in your body and deterioration basically begins immediately, the longer you are in zero g, the worse the deterioration becomes. Those infants were born to a gravity one third of the Earth's. It is enough, I believe, to see them develop in a relatively normal manner, but take them into a zero g environment and they will be in trouble. Their tiny bodies will begin to deteriorate within days. The use of drugs will kill them. If they survived the flight to Earth the return to a gravity three times that to which they were born to, would crush their delicate bodies circulatory system. They would have no defense, no chance to survive. What ever density existed in their bodies bone structure and tissues before would be compromised by the three month long flight from Mars to Earth. Terran gravity would finish them."

Une tapped a finger repeatedly, rhythmically, against the surface of her desk while she considered this new information. She had had no experience with taking infants into space. It was not part of her training. She had not given this a thought; not considered the return flight to Earth might be a death sentence to the children that meant the control of Relena Darlian's influence with the colonies. As Sally had pointed it out to her, no doubt someone in the ESUN had thought of it. The problem would have been presented to their medical experts and then consultation would take place with the agents in charge of the mission. It would have been a huge factor in initiating the mission in the first place. What would the solution be? What would they have come up with to solve the dilemma?

"Would a ship big enough for a gravity generator to be installed on, be safe to bring the children to Earth, without loss of physical systems?"

"Yes." Sally breathed, pleased that she did not have to lead Une to that solution. There were so few solutions to this problem that would see the children survive the abduction from their native environment. "If the children were placed in a stable gravity field, they would be safe from deterioration. They could also be gradually introduced to a greater gravity field, so that they would experience little if any distress from Earth's greater gravity upon arrival."

Lady Une turned to her computer and typed a query on the keyboard, leaning back as the screen flashed an answer. She looked far from happy, fingers drumming on the desk with a sign of her agitation. "At this time, the ESUN has three ships large enough to have gravity generation within a one week flight of Mars. The closest of these ships is the Wellington."

"How far from Mars?" Sally sucked in a breath. "Isn't that the new Cruiser built specifically as a Raider hunter?"

"Yes, it is. The Wellington is fast enough to make it to Mars within two days."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	45. Chapter 45

+ Flashback

++ Vision

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 45

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 17:25 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

Crying about it would have no effect.

Bemoaning the fact he had not picked up on the events leading to that particular option would do nothing to change the course of events that might lead to absolute disaster. It was the worst result of all the bad results he had glimpsed. Perhaps it linked to some of those partial visions, glimpses of bodies lying in contorted positions, blood soaking the dust of Mars, thick in the air of the burning domes. Perhaps that was it. This was an expanded version of the visions he had glimpsed.

Something someone had said or done; some minor thing that he had missed could lead to this major upheaval, and take out any chance he had of containing events to what he had considered manageable levels. Could, or already had done so.

Sitting on the floor of this maintenance shaft, shivering from top to toe, would not alter events either. He had to manage himself and the disasters to come for everyone's benefit. To manage events, to even begin to think about how he might change this horror that refused to leave him, but replayed repeatedly...

//Nooo. No, don't think it. Don't let it. Get past it. Go on.//

To go on meant that he had to move and bring some semblance of control to his abused body and that would, must, force his mind to anchor to the here and now. No more questing unbidden into the futures that might never be. God he was so, so tired of that. So tired. If he could only sleep ...

"No."

At some stage he must have been screaming. His throat felt raw, abused. Foul taste of vomit in his mouth, threatening to bring back the nausea.

//No. Don't let ... them ... win.//

One step at the time. That was what Epyon had taught him. One step at the time. Start small, basic, and get through it.

It was all very well to know what might happen, but changing it, or aiding it, meant control and planning. Every subtle guiding change produced new options that had to be considered. Sorted, turned over, discarded or kept. It certainly meant more than sitting on the floor of a maintenance shaft and howling like a little boy who had had his toys taken from him. He needed to establish control of himself, and then assert his will on the visions and process the information he received back through Epyon ...

// God, no. I can't do that. I don't have Epyon. I'm slipping ... slipping and I can't afford ... to do that. I can't afford to fall ... I'm on my own. I have to find a way to stop this from happening. //

Rarely had he known without a shadow of doubt, that one of the options he viewed was not just an option. What he had experienced before, with the visions of the Domes detonating, had felt different to the possibilities he had viewed in the past. With the notable exception of the Generation Wars. They had been different, those visions.

The visions, even filtered through Epyon, had felt different to what he had experienced this day. First the detonation of the Domes, now this vision of ships descending from the pink Martian sky, to destroy all who might not keep silent about the horrors performed at the behest of the ESUN.

There was a ... solidity, he mused, to these visions. Was this curse laid on him by Epyon changing? Was it not bad enough what already happened when he saw the world through different eyes? This vision of the Cruiser and its crew's bloody work had too much of an atmosphere of certainty about it. It felt too solid. Unlike most of the visions this one had brought with it a bout of sickness he had not felt since Epyon had first rocked his sense of reality. Yes, he had been ill then, when Epyon had first opened his mind to possibilities. He did not doubt that to cover up the disaster this mission had become, the ESUN agents would destroy the bases and the people who inhabited them.

He could not just hand himself and the children over to the ESUN to stop this horror from being. That was not an option. To begin with, Noin would not allow it to happen. She would not allow that exchange to take place, even to save the others. Which, he knew, it would not do. He was trying to keep her alive, damn it, and she kept interfering, placing herself deeper into danger, almost begging to be killed. Why? He just did not understand her.

Aside from Noin there was also the simple unavoidable truth that events had already progressed too far. The ESUN agents had already given the order to take down Mars Colony and blame it on the Raiders. In blood, bone and tissue he knew that order had already gone out. Why else were they planting bombs and detonators? They would have to take out everyone not a Sleeper Agent to cover their own rears, and to protect their superiors from the fallout. No, it was now a certainty he could not cut a deal with the agents to save the colony.

A faint lightening of the weight pressing on his vitals almost sent him into a fit of dry heaving. That light shift of pressure he knew. Recognized. Something had happened to push this event into progress, and his acknowledgement of it was progress in him dealing with the situation. He had to deal with what was, before he could move on to what might be, and then, if he could, change it.

It sickened him to know that options no doubt existed all around him. The universe was full to over flowing with options, he just could not see them for physical and mental exhaustion, and the emotional overload. There had to be options available that would allow him to influence events enough to bring about change. It could not be a certainty they must die at the hands of the ESUN, their so called benefactors and protectors. There had to be a way to contain the disaster.

First thing that needed to be done though, was to deal with the sickness he was experiencing. Water. He needed water. To get water he had to move from where he was in the maintenance shaft to the dome above. If he recognized the need to drink, then he was progressing down this seemingly endless path back to awareness and control. All the water he could ever want was in the hydroponics dome above his head.

Recognition of his geographic location, and what else was around him, was recognizable progress too. That was good.

He was in the maintenance shaft under the hydroponics dome three, in the base Dome on Mars. Good. That much was good.

He needed water and all he had to do was go and get it. That was not so good, as it meant he had to move, and to move meant he had to recognize that nest of pain that was his body.

Good or not, it made no difference. He needed the water and that meant he had to go and get it. It was a certain thing that it would not come to him. He had to get up, find the ladder and climb into the hydroponics dome. Once there, he would have no problem finding water. Yes, water was there, but unfortunately, so might be agents of the ESUN that he had not identified to date. A risk he would have to take as he needed that water.

Move.

//God. I hurt ... Ah, shit ... It would be so much easier to crawl into a ball and just die.//

Coward. Visions of his children brought the pain and cramps to hideous reality with the full awareness of his body and he whimpered. Cursed himself, and fought to regain control. Deep breaths, which helped to settle his stomach, not just helped him to deal with the pain he was in, and he forced his eyes open.

Yes, the maintenance shaft. So much for location. Now to get on. The pain in his shoulder had subsided to a dull ache, and his hand had quieted from Banshee wails of agony to whimpers of distress, and his stomach had decided to stop trying to come up and admire the light of day. He would have to move now. No more excuses to linger and admire the rust spots on the walls.

His every attempt to stand was a crushing failure and he crawled a few feet, collapsing. This was going to get him nowhere, fast. He needed energy. Digging into the few remaining ration bars he had on him he nibbled slowly, trying not to think on what could be happening out beyond the hydroponics dome. Had Noin found Shanna McIntyre? If she had, what had she done to her? Had McIntyre gone down, or had she taken Noin down?

Was his willful, vibrant Noin gone? Dead? Or a prisoner? Free and still roaming, looking for trouble? Had they started the killing he had seen in his visions?

//God, no, don't think of the visions. You can't do that. You can't afford to set it off again.//

The ration bars he had eaten he had managed to keep down, and they made it possible to heave his frame off the floor, and though his stomach considered a rematch, he resisted the urge to allow it. He needed to keep the ration bars down and he needed to move. He would feel better, faster, if he just started to move around. Why it worked that way, he had no idea, but the truth would not be denied. Maybe it was the simple fact that movement reminded his brain he was alive, that he had a body and was not a system of circuits and wires. Reminded him that he was not now a part of the system called Epyon.

//I'm starting to think better. Good. God, I need a drink. No coffee. Not this time.//

The one thing his visionary episode had been good for was parting him from his abysmal mistake in downing the coffee in the engineering bay. He knew why he had done that now. His bodies need for fluid had driven him to drink what ever had been to hand. No more coffee after that lesson. Water. He needed water.

Movement came easier with each shuffled step and slide of his hand over the steel wall. He dared not take his hand from that solid support. The shuffle became surer, lengthening to a stride by the time he hit the first turn in the narrow access way. His stomach settled and the surging and ebbing of possible visions in his mind steadily receded. By the time he hit the second turn he felt almost capable of snarling about the whole sordid mess, and by the time he reached the small cubicle which housed the maintenance locker and the rung ladder leading up to the hydroponics dome, he felt that his body might actually cooperate with him beyond basic shuffling movement. If he could just find some ...

For a moment he stared at the object set to one side of the lower rungs leading to the domes above and finally laughed; a low weary chuckle of disgust. Husky and ragged from his parched and strained throat. Why had he forgotten that was there? Why? He still was not thinking as clearly as he needed to. That could get him killed. All the worry over having to climb another ladder with an injured shoulder and hand. All that worry over feeling so weak from sickness, the burning need that meant he had to expose himself, praying he did not find an ESUN agent before he had drunk his fill of the water he knew was up there.

All that worry over nothing.

The water cooler sat innocently, ignoring his low chuckle and gurgled merrily as he filled the disposable cup. He forced himself to sip the cool, refreshing liquid, sliding to sit with his back to the wall within easy reach of the cooler for refills as he needed them; letting little sips of the life giving water trickle chillingly down his aching throat.

To gulp down the water as his body demanded he do, would result only in throwing it back up. He was not such a fool he would do that. He needed those ration bars and the water in his belly, not decorating the floor. He had to take the time to rest his body so that it would work for him, not against him. He was of no use to Noin, or to the other people, if he could not control his own needs.

Time to take a few minutes to think on what he would need, and how best to go about acquiring his equipment.

When he had come to Mars there had been no visions of disaster to contend with. However he had never been a trusting soul, and he could all too easily see the use his existence would be put to. He had known then that it was likely to come to a time when he might need to defend himself against agents of the ESUN. Even before Noin had gotten into his bed he had managed to fashion and cache some potentially useful items in various places around the base. The dentist's mirror he had filched was an example. He had collected the useful items from that supply room and they had already proven the worth of his choices.

He had managed to fashion other items that he knew now would be of use. It was amazing just how much you could work on under the noses of your keepers, and they might not realize what exactly it was you were working on. Initially, on his arrival on Mars, there had been no dreams, no visions, other than the nightmares of his past to contend with. It was only after the feelings had started that there was trouble coming that he had begun to acquire and fashion equipment for his own use they certainly would recognize as not being of a benevolent nature. Equipment that certainly would have the ESUN up in arms if they had known.

Carefully he had confiscated parts and scraps of metal and assembled them into the components he had thought he would need. The list of required equipment had grown as the vague feelings had turned into half remembered dreams, and then into visions that had, once again, shaken his grasp on reality. The problem was there were so many options. Too many possibilities that might never eventuate. Some things he knew with certainty would happen, but too much was too easily changed by small, seemingly insignificant events. It was picking which of those events would affect the greater design that was to make this different.

// Who am I kidding? Just who the hell do I think I am kidding? No one would believe me if I told them. I would have to tell them how I know and hell, I have told Noin and she thinks I'm a bigger nutcase than I was before. It's too big an ask for anyone to understand. Even Noin does not understand. I can't tell her what will happen because that changes the circumstances, introduces the possibility that she will take action that changes the event or leads directly to worse possibilities. That makes people certain you're a nutcase when you give them the example and it changes because of the interaction that took place. It's a lose-lose scenario.//

So then, the question should be how to get a win out of the situation?

//I have to face it. People are going to die what ever I do. Likely they are dying even now, while I sit here and curse that it's not fair. Well of course it's not fair, so get past it. You're not six now and ... Oh God ... No. I ... I had forgotten.//

0000000000000000000000000000000000000

+ Roaring like a plane overhead, but so close, so loud, like it was just outside of his window. Listening to the sound of engines screaming and then strange, solid sounding thumps ... Someone crying and then people screaming and strange sharp barking sounds ..."Someone get the children!" ... Mobile suit standing so impossibly high nearby ... There were no Mobile Suits in Sanc. Father never let those huge machines in the country, let alone the city ... Flames dancing high into the air, licking at the ornate fretwork on the buildings ... children huddling in a corner, crying, faces covered in dirt and ash ...

"Milliardo? Baby, what is the matter? You were crying out in your sleep."

"Mama?" Welcome, slender arms around him, hugging him tight, protecting him from the screams and the flames and the fear. While she held him he was safe from the terror. Delicate fingers smoothing back his unruly hair.

"It's okay. Just a dream. You just had a bad dream."

"There were planes, Mother. Huge, big planes, much bigger than the one you and father go away in. There were mobile suits coming out of the planes and they were walking in the city and there was fire everywhere. I knew it was all wrong, mama, because daddy never lets mobile suits into the city."

"Hush now, you need not fear, Sweets. It was only a bad dream, Milliardo. You've had a few of those, recently, haven't you, baby? We must find out what is upsetting you and causing all these nightmares. You need your sleep, baby, because you have some really exciting days coming and we can't have you exhausted because you are not sleeping. Your father and I are beginning to get worried, Sweetheart."

"Not a baby. Relena's the baby." Sulky, frowning, but he never tried to escape her embrace. He was safe if she held him and he so needed to feel her solid warmth.

Her laughter was soft and musical, the sweetest sound he had ever heard. No sound, not even the music that he heard when there was a ball could compare to her laughter. "Oh, so you are not my baby anymore, hmm? Does that mean we can not share cuddles and kisses?"

"No." Quickly spoken, he could not do without her cuddles. He loved to be held by her, and when she kissed him he knew he was loved and that he was safe. Everyone kissed and cuddled Relena, but only his mother did that to him. "It just means I'm not little, like Lena is. I'm a big boy now."

"Yes, you are a big boy, but my dearest Milliardo, to me you will always be my baby. Even when you're an old man and I am a very, very old lady, you will still be my baby."

"That's no fun then." He pouted, lightly stroking a lock of golden brown hair that fell over her shoulder. She had her hair down only when she went to bed and he loved to touch its silken length. "You won't let me do things even when I'm old."

"Oh, don't worry, Precious One. You'll be old enough to do all sorts of things and I won't tell you not to do them, I promise." She was laughing at him, he knew, but he did not mind. It was just so nice to have her hold him and make the fear go away.

"It was a mobile suit, mama. It was in my dream. It was huge and the street was burning all around it. You know the street with the toy shop and the ice cream place and that little church you took me to, to meet the children just this morning? It was all burning, and it was snowing too, and the children were hiding in the dirt and the ash."

Delicate fingers caressed his cheek and her dark blue eyes, so like the colour of his little sister's eyes, were on him. She was frowning and he did not like to see her frown; did not like it that his words had caused it. The dream still frightened him and he clung to her, afraid that if she left it would all begin again. He reached to lightly run a finger over the frown lines and smooth them out. Mama should not frown. She was too pretty to frown.

"The church with the orphans? Now what could you have seen there that upset you enough to have caused you to have a nightmare? I thought you enjoyed meeting the children. It was only a dream, Precious. Just a dream and a bad one at that. You know that tomorrow is Christmas Eve and you have a big day ahead of you. You just think about Christmas and all the fun we will have. I don't think you'll have any more bad dreams, so why don't you lie down again and go back to sleep, hmm?"

"Can I have a drink of water, mama? I'm awfully thirsty." +

000000000000000000000000000000000

He had forgotten the dreams. Forgotten the fear of the dream. Forgotten the feel of her comforting arms around him and the sound of the music that was her laugh. He had forgotten the dream itself when he had awoken the next day and the palace had become a hive of activity for the pre-Christmas celebrations. He had forgotten the terror, until the next night, when Christmas was almost over, when his birthday was almost finished, that the dream had come to him. On the night of his sixth birthday that nightmare had become all too real around him.

He had forgotten.

"God. I told her about the dream. I told her about the dream, and it happened. The street burned. The church burned."

Resting his head back against the wall he considered the pipes running along the ceiling. Running straight, east to west, neat parallel pipes. It was a great pity that life was not like that. Neat running lines, predictable, straight, even when they joined other pipes the joins were neat and right where they should be. Predictable.

//I thought ... I thought that ... Epyon. Oh God, I thought that Epyon made me like this. I thought it was Epyon that made me see things. He was right. He was right.//

0000000000000000000000000000000000

+ The panorama of space surrounded him. The viewing room gave the impression one stood in a bubble and looked out, over the station's bulk, past the fringe patrols into the vastness of space. The Asteroid Belt surrounded them, dancing around their position constantly, a source of disaster if the computers ever miscalculated the rotation of the station and the intensity of the energy screens. This isolated bubble of stability in the belt hung by a precarious thread. The smallest mistake could see the station impacted on some frozen chunk of rock faster than he could blink.

"You still intend to go back? It's a mistake, you know. You do not belong back there, either amid the Earth Sphere colonies, or on Earth itself. It has all changed and you are no longer a part of it."

"I don't belong here, either."

He moved a step closer, the sound of his magnetic boots sharp in the hollow, empty room. He could almost see the man, tall and intense and the light of knowledge in his eyes. "It is better for you to remain here, than it is for you to go there and find yourself stuck in some ESUN prison, or hanging from a gallows."

"They don't do hanging anymore, Raydon. They haven't for a few hundred years." He refused to turn his gaze from the spectacle of space. Refused to turn his head and look at that handsome face. Refused to acknowledge the truth of what the other said, and refused, too, to consider the unsaid words that Raydon always seemed to imply, even without actually saying them. Perhaps it was in his eyes? Did his eyes say it?

"Maybe not, but for you they may make an exception. You're not exactly flavor of the month, you know."

"I know." Softly.

He knew all too well how unpopular he would be in the Earth Sphere. He had made his decision then and knew he must live with the consequences, and he had made a decision now. The results of that, too, he would live with. While he was not now guided by visions of possibilities, still he felt that he had no option. He had to go back. If the whispers were true, then he had no choice. He had given up too much to see it all go down into smoking ruin because he could not face what he had wrought with the lives sacrificed.

Why were they dead and not he?

A sigh. He did not have to see him to know that he shook his head with resignation. "Alright. I will make available to you transport to Earth, but I want you to know that you are making a mistake. You will not receive a warm reception, my friend."

"About as warm as Barclay Base was in deep winter. The penguins survived it. I can too."

A rough snort of laughter answered him. "You're an odd one, Milliardo Peacecraft. I don't begin to understand you, but I like a challenge, and you are a challenge I am willing to work on. I'm letting you go, but I will tell you that I see confinement ahead of you. I see confinement, but I also see that you will be back."

"Maybe." // I will not come back. I will likely die this time. I can not see beyond the darkness.//

"There is no maybe involved." His voice was deep and rich and seemed to fill the room, though he spoke barely above a whisper. "Not in this. I KNOW that you will return to Station One. I have seen you return to me. I have not seen the circumstances that bring you back here, I will admit that, but I have seen the end result. You coming back home. I will have you back on Station and I tell you now, that when you do return, I will not permit you to run off again. The next time you come, Station One will become your home. The Earth Sphere has to learn to take care of itself eventually."

He scowled, almost turning, but resisted the urge. He could not afford to meet those eyes. He had a power to him that was so alluring. It had the potential to captivate him and he was terrified of that loss of control. "A prisoner here, then. Here, instead of on Earth or in the colonies. What is the difference?"

Quiet, exasperated sigh. "Milliardo, it is not my intention to hold you here, a captive. You don't belong anywhere in the Earth Sphere. There is no place there for you now. No place for your skills as a pilot and soldier. Those days are gone. They fear you too much to ever consider allowing you to return and run free of their control. That door is closed. Forever. You know it. Deep inside of you, you know it is the truth. If you go back I can FEEL there will be trouble, and that for you there will be heartache."

"So what is new about that?" Trouble and heartache were not strangers to him. He had known them since he was six years old. He and they were old companions.

A quiet curse, mumbled and sigh of exasperation, but he would try again. "You have an ability that you are going to have to learn about. You can't do that as a prisoner on Earth, Milliardo. You can't learn what you need to know without help. Who there do you know can offer you that help? We have separated ourselves from the Earth Sphere because there was no place for us there. We are outside their confined La Grange point borders. We are independent and free of their rule. They did not want us, so we claim our freedom and independence. You need that too, my friend. No doubt the Earth Sphere would consider us otherwise, if they knew we existed, but that bridge we will cross one day. For now, what is important to you is that there are others here who share something of the abilities Epyon woke in you. You have met some of us. None of us have your exact gift, true. Not the same abilities, but the general gift and its potential is the same. We are not like the others who live in their little orbiting islands of metal, endlessly revolving around that great hunk of rock and water that is the Earth. We are not the same as those who live on that green rock that gave rise to our species. It is a simple truth that you have yet to accept. My friend, no matter how much you wish it, you, like us, can no longer be considered normal. We have accepted that. It took longer for some of us, admittedly, but in the end, we had no choice but to acknowledge it. You'll find better acceptance here than anywhere else. I'll do everything in my power to see that some control is established for you, and you should not doubt that I will protect you. From all comers."

"For what payment?"

He was different. He could not help but know it. He had used those differences to bring about peace on the Earth and to the colonies, and in doing so he had earned his sister's hatred, and perhaps that was the hardest thing of all to endure.

She was the only family he had had left and she hated him.

"I have no need of money. Look around you. This is Station One. Only one of the bases from which we now operate. None of us who have accepted that we are outcasts from the Earth Sphere want for any need being unfulfilled. Money is not an issue here."

"Then what pays for my safety here, Raydon? What do I have to do to earn safety here?"

"I want you." Softly, deepening voice, mellow with desire. The large hand picked up a heavy lock of platinum silk and rubbed it lightly against his cheek, savoring the silky touch and the scent that was unique to the blonde who could mean so much to him. If he won him. "I'll give you my kingdom, Prince of Sanc. I'll give it all to you, and I will be your slave, if you'll only agree..."

"No." A whisper as loud as a thunderclap.

Silence, heavy with implication, and then the low laugh. A deep rumble in the chamber. "Yes. Yes, you have to be courted. Won, not just claimed. You are well worth courting. I'll let you fly away, too, because you will be back. You have to have freedom, my Eagle. Freedom to prove your wings, and freedom to prove to yourself that the door is closed on your past. Even when you do come back, I'll have to remember that. There can be no cage for you. That's where Kushrenada made his

mistake. He caged you in protocol and formality, and tied you into a military cage of deceit and blood. You were never meant to be a soldier, either as Zechs Merquise or as Milliardo Peacecraft. You have wings, and you need to soar. I'll teach you to fly, when you come back."

"I'm not a pirate, Raydon."

"Does my being King of the Raiders bother you? We will deal with that, too, my Prince, when you return. Hell, for you I will speed along the advent of our respectability."

"I won't return here." Softly. Firm in his denial.

Denying the confident voice was his only defense against the man, because he knew his return was, indeed, an option. A possibility for if he did find all doors closed to him, where else would he have to go? He had no Sight. He had lost it in the darkness he had been certain was his death. He was alone in what he chose. Alone and he was afraid.

"Your Sight will lead you back here. I have no doubt it will not be blinded from you forever. It does not work that way. You are wrong in your belief that what you see originated in Epyon. It is no part of a machine, even one as unique as Epyon was intended to be. It is a part of you, conceived when you were conceived, and born when you were born. Epyon only awoke it and worked with it. You can belong here, Prince of Sorrows." Hands lightly tangled in silver white tresses, caressed gently. The voice was a low murmur, tempting, soothing. "All you have to do is let yourself go, and give yourself to me." Lips touched warm skin, just below his ear and a moist tongue...

"No."

A sigh, but the mouth was gone and Raydon took a step back, to give the illusion of distance to his invasion of personal space.

"Ah, well, not today, at least. One day. We will talk when you return to Station One. To expedite that day I will give you a transmitter. You may use it when you realize that you have no where else to turn. No where else to run. It will happen, Milliardo. For those of us Gifted, it always happens. I don't need the Sight to know that. My ships and their affiliates are always prowling the space lanes, so I doubt that more than three or four days would separate your calling with an answering presence. I will alert all of my Captains to watch for you. You will find that I have a very long arm, My Prince, and that I have many eyes. I look forward to your return. There will be transport to take you to Earth available in the morning rotation. Dine with me tonight? Don't refuse me this, at least, Milliardo. It will only be dinner that I ask of you." +

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Ice blue eyes widened in memory, stunned. So simple. So impossibly simple, but maybe too late.

"Shit. I forgot the transmitter."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	46. Chapter 46

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 46

Rosemount Station

Asteroid Belt Orbit, sector 5

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 13:50 EST [Earth Standard Time

Rose Errant

_The treasure is with the War God_.

//War God. God of War. Mars. What are you doing there, Zechs? What are you doing on that forsaken hunk of space debris? You are needed here.//

The cursor on the screen flashed regularly at the end of the single line of script displayed on the otherwise dark monitor. Blinking slowly and regularly; reminiscent of a heart beat. He could almost make his heart beat in time, but it was a little too fast, and if he had the time to waste, which he, in truth, did not. Seven little words, but they changed everything.

Found. They had found their treasure and now events could move forward with more certainty.

_The treasure is with the War God_.

The office was a quiet reflection of another time and another place, full of elegance and the memories of a life lost to him a long time ago. It seemed so very long ago now, yet it was only a few years. Short years; less than an eye blink on the cosmic scale of things. Really, less than the flutter of movement the eyelid would make before it began its descent. Old world charm and elegance, all the way out here, so far from the world that had given it birth. So far from the world that had given Him birth.

_The treasure is with the War God_.

//Mars. What are you doing there? Why were you not picked up at the battle field? You should have been picked up after the Libra was destroyed, but you vanished. They assured me they looked for you for a week after the battle. Long past the time your life support would have failed. I thought you were gone. I thought when they could not locate you it all had gone wrong. That you were dead, and this project placed back as much as a generation or three, until we could find another with the genetic pattern we need.//

He winced, hating himself for that thought. It put him in the same low rank as Romefeller, with their genetic charts and manipulation. Valuing life only for what they had written into the genetic make up of the individual. He was not proud of that. No, he was not really the same as Romefeller, but thoughts like that last needed to be curbed, in the fear that one day he may begin to see people as the sum of their genetics.

All the lives brought and sold by Romefeller over the centuries. All that suffering by those unknowingly manipulated for their dynastic games, and later the actual genetic modifications made before birth, at the very DNA level.

All that work performed by the Romefeller Foundation in carefully guarded secrecy would soon bare fruit, but it had come so close to being destroyed, their hope.

The Libra. All that blood and pain, and the tears that had been shed over the dead, the dying and the maimed. All that pain. His own pain measured in there, somewhere, but it was as nothing in the sum total of pain that had been shared. His own death had been needed then, his end sealing the peace they had all sought, though in so many different ways. It had been a price he had been willing to pay, to end the wars and bring peace to the Earth and the Colonies. Yes, he had been willing to die a painful death, but his pain had been nothing to the anguish his friend must have had to endure to bring about the best of possible results.

He felt himself to be sorely lacking, both in ability and courage, for he had not had enough of either need to make it happen. He had not had the strength to endure the tearing of heart and soul that had been required to pierce the future's veils.

//I do sound like Romefeller sometimes. That is not good. I am not the same, though I have had to play with lives, and in some circumstances I have had to decide who lives or dies. They see us all as their toys, to be played with, shaped and crafted to their express needs from the moment of conception. Before conception, in many cases. God. I know you are up there. Out there. Somewhere. I know you look at us mortals and you must despair at our stupidity. Our greed and our foolishness. How do you look at us and not wipe us out of existence? Ah, I am in one of those moods today. This damn headache does not help. They said the pain would ease over time, but they can not tell me just how long will be needed to heal.//

It was more than the head pains, though. His entire body knew pain, never ceasing, but eased, yes, by the timely administering of drugs. Not just the memory of pain haunted him, but active pain, the left over results of injuries that should have killed him. He had needed to die, to secure the peace. His instructions had been left with the one person he could trust to ensure they would be obeyed, and he had come very close to actually fulfilling that need. He should have died. He had almost died. He had wanted to die.

//To the Earth Sphere, at least, I am dead, as I should be. It was very close. He was the best choice, the pilot of 05. I have to believe that. The best possible choice. Still, it is my shame that he suffered for it. I was not shown that he would become so despondent after our 'duel'. I was not shown his anger. Nothing was revealed to me about Barton waiting in the wings to pounce. He was not supposed to become a leader of a revolt against the peace we had fought for. He was not supposed to become a soldier again, in the name of my… in the name of Mariemaia. I was not… I did not know about her. I did not know that you existed, child, and I am sorry for that. Not even Epyon showed me… //

He would give a great deal now to be able to lean back in his chair and sip a glass of deep red wine. It was an old pleasure, one he had not been able to indulge in now for almost three years. The medication he was so far dependant on would not allow him to indulge in that small simple pleasure.

//Some days I wish I had died in truth. I should not. I should not wish that I had died. I can not wish for that, not now that I know so much that was hidden from me before. Knowing what I now know of the past, and what the future could… can be. It could all be so different. If He will cooperate. Zechs, how did you end up on Mars? Still, it is closer to reach you there than it is to send agents to approach you on Earth.//

He pressed sensitive fingertips to his temples, rubbing delicately to avoid as much pain as he could. It was approaching time for his meds. He would be glad of the relief it would bring him.

//Why such a low profile, my friend? There has been no word on your whereabouts or activities for so long. You vanished immediately after the Barton fiasco. There is something wrong here.// He glared at the screen with its single line of script and flashing cursor. //As preliminary reports go, this one sucks. Ah, language, my boy. Such language is uncouth and you have been listening to your attendants far too long to slip up in that manner. You miss the old days, don't you? Of course you do, and it is not a good sign that you sit here, longing for a good wine to savor and for intelligent company that is long gone to you. This is solving nothing.//

_The treasure is with the War God_.

They had designed the study he occupied after a study located in his manor in Kiev. In the early days following his recovery, when he had at least been freed from the hospital sector of the great ship, if not from the needs of his regenerating body, he had been thankful for the familiarity of the room. It had been far preferable to staring at the white on white of his hospital room, with the blinking lights and beeping machines surrounding him. He wondered if they had taken the actual items from the Kiev manor. So much was the same. The books that lined the walls were the same titles he recalled, though some were not where he would have had them catalogued. The major difference between this room and the study so far away was the windows that looked west, over a rose garden in that distant manor. Here the west windows were actually a specially constructed single sheet of super toughened glass, further protected by energy shields. Framed with wine red velvet curtains and divided by mahogany panels to make them resemble the windows of the manor, they overlooked not a rose garden, but the vast panorama of space.

He was not in his manor in Kiev. He was not on the European continent. He was not on Earth. He was in space. He was deep in the Solar System, staring out at the moving points of darkness and light that were asteroids of many sizes and shapes, reflecting the distant sun. There was never a setting sun to admire, as it glinted off the dark green leaves of his rose garden. Nor was there anyone here he truly ached to see.

Certainly not the friend from his childhood whom he had betrayed repeatedly, or the Lady he very much would have liked to allow to get to know him. They were so very far from him, but if all worked out they would come here. They, and the other innocents who had had their lives designed for them by the thrice cursed Romefeller Foundation.

When they came, his lady and his friend, would they forgive him his machinations?

//Will you forgive me? Can you ever bring yourselves to forgive me the wrong I did to you both? It was necessary, I assure you, but what good does that do to say to these walls? I need to tell you to your face, to explain why it was necessary that I used you, and hurt you both as I did. It was necessary for the peace to happen. You were never supposed to die, either of you. You both came back from the dead, my friend more than just once. And now it is my turn to be resurrected, though I shall choose to remain dead to most. We have things to do, my friends. Many things lie ahead of us. Wonderful things, and this time there will be no interference by Romefeller. We will be free of them. Finally free. We will take them down, if you will it so. I can afford the time, I think, to take them down and give the past generations some form of Justice. If you will it so. You need to know what is going on, Zechs, Lady. You need to understand what is happening, and I can not tell you, until you come to me.//

_The treasure is with the War God._

He reached to touch fingers still sensitive to the point of pain to the controls, leaning back in his chair to watch the softly pulsing crystal displayed on the vid screen in the very center of his desk. There it was; the heart of the ship. The crystal glowed softly golden, a quiet, resting pulse they could control. The technology was new to his people, but it was an old, ancient technology in truth. Not this crystal, no, but the techniques and science that went into the creation and use of such devices.

This crystal had been grown with painstaking care in the vats on board the station, and was now complete. It rested in its mountings, the exact size and shape the writings said it should be. It was there, ready, infused with all the power they would need.

//Except we are missing the key ingredients. The key elements. There are others out there who need to be freed so that we might begin. We have time yet. I know there is time, but there are so many we need to gather before it may begin.//

_The treasure is with the War God._

He watched as the crystal pulsed, even, steady rhythm, slow, almost double beat. Very reminiscent of a human heart beat. If he looked long enough, it drew in the eye and seemed to enter the blood, his heart would begin to mirror the beat and the alarms on the machines that monitored his condition would sound and shatter the harmony he found. He sighed and looked away. They were right. He was not ready for that. Not yet.

//I need to make some decisions here. Putting things off is not an option. Moving too quickly is likely to ruin everything and reveal our presence. Circumstances must be right for us to succeed in our endeavor and the crew is far from complete. Most will be only too pleased to come and to escape from their captivity and slavery to Romefeller. Most will be only too happy to leave the Earth Sphere behind. Some need to be approached with great care. They have spent the time since the wars making lives for themselves and finding a future beyond war time occupations. Soldiers. Terrorists. Rebels. Mechanics who once worked only on mobile suits now work in the mines in the asteroid belt, slaving in the cold and the danger to make their fortune quickly and set up their new lives. I know you tried, Lady, but there were so many Soldiers and only so many places you could make for them. It is time I gathered them up, those who have no place to call their own. I have places for them. I have a future for them to find places for themselves in the design of things to come.// He sighed, pressing a hand to his temple. //I suppose it is not imperative that we have everyone onboard, but for those who have found themselves adrift, it will be a solution. If fear does not hold them back.//

Curiously enough, he was not afraid of the future. Once, it seemed so very long ago, he had told Heero Yuy that Epyon had said he had no future. He had said that it had shown him no future and he had not lied. No, he had not lied, merely manipulated the truth just a little. He had been very good at doing that. Manipulating the truth. It was not something he was overly proud of, but it had been necessary to break Romefeller's strangle hold on the Earth Sphere. It had been necessary for them all for him to play his cards so close to his chest, and to sacrifice so many lives on the altar of peace.

The one thing he had been totally honest about with Yuy, was the warning he had given him concerning Epyon itself. He was not certain Yuy had understood the warning, either before flying the machine, or after the battle. He had told Yuy that Epyon was not a weapon and that had been the truth. It had never been his intention that Epyon be a weapon designed for war. He had needed to know if Yuy was the one to later become the Pilot they needed, but he had had his answer when Yuy had fallen from the cockpit of the Epyon, shaken and sick to his heart over what he had experienced.

It had been a crushing disappointment for him.

//Not Yuy. He can handle the Zero system, as was later proved, but he just was not what the Epyon sought. No surprise, really, when I consider how different the two systems really are. I suppose they still think that Epyon was another version of Zero. They had no imagination, those scientists, no vision, when they designed the Zero System. Does he realize even now what Epyon really was? He asked me if I thought I had created a God, before he flew Epyon. He never mentioned what he thought of the machine after he returned to the castle. Did you think it more demon then, Yuy, than a God?// He sighed, switching off the view of the softly pulsing crystal that might, or not, become the future to so many of them. It was tempting him and he did not trust himself to stay clear of it. //You were not meant to use the Epyon any more than I was. We both learned that the hard way, did we not, Mr. Yuy? It was not us who learned how to use that beast.//

He thought of silver blonde tresses and eyes of blue crystal that once had looked at him with trust and not pain and betrayal. He had made a choice and given the monster to Yuy, even knowing that he was not the pilot it sought. Had it been his decision, or had it been Epyon making the choice for him?

//I'm sorry, my friend. I could not warn you what it was capable of. It ripped your soul apart and put you back together again, did it not?//

How the machine had come into the hands of Zechs Marquise he did not know, but he suspected it had been Yuy's doing. Did the seemingly emotionless Perfect Soldier ever feel guilt for that? Did he ever feel guilty for giving the Epyon over into the hands of possibly the only one capable of understanding its true function? Did Yuy do so willingly? Had he willingly given the machine away, or was it the influence of the machine itself, sensing the proximity of what, who, it needed to truly come alive? Epyon had been very much aware of the world around it.

//I warned Yuy as best I could what the machine was NOT. Did he have the grace to warn you, Zechs? Did you have any idea what you were getting yourself into, when you donned that helmet for the first time? By then it would have been too late for you.//

He shook his head, wincing at the pain that action produced, but pain was to be bore as penance for the lives he had played with. Someone must pay a price, and he did not see that it must be his friend who paid the price alone. He had cast his friend into the pits of hell. It was only right that he share some small measure of that darkness.

"What do you think you are doing, Kushrenada? This is not solving the problems that must be faced and dealt with before it all can begin. The crystal is completed, and now being tested, as best we may. It is new technology and we do not know half of what we need to. Will I be once again casting Him into hell? Enough. I need to concentrate on acquiring the crew that is needed for this grand design to work. I know where most of them are, and it is time to begin to gather them in." He hated the strain in the words, the pain it cost him to voice them. It would improve. The doctors had assured him that it would improve.

_The treasure is with the War God._

He looked again to the screen with its one line message that gave hope to the entire project. The flashing cursor at the end of the printed words, pulsing slowly. Patiently. He chose to ignore the opening of the door across from his desk and the low hum of the robotic nurse as it trundled across the carpeted floor. He chose to ignore the device as it stopped at his side, and he chose to ignore the sting and the crawling of liquid entering his veins. He had instructions to give, and he could trust the robotic nurse to provide his body with the medication it needed to complete his healing.

The injected round of pain medication was well timed, he reflected, as he fitted his all too sensitive hand into the writing glove designed for his use. It had taken him some weeks to fully appreciate the device, and learn to master the techniques of using it, but it allowed him to pass on his instructions to those who waited for them. This was a long time in coming, but it was nearly here. This generation would be the one to succeed.

True, it was Romefeller's machinations that had made all of this possible, but they did not need to thank Romefeller for the puppet pulling and murders they had committed over the generations.

"Lilac, Sir." Her voice broke the silence of the room, conjured up in response to his summons.

One day he would meet her face to face, instead of this medium of the vid screen. One day he would be able to leave his isolated rooms and meet this rather remarkable woman he had come to admire for her dedication. She was a handsome woman, one of the generation personal; a second generation born to Rosemount Station. In her mid forties she looked to be barely thirty and she was wholly dedicated to making this project a success. They had come to the final stages and soon they must succeed. He was grateful for all they had done for him, and he worked for them and his friend and Lady, whom he had betrayed, perhaps more than for himself to see that it all came to fruition. Together they would change the face of Mankind's experience in space.

His fingers twitched in the motion of writing, barely noticeable flickers to any eye that might have been watching, but enough for the sensitive filaments in the glove to register, as he had learned to do, his eyes centered on the screen as the words appeared there.

_Our treasure has been found, Lilac. Zechs Merquise is on Mars. Who do we have in that region who could contact him? _

A moments silence, perhaps the suggestion of a sucked in breath at the news. "There are two ships within seven days of the planet. One is in transit to L2, to effect the removal of the subjects at point R5."

He considered that. No, he could not interrupt that mission. They needed to carry on with that project before Romefeller caught a hint of the action soon to be taken against them. They already had lost one crop of Romefellers genetically enhanced children to a Preventer raid on a laboratory on Earth. Rather than draw the attention of Preventers he had called off the plans to gather in that crop of children and bring them to Rosemount. They could not afford, however, to lose a second such group.

_No. Allow that mission to carry through. The second? _

"The second is a cargo ship headed for the L4 cluster. The Last Horizon is slated to pick up the shipment of processed Gundanium and Titanium from the smelter satellite."

//Ah. We need that material . Not so good then. We can not afford to have either mission delayed, considering the travel time that is involved between locations. We need the raw materials, but we need Him, too.//

_There is no other ship in the vicinity of Mars_?

"Yes, Sir. The closest ship after the Last Horizon is a nine day flight from Mars. A patrol survey of the sector almost completed by the Sun Dancer. She's small and fast, but a good distance from the planet."

Nine days. Longer that he ideally wished to wait, but when you dealt with the sheer size of space, you had to take the distance into account, and nine days was better than nineteen and certainly better that the ninety odd days it could take to prep and send a ship from Rosemount at this time.

_That will do. Instruct her Captain to make all haste to Mars and interview Zechs Merquise. Whilst they are in transit you will endeavor to learn just what Mr. Merquise is doing on that rock. You have four days, Lilac, to discover why he is there. That should permit us to formulate some plans before the interview takes place_.

" I will assign a research team immediately, Sir."

_It is time to locate the former Gundam Pilots, Lilac. I need to know their locations and recent history of activities_.

He saw the glint in her light green eyes and the faintest twitch of her lips that suggested a smile. The hope that his instruction meant the waiting was almost over was clear enough to read. All of the generations born to the station were waiting for the day they were ready, and with this exchange of instructions he knew the word would spread that they advanced another important step to achieving their goal.

What would they do if their prospective pilot proved incapable of operating the systems, or if he refused to aid them in this endeavor?

"Sir. I shall instruct my agents accordingly. With the location of Mr. Merquise now known, I shall reassign the search team to appropriate duties."

_Assign agents to locating Lucrezia Noin with a report on her activities over the last two years. A detailed report on the activities of Anne Une is also required for assessment. Divide the team who worked on Merquise to provide details on the Gundam Pilots. I will forward to you a full list of personnel who must be investigated and marked for contact. I believe it is time for you to send out three collection ships. By the time they reach the Earth Sphere we should be ready to gather in those who choose to accept our offer_.

"Sir." Now the smile broke through her restraints, just as the circuit closed and granted him his isolation once more.

He pulled his hand from the glove, cradling the source of his pain to his chest. It had been much worse, once. Much worse. It improved, but he wondered some days if he would ever truly recover from that explosion.

//I will thank the day I did not die in truth, if this dream becomes reality. All of the heartache, all of the pain, will have been worth the effort.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	47. Chapter 47

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 47

Asteroid Belt

Station One

1st March AC 198

Time 23:45 [Ship time 16:33 MST [Mars Standard Time

Raydon

Silken strands of purest silver intermingled with strands of softest white, kissed with the faintest glimmer of palest gold to set up the subtlest of highlights. Silk was harsh compared to this shimmering mass that flowed in a cascade over flesh that glimmered with a satin sheen. The palest golden blush kissed cream coloured flesh. His hand caressed, skimming over the downward curve of a broad back to lightly, delicately stroke in the hollow of the back, fingers splaying to measure the narrow waist and trail up the rising curve of firm buttocks.

"My pardon, Sir. I regret to inform you that your presence is required."

His lips touched the warm shoulder, nibbling, tasting the warmth and uniqueness and working slowly, gently, feather light touches, tongue lightly caressing, kissing the rising curve of shoulder, dipping down across the shoulder blade. He heard the low sigh and echoed it, his breath warm and teasing as he kissed his way delicately to nest in the hollow between ear and shoulder, sucking lightly, delicately at sweet flesh. Enough to tease, never to mark.

"Sir. Officer Hampshire requests a few minutes of your time."

He rolled away from the intrusion of light disturbing the sensual beauty of perfect cream and gold kissed in silver. He followed the vision, unwilling to allow any escape. Now that he had his hands on that delectable body there was no way he was losing the chance to plunder fine lips, to caress high cheekbones and dip his hands down, tracing the enticing curve of hip and…

"Raydon, wake up. It is regrettable, but there appears to be no help for it. You are needed."

He snarled in the sudden brilliant intrusion of light, turning away from the unwelcome invasion of light, noise and people into the most pleasant of dreams of sensual delights to be savored. An invasion into the world where he salved his ache for the presence of a blonde beauty who refused to see what was before him.

He had lusted after that beauty and passed beyond lust, knowing it to be a dishonor to one who deserved so much more than mere physical gratification. He would have that blonde idiot who cared too much for those who wished him dead, and for those who had no care of him at all. He had run from him, from him, Raydon, Master of Station One, in fear of emotions he could not understand; and in fear of whispers of war. He would have his sweet blonde fool returned, and he would court him until he made the delightful creature understand what was good for him.

Yes, there had been war, he admitted that freely. Dekim Barton, that monumental egotist had not been intelligent enough to know when to leave well enough alone. He had been far from surprised that Barton had invested a fortune in time, money and lives in that ill fated little rebellion of his. Had Barton survived his attempt to conquer the Earth Sphere, he would have had no qualms about, and much satisfaction in hunting the idiot down for disrupting the day to day business activities of the Raiders with his little war.

For months after the Barton Incursion they had had to curtail their activities while the Preventers and Earth Sphere forces had hunted escapees from the defeated Barton army. Even in the depths of space, out on the rim of the asteroid belt, they had had to curtail activity until some semblance of normality returned. The losses to their profits alone, without the sheer inconvenience of the situation, would have earned Barton a bullet in the brain from any of his men, and a rapier through the heart from himself.

Then, too, because of that moron and his dynastic dreams of conquest, the object of his affections had bolted from his protection, and in the best noble tradition gone and thrown his life into the firing line once more. What was it with Peacecraft that made the man think so little of his life that he was so willing to throw it away?

It had not been his fight. Damn Barton and his lust for power games, and damn Kushrenada too, for having a daughter and giving her grandfather the foot hold that permitted him to secure the loyalty of Treize Faction soldiers. Damn the corruption of the Earth Sphere for giving rise to the opportunity for Barton to make his move. Damn that beautiful idiot, Merquise himself, for running off when he should have been safely on Station One, and damn himself for failing to keep his Prince, who by now should have been securely won to his suit and warming his bed.

No, not Merquise. Peacecraft. Raydon would not belittle the man and his birthright, though he felt himself a failed and shameful son to that ancient lineage. He would work on that. He would teach his Prince that he was no failure. He would teach him so many things, not the least of which was that he had never failed his people. He would even see about having his soon-to-be-lover's selfish and arrogant sister reconcile, if only to ease that heart that had bore too many sorrows.

Instead of remaining here, on Station One where his safety was assured, his blonde beauty had gone and gotten himself confined to that hunk of dusty rock called Mars, and then compounded his idiocy by shacking up with that black haired Amazon who had pursued him relentlessly for years. He had not allowed that little matter of Noin to disturb his dreams, though. Lucrezia Noin might well have him now, but Raydon would win in the end, of that he had no doubt. He could be patient, understanding and above all, irresistible.

He had already had a nursery prepared for his soon to be lovers children. When his agent had reported the location of his Peacecraft Prince, he had sought out solitude to consider the revelations. When his agent had reported the birth of the children he had found himself smiling and looking forward to the family that would come to brighten this metallic world hanging in space. He had decided that though she might try, Noin would never be able to satisfy the needs of one such as his future consort.

He could accept she had succeeded in bedding his Prince. Yes, she was, from all reports, a vital, vibrant and possessive woman. She might have gotten herself into his bed, but getting into his heart was another matter entirely. She would never be able to do it. Beautiful as she was, loyal as she was, sensual as she might be, she was not meant to win that man. She would understand that in the future. He would bring his mate to Station One, surround him with the truth of his heritage and aid him to come to terms with the terrible truth of his past and his future. Noin would never be able to accept the visions.

He could accept that aspect of the Peacecraft. It was a part of Milliardo, heart, body and soul. There was no escaping it. His Prince was too new to the gift to understand it properly. A terrible gift, yes, even worse than the gifts of some of the others who now lived on Station One. It was a part of the Peacecraft heritage, and that was something his Milliardo would have to learn to accept. It was not Epyon that had given this ability to him, but the very blood in his veins that carried it.

That same bloodline would mean the little Prince and Princess must be nurtured and protected, and raised to deal with the abilities that must in time develop. Hopefully they would not be cursed with their fathers unstable and terrible Sight, but some more manageable gift. He had no problem with accepting the children of the Amazon who had given them birth, they were, after all, the offspring of his…

"Sir." The quiet voice was firm and no quiver betrayed any anxiety. The quiet strength of the voice cut through his musings like a hot knife through butter. "Officer Hampshire requests…"

"I know the little snit wants me. It had better be good, Maurice, or I'll flay him alive and gut you for waking me up at this hour." He snarled, rolling onto his back, the last visions of white blonde hair and gold and cream flesh evaporating in a burst of irritation. "Christ, what time is it? I feel as though I only just crawled into bed."

A moments silence, followed by a dimming of the lights. "As a matter of fact, Sir, you have been in bed only thirty minutes or so." There was a certain amusement in the quiet voice.

"I'm going to kill the little weed. What does he want?" He forced himself to sit up, unmindful of the disarray of the bedding or his naked state.

"No doubt he is hoping to catch a glimpse of your naked magnificence." Came the tart response accompanied by a dramatic roll of gray eyes.

"Maurice!" A snarl. "What does he want?"

Maurice grinned, unrepentant. He was a middle aged, genteel looking man, quite proper in his ramrod straight stance and perfectly trimmed goatee. He had been in service to the King of Raiders, as his employer was so quaintly called, for the past two years and he had been pleasantly surprised by the man. The man and the station they called home were far from typical, and he found his life far from boring. The personnel of Station One were an entertaining and active community that readily welcomed those driven out of the Earth Sphere.

It had not taken him long to understand the ways and nature of this man who had taken him from a past best left forgotten, and given him a new chance at life. He had chosen of his own accord to give his loyalty to Raydon, and as part of that loyalty, and to make serving him more efficient, he had made himself aware of the internal currents amid the crew of the station. He had come to understand the sexuality of his chosen Master and knew there were many, both male and female, who would have leapt at the chance to draw Raydon's interest. Few, however, in his opinion, were worthy of the man, and fewer still had the temerity to think they stood a chance.

One of those interested parties was a young Communications Officer who began to salivate whenever Raydon crossed his path. Maurice had found it rather amusing, and not a little pathetic, the antics the man employed in a bid to gain the attention of his employer. Raydon had made it plain after the first instance when he was propositioned by the younger man that he was in no way interested. That had, of course, not deterred the pursuit of the Pirate King by the Com Officer, who used every excuse imaginable to gain private access to the object of his desire. It amused Maurice that there was a running wager on Station One over whether Raydon would space his ardent admirer out the nearest air lock, or transfer him to a Raider Ship to get rid of him. Maurice believed the current odds favored the air lock.

Certainly if the man did not have a very good excuse on this occasion, he would very likely soon be floating amid the asteroids. Raydon had very little opportunity in his days to relax, and sleep was becoming a scarce and precious occurrence when it could be snatched. The business of legitimizing the Raiders activities was a long and convoluted proposition, and Raydon was running himself ragged on behalf of his people.

"I have no idea, Sir. He does insist that you would want to know, with all haste, that he is waiting for you. Apparently the news is of considerable importance to you."

"I hate you. I hate him." Raydon snarled and then groaned. "And I hate never getting a good nights sleep!"

"Quite, Sir. Shall I have the little snit thrown into the brig for disturbing your beauty sleep?" On dark brow lifted in a questioning slant.

A bellow of laughter and a pillow thrown at him saw Maurice walking calmly out the door after having caught the offending air born object and placing it neatly on the bed. Raydon could hear him through the door informing Communications Officer Eric Hampshire that his Commanding Officer would be out shortly.

The man never ceased to amaze Raydon. When he had hired Maurice he had not really expected to have a need for a Gentleman's Gentleman. For so long he had been separated from the formalities and traditions of the nobles of Europe and their society. He thought he had forgotten that life, so long had it been since he had entertained it. However, it had not taken Maurice long to make himself indispensable to the King of Raiders. Raydon could not deny that it had become a much more comfortable and ordered life since Maurice had joined his household.

"One day I am going to take that man, and his disgustingly neat goatee, and throw him out an airlock. No. No, I will shave that goatee and then stuff him out the air lock. This had better be good or that idiot Hampshire will kiss space without a suit."

Throwing on a floor length robe of deep crimson velvet he stalked into the bathroom of his suite, muttering about moronic officers who had no sense of self preservation. He did, however acknowledge the uneasy feeling in his gut.

Hampshire may have been an idiot where his hormones were concerned, but generally he was a good officer. That was the reason he had not yet suffered at the hands of Raydon's anger. There had been disturbing snatches of dreams lately, and he knew that to be the forerunner to trouble. He already had his Gifted Ones concentrating on that unease that infected them all.

Running a brush through his shoulder length black hair he considered the stubble darkening his face, and wondered why he didn't just grow a beard and then snorted, amused. Simple answer. He never made it past day four without itching himself into a rage and giving up in disgust. He was not what one would expect to see when faced with the King of Raiders, and that amused him. For now, shaving could wait. To be honest, if only with himself, he had never imagined himself looking like Black Beard the Pirate. Besides, if he was lucky after shoving the Com Officer out the air lock for wasting his time, he could get a few hours sleep. Tying his hair into a loose ponytail he stalked into the main room of his suite.

"Well, Hampshire. What do you have for me?"

The Com Officer came to attention, snapping his heels sharply together and saluting, back poker stiff, eyes as always devouring his Commanding Officer with undisguised interest that in seconds turned to rigidly controlled lust. Eyes that, while they roved over Raydon's body, did so with respect for the rank of the man. Hampshire was ex military, and though he had not long been in service he knew he likely would never have a chance to know the man's favors, but that did not stop him enjoying the view. Any hope he had ever entertained for more would come to naught, when Raydon received his news.

He was no fool and knew where Raydon's interests lay.

Over the officers shoulder Raydon could see Maurice shaking his head in amusement, all attention to the man's antics. In truth, if Hampshire had still been in a military organization he likely might have been complimented on his style, however that excessive military style was not used on Station One. Raydon ran a more relaxed bridge, but he chose to ignore the man's antics. He half suspected that Hampshire used that type of formality to remind himself of the distinction of their ranks.

"Communications have been received from our agents on Mars, Sir. A matter of minutes between each and received over alpha and delta band widths."

"Validated?" Raydon felt the desire for sleep slip away from him, instantly alert.

He forgot the air lock in favor of silently cursing the blonde who had run and gotten himself caught. Trouble on Mars could only mean one thing when that stubborn delectable man was resident there. Perhaps when he pulled Peacecraft's shapely butt out of the fire the man would acknowledge the simple truth. Milliardo Peacecraft did not belong in the Earth Sphere.

"Yes, Sir. ESUN agents have arrived on Mars. Our agents have confirmed the new arrivals are ESUN security personnel, formerly of an elite Alliance task force known as Blue Squad. I understand it has been confirmed by the agents through monitoring of Preventer channels and ESUN Security frequencies, that the agents are there to remove Zechs Merquise and his children from Mars, and place them in 'protective custody' on Earth. There are two confirmed kills attributed to Lucrezia Noin at this time. In anticipation of your instructions I have set a watch on all official Preventer and ESUN bands. When they mention Mars we will know."

//Damn. I knew there was trouble coming. We have received no warning from The Gifted, though. I will need to speak with them. Milliardo, you do try my patience. When I bring you to Station you will have to admit there is no place for you there, sister or no on Earth. Sanc is lost to you, Love. Accept it. But first, I need to get you to Station.//

"Return to your station, Hampshire. I'll be on the bridge in a few minutes. I want a list of our ships and their proximity to Mars waiting for me."

"Sir! Additional information Sir!"

"Well?" Impatient. Sleep was forgotten. He had too much to do to entertain this mans idiocy over protocols that had no place on Station.

"Sir, I have noted time anomalies in the communications from Mars. There appears to be a time delay on signals originating from Mars and channeling through the Dakkar III communications satellites. Our agents sent the messages three hours ago, Sir."

//Three hours ago? God, do you mock me? What the hell is going on on Mars if this is three hours old?//

"Acknowledged, Hampshire. Return to the bridge."

"Sir!" Again the snap of heels and salute, and Hampshire stalked from the room.

So, the ESUN were controlling communications. Raydon slowly began to pace the length of the suite, dark hair slowly falling out of the hastily tied restraint, dark eyes narrowed. At the very least delaying the communications allowed the ESUN to have greater control of the situation on Mars. It would not be the only reason they entertained the sacrilege of interfering with the Dakkar III system.

The agents he had secreted amid the terra forming community, to investigate the trading potential with the fledgling colony, had sent him the very welcome news of the formerly unknown fate of his desired consort. When he had leaned of Milliardo's fate he had been half of a mind to take a ship or two and kidnap the blonde. His first thoughts had been squashed under his own common sense. He had originally allowed the man to leave to find out for himself that he no longer belonged amid the Earth Sphere. He had permitted him to leave knowing that he would return under his own volition, and on that day he could court the man and do so knowing he was receptive. Milliardo Peacecraft was not a fool, but he had ancient ties to that blue pearl of beauty they called Earth. He had to let those ties fall and only he could cut the cords.

His Captains all used the ESUN's Dakkar III system as the most efficient of the satellite relay stations in their vicinity. It was a restricted system, of course, which caused him to smile as he had scores to settle with the ESUN and certain other influential bodies that had invested a number of fortunes in the construction of the system. It was only fitting he use their technology free of charge. They owed him.

If the ESUN were interfering with the integrity and performance of that system, then they were delaying the Preventers communications, and possibly the Mining Consortiums Security as well. The Dakkar system was intended for the exclusive use of ESUN space forces, Preventer communications relays, and the Mining Consortiums Security network. A high speed radio communications relay system for critical message delivery.

Those ESUN agents newly arrived on Mars were clearly up to no good. He would view the message logs himself for the last few days, after he had made some initial decisions. His people recorded all communications to come through the system; after all, one never knew quite when some interesting tit bit of information might be overheard. He would need to ensure his communications with his own agents on Mars would be unaffected by the ESUN's time delay, and that would be Hampshire's first order of business. Establishing reliable communications was vital. Lord knew there was enough of a delay without satellite interference adding to it.

He needed to account for time delay in his plans, both the interference and the natural time delay. It very likely could already be a disaster on Mars. What would be best to do? He only had the two agents secreted amid the terra formers.

He could not afford to chance his limited resources, and when he had sent the initial agent he had not known of Peacecrafts location. The second agent was sent to back up the first, should there be a threat to Milliardo.

The original mission had still needed to be carried out. Mars held potential for the Raiders in time. No, they would not always be considered pirates and rogues. He had respectable plans for his people. They were outcasts and the flotsam of the ESUN when he picked them up. The unwanted. Many of them soldiers abandoned after the wars, with no place to go and no understanding of why they had been cast aside. They were his now, and he would not always have them in danger of death as they formed their own community. He would not abandon his own, not as the ESUN had. They would form their own independent colonies.

Mars would be a trading partner with the Independent Station Colonies he was setting up. The Captains under his command were the best he could find, and they were dedicated to the plans to become independent colonies, separated from the Earth Sphere Unified Nations. Separated, but equal trading partners with the Earth Sphere. In the fullness of time. He would not change his mind on that score.

He would need to consider the time factors in this matter carefully, and the responsibility to his people, but he had one basic instruction for his ships Captains. He was not concerned with profit now. Events had changed the game plan, and business was on hold as far as he was concerned. The prime requirement for his officers now was to get to Mars and take that stubborn blonde, and his family, out of the ESUN's control.

He had allowed Milliardo too much freedom, and it was time to act. He would even be magnanimous and give instructions for that woman who lusted after his future consort to be fetched too. He'd work around her presence and teach his future partner he did not need her. Amazons were all very well in their place, but she undoubtedly was a pushy bitch who was more concerned with herself than the needs of his beloved blonde idiot. Peacecraft was too forgiving, too inexperienced in personal relationships to understand what he could have. In the courtship of the blonde Prince his greatest advantage over Lucrezia Noin was that she could never understand the needs of one who was Gifted, and he was not above using that fact to his advantage.

That was why he would succeed in winning the Prince of Sanc.

She could never accept the needs of the Gifted.

"Instructions, Sir?" The older man stood at his side, a careful and proper pace and a half from his employer.

//Mmm, you are entirely too smug, Maurice. You believe you know me so well, don't you? I need to keep you guessing. Can't have you thinking you can predict my every move, even though you likely can. I have a reputation to maintain. Let me see, where best to send you that will remind you that … ah, yes. Perfect. You hate the warehouses.//

"Have the nursery suite readied and the Red Room prepared for our royal guests. You can also have a room readied for Noin. One of the vacant Officers quarters on level seven will do."

He acknowledged the smirk that just for an instant flickered into existence at the distance he was laying between Noin and the object of their mutual desire. Of course, the Red Room adjoined this suite.

// Seven is far enough away from this level. She will understand immediately the implications of the move. I will have to allow her access to the children, but there will be a ban on her entering the Red Room. I need a place where he can find the solitude he needs when the Gift awakes. It will give him time to consider life without her constant influence on his every decision. From what I know of her, she is a determined, strong personality and he is vulnerable while his gift wakes. There would not be many places on Mars where he could get the peace he needs, when he needs it the most.//

Arch of one single eyebrow and a smirk played on full lips framed by the too neat goatee. "Yes, Sir. Level seven. When may we expect to have our guests arrive, Sir?"

// Ah. Smirk all you wish. I know what you think of the warehouses.// "Sit on it, Maurice. I'm well aware how long it will take to get them to Station. You, however, will start redecorating the nursery and the Red Room tonight. I want rough designs and samples for my approval by tomorrow. You will need to consult with The Gifted Training Masters for appropriate colour selection, but ensure there is a certain style to the suite. He is the Prince of Sanc, and that will be reflected in the decor. I expect to be occupied until around midday, at the earliest. Our guests will be arriving within a matter of weeks and everything must be ready. You'll need to spend the day in the ware houses, won't you?"

"Yes, Sir. Will that be all, Sir?" Not a hint of emotion was betrayed in gray eyes or voice.

//Why has Milliardo not sent an alarm? I told him I would be waiting for him. Surely he did not throw away the transmitter? He would have kept it safe from the ESUN when he was confined on Mars. Why has he not activated the transmitter? The homing device at the very least. I'll tan his lovely hide if he has thrown away that link with me. I should have tried his patience and had him injected with that tracing device, but angering him in that manner is not the way I wished our relationship to start. //

"No. Where did you put my pants?"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	48. Chapter 48

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 48

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 17:37 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

Transmitter.

Raydon.

Possible escape from the massacre for those whose only crime was to accept the fact that the Terror of Earth had become resident in their neighborhood. They had no control over his presence here. They had not had a say in it. To be sure, certain people had objected on his arrival, but not nearly so many as he had thought, and he had been careful to keep clear of those who had. He had also been careful to keep to himself as much as was possible while he had been feeling his way with the new community.

Noin, of course, had glared at anyone who so much as looked in his direction, always expecting the worst to happen. He had, at the time, been grateful to her for garnering him a little room to become accustomed to his changed circumstances, but he wondered if it had been necessary. Yes, he was capable of defending himself, but with his reputation had he really needed to languish in his rooms so much in off duty hours? Noin had insisted he stay in his room and kept him company, telling him that they would settle to his presence and they needed only a little time to accept that he was now included in their number.

Had he needed to be separated from everyone, or was it only another instance of Noin being possessive? Had she encouraged the segregation to keep him safe, or to further her courtship of him? He had his doubts over her motives, but he had learned to deal with her possessiveness. She had not been pleased when he had begun to venture out of his assigned quarters during hours after his work roster concluded.

He had, even then, sensed a need to get familiar with the base. He had always found it vital to his peace of mind to know the bases he was assigned to on a rather intimate level, and since this was effectively his prison, he had determined to get to know it even more intimately than usual.

The current base was rather different to the structure he had known on first arriving here. As the project had progressed they had made considerable changes to the Base Dome, even as they worked on the Alpha Dome. He had found acceptance came easier with his co-workers once he spent social time with them, though he was careful with his safety.

He had also noted very early on that Noin's possessive protectiveness had hindered his efforts to make friends, or even gain a grudging acceptance from many of the terra formers.

He had had to use every opportunity he could to interact with people when she was not around, and he had found people tended to be more receptive on those occasions. Some people actually initiated contact with him when she was not present, before he could think of a means by which to offer that contact.

He loved her, but he was not in love with her and he knew she understood that, but would not accept it was the extent of their relationship. Yes, they had become lovers, but he still felt nothing more than the deep love of a friend. Well, perhaps more than friend, but if there was supposed to be fire and passion in his heart for her, he was sorely lacking in it. She had not allowed him to have access to anyone, male or female, who might have become a rival for his affections without her looming presence being felt as the threat it was.

Because of that, it had been no easy matter to establish any type of relationships, even friendship, with the terra formers. He was largely on a nodding acquaintanceship with most of the people here, but even so he felt too much responsibility for them to allow the massacre he feared would soon begin. They had accepted his presence amongst them, regardless of their inability to protest it, and for that acceptance he felt responsibility for them. His presence here was not their fault, therefore he owed it to them to do what he could to see them survive what might come.

Could he trust this vision? More to the point, did he dare not? Regardless, it was obvious that his time on Mars was done. They would just keep sending more and more agents, until they had him confined to a secure sector where he was a prisoner to their whims, and his children were reared by God knew what person and taught exactly what the ESUN determined they learn. That was the truth he had to acknowledge here. Mars was no longer a safe place for his family or for him.

Where could he go?

He closed his eyes against the sight of the ladder and water cooler, and drew a deep breath. Where could he go indeed. A hideous question for its implications was where could he not go? Earth was banned to him. No more could he go to Sanc than he could march up to any other country on that planet and ask for asylum. He would get it, of course, a brief stay in a prison and a quiet execution. His children too would be shunned, spurned. No one would want the innocents who had no say in the past, but would be held to account for it.

No, Earth was banned. He and they could not go there. He might be able to arrange for Howard to get the children to Quatre Winner, if he could just convince Noin to allow that course of action. Howard and Quatre would find a secure place where his children and Noin could live in obscurity, unknown and safe in their anonymity. Howard and Quatre would help Noin for the respect she had earned from them during the war.

He might be able to garner safety for them, but not for himself.

The colonies were not a safe refuge either. More rigid safeguards and protocols would make his entrance into the colonies nigh impossible. He was too distinctive. Too noticeable. The mining settlements where the asteroids were stripped of their raw ores? He was not afraid of hard work, but the ESUN ran the mining settlements and word could not be kept from filtering out that he was there.

//Raydon.//

The thought caused a deep sigh. He was terrified of that man. There was something about Raydon that drew him, called to him. Almost craved him. Almost. He did not know what it was, or why he should respond to him. When the man touched him…

He shied away from the thought. No time for that foolery now. One step at a time.

He needed to concentrate on the here and now, and that meant putting aside the uncertainty of his future before visions returned to send him down into hell once again. What he must do to secure a safe sanctuary for his children and Noin he would, no matter the consequences to himself, but that was for later. Now he had to think of the disaster that might be on its way toward Mars now, engines on full burn.

Where had he placed the transmitter?

He had meant to throw it away on any number of occasions over the last few years, but something had always stopped him at the last minute. When he had come to Mars he had brought the transmitter with him and he had kept it hidden, not even showing it to Noin.

Only the fact that it had been disguised as jewelry had enabled him to get it past the checks and balances the ESUN had surrounded him with on his arrival on Mars. To look at it certainly did not resemble a transmitter, but he had been worried over the security measures they had employed on his arrival and determined to secret the device to ensure they would not learn of its true nature.

Jewelry. The jewelry box in the room he shared with Noin.

Had he placed it there? No. No he was sure he had not. Not Raydon's choice of jewelry.

He knew full well Noin would have asked questions had she noticed it in the box.

Neither he nor Noin had ever chosen to wear much in the line of jewelry, either during or after the wars, and Raydon had definite taste that differed considerably to anything he had ever chosen to wear before.

The man lived in the wrong age, he was certain. No, he would not have placed that distinctive piece there, where she could all too easily see it and want to know where it had come from. A cache, then. Yes, yes he must have placed it in one…

"Hydroponics Dome One."

Yes. He had placed it in the very first cache of equipment he had fashioned.

Hydroponics Dome One, the original of the food growing domes they had constructed within the great arch of the Base Dome. That was where it was, which, he reflected, presented just a little problem. The original cache he had fashioned on arriving on Mars and starting his secret store of weapons and useful items was hidden in the first of the now three hydroponics domes, and he was currently under dome three.

To get to that cache he had the choice of going back into the water pipe, climbing down to the reservoir level and then entering the pipe that led up three hundred meters to Dome One, and entering the dome by climbing the maintenance ladder, as he had already done so for Dome Three. Or he had the second option of going back down the pipe he already had climbed, and out of the reservoir room and using the elevators to the upper dome. After exiting the elevator he could brazenly walk across the open field exposed to all eyes. The third option resulted in something of the same problem. He could go up this short ladder, cross Dome Three and exit into the upper dome and cross open ground after leaving to enter Dome One. Anyone could see him.

//I can't go back down and then climb the other water pipe. I barely can move after climbing this one. The elevators are out of the question. They would be fools to not have them watched.// His gaze settled on the metal rungs not far from his current position. //That leaves Dome Three. I don't have a choice. I need that equipment, and to get it I must enter the dome. Not only is there the transmitter in the cache, but there is also a radio in that gear. It's short range, but if I can piggyback a signal over Raydon's transmitter I could… // He drew a deep breath before plunging on with the thought. With that hope. //I could ask him to intercede on behalf of the terra formers. He may be a rogue but he's a decent rogue. I don't believe he would leave these people at the non existent mercies of the ESUN.//

He sipped the water slowly, taking inventory of the equipment he carried. At the present time his weapons consisted of the four shock guns he had confiscated from the ESUN agents, and he still had a few of the tranquilizer darts and a blow pipe. He also had the home made throwing knives he had made from scrap titanium.

At one of his caches there were two bowie knives he had made from gundanium scrap he had managed to acquire. Three of the five caches had lengths of rope he might yet need, but he felt the whip was more important at this time. Its length was both weapon and rope if he should need it, and it was multi-functional, and that was vital to his situation. It had taken him time and considerable effort to make some of this equipment and to make it work properly. It had taken a longer time to learn how to use some of it effectively.

The leather braided whip had a three meter length that had not been as hard to master as he had originally feared, as it had been somewhat different to the heat rod of the Epyon, but it had not taken him long to learn the differences. He was confident in his use of it now. In truth the heat rod on Epyon had been harder to master, considering he had been using the suits hydraulics as well as his own muscles. One of the bonus features of the whip was that it was organic and had no energy core or metallic parts, so it would not register as a weapon if they scanned him from any distance.

All he had to do was get to the cache he had stashed it in. Also in that cache were six shurikens; throwing stars fashioned of gundaniam he had salvaged from the wreckage of a Ore Carrier that had made an emergency landing on Mars some seven months ago.

The equipment he carried consisted of the shock weapons, whose use he was hoping he would not have to consider, afraid as he was of the side effects considering the reports he had read in his days in Oz. The throwing knives and blow gun with… he counted quickly and handled each dart carefully... five tranquilizer darts.

The knives and darts were short range, but he was hoping to avoid notice and not have to engage in any combat. At least until he felt that his body would not fall apart. His equipment also included the dental mirror which so far had come in very useful. He had also pocketed some matches and made some low level explosives, which had been stored in the store room in the Medical Centre.

While it was not his intention to damage the base, he had felt he needed to cover as many possibilities he had glimpsed as possible, and some of the visions had suggested he needed a little explosive power on his side. He also had a few small bags containing flour and pepper.

The cache with Raydon's transmitter was in hydroponics dome one, and certain other positively medieval items were safely ensconced there. Caltrops were vicious things, but they would disable pursuit quickly if he used them carefully. Cache one would need to be his first stop.

"Time to move, Merquise. Every minute you waste gives them the chance to call in the Wellington. There's a chance you can stop that now, and you still have to find Noin."

He could only hope that his gut feeling was wrong, and they had not already summoned the Wellington. It was only a small hope, but he clung to it. If they had summoned the ship and he could get off a message to Raydon, he might yet be able to salvage the situation. He could only hope summoning the Raiders would not present larger problems.

His stomach had settled with the slow administration of the cold water, and he found that his body was responding better than he had dared hope. The energy bars were doing their work, quickly digested and efficient distribution of energy. He needed that, but he would still need to handle himself carefully.

His shoulder while stiff and sore was manageable and he had little difficulty using the rungs that led to the hatch. It was amazing, he mused, how easy it was to climb a couple of meters with a sore body after climbing three hundred meters of shaft. It seemed so easy and relatively painless.

He paused at the hatch, every sense straining as he opened the cover enough to allow the rich earthy smells of the vegetation to waft into the shaft. Sound of running water.

Silence. No sound of movement beyond the hatch. Still he lingered, counting to fifty before lifting the hatch with a low grunt of effort and raising himself enough to peer out into the garden.

Hydroponics dome three was the recreation world of the base. Terra formed to resemble a rainforest, the vegetation had been carefully nurtured to varying stages of maturity, and the area landscaped to give as natural an impression of a rainforest on Earth as such young plants could give. The aim of the unit was to help purify air and water for the Base Dome, as well as offer a much needed respite from the metallic shell they called home for its citizens. This dome was less than a third the size of the biggest hydroponics dome in the Alpha dome that processed water and generated oxygen for the people who might not make Mars their home if the ESUN destroyed it all.

To his right was the small water feature that fed a pond. All very pretty, but functional for all its beauty. The water was run through purifiers and filtration plants and then allowed to run through the domes natural system, providing the water with a more natural taste. It also served as a social gathering area as the base personnel came here to unwind and allow the scents of Earth to soothe them. Foolish in a way, he mused, to constantly remind themselves of the world so far away, but coming here also had another use that he wondered if the others thought of.

To him, who knew that Earth was lost to him forever, this place had shown what could be created on another world. The soil the plants grew in was native Martian soil, treated with fertilizers to give nourishment to Earth born plants.

Yes, they had to seal out the atmosphere of the planet, for it would take a couple of hundred years to alter the atmosphere enough to allow them to live out side a domes protection. However with this habitat dome they had proven they could bring life to this desolate world. When he had come to Mars he had had hope, originally, that he might find a place he belonged and could find some beauty in. While he appreciated the rugged splendor of the planet, his heart had been soothed when they had succeeded in growing the plants here. He had felt that he could make a new life for himself.

He should have known better. He should have known they could not just leave him alone to live his life on this distant world. Raydon had never failed to point out to him, at every opportunity, that the Earth Sphere was never going to be safe for him. Terror of Earth. Yes, they would never forget the past and they would never forgive him his past, any more than he could forget the beauty of his home world. As he would long to be there, so they would long to ensure he never returned.

//In the vision of possibility they were taking me to Earth? No, not necessarily, I think. The twins, yes, I can see they would want them on Earth, but me… I don't think Earth would have been my new prison. So where have they prepared to contain me? Where would they consider safe to contain the man who threatened to destroy a planet?//

He hoped that he never need find out. He was their key to controlling Relena.

Should she begin to fight them, as he knew that eventually she would, then he would be the first to die. They could control his children with far less effort that it took to contain him.

Relena was far less likely to give them trouble if their hostages were infants. He would be made an example of the results of rebelling against their rule, and Relena would fold, unwilling to allow the next generation to pay for his actions.

No, his new prison would be far from comfortable. It would be far from desirable to become a prisoner of the ESUN if they got him off this world successfully. His options were limited. He was too recognizable to wander the colonies or even the Earth. Everyone knew the face of the Terror of Earth. The ESUN had plastered his face all over the Earth Sphere in their eagerness to blame him for all the ills of their society. He had known it would happen, and he accepted it as just one small part of his personal purgatory.

//Stop it. You are just begging to be caught. Pay attention to what you are supposed to be doing, idiot.//

He slipped from the hatch, sealing it behind him. No need to advertise where he had been. He might need to use it again before this was over. Never give the enemy the advantage of knowing your methods, and keep your safe routes safe. Basic. Very basic and he had to remember it. One of his few advantages in this entire mess was his knowledge of the base.

He had made a point of knowing every inch of the base and the surrounding area of the planet, in the event the matter escaped the confines of the dome. It had not been easy to gain access to the maintenance shafts, or the original blue prints of the dome, but he had persevered and made himself an indispensable part of the maintenance team. His skills had been recognized and used by the terra formers to recycle valuable resources when replacement parts were scarce. Some of those parts he had had to make scarce, to get himself into restricted areas, but he did not regret those difficulties.

No doubt the ESUN would not make the same mistakes again, if he failed to escape their net.

The main entrance to this hydroponics dome faced the tower containing the main control room. That was the point to which he had expected Noin would go on a worst case scenario. Her need to confirm the deception perpetrated on her by Shanna McIntyre would drive her. It would be considered to be a personal insult and grounds for a personal vendetta he did not think Noin would be capable of ignoring.

He really did not think that Noin would resist the need to exact her revenge. She was Italian, for Gods sake, all fire and passion and the great granddaughter of a mafia daughter who had turned her back on her family, to wed where she wished. Oh, yes, he was sure where Noin had headed after they had parted.

The question was, could he take the time to see what might have happened in the control room? Did he dare take the time away from what his vision suggested the most urgent need for the terra formers demanded he do? Noin's safety was personal. The safety of his fellow terra formers was duty. He had been reared from birth to his duty to the people, and the people here on Mars fell into that category. He was responsible for their safety. He knew of dangers others did not suspect, and he felt a responsibility to these innocents that his blood heritage would not allow him to deny.

They were innocents. Most of them. They had no idea what they had fallen into by the simple expedient of being on Mars when the ESUN decided to come for him. It was always the innocents who paid the highest price in any conflict.

Noin was a soldier.

Blue eyes turned from the tower barely visible through the curvature of the dome and the greenery of the plants, and he considered his location. The main entrance was definitely not going to be his option of choice. There was, however a small door in the dome closer to Dome Two. Originally it had been included in the design when they had planned to have a supply room attached to the exterior of the dome, as they had done between domes one and two. It was only later they had decided they did not need such a building linking domes two and three. The door had been built, the construction of the dome being nearly complete before they had changed their plans. He had never actually seen anyone use that door and that screamed potential he could not ignore.

If he could cross through Dome Three unseen, and then through that door and across the dividing distance and into Dome Two through the opposite door without being seen, it would all be to the good. He would then need only cross Dome Two unseen and enter Dome One through the shared equipment and storage building. Much less chance of him being seen.

He did find himself wishing they had had the need to build ventilation shafts in the domes though. He might hate the cramped things, but there was much less chance of him being seen if he was in one. The heights of this dome offered no cover at all, all functions having been constructed under the surface, except for the walkways servicing the solar lights.

//Move it, Merquise. Time's wasting. //

Dome Three appeared to be deserted. He could hear the clear melody of the water features, but little else above its joyful chuckle. In the hydroponics domes the sound of equipment being used in the main dome was rarely noticeable, but as he threaded his way through the vegetation he began to become increasingly uneasy. It was too quiet, even for the recreation dome. He rested a hand on a rock outcrop as he passed, pausing and glancing at the rock under his hand, when he realized that there was no faint vibration to be felt. When ever the working machinery in the main dome was used, there was a vibration, subtle, but noticeable in the hydroponics domes.

Something was very wrong.

//Brilliant, idiot. Of course something is wrong. There's an invasion going on. The techs think it's the raiders and are lying low… Oh shit.//

He stood in the cover of the rock outcrop and its surrounding fringe of vegetation and stared at the scene before him. Nausea threatened again to visit him and he felt the crawling pressure of threatening vision.

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, exercising control, forcing his heart to ease from its pounding. He could not lose control. He could not afford that loss of control.

Not now above all.

It had started. He had hoped to avoid it, but it had been a vain hope. There could be no doubt. No doubt. His gut instinct had been right. They had called in the Wellington, and now he must deal with the consequences. The terra formers in the upper dome were the first to meet their fate at the hands of sleeper agents they had called friends for months, and in some cases, years.

The body lay beside the artificial stream that fed one of the holding reservoirs disguised as a large pond. The pool of dark crimson surrounding the body had not quite reached the pool, but it covered the grassy bank and pooled around the head of the woman who lay face down, a ration pack and drink flask upset not far from her. A small, petite woman with dark hair; in the coverall of a gardener.

//Bastards. They've started the massacre. Whatever I do now they will kill the techs and engineers who are not agents to cover their own hides. Noin, Noin, why did you have to stay here? Why did you have to leave Earth and follow me to Mars? I don't know if I can stop this before they are all wiped out.//

Drawing in a deep breath he forced himself to move. The vegetation around him gave no hint that others were nearby, but he used the cover to work his way closer to the corpse, pausing often to listen. He crouched beneath fronds, an outcropping of rock adding to his cover as he considered the area around him. Only when he deemed it safe, that there was no one, possible friend or likely enemy, did he move out into the open, skimming quickly low to the ground and kneeling beside the body for a quick examination.

//Stabbed in the back. No weapon left behind. Decent sized knife though. She probably didn't know what hit her. Had to be someone she knew though. Someone she trusted to get that close to her. I'm sorry, Marina. I'm sorry that you got dragged into this. I promise you, though, they will pay. They will pay. There was no need for them to do this. No need for this overkill.//

Hopefully there would be time enough later to bury the dead. Hopefully there would be time enough to mourn for the friends who in their innocence had become statistics on a piece of paper in a strategists file. Inconvenient statistics for the ESUN. A deep cold settled over him as he left the body behind and moved deeper into the vegetation, always inclining towards that little used, and hopefully forgotten, door.

They had killed.

It was too late to salvage the situation beyond trying to get the terra formers some protection, if not a ride off this rock.

They had killed.

The one thing he had been desperate to avert had happened.

They had killed.

Indiscriminately, coldly, dispassionately they had instigated the massacre to cover up the ESUN's operation. They were no better that the Alliance or Romefeller. They were no better than the warmongers of the past, and for their failure to learn from the lessons of the past they would know what it was to earn the disgust of Zechs Merquise, and to finally raise him to anger.

They had killed. Murdered the innocents.

//Was it all for nothing, Epyon? Did we go through that horror for nothing?//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	49. Chapter 49

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 49

Asteroid Belt

Station One

2nd March AC 198

Time 00:21 [Ship time 17:09 MST March 1st [Mars Standard Time

Raydon

One did not have to be a psychic to feel the tension that ran through the crew of Station One. Though he had issued no formal alert he noted the bridge Captain had placed the defense stations on amber alert. Amber alert was sufficient to have everyone primed and an automatic summons issued to the department heads to attend an emergency conference. There was no doubt in his mind they would need to discuss measures that would have to be taken without unduly alarming the citizens of the station who were not designated defense personal. Civilian citizens of the station need not be unduly alarmed at this time.

On his arrival on the deck containing the bridge he noted how conspicuously quiet it seemed, few crew men or women walking the halls and no civilian personnel authorized to be on this level were in sight. Even on the lower levels where the living quarters and social gathering areas were situated, no one had been wandering around.

He approved the action.

Many of the personnel who lived on the station were ex-military and were employed to defend the station should there ever come a need. He was not such a fool that he considered the Station to be untouchable. While it was true the Asteroid Belt was their greatest defense, theirs were not the only ships to ply this remote realm. For a ship to come this deep into the dangerous field meant one had to have powerful deflector shields and excellent maneuverability.

Any Captain who relied on defense shields to enter the asteroid belt was a fool not worthy of the rank. No, it was not ships they needed to defend against. Most often the defense crews had to act against rogue asteroids that penetrated the outer defense rings.

The bridge door slid aside for him as he approached, the mechanics picking up the signal in the insignia he wore. The door slid into the wall cavity with a hiss of air and as he passed it snapped out behind him, sealing the bridge environment against all who did not wear authorization insignia.

The first thing he noted was that everyone was staring in the direction of the great view screen and that there was a loud hiss of static overlying the usual chatter of computers.

He scowled, eyes sweeping the scene quickly before flicking up toward the screen.

A woman, wide eyed with terror, streaming tears, blood on her face and uniform.

The picture was somewhat fuzzy and he realized that this was the source of the static he could hear. It disrupted both the picture and sound quality of the message, but not enough to take away from the words that sounded clearly through the too silent bridge.

"...yday! Mayday! Help us. This is Mars Base Dome. The Raiders… oh, God… The Raiders are here! They're killing everybody. Help us… "

He watched, impassive, face carefully devoid of emotion, as the fiery haired woman with the torn, blood smeared coveralls dissolved into static. After a moment the screen blanked and silence filled the control room. It was not a comfortable silence, as each member of the crew evaluated the contents of the message and the knowledge of how it would be received by the Earth Sphere governments.

Furious he drew a deep breath, already calculating the damage that would be done to his plans for recognition of Station Ones independence, and recognition by the Earth Sphere. This would set his plans back years if he could not do something to counter it.

Someone would have to answer some very pointed questions about this mayday.

"Stations everyone. Hampshire, replay that on your screen." At his cool instruction people snapped out of their shocked states, glancing in his direction and then hurrying to tend to their stations.

He made his way to the communications computer banks, considering the implications to his existing plans. Matters might already be out of hand. Once that mayday was received by the hub colonies and planet of the Earth Sphere there would be a hue and cry, and his people would never gain the independence they sought. Nor would they be believed when they denied responsibility for the raids, and deny their involvement they would.

He stood behind the Communications Officer and nodded to the small screen. "Play it, Hampshire. I want a recording of that prepared for the meeting. How long ago was it sent?"

"I managed to get around the delay on the satellite relay, Sir. This was sent from Mars approximately one hour ago. It has, as yet, not been broadcast to the Earth Sphere."

He watched the replay of the Mayday with carefully neutral features, giving away nothing of his reaction to anyone watching him. Raiders, indeed! He knew full well what was going on on Mars at this time. After the alert sent to him by his agents on Mars he had no doubt what was happening there. The ESUN was covering its tail for a mission likely going horribly wrong. Neither Milliardo Peacecraft nor that Amazon would stand quietly for this.

Knowing the war records of both it likely was going to get much worse before it got better.

Scapegoats.

His very respectable Captains would not have a bar of massacre. Aside from the fact he had chosen the Captains for their skills and high value on honor, this type of idiocy was very bad for business. Raiding colonies was a stupid move, and one his Captains were not likely to make, even behind his back. He had a very long ear and an even longer arm. Word would come back to him, and the Captain and crew responsible would not long ply the space lanes.

Not only was it bad for business, but it was also very bad for the ultimate goal they all worked to achieve. Acceptance by the Earth Sphere was what they had been working to achieve, and when, if, this got out he could kiss good bye to that dream for perhaps a score of years. He would have to provide irrefutable evidence that it had not been his people who were responsible, and proof of the identity of the real instigators of the massacre that was happening on Mars.

Yes, he knew what was going on there, and he had a decision to make over what action must be taken to deal with this crisis. His response would need to be carefully considered, but he was damned if his people were going to take the blame for this affront to common decency. If they did not find a means to make it plain in formal courts that they were not to blame for this piracy and murder, then their ultimate goal of establishing Allied Independent Space Stations that would be formally recognized by the Earth Sphere was shattered. Possibly forever.

This affront to himself and his people could not be allowed to stand, but he was uncertain just what action to take. The media had, already, hyped up stories of the Space Raiders, or the Reavers of the Asteroid Belt, as they were so fond of calling them in news casts. Much of the reputation of the Raiders was exaggeration designed to sell stories and newspapers, not based on any actual facts. Inaccuracies were common in the details of incidents reported to the citizens of the Earth Sphere. People would be only too willing to accept the Raiders were responsible for the massacre of a fledgling colony.

None of this had been hinted in any incident reports from the Gifted on board Station One. He would have to look into that. Something this big interfering with their overall plans should have produced a host of warnings from the Sighted. Silence from the Gifted ranks was ominous.

It was a little known fact amid the people of the ESUN that most of the screaming about Raiders was from insurance companies, who blamed every error in the depths of space on Reavers. Every ship that vanished from the space lanes was claimed to be a pirate kill, when likely most ran afoul of misjudging the orbits of asteroids, or whose shields failed and the ships were punctured by micro meteors.

Yes, he admitted, his Captains did capture ore carriers and relieve them of their cargo's, but in the most recent cases they had actually left payment for the confiscated goods. No doubt the crews of the way laid ships never mentioned that small fact, or else the mining consortiums conveniently forgot to mention they were paid for their goods so that they could claim insurance. He was fair with his payments too, being certain to pay the current market price for the materials confiscated from the ships. Insurance for ships carrying valuables in and around the asteroid belt was astronomical due to the claims. Far more claims were issued than there were pirates, Raydon knew.

He also admitted there were independent ships out there, who's Captains and crew had little or no honor, and had an insatiable greed, but they were not his people. It was, however, par for the course that raids perpetrated by them would not be distinguished from those carried out by his people, and to date there had been little he could do about that.

No, the Captains under his command, who were allied to Station One, were not to blame for this assault on Mars. Everyone had been ordered to keep clear of the colony, as he had hoped to establish legitimate trading relations with them when the colony was officially opened. The trade agreement he had hoped to establish was one small step; the first step of many, to getting the three stations under his command recognized by the ESUN.

Then his beloved idiot had gotten himself exiled there, and Raydon had another reason to keep Mars clear of raids. He would not chance his intended being injured in a raid.

Nor would he have the Peacecraft Prince continue to think of his people as pirates and rogues. He had wanted Milliardo to acknowledge that they had plans to become legitimate traders.

He had wanted Milliardo to accept Station One as his new home, and to be proud of it.

"How long before the Chief's of Staff are assembled in the conference room?"

"Most are already waiting for you, Sir. Only Captain Williams and Commander Yamoto are to arrive. That should be in ten minutes. Their ships docked only twenty minutes ago, and the command staff is almost clear of decontamination protocols." The com officer ejected a small disk and passed it to the Captain. "The recording of the mayday call, Sir."

He pocketed the disk and flicked a finger at the com consol. "Any further word from our agents in the Mars Colony?"

"None, Sir. No further communications has been received from the Colony. I have intercepted a signal that went out from Mars via an ESUN high frequency transceiver. I am working on decoding the message now."

"Get it to me with all haste. Could you tell where it was aimed?"

"Judging by the trajectory and the nature of the frequency involved, it could only have been aimed for the ESUN Cruiser, Wellington, Sir. She is approximately two days out from Mars at last report."

//Ah, so that's it. The Wellington is their ticket off Mars.// He considered the implications in silence, his frown deepening the more he considered the information he had access to. //Remove their captives; Milliardo and the children? Or just the children? I need more information. What I know is not enough to make a true judgment of the circumstances. Do what they went to Mars to achieve and then wipe out the colony, leaving us to take the heat for the crime. No one need know that Milliardo Peacecraft was ever on Mars. Anyone who did know that information and was not ESUN, which would not be many, would likely not be in a position to cause a fuss, and would not be believed even should they dare to protest the action. The big bad Pirates did it.//

It was infuriating, especially as there was likely to be little he could do about it, and less that could be done to stop the massacre. His people were, when all was said and done, Raiders in truth. Or they had been, to begin with. Before he had begun to unite them under the dream of an independent home. Before they had begun the dream of being other than Outcasts of society.

They were different to the predators who prowled the space lanes in that they now had a goal of respectability in mind. Rejects from the ESUN they never the less had rights, and in joining the fledgling Allied Independent Space Stations, they now had the means by which to demand that recognition of rights.

As yet they were not recognized officially by the ESUN, but that did not bother him.

Not yet. Or it had not, until this matter had reared its ugly head.

He was not at all interested in fighting the ESUN. No, creating another war was not his intention. He just wanted the Earth Sphere to recognize them as independent bodies with rights. Most of his citizens on Station One were ex soldiers abandoned by the ESUN and their Peace Principle. Blow up all the weapons and then throw away the soldiers, giving them no aid in starting again and make certain they were not rewarded for their warring ways, never mind that most worked for the varying governments at one time. Whether they were Alliance or Oz the government had a right to look after its own, not abandon them. As for the White Fang members on the Station, well, the Colony government had cast them out, too. No recognition of what they had been fighting for at all. Those who had fought with the Alliance and Oz had, at least, received a pittance of a pension, a pat on the back for a handful fortunate enough to receive some recognition for their service... and then nothing. The White Fang members had simply been cast out after being called rebels and terrorists.

//Wonderful way to reward people who had been willing to put their lives on the line to fight for that ideal of peace so many people had wanted.// He mused, considering his bridge crew. //They are my people. I accepted responsibility for them and promised recognition by the Earth Sphere. I will still see they get that independence.//

"Do you have that list of ships in the vicinity of Mars?"

"Sir." Hampshire passed a sheaf of papers to his Commander. "This is a listing of all ships within a four day flight of the planet. There are three of our ships within that range, two of them within two days flight. There are three Ore Carriers in the flight lane passing Mars within the next five days, the first due to fly past in an hour or so. It belongs to the Patrice Mining Consortium, as does the third, which will pass Mars on the fifth day.

The second ship to pass Mars is a Winner Enterprises ship and fly past will be in two days. I have estimated there are also two Sweeper's ships in the area of Mars, judging by our last known confirmation on their locations. One of the ships being a Family Ship."

Sweepers. Raydon considered that and the implications should the Family Ship get caught in the action happening on Mars. He had contacts with the gypsy group. He was on good terms with most of the Sweepers, and it was not beyond the realms of possibility that they might offer an assist in this situation.

Certainly when they received the delayed message from Mars they would respond to that mayday. He could not allow a Family Ship to become involved in this type of potential situation. He would need to contact the Sweepers just to ensure the Family Ship was diverted well away from the danger zone. There was no need to place more innocent lives on the line.

"Who are the Captains of the Sweeper Ships?"

"The family ship is the Dark Side, S43861 A, L2 registry, Captained by Damian Edwards, Sir. The other is the Miss Conception, S1395 D, L3 registry, Captained by Amelia Bryce."

He knew both Captains and that was fortunate. They were both honorable and decent people. "I will be forwarding messages to both ships after the conference. Have high speed direct link communications set up ready for my messages to go out. Any replies are to be forwarded to me immediately."

"Sir." He snapped a salute and then dropped his gaze back to the com board at a beep. "All Command staff are assembled in the conference room, Sir."

He lightly touched a hand to the pocket where he had slipped the disk containing the recording of the mayday call. His Commanders were not going to be amused.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	50. Chapter 50

Alternative Directions: Options 

Chapter 50

Dark Side S 43861 A

Time: 21:45 [L2 time

Damian Edwards

It was a world in itself he reflected, as he strolled the mezzanine, noting the comings and goings of the people who called the Dark Side home. When he was a child he had begun his love affair with the idea of being chosen as Captain for one of the great Family Ships. He had been a wide eyed child on a ship less than half the size of the Dark Side, when her Captain had walked that much smaller mezzanine and winked at him. He would never forget that day, or the salt and pepper haired man who had commanded the world he had been born into. A world of metal that moved relentlessly through space. To this day he had not set foot on a planet.

At that time, when his dream had sparked, the ships had only been half the size of the ships now cruising the colonies flight lanes and, like the Dark Side, venturing out deeper into space. These great ships never docked at a colony, sending instead shuttles to convey cargos and negotiate deals with the colonists and the officials of trade and commerce of the Earth.

He had wondered as he grew from child to teenager, and then to adult, if the colonists or the people of the Earth had any idea of just how large the Family ships were becoming. He had trained and studied and pushed himself to full fill his dream of becoming worthy of commanding a Family Ship. Now, as the Captain of one of the newest and largest of the Sweeper ships, he knew the answer to that long ago thought out question.

No.

No one beyond the Sweepers, and a very select few individuals, knew the bulk of these space faring giants. It was not so difficult a matter to keep their size and numbers secret, considering the resources available to the Sweepers as a group. His people were an inventive lot and had invented the cloaking devices that had shielded their ships from notice for years now.

Only the largest of the ships could carry sufficient power to make the use of the stealth device feasible, so only the Family Ships were equipped with them. The exceptions had been the Peacemillion and the much smaller Deathscythe Gundam. If you considered the proportions of the Gundam, however, comparing it to the size of the Family ships and the relative power needed to generate a cloaking field needed to shield each, then in truth the Gundam became proportional to the family ships.

They were protective of their technology, jealously guarding their advances and sharing its secrets with few. Largely they kept to themselves, associating little with others beyond running their lucrative trade deals with the colonies. Nor did they choose to associate themselves with trouble, the exception being during the One Year War, when their Council of Captains and advisers had decided to interfere in the war. They had first aided in the construction of the Gundam Deathscythe, and in later days Howard had chosen to use Peacemillion.

The War was a tender subject amid the Sweepers. Many were still of the opinion they should have stayed out of the entire matter, but done was done and now the Earth Sphere was at peace. Though the matter had never entered the formal slated topics due for discussion at the council meetings, it was understood by every Captain that the war had benefited the Sweepers. The salvaging operations that the war had provided were rather remarkable, even now. While he did not wish to associate himself with war, he could not deny the influx of wealth the salvage operations had meant for  
the Sweepers.

On his cynical days, he wondered if it had been planned that way.

He strolled the mezzanine, nodding briefly to off duty crew who recognized him. The cafés were quiet at this time of the night, the families mainly retired to their quarters.

At this hour mostly off duty crew men and perhaps the odd merchant from their trading staff could be found walking the ships shopping galleries.

"Captain Edwards to the Bridge." The announcement came over the general speaker system.

He sighed, suppressing a smile, knowing the speaker, his First Officer, Arnold Matthews, was probably wishing he could say something to the effect of 'Damian, turn your bloody personal com on, so I can find you when I need you.' It was not the first time he had taken the opportunity to slip away from his duties as Captain and walk his ship, checking personally on the levels of emotion and stability in the families and crew.

The Dark Side had medical and psychological staff to ensure no one went space crazy. It was a rare occurrence on a Family Ship for anyone to become unhinged and potentially a danger to the entire ship, as they had facilities here that would leave some of the colonies to shame. Much thought and planning had gone into the make up and design of the Family Ships. In truth the great ships were almost movable colonies, each capable of a stable, permanent population of several thousand families.

It was no mean feat to keep the kilometre long ships hidden from prying eyes, nor was it exactly easy to maintain stable psychological balances in populations confined to ships. At full population the larger of the ships, like the Dark Side, could shelter a population of some twenty thousand individuals. At this time the Dark Side had a compliment of ten thousand civilians and three thousand seven hundred and two crew members. The ship's population ranged in ages from seven newborns to two centarians.

There had been no incidents of unacceptable behaviour from the civilians or the crew to cross his desk, alerting him to an onset of the 'space crazies'. Problems incurred by individuals who were having psychological trauma from the constraints of confinement inherent in long range space flight were an ongoing danger. The ships were not as large as Colonies or the spectacular Station One; that hidden birth point of civilization on the outskirts of the Earth Sphere. Medics always had to be alert to the signs of distress in the people, and as Captain it was his duty to ensure his people were settled and content.

He made it a habit to change into casual clothing and walk the mezzanine, sampling the general atmosphere for signs of discontent. It was a walk he considered as much a duty as it was a pleasure, and he made the walk at all hours of the day or night. There was always someone on the mezzanine.

However, it was now obvious that his excursion was over for this day. He was, it was true, off duty at this time, but if they felt the need to summon him to the bridge it was unlikely that his respite from duty would last. So, a quick stop at his cabin for a change of clothing was in order and then on to the Bridge.

"Captain Edwards contact the Bridge, please."

Now that was more serious than he had assumed, if they were getting impatient enough not to wait for him to arrive. The summons to the bridge for the Captain of the ship was piped throughout the ship. There was no way he could miss the message. If they were asking him to contact the bridge, then it was a little more urgent. With a sigh he made his way over to an out of the way corner near a café and activated his wrist com.

"Edwards here. What the hell is so urgent I can't have some down time, Matthews?"

A moments silence and then his second's voice. "Don't take time to change, Damian. Word has come in from Raydon. We have a problem."

The instant the man's name was mentioned he felt a cold shiver run through him. "On my way."

//Raydon. Damn. What has he cooked up now?//

The Gentleman Raider was something of an enigmatic character. His men styled him the King of Raiders, giving their loyalty and devotion to him willingly. Edwards was amongst the first to acknowledge that what he was doing was creditable, though he thought that how he had first begun the integration was far from honorable in his personal view. Still, he had had to get the raiders' attention and trust somehow. Raydon had become one of them and worked his way into their leadership, insinuating his aims into their ideals and beliefs, and ultimately giving them something to aim for. Lives that suddenly found purpose again had produced marked changes in the majority of the raiders working the space lanes.

Effective as he had been there were still hold outs, and those who cared only for greed. The majority, however, now worked for a home free from the ESUN that had rejected them and their past sacrifices.

Damian made his way across the mezzanine and into the outer halls, moving through a section of family quarters before passing into the hull sphere of the ship. Here the gravity was zero, unaffected by the artificial systems that permitted their people to exist in space indefinitely. With the complex gravity systems on the ship they were free of the prolonged use of drugs that stayed the atrophy of bone and muscle.

Near half of the bulk of the family ships was devoted to power generation for the life support systems and cloaking device. Near a third of the remaining ship was dedicated to the defense and operations of the ship, including the cargo and shuttle bays. The remaining two thirds being the family area, a city sized maze of hallways and suites, three schools and the central massive mezzanine mall.

He entered a shaft, oriented himself to the direction his eyes denoted as up, and pushed off gently, rising steadily. By using the service shafts he avoided the need to traverse the main thoroughfare of the ship, where he was more likely to be recognized and delayed. It was also faster not to use the elevators, as he could increase or decrease his speed as he wished, while the elevators were set at a specific speed.

He manoeuvred around other crewmen and women who, like him, preferred these zero g shafts for quick transit, nodding to salutes and cheery waves alike, until he could push himself out of the shaft and into the hallway he wanted. It took five steps before he felt the first tug of gravity affecting him, and settled his magnetic soled boots to what the gravity determined to be the floor, even though his eyes told him it was the wall. Space and varying gravity fields on a ship could be confusing and people with middle ear disorders never travelled well in zero g.

Two hallways and a dozen crewmen later he entered the great circular bridge, noting the activity was what he loosely termed normal. No panic. Not even any appreciable tension he could discern, merely orderly activity as stations were monitored for the safe operation of the great ship. His First Officer stirred, standing from the command chair with a nod of recognition. He moved to the Communications Officer, spoke briefly to her and then made his way to join the Captain.

"Damian. Sorry about this."

"It's fine. Well? What is Raydon up to now?"

Arnold Matthews was a compact, dark haired man with intense gray eyes and a moustache that defied gravity, curling up without artificial assistance. In their younger days Damian had tried everything to catch his friend waxing or curling the facial hair to make it sit just so. He'd never succeeded, and Matthews had adamantly insisted that it was natural. Damian still did not believe him.

"I think it best if we discuss this in your Ready Room. Only the com officer knows at this time, and Alicia will hold her silence. I'll explain the matter when we are secure."

His unease grew as he followed Matthews to his Ready Room; a small office adjoining the bridge, sound proofed and capable of being security sealed. He settled into his seat behind the desk and motioned to Matthews to be seated across from him. Whatever was going on had his First Officer on tenterhooks, and he settled on the edge of the offered seat, making no move to settle back and make himself comfortable. It was a fair warning of the gravity of the situation.

"Well, Arnold? What is this all about?"

"We have received a warning from Raydon. I'll let you read the message we received for yourself. I... I think it best if you get your own first impressions without me offering an opinion. Judge for yourself." He handed the Captain an electronic note pad and sat back, watching for the expected reaction.

_Dark Side. Don't believe it was us. Has not even happened yet. Satellite Communications System Dakkr III compromised by ESUN. Established existence of delay and block confirmed. Keep Dark Side clear of Mars vicinity. Believe ESUN Wellington involved in cover up. Raydon_.

"What the hell?" He glanced at his First Officer and then back at the message written on the note pad.

Dakkar III Communications Satellite system. The emergency services satellite relay system was compromised? Who in their right minds would interfere with that system. The Earth Sphere government itself?

"While we were waiting for you to join us, I had Alicia run a test message through the Dakkar III system. If the system is working normally we should get the message relayed back to us within the hour." He glanced at the ships clock on the wall. "Within the next ten to fifteen minutes, if there is not a lot of traffic on the relay."

Edwards eased back in his chair, glaring at the hand hold, considering the implications of the message. He did not have long to wait for a confirmation at least, but why and, more importantly, what could it mean for his ship and the people under his protection?

_Don't believe it was us_.

Clearly something was in the works that the Captain of the Raiders feared would be laid at the feet of the notorious Reavers of the Asteroid Belt. That was a stupid, crappy piece of doggerel, he reflected. Who ever in the press had coined that piece of idiocy should be shot.

/Has not even happened yet./

Something was going down then, and not yet done. Something big, with implications that Raydon feared would impact on his, to date, excellent relations with the Sweepers.

Which begged the question how Raydon had come to learn of this 'something' he considered dangerous enough to need to clear his name with the Sweepers before word of it could get out?

_Satellite Communications System Dkkcar III compromised by ESUN. Established existence of delay and block confirmed._

ESUN. Why would the combined Earth and Colony Council feel the need to establish a delay on the emergency and security communications array system?

He scowled, disliking the directions his thoughts were taking. Perhaps because it was just that? The relay system would speed emergency broadcasts across space to the colonies and the Earth. The system that would alert Preventer ships, Mining Corporation Security ships and even ESUN patrol ships to any need for their presence. True, most instances involved too much distance to affect any great impact, but more and more ships were now travelling these distant reaches. It was easier now to summon aid and you had a better chance of someone being within a day or two's reach of you.

_Keep Dark Side clear of Mars vicinity_.

Well, that was self explanatory. The man feared whatever was happening would represent a danger to the security of the Family Ship should they continue on to Mars.

Why? He had not intended to actually visit Mars, just swing by the planet for a casual chat to the project controller, and to discover the latest figures the estimated values of discovered ores that might warrant trade negotiations. What was happening on that planet?

Mars was not, as yet, even an official Colony, just a terra formation project. From the latest reports he knew that within a year they expected the colony to be ready for the first official colonists. That day was still well distant, though he believed a shuttle was due to arrive soon on Mars, carrying mining equipment and the first crews to begin the test mines.

_Believe ESUN Wellington involved in cover up_.

Cover up. The Wellington. After a moment he reached to key in the main computer, calling up a report on the ESUN Wellington.

//Wellington. ESUN commissioned Interplanetary Class Cruiser. 3051 C. Captain Eric Sampson commanding. ESUN battle cruiser commissioned for construction initially as a part of the Alliance fleet, later taken over by OZ who completed the construction of the vessel and then the ESUN, as a Patrol Cruiser. Mission parameters are to patrol mining communities amid the asteroid belt and ... Hmm. They have been largely used to chase Raiders. If they ever came close enough to tell if a ship was Raider or miner.//

Was that it? Was that what this was all about?

Had the Wellington mistaken a ship for a Raider, pursued and eliminated that ship? Had they learned after the fact that they had mistaken their target? Had more than one vessel been involved, a Raider and a civilian transport of some kind? Was there now a mad scramble in official circles to cover up the miscalculation?

While that was possible, he reflected, it just did not have the right feel to it. Something in his bones was dissatisfied by that explanation. Something more was going down out in the space lanes, presumably very near to the Mars orbit. To warrant interference of the emergency satellite system by the ESUN itself, it would have to be a bigger problem surely than one of mistaken identity. An entire convoy, perhaps, but any idiot would realize something that big was not a Raider. He did not think they had idiots in charge of a ship as large as the Wellington.

No. Something else. Something that Raydon feared would cause danger to a Family Ship should they be within firing distance of the hunter killer that was the Wellington.

Why would the Family Ship be fired on? He did not like the answer that sprang to mind. If the Wellington was willing to fire on any ship that came within a certain area, then what the hell were they covering up? He had the stealth feature on the ship, but that was not infallible and too many lives hung in the balance for him to rely solely on that to escape notice.

He settled back from the computer screen, considering his options. He was fortunate to have an escort of sorts, in that another Sweeper ship was in the area. Less than a day from their current position and due to swing by Mars a little ahead of his own ship.

"The Miss Conception checked in with us a few hours ago. She is less than a day from our current position, and on track for a fly past of Mars. Contact her. I want to know if they have received any warnings or other communications from Raydon. Find out if they have noticed anything odd in their vicinity."

"Sir." Brief acknowledgement and his First Officer quietly left the Ready Room.

//We are fifty three hours from Mars at our current speed. That would place the Miss Conception at around thirty three; thirty four hours from Mars. What the hell is going on there? Raydon would not send the warning without good reason. ESUN cover up? Of what? Something on Mars itself? There's nothing there to cover up.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	51. Chapter 51

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 51

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 17:57 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

There were no sounds of movement in the undergrowth of the dome that surrounded him. No hints that he was not alone in this forest of vegetation that was native to another world. It was, he admitted, most likely that he was alone in this dome, the ESUN Sleeper agents having done their dirty work and moved on. Yet something, some sense of danger would not leave him and warned it was too easy.

While he had not experienced in vision form the possibility that he would be taken down in this dome, he knew enough to know not to rely on that lack of vision. It was all too possible for it to happen. His visions were not infallible. He had proven that inaccuracy to himself time and again. His even being in this dome now, soaking wet, sick to his stomach and wishing he could curl up safe and warm in his bed, was clear evidence of that.

Not to mention, of course, his utter failure to see this vision of the massacre of the colony before it might be too late to avoid it. He had witnessed the killing of the terra formers. Or at least he had witnessed some of them being killed. Never before, though, he was certain, had he glimpsed that vision of the battle cruiser sending its forces to wipe out the population. They would allow no witnesses. No, he had not seen that before.

He watched the main doors of the hydroponics dome that, if he took that route, would lead him out into the greater enviro dome. Out there, somewhere in that maze of buildings, domes and equipment, was Noin and the Sleeper agents of the ESUN. Out there, somewhere, were the agents who had come with the shuttle.

He needed to establish contact with the Alpha Dome to ascertain with certainty the major threat of the agents there had been neutralized. He needed to know the Alpha Dome was secured and not likely to be experiencing this slow murder of its population. He needed to know how many agents were loose in the Base Dome, and if they had any confirmed numbers of kills amid their own people, be it at the Base Dome or the Alpha Dome. Was it only four or five here? Could he hope for that few to die?

Eagle and his three agents had Mako's help, and the assistance of the three agents he knew Une had managed to slip onto the shuttle. It was not many to fight this battle, especially considering just how many of the new arrivals might be ESUN agents was unknown, but with the element of surprise on their side it had to be enough. He had to operate, for now at least, on the assumption the ESUN agents at Alpha Dome had been neutralized.

Those agents had to be out of the equation or he was fighting a losing battle. He could not do this on two separate fronts. If the precautions he had taken to ensure the numbers of combatants were more even had failed, then there was very little hope he could work a rescue for those who should never have had to become involved in this.

The airlock style entry to the hydroponics dome stood only meters from his position. It beckoned to him, looking safely deserted, no doubt just as it had beckoned to who ever had bled all over the floor not so long ago, and not so far in front of him. Someone had walked into something nasty. An attempt had been made to clean up the incident site, and that was worrying.

Why would they bother removing the evidence of the kill? The ESUN agents were planning on killing everyone who was not one of their own, so why remove the body and make an effort to hose away the blood? Perhaps to have any casual passerby not look twice and worry for their life? An easier, unsuspecting target was desirable when you were seriously out numbered.

They were out numbered, the ESUN agents. They had to work from the shadows, picking their targets carefully, stalking their prey. If they were discovered then they would be taken out of the picture, leaving fewer of their number to accomplish the mission. Their advantage was their secrecy. Their silence. While they were unknown they could strike, choosing to kill quickly and quietly. In a situation such as this they were more dangerous than a fully armed mobile suit on a rampage.

The itch that it was all wrong was growing worse.

He eased back from the edge of the undergrowth, putting a boulder between himself and the doors, something a little more solid than a few plant fronds. He wedged his back into a crevice in the rock, taking a moment to think this through. Where would they have hidden the body? Why would they have hidden the body?

He had come across four kills in the time it had taken him to work his way across the dome. Four victims, each one personally known to him, and all of them service gardeners for the dome systems. All had been killed by knife wounds in the back, or had had their throats slit. Someone was very methodically walking up to people, no doubt chatting to them to keep them off their guard and casually killing them.

Someone was a cold hearted bastard who really would not, surely, be a big loss to the worlds of the ESUN? This cold hearted killer had to die. There had to be justice for those he, or she, had already killed. He had to be able to give the dead some form of justice.

//If I need to be I will become Judge, Jury and Executioner. It would be easier if I had some help, but such is not necessary. I can operate as effectively on my own as they can. Noin, where are you? Are you still active? Are you still alive? Be alive, Noin. Don't you dare let these bastards kill you. I tried to warn you.//

He had tried to warn her. To make her understand the fallibility of his curse. By not telling her who he knew to be ESUN agents, he had sought to arm her against all of them. The truth was he did not know who she had to be wary of, and the best defense he could give her for that, was to warn her to beware of everyone. If she trusted no one, she was less likely to get a knife in the back from one she assumed was a friend.

It was the best defense he could give her. Now he could only trust she would not turn her back to anyone.

No time to think the worst thoughts, he berated himself. No time to allow the visions of possibilities building up within him to break the dam he had so carefully formed within his mind. He could feel the stir of vision, and he just could not deal with it again. As incomplete as the range of vision he had witness obviously was, he just had to go with what he already had seen.

He could not afford to disregard this vision of the wholesale slaughter of the colony personnel. It had felt different to so many of his visions. Something about it had felt different. When he thought about what had thus far occurred, and the corpses he now was finding, he had no choice but to believe the build up to those visions was now inevitable.

It had to be happening, else why so many dead? All the easy kills, the trusting souls of the colony. Somewhere out in the vastness of space he was very much afraid lurked a killer that had turned its nose in the direction of Mars.

The Sleeper agents took out the easy kills and the ESUN forces yet to arrive on Mars would be the hunters of those who were, just like him, cursed or blessed, with a greater survival instinct. Or just dumb luck. What ever it was, it meant they would fight for the right to live. They would not go down easily.

No, he could not afford to allow the visions of possibilities to sweep him away again. The simple truth was that if he did he might not recover a third time, if he allowed it to slip his control. He lost too much time as he forced himself back to face reality. He just had to pray, to what ever god there was out there, that he got it right, and did not make matters worse by turning his attention away from more possibilities.

He had to take a chance and make a stand somewhere.

The massacre of the Terra Forming Team was the absolute worst result of this entire mess that he could think of. He had to see it did not happen.

The door he sought was to his left, hidden in the undergrowth a little further around the dome. He only hoped that, when he reached it, it did not give him the feeling of a trap that the main door roused in him. While he could see nothing wrong with this main entry to the dome, he did not trust it. It seemed entirely too easy. Too innocent. He could still see the colour of the blood spilt here not so long ago. He had no choice but to use that other door. The only other options open to him were to go out the main door or go back into the water pipes, and that just was not a realistic option. He would be useless if he had to use the pipes again.

His head snapped around.

Something ... was that ... Blue eyes narrowed and he crouched lower, sinking behind a shrub growing close enough to the boulder to shield him from view from that angle. It, that small noise or movement that had alerted him, had come from the far side of the clearing. The opposite side from the main entrance to the dome, he noted. Yes, something was moving over there. Something. Someone.

They were taking great care in the way they moved through the undergrowth, succeeding in moving quietly. It was only the occasional twitch of a plant frond, or the scrape of foliage on cloth, that gave any clue to their presence. He might have missed it if he was not so keyed for disaster to drop on him.

Zechs slipped into the thicker foliage, edging around the boulder after first surveying the far side of the clearing. Just the barest twitch of plant fronds leading away from his position and he moved slowly, careful with the branches surrounding himself, trying in his own turn to not allow any great movement. It was impossible in the heavier sections of the plantings to avoid moving fronds and branches, but one could keep the movement to a minimum if one tried hard enough. He could only hope the one he followed was too focused on his, or her, own quest for quiet movement.

He breathed a little easier when he had a few metres of foliage between himself and those doors behind him. He felt as though his back was exposed , an open target. He began to move more swiftly now, but chose his course through the foliage with care, and expended every effort in being silent. The other who moved in here was just as silent, and to his despair seemed to be angling toward that other, small, unused door. This could complicate matters and he was loath to go back and use the water pipes, the better of his other options.

There was a clearing ahead. He glimpsed it through the undergrowth and he paused, hesitating, unwilling to entertain any thought of crossing that cleared area. He crouched down deeper in to the undergrowth, glancing around him, placing his location. He remembered this now. Remembered in this area a small water course flowed. A streamlet, with a cleared picnic area on its banks. With a soft gasp he realized he had lost the one he tailed. Thinking curses he dared not voice, even in the softest of whispers, he edged forward until he could crouch in a thicket and carefully tilt leaves aside to allow himself a view of the clearing.

Silently he cursed, painfully aware that another body was stretched out near the stream, at its side a small pouch of seedlings lying in a pool of blood. Another of the gardeners who had been planting undergrowth seedlings, as so many had been slated to do today, had met a grisly end.

Not liking his cover at all, he glanced around and then edged slowly to his right, intending to skirt the clearing and put as much distance between this clearing and himself as possible. Movement caused him to freeze before lowering himself closer to the ground, crouching. He watched as yet another plant twitched and swayed that tell tale little bit. There was no wind or air currants in the hydroponics domes. If the plants moved, someone caused them to move. Some one moved not so far ahead of him, and was very well hidden from his present location.

Too close for him to dare move without chancing drawing attention he did not want. // Come on, who ever you are. I don't have all day to waste, and I can't move until you are out of my way.//

"Justine?"

His head snapped around to his left, and he watched as from the opposite side of the clearing and to his left, a figure emerged from the undergrowth. Crouching, cautious, looking around carefully before hurrying to kneel beside the fallen gardener.

"Damn. Damn the bastards."

The man knelt beside the body of the woman, reaching to check her for a pulse and Zechs noticed there was blood coating his right arm. The engineer he recognized and with the woman identified as Justine he knew them to be a married couple, Ron and Justine Howick. The engineer reached out to close the dead woman's eyes, his own streaming tears as he collapsed on the ground at her side. He rested a bloody hand on her breast and closed the dead woman's eyes, shaking his head in combined sorrow and disbelief. Shock.

Zechs glanced around, frowning in concentration. This was not right. It might have been his justifiably prejudiced view, but he did not trust the location at all. This area was surrounded by fairly thick undergrowth and now that he thought of it, Justine Howick was a gardener, a horticulturalist who had been on the lists today for duty in this dome. The gardeners had been selected to plant undergrowth foliage plants in a new section of the rainforest they were creating.

A section that was near half the dome away from this location. Just what would the woman have been doing here, when this section was already planted? He surveyed the undergrowth suspiciously, not trusting the situation at all, and realized with dread whoever had been ahead of him had moved while he had been preoccupied watching the drama in the clearing unfold. He had lost the location of the one he had followed to this point.

It was ripe for an ambush.

He caught the glitter of the thrown blade in the air just before it buried itself in the back of the man kneeling over the body, and even as he sucked in a deep breath, marked the location it had come from. He was shaking in rage, incensed at the coldness of the ambush. The poor bastard had not stood a chance.

A moment of silence, broken by the coughed last breath of the victim as he fell over the body of his wife, fingers clenched, and then relaxed after a final spasm. Zechs closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly, counting silently to ten before he dared open his eyes again. He so needed to...

The killer broke cover, glancing casually around the clearing, a coldly smiling, silent, dark haired man who strode forward and knelt beside the pair of corpses. He checked for a pulse before retrieving his knife from his latest targets back, looking at the bloodied blade with a small, satisfied smile as he pulled it from his victims back.

Zechs edged forward carefully, rage building into a cold, hard core that fed his adrenaline and seemed to guide him unerringly toward his target. Justice screamed to be satisfied within him. Justice and the memories of cowering in a ruined, burning building while uniformed men leaned over bodies, killing the weeping wounded who could not get away from them.

He had been helpless then, a child whose world had been torn apart in flames and noise and blood. He had not understood what had been happening to him, or to his world, but he had known in some deep, primal place, that to make a noise would be a very bad mistake. It had not been terror that had kept him silent then, but something deeper. Primal. His body and mind had known then to be silent and survive, despite the horrors he witnessed.

Here and now, in this rainforest dome on Mars, his body knew to be silent not to survive, but this time to be the hunter, not the prey.

The killer straightened from his victim, cleaning the knife blade on a scrap of cloth he pulled from a pocket, careful to clean all blood from the blade, before glancing down at his victim one last time. One less that would have to be dealt with to clean up this mess that was steadily getting out of hand. He had not thought it would be necessary to reveal himself. Not thought that he would have to kill so many of these people who had been known to him for so many years.

He must not allow it to bother him, though. His training had allowed him to separate himself from any personal attachments and kill dispassionately. He was rather disgusted at the necessity for this action, as he had thought the so called professionals brought in to collect the packages would have the know how, and expertise, to accomplish this mission with a minimum of disruption.

If these agents sent in by his superiors were the best they had to draw on, then the ESUN was in serious trouble. Who in their right minds had thought this elite squad would be capable of accomplishing such a simple mission? Useless. He did not think much of the elite squad.

Some miniscule warning alerted him to danger. Whether it was a glimpsed movement in peripheral vision or the slightest sound, he was not certain, but he spun, only to meet a blade in the neck, and ice blue eyes that burned with an unholy rage.

"See you in hell." A sibilant hiss was whispered in his ear as the world went dark, and a solid body drove him to the ground.

Zechs shook with rage, rolling from the corpse, blood singing in his veins. Far from ready to stand down; looking for another target. He retrieved his knife and cleaned the blade, using the Sleepers own cloth, eyes scanning the foliage for any hint of movement. After a moment he turned to search the agent's weapons, pockets and equipment for anything that he might find useful.

He confiscated the three throwing knives, finding them perfectly balanced and not doubting they would likely come in handy, adding them to his arsenal. He chose to discard the automatic pistol in the stream after confiscating the ammunition. Guns were simply too noisy for the type of action he needed. He considered the electronic pager for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, and then pocketed the device as something that might be in use by the agents who worked against him. Perhaps their means of communications, if they feared a problem with radio frequencies or security.

He would investigate its use when he had the chance, taking it now in the event it might be of use at some point. He glanced around the clearing, scanning the undergrowth one final time before slipping quietly away, hurrying now toward the door. He needed to put distance between himself and the bodies. He doubted they worked alone.

In minutes the door was before him, half covered by equipment leaned up against it. Never having actually been used as a door, it had become something of a storage area, he noted. Bags of fertilizer, garden rakes and tools, even gardening gloves, knee pads and watering cans were dotted about the area. Some items hanging on the door, other things leaned against it, and some resting on a bench set half over the door itself.

Generally, it could be considered something of a mess.

"So much for safety first. Don't they ever clean up around here?" A whisper.

Or was it meant to look so well used but neglected?

He forced calm, taking deep breaths, crouching amid a thick cluster of plants. Second guessing himself and the Sleepers. Wonderful. He could not allow himself to make stupid, careless mistakes, neither could he allow himself to become paranoid. His training said the door should have been secured for an emergency exit, kept clear and serviceable at all times. It seemed an affront to all he had been taught that the equipment had been allowed to obscure the exit.

In an emergency that could cost lives.

To a slow count of one hundred no one moved. No noise hinted at anyone in the vicinity and he had spotted nothing suspicious in the undergrowth, or around the door. Not in the least reassured he cautiously made his way into the open and glided up to the door. While he felt tense, keyed, he did not feel alarmed. He did not feel as though someone was stalking him.

No, for the moment his senses told him he was clear and he had to trust the sense that, to date, had not failed him.

He dragged the bench clear of the door, ignoring the pain that was fighting the adrenaline induced endorphins to be recognized. There was no time to feel pain, only to get his butt out of this horror story that had once been a place for a pleasant outing. He and Noin had come here for picnics on their roster days off. This place being the closest they could come to the idea of a picnic on Earth, but those good memories were gone now, replaced by the blood and gore of death.

Deliberate, cold blooded murder had been committed here. Multiple murders, in the name of the ESUN. He just wanted to leave the place far behind him, but even that option was not open to him.

He dragged the bench just enough to allow him to get the metal hatch open, checking it carefully for any hint of a device that would either do him damage, or alert anyone that it had been used.

Clear.

He could find nothing to suggest it had been trapped, or that an alarm was in operation. Satisfied he crouched behind the bench, eyes moving to the undergrowth, searching, listening, seeking, but no sense alerted him that he was not alone. With a deep breath he returned to the door and reached for the control bar, finding it stiff from disuse, but he would not allow it to defeat him.

He needed out of this place and this was his means of exit. No stiff bar or door would stop him. Stiff from disuse the door screeched a protest, dry, un oiled hinges protesting use, and he swore under his breath. Hoping that he was just too keyed and it really did not sound so loud, he pulled the door open enough to peer into the space between the domes, and winced at the distance to the other dome.

He had not remembered it being so far to cross between the two domes, but back then he had not felt as if he had a target painted on his back. With a muttered curse and deep breath, he glanced nervously at the undergrowth behind him, expecting anyone in the dome could not have failed to hear that piercing screech and come running.

Silence.

No movement of fronds to suggest he was to have company. He slipped out of the door, pulling it closed behind him and glaring at it in angry betrayal as it repeated its ear splitting screech. He turned, walking, heart pounding and walked casually toward the dome ahead of him.

He was one of many men wearing the tan work uniform of the colony. Just one of many. What were the chances of anyone seeing him from a distance and knowing him at a glance?

Okay, to be honest, his hair was distinctive, but he was walking in a shadowed area and anyone running here would be more likely to attract attention than someone walking, right? He certainly hoped so. One of the most basic points in his training had been that if you looked uncomfortable in your surroundings, you were more likely to be noticed as being out of place.

In all honestly there could not be too many here in the colony who were agents of the ESUN. He would have to be damn unlucky to run across another one while crossing this little gap between the domes. If he could just have a little luck and gain the dome with no one the wiser, then that was a very good thing, and why should it not happen to him?

He refused to even consider Murphy's Law.

The door was only a few steps away from him. He forced himself to even out his breathing, controlling the urge to run those last few steps and draw any eye that had not been alerted by a man walking in shadows. He was just a tech out for a stroll, in the middle of an alert, while enemy agents were running around shooting every one they came across.

Perfectly natural.

Then it was there, before him, and he was pulling it open and stepping inside, swinging the door shut as he did so, taking the chance that no one was waiting for him in the maintenance shed the door opened into. The truth was he could not afford to leave the door open behind him, and when he got it shut he just wanted to slide down its length and take the chance at a breather. No such luck there, survival was the key. With a low sigh he turned and surveyed the maintenance shed, half expecting there to be someone here with a drawn gun.

All thoughts of taking a break fled from his mind.

Someone had not died easily here. The place was a shambles of overturned benches and potted plants. Potting mix made up of the native Martian soil mixed with fertilizers, was strewn about the building, with splatters of blood gluing it to walls and floor. Tools were in disarray, fallen from their usual neat storage pegs. He noted a shovel with blood on the blade, lying nearby, and the door into the dome ahead of him stood ajar.

// Wonderful. They have started killing here, too. I wonder if any of the others have survived? The law of averages would have to be against everyone going down easily. Surely the Sleepers have not had it all their way?//

There was no time to think about it now. He slipped to the door, carefully avoiding upsetting any of the fallen equipment and peered out. The less people who knew someone had come this way the better. Not just for his own chances of escaping this blood bath, but for anyone else who was trying to escape. The fewer people moving about the more chances there were that he would find the Sleepers actively killing.

On reflection he supposed the hydroponics domes would have been an easy and likely place for the Sleepers to start the killing. Not many of the terra formers working in the domes would be any where near a radio to sound the alert. The domes were large enough to allow for a reasonably private killing ground, provided the killer used silent means to accomplish their kills. Not once had he found evidence of a kill with anything other than knives.

Yes, there could be up to twenty five or thirty people working in any of these domes at one time. In the recreation dome on this day there were at least that many, attending to the mass plantings of undergrowth seedlings. In a few days this second dome would have been a hive of activity as they harvested the ready crop. None of the gardeners, or horticulturalists who worked here permanently, to his knowledge had combat experience. Yes, they would have been easy targets for a trained killer.

Hydroponics Dome Two was the grain producer of the colony. Here five varieties of wheat, three species of corn and various lesser variant types were reared to feed the colony and assist in oxygen production and water filtration. Recently the fruit trees planted on the far side of the dome had begun to bare fruit in decent quantities, allowing them to process and store it as preserves. The genetically modified fruit trees had taken well to Mars, better that their expectations had first predicted.

The more time one lived on Mars, the more the luxuries people in the remainder of the Earth Sphere took for granted, were becoming common place. The first year the colony had been started, in the original tiny dome outside the Base Dome, they had had nothing to eat but ration packs, until the first hydroponics green house had been successfully coaxed into production. He was fortunate to have come into the project after the bulk of the Base Dome had been completed by the first of the Terra Forming Team to have arrived three Terran years before.

At this time much of the crop in Dome Two was ready to be harvested, and golden wheat fields spread out before him in neat plots divided by walkways. Surveying the scene he considered the best course to be followed to reach the far side, and the door that connected to a maintenance building leading into the oldest of the hydroponics domes. While the array of wheat before him looked impressive, it was nothing compared to the great hydroponics fields of the Alpha Dome. It also bore an astonishing resemblance to a killing ground, he reflected.

//Not good. Too open. Too easy to be seen.//

With a sigh Zechs slipped from the maintenance building and into the dome itself, easing his way around the building and into a nook, where the shed met the dome wall. He crouched there, allowing himself time to survey the dome from this wider view point. He did not like the idea of walking out into all of that open space. It was begging for trouble, and the interior of the shed gave clear evidence that there were hunters in the vicinity.

Blue eyes flicked up, toward the heights of the dome and his lips curved into a small smile, just a tilt of fine lips as he surveyed the system of pipes and walkways strung up there. The oldest two domes had much of the pipes carrying water overhead, with maintenance walkways companioning large clusters of pipes. The newer, third dome had the pipes rigged underneath the floor of the dome.

That aerial walkway had potential if he could get up there unseen. From memory there should be a ladder to his left, a small distance away. He would need to tread softly once he was up amid the walk ways and pipes, to avoid the walkways ringing very audibly in the open dome. One down side to the domes was that acoustics in the dome's roof would make an Opera House blush in shame. He would have to be careful of noise.

He surveyed again the open wheat fields and the broad paths separating the beds and shook his head. No, he did not trust taking the low ground. Shoulder or no shoulder, he was going to have to go up.

Decision made Zechs slipped from his nook and headed for the ladder that would allow him to take to the upper area. He intended to be as quick as possible crossing this dome, and this seemed the best option, a fact that gave him pause.

If he found the upper scaffolding desirable then it was possible that there might be a Sleeper agent up there, looking for more prey. A chance he would have to take. They might have already finished in the dome, as it was slated to be harvested in five days, and only a skeleton staff would still be at work here, maintaining the beds and preparing for the harvest that likely now would not take place.

The upper way was perfect for a sniper.

There was no clear indication of how many Sleepers were at the project, but if he had faith in his vision, there were ten. At least ten, not counting anyone on the recently arrived shuttle from Earth. Ten people were not many to take down a population of over two thousand people, but it could be done.

Strategically placed incendiary devices, gas in the air ducts, selected hunters running around taking out the innocents who had no idea their own friends and work mates were their worst enemy. Well, he had dealt with one lot of incendiary devices, and he had used the gas in the ventilation system himself at the Alpha Dome to good effect.

Base Dome did not have one linked ventilation system, however, owing to the manner in which it had been constructed, section by section over the years. Filling the airways with gas here would not knock out the entire population. The sub surface installation would be relatively safe from that means of control, since the babies they wanted were down there, and an uncontrolled amount of gas in the system could kill such young lives quickly.

Exactly what the ESUN did not want. He was counting on them wanting his children alive and well.

The upper complex, however, might just be subject to that method, but if so, he would have expected them to already have initiated it. That they had not, he believed, was due to the fact that there were four separate duct systems, each independent of the others, feeding the upper dome its life giving air. No, they would not use gas to contain this situation.

All they needed to do was contain the population into nice neat sections, kill them off slowly, and wait for the Wellington to arrive. The Wellington's arrival was the death knell of the entire colony, Alpha Dome included.

//Bastards. There has to be some way to avoid this. I have to be able to make it change. Raydon ... He has others to think about. I don't know if he will do anything about this. I don't know if he is capable of making a difference here.//

Station One was a long way from Mars. Yet Raydon had said his Captains would be on alert to take action if they received that transmitter signal. That help and a lift would be two or three days away. Perhaps too far to make a difference. An armed Raider ship would have a chance against the Wellington, but lives would be lost ...

//Stop it. You'll bring the visions back and you just can't afford to. It's time to do, not see, and just pray you get it right.//

The ladder was situated where he had thought it would be, and he crouched at its base, looking around carefully and then peering up into the scaffolding surrounding the pipes and walkways. A climb of some twenty feet to the lower level of the support structure would not be too taxing on his shoulder, and it really was not much of a decision to make.

His options were simple. Go across the dome at ground level and possibly meet a hunter in the long growth, little to no warning of their approach. Or go up, into the support structure to cross the dome, and possibly meet a hunter up there, maybe even a sniper watching the ground level for easy prey.

With a sigh, Zechs set hand and foot to the rungs and began the climb, every few rungs pausing to look around before reaching again for the next rung. Sometimes you just had to take chances.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	52. Chapter 52

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 52

Sanc

Sanc Palace

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 21:35

Heero

The only sound that disturbed the quiet was the occasional click of keys as Quatre used the laptop. They were steadily making inroads into the refreshments Pagan had delivered to them before retiring for the night. Heero was killing time considering the matters that had so changed their lives over the past days, while Quatre browsed through the information they had found in Romefeller's files on the Gundam Pilots. The former pilot of the Wing Zero watched as Quatre's scowl steadily deepened the more he read, and Heero wondered just how long it would be before Quatre exploded with anger.

He had felt like exploding when he had gone through the files, and he had not studied that information as yet to the degree that Quatre had. The blonde Arabian was positively glaring at the computer, occasionally snarling quiet comments under his breath.

"I don't believe this." Quatre finally sat back and glared at Heero, blue eyes intense. "How did they get their hands on this information? Some of this I have not even seen, and I am the head of Winner Enterprises."

//Ah. He's into the section of his own files, where Romefeller have the information on his genetic details and birth. No wonder he looks angry.//

Heero shrugged, not with indifference, but with helplessness. He had no idea where Romefeller found their information. They had succeeded even where he had failed. His own search into his past had failed to turn up even a quarter of the information he had read in those files on his own past. What ever their sources were Romefeller would make for interesting investigation.

"It says here … that … that I am genetically altered. My files at Winner Enterprises genetic laboratories do not say that, Heero. I've viewed the Winner family records. The records of the conception of all twenty nine of my sisters, and myself. Yes, some were modified, but I was not. According to the records that are available to the family I was conceived and implanted into the Raberba, my mother, because she had difficulty in conceiving. As it was, she died when I was born. My records state there was no genetic alterations performed in my conception, either before, on the basic ingredients, or after, during the cellular stage, before implantation occurred."

"What about the empathy?"

Quatre's scowl deepened and he glared at the lap top before shaking his head in angry denial. "I've seen parts of this file before, Heero, but not this middle piece. Some of this information is identical to that contained within the Winner files, but this other information … This new section is not contained in the data bank that I have access to. If it is legitimate, then it's like a page was deliberately missed out of the original report. When I took over Winner Enterprises I made a point of accessing the information on all of my sisters and myself, as well as that of my father and my mother. I'm not the only Winner with psychic potential. I probably have the most developed ability, but I am not the only one to show it. I have two sisters who have empathic responses listed in the family files. Neither of those sisters was listed as being genetically altered. I … it was … I thought it meant that there was empathy running in the gene lines of the Winners or the Raberba's. Now I begin to wonder."

Heero leaned back, stretching his back against the arm rest he was using as a back rest, stretching slowly and carefully, half of a mind to fling aside the blanket and walk around the room. Or rather, pace across the room for a while. Sitting still bored him, and having Sally Po confine him to boredom for a week or more did not sit well with him.

"Romefeller could always be wrong. It is possible they could have been supplied with erroneous information as a diversion by Winner Security Services. If your company's security service realized the attempt to hack into the records, then perhaps security picked up on Romefellers investigation and fed falsified information to the Romefeller agent."

Quatre glared first at Heero and then at the laptop. Finally he shook his head in denial. He knew as well as Heero that explanation was reaching a little too far left of field for an explanation. While it was possible, he supposed, he very much doubted that it was probable.

"It's possible, I suppose, but I'm not too sure, Heero. What did you make of the similarity between my file and Duo's?"

Blue eyes widened and Heero sat up straighter, blinking in surprise. "Pardon? What similarity between your file and Duo's? I never noticed any similarities."

With a small sigh Quatre rose, carefully gathered the laptop and moved it to the side table set beside the couch, and then settled himself beside Heero, wriggling his butt to gain some room. Heero grunted and hauled himself to sit straighter from the slouch and recline he had effected for the last hour, giving Quatre a few more precious inches in which to get comfortable. After a few minutes of typing at the key board Quatre had achieved a split screen effect, the left of the screen showing his file and the right depicting Duo's. Scrolling down, first his report and then Duo's file, he highlighted a section that consisted of a series of numbers and looked expectantly at Heero.

Sensing he was supposed to notice something about the number sequencing Heero shrugged and sighed. "You recognize that? I thought it was a serial number for the files." Heero looked curiously at the numbers, aware he had missed something that could be important.

Quatre nodded slowly, eyeing the screen and then met Heero's expectant gaze. "It is a serial number, yes, and yes, I do recognize it. I recognize it because Trowa and I recently have had cause to deal with these people."

Heero peered closer at the screen and the numbers displayed. The only similarity he could discern between the two was that the first four numbers in the sequences on both files were identical, 5397. He scowled, glancing quickly through the other information on the screens, but finding nothing that really looked as though there could possibly be a link between the two files.

"These people are… ?"

Quatre hesitated for a moment, slowly colouring into a light blush. He ducked his head so that he need not meet Heero's quizzical gaze. "The serial number 53974 is the registration number for the Artificial Insemination Corporation on L4. The four in the number identifies the colony the branch is located on. So the 5397 is the AIC and the 4 denotes L4. If you look at Duo's records, you see that the number begins with 53972. The number two identifies the colony as L2. The other numbers in the sequence would be the link files for the individual records pertaining to these individual files."

Heero nodded slowly, agreeing that that was an appropriate assumption and then frowned, struck suddenly by Quatre's previous comment, and the fact that Quatre would not meet his eyes. "You said you and Trowa had seen these people recently?"

He was treated to the sight of Quatre turning a flaming red and ducking his head, turning away from him. After a moment Quatre rose, walking over to the window overlooking the darkened grounds of the palace. He stared fiercely into the night, eyes bright in a flushed face and it was a few minutes before he drew a deep breath and responded to Heero's question.

"Trowa and I … Well …We have … a sort of …" The blush deepened, if that was possible and Quatre squirmed.

Heero blinked in surprise. He could not ever recall Quatre squirming. Or blushing such a deep red before. While he usually looked as though butter would not melt in his mouth, Heero knew the blonde far better than many others. There was a steel core in Quatre.

"You and Trowa are seeing each other?" It was a statement more than a question, though he did imply it was a question that needed confirmation. At Quatre's small nod he grunted softly. "I knew that. It was a bit obvious during the war you had a certain regard for each other. It's not like you to be so shy, Quatre."

"It's more than that." With a deep breath Quatre turned from the view and faced Heero, his blue eyes liquid with emotion. "I know that during the war you guys thought we were just taking comfort in each other when we had the opportunity, but it developed after the war. It developed to the stage where we decided we needed to know just how serious we wanted our relationship to be. To test the waters, so to speak, we decided for a while we would split up, going our separate ways, determined to see if it was just … well … To see if it was as strong as we thought it to be, I suppose."

Heero nodded faintly. "I would not expect either of you to make a rash decision. Certainly not on a subject as important, and personal, as this."

"It wasn't right, Heero. When we split it felt so wrong. To me at least. From the very first hour I felt it a mistake for us to separate, but I was determined to give it the time we had agreed to. I had a lot of work to do after the war. There was the rebuilding of Winner Enterprises to be overseen, after the Colony Representatives under Oz basically disbanded half the company, and liquidated many of the assets. When the war ended and I took my place at the firm, Winner Enterprises was less than a quarter of what it was when my father was in control. With the help of those people I felt I could trust, both family and company directors, I have managed to return it to about half of what it was, which is far better than I had expected to in so short a period of time."

"I have no doubt given another few years you would have regained what was lost, and considerably enlarged on the assets available to the firm."

"I think you need to know that I am not in very good standing with my family, Heero, despite the successful rebuilding of the Corporation. Trowa and I tried it apart, but neither of us was happy, and when we saw each other again …" For an instant an almost dreamy look entered into previously serious blue eyes. Quatre came to himself with a faint blush and sighed. "Well, suffice it to say that we knew it was real, and that we both wanted the relationship to work. We had sorted out how we felt for each other, but there was a problem. Is a problem."

"Something wrong with Trowa?" Heero guessed.

"The problem is that my relationship with Trowa is against my religion. Homosexuality is more than just frowned on on L4. It's banned. It is against the law there. I have never been a very good Muslim." He blushed, sighed and shrugged. "I am tired of apologizing for what is a part of me that I can not change. I can live with their anger over my life style and my personal preferences, but their turning on Trowa has worried me. They will turn on him, of that I have no doubt. One of their biggest arguments against allowing me to continue in our relationship is that I am the head of Winner Enterprises, and the head of the family. I am the only adult male in the family."

"I thought four of your sisters had boys now?" Heero watched as Quatre began to pace, long strides, avoiding the furniture but sweeping the length of the room rapidly and then returning.

"They do, and that is part of the problem. They are keeping my perceived fault secret, Heero. They can not afford to have it become public that The Winner is a homosexual. That would ruin the company. It has come to my attention that certain people are starting to divide up the company into pieces. There has been infighting amid my sisters, over who will gain the controlling interest in Winner Enterprises. Which of the boys should be the heir is beginning to become the catch cry around the family. Which of the boys should they designate as my heir and be trained to be the next CEO. If I am to remain in a homosexual relationship then I can not do my duty to the family and provide an heir. It's bad enough that I am a sinner by being homosexual, but …" He winced, thinking of the repercussions to his sexuality becoming generally known. "Sometimes I hate my family, Heero. I don't know them very well and they seem such devout Muslims. Everything I say and do lately is wrong according to them. Some days it just gets to be too much."

Quatre made another circuit of the room, stride lengthening the longer he walked. Heero sat in silence, watching, allowing Quatre to walk and hoping it would allow him to calm some of his aggravation. He had the distinct impression that Quatre was about ready to lose control of his temper. While that would not be a repeat of the rage and despair Quatre had shown under the effect of the Zero System, it still would not be pretty to witness.

"Do you know why I like going on tour with the L4 representative, Heero? It allows me to get away from them. From my sisters. I never knew even half of them before the war, and now I can't get rid of them. All of my sisters and their families seem to have decided to move into the houses we keep in the colonies, and here on Earth, to keep an eye on me. Wherever I go, within twenty four hours of my moving into one of the houses, at least three sisters and their broods appear. I am so fed up with the morality lectures, and how I must be a true Winner and think of the stability of the family. I am an insult to the Winner Line and a raging disappointment to the line of the Raberba. I must not be a bad example to the children." He sighed, shaking his head at the vivid memories. "They drove Trowa out of three of the houses by making it hard for me to cope, and I won't stand for that closed minded attitude much longer."

"I thought Trowa had been with the circus for some months now, when he hasn't been doing work for the Preventers. He's avoiding you?"

Quatre blushed. "No. I see him regularly. I, ah … It's a secret, Heero, but I can tell you. You would not tell anyone. I bought the circus and kept the purchase secret from the company. I bought it with my own money. There was no Winner Enterprises financing involved, and I asked Trowa to manage it for me. Well, to train as manager under the old one. He enjoys learning he assured me. It will be ours, together, when the time comes. I stop by regularly to see how things are going. Amongst other things."

Heero could see just how uncomfortable this topic was for Quatre, and he wondered why the blonde continued on with it. Quatre had a point, he was sure. He would just have to be patient and wait for him to get around to it. He looked to the laptop and then back to Quatre, who had finally moved over to sit on the couch with him again.

"Your sex life is your own, Quatre. As is how you live your life. It's no concern of mine what you and Trowa do. It's your decision to make, whatever you do about your feelings for him and the loyalty you have for your family. I'm sorry your family is giving you trouble, but, I have to ask just what has this to do with these files?"

Grateful that Heero turned the subject to what he classed as business, Quatre nodded at the screen. He had not intended to get too personal and involve Heero with his personal problems, but to fully explain meant he had to make it clear just how serious he and Trowa were. He and Trowa had the matter of their future well in hand, and he knew that the time when he must make his move was swift approaching. For now though, he needed to attend to this business.

"The Artificial Insemination Corporation has been in existence for some two hundred and thirty odd years. It was founded well before the Colony Era. They were, and are, the foremost leaders in artificial insemination. About fifty or sixty years ago, they devised a means to splice the gene sequences of two people together to produce a viable embryo. Their success rate has risen now to be the highest in the Earth Sphere. Eighty seven percent. With the aid of a surrogate mother they can give a gay couple children." Quatre drew a deep breath and then met Heero's gaze. "Trowa and I were investigating the prospect of us having children."

Heero's eyes widened and he considered Quatre in silence for a full minute. "You are that serious about your relationship?"

"Yes. Yes, we are." Quatre shrugged, reaching to pick a strawberry from the diminishing platter. He was not in the least bit hungry, but it gave his fingers something to do, rolling the fruit continually. "We are also engaged to be married, though that is known only to you, Trowa and I at this time. When the board of directors and my family discover that I have no intention of parting from Trowa and, worse, that I am intending to actually marry him, I will undoubtedly be disinherited and forced out of Winner Enterprises. I can not be permitted to taint the future of the company or the family. I have been preparing for that eventuality for some time now, and when I go, I will go on my terms. It is almost done, now, Heero. Trowa and I have our own corporation in the founding stages. There are no ties to Winner Enterprises, not even a single stock invested in that company. I am also thinking about accepting the position as assistant to the L4 Representative. It was offered to me a week ago and I have told them I am considering their offer. I have to make up my mind soon, but first I need to investigate the likely reaction I would get when they discover I am involved in a homosexual relationship. I fully expect the offer to be withdrawn when they discover that."

Quatre tilted the lap top toward him and stared at the numbers on the screen with a gloomy air about him, before he sighed and turned away from Heero. It actually felt good to talk to someone about the troubles in his life at this time. He had needed a neutral sounding board. Someone not involved with the disaster looming in his very near future. He had not spoken to Trowa beyond a quick good evening and a chaste kiss at a reception at the palace in the last month. They had been interrupted before they had a chance to exchange more than that kiss and a quick squeeze of fingers in reassurance.

Soon he could remain with Trowa and damn the entire Earth Sphere if anyone objected. He would disinherit himself, and he would not regret the need for such action. Trowa was worth it.

"Trowa and I have set up our own equivalent of Winner Enterprises with the credits we … gained … during the war. All legal and legitimate, and in no way tied to Winner Enterprises, and all finances accountable to any investigator. I fully expect that Winner Enterprises will demand a full investigation of our funds, accusing us … me … of embezzling the funds from their coffers. My days at Winner Enterprises are numbered, but we can use the new corporation and its resources to help in this investigation, just in case my split with WE happens to come sooner than I think it will."

"Your resources could come in very useful." Heero quietly agreed, studying Quatre as the blonde tortured the strawberry.

"I suppose that … Well … Thinking of it, I suppose it is possible I might have been genetically altered. I suppose it is possible that the records could have been altered at some stage."

"Winner Enterprises have their own genetic laboratories and insemination clinics. Why would this other company be listed in your records? Why would your father go to them? Why did you go to them instead of to your own people?"

Quatre shrugged, but he gave the matter careful consideration. The problem was that he had not really known his father very well. He had largely been reared away from the Winner himself, undergoing training in seclusion to one day succeed as the head of Winner Enterprises. Then, of course, he had defied his father by becoming the pilot of Sandrock. The CEO of Winner Enterprises had been furious when he had discovered the secret project being funded by Winner money, he being a confirmed pacifist. Learning his son was being groomed for the role as the pilot had come very close to permanently breaking any relationship that existed between father and son. It was not a time that Quatre could remember without becoming upset.

"I don't know about my fathers thinking, Heero. We never really knew each other very well. Trowa and I chose the AIC because it has nothing to do with Winner Enterprises, and I do not trust my family to interfere with my getting an heir that could usurp one of their choosing. Trowa and I talked a lot about having an heir, and we decided that AIC would be the better option for this type of service. Of the limited choices that are available, they have the best record. Also, during the war, all but two of the Winner clinics were destroyed, and it has not been a huge priority to have them rebuilt to date. You must not forget, Heero, the WE is a company with some deeply religious ties. It was only in the last sixty or so years, that Winner Enterprises began to enter that field. I have no doubt that I will be forced out soon, and I was not having the chance that any child Trowa and I might have would be dragged into a religious debate either."

"Understood." Soft assurance. "Your life is your own. I am not going to tell you how to live it."

Quatre sighed and shrugged. "It feels so right, Heero. When Trowa and I are together, it just feels so right. We belong together. Soul mates. So what if we both have the same sexual equipment? Just because we are both males doesn't make our love any less real."

Heero hesitated, uncertain what he should do or say. Not knowing what would be received well and what would only make Quatre's melancholy worse. His past did not allow for him to have developed much in the way of an opinion on emotional ties. He was having enough trouble trying to understand why Relena made his blood sing. He was really going to have to get the time to sort out his own perceptions on that young woman. He was no longer the Perfect Soldier and he refused to place himself once again in that frame. He knew now that he had never been intended to be a soldier, and that thought sparked an entirely different train of thought.

He hesitated a moment, and then shrugged. He doubted that Quatre would throw the theory out without considering it. He was too much the strategist to do that. "Quatre."

"Yes?"

"All I can say to you is to do what you feel is right. I can't tell you what to do. No one can do that. You have to sort out your own needs and how you can live with them. I … I have to come to terms with what I feel. It's all new to me, and what Relena makes me feel …" He sighed, at a loss for words. "I don't even know where to start with developing a personal relationship, so I can't be of much help to you. I … I don't mean to belittle your personal problems, but I … I think we should get back on subject. I do want to say, though, that I personally have no problem with you and Trowa being a couple."

//Accept that, Quatre. I really don't have a problem with it. You two look good together and you would never enter into a relationship without being certain of your emotions. Your empathy would not allow the other person to lie about their feelings. It is an advantage that you should not forget about.//

"Thank you, Heero. It means a lot to me, that it doesn't cause you problems. Yes, we should return to the subject. We have a lot to do, not the least of which is to sort out why Duo and I both have the same company mentioned in the files. Oh, I know that his parents may have had fertility problems, and that they are a huge organization with many outlets, but … It is a coincidence, isn't it? Too much of a coincidence, maybe? I think we need to go into the data banks of the AIC and find out what is there."

"Quatre." Heero motioned to the lap top, barely hesitating. He would need to tell Quatre. "It's more than you think. Much more. Yes, we do need to investigate the AIC, but I think I know already a part of what we may find."

Quatre seemed to deflate, golden lashes lowering to cover blue eyes. "You think that AIC is a Romefeller based corporation, don't you?" He sighed. "I have already thought of that, Heero. How else do we explain how they managed to get these records? Winner Enterprises jealously guards it records, and I really can not see even Romefeller breaking into the archives. Not with the protections I know that guards this type of information. I don't understand why my father would have gone to them when he had the Winner Labs and Clinics at his disposal, but it could offer an explanation for why the records for my birth at Winner Enterprises were different from these records here. It makes sense as to why these records differ to the Winner data base. If it was Romefeller, then they could have given edited records to Winner Enterprises and kept full records in their own data base."

Heero nodded his agreement. That had been his thought and he was pleased Quatre seemed to accept the possibility without becoming unduly aggravated.

"If AIC is a Romefeller institution, it would explain why they have Duo's records, and how they got them. It would explain so much. If it's true. Heero, these records say I was genetically altered. We need to access the AIC data base and pull Duo's full records. This code here …" he indicated a sequence of numbers below the code he had preciously explained to Heero. "It is possible that in a sealed file somewhere we could discover I was not the only one genetically modified at, or before, conception took place. If that code is a key to a genetic enhancement or alteration sequence, then I wonder what his genetic alterations were?"

"Hnnn." The beep of the vid watch alert silenced any further comment he might have made, and he glanced at the device, activating the message screen. "Word from Preventer Earth." He informed Quatre, tilting his wrist to better read the scrolling message.

"They have received more word from Mars?"

Heero sucked in a deep breath, expelling it as a curse that reflected his past as an assassin on the street, before relaying the message to his companion.

"There is reason to believe the ESUN Wellington may be en route to Mars to take the children off planet." He watched as the message continued to scroll. "It is now suspected the Dakkar III Satellite System has been compromised, and the accuracy of the messages received from Mars is in doubt. Possible false messages may be inserted into the system. Possible delay on the time taken to relay the messages to Earth. Will advise when more information is available."

Quatre whistled softly. "I don't think Lady Une will be too happy about this."

"Neither do I. While you continue to review the information we have on Romefeller, I will set up another computer and link to the Dakkar III system. I'm curious as to what is happening with the array."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	53. Chapter 53

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 53

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 18:26 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

He had expected his shoulder to protest the stress of climbing the metal rungs and then the climb into the scaffolding. He had hoped the pain would be controlled both by the application of the spray he had used, and by the release of endorphin's into his blood stream, caused by the adrenaline surge responding to pure fear.

Fear.

Fear that he moved too slow. Fear that he was too long in plain view and someone, an enemy, could not help but see him. Fear that he took too long in dealing with this matter, and that more and more people died while he floundered climbing a ladder he should have been able to scale in a matter of a minute or so. Fear that while he struggled to reach the transmitter, Lucrezia would die.

He did not want her death on his conscience any more than he wanted the deaths of the terra formers to haunt him. It was his fault all of this happened. Had he not listened to the protests of Noin and Sally Po that day on Earth and escaped to become a wanderer, unwelcome everywhere, then this day would never have come. They did not deserve this. Lucrezia did not deserve this. His children did not deserve to be the innocents cast into hell because of the blood they shared.

//Get a life, Merquise. God. You're pathetic. Put more effort into climbing and less into wallowing in your stupidity.//

It was pure fear that drove him up this ladder faster than was comfortable, because some intangible something he had always called a soldiers instinct, said that he was, indeed, being watched. Someone was near. The higher up the ladder he climbed, the more certain he was he was being observed.

He could feel the eyes on him. Studying him. Scrutinizing his every move, no doubt noting how he favored his left side. They would see the weakness he had there. It was a telling weakness. If it came down to a melee, then he was automatically at a disadvantage. Any opponent he faced could enjoy a considerable advantage in reach, nimbleness and strength. He was exhausted by the trials already faced, and the day was far from over.

Not knowing where his watcher lurked was having a detrimental effect on his concentration. He had known it was not likely there would be no others in the dome, but he had hoped to avoid notice. The only thing left to him was to continue to climb, and pray it was not a Sleeper agent who lurked amid the pipes and scaffolding. The Lurker was up there, in that maze, he was certain.

With a sigh of relief and gasping air into starved lungs, he pulled himself the last half dozen rungs and rolled over the side of the ladder, onto the scaffolding. Immediately he heaved himself up and over the top of the water pipes, desperate to gain some cover. He crawled on his belly under an adjacent set and rolled across the distance between the next, praying that he had moved far enough and quickly enough for the Lurker to have lost him, even if only for a few minutes. He needed to regain his breath.

Each of the individual water pipes measured the diameter of his waist, and they were grouped in clusters of ten. The sheer size of the clustered pipes offered him some protection, as he crouched behind a knot in the maze, trying to get a bearing on the eyes that had so steadily watched him.

A major problem for him was that the scaffolding was far from quiet, creaking and groaning at his every move, but that was somewhat countered by the fact the pipes constantly carried water. The shifting of the water would shift the pipes which would draw a groan from the scaffolding. There was also the low rumble of the circulating water in the system, a sound that often was felt more than heard. The creaking of the support structure reacting to the weight of the entire network and the machinery mounted at strategic monitoring places produced background noise. The addition of the low hum of the machinery used in the monitoring of the water flow and electrical current for the lighting system would make it difficult for any lurker to pin point him by sound alone.

Above all of that noise he could hear no sounds of movement that sounded out of place, but that was far from a surprise. Who ever had been watching would not advertise their presence any more than he intended to. He scanned the mesh of pipes and support structure as he rested his shoulder and nursed his burned hand close to his chest. It was the hand that had given him the most trouble during the climb, and he wondered briefly if he dared to use the spray he had taken from Sharnice, but after considering the idea he shook his head in denial. That spray on an open wound would likely do more harm than good.

He would just have to ignore the pain of hand and shoulder equally, while compensating for his weakened state. The scaffolding could give him away if he made too much noise. The more noise he made, the easier it would be for him to be located. Was the lurker a friend, terrified and desperately seeking to go unnoticed? Or were they more sinister, a ESUN Sleeper or one of the paramilitary new to the dome?

//Can't delay forever. I have to get to that cache and send off the emergency transmission. I can't allow these people to kill everyone to cover their tracks. The one who watched me climb the ladder can't have been a Sleeper. I was an open target coming up that ladder. A clear shot. Out of ammunition? I don't … I don't know. There could be friends in this dome. They may not have killed everyone yet.//

To a slow count of sixty he could detect no movement or sound that seemed out of place, and with a sigh he began to move along the scaffold, careful with his footing. He could always climb to the walkway above him, but that was bound to be watched. He classed it as a risk he just was not willing to make, to expose himself during the climb by spending any time on the walkway. With a little bit of care the scaffold and super structure of the dome, and its network of plumbing and lighting, would see him safely across the danger area. It was better than the too easy to observe walkway.

Someone was out there, in the dome. Someone may have escaped the slaughter. He could not forget the condition of the maintenance shed. From the condition of the storage facility someone had put up a good fight. In the end, who had fallen victim to deaths hand? The sleeper or the worker who had been surprised in the shed? It would have been a noisy fight, possibly drawing attention, so maybe whoever had survived had had help? Still, it hardly mattered to him at this time. He had no idea if it had been an ESUN Agent or Terra Former who had walked away from the scuffle, but by the law of averages, some of those Sleeper agents had to fail in their murderous slaughter.

At a rough count there should be some three to four hundred people actually in the Base Dome on this particular day. In or near the Base Dome, he corrected himself, recalling there was a team running maintenance on equipment on the west side of the dome. They built on a massive scale on Mars, needing to ensure that they always had sufficient power to supply the needs of the colony. When your nearest source of maintenance parts was months away, you had to ensure your equipment worked faultlessly. To that end they regularly mass serviced the solar collectors and wind generators that powered the Base Dome. Today had been one such day.

There would be at least four hundred working outside the dome, he mused, clad only in the personal enviro suits. There would be another fifteen people in the big mechanical enviro suits who provided spare oxygen and portable toileting bays for the engineers and workers. There was also the three pilots in mobile suits providing backup and a means of handling heavy equipment assisting the workers.

Unless they returned to the dome those beyond the base were safe for the time being, but there was only enough air for them stored in the personal suit tanks to stay outside some six hours. The big enviro suits would replenish the oxygen for the workers in the personal enviro suits as they ran low. Enough oxygen was stored in the big suits to renew everyone's tanks once and an emergency supply that was used to top up to a safe level the tanks for those people whose metabolism required they use more oxygen.

Unless a mechanical problem developed in a mobile suit, or the enviro suits, then no one returned to the dome during the long Martian work day. They worked the full shift unless there was a life threatening incident. There would only be two or three hours of that time left for the current shift working out there.

The bulk of the population of Terra Formers now lived and worked in the Alpha Dome, preparing it for the occupancy of the first official colonists. If all had gone well, they should be asleep, drugged by the Preventers, along with the new shuttles arrivals, and in particular the ESUN agents. He recalled there was a team due to work on the solar collectors on the plateau on the far side of the Alpha Dome today. They would be due to return to the big dome within a few hours as well.

One way or another he had to bring this matter to completion before more people could be drawn into the mess. It would be so easy to kill those outside the domes. He had seen that amid the possibilities that haunted him. It was a pressing need to get this message sent, and turn his attention to helping them survive what was to come. He was uncertain as to which of the options he had gleaned would best serve those people. Which ever option he chose, people were going to die.

If he did manage to take down the domes infiltrators, what then?

He had not known before that they would be so brutal as to summon the Wellington to wipe everyone out to cover their tracks, and to bring the ire of the entire Earth Sphere down on the Raiders. He had hoped to take down the infiltrating agents, and to gain some time to think. Time to figure a way to get Noin and the children, if not himself, off the colony and into space as he had suggested to her before. The cost to the colony had never been estimated at peoples lives beyond, maybe, a dozen in all the visions he had previewed, before that devastating vision.

He had reviewed the visions he had seen and recalled, and in the end he had chosen to follow the options he had thought would lead them to the colony giving Noin and the children a shuttle. In the vision of possibility they had arranged for her to meet up with the Winner Ore Carrier, Fatima. In vision he had witnessed Quatre welcoming her and the children to Earth and providing them with a safe haven. For himself there would have been the escape across Mars, to the secondary site so few knew existed, to await rescue by Une's Preventers in a few months time. He had stocked the site, ensured everything was working and ready for occupancy.

His personal preferred option of having Noin take the children and a shuttle, to rendezvous with a mining ship before the shuttle had arrived, had failed.

She had not cooperated with him.

His second preferred option, to have Noin take the children and lie low in a secured area while he and the Preventers secured the agents, had also fallen through. Again because Noin would not cooperate, insisting instead on taking out the opposition herself.

If she survived this ordeal he had no doubt she would not like the end results. He had had enough. He had seen only the one vision when she walked unharmed from this mess she would not walk away from. Only the one glimpse of her survival in the many options he had studied. Too many visions of her death was not promising. Yet, still, he had to try. For her and for the children.

Now, even if he could get the agreement of the colonists for her to take a shuttle up into space with the children, it would not stop what was to come. Noin and the children escaping would not save the colonists. The Wellington would wipe them all out, regardless of the presence of the children they sought.

The secured site on Mars, for so long known only to a select few, was no solution either. It was not large enough to take any more than thirty to forty people for any length of time, and conditions would be far from healthy in that scenario. Even selecting that many and taking them there was a danger. Dust storms could wipe them out before they reached that dubious safety.

There was also the very unsatisfactory knowledge that that would leave nearly two thousand people to be slaughtered by the ESUN.

However he looked at the options he had viewed in the past, and the more recent versions, in light of the knowledge he now had, the best he could do now was hope that Raydon could and would, offer assistance. If he had ships in the area they might be able to get the people off Mars before the ESUN Wellington turned up to take care of the witness problem. If he had more than one ship in the area capable of taking that many people. Perhaps if he had enough ships in the region they could deter the Wellington from coming in to Mars Orbit. Perhaps broadcast messages to the Earth Sphere disclaiming the Raiders responsibility …

Enter the Generation Wars.

Exactly what he hoped to avoid.

Somehow he needed to resolve this without destroying people's faith in their government. Peace was the important thing here. Peace.

He would not sacrifice another two thousand people to peace if he could possibly avoid it.

It would appear his best hope of salvaging the situation was to get the terra formers off Mars. It seemed his best hope of salvaging something from the entire sordid mess. Yet it might be impossible to achieve. He still needed to try to work on alternate plans, even though the options seemed non-existent. What would happen after the matter was resolved, one way or the other? He had no idea. He dared not even try to look at that question now. There were already too many variables pushing on him, pressuring him. Tempting him to take just a little peek at the crowding options.

He slipped behind another cluster of intersecting pipes, crouching, glancing quickly around. Someone was watching him. Someone had found him. For the last couple of minutes he was sure someone was following him and being damn quiet about it too. No attempt to shoot at him or take him down with knives. That suggested there were other people alive in the dome, if they were intent on stealth.

He had not spotted them, no hint of a shape or form. Just the awareness of someone nearby who was shadowing him. He had to take a break, rest his shoulder against the cool pipe and look around, see if he could change his course and either throw the person off his tail, or take him down.

It was not even so far to the other side of the dome really, when he considered it. At least moving in the superstructure of the dome allowed him to circumvent the need to go around the beds below. Cutting through the crops never even crossed his mind as an option.

The close growing grain would have hampered his movement and the view of his surroundings would be practically non existent. Weaving between the beds would have been necessary if he had chosen to cross the dome at ground level. The colony was supposed to be self sufficient now, and no supplies of food had been ordered from the Earth. This harvest was vital for the colony and he still might be able to reach that transmitter and avert disaster.

Someone would eventually inhabit Mars, and he hoped to leave them a food supply at the very least. He supposed it was a stupid idea, but it helped give him an assurance he could make this work. He needed to feel he could turn this around, from wholesale slaughter and destruction, to a hope of saving lives, and giving those lives a secure future.

Blue eyes scanned the stretch of pipes and scaffold ahead, a frown appeared and he slipped around a cluster of pipes, scrambled over more and eased down, behind an intersection of water pipes. Something … Something was not quite right. No sound he had not expected to hear, and no sign of anyone moving near him, yet …

He half turned, considering the way he had come. Pipes, large and small. Nothing more. It looked safe. A glance to left and right and he still was uninformed about what had set his hackles up. It just did not feel right. He was not alone here. Someone was out there, but he had the disturbing feeling he had now picked up more than the one tail. Feeling much like a child playing follow the leader he slipped onto the western scaffold, stretching out arms and legs to make the crossing. Aware he had to be visible to whoever was in his vicinity as he did so. He was exposed, but he had chosen this action for a reason. He knew unless the person was at least the same height or taller, they would not be able to make the crossing without making a jump that might well pitch them out of the scaffolding and give them a nice long fall to the grain fields below.

He would even give them a helping hand to ensure they fell.

Wincing at the thought he shook his head, refusing to do it. He was not the same as them. If it was a terra former following him and trying to get the courage up to approach him, he would be no better than the Sleepers to take them out. If it was a Sleeper after him, well, he was forewarned and he would not be taken by surprise. For now he would give his tail, both of them, the benefit of the doubt.

Both of them. //I'm sure there are two. Something just insists it is more than one. To the left? Was that movement?//

He nimbly hitched himself over a cluster of pipes and descended two levels quickly, gaining as much distance as he could. Trying to be silent and still move quickly was not easy, and he was nowhere near as quiet as he had hoped he might be, but he could not have everything and he was a realist.

That thought drew a smirk from him. A realist? Him? How much of a realist could he call himself if he saw possibilities in everything he said or did? How real did that make the world around him? It seemed to him that nothing was real.

He had learned that a sneeze or a cough could change the course of history. He frowned. Change the course of history? No. No, not change it, but direct it, yes. No vital decision should be a cough, for Gods sake. Before Epyon had opened this new vision up to his mind he had thought that careful planning and consideration of certain factors wrote history. He was learning instead that anything could give it direction.

//A cough. A sneeze. Someone tripping on a flight of stairs and breaking their leg, stopping them from attending to some small, seemingly insignificant thing. Anything can change what we consider to be history, after it has happened. Before it happens. God. I confuse myself.//

He hunkered down behind a pump station, taking a breather and considered his position. Anything to get the confusion of paradox out of his head. He really needed to get back to the other scaffold, but he could afford to move on this one for a time and work his way toward that point. The door to the maintenance and storage shed was his destination and was on the far side of the dome, further to his right, and he had drifted well off course having to climb through the pipes. It was certainly not the fastest, or the most straight forward approach to the building, but he had already covered half the dome and had come across no one.

"Your Highness."

He spun around at the whisper, a hiss in the rumble of the water pipes. At first glance he could see no one, and he sucked in a steadying breath. He could feel someone out there. What fool was calling him? What idiot was trying to attract his attention?

Admittedly it would be a deadly mistake to sneak up on him, and most of the people at the dome would know that. Yet making noise could attract the wrong sort of attention. They were not alone in the dome, and certainly not in the scaffolding.

"Your Highness. Don't attack me. I'm a friend."

He glared at the man who slipped around a knot of pipes and regulators. Both of his hands were raised in plain sight and he made no move to approach any closer. Instead he knelt down, below the level of the rumbling pipes, making himself less likely to be seen by anyone other than Zechs.

"I'm here to help."

It was incredibly hard to resist the urge to take the man's head off his shoulders. His reflexes screamed to hurl the intruder to the floor far below. Tension tightened his muscles, his mind screamed enemy and the visions threatening his sanity seemed to want to burst. He had a throwing knife in his hand and he had no memory of actually drawing the thing.

"Friend! I'm a friend!" The man looked panicked, hands well extended before him, palms facing Zechs to show he had no weapon. "I'm a Raider. For Gods sake, don't throw that thing. I was sent here by Raydon."

He felt the release of tension as a physical pain, the instant relaxing of muscles threatening to send him into the pipes at his side, unable to support his own weight without leaning on them for support.

There was no way anyone at the Mars Colony could have known of Raydon and his dealings with the man. Nor could anyone who worked for the ESUN know of his association with the Raiders. If they had he would never have made it to Mars, despite their wanting to use him to control Relena.

"Okay if I come closer?" A quick glance around at the rigging and he looked back to the blonde who still held the throwing knife, blade pinched between thumb and finger, but who had seemed to relax, and whose eyes now held curiosity, not just death.

The man looked as though he would by far prefer to bolt in the opposite direction, putting as much distance between himself and Zechs as possible. When no threatening move was made he edged a short step closer, only to freeze when the knife came up again, poised, ready.

"Name?" He barked that question, neither giving nor denying permission for the man to move.

"Giles. Haydan Giles." A quick and quiet response accompanied by a hasty glance around at their immediate area.

"You wear the uniform of a worker here."

A diffident shrug of broad shoulders responded. "Hey, I've been here around six months, mainly down in the Alpha Dome. Came in on a shuttle with a group of grunts." At the look darkening those crystal blue eyes he thought he had better explain that a little more clearly. "I came to the colony under orders direct from Raydon."

He was shaking with reaction. If this was true … Did he not need to reach the transmitter now?

Yes, he could well believe Raydon would send in an advance agent to investigate future trade potential. He knew the man had intended to do just that, in preparation for the Raiders becoming legitimate traders. If this was true …

Was it already under way, the rescue of the colony? No Raider went anywhere without a means by which to contact his own kind. Especially the agents chosen by Raydon. Surely Raydon would not allow this to happen? The man had too much honor to allow the ESUN to take out the colony just so that they could get their hands on two babies.

Raydon would be deeply insulted at the ESUN's attempt to pass the blame to his people, and would not allow the colonists to die like that. He would, at the very least, want the record set straight, and disclaim responsibility on behalf of the Raiders. If word could be sent to him.

"Why?"

The man glanced around, seeking any possible watchers, any sign of danger. "I was initially sent here to check out the potential for a trade contract. Word was sent out to stay clear of Mars and don't even consider a raid while I investigated. He wanted to approach the colony. Raydon wants us to go legit."

A surge against the dam he had built to hold back the onslaught of possibilities threatened to break him, and he gasped, fighting to remain in control. Trembling with the effort to resist the surge. He knew Raydon had intended to get recognition for the outcasts who had joined him. The plan had been to set them up as an independent Colony, free of the ESUN, but loosely allied with them by trade agreements. That much was true. He had sat in on discussions between Raydon and his Captains and Council.

"Initially?"

"Yeah, well, we didn't know you were here. I couldn't believe it when I first saw you. I contacted him pronto."

"And?" He prompted when the man seemed not inclined to continue, crystal blue eyes swept the immediate area. They … he … had to move from here. It was not safe to remain for long in one place.

"Word came back. I was to check out the opportunities for trade, as previously ordered, and in addition I was to guard your back."

"Guard my back? Against what?"

"Not what. Who. I'd say those same bastards who are slaughtering everyone they can find now. I have no idea what this is all about, Sir, but I do know I have found ten dead so far, just in this hydroponics dome. I don't have any idea what is going on." He ran a hand through his disheveled black hair, looking his distress for a moment, before clamping control of his emotions again. "After I found the first bodies I sent word to my backup, that was nearly two hours ago, and I have received no instructions back. When no word came in by the time I expected it to, I thought it best if I came looking for you. Raydon would have me flayed alive if anything happened to you."

"How did you contact him?" Hopeful. It was surely possible that his transmitter was not the only way of contacting the King of Raiders. The man obviously had radio contact with his people, though why he had not received a response was worrying.

"We have an independent radio array. Brought it in in pieces and assembled it here." A smug grin broke out on his amiable features.

The knife went up a little higher and blue eyes glared. "We?"

"Shit! Shit! Shit, don't throw. After I reported your presence to him he made some changes to the mission. On the last shuttle before the one that arrived today, Raydon sent in another agent. To back me up if I needed help keeping you secure. We are not the only ones here. I had already identified a couple of agents from the Patrice Mining Corporation. They would have been doing what we have been, investigating the marketable levels of minerals and ores. There are a few we suspected might be ESUN Security keeping a fairly close watch on you and … well, you know about Raydon's … well … abilities and resources. He said there might be trouble. Assassins, or something equally as nasty. I learned a while ago to trust his feelings."

He had expected the companies and consortiums to start sending in agents to check out the potential of the new colony, sneaking them in before sending official delegations to deal with the Colony Council when it was formed. No doubt that was one of the reasons the ESUN considered this action now. When the colony was opened up they could not have the infamous Milliardo Peacecraft running around loose in front of the colonists.

If he was honest he had expected them to make a move to move him months ago. That they had not he thought was due to the news Noin had become pregnant. It seemed to earn him a reprieve. No doubt the reprieve was to allow them to make their plans so they could make allowances for the children to be caught in their snare.

"You have a radio transmitter and can contact Station One? Where is it?"

Giles looked uncomfortable and shrugged. "Ahm, well, it's sort of hidden in a maintenance suit. My partner is out with the maintenance team just now, in the suit. I came in to the dome and left him out there. Told the shift supervisor I had problems with the suit I was using and I came to find you. Then I started finding the bodies."

Zechs considered the man for a long moment, studying every tense line of him, and then scanned the pipes around them before he slipped the knife into the sheath at his belt and rubbed his fingers along side his nose, pinching the bridge in despair. So much for that hope. If the radio was outside with the maintenance team then he was back to his plan. His emergency transmitter was still the only hope he had that was reachable at this time. He still needed to reach the first Hydroponics dome.

"Come on. We are not alone up here so watch your back."

The Raider agent made short work of joining him, hunkering down out of his personal space, careful to give him enough room to move quickly in any direction should the need arise. He was well trained in most combat situations, and Raydon had made a point to warn him about the Lightning Count, and keeping clear of his personal space.

"Where are we going?" A hushed whisper.

"Hydroponics Dome One. Hopefully to call in the Indians before the Cavalry arrives and massacres the settlers."

"Huh?"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	54. Chapter 54

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 54

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 18:46 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

He was very conscious of the man who clambered over the pipes ahead of him.

Giles was around average sized, solid bodied with short cut black hair and hazel eyes. A good looking man with a genial smile and work roughened hands. He was no stranger to hard work, Zechs mused, but then, everyone on Mars knew how to put in a full days work.

He appeared to be agile and quick, Zechs noted as he followed him over the pipes, then squeezed his way around a pump station and over yet another cluster of pipes. He went with more care as he threaded his way through a maze of electrical conduits that fed and regulated the power to the solar lights.

//I wonder how good this Haydan Giles is? Raydon would not have set him here if he was not reasonably competent at his work, but investigating trade potential is a far cry from fighting. I know the King of Raiders enough to know that he would judge his men well, but just what are his limitations? How much can I trust to him? How much can I dare to rely on him?//

He hissed softly, careful not to be heard by Giles as his shoulder was scraped along the ice cold pipe he was sliding over. Hurt though it did, this was necessary if he was to stay alive and maybe make a difference. He would not advertise his weakness. He did not know this man enough to trust him with that kind of knowledge.

Giles grunted, crawling under a cluster of pipes, where three sets of pipes inter joined in a complex knot. He glanced back at the blonde who followed at a careful three paces behind him, knowing full well that he was not, as yet, accepted as an ally. For the moment his presence was tolerated, not accepted. That he could not allow to stand much longer. If they were going to survive, they would have to trust each other. However, he could not blame the blonde for the distrust.

He had a fair idea what this entire mess was about, but suspected he knew only the surface of the trouble. He had been sent here for the purpose of checking on trade potential and become the bodyguard of the Prince of Sanc. Not that the prince of Sanc knew it.

He began to breathe heavily, twisting and winding his way over and around and beneath pipes and conduits. It was a horror maze and he wondered if they spent more time moving away from their destination than toward it. The pace was beginning to tell on him, and he was growing tired of the cold distrust of the eyes that constantly pinned him.

He hunkered down behind a knot work of pipes and conduits, motioning for Zechs to join him, offering the chance to take a breather after crossing a large section of the bulk of the dome. Below their perch high in the scaffolding now were fruit trees, not the fields of golden grain. They chose now, or rather he offered and Zechs, after surveying their surroundings, had chosen to accept the rest before they made the attempt to get down off the roof scaffold, and make their way to the maintenance shed.

Zechs had a cold knot of certainty in the pit of his stomach that they were watched. He had no doubt they had been shadowed across the bulk of the dome. It might have been a friend, uncertain if they dared to approach if they had witnessed the slaughter in the dome.

It was far more likely to be a Sleeper who followed, waiting for the right time to strike.

Waiting for an opportunity that would produce the desired results, and not a wasted opportunity that might lead to his or her death.

A Sleeper, Zechs mused, who took the time to study his or her prey. Someone not foolish enough to attack without first observing and evaluating prey they knew would be far from easy to take down. So was the watcher afraid of Giles and his unknown skills, or were they leery enough of Zechs and his known record to hang back, and take their opportunity when they were certain of success?

"You were in the military?" He supposed this was the perfect opportunity for him to fill in the background of the man. He needed to know how well he was suited to this business.

"I served a couple of years with the Alliance as a grunt, and then a shuttle pilot, before I was discharged due to an injury. The prognosis was that I would heal but be unsound for full service, so I was patted on the back and invalided out. I was ornery enough, and pig headed enough, to thumb my nose at them, and convince myself I would not be what they termed unsound. I healed when they said I would not. Instead of reenlisting in the Alliance, I joined the security service for the Patrice Mining Corporation, before they amalgamated their services with other corporations, to form the Mining Consortium Security Service."

Zechs nodded faintly, blue eyes carefully surveying the maze of pipes around them, picking out their next path toward the ladder down. He was very much aware of the vicinity of some unseen watcher, and from the way Giles was frowning as he scanned their immediate surroundings, he knew the man sensed their company. He considered what the man had told him to date and decided that Giles would be fairly adequate if he was ex Alliance. The man would at least know how to fight.

"What was your expertise in the Alliance?"

"Primarily a Space Jockey. Shuttle pilot. I did have a year in covert ops, so I'm not useless defending myself, don't worry about that." He knew what the questions were for and he could not blame the man. It was understandable that he needed to know if he could fight if, when, the situation demanded it. "Raydon saw to some extra training when I joined his group." He hesitated a moment and then decided to plunge. He needed to suggest this and let the man know that he was both observant and a professional. "Need me to strap your shoulder?" At the glare in those blue eyes suddenly directed at him he grinned weakly. God, the man could freeze your blood with a look. "Hey, I have some medic qualifications and I carry a first aid kit. I couldn't help noticing that you favor it. What happened?"

Brooding eyes glared at him, assessing the threat level, but the man just grinned, though his eyes did display his unease at being subjected to such scrutiny. The crystal, glacial glare finally swept away from him and resumed the survey of their surroundings. No answer was forthcoming, however and Giles sighed softly. He only hoped the man did not take his head off his shoulders, and he had no doubt that Merquise was more than capable of doing so, injured as he was.

"Look, I know you don't know me. Hell, I don't know you either, but we are here, together and who else can we rely on, hmm? I need to know if I have to compensate for..."

"Shoulder kick in steel capped boots. Bruised. I can compensate."

Giles blinked, stunned that he had gotten a response, even if said response was almost spat out. "Okay."

He hesitated, finally fumbling around in a pouch he wore at his wide belt. So far he was alive, unhurt and not quite trembling in his boots. God, the man could chill your blood so effortlessly. There had been no sign of this version of Zechs Merquise since he had arrived on Mars. It gave him a new respect and insight into the man.

Now he was beginning to suspect how this man had been capable of threatening to destroy the Earth. The man crouched in front of him, hair tied back and ice eyes scanning the area, was not the blonde who had caressed delicate baby skin so gently. He had layers and right now Giles could see that he was royally pissed.

"Let me strap it then. Give it some support. It will make it a bit more comfortable to climb down from up here."

"I need full use of the shoulder." A low rumble of denial to the offer.

Giles sighed, exasperated and tried another tack. The man was military. If the reports were to believed, elite military. If he appealed to the soldier he might have more success.

"Look, man, I only want to brace the shoulder. I know that in our situation we need all the movement and strength we can get out of our bodies. Any loss of movement by the strapping will be compensated for it being that much stronger. It likely will hurt a lot less too. I'll be careful not to do the bandaging too tight and restrictive. I even have the new elasticized bandaging, see? Plenty of give in it."

Zechs glared at the man, silently cursing his luck to get saddled with the talkative, caring type. Why could he not have come across an agent of the Raiders who didn't give a shit if he was hurt or not, but would follow orders and get on with the job? Namely getting to that hidden cache and finding the transmitter. He noted the hazel eyes now had a decidedly intense green look to them, and Zechs shook his head slightly. He was so unused to having this type of partner.

//Partner? When did I start thinking of him as a partner? God. I'll have to watch myself. I can't afford to make mistakes.//

"You're a persistent sort, aren't you?"

A cheeky grin spread over his amiable face at his success, and he nodded, understanding that tactic permission had been given for him to see to the injury. He wriggled around the larger man's bulk, careful to take up a position side on to Zechs, not daring to get directly behind the man. He doubted that Zechs would allow him to be at his back, that was too trusting a position for their so brief acquaintance. Helping Zechs to ease the shirt off he winced and hissed in sympathy at what he found under the damp, stained cloth.

"Jesus. He left quite an impression of his boot on you, that's for sure. That's gonna hurt for a long time. You sure it's not broken?"

"Reasonably sure. I can't afford for it to be broken, put it that way."

Giles understood the unspoken part of that well enough. Too much to do for that type of handicap to be considered, however before he could strap the shoulder he had to make a few tests. If it was broken, he would have to be extremely careful how he strapped the man.

A grunt escaped the blonde, followed by a hiss as Giles pulled and pushed at the shoulder, testing for movement before settling down to bind it with the elasticized wrapping.

While he worked at the strapping he noted Zechs shrugged out of the shirt entirely and blanched when the man slipped a throwing knife into his hand, eyes constantly moving.

The military man in Giles approved that action, even as the medic winced and the man himself fervently prayed he did not hurt him enough to warrant becoming a target. The shirt could not be allowed to become a hindrance to free movement, if it was not hanging on him and the throwing knife was fast and silent, and the blonde looked as though he knew how to use the weapon.

He worked quickly, testing that he had not restricted movement too much, after every few circuits of the broad chest. He was only too aware he should have strapped the shoulder much more tightly than he had, but this situation was not the ideal and they did need free movement. There was too, the fact that he could just see the irritating blonde strip off the strapping if he felt it restricted him too much.

While he worked he took the time to study the man who had caused such a change in Raydon's policies and time tables. He had joined with Raydon more than two years ago, just after the One Year War, and he had been inspired by the man. If there was one thing that was obvious, it was that Raydon was no common pirate. The man was nobility, both to look at and in his every action and word. Yes, he had seen him get down and dirty with the worst of the Raiders, but that was not who he was. That was just what he sometimes needed to do to reach the diehards.

There was class to Raydon, real class, and he found it echoed in this too beautiful blonde with the creamy golden skin. He knew Raydon had been courting the Prince of Sanc, after the man had recovered from the injuries he had received in the explosion of the Libra. He also knew that Raydon had chosen to let him go, back before the Barton Incursion, soon after Raydon had begun to court him. The Commander of Station One had been certain Merquise would return to Station, and the silence after the fight on Earth had worried Raydon.

Raydon's agents had learned Merquise had been taken into custody after the Barton Incursion by the Preventers, and whether or not he would have returned to Raydon was not his concern. That was going to be between Merquise and Raydon, when this fiasco was dealt with. When he had arrived on Mars and seen the man, he had wasted no time in sending word off to Station One, reporting the Prince's confinement. Raydon had sent back firm instructions to be discreet and to guard the man's back and wait.

Looking at the silver white cascade of hair, ever so faintly kissed with gold, even snarled and knotted as it was now, and the cream and gold kissed skin, smudged and dirty, he could not fault the King of Raiders taste, though he himself preferred women. This was an uncommonly good looking man, and anyone who preferred a male as a partner in sexual pursuits could not help but look twice. Hell, he was as heterosexual as you could get, but he enjoyed the view.

A ten year time table had been condensed down to six years after Raydon had met Merquise. While a tightening of the schedule had been made, it was still very much manageable, and no one of the inner council of Station One had raised a serious objection.

They wanted recognition of Station One and the two orbital space stations being constructed in secret in the asteroid belts shelter just as much as Raydon did.

Giles wanted a sense of belonging and free license to come and go at will within the Earth Sphere, an acknowledged member of the Station Alliance. He had no doubt Raydon could pull off the formalities and get the stations recognized as independent Trading partners with the ESUN. Mars had been only the first step in those trade agreements.

"Are you done?"

He wrenched his thoughts back to the matter at hand at the low growl, mentally chastising himself for getting side tracked. Such foolery would get himself and possibly Merquise killed. There would be time enough later for wool gathering.

"Just about." He adjusted the bandaging and secured the elasticized length carefully. It would not do to have the bandaging loosen or unravel. "How does it feel?"

A series of testing movements followed. Giles admired the view as muscles bunched and relaxed and a satisfied grunt was his only answer as Merquise slipped away from him, handing back to him a water bottle. It was not until he had taken a drink, recapped the bottle and watched Merquise slip back into the shirt, that he noted the easing of tension on that handsome, fine boned face. Yes, Merquise had been in pain. A lot of pain.

"Better. Thank you."

He was surprised and nodded mutely. The acknowledgement he had not expected to receive for his work took him by surprise. He passed the bottle back to Merquise, who absently hooked it to the utility belt he wore. For a moment Merquise subjected him to a penetrating look, then drew an odd shaped gun from the back of his belt and offered it to Giles.

//God, I hope I am right to trust him. I won't be turning my back on him, but still, it's a risk. I have to trust someone, sometime, or I have no chance of changing things. Still, I don't ever recall seeing him in a vision. Is that good, or bad?//

"Here. You might need this. I don't know just how effective these things are, but you should be aware that they are not very nice weapons. They have very nasty side effects, and some of them were known to blow up in the user's face. I assume they have fixed that little problem, at least."

Giles took the squat, blunt nosed weapon from the man and studied it curiously, noting the variable settings, and that it seemed to consist largely of some type of power pack, and glanced at Merquise, curious. He'd never seen such a device, and he had noted how gingerly his partner handled the weapon.

"What is it?"

"Shock gun. Generates an electrical shock. Nasty bloody thing. At the lowest setting it just gives out a mild shock, enough to stun for a few seconds. As the grading goes up it gets progressively worse. Until you reach the highest setting."

"What does that do?" Hesitant. He could see the look in those blue eyes, and he did not like what it suggested.

"Do you know what an ill adjusted electric chair can do to you? They put the cap on you, making sure your head is wet to conduct the current and make it quick. If you are dry, its not a pretty death. It can take a minute or two to kill you, but it fries you in the end. These have something like that effect, only nastier."

Giles looked suitably sickened and stared at the gun, after a moment offering the device back. "I don't think I really want this."

"I don't either, but it's already come in handy for frying the transmitter that was to detonate the bombs they have stationed around the dome."

Hazel eyes widened even more and he froze. "Bombs? They were ... Blow the dome? They were going to blow the dome?"

"Yes. That's the kind of people we are dealing with, Giles. Very nasty, very professional killers."

"Christ." The breath of a whisper.

Merquise nodded and motioned to their left, finishing the last of the buttons on his work shirt, choosing to leave the top two buttons undone. He was hot and even the damp shirt did not serve to cool him off. He was concerned that that heat could be dangerous, a sign of sickness, but he could not deal with that now. He was not running around the dome naked because his clothes were wet. Likely it was only a lingering reaction to the intensity of the visions.

"That way. We should be able to work our way around to the ladder, and when we get there we can deal with the problem of our tail."

Giles looked up from studying the shock gun, still holding it gingerly by the grip between two fingers. He really did not like the idea of the weapon.

"What kind of side effects?"

He slipped under a series of pipes and then clambered over a section of scaffolding, well aware that now the blonde had armed him, he was at once more accepted and yet more feared. Zechs really had no cause to trust him. He was taking a chance to give him this weapon, but not fool enough to turn his back on him. The gun weighed heavily where it was tucked into his belt, and it even made his skin crawl. Fantasy, he knew, but he could not rid himself of the sensation that he was carrying a bomb.

Zechs allowed him to get through before himself squeezing his larger frame into the gap. He was well aware of the weapons he carried, tucked in his belt and in one of the larger pouches of the belt he wore. He knew that Giles was not going to like what he was about to hear. It made him like the man a little more, his obvious distress at carrying the weapon suggesting this was a decent man. Still, you could be a decent man and still work for the ESUN.

"Unpleasant ones. The pain as the body comes out of the shock charge is intense. The higher the intensity of the shock when you are hit by the beam denotes just how bad the pain will be while you recover. People have been known to die of heart attacks attributed to the intensity of that pain." He grunted with the effort of pulling his frame through the narrowest section of the pipes, now thankful for the strapping of his shoulder. "I know of one case where the test subject was left blinded and suffered from intense headaches in the aftermath. He went insane in the end."

Giles stared back at him, shaking his head in denial. "God. That's sick. That's so sick. Who would invent something like these monstrosities?"

Zechs regained his feet, absently rubbing at his lower back. He hated small, tight, cramped places. It seemed there were a lot of such places around, and he specialized in finding the things.

"Oz prototypes designed by Romefeller scientists. Kushrenada had the production of them stopped when he found out. He loathed the very idea of them. Quiet. Just move."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	55. Chapter 55

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 55

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 19:02 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

Soon now, he knew.

They were close to the dome wall and the ladder that led down from these aerial ways.

It would be soon that they, both he himself and Giles and the unknown watcher, all must make their move. He knew only too well it would be strategically sound to wait until he and Giles were on the ladder before making the move that would take them down. Mind you, that would probably kill them in the fall, but whether or not the Watcher or Watchers cared about that was open to debate.

He was almost certain they had more than the one set of eyes on them. If the agents had been ordered to kill everyone, then it was of no consequence, as they would be shot while descending the ladder. If they were ordered to keep him alive, then that changed matters.

"I think I've spotted our tail."

Glacial blue eyes flicked to him and Giles motioned back the way they had come, pausing behind a condenser unit and puffing for breath. They had kept the pace fairly brisk, pushing themselves as much as they could with the maze of pipes they had to cross.

"I think it's a security guard. I caught a glimpse of him as he ducked behind a conductor array."

Zechs nodded, silent, and led the way around a cluster of pipes, ducking under a section of scaffolding and then pausing. Ahead, only a few feet way, was the service station and the ladder. He considered the rungs of the ladder just a few meters away from them and then looked at the Raider operative with a soft sigh.

As he saw it, there was no choice.

They would be sitting ducks if they tried the descent with a Sleeper agent so close to their position. They had to pause, take the time to rest and make a few decisions.

"Any idea which one?" The breath of a whisper, as he pulled Giles around and pushed him into a protective nook in the pipes.

Giles panted softly, fighting to regulate his breathing. He knew they had been trying to get to the ladder ahead of any agent, but now there was no time to make the descent in any safety. He was glad of the breather and peered cautiously past the blonde, trying to make out any sign of their pursuer. Raydon would kill him if he allowed any harm to come to his prospective life partner.

"No. Just saw the uniform and he had dark hair."

A slow, deep breath, carefully measured to initiate a calming exercise taught to him by his old instructor at Lake Victoria Academy. Zechs considered the area around them, glancing overhead to scan the upper scaffolding for any sign of trouble.

From the angle where they now crouched, it was possible to see the entire length of the ladder as it descended to the ground level. Where they now stood would be a good position for the agent to shoot them as they descended. The best placement for a hit but not the only option in this maze.

If he took the chance and gave the go ahead to descend, and the man, the agent watching them, was content to shoot from a distance, then they could be seriously hurt or dead. If they were wounded on the ladder they likely would fall to their deaths. If the man wanted a clean shot with little likely hood of missing his target, then he would hold his shot and he would come to this point for the clearest possible view.

Did the man have instructions to kill him or take him alive? If alive, then the best option would be to front him before he set hand and foot to the ladder. Giles would be considered expendable, either way.

He carefully surveyed the array of pipes around them. Keeping low he moved to the service and switch station set near the ladder, studying the setup. He considered the controls in silence for a time, glancing repeatedly at Giles with a deepening frown, and then looking at the pipes that ran into the service station. He could not for the life of him recall a situation in his visions that resembled this one.

The Raider operative clearly considered himself something of a bodyguard, while he considered the man to be under his protection. For all he was a Raider and Raydon's choice to guard his back, he was here and caught up in the mess caused by the hunt for him, Zechs Merquise. The ESUN's chief pawn in their little power games back on Earth. That could not be denied. He had a responsibility to see the man survived.

Giles's appearance had been a total surprise to him. He had wracked his brains trying to find any memory of the man appearing in a vision of possibilities, and he had failed. The entire Raider issue had sprung up from nowhere. He had not been prepared for this eventuality, and he was uncertain how best to deal with it. Letting loose his control to glimpse future vision just was not an option. He would have to work blind, as everyone else had to do, even though it seemed strange to have no idea what the results of his actions would be.

Might be. Could possibly be.

He had not always relied on visions to chart the course of his life. He had not always succeeded with his choices or actions, but he had not been a crushing failure either. He needed to trust in himself and his ability to act without the guidance of vision. At these times he could only do what seemed right and for the best, and hope that he did not err. The Wellington was out there, speeding towards Mars. The agents here, at the dome, were killing the terra formers. He had to behave as anyone normal would in this situation.

Normal. He would never be normal again.

So, trusting in himself and his own instincts and drive to see others live, not to mention any chance of a future for himself and his family, he had to garner hope for a chance to live. Blue eyes flicked over the station and narrowed in thought. Perhaps...

He turned the idea over a time or two, noting how many flaws it contained and the desperation of their situation. The idea definitely had plenty of drawbacks, and if he warned Giles the man would no doubt refuse to try it. Still, did he really have a choice, short of totally incapacitating himself by trying to manage totally uncontrollable visions, seeking results of the actions he would take?

Before he could second guess himself, falling into that trap of indecision and potential vision, he acknowledged that time was running out. As he saw it there was no choice. He stepped into the service station and began quickly making adjustments.

He caught the softly uttered oath and glanced back at Giles, noting he was staring down in surprise as water trickled over the catwalk they stood on. He turned his attention back to the controls, adjusting the flow until a constant steady stream of water was slowly making its way across the walkway, oozing over and around and under pipes and scaffolding, ultimately toward the position the security guard who hunted them occupied. The flow was enough to feed the stream steadily, but not enough to be heard over the creaks, groans and rumbles of the scaffold and pipes.

He watched the flow, absently pulling a second hair tie from the belt pouch and gathering his hair he looped the tie around his hair, firming the pony tail by securing it a few inches from the bottom. Noin could have warned Giles to run like the devil, but she was not here and Giles knew nothing of the man he had allied himself with.

"You going to hide there all day?" Zechs moved away from the controls, and inclined his head to Giles, indicating he should make his way to the ladder. "Go. Now."

"What ...?"

"Go. As fast as you can. I'll delay him. You are likely considered infinitely expendable. There is a good chance I am not so expendable. Start down and don't dally."

Hesitating, Giles glanced around the area before making his way cautiously to the ladder, careful to keep low and present as small a target as possible. He did not like this. He was here to protect the blonde, and he did not wish to face Raydon if anything happened to him. Yet there had been something in the crystal blue eyes, and something more in that deep voice that suggested now would be a very good time to make himself scarce. He was three rungs down the ladder when he heard the deep voice of the blonde issue an unmistakable challenge.

"We know your there. You may as well come out and explain why you're killing everyone off. They don't deserve that. They have no part in this."

Giles hesitated, swearing softly and made to ascend the ladder, but he found blue eyes centered on him and at a nod from that blonde head he blew a soft breath in frustration and decided he should trust the man. He had descended another three rungs before he heard the scaffolding creak and glancing up he watched as Zechs stepped clear of the cover.

He uttered a soft curse, both at the recklessness of that action and in response to the water beginning to drip through the mesh of the catwalk where it ran, spreading rapidly and almost silently over the scaffold and the platform where Zechs stood waiting.

//He's a raving bloody loony.// He decided.

Offering himself as the perfect target was lunacy, and then Giles realized that by moving as he had, Zechs had actually improved his cover. The security guard, unseen before, had come around a section of pipes and stood in the open. He had a good view of where Zechs had been crouched, but the blonde's move had put a section of pipes between the two, half shielding Zechs where he waited from the man's new position.

Beside him he could hear the faint trickle of the water as it flowed down from the platform above him. He could watch the runnel as it spread out over the walk way, surrounding the blonde's feet where he stood and then trickled further. It ran over the scaffold and walkway, toward the guard Giles now recognized as being from the shuttle bay.

"Go and go quickly. Get off the ladder as fast as you can." The whisper was directed at him, low voiced but imperative.

Just loud enough that he could not be heard more than a meter away and Giles had the impression that it was the final warning he was going to receive. The blonde wanted him off the ladder. With a grunt he began to descend.

Much as he disliked the situation, he had to trust the man. Zechs did, after all, have his family to think of, so he was unlikely to risk himself any more than necessary. The threat level of this situation would have undoubtedly been assessed by what he had begun to suspect was a coldly analytical mind.

"Give it up, Merquise. It's a lost cause." His voice was raised just enough to be heard by the blonde, over the background noise.

"I don't think so, Jordon."

Jordon Bear snorted, taking a confident step forward, eyes never leaving the glowering blonde, and very much aware of the man hastening down the ladder. He did not care about the one on the ladder just now, his attention focused on the blonde menace instead. That step had been allowed, Merquise had not reacted to it at all, so he took another step and was not surprised when Zechs backed two quick steps, one hand coming up with a throwing knife poised.

//Now where did he get that? Never saw him draw it. I need to pay more attention to him.// "Now, lets not be too hasty. We can talk about this."

"I do know how to use it, and I am really quite good." Zechs never took his eyes off the guard, straining to hear Giles progress down the ladder above the creaks and groans of the scaffolding. "I generally hit what I aim for. Exactly what I aim for."

He stood close to the control platform that was raised a little above the actual level of the scaffold walk way. His careful positioning was going to be very important in this little drama. In fact, positioning was everything. Eyes never leaving the guard, he rested his free hand on his hip, fingers spread.

Watching. Waiting.

The man hesitated, considering the quiet air about the blonde. Sensing only too clearly the warning in that stance. He had been warned repeatedly about Merquise, both by Shanna McIntyre, his controller for this operation, and by the reports on the man he had read. The psychologists who had interviewed Merquise had not known what to make of him. Each and every report by the psychologists who had come to Mars had crossed through his hands.

It was felt by both their trainers and by the agents themselves, that to adequately do their duty they needed to have as full a perspective on the man as was possible. The only thing he had been able to determine from those reports, was that the man knew how to play games. Privately he had made his own judgment on Merquise and that was that the man was not sane, for all his quiet ways.

"It would have gone a lot easier for you and everybody else, if you had quietly accepted the inevitable. Those kids just do not belong on Mars. They have a better chance of surviving on Earth."

Merquise waited, considering the man, watching him intently, knowing that the agent would be evaluating what he knew of him from reports. That he knew of, he had never actually had more that a dozen words to say to this man in the time he had been on Mars.

He knew who he was, of course. He had made a point of knowing everyone on Mars, even if it was only thorough their personnel files, which he was not supposed to have access to. The

colony files said the man was security, assigned to the shuttle bay and considered reliable and competent at his job.

"So you say. That does not give you the right to kill everybody here. There are other ways than mass slaughter, you know. Killing because you have a few problems develop is the sign of an incompetent Commander."

The water trickled forward, slowly, relentless, spreading, until it touched steel capped boots. It pooled for a moment, before finding a way around and then spreading out and trickled on its way.

Zechs stirred, keeping the man's eyes on him, and motioned toward the agent with his knife hand, the fingers of his injured left hand slipping behind his belt, slowly working toward the weapon at his back. He took a half step back, closer to the raised platform, half turning to shield his activity from view. It was a move that was suggestive of his wanting to mount the ladder and descend.

"Don't even consider it, Merquise. It really is not worth it. I have a job to do, and I will do it. These people were considered to be expendable the day you arrived on Mars. No one was to know that you survived. It was just a matter of time."

Bear edged a step forward, judging the man was not nervous enough to use the knife just yet. Merquise was buying time for his companion to descend the ladder. He would not force the issue just yet. There was time to take the perfect opportunity, and it would come.

He was safe enough taking a step or two.

"Reconsider, Jordon. It does not have to be this way. This is not war. This is murder. Cold blooded murder to involve these people."

"Murder? I work under the sanction of the ESUN Security Services, Mr. Merquise. Or should I call you Peacecraft? What ever you choose your name to be, it is my duty to request that you surrender yourself to my care. You will then give me the location of your children, so they may be collected and placed in protective custody. On the arrival of suitable transport you will be taken to a secured location."

He shook his head slightly, almost sorrowfully. "There is not a chance in hell of me giving you the children."

"I was told you were insane, not stupid. There is no way you can win this fight. You have to know that."

Another stride forward by the agent and in response Zechs took a half step back, placing himself next to the ladder and level with the center of the service station. He could see clearly the trickle of water was running a little faster as the scaffold section declined a little, passing where the agent had been hiding. The angle of the scaffold, while not great, was enough to send the trickle dancing around the intersection of the walkway with the one Jordon Bear had used to hide himself.

He lifted crystal blue eyes to the man, meeting his brown gaze with quiet acceptance. "I know no such thing. Nor do you. I've faced bad odds before."

Exasperated he snorted. "Look, Peacecraft, it serves no purpose for us to haggle like two old women. Give it up. Put down the knife and any other weapons you may have. Be reasonable. It's not our intention to kill you, just take you into custody."

"Ahh. Us? Not alone then? Your kind usually hunt in packs, don't you? How many have you killed already today? Was the dirty work below yours? What about dome three? Was that you too? How many of your friends and work mates have paid the price of trusting you?"

Just a little longer. The water was spreading quickly. His fingers gripped the stock of the weapon he had been reaching for, body tensing. Now. It was coming now, he could feel it.

The arrogant bastard was red faced with anger and in position to reach him with a good lunge.

"Now!" Jordon Bear threw himself forward, landing face down on the scaffolding, clearing the way for his partner to take the shot, and curled his lip in disgust at the cold chill of the water that soaked through his uniform.

Zechs threw himself sideways, onto the station platform, even as he snapped the weapon from behind his back, thumbing the intensity switch and charge button to overload, and dropping it onto the platform. He tucked his head, burying his face behind his arms, hugging the floor of the platform, praying that the rubber matting would be sufficient to the task of protecting him. As he went down he briefly glimpsed a woman leap up from behind a cluster of pipes, shock weapon raised from where Bear had been hiding, and the world dissolved into blinding blue light.

Jordon Bear had enough time only to cringe when he saw the over charged shock gun descend to the walkway. He knew he was dead. He could hear the weapon humming, and that could only happen if its capacity was stretched to self destruct level, a feature designed to protect it should it fall into enemy hands.

Just the barest instant of excruciating pain, and the impression of a blue discharge, and nothing more.

His partner had barely an instant longer, to realize her fate, her feet firmly in a puddle of water, and her own weapon was falling from spasming fingers that triggered the energy release. Her weapon lent its charge to the wet metal walkway, and a second arc of blue flashed, sparks flying in the air.

00000000000000000000000000000

Giles

Haydon Giles had glanced up to check on the encounter in time to see the long slender fingers curl around the grip of the weapon in his belt. Understanding hit him.

He had felt his mouth drop open in disbelief, realizing what Zechs intended, and he had scrambled to descend as quickly as he could. At the shout of 'Now' he had cursed and thrown himself off the ladder in desperation, tucking into a ball and rolling to absorb as much of the force of landing as he could.

Stunned he lay on the ground for all of thirty seconds, gasping for air, disbelieving he was alive, before he stirred. Checking to list the damages done to himself, wincing at the pain from multiple bruises. To a quick examination he learned that beyond the bruising, and the certain knowledge that Raydon's blonde Prince was a definite nut case, he was relatively unharmed.

"Oh, man. God." He panted, staring up at the scaffolding where water fell in a gentle rain. Steadying himself as his breathing settled. "Zechs?"

When no answer was forthcoming he stared at the ladder leading up into the scaffolding. Just a couple of seconds more, to steady his breathing. He needed only a few seconds to tell himself that the idiot had a death wish, and he rolled, drawing himself to his knees. Looking around him he found an abandoned gardening fork.

Scrambling to his feet he stepped well back from the ladder and flicked the tool in an over arm throw at a rung. Other than a dull pong as the object connected, there was no result.

No arcs of false lightning. No death waiting to happen. The charge had gone out of the metal.

"Zechs?!" He did not care that he could be attracting attention he did not want, or need, at this time. If there was anyone around they could not have missed the light show. "Ah, man. Raydon will kill me if anything happens to you." Resigned he began to scale the ladder.

"Christ. Who knew you'd try to fry yourself?"

Water still rained from the scaffolding and walkway. He muttered about the cold stream, pausing every few rungs to wipe off his hands. He needed to be careful. He might not be so lucky to escape injury from a second fall, and the first thing he was going to do when he got up there, was turn that bloody water off.

The first thing he noticed when his head reached the top of the ladder was the two bodies stretched out on the scaffolding. One male in the security uniform of the colony, and the other a female in a pilots work overall. Their limbs were at all angles and the most horrific look on their faces. Shaking his head he hauled himself to the scaffold and glanced around, desperate, finally lunging forward, coming up and over the edge of the walkway on noting the blonde huddled in the nook provided by the service station.

Zechs was curled into a tight ball, head shaking slowly, both hands covering his eyes.

He made no sound, but Giles felt panic grip him.

"Jesus, Man. You live dangerously. You alright?" He edged onto the platform, unwilling to startle the man. He had been a soldier himself, and he was unwilling to approach without warning the man he was coming.

"Can you see?" Hesitating, he called himself a coward, he'd warned the man he was there, and could only hope he was aware. He reached out to touch broad shoulders. "God, what the hell are we going to do if you've blinded yourself? Zechs? Come on, look at me. Let me see."

"It ... it's okay. Just a bit ... shaken. I'm fine."

The hoarse whisper eased his mind somewhat, but he did not retreat. Kneeling over the huddled form Giles gently pried the hands away from ice blue eyes, and caught the fine boned face between his palms, turning him to face him. He only began to relax when it was clear that Zechs could focus on him after a few precious seconds that seemed like minutes.

He was stunned, unable to believe the amount of electrical current those weapons carried. He had expected the blonde to be a corpse, and that he would have to explain to Raydon his intended consort was a suicidal maniac. Not a nice thought. Glancing around he noted both guns, charred and dead, lying on the wet scaffolding. Absently he turned off the water, and considered what next to do.

"I don't know what to do with you. Raydon's welcome to try keeping you in line, man. You have a death wish." A low mutter before he turned back to the blonde. "We have to go. Can you stand?"

Someone must have seen the light show. Christ, it had lit up the entire dome and must have been visible from the main enviro dome. They simply could not stay here, but he was loathe to try forcing the stunned man down that ladder.

"Yes." Barely a whisper, but he tried to move.

It was, however, patently obvious that he was not, as yet, capable. Giles found himself rubbing at trembling arms and long legs, talking softly, reassuringly to the man, steadying his first few steps. It was a couple of minutes before Giles would allow Zechs to try the ladder, and then he was hovering close, terrified the man would lose his grip on still wet rungs.

He was far from keen on the idea of the descent when Zechs was clearly still dazed by the electrical discharge. The more the man moved, however, the more he seemed to awaken from the daze. He was no coward, that much was clear, and he knew they had to move, so no protests came to the forced necessity of having to move before his limbs were steady. By the time they reached the bottom of the ladder Zechs was steady on his feet, and his blue eyes had again acquired that glacial chill.

"Come on. We have work to do." The deep voice was cold, tinged with anger. "This has got to be stopped."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	56. Chapter 56

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 56

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 17:29 MST [Mars Standard Time

Simpson

Well, he reflected, he really could not be surprised about this. It was, while not exactly what he had expected to find, rather close to his assumptions. The woman, after all, had to have learned about the bombs from somewhere. She must have stopped the signal from being triggered by taking out the one person who was supposed to trigger the detonator.

He had little doubt she would have killed McIntyre and that he would find her body somewhere on the floors above.

Simpson surveyed the bodies strewn about the foyer with deceptively casual interest. He noted the two sleeper agents who had accompanied he and Frazier to the Control Tower, Evylyn Matther and Andrew Pickford, were almost trembling with rage. They had knelt over the two bodies near the west door, each cursing softly when their checks came up with no life signs.

It was patently obvious that they were far from pleased to discover they were now down two of their number. Why they even felt the need to check the bodies was beyond him. It was glaringly obvious the men were dead. One look at the pools of blood and mess made of the heads of both agents made that a fact.

If the group of Sleepers as a whole had thought themselves invincible, they now knew better. It should serve to make them more cautious, if he was lucky. Thus far he had not been impressed by these two. The agents here in the control tower had met lethal opposition, and he had little doubt that opposition went by the name of Lucrezia Noin.

He could not afford to waste time while they foolishly turned their back to the open doorway. He was disgusted they had not even checked to see they were clear of danger from hidden assault. It was unlikely there would be a sniper or a shooter hidden in the building that he did admit to himself, but it was not impossible. He had already learned it was not a good idea to underestimate either Merquise or Noin.

"Check the other rooms." He inclined his head to the doorway behind them, ignoring the looks he received for his efforts to keep them alive, and drew his own weapon.

Frazier was already at the door to the stairs, studying the handle and framework for any indications of tampering. The Sleepers at least handled themselves in something resembling a professional manner as they drew weapons and turned to the task at hand.

Noin would have been the initiator of this. He was certain of it. Matthers had said little about the confrontation that was taking place in the shuttle control room when he had arrived, but he had caught enough of the conversation to know she had been here. She could not have learned what she had about the bombs placed around the base anywhere else but here.

McIntyre was the one who had the responsibility of activating the timer to set off the charges. No instructions to the Sleepers issued recently, combined with the failure of the explosive charges to detonate and the corpses littered here, two of which were Sleepers, left little room for doubt. Noin would kill anyone she determined to be a threat.

He glanced up as the Sleepers returned to the room and scowled at them at their casual saunter through the door. They had been undercover as civilian's too long and lacked discipline in his view.

"Clear."

"Control room. Now." He barked.

Matther glared at him, but in the absence of instructions from her designated superior, Shanna McIntyre, she was obligated to follow his orders. She did not like the man. He was pure hard core military, and he had treated her and her partner with ill disguised contempt from the moment he had entered the shuttle control room. He obviously had a problem with dealing with non military personnel. She exchanged a glance with Pickford and stalked to the elevator, kicking aside the block that held the door, her partner joining her a moment later.

Simpson snorted, disgusted at the lack of survival skills in that single arrogant move. He did not trust Noin. She could have trapped the elevator and he determined it was time to put some distance between his unit and the Sleepers. He had lost too many men to chance losing Frazier.

"We split up and meet on the third floor. You check floors three and four for survivors, starting with four, and we will check one and two."

The doors slid shut on the couple and he shook his head, glancing at Frazier who eyed the elevator with obvious distaste. He knew Frazier also expected a trap laid somewhere, and considered the Sleepers reckless.

"Stairs, Sir?"

"Stairs." A grunt of agreement.

Frazier knelt by the door, checking for booby traps, not willing to be so trusting as the Sleeper agents appeared to be. He glanced at Simpson to discover him standing at the west facing door, peering through into the adjacent hallway. He did not blame his Commander for mistrusting the agents and having no confidence in their abilities. Thus far he himself had seen nothing that warranted such confidence be granted.

"Sir? Door looks clear."

Simpson stirred, one final glance into the doorway and down the hall, and nodded, moving toward the stairs and Frazier. "Go. This floor has seen all the action it will see for a while."

He scowled at the body of the security guard amid the pottery shards and plant remains, and shook his head. Overkill. They seemed to have enjoyed their work. He was halfway to the door when his partner made his move.

Frazier kicked the door open, weapon at the ready, sweeping the small space for visible danger before entering and peering up the stairwell.

"Stairs clear, Sir." He half crouched, ready for trouble, eyes constantly moving for the slightest hint of trouble coming.

Simpson slipped into the stairwell, trusting his subordinate's skills. They had worked together long enough for that trust to be automatic. "Go. Take it slow. Who knows what little gems the bitch left for us."

Frazier set foot to the stairs, intent on checking each step to the first landing for any indication of tampering. He had every confidence in his commanding officer, and understood the respect and anger Simpson had developed for their opponents. Merquise and Noin had so far proven more of a handful than they had expected, psyche reports notwithstanding.

It was luck they had walked in on the altercation in the shuttle control room. Luck that Simpson had quickly taken advantage of the situation. He had acted quickly and decisively to take Noin down, only too aware she had proven herself to be an elite soldier. She had killed two of their number already and they had to respect that. It was purely survival on Simpson's part that she had not been given the opportunity to react.

Simpson followed his Communications Officer, eyes constantly moving, three steps behind Frazier, attentive to every detail. He was tense and growing more agitated by the second. So far it was just too easy and that set off warning bells. He did not trust Noin not to leave a little present or two behind in her passing.

Frazier halted, crouching to lean close to a step. After a moment he stirred, leaning back a little and half turning to face his officer. "Trip wire, Sir."

"Surprises?" Came the quiet response. He felt much calmer now. He had been right. The bitch had left surprises for anyone coming after her.

He checked the edge of the stair where he had found the wire, tracing the trip wire carefully in the gloom. He had expected something of this sort from the start, since only every third light in the stairwell was operating, affording very poor illumination in the stairwell. The globes had been shattered, broken by blows that scattered shattered glass over the steps.

"Automatic pistol rigged to fire at an angle and spray the stairs." Frazier straightened slowly, carefully, eyes scanning overhead as well as the stair banister and finally glanced over his shoulder at his Commander.

//Inventive bitch// Simpson reflected.

It gave him pause, because it was not what he had expected, in truth. It disturbed him, as it actually went against the psyche reports he had studied. To stop and lay traps of this nature with the current trouble in the dome was what he had expected and feared.

It was as well he had taken Noin down, because he suspected she was tripping out. She was not so adverse to killing as the psyche reports suggested, if she set this type of trap and took out the lights. In combination it was a very effective method of taking down anyone coming to investigate the control room. The trap could have been triggered by some poor bastard who was innocent of this entire fiasco. Simpson considered the darker blob at the edge of the stairs that had to be the business end of the trap.

//Trouble. If she slipped enough to have it virtually impossible for a civilian to discover the trap, then she is more dangerous than I thought. I will need to watch her closely. No telling what she will do if she loses it.//

"Disarm it, Sir?"

He was tempted to give the order, but he was very much aware of the Sleeper agents loose on the floors above them. They had shown no care for checking on little surprises and if she had left this trap, then likely there were others.

//Well, they profess to be specialists. Let's see how well they were trained. Thus far I have not been impressed.//

He inclined his head up, toward the upper floors. "Leave it. Go two steps above and check for a secondary trap. If it's clear, go on to the landing and check the main hallway of the second floor."

"Sir." Quiet acknowledgement.

Frazier negotiated the steps, carefully stepping high to miss the trapped step and pausing on the second step above, calling the all clear moments later. Simpson joined him as he edged open the door to the second floor, peering around, watching for any indication that someone alive was prowling. From above, echoing around the stair well came the chatter of automatic gun fire, muffled by walls and distance and accompanied by a bitten off scream.

"Bloody hell." Simpson sighed. "Amateurs."

Frazier nodded. "Third floor, I'd say." He commented, completing his survey of the visible hallway. "Check each room, Sir?"

"Agreed, third floor. No, go up, Frazier. Someone should have stirred after that racket if anyone was alive here. Lock the access bar down. We may as well see what else she has left for us that our allies so graciously triggered for us."

"Sir." A cross between an amused snort and a chuckle, and the man resumed checking the stairs for any additional little gifts.

Considering the package she already had left for them that he had found, and the package the Sleepers had discovered the hard way, Frazier was careful to check thoroughly for further gifts. However he found no additional surprises and it was only a few minutes before Frazier burst through the door to the third floor, weapon at the ready, peering down the sights, finger poised over the trigger. He scanned the hallway, noting the fresh spray of blood slowly oozing down the wall opposite a door halfway down the hallway. Lying in the doorway was the body of Evylyn Matther, blood oozing from multiple wounds to the chest. To one side of the door the other Sleeper, Pickford lay, moaning softly, hands clasped to chest, blood pooling around him.

"Clear, Sir. Looks like one down and one wounded."

//Pity. I was hoping both would be dead.// Simpson motioned Frazier through the doorway proper, his own weapon raised and ready to fire, offering cover to his Communications Officer.

"Approach with all caution." A low murmured instruction.

"Sir."

Simpson covered the hallway while Frazier moved first to the elevators, checking them before moving to each door in turn. Kicking open the doors, scanning the rooms beyond and moving on to the next one, until he came to the door to the Control Room. He was aware of his Commander crouched in the doorway to the stairs, weapon raised and ready to take down anyone who might appear to threaten him.

Flattened, back to the wall, Frazier glared down at the wounded man, assessing his condition by the colour of his skin and the amount of blood he was losing. He decided the prospects did not look good for Mr. Pickford. No doubt of the death of the woman. She had been hit multiple times in the upper chest. It looked like Ms Noin would score another two deaths to add to her impressive tally.

Bracing himself Frazier glanced over his shoulder to receive a nod from his Commander who knelt, poised to fire at anything that moved. He blew air softly out of his lungs and then ducked his head around the doorframe for a quick peek, eyes widening at what he saw.

Frazier sniggered, rolling himself back to his former position, stifling the sound before it escaped him. She was an inventive bitch, he mused. Vicious, but inventive. He only wished Noin had been on their team. He wished he had a camera to record the event. He knew a number of people who would appreciate the set up.

"Clear to door, Sir."

Simpson scowled, detecting the underlying amusement in that assurance and curious he hastened to join his subordinate. He pressed his back to the wall beside Frazier and flicked a glance at the wounded man, choosing to ignore the pleading look in his dark eyes for the moment. From what he could see he doubted the man could be saved, but that was not even a consideration at this time. Now his priority was getting into that room. The wounded would have to wait.

"Trap?" A low query, chin indicating the doorway.

"Automatic rifle rigged to fire by the opening of the door." Came the low murmur.

"Ah." Soft sigh. "Basic, but reliable. She is very good. On three."

"Sir."

Frazier tensed, checking once again his weapon, poising as the count began.

One.

He half crouched, eyes flicking back down the hallway, checking their rear. The building seemed too quiet.

Two.

His eyes flicked over the wounded man who stirred feebly, but had the sense not to try to speak, and then centered on the door way.

Three.

Frazier bounded through the door, coming in low and kicking out to send the rifle on its make shift stand clattering across the floor. He swept the room with his gun following every movement of his eye, well aware of his Commander covering him, only a half pace away, scanning the room for possible hiding places.

He hustled, ignoring the source of his previous amusement, moving to check behind the computer banks, Simpson on his heels, covering him. What his Commander made of this he dared not think, but he was sure the man would appreciate the view. The tension slowly left him as the room proved to be empty of threat and he glanced at his superior, just the hint of a smirk betraying his amusement.

Simpson was not so kind.

He grinned, openly amused by the woman writhing suspended above the communications terminal.

He considered her for a moment, shaking his head slightly. He appreciated the set up, eyeing the overhead rafter from which the chain was strung, and down, the loop strung through the hand cuffs. He was thankful the gag was in place, because he could just imagine what that irate redhead was now thinking and saying, if the muffled sounds were any indication. Her legs were bound together with electrical tape in a thick roll from ankles to mid calves, restricting any movement from the knees down. She was suspended a good foot above the communications computer bay, making it impossible for her to relieve her weight from her arms.

"Now that has got to hurt." He commented. "Frazier, see to Pickford. I'll take care of Ms McIntyre."

"Sir." A smart salute and quick grin, and the man hastened out of the room.

Simpson drew his knife, climbing up onto the communications terminal with care, noting the plethora of red lights on the consol. That did not bode well for the plans he had made. What had Noin done when she had come here? From the number of red glows she had disabled the majority of systems he would need to use.

He knelt on the consol, working the knife into the tape binding her legs, taking his time to savor the moment. The cocky bitch had needed taking down a peg or two, he decided.

She was so full of the prowess of herself and her team, and who was it strung up like a fat turkey ready for slaughter? He chuckled softly at the thought. From the increased mumbles and thrashing he figured she had something to say, likely on the subject of his amusement and so, in the interests of peace and just for the sheer pleasure of it, he refrained from removing the gag.

Incensed by his actions Shanna gyrated on her chain, struggling, furious and her eyes spat fire as he reached up and pat her on the rump. She could not believe it! The asshole actually had the audacity to pat her on the rump!

"Now then, settle down. I can't cut you're bonds if your spinning all over the room, now can I?" He kept his tone neutral, mindful that he still had to work with the woman.

"Sir. Pickford's dead." Frazier entered the room, wiping his bloodied knife on a scrap of cloth he had cut from Pickford's shirt.

At the eruption of muffled screams and wild gyrations Simpson sighed and sat back, resting on his heels. Glancing at Frazier he eyed the knife and arched an eyebrow by way of a question.

At his arched eyebrow the Communications Officer shrugged. "Quicker than it would have been with the damage done to him, Sir."

Simpson grunted, knowing his subordinate enough to accept the man's judgment. Frazier was a good man, and would not have performed a mercy kill if he had not judged it was necessary. Frazier was not one to kill needlessly.

"Well enough. Find something we can use to cut the chain with; and these cuffs too." He ignored Shanna's muffled screams of protest at the death of her subordinate, and continued to saw through the tape.

When Shanna McIntyre finally set feet to solid ground she had intended to blister the ears of the assholes who had effected her rescue. She had had to hang suspended in the room and watch as her own team members sprung the trap she had intended to use, and Noin had reinstated. She had intended to slap Simpson for his audacity to slap her rump, and for the murder of her man. She had intended to demand they look immediately for that dark haired bitch who had strung her up and left her there to hang like a piece of curing meat.

Instead she found herself gasping for breath, pain screaming through her body from long abused muscles and tendons now relaxed into more normal positions. Simpson had thrown her over his shoulder as Frazier cut through the cuffs and chain, and it was all she could do to hold the scream as pain had blossomed. If she had thought it hurt before, it was nothing compared to the pain that now flared. As circulation began to return to her hands she moaned into the gag, unable to remove the offending tape across her mouth herself.

She even forgot the indignity of being slung over that broad shoulder. She was barley aware of Simpson clambering down from the consol, or of him setting her upright.

She had no chance of forcing her body to remain upright on her own, and his big hands steadied her.

"Frazier. Morphine?"

"Probably would help, Sir." Frazier came closer. Inspecting the swollen, raw and bloody wrists Simpson held out to him. "Be black in a few hours with bruising. I would recommend no more than one hit of morphine for now, until she can see a Doctor. You'll stiffen up and be pretty much incapacitated from the strain on your musculature." He informed McIntyre, injecting her with a morphine ampoule. "This will help, but only in the short term. You will still feel pain, and it will do nothing to help relieve the muscle spasms. It will be days before your strained muscles and tendons can heal. Probably something like two weeks before the wrists heal."

Simpson sighed and decided it was time for the inevitable. He really was not looking forward to this. For a moment he met her gaze, warning her with a look and with a single sharp tug he stripped off the gag. To his surprise she ignored the pain, green eyes spitting fire as she slumped against him.

"I want that bitch! I will rend her limb from bloody limb and turn her guts inside out! I want the whore found and I want her disemboweled ..."

"Ms Noin, I presume?" Simpson pasted a polite smile on his face, interrupting her listing of future torture she was intending to inflict on the absent woman. "Well, you need not concern yourself with tracking her down. Ms Noin is a guest of the ESUN at the present time, and as such she will be confined and treated according to the conventions. I will not tolerate my prisoner being accosted, despite the provocation, McIntyre. I have a use for her, and I need her relatively healthy."

"Where is she?" She snarled, rounding on the man, forgetting her current state and stumbling. She would have fallen to her knees had he not steadied her. She delivered a cold glare to which he arched an eyebrow, but made no comment. "Where the fuck is the bitch!"

//Charming. You are so ladylike, My Dear. As bad if not worse than Noin, I see. However, she is my prisoner and I have no intention of losing her to you. Nice bruise. // He admired the swelling and darkening bruise on the woman's jaw that had formerly been hidden by the gag. //She must have really put some force behind that blow.//

"I do warn you that I can always have you returned to your former position, if you do not pull yourself together. We have a mission, McIntyre. The mission comes before personal gratification. Always. After I have Merquise and the children safely secured, you can take out your vexation on Ms Noin. Not before. I trust that is understood?"

Shanna hissed at him, furious that he denied her. Glaring daggers at him before pain flared in her wrists as Frazier began to apply field dressings. She had no room for thought, her only awareness that of pain until he had finished, and she could get past the pain level. She found herself propped in a chair and the Commander ignoring her in favor of running a systems check on the computer. She snorted to herself. That was a waste of time, she knew.

The Commander was working on the computers, typing furiously on keyboards before turning to the communications array, a faint frown deepening as his every effort produced no results. He turned to glare at her, accusation obvious.

"As per instructions from my superiors, Commander Simpson. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Over kill." A quiet comment accompanied by a sigh, and he turned to face her. "You will need to find a secured location and wait until this is over. With the physical damage done to you, you are now a liability. We have established our base of operations in the Shuttle Control Room and set up a independent communications array. We have already dispatched a message sent on direct beam to the Wellington. We should get confirmation in around fifteen minutes or so, and an ETA."

She bared her teeth in a grin that was far from seductive. If they thought she was going to sit out the action and take down of Merquise, they were fools. However, if she could find out ... "Is Noin in the control tower too?"

"Forget Ms Noin for the moment, McIntyre. I have told you already she is out of bounds. Our first order of business is to seal off access from the sub base to the upper dome, to contain the situation. You will inform us of every possible access point that might be exploited to allow communications and movement between the two levels. I want Merquise isolated from any more assistance than he might already have attained. He is arrogant enough to wish to work solo, and that would be to our advantage. When we have secured all possible communications and access ways, you will then inform me when the exterior workers are due to return to the base. We need to contain them until the Wellington arrives."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	57. Chapter 57

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 57

Mars

Alpha Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 17:32 MST [Mars Standard Time

Simon Barker

//What the hell is happening up there, and what can I do about it? There has to be something I can do. People will be dying soon if I can't think of something to influence events.//

He glared at the view on the screen, the exterior cameras of the Alpha Dome were now trained on the distant Base Dome. The red pulsing of the emergency alarms was clearly visible, even from this distance with the aid of the cameras, though no signs of movement would be able to be picked up. They had only recently managed to get the Alpha Domes security cameras operational after they had been subjected to that mass failure that wiped much of their computer system. Radio communications was still non existent, but at least they had the cameras working. He knew on the far side of the distant dome there were maintenance teams going about their work, totally unaware there was trouble.

It would be all too easy for the infiltrators to kill every last man and woman working outside the dome's protection.

// There has to be some way of giving those people a chance.//

The workers nearest to the dome would note the pulsing of the emergency lights, but its operation could be explained away in a dozen non life threatening ways to the exterior workers. They should have returned to the interior of the dome at the commencement of the emergency, but from viewing the communications logs he was inclined to believe the radio interference may have ensured the exterior teams had not heard the alert.

He was inclined to believe that it was possible Shanna McIntyre, who had the control room duty, may have explained to any radio call-ins questioning the alert, that it was a drill. There had been problems with certain systems in the last two weeks that they had not been able to explain, problems that had cleared themselves. Problems he was now inclined to believe were related to this farce now taking place. She could have quieted any unease from the exterior workers as just another glitch in the system, and not to mind the alert as it was computer errors they were trying to chase down and repair. He had known her to do that before, and he had had words with her about it too, citing it was against all safety protocols to disregard the emergency alert.

True emergency or false alarm, you did not tell the workers to ignore the alarm because it would put you behind schedule. Unless you intended to use that alert to your advantage. All those computer glitches that had caused problems in the last two weeks. Was he being paranoid?

Regardless, all the action was happening up there, in the Base Dome. ESUN agents were running around as though they owned the place, and it rubbed him the wrong way. If they gained the upper hand they might not slaughter everyone, he reflected, though he could not see that as being a valid hope. No, he admitted if only to himself, they would want no witnesses who might carry tales. They would want no one to refute their claims of what happened at the Mars Colony. They were all walking dead men if they did not take down those agents.

The most vulnerable of them all at this time, in his opinion, were the maintenance teams outside the domes. They worked long and hard hours to maintain the equipment that meant life to everyone who lived here. In just a few short hours those teams would expect to return to the dome and enjoy hot showers and decent meals, before falling into warm beds for well deserved sleep.

They would likely be walking back into a massacre.

He had already sent out a team of his own Preventers to bring in the workers who had been stationed around the Alpha Dome. At least he knew the workers here would not be locked out of the dome, to face the fate of running out of air and dying the horrible death of asphyxiation. If those in the Base Dome abandoned the workers operating outside the dome, then they would face a freezing death in the Martian night. None of their suits could handle the Martian extremes after sunset. None of them would have sufficient oxygen to survive the hike to the Alpha Dome, even if they could see in the dark to descend the cliff.

"Do we have any shuttles we can get into the air?" He dropped his gaze to stare at the floor, at his feet and his hands hanging limply between his knees.

"I would have said yes, except I have already checked. Someone did a nice job of sabotage." Mako responded, voice barely above a whisper. "It had to be one of the maintenance people in the shuttle bay. Every shuttle we have here, even that last one that came in from the Base Dome a couple of hours ago, has been tampered with." He ran a hand absently through his hair, shaking his head and shrugged. "I have the best mechanic still awake working on what looks like the least damaged of the craft, but it will take hours. Even with what ever help we can get him from the returning maintenance teams from outside, it is likely to take four or five hours."

Mako and Barker sat in an observation deck overlooking the main maintenance bay, waiting for the return of the first of the workers to be recalled from their maintenance duties. Beyond the window the huge bay was deserted, though if he looked hard Barker realized he could see the red glowing bulb signaling the cycling of an operating air lock. It would not be long before the workers were in the bay.

It was a death trap. Once you were in that airlock, you could so easily be killed. A gas mixed with the oxygen mix entering the system. If you were low on air you would not stop to sniff the quality of the air you were desperate to breathe, and you'd have your helmet off quick smart. He'd done it himself. Or the air locks operators could simply lock down the doors, not allowing you into the interior of the base.

Barker nodded slowly, acknowledging the news, looking up to glare once again at the screen. He could don an enviro suit and hike to the Base Dome, but his oxygen supply would be limited in an enviro, suit and there was no way into the base dome unless he had help from inside. Then, too, there was the small fact the Martian night would likely overtake him before he reached the dome, and he was just as vulnerable to the cold as the maintenance teams.

There was no way he could get word into the base dome with the communications lines in disarray from that planted virus. Nor could he know if the person he might contact was a Sleeper agent or not. His agents in the dome had failed to respond to his calls over the emergency Preventer channels. He could try to scale the cliff in the approaching Martian night, but what good would it do other than to freeze his own butt?

"How many people are outside the dome?"

Mako glanced at him, then at the screen, and then returned his gaze to his feet. Anything was better than looking at that distant red flashing light that marked the emergency at the other habitat dome for more than a few seconds.

"Today was a heavy work day. Most of the relays, condensers and power packs had to be stripped and cleaned. I assigned everyone I could spare with enough experience to speed the job along, hoping to complete the work in one day."

"How many?" Barker repeated.

"Ninety five in the condenser field. Thirty five in each of the relay stations, and eighty four in the power station to strip down the power packs. Another forty cleaning the solar panels."

Barker winced. There were five relay stations on that side of the base dome, for a total of one hundred and seventy five people working in the relay system. In total that made three hundred and ninety four individuals who might, or might not, find themselves locked out to face a Martian night with no shelter and no oxygen. Three hundred and ninety four deaths possible, without the bastards in the dome lifting more than a finger to initiate the lock out. No. More. The big supply enviro suits pilots and the heavy maintenance suit pilots were out there too.

//What do I do? There has to be something that can be done. Some way of reaching them.//

"I assigned three ten man teams to explore the canyon today." Mako continued after a time, voice flat and dull. "They at least have food and oxygen for three days and the crawler for shelter. They'll have a better chance of surviving until this is all over. If they don't turn around and come back when they realize they have lost contact with the domes."

"There has to be a way we can help those people." A low, deep rumble, more thinking aloud than actually commenting.

Mako shook his head, one hand rubbing his eyes. He was tired and he had been thinking too long of the lives he could do nothing to save. "How? The three shuttles we have in the hanger have had the vitals ripped out of them. Our enviro suits are not made to survive a night on this bloody world, even if they could carry enough oxygen to get us to the dome, in the dark and up that bloody cliff. Not even the supply suits could hold enough of a supply for half of the teams working up there. I only wish there was a way to get there. Even if we could make it, what would we do when we got there? Its four hundred people, Simon. We can't carry enough oxygen for more than two or three people and that would be insufficient to get them through the night. The supply suits are not capable of climbing the bloody cliff and would have sufficient oxygen for maybe ten to twenty to last the night, but not four hundred. And what about the night? The cold alone ... Without shelter, they're dead from the cold."

//One trouble at a time, Mako. Still, I have an answer for that question, at least.// "The caves. There are caves behind the Base Dome, remember? Heat packs are small enough to carry quite a few per person. Enough to offer some protection from the cold at least. Enough to survive it."

"How do we get it there?" A sigh. "Round and around in circles, Simon. We are going around in circles. No matter how we think it, it still amounts to the same thing. They're dead."

// No! I will not accept there is nothing I can do for them. I'll not let those bastards win.// "There is a way. There has to be. I'm a Preventer, Mako. We don't give up. There are people up there who will die if I don't find a way ..."

Mako glanced up at the abrupt silence, noting Barker staring off into space. Staring in the general direction of the window overlooking the maintenance hanger. Curious he followed his look out of the window and down in to the maintenance hanger, where the first of the outside teams were now passing into the bay from the airlocks and shucking their enviro suits.

"What?" Mako queried, turning to look again to Barker. "You see something wrong? What?"

Barker stood slowly, walking; almost stalking, to the window and looking down to the hanger floor. At the continued silence Mako sighed and rose to join him, peering over his shoulder in time to see the large air lock doors to the side of the standard sized air lock part. With lumbering steps the three maintenance mobile suits entered the hanger, walking slowly, ponderously to their recharge units.

These were converted Taurus suits, at one time used in the One Year War by Oz. The suits had been a part of a shipment of Leo and Taurus suits assigned to Mars to be converted to aid in the construction of the domes. They were used to aid in the heavy lifting and in clearing the site for the Beta Dome to be erected in the future.

"Simon? Are you alright?"

Barker began to smile, a slight tilt of the lips at first, and a gleam in his eyes, but the frown lifted a little and his fingers beat a sharp, thoughtful tattoo against the view window.

"Taurus suits?" Mako glanced from Barker back to the where the suits were now being locked into their cradles. "What possible use could you find for Taurus suits to help at Base Dome? We only have five of them, Simon, and two are down for maintenance to their systems."

"Do you know the load capacity of the Taurus suits?" A low murmur, his gaze never leaving the suits as the last was locked in place and the power couplings were brought out.

"What ...? Simon ..."

"Think about it, Mako. Just consider it." He began to talk faster, mind working overtime at this slender thread of hope he was seeing before him. "We rig up a sling or a number of slings full of oxygen tanks for enviro suits. We include heating units and food. The Taurus suits could fly that to the base dome. Our people could hide and shelter in those caves, at least until morning. There are enough supply suits to handle their needs, even if they have to vent the raw sewerage a distance from their shelter. A worst case scenario would be that they have to walk back to Alpha in daylight. Next best scenario is that we might have a shuttle going and be able to fly them back in relays before light. Absolute best case scenario is that the trouble in the dome is contained and my agents there can get the workers in the dome. We can't get them down here, tonight, but we can use the Taurus suits to give them a chance of surviving the night."

Mako stared down at the machines painted a garish purple and green, to clearly mark them in the Martian day. Could Taurus suits, once intended to kill, then converted to mechanical slaves for heavy labor, now offer hope to the men trapped on the upper plateau, unknowing of the disaster that could befall them? If they gained entrance to the dome it would be to face a mass slaughter. If they were locked out of the dome the results were a more lingering death by cold and asphyxiation.

"It will take a couple of hours to recharge the suits power systems and to refuel them." He murmured, seriously considering the idea now, seeing the potential of the idea, yet still worrying about the unavoidable time constraints. "Couldn't do it in under two hours thirty, maybe closer to three hours."

//Three hours is better than the other options. It will be tight, but it just has to be possible.// Barker nodded slightly, considering what equipment they could take that would best serve the needs of the workers.

"We need time to get the gear together that we will need to send anyway. It will take nearly that long to sort out the rescue. We need to find the best pilots we have in the dome. It's not easy flying one of those things in this atmosphere at the best of times, and with a load suspended underneath ... we can't afford accidents. Start making lists of what will need to be taken. Starting with basic survival gear, Mako. It's not going to be pretty. It does not need to be pretty, but it will be better than dying out there."

Just about anything would be better than being stuck out, exposed, in the Martian night, they both understood that. Barker was beaming, eyes gleaming, mind running quickly over the possibilities now opening up to him. He did not have to leave those people to die out there. There was a way to save them and he would not have to sleep with their deaths on his conscious. It was a fore gone conclusion that the ESUN agents would not care that they killed and certainly would not lament those deaths.

"Nets. Big nets, or something of that nature, would be the best option for carrying the gear in."

Mako considered that a moment and a grin widened, lighting his face. "What about weather balloons? We have some big ones in the Alpha Dome. A series of experiments was slated for next week involving atmospheric conditions. The fabric is toughened to withstand the winds and corrosion in the atmosphere. Should be strong enough to take a fair weight. Some of those instrument packages weigh in at five ton and more."

// Yes! It will work. We can make it work!// "Good. Yes, those will help. We need to go down and speak to those pilots. We need a list of pilots available and determine who the best for the job is."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000

18:20

//Very resourceful. I have to give you points for resourcefulness.//

Dark eyes watched from the shelter of shadows as the maintenance bay became a hive of activity. He scowled, careful to remain unseen. At this time he had no legitimate excuse to be down in the bays, as he had been assigned to other matters necessary to expedite the rescue of the Base Dome maintenance crews. He would need to retreat and attend to his assigned duties before he was missed, but he had felt that he needed to take this chance. He might have been presented with a golden opportunity to sabotage the rescue before it even began.

//Mmm. The Taurus suits will be difficult to sabotage. No. No, there are too many people too close to where I would need to be to sabotage them. Too many people watching for me to go where I have no cause to be at this time. No direct sabotage to the suits, but maybe ... Can I taint the fuel?//

He slipped deeper into shadows, working his way carefully around the bay and finally slipping into the shelter of a computer bank that at this time was idle. It was one of the computers that assisted in the servicing of the shuttles, which he had put out of commission a while ago.

// No. Sadly no, I can't. Again too many people in the vicinity of the fuel tanks for me to take the chance. It may be that I will have to let this go, allowing them to affect something of a rescue. Truth to tell, it will not make a difference, just prolong the inevitable. Those exterior maintenance crews have to die, and a lock out would have been the most efficient means to do that. It would not have taken all that long for them to die. There are worse ways to go than asphyxiation. //

He glared at the activity centering around the massive mobile suits, listening to the rising hubbub of voices as instructions were shouted. For now it would pay for him to step back and wait for his time to come. He would continue to be the friend and workmate of the people who surrounded him, and assist in this rescue that was only a delay to the inevitable events that would take place.

There would be a time to reveal himself, and that time was certainly not now.

It was an inconvenience that too many of the plans of his superiors had been countered, and countered curiously enough by that infuriating blonde he was sent here to watch. How had he known so much of the plans that had been prepared and so effectively countered them, with the aid of the Preventers? He suspected Merquise knew the identities of at least five, maybe six of the Sleepers, but he was certain that his own identity was thus far a secret. That his identity was still unknown was his only advantage in this changing game plan. He could not rely on the other Sleeper agents for assistance, since so many of them were known to Merquise, and he would just love to know how the man had discovered that knowledge.

Time to return to the duty that had been assigned to him. His small safety margin was just about expired and he could not afford to have anyone suspect he was not what they assumed. He would be patient.

//You'll go down, Marquise. I'll have you down by the time the Wellington arrives.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson


	58. Chapter 58

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 58

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 19:11 MST [Mars Standard Time

Zechs

He paused by the wall of the maintenance structure, blue eyes scanning the area for any indication of watchers or traps. While it all looked quiet and deserted he was not a trusting soul. Not since the fall of Sanc and the loss of his innocence had he trusted easily. No sounds warned of people near and he could see no indication that anyone had been here recently, and that was likely not as deceptive as he found it to be.

Truth to tell, there could not be so many amid the terra formers ranks who could be Sleeper Agents for the ESUN. Their numbers had to be low else he would have stood a greater chance on uncovering their identities. In a situation such as this he would expect only one or two would be assigned to take down the occupants of the hydroponics domes. In Dome three he had taken out one agent and now he had taken out two on the scaffolding above. Common sense occasionally listened to, and agreed with, the law of averages, and told him that for the moment he should be clear of agents.

While common sense and the logistics of the situation might suggest it, he was too aware of all the things that could go wrong to simply listen to that argument and take it on trust. If he lost his caution he would go down, taken out of the game by a Sleeper, and he could not afford that. At least not until he had sent off that distress call to Raydon, and said a quiet prayer or two to speed it on its way.

To business. He had to reach the transmitter.

Glancing toward the heart of the dome he sighed softly. It was next to impossible to make out anything through the ranks of the fruit trees. It was quite an extensive orchard that spread out around him, and though he could not see him, he knew somewhere in there Giles was working his way toward the maintenance shed. He was still feeling the effects of his encounter with the two agents and was grateful for the chance to rest, though he was lookout and could not relax. Still, the chance to take this time to recover his strength was welcome.

A low, two tone whistle drew his attention and he nodded, waving a finger toward the building that linked hydroponics domes one and two together. He scanned the orchard again, then signaled the all clear, watching as the Raider operative broke from cover and approached the door in a smooth, quick dash.

Zechs found himself holding his breath, tense, half expecting Giles to be dropped by a sniper lurking somewhere in the scaffolding above them, but the man reached the door without incident. He puffed a small breath of relief, turned to scan the trees again for any sign of trouble and glanced back at a low curse. Giles knelt at the door, a lock pick in hand, and was working on a padlock that Zechs was certain had not been on that door the last time he had occasion to come this way.

//Padlocked door leading to dome one.// He mused. //Now that suggests they wanted to isolate the dome. Have they not yet hit dome one? Possible, although it seems more likely that they would want to lock down the options open to anyone fleeing their hunt.//

They would have wanted to contain the occupants as speedily as possible, stopping them from bolting to raise the alarm. Anyone who chanced upon them during a kill would surely bolt; intent on warning others of what was happening. It was only efficient that all escape routs be covered. Yet why then, had the door to the exterior not been likewise padlocked? Or did that explain the blood in the maintenance shed?

Too many questions, he reflected arching an eyebrow as he watched the Raider work on the lock. Whatever he had been in his past life Giles made a fairly handy lock smith to have on his side. It was only a few seconds before the padlock clicked, and a few more seconds before the linking chain threaded through the door latch was slipped off. Giles crouched, ear pressed to the door before signaling that all was quiet beyond the door.

He considered the orchard for a long moment, eyeing his surroundings with total distrust before nodding and signaling to go ahead, wincing at the pain that flared in his head. He was still suffering the effects of his close proximity to that electrical discharge, and he tried to ignore the flair of pain. His body ached in every muscle and joint, but he could not allow it to slow him down. He could only place his trust in the Raider to do some of the work that he felt he should be doing.

He was honest with himself and admitted he had not expected the other shock weapon to discharge and double the effects of the shock. Hell, he had not known that there were two charged and ready shock guns so close together, and that the second would discharge. He was not omnipotent. What he was, was bloody sore and bone aching tired.

That had been too close a call to allow it to be repeated. He had to have more care. He was certain Giles thought he was suicidal, but the simple truth was, that he functioned best under pressure. He had always had a tendency to do the unexpected.

However, he admitted to himself, he could not continue to survive if he chanced such actions again. He needed to exercise more care, and try not to place himself so close to disaster again. His heart still beat too fast, and his vision occasionally blurred, and he had a headache that refused to give him any ease, but he judged himself to be functional. They really did not have the time for him not to be.

He joined Giles by the door, throwing knife in hand, poised, eyes scanning the orchard, while Giles pulled a Bowie knife. He deliberately ignored the shock guns he carried, shuddering at the mere thought of the weapons, but refusing to discard them. They might yet come in handy, but for now he was not likely to play with one of the shock guns again in a hurry, and he was pleased to see that Giles, too, was avoiding the weapon that he carried. As far as he was concerned they did not have the lethal things.

"I'll go in first, low and fast." Giles glanced at him. "You alright?"

//Bloody mother hen. Where did you find this one, Raydon? He's likely to mother me to death. //

"Fine." The breath of a whisper. "When you're in, go low and right. I'll cover high and left."

"I can go in low and center…" At the icy glare to his protest Giles stilled, pursed his lips in consideration and shrugged. "Fine. I'll go low and right."

It seemed pretty anticlimactic and stupid, Giles reflected, to come fast and hard through the door, narrowly miss the working bench, barely avoiding taking a direct blow to the face, and tumble to the right into the cleared work area and glare about a totally empty room. He was only too aware of Zechs coming in a little more slowly, carefully controlled movement, slipping through the door in a far less dramatic but efficient fashion to cover the left of the room.

//God. He's poetry in motion, and the bastard knew about the bench!//

Giles blushed, glaring at the offending piece of furniture, knowing now why Zechs had told him to go right as he came through the door. He would have tangled himself up in the work bench had he come in straight on to sweep both sides of the room. To be honest with himself, he would have come close to knocking himself out, and that was just plain embarrassing.

Work benches, sacks of fertilizer, assorted tools of every design imaginable, hoses of varying sizes and thickness, and seed storage. Exactly as he had expected it to be.

Thankfully here there was no sign of a struggle, everything was orderly and in its proper place. For the moment ignoring the blushing Raider, Zechs ghosted up to the far door, positioning himself beside a small window near the door. Peering cautiously out of the window, he could just see two men sitting by a work bench, sipping coffee and having a quiet conversation.

He sighed softly, more relief than anything, as he watched the two men. Relaxed. Calm, even laughing. He could not hear their conversation, but he could tell they were amused and that there was no indication of alarm or unease in either. They looked to be simply enjoying a coffee break.

Had the far door been locked because the Sleeper agents had not yet gotten around to slaughtering the inhabitants of the first hydroponics dome? The utter normality of the scene was highly suggestive of just that. He investigated the window for a latch and determined it was of the non opening variety, so he slipped to the side of the door and with care managed to lift the simple latch silently. Cracking the door open quietly, just enough to allow the sound of their voices to reach him, he knelt by the door. Giving no warning of his presence to the men he was aware of Giles slipping toward him.

"… don't know how much bloody longer they're going to take to call off this emergency." His deep voice was touched with impatient disgust.

"Intruders in the dome? Yeah, right. Can't see it myself. Has to be a drill." The higher pitched voice was highly amused.

Giles knelt next to Zechs, straining to hear every word. They needed to know how things stood before they made their next move. Just what did the workers here think was going on? Did they have any idea at all their lives hung in the balance?

"Drill? For what? Why would they bother?"

"Raiders. Come on, you have heard the whispers doing the rounds of the dorms. The base is a prime target for a raid, being so close to completion. I overheard Jordan talking to Andrew just the other day, in the mess hall, about that raid at the Patrice Mining Consortiums asteroid base. You hear about that? Well, the base had two raider ships come in and threaten to blow the habitat if they were not given docking rights. Bold as brass they docked and proceeded to rob the place of spare parts, and a good amount of the stored ore."

Giles scowled, hearing the tale, shaking his head in denial as he listened. Rumors always existed on the Raiders, and he was fed up with the fiction. He knew the fact too well, making it too easy to spot fiction when he heard it.

"You believe that shit?" Curiosity plain in his voice.

"You don't? Come on, man. We may be in the boonies on Mars, but we get the news over the satellite links, same as everyone else. Raiders are causing big problems in the belt. I even heard tell of a few rich kids caught out in the space lanes beyond L4 being hit by them."

Giles scowled, shaking his head in vigorous denial, and glancing at his companion he met the blue eyes watching him intensely.

"Not Raiders." Giles denied, voice barely audible, even though Zechs was close enough to touch. "Raydon put a stop on all raids months ago. He wants to go legit and the council agreed with him. We buy what we want now."

"… ve half of what the news tells you. Knew a journalist before I came here. He told me they don't care anymore if what they print and release over the systems is truth or innuendo. So long as it sells. Said the big political parties on Earth pay them to say what they want them to. Been that way for a long time now. The Alliance used that tactic and Oz did too. Don't expect the new boys in power to be any different. If the Raiders were that bad the whole belt would be crawling with Preventers and Security forces." A dismissive grunt finished off his comment.

"Yeah, well. You are probably right, but man, you got to admit it makes for a good discussion on boring nights in the mess hall. Don't ruin it for me, okay? Christ, I'll be glad when this place is opened up for colonization. At least there will be some decent babes here then, who are free to be courted."

"You'll be staying on then? There are decent babes here now, Jimmy, and unattached. Just none of them will give you the time of day. Know you too well, they do." A low laugh rumbled from him.

A dismissive snort followed and a low chuckle. "And you, Smart Ass? Don't see you with any pretty girl on your arm."

"You're not likely to, either. I'm gay, remember? Shit, you blush dark, Jimmy." A low chuckle. "Don't worry, your butt's safe from me. My hands got better things to do than itch to wander over your skinny ass."

"Oh yeah? Well, my ass ain't that skinny and I wouldn't want your hands on it anyway. Don't you look at my butt like that." The comment was accompanied by a slap "Hands off, you perv."

"Too skinny for my tastes." A deep rumble of laughter accompanied the comment. "No wonder you can't keep a girl. They ain't got nothin' to grab hold of to enjoy the ride."

"You just leave my ass out of this. Come on, I've had just about enough of this waiting around, doing nothing. How long we gonna wait? We got work to do and it ain't getting done while we're sitting here contemplating my butt."

"It's not such a bad butt, you know." A low laugh accompanied by the sounds of the man standing. "I've seen worse. Seen way better, too."

"Yeah? Gee, thanks." Sarcasm dripped from each word. "I could not have lived without that knowledge. You grab the shovels, I'll take the fertilizer. So, whose butt's better than mine, hmm? If you had your pick of the men on the base, who would you grab? Who would be prime on the hot list in the gay community here?"

Sounds of movement, steps approaching the shed but stopping before the man came in sight of the door. He sounded to be just a few paces from the door, and Zechs prayed he would not notice the door was ajar.

"Don't forget to bring that slow release fertilizer. Who would I love to jump? God, Jimmy, that has to be the dumbest question. That blonde stud Noin's got under her thumb, of course. We'd all like a chance to approach him, but she keeps us off. Not stupid enough to go against her to try for him. She's got an evil eye, that one. To be honest, there are a few of us trying to get up the courage to approach him when he escapes her eye. That ain't often, you know. Well, none of us are game to try yet, anyway. Might see my way clear to trying my luck eventually, though. If I could get him alone; without the Wicked Witch of the East a hangin' in the neighborhood."

"Peacecraft? Man, you aim way above yourself. Like to live dangerously, don't you?"

A low rumble and the corner of a wheel barrow became visible, then assorted clunks and bumps as items were stacked within.

"He ain't here under the Peacecraft name. Not even officially listed as being here, I might add. Oh, yeah. He ain't on the lists, Jimmy. Seen them myself. That says to me that while he's here, he isn't a prince. For that matter, he doesn't even call himself Peacecraft. That means he's available to any one who thinks they have a chance."

"Dream on. You've got as much hope of scoring with him as I have with Noin. Gods. What a thought that would be. She'd be a wild ride, but man, it would be taking your life in your hands every time you touched her. Well, I think you…" Their voices faded as they moved away from the building.

Giles, grinning, sucked in a deep breath, intending to have as expressionless a face as possible when he faced the man at his side. Gaining some semblance of sobriety he turned to look at Zechs as the voices faded, and the grin burst back onto his face, widening into a smile as he laughed softly. Merquise was leaning against the wall, his hands over his mouth, obviously trying very hard not to laugh aloud, and yet he looked as if he would like to strangle the man. The Raider operative shook his head, highly amused by the whole incident, and motioned to the door.

"Most men who have a wife and kids would be a little pissed by that conversation and its implications." he offered.

Ice blue eyes flicked toward the door and then he shrugged, sobering swiftly. Indeed, he seemed more disturbed by Giles comment than by the workers. "I'm not married." Came the quiet response.

"Check to see if it's quiet."

//No, I am not married, nor do I intend to be. Noin won't take it quietly, and if we survive this I have no doubt she will want to push the issue. Ah, I don't know what to do. She won't take it well, but I can't help it. I have to face the truth eventually, and this is as good a time as any to start. I… I don't love her that way. I just… God. I don't know what to do.//

Giles looked curious, picking up on the choice of phrasing. He had clearly detected an unspoken 'nor do I intend to be' in that quiet, husky voice. While it definitely was not the time, nor the place, he was intensely curious. "You bisexual, Zechs?"

"Giles. Check to see if it's clear and leave my sexuality out of this." A low growl, all amusement gone, blue eyes flashing icy fire.

"Fine, fine." A wave of a hand. "Just curious. Raydon seems to think he has a chance with you is all. Guess he might be right, heh?"

"Giles!"

A low chuckle accompanied by a cheeky grin, and the man slipped out the door, leaving Zechs to glare in his wake, thinking of a dozen ways to wipe the smirk off his face.

With a low sigh the blonde slid to the floor and threw his head back against the wall, wincing at the pain that action ignited. His head ached worse than ever, and his shoulder was beginning to stiffen again, pain now something above the constant ache it had been.

He was going to have to face that problem, and probably in the not so distant future. If he managed to get a call through to Raydon, and the man did respond and was able to help, then there might be a price that would need to be paid. A price Raydon might dictate before he helped. If Raydon demanded, could he pay that price?

//He has too much honor to do that. He… I don't… God. I don't know… if I could… pay… //

He knew the touch of Noin, and he had had a taste of the touch of the Pirate King. His body so vividly recalled that light caress, the touch of lips to his neck, the warmth of his body pressed close. He had accepted Noin's touch. Accepted her kiss. Made love with her and he had children… Yet still he could not banish the memory of that other invitation that had been offered.

A quick tap on the door and Giles slid back into the shed, and froze at the kiss of cold steel to his throat. After a moment the knife was withdrawn and he started to breathe again, meeting blue ice with a chagrined look.

"Sorry. Guess I wait for you to call enter next time." A breathless whisper.

His heart thundered in his breast, but his fingers did not tremble on the hilt of the knife. He was inordinately thankful for that. "No, just whisper something so I can recognize it's you next time. I'm just a little strung out, Giles. I'd hate to knife you by mistake, because my reflexes outstrip my brain."

"Sorry." A shrug. He knew when he trod on thin ice, and this man was approaching breaking point. "I'll remember." It would be best to get quickly back to business, he decided. "Where do we need to go? No one in sight at the moment. I think they were headed for the center of the dome, for that new planting of potatoes. I remember someone saying they think they have that new hybrid ready to try now."

He slipped the knifed back into its sheath. "Either the potato bed, or the far side, where the tomatoes are supposed to be going in this week. We go to the right, when we leave the shed. Bring a shovel."

Zechs took a shovel from the wall and slipped out the door, not waiting to see what the man would do, moving quickly around the building to hug the wall of the dome. When he had made the cache he had had to ensure it would not be discovered by the gardeners when they were relaying, or redesigning the beds, or tending to established plantings. With that in mind he had chosen the location of his cache with great care.

Leaning against the wall of the shed, where the dome surface and the buildings side met, were a group of planting trays on trolleys. Hearing the Raider agent come out of the shed he motioned to him, and began to wheel the trolleys away from the dome wall, arranging them to give some cover to their activities.

Seeing what was needed of him Giles moved to assist. He had been watching the blonde and picked up on the small signs Zechs just could not hide, the tell tale signs of physical exhaustion and pain. He did have some medical training, and he was well aware Merquise needed to rest that shoulder as much as possible. He took it on himself to move the bulk of the trolleys, trying to move as many as possible to keep the blonde from over exerting.

"What now?"

"We dig up the cache." A low mutter as he measured the distance from the shed to the wall, picking the position carefully, hoping to cut down as much work as possible by getting as close to the location as he could.

"I'll dig. You keep watch." Giles offered, scanning the dome, hoping the man would not see through the offer. //Someone really should keep watch.// he reflected. "Just show me where to start."

A moment's consideration saw Zechs motion to a section of the wall and then mark an area of compressed soil. He had needed to bury the cache a fair distance under the surface, and considering the area was not now used for its original purpose he suspected the ground had become quite compacted. He had needed to bury the cache quite deep, and he did not doubt Giles would not thank him for that after a few minutes of digging.

He smiled to himself when he heard Giles curse softly at the first attempt to drive the shovel into the ground. It had been over a year since he had added anything to this cache, and during that time the soil had become just about as hard as rock. He was actually thankful Giles had offered to do the heavy digging, and he slipped away from the area, merging into the shadows of the building, and settling down to keep watch.

The amount of soil they had brought into the dome and treated for use, allowed the cache to remain undiscovered, or so he hoped. They had treated the Martian soil to remove toxic chemicals that would retard, or outright kill, anything that had grown quite happily on Earth. The area where Giles now dug was the original area where they had dumped the treated soil.

Originally the hydroponics dome had grown their food only in nutrient baths, while they had experimented with the soil and the means by which to treat it. The year he and Noin had joined the Terra Formers they had been ready to start the plantings in the safe, and now enriched, Martian loam. The first crop production had exceeded all previous estimates, and slowly the true hydroponics crops had been reduced in favor of soil plantings. It was odd that most of the gardeners here had wanted to get their hands, quite literally, dirty, producing healthy plants from the Martian ground.

He scanned the approaches to the maintenance building and listened carefully, gradually making out the distant sounds of someone laughing. A deep laugh, full of honest amusement. No, trouble as yet had not come to this dome. What should he do about that? He felt he should warn them, but he had limited time and opportunity. He was only too aware of the constraints of time.

Would they believe him? That was another good question, he mused.

He was far from ignorant of what the terra formers thought of him. He was generally thought to be something of a nut case by the bulk of the team. What other reason could possibly explain his actions in attempting to destroy Earth?

There had also been the instances when he had phased out of reality in very public places, when visions of possibilities over took him in the last months. Nothing so violent as the latest of those visions, of course, but enough to add to the rumors that he was mentally disturbed. It might not be so easy for him to convince these people to be wary of their own friends, on the off chance that those friends might not be as friendly as they assumed.

He glanced at Giles to find him grumbling under his breath as he made slow but steady progress in digging his hole. The hole was perhaps a little larger than it needed to be in diameter, but he was aware Giles wanted to dig only one hole, and hoped that this size was sufficient to bring him to the cache, if his directions were a little off centre. It would take time to reach the cache and he only hoped it had remained undisturbed all this time. He did not want to think of the consequences if the cache had been found, and there was no longer a transmitter.

What to do about these terra formers? He would need to convince these people to find safe havens for as long as it took to take out the Sleepers and the agents that he knew.

Just where was safe, anyway? When any of your friends could turn out to be the enemy, where would you consider safe? He could only pray to whatever God might be watching, that his children were with guardians who were not agents of the ESUN.

In trusting those two women, had he given the ESUN just what they had come for?

A wave of vertigo swept over him, threatening to send him to his knees. Clawing, creeping cold threatened to send him sobbing into a heap of useless flesh. No! Not now. He could not allow vision to overcome him. Move, walk, crawl if he had to, but he could not allow himself to succumb to the visions. He could only hope it was not vision revealing he had given his children over to ESUN agents.

He would just have to get them back, if it was later revealed to be so. He would have the time. He had to give the terra formers a chance against the Wellington, and the Sleeper agents could not get off of Mars without the Wellington. That was his saving grace. His chance to ensure his children remained free.

He could not survive another bout of vision and expect to remain functional. Not now. Not here. There was no time. He could only hope it was not true vision that he blocked, and only a possibility that he could avoid becoming reality, without causing more disasters to befall the team. He did not need Giles to see him go down into a screaming heap.

"Got something." A hissed warning.

He pulled himself together, thankful for the interruption. Using it to force vision away, moving slowly at first, taking great care with each move, until he felt the world settle around him. He joined Giles, assisting him in clearing the soil away from the metal box that had been uncovered. It was not an overly large box and it showed little evidence of its time under the ground, other than a heavy layer of dirt which was quickly brushed aside. When they had cleared it sufficiently they hunkered down on either side, lifting it clear of the hole and sliding it to one side.

"So, just what have you got in there?"

"Just a couple of things I thought might come in useful when I had limited access to the facilities of this base." He glanced up from the box, scanning the area around them anxiously.

Giles nodded, crouching closer as Zechs bent to work the lock, which he saw was a combination affair. He rested a hand lightly on the man's back, feeling the tension there, in those broad, strong muscles, and detecting too the tremble the man could not control. When the lid lifted he glanced down then threw himself backwards, scuttling on his butt to put distance between himself and the box.

"Shit!"

"Quiet." A low rumble, amused. "It's nothing to panic about. Just plaited leather strips. What's your problem with that?"

"Well, how was I to know that?" His face flaming with embarrassment he peered over the lid of the case, and down into the box. "It looked for all the world like a snake."

Ice blue eyes lifted from the contents of the box to stare at him in total disbelief. "Oh, come on, Giles. It's been sealed for nearly two years. I think it would be a very dead snake by now, don't you?"

Zechs lifted the coiled leather and secured it to his belt by a loosely tied thong. Should he need to gain the item quickly all he needed to do was give it a quick, sharp tug, and it would be sufficient to free its considerable length for his use. With the whip safely at his side he took a medium sized leather bag and tossed it to Giles, placing a second bag in a pocket of the tool belt he wore.

Giles hefted the bag, thinking it a little light to contain something lethal, and while Zechs rummaged around in the box he pulled the ties on the bag, and gingerly tipped a few of the contents into the palm of his hand.

"Shit." A whisper. "What the hell are these?"

"Caltrops." Came the quiet voice. "Simple, effective way to disrupt a pursuit if you're on foot. Toss them over your shoulder and keep on going."

Giles peered into the bag, noting there had to be at least two dozen of the multi barbed metal items, wincing as one of the barbs caught the flesh of his hand, and he was quick to replace the things in the bag. Each barb was around half an inch long with a hook at the end, sharpened and pointed to boot. If it dug into your skin it would take some fancy knife work to remove. As Zechs had said, simple, but effective.

"Where did you find these?"

"Made them myself. " Zechs responded, securing a belt around his flat middle, loosening the utility belt to ride lower on his hips, to more comfortably accommodate the wide belt. It was a wide leather strip with a series of six metal stars set into the leather. Each star had six points, and the entire ensemble seemed to fit the man in some odd way that Giles could not explain to himself.

"Nice belt." Giles muttered, eying the decoration quizzically. He was gradually learning that Marquise never did anything without a reason, and he had never seen the man wear anything much in the way of personal decoration.

"You don't know the half of it." A low chuckle responded. "Do be careful of the caltrops. They're crafted from Gundanium and are finely honed, so they will dig deep, and with the hooks at the end of the prongs they won't be coming out in a hurry."

"Where did you get the idea for this shit?" He had never heard of the devices before, but he was having no trouble imagining what one or two of these things could do to an unwary foot.

"Caltrops were used a thousand years ago to take down cavalry horses and infantry. A tried and true method I just adapted to my circumstances and borrowed. You never know what you might need, Giles. It pays to learn from the lessons of the past. When I made this equipment I had little free access around the base, and I only had scrap metal to work with."

"And that?" Giles pointed to the coiled leather at Zechs' hip.

"I made that too. It took me a quite a few tries to get it right, but I learned in the end." Softly, as he finished adjusting the belts for comfort and practicality.

"But do you know how to use it? I know enough about them to know it's not easy."

Zechs chuckled, bending down to search in the box again. "Epyon was armed with two weapons, Giles. One was a beam saber. The other was a heat rod. The heat rod was a whip fashioned…" A sigh as he broke off, shaking his head. "Oh, forget it. Yes, I know how to use it. This is what we came for."

He tilted a small com device into his hand from a bag and it was followed by a circle of gold metal, around two inches wide and of sufficient diameter to circle his muscular upper arm. Giles sucked in a breath as he saw the armband, and glanced at the man holding it.

"Raydon gave that to you? It is what I think it is, isn't it?"

"Yes." A whisper, aware that Giles now knew exactly what Raydon would expect from him. "It is his personal locator beacon. It is a transmitter too. When we send off a message the locator beacon will automatically activate. With a few minutes, and the help of that hand com unit, I should be able to rig up a basic transmission that will be enough to tell him what is going on here. The message will need to be brief, but it should do the job well enough."

He watched the blonde begin to work with the com device, and decided it was as good a time to ask as any. While he knew there were ESUN agents in the base, indiscriminately killing the terra formers, he needed to know the entire picture if he was going to be of any real assistance. Raydon would not be pleased with him if he failed his assignment due to inadequate intelligence.

"Just what is going on here, man? I know the ESUN is after you, but as for the rest, I just don't get it. Why are they going around killing us off?"

Crystal blue eyes lifted to study him for a long moment, before lowering back to the exposed wiring of the com device. "Those who are in charge of this entire operation do not want witnesses. You know it is not Raiders who are loose in the base. The agents here feel the situation is out of control, because I did not lie down and allow them to take my children back to Earth with them. That's what it all is about, Giles. Covering up an operation that has gotten out of hand."

"They are going to kill all of us? To cover up what has been going on here? Man, there are more than two thousand of us."

"Considerably more. You forget the new arrivals at the Alpha Dome. They have set charges around the domes, Giles. Here at the Base Dome, and down in the Alpha Dome. The charges were to kill everyone above ground in the decompression at both domes, and make it look as though Raiders had blown their way in."

While he was speaking he was working on the small radio, breaking into the circuitry, and then looking to the armband, finding the connection points he would need to link the two devices. From time to time he would rummage in his utility belt, looking carefully at the fine tools he had collected over the months, some of which he was not supposed to have, considering the line of work he was employed here to perform.

"How many people are we talking about here? How many people have infiltrated the base?"

Patiently Zechs explained the circumstances, eyes scanning the dome occasionally to ensure they were undisturbed. By the time he had finished linking the two devices he had Haydon Giles staring at him is disbelief, mouth working silently for a few minutes, before he could make his voice work.

"A Cruiser? They have called in a cruiser to attack the dome and kill everyone? Jesus. They call the Raiders assholes. We never had a patch on this. No. No, they can't. I mean… I… Jesus, man, what's wrong with them?"

"They are following their orders, Giles. The Raiders just happen to be a most convenient scapegoat. If you say that Raydon has curtailed certain activities for some months now, it is possible some of the raids the media have reported recently, might be an ESUN ploy to assist in the cover up. At best, they get the twins and enough reaction within the Earth Sphere to help secure extra funding to clean up the asteroid belt. All the cost is measured in is a few more than two thousand dead and a severely damaged colony. They can always rebuild."

"How… how do you know this?"

Zechs froze, staring at the circuitry in his hands. How did he know this? Could he tell the man? Could he tell him the truth, that he had seen it in a vision, and that he knew it was going to happen? Or almost certain that it would. Could he tell him that he was desperately trying to avoid that fate for the people, whose only crime was to be on Mars at this time? What did he dare tell Giles? If he had not come to Mars and allowed Noin to get into his bed, none of this would have happened. It was his fault.

Every death could be laid at his feet.

"I had a little chat with one of the agents earlier." He whispered. He could not afford to have Giles doubt him. Not now. He needed the man. "The communications system is down, and will require specialist knowledge to get back on air. This is the only communication device I can reach on short notice, and to be honest, Raydon is the only one I thought might interfere on our behalf. If he does not help, then we all are dead."

"A Mayday call will bring in help." Giles sounded uncertain to his own hearing, and winced at that.

"Not in time. Not enough time. From what Raydon said it would not be more than two to four days before the transmitter signal would be answered, no matter where in the Earth Sphere I was should I activate it. That probably places the Raiders as the closest, and the most likely to survive answering the call." At Giles sharp look he shrugged and returned to his work. "There is the chance the Wellington will take out any ship that approaches Mars if it is not a match for her. Ore Carriers would not stand a chance. Only Raider ships, or Preventer Ships; and not just single ships, but three or more are needed, just to ensure the Wellington is out gunned. If she is out gunned, and there are witnesses, she will leave retreating from Mars, and another cover will be initiated to cover exposed butts. The blame for what happens here will not be permitted to fall on the politicians involved."

"But… The people here will still know."

Zechs sighed, looking up to meet the intense eyes and quietly quashed that hope. "Families can be threatened. It would take only one or two hits to get the point across. I'm not insane, you know Giles. Not really. It is, however, a convenient excuse to have me securely contained in a remote and isolated community. People must not believe that I am sane. If that were so, then some questions would be asked in very elaborately decorated halls. Questions about who was doing what in the One Year War, and during the Barton Incursion. Questions about the activities of those who backed certain actions, and who are uncertain that their covers will hold."

Giles stared at him in silence while he returned to his work, and the Raider turned slowly to keep watch.

"Shit." A whisper, and it was all he could think to say.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson


	59. Chapter 59

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 59

Preventer Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty

Date 1st March AC 198

Time: 22:45 [Bounty Time

Duo

//Well, I have to admit that they are better company than I expected they would be. I'm pleasantly surprised really, at the reception I was given. Still, on a long range ship you have to have people who can work together with a minimum of tension. The command crew have to be able to deal with people from all walks of life.//

Captain Brian Tracey had succeeded in making a favorable impression on him, he reflected, as he allowed the automated unit to whisk him through the hallways of the ship.

The Captain was a slender man, with salt and pepper hair and a scar on his right cheek that lent him a rakish air. He had been an amusing and safely neutral dinner companion. As the guest at the Captain's table Duo had been seated beside the man himself, and within a few minutes had found himself judging the man as trustworthy. It was a surprising judgment, as he rarely found that much favor with anyone so quickly. Living on the streets of L2 ensured you never judged quickly, but you did develop good instincts about people. His instinct said the man was safe. On reflection he mused, he supposed he should have expected that. One did not become the captain of a vessel such as the Bounty without earning the trust and respect of the men who followed him.

//I was even pleasantly surprised by the menu. Real food, not that packet tube stuff you usually get in space. Not for much longer, though, from what was said. Certainly not on a regular basis.//

The mess hall of the Bounty had been under the effect of a light gravity field generated while the gravity system had been undergoing final testing for the flight. That had allowed the crew to enjoy natural food, and a gravity approximating one third of the Earth's. Duo understood that the gravity would be in operation at regular intervals, though only for a few days at a time, as determined by the medical staff of the ship.

The physical and mental health of the crew was constantly watched, and the medical section controlled the gravity generator. Should the staff determine that the physical condition of the staff was in doubt, the generators would go online and gravity would be restored to the ship. This occurred at least twice a month, he had been told by the Captain, for up to three days at a time, allowing the crews bodies to recall just what gravity felt like. It was necessary to physical, as well as mental health, that they be reminded of the natural condition of the human body and its needs.

During the course of the evening Captain Tracey had proven to be an excellent conversationalist who had, surprisingly enough, known a considerable amount about L2. To Duo's surprise the man revealed himself to have be born on L2, though he had been in his teens when his family had moved to Earth. Born into the middle class society of L2, his family had found adapting to a planet to be disconcerting at first. It had not taken them long to realize the benefits on offer however, and they had quickly taken advantage of the offered fields of study that were suddenly open to them.

He had one sister who was a scientist investigating the genetic structure of plants, another who was a medical practitioner now stationed on L2, working with some of the newly established missions there. A brother who was an engineer worked in the asteroid belt, intending to make his fortune quickly, and the Captain himself had initially joined the Alliance military and specialized in space programs that involved exploration of the asteroid belt.

He had missed the bulk of the One Year War as he had been on assignment to the asteroids, and returned only in the last month of the war. Seeing the chaos that had gripped the Earth Sphere he had chosen to make himself scarce and wait out the final confusing weeks. He had chosen to apply to the newly forming Preventers Organization when the war had concluded. Duo found it a novelty that the man had not questioned him on the part he had played in that battle.

// The man should have been a diplomat. He's better than half the diplomats I met at the palace.//

Over the course of the meal Duo had admitted that, yes, rumor was correct and he had indeed been a Gundam Pilot. Yes, he had taken part in the final battle against the Libra and yes, all of the Gundam pilots had fought in that battle. No, he and his companions had not fought under the command of Treize Kushrenada, though they had fought along side his men.

Why had they fought for the leader of Oz when they had opposed that organization all along? Simply because in the end they had considered Kushrenada to be only marginally less of a threat than the White Fang.

He refrained from pointing out it had been a Gundam pilot who had killed Kushrenada, not certain as yet who on board the ship had followed which factions in the war.

He was very much aware that he was out of place on this ship, in their closed community by order of Preventer Earth, and only for a limited time.

What were his views on how the war had ended, and what would he have done had Kushrenada survived and White Fang been defeated? This was hardly the time or place for distinctions of that type to be made, he had responded, aware of the need to tread very carefully. No, thank you, he really preferred to avoid talking about that time, and was there likely to be a problem with any of the crew reacting badly to the knowledge that he was a Gundam pilot?

Duo was no fool. Since the war he had come across just about every possible reaction to a Gundam Pilot being in the known vicinity. The most dangerous of those reactions was one he had encountered all too often. He knew only too well that many people saw the Gundam pilots as nothing more than blood thirsty terrorists, and were angry that they had not been arrested and prosecuted for war crimes.

In his time as the pilot of Deathscythe he had killed so many people that he had long ago lost count, and likely wounded and maimed more than had actually died. If he was going to have any trouble with the crew of this ship then he needed to know in advance, so that he could prepare for the confrontations. He had encountered the surviving kin of the dead before, and some had been known to try to take revenge for the loss of their loved ones.

Duo really preferred not to deal with such scenes, if at all possible, especially as he had a mission to fulfill and he would, if the need demanded it, kill to successfully complete it. He would certainly defend himself and would not likely pull any punches out of sorrow, or pity, for anyone unwilling to deal with the cold realities of life. For the sake of everyone on board that would have to be understood.

Yes, he had been a Gundam Pilot.

Yes, he had killed in that role.

Yes, he did experience regret and sorrow over the lives lost at his hands, and at the lives lost over the war in general.

Yes, he had had sessions with a Shrink to deal with his own personal stress after the war, and yes, the Preventer psychologists had cleared him for his working role in the organization as a field agent.

Yes, if he felt the need was there, he was quite willing to kill again and yes, he was licensed by the Preventers to do so.

With the bulk of the officers concerns aired, Duo had no hesitation in voicing the question that was of paramount importance to himself. Was the Captain concerned that any of his crew might take exception to his presence on the ship, because if that was so, could the person be assigned well away from any area Duo was likely going to need to frequent.

By the time dinner concluded he had been assured by the Captain and his Executive Officers that the crew were professionals and had needed to deal with these hostilities in the past. The crew of the Bounty was a mix of Oz, Alliance, Treize Faction soldiers and White Fang rebels. He was assured that each member of the crew had learned early in the days after the war to put the past behind them. The war was over, and any contention that might spring up over long ago factions had to be handled off the ship, when they returned from their missions. The crews of the long haul ships had to guard their

sanity and emotions carefully.

//Still, I think I will not be relaxing my guard soon. Not until I have met everyone on this crew and made my own judgments. A year is a long time to be away from Earth or the Colonies, and tensions must get out of hand on board. Until I see how they handle those situations, I'll not be turning my back on anyone.//

All in all, dinner had been enjoyable. More so than he had expected, in actual fact. A street kid from L2 he had come a long way, when he thought about it. From eating out of garbage cans to eating at the Captain's table today, and a few days ago eating at the Sanc Palace. He scrunched his nose at that type of thought, unwilling to go there. He believed you could change any circumstances if you simply put enough effort into it. If he had not thumbed his nose at the odds repeatedly, then Duo Maxwell would not have survived to become the pilot of Deathscythe.

He had been warned prior to leaving the mess hall that the gravity test would conclude before he could reach his assigned quarters and to beware the change. It had not taken him by surprise when it had come, and he wondered when someone would realize that he was no stranger to space. In his short life he had traveled extensively, both on planet and in space, and he had had little difficulty in adapting to the respective environments.

He left the travel belt, his magnetic soled boots firmly anchoring him to the deck, and strolled in the direction of his quarters. He was very much aware of the ensign who walked at his side, and who had been assigned to be his guide for the next few days, until he became familiar with the design of the ship. A quiet, almost shy young man, who was almost his own age, only a few months older.

Peter Kerr was a chatty boy when you got past that initial shyness, Duo had discovered, and he rather liked the man, finding him easy to deal with. Kerr had not been in the military and witnessed the cruelties of war. Graduating after the wars had been concluded he was one of the first batch of young officers trained in peace time to enter Preventers.

He had proven to be surprisingly understanding of the needs of the crew around him the Captain had informed Duo in an aside during dinner. For all that he was roughly the same age as Duo, the ex Gundam Pilot found him to be rather innocent. Years separated them, not in age, but in experience. The Bounty was Kerr's first assignment, and Duo determined to keep an eye on the ensign, well aware that the higher ranked officers of the ship were intending to do the same.

Though they were essentially the same age Duo had seen more life and death in his short years than many men five times his age, and he rather liked the innocence he saw in the ensign. He did not think for an instant that this was a ship full of angels, who smiled at each other and kissed each others cheeks on a daily basis. Human nature just would not allow for that. His eyes were open to the goings on that would certainly not be angelic, and he would be wary, both for his own good, and for the good of the innocence he saw in Kerr's sea green eyes.

"Your quarters, Sir. Is there anything else I can do for you this evening?"

Duo smiled amiably, shaking his head as he keyed open his quarters and slipped inside. "No thanks. I'll be right for tonight."

"I respectfully remind you, Sir, of the scheduled acceleration burn at 00:30 hours, Sir. You will need to have all items secured and yourself strapped to your bunk. It is preferable if you are flat to the bed, too, Sir. Four g's can hurt if you are bent anywhere, or have any items in hand. If you become nauseas try to turn your head to the side so as not to soil the bags. Some people do not deal well with the pressure and then switching back suddenly to zero g."

// He sounds like a hostess on an airliner.// Duo thought, amused. "I'll be sure to have everything secured. Thank you for your help, Ensign."

"Sir." A snappy salute, a nod and the ensign turned smartly, allowed one hand to push himself off the wall and he floated off down the corridor on the inertia of the push.

Duo smiled, shook his head slightly and thumbed the door closed, being sure to initiate the privacy lock down. He had a little time to sort himself out before he had to tie himself to that thing they called a bunk. He snagged the socks that floated randomly about the cabin, stuffing them into his tote bag and pulled out the laptop computer he had in the bag. After a few minutes he had the computer clamped down to the desk and recharging off the ships power, logged himself on line and accessed the ships satellite communications systems. He had time enough to check his email before he had to secure everything for the acceleration burn.

He broke into a beaming smile at the email that was waiting for him listed as originating from L2. Hilde had sent him a scanned image of Aidan and he sighed softly as he lightly touched the screen, caressing the chubby cheek of the baby. A flashing moment of regret pierced through his carefully wrought defenses.

He had not really been given a chance to know his son. He might very well be gone from the hub of the Earth Sphere for a whole year. A year in which he would know there was a little boy growing up who did not know his father's touch.

It was not good, not good at all, but he had made his choice in what career he wanted when he had split with Hilde. He had reaffirmed that choice again when he had accepted the assignment to find Zechs Merquise on Mars and deal with whatever was, or had, happened there. If Hilde would continue to send him pictures and progress reports on Aidan's development, then at least he could watch his son grow in some fashion. He had to trust her to keep his boy safe.

With a quite sigh he sent a response quickly to Hilde, thanking her and then sent the formal protocols, as per Preventer instructions, to say that he had arrived and was undertaking the mission he had been assigned to. That taken care of he slipped a small device onto the laptop, a device that Heero had taken great pains to produce in secret some months before. Heero ultimately intended to pass the device along to Lady Une, for the Preventers to use, but he felt it needed field testing, so he had passed it along to his fellow pilots for a trial period before he revealed it for general use.

Duo had used it on a few previous occasions and was quite pleased with it. It enabled the pilots to generally have about the most secure conversation anyone was ever likely to have over open air waves. It isolated select air waves and set up interference that disrupted the fields. Only if you had another of these devices could you cancel out the interference and see, hear or read the exchanged messages. It was not just a jamming device, but was far more sophisticated than that simple device, that had been used in varied forms for the last couple of centuries.

Unless Heero had come up with an alternative means of secured communication between them, this device would be his secured link to the Sanc palace. Activating the unit he personally chose to call a 'disruptor' he glanced at the computer screen and smiled. Yes, there was an email there that had not appeared before. He settled before the desk, glanced at the clock, mentally telling it not to track time so fast, and opened the email.

//Let's see. Hmm, you don't sound too happy I took off the way I did, Heero. Can't say I'm exactly thrilled about it myself, but hey, it's my job. Okay, what do we have here, hmm? Trouble at the garden party that involved… K5? As in the assassins, K5? Wu Fei is in charge of the investigation. Well, I suppose that's understandable. Preventer Earth often uses him for this type of investigation. Quatre was there… Wait a minute, something is off here. Your not giving me any more than that…// He typed furiously on the keyboard and studied the message that appeared, surprised to say the least. // Ah, of course. Type confirmation code. Heero, you are so paranoid. Now wait a minute… Here we go. That's much better. Now let's… Quatre showed up at the garden party. Well of course he would, he was on the invite list, same as Relena. I was actually hoping to have a word with him before I was assigned to chase up trouble on Mars.//

Duo glanced quickly at the clock and grunted at the passage of time it displayed. He had a little time yet. His eyes turned back to the screen and he read the brief account of the garden party and the assassination attempt on the L3 representative. Apparently while he had been injured, he was not dead, so the Preventers were on guard against a second attempt. All pretty standard, he reflected and read on. He began to frown, however, when Heero informed him that he was intending to confide in Quatre about the Romefeller investigation they were holding. Not just informing him about the file they had cracked on the Gundam pilots, Duo noted, but informing him of the entire investigation.

//Ah, Heero. Are you sure? I'm not too sure that that, is a good idea, but you probably have already done it. God, I hope that's not a mistake. It's not that I don't trust Quatre, but… Damn. Just be careful, Heero. Something is very wrong in all of this. There's just something about it all that worries me. I'll need to get into those files I have with me as soon as possible, and find out what they were aiming to produce, with all their controlled bloodlines and then genetic alterations. I'm missing so much information and it has to be in those files. I need to crack their code.//

Another glance at the clock and he grunted, aware he had pushed the time limits as much as he could. He packed up the computer, stowing it securely in one of those disappearing cupboards near his bed. Stripping to his boxers, he stuffed his clothing into another cupboard, carefully stowing his steel capped magnetic soled space boots securely, wanting those to be secured against heavy g forces. If they came loose and cannoned into anything, especially him, during the burn, he was likely to be hurt severely. Glancing around the cabin he was careful to make certain he had missed nothing that could possibly move under pressure.

Satisfied that everything was in its proper place he pushed off gently and floated into the bunk, which consisted of a horizontal area with webbing separating it from a storage cupboard below it. He stripped off the top layer of webbing, unrolling the sleeping bag like hammock and carefully fitted himself into its warmth. Wiggling carefully so as not to rocket himself into the air with the rebound forces of zero g, he pulled the safety webbing over the sleeping bag, spreading it carefully so that no single area was any tighter that another. He had no intention of being bruised or cut by webbing becoming a weapon under the forces of high acceleration.

It brought back memories. This would not be his first experience with long distant flight and acceleration forces in space. When he had been on the Sweeper Family ship he had learned all about such forces, and while most of those ships now were installed with gravity generators for pretty much the entire Sweepers fleet, he had had bruises and bumps enough to know what not to do.

Stretching out he considered the ceiling and determined he would have to do something to make it a little more interesting than it was. Staring at that would get boring during long nights on board ship.

//Ah, well. Almost time. Damn, that ceiling has to be changed. I'll go loopy staring at what… six… seven… eight… ten rivets on a khaki colour scheme. Yuck. Ahh, what am I doing? It's so bloody far away and everything that has ever meant anything to me is here. // He sighed, closing his eyes against the sight of the drab ceiling. //Mars, here I come. I wonder what is happening up there? Or is it OUT there now? Heero never listed any news about what has happened since I left, but I'm not surprised about that. There would be no hurry to take the children into custody. They would have to wait for the shuttle to be checked thoroughly… Wait a minute. What was it I was told once? I remember when I was on the Family Ship. I was in the medical center and there were babies there. I remember I was asking all sorts of questions. Babies… babies… Something about… Yes! Babies were not allowed to be in zero g, they had to be in the medical center. Why? Something about not forming bones and muscles properly, and mixing up organs and the like. No, that's not right. Anyway, I know it was not considered a good idea in general to have babies in space. They had to be on the few ships that were gravity capable. That means… that means the ESUN agents are not going to bring them to Earth on that shuttle. They have to come by a big ship. Damn. I wonder if Lady Une has thought of that?//

"Attention. Attention. Acceleration burn in two minutes. Repeat. All hands secure for acceleration burn in two minutes.//

//Too late for me to do anything about it now. I will just have to send off a message to Heero later. Maybe run a check of all ships within a week's flight of Mars, not that the ship has to be a registered vessel. The ESUN seem to have bent just about every rule in the book so far, so why not send up an unscheduled ship? Yeah, that's possible, but they can't have too many big ships it would be safe to put babies on. Big ships are rather noticeable. Ah, shit. Here we go. Times up. No going back now.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	60. Chapter 60

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 60

Sanc

Sanc Palace

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 22:05

Heero

Heero watched the scrolling information on the screen and after a few minutes nodded slightly. Blue eyes almost glowed with the intensity focused on the data displayed.

//Yes.//

Yes, he had isolated the programming that caused the delay on the emergency services satellite as no doubt, Lady Une's operatives would also have done about now. The Preventers employed some top hackers and he had checked them out himself, so he knew just how capable they were. Two or three of them might even be better than he himself, he acknowledged. While they might very well have equal computing skills, he personally thought they were perhaps lacking in his own broader range of experience, and perhaps in incentive to use those skills.

Regardless of skill levels and experience, they were more than capable of finding the evidence that he had found concerning the tampering with the Dakkar III system. The evidence was there to be found when you knew where to look. It was there, and it showed that the relay system was not only tampered with, but had also recently been accessed by multiple non authorized contacts. He assumed the access was most likely to be by the Preventer investigators, but he was not such a fool as to believe there were not others capable of realizing something was wrong with the system and had the means, and experience, to check.

He had also found evidence of a number of messages passing through the Dakkar system, most of which were hit by the programmed delay in the system, but not all of them. One message that drew his attention had been placed on delay, not affected by the general delay, but programmed from the source to be sent on general broadcast from the coding, at a set time. The source from whence it originated alerted him that it might bare further investigation. There were two messages in particular that tweaked his curiosity.

"There is a delay on the satellite, Quatre. I've isolated a message in the relay that appears to have originated on Mars. It does not have a call coding that I recognize, so I doubt it is a Preventer trying to report from Mars."

Quatre glanced up from his own laptop where he had been studying Trowa's records. He was rather surprised by the information contained within the file, but he knew that this information was secondary in importance to the possible disasters happening on Mars. Just what was happening there that could affect the ESUN held frightening potential.

He wondered briefly what he would do if it was himself trapped on Mars, a new parent, isolated and basically alone, with agents out to kidnap his children. It was not a thought he enjoyed contemplating. He was very much afraid that rather a lot of people would end up dying around him. Nor did he doubt for an instant that the death toll was indeed mounting out there, on that barren world.

"Coded?"

Heero was busy at the keyboard, working on accessing the message that so intrigued him, frown deepening the longer he typed. "Of course. I think… Yes." A final flurry of fingers over the keyboard and he glanced up quickly. "Yes, it's an ESUN security code, but it's new. One I've not seen used before, but considering the coding used and the manner it is written in, it has to be ESUN in origin. A new code, active and operative at level seven security."

Quatre pursed his lips in a silent whistle. Level seven was only used to define a possible threat of a level that posed danger to the entire Earth Sphere. Yes, he supposed on reflection, they would be inclined to consider anything to do with Merquise as a threat of that level. Even confined to that lump of red rock Zechs was not helpless, as evidenced by that message he had received from the man. If it was authentic, of course, and he was inclined to think that it was. Yet that begged the question of how had Marquise known?

"How long before you can decode it?"

Heero actually chuckled, reflecting that Quatre had not asked if he could decode it, but when. He frowned, peering intently at the screen, one finger lightly tapping just off the keyboard, considering the complexities of the coding displayed before him.

"Not so long, I think, as they would like it to take. There's… something odd. Not so much about this ESUN coding, but about the traffic on the satellite system itself." A flurry of typing ensued and he frowned at the results. "This looks like… Someone is running test messages through the system, Quatre. I've picked up indications of three instances of access into the system by non authorized codes. Possibly as many as five, but I need time to check out some of these. That's not counting my own entry, of course. The Dakkar network may be the emergency services communications system, but from what I can make out so far, an awful lot of people seem to be using it fairly freely. I've initiated a program to copy the last few months of traffic through the system, but that is for later investigation. Just now I think some of these users are rather upset, and running test messages through the system."

Something caught his eye and he fairly attacked the keyboard, eyes almost glowing with the challenge. " Now, what are you? Not the new ESUN code, but a complex one regardless. From the records… Hn. Sent after the other message that I am sure is ESUN Security. It was… Hn…That is a quick, hard contact… Has to have been sent from a high pulse beam com device."

Quatre arched an eyebrow. "You have to have a special transceiver to receive one of those. Someone has some nice toys to play with if they are using high pulse beam messaging. Still, why would they… if they sent that via the Dakkar system, it would not increase the transmission speed by any appreciable amount. How long before you can decoded it?"

"A couple of minutes, if I'm lucky. I've got it working through the decoder, along with the confirmed ESUN message. It's very complex coding. Hmmm. Three, four… five messages had been fired through in quick succession soon after the high beam pulse hit the system. Ahh. Interesting." His fingers flew over the keyboard.

"These five messages I have isolated are all on either high frequency bands, or on high impulse beams. Messages, I might add, that are not affected by the delay on the satellite. Someone is good, Quatre. Very good, and has some interesting toys to get around the protocols I am discovering on this system. I can't locate the source of origin yet, but I will. Just a little time to chase it down and we will know. Other than that first one, these others definitely do not originate from Mars."

"Someone who is not ESUN." Quatre mused. "I wonder."

"Quatre?'" Heero looked up from the screen, focusing on him. "What is it?"

He rose, stretching high, glancing at the clock and winced. It was going to be a long night and with a small sigh he banished the thought that he wished Trowa was here for him. He felt a strong need to be held by his lover just now, and a growing sense that things were going to be taking a downward spiral very soon now. Not since the war and their trial separation had he so keenly felt the absence of his emerald-eyed beloved.

He knew only too well that his days as chairman of Winner Enterprises were numbered, and he still had so much to do before he stepped down. There were so many things he needed to do before he felt secure enough for he and Trowa to be together, and safe from his families interference. He had made careful investments and arrangements, and discussed each stage of this operation with Trowa before embarking on the plan. It was unfortunate, and unavoidable, that at this stage so many of the arrangements must be carried out without the emotional support only Trowa could give him. The end result would be well worth it.

//I may be a sinner, as they take every opportunity to tell me, but I am not a stupid sinner. I honestly do not see why my love for Trowa is wrong. Homosexuality is accepted now, everywhere but on L4, it seems. I know if they can confirm our relationship I will be flogged and …// He sighed, shaking his head. //Honestly, Quatre. Get over it. This is neither the time, nor the place, for these thoughts. There are far more important things to do.//

"Quatre?"

He settled on the chair nearest to Heero's perch on the couch, and made himself comfortable. From here he could see the onscreen activity on the laptop. The satellite receiver was propped up on the back rest of the couch, a cable connecting it to the lap top. Quatre knew Heero had made a point to hone his computer skills after the war, and if anything he was more efficient now than he had been when he had piloted Wing. He was confident that it would not take long to start cracking the coded messages.

"As the chairman of Winner Enterprises, I need to give consideration to future business dealings along a wide band of activities. I know that Merquise was sent to Mars basically to keep him imprisoned. At least controlled and isolated from the general population of the Earth Sphere. That may not have been Relena's intention, but I am certain it featured in Lady Une's plans. She never liked Zechs. It certainly would have been the intention of those in the ESUN government who knew that he was alive."

"Relena did not intend it to be a prison." Heero responded.

"Regardless, it worked in the favor of the ESUN Security Council. Zechs was quietly placed in an easily controlled environment. In six months or so from now, the Mars Colony was going to be opened up for general colonization. The easily controlled environment was going to be compromised. They would have needed to do something before it became generally known he was there. What I am getting at, Heero, is that there is a plan underway by Winner Enterprises to set two agents on Mars within three months, to check out the prospects for future business activities on Mars. Winner Enterprises is not the only conglomerate that will have devised such a plan. Because we suffered so much from the wars we actually are late in formulating this plan. It is very likely that there may already be agents for other business concerns working on Mars. The presence of Zechs Merquise may not be so much a secret as the ESUN would like it to be."

Heero considered Quatre for a long moment, and then his fingers played over the keyboard, bringing up another window. "This is the message from Mars, not the high beam impulse, but the one before it. I'd say from the looks of the coding that it was intended for a general broadcast. This…" The screen flicked madly for a moment. "Now what was that? Damn." His fingers flew over the keyboard. "That had to be a high intensity pulse message on full boost, Quatre. It was automatically shunted through the relay, too, not affected at all by the delay on the satellite."

"Then it had to have a priority code to get that type of clearance. What… "

Heero swore as the screen flickered and died. For a long moment he stared at the blank screen and then attacked the keyboard. It was a long few minutes of furious keyboard activity before he admitted that no amount of effort on his part would again raise contact with the Dakkar III satellite, or any of the satellites in the emergency services system. It was a bitter pill to swallow that he needed to admit defeat, but it was a waste of time, he knew, to continue. For a long moment he stared at the screen before typing in the load command to display the saved messages.

"Heero? What was that?" Quatre's voice was keyed low, soft and worried.

He sighed and shrugged. "Someone has to be aware that the satellite is compromised. Or at least was likely to be compromised by now. The signal that boosted through seemed to act as a trigger, and the result is the shut down of the entire Dakkar III relay system. That's the only thing that makes sense of what just happened."

Quatre sat back and contemplated the ornate plasterwork of the ceiling. He could well believe that somewhere in a room somewhere, likely on Earth, a very smug little nobody, who thought they were somebody, was gloating about the shut down. For what purpose had it been done? The system was used as the main communications array for Preventers and the Mining Security services, as well as the ESUN patrol fleet. That in itself was answer enough. Everyone was now very effectively isolated. Communications were slowed, as if, he mused, a three hour delay had not been enough.

"They have shut down the entire satellite system? Damn. Une is going to be pissed. Did you catch where it originated from?"

"Mars." Heero almost whispered.

00000000000000000000000000000

New Port City

Preventer Headquarters

Time: 22:14

Lady Une

Une scowled at the windows, glaring at the lights of the city. She was well aware of Sally settling into the chair behind the desk, and wondered if this night would ever end.

"Of course it will end." Sally smiled, stretching. "Whether it ends to our satisfaction or not is another matter entirely."

Une winced. She had not intended to voice that question, merely muse on the thought of the pleasures of a warm bed and a decent night's sleep. It had been a long day, and the prospect of an endless night was not sitting too well with her.

//Trust that bloody blonde to give me even more sleepless nights. I knew I should have taken action sooner, but the fact remains that I just had no where I could consider isolated enough to keep him confined.//

"Anne? Penny for your thoughts?" Sally leaned forward in her seat, blue eyes intense.

"It does not matter. Nothing important."

//If she knew what I had been thinking she would probably end up psychoanalyzing why I want to lock him up, and throw away the key. It's not his fault, I suppose, but I am heartily fed up with that Peacecraft. He causes trouble just by being who he is.//

The com line beeped and she sighed. Perhaps news, finally.

"Yes?"

"Ma'am. The Dakkar Emergency Satellite System has shut down. No contact can be established with any of the satellites in the network."

00000000000000000000000000000000000

Sanc Palace

Time: 22:17

Heero

"I would imagine Lady Une would be unamused." Heero returned, for a fleeting moment amusement lighted his eyes, before the seriousness of the situation closed in on him. "I'm going to set the computer to generally monitor the airways. We may pick up something of interest. There will certainly be an increase in official communication while the systems are down, as the various organizations start to run… That's odd."

Heero leaned back, frowning as the laptop issued a long, drawn out beep. It took Quatre a moment to recognize it as the emergency services general emergency alert. The speakers of the laptop distorted the tone almost beyond recognition, yet the Dakkar system was inoperative.

The lap top blinked, static filling the screen. Slowly a picture steadily emerged from the static. A picture of a woman in dirty, blood stained coveralls, blood smeared over her face.

Wild red hair was pushed aside from a face that had a classical beauty, and fear filled green eyes stared in panic at them.

"Mayday! Mayday! Help us. This is Mars Base Dome. The Raiders… oh, God… The Raiders are here! They're killing everybody. Help us…"

Quatre sucked in a deep breath, leaning back from the computer as though he expected it to bite him. The screen now showed a static field and the speakers hissed and fell silent. The message struck alarm bells in his head, not for its content, but for what it implied when viewed with the other information he had available to him. He glanced at Heero noting the frown, before looking to the screen again. Had Heero worked out the same scenario as he had? They both had the same information available to them. Had they come up with the same result?

"Can you call up the files on Mars personnel? Positively identify her?" Quatre queried.

"I don't have to." Heero whispered, and looked at Quatre. His blue eyes now held a deadly serious gleam. "She was included in the information that Lady Une passed to me. That was Shanna McIntyre, an engineer and terra former with the Mars Colony Project. She is also a Sleeper Agent for the ESUN. In fact, she has been confirmed to be the Commander of the agents known to be on Mars at this time."

Quatre leaned back into his seat and considered the screen and the information that Heero had provided him, adding up the information and not liking what he continually concluded. He was not a Preventer, merely a private citizen. Occasionally he would work in conjunction with the Preventers, but that was a rare occasion. Trowa was the Preventer agent, not him. Yet for all his civilian status he was also an ex gundam pilot, and had a huge information network at his finger tips in the Winner Corporation. He was very much abreast of the political events of the times, and Trowa kept him informed of what he needed to know about the other pilots who worked with Preventers.

//Trowa. Oh, Allah. I wish you were here now. This is so not good.//

Heero had briefed him fairly thoroughly concerning the matter of Mars, information that would not severely compromise the security of Preventers, but which he needed to know to fully appreciate the mystery of the Romefeller files, the link that presented to Zechs Merquise and...

This latest piece of information filled in a few holes. A Master strategist, he processed the information quickly and efficiently, coming once again to the same conclusions that he really did not want to contemplate.

"Let me guess. That mayday was broadcast on every radio frequency used in the Earth Sphere?"

"Yes." Heero responded. "More than that though, it was broadcast on an ultra high frequency beam. Instead of taking twenty to thirty minutes to cross the distance between the relay system and Earth, it took maybe five to seven minutes. That's... revolutionary. I expect to have Lady Une call shortly."

Quatre pursed his lips, assimilating this latest information and shook his head slowly. "Oh dear. Not good."

"Summary?" Heero turned to him, waiting expectantly. He had formed his own theory and he only hoped that Quatre had not come to the same conclusion.

"It's a cover up. Things have gone very wrong for the planned operation taking place on Mars. So wrong, that it has been deemed necessary by those agents who are still active, to effect a cover operation. The cover will clear any involved parties in the government and high positions in the military, and possibly business concerns, of any involvement with the mission. The cover operation will likely mean the total elimination of the Mars Colony personnel." Quatre met Heero's intense blue gaze. "They will kill everyone on Mars so that no one can prove who was actually involved in the attack."

"More than two thousand people." Heero whispered

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	61. Chapter 61

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 61

Rosemount Station

Asteroid Belt Orbit, sector 5

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 22:00

Rose Errant P.O.V.

It has been a long time since I felt the kiss of the wind on my cheek. Or the caress of rain on my face and the warmth of the sun on my shoulders. It has been a very long time since I have had the pleasure of listening to the song of my birds fill the air. It has been too long since I had the pleasure of gazing upon the beauty of my lady.

How I have wronged her. How many nights I longed to ask her to stay with me, and did not. How many days did I wish to ask her to be more to me than the most efficient of assistants? How many days I wished I could ask her to walk with me through a rose garden, and talk to me of things other than the deployment of mobile suits; and what bases the Gundams had attacked during the night.

I would have liked to talk to her about balmy summer days. About lying naked in a field and just existing in the warmth, and letting the breeze caress us with more than a lover's touch. I would have liked to tell her she was beautiful. More beautiful than the roses that graced my garden. She shone more brightly in my eyes than the sun, and I dared not tell her that I loved her.

The Lady and I never had a chance. Not really. I deeply regret it could not be in those days of madness and mayhem.

I was too focused on my plan.

I needed to be focused on the plan. She was forgiving of my faults and focused on aiding me to achieve the peace all the world so desperately needed. I longed to turn to her… I should have turned to her for more than her efficiency. I should have turned to her for the comfort, and for the warmth, that I know she wanted to give to me. I so desperately wished to give such comfort to her.

She knew I loved her. I pray that it is so, that she knew I felt for her and that I would take her for my own when it was all done. But time ran out for us. I needed to focus on the needs of the world before I could focus on what might lie between us. What would lie between us if we could only bring the world at long last out of chaos and into peace.

We had the chance to create that peace.

I am a fool.

A poor, desperate fool, who viewed the big picture and ignored the fundamental truth. What use is peace if there is no one to live it with?

What use is peace if there is no one who sees peace as you see it? What use is peace if there is no one to hold you as you lie in the sun in a meadow of spring grass, butter cups lightly scenting the air, their golden beauty framing her brown hair? What use is peace if you deny the one you wish to share it with?

I wish I could leave this room.

I wish I could leave this room and fly to Earth and find a spring meadow full of golden flowers, and I wish I could walk there with her. I would tell her how I feel. I would tell her this time. I have learned not to put off love. I have learned not to save it for later.

Later might never come.

We were fools. Such fools. Life loses meaning without love. I have learned that lesson. Now. My hope for our future together ended in that fight over Earth …

I'm sorry, my friend. I forced you into that position. I gave you no choice. My hawk. I tugged free your jesses and cast you out into the world. I had to, Milliardo.

Forgive me.

You were hiding. You were refusing to be who you were born to be. You were not in truth the man known as Zechs Merquise. That is not who you were born to be. That is not who you were meant to be.

You were born to be Milliardo Peacecraft. You were born to be the Prince of Sanc... and it was stolen away from you. That life was stolen from you one snow laden night, and you were reborn in fire and ice. You did not die then, my friend. It was not your time. Nor did you die in Space. That, too, was not your time.

You have been forced to be who you are not for so many years, that you had forgotten who you truly were, and I had no choice. You could not remain Zechs Merquise forever.

Had I known Relena was alive sooner I would have arranged for you to be posted near to her. I know had you been near her you would not have been able to resist getting to know her. Somehow you would have managed, despite Darlian. Had I done so, what would have happened? You would not have told her who you were, I know that, but she might have seen you as a friend.

Ah, but Darlian would not have allowed you near her, would he? I cannot forget about the Senator. I should never forget about him, should I? Yes, he would have known you at a glance, and he might well have panicked. If he panicked would the worst have happened? The great advocate for peace was not so free of bloodstains as the world believes. He had much to atone for. Had I known and posted you near to her, it might well have placed you in greater danger. Yet at the very least it would have given you the comfort of seeing her from a distance. It would have given you the opportunity to speak with Pagan once again.

I should have had him killed earlier.

I am sorry, my friend.

What are we to do now? I need you here. There is nowhere in the Earth Sphere that is safe for either of us now. I could not bare to use Epyon. I tried. I did try, but it … Epyon was not intended for me. I was lacking in what it needed. I was found wanting by the system, and Yuy, too, was found to be unsuitable. But you … You had what was needed, and you had the courage and the strength to make the choice.

I am sorry that I could not warn you.

I warned Yuy, but did he warn you, as I had him? Did he tell you what I told him of the system? I should have tried to contact you and explain about the suit. You should not have had to learn it without the grace of any forewarning. You should not have had to bare the visions alone, without aid.

I am so sorry you were alone.

I wonder if it was a relief to you when the suit was destroyed? If it was destroyed. Yes. Yes, you would have destroyed it after the Libra. What was left of it, which surely would not have been much. I saw enough of the future when I used it, to know how strong I must make it to ensure that you would survive. I am sorry, my friend, that I could not be there for you. They said you were dead when I was coherent enough to understand what they were saying to me.

Month's dead.

I thought that I had failed you. I thought you were dead and that I would be maimed for life. I did not believe them when they said I would fully heal, though it would take time. I believe them now, of course. How could I not? Once I thought I would never breathe without pain. Or move so much as a finger without the most …

I grow stronger each day. I can walk again. I can breathe without pain. I can even start to build up my body now. I will be restored to the vigor I once enjoyed. I only need patience. I cannot help but see the improvements each day. My blood count is almost normal, and maintaining those levels now. I can do so many things that I once thought would be forever beyond me. It has been a hard road, but they were right.

I suppose that I have Romefeller to thank for my recovery. I wonder just how much they knew about me? I wonder if they knew about that effect of their tampering? God. What have they done? How many have they manipulated? What exactly is it they have done to us? Zechs. Lady. Myself. Noin too. Dorothy. So many others. I have found the records of the Gundam pilots, and though not all of them are genetically modified … Yuy was intended for space exploration, and he may well wish to pursue that when he is given the option. We shall see.

There are so many children. So many in those laboratories hidden on Earth, and throughout the colonies. So many people who have been genetically altered. So many different alterations made. We do not belong here. We do not belong here, in the Earth Sphere. We are tools. Toys even. We are not their possessions and they will learn it. Eventually.

We need a place of our own.

A place to call home.

Freaks.

Horrible, horrible word; but a word that will be used if the truth of the Romefeller Organization should be revealed to the general public. Yuy was not intended to be the Perfect Soldier. He was used by others to become that, when he should have been here, on Rosemount. He should have been here, training to explore beyond our solar system. Those children we rescue from the laboratories were created to be the perfect soldiers, but that must not be permitted. We are done with war. I will not allow Romefeller to bring back the conflict. If Yuy could be trained to be a soldier, then they can be trained to become explorers.

Romefeller.

That name should be the biggest curse word in history.

The lives they have disrupted. The murders they have committed. The massacre. The manipulation of lives, bodies and the very world itself. They change the course of history if it does not suit their dynastic ideals. They were intended to be guides. They lost the true goal hundreds of years ago. They lost the honesty and the purity, and they became something dark and dirty. We are nothing but toys to them.

But this toy has teeth.

And a will of his own.

And now I have friends who, like me, will no longer be ruled by their machinations. We have a destiny, and it is not the same goal as Romefeller sought. Our destiny will take us away from them and their manipulations.

We will be free.

What will face us out there? So much that is unknown. So many things could go wrong, and the truth is we can not even begin until we have every one onboard. We cannot begin without you, my friend.

Will you come?

When we call, will you come to us?

What is there for you within the Earth Sphere? Who there can understand what Epyon did to you? Who there can offer you true comfort, and the chance to move beyond the horrors of the system? Milliardo, you belong here, where we can help you to deal with what that system forced on you. It was not kind, the Epyon. It had no concept of pain. It had no true intelligence … No, not true. It was intelligent. It was aware, but it was not human, and it could not know a human's limitations.

Epyon was not kind.

Epyon had no idea of the concept of emotions, or physical pain. Epyon was a machine. A very special machine, but just that. A machine.

Zechs … You were the one it found to merge with. You were the one it needed to fulfill its function. What did it show you? What did it show you beyond the end of the Libra? Ah, Zechs. I am sorry.

I have to stop calling you that. You have to acknowledge who you are, and that means acknowledging who you were born to be. Milliardo Peacecraft. Prince of Sanc. What would the world … what would you be like today, if Sanc had not fallen? You would be very different to the man I knew, who grew up from that scarred and lonely boy. What ifs, in hindsight. Bad, Kushrenada.

How did the Libra change you, my friend?

Wrong question, Kushrenada.

I should be asking how much Epyon changed you.

It changed us all.

Not just those of us who used it have been changed by it. The entire Earth Sphere was changed because of that device. Whatever comes in the future was shaped by the Epyon and by you. Your perceptions, focused through the system. They tell me it is believed by those in power that I copied the Zero system.

Fools. Such fools. Still, I suppose they would not really have any idea of what Epyon truly was. It most certainly was not an attempt at the perfect weapon.

It was not a weapon at all.

I told that to Yuy. Did he not believe me?

It changed the world. It made peace possible. But not the Epyon alone. It could not do anything alone. Epyon only made it possible to bring about the required circumstances for peace to be brought into effect.

They have to grow up.

For the next stage to happen, they have to grow out of their petty ideals, and greedy grabbing of powers strings. The Earth Sphere needs to grow up, and into this peace. Not grow out of it. It is time for humanity to mature, and to look around and to see the truth.

All I need do is look at that crystal and I take a virtual tour of the Rosemount, and I can see the vision. I can see it so clearly. I want to touch the crystal, but they will not allow that. I want to touch the crystal and allow everything to become so much clearer. They are right to hold me back. I cannot touch the crystal until I am healed. Until I have had the chance to build up strength. It would kill me at this stage of my healing.

Soon. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am healing. It will happen.

What will I do if the Lady will not come?

God. It does not bare thinking about.

The truth is that Rosemount will function very well without her, but I … I need her. I want her to be a part of this dream. I want her to come here and walk the halls of Rosemount, and to see what I see. Not just these walls, but the future.

I want her to come with me.

What about my daughter?

I did not know Leia was pregnant. I did not know that I had a child. Barton. Was it all his doing? The secrecy. The scheming. All so that he could gain power. Did he not have enough already? Well, no, obviously he thought not. All for power.

Or was it, in truth, another of Romefeller's schemes? Another stage in their grand design? They had ensured the births of progeny from unlikely parents before. I was very young. Very stupid to trust in others as I did then. Was it Romefeller?

I think too much. I hate these nights when I can not sleep. The same thoughts always buzzing around in my head. No resolutions reached. Always coming down to the same questions, and the same lack of answers.

Once, not so long ago, thinking was the only thing I could do that did not hurt. I will be glad when the nerves settle enough for me to begin intensive body building exercises. That will tire me out and I will sleep better. Physical exhaustion brought about by exercise. Ah, I long for that. At least the therapy is making advances that I can see. I have hope I will not always need to be in isolation. I have hope I can wear clothing again. That I can sleep in a bed again. That I can touch …

I want to touch her.

Get a life, Kushrenada.

Two years ago you were a blob of burned flesh. Barely alive. Alive, yes, but you had no skin to speak of. Has it really been so long? I knew nothing of the world for months, and when I did wake from the coma, it was to find myself a slab of crisped meat. I would not have wanted her to see me then. At least I look normal now. Barely a scar to show for my encounter with 05.

Mm. I could turn vain about my appearance. God, I just might. I want to wear clothes again. I want to enjoy the cut of a good coat. I want to feel textures against my skin. The sheer pleasure of silk. The feel of wool and coolness of satin. I want to run my fingers through the silk of her hair …

Back to the Lady again.

I must be making progress. Did I actually feel a stir of desire then? Well, well. I did. That's the first time in … years. The question is, should I encourage it? Just to make sure everything is working properly?

I'm pathetic.

Give it up. You're not going to get any sleep tonight.

What's that? Oh. The alarm from the study. Well, it has to be better than floating here and thinking about encouraging a hard on.

Time to get a proper life.

"Gravity reinstatement. One third Earth normal."

Mmm, I wonder if I could tolerate slippers for a while? I'll have to ask for some lighter clothing and maybe silk slippers? Could I tolerate the feel of that? I know the rooms are heated, but the carpets even feel cold. At least I can feel.

Now, let's see. Mm.

A sheep skin?

Well, if they think I should try it, I'm willing. It has to be better than that fluid filled blob they call a chair. No, I take that back. This thing will probably make me itch to death. Brace up, my boy. It's only a chair.

"God. A real chair, too. Well, my hands at least are not screaming at me when I touch the sheep skin, so I hope my butt appreciates this."

Aaah, yes. Something really solid under me. This is progress. I do want to sleep in a real bed again. I want to wear clothing and walk in shoes. There is so much that I never thought about before. You take clothing for granted. You take sleeping in a bed for granted. I just took so much for granted.

Yes. Yes, I'm here. No need to start with the buzzing again. Just let me get this glove on, will you?

_Rose Errant._

"We have received a call over general frequencies. A Mayday."

Now why would that concern me? Why inform me unless … Cousin? You are in transit. Surely the Captain would not have tested those engines without back up? Even with the approved stage of the engines as it stands, you would have enough speed to out run raiders, so what is wrong? Have you run into trouble? Why else would they inform me at this hour?

_Play the mayday_.

A woman with fire bright hair, torn clothing and blood stained. Bruised and bloody. Static disrupting the signal.

"Mayday! Mayday! Help us. This is Mars Base Dome. The Raiders … oh, God … The Raiders are here! They're killing everybody. Help us …"

Mars. God. Zechs. We can't afford to lose our Pilot.

Zechs.

_What ships with the redesigned engines, if any, do we have in the vicinity of Mars?_

We can not afford to lose Zechs. And to Raiders, no less. No. Not when we are so close.

"We have … three ships with the new engine design checked out between twenty five and seventy five percent of full capacity, within a five day flight. The closest of the ships is the Phoenix Glory, and at full burn to the checked out power levels, she could make Mars orbit in … sixty eight hours."

No.

No, that is too long. We can't have lost our chance. We cannot afford to lose Zechs.

He has to help us. As much as he could help us, so we could help him. He has no where else to go within the Earth Sphere. Rosemount would be the only chance he would have to start a life of his own, free of the past. We cannot have that kind of set back.

He would resist. If they are killing the terra formers, then he would organize a defense. He would make it as hard for them as possible.

What am I to do?

The Glory has been tested and certified for three quarter power. Dare I risk so much by having them fire the engines to full capacity? There was no great rush, before, but now …More than sixty hours to reach Mars, even at full power. The deceleration would lengthen the time frame. Still, if she is the only chance we have of not losing our Pilot …

Dare I not take the chance?

_Give instructions for the Glory to proceed to Mars at maximum burn. If it is at all possible they are not to reveal their presence. They are to observe and monitor all activity in the area discreetly, but they are to reach Mars orbit as quickly as possible._

"Sir." Quiet acknowledgement. "There is the Phoenix Rising and the Phoenix Star."

His heart clenched. _No. We can not afford to lose the ships or their crews. One ship is enough of a risk at this time. These engines are experimental. We dare not lose the ships to a malfunction_.

Much as I would love to give the order, I cannot. I cannot chance their lives. We are not ready to test those engines above the level of the Glory at this time. She is the one we have cleared for seventy five per cent. It is a risk to order her to full power, but of the three, she is the most likely to suffer no ill effects.

I trust the Captain to increase power gradually and to ease back if there is any indication of trouble. There is still so much work on them to be done, and even should he get the ship up to full capacity, they will need almost as much time to dump their speed as they will to build speed. No, I think the Rising and the Star are too close to Mars to warrant using their engines at untested speed.

The Glory has the better chance and the better distance. The lack of true distance involved would mean they would no sooner reach speed that they would have to begin deceleration. Only the Glory is at an optimum distance for the attempt.

"Acknowledged, Sir. Instructions have been issued to the Phoenix Glory to alter course and investigate the mayday call. Sir, there is an anomaly. I hesitated to bring this to your attention, but in light of the recent occurrence, it may have a bearing."

_Yes?_

He missed Lilac. The night shift controller was a man who was all driving professionalism, with few of the social graces that marked Lilac. Yet he could not deny the man knew his job. No one made shift controller who was not more than efficient.

"In the last two hours we have noted an unusual amount of radio traffic on the raiders scrambled frequencies. In the last hour it has been noted three of their ships have altered course, and are now on a direct heading for Mars. According to our statistics the ships are accelerating. We have been working on breaking into their frequency and we are making progress. However, we believe that much of their talk has been about the Dakkar III Communications array."

Oh, I think I am missing rather a large amount of information.

Something about this does not smell right. I have always had a nose for the odd, and just plain rotten, stench affecting circumstances. Something is very wrong with this. The Raiders have never gone near Mars before. Why now? Some anomaly with the Dakkar system? No. I do not know enough to judge. I think I need to know much more than I do before I can fit this behaviour into an acceptable pattern.

_Send to me all the information you have on Raider activity in the last week. Include in that information any deciphered communications, and include the latest information to be transmitted through the Dakkar array. You will also include in the package the last months communications from Mars, and the identities of any ships that have passed Mars, or landed there, in that time frame_.

"Sir."

What is going on? The Raiders have not bothered with Mars before, so why now? At least one ship attacking the colony, and another three on the way, but not due to arrive for days? It makes no sense. I need to get contacts inside their organization. There must be some way I can get someone they would trust into their ships, or at their home base. We have tried before, but our agents have not been accepted, no matter how good our cover for them was. It was as though they knew.

Raiders attacking Mars.

We can not afford to lose you, Zechs. Stay alive, my friend.

_Contact our operatives on Earth. Find out what they know about what responses are being made to this mayday_.

"Sir, incoming communication from the Phoenix Star . It's Ms Catalonia."

Ah, Dorothy. I know you too well. No, my dear cousin, you may not change your course and respond to this Mayday. I need you here.

_She requests permission to respond to the Mayday and approach the Mars vectors?_

"Yes, Sir. That is the gist of the message we have received, only she has not asked for permission. She has informed Rosemount that the Phoenix Star is altering course and initiating an approach vector for the Martian orbit. They expect to arrive in seventy four hours."

No! No, cousin.

I am sorry, but no, that I will not allow. I do not know what would drive you to make that decision … Zechs? Do you know that Zechs is there? We need to talk, Dorothy, and you are not the closest, nor the best for this mission.

_Contact Phoenix Star and have them return to their original course. The emergency will be handled by the Phoenix Glory. You will have the Captain place Ms. Catalonia in detention, if necessary, but you will get that ship back on its course to Rosemount Station. They are to give Mars a wide birth._

You must forgive me, Cousin. Do not give me a hard time about this. I cannot afford to lose you or the crew, or that ship, any more than I can afford to lose Zechs. You had success with the Epyon System when you were on Libra, Cousin. You may be a pilot. I cannot place you in any danger. If we lose Zechs, you may be the only other person who may be able to pilot for us.

Not that you used Epyon as Zechs did. Yet, he allowed you to use it. Strange. I need to know more of what happened on Libra. What did you see? Did Epyon reveal anything to you?

Ah, things are getting interesting.

It was all beginning to fall into place. The testing of the ships was going well. You had accepted the invitation and were willing to come. We had found Zechs.

We do not need Raiders causing trouble. We are so close to success. So close.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	62. Chapter 62 Negotiations

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 62

2nd March

Station One

Time: 03:12 [Approx 20:00 Mars time / 17:50 Sanc time

Raydon

//I have ships en route to Mars, but the time that is required for them to reach there, I can do nothing about. Space is so vast. There must be more that I can do to give them more time. And still he has not seen fit to send me a distress signal. Why?//

He glared out at the panoramic view of the celestial dance. Every now and then one of the partners in the dance would err and misstep and that misstep would rock the dance floor. The result would be a collision in the asteroid field, and that meant changes in the orbits of the rocks. They had carefully chosen the site of Station One and her sisters for the relative stability of the orbiting rocks, but even here the dance changed. His people always were on the look out for that roll of cosmic dice. Even the most subtle of changes in the dance posed a danger to the station.

So many things threatened them in space. Not just the cosmic dance of asteroids. Beautiful as it was to watch, when you had the equipment to watch it, it paid for you to never forget your place in the cosmic order. Mankind was a dust speck on the cosmic beach. Puffed up with his own arrogance and sense of self worth. The simple truth was the cosmos ignored man as the insignificant insect he was. It was not man who ordered the cosmic dance.

It was not man who directed evolution. It was something far greater than man.

//Why do we see ourselves as being so great and mighty? So important to the scheme of things? We all are fools. That is the simple truth of it. We are fools. We want what we can not have. We reach for that which is beyond our grasp. We hate where we should love, and we love what is not ours to love. Is that not the very nature of man? To seek what is beyond him//

How else did man reach the heights that he has attained? How else did man come to be here, in the vast coldness that was space, bringing light to the dark reaches, showing up that which usually was devoid of light? How else did man leave his ancient homelands and reach to the vastness of the cosmos, and set foot to another world. How else did man presume to tame another world to his hand.

Mars.

Why would Milliardo Peacecraft not send him the distress signal?

Was he lost in his pride, unwilling to ask for help? Was he truly so prideful? Pride was all well and good in its place, but surely the man was not such a fool as to turn his back on what was possibly his only escape from imprisonment? Station One and its sisters were the only places in the ESUN where he could be free of political machinations.

//No. We here are not ESUN. We are not a part of that hub world society. They cast us out, for varying reasons and over time, but they cast us out, regardless. We have the right to claim this area for our own.//

Or was he simply too frightened of the unknown? Was he frightened of what might happen? What Milliardo had told him of the Epyon system, and his fears over what it had done to him, showed to him how confused and alone the young man had been. How desperately alone. Did Milliardo fear that he might see something that would close even this hope of escape from him? Or does he fear that Station would become just another prison?

//Or is it my fault? Did I push you too hard, too soon? Did I not give you enough time to understand what it was you were feeling? Ah, Milliardo. Is it my fault that you will not call on me for aid? You should not fear asking me to help you means that, in truth, you have no choice, my friend. There is always choice, even though you might not at first appreciate your options. There is always choice. Do not discount me. Certainly not for the wrong reasons.//

He sighed softly. In the past hours he had met with his Commanders and the members of the Station Council. He had told them what he knew, which was precious little, and what he surmised, which was actually rather a lot. He had never lacked for a fertile imagination, or the will to use it, but it was the Gift he had been born to that guided that imagination. Guided, prodded and merged with that imagination to produce more accuracy than most would believe possible given his basic assumptions.

It was what he had been bred for.

He hissed softly at the thought, disgusted that he would allow the old bitterness to surface at such a time as this, when he needed clarity of thought. There was no time to dwell on the past and all of its pains. He had won his freedom from that mire, and he would not return to it. Never. He had sworn an oath on that day that he had won free. He had vowed he would use what he had not asked for and had once considered to be a curse. He would accept it and use it to free others caught, as he had been caught, in the machinations of Romefeller.

As Milliardo had become ensnared.

//Romefeller. Bastards. You are involved in this. Somehow. You are always involved if one peels away enough layers to get to the core. Your rotten stench is always festering in the heart of things.//

Paranoid? Was he paranoid?

Probably, he admitted, though not without cause. He had witnessed too much of their game playing to miss their signature stench. They had agents everywhere, and if the ESUN Council thought they were exempt from Romefeller's eye, then they were sorely mistaken. Somewhere in all of this mess he would find evidence of Romefeller. All he would have to do was look.

Which offered no help to him at this time.

No, that type of thought would not assist him in dealing with the intricacies of this situation. It was a fact that his people were going to be blamed for an atrocity they had not committed. How many people would be on Mars at this time? Certainly more that two thousand, he mused. All of those lives would be blamed on his people.

No. No, he could not allow it to happen. Somehow, he had to devise some means by which to turn fates hand from his people. Those who bore false witness against his people could not be allowed to win. He had played games in the courts of Romefeller, at the machinations of others. He had been used and abused and he would not allow his people to be used as once he had been. His people trusted him and he could not let them down.

It worried him that the Gifted had been quiet. Too quiet.

His own Gift had been silent, beyond a few uneasy feelings. His own Gift had given him no clue by which to work from. Not even a hint that this atrocity would happen. He knew just how erratic foresight could be, but this mass silence from all of the precogs on Station One was just plain ridiculous. An event of this magnitude and importance to the stations and their people could not possibly go entirely unseen by at least one of the Gifted. Somewhere they must have missed something, but …

//Face it. Just face the truth of it. The Gifts are erratic and never come to our need. They manifest when they will, not when I would have it happen. When they come I kick and scream enough to emulate a deprived two year old, and now that they do not come, I sulk like a six year old deprived of a sweet. The others are all in the same condition as I am in. We strain and reach into that 'other' place, that other awareness, and we reach for something that just is not there.//

"Why?"

Why did they fail?

It was a disaster in the making, this assault on Mars, not just for those poor bastards on the planet, but for his Raiders too. Once that Mayday hit the open airways and circulated throughout the ESUN, any hope he had of winning independence for the station would be gone. For many long years. The people who saw the massacre of Mars would demand the eradication of the Raiders. The ESUN would declare war on the Raiders, launch their fleets and the Raiders home bases would be methodically hunted down and destroyed.

There would be no one who would believe that his people had not been involved.

Well, not quite true. There would be people who would be suspicious, but either they would not be in high enough places to effect an enquiry into the affair, or they would accept what had happened, knowing that they were not likely to find information that would indicate the truth. Or …

//So many or, if's and buts. I don't know what to do. Why has he not asked for help?//

No one who could possibly make a difference to the long term effects of this business, would leap out of the wood work and offer up a magical solution to the mess. He just did not believe in fairy tales. He had out grown them so very long ago. No, no magical solution would be forthcoming. It would take something more than wishful thinking.

He needed evidence that it was not his people who were doing this. Just what evidence did he have that he could use? The reports of his spies on Mars? That would be laughed out of any court. The radio transmissions? Well, yes, they were evidence, but of what use could he make of them to benefit his case? He needed more. He needed names and faces in the ESUN Security division that he could lay the blame upon. He needed proof positive that this person and this person were involved in the massacre. He needed dates and he needed names, and he needed recorded conversations and written documentation that he could take before a court.

That type of evidence he just did not have.

"So I need to get it."

One step at a time. Approach the problem logically and hope to find the solution. At the least hope that he might trigger some Sight that he could work with to effect a change in the machinations of those bastards in the heart of this mess.

How best to manage getting the hard evidence he needed? He had agents on Earth and scattered throughout the colonies that he could call upon, but he must go carefully. He must not waste a single life needlessly in this search for hard core evidence. These people looked to him for a future for themselves and for families they now had, or looked to have in the future. They trusted him.

When they had taken their oaths and joined his people, coming to Station One and later the sister stations, they had given him the right to use them as best he could, to create independent worlds that would be free of the two faced attitudes that had seen them cast aside. They had told him, each and every one that they were willing to fight again, if it meant that this time they would have a secure home to return to.

Or to die for.

//I have had enough of wars. I do not want to fight, but there may be no choice this time. I will not allow them to come out here and hunt us. Yet the Gifted have seen no conflict arise, and they saw the Barton Incursion clearly enough.//

He winced at the thought. The Barton Incursion arising when it had, had lost him the blonde he sought to win. For that alone he would cheerfully strangle that power mad old fool, but Barton would not, and never had been, guided by anyone other than himself. He even had considered himself to be above Romefeller.

//Milliardo, you heard the whispers of what he planned and you were barely healed. You told me that you had no vision, but still you insisted on leaving and fighting. You would not listen to reason, and you went to defend the peace you fought so hard to birth. And for what thanks? Ah, why? Why do I always find some way to circle around to that stubborn, delightful man?//

He could wish he had the warmth and beauty of Him here, secured and safe. Safe from the machinations of Romefeller, and the breakaway factions now infiltrating the ESUN Council. When the purists learned that Milliardo Peacecraft was alive, they would act, and it likely would cause another war within the ranks of the organization. Romefeller had been fighting within itself for millennia and likely would for millennia to come. He could wish that he had the blonde beauty here, on Station One instead of fighting the ESUN on that chunk of icy red dirt and rock, and know that Romefeller would be lurking, preparing to claim him.

//You ran. You ran from me, not just because of the whispers you heard of the Barton incident. No, it was not just because of that that you bolted. I frightened you. It was not my intention to alarm you, Milliardo, and I cannot apologize enough for doing it. I had not realized that despite what you had been through in your life, you were still an innocent. I frightened you by touching that which had never been touched before. It happened, and I will need to work to restore your confidence in me. You need to trust me, and it is up to me to give you the chance to learn that trust.//

He had wandered back full circle again, to that absent blonde and that he could not allow himself to indulge in. He forced his attention back to the disaster at hand. Forced himself to look down the throat of a war between his people, the outcasts, and the ESUN, which had cast them out. He must face and deal with this situation.

The conference had resulted, thus far, in him dispatching word to his agents on Earth and in the Colonies. They were to seek out any evidence they could find of Councilors who might be involved in this mess. Both willingly and unwittingly. There had to be hard evidence somewhere, and his people had to find it. Some of those agents were of his Gifted. Their special abilities of varying forms would enable them to have an edge in the search, and of his agents it was likely to be the Gifted that would stand the best chances of picking up leads that could result in success.

//The Gifted. Again I come back to them. To us. I am one of their number, one with the Sight, and my sight has failed me in this. I have glimpsed events in the past of the future, but nothing that suggested this situation would arise. I have seen Milliardo back on Station One, and what I saw does not lead me to believe that the station was in a state of war during that vision. Why?//

It was all too confusing. So confusing. Why had none of the Sighted witnessed this massacre …

//Unless … Could that … be possible? How? How could I turn it to our advantage? If the Sighted, all of us who have that particular form of the Gift … If we have not seen the disaster this means to the stations future, does it then mean that it will not result in the events we believe at this time? That somehow … somehow we manage to turn disaster into advantage?//

They would be resuming their conference shortly. He had a few more precious minutes to rest and gather his thoughts, before he needed to face his friends and compatriots. He was tired, but that was of no importance. Not now. Now he must take the opportunity to explore this new train of thought. This new possibility. Yes, he must pursue the course they had chosen to seek out evidence of their innocence, and the identities of those who were truly responsible. He needed to seek the avenues of advantage that could come out of disaster and guide events into a desired future. He needed to bend events to suit his people.

He needed the Earth Sphere to see his people as …

"Saviors. They need to see us as saviors, not villains. Friends at least."

Yes, that was what was needed. The Raiders were seen as villains all over the Earth Sphere. To be sure there were space pirates out there, but they were few and far between and they did not belong to Station One or her sisters. They pointed their fingers at Space Pirates, but did they have faces and names to apply to that generality?

//They have cast us in the role of Pirates, lawless, vicious. Barbarians of the space age. That is how we have been, and will be, portrayed to the masses. That is what I have to change. I need to disassociate us from that image. We are respectable, law abiding citizens of the Asteroid Belt. We are on the rim of civilization here, not a part of the hub that is Earth.//

He was vaguely aware of the com chiming near him, but so lost in thought was he by that delicious thought of being considered saviors instead of villains, that it was not until the third chime that he registered the noise as more than an annoyance. Drawing a deep breath he stirred from his revere and reached for the com controls.

"Raydon."

"Captain, a transmission has been received from Mars. It has been confirmed as the emergency transponder signal, last known to be in the possession of Milliardo Peacecraft. There is a piggy backed radio signal included in the transponder signal."

He had sent it. He had sent the emergency alert.

//I know what that has cost you, my friend. I will not have you regret your choice. Never will I have you regret turning to me. You have no need to fear me, Milliardo. I will make it up to you.//

In sending the transponder signal he had acknowledged that the ESUN would not accept him, and that he had no other place to turn. Raydon felt the wave of relief wash over him, through him, firming his resolve to do something, anything, to turn this disaster into something more. He now had even more reason to ensure the acceptance and safety of Station One and his people.

"Has anyone heard the message?"

"Only I, Sir, when I decoded the signal." Nigel Hampshire's voice was quiet, confident. Oddly gentle. "I did not think you would wish to have the entire crew of the bridge hear the message, Sir."

For all his stiff backed formality the man had a heart and a head, and knew when to use them both. Raydon sighed softly at the thought. He could trust Hampshire to do that much at least; to be discreet when the need arose. It was looking more and more likely that Nigel Hampshire would prove to be an asset to the station, if he continued to keep his head in this manner.

"Feed it to this station only."

"Transfer of signal complete, Sir."

Hampshire fell silent and was replaced with a soft static hiss. A poor reception, he reflected, hardly surprised. It was a voice he had not listened to in three years. A quiet, deep baritone, a shade rusty and very tired, he noted. A voice that lifted his resolve to affect a rescue, despite the constraints of distance and time.

"Hello, Raydon. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but we need help, my friend, or everyone here dies. I have Hayden Giles with me and the people here, the terra formers, are already dying. They are innocent of any crime and do not deserve what is happening to them. The Wellington is on the way to finish the job that sleeper agents have started. If there is anything that you can do to help us, it would be greatly appreciated. If not, I would ask … I have no right to ask it of you, but I would hope that you would see your way towards taking custody of my children. Could you find where they take my children and free them of the misery others would make of their fate? I give them to you, Raydon, if the worst happens. I know that is not what you wanted, but it may be all that I can give you."

Soft hiss of static abruptly silenced. He closed his eyes against the sight of the celestial dance. He could so easily envisage that tall, slender physique. The warmth that radiated from his body when he had dared to stand close. That cascade of silver and white hair kissed with gold that made silk coarse to his touch.

"Instructions, Sir?"

He did not know how long he had been lost in visions of another time, but the quiet voice, so much higher that that deep rumble he could hear so well, brought him back to crashing reality, and the need to take firm action. Decisive action.

Enough was enough. For Station One and for her sister stations. For the people who trusted him with their lives and futures. And for the man who had decided to trust him with his greatest treasures … to keep his children safe could he not do it himself. For all those reasons, it was time to act. He could hash it out with the council during the next few hours, but now he was going to ensure that the Wellington had more to think on than massacre.

He could feel the stirring of vision, the Sight responding to the adrenaline coursing through his body. To the decision that he would drag this disaster into a success, and to the vision of a silver haired toddler running at his heels.

"I want the ships closest to the Wellington to report in on conference call to receive instructions. For the moment they are to plot intercept courses with the ship and lay space mines in her path at periodic intervals. I want her slowed, Hampshire, if not stopped."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	63. Chapter 63

+…+ Flashback

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 63

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 19:32 MST [17:22 Sanc time

Zechs

The dome was quiet around them, only the rustle of movement as they filled in the hole broke the quiet. For the moment he could not even hear the faintest sounds of others, though he knew they were far from alone in the dome. People worked out there, unaware of the death stalking them.

"What do we do now?"

Zechs glanced at Giles, carefully separating the wires that had connected the radio to the transmitter as he did so. He had done what he could with the radio, piggy backing the radio signal on the transmitter signal. That signal really was nothing more than an emergency pulse, constantly sending out a signal that screamed 'here I am', allowing anyone with the correct frequency and equipment to locate the wearer. He had initially refused to take the device, but Raydon could be a persuasive devil and he had won that round.

When Raydon had allowed him to leave Station One he knew it was because the man had wanted him to realize there was no place for him in the Earth Sphere. He had thought only of going and putting an end to the threat to the peace he had fought so hard to achieve, and Raydon had known that. The man had allowed it, though he might well have refused to allow him to leave, and told him in no uncertain terms that when he was ready Station One would be there. Raydon had wanted him to choose to call that marvel of modern engineering home.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

+ "I know you are only new to Station, but I think you can see the potential that exists here. Things are still pretty new, but give us a couple of years and we will be as established as any colony in the hub. We will have all the luxuries that they have there, if not a few they do not have access to."

Raydon's suite of rooms were newly completed, decorated in a style that he remembered from his childhood, before he lost his home and his life as the Prince of Sanc. Yet it brought those memories to the surface. Memories he thought he had forgotten. Rich crimson with gold and cream highlights. Yet the decor suited the man who sat across from him. He belonged in these surroundings.

"I do not doubt that Station could become more than the colonies have been allowed to be. With peace there will be an improvement in investment and exploration deeper into space."

"Yes, there will be expansion. I expect that. We are, in fact, relying on it, but we know it will take time."

"You know this Dekim Barton, don't you?" He needed answers and he needed to know Raydon would not change his mind and confine him to Station.

Raydon sighed, nodded and swirled his wine in the crystal goblet, tilting his head back in a manner Zechs found strangely reminiscent of Treize Kushrenada. Perhaps all wine connoisseurs had that aloof manner as they studied the vintage. In fact, in many subtle ways Raydon reminded him of his friend. They shared that same sense of style, he supposed.

"Unfortunately, yes, I do. He's a manipulative, pushy, and nasty piece of work that one. He has plans, and I do not see him settling for just taking over Earth. That one will not be content with less than complete power."

"Then you understand why I wish to return. Why I have to return."

"No, Milliardo, I do not understand why it has to be you who oppose him. You have done your part. Have you not done enough for them? You have lost everything that ever meant anything to you, to give them their chance at peace. Why should it be you? There are others capable of defending Earth and the Colonies. Had you truly died in the explosion of the Libra, you would not be here now, talking about going back into the fight. Why go back for more?"

"I have to. I feel it. Yes, there are others capable of defending the Earth, but I … Raydon, please. I feel it in my very bones."

He ached with the certainty that Barton would disrupt the peace, and the terrible visions that he had fought so hard to deny would return. The wars would come and with them the death toll that had so terrified him. He had known he must stop the wars from starting, and that meant containing Dekim Barton.

"Yet you say you have experienced no visions about this invasion. I understand visions, Milliardo. I have told you of the Gifted, and you have met one or two, though you likely were too ill to note them at the time. I was planning to introduce you to more in the coming weeks, as you gained strength. Milliardo, I want to understand why you feel so strongly that it must be you who returns to fight. What about the much lauded Gundam pilots? They are capable of defending the Earth and Colonies. You still are not fully recovered from your injuries."

"I can complete my recovery during the return flight."

A sigh, deep and tired sounding. "True, you can. There will certainly be adequate time for that, and for you to train and hone your skills. You have been here little more than two weeks, and even with the fastest of my ships you would not return to Earth until near Christmas. The only bonus to your flight would be the orbital position of Earth in relation to Station One at this time, reducing flight time to five months and so many days." He held up a hand, forestalling the response. "I know, I have already agreed to see that you return with all speed to Earth. I will not change my mind at this time. All I ask is that while you are away, you give some thought to your future."

"You wish me to remain here, on Station One." A statement, not a question.

"I wish for you to give thought to returning to Station One and making it your home. We are always in need of pilots, my friend. With your experience there are a multitude of positions you are more than capable of filling."

He ran a finger lightly over the rim of his own crystal goblet, absently noting that the place setting at this private dinner was worthy of his fathers court.

"That is not the only reason you want me to return. Is it?" The last a whisper, trying to keep the unease out of his voice.

Warm fingers, calloused, skimmed over his hand, lightly, a fleeting caress. It was the first time that evening that Raydon had touched him. He felt as though a mild electric charge had run through him.

"No. It is not the only reason. I have more personal, selfish reasons for wanting you to return. I make no secret of my regard for you. I would get to know you in far more intimate ways, but I am a patient man, Milliardo, and I can wait. I can wait for you to make the decision for yourself. When you choose to return to Station One, I know it will be because you know where you no longer belong. Because you will know that you must start a new life. A life that will not throw your life into the breach, so that others may know peace. You deserve peace, Milliardo. You deserve that same peace that you sought to give to the Earth Sphere."

"If I choose not to return?" He dared not raise his gaze from where that hand lightly rested over his own.

"I can only hope that you choose to come to Station One, for your own reasons, and that you will permit me the pleasure of courting you." +

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Did he have a choice now?

He had sent the signal, not because he wanted to return to the station to start a life of his own, but because these people needed help. He needed help. He could be honest about it. Yes, he needed help, and he needed it now, not in month's time, but he could only do the best he could. Raydon had ships everywhere, and if one or two were in the area, they might be in time to offer some assistance to the colony. He could use the transmitter to call for help for the terra formers, but to use it for himself … did he want to call Station One home?

Of that he just was not sure.

Giles was kneeling beside him, eyes scanning the area for any sign they were to have company. He was, in truth, surprised that they had not been disturbed before this. The message he had sent, while brief, was to the point, and he only hoped it would bare fruit. He would have to leave the matter now to fates hands and concentrate on the here and now.

If he thought about it though, realistically, what could Raydon do?

// God, no. No, I won't fall into that. That would cause a return of the visions. I can't take another bout of intense visions. I can only hope Raydon might think of something that will help. For now I need to concentrate on the here and now. I can not do this on my own, and I can be honest about it. I am hurt and I am tired, and I am so close to making stupid mistakes because of my exhaustion. I have to trust someone, and for now that someone has to be Giles. I have to trust that Raydon can think of something that will halt the massacre, beyond what it is already, without ruining their chances for independent recognition. I have to trust that he will get the message and be capable of acting. I have to trust that he cared enough to take my children if it comes to that. Think, man. You have sent a message. Now you have to stay alive and keep as many people alive as you can. While you wait to see who arrives first.//

"You talk to the people in the dome. Here, in Hydroponics Dome One. We have to try to warn them about the Sleeper agents. We owe it to them to tell them the truth. I am inclined to believe, as they have not yet been attacked here, that there are no Sleepers here. We may have taken out the last of them assigned to eliminate the workers in these domes. If you can convince these people to go to ground, then they may stay alive long enough for some form of rescue to become effective."

"Me?" It came out almost as a squeak, and he spun to face Zechs, looking his disbelief. "Have you lost your mind? They will never listen to me. I'm a grunt."

Zechs arched an eyebrow. "Well, technically so are they. So am I, for that matter."

Giles snorted. "You'll never be a grunt. Look, Your Highness …" At the glare that received he grinned, totally unrepentant. "You heard that conversation earlier, same as I did. You're not considered a grunt. That should have shown you clearly enough that you are still considered to be His Royal Highness, Prince Milliardo Peacecraft of Sanc. We are going to need to use that if we are to have any hope of convincing them to go to ground. If they sealed this dome they should be safe enough for now." He paused, grin slowly fading as he watched the slow shake of the platinum crowned head. "Why are you shaking your head?"

Zechs sighed. "Giles, have you truly forgotten that I am considered to be a raving lunatic? Remember, I am the unhinged madman who threatened to blow up the Earth. I fired the Libra's canon at the Earth. I threatened to drop the Libra on the damn planet." He shook his head, shrugging broad shoulders slightly and wincing at the pain that cause. "I'm known to be mentally unstable and its thought I came here unwillingly, a prisoner of the ESUN. Now do you honestly think they will believe me when I tell them that the ESUN has agents here who are running around killing them, just because they had the misfortune to be here when it was decided I was to be moved? That's what it's all about, you know, Giles. This whole debacle is because I am on Mars, and I had children. I know things that certain people do not want the rest of the world to know. Where once I was to be killed because of that knowledge, they realized that I had other uses. If they use me, control me then it means that they control Relena. Keeping my children out of my control gives them leverage over both myself and my sister. It also gives certain others the opportunity to train my children to be of use as they grow up. If you have the misfortune to be born a Peacecraft, Haydon Giles, then you are nothing but a tool for others to wield. You learn that very quickly."

"You never had a happy childhood, did you?" At the astonished blink that produced Giles chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry. Sorry, that was not called for, and I do apologize. When Raydon ordered me to guard your back I did some home work, and I learned about the fall of Sanc. Guess you had cause to go a little off the deep end there at the end. Not that I really understand any of what that entire war was about, mind you. I still don't understand all the factions and their beliefs in what they were fighting for. All I know is that the end result produced a peace I thought we were never going to get." He met the intense blue eyes, his own thoughtful. "You meant for that to happen, didn't you? For there to be peace after that fight above Earth. The thing that struck me about that whole final battle was that in one single battle most of the weapons and mobile suits on Earth, and in the Colonies, were wiped out. I always thought it odd that so many mobile suits were destroyed, but not so many of the people piloting them died. It is my understanding that Mobile Dolls are very precise, very fast and do exactly what they are programmed to do. Most human pilots have no chance against them." He paused and then shrugged, locking his gaze with the ice blue glare that pierced him. "So why did so many of the pilots survive?"

"This is not the time, Giles." A whisper.

Too many memories he did not wish to entertain. Too many memories of a time he wanted desperately to leave behind him. He wanted to be free of the past, but it would never leave him. He could almost wish that he could believe Raydon when he said he could start again. Damn the man for stirring up memories of times he ached to forget. Memories of when he chose to kill any chance he might have for a life that one might, by the smallest of measures be termed normal.

"Don't know if there is a better time, in all honesty."

"Giles!" A low warning. A growl that held all the anger building within him over his inability to control events . Noin. Now the massacre of the people. The Wellington speeding on its way to Mars. It was all spiraling out of control, and he just could not allow that to happen.

"Look, we have to get this straight. You and I have to have an understanding so we can trust each other. Did you, or did you not, intend to blow away the Earth?" His hazel eyes were intense, fastened onto the blonde, compelling. Demanding he be answered, and answered truthfully.

//Damn it, man! This is neither the time nor place for this. We can not stay here any longer. Events are moving and we can not afford to be caught because we are arguing over old news. Besides, there is no way that I can be honest with you. I need your cooperation, and I will not have it if I tell you the truth.//

"If it had been necessary … Yes."

//Damn! I never meant to say that. What …? Why did I say that?//

Intense eyes somewhere between green and brown looked into his, filling his vision, delving into his soul. Touching him in a place that, for too long, had wept in despair of ever having been understood. No one had ever understood that he sought peace in all that he did. No one could understand the lengths he had been driven to, or why. He barely understood it himself.

"Did you go into the White Fang intending to destroy the Earth? If it was necessary?"

"Yes." A whisper, reluctant, dragged from the depths of his soul. "If it was necessary."

//Shit! What is … Ah, God. Raydon, you bastard. You don't just send anyone to do your negotiating, do you?//

He could see the panic building in the pale blue eyes. "Did you want to destroy the Earth?"

"No." A whisper.

"Why? Why did you do it? Was it because you wanted to destroy the Earth to make everyone pay? Was it because you wanted to punish the world for the loss of everything that ever meant anything to you?"

"No. No, not … to punish. No." He could not do this. He did not want to do this, and he would not! Damn Raydon and his schemes.

//Oh God. What … is he … doing to … me? Stop it. Just get out of my head.//

"Why did you do it?" Soft voice, sliding around and through him, oozing past defenses to make him voice words he desperately wanted to keep hidden. "Did you want to destroy the planet? Kill the people? Did you want to do it?"

"No." Forced out beyond gritted teeth.

He would not do this. He would not drag it all out now. There was no time. This was neither the time nor the place for this to be delved into. He would not submit to this coercion. He could never forget the decisions he had made, but he did not have to drag them out to be aired in public, just because this bastard decided now was a good time. He would get beyond the influence of those compelling eyes. He would not be forced by anyone to relive the horror he had had to go through. It was past and he would not relive it again.

"Giles. Stop it. Just … stop it." He held out a hand, a symbol of the distress he could not deal with now. To his shame and further distress his hand was shaking. He could not do this. Not in this time. Not in this place. "Just… leave … it … alone …"

"Leave it alone? Why should I, Your Highness? We need to understand each other, you and I. We need to trust each other. I am here to guard your back, and for me to do that properly you need to know you can turn your back on me. I need to know the same thing about you. When will you be honest with me?"

He envisioned a wall, tall, thick, strong, impenetrable. A wall, brick … no, metal. Gundanium was next to unbreakable. A gundanium wall, surrounding his mind, protecting him. It stood between him and those all seeing eyes that were now brown, now green, now somewhere in between the two. Slowly, steadily, as his wall became clearer, it became easier to think.

"You're one of the Gifted, aren't you? Your one of Raydon's Psychics." A whisper, more and more he was able to return to the world around him. Wall. There was a wall between them. A wall that was tall and strong and surrounding him.

Haydon Giles blinked, nodding and the intensity eased in his eyes. He shuddered, the compelling, demanding light eased and he sighed, turning his gaze to the dome interior, scanning for any sign of intruders on their little drama. He needed a little time yet before they moved on. He and Raydon's Prince needed to fully understand each other. To work together they were going to have to be honest with each other about their abilities.

"I have some small abilities, yes. I'm thinking that my small abilities are nothing like yours, though. Oh, yes, I can sense it, the differences in you. When we, the Gifted as we are termed there, go to Station One, Raydon arranges for us to have training. There are quite a few of us there now, and we learn from each other. Once we have some training we tend to be able to spot others with the same stamp. You feel like a precog of some type, but you feel different." Hazel eyes stared at him for a long moment, measuring, assessing. "I have never felt anyone quite like you before, though. It's different. I'm something of a telepath, but I have more of a suggestive ability than straight telepathy. For example, I can't actually read a person's thoughts, but I can, sometimes, affect how a person reacts to questioning. Hell, I know that's not a very good explanation, but just now I needed to give you an example of what I can do if I concentrate hard. We have to trust each other. That's the first thing we are taught in training. Trust. You need training, Your Highness. I think you need it bad. You do have natural defenses, and now that you have been alerted to what I can do, I very much doubt I could get through to you again. I can almost see that wall you pictured, and since I normally can't read thoughts, it's a pretty intense wall you have pictured. I wanted you to tell the truth, not dance around the subject, or tell an outright lie to get me moving."

//Raydon and his bloody machinations. How do I trust anyone? It's been so long since I dared trust anyone but myself. I … I don't even trust myself. I can't …//

"What were you really doing on Mars?"

God. His voice did not sound like his own. He was afraid. Very much afraid of this unknown element that had entered the drama. Giles as one of the Gifted was an unknown element. One he did not know how to deal with.

"Exactly what I told you." He leaned against the wall of the maintenance shed and shrugged. "Checking out the trade potential of a market with Mars Colony. No negotiations or anything of that nature were to be entered into at this time. That's a long way off at this stage of things, but Raydon and the Council needed to know the potential for trade, and what we could best offer the colony and they us. I don't often need to use my abilities, and as I said, they're not exactly reliable. Sometimes I can't get a thing, and some people have natural shields I just can't penetrate. A very independent, strong-willed individual is proof against me. I'm pretty hopeless at influencing them. I only got through to you because you were distracted. I had tried once or twice before, but that was the first time I succeeded."

"Your partner? What about him?" //God. Are there two of them? One is bad enough to deal with. What do I do with two of them?//

"Not a psychic, to my knowledge. I don't read him as one, at any rate, but then, I can't read everyone. Like I said, I'm not very powerful, just enough to get by. I have my uses, and one thing you can be sure of, is that Raydon always makes good use of everyone's abilities."

If he had the time he would be asking some serious questions about Raydon and his Gifted. He was not a tool, not even for Raydon, and he would be damned if he would be treated as one any longer. It seemed that he had always been a tool of one sort or another, different hands guiding his use, and he had had enough. Neither he, nor his children, would be used for either their bloodlines or their abilities.

He had been used enough.

"We do not have the time to pursue this now. There are more important things to do. If you are a … Suggester? … then you can use that ability to influence the people in this dome, and get them to make themselves scarce and secure this area."

Giles shook his head slowly, waving a hand in the air. "You did not hear me, did you? I can't make it work very well. I'm not very powerful. One, maybe two people, yes, I might have a chance of influencing the way they think, but a group? No way, Your Highness. No way can I influence that many."

He glared out into the dome, knowing that they already had wasted too much time. "I am not suggesting that you influence a group. Most people in this dome work in pairs, sectioning the entire dome. At most there should be ten to twelve people in the dome at this time of the year. If they are working in pairs, as they normally do, then you can work on them. We will not know until we actually go in and find them just how many there are, will we? You will need to work quickly, too. The maintenance crews working outside the dome will be in shortly, and if we do not do something they will be gassed in the air locks."

Giles felt his eyes widen and he straightened quickly, pushing away from the wall. "Gassed?"

He shivered, forcing the onrush of vision down. No. Not now. Whether it was memory of visions he had already witnessed, or a new upsurge of possibilities it did not matter. Not now. He could not afford to lose control again. He and Giles must trust each other, must they? That was what that little demonstration was about. Well, to work efficiently then, yes, they should. He would see just how much trust Giles could put in him then. Likely he would be accounted a raving loony by this man in the next few seconds, but if Giles wanted the truth, he would give it to him.

//Trust? Very well, then. Let us see just how well you trust me. Can you accept what I say?//

"They will enter the air locks in the usual manner, twenty to a unit. While they are in there, a poisonous gas, odorless and very quick acting, will be released into their sealed air supply, and they will die. Twenty at a time, they will die. The air locks will be emptied quickly and efficiently of bodies, and the next group will enter, unknowing of what awaits them, and they will be killed as they take their turn to enter and strip off their suits. After working twelve hour shifts they will be only too happy to get out of those suits, and by the time they start to notice something is wrong, it will already be too late. Most won't even notice the air quality after being low on oxygen. You know how some make a habit of running their tanks dangerously low."

"Shit." A whisper, hazel eyes widened, staring at him. "What can we do? How do you know … sorry. You're a precog. I know enough about precogs to know that I have to trust your talent. Okay, I'll try talking with the people in the dome, but we don't have long. The shift should be due to come in within the hour."

//+ "You're a precog. I know enough about precogs to know that I have to trust your talent." +// He stared at the smaller man, stunned. //That's it? That's all he's going to say? I … He … God, he is going to … accept it?//

"We do the best we can, Giles. That is all we can do. I was hoping …" He hesitated. Sighed. He was not used to the idea that someone might actually believe him. He was not used to talking to people about this ability that haunted him. They thought him to be insane. A nut case. That there might be acceptance out there for him had never really registered before.

"Come on, man. Out with it. I can't help if I don't know what to expect. I know you don't know me from a bar of soap, but I was sent here by Raydon. I am one of his Gifted, if a very minor one and I have shown you what I can do. I underwent the training program they have on Station One and learned that it does help. It helps you develop control, and a better acceptance of your own abilities. You'll find a lot more confidence in yourself when you go through it."

//I don't … He believes me? He's … he's not … looking at me as though … as though I'm a nutcase. I have to get past this. There are people dying, and I have to get past this to help them. Maybe … maybe I should go to Station. Maybe there is a place for me there.//

"There is the possibility that we can do nothing for them. That everyone out there will die. There is the possibility we can save maybe, twenty, by working on the airlocks. No more than twenty before we are discovered, and have to leave the rest to their fate. And there is the possibility that if we initiate the lockdown of the airlocks, sealing them outside the dome, that the Preventer Agents from Alpha dome may be able to get the Taurus suits to fly, and bring in oxygen, heat packs and food for them. They will have a thoroughly miserable night in the caves, but only twenty or so will die."

//Now let us see how accepting you are, Haydon Giles. What do you make of that?//

Giles stared at him, considering the phrasing of what he had just heard. The key words that seemed to stick were 'there is the possibility'. "Possibility?" A whisper. "The way you say

'possibility'… You're a precog. You feel like a precog to me. What exactly do you see?"

// He picked up on that well enough. Now let's see what happens next.// "I don't see one vision of an event, Giles. I see the What Ifs that people always say you should not count. I see multiple options of an event, and the consequences that come from each possibility that might be taken from that event."

Giles blinked, considering that and pursed his lips. "So … If we go to the airlocks…?"

"I don't know, Giles. I don't know what is the best option to take. If we do nothing for them, then they all die, as they come into what they consider to be a safe haven from the Martian night. If we go to the airlocks, we will save twenty people. No more. I don't know how the others will die, that I have not seen. I only know that they do not survive. Sealing them out of the dome will either kill all of them, because Barker fails to get the idea of the Taurus suits working, or they lose up to twenty or so men by spending the night in the caves. If we can seal them out, and manage to regain control of the dome within a few hours, their chances of survival are much improved, as we can call them back into the dome."

//Oh, my God. What if's indeed. Oh, you poor bastard. I've seen precogs break apart in front of me because of what they see. How do you cope with the uncertainty of it? No wonder people say you're nuts. No wonder you have kept this to yourself.//

"Well, we can decide while we cross the dome. We can talk about it as we go. Which could be the better options of those available to us." Giles glanced around and shrugged, motioning towards their right. "That way is as good as any. Could you tell me one thing?"

Stunned he stared at the man, wondering if this all was a dream. //He's just going to… accept it? I... I don't …understand. Maybe … maybe I should go to Station One. If there are others there … Others like me? Are there others like me there? Could I find people who don't consider me crazed there? Was Raydon offering me more than I realized?//

"That depends. What is it you want to know?"

Giles considered the man for a long moment and then led the way from their hiding place. He was curious, now. He had been curious before, ever since he had recognized Zechs when he had first arrived on Mars, but now it went beyond just curiosity. He really could not live with himself if he did not ask the question, but how his voicing that question would be received, that remained to be seen.

"What did you see would happen if you did not take command of the White Fang, and fight that battle over Earth?"

The silence was heavy and he frowned, expecting to find himself in a strangle hold, or have a knife to his throat for his audacity. Finally, looking back when he thought he would get no answer, he gasped, turning quickly and making his way back to the man who stood frozen to the spot. To his horror he found Zechs was shaking, deep racking shudders and he wept, silently. Tears rolled over ashen cheeks from blue eyes wide with horrors that he could not see.

"Your Highness?" A whisper. He lightly touched one arm, noting the chill of flesh and the tremors that seemed to threaten to shake the man apart. He was ice cold to touch.

"Three hundred years of war, Giles. Three hundred years of killing. Generation after generation. Dying. Families fighting against their own kin. Brother fighting brother. Never peace. Never so much as a weeks worth of peace being offered for parties to talk. Always war. Just killing. Children rotting in the streets while the buildings around them burn. So much blood. So much death. Never ending killing. A Dark Age that would see the murder of billions."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	64. Chapter 64

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 64

Phoenix Star

In transit.

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 22:40 [Sanc Standard Time

Dorothy

Door. Wall. Now that one held a wardrobe of sorts and foot locker for her shoes and boots. It also held, in another cupboard that was not obvious immediately, her emergency space suit. She snorted softly. Likely by the time she could don the stupid thing she would be dead from explosive decompression; or an explosion if the alert ever sounded.

//I want answers. I want more answers than these people have given me. Above all, I want to know the truth. I want to know that He is really alive. I want to see him in front of me, touch him, talk to him. Know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he really is alive. I am taking a chance on believing them, but if He is alive … If he is … Cousin. Are you really not dead?//

Second wall containing fold away desk, and that thing they called a bed in zero-g. Thankfully on the next wall was an example of the real thing. This ship used gravity generation far more than others that she knew of, and she could enjoy the luxury of sleeping in a proper bunk.

The cabin she had been assigned was far from her ideal of comfort, but it was serviceable to her needs. To be honest, she had toured the new ships used by the Preventers, and she knew that this cabin was actually the height of luxury in comparison. Inter planetary ships were functional, every inch of space used to best effect. There was no waste on one of these ships, be it owned by Preventers, ESUN or the Mining Consortiums.

This ship was far more luxurious than any of the ships she had been on in her tour of the colonies. Yes, admittedly, while most of those had been shuttles, she had been surprised to see the amount of luxuries available on this vessel. She had had cause to tour the interior of an interplanetary ship, the first time as a companion to her late grandfather, an indulgence, most people assumed, but a necessary part of her education, in truth. Later she had had occasion to view the interior facilities of a Preventer cruiser, and she knew what advances had been made in both functionality and comfort. This ship was enough to make her burn with curiosity.

She was so curious about these people who had come from nowhere. They had simply appeared one day, at her hotel on L3 during her tour. Just who were they? What kind of resources did they have available to them to produce a ship of this type? She had been told by the ship's Captain that this vessel was experimental and at the time of her pickup, cleared for only half speed. She had learned that another ship of similar specifications was now undergoing field trials with the new engine design.

He had smiled as he told her of both vessels, yet on reflection he had told her very little information that she could later use. They expected that eventually, when the ships were fully operational, they could cut the time of a flight between Earth and the Asteroid belt down to fifty days, possibly even by more. If that was not idle bragging, then this ship she was on was more than twice as fast as the latest of the ships in the ESUN fleet.

Fifty days. Less than two months. At this time it took approximately three months to reach the planet Mars, with two to three months longer required to boost past Mars and reach the asteroid belt, depending on the locations needing to be reached. All ships were carefully charted, their courses computer controlled to get the absolute best economy out of fuel and vessel alike. Then there was this ship, design unknown, and its Captains boast that she was fast. Beyond fast actually.

This needed investigation.

//Just who are these people? They turn up on my doorstep with a letter from a dead man, and I find myself on an unknown ship with technology that leaves everything that I know of years obsolete. The letter said nothing really. Absolutely nothing. Just enough to goad me into accepting the offer, and keeping quiet about the entire affair. On the off chance that He is alive.//

She smirked closing the book she had tried to occupy herself with, with a soft thump. Just how bright were these people? If they thought her stupid enough to embark on this trip without taking precautions, then they would find themselves sorely mistaken. She had her grandfather to thank for ensuring that she did nothing without due consideration and planning. She was not such a fool as to take off on a trip into the unknown without taking measures to ensure her safety.

There were certain people, both on Earth and in the colonies, who would be receiving interesting packages in the mail if she did not return to the Earth Sphere within eighteen months. She had considered the time scale of such a journey without knowing the ship she would be travelling on was so much faster than the norm, but that was okay. It would allow her plenty of time to investigate. She could cancel the automatic delivery of said packages with a simple radio signal, but she would not do so unless she was convinced these people were harmless to the peace, and that her cousin was alive.

Peace? It was far from the ideal that her cousin had planned, but at least it was peace. Given time it could be made into that ideal that he had schemed for, but certain people first must learn how to bend just a little to best effect that peace for all. Most times, they had to learn, that what you wish for, you must work and compromise for. It was a lesson she had learned at her cousin's side. He had been a kinder teacher than her grandfather.

//Treize. Are you really alive? It has been nearly three years. Three years of silence. No hint, no indications at all that you might have survived. Of course, no body was ever found, nor much in the way of parts from the Tallgeese II, but no one was really surprised about that. Then a letter out of nowhere, delivered by an unknown. Who are these people? I want answers and no one will give them to me. They say I must wait, but I have never taken waiting well. This had better be good, cousin, or you will hear just what I think of you for your silence all this time.//

It had not been easy for her after the One Year War.

She had been an outcast from society, and she had known it would be so before she had taken herself back to Earth. Returning there had been a decision she had not made hastily, and she knew to survive at all she must deal with people she would by far prefer to be safely dead. Knowing how the wind would blow she had made herself scarce, sitting in seclusion, waiting for decisions to be made.

War criminals. The worst of the worst. Rabid dogs that needed to be put down. That is what she knew the ESUN politicians would label herself and Milliardo. She knew it was going to happen, and she had not been fool enough to stay around for them to arrest her and they had come. Just a little too late to ensnare her.

//Fools.// she smiled sweetly, no one was here to see her, so she did not need to guard her expressions quite as diligently as she needed when in company.

Her lawyers, of course, had worked in her favour, though it had not been an easy fight to win. Yet the Gundam pilots had succeeded in fighting a very similar war with officialdom, and they were through and through Terrorists. At least she had been working within the law during most of the war. When she had turned to White Fang she had been hurting over her grandfather's death, but she had nevertheless followed her cousin's grand design. In truth she had been surprised to find herself on the Libra, but something deep within had assured her she had made the right choice in continuing.

//His eyes. I will never forget what I saw in his eyes.//

Those crystal blue eyes had been so expressive when he had thought no one would see. Could no one but she see the heartache in those eyes? The windows to the soul, she mused. If that was true, then how had Milliardo carried through with the plan? He had been in such pain. She had followed her cousin's plans, but she had learned that Milliardo had plans of his own. Had only she witnessed how he had struggled to make himself go on with his design? Her cousin's design had been accepted by Milliardo, but he had taken it further, and she had not as yet learned exactly why he had thought it necessary to go so far. She had, regardless of her lack of total understanding of the why, been able to see that he had reason behind his driving force, and not madness.

//Each and every action that he made had been carefully thought out. Planned down to the last detail.//

Even to her betrayal.

He had known she would react to his reaching for that button.

At the time she had not realized, but on reflection in the aftermath, while she waited for the axe to fall over her neck, she had been able to realize so much she had missed at the time. She had not been able to stop herself from reacting to the threat he offered to her cousin. Oh, he had shouted at her and had her restrained, but he had had her released from custody just as quickly.

He had released her, and there had been no accusation or recrimination in his gaze, just cold necessity. He had released her and allowed her to go to that room, and to merge once again with the battle system of the Libra's army of Mobile Dolls.

+ "Do as you must, Dorothy. Allow the system to guide, but never to rule you. You have practiced, but you are not perfect with it yet. You are far from perfect with it, and so long as you understand that, you will survive."

"What did you see when you used Epyon? You never told me what it was you saw, but in hindsight, knowing what I know now, I can guess some of it. Some of it, but not all, I am sure. You designed the Battle System, and you made more of it than I did. It was based on the Epyon design, but I know now, having gone over the specifications of the system, that it was more the Zero System than Epyon. You were very careful about that design, and you were very particular about what elements of Epyon were merged into the system. If anything, the system was a hybrid between the two systems, one you felt was safe for me to use. You would not allow me in Epyon itself. Was that because it hurt you? I think so. I think that Epyon tore you apart, but you continued on as though the pain was nothing. What did you see?"

She was as helpless to understand then, as she was helpless to act now.

Confined to this stupid cabin while all hell broke out on Mars was aggravating to say the least. She had been approached by these mysterious people during her tour of L3, and she had allowed her curiosity to get the best of her caution. After so long in this ship the mayday they had picked up had fired her blood and become a clarion call to action. The source of the call had sent her into a cold rage she had not felt for some time. Not since the One Year War.

No. No, that was wrong. One other occasion since then had fired her to a fine fit of rage. She had been furious when the agents of the ESUN had tried to arrest her, despite the official pardon she had been granted when her lawyers won the right of amnesty for her.

Those idiots from the ESUN Security Office had tried to arrest her the very first time she appeared in public. She smirked at the thought of how it had amused her to watch them lie on the ground, moaning in pain. She had hired the very best of body guards, of course, and at the time she had been in the company of one of her lawyers. He had been her grandfather's oldest friend, and he had been disgusted with the entire episode.

She sighed. Disgusted, yes, he had been that all right, but the reasons for it had been because someone in the government thought they were above the desires of Romefeller. The sick truth was that it was only through the efforts of the Romefeller organization that she had become a free citizen once again. Free to walk around on the Earth and go to the colonies. Free to work under the shadow of Romefeller for their aim to rule the Earth Sphere. Their price for their assistance in pulling her out of that mess had been her cooperation.

//Damn them! I will work for them, but only until it suits me to do otherwise. Only until I find what I am looking for. Even though I have no idea what that is. Is it a cause that I am looking for? Something to believe in?//

Damn the old bastards who had ruled her life since her birth. She was not a fool, and she had learned very early in her childhood that her grandfather had very powerful allies. Powerful and ruthless.

Romefeller.

They were much more than that Old Boys Club the world had thought them to be. So much more than the public front that had been displayed, as a diversion, from the true power base they enjoyed. Her grandfather had entertained such grandiose plans, and intended her to take over from him when he retired. He had styled himself to become King of the World, and in the end, thankfully, had realized that he could never achieve it.

Quite plainly he lacked the charisma to pull it off.

Enter Miss Relena Darlian. Or Princess Relena Peacecraft, as she actually was.

//Stupid, naive little bitch. She fell so easily into the plans of Romefeller to bring the world, all unknowing, under their direct collective thumb.//

The perfect tool.

//The little fool's redemption at the time was that Romefeller had been fighting an internal battle between factions.//

Faction fighting had saved the fool from immediate disaster, when Old Marquis Wayridge and his cronies had not been convinced of the veracity of the design the ruling body of the organization had constructed. Enter the faction fighting, back stabbing and clawing for power that often erupted in Romefeller's ranks at a crux point in their grand designs. Enter the opportunity for the situation to get out of hand, as had happened so often before in their history.

With the survival of the Peacecraft heiress discovered, it had become possible to resolve the issues of sovereign rights that had erupted in the ranks of the hierarchy of the organization. The question of who should rule the Earth had sparked off the infighting that had crippled Romefeller. The ancient, controlled bloodline of the Peacecrafts would draw a response from the world that would change the face of history, if it was handled properly.

One thing that Romefeller had was the experience to make certain Relena would be accepted by the world. The Romefeller propaganda machine had swung into action. That had sealed Relena's fate to be accepted by the world as a Queen, but in truth become a puppet controlled by Romefeller. Whichever faction won the infighting, of course.

That Marquis Wayridge was the girl's grandfather made no difference during the internal struggle for control amid the ranks of the organization. So her grandfather had believed, Dorothy mused. In that one neglect he had failed himself, and those who followed him. The Marquis had skillfully used his blood ties to allow him to gain strength within his chosen faction, and had drawn some of the undecided individuals amid Romefeller to his side of the argument.

Wayridge had sat quietly, allowing her grandfather to do all the dirty work in gaining possession of the girl and setting her up as his puppet. How could her grandfather have missed what was coming? Those thought to be undecided, who had joined Wayridge, then threw their weight behind the Marquis. Yes, they had agreed to allow Relena Peacecraft to take the world throne, and they had then gone on to depose the opposing faction of Romefeller. That left themselves, through her grandsire, to rule the world through her. She believed her grandfather had saved her and like the little innocent she was would be certain to take the advice of her grandfather and his friends. Coup complete.

Hypocrites.

Dorothy sighed and shook her head. It was all water that had long ago passed under the bridge. She should not allow it to bother her and she should let it go. It had no baring on the here and now after all. It was very old, stale news.

The real news was what was happening on Mars. For some reason the notorious Raiders were attacking the Martian base. That Terra Forming base had been one of Relena's pet projects, and Dorothy was one of the few who knew why.

Oh, yes. She was, when all was said and done, her grandfather's heir. Blood of his blood. Trained to be his replacement. She had learned long ago that information was the key to her survival, and she made it her business to learn all that she possibly could, to smooth her way in the circles of the ESUN.

One never knew who one might need to blackmail, after all, or when it might be necessary to do so. She had so much information on the key members of the governing councils of the Earth Sphere, both Earth based and Colony; that if she pulled those strings they would probably dance Swan Lake in an effort to placate her.

//Politicians. Necessary evils, yes, but one you need to make certain you control. Miss Relena is too much a goody two shoes to hit them where she needs to, but I am not her. I could take them down, or have them grovelling at my feet within minutes.//

So why did she not? Why had she stood back and allowed Relena to fall under the sway of the faction currently in control of the ESUN? Why had she chosen to not step in and sort out the mess?

Revenge?

//Perhaps.// She mused, a small smile tilting her lips just a little. Her blue eyes glinted with barely controlled disgust.

Certainly she could not discount revenge as a motive immediately. Yet if it was revenge that motivated her, then she had to ask the question; revenge for what? The girl had been a fool, yes, that was undeniable, and she was a fool that too many people listened to. She made mistake after mistake, and somehow always ended up smelling like a rose, more and more people falling under the little fool's sway. Even after such blatantly stupid mistakes.

It was so unfair. It just rubbed her the wrong way that Miss Relena always came out on top, despite her faults which no one ever seemed to see. If they saw it, they forgave her and dismissed her faults and worshipped the ground she walked on. It just seemed so unfair that the elder brother, who had given everything he had ever held dear to him to attain peace, should never be given a fair hearing.

She had been there. On the Libra. She had watched it all happen, and she had been a part of it. She had been a party to the destruction and the birth of peace. They lauded Relena, and those annoying Gundam Pilots, with the birth of peace. They spoke of her cousin with kindness and understanding that he who could have been the King of the World had died to bring Peace to the Earth Sphere. They reviled Milliardo as the insane villain who would destroy the homeland of humanity. He would never be understood, and he had known it.

He had seemed so alone.

//Milliardo. Is it for you that I have let her wallow in this mess of her own making? Is it because of the way she treated you on the Libra? I had my hand in that, yes, to my shame. Is it for the way she ignored you, her own brother, to faun all over that Gundam pilot? Damn. That's so soppy. Eww. No. No, I have to get off this stupid ride of looking back over the past, and second guessing myself and others. Who am I kidding? Myself?//

The simple truth was that the girl deserved to learn the hard way, that reality was not the sweet smelling rose garden she thought it was. It appeared that simply telling her where she was making mistakes would not work. Some people had to learn the facts of life the hard way. She was learning that lesson now.

Oh, yes, Miss Relena Darlian … the girl would not even acknowledge the ancient heritage of her blood line by accepting her true name… was certainly learning that all of her troubles would not all just fall into place for her this time.

Someone had to teach her a lesson.

//Raiders? Raiders attacking Mars?//

No, she did not think so. Possibly, yes, she did admit that it was possible, but she was far more inclined to think it was the ESUN gathering in Milliardo and his family.

//The children must be over two months old now.//

So like their father to look at too, from the reports she had read. Tiny new born lives; yet caught up in political scheming, and such a stir they would cause if Romefeller found out they existed. It had not been easy, but she had been very careful to ensure that word of his presence on Mars had not leaked to Romefeller.

Those in charge of this fiasco in the ESUN Council, she was certain, would not have wished for the mother organization to learn of either the man or the children. That would have ruined their power play. He needed to be assumed dead or lost, beyond their reach.

In her opinion he had paid his dues to Romefeller, and deserved whatever freedom and happiness he could gain for himself.

//Why did you have to be caught up in this mess? You went through enough when you chose to command the White Fang. That little bitch turned her back on you, and you took it in your stride, but I saw the hurt in you. I'm sorry that you have to be caught up in this mess now. She never cared about you. She just cared about chasing that suicidal automaton, Yuy. So let Mister bloody Perfect Soldier get her out of this mess she fashioned by being Miss Perfect I Can Do It All Myself Darlian. I could pull the plug on those bastards pulling her strings even from here, but what good would it do? She would learn nothing.//

She sighed, glaring at the walls of the room assigned to her. She had accepted the offer presented to her by the unknown individual who had presented himself at her hotel room with a letter designed to tweak her curiosity. That individual had turned out to be the Captain of this ship. She had accepted his proposal, but not before she had made arrangements on the quiet, of course, to act as security for her safety. She had, regardless, accompanied him onto his shuttle, and then onto this ship that lurked beyond the usual space lanes, cloaked from discovery.

They had some very nice technology, and she had been very interested in the idea of the new engines, and the idea of cutting so much time off the travel involved to reach their destination. Then, too, there was the cloak that shielded their ship from discovery.

Arriving on the ship she had learned that they had not been a part of a regular flight to the Earth Sphere. Their people had other ships involved in secret operations, and only this experimental ship had been available for this flight to fetch her. They had come to L3 specifically to meet with her, at the behest of one they claimed to be her cousin.

Her very dead cousin.

Treize had died when the Tallgeese II had exploded after that stupid farce of a duel at the end of the One Year War. It had been a farce, she knew. To her sorrow she knew that Treize had had no intention of surviving the war. He considered his death a necessary part of the cause for peace. Yet these people now appeared and claimed that he was alive, and that he wished to speak with her, which necessitated that she journey to him beyond the Asteroid Belt.

Why? Why did she need to go to him? Why did he not come to her?

Well, Treize had always preferred people pander to his needs. Of course he would not consider doing the travelling to her . One travelled to him. It always had been so.

She had not been easily convinced, but in the end she had chosen to accompany them to this base of theirs, but not before placing certain safe guards that only she could manipulate. The Phoenix Star had indeed proven to be faster than the Earth Sphere ships, as they were some ten days ahead of what she had projected they would be to reach this point in space, even allowing for additional speed. She had severely underestimated the resources open to these people to produce such a wonder of modern technology.

Then the Mayday had been received.

She had insisted that they change course for Mars and offer some assistance, and it had not taken much to convince the Captain to respond to the mayday. Obviously the man had a heart, and a sense of honour. He had responded to the unwritten rules of succor for those who needed aid. The ship had altered course, but her satisfaction had turned sour when the bloody fool had informed his flight control of the change of course.

The order had come back with uncommon speed, to return to their approved course and under no circumstances were they to push the engines into untested limits. Others would respond to the mayday, and she had been escorted to her cabin and quite promptly locked in here.

Others indeed.

She felt that she needed to go to Mars with all speed. She felt that she needed to be there to offer support to Milliardo. To apologize to him for not having taken action to get him off the planet before the ESUN could act against him.

It had been in her power to get him off that rock, if she had taken the time to do so.

//I am sorry. I should have acted.//

That his location had been known to the ESUN Security Office before he had even left the Earth for Mars she had known. From the safety of her retreat she had monitored the Barton Incursion and she had known immediately who the pilot of the Tallgeese III was. His fighting style could never be mistaken.

She had heard from her agent in the Preventers of the debacle when Miss Spoiled ex Queen of the World had turned yet again on her brother, screaming at him like a banshee. It had been after that report that she had determined to take action to see that little Miss Perfect grew up.

Someone had to.

No one else seemed to want the job.

At least Sally Po and Lady Une had had the sense to see Milliardo to safe quarters. It was both a pity and a miscalculation on their part that they had not had sense enough to allow him to leave. There would have been less chance of the ESUN getting their hooks into him and using him against Miss Perfect. Yes, so Miss Perfect had made an effort at reconciliation after a good day's sleep.

So what?

Nowhere near enough of an effort had been made, in her view, to make up for the unforgivable display Miss Relena Darlian had put on. Darlian. Always with the Darlian. Would the brat never acknowledge the truth of her ancestry?

//I should have arranged for you to get off Mars months ago, but with Noin pregnant I knew you would not willingly go. You have been forced into things all of your life, and I could not force you to leave when your children would soon be born. I'm still not certain if you want to be with Noin. She always seemed to be a pushy bitch to me, but who am I to judge? I'm more than a little pushy myself.//

No, there was no help for it. She had to sit tight and see how this panned out. She had no chance at this time to alter the outcome on Mars personally. This ship did have the potential power to get her to Mars in rather short time, but there were factors which stopped her from playing a part in whatever happened out there. The engines were an experimental design and unknown to her. She had to trust that these people knew what they were doing, and would not leave those on Mars to face massacre. Be it massacre by Raiders, or by another threat. One she suspected to be ESUN in origin.

They had told her that others were responding to the call. Others who would arrive before this ship could get there, but still it rankled. She did not like leaving matters to others. She who prided herself on knowing all the secrets of those in power needed to learn more. Information was her key, and information she would get.

She just had to accept the limitations. Everything in life had limitations.

Somewhere in this busy place called space was a man who claimed to be her cousin, and where he was would be answers. Therefore, she must exercise patience and wait. The information was out there and she would learn it all. What she did with the knowledge when she learned it would remain to be seen.

She had a possible cousin out there, but she also had an old friend who she knew was definitely on Mars. She just had to hope that once again Milliardo did not end up paying the price for simply existing. It seemed that he had been born to be used.

Even by her cousin, she admitted. Yes, even Treize had used him, and then abandoned him when it had suited his design. All a part of the grand design for peace. She could not blame Milliardo if he still hated the man, though she suspected he had too much heart to hold onto hate.

On reflection, she decided, the only person she could ever recall he had ever hated was the bastard who had killed his parents. To get to him Milliardo had allowed himself to be used, knowing it to be the only way he could win access through the Alliance forces to exact his justice.

Justice.

Yes, more justice than revenge, she decided. He would not even realize the distinction, she knew, but he had never regretted pulling the trigger, and that she knew for a fact.

For now she must trust these strangers. She had no choice, and somehow she was certain that she would again meet Milliardo face to face. She would trust for now.

After all, she had insurance. She never did anything without insurance.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	65. Chapter 65

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 65

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Air Lock Control

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 18:15 MST [Mars Standard Time

Simpson

There was little doubt in his mind that he had made a fundamental error. A stupid error, too. One he should have had the foresight to avoid. Still, he could not exactly turn back the hands of time, even though he surely wished that he could. It was a simple mistake really.

He should have left the bitch hanging from the rafters of the control room.

She had made a wonderful decorative piece, he reflected. She had been by far more attractive whilst hanging suspended in mid air from a steel rafter, than she did when she was mobile and capable of speech. Speech? No, she did not simply speak. She complained.

She complained. She cursed. Fluently. Viciously and in at least six languages that he could identify. She was far more inventive and vulgar in her choice of language than the worst of the sergeants he had ever had the misfortune to meet during his military career.

The gag had been the perfect accompaniment to her hanging indignity. He could well imagine the circumstances that explained just why Noin had felt the need to use it in the first place. It was less likely to be explained by Noin wanting to avoid attention, and more likely she did it for simple peace and quiet. The woman had felt no qualms about trapping the building, so she must have been fed up with the sound of McIntyre's voice, and not concerned with McIntyre screaming for help.

That gag would have been perfect now. He really should have thought to bring it with him.

In short, Shanna McIntyre was pushing her luck.

He had to wonder if he really needed her? With her out of commission her team, or what was left of them, would take their instruction from him, and he knew the identities of each member of that team, and their strengths and weaknesses. In his view, more weaknesses than strength. Part of the briefing he had received prior to his departure for this mission had included all ESUN agents resident on Mars.

One of those agents he was quite certain Ms McIntyre did not even know about. That agents' duty was to monitor the performance of the Sleepers and in particular their Commander, Ms. Mouth. With conditioned agents there was usually at least one agent, unmodified, who acted as security against the modified agents going rogue. Had she known of the monitoring she might have handled this situation with far more care.

When they returned to Earth, at the completion of this mission, he had no doubt the report to be filed by that agent would not colour her rose red. More of a disgusting shade of puce, he decided.

Of course, much as he would like to see her humbled by their mutual superiors, he might well have to silence her permanently should she continue in this vein. The entire trouble was her anger over her failure. In a nutshell, she wanted Noin.

In no uncertain terms she wanted to get her hands on the Preventer agent and extract suitable, and quite bloody, revenge for the indignities heaped upon her during her confinement. He smirked, admitting if only to himself, that Noin probably could not have found a better form of detention for the bitch. It had effectively silenced her and contained her. Above all, it had humiliated her in front of her team.

//It also left her hanging around, pun intended.// He mused//No doubt she intended to save her for later questioning. Noin would have wanted answers on who was the brains behind this entire abduction. If not for the deaths of my men I could almost like this Preventer.//

He sighed, tuning out the continuing tirade and turning his attention from the constantly complaining woman to watch as Frazier worked on the connections. The man was settled into a nest of component parts and a spaghetti knot of wires and cables.

It was a complicated job to modify the air system of the airlocks to take their little addition to the sealed system. The additive was tasteless, odorless and very quick acting. In actual fact, he had come to consider it as mercy killing. Certainly it would prove to be far more merciful to those workers outside the dome, than the deaths her Sleepers had been dealing to the hapless population in the upper dome.

//Blood thirsty bunch of bastards.// He reflected.

These people had lived and worked as a part of the Mars Colony. They had co existed with these people for years in some cases. They were coldly professional killings machines, and he had known this type of killer before. If his suspicions were correct, then the bulk of the Sleeper agents on Mars had undergone psyche conditioning before being placed on the planet. There would have been a trigger word arranged as part of the conditioning, that would see them turn from normal, every day professional terra formers, to raging, cold blooded killers at the simple utterance of that word. No doubt McIntyre had used it, and now controlled a group of emotionless monsters.

He preferred his killing be done face to face, between equals. Kill or be killed, between Alpha males was far more his style. He was well aware of his own weakness, too. He wanted to test Merquise. He wanted to face off against the Lightening Count and find out who was better, but he had been forbidden to kill the man.

His Commanders knew him too well. His orders had been very specifically worded, and he would not break those instructions for his own gratification.

He hated associating with nutcases. Psyched out killers fell into that category.

He sighed, listening with half his attention to McIntyre, still expounding on the methods she would use to pay back Ms Noin for her humiliation, muttering to herself about floggings at this time, he noted. A certified nutcase herself. He tuned her out, ignoring her every attempt to get him to tell her where he had secured his biggest Ace in this game.

He needed Noin, and he needed her healthy. Well, he admitted, he needed her relatively healthy. She might be sweating blood about now from the after effects of the shock gun, but at least she was alive. McIntyre would change that at the earliest opportunity presented to her. If she got the chance.

//What I should do is turn the pair of them loose in a room with knives, sit back and watch the show. I just might do that when this is over. If I don't kill McIntyre myself. A pair of Rabid bitches.// He glanced again at his com watch.

The confirmation from the Wellington had been received, giving him the certainty the mission pick up was a go. It would be tight timing, but the Wellington should be able to arrive around four hours before the Ore Carrier Fatima was slated to fly past Mars.

Of course, if the Captain of the Ore Carrier should responded to the Mayday which would be released to the ears of any one with a radio very shortly now, then they might arrive sooner than estimated. A fatal mission of mercy, he mused, unless they altered their course and made a run from the supposed danger area on receiving the distress call.

Sometimes retreat was a saving grace and in this case, it certainly would be.

That transmission would not be long in coming, he noted, glancing at his watch. At least McIntyre had done that right. Normally the designated emergency radio band from the Mars Colony was designed to broadcast in a relatively small local area, so all transmissions were linked to the Dakkar III system and sent to the nearest ships automatically. According to her instructions McIntyre had altered the frequency of the broadcast and when it was transmitted from the Dakkar III System it would be both boosted, and linked in, to all frequency bands.

He supposed that someone somewhere would notice the small discrepancy eventually. It was even possible that someone in the media might realize the oddity in that, but he doubted any mention of it would be made. After all, it was a good story and anyway, his grandfather and his cronies had the media in their pockets.

There were a number of ships out there that could cause a problem or two with the time table. The Fatima was only one of them, and certainly the nearest, he decided. If he was to be thorough, of course, there were the Sweepers to be considered in the tally of possible problems. That he knew of there was definitely one of their ships somewhere in the vicinity of Mars. Exactly how close to Mars it would be at this time he was uncertain, as unless they were in the space lanes commonly frequented by most shipping, the Sweeper Ships were notorious for flouting the beacon regulations.

By law all space vehicles were to have an automatic beacon that sent out their coded registry for monitoring by the appropriate authorities. This code stated the ships colony or planetary registration number, the vessel's name and the Captain's name, as well as that of the ships owners, be it a corporation or personal ID. Other ships in the space lanes were alerted to the proximity of ships in the lanes by the use of the beacons. He knew of a number of incidents where Sweepers had flaunted this rule. Of course, there were the actual Raiders to be considered.

Raiders were, after all, a law unto themselves. Their ships certainly would not be found honoring the rules of broadcasting identity. If they did, then it was a certainty the identity would be false; a ruse to allow them to cruise the space lanes seeking likely prey. He admitted that Raiders were the perfect scapegoats for this type of operation.

They had been chosen to take the blame over a year ago, before Noin had become pregnant and had caused certain changes in the planned operation. As part of the long range planning that had gone into this operation, he knew of two raids performed by covert ops teams much like his own. The raids amid the asteroid belt had taken place in the last seven months.

Raids that had been particularly bloody and were plastered all over the airwaves by the media, and blamed soundly on the Raiders, as they were meant to be.

Somewhere out there the real thing would likely not be very happy, though being raiders they would not have a very well organized community. Traditionally reavers, pirates, raiders, whatever you wanted to call them, were loners. The modern day versions had been enough of a problem that they had been chosen to take the fall for the Mars operation should anything go wrong.

//Well, something has gone wrong. Christ. I'd laugh if the bastards turned up here, wanting a share in the spoils. They'd get a shock to find the Wellington here, ready and waiting to take out anyone who turns up to the party.//

It would not, however, be such an amusing turn of events should the colony receive a Raider visit for real, before the Wellington could arrive. No, there was nothing at all amusing about that thought. He had little fear that it would actually happen, of course.

While Raider numbers were not known he knew there could not be many of them, and that they would have poor, if any, organizational skills. Raiders were opportunists. It was amusing, however, to consider just what would be likely to happen if the Raiders turned up to investigate.

His instructions covered that possibility, of course. His instructions covered so many possibilities. Hold out until the Wellington arrived, his orders stated, and above all he was to allow no harm to come to those children. Entirely too many plans for the future hinged on the survival of the Peacecraft twins, which could leave him as a glorified baby sitter, while fighting a running battle with Raiders.

//Great.//

That was, of course, if his team survived long enough to even collect the children into their care. He knew McIntyre was having trouble with establishing contact with her team. He was not, in all honesty, surprised. Merquise and Noin would have offered very little in the way of mercy if they came across them during their grizzly work.

He was now a believer in the data contained within the reports on at least Noin's proficiency in self defense and tactics. He would reserve judgment on Merquise for now, but the silence of four members of his team suggested he could make that judgment call. He knew Merquise had taken down at least the two women in the medical section. Dead? Still unknown at this time, and still no word from the remainder of his men in this dome; or at the Alpha Dome.

The mission was, in essence, a shambles.

He glanced at his wrist watch, quickly doing some mental calculations. They were running low on time. "Time, Frazier?"

The man was up to his armpits in wiring and tubes and did not even glance back over his shoulder at his Commander. He was at this time rewiring the controls for the airlocks so they could control the systems from the Shuttle Control Tower.

Simpson had decided to keep the tower as his base of operations for the moment, but it meant that Frazier had his work cut out for him in rewiring the entire system. Time consuming, yes, but the Shuttle Tower was easily defended and a good base of operations. It was, at the moment, prime real estate. When they returned to the tower Frazier had some work to do on the control console there, modifying that unit to complete the job.

"Another thirty minutes, Sir."

"Too fucking long! You incomp-"

The click of a safety on a gun being released shut McIntyre's mouth very satisfactorily, Simpson mused. He met her infuriated glare with an arched eye brow and a bland smirk.

"Only I swear at my men, McIntyre. I have had as much of your mouth as I will tolerate for the moment. If you had not taken out the entire control station in your Tower, this would not now be necessary."

"Noin-"

"I don't want to hear it. See if you can raise any of your people, and keep out of my way while we finish setting this up."

Of all the incompetent psychopathic agents in the EUN, why did he have to be saddled with her?

Did she take him for a total fool? If it had been Noin who had wiped the computers in the control room, as McIntyre would obviously have him believe, then McIntyre had not done her job in containing Merquise and Noin.

The question of how Noin had received the base codes was a point he could make, of course, if he did not already know the answer. Yes, Noin was a control room operator, that was undeniable, but the master codes of the computer system had been included in the virus that had wiped the system. It was the only way the virus could have penetrated the system so quickly, and that code had never been released to Noin, because of her association with Merquise.

The system purge had all the earmarks of Shanna McIntyre overkill.

"Sir?" Frazier was studying a small computer pad as he stirred.

He glanced toward his Communications Officer, now his only surviving tech specialist. He needed to keep Frazier alive, or they had very little chance of having this mission succeed. "Frazier?"

"I've accessed the airlock records, Sir. Someone has used the lock in the last two hours."

//Interesting. So now is there more, or less, in the dome than we assumed?// "Entry or exit?"

"One entry logged in at 16:03 and an exit logged at 17:33. Airlock three was used on both occasions, Sir, so no more than five in or out."

"How many in each? The locks have observation security."

Frazier studied the readouts on the diagnostic program he had opened to check the connections he had already made. To his adjustments he managed to tap into the surveillance cameras records and sighed.

"Unknown, Sir. The cameras went down before the lock was entered."

Simpson turned to glare at McIntyre, knowing where that fault lay. Instead of taking out the Control Tower's security system, as he would have instructed, she had taken down the entire surveillance system with the security system for the Base Dome itself.

She tended towards overkill in everything she did. His training emphasized the need to know as much as possible about the whereabouts of his enemies, and any of their potential allies, as being of paramount importance. The loss of the security cameras was a very sore point indeed to him. It effectively blinded him.

"I followed my orders, Simpson." She fairly spat at him, eyes flashing with rage and the pain of her body. It would take hours, if not days, for the physical pain cause by Noin's inventive torture to fade, and until then she was not likely to be civil to anyone. "Take it up with our superiors when this is finished."

//If we survive, I believe I will be taking more than that up with them. Damn fool woman. When dealing with someone of Merquise and Noin's level of training you need every advantage you can get. Every advantage. That includes seeing him coming at you a long time before he reaches you.//

Something the redhead had not considered, obviously.

"Quick as you can, Frazier."

"Sir."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	66. Chapter 66

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 66

Sanc

New Port City

Preventer Headquarters

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 22:20

Lady Une

"Mayday! Mayday! Help us. This is Mars Base Dome. The Raiders … oh, God … The Raiders are here! They're killing everybody. Help us …"

Une straightened slowly from the desk, her brown eyes narrowed, lips tightening with reaction to the message that had beamed over the emergency com lines.

//How dare they!// The thought was a silent denial of utter disbelief and rage, the implications of the message unable to be ignored. //Bastards.//

She was well aware of her Medical Officer, Sally Po, glaring at the screen with blue eyes widening in horrified understanding. She was not the only one who understood the implications. Her second thought, to her sorrow, was that she recognized it as a move that would have been considered to be worthy of herself when she had been Colonel Une of the Oz Specials.

Yes, she could be that ruthless. She was more than capable of being that ruthless. Had she not threatened to blow up a colony to force the Gundams to surrender? It had not been an idle threat, she knew. Not an idle threat at all. She had actually intended to do it. His Excellency had not been pleased with her at all, and looking back on how she was in those days, she had to ask herself now a vital question.

Who was she to judge Zechs Merquise?

//No. Not now Anne. You can't deal with that now, there is far more of importance to be attended to than dealing with your views on Him. Just not now. Save it for later. Alright, what do I do now? Think. Be quick and be sure you get this right, because you will not get a second chance.//

Sally hissed her rage, fingers gripping the arms of her chair, blue eyes intense. "They will take out the colony and place the blame on the Raiders. For it to succeed they have to take down the entire colony."

"An effective response to trouble." Une returned, managing to maintain her calm facade, careful to keep her voice even. Losing her temper would serve no purpose. "Very efficient, actually. With this one action they accomplish a number of objectives. Their funding for new ships and recruits to patrol the space lanes will skyrocket. They will be given a mandate to go into space in numbers and clean up the space lanes. They will gain so much by that one single action. Yes. They have been very efficient with their plans."

//Efficient? Effective? I suppose that is true, but it does not help the situation to admire their ruthlessness. Just how are we supposed to react to this? We know it for the farce it is, but how do we prove it? How do we prove the bastards have arranged for the murder of thousands, and not disrupt the peace process? God. Is it worth peace? Is this price worth what is happening out there?// Sally shook her head, forcing herself to move beyond the shock. This was not being useful in the current situation.

"Somehow I do not thing that those on Mars will think it so effective, to be used in this manner. I am of the opinion they will think of it more along the lines of cold-blooded murder." Sally returned.

Une nodded in agreement, but absently, her mind running quickly over what they knew for certain, and what was as yet supposition. The situation must be able to be of use. It was simply a matter of finding the best way to react for the good of all involved. There was obviously nothing she could do to stop the slaughter. Her ships were just too far away. It was her failure, and she would carry the blame for those lives lost to her grave.

"It is efficient. They have effectively established far more than a cover for the operation on Mars. If this action has been deemed necessary, then I believe it is fairly safe to assume that matters on Mars are well out of hand. No doubt Zechs and Noin have strenuously objected to the policy of their children being raised on Earth. This reaction is to the point in that it allows them a sound cover for the operation and the deaths that are being dealt. It also allows them to gain more than just a cover from this mission. No, Sally, I have to be honest here and cover all of the bases. It has been very well thought out, and they have been very careful to consider as many possible scenarios as possible. Yes, it is whole scale slaughter, but you have to admire the efficiency of the plan. It has been meticulously planned, and it has long term implications for the Earth Sphere."

//She admires the planners of this slaughter? God. Are you slipping back into the Colonel Une persona? I'm not certain that could be a good thing.//

"If I am to be honest, then I have to say that if it was really well thought out, then they would not have been stupid enough to use Zechs and Lu in this manner." Blue eyes spat fire, not in the least impressed by the situation at all. "God, I can just imagine what is happening on Mars. Confusion. Chaos. With their agents slaughtering the terraformers, those who are left and capable of fighting back will not know who they can trust. It will be a shambles, Une. No real organized defense against them will be possible. Those people are not soldiers. They are scientists and laborers, Anne. I can just see that Lu will kill anyone who goes near the babies, innocent or not. She will not take chances with her children. I doubt that even Zechs could organize a defense. With his reputation short of terrorizing them into submission they will not trust him to defend them."

Lady Une merely grunted an acknowledgement of the simple truth her second offered her. Yes, chaos would reign on the Martian base, but that was out of her hands. Merquise and Noin were professionals, and would have to deal with it as best they could. There were also the Preventer agents she had established on Mars to be factored into the equation. She had done what she could there, and she must look to other horizons.

Her own thoughts were turning to broader implications. Her concern was turning far closer to home than lingering on that distant planet. In the bloodbath that would birth on Mars there was an abject lesson the ESUN councilors were sending to Relena. There was no doubt the message was clear, and that the girl would understand. It was likely they had given instructions to their agents to kill either Merquise or Noin, possibly even both of them, to teach the Vice Foreign Minister to know her place. They would have the children taken into secured custody and be assured Relena would no longer think of fighting their influence.

She had come to realize the influences being brought to bear on the girl, not just from the Council and their imprisonment of her brother, but from sources far closer to home. Bloodlines were being brought to bear on her education, and Lady Une had noted that Relena was beginning to have some understanding of the importance breeding still exerted on the political scenes of the Earth Nation.

That had not initially been the case, Une was certain. Relena's exposure to the traditionalist values of the people of Sanc, were having a bearing on her thought processes. During the war, and in its aftermath, Relena had certainly not had any love for her brother, and it was very likely she had none for him even now.

What the girl had learned since the war was that one needed family.

She had become based in the Sanc Kingdom, when not traveling amid the colonies and performing her duties as Vice Foreign Minister. During that time she had had a chance to learn of the reverence the people of Sanc had for the Peacecraft lineage. While she had been raised with wealth and prestige, she had not been exposed to the reverence with which the Sancian people viewed their ruling bloodline. With that reverence now witnessed on a daily basis, and reinforced under Pagan's guidance, she would have learned that the old bloodlines were indeed revered.

Unlike many other countries where the nobility and royalty had fallen into disfavor, in Sanc the exact opposite had happened. Not even the massacre performed by the Alliance had wiped away the people's view of their ancient history. The people of Sanc viewed the Royal Family with a reverence and importance that was centuries old. Pagan had been taught from his childhood of the importance of preserving the bloodline of the family his people had served for generations. His family had died in serving the Peacecrafts, and he served them to this day. He would undoubtedly have passed that imperative on to Relena.

The bloodlines were ancient and above all must be preserved.

In Sanc, and so many of the old European countries, the interaction between the common people and the nobility, and especially the few remaining families who could claim Royal bloodlines, was a part of life. It was true that many of the nobility were falling into disfavor, but that was largely an effect of the wars. There were still many very highly respected old families with loyal followings. In many countries the nobility and royalty worked very well indeed for the comfort and safety of their people. Each worked for the other, the Royalty of Europe and their nobles paving the way for a stable and comfortable existence for their people, and in return the common folk defended and worked for the nobility. It was a symbiotic relationship that had existed for thousands of years.

She herself had been born into that society.

Relena would be learning that lesson, and others, under Pagan's capable guidance. She was only too aware of the number of requests that had been made for Relena to take up the Crown of Sanc. Each and every request had been refused, at first adamantly, and more recently with a tired resignation. Relena was beginning to realize that her people in Sanc were not inclined to consider themselves as just another group of citizens of the Earth Sphere Nation.

Dissolving the national borders had been stupid.

The girl had been young and naïve, and a pawn wielded by Romefeller, who had seen the chance to rule the Earth in its entirety. As if they had not, in truth done that, even though it had been in small parcels, instead of the one big ball of rock. Too many countries had fought for too many generations to attain a national identity, and they simply would not give it up on the say so of a fifteen year old girl who had been proclaimed the Queen of the World.

She rubbed a hand over her eyes, considering the implications if Romefeller had succeeded with their aims. It was a frightening thought, but one she would need to entertain. At a later time. There simply was not sufficient time to do it now. More important power plays were afoot.

//Get back on track, Anne. That's for later. Right now you have to see that she survives and is free to act, to the benefit of the people, not just a small group who think they are the only ones fit to rule. That bunch of old lechers and their apprentices will have to learn that times are changing and we have to change the system somehow. What to do first? It is time I acted, not sat on my butt letting events shape around me. His Excellency would not have been surprised by any of this. Treize. Ah, Treize. What should I do? I miss you.//

Sally was waiting and must be concerned by her lack of response. Perhaps she feared a return of the old Colonel Une of Oz. There was no separation in her personality now, though, just solidarity. She was Anne Une, Preventer Earth, and she had a duty to perform. In memory of His Excellency she would preserve the peace. And she would do so in a manner that would make him proud.

Taking a deep breath she reached for the inter com, dark eyes intense, thoughts racing, planning, considering and discarding and sorting. Searching for any means by which to regain some, if not total control of the situation. The story of the raid on Mars would be picked up by every media group in the Earth Sphere. That could not be avoided, as it was already sure to be on the airwaves. No media mogul in his right mind would sit on that story. She needed something to knock it off the airwaves. Something of far reaching importance that it would smother the Martian massacre, before people could get their teeth into the story.

Nothing much had happened, save for the attempted assassination of the L3 Representative at the garden party that afternoon. An attempted assassination … and the media were thirsting for juicy bones to gnaw on?

"Ah. Yes." The breath of a whisper.

The media of late had been too quiet, if anything. This massacre of the Martian Terra Formers would be built into a full scale invasion by a Reavers armada, and action would be demanded. That was exactly what it was designed to do. She could turn the thirst for a good story after the quiet time to her advantage, if she was careful, and provided she could get certain people to cooperate.

If the faction in the Security Council, who had arranged this coercion of Relena, wanted the massacre broadcast all over the ESUN, then she wanted to tone it down and give the media and the people something else to consider. If she could throw a scare into the old buzzards at the same time, then well and good. Of course, her selection of personnel to take part in this operation would be critical to its success, and to making sure that it did not explode beyond her control.

It would be a disaster if she lost control of the plan, but at this time it was the only plan she had that had a chance of success. She judged the risks as being worth the price for success.

"Establish a secured line to Heero Yuy at the Sanc Palace." Une withdrew her hand from her intercom, looking up to meet Sally's eyes. "By the time you get to the palace they will have her ready to leave. Make your departure from there quick and quiet. I want her at a safe house ASAP."

// So you think they may use this as a distraction to isolate her further from help? Yes, you could be right. It's wise to get Relena to safer ground.// "You? You could be at risk in this situation as well." //Remember our earlier conversation, Anne. You are a target, as the head of Preventers.//

So Sally, too, had been doing some thinking. Good. Very well, this would help, not hinder the situation. She had learned she could rely on the blonde woman to be stability itself in tense situations. Sally could be relied on not to lose her head, and to be objective in a tough situation.

"I am head of Preventers. My absence would be immediately noticed. On the way to the palace I want you to pick up Marie, and get her out of this mess before they decide to use her to curtail my activities. I will need a clear field to work in, and that means getting Marie and Relena to safe ground."

"How long do I have before the shit hits the fan?" She was no fool. She knew that absent minded, automatic reflex where a hand rose, finger extended, to push up glasses Une had not worn for three years. //I will need to keep an eye on her, but for now, maybe we need something of Colonel Une's strength.//

"Yesterday would be good." Softly. Absently, her mind already moving on to other preparations that needed to be made. "I want Relena gone from the palace in less than an hour."

Sally nodded and was moving, not rushing by any means, but hurrying to carryout her instructions. She would place her trust in the Lady for now, but she would keep her eye on the happenings, to ensure that Lady Une did not slip into Colonel Une.

Une pressed her fingers together in a steeple, palms rubbing gently, absently, fingers lightly rubbing at the bridge of her nose. How best to make this work? She must be quick and thorough, and above all she must maintain control of every nuance she set into motion. The intercom buzzed, drawing her attention to the secretary announcing the secure call to Heero at the palace had been established and cleared.

"Ice. Water's on the way. Get Tinkerbell ready for immediate transport to secured location." No time for pleasantries and he would respond far faster to this tone anyway.

"Acknowledged." Not even a second's hesitation in the response. "Out."

She settled back in her chair, eyes drifting to the window, fingers stroking the line of her nose, seeking, and not finding, the wire rimmed spectacles she could feel nestled there. Step one complete. For now she would need to trust that Sally and Heero could remove Mariemaia and Relena to secured locations within the time span she had allotted.

She was uncertain if the ESUN would be daring enough to make a move on the daughter of His Excellency now, but it was not beyond the realm of possibility that they would take this opportunity to act. If Sally was correct and those involved in this matter were aiming to gain control over her, using Mariemaia, then she needed to have the child removed as speedily and quietly as possible.

To give them the time to move both Relena and the child, who was like a daughter to her, she had to act in as normal a manner considering the situation as possible. Easily enough done. There were protocols to be observed and arrangements that had to be made. First, the matter of Mars.

It was the simple truth of the matter that Mars was a very long way from Earth, and any action that happened there was going to be long over before they could do anything about it. Distance had always been the problem since mankind had looked beyond his little ball of rock and water. Their technology just did not allow them to cover the distances involved in time to act on anything that happened out there.

Spatial distances reduced the size of the Earth to a thumb nail on the human body. Space was so vast, and Mars and Earth were close considering other planetary bodies in the solar system. The human race would not consider itself tied to any one point in space for much longer. Certainly not this mud ball of a planet, that had seen humanity crawl out of the primal filth. She knew it was coming.

Perhaps the mining colonies would be the first to determine independence from the Earth Sphere and look deeper into space, extending their fields of influence. They were far enough away from Earth to make policing them almost impossible, without having large population centers in existence totally loyal to the ideals of the ESUN.

It took them a minimum of three months for a one way physical presence to be established on Mars, with the planet in its current orbital position. A three month flight. The distance was simply too great. They could not police the area, just react to what ever happened there far too late to make any appreciable difference. In this situation the ESUN were all over them, having a physical presence there with the fire power to back them up. The nearest Preventer ship was weeks away.

//Maxwell. I'll need to decide what to do about him, though there is the mission to pursue the Raiders to be considered. Still, for his own safety maybe I should leave him just where he is. Merquise could still pull off a miracle, I suppose, though I can not see what he could do. For now I leave him there.//

This round undoubtedly went to the ESUN Security Council.

Unless, of course, Merquise could pull off that miracle.

It had been meticulously planned and very well executed. Even the agents losing control of Merquise and Noin had been factored into the equation. If they did not go quietly, then the terra formers were expendable. There had been no way that Noin would go quietly, not where her children were involved, and that would have been understood by the ESUN very early on in the planning stages. It was likely that from the very day the decision to allow Merquise to go to Mars had been made, and Noin had placed herself on the shuttle with him, that the tacticians had been hard at work.

Done was done.

They, herself and her Preventers, had been played.

They had gained some little time, but not much else in sending Zechs to Mars. It was likely the birth of the children had given them a little more time, though it was more likely still that the ESUN Councilors involved in this had actually hoped Noin would become pregnant. She must not forget that point. The ESUN faction that was controlling this power play might well have wanted Noin on that shuttle with Zechs. Regardless, the ESUN had used that development to further their plans. With babies under their control they had secured a very old, and revered, bloodline and gained guaranteed political footholds, with Relena as their pawn.

Preventers had watched it all happen and had not made a move to stop it. She was at fault. She was found lacking in her anticipation of events. Was it her anger at Zechs? Was Sally right that she resented the blonde for his association with His Excellency, to the extent that she would make so stupid a blunder? Or had she, unforgivably, sat back and hoped that he would be taken down? Revenge for imagined slights and …

Whatever, it was done. The ESUN would win this round, and she would need to make provision to limit their victory as much as possible. She would have to trust in her memories of the Lightning Count to pull yet another miracle from a hopeless situation, and herself deal with events that she had a hope of influencing.

She had no documented proof to present to any hearing, against those who had instigated this entire mess. She might suspect who was involved, but she could not name names in a court of law, and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were responsible for mass murder. She could not prove that it was not Raiders who were going to massacre those people.

Any autopsies that would be made could reveal the people on Mars were killed over a longer period of time than a Raider assault would allow for, yes, that was true. Raiders hit quickly and vanished into the depths of space. Yes, they could prove there were oddities in timing, but they could not prove who had done the slaughtering. The Wellington would take nearly two days to arrive above Mars and all that time people would be dying. Slowly, a few at a time, but inexorably they would die. It would be a running battle, and on Mars there just was no where to run.

Yes, Doctors could examine the bodies and establish times of death, but when it was the ESUN who would be running that investigation what did that mean? They would state the time of death of each individual at the exact times they wished, within a few hours of each other, no doubt. Just enough time to give the nod to the theory of a Raiders assault.

Virtually foolproof.

They were not fools, or rank amateurs, at this covert deception. It would take her years to ferret out the proof of what really would happen on Mars. Years of painstaking investigation, and time was one thing those people on Mars just did not have.

She only prayed that no one would answer that Mayday.

//Any captain who answers that call will have signed the death certificate of everyone on board his ship. They will not allow there to be any witnesses to this deception. The first thing I need to do, I suppose, is make the usual useless instructions to ships that are just too far away to have any effect on the outcome. It is to be expected I will instruct all ships to head for Mars, but I think I will put them on notice. I think I will suggest to the planners of this farce that I will not play their game. It is time to order my people to establish formations at set locations between Mars and the Asteroid Belt, to try to cut off the retreat of the Raider responsible for the atrocities we can do nothing to avoid. If Zechs should somehow manage to stop the agents running loose on Mars, it really makes no difference to the overall outcome. There is nothing he can do that will stop the Wellington. They're dead. Or as good as dead. I hate this.//

It did not help that she was certain that this would not have happened had Preventers been under the command of His Excellency. The man had been brilliant. A genius tactician, with a natural gift of charisma that could convince anyone to cooperate with his ideals. He had never been surprised by an event in the political arena in the years that she had known him. He had seemed to have an instinct for intrigue and its complexities. He had even acquired some type of warning on the Gundams, before the first whispers had been received by the Alliance, prior to the machines and pilots beginning their assault on Earth. No, he would have been able to pick up on subtle clues from the day Merquise had returned to Earth to fight Barton.

He would never have been stupid enough to have allowed the situation to develop, as she had. Stupid? Lax, certainly, but stupid? Distracted by personal concerns, that was her excuse. Poor excuses, too. He would have gotten Merquise off Earth another way. Or at least had him quietly removed from Mars before the ESUN could act. Lord knew, if he had been here, there would possibly have been no Barton Incursion. Not even Dekim Barton would have taken on Treize Kushrenada.

//He is not here, Anne. No good will come of you dwelling on it. Let him lie in the past. You now have to ensure your people can get his daughter to safety; and the Peacecraft girl with her. Get them out of harms way and then start picking up the pieces of this mess. I'll have those bastards. I'll have them for this affront to basic human dignity. There has to be justice for this mass murder they sanction. So, where to begin? First the death threat, I suppose.//

Again the reach for the intercom with one hand, the other hand reaching to bring her computer up out of sleep mode.

"Ma'am?"

"Recall Chang Wu Fei. I want him in my office in five minutes." //Sally should have had enough time to be out of the building by now.//

He should, at this time, be in the locker room, preparing for the scheduled shuttle flight to L3, where he was to further investigate the assassination attempt she was about to blow out of all proportion. It would only take him a few minutes to reach her office, unless he had been showering after his investigations had led him into the slums of Bremen. It had been a long day for Chang, and he was not likely to thank her for this, but she believed he would understand the necessity.

It was a matter of a few minutes speedy typing to formulate an untraceable death threat against the Vice Foreign Minister and selected political affiliations. Sighting Relena's political affiliations and the lunacy of her impeccable bloodlines and making certain not to overdo any aspect. This must be done carefully, not just singling out the girl, but a good spread of candidates from the Council.

Nutcases always had reasonable ideas mixed with lunacy, she reflected. Using knowledge known only to a few from her days in Oz, she established the existence of a cell group of terrorists, and formulated a hit list of political targets that was more than just feasible. Each and every person on the list would be a prime target, if a terrorist group was really active, and intended to stir up the ESUN. A final check of the email with a critical eye for detail, it must not, after all, lead any investigators back to Preventers, and she sent it out to bounce around the world a few times and finally arrive at three international news agencies headquartered in Sanc, Luxembourg and New York City. Within minutes they would receive the threats, and hopefully enough of a stir would be generated to smother the reports of the Mars attack into insignificance.

She chuckled softly at the thought. Oh yes. Mr. Treize would approve, she was sure. They wanted a media blitz on the attack from the Raiders, did they? The media were infinitely pliable, however, despite the bribes that would have changed hands to ensure their story received prime air time. This entire lie she fabricated was a method to tighten security around Relena, and lessen the impact of the massacre, taking away from the perfectly executed coup of her rivals. The attack on the L3 representative would work in beautifully.

She would see just how much air time the massacre on Mars achieved, when the lives of the Council Representatives was threatened by a rebel terrorist group.

He was perfect for this work, though she did not doubt that he would not appreciate the deviousness of it. He had acted as a terrorist before. He had been a terrorist, in truth and he was renowned for his demand for justice. She could use that to work for her, playing on that to get him to cooperate with the necessity of the plan. He would call it dishonorable, no doubt, but that was unavoidable, so long as he agreed in the long term. Which, of necessity, had to be the short term if she wanted to control this mess.

If he wanted Justice she would point to Mars and what was happening there.

She jabbed at the inter com again. "Where is Chang?"

"On his way, Ma'am. He was located at the car pool, about to leave for the shuttle terminal."

//That was close.// She reflected. //Almost missed him, and time is of the essence.//

It would be tight, the timing on this, but she could not help that. She had no doubt that he could vanish quickly once his instructions had been issued. He was always efficient and coldly practical in his missions. He was a demolition expert, and he had made runs not unlike this in the days of the One Year War. She could rely on him to be as efficient now as he had been then, if not more controlled at least.

Even the weather could be said to be cooperating with the scheme. The building storm would make his task of hiding evidence that much easier, though he might not appreciate it.

It was time to stop pandering to the egos of the council. Time her office was made permanently bug free. They could not complain if she ordered a sweep of the office after the email was received, which should be any minute now, she noted. The media would forward the threat directly to her, as they had done so before, wanting to garner exclusive tit bits if at all possible.

Which she would be only too happy to provide, when she needed them to be known. One more thing to do, before Chang walked in her door, and she must focus exclusively on him to convince him of the necessity for these rather extreme actions.

She quickly entered into the computer the codes she had never thought she would need to use since the disbanding of Oz. The terrorist organization that would now rear its ugly head, just for a brief time, had been designed by His Excellency to further the plan for peace. In the end, the Gundam pilots had come to Earth before they had used the false group. The Gundams and their pilots had proved to be so much more reliable and easier to control, but now the terrorist cell could be brought into play.

In the interests of peace, of course. Let the ESUN Security force wonder where the terrorist cell had come from. Before dawn there would be just enough information in Preventer files to give credence to the lie of this fictional terrorist cell.

It was hardly her fault if ESUN sources were lax.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	67. Chapter 67

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 67

Sanc

New Port City

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time: 22:40

Sally Po

Peace.

She should have known better.

It had been her most fervent desire that she not see a return to what she termed the 'dark days', when the whole world seemed to take a step over the brink into insanity.

She should have known better.

Never having been one to indulge in wild flights of fantasy, she had prided herself on being something of a realist. Certainly she tried to look deeper into the events that shaped the world, and the lives of people around her, than the initial surface appearances would suggest. She tried to look beyond the surface, into the deeper meanings that most people considered after the events had passed them by. She did however, after the fact, give even deeper consideration into the events surrounding the One Year War, and it had been that long study of circumstance that led to her conviction the events of the One Year War had been meticulously planned.

There had been so much more to the One Year War than most people suspected. Just how much information she had managed to acquire had surprised her. It was not readily available, but it was there for anyone who really wanted to dissect events and get to the core. The whole world, and the people of the colonies of the Earth Sphere, knew the names of Kushrenada and Peacecraft. How many people had bothered to seek the information that was waiting to be found? It would be another few years at least before the war was analyzed by the historians, and what would happen then would be interesting indeed. Would they sit on the information she had found? Would they tell all, or would they determine the Earth Sphere was not ready to learn the truth of the conflict?

Kushrenada had been revered by the men and women who worked under his command. He had founded Oz Specials and set it apart from the Alliance. He had worked for the most part quietly and steadily toward his goals, only in the last two to three years had he come forward into the general public view. He had been called His Excellency from very early days, the first references beginning in the founding of Specials, and in the last days of the war he had, in effect, been the King of the World.

People tended to forget that.

During those last days Kushrenada had taken over from Relena Peacecraft, the recognized Queen of the World. It would have been a farce to even think of Relena at the helm of a defensive force against the White Fang Rebels. The confrontation between White Fang and the Earth was not one that could have been solved by diplomatic means. It had been one fight that had had to be staged for all to witness.

Staged.

Yes, she had no doubt that it had all been staged. All of it meticulously planned from the start. No one in their right mind would have believed that Treize Kushrenada would turn to the colonies and champion their cause. He had been the shining star of the Earth Military. He had commanded the armies of Earth, and he had championed the movement against the atrocities called Mobile Dolls.

Had he known the dolls would be brought into the war? He must have at least suspected their use would become wide-spread, as his actions in reacting to them had been cool and decisive. He had openly opposed Romefeller on the use of the soulless killing machines, and been imprisoned for his views. By those actions his name had been cleared of any lingering tarnish from the abuses perpetrated in the past. He had become a symbol.

So many symbols had arisen in that time of conflict. The world had fought war after war in a succession of dictatorships and rebellions that saw an Alliance that, in itself, had rotted and corrupted from within. That was much the way of things for more than a hundred years. Very little in the way of peace had existed for more than a few months at a time for much of the world.

You had the little pockets of peaceful nations, much like Sanc, which had been too small to be bothered with by the larger countries seeking control. Yet those little countries, over time, had steadily gained influence, until the Sanc kingdom had been made an example by the Alliance. Peace under suppression by the Alliance had been no peace at all, and one conflict after another had hounded the Earth, and eventually moved into the colonies. At first in small, seemingly isolated incidents, and then in bolder moves until those of strong and independent will would take no more.

//So many generations have not known what true peace was. My family has been fighting for four generations. Martyr after martyr had come and gone, in recurring waves of violence and death. It seemed to be never ending.//

It had been never ending, until the One Year War.

//Just one war amongst many, I thought, but it created a new world order, where there was actually a hope of lasting peace.//

In the one battle countries and factions that had been divided for the last two hundred years, had joined together in a united effort to establish a unifying result. For one battle more than eighty percent of the Earth Sphere's entire compliment of mobile suits, and the most advanced weaponry, been gathered.

And been quite neatly wiped out.

Between Kushrenada's forces and those assembled by the White Fang Rebels, the military factions had effectively been gathered together, and their weapons had been decimated. How many people had really looked at the casualty figures and realized that the death toll had been negligible for the size of the battle that had taken place? Had anyone really understood what Mobile dolls were capable of doing in the hands of a master programmer?

She knew the man's military record by heart. She knew the subjects he had studied during his education. She had the advantage of having taken the time to speak at length with Dorothy Catalonia, and knew who had designed the computer system that had enable Dorothy to become Mistress of the Dolls.

They had been played.

The entire world had been played, but not to its detriment. No. The entire war had been meticulously planned and executed, and now there was the chance that the peace could survive. Kushrenada and Peacecraft between them had engineered this opportunity for the Earth, and her colonies, to experience a lasting peace. They had already had this peace last longer that any peaceful period within the last two centuries. Not just local pockets of peace, but a world spanning period of quiet.

Yes, there were incidents, but small incidents. Minor skirmishes, which the Preventers had put down quickly, and quietly. There had been no global threats, other than that presented by the Barton Incursion, and that had taken a few weeks and only a couple of minor battles. Only the one major battle had needed to be fought, and was it not amazing that Merquise had appeared again, to put down the rebellion?

Had he been alive she did not doubt that Kushrenada would have been there too.

Kushrenada.

Treize Kushrenada had been an amazingly charismatic man, with an unprecedented sense of timing and political savvy. The perfect King of the World, should a warrior King be needed. There was the important point, she knew. Kushrenada had taken over from Relena only when it was clear it would be a farce to keep the girl in power during a war. He had obviously had the means by which to take over before Relena had been declared Queen of the World, and yet he had not done so. He had been biding his time.

If she was right in her musings, and the entire battle had been carefully set up, then she had to wonder if he had known about the red-haired child? Had he known that he was a father when he had planned to rip the world apart and reshape it?

//Most likely not.// She mused. It was very likely Treize Kushrenada had not known about his daughter. //I still have sources to speak to, and data to sift through, but I think I have enough to surmise that they planned it together. Both willing to die to see there was finally a peace. Something went wrong with the plan though. Zechs survived. I honestly do not think he intended to.//

It was a quiet night. Rain had begun to fall more heavily, and the temperature had dropped somewhat, so that now sleet made the roads treacherous. It was a night she would have preferred to see from the comfort of her home, and the proximity of a roaring fire.

She knew this road so well, but even so she must exercise care. Necessity required she be out and about tonight, and she would not chance her own safety, or the safety of others. It was imminently pleasing to see just how many people were not on the roads at this hour, especially when she would have in her custody the Vice Foreign Minister, and the red-haired child who had grown so much since she had been introduced to the Earth Sphere in a blaze of glory and domination.

That Mariemaia was His Excellency's daughter was not in doubt.

At the insistence of Lady Une and a veritable army of lawyers, she personally, had taken DNA samples of the child Dekim Barton had claimed to be a Kushrenada. She had followed the DNA testing from the first to the final stages, ensuring there were no mistakes made. There could be no errors with this child's identity. It was just too important to be allowed to be questioned at a later time.

Mariemaia was Treize Kushrenada's daughter. Paternity positively proven.

A pawn. A tool raised to be used by men whose scruples were questionable, to say the very least. A pawn in the power games of the rich and famous. A pawn to be used. That had been Mariemaia's future should the coup have worked. Just as two tiny babies on Mars now faced a very similar future.

//First Barton getting his hands on Marie, now basically the same thing happening again, with the Peacecraft heirs. God. I don't know. I fought the war to improve this world. To bring peace to everyone, and when I sit down and really look around me I have to ask myself 'what has changed'? What has really changed if they try this again?//

She was careful to keep an eye open for suspicious activity. She would trust very few people until this mess was sorted out to her satisfaction. Factions in politics had always been the instigators of disaster, and she wanted this peace to last. Ideally she would like to find a man, get a neat house, not too big, but in the country would be nice, and settle down and raise a family. She liked kids. None of it would happen until the peace was secure.

The streets in this residential district of New Port City were well lighted, and in this poor weather understandably deserted. No car headlights reflected in her rear vision mirrors, and she saw no suspicious movements in the yards of the houses she passed, or on the streets. Maybe they had moved fast enough to throw any potential tail off her track? Or were they late? Had the faction driving this entire situation already moved to gather in Mariemaia and use her against Lady Une?

She was expecting to have acquired a tail, at the latest, by the time they left Lady Une's residence. Just who of the people who lived in this same area were ESUN plants, placed here to watch the activities of the Chief of Preventers? Who was set here to maybe take custody of the child she sheltered at the whim of some politician with dynastic dreams dancing in his head? If it happened on Mars, it could so easily happen on Earth.

//Children should not be dragged into politics.// Sally shook her head in disgust. //No one is safe really. No one.//

She pulled the car into the drive way, careful not to rev the engine and draw attention from surrounding residences, as she negotiated the narrow turn, gliding to a stop before the security post. Preventers security guarded the residence hidden by a thick planting of trees. Lady Une liked her privacy, and security here was tight.

"Ma'am." He stood in the doorway of the security house, ignoring the biting chill of the air, and reached for her offered identification.

"Evening, George. All quiet?" She passed over her identity codes, making a point of studying his face carefully. They knew each other quite well, but there was always protocol to be observed, and she was feeling somewhat paranoid just now.

"Yes, Ma'am. Rounds were done only ten minutes ago. The dogs are quiet. No alerts. I saw the news, Ma'am."

That all was quiet boded well for her attempt to spirit Mariemaia away unseen, but she was not pleased the Mars incident was already being covered. She would have thought they might need a little longer to gather background data. Still, it was true that bad news traveled quickly. Only good news passed slowly.

"Just be warned, George. The press is likely to be out here in droves within the hour, chasing what ever they can. I believe that Earth will be staying at headquarters tonight. I'm here to take Mariemaia to a safe house, until this all blows over."

"I will notify the house staff to wake the young Miss."

"I expect lady Une will attempt to keep the attention centered on Preventer Headquarters, but we have decided not to take chances. Have two decoy cars readied. As much as you can, keep an eye on the news, George. It's going to be an interesting night."

"Ma'am. I'll be watching the news." He nodded, one hand activating the gate controls, the other running through graying dark hair, blue eyes shadowed in the shelter of his small sanctuary from the growing chill.

The car accelerated smoothly away from the security station. Anyone who thought the security check was easy to pass would be in for a surprise, she mused. That man was not alone at his station, and she knew her warning to him would quickly be circulated amongst the staff of the grounds. By the time the press arrived to camp out, there would be adequate precautions taken to ensure that none got further than the front gate. The kennels would be emptied of dogs, and the grounds thoroughly patrolled at level four security.

She glimpsed the house through the trees, a Georgian style manor that was graced with a perfect setting. Surrounded by a small forest that thinned to manicured lawns and a wide lake to the east, it seemed an idyllic place. Une had needed the quiet of the house and grounds after dealing with the day to day crisis that was part and parcel of being Preventer Earth. It was also the perfect place for Marie to convalesce after the Barton Incursion.

The life of the child had hung in the balance, while for days after the fighting had stopped, the world rejoiced the invasion had failed and their precious peace had prevailed. She had returned with Noin to Earth soon after the fighting had started in earnest. Noin had gone to fight beside Zechs and try to hold the Barton forces, and she had worked with Preventers and had been privileged to witness the turning point in the little war. Some few people had stood up for their rights. Some few people had responded to Chang Wu Fei's call, and added their voices to the invasion. For her that had been the most wonderful revelation. Mankind had seemed to be making progress. Then the world had moved on, once again, with everyone going on with their happy little dreams.

Such was life.

It was, after all, the duty of the Preventers to see that the world's population had their little dreams of peace. So many people had no idea how hard it was to ensure the balance was maintained. Harder lately, than it had been after the One Year War. It was true that lately there seemed to be a great deal of restlessness amid the world's people, and she knew where to cast her eye for the reason. A lot of the rumblings of discontent were caused by Relena's absurd dream of National Identity. National unity.

Stupid, foolish girl, to think for an instant that people would accept national unity if it meant their little corner of the world must throw away all that had identified it for centuries. People had fought for, bled for and died for those lines on maps for thousands of years. Everyone needed a national identity, yes, and if everyone thought of the whole world as their country, well, that was well enough, but it just was not the case.

It was a wonderful dream. If things could be held together for two generation then yes, people would begin to look at the Earth as one nation, and believe it. At least two generations were required for that type of attitude to become seated in the psyche of the people. Nothing could be accomplished overnight, though, and it was just a few short years.

//Not now, Sally. More important things to do than consider if your neighbor over the road is putting his nose over your fence and objecting to the daffodil you planted next to your mutual drive way. Its so bloody stupid.// Stupid, yes, but it was human nature.

The house was dark as she drove around the side, toward the garages, but stopped close to the back door. Security was there, waiting for her, checking her identity, and then passing her into the house. The kitchen was well lit and the housekeeper waiting for her with freshly brewed coffee in hand. Above all the house was blessedly warm.

"I have woken the young Miss and asked her to dress, and I have also taken the liberty of throwing a few clothes into an overnight bag."

"Thank you, Grace. That saves precious time." She was only too happy to wrap her hands around the hot mug.

"It was on the news, Ma'am. The death threats to the ESUN council. The threats against the Preventers."

//Death threats? What death threats? Anne. Ah, what are you up to, Anne? What have you cooked up?// "Has Marie seen the news?"

"No, Ma'am. Not as yet."

"Good. We need to keep it that way. Have a few blankets placed in the car. The heater just does not seem to be warming it up enough to be comfortable, and I don't want her to freeze."

The ticking of the grandfather clock was the only sound to greet her as she entered the main foyer of the house, taking the stairs two at the time. Steady, quiet, rhythmic tick tock breaking the silence, normally soothing, but now a disturbing reminder that she had been given a strict time limit. She knew her way intimately around this house, and had no trouble finding her way in the dark. They had kept the lights in the front of the house off, all activity consigned to the rear, and that kept down as much as possible to the usual levels one associated with the home of Preventer Earth.

When Une had purchased the house as somewhere for Mariemaia and herself to live, she had invited Sally to become resident here. She had stayed in the house while Mariemaia still required medical assistance on a daily basis, following her release from hospital. In the early days the security surrounding Treize Kushrenada's daughter had been intense of necessity. Everyone wanted to know more of the redhead who had threatened to take over the planet in her father's name. With time the attention had been eased, and people had come to accept that she was just a child, like any other child, who had become an unfortunate pawn for her grandfather to use.

The biggest controversy now was the continuing saga of the inheritance of the child. The Barton foundation had fought to gain sole custody of her, and the Kushrenada family had joined in the squabble, at the request of Lady Une, though the latter was a little known fact. Few families had the wealth and position to hold the Barton Foundation at bay, but the Kushrenada's had both position and wealth. The lawyers were still arguing over whether she was entitled to inherit the extensive estates of her father and her grandfather.

While the lawyers fought over the child's inheritance and family connections, Lady Une had applied for and won the right to act as a neutral guardian. Une expected the legal battle to continue for at least another year or two, before some mutually acceptable settlement was reached.

"Bring the cars around the back and have the engines running. You have found suitable decoy personnel?" Sally murmured to the security guard following at her heels.

Une had only the most trusted of Preventer agents guarding the girl and her home. Every member of the household was a Preventer, no private security or household staff was permitted on the grounds. The Preventer Chief had to be assured of safety at home, and at the office, and Sally had no hesitation in trusting the night staff at this time.

"Yes, Agent Water. We have the decoys ready."

"Brian, I want the first of the decoys to leave three minutes from now, from the side entrance, and the second five minutes after that from the rear entrance. See that no one standing five feet away from the cars can see who gets into them."

Instructions given Sally hurried up the remaining stairs and to the girl's room, the house keeper at her side. She did not knock as she slipped into the room, knowing that Mariemaia was expecting someone. Eyes scanned the darkened room quickly, to ensure everything was as she expected it to be. The bed was empty, the girl no where in sight, but she heard the door to the bathroom open.

"Dr. Po?" A whisper in the night.

"Good girl." Sally chuckled, turning to where Mariemaia emerged from the bathroom.

"What's happening?"

She had dressed sensibly, Sally was pleased to note, in dark coloured slacks and sweater, her bright red hair hidden under a knitted cap. At eleven years of age Mariemaia was beginning to show the lines of beauty that were unmistakably associated with the Kushrenada family. There was a striking resemblance to her father developing, and while she still had a great deal of growing and developing to do, she was already taller than average height, and beginning to show the shapely curves of a young lady. In future years she would be a beauty.

"We are taking a drive, Marie. No, don't worry. There is no specific threat against you, but Anne wants you taken to a safe house."

"Oh. She will not be there?" Curious she moved closer to the Preventer she had come to trust.

The housekeeper took a large overnight bag from beside the bed and hurried from the room, leaving Sally and Mariemaia alone.

"No. Not at this time. Anne is at Preventers, dealing with a little crisis that has developed in the last few hours. Explanations will have to come later, pet. We need to move. Just pop your shoes on for now, and grab a coat. It's cold out, and looks like it will deteriorate into a blizzard. We have quite a long drive ahead of us before we reach our destination."

Mariemaia settled on the chair near her bed, slipping into mid length boots quickly, aware that time was important. Lady Une had drilled her relentlessly with the need to be quick should she ever need to be evacuated from her home.

"Where are we going?"

"For now, we are going to the palace to pick up Relena. After that, I can not tell you."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	68. Chapter 68

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 68

Sanc

Sanc Palace

1st March AC 198

Time 22:30

Heero

Beyond the windows the night was steadily deteriorating into a blizzard. Snow had begun to gather in banks in areas sheltered from the wind, and that wind was steadily becoming increasingly colder and stronger. He had thought the weather would improve as the day wore on, but in the last few hours the conditions had taken a turn for the worst. The storm that was building over New Port City was going to be a flirtation with the best of the winter blizzards this climate usually offered. He only hoped it would not interfere with the evacuation. It would be good cover, but it would undeniably slow them down in their escape from the city.

He was thankful Relena had accepted the need to evacuate without feeling a need to ask unnecessary questions. She had, in fact, answered the pounding on her suite door so promptly that he doubted she had been asleep. It was most likely she had been lying in bed thinking about the assassination attempt at the garden party that day, or more likely about the difficulties on Mars and her brother.

As yet there was no known threat specifically aimed at her, and he could only wonder just how Lady Une was going to explain why she had called for this evacuation to take place at this time. While he did not understand her reasoning, he had come to understand the woman enough to give her credit for having a devious mind. If Une had found a means by which they could spirit Relena away from her duties and the eyes of the Council, even if only for a day or two, then he had to trust her. He hoped she had found a method to deal with the politicians who were running this entire show.

When he had received the call from Preventer Earth he had known she was reacting to the mayday call broadcast over the emergency satellite system. That had occurred less than a half hour ago, and he could only commend her quick action and get Relena to safety. He would learn soon enough what Une had planned.

After switching off the com he had cast off the throw rug covering his legs and motioned to the computers arrayed around his lounge, asking Quatre to secure them and take them to the rear of the building. There was no way he was going to abandon the information contained on the hard drives that so tantalized him. The units were compact and light and would be taken with them into hiding for later decoding and analysis.

He had avoided using the crutches at the first opportunity, grinning to himself that no one would likely comment with the current emergency situation. Even Quatre had said nothing to his moving around without the crutches beyond sighing and shaking his head in response to his glared challenge. In the end, as he had known would happen, Quatre had nodded his surrender to the need to prepare for action, but he suspected, from the gleam in the blonde's eye, that he would have something to say when the crisis was over.

That was all well and good. He would take the criticism then, when all was settled and they were at a safe house.

Heero had run quick security checks on the perimeter of the palace grounds as he had supervised the standard evacuation procedures for the Vice Foreign Minister's entourage. Lady Une had alerted the security contingent here that a level four situation had arisen, and they had swung into action like the well ordered machine they had been trained to be.

It was not just Relena who had to be evacuated, and the staff of the palace, and her political aides, were well versed in sorting order into confusion. He and Quatre had planned to use the confusion of the general evacuation to spirit Relena out of the palace, unseen by all but the chosen security contingent, thereby throwing off the agents of the ESUN who watched her.

When he had left his suite to oversee Relena's evacuation, Quatre had begun to pack up the computer systems and the additional hard drives into larger cases, muttering about fetching a trolley to make moving them easier. Heero knew the information would be well guarded and was more than content to leave the data to Quatre's care. He was intent on seeing the Vice Foreign Minister was prepared to leave as speedily as possible.

Within a few minutes of Preventer Earth's alert, Relena had been roused from bed and told to initiate emergency evacuation procedure at level four. That had been sufficient to send the young woman running for her bedroom, and a maid was summoned to begin hastily packing a few changes of clothes into a bag, while the Vice Foreign Minister dressed. Heero had waited outside her suite of rooms, glaring at anyone who dared walk the hallways near her suite, while he contacted James Cameron to oversee the security arrangements for Mrs. Darlian safe removal. Relena's foster mother would be sent with an escort to a secured location until the emergency was considered over.

To Heero's surprise Relena, when she called for Heero to reenter the suite, objected to being separated from her mother, despite previously having agreed to level four evacuation plans. He found that he needed to be quite demanding to overrule her objections.

"But Heero, I … I really need Mother just now." Huge blue eyes stared at him in appeal; her full bottom lip quivered slightly, a dangerous precursor to a bout of tearful objections.

"No, Relena. Earth was very explicit about her instructions. You know what a level four alert implies. You are being moved to a safe house, under level four security seal and your mother will be taken to another safe location until this matter is dealt with." He had met her gaze with iron will, for once not in the least softened by the threat of tears.

"But I … Very well, but Heero, what is going on? What has caused this evacuation?"

She had seemed to deflate and he was concerned at that too easy collapse of her will power. He had hoped to see fire spark in her blue eyes, and there was nothing but tired resignation to be seen there. Relena looked as though she had spent a sleepless night, he decided, wondering if she had even closed her eyes since retiring for the evening. A great deal had happened in a couple of days, and it was no wonder she was distraught, but he could not help that. While it was true her mother might have comforted her, he was not about to compromise an established evacuation plan. His job was to get her to safety, and that he would do.

He had no time to explain to her he did not, as yet, know what it was that Lady Une intended, but he had come to trust the woman enough to believe she would react without overkill to the situation. Preventer Earth had good instincts, and since her mental stability had been attained and proven since the war, she was trusted to preserve the peace and act as seemed appropriate to the situation.

Still, it left him wondering just what had caused Une to call for the evacuation. The Mayday from Mars? Shocking as it was, there was no reason for Une to use that situation to justify a level four threat against the life of the Vice Foreign Minister. How could Lady Une justify the security arrangements she now called into effect around Relena?

On first hearing the mayday he had stared in disbelief at Quatre, who had reacted by turning on the news channel, and it had taken only minutes for the media to begin their coverage. At that time it was to repeat the mayday recording and begin offering background information on the Terra Formation Stations on Mars. There had been nothing else worthy of interest on the news broadcasts, and it left him wondering exactly what it was Lady Une was reacting to. She would need a plausible excuse for a localized threat to explain the expenditure of men and money for this security alert.

He was uncertain what to tell Relena at this time. How did he tell her the ESUN had decided to act because her brother had defied them? He was not generally a coward, but he really did not feel up to explaining to Relena Darlian that the ESUN she worked so hard to maintain, was slaughtering two thousand people on a distant planet because it was inconvenient for them to survive, as witnesses to what could be her brother's murder.

He now waited in the lounge of her suite and his eyes seemed to do nothing but flick to the clock over the mantle. Even as he called himself a coward he thought of what might be the easiest, and maybe the kindest way, to explain the latest developments. It approached the turn of the hour and he expected Sally Po to arrive within a few minutes.

"Heero? Why won't you tell me what is going on?"

He looked around to face her bedroom, but she was not in sight, her voice coming clearly from the other room. What to do? What could he say? She was far from a fool, and she would understand the implications quickly enough. "Turn the news channel on. You'll no doubt see the broadcast within a few minutes."

Relena paled, emerging from her bedroom with a pair of boots in hand, blue eyes wide. "Mars? Someone has discovered Milliardo is alive? They have told the media? Someone has started trouble because he is alive?"

"I wish." Heero muttered. "No, something far worse." He could only wait for her to make the decision and hope she would do it quickly. He really did not want to tell her himself.

Relena stared at him for a long moment, and then reached to turn on the news channel, before she settled onto the couch to put on her boots. Mindful of the weather conditions that had deteriorated into the snow storm that currently wracked New Port City she had chosen warm slacks and a sweater, with a coat lying over the chair near her. Warm socks and boots would complete the ensemble. She had no idea where the safe house she would be taken to was located, but she was not intending to freeze in the Sanc spring.

Heero watched her from his place at the hearth, admiring the long legs and shapely curves so delightfully on display to his admiring gaze. He could not deny she had a very trim figure, and that he found it very pleasant to watch her.

"…Oh God … The Raiders are here! They're killing everybody. Help us … Mayday! Mayday! Help us. This is Mars Base Dome. The Raiders … oh, God … The Raiders are here! They're killing everybody. Help us …" The only too familiar voice exploded from the television, and caused him to wince.

"The distress call from the terra formation base on the planet Mars erupted onto the air waves a little over half an hour ago. The terra forming project has been the pet project of the Vice Foreign Minister, Miss Relena Darlian, for the last three years, though it was originally begun in the year AC 192, under the supervision of the Alliance Planetary Development Agency, which is now defunct. The Office of the Vice Foreign Minister has not yet been contacted for a comment, but it is expected that an extraordinary meeting of the ESUN Council will be called to discuss the problem the Space Reavers are presenting to traffic in the shipping lanes. The Head of the Patrice Mining Consortium had this to say …"

Relena was staring at the television with all colour slowly draining from her face. The announcer droned on, speaking about the newly forming colony on the distant planet, and about comments made by people she was only too familiar with, but all she really saw and heard was the mayday call that was playing over and over again in the background. Repeating again and again. The red-haired woman was screaming about Raiders and killing, and somebody help us. Relena sucked in a deep breath, her face void of all colour, her eyes looking too large and too blue.

Heero watched, thinking that he really should have said something first, before allowing her to turn on the television. Now he could only hope that she would be too shocked to realize the implications of the mayday broadcasting throughout the Earth Sphere. He could hope, because he really was not sure how to deal with her if she should fall to pieces.

Relena sucked in a second deep breath, forcing calm. Pressing her hand to her mouth to stop herself from an outburst she knew was very unladylike indeed, she turned to meet his intense gaze. Raiders? Raiders were attacking Mars? How incredibly convenient for certain people that such an event would take place at just the exact time the ESUN was trying to remove her brother's family from the planet. Did they honestly think she was a fool? She was not such a simpleton as to believe that for an instant, and surely others would be suspicious.

//That is just way too much of a coincidence to be believed. So … So this … is their solution? I don't understand.// The thought of the struggle going on on Mars reared before her, the struggle that undoubtedly would have erupted between infuriated parents and Official Agents. Unbidden the vision of people standing quietly by and allowing events to take their course filled her mind, and she knew that it was a fantasy. How could you not react to what would be going on around you? If it was herself on Mars and the ESUN turned up... and suddenly she understood only too well. //Ah, no. No, they would not … surely they could not mean to … All those people …//

"Heero. " She whispered, meeting cobalt blue eyes with misery in her own. "They … they are going to kill everyone on Mars. Just to get the babies. Just … just to …"

"I know, Relena. I think its fairly safe to say that things are not going the way they intended, and this is their solution." He hurried to her side, and reached to gently touch her cheek, wiping the tears rolling over her cheeks, offering what comfort he could.

She was a smart girl. He had known she would see right through their plan, though he could have wished that Sally, or her mother, could have been here to offer comfort. He felt so inadequate at times like this. He just did not know what to say to ease her very obvious distress.

"Their cover up. Kill everyone. Just … Just kill everyone there. Oh, God. Oh, God, Heero. I am to blame. I am to blame for this. If I had said something before …"

He drew her into his arms, squeezing gently, uncertain how best to offer comfort. "No. You are not to blame for this. We don't have time for a post mortem just now, Relena. We have to take this opportunity to get you safely out of here while we can. We need to gain some time and we can make use of this situation to get you to a safe location, where they can not easily affect you. We will talk about this when we have time. When you are settled into a safe house."

She waved a hand dismissively, blue eyes dark with emotion, colour returning to her face with a rush. "They can kill my brother and his children just as effectively, whether I am in Sanc's palace or living in a haystack, Heero."

He sighed, unable to dispute that for the simple truth that it was. "Just finish dressing, Relena. We have very little time."

He watched her finish with her socks and then stamp into the first of her boots, keeping one ear tuned to the television as he did so. He was not really expecting anything more to be said at this time that could be of importance. So little was known about what was happening on Mars, and the media researchers would be scouring records for whatever information about the project they could find. They would be accumulating lists of names of people they could interview to make the broad cast interesting, and it was very likely the Councilors behind this had ensured the information they wished released was found quickly. Still, it would take at least another half hour for the media to come up with more …

His head snapped around to the television at the abrupt change in the background noise made up by the mayday call. Instead of that annoyingly repeated distress call, there was the breaking news theme. Something was going on, he immediately saw, as on the screen the recording of Shanna McIntyre had vanished, replaced by a file photograph of Lady Une, in the full dress uniform of the Preventers. The photograph became a file video taken some weeks before, he noted, at an official engagement. The announcer was on screen again, a small sheaf of papers clutched in her hands, though she never once looked at them.

"We interrupt this bulletin to bring you breaking news. This station has received a message from an, as yet, unidentified terrorist faction. The message contains death threats against a list of prominent members of the ESUN Council. This message has been passed on to the appropriate authorities, including Preventer headquarters, where Lady Anne Une, Chief of the Preventers, had no comment to make, other than requesting the media refrain from publishing the names contained on the list at this time … Just a moment please." The announcer pressed a finger to her ear piece and listened for a few minutes, face noticeably paling. "We have received unconfirmed reports of an attack on the home of Preventer Chief Anne Une. Reports suggest the home of the Preventer Chief has been seriously damaged by an explosion. We have received no reports as yet on casualties …"

Heero growled, not even bothering to click off the television before he grabbed Relena's hand and raced her out of the room. Relena uttered a muffled grunt as she was given no option other than to run, one hand clutching her boot. Adrenaline surged through his system, a familiar and automatic response to an emergency situation. He was not certain what was going on, but there was no way he was going to allow Relena to be in the public areas of the palace.

"Ice to all agents." He activated his radio system. "Security lock down. Repeat, Security lock down, Level seven."

"Gate security to Ice. The car with Preventer Water has just arrived. You are to make your way to the rear entrance with all speed."

//Good. The sooner we get her out of here the better. Une must have gotten wind of this threat through sources. Well, that explains why she wants Relena evacuated.//

"Acknowledged, Gate Security. On the way. Ice out."

He was aware of being joined by two other agents who ran with them, both with dawn weapons in hand. Somewhere in the flight through the palace Quatre joined them, Relena's coat draped over his arm, and a trolley full of lap top computers, crutches and hard drives in tow. As they skidded to a stop near the rear entrance to the palace, Quatre blew blonde bangs out of his eyes and handed the coat to Relena, and the crutches he had stacked on the trolley to Heero.

"If you think Sally will let you off using them once we leave here, you're deluded." The blonde grinned, ignoring the icy stare turned his way.

On consideration Heero shrugged. "Point." He conceded. "Check the exit. Relena, what are you … Oh. Sorry."

Relena smiled, panting for breath even as she finally pulled her boot on, straightening to shrug into the heavy coat Quatre had passed her. She was delighted to see that Heero blushed under her gaze.

"It's okay. Do you think Mariemaia is alright? She would have been terrified. Who would do this, do you think? I thought we had dealt with most of the cells."

"Entrance is clear." An agent called, motioning them urgently to come forward.

"I'm sure Mariemaia is fine. Une has excellent security precautions. There is always someone who is dissatisfied. You can not please all of the people all of the time." Quatre soothed her, urging her to the door, peering out first then going ahead of her to the car, and opening the door. "In. Quick."

Relena slipped into the car, scooting across the seat until she came up against a warm body. The interior lights of the car were off, a security precaution, so she could not see who else was in the car, but a small and delicate hand groped for hers, and a soft sigh sounded in the night.

"Miss Relena." A whisper. "Someone blew up Aunt's house, just after we left."

"Mariemaia? Oh, thank goodness you're alright. I was so worried."

Heero tossed his crutches onto the floor and slid onto the back seat, peering over his shoulder. The boot of the car was up, and he could hear Quatre tossing the computers in, then there was a slam, two taps on the roof and Sally, behind the wheel of the car, was pulling away from the palace.

"Quatre?" Relena queried.

"He's in the lead car." Sally informed her. "Heero. Two forward motorcycle escorts, the lead car and a rear car?"

"Check." Came the response. "Where are we bound?"

"Safe house ten. It's a ten hour drive, maybe a little longer in this weather, and for much of it we will be taking back roads. Settle in and make yourselves comfortable people."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004

Authors note:

Merry Christmas to you all. It will be a couple of days before I get to post up another chapter.


	69. Chapter 69

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 69

Sanc

New Port City

Preventer Headquarters

22: 35

Chang Wu Fei

It was madness.

He could only stare at the woman and wonder if she had, once again, become mentally unstable. How could she ask him to do this? This was work he had been only too happy to leave behind him with the ending of the wars. During the One Year War he had been called a terrorist, and he had been capable of, and quite happy, to blow up buildings and people in equal measure. He had reviewed those days continually since peace had come to the Earth Sphere, and he could not think of a time during the war when he had given a thought to the lives that would be lost, or affected, by his actions.

He had not considered the lives of fathers and brothers or sons. He had given no thought to mothers or sisters or daughters. He had sought his ideal of Justice and truth. He had fought because he had been taught to fight for what he was told was right.

During the Barton Incursion, while he had not been a terrorist slaughtering soldier and civilian alike, he had looked upon himself as a soldier. In his own way, torn from the turbulent emotions of the past, he had sought to make amends for the wanton destruction he had perpetrated during his time as a terrorist. He had chosen to believe the words of those who had come to recruit him, and of his own free choice he had backed the side he had believed would preserve the honor of the soldier.

He had made so many mistakes in his short life.

Why was it, that when time passed and he looked back over his life, he saw he had been used. Manipulated. Guided along the paths that others chose, believing it was what he believed. He looked back on the wars he had fought to this day and he was horrified at his choices of the past. He sought peace. Then and now. Why, when he looked back, did it seem he had made so many mistakes?

He had been too young. An innocent used by others.

It must not happen again.

He was not intending to be caught up in such foolish games ever again. This interview he had been summoned to with Preventer Earth was looking to be an extremely foolish game indeed. Once, before the war, he had been training to become a scholar and had given no thought then to bloodshed and killing, beyond its implications in history, as recorded in the libraries he had frequented. It was his hope that one day, when the killing was lost in the peace he had sought to birth, he could return to his books, and to the joys of learning for the love of learning.

He had become a Preventer at Sally Po's request. Her suggestion had, at first, seemed a logical solution to the problem of what to do with himself. His colony and his past was so much space debris floating in space, a source of income to the salvage crews of the Sweepers. The Earth Sphere Council and security division had wanted to incarcerate him for crimes committed against humanity, both as a terrorist and as a soldier for Barton's little coup. Preventers had saved him by stepping forward and, with the aid of Relena Peacecraft, he had been placed on probation. A full agent within the Preventer organization for a period of no less than five years, at which time his case would be reviewed. Much the same set up as the other Gundam Pilots endured.

Truth to tell, he was glad of the conditions that placed him within the Preventer ranks. Were he not a Preventer, then what would he do? What would he have become? He had no where to go. Yes, there were other colonies in the L5 cluster, but none of them had been his home. Yes, it was true that some of those colonies were of the Dragon Clan, but he felt he did not belong there. They were simply not his people.

His clan, his people, had self destructed.

If he was totally honest with himself, he still did not understand why.

Their sacrifice had pushed him deeper into the war, driving him insane with grief, and a thirst for justice … revenge in truth … against those whom he saw as having destroyed the colony. Looking at it now, he could admit that it was not Oz who had destroyed the colony. Yes, they had been going to invade the artificial world, but he could admit, if only to himself, that their intentions had been to take control, not to destroy. It was his own people who had chosen to end it all, rather than live under the heel of the oppressor.

His people? Had everyone on the colony taken a vote? Had everyone known? Or had it been his Master who had decided for everyone on the colony? In those last few hours, had it been only his Master and a few disciples who had become the ultimate authority. Had those people, his cousins and his few friends, his fellow students, even been given the choice?

He had not been thinking then, only feeling, and now he could understand that was just as his master had intended him to be. Feel, do not think, and that was exactly the opposite to what his master had spent so much time teaching him as he had grown.

+"Always think." the Master had said. "Think before you act."+

From the moment he had witnessed his colony explode it was emotion, not thought, that had ruled him.

As his Master had intended.

China had been invaded so many times in history that it had become something of a way of life. He had been a scholar. He knew the history of his people. Time and again his ancient homeland had been invaded, and time and time again the people had emerged with their identity intact. Enriched, in fact, by absorbing the invaders into their culture. This was history. Proven, historical fact. The Chinese people were great survivors, so why, he had to ask himself, had these descendents of a great culture chosen to destroy themselves?

He had not thought it through until after the wars. He had not had the time, or the opportunity to think, only to act. He had made so many mistakes that now he could recognize. He had been given inaccurate information repeatedly, and in the past he had never questioned the validity of the information he had been given. No. Not quite true. There were instances during the war, like New Edwards, when he had questioned and investigated. He had been lied to so often, and in most instances he had not questioned. It was not a mistake he was about to repeat again.

"You want me to become a terrorist?" He was certain she must hear the disbelief in his voice. He could not believe the words, given in her quiet voice, that turned back the clock to painful memories. He did not wish to follow those instructions and return to a past life, and he did not care that she could read it in his voice. He wanted her to.

Preventer Earth sighed, eyes drifting to the clock on her desk. She had a tight schedule to maintain if this was to be believable. "Chang Wu Fei, we do not have the time to argue this just now. I can only ask that you trust me, as I need to trust you. I need you to give the impression that certain people are under threat from terrorist activity. I do not actually want people killed, you understand, although I realize that could all too easily happen. I do not have the time to give you a full explanation, if this is to be made to work to our advantage. Time is vital. I want you to attack my own home, Wu Fei, without killing anyone, if at all possible. I need you to give the impression the attack was carried out by terrorists. Enough damage needs to be done, and in such a way, that it will fool investigators. By the way, before morning I will be assigning you to head the team to investigate these attacks. The first in this series of attacks was the assassination attempt on the L3 Representative that occurred earlier today. This incident can later be proven to be no part of the terrorist assault, but for now we need to have people believe that it was a part of the terror campaign. The second attack will be the assault on my own home. The third will be an attack on the Sanc Palace."

Dark eyes opened wider, if that was possible, and he glared cold fury at the Preventer Chief. "I have never been a liar, Lady Une and I am no longer a terrorist!"

"I know you are neither a liar nor a terrorist, Wu Fei. I also do not doubt that you have not lost your touch at this type of fighting. I am trusting that you to carry out these orders, distasteful as they are, because I have no other options available to me. I am trusting that you can carry them out with a minimum threat to life. You are one of the few people I could trust to take the necessary care with human life that must be taken. I can tell you more after the attack on the palace is carried out. There will be more time then, for me to brief you on the current situation. The three instances should be sufficient to keep the media off the Martian story for at least a day or two, more if we are lucky, and by that time we will have come up with another solution." //I hope.// "In the short term this is the best that I can do, and to effect the required result, I need for you to accept the mission. It has to be you, Wu Fei. You I can trust not to kill indiscriminately. It is necessary, Chang. I have already made provision for my home staff to be in the rear of the house for a meeting. They will be discussing heightened security arrangements in the rear of the manor, well clear of your projected target area. If you attack the front, very few people will be hurt, and no one should be killed. I have the plans to the estate security system, and the house and grounds available. You can study them on your way, but I need my house to be hit within the next twenty five minutes for this plan to be viable. Time is of the essence."

"You are mad, Woman."

She could, oh so easily, and quite cheerfully, strangle the stubborn young man. "No, I am not mad, Chang. At the moment I am desperate to get the hounds off the scent of serious trouble, and I am willing to blow up my own home to do it. I can give you a better explanation when there is time, but there is none now. How best could you do this, without being caught, in the available time frame?"

For a long moment he glared at her, wondering if he dared to trust. He had trusted before, and he had been lied to, misdirected and his trust abused. Preventers had treated him fairly. To date. He did not know how far he could trust her, considering that she had cause to hate him, if rumor was true. She was said to be the lover of the man he had killed, and she had not given any indication that she blamed him for the death of Treize Kushrenada. Not once in all the years following the war had she fronted him on the death of the man.

"Rocket launcher. Medium charge would be sufficient to take out the front of the manor."

She sighed softly, accepting that by those few words in that cold, emotionless voice, he had given tactic agreement to carry out her plans. She was not unversed in this type of operation, and the choice of weapon was no surprise to her. Indeed, she had expected his choice, and knew the armory more than capable of fulfilling his need.

"You could use the same type of weapon on the palace as well? The emergency protocols at the palace are well known to you, and at this time there is a level four alert in place at the palace. Still, I expect you would have no difficulty in finding your way onto the palace grounds. I believe that you would know the layout of the palace sufficiently well to know where best to hit the target, with a minimum of threat to the personnel, both Preventer, and palace employed staff. It is vital you perform this duty and escape without anyone being able to recognize you."

Dare he trust her? Without an explanation that could be in any way called satisfactory, she expected him to agree to such drastic action. Dark, exotic eyes met brown and he nodded once, short and abrupt.

"Yes." He could do it. He could do this thing she wanted of him, but would he? Would he truly be able to return to those days, even for so brief a time?

//He has not agreed. Not yet. I know that look in his eyes. He wants to know more. I have no choice. I will have to trust him to do this. He could turn from the mission at any time, and I would not blame him. I have not told him sufficient information to explain, and he is no Terrorist now.//

"By the time you get to the car pool, I will have the equipment you need waiting for you, and a vehicle. It is necessary, Wu Fei. I will explain the need to you, but at this moment there is not sufficient time for me to convince you of the necessity of these actions. All I can say, is that I want you to trust me, and I will do nothing to violate that trust. It is vital to the peace."

"Yes. Yes, you will explain." He glared at her, rising and sweeping to the door, turning to pin her with eyes of dark fire. "I am no longer a terrorist who will act on lies and deceit, and never question those who give the orders."

"I do not expect you not to question. If you did not question these orders, then you would not be the right man for the job."

The door had barely closed behind him before she was ordering the required equipment be taken to the car pool, and a suitably nondescript vehicle readied. She efficiently arranged for a replacement vehicle of identical colour and model to be brought into the garages less than an hour after Chang would depart, and then she leaned back and waited, watching the computer screen for the exact moment when Chang signed out the car and the equipment.

The security feed enabled her to watch his progress, and she was relieved that he spared no time in reaching the garages. He had understood her need for urgency, if not the reason behind it. Time was of the essence, and by the time he had driven out of the garages she had erased the records of the cars engine number and registration plates, and replaced them with the new vehicle soon to arrive. The next step was to replace the information on the sign out documentation Chang had needed to file, a feat that took mere seconds. The weaponry that had been in the car was also treated to some adjustments, and by the time she had finished no such equipment had been the property of the Preventers, as far as any investigation would show. That done she reassigned the supply personnel who had handled the equipment to safely distant locations, and sat back finally, eyes on the clock. It would not take Chang long to get to her home.

She could only hope that he would commit himself.

When her com line buzzed she drew a deep steadying breath. This should be the first of the calls from the media over the email they had received.

000000000000000000000000000000000

22:51

Chang Wu Fei

He nodded slightly to himself, studying the floor plans of the house that was mostly hidden by the trees, and by the rising storm. From his vantage point the house lay spread before him, though he could see more a darker blur, and just the odd light glinting through the wind driven slush. What he could see was just enough of the house to give him an accurate target, without placing himself too close for a getaway, though the storm was going to present problems. He knew the security around this house. He had helped to set it up, and he knew there were very few chinks in the armor he could take advantage of.

The haste with which this mission needed to be carried out disturbed him, but he had decided that he would trust. At least for now. If his trust was to be abused, yet again, then he would have a great deal of enjoyment in taking down Lady Une and the Preventers.

He would not be used again. He would not be made a scapegoat. Nor would he be blamed for this piece of work either. Before he returned to Preventer Headquarters he would check to see if she had covered his use of Preventer equipment, and if not, he would know that she was using him. It would be the last mistake she would ever make. He was no longer a tool.

The beauty of his choice of weapons was that he could accurately hit his target from a good distance, allowing for a quick, and relatively unseen, escape from the scene of the crime. He winced at that thought. It was a crime. Would he be turning back the hands of time with this single action? Would he be opening Pandora's box by this act?

//I will need to ditch the car and ensure that no DNA samples, or finger prints, can be taken to later be used to link me to the attack.//

While the missile to be fired from the weapon lying on the back seat of the car was quite powerful, he was certain that it was not too powerful for the mission he was to accomplish. She had said that she wanted no one killed, and as few as possible injured. The missile alone could not accomplish that objective. He must be exact in his aim.

From the design of the house, and the details of the blue prints he had spread out before him, he would have very little chance of doing any great damage to people, if they had indeed been summoned to the rear of the structure. There was no means by which he could check on the location of the Preventers in the house, so he could only trust. About the only thing he could be certain of, was that Preventer Earth would not have Mariemaia Kushrenada in a position of danger. That was cause for him to believe she at least spoke the truth in regards to the positioning of the Preventers.

Trust, however, did not come easily to him.

//Why? Why do you insist this must be done? I have never known you to be a fool, even in the days when you were in Oz. No, I have not known you to be a fool, but I have known you to be insane. Is this another case of your instability affecting your judgment? Do I fire?//

He had so little time to make up his mind. She had wanted her house, and the palace, hit within the space of an hour, and time was relentless. It was a fifteen minute drive to the palace, and he was pushing his luck by delaying as he was. He must either decide he trusted her, or not. He fired, or he did not. One way or the other, he had to make up his mind. Once he fired on her house, there was no going back, and he lacked so much information.

The weight of the weapon in his hands surprised him, as he had not realized he had picked it up. He blinked in surprise, to see that he had already loaded the payload and sucked in a deep, steadying breath. Automatic. It had been done so easily. Was he not so far from the old days as he had thought? When had he decided to fire the weapon? He had not made up his mind … had he? Not consciously, at least.

Through the trees the house was a dim shape, the sleet becoming wind driven snow. At least the fire that would come would be extinguished by the weather in fairly short order. The entire house was not likely to burn with the weather now closing in over New Port City. He had to choose, once and for all, whether to fire or not, because the snow would slow him down reaching the palace, the secondary target.

He had arrived at his vantage point in time to see a dark, standard issue Preventer vehicle pull away from the side of the house. By the time he had pulled out the blue prints a second vehicle had left the building and close on the heels of its departure, a third vehicle had pulled away. He had watched in silence, lips pursed as the third vehicle left the grounds. Une was definitely up to something. Was Mariemaia in one of those cars?

He considered the darkened house for a few minutes, aware that he would have to chance the weather by driving with speed to effect his escape, but there was one or two streets that could be used as short cuts if he took care. If the child was in one of those cars, he wanted her to be well away from the building when he fired.

When he fired. So. He had made up his mind. He would trust Preventer Earth, and he would face the consequences, as must others. With a prayer to his Ancestors that he not make mistakes again, he hefted the rocket launcher to his shoulder, took careful aim and fired.

He did not linger to admire his handiwork. He braced for the recoil, heard the whoosh of the rocket fire, and spun, tossing the weapon in the back of the car. The night exploded into sound and colour, sirens began to wail the alert as the Preventers in the gate house activated the alarms, but he was already in the car and moving. He had driven three streets before he turned on the lights of the vehicle and the radio. The first reports of the explosion would be on the air within minutes, and he needed to know if anyone was killed.

He needed to know if it was going to be necessary for him to kill Une.

"…distress call received from the Terra Formation Station being established on Mars. It is not known at this time the extent of the assault on the new colony, but the mayday is suggestive of a total annihilation of all personal taking place. At this time the ESUN Security Council has refrained from making a comment, though a press conference has been announced for 8:30 in the morning, when more information is expected to be available. The contents of the distress call suggest the Reavers have moved their base of operations from the Asteroid Belt to the vicinity of Mars. It has been suggested that the Reavers may even intend to take over the terra forming station, and the colony, to use them as a base for their attacks against vessels passing in the vicinity of the planet."

+ "The three instances should be sufficient to keep the media off the Martian story for at least a day or two, more if we are lucky, and by that time we will have come up with another solution."+

Preventer Earth had mentioned Mars, he recalled, turning the radio down as he negotiated the slick roads with care, forced to keep within the speed limits, not wanting to be noticed by any law enforcement agents. Besides, the streets were just too slick to speed. Lady Une would just have to live with a delay of a few minutes. Even terrorists could run afoul of the weather.

//She mentioned Mars, before I left. What has Mars to do with this?//

He wanted that explanation she had promised, and he wanted it soon. It would be a far reaching explanation, he was certain, to explain a connection between Mars and a terrorist group hitting political figures on Earth. Why was timing so important? The Mars story was out on the airwaves already, but when had this distress call been received? He had not been listening to the radio as he had prepared for his mission to track down the assassins after the L3 representative, but perhaps he should have been.

He was confused. He could not see a link between the two events, assassination and Raider attack, except that the two stories would be fighting each other on the air waves for priority.

//Ah. She wants the Martian story off the air. Why? Preventers has as many ships in the asteroid belt as possible, chasing Reavers. More than the ESUN patrols. Mmmm. Rivalry between the two organizations? Ancestors, I hope not. I do not blow up buildings because she wants more money that the ESUN provide their own security service. If it is that petty, then she will learn what it means to use me.//

"...terupt this program to bring breaking news. An attack on the home of the Preventer Chief has been reported to have taken place. At this stage only sketchy details are known, but we believe there are no reported deaths or serious injuries. Our reporters are minutes away from the scene, and we will be updating the news as soon …"

Wu Fei clicked off the radio. He was making good time, and it would be only a minute or two difference with the time frame Lady Une had given him. If she had wanted this thing run by a clock face, she should have taken up the weather with what ever God she followed. He had committed himself to complete this mission, and he knew just where to hit the palace, and the exact vantage point that would afford him the best view of his target.

It would be a frontal hit on the palace. Standard procedure in a security alert was to gather the people in the center of the house, away from the windows and front of the edifice. The palace was huge, and at this time of night most of the staff would be abed, but after the assault on Une's home an alert would have been issued.

Une had already warned him that a level four security alert had been issued, and Relena, and the dignitaries at the palace at this time, would be in the process of being evacuated. None of them would be leaving via the front entrance.

Another five minutes would see him in position for the hit.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	70. Chapter 70

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 70

2nd March

Station One

Time: 07:27 [22:05 Approx, Sank time

Nigel Hampshire

// Look at them. I know what they think about me, but they have no idea.//

He glanced idly around the bridge, noting who was idling at their stations and who was absorbed in their stations readouts. It was easy enough to tell who was working and who was daydreaming, though to be honest that was a rarity with this crew of dedicated professionals, but everyone slipped once in a while. He could even tell who was working on improvements to their systems by the intensity they betrayed. It was easy enough, and he did admit it had a lot to do with the Gift he was training.

This Gift allowed him to know so much. To understand what it was that gave him insights into the people around him. It had not always been so of course. Most on the station, and that included the Bridge Crew, did not know he was one of Raydon's Gifted, and that anonymity suited him. He could sit here and watch them and it did not take much effort to read the intensity in their auras and, combined with his knowledge of his crew mates, it allowed him to discern who looked to be watching whom. It also, of course, allowed him to know they laughed at him, but that he was used to. Nor did he mind it, for he was above that petty amusement.

His world had opened up when he had been accepted onboard Station One. His Gift, which he had formerly looked upon in his ignorance as a curse, had been recognized and accepted by those others who had been graced with similar abilities. What once was a curse now became an accepted part of himself. A part he still needed to work on to bring totally under his control.

//They think I'm angling to jump the Captain's bones.// He smirked to himself, his eyes dropping to run over the readings of his consol, monitoring the traffic over the airways. //It is true that I have a certain regard for him, yes, but they all seem to think I have a case of the hots for him. They expect me to make a fool of myself over him, and I can play to that. It is better that they underestimate me. Damn. That is the sort of thinking I am supposed to be controlling. My gift does not make me Inferior to anyone. My Gift does not make me Superior to anyone. My Gift makes me different to others, and I shall be proud of my differences.// He silently chanted the litany that was one of the first things the training masters had taught him. // I am different, and that is good. I am an individual, and I am proud of who I am. They expect me to chase him and offer myself to him, and I suppose at first, that was true, but I know I'm not in his league. He understood me where no one else did, and I feel that I owe him for that. How does he do that? Do they take me for an utter fool?//

He sighed softly. The man was handsome, to say the very least, and he was above all a Commander of men. A man who was far from common, and certainly not incompetent. A man such as Raydon could not be thought of in terms of possession, even in one's day dreams. Ah, yes. Daydreams. Well, it was the truth that so long as you understood the difference between truth and daydream it did not hurt to fantasize.

Raydon was from another walk of life entirely. So far out of his league that it did not even hurt to admit it. It simply was the truth.

// He is a gentleman and an officer. More than that, though. He's no common born man. There is breeding there. In every line of his body that arrogance and beauty live. You can't fake the look that only the true aristocrats have. Some are arrogant bastards with it, but some few of them are different. He's one of those. He has the common touch and does not look down on anyone. I know he is nobility and way above my level, and that is just fine. Not a problem at all. I can look, and I can daydream and I know he does not mind that. I'll have to stop the game though. Before he bites at me, and I suppose now is as good a time as any, with the Prince coming back. People will expect me to back off, so no one should question my actions. They might even think I'm growing up a little.// His eyes flicked to the frequency readouts, a small frown creasing his brow. //Ah, now look at that. I recognize those little beauties. Test signals from Sweeper ships checking the relay. That makes around seven, or is it eight, test sweeps in the last few hours. Raydon will be pleased they are following up on the message he sent. Hmm. Another … Now that one is different in a couple of ways. Not a Sweeper signal that I recognize. A little adjustment here, and a tweak … Mmm. Maybe a Preventer sneaking into the relay? They should be suspicious by now that something is very off about the communications system.//

Glancing at the clock positioned above the main bridge screen he nodded slightly. It had been hours since Raydon had returned to his conference with his Commanders and the Station Council. That last burst of instructions should be baring fruit very soon now. The Sweepers Captains would not withhold radio silence for much longer. They could not help but know that the system had been compromised, as they had been warned, and every hour took those two ships closer to Mars. It would have been clear to them within a few minutes of testing the relay, and there had been too many contacts he could tag as being of Sweeper origin investigating the relays. Word was obviously passing around the Sweeper fleet.

//I wonder what the Sweepers are up to? Nothing is ever straight forward with them. I have learned that much since I came here. I wonder what his ties to them are?//

Very soon now the Commander would have new instructions to be relayed to his ships, and possibly to his agents on Mars. The Council had been in session for near four hours since the last break had been called, and if he knew anything of that man, then he knew that Raydon would not allow the debate to last much longer.

The man had never been one to sit and prevaricate. It was not in his nature to sit back and twiddle his thumbs while events shaped the future around him. His and others. Whatever might affect the future of those bound to the Stations in the Alliance they had made drew Raydon's watchful eye, and if he felt the need to act, he would not hesitate.

Yes, they had more than just the fate of their agents on Mars to consider in this. They had the three stations to consider, and the lives of every crew of the ships that had allied to the Stations. If they sat back and did nothing, allowing events to run their course, then the Stations might never be recognized by the ESUN as independent. It went against everything that Raydon and others with him had planned, so a response was forthcoming. So many lives could be affected by what ever the council decided would be appropriate action.

//He will not let the insult lie. Not when it concerns the Prince on Mars. He'll act, but how? Milliardo Peacecraft. I can see why he wants you, and the truth is that you are probably the only person I would consider to be in Raydon's league. It would take someone special to match him, and I think you are one of the few who could manage it. What little I saw of you suggested you would be capable of ruling him without lifting a finger trying. He would willingly be ruled by you. He would die for you, but I wonder how it happened? It's a weird thing to say, but your aura suggested you were too innocent to know it. Innocent. Milliardo Peacecraft, the Terror of the Earth, has an aura that is so innocent its frightening.//

His ability to read auras was first noticed while he was trying to hide himself away on L4. He was young, his instructors now told him, and his talent, his Gift was still awakening, and of course it could get out of hand. That is why he was on Station One, being trained to control the talent. It had gotten out of hand before, and it had torn his world apart. Not even the discipline required by the military had established any control over his talent, and now he understood that being trained to be a soldier would never affect his minds sight. Only one who shared links to the paranormal, the Gifts of the mind, could understand the hell he had gone through.

//Was it the same with you, Milliardo Peacecraft? Did your Gift drive you insane? Insane or something else? A real life Prince, no less. I really can't see Raydon partnered with anyone less than another member of the nobility, and Peacecraft is more than just well born. He's royal born, and anyone with any vestige of normal sight has to see that. Anyone with augmented sight has to see more, of course. I only saw him twice, I think it was, before he left the station, but when I saw him with Raydon, his aura almost danced a waltz with the Commanders. I've never seen that before. It seemed attracted and then would veer off. It looked … innocent. I wish I could find a better word, but that seems about the closest I can come up with, to describe the look of him. So much blood on his hands and his aura is still clear. It's amazing. Still, there must be more to him than a history of blood, and an uncommon aura if the Captain is so set on him as a life partner. // His fingers danced across the keys of his consul, broadening the view of the radio waves he currently monitored. // Hmm. For a secured satellite there is a fair amount of unauthorized traffic on this one. More than just our boosts. Let's see. Raider. Another Raider. Both in transit heading for Station One. Ah, confirmation of course corrections and according to the log entry, right on time.//

He recorded each transmission, entering their passage into his communications logs and passing the information to the bridge officer, who currently had the con. He would relay the confirmations to the Captain in his report following the Council meeting, as per his instructions. Information logged and stored he returned his attention to the com board, and to his investigations of the activity taking place on the satellite relays.

//Now that would have to be the Mining Corporations Security division. Let's see … Ah, yes. It's the standard relay test and right on it's scheduled time. Ah, now that is interesting. It was allowed through the delay. Automatic shunt, I'd say. Very interesting. Had that signal not been relayed through the system then a whole heap of alarms would be sounding across space by now. Whoever set up the delay on the system knew their stuff. They knew exactly what calls were an automated check and when they would be made. Now then, what do we have here, hmm? You look interesting. Not a Sweeper, and I don't think you're an official ESUN transmission. Preventer, I'd say. Maybe not. You are not the usual signal I'd expect from a Preventer, but then, these are not usual times, are they? You are a slippery little bugger. Hmm.//

A few dancing movements of fingers over the keyboard and he had isolated the transmission that had piqued his curiosity. It was a very active little signal, he noted. Fluctuating and skipping frequencies on a rotating cycle. Protected from casual interference.

//Someone has twigged to the delay, I think, and is testing for access to the master programming on the satellite. Mmm. Clever. You just might get in too. Ah, clever boy. Or girl, for that matter. Yes, you made it past the watch dogs. Welcome to the inner sanctum. We are something of an exclusive club here, you know. What to do? The Captain never told me to interfere with any of the signals passing through the relays. My instructions were just to monitor the traffic. Well, I guess I just log it and keep an eye on proceedings.//

Quickly he entered the information into his log, glancing briefly around the command bridge after he did so. Everyone was working quietly and efficiently, he noted, under the scrutiny of the duty officer. They were all professionals, with the majority of the bridge crew being ex military; either Alliance or Oz military displaced after the One Year War. Some had suffered injuries of varying degrees of severity and had found themselves given a nominal settlement and abandoned by the powers that be. They had wandered, adrift, from country to country, and then colony to colony. Most had genuinely tried to start new lives for themselves but, like himself, had been dissatisfied with the results. As hard as they had tried they had been unable to make life mean anything to them. There had been so few aid programs and some, like himself, had no family to seek out and no home to go to. Some had been cast out once too often, accused of not trying to belong in the current order by those who had no understanding of the feelings of abandonment that raged in the displaced soldiers.

//No, I suppose some of us just did not belong. I … I expected more than what I got. Was that my mistake? But where ever I turned, I was turned away. No one wanted to know about me or my needs. The aura reading did not help either. I could not help but see the hostility in them, or the disinterest behind their every word. Until I hooked up with … Not now. Don't go there. There is work to do.//

His attention returned to the screen and he sighed softly. Oh, the relays were busy this day. He was tired and he would give anything for a decent few hours sleep, but nothing would get him away from this consol with so much happening. There was a second hacker into the hub of the satellites programming, and he welcomed them with a quiet chuckle. It was getting crowded in there.

//Now who are you and who do you belong to? I don't recognize the coding. Hmm. I'll copy that one too, and investigate it later. Pretty powerful signal …//

"Holy shit!" He hunched over his com board as static flared, blasting at his hearing through the head set he wore. He tore the device from his head, vaguely aware of the approach of the Bridge Supervisor. "Damn. Damn."

"Hampshire? Report."

// Yes, yes, just as soon as my ears stop ringing.//

Rubbing absently at his right ear he glanced at the woman, sinking into the training he had received that was his armor against a world that had already once abandoned him. The military protocols had become his safe zone from the world, and it was just too soon for him to abandon its safety. Snapping out a salute he turned in the chair as he did so, paying proper respect to his superior and establishing himself in his safe niche.

"A high speed impulse beam message from Mars has channeled through the Dakkar III Satellite relay, Ma'am. The signal has effectively shut down the entire relay system."

The shut down would automatically set alarms ringing in a few organizations from one end of the Earth Sphere to the other. The Preventers and the Mining Corporations Security Division were only two of the organizations that would react to this silence. He knew they would immediately initiate emergency checks of the system, actions that would take at least two hours to confirm, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that every satellite in the system was non functional. Whether they would wait for that confirmation before taking other action he did not know. He doubted they would be inclined to sit on their laurels, but as to what they would do, he had no idea. He knew there were no ships belonging to either Preventers or the Mining Corporation within a four day flight of the satellite nearest to Mars. Of the other satellites in the relay he knew there was one ship that would be within range of the nearest satellite to the asteroid belt, and that was at least three days from the satellites location.

//Someone has just brought themselves some extra time. Protocol will be observed in most cases, even if the individual commanders do decide to take additional action. Yes, they have gained some time by shutting down the relay system, but they sure as hell have alerted everyone to something being wrong.//

The com board crackled, the primary screen on his board flaring to life, and he swore softly as he watched a red haired woman, bleeding and bruised. She begged for help from a Raider attack on Mars.

"Shit." The Supervisor whispered, leaning over to gain a better look at the screen. "I believe we had better inform the Captain, Hampshire."

"Ma'am." Soft acknowledgement.

Raydon was not going to like this. Their period of grace was at an end.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	71. Chapter 71

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 71

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 20:16 [Approx Sanc time: 18:06

Zechs

//That he has his moments I can not deny, nor can I doubt that his abilities definitely have uses. I knew there were different abilities amid those Raydon termed the Gifted, but … I never really got the chance to learn about them. I was not on Station One long enough to learn much or meet many people. My fault, I know, because Raydon respected my wish to remain secluded. He rarely spoke of the Gifted on the flight to the station, and once there I just wanted to hide. To hide my shame at surviving. Stupid really.//

Ice blue eyes scanned their surroundings, watchful for any indication of approaching company. Giles and two women were talking in hushed tones a few meters from him, heads bent close together with no small amount of head shakes and nods. Even as he watched one of the women shook her head in adamant denial and Giles seemed to sigh, glancing over to where Zechs waited before turning again to the women, a determined glint in his eyes.

//It has to be a strain for him, but there is no help for it. We can only do the best we can, and if they do not believe the danger exists then there is no help for it. It is for their own protection, so why do I feel such guilt? I chanced the destruction of a habitable planet's environment to bring about peace. Why do I balk at forcing one or two people to believe that their lives are in danger? It seems such a violation. Time is moving and there is much to do. We dare not linger much longer.//

He had ensured the storage and work building that linked domes one and two was secured against easy entry from dome two. No one would slip easily and silently between the two in a bid to surprise the people they secured here. He had also locked the main entry hatch to dome one. If those who had believed them wished to remain secure, they would keep both entrances to the dome locked after he and Giles left them.

"Your Highness?"

He flicked his gaze to the short, delicate woman who approached him. She was a horticulturalist who had had much success with hybrid plants designed for the conditions of Mars, a specialist with the heart of an adventurer. He had had previous occasion to speak with her, and had found her to be accepting of his presence. Of course, many of the Terra Formers had been on Mars during the One Year War, and the incident with the Libra was not as real to them as it was to those who had been closer in to the hub of the Earth Sphere. Those who had lived and worked on Mars during that turbulent time were the ones who had accepted his presence with the least difficulty.

"Yes, Elizabeth?"

"I have listened to Haydon and I agree that we appear to be in danger. I was wondering what you think of this business? You have said nothing, just stood back and listened to him as he speaks, but you have said nothing about what is happening. Why?"

He glanced over the small gathering of people they had brought together in groups of one or two. Never more than two at a time as Giles was adamant that he would have no chance of working effectively with more. He had to trust that Giles knew his own abilities and thus far, while some quick talking and what Giles termed 'leaning' had been necessary, they had succeeded. He had stayed entirely out of the conversations that had taken place, only too aware that most were wary of his reputation.

"It is my role to stand watch and make certain that you are not disturbed while Giles explains to you what is happening. This is not something that has been made up for a sick laugh, Elizabeth. We are serious about the warning we are giving. There are people out in the dome who are killing your fellow workers."

A soft sigh through slightly parted, pert lips and her brown eyes stared intently into his before she lowered her head. "You are serious. It … It's just that it seems so hard to believe that there are people here who are killers. I left Earth and the colonies behind me because I wanted the chance to create something untouched by the blood and the fear. I did not like what I was seeing all about me, so I accepted the post and came to Mars, where that fresh start on bloodless soil was possible. Now … Well, if I am to be honest, then I suppose that Raiders would make more sense to me than the ESUN killing us off one by one. I could understand Raiders doing it, but not the ESUN."

"Sometimes those we think are friends are not what they appear to be."

//That's the problem. They can all see it happening if it was Raiders doing the killing, but they all balk at the identity of the killers. Even showing them the bodies in Dome Two can not prove who the killers were. They only have our word that it is the government supposed to be responsible for protecting them that is betraying their trust.//

He watched the restless stir amid the six others who stood behind her, listening to every word they said. Giles had worked his charm and abilities well, convincing these seven of the need to band together and guard each others backs. Some had taken longer to convince than others, and due to times constraints he and Giles had decided they could spend no longer than five minutes on each attempt. Five minutes for each person could place them all in serious danger, but they had to allow for it and pray that they did not run out of time and into deeper trouble. He knew deep in his bones that time was running out.

While Giles had worked on the people they discovered in the dome he had been thankful for the opportunity to rest. It was Giles who carried the weight of these encounters, leaving him to stand, or sit if the occasion allowed it, and give his abused body the chance to recover while keeping watch on all approaches to their location. When they had convinced their first pair of workers of the seriousness of the situation it had become necessary for him to keep a watch on them in turn. He would turn his back on no one. Not even those who professed to be convinced of the need to hide, if not the identity of the attackers.

He and his partner had debated the wisdom of convincing those whom they sought to warn of the identity of the attackers being Raiders, but they had decided against such measures. They deserved the truth now that he knew no matter what happened, the ESUN would not allow the population here to survive. They deserved to know who it was that was killing them. Besides, he was still hopeful that Raydon might come through for them, and he would not have their rescuers blamed for this atrocity.

They stood about in a loose cluster, watching and listening to Giles as he argued with the two women. Amid their number were two men who deeply unsettled him, not for any suspected ties with the Sleepers, but because of that overheard conversation. They made him uncomfortable in a way he had never been before. They had made him think about questions of his own sexuality and needs. Questions about what he actually wanted to happen in his life, should he somehow survive this trap.

Questions he had not had the courage to ask himself before. He had felt himself to be on borrowed time. As though his life was not his own, but on loan from someone else and for purposes he could not name. He should have died, and he had no goals set for a life after the Libra. He had been living in a limbo and that could not go on.

There was Noin to be considered. He loved her. He really did love her, but certainly not as all consuming as she seemed to love him. Something more than friends, yes, but he did not wish to marry her. There were his children to be considered. He loved his children with all his heart and soul, and he would do anything to keep them safe. They did not deserve to have him for a father, and all of the grief that that would bring to them. There was Raydon waiting in the wings. Raydon had made no pretense about being interested in him, the man's intentions being made clear even before he was well enough to leave the bed where he had woken from a coma. There was Raydon, and there was what the man could offer him beyond the implied partnership that equated to a marriage he did not wish for at this time. The Gifted had frightened him before, with the very mystery that surrounded them.

Giles was no Ogre. Giles was no dark sorcerer from mythology, there to strip your soul away and make you into something you were not. He promised that the Gifted were accepting of others who were considered freaks and insane monsters by the ignorant. Giles, and Raydon before him, had offered him a place amid the Gifted.

There were options open to him. A chance at a future beyond huddling amid his fear and distress at simply being alive. Chances. Somehow that was more frightening than believing there was no other place for him. Before he could decide his own fate there was still the matter of the here and now to be faced.

What was to become of these people? If Raydon did manage to perform a miracle and somehow saved the population of Mars Base, then what were they to do with more than two thousand people? Leaving them defenseless on Mars was simply not an option as the ESUN could still return and wipe them out at a later date. The families of those who survived this massacre living in distant cities and colonies could be held to ransom to keep the population quiet. Threats to their families accompanied by a death or two would convince the survivors that the government was serious, but those behind this atrocity would not long allow anyone who knew the truth to live. Eventually the ESUN would wipe them all out. Slowly, one by one in a series of accidents, some unexplained murders perhaps, even malfunctioning equipment could be blamed. In dozens of different ways it would happen. They would die just to preserve the sick little secret of the extent that certain people in power were willing to go to, to have things their way.

How was he to see that they had a chance? It was his responsibility because he did not die when he should have. His responsibility, because he had come to Mars instead of fleeing the Preventers when he had the chance. He had been exhausted, but that was no excuse when he looked around him and saw the faces of those who were made into victims because he had survived. What more did he need to do to give them the opportunity to be free of that bloody, hopeless future?

"Your Highness? Is this place secure?"

He dragged his wandering thoughts back to the present, blue eyes sweeping the area for danger, recalled to his duty to guard his partners back. He was tired now, but there was no opportunity to rest, and it was no excuse for endangering lives. Too much needed doing. First he needed to see that as many as possible survived, before worrying about days that might never come. He absently noted that Giles appeared to have made a breakthrough with the two women, as they had moved to join them and he had a circle of people surrounding him, all watching him and expecting him to come up with answers. How was he supposed to do that? He knew more than they did, yes, but he did not know the answers to the questions they had been asking.

"Keep a guard on both doors after we leave. Lock the dome down and make yourselves as secure a place as possible to hide. Try not to make it too obvious, but make it as defensible as you can. It might be best for you to get into the roof of the dome and make yourselves scarce up there. It has certain advantages. If you do that, take what food and water you can and lie low. Set watches and be aware of anyone who turns up. There can not be too many Sleepers left, but the fact remains that it is doubtful we have them all, and there are still the paramilitary agents to be considered. They will take you down without thinking twice."

"What will you and Giles be doing?"

His eyes flicked to the man who was glancing from him and up, into the overhead network of pipes and catwalks. It was obvious he was considering the merits of the higher option, and Zechs hoped he was not blushing. It was the man who had made it clear to his friend that he would like to get his hands …

//No! Do not go there.//

"There are people working outside of the domes protection. We need to check the airlocks to see if they have been sabotaged, and if there is anything we can do for them. Then there are the agents to be chased down."

"How will we know if it is safe to leave the dome?" Elizabeth too was gazing up into the scaffolding and pipes, weighing options.

"I could say that Giles or I will come for you, but there is no guarantee we will be able to do that." A low sigh.

"It might be best for you to plan on spending the night here." Giles spoke up. "In the morning you could …" He sighed, uncertain. "Look, truth is that there is no guarantee that we can have this matter dealt with at all, or that we might win what is to come. We just do not know when, or if, it will be safe."

"How long before this ship you spoke of, the Wellington, arrives?" Elizabeth turned from her survey of the scaffolding to look expectantly at Giles.

"Most likely two days. I would think that we have at least forty hours. Without access to a computer I can give no accurate times. Our source was not certain of the time scale involved. Just that within three days everyone here has to be dead." Giles stirred. "Given that, we project that within forty hours the Wellington should turn up. We need to go. Others are dying, and we need to do what we can to help."

"Well … Can we help you? I'm not a trained fighter. I was never a soldier, but I can hold my own in a bar room brawl." Brian Lancey was a big bluff man, dark-haired and usually soft spoken. Just now he looked his confusion, but there was a glint of determination and fire in his dark eyes that promised someone would hurt if he could get his hands on them.

"You would be best to set up defenses here and keep at least these people safe from what is to come. As safe as possible. I would advise going up, into the scaffolding and pipes. Make as secure a position up there as you can, and set watches." Zechs stirred, standing from where he had been sitting on the edge of a crate and looking into the overhead maze of pipes. "It's possible to hide relatively well up there, and if anyone gets through either entrance to the dome, you really only need cover the access ladders to keep everyone secured."

"Weapons?" Lancey queried.

"What ever you can find will have to do. Hopefully you will encounter no difficulties. There can't be a lot of these agents left, so just stay quiet and stay low. That is the key to surviving this mess." Giles responded, moving to flank Zechs.

"Okay, man. Well, we know what to expect. Trouble with a capital T. Go. We have held you up too long and others will be paying for the delay. By morning we will have worked out something. There are food dispensers in the maintenance building, so we will raid those now, then we can take what we need for the night up with us."

"Do that, and do not come down unless you absolutely have to."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Time: 20:26 [Approx Sanc time 18:16

Zechs

It was just too quiet under the dome. The hairs at the back of his neck prickled, rising in warning, setting his limbs to a subtle trembling. He had a very bad feeling about this, and he crouched low, motioning Giles to remain under cover. Bulking huge at their backs lay Hydroponics Dome One and ahead of them and to their left, built into the outer dome itself, were the air locks.

All of the airlocks were built along similar lines, varying only in size. Each was entered first by entering the change room, which housed lockers that stored personal effects not required during work hours beyond the dome. A wheel locked door would lead from the changing room to the inner room, where a control panel monitored the airlock itself. A larger wheel lock and electronically sealed door isolated the actual airlock from the dome. Before entering the airlock one had to seal the inner door or the electronic lock would not deactivate. It was just one of the safety features required with the use of the airlock system in a secured dome habitat.

Airlock One was the largest of the three locks used for moving people between the dome and the surface of the planet. The secured area could hold no more that twenty people at one time, while airlock two was used for smaller parties of from six to ten people. Airlock three was for the use of from one to five people venturing out into the Martian wilds, and airlock four was the massive lock system where the mobile suits and heavy machinery required to tame this unforgiving planet entered and exited the dome. The cycling of the system took all of five minutes for air lock three, from the moment one entered the lock to the time they stepped out onto the surface of the planet, with proportionately longer periods required for the larger locks. For airlock two it would take approximately seven minutes, and up to ten minutes for air lock one to cycle oxygen in and out of the locks. The big lock from which they used their machinery would take upwards of fifteen minutes to cycle the air and run decontamination systems.

For safety reasons every person on the planet had a personal envirosuit, which was stored in the maintenance and decontamination building almost directly opposite the secured location where Zechs and Giles now crouched. Within the confines of the building suits were maintained, and prior to exiting the dome they were collected by the owner, who was responsible for checking their systems had no obvious faults by running basic diagnostics. From the collection building they would make their way to the appropriately sized airlock required to take a party out onto the surface of the planet as economically as possible. There could be no needless waste on Mars, and everyone was trained to make economical use of all facilities, especially the vital oxygen supply that meant life to the terra formers.

The more he looked at the buildings around him the more hesitant Zechs was. Across from him was the Enviro Suit Storage and Maintenance facility, where the suits were maintained and stored for use. Behind him rose the bulk of Hydroponics Dome One and the group of nine terra formers they had convinced to lie low. To their left, across a broad open area was the big air lock four, and further around the dome, out of their immediate sight, was the big elevators they used to transport the mobile suits and heavy machinery between the upper dome and the sub base. Beyond the big airlock lay locks one to three, ending with the control station where the master control systems for the airlocks was maintained. There was an awful lot of open space between dome one and the control building, and a lot of places for an assassin to ambush unsuspecting prey.

"We have to get to the control building don't we? The interior lock controls just will not allow for what we may need to do." Giles chewed absently at his lower lip as he eyed the distances involved, contemplating the best route to take. "Damn, man, I am not an Olympic sprinter, and that is more of a marathon distance than a sprint, anyway."

"I know. It's suicide to just walk out there. I can feel it."

Giles head snapped around to face Zechs, eyes widening. "Are you experiencing a vision?"

He almost laughed, grateful that Giles had not seen what those visions entailed. "No. I'm blocking that with every ounce of energy I can spare. If I had another one Giles, and it was a major one, then I'd be out of the picture for hours. I've over-extended my resources with visions. One more and I am out for the count."

"Damn emergency lights." Giles muttered, glancing up at the massive dome above them where the red lights lent the dome the air of blood surrounding them. "You okay? I don't know a lot about precogs, but I do know that sometimes it can be a bad thing to resist a vision."

Zechs glared at the man, shaking his head slowly, almost panicked by the thought. "Don't tell me that. I can not afford to let down my guard. I'd go down, Giles. I have no more reserves left. I have to end this as quickly as I can, and it keeps pushing at me, but I just can not allow it to rule me."

A quiet sigh was the response and the man nodded slowly. "What do you suggest?" //He really needs to be under the care of the Trainers on Station One. God, the man will end up a fruitcake if he does not learn how to manage what is essentially a wild talent, and a vicious one too.//

"The only thing we can do is use the available cover, and make our way to the control room. We use the parked machinery for cover and then cross to the Suit Maintenance building, work our way around that and to the next bay of machinery, then make a run for the airlock control station. Do you know how many people should be in the suit maintenance building?"

"I have been in there." Giles responded. "At the height of activity there should be around fifteen people getting the suits needed for the next day's roster ready. At this time of the day, with suits due in, there would be around twenty people, I guess. They would be due to turn up in the next …" He glanced at his time piece and shrugged. "Thirty minutes or so, I'd say. If the shift is on time, then they will start coming into the airlocks in about forty minutes. For a big maintenance session like this, requiring so many people, they would be using all four locks in a rotation sequence, each lock allowed about a fifty percent cycle before the next lock would be activated to cycle. That cuts down on the power usage, and still gets as many people in the dome as quickly as possible."

Zechs rubbed absently at his neck, hating the tension that was building within him. He was running towards a showdown with the infiltrators and their Sleeper allies, and he had made provision for a circumstance of vision that closely resembled this, but was not quite true to it. He could feel that circumstances were not quite true to the vision, and that allowed so much opportunity for things to go wrong. He could see only too clearly why he could, in those visions, save the lives of only twenty or so people. He needed to decide, one way or the other, whether to try to save them as they entered the dome, or to effectively lock them out to almost certain death in the Martian night.

Regardless of which option he chose, he needed to reach the control room, and there face the choice that meant life and death to so many. Was he to lock out the workers and possibly sentence them all to death when their suits systems failed? Their life support functions on the enviro suits simply were not up to supporting human life during a Martian night. Was he to allow them to enter into the airlocks, save perhaps twenty of them and have the remainder die, unable to do more than watch them die as he would be driven off before he could disable the traps set over the controls?

Decisions such as this he hated making. Libra and the decisions he had needed to make then still haunted him. It seemed at these times that he had a power over life and death itself, and he hated that power. That he should decided who deserved to live or die did not sit well on his shoulders. Everyone had a right to live. It was not his place to say that this person died, and that person lived. Why must he choose? Why must he be the one dragged into this …

//It falls to you because you 'See' it, you moron. Stop whimpering and whining like a child who must choose which toy to play with. Prevaricating will not solve your problems. You can grovel in your nightmares when it is done, but now consider the options you have seen, and the changes that have been made. Giles was never factored into your visions. He was never 'seen'. His presence has to make differences possible, be they for good or ill.//

"So, we head for the storage and maintenance facility?"

//I have to try.// "Yes. We will need to check the facility before we go past it, as we can not afford to take the chance of having the Sleepers at our back. We need to at least know who is in the building, and if they are a likely threat."

"I wish I knew where those bastards are now." Giles shook his head, rubbing at his forehead to sooth the tension headache he had been ignoring since he had begun to influence the reactions of the gardeners.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. It will pass. It's just reaction to using my ability for an extended period. It's normal. I always suffer headaches with its use."

//Interesting. If Giles experiences illness, as in headaches, after using his ability, then perhaps the reaction of my body when I experience visions is normal? I have no time to question him now, but if the opportunity presents itself, I will ask him if others with this precognitive ability experience a common illness.//

He peered about the deserted dome, the hackles at the back of his neck raised in distrust. It was just too quiet. Way too quiet. He had no time to think about the Gifted, or feeling ill, or his desperate wish to curl up and sleep, to rest his abused body just for a few minutes. Now was the time to move, to take action that must be taken, but his feet refused to move and he ached in every bone and joint. Why could he not make himself move?

There was something … Some 'thing' reaching out to him. He could feel his gut clench with the certainty that it was seeking him. Extending towards him. Some 'thing' that he could not see. Some 'thing' that he could not touch, yet some 'thing' that he knew was there.

"Zechs?"

It was there. Coming closer. It was there, just beyond the range of his vision, lurking in shadows most likely, of which there were many with the blood coloured light flooding the dome. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise in reaction to it. Some 'thing' hovering out there, seeking to come closer. Seeking. Searching. It was searching for him. Specifically for him, and that terrified him.

He knew it was out there. Whatever it was it was … There! By the building they were going to be heading toward. He was certain that it lurked there, perhaps amid those crates stacked around the near corner of the structure. He could see nothing, true, but he could feel it. He knew it was there.

"Zechs? Shit, man, what is wrong with you? Look at me! Damn it, Zechs! Look at me!"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson


	72. Chapter 72

+ … + Flashback

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 72

Mars Colony

Base Dome One

Time: 20:02

Noin

Pain.

I will rise above the pain. I will not allow it to control me.

Pain. Clawing tendrils of agony, crawling along nerves, seeping into blood, bone and tissue.

I have known pain before.

Pain. Pain that fills all that is and forever has been.

Put it in perspective. Beyond pain there is a life to be lived.

Pain. Pain pulsing with each throbbing beat of heart; driving blood through veins and arteries; feeding this useless hulk of flesh that is a body.

I have children. I have a home to take back and make indisputably my own.

Pain crawling in my vitals, not an ache, not just a throbbing. Screaming, searing agony that courses throughout all that I am.

I have my children to find. I have my man to find.

Pain in excess of anything and everything I have ever known, and that I previously, mistakenly, called pain. I know what pain is now. I had no idea before.

Those rat faced bastards think they can dictate to me how my life will be lived. I have them to find and punish for this pain that is never ending, and yet is never constant.

Pain. Pain that rises and rises, and never falls. No respite from it. The more I try to control it the more it fills me. The more it torments me with my failures.

Get beyond it. I've known pain before and I know that it has limits. I can get past this pain and go beyond it. I can get through it and past it, and go beyond it and then I can make it work for me.

Pain, in body and soul. Pain surrounding me and within me and it is a living thing. It grows. It does not die as all pain eventually must die. How long have I existed in this agony? How much longer must I live and breathe this existence that has only one centre?

Pain.

I can use the anger and the pain and I can use their fear.

They will learn to fear me.

I have always thought only ill-prepared training and inferior Commanders resulted in death for soldiers, but I have had it with that now. They have changed something deep within me. I wonder if this is not what that six year old son of Pacifists endured so long ago. Mental anguish laced with unending pain, to compare with the purely physical agony I know now. Is this akin to the despair he felt as he watched his world crumble in blood and fire? Is this what he endured that turned him from a child of pacifists to a warrior with revenge firing his soul?

They deserve what they get. Those bastards that have come here and torn asunder the life I have made will deserve everything that I will give to them. The ESUN itself deserves what I intend to do. Everything I will lose out of this and every iota of pain I endure, I will return ten fold to them.

Soldiers die. No matter how I look at that simple truth it still pains me, in the deepest recesses of my soul. Soldiers die, no matter the level of training they may receive. No matter the experience and honest caring of their instructors and Commanding Officers, the simple truth is that Soldiers die. It is something I have to face. Whether in honorable combat, or from a terrorist's bombs, or from something as simple, and tragic, as a traffic accident. Soldiers die.

Everyone dies eventually.

If I lose Zechs because of this I will take apart the entire ESUN and I will make them all pay for the loss of him.

He is mine.

I will allow no one to claim him. He is the reason I live. He is the reason I drag each breath into tortured lungs, and endure the beating of my own heart. He belongs to me. I have waited for him to realize that simple truth for so long, and now that I have him I will allow no one to drag him away from me.

//What if it is his will to go? What do you do if he does not wish to remain with you?//

Pain. Searing, consuming pain. Count the heartbeats by the pulsing of the pain. It is all encompassing and it brings with it the promise of failure.

He is mine. I need no little voices whispering and sniggering in my mind that I have not won him to my suit. He is mine now. I claimed him and he has not turned me out of his life. I have endured too much in my life to allow anyone to contest my claim to him. They gave him up for dead, even his precious little sister. Only I knew that he was alive. We are bound together, and he must finally realize that. He is my reward for staying alive and for fighting for the peace. He is my treasured reward for my belief in him.

//You did not always believe in him. You did not trust him. You do not trust him even now. You are pathetic.//

Pain, flaring within with the will to scream a denial that undoubtedly came out of a raw throat as a pathetic whimper.

//He is not a possession.//

You insidious, whispering bitch. You know nothing. He is my lover. He is my friend. He is my soul mate. He is my partner in all things. My perfect compliment. He is my husband.

//He is not your husband. He has never asked you to marry him, nor is he ever likely to.//

It was coming. It was coming. He was going to ask me, and then those bastards turned up and ruined everything. I claim him. As he will claim me after this is finished. I, Lucrezia Belladona Richenda Noin. I lay my claim to him, and I will teach any who think to dispute that claim the error of their ways.

//Even Zechs?//

Of course even Zechs. He has to learn it too. He has learned it, and he needs to acknowledge it and accept it as the truth it is. We have been together long enough for him to understand how things stand between us. There is a bond between us, and he knows it well and now there are the children to strengthen that bond. He understands that he is mine and together we are invincible. Not even the ESUN will conquer us.

//He has never been one to take a cage quietly.//

He will not be caged. He will not be confined by walls and bars. He was meant to be free. He was meant to be mine, and I will see that he enjoys peace from those who seek to confine him. They placed him here, away from everyone that he knows, but I came too, and I am his guardian. I am his protection. I am the one who will see that he is able to enjoy the sun on his face and the winds caress in his hair. I will take him out of this cage and I will find us a place where he can be free. I lay claim to him. I will guard him from everyone who seeks to trap him behind boundaries set by all but he himself. I will teach him to be free.

Pain. Clawing, eradicating thought processes, swirling and ebbing. Descend into the awareness of pain and endure it. That was not all that could be done, however.

Get beyond it. When all is said and done it is only pain. There is peace beyond pain if you turn this way. Ah, it hurts to breathe. It hurts so much. Such a clawing at my vitals. Gouging deeply into me.

Pain. There is escape. See that darkness, hovering just beyond the pain? See that peace on offer?

No.

No. That way lies escape from the pain, yes, but to accept that escape is to accept that I will forever be beyond my children and my man. No. I will not go there. I refuse to surrender to it. I refuse to give the pain control.

//You do realize you may have no choice in this? Has it never occurred to you that you may have no chance against the pain? Against THIS pain. Did you not think you have not the will power to defeat it, and that it will win?//

Never. I surrender to no one! Pain was … Pain was … is... controllable.

//Pain is your body warning you that something is wrong. In this case, very wrong. Pain is your bodies alarm system. Sometimes the only escape from pain is to … //

No! I will not surrender to it. I will pass beyond this pain, but I will not give up my ties to this life. I have too much to lose to surrender to it.

//What is it that you have to lose?//

I have my children waiting for me beyond the pain. I need to get back to my children. They need me.

//If you care so much for your children then why did you leave them to begin this fight? It was you who started this mayhem. It was you who began this killing, by being the first to kill.//

They had no right to come here and dictate to me that I can not have them! I gave birth to them. They are my children. I gave them life. It is I who decide where they will live and who will raise them, not some old political farts in a moldering mansion, on the all powerful planet bloody Earth.

//It was you who always professed to love life, and trained your students to stay alive …//

Shut up! Shut the fuck up!

Who are you any way? Who are you and what gives you the right to hound me? Do you work for them? Is that it? Oh, I see. Interrogation. Torture. I understand. Let us play psyche games with Noin to amuse ourselves.

//Ah, Lucrezia, you are so blind.//

Blind? I am blind? Those old bastards on Earth who think they can control my life are the blind ones! Not me. Not I. I know what I want out of life, and I have achieved that. I have my children and they are the children I always envisioned that I would have. I have my man, the man I always saw at my side, the man I can not help but feel in every cell of my body. We are bound to each other, and neither of us can deny that simple truth. I have a home that I will defend against all comers, even the ESUN who dares to think they can rule me.

//Do you?//

//Do you? Do you have a home?//

Of course I have a home. Mars is my home. I have lived here now for almost three years. It has become home. It is where I live. It is where I first made love to Zechs. It is where I gave birth to our children. It is where I will marry their father. It is where I have done, and will do, all of these things, just as soon as I get rid of those bastards who would take it all away from me.

//So, when you kill those who defy you now, what will you do?//

I will go back to living my life as I have wished it to be. I will continue to raise my children and I will marry that stubborn blond stud I have loved so long, and I will show him just how much he loves me. I will show him just how much he belongs to me.

//And what will you do when they try again?//

//What will you do when they come back? They will come back, you know. It is inevitable. Nothing will have changed if you kill the agents here. More will come to replace them. Many more. What will you do then?//

I … will … I will teach them not to return.

//You are one person, Lucrezia. You are one single, solitary person. Yes, you are an efficient soldier, a seasoned killer, in fact, but you are still only one person. Realistically what can you do to stop them from returning?//

I … I …

Pain. Searing, all consuming pain. Driving out thought and reason and any awareness other than that of pain.

Thankfully driving away the voice that whispered insidious blasphemy to her. She was capable of sending the ESUN packing, now and in the future. She would have her life here on Mars. Her ideal. The life she had wanted for so long. Mars was not Earth, admittedly, but it was not so bad, and it was paradise so long as He was with her. This life she had been living for three years, and she would live it forever with him.

//The life you have been pretending to live for three years.//

Go away!

//Why? Someone has to tell you the simple truth of what an idiot you are. All of your little day dreams amount to nothing, if you can not hold onto that man. He's not yours, Noin. He never truly has been, and you know it.//

No!

//Has he ever hinted to you that he would marry you? Has he ever whispered sweet nothings in your ear, kissed you tenderly and said 'Noin, marry me?' or 'Lucrezia, marry me?' Of course not. Of course he has not, and you know why. He is still lost, you fool. He is improving, finding himself, but as yet, he is still lost. You know, you do not even love him.//

Nooooooo! I do! I do love him! He is the world to me. He is everything that I hold dear.

//You know, my dearest Lucrezia, that there is rather a large difference between love and obsession. You were warned about that before, were you not? Do you remember? Your mother, remember, Lucrezia? She drove your father away. He could not breathe because she was in his face all of the time, stealing his air. Remember? Do you remember before the bombs fell?//

No. Oh, no. Go away.

//I can't go away. Have you not guessed who I am? This is my place. I am you. The you that is not tied up in false dreams, and running away from pain and the simple truth because she is afraid of pain.//

What simple truth? What is so simple about this situation? Tell me that, won't you? You just come down off your high horse and you tell me what is so simple about this situation.

//It is all so simple. All you have to do is leave the pain behind, and go into the other place.//

I may be obsessed but I am not suicidal!

//Suicidal? Ah, I see. Idiot. I do not mean that you should allow yourself to die and escape the pain that way. No, no, that is far from my intent.//

Then... What? I do not understand.

//That much is obvious. The pain will not allow your body to move. You have to face that first, before I can help you.//

Pain. Flaring, creeping, crawling along blood, bone and tissue. Absorbing her into it. Driving her towards insanity. She could feel the pain throbbing to her heart beat. Her faltering heart beat. No. No, she would not surrender to it. She would fight it. She would not allow pain to beat her.

//You can't win that way. You keep dragging yourself back into the pain to check that you are alive. So long as you can feel the pain you know that you live. You have to pass that point if you hope to defeat this pain and take action.//

I will win. I will not die. I will not allow those bastards to destroy the world I built for myself.

//Selfish bitch.//

//You are a selfish bitch, Lucrezia Noin. You only ever thought of yourself, didn't you? Especially where Zechs was concerned. You wanted him. In every sense of the word. You wanted to own him, not love him. Own him. Possess him as you would a prized ornament. That is not loving someone. You did not want to love him. What you have wanted is to own him. A pleasure slave. A slave in all things. One who is there for your every beck and call, and who has no life of his own beyond making you happy.//

No. I … I never thought of him as a … as a slave.

//A slave to your every whim. That is what you have wanted from him. For him to have no life other than to be with you. To warm your bed. To …//

Shut the fuck up! You know nothing. Nothing!

/I know everything that you know. I know everything that you know and I know things that you do not even realize that you know.//

//Curious, hmm? You should be. I know how you can escape the pain. I know how you still might make a difference in this idiocy. Are you willing to listen? If you were willing to act, instead of just lie there and whimper like a whipped cur, I could help you to go beyond this imprisonment of pain and despair that you feel.//

What … what do you know?

//You can get beyond the pain, but you need to be willing to take chances.//

What sort of chances?

//The fatal kind, of course. You have to be willing to chance dying. I can not guarantee that you will survive it.//

I'm dying now.

//Yes, you are. I am pleased you realize it. You can feel the pain getting worse can't you? You can feel it rising and you can feel it in the very beat of your heart, and you can feel what lies beyond it. There is something beyond death, you know. It's there, just past the pain, if you choose to go that way.//

I wish I knew where my babies were. If they are safe.

//You should have trusted him and never left your children. Done is done, no going back now. How much are you willing to risk to know what you seek?//

I would do everything for my babies. So young. So innocent. They should not be caught up in this mess.

//So helpless. As helpless as he was the night you took Him to bed.//

He … I … It was … not the …

//Not the same thing? Of course it was. He was helpless. Be honest now above all times, Lucrezia. You have to be if you are to escape. Hell, his mind was not even in the room. He was lost in a vision. I can put a name to it now, but I could not then, but that did not matter. Not then. All that mattered then was that he was there, and he was helpless and you could have your way with him.//

Me? Always me, isn't it? Well, what about US!

//That's better. Indeed, what about us? You've ignored me for years because it did not suit you to recognize me. Well, guess what? If we want a chance of surviving this, we have to do something more that lie here and snipe at our self. Me, Lucrezia. You. Me. We. I. I, Lucrezia. I and Noin. You are Noin. You are Lucrezia. I am Lucrezia. I am Noin. We are Noin, and until you acknowledge that, we are going no where.//

Lucrezia Belladona Richenda Noin.

//Yes. That is who we are.//

Lucrezia Belladona Richenda Noin … Merquise.

//Oh, get real. You are useless. We really don't have time for all of this fantasy, and that is fantasy. He's not just going to marry you because you tell him to. You have no idea of the real facts of life, do you? Still living the dream. Well, while you're living the dream he could be dying because you can't face reality.//

No!

No. He's alive. He's too smart to get hurt. To die.

//He could have ended this before it even began if you had just listened to him and acted like a mother, not a spoiled, over-indulged little girl playing at being the perfect mother, lover, soldier and bitch. With emphasis on the bitch, I might add. Yes, we are one and this part of 'One' has owned up to the fact that I really blew it. Sue me. At least I'm honest and not living in a fantasy. Now get your act together, I want to go out and find my children. And my man.//

Ah ha!

//Oh, for God's Sake. Get a life. I'm you, remember? I want him too. One, Lucrezia. Until we become Noin, we can do nothing. Face the pain. Ride it. Go beyond it and for every throb of pain you feel … we feel … think equal pleasure, and in the next breath think freedom. You did it once before. That's why I know that you can do it now. Let go of the pain that is grounding you to this body and its faults. Let it go and learn to fly!//

0000000000000000000000000000000

+ The taste of him was beyond anything she had ever tasted before. So long had been wasted dreaming about this moment. Dreaming about his warmth and the scent of him that was so rich in her nostrils. So uniquely him. The taste of him that tingled on her tongue as she savored his skin. She could taste him for eternity and never tire of him.

Silver and white cascades of silk just lightly touched with a hue that suggested gold. White gold, his hair, threading through her fingers, smooth and soft. Endless strands of the finest silk, wound in her fingers.

Satin and silk. He was all satin and silk to her senses, with perhaps a touch of the richest velvet.

No, no do not allow him to think. He must feel. He must allow her this one night of her dream, and she would leave him alone thereafter if he so wished, but he must allow her this one night in his arms.

She would show him what it was to love her. She would show him what pleasure truly was. She would show him how to lose himself in the ecstasy of shared bodies. She would show him how to bury himself within her, and they would find paradise together.

His hands were on her shoulders, fingers curling slightly. Pushing against her, but no, he must not do that. Oh no, he was going to learn tonight just what it was that he had been denying them for all these years. He would learn what it was to be on fire as she had been on fire, and she would kindle the flame of passion she knew he was capable of, and he would know thereafter that he was hers.

"You are mine, tonight. You are mine, Zechs. I've waited so long and tonight I wait no longer. I'll show you just what passion is."

No protest would be heard. He could not mean no, anyway, since he did not put her from him. He was languid with it already, the fire of her passion. He was already putty in her hands and oh, how delightfully warm he was under her touch. Her palms rubbed sensuously over pebbled nipples, teasing, caressing, fingers pinching, caressing, teasing, seeking something more from him than a groan and whispered denial she chose to ignore.

He would enjoy this. She had waited too long, and she would not be denied. Was he drunk? No, there was not even the faintest scent, let alone taste of alcohol on his breath, as she feasted on his lips. Her tongue burrowed fine lips apart, gently teasing, prodding, earning the right to enter the warm cavern of his mouth and feast on the taste of him.

"No."

"Mmm, yes. Yes and yes and yes. Let yourself go. Tonight there is no need for anything but pleasure. You want this, my love. It's time. I've wanted you so long."

"No."

Always no. Well, not tonight. He would learn what he was missing and that what he would find tonight in her arms would complete him. It certainly would complete her. She had wanted him from the first day she had seen him at the Lake Victoria Academy. She had lusted after him, and in her encounters with other men over the years she had always seen his face over her as she crested. His face, not a poor substitute and by God, this night it would truly be so. Even if she must look down on his face in the throes of passion, instead of looking up into his passion drugged eyes. So be it.

So be it. +

000000000000000000000000000000000000000

So be it.

What the hell?

The body lay flat on the floor, a pool of perspiration forming as the shaking little tremors only added to the pain that wracked it. It wore the work uniform of the terra formers, was a female and had short black hair. Hair so black in certain light it held a blue and deep violet tint.

I … Oh, my God.

Where am I? It's a cupboard. A maintenance cupboard. How dare they shove me in here!

Oh. Me?

Oh, God.

I don't understand. What's happened?

000000000000000000000000000000000000000

+ He filled her exquisitely, just as she had always imagined. Better than she had imagined. She could feel every delightful inch of him within her heat, and the little tremors were becoming something else entirely. Breath heaved in her lungs, her hands were locked in white gold and her mouth was fastened to his. His mouth was full of her tongue and he no longer whispered no.

He shuddered under her and she purred for him, driving him higher with every sensuous move over him. He had learned to accept her touch and her kiss, as she had known he would. His neck was marked with little bruises where she had sucked and nipped and tasted. He arched under her and she drove down on him and her world came apart around her.

She hummed softly to herself as she floated in pleasant sensation. Her body felt so light she could imagine she was floating. Flying. She smiled down at white gold perfection, reaching to grip his narrow waist and realized there were already hands where hers longed to be. She became aware of the quiet body stretched out over his, dark hair tousled against the broad shoulder, lips fastened to the curve between shoulder and neck. His hands rested on pert, taunt buttocks.

A flash of rage speared through the ecstasy.

Who dared!

He was hers!

Spiraling down with the rage and … +

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

It was me.

I had forgotten. A dream. I … I thought it a dream.

That is my body lying there, suffering. I don't … understand.

Breathe … Ahm. Do I even need to breathe in this state? I can't actually feel myself breathing. Mmm, I don't know what to do now.

Well, I suppose I should at least find out if in this state I can leave this room. There is the door. Can I open it?

Oh. What's that? It's like a … a cord. A sort of life line, tying me to my body. Well what good is this? I can't move far with … Oh. It moves with me. Stretching. Well, that's not so bad, I suppose.

Ewe. I feel queasy. Am I supposed to feel in this state? Am I dead? I never died before but I went almost immediately back into my body. This cord thing stretches as I move about. I wonder just how far it can stretch?

Oh, Lord, that's weird. My God, my hand just went through the door. I never felt a thing.

I can't feel the door, but my hand can go right through it. Ahm, weird. So, I guess I have to walk through it? Oh, I can't do that. I'm not a ghost. I'm not dead.

Am I?

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	73. Chapter 73

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 73

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Date: 1st March AC 198

Time 19:03 [Approx time 16:53 Sanc

Simpson

He considered the view from the window and the eerie blood glow that bathed everything. The emergency alert lights were stuck on for the duration of this drama, and there was nothing he could do about them. At least for the moment. With the bulk of the computer system suffering the effects of the planted virus, there was no means of cutting the emergency alert systems short of shutting down the entire computer system that allowed people to exist on Mars. To his every test only the systems vital to support life on this desolate world were operating, and for him to shut those down was unthinkable. Unthinkable because it would kill his own team.

Without the great dome and its intricate systems for supporting life, it was doubtful his team would survive long enough for the Wellington to arrive for their pickup. Besides, he still had those brats to collect and keep healthy, and shutting down the life support systems was not a good way to fulfill his mission. Babies were fragile in space, and it would be more than his life was worth to fail this mission.

//It should have been far easier than this to bring the pair to heel. Had the proper ground work been laid it simply would have required my men to walk in, announce our presence and intention, and place the man in confinement. The terra forming team might have thought about questioning us, but I very much doubt anyone on the team actually would have had the courage to front us. It might have been necessary to confine Noin, of course, until the Wellington arrived and we departed. It should not have become a blood bath.//

His eyes flicked from the view of the base that overlooked the massive bulk of the two most recently constructed hydroponics domes and beyond them, to the distant original dome used to produce the team's food. Aesthetically not the most pleasing view, admittedly, but at least he did have a good clear view of a wide expanse of the main assembly area, and that allowed him to keep watch without fearing someone could sneak up on them.

Sneaking up on the Shuttle Control Tower was almost impossible, he reflected, and that was one of the primary reasons he had chosen this tower. No building was closer than fifty yards. The designers had been aware of the need for space in the main terra forming dome. They had built the Base Dome to be spacious, the original designers knowing the need to give space to the future inhabitants, and the need for massive storage of building materials in the early days of construction. There was also the small matter of relieving the problem of claustrophobia that was part and parcel of living in enclosed environments. The great dome above his head was tiny compared to the massive enclosed city under the Alpha Dome, but the lessons learned in the constructing of the Base Dome had allowed the Alpha Dome to be raised, and the Mars Colony to be a success.

The closest thing Base Dome had to a park was the recycling dome, Hydroponics Dome Three. The Alpha Dome was graced with no less than ten massive parks, not counting the food production domes and the massive rainforest dome that acted in the same manner as HD Three. They had learned their lessons in the construction of the Base Dome, and they had channeled all of their new knowledge into the Alpha system. It was a pity it was going to be necessary to damage a goodly portion of the domes.

It was going to be necessary to kill so many, and destroy so much, because the ground work had not been laid. Merquise should never have been permitted so much freedom. He should never have been allowed to become a part of the team. He was, after all, a prisoner, and not even the illusion of freedom should have been permitted.

//I should have been able to walk in, get a report on the last years of his confinement, and then walk out with the children and the man in my custody. It should have been that simple. If things had been done properly. Then, too, Noin should not have been permitted in the same room with the man. Fraternization should never have been allowed.//

If Merquise had been treated as a prisoner in the first place, and if Merquise had been confined to a room, or rooms, and permitted an exercise regime that stated clearly his position here. Prisoner. But no, no that had not been the way it had happened. Merquise had been given the opportunity to make himself useful to the terra formers, and had earned the run of the base. Oh, they assured him that he had been kept away from all vital systems, that he was allowed little in the way of computer access and no radio communications at all, other than monitored communications with his sister, and that on very rare occasions. He believed Merquise had spoken to his sister only on three occasions in the time he had been on Mars.

No. Correction. He had to get this right. Merquise had not spoken to his sister since he had departed from the Earth. The reports he had read stated it had been Noin who had spoken to Ms Darlian, giving concise and very brief reports that her brother was well. Merquise had never actually been allowed to use the radio, even on those three occasions where he was slated to contact his sister, an assurance to her that he was alive and well. From their agents reports Merquise had not refused to contact her, instead Noin had found a means on each occasion to have him otherwise occupied and taken the calls herself.

//Pushy bitch. Overprotective too. Rather a frightening woman, that one. I wonder why he permitted her to go as far as he did? Maybe the psyche reports are right. He is insane. Then again, I have no real means by which to judge him, as yet. He may have actually asked her to speak to his sister for him. Surely he would not have appreciated the performance the brat put on when they met in Preventer Headquarters. Bloody Harpy. Weird family.//

The most contact the Vice Foreign Minister had had with her brother since he had departed from Earth had been video footage, dated and timed, to prove that he was alive and well. The video footage and Noin's brief, bluntly worded reports had been designed to ensure the Minister knew the ESUN Security Agency had not loosened their control of the situation. It was made clear to her they could close their fingers around the situation very quickly indeed, should she over step the boundaries they set about her.

His eyes swept the tarmac that surrounded the tower and he tried to ignore the bloody glow that bathed everything. It was functional here on Mars. Everything was functional, nothing purely decorative existed here, he was certain. He had noted nothing that was not functional in some manner, even to the garden dome. Water filtration and oxygen generation, as well as a psychological respite from the metallic shell they all lived within, was served by the existence of HD Three.

A door slammed deeper in the building, followed by two others in quick succession, and he sighed. The red-haired Harpy was still on the prowl, searching for her most desired prey. The door behind him was flung open and then slammed with undue force, and he ground his teeth together as he turned, piercing McIntyre with a glare. Since their return to the control tower the woman had been bumbling around looking for Noin, determined to exact revenge on her.

He watched her sweep the control room with a fiery glare, noting all the little signs that her psyche training was falling apart into uncontrollable rage. It happened quite often in the ranks of the psyche conditioned operatives, especially if the psyche training had been to sink the killer psyche deep. The Sleepers on Mars had been affected by the stresses of the isolation and hardships associated with the construction of a new colony. That now activated conditioning was not coping well with the changes wrought since the conditioning had been set so many years before. In some cases the conditioning had been set more than a decade in the past. To his knowledge none of the psychiatrists who had frequented Mars had been trained by the ESUN Security division to monitor, maintain, or adjust psyche conditioning. It was a sure fire recipe for disaster.

He stirred when her eyes settled on the door leading to a maintenance room where spare components for the control stations were kept. That would not do. He needed to turn her attention away from there.

"I told you to keep out of here, McIntyre. We can not afford to have you delay the work being done here. It is delicate work, and it takes long enough to perform it without having you disrupt my man. Get out."

Shanna McIntyre spun and glared at him, red hair wild and eyes spitting fire. In the time since they had come to the shuttle control tower she had searched the building from top to bottom, and she had found no sign of the bitch that had strung her up and made her hurt as she had never hurt before. She owed a debt, and she would pay that debt of pain in full. Just as soon as she found the bitch who had dared think herself better than Shanna McIntyre.

"Where is she? Where is that bitch? I know she is here somewhere."

"The lady is safely out of your reach, My Dear. I have already informed you I have a use for Ms Noin that does not include your revenge. Until I am finished with her, you will not touch her."

"Oh, I won't touch her. Not yet." Her eyes glistened a bright blue green, sly and very unattractive.

Simpson grunted and shook his head, nodding to the door she had so recently slammed. "You will leave the control room, and kindly perform your little search elsewhere. We are rather busy here and if you can not make yourself useful to us, then you will kindly make yourself scarce. Until we have a need that requires your presence, I do not wish to see you. However, since you are here now, you can give me your progress report. Have you reached any of your people?"

Frazier shifted amid his nest of wires and cables, tapping quickly on a keyboard, eyes flicking to the confrontation going on not too far from his position. Carefully he shifted his nest a little closer to the maintenance room door, careful not to draw her attention to his actions. By moving some strategically placed equipment just that few extra inches from his position, and unobtrusively wiggling himself after the components, he effectively blocked her. McIntyre would have to go through the middle of his equipment to reach that door, and he did not think she would dare to chance Simpson's anger. For all she was clearly insane, she was smart enough to stay on the good side of the man.

"I have made contact with five of my people." She smiled, her attitude shifting from fire and revenge to cold professional in an instant.

"And?" He hated dealing with psychos, and this one was too changeable to be considered safe.

"To date there are forty seven confirmed kills in the upper base, not including the Control Tower or the Shuttle Control Tower."

//And you would be proud of that, yes? Yes, you look like a cat that found a saucer of cream unguarded. You sicken me. Not a single honest kill in the entire slaughter, no doubt. Not matches between warriors, but sly, sneaking cold blooded murder.//

"Your people have been busy." His voice was dry and did not betray his displeasure, or his disgust. He needed to remember that the bulk of these Sleeper agents were Psyche Conditioned, and they needed very particular handling to manage them. There were a disturbing number of reports of conditioned agents killing their Controllers.

Those who were not conditioned to be cold blooded killers would have had natural tendencies along the same lines, to go into this line of work, he reflected. He was of the opinion that the confinement in the habitat domes was causing problems with the conditioning that no one on Earth involved with their assignment here had contemplated before. Everyone who lived in sealed environments went through claustrophobic tendencies that sent them somewhat mental at varying stages. Nor were the psychological problems confined to merely claustrophobia, though that was the most common ailment to rear its head. There were always a good number of psychologists amid the staff of sealed communities, and everyone on the terra forming team would have had regular appointments to be assessed by the on site psychologists, and also by rotated visiting psychologists.

"Where are they at this time?"

"Two of my people are in Hydroponics Dome Two, currently following your target." Her smirk was meant to be seductive, he was sure, but it came across as something else entirely. Something far from pleasant to look upon. "Yes, Merquise is there right now. It appears he is headed for HD One, though what he could be intending to do there escapes me. He also appears to have found a side kick."

Simpson's eyes flashed, narrowing at the news, and his gaze swept to the dome clearly visible through the window. So, Merquise was definitely on the surface and loose in the enviro dome, and had acquired company. That was disturbing, considering the man's psyche profile suggested he would be likely to trust no one on Mars. Now who might have earned that type of trust, and what experience might they have to call on? He did not like unknown elements. It was hard to plan for such unknowns.

"Do you know who?"

"Not at this time. My people did not recognize him, but when we gather them in we will be able to ask him a few questions. I personally can't see Merquise hooking up with just anyone. He's not known to be a trusting soul."

//Is it any wonder? From what I've heard he's been given little cause to trust anyone, even before he was dispatched to Mars. I would think he would not even fully trust Noin, regardless of their history. Possessive bitch. She has kept him more effectively isolated from contact with the Terra Formers than his assigned jailers.//

A flash quick as a lightning strike. Blue light; there and then gone in an instant. So fast, in fact, that he wondered if he had not imagined it. He frowned, leaning his weight on the window sill, staring intently at the second of the big domes. He had been facing the dome directly, and a quick glance at McIntyre suggested that she had noticed nothing. She seemed far more interested in edging towards Frazier and his pile of components. A smile twitched at his lips and died before she might notice.

"Did you instruct your people to follow and not to approach him?"

There was no repeat of the blue flash. The dome sat there, as it always had, bathed in the red glow of the emergency lights. He waited for her to comment on the flash, for if she had noted it she surely would be curious if he had seen anything. The only response from her he received was a grunt that might, or might not, have been an affirmative to his last question.

//Somehow I think she is down an agent or perhaps two, but the question is how was it done? That flash of light … It was high up in the dome, I'm sure. In the scaffolding and the system pipes, perhaps? If it was her people taking Merquise or his new friend down, then they surely would be sending word of their success by now. //

"You had best ensure that your agents understand to keep their distance from Merquise. I have a plan to bring him to us when I am ready for him. Then we can snare him."

"Don't think for an instant I have forgotten about Noin. She is mine. When we get Merquise I get Noin."

He chuckled softly, turning from the window and smiling. He was sure there would be no repeats of the flash of light. Whatever it was, it had done its work and one way or the other, events had moved on. If Merquise and his companion had taken out their hunters, then they would not be inclined to linger over their kill.

"Now how could I possibly think that you would forget Ms Noin? You might want to check on your agents in HD Two. I would think if they get too close to Merquise he is likely to be a little violent with them. I will thank you to keep out of the control room until Frazier has the panels reassembled and we are ready. These interruptions are delaying the work, and we are pushed for time."

"How long before it is ready?" McIntyre glanced at the man on the floor, surrounded by a nest of wires and delicate tools.

"Another thirty minutes or so. Of course, if there are no interruptions then less time will be required." Simpson returned.

//Now why don't you be a good little psychopath and run along and talk to your people, hmm? Then you can learn that you have lost another one or two, and you will have another reason to freak out and ruin my day.//

"How do you intend to use Noin?" Her voice turned soft and sultry, her stance altering from threat to seductive display of her bodies charms in an instant.

//Saints, spare me. It's a bit late to try seduction, don't you think? Just stop batting your eyelids at me, woman. I always thought that was a ridiculous thing for women to do. So obviously transparent. So false.//

Regardless, he responded with a smile, intent on keeping her settled and out of Frazier's hair while that delicate work continued. "I intend to use Ms Noin to trap Merquise, of course. It stands to reason he will come for her, but I want him to come when I am ready. He will accept my invitation to a little party I am arranging at the appropriate time. Now would you leave us to get on with this work? Time is precious, My Dear."

A disdainful and most unladylike sniff and Shanna McIntyre almost oozed out the door, eyes flashing, slender body poised and flowing with a deadly grace. Simpson repressed a shudder as the door slammed behind her. She was losing it.

Whatever conditioning she had been given was undergoing changes, and they were not going to be pleasant changes. She must have been halfway psychotic when she was chosen for this type of work, he reflected. There was a history of that type of conditioning breaking down and leaving the recipients of it dangerous to all living things. He could see the signs in her and he had no doubt that she would become a killer, unmoved by any emotion except hate. Her kind grew to hate everything that moved and breathed. Eventually there would not even be a reason required for her to kill. It would simply please her to bathe herself in the blood of others.

//I think I will need to take out Ms McIntyre before very much longer.//

"Frazier?" He turned to his tech expert and grinned, seeing the migration of component parts back to their original location, leaving a clear path to the maintenance room door.

"Fifteen minutes, Sir."

He strode over to the door, punching in the key code that Frazier had programmed in to the electronic lock before they had left the control tower in search of McIntyre. It had taken precious time to install and program the independent lock, but he had been determined to keep his precious key safe. He pulled the door open, leaning through the door and smirked.

/Comfy, Ms Noin? I don't think I will need to worry about you for a little while yet. You are going nowhere for a long time.//

He knelt beside the body shivering on the floor, reaching to rest fingers along the slender neck, reading her pulse and he frowned. Erratic, but as yet not too dangerous. Considering the reports he had read, and the tests on the subjects he had witnessed, she was taking this rather well, but he could not afford to lose her just yet. Her temperature was high and her pulse could have been steadier, but as yet he did not think it too dangerous. She was not likely to die within the next hour or two. They had time.

//I had best check on her a little more frequently, though. The most dangerous phase of the recovery period is now approaching, where most of the test subjects died. While I do not particularly care if you die, Noin, I do care about when you die. Brace up, My Dear. Prince Charming will be along soon to rescue you, and when he comes, the wicked Sorcerer will snare him.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	74. Chapter 74

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 74

Mars Colony

Alpha Dome

Time 19:55 [Approx 17:45 Sanc time

Barker

//It will work. We can not afford for it not to work. Those people will die if anything goes wrong now and they don't deserve that.//

His gaze moved leisurely across the mass of machinery slowly being gathered and assembled in the big bay. Enviro suits were lined up to one side, carefully being checked over by a safety team and their generators being charged. The suits would be used by the pilots who had volunteered to attempt the flight in the three mobile suits to the Base Dome. While the cockpits of the Taurus suits were designed for one pilot, they had decided to squeeze a second person into each suit. The extra pair of hands would assist the pilots when they arrived at the caves to unload the parcel they would be transporting. He had already decided two of the three extra people to go would be Preventers, namely himself and one of his agents.

He glanced to one side where a mass of wires and circuit boards constituted the new radio array they were hoping to have operational before the parcel was ready to be connected to the suits. Fashioned from spare parts and scavenged materials from the main array, the radio, when they succeeded in getting it operational, should allow them sufficient power to establish communications with the workers outside the Base Dome. If they successfully established that contact it would allow Mako to speak with the maintenance teams and explain the situation so that all could hear. It would also enable them to communicate with the Taurus suits once they left the range of the personal hand sets they were currently forced to use, and there was the slim chance that if anyone was capable of rigging a radio not controlled by the computers in the Base Dome, they should be able to speak with them too.

Should. If. Might.

//God, I hate not knowing what is going on up there. How did he know so much? Well, I suppose it does not matter now. Facts are that things have fallen apart and he said it might happen, but he never explained half of what he needs to. He certainly made no effort to enlighten anyone as to how he learned of the plans to take down the colony. I monitored his confinement here and I never caught even a hint of any communication between him and off world. So how did he know? Strange man, Merquise. Very strange.//

The radio looked to be coming along nicely, and he had hopes they would be ready within fifteen minutes or so. Thirty at the latest, he estimated. He sincerely hoped so as very soon now the Martian night would fall, and the cold would make it intolerable for anyone to be out of the protection of the great dome, even with an enviro suit. They needed to get to the people on the plateau above them, and get them to safety with all speed.

Scrubbing a hand over his face he looked down to the surface of the table where maps of the caves in the ridge rising behind the Base Dome were spread out before him. The small table was overflowing with them, and he had already discarded half as being totally unsuitable for their needs. Either too small or too large for their very particular requirements. He had been looking for the best place to guide the teams once they reached the plateau, and convinced the maintenance teams of the seriousness of the threat.

The first three maps had not met with his approval, each cave being too large to maintain a level of heat that would effectively make a difference to the workers. The next four were more in line with what he needed, but the cavern systems were too much of a maze, the caves themselves not large enough to accommodate the people in a close group. He needed a series of caves with small entrances so that they could trap the heat, not have it disperse faster than they could generate it, but also large enough to have the people grouped together. They would need to watch each other through the long night, checking the energy levels and oxygen expenditure of each individual in the maintenance teams.

A very unpalatable truth was that no matter what they did, they were going to lose people through the night. They were not going to be able to save everyone, and that truth pained him, but it was one he acknowledged.

So far his investigations had produced nothing that would really aid the people who would spend the night beyond the security of the dome. As one of those people he was determined to find the optimum cave for their needs, and he had to find it quickly. Already they were assembling the components of the package. With a sigh he stretched his back, wincing as tight muscles pulled painfully, eyes flicking over the growing pile of heating units and oxygen tanks. As he watched a trolley laden with food tubes was wheeled over to the growing assortment of equipment and he nodded absently. It was all coming together. They just had to load the gear onto the balloons now being laid out in the centre of the shuttle hanger, position the Taurus suits and secure it all together. Then they had to get the suits, and the package, safely air born and that would require some fancy flying on the part of the pilots.

And, of course, find somewhere for them all to shelter.

He flipped aside the top map, dismissing it as too high and narrow to gain optimum heat coverage from the heating units and leaned back over the table. His eyes followed the food trolley as it trundle past and his nose caught the aromatic aroma of freshly made coffee. He almost groaned at the rich scent, thinking that he really could do with a cup of the rich brew, but dismissed the thought as a waste of precious time. He had too much to do to take the time to chase the coffee pot that no doubt was making the rounds of the hall, and would be dry by the time he found it anyway. He flicked his gaze back to the maps and froze.

A series of four caverns, each connected in at least one place by narrow passages lay before him. Not so remarkable in itself, but what drew his attention was the very neat, very familiar writing that was scrawled estimates of energy expenditure to heat the first of the caverns to a nice tropical 5 degrees Celsius. Well, he reflected, tropical for Mars at least. In the side margin was an estimate of the number of lights that would be required to provide illumination, and the number of heating units that needed to be used per hour to maintain a temperature that the enviro suits could handle. Scrawled in one margin was a radio frequency, with a note that it was not a frequency generally monitored by the ESUN agents. On closer examination, he noted that in smaller script there was actually a 10 chance that the frequency would be monitored by the agents in the Base Dome. He snorted softly, seeing the underlined 'acceptable risk' notation.

"Merquise." A whisper. "Jesus, how do you do it?"

He settled into the chair, carefully reading over the notes scrawled over the map, taking particular care in noting down the figures and estimates provided. Comparing their estimates with those on the maps he calculated that they needed more heating units and power packs for the enviro suits than they had originally decided to send. Marquise had been more right than wrong to date, and he was loath to go against his estimates in this. The man had been right too often for him to be dismissed as over cautious. There was even a note to use the balloons to cap the cave entrance and the two side passages once everyone was inside, and to position the Taurus suits inside the cave entrance, away from easy sight.

//Which means he's afraid that we might get unwanted visitors if something goes wrong in the base dome, and he can't take them all out. They'll have to look that little bit harder for us.// He scowled, shaking his head, and noted writing on the bottom right hand corner of the map. It was tiny, done in thin pencil and followed by a series of question marks. //What's this? Chance of Storm, 15.//

"Oh, wonderful. Well, at least he considered everything he could think of. I only hope that 15 stays negligible. If it does storm we are dead if we can't shelter in the base dome."

"Simon? Talking to yourself now?" Mako settled on the chair across from him, stretching and rotating his shoulders to work out an ache. "You would not believe how many tubes of food we need for that many people to keep up natural body heat for up to fourteen hours, at the type of temperatures we are likely to face. Have you found a suitable cavern system yet?"

Barker leaned back grinning, and silently flicked the map of the cavern system to the project chief. He noted that Mako had brought a gift with him and practically pounced on the mug sitting near his elbow. "It appears that Merquise left us a gift." He murmured after taking a healthy mouthful, savoring the dark brew.

"He left us more than a gift." Mako mumbled, taking note of the listed estimates. "Damn. The man even has marked a natural pit where the big suits can have the sewerage discharged before they go into the caves. Hmm. I think we need to increase the number of lights. He has listed that four in the cavern would be enough, but has a higher estimate than we did on malfunctions due to the extreme cold. He has more oxygen cylinders listed as well. We can do this. It will not take too long to make the changes, and the Taurus suits could still lift the added weight."

"More food, as well." Barker nodded, watching as a second trolley of food tubes was wheeled past. "He has even listed an estimate on the chances of a storm rising tonight, beyond the usual nightly gale."

"Thorough man. I wonder how long he was planning for this? How long he thought about them coming, and what they were likely to do when they got here. Still, his accuracy is almost eerie."

Barker shrugged. "Preventer Earth told me that he was an unusual man. Actually, I don't think she likes him, but I believe there is a grudging respect there. She said straight out that he was a good Commander, but I think it goes beyond just that. He's dedicated, that's for certain, and he seems to have very good instincts."

"He has that, yes, and he seems to have more, somehow. I kept track of him from the start, Simon, and I swear that he could not have accessed any of the radio systems at the base. Yet he must have, to have gathered the intelligence he has to have to prepare for this as he has. How did he get these maps, Simon? He's not supposed to have access to this type of information, but just look at this. He knows what we have in stores, and has made suggestions for other substitute items for what we are short on. How did he find out that information?"

A low sigh and Barker chuckled. "Well, did we really expect the Commander of the White Fang to be an idiot?"

"I suppose not." Mako snorted. "Still, I do wonder, Simon. About the man and his reasons for doing what he did then, and what he does now. He would not talk about White Fang. Not to me. Not to Noin either, I think. Did he talk to you?"

"No. He never talked to me about the war or any of his past. I only know what Lady Une told me when she briefed me. Largely that amounts to do not underestimate him, and believe that he always has a reason for what he does. In her own words, 'Do not underestimate him. Do not believe for an instant that he is not planning something. Do not turn your back on him, and expect to find a halo in place of horns'." Barker shrugged with a wide grin.

Mako laughed, staring at Barker in disbelief. "She really said that?"

"Oh, yes. There is not a lot of love between Preventers Earth and Wind. She saw him as a rival in the early days."

"Rival?" Mako arched an eyebrow in query.

"Mmm. A lot of smoke and no fire from what I know, especially as he's hooked up with Noin and has kids."

Mako shook his head, perplexed. "I don't follow."

"Well, it has nothing to do with this situation, of course. Just a lot of gossip from before the One Year War. It was rumored that Kushrenada and Merquise were lovers, and that Une wanted Kushrenada herself. Like I said, old gossip, and nothing much in it."

Mako nodded, setting aside the map. "Well, it does explain why Noin watches him like a hawk, though. She would not consider it safe to leave him in male company any more than female company, if there was any question about his sexuality. Especially with the high number of homosexual men that are on the colony."

"As may be, but it's not answering any other questions we need answered now."

"No, it's not, and since we want the suits out of here within half an hour its time to get on with what does concern us. I only hope this is all a false alarm. That when we get there the workers are all inside the dome, and we find out that we were fools to consider this atrocity might happen."

Barker turned his eyes to the map in Mako's hands. //Someone thought of it a long time before we did.// He mused, rising and stepping away from the table. //Merquise had thought of this days or weeks ago, maybe even months ago. What would have made him think of it? Well, it just goes to show that I am not suited to lead a large body of men in really difficult situations. He has thought of things I'd not have considered possible, let alone likely and he made provision for them.//

"Are you still set on going with the suits?"

"Yes. If I can get into that dome I will. I have to try at least. If I can't find a way in then I will just have to shelter with the others in the caves and hope."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	75. Chapter 75

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 75

Sanc

Sanc Palace

1st March AC 198

Time: 23:15

Chang Wu Fei

The weather had deteriorated to the point he was thinking of hot tea and open fires, and the possibility they would never warm him again when he pulled the car off the road and into the shelter of a copse of trees. It made no difference he had the car heater on full with the fan running on high, the vehicle was still bone-achingly cold. It was just typical, he mused, that he was required to perform this type of work in this weather.

He hissed softly as he bundled himself into his overcoat. He had opted not to wear the coat in the car in an effort to lessen the shock of going out into the growing blizzard, but he suspected that was a hope in vain. So much for Sancian Spring, he mused. It seemed winter insisted on just one more assault on the kingdom of Sanc.

Kingdom? No, Sanc was no longer a monarchy, though the people resisted that new designation for their ancestral home. He who had lost the only home he had known could understand their view. This land was a part of them and to be honest, the scholar within him admitted, under the Peacecraft rule it had been a tranquil and rather happy kingdom. Only the Alliance attack had ended that peace and prosperity which had lasted for hundreds of years. To be certain there had been conflict in the past, but compared to most European countries Sanc had been a paradise. Not since the Middle Ages had the kingdom suffered from all out attacks from armed oppressors. Even during Hitler's thrust for power the Sanc kingdom had remained neutral, largely unnoticed due to its small size and the fact it was not strategically placed.

Enter the Alliance whose Commanders had decided this latest King Peacecraft was too dangerous, with his ideals of peace and pacifism catching on in the adjacent countries. In one night of bloody massacre the Alliance had wiped out over a thousand years of history and peaceful prosperity. It was appalling, what they had done. Now the Peacecraft daughter, who would not even publicly wear the name of her ancestors, had determined they would never return to the ways of the past. Even though the Alliance was gone, defeated, the people were to be denied their national identity.

It had actually amused him to watch as the delegations had begun to gather, public opinion quietly stated and representatives chosen. The quiet spoken representatives had approached Relena over the coronation they respectfully requested take place, and repeatedly she had refused them, stating there were no national borders any more. Sanc was no longer a kingdom, but a part of a larger whole. The Earth was one huge democratic nation, not a nest of fighting, squabbling children fighting over a line drawn on a piece of paper. Yet still the representatives of Sanc's ruling body approached her, quietly, respectfully and requested she take her rightful place as their Queen.

//They have such dignity. Always quiet spoken, always respectful and very determined they will gain their monarchy back. I wonder what they would do if they knew Milliardo Peacecraft was alive? He is, technically, the true heir to Sanc's throne and very little has been said about his actions in this place, I've noticed. They do not ignore his existence exactly. There are memorials to the Royal Family, and his name is on them. The dates of his death have been adjusted to his presumed death, and Relena's name removed from the memorial. They are a very quiet, dignified people.//

With a deep breath to brace himself he slipped out of the car, cursing at the bone aching chill that struck him. His teeth were chattering within seconds, and his hands felt frozen in his gloves as he pulled the rocket launcher from the vehicle. Biting off the wish to curse, as opening his mouth and drawing breath to do so would only chill his mouth and throat, he slammed the car door and stumbled deeper into the copse.

//They are a warm and friendly people, but their weather leaves much to be desired.//

Lady Une was going to owe him more than an explanation for this foolery. He would catch his death of cold from this little escapade, and to make matters worse he was going to have to go back to her home as the designated investigator, and then return to the palace. It was going to be a long and bitter night.

Visibility was down to a few feet in front of him and he cursed to himself, stumbling through quickly forming snow banks. He was going to have to be much closer to the house than he had intended to make this shot hit the precise target area he wanted. His saving grace would be that the house would be well illuminated considering the alert that had gone out. He wanted no people killed and as few injured as possible, only too aware it was more likely that people would be hurt at the palace than at Une's home. The last news update he had listened to before he had turned onto the side road that led him to this point, stated in the attack on the Preventer Chief's house no deaths had occurred, and a few minor injuries was, thus far, the extent of harm to human life in this current crisis. The fire that burned at the house was being fought by the local fire brigade, and until the fire was extinguished no investigations could be carried out. That allowed him time to complete his mission.

It was a load of crock, he knew, to say that no investigations could be conducted at this time until the fire had been extinguished. Plenty of investigations could and would be carried out, just behind the scenes where few people had cause to look. He needed to finish up here and get back to Preventer Headquarters so that Lady Une could officially assign him to the task of investigating the attacks.

And, of course, explain to him just what the hell he was blowing up buildings for.

Security procedures at the palace were well known to him and he knew its strongest, and weakest, points that he could both avoid and exploit in this situation. If he went too close to the palace he would be visible to the security cameras, and not all of the cameras worked with standard optical systems. Heat sensors were installed on the perimeter and monitored from the house. He could not afford to be picked up on the infrared vision.

Even half frozen from the storm that was settling over Sanc he had enough body heat to set off half a dozen alarms. He needed to pick his position carefully and not lose track of where he had left the car, which would be all too easy in a white out. That would just be wonderful, he mused, the perfect conclusion to his day to attack the Sanc Palace and then get lost in the blizzard. There was no way he would be able to explain his presence wandering around in the woods beside the palace at this time of night, and with enough forensic evidence contaminating him to hang him five times over. He needed to get in and out quickly.

//That Onna had better have a very good excuse for this little farce. Well, at least I can make out the lights.// He could barely see the nearest wing of the mansion, and only because of the powerful flood lights illuminating the building did he know where it was. // That's a car's headlights coming around from the side wing. I'll have to wait for it to go before I fire. Damn. Damn it's cold. Go, damn you. I need you away from the house. Get away from the front will you?//

He loaded the rocket launcher while he waited, feet stamping to try to keep warm. It seemed that even the height of the winter had not seemed to be this cold, although, he admitted he had not had cause to be out in the middle of a blizzard with nefarious plans afoot either. Had someone, Maxwell most likely, offered him a bet on the odds of him being here at this time to attack the palace he would have taken the bet, certain that he would win. He was not usually a gambling man, but this was just ludicrous. Why was he here?

//Ah, Ancestors. There goes a car's lights down the back road. If this blizzard gets any heavier there is no way I will make it back into New Port City. I have to ditch the car and remove the evidence in the car of my presence, and I can't walk far in this weather. Une would have to explain nothing to a frozen corpse.//

As he watched lights winked on, more clearly defining his target, though the lights were more a dim glow than the glaring beacon they should have been. He could not see the palace itself, just the glow that marked the lights mounted on the exterior walls. It was not his imagination, either, he noted, that the blizzard was growing worse as the snow around him was banking quickly, a thick blanket covering the ground. Even in the shelter of the trees he could barely stand against the wind. He had to act now or not at all.

//I sincerely hope there are no people in the front of the house. The dignitaries should have been evacuated by now, and the staff quarters are in the far wing. I need to clip the edge of the palace, where the wings merge into the main entrance. There is no way I can check how many people are in that area short of going down there and seeing for myself, and that just is not an option. The question is, can I just clip the structure? Ancestors, help me! There is no structure to see! Just a glow. So, I suppose, about … there? Ah, this is foolish, but I agreed to do this. Please, please, do not let anybody be hurt. I am no longer a terrorist. I do not want to kill anymore.//

He felt the backlash of the weapon and stumbled in the snow, sliding a little before he gained his balance and then he was moving, retracing his steps through the white world where dark trunks offered the only respite from white. Behind him the night exploded in noise, and a flash of intense light erupted and he winced, praying to his Ancestors he was not a murderer. This was not War. This was not honorable combat. This was a return to the days of terror and torment that he had thought gone forever from his life.

// Well, I hit something. I can only hope that I did not hit an occupied room. I suppose I will know soon enough.//

He stumbled through deepening snow drifts, astonished the weather had deteriorated so quickly. Had not the forecast said that a weather front was closing on Sanc? Yes, he had clearly heard that forecast, but the radio had also stated the front would bring rain and temperatures no lower than five degrees Celsius overnight.

//Five degrees, my ass. Minus five degrees would be tropical compared to this. Where is the bloody car? I have to get out of here! I can't see a foot in front of my face. I think I shall need to ditch the rocket launcher and I suppose here is as good a place as any. Yes, there, in that clearing. With luck it will be covered in a snow drift before it is noted. With the rate the snow is falling that will not take long. Give it a quick but thorough rub down with snow, shake that tree and those bushes to put a covering of snow over it. Good enough. I have to go. Car. Car, I know you are out here, somewhere. I parked you only a few minutes ago. Where … Car? Yes!//

He staggered up to the vehicle, wrenching open the door and throwing himself into the interior, slamming the door behind him. His breath plumed before his face as he fumbled for the ignition, and he held his breath as he feared the engine might refuse to run in this sudden freeze, but he should have known better. This was Sanc and it was only just officially spring. The garages of the Preventers kept antifreeze in the vehicles well into the spring thaw.

The engine roared into life, and with chattering teeth and a heart felt sigh Chang Wu Fei reversed the car blindly. He could not recall a tree being directly behind the car, and short of getting back out into the blizzard he had no means by which to see behind the vehicle. He was not going back out into that biting wind and cold and was thankful that he hit nothing. He spun the wheel and pressed the accelerator, heading back toward New Port City, taking the back roads and concentrating on looking for a place to ditch the car.

"Cold." He hunched over the wheel, unable to see little more than the bonnet of the dark coloured vehicle. The wipers were flicking madly over the windscreen, but it seemed they were fighting a losing battle, and the heater refused to make a difference to the temperature in the car. "It's been long enough for the first reports to be received on the hit on the palace." With fumbling fingers he reached for the radio, turning up the volume.

" … a night for terrorist activities. First the reported attack on the Mars Terra Forming colony was received by this station, and now the attack on the home of Preventer Chief Anne Une. The Lady Une has declined to comment at this time concerning either event; however it is known a conference of high level Preventers and city officials is now underway at Preventer Headquarters, to discuss the threat to security in Sanc these terrorist threats represent to the people. We will bring you news as it becomes available. The latest information of the attack on the home of Lady Une confirms that aside from a few minor injuries, the only damage was done to the structure of the house. We … Just a moment, please."

//Ah. Word would be in about the palace.// He glared at the white world beyond the car, cursing silently that now he could not even see the end of the bonnet. It was madness to drive these back roads with such poor visibility. He was begging an accident to happen.

"Come on, come on, stupid Onna. How long does it take for someone to tell you the palace blew up?"

"We have received confirmed reports that the Palace has been bombed. At this time no casualties or fatalities have been reported, and we have reporters en route to the scene. While no official recognition has been given at this time to the emailed threats sent to this station, it is now fairly obvious that the email was not a hoax. Both the home of the Preventer Chief and the Palace in Sanc were listed as targets. It appears thus far we have been fortunate that there have been no fatalities to this time."

Wu Fei switched the radio off, peering into the darkness, trying to see the road ahead of the car, and failing miserably to make out any real features. Twice he felt the car contact the shoulder of the road and recovered, slowing a little more with each incident. He had to be nearing the outskirts of the city, and it was no longer safe to keep the vehicle. Not only could he not see to drive safely, but he had to spend precious time destroying evidence, and all of that took time. Much as he did not look forward to it, he was going to have to continue on foot.

//When they find the car and I come to oversee the investigation I am going to have to make a point of putting my head in the car, front and back. In this light I can't see if I have lost so much as a hair from my head, and if forensics finds such, there had better be an explanation for it being there. That looks like a good enough place.//

After pulling the car off the road he checked, as best he could, that he had not left anything that would give him away, wiping anything he might have touched off and then quickly and efficiently set fire to the vehicle, using a small incendiary device to ensure the flames were wild, despite the weather. He could not afford for the fire to be extinguished before it could consume evidence that might implicate himself and Preventers in this affair. Running as quickly as the treacherous terrain would permit him to he sought the road and set off in the direction of the city. He must move quickly and above all he must not stop. To do so would be to chance him dying of exposure in the blizzard.

New Port City had to be up ahead somewhere.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Preventer Headquarters

23:30

Lady Une

The first reports of the attack on the palace rested on the table in front of her, and she was both pleased and surprised by the results. Chang had performed his duty, as always, quickly and efficiently. While a number of people at the palace had been injured, no one had been critically injured, and there had been no fatalities. All parties had been accounted for, so she need not fear any bodies turning up in the wreckage. No doubt the low casualty count had been because the palace had been hit a glancing blow at a corner, not head on into the palace. Whether that was by deliberate design of Chang's, or by sheer good luck she was uncertain, and if she was to be honest with herself, she really could not care less.

What did concern her was that the weather was deteriorating and hampering investigations. Ordinarily that would have infuriated her in such a situation, but in this case, it delighted her. Delays in gathering information and forensic samples could only work to her advantage. She had sent an electronic summons to her preferred choice of investigator, and to the members of the team she would assign under him, and announced that he was being delayed by the inclement weather and no one was going to question that. She expected Chang would call her and she could send a car for him, and in fact she was a little concerned that he had not already done so.

Of course, the down side to the weather situation was that it would hamper Yuy and Sally Po in getting Mariemaia and Relena to the designated safe house. It was to be expected, of course, that they would have to go with care in these conditions, but the weather could also allow them to have an easier time of shaking any tails they might acquire, and that included the shadows assigned to them by their agreement with the World Government. She had already listed Yuy as being on assignment, and on learning that Quatre Winner was with them, she had taken the liberty of activating his Preventer papers and listing him as being active and on assignment. He was now officially listed as being on the Vice Foreign Ministers security detail.

All of which meant that as soon as possible the ESUN Security Agency must recall their shadows on the ex-pilots. Their agreement clearly stated in such emergency situations the shadows be withdrawn lest they in advertently interfere with a classified operation. She was going to make certain those conditions were strictly adhered to.

//It's as well Chang was listed as being on assignment and his shadow recalled for the duration of the investigation. Stupid formalities and if not for the fact that I am certain the pilots could shake their tails at any time, I would not have used Chang for this, but it needed the best. //

Around the conference table were seated the officials of the Sancian Council. She needed to give a concise report of the facts as they were known at this time, suitably edited, of course. If she was to have this ploy work to the very best advantage she could garner from it, then everything must be attended to carefully and no details left out. She must follow the full procedures as they would for any investigation of this nature, and she must be careful to avoid giving away any information she should not know at this stage of the affair. It was a fine line she was walking, but to gain advantage and time they desperately needed, it had to be done.

There was little that she could do about the affair on Mars that she had not already done. She had simply left it too late. Noin's pregnancy had changed so many things, and delayed her decision to remove Merquise from Mars, but she could wish that she had made other provisions before now. It was too late to affect the outcome on Mars, of course, but she could do her best to make this disaster work on this end to ensure that Relena was a free agent, and able to act when she needed to. The girl would simply have to grow up and get over the knowledge that it was very likely her brother and his children would not survive. When she acknowledged that simple truth for what it was, and got past the grieving that she would likely do for the babies at least, then she could act free of manipulation.

//That will not go down well with her, but I can not help that. She must face facts, and she has to grow up sometime. The ESUN has won this round, but we can salvage some opportunities out of it.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	76. Chapter 76

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 76

Mars Colony

Base Dome One

Time: 20:16 [Approx 18:06 Sanc time

Noin

Am I dead? Well, that's a question I'm almost afraid to answer. I don't know what it feels like to be dead. I've never felt anything as weird as this before. I feel as though I'm going to hurl, only … can this body do that? Can I do something as basic as that?

On the floor behind her, her body lay still, except for tiny tremors that betrayed it lived, bathed in perspiration induced by pain. Such pain as she would never have believed possible to experience. There was no visible wound on her body to account for the shocking agony she had experienced. No raw gaping wound to account for the pain that was never ending. Those weapons needed to be banned, every example of them hunted down, and then they should be destroyed. They were an abomination. How many people had they killed using those horrendous weapons? How many people had been unfortunate enough to be chosen as test subjects? Had anyone survived being hit by one? At what level of power was death unavoidable? What type of weapon exactly was it that she had been hit by?

Am I the walking dead? This is so weird. I'm locked in a nightmare and I am just not certain what is real and what is dream. My hand passes through the door and that just is not physically possible. Still, if that is my physical self there, on the floor, then I'm … I'm … I don't know what I am. Dead?

Still, there is this cord thing that leads back to my body. Curious that it links me to my body at the navel, like an umbilical cord. That means I am alive? I hope. If it should vanish, or break, then something tells me that I am in big trouble.

So … what now? I can not remain here, a prisoner in this glorified closet, if I now have the means by which to act. Guess that means I have no real choice. I leave the room. If my hand passes through the door, then I guess the rest of me can too. So long as I keep my eyes shut I... I can make myself do that, but will walking through the door cut the cord?

The golden cord seemed to move away from her touch. For a moment she tried to trap the cord between her hands, but the thread that tied her to her physical body seemed to move aside each time, and since she had no idea if it was safe to touch the cord, she desisted, kicking herself mentally for wasting time. There was much that needed to be done and standing here … or was she floating? Her feet did not feel the floor.

Focus, Lucrezia. Focus. Experiment with this later, when the time exists. What I really need to know is if I go through the door will the cord break and if it does, will I die? If the cord breaks... Ah, God. This is the stuff of Science Fiction, not reality. I was never into Science Fiction novels. I read a few, yes, but nothing about out of body experiences. I can't be dead. I have too much to do, and anyway, near death experiences talk about a bright light and …

Focus, Noin. You're wandering off into Neverland again. Can I even get back to my body if I am still alive? Damn. I never did like Science Fiction novels. Too far fetched. So, do I try going back to my body, just to make certain I can, or do I try going through the door and pray the cord stays intact? If I do get back into my body, can I leave it again?

Her body had not moved beyond that tiny continuous tremor, which was reaction to the constant pain, and she did not like the sensation of looking down at herself at all. It was more than disturbing to stand here and know that it was herself, her body that was stretched out on the floor. If she tried going back into her body would she again be able to leave it?

It was wonderful to be free of the pain, to be spared the abject agony that was beyond all pain she had previously known, but was that freedom dangerous for her body? With her will, or her soul, or consciousness, whatever you called what made up Lucrezia Noin gone, then her body was only so much meat lying there. Would her lungs still breathe? Would her heart beat and her blood still flow? Would her brain direct her body at least on some primal, instinctive level?

I'm going insane looking at myself. I have to do something besides stand here and look at me. Alright, enough is enough. It is time to be decisive. I am a soldier. Apparently I never stopped being a soldier. I fell back into it too easily, so fine. I am a soldier and at the moment I am a very pissed off soldier. I have a few people to take down, but can I be effective in my less than corporal form?

The door stood before her in all of its plain and functional glory and, by way of assuring herself that it truly was possible, she pushed her hand through its solid form once again, this time all the way to her elbow. No pain. No sensation at all she noted in a clinical fashion. It was almost like another person's hand, not her own. The door just seemed not to be there, as though it was an illusion. A hologram.

Well … fine, I can think of it as a hologram. I've been to the holo arcades before. I've played and enjoyed the virtual reality games so … I can do this. Okay. I will shut my eyes and take a couple of deep breaths and simply step forward. You hear that feet? Move. We will take three steps forward. Now. One. Two. Am I holding my breath? I feel like I should be, but it just does not feel as though I am. Now, if I got the distances right, I should be about half in the door. Oh, God, that is so sick. Move feet. I can't look. I don't dare. Half in the door …Three. I can't bear to see me stuck partially in the door, even though I can't feel a thing. One more for luck. Four.

Okay, open your eyes. Don't be such a coward, Noin. You never got your nose mashed against the door, so you have to be through it. Open your bloody eyes you wimp!

The control room of the shuttle control tower surrounded her. A quick scan showed to her left the officer and his side kick bent over a console, heads close together as they studied a readout. Other than the two men the room was empty, though panels and spare computer parts and cables lay scattered about in disorder. They clearly had been jury rigging systems, and she guessed the officer had been none too pleased to discover the base computers had been damaged. The soldier in her agreed with him that it was idiocy to take down all but the life support systems. In this selected environment computer problems could lead to death for all.

I hope that bitch is still hanging from the roof beams. Maybe I should just pop over there and see how she's going? They don't seem to have noticed me. Hmm. I'll just tuck myself into this corner and hope they keep their eyes on the screen. Oh good, the cords still with me. In this brighter light it looks so thin and faint. Not so easily seen. Okay, time to regroup and make some decisions. I am out of the maintenance room and capable of moving around. Now what do I do? Can I be effective in this state, and where the hell am I going to hide? I need to gather together some weapons and find Zechs. Warn him they are holed up in this tower.

"Just a few minor adjustments and the system should be working. I'll be able to reestablish control of the security cameras if I can have another twenty minutes or so, Sir."

Not so good. It's to our advantage they took out the cameras with the virus. I may have to take out the technician sooner rather than later.

"We may not have that long, Frazier. The airlock controls can now be operated from here, and you have the detonator rigged to be activated from this point, with a secondary portable switch. The shuttle bay doors are locked down and can only be opened if you know the code, so no one will be getting into the dome from that access. The ventilation shafts are locked down and sealed off from the planets surface, and we have around twenty four hours before the buildup of carbon dioxide becomes a problem in the vents, so that is dealt with for now. We have time enough to finish this. McIntyre has been quiet a little too long. I need to go and find out what she is planning now." He straightened from the consol, stretching cramped muscles with a grunt. "I believe our targets should be in the vicinity of the airlocks by now, and at the least we need an identification of this person with Merquise. I'm going to send McIntyre and her team, such as they are, after Merquise, with instructions to watch but not to approach him. No doubt he is intending to try to stop the maintenance teams from dying in the air locks. Admirable, but it is far more merciful to allow them to die in the locks, than it is for them to face McIntyre and her psychopaths."

Frazier arched an eyebrow. "Sir? Do you think she will actually follow the instruction to follow but not confront them?"

"Of course not." A low laugh. "No, our Ms McIntyre is very predictable. She will go after Merquise and she will try to bring him down, most likely in a very bloody fashion. She is fast losing all control. No, Frazier, she will try, and Merquise will save us the trouble of taking her out, although I would like to see the look on her face at the inquiry that will no doubt be held into the fiasco this mission has become. Make the final adjustments. I'll just go see if I can find that bitch. You may as well make a start on the camera systems. We will eventually want that up and running, and we may yet get the time to repair the damage done before we have to hunt Merquise."

I'll follow him. I may as well know everything I can about their plans, and then I can locate Zechs and warn him. It will help to know what they plan … Uhm. I'll have to be careful they don't see me. At least I won't have to open the door and chance being noticed by Frazier. Oh, shit!

The big man turned and walked towards her. There was nowhere to go, no where to hide, and by the time she thought to will herself through the wall he was standing there, pouring coffee, not a foot away from her and looking directly at her.

Unseeing.

God. He … he does not … What? Am I invisible or something? No reaction at all. He's just drinking the bloody coffee as though I am not standing here. Shit. If I'm invisible, how do I …

"Hello, you ass hole. It's time I took you down!" Her hand lashed out, all the strength she could put into the blow behind it … and her hand passed right through him.

He set aside the finished coffee, turned and moved to the window overlooking the view of the dome. Not so much as a flicker of an eyelid betrayed he had noticed anything out of the ordinary, least of all a swat from a ticked off ex soldier.

Oh, God. I'm invisible. He never saw me. Never even heard me. How do I … Zechs. If I learn their plans how do I tell him? Not now, Lucrezia. We deal with that later. I'll get through to him somehow. Stands to reason if these jerks can't see me, then no one else will, but I can use that to my advantage. I'll figure something out when the time comes.

The big man stalked back to the computer, leaning over the one called Frazier's shoulder and watched the screen.

Come on, come on. Shanna dearest is out and about, is she? I hope she hurts like hell. Bitch. Traitorous bitch. Make me a laughing stock, will she? Play me false. If you think being strung up from the rafters was rough, Bitch Face, just you wait till we meet again … in the flesh. I'll show you what real pain is before I get rid of you for good. No touching her, who ever you are. Hmm. Did I ever get told your name? I think … Damn. I … It's hard to remember. Is that bad? It seems almost dream like, and I can't really remember much about what happened. I remember arguing with … Yes, I was arguing and then there was pain … you came. I remember your face, and I remember the pain because what ever you said to me it really got my temper going. I don't think it's good that it is so hard to remember. It can't be good. Where's that cord thingy? Is that still intact … Ah, there you are. Guess that means I'm still alive. I hope that is what it means. How far will it stretch? Are you ready to go, yet? Damn, man, times wasting. Move it already.

The man finally turned from the console and stalked to the door leading out into the offices and hallways of the tower. Noin willed her feet into motion and was just in time to experience the door closing through her body.

Oh, I so did not need to see that yet. I think I'll have nightmares over this when it is all done. Is the cord … Oh yes, its okay. Seems closing doors won't damage it. Guess that means I'm safe enough. That's reassuring.

She trailed behind the man, following practically on his heels, and she was aware with every room he entered he tensed more and more. She could almost see the rising shimmer of his anger as a light field surrounding him. It did not take long to determine that Shanna McIntyre was no longer in the tower.

Damn. Now where is she? He's certainly not too happy with her absence. This is good. We can use this. They are not working together at all. We can use that friction to play them off against each other. That's good. Very good. Or it has the potential to be good for us. Now, where are your off to? Oh. Back to the control room. So, do I go with you, or do I strike out on my own? May as well follow you and see what you do about her. I might learn something of interest.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Simpson

//Stupid bitch has to ruin every time table I come up with. How long has she been gone? Long enough to cause problems, I have no doubt of that. Well, I wish Merquise well. I must remember to thank him for taking her down, and if she is hunting him I have no doubt that is exactly what will happen. He'll make mince meat of her.//

"Frazier!" The door slammed behind him, barely missing his heels. "That psychopath has gone off on her own, most likely gathering what is left of her team to hunt Merquise." He stormed across the control room, stamping over to the window that looked out across the dome, towards the hydroponics domes. "I have no idea how long she has been gone. How much longer do you need?"

"If you do not need the cameras, then it is ready, Sir."

His eyes flitted to the clock set above the control panels. 20:26. Just how long had that bitch been gone? It would be so easy for her to damage the mission by taking Merquise down permanently, or in her unstable state she could cripple him. If such happened then there would be some very wealthy, very influential and very, very unhappy people back on Earth. He, personally, should be relatively safe from retribution, though he would undoubtedly receive a serious reprimand.

No, he reconsidered he was not actually safe, not with how the situation back on Earth must stand by this time. It would be a delicate balance back there about now, with the situation volatile and capable of exploding in some very dignified faces at the smallest error. The cover up for this operation had been a delicate balance of events, and there were a number of things that might go wrong. He remembered thinking during his briefing that in this endeavor he was not actually indispensable. No one, not even the old man's grandson, was safe on this mission.

He might be the favored grandson, but he was not the only grandson, and there in lay his greatest danger. There were others who could be groomed to take his place, and he was never likely to forget it. It was his vulnerability and it did not pay to have any weakness in his family. He could not afford to forget the vulnerability of his position, or the old man's penchant for retribution. To survive to become his grandsires replacement he would need to have Merquise safely under his control, and he would have to orchestrate that despite McIntyre and her psycho teammates. Before the shit hit the fan on Earth.

//There are too many involved in this mess. Too many factions dabbling in the mix. Grandfather should never have invited so many others into the fold for this one assignment. The Romefeller traditionalists will learn what is going on, and that bunch of purists will go for their throats. Every additional person involved in this plan weakens our security. Still, he does not usually make mistakes. He is a canny old bird, but I do begin to wonder if he is getting too old. Is this his first, and perhaps last, real mistake?//

"Sir?"

Frazier was waiting for instructions and he had to make up his mind quickly. Through their skills and the plan he had devised they had gained control of many of the systems in the upper dome. They had established a lock out on all entry points to the dome from the exterior, so that no one would enter or leave the dome except by his will, through a controlled point. The biggest problem he could see was that he had too few men in the team. He could not rely on McIntyre, or her people, to effectively manage the plan, and his own people, with the exception of Frazier, were out of the equation.

Perhaps that was the problem he needed to address first. He needed to gain some operatives and thereby enable him to extend his reach within the dome. Perhaps that should become his priority now. Taking Merquise down on his own was not his preferred option at this time. If he failed, which was unthinkable, but he did need to consider that odious possibility, then he needed backup, and Frazier was his tech specialist, not a combat specialist.

Was it time to learn, without a shadow of a doubt, if all of his people in this god forsaken enviro dome were dead?

//With her loose in the dome my options become limited. Noin should be safe enough in her cell for the moment. To move her would certainly be to kill her, and I need her alive. The people outside the dome can not enter unless I allow them to enter the airlocks. All other means of entry are sealed. None of my people are outside the dome, and I can only assume that my team in the Alpha dome is out for the duration. I certainly do not have the means to go to the Alpha Dome now. So, strike them from the game plan. Time to cut and run, I think. Regroup my forces and if they are dead, well, I have Noin.//

"Blow the air lock controls. Disable all manual release controls on the shuttle bay doors and on the ventilation shafts." //This will be over long before we develop a problem with the air.// "I want no one entering or leaving the dome unless it is by my instruction. Lock down the controls here so that they may be operated only by you and I. You can lock out McIntyre's code. She would have gone after Merquise, intending to run him to ground at either the airlock control station or Hydroponics Dome One. He'll head for the airlock station eventually, to try to warn the exterior workers. Surge it, Frazier. Fry every lock control and then get your gear. We are going down after the others. I want as close to a full team as I can get to deal with Merquise."

000000000000000000000000000000000

Noin

You bastard! You have sentenced those people to death. There has to be nearly a thousand people out there today. Hundreds … they won't stand a chance of surviving more than a few hours in the Martian night.

She glared at him, furious at the cold blooded practicality of the decision. It was a seasoned Commander's decision. A decision that might haunt the Commander in the years to come but one that he accepted as necessary to his mission. Understanding it did not make it easier to accept, however.

Can I do anything to help them? HD One? She has gone to HD One, or the control station. Right. If she's there hunting Zechs, then I want to be there too, but can I do anything to help those people outside the dome? My, he does not look too happy with his orders. I guess he's been working on that station for a while, and he's not too happy about it proving to be wasted effort. At least one station here works after that bitch fritzed everything.

She moved over to the control, ignoring the presence of the tech, who worked at the controls and studied the readouts in response to his work.

Ah, I see what you've rigged. A directed power surge. That will fry the controls and the manual control release systems too. Damn. Those people just got left out in the cold of a Martian night. My hands just go through the controls. I can't feel anything! I can't change the settings or stop the charge. They're my friends, you bastards! You've locked them out. They won't stand a chance.

The tech sighed and flipped a switch, turning from the consol and reaching for a pile of equipment bundled into the near corner of the room.

"System secured, Commander. Lock out complete on all access points into the enviro dome."

Zechs. I have to get to Zechs. I have to warn him somehow that bitch is out there, gunning for him and that this bastard is out to find his men. I won't allow it. I simply will not allow it to happen. I will not have either of them, this cold bastard who locks people out to suffocate and freeze to death, or that traitorous bitch I called my friend, loose around my children.

God, I hope this cord thingy will stretch the distance I need. I need to get outside the tower and …

Oh.

How did I get out here?

She stood on the ground before the main entrance to the Shuttle Control Tower. Wide eyed she looked about her surroundings, uncertain how she came to be standing here in the blink of an eye. She certainly had not walked out of that room, let alone descended the stairs.

I … I don't remember leaving the tower. Mmm. This is interesting. It has potential for me to get around quickly and easily, but how did I end up here? Exactly at this spot. Why here? There are things I need to learn about this ability. The cord! Oh God is … Yes, there you are. Thank God for that. Do you look thinner? Fainter? Hard to tell, but its okay. The cord is intact and I am out of the tower, and from what was said Zechs can't be too far away from where I am now. I'll find him and I'll warn him about Bitch Face.

The hydroponics domes lay to her left, HD Three the nearest and blocking her view of the other two. The Commander had expected to find McIntyre by HD One, so she would get her not so solid self over there with all speed and look for Shanna as she did so. The bitch could not hide from her for long.

No one lays a hand on my man, especially not the likes of you. If you're looking for your men, then that means you will be going down, into the sub base. I have to warn Zechs. I need to find Shanna, but its dangerous leaving you two running around loose. First thing is first.

Shanna, dearest, Lucrezia is coming for you.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	77. Chapter 77

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 77

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 20:35 [Approx 18:25 Sank time

Zechs

//What is it? Something … there is something there. It's intense. Angry? Seeking.//

"Zechs! Don't zone out on me, man. Look at me! Look at me, not at wherever it is you are now. Look at old Giles, now. Come on man, your frightening shit out of me."

Giles? Who … Well of course Giles was beside him, that was not a problem. To be honest he had actually started to like the man, but he dared not take his eyes from where he sensed that presence. He just needed a few minutes to get a firm grasp on himself, and to sort out the impressions that were flooding his senses. He needed just a few minutes to give himself time to understand what it was that he sensed.

"Zechs!" Strong hands grasped broad shoulders and Giles shook him, mindful to do so from arms length, uncertain if he would pay a physical price for the manhandling of the blonde.

//Giles? Ah, what am I doing? We are in deep shit if I lose it now.// "I'm … alright. Can't you sense it?"

Giles looked around, anxious. With his eyes narrowed in concentration he fell back on the exercises his instructors on the distant Station One had drilled into him. He had been taught how to barrier himself away from other minds, and he had been taught how to project his will and touch the minds of other. He had been taught how to open himself to that other awareness so many of the Gifted had, and could usually sense in others. He was not a telepath in the true sense of the word, and he was certainly not an empath. There were so many forms that psionic ability could take, and even in this enlightened day you could find yourself being looked at as a candidate for a sanitarium if you talked loosely in the company of the uninitiated.

//Damn. I hope he's not losing it. With this headache I have I'm not likely to pick up on much that is not about a meter from me. His eyes are slightly dilated and … yes, elevated heartbeat, but that could be from the tension of this situation, not because he is sensing anything from his Gift. Not that a precog should sense the thoughts of another, but there are multi talents out there. I've met one in Raydon, but as to Zechs... I don't know what the extent of his abilities are.//

He had tagged the man at his side as a form of precog, one of the seers who could foresee future event. He admitted to himself though, that Zechs was one who did not feel at all like the others that he had had occasion to meet. There was more to this man's talent than that ability to see possible future events and actually choose the paths of the future, however, and no doubt with a talent like that the training masters on Station One would delight in the training of him. First, however, they had to make it to Station One, and that involved getting out of their current situation. If one of those other unknown talents had now risen to the fore, then they would just have to deal with it as best they could and move on. He simply was not qualified to guide an emergent talent through the pitfalls of breakout.

"Sorry, no. No, I can not feel anything except certainty we can not linger here. Not if those men and women caught outside of the dome are to have a chance of survival."

//Am I going insane?// "I can't … Giles, I am sure there is something … Ah, no. No, not something. Someone? I don't know how to explain what I … I can almost 'see' someone standing over by that building, but at the same time I know there is no one there. I can 'feel' them, not see them and they feel .. angry?"

Again Giles studied their immediate area, sweeping the shadows cast by the emergency lighting with great care. He was too keyed up to miss any real indication of there being anyone hiding there, he was sure, but their lives hung in the balance here, and he was not keen to die. He had a great deal of living yet to do and because of that, and the trust he had developed in this man, he would not throw aside a warning, no matter how strange it was. He was one of the Gifted. He had learned to accept the same gifts in others.

"I can't see or feel anything, Zechs, but that means nothing. My range is limited and I am not a true telepath, nor am I an empath to feel emotions. I don't think you're insane and you are likely not mistaken about it either. With the Gifts it's hard sometimes to tell what is going on around you. What I do know is that we can not remain here. It's too dangerous for us to stay in one place too long. If you feel something is there, then it looks like we have to go a different way."

The problem with that decision was that there really was no other viable option for them to reach the target they had set for themselves. If they were to reach the air lock control station in time to do anything for those outside, they had to act quickly. He shook his head as he considered alternate routes but admitted quickly that each alternative came up as too open, or too long, and all were likely to get them killed in any case. The fastest and the shortest route in this situation, short of putting their heads down and sprinting in a direct line to their target-which was a certain way to die-was actually the safest route. The preferred route offered more opportunities of cover and short open areas of exposure, where they must sprint, and the benefit of a building shielding them from less than friendly eyes.

With the outside workers due to return to the dome within little more than half an hour, regardless of the alert, those specialists and workers who operated the airlocks and collected and serviced the enviro suits would be reporting to their duty stations. Within fifteen to twenty minutes the upper dome should have up to thirty or so people moving around in preparation for the arrival of the exterior work crews. They would be easy prey for the rabid wolves waiting to bring them down. He shuddered at the thought that it was possible the ESUN agents had even trapped the elevators.

"Damn. We are so running low on time. I'm sorry, Zechs, but I can't see or hear anything from over there, not to say that there is not someone lurking there, you understand. I think we might have another problem though. The elevators. We will be having people coming up soon to help with the return shift, and they will be using the elevators to get here. Did any of your visions show a problem at the elevator shafts? We are pretty isolated from the sub base and the agents would want to keep that isolation; it works to their benefit. Not even the emergency would keep the teams down in the sub base with the work crews due in from outside. They will not want people running around up here more than necessary, would they?"

Large, fine boned but strong fingers sank into pale hair, gripping tightly. Giles detected the tremble in those fingers, and the man's breathing was a little too rapid considering they had been crouched here so long he should not be showing signs of exertion. The ice blue eyes were still a little dilated and fixed on the building opposite their crouched position. He winced, worried. His concern that Merquise had pushed himself too far and was about to collapse, when they could least afford it, was growing with the extended silence.

A shuddering breath and Merquise shook his head in a negative gesture, blue eyes closing. "I … I forgot. I forgot about the bombs. We will not reach the personal elevators in time. Not without attracting a great deal of attention …"

The explosion echoed eerily within the greater dome, the acoustics causing reverberations that twisted and warped the sounds into continuous rolling thunder. Giles crouched lower behind their cover, pulling the bigger man down with him as they waited. Under his hands he could feel Merquise was shaking, and his muscles were rigid.

"The elevators." Giles whispered, head lowered, refusing to envision the possible consequences of that destruction.

"Yes, I believe so. They may just have decided to blow it to stop anyone from coming up." The return whisper was heavy with a quiet grief and the certainty that hope was useless.

Neither of them believed that for an instant. They had learned too much in the last few hours of the cold-blooded tactics used by the Sleepers to believe that they would disable an elevator without taking the opportunity to kill in the process. Zechs half turned in Giles grasp, scanning the open field before them in time to see the door to the suit maintenance building swing open and three people rush out to respond to the explosion.

"It's not your fault, Zechs. Not your fault. We have been busy and can't be everywhere at once."

They were running toward the elevators, totally unaware of any danger that may stalk them. These were not ESUN agents who ran to help people caught in the explosion, but decent human beings concerned for their fellow man. He shuddered and gripped Giles hand, and drew the man's attention to the people who were going to die for their concern. They were suit mechanics, all three of them, and all of them were known to him, though little more than passing acquaintances. They would reach the corner of …

"I know this." A whisper as blue eyes widened. "I know this. Giles! Get them back into the building as fast as you can, however you can." He was running fingers lightly over two of the shuriken on his belt even as he eased out of their covered position. "Get them in the building and wait. I will meet you in there. Go!"

"But …" He grasped at the man's sleeve, desperate to stop him from exposing himself to danger when they had no idea where trouble lurked.

"Run, before they are in range of the bloody shock guns! I know where they are hidden!"

He could spare no time now to see if he would be obeyed or not. There was only time now to run with all of the speed he could muster, in an effort to save those three lives. He had forgotten the elevators and the death there in the heat of the moment, and he knew that people had died because of his failure. In the vision he had witnessed of this particular scene there had been an element missing that now existed, and could make a world of difference to these people and to his chances of success.

Giles.

In that past vision he had witnessed he had been alone, and much as he had tried he had been unable to cover enough distance fast enough to make a difference to the outcome. The three who sought to save others had been killed, gunned down under shock guns set to kill, and he had gone down under a lesser shock charge. He could still feel the pain crawling along nerves …

//Not now, fool! Run!//

Giles would either make the difference to this rescue bid or it would happen once again, as it had in his visions. There was no help for it but to try to save them. He was so very tired of watching innocents die around him because he could not control himself enough to say no to Noin on a long distant night.

//Noin?!//

He faltered but forced himself through the shock of almost recognition, and pushed himself into action. He could almost feel her and her intensity. That was what he had felt earlier, haunting the area, her single-minded intensity and focus when she was in a rage. Her determination had always seemed like a pure force of charged electricity. She had always been a force to be reckoned with. Why should he have associated what ever 'something' lurked near the building as being so similar to Noin in a rage? Was she there, somewhere? Was she hiding there, so well hidden that they had seen no glimpse of her and why would he feel her so clearly if she was there, somewhere? Admittedly he had always known when she was near, but this had felt different.

//You'll die if you keep this up, you fool.//

He threw himself behind the shielding bulk of a Rover vehicle, scrambling for a secure vantage where he could see and not be seen. Just a few steps more was all he needed, and he would be within range to act. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out sounds, but he was vaguely aware of shouting voices from somewhere behind him. He knew it was dangerous to trust his life to a vision that had seen him fail every time, but he placed enough faith in the vision that he would position himself as he had devised would be best, and hope that this time there would be no innocents lying dead when it was done. Yes, he had failed to save them and he had gotten himself caught and helpless to act and save the lives of the people in the domes from the massacre, but in the visions he had been alone. In reality, he had Giles.

Two. There would be two of them, lurking amid the group of crates stacked at the corner of building C. Their so carefully chosen cover afforded them a prime position to lurk unseen and to take down anyone moving toward the elevators from this quarter of the dome. If his vision ran true in detail McIntyre would be on the far side of the Main Control Tower, waiting to pick off anyone coming from that quarter to investigate the explosion. There was nothing he could do about her for now, but he could take these bastards out here and now if Giles would just do his part.

He glimpsed movement amid the crates and he threw himself from his cover, fingers reaching for the metal stars imbedded in the leather of the belt he wore. Quick, silent and deadly, if he could aim true. A cold clarity descended on him, his vision narrowed and focused on the stack of crates and the two men now rising, weapons raised, and he knew the guns were set on kill. He needed just another few strides to be certain he was in range for the first throw. He would have to take them one at the time. If he tried for both he would fail and he was not going to fail. If he had only recognized the scene before then he might have done this with more ease, but he was not going to be such a fool as to go down another 'what if' pathway.

'What if' simply was not 'now'.

His right wrist snapped twice in rapid succession and he threw himself forward, tucking into a roll and coming up behind a crate, breath rasping into bellowing lungs. He could hear gurgling and thrashing and a bitten off curse then silence. One down, he knew and the second now warned. That agent would be unlikely to target the techs now, aware that he, or she, had a bigger problem to deal with.

He shuddered, looking wildly about him, aware that that 'something' he had sensed earlier was closer now and that it was moving. It had been aware of the action in its vicinity, and it was attracted to what was happening. He shook his head, running a hand lightly over his face, trying to force his attention away from what ever it was that haunted him. There was no time now to worry about something he could not see. Unless he wanted to go down under a shock weapons charge and become a prisoner he had to pay attention. He was not done yet. One agent should be down if his vision was true, leaving the second extremely angry and looking for a kill.

He glanced about him. Left presented him with no cover, taking him out of the crates and back in full sight of the waiting assassin. If he chose to go to the right it would take him around the crate and place him in full view for a fraction of a second, until he gained the cover of the next crate. Either option presented him with exposure to a ready shock weapon, and he had already decided he was not going to be experiencing the agony of that shot for real. It had been bad enough in vision.

000000000000000000000000000000000

Noin

He has to be around here somewhere. This is where that man expected them all to be, hunting Zechs. I still have to make up my mind what I am to do when I find them. Hunting Zechs, are they? Well, knowing my blonde the way I do, they can hunt all they like. He will not be found unless he wants to be. He's better than they are. Even that bastard thinks so.

I wish I could remember everything that happened after I was shot. I can't recall if I should know his name or not. It's all a blur. I can remember quite a bit about events leading up to my being shot though. I certainly remember that bitch in the control room. Oh, yes, I remember her. Lying, sugary sweet Shanna. My friend. How could I have been so fooled by her? I have been so wrapped up in my little dreams of what I wanted from him, and I certainly was not paying attention to the real world. My fault. I can not deny that any longer.

Oh, nice. This is a great time to start thinking about that. Perfect timing. One thing at a time, Lucrezia and this is not the time for sorting out relationships. This is fight time, my girl. This is the time you get to kick ass.

I can't believe I did not see this coming. I should have. I should have seen trouble on the way. I should have stopped to think about the ESUN reacting to my being pregnant. They probably would have left us alone if I had not gotten Zechs into bed. Yeah, right and they would not have come after him before the colony imported citizens? Dream on, girl. You have been too wrapped up in your dreams of finally having him where you wanted him.

He was just as warm and wild in bed as I imagined he would be. Better actually, once I got past his reserve. Could I give that up? Willingly?

Where the bloody hell are you, Zechs? You have to be around here somewhere.

Think, Lucrezia. What was it that bastard said? He expected you to try for the air lock control room, so you would have to be around here if you came from HD One. Have I missed you then? Maybe you are already there? Well, it's as good a place as any to look. I have to warn you about those hunting you and I want another crack at Miss Bitch. She is mine, but you can have the rest, Sweet Heart. I'll not be greedy about them, just let me have Her. We have issues to be resolved that are most certainly between us. It's a Girl thing, and I really don't expect you to understand that, Zechs, but I can't help that. Just let me have her.

What?! What the hell was that? Where did that come from? The elevators!

That came from the elevators. Damn. Oh damn! They must have rigged the elevators to blow if someone used them. Bastards! Blowing up the God damned elevators with People … Uhm. Well. Maybe not so bad after all. Those other two from the shuttle control room were going down to the sub base looking for reinforcements. Might they have been … If they were caught by the blast … Maybe they got taken out by the bomb? I can only hope …

Zechs? Zechs!

Oh, no you are not going to do that! What the bloody hell do you think you are doing you idiot? Nooo. You get back behind cover this minute! You're too far away to reach the elevators! They are dead … Shit. He's not aiming for the elevators!

Snipers? If there are snipers here … God, I don't know where they are hiding! I am so going to give you a piece of my mind when I get my body back, you blonde idiot! You are not indestructible, you know. I am going to rip your hair out by the roots for this just as soon as I make sure you are in one piece!

Agh! I am so not used to being able to go through things. What was in that crate? Spare parts for the Rover? What are they doing out here? Oh, who gives a shit! Zechs, you idiot I am …

Oh shit! Oh shit! I… I thought it was bad going through doors … Oh God, I do not believe I just went through his body! If I could I would throw up. Doors, crates, walls I can handle them, but bodies … It is just not worth thinking about.

Two of them. No! They've seen you! Go back … Wow. When did he learn how to use those things? Where did he get them from? Well, he's dead, that's for sure.

Damn, he's moved. I can't hurt him. My bloody hand passes right through him. He's waiting for you, Zechs! Don't come this way, Baby!

I can't do a thing in this state. I can't touch anything. I can't even warn him that the asshole seems to know where he is hiding. All I can do is go through solid objects and I do that quite well, thank you. Who … Mmm. I don't know you, whoever you are.

Ah, God no. How did I get back here? Kirsty? Shit. I was just in the boxes and now … You are all heading back into the building? Well, at least someone has a brain, unlike someone I could name. Fine, I popped here and I don't know how I did it, and I'm too far away to make a difference even if I could do anything. If I was there …

Shit! I'm a fucking jack-in-the-box. Or should that be a yoyo? Hello crates. You look familiar. How the hell did I get here? I have to figure out how and why I move location like that. Zechs? Where are you?

The crates block my view of everything. You have to be here somewhere. Oh, fine! Who needs to go around things anymore anyway? I'm good at going through things now.

There you are, you bastard. How dare you hunt my man. You are so in trouble when I get my hands on you. Damn! Of course my hands go right through you. I can't touch you, let alone kill you, and I so want to take it out on someone! If I had blood pressure I'd explode about now. I feel so bloody useless! There has to be something I can do in this state.

You're waiting for him to come to you, yes? He's too smart for that, you idiot. You still have to aim the bloody gun, and in that time he could have you down. You keep looking left or right, around that crate. He must be behind this crate then, the way you are concentrating on it. How patient are you? He is too smart to …

My God! What … Zechs? But where are you? Damn. Ugly wound that. I think he's dead.

00000000000000000000000000000000000

Zechs

Left or right?

//Too much time is passing. I have to act soon. There are too many potential killers waiting. Vision suggested only the two here and McIntyre should be the next building over. There have to be some twenty or more people in the upper dome at least. I don't know how effective the Sleeper agents have been.// Since no one beyond those three had come, and no one from the control room at all had put in an appearance to investigate the explosion, he suspected they had been very effective indeed.

He could afford no distractions. Not if he wanted to continue this deadly game with something that might be called an advantage. No distractions. Just deal with the situation as best he could, and think when he had the opportunity to draw breath. Vision was now void. One agent dead and that was more success than he had ever had with this scenario.

//Left or right? Guess wrong and it's all over. Fine. //

He turned to the crate, reached up and with a flex of long legs hauled himself up to the top of the crate, crouching low. He dared not so much as hiss in reaction to the pain lancing through his shoulder. Stealth was needed now. One noise would be enough to give him away. Even a hissed breath would end it all. His fingers slipped another two stars from the belt and he edged forward.

Slowly. Carefully. A little at a time. He needed just a glimpse of the killer waiting for him. He needed to know where the agent was positioned. If he was still behind the crate, of course, the man could be anywhere in this nest of crates by now. A little luck about now would not go astray. Just a little luck.

//There.//

Just the curve of a shoulder, but it was enough to show where his target was standing, and to allow him to guess at his stance. Positioned about halfway, and square on to the corner of the crate. A smart position as it would afford the man a view of both corners of the crate, and a split second to aim at the slightest movement.

He eased forward, each inch revealing more of his target. He would not, must not think victim here. These people were never victims. They were killers who lived for the kill. Psychopaths alone killed for the pleasure of killing, and he had seen enough of the few Sleepers he had taken down to know that they were not the sanest bunch in the ESUN arsenal.

The stench of burning circuitry and overheated metal was starting to fill the air, tickling his nostrils dangerously. The fire from the burning elevator shaft would be blazing merrily away. There were no alarms ringing, as there should be, and that did not bode well for the number of survivors in the upper base. For the moment he would have to trust in the automatic sprinklers to contain the fire, provided they had not been disabled by the virus in the computers. In this contained environment fire was deadly. It would take the air scrubbers hours to clean out the smoke and the fumes. He would need to check that the fire was being fought by the foam sprays mounted all over the dome and its buildings, but for now he had to concentrate on staying alive.

Another step. The juncture between a shoulder and neck was now revealed. He hesitated, the surging intense anger that came from somewhere stayed his hand and he trembled under its intensity. What …

The man below him tensed, moving his weight a little and Zechs snapped out of his daze. Whatever was causing him to feel these strong emotions that certainly did not come from him, he had to put aside for the present. He was going to die if he did not get over what ever was bothering something deep within him. He did not need the distraction.

Zechs eased a final step forward and his wrist flicked twice. One would have been sufficient to carve out the man's throat, but he was not of a mind to be careless now. The second shuriken buried itself deeply just below the man's ear as his knees folded. A gurgle, a reflexive grasp at his opened throat and a cough sounded as the man folded and fell from sight.

Zechs waited for a moment, listening but heard no movement, not even any pained breath from the other side of the crate. Finally daring to move he peered cautiously over the edge.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	78. Chapter 78

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 78

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 20:42 [Approx 18:32 Sank time

Giles

//Damn! He's impossible! I'm supposed to be keeping him alive.//

It was too late to stop the blonde from acting, as Zechs had already thrown himself from their safe position and was a quarter of the way to the next cover, a rover vehicle. He seemed to be inclining toward a cluster of crates at the corner of building C, the big warehouse between the enviro maintenance department and the main control tower. He gave no opportunity for Giles to protest his action beyond a muttered curse and some serious swearing to himself about stubborn blonde suicidal idiots.

//Raydon had better understand just how independent this one is, or he's not going to have a chance with him. Damn. He's quick.//

With a sigh of exasperation Giles abandoned his own cover, praying he would not feel the bite of either automatic weapons or the stun of the electro shock weapons. He hurried forward, reluctant to attract attention, but knowing there was no other option. They were committed.

If Zechs was determined to get himself killed then the least he could do was ensure these three techs did not fall victim to the assassins lurking in the vicinity. He had to trust that his partner knew what he was doing, and this would not result in the deaths of the techs or himself and Zechs. He had at least attracted the notice of one of the three and he waved madly, signaling them to come toward him.

//That's it, look at me and stop right where you are. You probably are already in range of those bloody shock guns, and you certainly are in range of an automatic pistol. If they fire one of those things in here, this close to the dome and miss the target, they could possibly breach the dome. Doesn't bare thinking about.//

"Giles? I thought you would be outside with the others."

"Kristy." //God. If I don't do something fast they'll kill Kristy.// "Over here! Fast!"

He watched as the blonde woman slowed to a stop, catching the arm of one of the men in her company and drew his attention. The third man was still moving toward the elevators, but now was walking, turning to look behind him and see what had attracted his companions. Giles refused to move closer, motioning imperiously to them, and then he gestured toward the building they had so recently left.

"Back inside! Get back inside! Quickly."

He had all of their attention now he noted, as he stepped toward the building himself, pleased that Kristy automatically took a step toward him. He dragged air into his lungs and caught a glimpse of Zechs diving for the cover offered by the rover. Nor was he the only one who noticed the blonde, as one of the men half turned from him, a frown deepening as he hesitated.

"What is going on?"

"No time for an argument! If you value your lives get back inside! We have infiltrators trying to take over the base."

He hated being rushed in the use of his talent, but this was a situation where he felt he had no option other than to engage the abilities that Raydon had been most delighted to discover. Raydon had ushered him to his trainers with all speed, claiming to have been long awaiting his arrival, and welcoming him to Station One with open arms. With the training he had undertaken his confidence in his abilities and, more importantly in himself, had increased to the point that he no longer shied away from everyone, certain that he would be considered a freak should his abilities be discovered.

"Infiltrators?"

They had come toward him, at a cautious pace, but at least they were no longer rushing into the ambush Zechs was certain was waiting for them. This was taking too long, and he was uncertain if he could influence so many as quickly as he needed to. The effort certainly was not going to do his head any good. He slipped up to them, daring to go away from the building that was his intended destination, and gently took Kristy by the arm, taking two steps in the direction he needed them to go.

"I'll explain later, once we are safely inside and you have the door barricaded. Is there anyone else inside?"

"Of course. Joe. He stayed to continue preparations for the shift's return. We have a lot to do, and there was an explosion. Haydon, what is going on?"

A few deep calming breaths and a moment to centre his perceptions was all he dared. He could not be effective if he was not balanced and in harmony with his Gift. His instructors had been adamant in the training of him. If he was to influence people, then he must be able to maintain stability of mind, and he must be able to close out all distractions.

"We need to get inside and prepare defenses. We have hostile infiltrators in the dome, and they have blown the main elevators down to the sub base. That was the explosion you heard. There is nothing we can do about it now."

"That is Merquise. What is he doing?"

//Trying to save you no good skin!//

Shift focal point. Steady. Confidence. He must project confidence and calm. Agitated subjects were difficult subjects, almost impossible to manipulate. He did not wish to manipulate them, but wanted to guide them into wanting to go back to safe cover, and he had to be quick. Zechs was running for those crates and those shock guns had a half way decent range on them. If the agents broke cover they would not have to go far before they could use them.

"Gaining us time to get the hell out of here." He had to be himself or Kristy would hesitate. As it was she was edging toward the building. That was progress. He needed to be calm and confident, and to project his talent, and have his will seep into their consciousness. "We need to get to cover quickly. Zechs has had training for this type of thing and I don't know about you, but I know that Kristy at least is not a soldier."

He had her moving toward the building at last. One step. Two. Three. The man who had been closest to her was following, and the third was lingering, uncertain, glancing toward Zechs who was pulling something from his belt. Giles saw the movement in the crates and focused on the laggard. There always had to be one who was difficult to convince.

"The fire from the explosion …"

"The automatic systems will take care of things for now, at least until we know it's safe to head that way." He grasped the man's arm and pulled. "They are out to kill us all and take over the base."

"Who? Who are they? Raiders?"

//No! Damn. What am I supposed to answer to that? Why is it that the first thing everyone thinks of is Raiders? Raydon, we have some really bad press to deal with.//

"Not certain." He had the man moving toward the building even though he was watching Zechs. "Some of them came in on the supply shuttle from Earth, so may be a rebel faction out for new ground if things were a little hot in the Earth Sphere? Or not. Come on, man. Get inside before we end up as a blood smear on the pavement."

The man resisted a precious second or two, but then turned and jogged back toward the building. With a heart felt sigh of relief Giles followed, glancing back in time to see Zechs hurl two shuriken in quick succession at the agents moving from the cover of the crates, and then tuck himself into a roll, coming up somewhere in the nest of crates, hidden from view. He glimpsed one go down, a weapon flying from his hands which clutched at his throat and Giles turned his attention to the techs. Mr. Hard to Convince was gaping behind him at the carnage being done, and Giles hustled him into the building.

//For God's sake stay alive. Raydon will skin me if anything happens to you.//

He slipped into the building last, quickly closing the door and dropping the lock bar in place, thumbing the electronic lock to seal the chamber. He heard the answering alert to the lock down from the monitoring emergency computer, and turned to face three pairs of eyes. Each looked from the bar sealing the door to him and he sighed. Now for the explanations.

Every building in the enviro dome was constructed to be a secured location should the great dome ever be breached by a meteor strike. If the dome was penetrated, or broken in any way, anyone in the open beyond a building's security would have a minute or two, no more, to get to a secured area. All buildings were capable of sustaining a secured atmosphere and stored oxygen supply for some three days, and the exterior doors and entry rooms were actually airlocks, which would lock automatically in the event of a dome breach alarm being registered. As an emergency safety feature the doors could also be operated manually, both to release the locks and to initiate the system.

"Zechs will let us know when he's ready to come in. I'm not planning on moving from here until he's here anyway." With a deep breath he turned from the door to face the three people whose lives he had just saved.

"Kristy. You know this man?" The tall man with dark blonde hair who had been the last to return to the building was scowling at Giles, dark eyes suspicious.

"Of course I do. Haydon Giles, this is Brian Maynard and Gerry Parker. Brian is my boss, Haydon. He's okay, Brian. Haydon works with the maintenance teams as a rule."

"So why not today?" Came the deep rumble.

"I was with the team, up until a couple of hours ago." He did not need to give them a blow by blow description of events, just enough to convey the seriousness of the situation. Enough to make certain they did not leave the building. "I had a few problems with my suit, so I came in to replace it and before I could go back outside I ran afoul of the bastards running around killing everyone they could find."

"Why? Why would they?" The one called Gerry was scowling, eyes going to the glass panel in the door, seeking any indication of activity outside.

//I am not saying they are Raiders. Zechs and I already decided that it's not a good idea to lie outright, though, and these people are suspicious as hell. I think Brian and Gerry both saw Zechs take down that guy. I only hope they noticed the gun that went flying too.//

"If they are killing everyone how did you escape?" Brian gently pulled Kristy back from Giles, angling his body to protect her.

"I'm ex-military, Brian. Spent a few years in the war and some months in a Special Ops Unit." //No need to fill in my entire history, or be too explicit. Just enough to make it plain I'm efficient at staying alive.// "I'm good enough to take down the bastard who tried to do away with me just after I left the airlock. So far I have found around twenty bodies in my investigations, and since no one from the control centre seemed to respond to that explosion, I think it's safe to say there are a lot more dead than that. The internal communications system is out, and only the emergency life support systems isolated from the main computer system seem to be functioning. I met up with Zechs in HD Two. We were both on the run from agents out for our blood."

"What is Merquise doing up in the dome, anyway? He should be in the maintenance bay at this time of the day."

Warning bells went off in Giles mind. He focused his attention on the one introduced as Gerry, alert to something off about the way the man was trying to get a look through the glass, and something in the tone of his voice. How would a maintenance tech for enviro suits know where Zechs was supposed to be at this particular time of the day?

Under the weight of his stare the man blushed, not much Giles admitted, but it was enough to give himself away to someone as suspicious as Giles had to be. If this man was a Sleeper then he was about to go down, witnesses or not. Giles could not afford to take chances.

"Some of those people out there who are doing the killing have been living amongst us for years. Some of them came in on the shuttle this morning. What about you, Gerry?"

//Focus on him. Calm, controlled breaths. One. Two. Three. Focus in and extend out toward him. Four. Five. Tell us who you are, Gerry. It's alright, you are calm and relaxed and you want to tell us about your interest in Zechs Merquise. You want to tell us who you are, and who you work for.//

"What about you? Why are you here, on Mars? You are not a terra former, so what is it you came to Mars to find? What is your interest in Zechs?" He pinned the man with his eyes, as he had been taught. He must hold the attention of his subject in an intense situation, and this certainly qualified. He needed speedy results, and he had to ignore the warning thunder in his head. He was pushing his talent when he was already over extended, but the situation demanded it.

He was aware of Kristy and Brian, watching in surprise as Gerry actually squirmed under his piercing gaze. He could not afford to be distracted by the others, and he needed answers to his questions before Zechs entered the building. Whatever was going on outside would be bloody and short, and likely nearly over by now. He needed answers, and he needed them soon. He would not have the man walk into trouble.

//I can feel him. It's rare that I can actually feel the emotions of a subject, but I can with him. He's uneasy. Guilty? Yes, he's feeling guilty. He's not just a tech.//

"Gerry? Giles?" Kristy took a half step away from Brian, but back from the players involved in the staring match that had ensued so suddenly.

"Well, Gerry? You'll understand I am sure considering what is going on out there, that we really don't know who we can and can not trust just now. I have to ask would they have targeted you if you had continued toward the elevators? Would they have taken you out, or are you one of them? Are you?"

The man was sweating under the weight of his talent. He dared not let up the pressure he exerted. Too many lives hung in the balance for him to fail here and now. If this was a Sleeper then he had to know, and if he erred with the pressure he was exerting on his mind he could turn the man into a blithering idiot.

Gerry shuddered, a delicate tremble under the weight of the eyes that seemed to bore into his very brain, picking him apart. Unusual, intense eyes, neither brown nor green in colour but somewhere between the two. Boring into him, and seeming to have the ability to weigh his soul. He felt that a heavy weight was on his shoulders, pushing at him with a grip that was not exactly painful but was inescapable, no matter the struggle he might put up against it. His head throbbed in time with his suddenly racing heart and his mouth wanted to spill his every thought to those eyes.

"Patrice. Patrice Mining Corporation. I'm an agent for Patrice. I … I was sent here to keep an eye on Merquise, and to make certain that he does not start anything. I was sent to keep an eye on him and to watch how the mining projections develop as the project neared the colonization stage."

He did not dare to ease the pressure now, though he was well aware of the stares of Kristy and Brian, who looked between the two of them, no doubt half expecting a punch to be thrown.

//Well, I knew there were agents from the various mining consortiums here, but that is at least three from Patrice. If I can believe you, that is. You could be lying, but you don't feel as though you are, though I can not accurately assess truth from lie. That just is not my talent's strength. I have to push a little more. I need to be sure.//

"You have been on Mars two years, haven't you?"

"Yes." He was becoming aware of the other two people in the small entry chamber, and the surprise of the maintenance techs watching them. He was also only too aware of the flicker of betrayal in the eyes of Brian. He would need to do some quick explaining there, or his lover of a year would never forgive him the deception. He had not liked keeping secrets from the man, but he was an employee of Patrice, and you did not betray that organization and expect to ever work again. "Yes. Yes, I have been here for two years. I was assigned the job when Patrice first learned it was Milliardo Peacecraft who fought in the Barton Incursion using the Tallgeese III. I have no idea how they found out he was on Mars. I just follow orders, and my instructions were to keep him under observation and to report if he should vanished from Mars."

"You were to report if he left Mars?" At the man's nod Giles grinned. "How? How were you to report?" He leapt on that, hopeful that the man might have an independent communications array.

"By radio, of course."

"You were going to access the base communications array to send a message?"

"No. Well, yes, sort of. Look, I was to bounce a signal through the main array using a pre-arranged code, hidden in a personal message to a prearranged source. It's standard practice with Patrice."

//Yes, I know it is. Damn. That means he is who he claims to be, and that at most he only has a local unit that needs a pretty big push to get beyond the planet in the event of an emergency. With so many bloody agents running around on Mars you'd think at least one of them would have a decent radio. I need to get access to that bloody suit! It seems to be the only independent radio array with enough grunt to get beyond the planet, and reach the area I need. //

"Alright. Just listen and listen well. Merquise is about our only hope of surviving this fiasco, so I would appreciate it if you would keep your grubby paws off of him. Does anyone here have any military training? Combat experience?" He looked expectantly at Brian, knowing that Kristy had none.

"Jesus, Giles. We are maintenance techs, not soldiers. I suppose I'm pretty reasonable with a spanner in a brawl, but that's about all." Brian grunted. "Not everyone was a soldier in the war, you know."

"Joe is ex military. An Alliance mechanic, I believe." Kristy responded.

Giles nodded, relieved. "He'll have had at least basic training then. That's better than nothing. One of you had better bring him in here so we can explain what is going on."

"He's just …" At the glare Gerry winced and nodded, lowering his hand from indicating the door into the main bulk of the building. "Right. You said you were not moving from the door until Marquise turned up. I guess I'll get Joe."

He would have to leave them in the care of the tech who had some military experience when Zechs joined him. Even techs had to do basic training in the Alliance, and that would be handy for the situation they now found themselves in. If Zechs had not arrived by the time this Joe had been briefed on the situation, then he was going out after him.

//The man should have arrived by now. It would have taken seconds to finish that skirmish with the skills he had displayed. Unless Zechs ran into trouble. How many of them were in those crates? Two he should be able to handle easily, but what if there were more? I really need to get out there.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	79. Chapter 79

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 79

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 20:43 [Approx 18:33 Sank time

Zechs

He wiped the last of the shuriken clean of gore with care, eyes sweeping the windowed view of the dome this position afforded him, desperate to find some sign to explain why his skin crawled. He tried in vain to dismiss the feeling he was not alone in this small space between stacked crates. That there was 'something' there, something which felt so uncomfortably similar to Noin's agitated presence, hovering over him, watching him, almost touching him. It was there, not quite a threat, but a definite presence that was intensely focused. His shoulder blades twitched with his desire to shrug off the eyes he just knew were centered on him.

He had searched the bodies quickly, taking possession of the pagers that both men had in their possession. He could check to see if their last instructions were still accessible later, when he was in a safer location. A quick check of the devices assured him they were the same make and model as the one he had previously confiscated from an agent. With the pagers tucked into a belt pouch, and the silent promise to himself that he would take the time to investigate them later, he secured the last of his weapons to his belt and scooped up the automatic guns he had found on the agents, tucking one into the back of his belt and slipping the second into a pouch. Giles would feel more comfortable with the automatic.

The shock guns still lay on the ground where they had fallen, and he considered what best to do with them, hating the very thought of touching them. He had never reacted to a weapons potential in such a manner before. These weapons represented the latest advances in military technology, but they horrified some deeply seated part of him. They were an affront to that part of him that considered a battle to be an extension of his personal code of honor. Should the weapons ever be toned down to the level required to be merely stun capable he could see their use developing as an advantage in efficient law enforcement. As they now existed, however, they were a vicious weapon that should be outlawed.

//I have no time to dispose of them just now, but I dare not leave them lying around either. I suppose I will have to take them with me, but I have no room to carry them comfortably on me now.// He knelt to gather the weapons and that 'something' flared within his awareness.

**No! Lord, Zechs, don't touch the foul things!**

He stiffened, eyes widening in disbelief and spinning to search the crates at his back. Who …? He could not believe he had missed anyone who could be that close to him. The voice had been a whisper, tantalizing, almost like a passing caress had touched his awareness, yet it had been an alarm, a distressed feeling to its caress.

To his frantic search he could see no one, but that 'something' still hovered in his awareness, and he was growing more and more agitated. There was 'something' he could feel, certainly not see and he just did not understand what was happening to him.

//I am going insane. I have to be.//

Through his growing agitation he could make out the sound of voices shouting from somewhere in the dome and he swore softly. No time now to consider how his developing insanity would affect his attempts to save lives. Gathering the shock weapons up and slipping deeper into the jumble of crates he sought a hiding place. His frantic search found a group of crates with a small area between them hidden in deep shadow and decided that would likely be the best he could do. He stashed the weapons he had decided as being of no use to him at this time and, with a final look about him, turned to the task at hand. People were responding to the fire and that meant he had to move. Ghosting through the last of the crates he paused, crouching and peered through a gap between the boxes toward the bulk of the Main Control Tower.

He had told Giles he would join him at the maintenance building, but that would have to wait for now. Someone was moving around here and he was not inclined to give anyone a free shot at his back, nor was he of a mind to allow the Sleepers to collect more victims. He only hoped this delay would not mean the lives of those who were outside of the dome.

… **ear me? Damn it I** …

A hissed breath of surprise, and again a wild glance around, expecting to find someone standing at his shoulder whispering into his ear, and again nothing. Nobody. That looming presence was still there, hovering over him, but no one actually stood near him, which was fortunate since they probably would be hurting now if they had been. He was too keyed, too tightly wound not to have struck out if someone had managed to get close to him. He could hear someone shouting 'Fire' and cursed, hating to turn his back on what ever haunted him, but knowing he had to get over his insanity. A careful survey of the area was all he allowed himself and he slipped out of the crates, ghosting to the far corner of building C.

If his vision of this time was accurate then Shanna McIntyre was on the far side of the Control Tower, hidden in a pile of crates similar to the one he had just left. If his vision of that time still held, since Giles had already effected changes. She would be crouched there ready to pick off anyone going to investigate the explosion and subsequent fire. The voices were closer now, coming from the corner just ahead of him.

"The emergency system has activated and the foam should have the fire under control shortly, but we have to check out what caused the explosion … Stuffed if I know what would have caused an explosion though, especially in the elevator shaft… Shit. That's some foul smelling smoke it's spewing out … We will have to extinguish the blaze fast … Christ knows what it will do to the air supply in the dome … Not sure how close to the fire we could get … Hurry up! Where is everyone?"

There were at least three or four people hurrying to their doom just around the bulk of the building. He glanced at the control tower, judging where he would need to be standing to attract the attention of the one he wanted, in relation to the view Shanna would have. He should be out of sight of McIntyre's position, unless she was not bothering to disguise her presence and was waving them on to their doom. They would not know not to trust her.

He would expect her to lie low in secure shelter and shoot from that security, not betraying her presence beforehand. He doubted she would actually shoot anyone until there were sufficient people gathered to pander to her ego. His visions had shown him a warped and sadistic mentality, and he only wished he could have known her ties to the ESUN before it was too late, and she had become close to Noin.

**Will you listen to me! God. I so hate it** … **people** … **ore me. You'll** … **self killed if** … **like this**.

Widened eyes looked about him in dread. The incessant whispers just kept coming, and it was harder to ignore the presence hovering.

//Okay, too much stress. It's just stress and it shows I am losing my edge, not to mention I am losing whatever grasp on reality I had after Epyon. Is this a result of the visions? Maybe voices out of visions I don't even recall having? I so do not need to lose it now.//

There was no time now to consider that possibility as an explanation for the phantom presence. There was only time to act on the events happening around him. Giles saving the three techs had to have changed events enough to make this a new development for him. He could not recall a vision where he had the opportunity to save lives at this point, and he was not intending to waste the chance.

A deep breath and a quick glimpse around the corner to determine how far away from the building these people were, and he almost recoiled. A man was walking backward, attention on others beyond his sight at this time, and Zechs instinctively reached out to grasp the collar of the man and drag him around the corner. He simply could not believe his luck. He knew this man, and he should have recognized the voice, but that was not of importance. With a startled yelp the man stiffened and spun, arms raised to strike only to find the blows blocked expertly and a flash of white blonde hair as his assailant backed away.

"Jesus! Frighten a body why don't you, Zechs? What the hell is happening? Have you heard from Barker? I've been trying to get in touch with him for instructions."

"Get yourself and who ever is with you here now!" A hiss. "They have set an ambush just around the corner of the Control Tower. There is a stack of crates behind me on the other side of this building. Get those people to that shelter quickly and quietly. I'll meet you there."

Christopher Connor, better known amid Preventers as Agent Cloud, arched an eyebrow in surprise at the hissed words, but reacted quickly. A brief nod was his only response to the whispered instructions, and he slipped back around the corner of the building, waving an arm to attract the attention of the three people who were running from the rear of the dome toward the elevator that burned with heavy black smoke billowing high and gathering in the dome.

He, like the other Preventers who had been assigned to Mars in the last two years, had been briefed by Barker to be wary of Preventer Wind. While they had been cautioned to mind themselves around him they had also been given explicit instructions to trust him in any emergency that should arise at the Base Dome. The seemingly contradictory instructions Barker had issued come directly from Preventer Earth who, Barker had claimed, was expecting serious trouble to break out.

Zechs glanced toward the Control Tower one last time and slipped back quietly to plant himself in what now seemed to be his own personal set of convenient crates. The presence that seemed to have become permanently attached to him, unfortunately moved with him, an annoying and not quite threatening sensation. One that unfortunately he seemed incapable of ignoring as the figment of his imagination he knew it had to be. If he was honest with himself, then he had to admit it almost felt like Noin constantly peering over his shoulder, making sure he did nothing to draw the attention of the guards placed on Mars to enforce the conditions of his imprisonment.

Noin had been a far more effective guard to his captivity than the agents the ESUN had placed here for that purpose. She had kept him in sight constantly, forcing him to delay his activities to guard against eventual ESUN activity on the planet. He had known even before the visions had begun again that eventually the agents would come for him, and he was actually surprised it had taken so long for them to come, but he had known it was inevitable. He believed her pregnancy had gained him some time, but whether that additional time was for good, or ill, in the overall outcome of things was unclear. The Wellington, which he had not seen in any of his visions until today, was out there and against that what could he realistically do?

**You need to make yourself scarce, Zechs. That bastard is gunning for you personally** … **where he is now. Might** … **caught in the explosion of the** … **went down to the sub base** …

//Noin? No. Imagination.// He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly in denial. He did not need to succumb to the confusion of his mental instability now. //God, this talk of Gifts and abilities is getting to me. Am I hearing possible visions, or am I just going insane? I must be more tired than I thought, and that just is not good right now. I have to hold out a little longer. Come on, Cloud. Get your ass here. I don't have all day.//

… **me? Shit. How** … **to make a** … **situation? Get** …

Whisperings, insistent, never ending, filling his mind, rolling over him, hovering about him. Always to doubt himself, even when he thought he might have made a breakthrough. Whispers that would not leave him alone and a presence, a 'something' that was like a ghost, an echo of past encounters with the woman who had loved him despite his insanity.

"Wind?"

He snapped around, glaring at the gap between crates and forced the shudder down. He was slipping, and he could not afford that. He must be going steadily insane and it did not surprise him in the least, but he could not afford for it to finally happen here and now. He had expected to be placed in a sanitarium long before this point in time, and for the key to his cell to be thrown away. Was it possible there was help for him out in the dark reaches of space? Could Giles be right and Station One truly be a new beginning for him? Could he learn to live with this god awful ability to see possibilities?

No time now to ponder maybes. No time now to lose his focus and do stupid things, like immerse himself in his own uncertainties. Lives hung in the balance, his own included and more importantly, the lives of babies and not just his own children. There were four babies on Mars at this time, and they had a right to live. Four babies and two women who were pregnant. Why should any of them suffer because he was on Mars and wanted by the ESUN?

//Not now, Marquise. Focus.// "Cloud. Who do you have with you?"

Connor slipped around the crate, motioning to the shadowed shapes behind him to wait, uncertain if Zechs would allow them close to him. He studied the man taking in the bruises and the fire that burned in ice blue eyes and sucked in a deep breath, understanding dawning. He had been briefed on Merquise by Barker upon his arrival on Mars, and during that briefing, and on a number of occasions since then, he had been told repeatedly to be wary of the man. For the first time since coming to Mars he understood the warnings he had been given. That burning chill in those blue pools promised the cold certainty of death. At this moment Merquise looked more than merely dangerous. The intensity in his eyes promised all the wild rumors about the man held more than simply a grain of truth to them.

"Four men. None military trained. Techs for the most part who were in the main warehouse. The computer systems there are down and so is the intercom. I can't get through to Barker, and only gibberish comes over the radio." He kept the report brief and concise. He did not think the man was inclined to chit chat.

"Most of the computer systems are down, except for the life support computers at this time. At least they had the sense to leave those alone, though the fumes from the fire will have an effect. We have infiltrators in the dome. Sleeper agents for the ESUN, and an infiltration team who came in on the supply shuttle. They are on a killing purge at the moment to cover the operation, and you were about to walk into one of their ambushes. I'm not sure how many people are dead as yet, but I am inclined to think upwards of fifty, considering the lack of response to that fire. It is very likely that there are considerably more dead."

"That explosion we heard …?"

"The Sleepers blew the elevators, or set the charges to blow if the elevators were used. I am expecting them to get around to blowing the freight elevators next to control the amount of people in the dome. They will move on to the sub base when they have full control of the situation here. If we are lucky they will regroup when they don't catch anyone from this little drama and go elsewhere to play."

Cloud thought Merquise did not sound too hopeful of that possibility and he sighed. He had had a feeling when he crawled out of bed this morning that it would not be a good day. He wished he had been wrong. "What do you want me to do?"

"We need to do what we can for those out of the base at this time. The maintenance teams will be due to return soon, and I believe the airlocks have been rigged with a poisonous gas. They want no witnesses."

Connor's eyes widened at the implications suggested and he swore softly, while behind him he could hear the techs whispering about what they had overheard and the repeated reference to ESUN agents. He could not blame them for having a hard time believing their lives were on the line, but one or two references to the man standing in front of him did lift his eyebrows. Trust was in short supply where it came to Zechs Merquise. He noted Merquise look at the shadowed forms behind him and the brief glint in the blue eyes told him the man had heard those whispers, and he braced for an explosion.

"Get your techs to the maintenance building for the enviro suits. There are survivors there, and it is one of the safer places to be at this time. They can lock themselves in and sit tight until this mess is cleaned up and talk the subject to death for all I care. I have enough troubles to deal with as it is without being considered a nut case. If they doubt I'm sane they can wander on over to the elevators and get their bodies aerated by Shanna McIntyre who is waiting for them. They can help clean up and do the body count when it is all over. Hurry up. We have business to attend to."

That was one very unhappy man, Cloud noted as Merquise spun and slipped through the crates, a silent, pale ghost with an air of resignation about him. He became aware of the silence from the techs waiting behind him who had heard every word and the constraints of time if they were indeed in a deadly situation. With a sigh he turned to the small group of men and inclined his head in the general direction they would be required to go, where Merquise had already vanished.

"Move it, people. Agent Wind is not an alarmist by nature, and he has considerably more experience than all of us combined. Yes, Agent Wind. He is a Preventer. I believe the enviro suit building is that way. Keep low and keep your eyes open. Look before you cross open space, and be quick and be quiet. There will be time enough to consider the implications later."

"He looks like shit."

Eyes widened in surprise he snorted softly and shook his head, glaring at the speaker before moving to follow Zechs. "Well, what did you expect? If there is trouble you can always expect to find certain people in the thick of it, not afraid of the fighting that needs to be done. Zechs has never run from a fight in his life."

000000000000000000000000000000000

Noin

Noin glared daggers at the offending tech who had dared to pass a comment on the bruised and battered condition of Zechs Merquise.

//How dare you! Looks like shit indeed. I've never known him to look anything other than perfect, as warranted by the situation. Do they expect to see a body perfectly immaculate after fighting for their life? Of all the idiocy. You can tell these people have no idea of what it takes to survive a battle of this nature or magnitude. //

Anxiously her eyes turned to follow the blonde and her concern mounted as she willed herself to approach him. He paused at the edge of the crates, surveying the open ground with less than trusting eyes. He was looking behind him at the approaching techs and Preventer agent, and then slipped from the crates, leading them toward the building and the nest of crates near its corner, obviously not intending to run straight for the door.

//Mind you, he has looked better, I will admit that, but considering what I went through with these people, he's probably felt better too. He is not moving as fluidly as I have known him to in the past, and he has two ties in his hair. That means he's turned hunter. Not good for who ever it is he is, or was, hunting. He's tired and I think he's sore. Damn. That bastard wants to fight him, one on one, and if he proposes such a challenge then Zechs will feel honor bound to accept I don't think he's up to that type of fight just now. Not with a professional killer.//

She stood in the open, hesitating, watching as the techs crossed the distance between the stacked crates one at the time, Preventer Cloud bringing up the rear.

//What happened? I was sure there that you could hear me, Zechs, but something changed. I was getting through to you, I think, but it's like there is a wall between us now, and it happened just before they came. I … I am sure I felt some kind of barrier come between us. I need to warn you about the men going down into the sub base, but I will just have to try again later I suppose. If you are going to the enviro suit building then I think I can afford to do a little snooping around. You'll have to get them settled in and that gives me time to check on those agents from the Shuttle Control Tower.//

With the last of the group now in the nest of crates, Noin turned and willed herself to walk toward the Main Control Tower, intent on locating a certain body she truly desired to meet in the flesh.

//Where is that bitch? He said he expected her to be over by the control tower, but I can't see her. She must be in amongst the crates. Behind this one? No. Oh, damn. Think, Lucrezia. Why am I walking around these things? I can just stroll on through them and I need to get used to being able to do that.//

She avoided the urge to shudder as she pushed herself through a crate, noting the contents in an absent aside, and stepped out the other side. A second and third followed in quick succession.

//Ah. There you are, and not looking too happy either. Awe, poor Shanna. Has no one been caught in your little trap, hmm? Poor baby. Tough luck, Shanna dearest. You are mine, and I will deal with you very soon now. Just as soon as I figure out a way to get my not so solid hands on you, and rip you limb from limb.//

Experimenting she threw a punch at the red head crouched in a gap between crates that afforded her a view of the smoking elevators and, as expected, her hand swept right through the woman's face.

//It's not fair. You should have a bleeding lip from that one, and if I was really lucky a couple of broken teeth. This is wasting time. Zechs is not likely to linger long with those fools if people outside of the dome are in trouble, and I have to find the other two. I can't even let him know it's already too late for them. They blew the wiring for the airlocks. There is nothing he can do to help them. I only wish there was something we could do to make a difference. They were heading for the elevators, so I can start there I suppose. It's eerie to know I can walk in plain sight and no one can see me. Weird. I just wish I could communicate with people.//

With a disgusted grunt to herself she left McIntyre in her nook and walked through the gap, inclining toward the elevators. Someone was moving over there, and she needed to check out who it was.

//I was sure Zechs heard me earlier. Damn it all. What a bloody mess this has become. Ah, God, look at this. Murder. It is cold blooded murder. Cold, calculated killing. I'm glad I can't smell or breathe in the fumes this thing is letting off. Oh, wonderful. That will not be a quick fix. The elevator cab has gone straight to the bottom on that one … this one too. The cables were snapped by the blast. Ah, shit. Three … four … five bodies. I can't even feel the heat of the fire. I don't know who they were. Their bodies are not even recognizable anymore.//

She moved around the smoldering wreckage and froze, watching as the two men stalked closer, hands on weapons, moving quickly and silently, each covering the other, each just out of arms reach to afford room to move quickly should it be needed.

//Shit. What a pity you were not in one of the cabs when it blew. It would have been fitting if you had been caught in the blast. Still, you are professional enough to check the cabs out before getting in, I suppose. You would not have been stupid enough to trust anything with Her running around loose. You don't look very happy about this. Can't say I blame you for that. I certainly am not happy about it after all, but for different reasons, of course. Off again, are you? Yes, well there is nothing else to see here, is there? Just the mangled remains of the elevators, and the burned corpses of innocent people. Nothing that would interest you I am sure. No one will be using these elevators for weeks from what I can see of the damage. At least the foam seems to be holding the fire. If I remember rightly the shafts would be spraying foam to make certain the fire does not spread to the sub base. I had best check on that. If I can walk through solid objects, I should be able to push my head through …//

She watched as Simpson and Frazier slipped away from the burning ruin, going behind the elevators and heading for the rear of HD three. With a silent snarl she knelt and thrust her head through the burning wall of one cab, and then down through what was left of the floor into the shaft.

//Oh, God. That is disturbing. I can't even feel it. I feel no sensation at all that there is anything there. I might as well be pushing my head through air. Well, at least the shafts are not on fire, just this end of things. I think the foam will be able to extinguish the fire without any outside help. I hope so. Shanna will not wait forever for anyone to wander into her trap. She will take herself off to cause more trouble elsewhere. I had better watch her for a couple of minutes. I don't think she has much patience.//

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Giles

"ESUN? You never said anything about there being ESUN agents here. You said infiltrators were attacking the base. Raiders."

"I never once implied that Raiders were attacking this base. Do not put words in my mouth. We do not have the time to argue, so get this simple truth through your thick head. If you go out there you chance getting shot or knifed very quickly, very quietly and very efficiently. They have an inordinate fondness for killing with knives, I have learned. Most of the bodies I found had knife wounds and they tend to kill from behind. Most of their victims probably did not even know they were dead." Giles practically snarled, infuriated.

Zechs stirred, moving to the door, noting how all of the techs were backing away from the Raider agent. He certainly looked ready to deck the man who backed a couple of steps quickly, clearly uncertain if a punch was going to be heading his way any second. He glanced out of the view window and then looked down at the small device in his hand, seemingly unconcerned with the tension in the small room.

"Giles. We don't have the time for this. You come with me and Cloud, would any of your techs have any experience with the systems at the air lock controls? Would you trust one of them enough to take him with you, and see what you can do with the systems there? We are running out of time."

Giles glared silent threats at the techs, who had been nodding and silently agreeing with the Patrice agent, before moving closer to Zechs as Cloud considered the men gathered there, before he motioned to one of the quieter techs. The chosen man's eyes widened and he glanced quickly at his compatriots, but he did move over to Cloud, clearly uncertain if he should be pleased or not at having the distinction of being singled out. The Preventer Agent snorted softly and shook his head, turning back to Zechs. He had to make do with what was available, and this was the best choice open to him.

"We will do what we can at the airlock control station to get our people back into the dome. What will you be doing?"

"Hunting." Zechs glanced up from the pager cupped in one hand. "If anyone is interested, these were taken off of the Sleepers we met just outside this building. The two who were to kill anyone who came to investigate the explosion from this side of the control tower."

He passed the pagers to Cloud who read each quickly, shook his head and passed them around the techs. The silence became oppressive very quickly, and more than one head craned to peer out of the window anxiously.

_Meet main elevator block. Bring explosives. Eliminate all witnesses. _

_/Gather forces. Control tower cleaned. Disregard Simpson's orders. S_.

"S?" Kristy queried, passing the pager to the next man.

"Most likely Shanna McIntyre. She seems to be their controller." Zechs shrugged. "The units have a memory. Go back through the entries while Cloud is gone, and see what you can learn. There might be something of interest that we can use. Be careful not to wipe the memory, as we will need them for use as evidence when this is all over."

//Not that I think we will get the opportunity to use them// Giles mused. // Still, you never know your luck in the big city. We might get a chance to turn this on those bastards in power. Stranger things have happened.//

Cloud glanced between the blonde and the smaller man, who moved to join him by the door, noting how the Preventer agent seemed trusting enough to allow him within his personal space, a thing Cloud could not recall Zechs doing before. There was also the matter that Zechs had largely stayed silent during their time within the building, allowing this Haydon Giles to do most of the talking. Zechs caught his eye, noting his curiosity and no small amount of concern.

"Giles is ex Special Forces, Cloud. He's the one most suited to the hunt we are on. You do what you can for those trapped outside the dome, and then you keep these people alive. We will report to you when we can."

A high pitched beeping echoed through the room and all eyes were attracted to the pale blue light flashing from the pagers. As they watched a new message scrolled across the tiny screen resting in the hands of a tech. He gasped and looked up, reading aloud the message.

_Report. Simpson Frazier heading for freight elevator. Do not blow charges. Recall. Gather area three. S_

Zechs stirred, reaching for the electronic keypad beside the door to release the engaged lock. "Cloud, get to the airlock controls as quick as you can. Giles. Time to hunt."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	80. Chapter 80

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 80

Preventer Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty

Date 2nd March AC 198

Time: 03:30 [ 00: 15 Approx Sanc Time

Duo

++ "I never knew my dad. He went away just after I was born. He never came back."

The short chestnut brown curls of the boy flipped wildly in the wind, blown about the heart shaped face and blue-violet eyes looked off into the distance.

"I'm sure he did not mean to leave you. I am certain he wanted to come back. No dad could just forget a fine boy like you. You'd be the pride of him."

The boy, no more than seven, or maybe eight years of age, shook his head, a tear glinting on his cheek. "No. My dad went away and he never came back. He didn't love me. Mum says he wasn't around long enough to get to know me, let alone love me."

"She is wrong." A whisper. "So wrong. Just to look at you is to love you."

"Don't you bad mouth my mum! She looked after me. She loved me. She was always there when I needed her to be. No one else was there, just mum. No one was ever there when I needed someone. You don't bad mouth my mum. I can trust her to be there for me."

"I'll be there for you."

"You never were before. Why should I want you to be there now?" ++

00000000000000000000000

Duo tossed his head, scowling in his sleep. A small, whimpered protest escaped him, and to his restless tossing the suspended bag tugged against its restraints, responding to the absence of gravity and the smallest of movements.

"I'll be there for you."

00000000000000000000000

++ "Hello."

Intense blue eyes glared at him before dropping to the stunning view of the harbor. It was a spectacular vantage point they had found, and he could not blame the man for wishing to ignore him in favor of the view. The sea glistened a rich blue, so much darker than the arch of sky above. The odd cloud drifted across that pale blue expanse, much as the fishing boat in the harbor drifted on the water.

"I know you." He admired the long, pale fall of hair and the fine boned, aristocratic beauty. So few men could carry off that level of beauty without looking feminine.

"No. You do not." Quiet denial in a deep toned voice, husky and low. The crystal blue eyes remained centered on the sea.

"Oh yes, I do know you. You're Milliardo Peacecraft. The Prince of Sanc."

The wide vista continued to hold his glacial gaze. The man refused to look at the watcher, refusing to acknowledge the annoying voice that threatened to take away this small measure of pleasure he had found. He denied that even this small glimpse of Sanc was to be taken from him.

"Do you prefer Zechs, then?" He leaned forward slightly, to make certain the man could not avoid seeing him, intruding on his line of sight and refusing to be dismissed.

"I prefer to be alone." The deep voice was barely above a whisper. "I prefer to watch the view. I prefer to be free of names."

Now that struck him as odd. Why ever should a man as stunningly beautiful as this one prefer to be alone? Striking man to look at, he admitted, admiring the long silken fall of hair. So deliciously tall too, with those long, long legs that seemed to go on forever. Somehow it seemed to make him seem larger than life. The eyes were intense and still remained focused solely on the roll of the oceans waves.

"Why?" He did not like that he was ignored. Well, he admitted, not exactly ignored. At least he was being answered, but he wanted those beautiful eyes to rest on him, not the never ending cycle of the waves.

"Because I do not know who I am." ++

000000000000000000000000000

Duo rolled, the bag tugging against its anchor point, tying him in place, moving with every twitch of his body. He sighed, his scowl drifting away as he settled, working his way deeper into the bag, his feet pressing to the bottom seam.

0000000000000000000000000

++ "Where were you? Dear God, where were you when we needed you?"

He reached out toward her and she held a hand up, stopping him more with the coldness in her blue eyes than the actual gesture.

"Hilde …"

"Where were you when he cried at night with an ear ache? Where were you when he needed to be held after he fell and broke his leg in that crazy stunt they pulled? Where were you when we needed you, Duo? Where were you? I'll tell you where. You were gallivanting around the cosmos playing Mr. Indispensable Preventer Agent. I have to save the world! That's all you ever thought of."

"Hilde. Please. Just listen to me."

"Why should I? Was being a street rat from L2 so unthinkable? Were you so ashamed of your past that you had to forget your roots? And everyone associated with your roots." She glared at him, tears running over pale cheeks, her pain clearly shown in her eyes. "You pulled your life around, but you could not live that life, could you, Duo? That just was not enough for you. Peace was not good enough for you. You had to go back to looking for the blood. You had to look for one more adrenaline high. Always just one more assignment. Living the quiet life of a family man just was not good enough for you, was it? Well, now he's dead and you come back to L2, Mr. High and Mighty, and you stand there and have the audacity to blame me for his death! Get out! Get out! I never want to see you again. Never show your face on L2 again, you bastard."

"No! No, Hilde. I … I don't blame you. I …"

"I may run and hide but I never tell a lie, isn't that what you have always said? Well you lie, Duo. You bloody do lie. Run away and hide like you always do, and leave those of us strong enough to face reality to get on with their lives. Aidan paid the price for your lifestyle. It's your fault he's dead, not mine. Get out of my life, you bastard." ++

000000000000000000000000000

"No. No, Hilde. No. Can't … No."

He thrashed in the bag, wildly throwing himself against the restraints offered by the bags design. His arms were trapped in the fabric and he sobbed, denying that it was true. After a time his thrashing eased and he lay panting, curled against intrusion as much as the bags restraints offered. He wanted to be safe and he wanted to be at peace.

"Aidan . Daddy's here." The breath of a whisper in the dark cabin. "Go to sleep, baby. Daddy's here now."

00000000000000000000000000

++ "Why do you watch the ocean?"

A heavy sigh answered and blue eyes flicked to him then, as expected, turned back to the ceaseless roll of the waves. "It is rhythm, never ending. Ceaseless. Indefatigable. You can not beat the ocean. It is too vast. Too uncontrollable. It does not care what goes on around it. It simply goes on, forever. It does not care what others see within it. It simply is."

"Right." //Weird, this one. Still, at least he looked at me this time. That's progress.// "Ahm, aren't you standing a little close to that edge?"

"One can never get too close to the ocean. It is a force that draws you to it. Can you not feel the power of it? Commanding. Enchanting. Mesmerizing."

He did not like it that the man edged closer to the lip of the cliff. It was a great place to stand to admire the view, but it was a high cliff and the wind was picking up. While heights had never bothered him before, for some reason this one did.

"I really think you're a little too close to the edge of the cliff, Milliardo. I think you should step back a little."

"Milliardo? Who is Milliardo? Who is that, do you think?" The softest breath of a whisper, almost drowned by the wind rising about them. "In the sea there is no identity. It washes away identity. There is freedom in the ocean. Only freedom."

For some reason fear struck him and he edged closer to the man, refusing to look at the ocean now, concentrating on the man instead. "Damn it, man, you're likely to fall if you don't back off a bit."

"Fall? Oh, yes. It would be a long fall, but it would be a welcome one, I think. I could fall into a peace and a freedom that no one can ever take away. Who needs names anyway? They are really useless things. They imprison you with their bindings, holding you within the bonds they cast about you. Names. We need to be more than prisoners to this life, you see. We need more than an illusion of freedom. We need to be truly free, and the ocean is free. The ocean is bound by no man and no name. It simply is."

"Hey, come on, you're beginning to frighten me. Stop talking this way. Look, I'll call you Zechs if you like. You prefer Zechs, right? I'll call you anything you want, if you will just come away from the edge."

"Milliardo, Zechs, it's all the same. False names. Names are chains that bind and constrict us to limits defined by the names we are given. We are tied to the life that the names bind us to. I am so tired of being bound by my name. The ocean is freedom one can lose oneself in. It is a freedom that no man can take away."

He stared at the man, the crystal eyes gazing down, down into the ocean depths. A long drop from where they stood to where the great waves crashed against the cliff wall, silver spray rising high into the air. Sunlight sparkling on the blue fields of waves that ceaselessly rolled into the cliff.

"You've got a lot to live for."

"They killed my children. What is there to live for after that?"

He grasped desperately at flying silver hair, fingers snagging in silken lengths, screaming denial as the hair defied his grasp, slipping through his fingers and the ocean rose to swallow her prize. ++

000000000000000000000000000000000000

He groaned, thrashing in the bag, reaching desperately for a grip on phantom hair, hands trapped by the enfolding cloth.

"No! No, you can't just kill yourself. Who killed your kids? Why kill your kids!"

0000000000000000000000000000000000000

++ "Sshh. Don't think. It's alright not to think sometimes. There are times when you just have to allow yourself to feel."

The warmth against his body was enchanting, pressed close to his solidity. He tasted warm skin on his tongue, savoring the taste, marking it as salty, savory and yet enchantingly sweet, in all, remarkable. The air around them was scented somewhere between lilac and lavender, with perhaps just a hint of Rosemary to tantalize, and the combination of all three combined with the personal scent he had come to know so well, fired him to new heights of desire.

"Feel. Just feel, nothing more. That is all you have to do. Leave everything else to me. This is our time. Our time, when we answer to nobody but ourselves. Can't you feel the air? It demands this."

His hand pressed to a pebbled nipple, rolling gently the sensitive flesh between his fingers, even as he buried his head against a sweat slick neck and he scraped his teeth over golden tinted skin. He savored the scent of him, and the warmth of him, and the beauty of the garden paled in comparison to him. He was all silver and white in the gold of the garden, and it was all so enchantingly Now.

His chestnut hair enfolded them in a sweetly scented tent, the scent of his shampoo blending with the garden scents, firing his blood with need, stoking the moment. "Don't fight me. Go with it. You taste so wonderful …"

"Why would I fight you? I want this too." ++

00000000000000000000000000000000000000

" … Maxwell to the bridge. Agent Maxwell is required on the bridge."

He groaned, reaching blindly for the touch and taste that promised something more, groaning in protest to the restriction of movement. Something that he sought and had never found, despite his every attempt to capture it was there, before him. It was elusive, and always just beyond his reach until now, and he could not allow it to fade away.

"Mr. Maxwell is required on the bridge."

It was there, just beyond the tip of his fingers. He could name it if he could just touch it, and he had never come so close before.

"Agent Maxwell is required on the bridge."

"What? Go 'way. Wanna sleep."

"Agent Maxwell, this is the automated paging system. You are required on the bridge, Sir."

"Ah, God. Shit. Don't go." He scrubbed at his face with his hands, losing ground rapidly on that elusive something that was, as always, gone before he reached it.

The dream slipped into vagueness, eluding him though he reached for it with growing desperation. He was striving to rise above the annoying noise, and to concentrate on the heat that had settled so pleasantly into his groin. There lay the key to the one who was running from that annoying noise, fleeing from the reality that never left him in peace. The shouting resolved itself into a mechanical toned voice and he shuddered, trying to make sense of the thundering noise over his head.

"Agent Maxwell, you are required on the bridge, ASAP. Acknowledge, Mr. Maxwell."

"Shut up. Just shut up, already. I'm awake and I thank god for that small mercy. I think. Shit. It's dark. I need some light." He peered into the darkness around him, lost in unfamiliar sensations.

He felt trapped, confined by whatever it was that enfolded him. A light began to glow somewhere beyond what ever it was that held him captive, and by that dim glow he recognized the small blank room that was his new home.

"Jesus. The Bounty. Yeah, I remember. The Bounty."

"Please acknowledge the page, Agent Maxwell. You are required on the Bridge."

"Yes, yes, shut up. I heard you."

//Dreaming? God, was I dreaming?//

"Mr. Maxwell, you are required on the bridge. Please acknowledge the automatic page. The Captain has requested you meet him there."

The voice was endlessly patient and getting damn annoying. //Shut up, damn you! I'm awake. Where is the bloody intercom? Oh, yeah, in that desk thingy. What time is it anyway? I hate this glorified bag! I can't move.//

"Mr. Maxwell is required on the bridge. Please acknowledge."

Had there been such a thing as gravity Duo would undoubtedly have been unceremoniously dumped on the floor by the vagaries of the sleeping bag. Still half asleep, fighting the cloying grasp of the bag, he managed to extricate himself from his imprisonment and pushed himself in the general direction of the desk area. He fumbled around, rubbing his eyes and found the required button, stabbing viciously at the device when he realized which it was.

"Mr. Maxwell is …"

"Alright, already. I heard."

"Acknowledgement will now be logged with the bridge crew, Mr. Maxwell. The Captain will be notified of your compliance. Thank you."

"Bloody computers." Duo cursed, closing the desk back into its wall slot and glancing at the clock on the wall, lifting an eyebrow when he realized he had been asleep for little more than two hours. "Shit. 03:40. What do they want me for?"

Awake now, he realized he ached in every bone and muscle of his body. It had been a long time since he had experienced prolonged high acceleration, and he had forgotten just how the body reacted to the pressures and strain. Two burns had been completed since he had joined the Bounty, and the third was scheduled to take place in another two hours. Before that time he would need to be back in his bunk and hope he could get some sleep after it.

It would take him some days to get over the discomfort that felt as though his body was bruised by the g-forces involved. From what he knew of long range space flight they would be experiencing short acceleration burns over the course of at least seven days, to attain optimum speed to keep the rendezvous that was their logged destination. Missing even one of those acceleration burns was not a desirable outcome. In space you had to be careful to keep to the projected trajectory and required speeds to reach key points in your course. A ship could carry only so much fuel, and if you made a mistake it would likely be your last.

"Well, I am not marching through this ship in my underwear that is for certain. God, what the hell was I dreaming about anyway? I feel like I have run a marathon, and why the hell do I have a hard on?" He considered his groin for a long moment and then winced. "No, I don't think I want to know."

While he dressed Duo considered the dreams that had disturbed him. He knew he had dreamed, but exactly what it was had stirred him was another matter. He had the impression Hilde and Aidan had featured in those dreams, but overall the impression was that he had not been enjoying said dreams at all, yet he had woken sexually aroused.

He was haunted by the impression of death hovering over him for much of the dream, and while he was no stranger to death, he was deeply disturbed by the thoughts of Death, Hilde and Aidan in the same dream. This was peace time. Death should not threaten either of them. Certain parts of the dream had obviously appealed to his baser nature, but all he could recall of the more pleasurable aspect of his dream was the impression of a star filled night and a body warm against his own.

//Damn. It has been way too long since I had some relief. Hadn't realized I wanted it until now. No one really struck my fancy enough to give me a problem before, I guess. Neither the time nor the place for it here, that's for sure. I wonder why they want me on the bridge?//

Struggling into his boots without bouncing off the walls was a joy, but he knew it would only take him a few days to become accustomed to the intricacies of dressing in zero g. He certainly wanted the benefits of magnetic soled boots, and was not inclined to use the soft slippers that were an option for those who were well accustomed to the weightless condition. In a week he would not think anything of dressing quickly in these conditions, but for now he endured bounding around the room, staring at the floor from the ceiling and promised himself next time not to be so energetic about pulling up his pants. With the final boot on and his unused gear returned to the cupboards, just in case he returned to the cabin close to the scheduled acceleration burn, he slipped out of his cabin, located the blue line that denoted the command deck and followed it.

//At least they never sent the ensign to fetch me. Some of us deserve sleep.//

The command deck was two levels above the crew quarters, and the bridge was quiet when he entered. Glancing quickly around he saw the Captain stood near the Communications Officer and both glanced up as he entered, the former signaling him to join them.

"Mr. Maxwell, sorry to have to call you, but we have received communications from Preventer Headquarters. The alert was designated for all field agents above level three, and the Command Crews of all Preventer Ships."

"Something big must have happened then." He was tired, but the journey through the Bounty had woken him fully and he was alert now. Alert and concerned about what could have happened to warrant such a high level alert be issued.

"Yes, a number of events have occurred that have ensured some of us do not get the benefits of a decent night's sleep. We have been monitoring the airwaves as the situation developed, but until this alert came in I did not feel the need to disturb you. There are a number of events that are of concern to us. First you should know that Preventer Earth was informed that a terrorist faction have targeted a number of councilors, from both the Colonial Council and the Earth Council of Representatives. The death list included Lady Une and Relena Darlian, the Vice Foreign Minister, as well as the representative of L3, who was in Sanc for a fund raising gala. The representative from L3 has already survived one assassination attempt, and a short time ago someone attacked both Lady Une's home and the Sanc Palace. Both media reports and the current Preventer logs say there were minor injuries reported, but no deaths thus far."

"Any word on Relena?"

Duo quashed the flare of panic, bundling it up and pushing it to a corner of his mind. He had to concentrate, and he needed to be alert at this time. He had a sudden wish to be back on the Earth and amid the thick of things, but he was well aware Relena was in the care of Heero Yuy. He really could not see anyone getting through the pilot of Wing Zero to so much as muss a hair on her head, but he knew the vagaries of fate.

"You know the Vice Foreign Minister?" The Captain queried, looking surprised at the tone of familiarity that came through in Duo's voice.

"Yeah. I have been on her security team on a number of occasions in the last year. I know her fairly well."

"Well, I believe the Vice Foreign Minister was removed from the Palace a few minutes prior to the attack taking place. Investigations are underway, of course and Preventer Earth will keep us advised as needed. The second matter is of more concern to us however. Play the mayday, Cathryn."

Duo watched in silence as the mayday received from Mars was played back. He shook his head slowly, feeling his gut clench as he watched the woman with flaming red hair. He took note of every mark on her, and his eyes narrowed as the Captain motioned to the Com Officer to freeze the picture as the message started to repeat again.

//Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. Damn, that means big trouble on Mars, and probably on Earth too. Would Romefeller be stupid enough to panic and bomb Une and Relena? But why the L3 representative? What part would he be playing in this? No way is Raiders attacking Mars. Way too convenient for them to hit Mars at just this particular time. Well … yeah, I suppose it could be, but I have seen no flying pigs recently. That would have to be the failsafe for the infiltration team on Mars, which means the one making the call is either deluded as hell, or one of the agents they have on Mars. Odds are all in favor of her being an agent.//

The Captain straightened, stretching his cramped back muscles, feeling the effects of the acceleration burns already performed this day. "We are awaiting confirmation from Preventer Earth of a course correction to divert the Bounty to Mars to investigate the incident." The Captain met Duo's eyes with a scowl and a faint shrug. "We are, of course, not the closest ship of the Preventer fleet to Mars, nor are we going to be the first of the Preventer ships to reach the planet in response to that mayday. It will be three months before we can get there, and what use we could be is negligible. Any clues to the Raiders presence on the planet, and where they might move to after leaving there, will be long gone. Preventer Earth has ordered all ships within a month's flight of Mars to assume positions at strategic locations surrounding the Mars sphere, in hopes of catching the Raiders as they flee."

"So it will be an ESUN ship that reaches Mars first to investigate the incident." Duo sighed, seeing the trap immediately. "How long before they arrive?"

"We have tracked the nearest ESUN vessel to Mars. The Wellington is on course to Mars from the com chatter we have monitored, and her projected arrival in orbit over the planet is approximately thirty seven hours. With emphasis on the approximately, you understand. We are expecting her to boost her speed and adjust her course within the next hour."

"I see."

"Mr. Maxwell, could I see you in my Ready Room, please? This way."

The man was, as he had thought before, no fool. Duo followed him across the bridge to the small cabin where the Captain of the ship attended to his log and could catch some moments of privacy when the occasion allowed. It was a small room, functional as all parts of the ship were functional, with very little in the way of luxury, except for two comfortably padded chairs on either side of the small desk that was clear of any items.

//Battened down for the next acceleration burn// Duo decided, hardly surprised at the absence of any personal items in the room.

"Mr. Maxwell, have a seat please. Preventer Earth has sent me a private email that concerns you." The door snapped closed behind them, and the Captain motioned to the first of the chairs, himself moving to claim the seat behind the desk. "The email was addressed to me as Captain of the Bounty, and the message was both brief and cryptic. So, Mr. Maxwell, would you care to explain to me why Lady Une would have written me asking me to inform you of the events taking place on Earth at this time, and the Martian fiasco. I would also like an explanation for the message … and I quote, 'Willow bends to Wind. Scythe reaps its' quota."

Duo frowned, lowering his head and sucked in a deep breath. He understood the message only too well, and it confirmed his suspicions of what must be happening out there on that distant planet. First thing was first though, and he met the Captain's glare, his own eyes carefully shuttered to reveal nothing of his reaction to the message.

"Are you Agent Willow?" He murmured.

"My designated code name is Preventer Willow." The Captain confirmed. "We rarely use such names while onboard ship, of course. It is my understanding that your code name is Reaper, not Wind."

Duo shrugged, dismissing the prod for more information until he was ready to deal with it. "The message passed to you has been confirmed as being from Agent Earth?"

"The communications has been confirmed as originating from Preventer Earth."

"The message is permission for me to pass on certain classified information to you that has been known to only a select few individuals for some time now. Have you ever heard of Agent Wind?"

Brian Tracey nodded his head to confirm that, yes, he had indeed heard of Agent Wind. "Yes. Agent Wind was the pilot credited with holding Dekim Barton's forces during the attempted coup in AC 196. I can't say I have heard of him since that time though. He has been kept very low profile, and I assumed he was a Gundam Pilot."

Duo detected the question hinted at in the man's tone and nodded in agreement. "Yes. Yes, he certainly knew how to handle a Gundam, but no, he was not really a Gundam pilot, as in one of the five sent to defend the colonies from the Earth Alliance forces. Agent Wind was the sixth pilot, and he was not trained by the Mad Five, the men who trained us. Captain, at this time I need to remind you that you are not at liberty to divulge any of this information to your crew. Not even to your First Officer. This information is need to know only, and at this time, only you on this ship needs to know."

"That is understood, Mr. Maxwell. It goes no further than me."

"At this time Agent Wind is on Mars with a number of other Preventer Agents who, I hope, are resisting the efforts of these so called Raiders to wipe out the colony." Duo drew a deep breath and shrugged, seemingly careless in his posture, but he was far from careless. He watched the man intently, sensing only curiosity at this time. "Agent Wind's file states he was sent to Mars to establish a Preventer presence on the colony, along with Agent Fire, later to be joined by other agents as the colony increased in size. He was shadowed on the trip to Mars b, and later followed, more agents who are under direct control of the ESUN Council of Representatives Security Agency."

Tracey blinked, considering the serious young man who sat across from him, watching him with eyes somewhere between blue and violet. He almost felt as though those eyes were weighing him down, pinning him to his seat, and warning him that if he reacted the wrong way to the news, his life would be short. He was beginning to have an idea why the young man was code named Reaper.

"Why would he be shadowed to Mars? Oh, yes, of course. My apologies for not immediately getting the drift of this matter. A Gundam pilot. The Security Agency would wish to ensure he did not take any action that might threaten the new peace. Lady Une did informed me prior to this ship's departure that all of the Gundam pilots were kept under observation, and that I might be receiving a request for confirmation from the ESUN Security Agency that you were onboard the Bounty."

Duo flashed a grin, shrugging. "Yeah, you will be getting a call. There is an agreement with the Council that we are followed when we are not on assignment. With Wind it is a little more than just observation. The Raiders attacking Mars at this time are more likely to be ESUN infiltration agents, and the Security Agencies Sleeper agents. They would be steadily wiping out all witnesses to their presence on the planet. The Raiders would be just a cover operation for a mission gone bad. Their failsafe."

"Why would the ESUN feel it necessary to wipe out a colony, Mr. Maxwell?" The man was pale, but he was a seasoned veteran and he knew these tasteless tactics had been used on more than one occasion in the history of war. If you knew where to look history was dotted with scores of such cover operations. "This is not a time of war, Mr. Maxwell; it is a time of peace."

"Well, it is supposed to be, for most of the population of the Earth Sphere, at least. Captain, Agent Wind was sent to Mars to contain him to an isolated, controllable environment. He was to be contained on Mars indefinitely, as a measure of safety for the Earth Sphere by the instruction of the Vice Foreign Minister, and a representative body of the Council of Representatives. The decision was made in a closed session within a week of the end of the Barton Incursion. On the part of the Vice Foreign Minister, it was agreed to in an effort to keep Wind alive. Preventer Agent Wind, Captain Tracey, is also known as Prince Milliardo Peacecraft."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson


	81. Chapter 81

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 81

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time 20:55 [Approx 18:45 Sanc time

Barker

//I was honestly afraid we would not make it. That somehow, something would go wrong, and we would not get here. I was convinced that Murphy's Law was going to play with us. Still, we are not there yet.//

The cliff face dropped below the steadily rising suit, its craggy face becoming a deeper darkness in the shadow of the night fast falling over Mars. The Alpha Dome was lost in those shadows, only the brightest of its lights visible from this distance, the night having already come to the lower positioned domed city. The Base Dome was set high above Alpha, on a plateau that was in turn backed by massive cliffs not so far from the dome. It was those ancient cliffs so close to the dome that housed the caves which just might see their stranded maintenance teams survive the bitter Martian night.

If the teams were indeed stranded. That was supposition, not proven fact, and he did not know if he wished it to be false assumption or truth. It was a lot of wasted hours and manpower if they were wrong.

//If we are wrong about this then at least some of my faith in humanity will be restored.//

The sun was setting fast, even at this higher altitude, and it served to emphasize in a ruddy red glow, the form of the Base Dome. With the sunset bathing the dome he could not tell from his current position if the base still was under alert. It looked tranquil, resting there, the yellow brown of the cliff surface emphasizing the shape of the structure. Man made symmetry against the wild grandeur of the natural Martian feature.

//The colour of dried blood.// He mused, trying to stretch his shoulders without interfering with the precise movements of the suits pilot.

The cockpit of this machine had never been designed for two, and neither he nor his pilot, Daniel Carter, were small men. The pilot had the most room, of course, but even so he looked uncomfortable, seeming to try to fold himself smaller in the pilots seat to make a little more room for the passenger the suit was never meant to carry.

"I have a Leo on screen, Chief, at the shuttle bay extension. I think they have realized they have a problem. We should be within range of their radios about now."

He resisted the urge to move closer to the main screen for fear of jostling the pilot, or touching something vital to the stability of their flight. He was only too aware that the package suspended below them destabilized the suit, and if he should jostle or distract the pilot then he might well throw them from stabilized flight.

They had already survived one such incident shortly after take off from the Alpha Dome, when one of the other suits had almost crashed. The recovery of stability had brought profuse apologies from the cockpit of the Taurus, as the pilot and his passenger had begged apologies for the near disaster, both sounding their panic. He admitted to himself he had been terrified that recovery would not happen, and that the rescue was doomed before they could leave the precincts of Alpha.

He inched carefully forward, just enough to peer around the pilots arm, noting the screen that showed the Leo Mobile Suit that was moving around the shuttle bay hanger as his pilot ran expert hands over the control panel, and he tensed as an unfamiliar voice filtered through the speakers.

" … bay is not accessible. The exterior controls are not responding to my signals, and the manual release controls are non operational. Have you had any luck contacting the dome?"

"Negative. There has been no response to our hails. Are you sure you can't get the doors to the shuttle bay to open?" The voice sounded tired to the point of collapse, exhaustion making his voice deeper than was natural.

"Affirmative, Peter. I can't get the damn thing to acknowledge me."

"Return to the group, Jerry. We will just have to try something else."

"I don't know if it is of any help or not, but the emergency lights are still on. I don't know what the problem is in there, but if they don't sort it out soon we are going to start dying."

"I know. Return, Jerry. We'll … sort something out." There was a world's worth of exhaustion and worry in that voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, we will. Jerry out."

"Can you raise the suit pilot?" Barker queried. "Just the pilot for now, Daniel."

A moment for flying fingers to caress the controls and his pilot nodded an affirmative. "I have his signal isolated. You're patched through."

"Leo pilot, this is Preventer Eagle, Simon Barker. We are in the air above you in a Taurus suit carrying supplies to assist you through the night. You will make your way to the caves designated K23 on the local area survey maps. Repeat, make your way to the K23 caves with all haste."

A moment of stunned silence and he clearly heard a sharply exhaled breath. "Preventers? Jesus, man, you have had us worried. Thought we were on our own out here. Do you know why we are locked out of the dome? We have people on very low air we need to get into the dome A.S.A.P."

"There is no time for explanations just now, Leo Pilot. Make your way to the caves with all speed. We have work to do if any of us are to survive the night, and that includes your maintenance teams and my men in these suits. We have the supplies needed to survive the night, but we have little time to spare in setting things up."

"Acknowledge that, Preventer Eagle. The others are grouped around the airlocks trying to force the controls on the doors."

"We will contact them immediately, Leo Pilot. We need to get this equipment to the caves, and we need your Leo to assist in the unloading and placement of the supplies. Follow the directional beacon on this suit as an assist in locating K23."

The cluster of suits with their precious if ungainly package passed directly over the bulk of the dome, and Barker could not tear his eyes from the red glow that emanated from the structure. The sun was down now and the night clearly showed the pulsing red glow of the emergency lights. He could not see within the dome beyond that eerie glow, but he had always had a vivid imagination, and he could imagine what must be going on in there if the lock out of the maintenance teams had already occurred.

//Well, it looks as though we will be spending a very cold and uncomfortable night in the caves. I will need to get these people settled in and onto fresh tanks as quickly as possible, and then I'll try to gain entry to the dome. Damn it all to hell and back! I was hoping to get into the dome before the lockdown stranded everyone. I wanted to be wrong about what was going down up here.//

"Contact the other pilots. Activate the locator beacons for the enviro suits to lock onto. We can't afford for people to get lost down there. We go directly to the cave site and land this package as carefully as possible. Keep it as smooth as you can."

Close formation flying was required to transport the package safely, and the pilots were all tense and keyed for disaster to happen. That earlier episode had ensured everyone in the suits traveled with their hearts lodged somewhere in the vicinity of their throats. Too many things could go wrong with this rescue mission, and if the worst did happen, there was no one left to rescue them. That it was now officially a rescue mission did not ease his mind in the least, as it served only to increase his tension.

"Bring up a general broadcast over enviro suit frequencies."

"You are on the air, Sir."

"Preventer Eagle to maintenance teams. Explanations can wait until later, but for now you are required to make all haste to the caves designated as K23 on the local survey maps. Activate suit locators and follow the beacon on the Taurus suits now passing above you, to the cave we are setting up for shelter. We are engaged in transporting sufficient supplies to last the full night. Supervisors please acknowledge your understanding of this instruction."

"Preventer Eagle? Simon, is that you?"

That was a voice he recognized only too well. Cherry Peters was a Solar Technician and designated Supervisor for maintenance Team Five. "Make all haste, Cherry. We have to get these people undercover before the temperature falls below safety tolerance levels for the enviro suits."

"Preventer Eagle, this is Peter Sanderson, Supervisor for Team Three. We have people down here who do not have sufficient oxygen to make the trek to the caves."

//Great. I knew that some of them would likely be running low, but I had hoped they would have enough to manage. What am I supposed to do about this? We are here, where we need to be, but if we set down this package before we reach the caves we are not likely to get it up into the air again. It is just too unwieldy for us to stop to pick up hitchhikers. They are not going to like it, but they are going to have to accept losses.//

"Suggestion, Sir." The Taurus pilot stirred, cutting the connection and glancing down at him, fingers hovering over the radio controls.

"At this point I am willing to try just about anything, Daniel. What is it?"

The pilot nodded and depressed the radio control, opening the link to all the enviro suits again. "Have those people with insufficient oxygen to make the hike hitch a ride on the mobile suits. Their oxygen supply will last longer if they are not exerting themselves. The big suits should be able to handle a fair number of people, and I am certain they can effect a means to hang on. Keep clear of the moveable joints, and any one who falls behind will need to be left behind."

"You can't think to leave people …"

"Cherry, in case you have not noticed it there is a problem in the base dome." Barker broke into the protest. "A very serious problem. You and your people are not going to be getting in the Dome tonight, certainly not in time to save those of your team on low oxygen. Unpalatable as it may seem, some tough decisions have to be made, and I am afraid that they have to be understood by everyone. Anyone who can not make it to the caves is as good as dead. If you have any spare oxygen then give it to your team members who are low, otherwise get them on the mobile suits. That is the very best we are going to be able to do for you. Get your people to the caves. By the time you arrive we should have enough oxygen unpacked and be ready to exchange cylinders. When you are settled and as comfortable as any of us are going to be, then we can explain what is going on in the dome. Barker out." He motioned to the pilot with a quick cutting motion and sighed as the radio died. "Why do they always have to argue?"

He could not deal with any more questions from them. They would waste oxygen on asking questions and protesting the cold reality of their situation, which for some of their number was simply hopeless.

"Some of them are not going to make it." Daniel murmured. He was ex-Alliance, a Mobile Suit pilot who had survived the war by being on assignment to an exploration team to Mars to site the Base Dome. "They may find it hard to deal with, but it is the simple truth of the matter."

"I know. I know it only too well, but there is nothing that we can do for them at this time. We have to save as many as we can, and that means getting set up at the caves as quickly as possible to change tanks and heat the cave. We have estimated that we will lose somewhere between fifteen and forty over the length of the night. Most of the losses will be from the trek to the caves, but there is nothing I can do about it. It is what we laughingly designate as 'acceptable losses' when weighed against the final figures."

The pilot nodded his understanding and sighed, then swore, adjusting the trim on the suit as an alarm beeped. "Close. About ten minutes to the target area, Sir. I'm glad I was never placed in a command position."

Barker stared gloomily down at the mass of bobbing lights moving in the growing dark, reflecting that he could wish he had never been chosen for command position, and in the next breath dismissing the very idea. The truth was that he trusted himself more than he trusted most other people with his life. He placed his trust in his training, in his will to survive, and in his desire to have as many survive under his command as possible. He much preferred to be the commander of a small group of men and women than be placed in charge of hundreds of lives. He wished that it had not been he that had been chosen as the best suited for this assignment to Mars. There would have been others in contention for the post, so why had Preventer Earth chosen him?

//I was never suited to be just a follower. A grunt. I hate this. I hate having the responsibility of making the live or die decisions for a large number of people. Look at it this way, Simon, other than Merquise who is a bordering nutcase, brilliant but unstable, who would you place in charge? Face it. You are here and here you stay.//

He was a survivor. He had survived a number of hazardous missions, and Preventer Earth had never been a fool, so he must place his trust in her faith in him.

00000000000000000000000000000000000

Time 21:10 [Approx 19:00 Sanc time

//I hate knowing those people who are walking here are going to be dropping like flies before they make it. All the training in the world does not soften what must be done to ensure that some of them survive. This day and the decision I have had to make will live with me until the day I die, however long that might be. Possibly not long. It took us longer to get out here than we estimated, and there is nothing that I can do about it. To fly any faster would have been to have chanced dropping the load, and probably resulted in all of the suits crashing as a result, killing the six of us.//

He clenched his fists, pretending that he was not shaking like a leaf in terror. The engines of the Taurus were screaming, the joystick in the pilots hand vibrating with the forces exerted by the thrusters. One twitch and disaster could result. It would only take one pilot to make that one fatal mistake and everything would end here for them all.

//Do it right. Just don't so much as breathe wrong. Please, please do it right.// The silent litany was continuous and his head was swimming with lack of oxygen. Why was he holding his breath//Breathe you idiot.// He forced himself to take a breath, shallow and not enough, but it served to get his body to start functioning despite his fear. One breath followed by a second, deeper breath. A third, until he was breathing as close to normally as he could in the circumstances.

The engines of the suit rose to a new level of body shaking, ear piercing agony, and then the pilot was moving in a mad flurry of activity. The package touched down on the surface of Mars and the strain on the suits systems eased off, the pilot hastily throttling back the power levels, blowing the seals that connected the support cables from the suit to the package, and directing the suit away from the bundle in smoother flight. It was pitch black beyond the halo shed by the powerful lights of the suits, and Barker watched the screen with a frown.

"Package down and secure, Sir." The pilot reported, running an experienced eye over the controls. "We are landing … now. Down and secure."

"Mark the cave opening." Now that they were on solid ground and he did not need to fear jolting the pilot so much, Barker struggled to get his helmet on and secured.

"Locating K23." The pilot glanced at the topographical map on a side screen, maneuvered the suit a little distance and nodded slightly. 'K23 marked. Loading flares now." A clunk issued from somewhere in the suit and the pilot grinned. "Targeting cave opening now."

Helmet now secured, but his visor still raised, Barker checked the main screen. Darkness. No indication that the cave was out here at all. "Make the shot."

"Flare fired." The pilot leaned forward slightly, watching the trajectory of the flare on his monitors and nodded as light blossomed on the main view screen. "On target. We have approximately five minutes to secure lighting."

Barker grunted softly, snapping the visor on the helmet into place. He automatically ran a systems check on the functions of his suit, noting that the pilot was securing his own enviro suit, and he lightly tapped the pilot on the shoulder and wriggled to the hatch, glancing back at his companion, waiting for the hatch to be released.

"Mobile Suit is secured, Sir." He completed his enviro suits check list and leaned forward to activate the controls. "You are free to exit."

Around the package resting on the ground the other Taurus suits were disgorging their passengers, enviro suited figures riding the lines down from the cockpits to stumble over uneven footing, making their way toward the package to begin stripping back the cloaking material. Barker joined them, aware of the big Taurus suits lumbering closer, waiting to begin carrying the heavy bundles of oxygen and lighting fixtures into the now lighted cave. By the time the survivors reached them they needed to have the cave they were to use well illuminated by more than just flares, and oxygen tanks set out and ready to be used.

He glanced around him, judging how far the big supply suits would have to move to discharge their full sewerage tanks. They needed the tanks empty, and then the suits positioned in the cave where two people at a time would enter the sealed compartment, discharge their suits sewerage load into the big tanks, and then have each other renew their air supply. While they were in there, they would need to quickly drain a food tube and refresh their water tanks, and then clear the chamber for the next two people to use.

//It is going to take a hell of a long time, but it is the only safe way to go about the change over. At least they are well practiced in this, so it should not take more than four minutes to drain the waste tanks, suck a tube dry, re-supply water and connect up the oxygen systems. Shit. Still a long time when you consider how many people we are going to have to service, and how many of them will be on the final gasps of oxygen in their suits.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	82. Chapter 82

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 82

1st March leading into 2nd March AC 198

Dark Side S 43861 A

Time: 23:50 [L2 time [Approx Sanc time 22:25

Damian Edwards

"Mayday! Mayday! Help us. This is Mars Base Dome. The Raiders .. oh, God … The Raiders are here! They're killing everybody. Help us …"

He ran a finger lightly over the seam of the chair's arm, finger nail tracing the stitching at the edge of the arm, unconscious of even moving, eyes focused on the screen where the redhead bled and cried. He was aware of the silence on the bridge, and the fact that he had no memory of the room ever being that quiet before this moment. His bridge had never been quiet, always a hum of activity, the low murmur of voices or the soft chuckle in response to an equally sotto voiced joke. Not even during the One Year War when they had watched the armies of the White Fang and Earth gather above the blue world had the bridge settled to this deathly silence. There had been a hush, certainly when the Libra had fired on the Earth, and again when the section of the great ship had threatened to fall on the planet only to be blown away by the efforts of that Gundam Pilot, but it had not been the same as this silence that chilled the blood.

"oh, God … The Raiders are here! They're killing everybody. Help us …"

He watched every move she made, staring at the face that might have earned her a place on the cover of magazines for her beauty. He noted every smudge on her uniform, and the stains that could only be blood, and with every replay of the mayday he remembered another message.

+ _Dark Side. Don't believe it was us. Has not even happened yet. Satellite Communications System Dakkar III compromised by ESUN. Established existence of delay and block confirmed. Keep Dark Side clear of Mars vicinity. Believe ESUN Wellington involved in cover up. Raydon_. +

//Alright, Raydon, what the hell is going on? You have some explaining to do.// "Ms Carver, confirm source of mayday signal."

The Communications Officer attended to her console, fingers flying over her keyboard and touch screens producing a series of beeps before glancing up and half turning to face the Captain in his command chair. "Signal has been relayed through the Dakkar III communications system. Source of origin has been confirmed as Mars, Sir."

//Authenticated then, but when taken into account with the warning Raydon sent hours ago, it only produces more questions. Very well then, there is no denying that something dirty is going on in the region of Mars. Something very dirty indeed, and I want to know what it is.//

"Any communications with the Miss Conception?"

"The Miss Conception is sending a general alert to us at this time, Captain. Captain Bryce suggests that we slow the speed of the Dark Side and allow them to investigate."

"Acknowledge that communication and inform Captain Bryce that I will take her suggestion into consideration." He had fully expected that would be the first comment from Bryce, but by no means would it be the last.

It was standard procedure where a Family Ship was concerned, to keep the vessel clear of suspected trouble spots. He had delayed the decision to reduce the speed of the ship thus far, wanting to further investigate the communications from Raydon, and determining that he was still a considerable distance from the potential problem. A safe distance. No family ship was without an escort vessel within a day's flight, and he had planned on keeping the Dark Side back from any potential conflicts, but he needed to speak with the Captain of his escort and determine acceptable distances.

"Captain, I have completed the test sequence aimed at the Dakkar system. All relay satellites are out of order. No signals are responding to our hails from any in the relay."

//So, the satellites are down, and a mayday is blasting over the airways, and we are fortunate enough to be bloody close to what ever is going to be happening. I have such a bad feeling about this.//

"Mayday! Mayday! Help us. This is Mars Base Dome. The Raiders …"

"Kindly shut that noise off, Carver." Edwards sighed softly, pushing himself to his feet. It was time to make decisions, and he was not one to delay when it was obvious that they did have a problem. "Request a conference call with Captain Bryce in fifteen minutes. Helm Control, maintain course and speed. Arnold, in my ready room, please."

He considered the implications of what he might well be running into with a heavy heart. There were thousands of people on Mars, and if they needed evacuation very few ships in the area could accommodate that many people at short notice. The Dark Side might in fact be the only ship in the area for days, perhaps weeks, which might fill the need. Certainly his ship had the room to spare, but there were so many questions that needed answering.

He had the room to take more people than he was sure were currently on Mars, and he had emergency medical facilities that likely would be urgently required if the colony had indeed been attacked. He was obligated both by his sense of honor, and as a Captain who plied the space ways, to respond to that Mayday with all speed, and with all of the facilities that he could muster.

"I can not see Raydon allowing such a raid." Matthews, his First Officer commented as the door to the ready room closed behind them.

"No. No, if this raid is perpetrated by Raiders then it is not any group of Raiders who are associated with the Stations. The man has too much honor to be involved in such an atrocity."

Edwards settled into his chair, motioning to the second placed before his desk, and began to absently swing his chair in short shallow arcs. His fingers beat a fast paced, soft tattoo on the arms of the chair as he watched his long time friend settle, and he tipped back his head, considering the ceiling as though he had never seen it before this day.

"What do you intend to do?"

"The one thing that I can not do is to chance the Dark Side and the people on her. The preservation of the ship and the safety of the families on her are paramount. However," He shook his head and sighed, very much aware that certain members of the Sweeper Council would be screaming about his incompetence, and the arrogance he had never learned to curb when they learned of his next move. "I can not abandon the people on Mars totally. My preferred course of action would be to keep the Dark Side back until the Miss Conception has investigated exactly what is going on there. We have closed the distance with Bryce somewhat since Raydon first contacted us as a safety measure for the Dark Side. I believe that we should maintain our speed and allow the Miss Conception to increase her speed somewhat, enough to allow Bryce to reach Mars up to a full day ahead of us. For us to reduce speed to allow any more distance than that, would mean we would miss the swing around the planet we had planned for. We were not actually planning on visiting Mars, but I believe we may need to do more than just visit by exchanging chit chat on the approach and departure vectors, as we were planning to do. Whatever is going on at that base should be over by the time we arrived, as far as any direct physical danger to the Dark Side would be concerned. We can, however, be of aid to any survivors the Miss Conception can locate."

"And the Wellington?"

Edwards sighed softly, the merest breath of air between parted lips. // Yes, the Wellington indeed. Just what about that ship? I can not afford to have my ship near her if I even suspect her of hostile intentions.// He reached out to activate the com. "Carver, get me the last reported position of the ESUN Wellington."

There were so many elements involved in this mess that seemed to revolve around Mars. The biggest concern to him was the fact that the satellite system had been compromised. The Dakkar III system was supposed to be the most secure communications system in the entire ESUN. That Station One had managed to acquire a direct feed into the relay system was a well hidden matter, but one that Raydon had revealed to the Sweepers within months of the system becoming operational. Even with that direct feed, Raydon's people had not discovered that a programmed delay had been inserted into the core program of the satellite system. It could have been in the system and buried for hours or for days, even months before it was detected. It had probably been date and time activated if it had eluded Raydon's monitoring, a major feat in itself, considering the resources available to Raydon's people.

"I had expected to have heard from Raydon by now." Matthews commented, rubbing his hands together, almost as though his fingers were chilled.

Psychological reaction, Edwards thought, much like his relapse into his little boy habit of swinging in his chair. The slow swing stopped for all of thirty seconds before starting up again, as he considered the options open to the Commander of the distant Station One. With the raid blamed on the Raiders there was next to no chance of Station One, and its sister stations, being recognized as independent settlements, clear of the Earth Sphere's rule. In his personal view space was just too vast to be ruled effectively from one source with the current political system now used within the Earth Sphere. Now was the prime time to establish independent borders, and stamp a claim on territory, while space was so huge, and before the Earth Sphere had the required people and technology in place to police so large an area.

With the technological advances that were already being produced would come a shrinking of distances. Advancing technology had ensured that the Earth, once considered to be a huge world, was later looked upon in its proper perspective, as being a small ball of rock floating in a vast sea of stars. The Earth was tiny compared to other planets, yet it was the only planet that had produced viable and intelligent life in this solar system. Within a hundred years he fully expected Earth to be sending exploration ships, if not colony ships, out beyond Pluto, seeking other star systems and suitable habitable worlds for colonization.

Mars was now a colony, habitable albeit an enviro dome was required to bring the miracle of life to the barren world. With the advances in terra forming technology that were being made now, it was entirely feasible that within two hundred years the planet could be given an atmosphere, and become a living world. Almost two hundred years ago mankind had perfected the technology required to created the colonies, habitable space stations of massive size, capable of housing millions of people and producing artificial gravity, and even seasonal effects, though such effects were rarely used. It was too expensive to have four seasons on a colony, when a nice even temperature was economical to maintain. Temperatures on the colonies varied depending on the ethnic origins of the colony builders, and the wealth of the individual colonies.

Access to resource satellites and the ability to haggle decent trade contracts determined the colony prosperity, and there fore living conditions. The colonies were now considered independent worlds under the umbrella of protection for all that the ESUN was supposed to signify. That being the case, the colonies would have a large say in the recognition of any independent space station, or stations, that lay within the asteroid belt. The colonies mined those asteroids, and transported ore rich examples to the vicinity of the colonies as resource satellites, to make mining costs cheaper in many cases.

//It is a certainty that companies like Patrice and the Winner corporations will protest the emergence of independent Stations not allied to the Earth Sphere in any way. They will be too afraid of losing the resources, and having to pay additional taxes, or a toll of some kind, to mine in territory claimed by another government. Raydon will not have it easy when they finally declare themselves. The Earth Sphere government will not sit quietly and allow what they would consider to be a threat to develop to the current stability of the Earth Sphere. Still, in this Raydon's biggest advantage is the distance involved. It will take time for the ESUN to consider what action is best taken, and should they try to force the issue then it would take an even longer period to gather forces to contest any claims of independence made out there. The costs would be astronomical to send out military forces to the asteroid belt.//

"Knowing that one, I believe that he would be cooking up something to give the ESUN pause." Edwards murmured. "Considering the resources he has available to him, and his disturbingly inventive imagination, I think it might be a good thing for us to keep as quiet as possible for the moment."

The First Officer shifted a little in his seat, considering the few encounters he had had with the enigmatic Commander of Station One. "He will not take this quietly if the Raiders do get the blame."

"That goes without saying, Arnold. Raydon is not one to act first and think later though, and that is to everyone's benefit. He does not just think of what benefits his own people, but considers the larger picture. He sent us the warning hours ago that this would happen, though not the full details, and he would not have been idle since then. He has varied resources, remember, and he is not above using every means available to him to effect something productive out of utter chaos."

"The Gifted? Do you think that the rumors are true? That he has those kinds of resources available to him?"

Edwards shrugged, considering some of the more wild rumors that he had had occasion to hear. "I think that the rumors have been exaggerated out of all proportion. No one would be more surprised than I to discover that he had an army of supermen at his disposal. No, he does not have supermen working for him, but I do know what he does have is an army of displaced soldiers who were rejected by the current powers-that-be in the ESUN. If their new found security is threatened, then I believe those people who found a home with Raydon will be only too happy to defend the stations. I have never knowingly met anyone that you would call Gifted, unless you mean Raydon himself. The man is definitely different to most men that I know. He has uncanny perception, and a gift for intrigue that makes me shudder. I am very much afraid no matter how peaceful Raydon wishes the independence of the Stations to be acknowledged by the ESUN, that this entire matter may spark off another war. If it does, then I can tell you it will make the last one look like a kiddy game."

Matthews winced. "Please, Damian, don't even think about that option. The Earth was almost destroyed in the last one. Things were way out of control, and none of us can afford for things to shift again into a cycle of war. We need this peace."

Edwards smiled, grinning at his second in command and shook his head. "Out of control? You think things in the One Year War were out of control? I don't think so, Arnold. I think that matters were very well controlled indeed. Oh, don't get me wrong, I know full well what went on in that period of time. Don't just look at the big picture, my friend, you need to look more at the component parts of that time, and you may just notice something odd about that entire mess we had the good fortune to live through."

The First Officer absently twirled one side of his moustache, considering his friend and Captain in silence for a few minutes, taking in the small smirk and the light in his eyes. He had known the man too long to miss the amusement. "Alright. I'll bite. What did I miss?"

"Only the entire point of the war, my friend." The smirk turned into a wide grin. "I'll tell you what. I will give you six months to do a little research. You study the events of the war, and we will talk again about the One Year War and compare our observations. Use whatever resources you need that we can provide, both on the Dark Side and through our information network. In your spare time, of course. We more than likely will be a little busy soon, but you should still have more than enough time to make your observations, and formulate your own deductions."

"Why do I feel like I just got sent to school wearing a dunce's cap?"

Edwards laughed and sighed when the intercom chimed, signaling the end of this chance to chat . It was back to business for them. "Yes?"

"Sir, the Wellington is on a short arc direct course for Mars and has increased her speed by one third of her previous plotted rate of travel. I have Captain Bryce waiting on the line."

"Scramble the call, Carver. Stay, Arnold. I expect that Amelia will have Xavier with her for this call."

Captain Amelia Bryce was a striking woman of mature years, with graying dark hair and large dark eyes. She had gained her Captaincy more than a score of years before, and had earned her own ship soon after, dubbing the vessel Miss Conception with a tongue in cheek grin, and comment that the name suited her personality. She had known the Captain of the Dark Side since childhood, though she was older than Edwards, and they had understood each other with very few clashes in personality or political views.

"Damian."

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging both the Captain and the presence of her First Officer, Xavier Varish. As he had expected the silent man was settled at his Captains side, with a carefully blank expression on his face. Varish had always been a man of few words and strong views, and Edwards liked him well enough. You knew where you stood with the man, as there was very little in the way of deception in his nature.

"Good evening, Amelia. Xavier. I believe it is time for us to decide on a course of action."

"Yes. The mayday call is being transmitted over every channel we have scanned, which is not the usual method of such an alert, especially from a call transmitted by the Dakkar system." Amelia waved a hand in the air. "It also came through on a high frequency beam, meaning that at most it would have taken around a minute to reach as far as the Earth itself. Most unusual."

//Good. We understand each other then. There are too many anomalies about this mayday for this to be as straight forward as it seems.//

"Indeed. Great care has been taken to ensure that everybody with a radio receiver hears this mayday. Especially those who live within the hub of the Earth Sphere. We have confirmed the position of the ESUN Wellington, and the course she is taking, as well as the speed of her. What I do not understand is why the ESUN would take this type of extreme action. Just what have they found on Mars that would warrant this level of action to cover up?"

Arnold Matthews had wondered that too, spending a good few hours on sifting through what he knew of the fledgling Mars colony. He had discovered there was not much to learn beyond the general information concerning the colony, such as who the backers for the project were, the basic statistics of equipment and personal required for such a project, the shuttle schedules and the like. Beyond such basic information he had discovered nothing to warrant this type of attention from the ESUN.

On the screen Bryce and Varish exchanged glances, the latter shrugging ever so slightly, before the Captain again faced the camera.

"We are making inquiries amid our sources and hope to have something more substantial within the next few hours. There has to be some reason for the extremity of the action they are taking, to explain why they willfully slaughter an entire colony's population. What we learn may change our projected course of action or not. For now, what do you intend to do about the Dark Side?"

"We will pull back enough that we will be twenty hours behind you, but any more than that and we will loose our projected rendezvous with Mars, and be unable to sling shot around the planet if circumstances still allow us to keep to our projected course and schedule."

Bryce nodded, calculating her ships requirements for the flight time to Mars. "How long would you need to effect braking maneuvers should we need the Dark Side to establish an orbit around Mars?"

"We could break the ships speed sufficiently to make an emergency orbit safely provided we had word within twelve hours. It would not be a comfortable maneuver for our citizens, but it would be possible."

Edwards noted the faint nod from his First Officer, not that he needed to have his figures confirmed. He knew his ship and her capabilities too well to mistake his need. The ship would stand the strain of the maneuvers, thought the people on board her would not appreciate the forces that would be involved in order to effect what amounted to an emergency breaking maneuver. He would need to ensure all of the infants, and the younger children, were safely secured in the medical centre well before any such action might be required. They were the delicate cargo that must be protected above all other considerations.

"Twelve hours should be more than sufficient for us to determine the rescue requirements. Very well, I will take point and increase speed, adjusting our course as required. Ideally we should arrive ten hours ahead of your twelve hour limit, determine the situation and notify you of what is required of the Dark Side, if anything. It may be that a burial detail is all that is required."

Edwards winced, preferring not to consider that bloody option. "I sincerely hope it does not come to that. At the current course and speed of the Wellington she should arrive, and attain orbit above Mars, in approximately thirty five hours."

"Provided, of course, that Raydon can not effect some type of delay. I have confirmed that he has two ships closing in along her course line that would be capable of intercepting her, however neither ship is a match for her in a combat situation."

"I have never known the odds to bother that man before."

Bryce grinned, a wolfish smirk accompanied by a faint shake of her head. "True. He also has an admirable record for pulling off the impossible. It will be interesting to see what he has planned."

"I think he will have planned quite a lot, considering what this fiasco means to the chances of the Stations securing independent status. I have learned it does not do to piss him off, and someone in the Earth Sphere is walking a very thin line with him." The chime of the intercom distracted him. "What is it, Carver?"

"Apologies for the interruption, Captain. We have an incoming call from the Peacemission. The request from her Captain is permission for him to join the conference call with the Miss Conception."

Edwards saw Bryce sit up straighter in her chair, clearly surprised by the identity of the ship calling in. As surprised as he, in fact. The Peacemission was brand spanking new, and on her shake down cruise. Her captain had notified all of the Sweeper ships of the status of the ship, if they were what he considered close to his course, but he had not revealed to anyone that Edwards knew the information of her exact location. The Peacemission was the only ship of the Sweeper fleet that was not required to log an established flight plan with all Sweeper craft along the intended course. The first of a fleet of five intended ships, the rumored redesign of her specifications was the direct result of the One Year War, and the determination of the Sweeper Council to ensure that their people were defended should the need arise again.

"Patch the call through."

The view screen blanked for an instant, clearing to depict a split screen effect. On the left side of the screen Captain Bryce and her First Officer waited expectantly, and on the right side the face of an elderly thin faced man, with pointed goatee and heavy sunglasses shielding his eyes smiled brightly. He wore an orange short sleeved shirt with red and yellow tropical flowers, his trade mark eccentricity.

"Howard." Edwards greeted, smiling. "What can we do for you?"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	83. Chapter 83

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 83

Peacemission H65193P Sanc Registry

In transit

Time: 22:40 [ Sanc time coincides with Ship time

Howard

// They just could not leave the boy alone. I thought he might finally find some measure of peace, but they could not allow it. I thought him safe from Romefeller machinations, secure in a new future and content with his life, and now he is to go against them publicly. Damn. He will do it willingly for the good of those who have turned to him, but I remember when he first came to me. I remember the boy.//

The last few hours had involved a flurry of activity on board his ship, as his crew scrambled to gather the information he needed. The ship was prepared, the final checks now being made, her crew alert and ready for the action to come. He had had the time to do some serious thinking, and as yet it was not too late for him to stand down the crew and wait to see how events progressed. He could still step aside, that option did remain, but could he really choose to step back and do nothing, and then look at his face in the mirror, knowing he had stepped aside?

He could simply sit here in his study and mull over the facts, as they had been presented to him by the boy who was no boy now, but a man fully grown. He could sit on the sidelines and become a spectator, and allow it all to progress as it would, without any input from himself or his crew. He could allow it all to flow around him, and by that very act he could betray all who had died for the peace. He could ignore it all, if it was in his nature to be a coward, and if he did not care not only about his fellow Sweepers, but the lives of everyone who had fought in the wars for peace. Those who died for it and those who lived through it; and those who lived because of it.

//He reminds me too much of another boy who was forced into the trappings of power by those who believed they knew so much more, and had the knowledge to guide the people to a grand and glorious future. The truth is even if I do act it, may end just as brutally now as it did then. No matter if I take a hand in this or not, it may end no better than in a repeat of the tragedy in which the One Year War ended. They were all too young. All of them, even Kushrenada.//

His eyes, hidden behind the safe anonymity offered by his sunglasses, flicked to the framed blueprints dominating the far wall of his office. An unusual choice of wall paper, he mused, but if he looked at those blueprints they reminded him of his youth and his folly that, in part, shaped the past and still affected the future. The plans he had so meticulously drawn and slaved over were yellowing from age, and they represented one of the greatest achievements of his life. Perhaps one of the greatest mistakes of his life. He could not say they represented one of the greatest achievements of his youth, though he had first had the idea for the mobile suit in his salad days. It had simply taken too much of his life, and he had not completed the project. He had dreamed of the Tallgeese, his prototype mobile suit in his youth, and he had begun the construction of her much later in his life, when he certainly was not a youth, but a man full grown, who had not had the vision then to understand what would result from his dream.

Tallgeese. His baby. It had been so long ago.

"They are all dead. They have to be. I found no sign of them after the explosion, and I would have expected at least G would be in touch with me had he survived that explosion. I have heard nothing from any of them and my crews found no trace of them. So, at long last, the five are dead and that makes me the last. It leaves me to be the one who is accountable for our crimes of the past, and the only one who can make amends for that past and our part in it. We shaped the war. We cast principle players in the scheme of things, and we must bear the blame for it just as much as any other. Just as much as Romefeller. There were too many players in the wars and gradually we are passing, but some amends have to be made. Someone has to do it. I can not hide from the truth anymore."

He must assume their deaths as confirmed and accept his culpability in past event. Almost all of those original technicians and scientist's who had helped him to develop the technology for the wondrous white suit so many years ago, were passing into the obscurity of death. The suit that no one had managed to fly. They were almost all gone now to the shifting sands of time. Most of them had passed in violence, very few had gone to their final rest of natural causes, and it was likely that he too would die in a violent conflict. Better he than this new generation, to whom he owed a blood debt. They all had had such dreams, and worked feverishly to create the material proof of their visions, and at what he had thought was the end of the matter, it had hurt to dismantle the suit.

They had, he and his five compatriots, realized in time the uses to which the technology they had developed could be put to by less than savory individuals. They had realized who it was who had so closely monitored the developments of mobile suit technology, and they had learned something of the organization before it was too late. Or so they had thought. They had been wrong. It had been too late by the time they had confirmed the first rumors. The Alliance had had their own plans for the suits, and that was bad enough, but it was the really big player who was interested in their work that was the most dangerous, and they had been the worst kept, best secret of the Earth.

Romefeller.

To this day no one spoke of Romefeller in open halls. Modern history said that Romefeller were disbanded when the Princess of Sanc became the Queen of the Earth. Fools. Those fools who walked the halls of power had never been the true Romefeller. Kushrenada and Dermail had been different, and he suspected that Wayridge too knew the true Romefeller. Certainly the then Vice Foreign Minister Darlian had been involved in Romefeller's coils of power and deceit. He would have liked to know what part Darlian had played in the fall of Sanc, but that likely would never come out. The man was dead, and he had taken his secrets with him to the grave.

Romefeller was not gone, as so many assumed. He knew it. Those in his confidence knew it too, and worked as diligently as he to keep a close watch on those known to be within the ranks of that ancient secret society. It was not those who were known to be a part of the organization who were the dangerous ones, who needed surveillance; though they did keep them under attentive watch. It was those you did not know, who seemed to be too innocent to be suspected, that were the dangerous ones. If you gathered one hundred people at random off the streets of any city in the world, then you could be assured that at least one of them would be involved in the ranks of Romefeller. It was identifying that one in a hundred that was the problem.

No one admitted freely to being involved in Romefeller schemes, not even he. In the distant past and in secret the organization had been birthed, and it had grown and he doubted that it could ever be destroyed. There were too many heads to Romefeller to strike off to destroy that particular Hydra. The heart of the beast was lost somewhere deep within its body, and he doubted they could ever find a weapon with reach enough to strike the very heart of the monster.

Secrecy was the heart and soul of the organization, and he knew of no one who knew who was the controlling influence in these post war days. Faction fighting had always been, and still was, an ongoing concern in the organization. That tendency to split into factions had, curiously enough, allowed the heart of the beast to sink into obscurity, though it beat strong and powerfully, monitoring all the little splinter groups and the faction fighting. Those at the heart of the monster knew who was in which faction, and manipulated them all to further its ambitions. Faction fighting added to the mess that was suggested to be forming in a time when they, the people of the Earth and the Colonies, needed peace and stability. Romefeller factions worked constantly in opposition to each other, revolving around each other in a complicated waltz, lest one faction gain too much power to be ousted at a later time and day. It was the faction fighting that exerted the most control over the government now in power, and if the Romefeller factions ever joined together, then the Earth would be in serious trouble.

//If the hidden heart ever allowed such a thing to happen. They need the chaos element controlled, and they use every one, and everything, to balance that chaos. They would not want too much peace just now. Enough to rest the human race, yes, but not to weaken it. Somehow it always comes back to Romefeller. I wonder what our history would have been like these last forty years or so, had I not dreamed, and then devised the technology to make the Tallgeese a reality? Tallgeese was my creation, though I needed the help of the five to complete her, and we worked for Romefeller. At least we were mature enough to realize what use would be made of her if we continued. After the first few test flights, and the death of every man who flew her, I never expected anyone would be able to fly her. No matter the modifications I devised, it was not enough to see the pilot survive. I did not expect that anyone would be able to fly my beast, and I never expected anyone would be able to complete her after we made the decision to dismantled her and I stole the blueprints.//

He had been young when he first had dreamed of the idea of the great suit. He had been a genius, but he had been just one of many children amid those known as Sweepers. Just a gypsy brat amongst gypsy brats, but one who had had a will of his own fired by dreams, and the drive to become an individual amid his peers. He had wanted to be different. He had wanted to create something to be remembered for, to place his stamp on the future and he had dared to look beyond the Sweepers for his dream.

It had not been an easy road for one of his background to tread, but sometimes it was the difficult roads that are the roads best traveled. By the time he had reached his middle years he had become one of six whose genius was exploited by those in hidden halls, whose faces were never seen, and whose will was heard through the voices of others. He had become one of six, who could together, create the technology to make mobile suits a reality, and he had been one of six who had realized, in a moment of triumph turned sour, that all was not as they had thought.

They had heard enough whispers to make them uneasy, and to force them to begin investigations into the plans of those who controlled the purse strings for the project. They had gained more information than they had wanted from whispers alone, and at the first confirmation of some of those whispers they had known. They had been duped, lied to and used, and they had known they must disappear and be prepared to deal with the chaos that must come. The chaos they had inadvertently birthed.

//It was all so long ago. Sometimes I think I have lived past my use by date. I feel so old some days, and while it may well be true, it is not good. I can not afford to be old. There is still so much that I need to do to make up for the mistakes of the past. I owe a debt that I need to repay before I die. A debt that I can not pay to the ones I need to pay back. They are dead, gone but not forgotten. I must do the best I can now that my debt is due, and I will pay that debt by ensuring this peace lasts.//

It had been to the Sweepers that he had returned when he had fled from Romefeller, and he had taken his place amid them as a leader, though one who preferred his own anonymity and who was known to be eccentric. Eccentric he might be, but they had known and recognized his genius and he had developed technology that allowed the Sweepers to rise far above their gypsy past. It was true that the majority of them still roamed the space ways, and likely always would. The space lanes without Sweepers did not bear thinking about.

He had developed technology to further his people and made them a force to be reckoned with in space. He had risen to be counted amid the ranks of the Sweeper Council in recognition of his work, and he had acquired a loyal following amid his own kind, and he had made a home for himself, safely away from Romefeller machinations. Or so he had thought. One day he had received a visitor and he had smiled, and welcomed an old friend. It had been then he had known he could not escape his past. That he must acknowledge the debt he owed to those who had already died, because of his youthful dream.

To make a difference and to protect the colonies, G had said.

// To protect the colonies. What was wrong with me? I still looked at the world through blinkers. We must create the Gundams to protect the colonies, he said. Repair the damage we had done, when we left enough technology and trained personal behind us to continue the development of the mobile suits. Create the Gundams so they in turn could defend the colonies. What I saw was not a defense of the colonies, but something else entirely. There is something in the heart of Romefeller that demands the balance be kept. They use factions pulled by hidden strings, but at least they did keep a balance. So who was left to protect the Earth? We disrupted the balance, giving the colonies five Gundams. There was no force in place on Earth that could contest that amount of concentrated power, thereby giving the Colonies the balance of power. Five Gundams against conventional armies was no contest. I still do not know how the information leaked out, most likely a result of Romefeller spies. That information did not fall on deaf ears, when it made its way to perhaps the one man who had the genius to see it for what it meant, and the determination to do something about it. To use it in a grand design. Kushrenada. He saw that it all came down to a matter of balance.//

He had not thought it through, not then. Guilty, yet again, of tunnel vision. He had allowed the stealth technology he had developed to be incorporated into the machine G was designing to protect the Colonies. He had given over vital technology to G, and then he had stood back from a distance and watched the machine develop, using the Sweepers technology, and he had not for an instant considered the balance between the colonies and Earth would be disrupted. It had been a wobbly type of balance to be sure, but it had been balance. A balance that had wobbled further and further from the course of peaceful negotiation, and into the dangerous world of potential open warfare. The death by assassination of Heero Yuy had been one wobble that would not heal for the colonies, and then had come the orchestrated deaths of the Peacecraft Family; and with that blow had come the death knell for the peace process.

He did not need to look far for the identity of those who had planned the entire mess. Modern history blamed Treize Kushrenada for the assassination of Heero Yuy. Could no one count? Oz had not even existed when Yuy had been murdered. It had been years later that Kushrenada, barely more than a child, had made his presence felt and begun the founding of the Order of the Zodiac. The Peacecrafts had been the innocent victims of the Alliance factions controlled by the true masters of the entire sordid mess. Under its many guises, and from its secret lair, the tendrils of corruption and manipulation had made their presence felt. The facts were there for anyone with a true knowledge of the forces involved to trace the origin of the plot. It bore an unmistakable stench.

A stench uniquely Romefeller.

//Just look at what that game playing resulted in. Who would have thought that the boy, trained and reared from birth to be a pacifist, would have turned warrior? This is all the result of games being played with peoples lives by people who believe that peace has its place, but conflict forces the evolution of man. Peace does not suit certain people; it does not assist their ideals of evolutions driving need. I wonder, did he surprise them? Did his very survival surprise them, or did they plan for him to survive and to become the vengeful avenger? Kushrenada too was a tool in their game. They have to push, and they keep pushing beyond the limits of human endurance in their search, and what is it they search for? We need peace.// He looked about the cabin, at the blueprints on the wall and the mementoes of a life of variety and invention. // It was for the preservation of the Peace that I made the choice to change the original designs, and crafted the ships.//

So many things could go wrong with his plans, and had gone wrong, and still would go wrong before it was done, but he could not stop now. He had come too far and he had been hurt too many times, and still he had driven himself and his crews relentlessly in the crafting of the Peacemission. The basic designs for the ship had already been on his drafting boards before the forerunner to this ship, the Peacemillion, had been completed. He had intended both the Peacemillion and the Peacemission for purposes entirely different than to fight when he had begun to design them fifteen years in the past. The One Year War, and watching as his mistakes contributed to its development, had taught him that he needed to look closer to home to make a difference.

//Tallgeese. It all started with my dream of creating you. Were we fools to have created you? No one knows what you really were, except maybe the one man who actually flew you, and survived you. My greatest triumph, and my greatest folly. To succeed in flying you he had to merge with your prototype operating system. I suspect that another, Kushrenada, may have suspected what it was that I designed. Maybe. I have seen some of the blue prints for the Epyon system, and it bares too many similarities with the Tallgeese operating system. Far more advanced that the Tallgeese, of course, but the basic design similarities can not be mistaken. He had to get the blueprints for the Tallgeese system from somewhere, and he would have had the best chance of breaking into the Romefeller records. The Zero design too was changed from the original prototype, far more advanced than my original design, but I had hoped I had destroyed all of the plans before I fled the Alliance laboratories. I must have left enough behind for Kushrenada to find, and have developed a comparative system. One of the five must have made copies for the Zero system to be created. My fault again, for not cleaning up my mess. Zero and Epyon. Tallgeese, Zero and Epyon. I wonder how alike they really were? Not so similar, I think, but it is the boy who would be the only one who could tell me. He is the only pilot to have used all three of them.//

"I can't blame any of them for the war. I can't blame any of the young ones for the mess they had to deal with. They only worked with what we had created and left in our wake. They only used what we had left behind in our arrogance, forming grand designs to clean up our mistakes. They were no worse than we were in our youth, and they were so young. Too young to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, but what is done can not be undone, only managed. In retrospect, at least they won this peace, but at such a cost. I owe it to those who died to make certain that this peace is maintained. I owe it to those who lived to make certain there is no return to the darker days; for their children to relive the horrors they survived. We have killed too many and the killing has to stop somewhere."

He owed it to the young people who had survived the blood and the destruction, to ensure they never again had to face the darkness of war. He had kept track of them all. Those who still lived, of course. He smiled, reflecting on the past and the changes that had been made in their lives as time had passed. Change could be quick and dynamic, or slow and stealthy, but it was inevitable.

Relena Peacecraft, a child too young for the responsibility heaped upon her slender shoulders by a population too lazy to look to their own future. A girl who carried her Peacecraft blood so openly yet who denied it at every turn, calling herself Darlian. If she only knew the truth of her father's past she would wither in shame. She saw Darlian as her inspiration for a peaceful world, not her true father, the King of a pacifist nation who had paid the ultimate price for a vision of the future. A vision that had been paid for in blood and lives by her brother, who had sought to keep her hands clean. The brother that she had not known and could never understand. Darlian had become an advocate for peace, and trained his supposed daughter to seek that peace, but he had reared her to a naivety that was horrifying in its innocence. She had shown potential as she had grown, though and Howard liked her far better now than he had in the days of blood and destruction. If she could be kept out of Romefeller hands then there was hope for the future of peace.

Dark and fiery Chang Wu Fei, the boy who had lost his colony and who, in his grief and anger, had sealed the fate of another who had lost it all, and who had sought alliance with him in their mutual fight. He had been an angry boy, and in his anger and confusion he had later joined forces with Dekim Barton and compounded the errors of the past with a new war to end all wars. Idiocy that seemed to find its roots in generation after generation of angry young men. A Preventer now, and advocate for peace, he had a promising career ahead of him and the chance to find new roots that would hold him through life.

Then there was the silent, stoic boy whose name had been the name of a man he had watched die. Trowa Barton, a boy who had lived the hard and bitter life of a mercenary. From his earliest memories there had been fighting and death and destruction. Never a child, that one. It was only since the war that he had found hope, both in finding a surrogate family in the one he called Sister, and in the love affair that warmed his heart with another who had piloted the Gundams, and whose past could not be further from his own.

The gentle, but strong, blonde who ran a business empire with the same strength and quiet touch he had used in piloting a Gundam. Quatre Raberba Winner. The same gentle empath who, in anger and grief at the fickleness of humanity; had destroyed a colony. Quatre had admitted he had lost himself in his grief and anger over his father's death and that he had not, and still did not, understand what his father had thought he was doing. His suicide had served no purpose other than to drive his son insane with grief, and brought about the creation of the Wing Zero and the further death of millions. Quatre had found himself again, and begun his healing when he had found the one pilot who had warmed his heart with love.

Then there was Heero Yuy, the boy named after the assassinated, peace-orientated leader of the Colonies. A pretty piece of doggerel that. A foundling forced into the care of J, under the command of Dekim Barton and molded into the role of the perfect soldier when in truth there was no such thing. What life would that boy have had? Dekim Barton had been insane enough, but he had forced a child, an innocent, through the horrors Yuy had endured, first under the care of Barton's pet assassin, Odin Lowe, and then into the doom that was the original Project Meteor. He hoped J rotted in hell right alongside Barton for what he had done to that boy.

Of course, that left Maxwell, the L2 child who had been taken in by the Sweepers after stowing away on one of their shuttles. He had felt something deep within him melt at sight of that waif of a child when first he had seen him, so many years ago. A gutsy boy, so young, but filled with fire, who was determined not to die in the squalor of the streets, but to live and enjoy the living. Duo had come a long way from the squalor of the streets, and the burned out remnants of a church mission. He had taken his name from a dead child and a dead Priest, determined to honor their memories and the parts they had played in his life. Who knew what that boy's name actually was, or to what death he would have succumbed had he stayed on the streets of L2? In many ways Duo reminded him of himself, determined not to fit into the mold that was expected of him, and fired with a need to become so much more. He had survived so much when others had died that he had taken to calling himself the God of Death, and he had dealt death with every swing of the scythe when he had piloted his Gundam, but that was not how Duo now lived. He had chosen to live life to the fullest, certain that everyone died, and when it was his time to meet his death face to face, he could do so knowing what life was. He was a Preventer now, one who worked to prevent a return to the days of chaos, and Howard could be no more pleased with him if Duo had been his own son.

Years ago he had accepted the presence of a child amid his Sweepers, who had been inventive enough to have stowed away on a Sweeper shuttle, no small feat when the shuttle had been one of his own. He had watched that child from a distance, never becoming an open part of the boy's life, but always aware of him. He had had the boy placed on a Family ship and educated, and been gratified to see the thirst in the child for knowledge. Yes, Duo had reminded him of himself in far gone years, so why had he allowed G to enlist Duo in the Gundam project? Why? That boy should have been far from things associated with death, not in the middle of creating a monster capable of causing wholesale destruction. He had allowed it, and he had aided and abetted it, and the child had grown to call himself Shinigami, and had played the part so well.

//I should not be sitting here, recapping the old horrors of days gone past. Reliving my mistakes with my own life, and the lives of others. There are things that need doing, and sitting here only reminds me of how old these bones are.//

There had been another one. Another child who had known death and the senseless slaughter of innocents. Another child who had been helpless to stop the massacre, and who had had his very soul scarred for his short and bitter life. There were so many comparisons he could make between the lives of Duo Maxwell and the scarred Zechs Marquise. They both were survivors of the massacre of innocents, and through that tragedy were forced into roles that did not sit well with their individual natures. His Duo, of whom he was so proud, had coped better than the lost Prince of Sanc; that was blatantly obvious. One had determined to rise from the ashes and extract revenge, yes, but also to live life to its fullest, and to celebrate his very existence with that living. A little bit of a contradiction, was his Duo, but he was a rare and unusual boy. The other child, his world in ashes, had known nothing but ingrained lessons of honor, and duty to a people he had watched butchered around him. Had no one taught the child to live? Had no one taught him to celebrate that he was alive?

"Of course not. I am as much to blame as anyone you met in your life. I saw it in you, the absence of anything other than duty, and I failed to point you in the direction of living again. All you could think about was wanting to bring peace, to stop the fighting. You were a Peacecraft through and through, and it was your duty to end the war. It was your duty to stop the killing; however you could, for the good of all. I'm sorry boy. I failed you as much as your father failed you, when he did not keep you safe, and he did not teach you there was more to life than being in service to others. I failed you, when I never understood the depth of the pain that lived in you for all that had been lost, and I missed the signs that were there, that would have told me what you were planning until it was too late. In my defense, there was much I could not have known. I never realized there was the potential for the Zero System to push any of you to those extremes. It was far worse than the Tallgeese prototype. I never knew that Kushrenada had devised the Epyon system, and I still do not know exactly what that beast was meant to accomplish. I have acquired partial plans for the system and the suit, but it is far more than I can understand with so little hard copy on it. I know now, to my shame, that you intended to die, and that there was no one to teach you to live."

//This is killing time, but that is about all it is doing. I have made my decision, and it is time I acted on it.//

He left the privacy of his cabin, stalking the halls of the great ship. There were few crew in the halls and rooms he passed through, most active with the preparations he had ordered be made. Those he met nodded briefly to him, and returned to their labors, aware they were tight for time if they were to make a difference in the drama to be played out in the vast reaches of space.

He hitched a ride on the glide rail, smoothly gliding through the length of the vessel and finally stepped into the bridge. His crew largely ignored him beyond a quick look, and then their attention focused on their duties of keeping the ship running. He had a good crew. The best of the Sweepers served on the Peacemission, many of them survivors of the Peacemillion, and all dedicated to preserving peace.

The Sweepers had made some decisions in the years since the wars, and he was pleased that the Sweeper Council had passed the resolutions he, and selected others, had devised for the greater good of Sweeper, Colonist and Terran alike. True, there had been objections, many in fact.

There were those who wished no actions to be taken, that the Sweepers would remain the gypsies of the space lanes. Enough of them shared a vision of the future, where there was peace and many opportunities for trade, not just war salvage. The Peacemillion and the Peacemission had originally been intended for space exploration, to take the Sweepers beyond the asteroid belt, out into the depths of the solar system. The Council had decided that she would serve another purpose entirely.

"Contact the Dark Side and the Miss Conception. Arrange a conference call and relay when ready to my ready room."

He was only too aware of the eyes that rose to follow him as he strode across the bridge, and he ignored the attention. He had too much to think on, and he had made his decision. The call from that scheming bastard of a pirate could not be ignored, and if everything Raydon said was true, then Howard understood that he had no real choice.

//I failed you once before, boy, by not understanding what you intended to do, and though I do not agree with the way you went about it then, I have to admit that it did produced the desired result. There is peace now, and if I do not act then it is a fact that peace may be in danger. If they continue to use you to pull that girls string's, then the entire thing will come crashing down into ruin.//

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"We have a problem, my friend. A problem I had hoped to be able to deal with without involving your Sweepers, but there are two of your ships heading directly into the danger area. I have warned them and they have not turned their course. Forgive me, but I dare not be more explicit about the cause."

He had grown to be a devastatingly attractive man, Howard thought. He could still see the young man who had found him on that long ago day, in that more mature face that looked out at him from the view screen. It had been some years since he had met with Raydon face to face, and the man seemed not to have aged much in that time. He still looked to be barely in his thirties, though he had known the man for twenty years, and he had been no teenager when first they had met.

"What is happening and where?"

"Within a few hours the ESUN will declare war on the Raiders, using as an excuse to justify their actions, the massacre of the Martian Terra Forming team. I can assure you it is not my people who will execute this atrocity. I ask that you use your influence to have the Captains of the ships heading into the vicinity of the Martian Sphere turn their course away from Mars, or at the least to delay their arrival there by some three days. The danger of reprisal from the attacking forces should be over by then." 

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That entire speech had, of course, been designed to ensure his curiosity had been well aroused, and he had sent a prompt and curtly worded response to Station One, using the secured direct channel that Raydon had used for his message. With the current position of the Peacemission the radio delay from send station to receive station was only ten minutes or so on a standard beam, and he had ordered the communications be sent via direct high frequency beam. The response to his message had come in promptly, after barely thirty minutes, using the same high speed frequency. No doubt the boy had been waiting for him to respond, and had not delayed in sending back the very carefully worded and staged response.

//Hooked me like a fish, of course. He was always good at that, knowing what bait would best hook his catch. He knew how to play his catch too. Gave me just enough line to ensure I was firmly on the hook and then reeled me in.//

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"My friend, believe me when I say you do not want to get involved in this struggle I will be having with the ESUN. There are certain members of the Earth Sphere Council who have their hands deeply mired in some very bloody muck, and the Raiders have been seen as their perfect scapegoats. As of this time as Raiders we no longer exist. I have no option but to initiate the matter of our independence from the Earth Sphere Nation, as I have every intention of opposing this faction with every resource I can muster. My old family features in this idiocy about to make itself known to the entire Earth Sphere, and you know their penchant for overkill. It is time to let them know that they can take their factions, and their infighting, and crawl into the sewer pit that best serves their nature. When they see me they will know just what they will be facing. I had to stop hiding eventually."

Raydon had been seated before a wall that was a mass of viewing screens. Each screen running footage in an always changing sequence that disturbed the eye. His hands were resting before him on the desk in an old gesture that Howard knew so well from past years, when he had taken Raydon under his wing and given him a new life among the Sweepers. The fingers of his right hand had rested over the back of his left hand, two fingers curled out of sight. Howard noted that in the background, directly over Raydon's right shoulder, one of those screens was displaying in sequence the schematics of the Leo mobile suits.

His eyes had fastened on the folded hands of the man and the number of fingers on display, then flicked up to the screens and sought the one screen Raydon wanted him to watch. There were six screens that were displaying footage of various battles from the One Year War, and the Barton Incursion. Each was marked with a date and time in the lower left corner, and the screen that Raydon had indicated with the placement of his hands and fingers drew Howard's attention, and a flash of anger. Dekim Barton had come very close to succeeding with his ambitions for the Earth Sphere, and Howard could not think of a worse candidate to rule than the bitter old man who had so much blood on his hands.

He recognized a replay of file footage of the final battle of the Barton Incursion to take place on Earth. His attention had been drawn from the man speaking to the screen, and to watching as the mobile suit battle played out. He watched the massive blue and white suit, so clearly based on his original Tallgeese design, though more slender and streamlined than his behemoth of a suit had been. He noted the white suit that had battled alongside it, and he recognized it as the suit piloted by Lucrezia Noin. He watched the Tallgeese III blast straight up into the air, and practically dance to avoid the mass of fire power directed against it, and he was struck once again by the similarities of the suit to its forerunner, and to the fighting style that he had only ever seen from one man.

"What is happening on Mars is an atrocity, and I will do my utmost to ensure that it does not go as they plan. I have ships en route to Mars to offer aid, though they will be pushed to make the scene in time, and I am doing my best to delay the Wellington's arrival. The people on Mars have a right to the protection that I can offer to them, as some of them are citizens of Station One, and with this action the ESUN has clearly made it plain how little their peoples lives are worth. Understand that I will not have the matter escalate into war if I can possibly avoid it. I have no interest in war, and I owe it to a mutual acquaintance that we share, to ensure that the peace is kept. The package that you sought after the One Year War was picked up by one of my ships, and I would like to return it to Station One if at all possible. It was a little damaged in the handling, and while its value to most people is negligible, to me it is priceless, and could do with a secure home. It was unfortunate that I had the misfortune to lose it soon after it was repaired, due to circumstances at the time. The Peace needs for this atrocity on Mars to be kept as quiet as possible, but I do not believe that the lives of more than two thousand people are accounted as being worth nothing. If I should succeed with the rescue of the colony, and they prove to be amenable to the suggestion, I will offer sanctuary to those who survive. I have no idea where you are currently located, my friend, and I have made the best plans that I could to see the matter end as peaceably as possible, but I need you to manage your ships."

The battling mobile suits danced on the screen, engaging and disengaging, dancing and not once dealing a death blow, and his eyes widened as for a split second the screen flickered and he was watching a face he had thought long dead. That style that he had thought so familiar, and had discounted as most likely explained as being a student trained by the original user, had indeed been familiar. That face, there for only a second and then gone in renewed scenes of combat removed all doubt. He watched as Lucrezia Noin's face appeared, some comments appeared to be exchanged over sealed channels, and the battle was then displayed from the vantage of cameras set somewhere above the building near the combat zone. The first of the Gundams arrived; heralding the death knell of Barton's bid for power.

"You should be aware, as I understand you know her personally, that the Vice Foreign Minister may suffer repercussions over the assault on Mars. It was largely her pet project, and she has kept tabs on the progress of the colony. My family likes to intimidate and control people, and using what happens on Mars against those involved in the project will certainly not be beyond them. I am sure that you will understand the implications, and why I am not going to take this quietly. Talk to your people, Howard." 

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He was alive. Against all possibility after the extent of the explosion on the Libra, he had survived. If he was to believe Raydon, and that renegade had never needed to lie, then Milliardo Peacecraft, Zechs Marquise, was alive and the cause for an incident on Mars that would produce thousands of deaths.

The boy was cursed.

He could so clearly remember every word and nuance in the conversation. The 'package' that was a survivor against all odds, the warning that Relena was under the thumb of players using her brother as a pawn against her. The 'family' that was Romefeller, dabbling in power games once again.

//You must have hurt, boy. You could not have walked away from that without knowing what pain was, but knowing you, you gave no thought to your own survival. You were intending to die when you made the choice to go through with your plan. A necessary casualty, to bring about the Peace. Two sides of the same coin, you and Kushrenada. Two sides of the same coin.//

He settled into his chair, secure in the solitude of his ready room, awaiting confirmation of his instructions. The message would be relayed to the ships nearing Mars, and there would be little in the way of radio delay considering his proximity to both vessels. With the boosters on the Peacemission he could speak to his fellow Sweepers, and know that they heard his words in seconds. He would need to wait a few more seconds for their responses to what he had to say, but they all were accustomed to this form of delayed communications, and they would take any delays as precious time in which to consider their next words carefully.

Twenty years ago he had met a dark haired young man who had known who he was, and where he was, and that he would not kill him on sight for that very knowledge. He had been on the run from Romefeller after destroying what he had thought were all of the plans for the Tallgeese, and the experimental operating interface a pilot would use to control the suit. He had been very unpopular with Romefeller and the Alliance, but a young man had tracked him down, seemingly with little trouble.

Raydon.

The man had known too much about him, and he had uttered, in those first few seconds, the few words that were guaranteed to get help from him with few questions asked. As it stood, he had learned much of Raydon's past in the intervening years, but he did not know it all. There had been much that the man had not told him, that very well could be learned in the near future if Raydon challenged Romefeller.

"You are Howard." It had not been a question, but a statement. "My name is Raydon, and I am running from Romefeller." 

A short, sharp beep and he flicked a finger over the com toggle. "The Captains of the Miss Conception and the Dark Side are on line, Sir."

"Plot an intercept course with the ESUN Wellington and initiate that course at full speed, and under stealth mode."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004

Just a quick note to remind the reader that this is AU and not totally canon. I only have access to the DVD's, not to any manga or official books etc.

In this I am not classing the Order of the Zodiac, which Treize controlled, as the exact same division of the Alliance military which was used to attack the Sanc Kingdom. Treize's organization, the Specials, is an elite offshoot of what was the Alliances dirty tricks unit at the time the Sanc Kingdom fell.

As I said, AU from what I have been told is in the manga.


	84. Chapter 84

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 84

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 21:03 [Approx 18:53 Sanc time

Zechs

"So, time to decide who we are hunting. Sleepers or the military?"

They had remained silent on the exact nature of their plans while they had left the building, lingering in the vicinity just long enough to watch the men set off for the air lock controls. With the sound of the locking bar sealing the door into the enviro suit building echoing in their hearing, they had then made their way to the crates at the far end of building C, where Zechs had met with Cloud and the techs. Once crouched within the safety of the crates, and after checking that they were alone, Giles had turned to Zechs, choosing to ignore the runnel of blood that was seeping from around a nearby crate. He knew that one, if not both, of the Sleeper agents Zechs had so recently taken out lay there, and Giles chose not to question the methods of execution. In his view they deserved the deaths they had received for their cold blooded killing of innocents caught up in this affair.

//That is their only crime. To have the misfortune to be on Mars at this time. Well, screw the ESUN. I will do everything in my power to ensure that no more die who are guilty of simply being here. If I ever had doubts about joining up with Raydon this would have settled them.//

"That is a question we need to discuss." Zechs leaned his back against a crate, absently rubbing his abused shoulder. The pain was on the rise, and there was no opportunity to do more than wish it was all over, and that he could find a bed to collapse into and die. "We have some decisions to make, and before then we need to discuss a couple of things. About this situation."

Giles grunted softly in acknowledgement and settled beside the blonde, finding as comfortable a position as possible, angling himself to watch the right hand approach, knowing Zechs would guard the left.

"Fine. Our options are?"

Zechs settled against a crate, positioning himself to gain the best available view. "It depends. On just how much faith you have in what I have seen in visions."

Giles sighed softly, glancing quickly at the man to find his attention focused on the view. "I have met and talked with those who have the ability to foresee the future before. They have said repeatedly that just because they see what is to come, does not necessarily mean it will definitely happen. It is possible for us to effect changes in some cases. In the event of disasters or accidents, for instance, it may be possible to make changes. As an example, if you knew that a sudden flat and an inexperienced driver over compensating, would cause a car to spin out of control and crash into the play ground of a day care centre. If you stop the car before it reaches the point where the blow out occurs, then you could stop the kids from being hurt."

"So you have an understanding that what is seen need not necessarily happen? That will help, because a great deal of what I see does not happen. I see the same event multiple times, each instance different from the last in some small manner. I try to sort through what I see, and choose what seems to be the best of the options available. I have previously experienced visions of situations similar to this present configuration, but there are differences. You should know that the biggest difference this time is you."

"Me? How so?" Giles stared at the man, wary.

Zechs resisted the urge to shrug, not keen on aggravating his shoulder, and that was all the gesture would accomplish. "You had not appeared in any of the visions I can recall that match to this time. Understand, Giles, I can not remember every vision I have had. To my knowledge you have appeared in no vision that I have seen concerning this time, and understand too, that I can not see much beyond this day. Since Epyon's destruction I lack the clarity, and the ability, to sort through the myriad of options that present themselves. I know I have witnessed, through vision, a great deal more than I can recall, but I have to work with what I have. With what I can remember."

"Epyon. That was the name of the red mobile suit you flew in the war, yes?"

The softest sigh of regret escaped him at the thought of the demonic looking machine, and he nodded. "Epyon was more than a mobile suit. It was considerably more. In brief, it was … well, I suppose the most apt description I could come up with now, is that it acted as a filter and a focus for the visions I saw. It also would appear to have been a catalyst for the visions. I …I never had more that an odd … dream … before I flew Epyon."

"A catalyst? You mean to say you think it was a machine that awoke your Gift? That is unheard of. No such machine exists."

"If you mean woke it as in how I see things now, then yes, Epyon did just that. Before I used the machine there were visions, but there were very few that I can recall, and I think I largely blocked them. Subconsciously. The first one I can recall, of those that I can remember, and I only recalled that recently, was of the massacre of Sanc."

Giles sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. //I wish there were Trainers here. I am not trained for this.// "You were seven or eight then, I believe?"

It was the last thing he wanted to recall, but he had responsibilities and this man needed to understand him and his limitations. "I had the dream the night before my sixth birthday. I dreamed of what amounted to the total destruction of Sanc. It was the night before Sanc fell. Some of what I saw in the dream happened in front of me …" He could not describe the horror and the terror of that six year old boy. //There are too many memories of death and destruction at that time. Too many memories. I can not afford to induce vision with this recounting. I need to speed things along and make a decision, before the thread of events shift and I lose the weave.// "We are pushed for time, Giles so we have to be quick. I can't afford to spark off another round of visions, because that will take me out of the picture. I can not physically recover enough strength to finish this if I experience visions again. What I am saying is that You did not appear in any of the visions I had, concerning this attempt by the ESUN to take custody of myself and my children. It is obvious, with your presence, that what I witnessed in vision is not going to be exactly true to that Sight, but then it rarely is exactly how I see it. I'm used to that. There are other differences too. For instance, I do not recall having seen Cloud and his technicians in the visions I had before. In those visions I went to the air lock station, and I worked alone. All I managed to do was to save twenty people, and the rest had to be abandoned as I took the survivors to safe ground. In an alternate option, every one in the maintenance teams were all locked out of the dome, and they died. In a third option they were locked out of the dome and Barker, Preventer Agent Eagle, and a team he brought up from the Alpha Dome, managed to get them to a cave system with sufficient supplies to survive the night. In that scenario about twenty died. That was not all either. There were other options, but in all of them, that I can remember, Cloud and his techs were not in any of them. Nor were you."

"I see. You mean that you can not be sure what will come now, since things have changed so much from your original visions. Still, Zechs you knew those agents were in these crates waiting to take down the maintenance techs. What happened in that vision?"

He winced, shaking his head, not keen on recalling the horrors that led to the deaths of the three techs. "Let's just say that it was not a desirable option. No need for the details beyond you knowing those three died, and I was taken down trying to save them. When I recognized the conditions at the time, I took a chance that your presence would change things enough to make an appreciable difference. I was right on that occasion, but I do not claim to be infallible, Giles. I make mistakes, and when I do, they are generally massive mistakes. I forgot the bombs in the elevator shaft, as an example. I make the kind of mistakes you really don't want to be around."

"Hey. Stop that. If you are trying to frighten me off, while you go and do a particularly unsavory bit of hunting, then you can just think again man. I am here for the duration. Raydon assigned me to Mars, and to bodyguard you. Before you have a go at me about that, you need to understand I had the option of refusing the assignment, but I was curious about you. While it is true I did not know you were here when I took the assignment to come here, and keep track of the mining and trade potential, I have no regrets about my decision. You are one of the Gifted, and we stick together. We have learned that we can rely on each other, as we can rely on very few others in this life. Raydon warned me before I left Station One that there was trouble to come here, but that he could not 'see' what it was. I still chose to come. I chose to stay when I learned you were here, and Raydon gave me the chance to pull out. My being here is my choice. I know as yet you don't know much about us, but I have confidence in your unique gifts, as I have every confidence in my own. We are Gifted, Zechs. All of us share something rather unique, though we may not all have the same abilities, still we call ourselves Gifted. Once I, like others at Station One, called myself Cursed, but I know better now. Gifted is the more appropriate word. I don't actually know of one of our kind who would refuse to help another when they needed it."

"Even at the cost of their lives?"

"Shit happens, you know. We all have a date with death, it's inevitable. I believe that if you live well, then you will die well, and when it's my time, nothing I can do will stop it. I will at least have lived to the full."

"You should not leap into the path of danger either."

Giles chuckled, waving a hand at the blonde. "Nope, I don't have to leap into it, but I choose to chance my life for the good of all concerned here. If we don't do something we will all die, and if we manage to take those bastards down, well, we will live a day longer."

"I have to warn you I do not see as well as I once did. Epyon did much to refine the visions it drew from me, and made it possible to choose a path through that maze of possibilities. I don't have that ability any longer, I only have the visions and what little sense, and order, I can make of them, and we already have come to a point where I am groping at shadows. I can't be certain we are following the best options available to lead us, to the greatest chance of survival for the people here, or in the sub base. I may be heading in the exact opposite direction, or moving in circles, and as a result of that inaccuracy, I might be speeding along circumstances that will bring about the deaths of everyone here."

"God, I'm glad it's not me who has to live with that kind of uncertainty every day." Giles whispered, eyeing the man beside him. "How do you stay sane?"

Zechs considered the view for a long moment and finally shrugged, cursed at that idiocy at the sharp stab of pain, and glanced at the man beside him with darkened blue eyes betraying his uncertainty. "I don't think I am sane anymore, Giles. I don't think I have been sane since I activated the Epyon. I think I lost my sanity the first time I used that system."

"Did you have any kind of warning about what that machine would do to you? Any warning about what type of operating system it was?" He was honestly curious about the events that had shaped the One Year War, and in particular that final battle above Earth.

"I knew nothing of the Epyon. I was given the machine by Heero Yuy, a Gundam pilot. He told me that Treize had made the suit and given the machine to him, and that he did not understand how Treize thought. He could not make sense of what the Epyon showed him, I think. We would need to speak to him to learn if it showed him what I was shown. He took the Wing Zero, and I took the Epyon. I thought it was Epyon that had done this thing to me-made me see the possibilities that result from every decision we make. Just not thinking about something is a decision, you know Giles. Every action we do affects the outcome of many lives. I thought it was all Epyon, you understand, until I recalled that dream I had when I was a child, of mobile suits ravaging Sanc. I blamed Epyon for what I had become, and for my insanity."

"Oh, I don't think you're a raving loony. I think you have every right to be a raving madman after surviving that machine, but I don't think you are one. No, I think you are a darn sight more sane than many people I know who survived the war. The Training Masters on station can help a lot, and in many different ways. The first thing they will teach you, is that you have to trust yourself, and you are not a freak. We all have suffered from the Freak complex to some extent, some more than others, and for you, I guess, there is a bit more to it than most. You will find that you are not alone on Station One, Zechs. When I was last there, there were around twenty five Gifted undergoing training of varying levels. Raydon has agents who scour the Earth Sphere to find new talent who are suffering from their gifts, and offers them a place on Station. It is a place where we can feel secure, and where we do not suffer from the odd looks and the whispers that are always heard behind our backs. For me it was such a relief to know that there were others out there, in the Earth Sphere, who have been living with the same fears and insecurities that I lived with for years before I joined the crew of Station. We are few, even on Station, but we know there are more of us who have been helped, and who are working out in the Colonies and on Earth to bring others to Station who are looked on as Freaks, or exploited for what they can do. Not everyone is Gifted, though the Training Masters will tell you that everyone has the potential to be Gifted, though not the awareness and ability to use those gifts. Those on Station One who are not able to use those dormant gifts have learned, along with us who are Gifted, that we are not freaks, just normal people with a rather unusual way of seeing, or hearing, the world around us."

"Unusual way of seeing the world." Zechs mused, and shrugged, regretting the action immediately. "Well, that does describe the way that I see the world."

"The truth is that we are what we are, Zechs. We can not change that simple fact, but we can change how we see ourselves and accept ourselves for what we are. Now, what are the options that we need to consider to help us here and now, because time is marching on and there are still people out there whose asses I want nailed to the walls, with signs reading 'Traitor to Humanity' hanging around their necks."

"Nice vision that one." He forced a smile, eyes sweeping the open view, hoping they might succeed and that he might indeed find a place that would accept him for what he was in the future. Station One was sounding more and more attractive to him.

"It's one vision we can make a reality if we set about it with determination. I'm ready. How about you?"

"I like you Giles. Alright. If you are determined to stay, then there are a few possibilities that may lead off from this point. We can disregard the airlock and leave that to Cloud and his tech. I think I know what they will find, and if I am correct and that is what I think it will be; those outside the dome are either dead within the hour from exposure, or safely in Barker's care. I am hoping he found the clues I left for him, and can make it work."

"You left clues? In Alpha Dome? How did you do that? I did not think you had ever been there."

"I have been, though I was carefully supervised while I was on site. No, I left the clues later, when I left a map of the cave system that is the most suited to the needs of the rescue operation, and I made a few notations on what equipment would be needed. I managed to get that map into the copies taken to Alpha during the latest transfer of equipment. I also made mention in a number of conversations we had, about the caves and that they might have potential as emergency shelters, should a need ever arise. I could not tell him what would happen in plain words. That I have learned tends to causes more trouble than it solves as a rule."

"Yes, it changes the circumstances. I know a couple of precogs who complained about situations that they had tried to avoid, and made matters worse because they spoke to the wrong people. Subtlety seems to be the key to nudging events to more acceptable or desirable events."

"A nudge works better that a straight out push." Zechs agreed. "I had hoped that by telling Lucrezia that there were Sleepers in the terra forming team, and not providing her with the names of more than McIntyre, that she would take the warning seriously, and not turn her back to anyone. If the bulk of the visions I have had concerning her are accurate, then she will die today, if she has not already, because she will turn her back to a door and a supposed friend."

Giles glanced sharply at the man, noting the hooded gaze and the slight tremble in long fingers. He did not need the blonde losing his cool calculation at this time. "You think she is dead?"

"I don't know. What I do know is that there was the very real possibility that no matter what I did she would die. Giles, I have seen her die of a broken neck down in the sub base, and I have witnessed her die because she is knifed in the back at three separate locations around the dome. I have seen her run over by a rover up here, and she has been crushed under crates, not too far from where we stand now. I have watched her be shot by stun guns on kill settings, and even seen one option where the setting was deliberately set to induce the most agony possible, and still give her a chance to recover. That one was more as an inducement to get me to go after her. There have been so many options, so many alternatives involving Noin."

"Bait." Giles sighed.

"Yes. She becomes the bait in a trap."

"Do you have any idea where she would be?"

"Not really. She could be anywhere in the dome or the sub base. There were more than thirty ways for her to die this morning. At one stage that was down to fourteen. I became a little too busy to count and focus after that."

"Well, does she feature in any of the options we need to consider now? Does she appear in any of the locations we are considering?"

"Yes. Yes she does. That man is a killer, Giles. Special Services. He is no fool, and he is angry because things are so out of hand, and not through any mistakes on his part. He expected to come in here, take custody of the children and myself, and place Noin in security restraint until the Wellington arrived. That is how it should have been. That is what he expected to happen."

"So why was it not what happened? What exactly changed things?"

"I knew they would be coming. I managed to become a part of the terra forming team, a needed part, even though I was watched. I gradually earned the run of much of the base where, had I been contained, I would never have had access, and I had the advantage of this thing you call a Gift. I had known they were coming long before they received their instructions on what they were to do here. One of the biggest problems for them that they did not foresee was that Preventer Earth gave the Preventers here instructions not to interfere with me. She even gave them instruction to follow my command when this began."

"Why would she do that? How would she know?"

"Because she might hate my guts, but Lady Une knows I have certain instincts, and that I am a survivor. Une and I have managed to have a few unmonitored conversations, and she knows they were using me to control Relena. By this time my sister would have been pushed far enough to explain to a few people exactly what is going on. I doubt that Une would inform her she knew it soon after I was sent to Mars. She has done what she could for me here and no, I doubt that she knew what their instructions would have been, but she may have suspected it. She was capable of making such decisions herself, after all. If we can get off of Mars and vanish then there is no way that Relena can be coerced into obeying the factions behind this. Une will protect her, and do what she can to see that Relena is safe until she is free to act."

"Politics." Giles shook his head, disgusted.

"I have learned that you can not get away from politics, my friend. Not when you have the misfortune to be born a Peacecraft." He shrugged. "The Shuttle Control Tower is a possibility for them to make a headquarters for much of this infiltration. It affords limited access and good visibility on the approaches, and no ground floor windows. A veritable fortress. If any portion of the vision I can recall, that seem to match this time can still be accounted as accurate, then I do not expect them to be there at this time, but they will return if we do not take them out. The messages on the pagers would suggest they are going down into the sub base, and that is likely to be an attempt to find out how many of his team are still alive. He will not be happy when he learns that four of them are drugged out of their skulls, and will be of no use to him for upwards of another eight hours. The only permanent casualties to his team are the two men Noin killed."

"Any chance of them finding your kids while they are down there?"

He ignored the clench within his vitals that threatened to have him go down into vision. A combination of vision and pure fear for his children, he did not have time to deal with now. He had to go on and not dwell on possibilities that he already had decided were unlikely given the current situation.

"Yes, yes there is the chance that he will find them, but there were only two visions that suggested he would actually find the twins while I am running free, but …"

"But my presence here makes that a question mark. Yeah, I am beginning to understand why you think you are going loopy. So, the best case scenario is that he will go down into the sub base, find his team in dreamland and come back up, pissed as all hell about the whole situation. He then will try to set a trap to bring you to him, using Noin as the bait. That about it?"

"Yes."

"What about McIntyre? How does she figure in this? Do you know how many of her people are still running around?"

"No. I have no firm idea of how many Sleepers there were here. What I have seen of her suggests that she was Noin's prime target, but she is still running around, and I have seen no sign of Noin." He would not give into the fear that said McIntyre had taken out Noin.

"Not so good then. Well, the two listed in the pager, this Simpson and Frazier, would likely be heading down into the sub base by now. Most likely already in the sub base. I don't know about you but I really don't think following them down there in the elevator would be a good idea."

"It's not. If there is one thing I will be avoiding from now on it is elevators. A few possibilities suggested that they would be at the elevators long enough to allow the tech, who I think is Frazier, to reprogram the charges so McIntyre can not set them off. That is in our favor, but that does not make the elevators any safer. It just changes who has the trigger mechanism."

"I agree with you there. It would be easy enough for them to set up a silent alarm they could monitor. Okay, no elevators, but that is about the only way to get down into the sub base isn't it?"

"No, there are other ways down. There is also another possibility to be considered. There is a chance that Barker found my notation on a radio frequency that may be safe for us to use. If we could get a working radio, with a halfway decent range on it, then we might be able to learn what is going on outside of the dome and at the Alpha Dome."

"So … the Shuttle Control Tower? Would that be our best chance?"

"Yes, if you want to chance a run in with Shanna McIntrye."

Giles chuckled. "Hell, we have to deal with the psycho bitch sometime. Why not now? I have to admit I would like to learn if my partner on this assignment is alive. I like Chris, and while he is in a mobile suit and they have greater oxygen stores, he has been out there all day and his oxygen will not last the night. I don't know how the suit will go in the cold either."

"There are hand radios in the shuttle tower, in the maintenance room on the third floor. With a little bit of boosting, and the equipment we need to do that is there as well, then we should be able to get a call out to the Alpha Dome, or to the outside workers."

"Right then. The Shuttle Control Tower it is. Let's go."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	85. Chapter 85

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 85

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 21:15 [Approx 19:05 Sanc time

Zechs

//If we can get to the shuttle control room safely we can see exactly what damage has been done to the computer systems. We could pass near enough to the elevators so that we can make certain the fire fighting systems are still operational and handling the fire. The last thing we need to deal with is a wild fire in the enviro dome. //

He slipped around the last of the crates, pausing to survey the area with brooding eyes, wary. No one was in sight, and he could hear no sounds that were suggestive of movement, but he was not a trusting body at the best of times, and now he was positively paranoid. There was a hissing, very faint which he hoped was the automatic extinguishers dousing the flaming pile of debris that once was an elevator block.

//Noin. Where are you? Be alive. Don't you dare get yourself killed.//

Giles slipped up to crouch beside him, motioning to the edge of the building across from them. After a hasty discussion they had decided to tackle the accumulation of crates on the far side of the control tower, mindful that in certain of his visions Shanna McIntyre was hidden there, waiting to pick off anyone who responded to the threat of the explosion and resulting fire. In order to reach the Shuttle Control Tower they needed to get past her secured position. Their only other alternative would be to make their way to the far side of the dome, circle it's protecting wall and approach the tower from the far side. While that was undoubtedly a safer option to take, it was also going to be guaranteed to be time consuming. They had mutually decided that they would take the riskier shorter route, both certain time was an increasingly important factor.

"Ready?" Giles breathed.

"Go." The breath of a whisper answered him.

They moved quickly in a cautious glide along the side of building C, eyes constantly scanning their surroundings, hating the openness of their chosen course, knowing that time pushed them to make possibly fatal decisions, until they crouched at the edge of the warehouse. Across a small gap lay the Main Control Tower and their target. The nest of crates was on the far side of the building and at the far end, but to get to that building they had to expose themselves to the view of nearly half the dome. It was going to be too easy to be spotted crossing that open ground, and neither really felt like taking that step, but they were exposed on one side as it was, and to linger longer would only increase the chances of discovery.

With a low hiss Giles touched him lightly on the shoulder, pointed to himself and edged to the corner of the building. A quick glance at Zechs, who was scanning their open side, and then an affirmative nod and Giles threw a cautious peek around the corner of building C and ran in a half crouch to the near corner of the Tower. Zechs slipped to the corner of the warehouse and glanced around, seeking any movement, either furtive to offer a clue to another Sleeper, or an open movement which could be another terra former who would fall victim to the assassins.

He watched as Giles ghosted along the short side of the tower and crouched low, peering around the corner to gain a view of the distant Shuttle Control Tower and any cover that they might make use of. To the waiting blonde the Raider operative seemed to take an inordinately long time to make his survey, but Zechs knew that was only illusion. He was more that accustomed to how time was affected by action and tension. In this tense situation time would drag, until they once more had to fight for their lives and then it would move quickly enough, resulting in death for someone. He was not inclined to be forgiving, and only hoped he made no more mistakes.

At last Giles turned and slipped back across the gap to join him, motioning to the boxes they had come from and leading the way back into their protection.

"Okay, we have a little problem and we need to decide what to do. If we approach the crates on the far side of the tower from this end of the tower, she will have plenty of time to see us coming. We are sitting ducks if we go through with it. Once we get into her nest and check the crates, there is another group of crates and some transport trays abandoned about half way between the two towers. That is our closest cover if we are to come at the shuttle tower from this side. Anyone looking out of the windows of either of these two towers has to see us. They would have to be blind not to."

Their biggest problem would be in passing McIntyre if she was still nested in those crates. Just how true to his visions was this set of circumstances now, and how closely dare he follow the outlay of the vision? Approaching her position from the far side of the control building was the equivalent of committing suicide in his view, which left only two options he would even consider. They could move up the length of the control tower on this nearer side, slip around the corner and across the front of the tower, hopefully into the crates unnoticed by McIntyre, or anyone else stalking the area. Considering the amount of open space that subjected them to, they would be in serious trouble if anyone was out there, hunting in the dome. The second option he would consider was that they could scale the tower, either by climbing its exterior, which he was not in favor of, or by entering via the main door, which would involve them crossing more than half the route he already hated as being too open. Once on the roof they could tackle getting down the other side and dropping into the crates, but that did not even take into account the traps Shanna McIntyre, or her Sleepers, may have laid in the tower itself.

//Suicide to take the time to try climbing that thing. Too open. We would be even more exposed. I don't believe that there really is a choice. We have to chance there being other hunters around in the dome and go by the near side route. At least it gives us a chance of gaining the crates without her seeing us coming. I only hope we have taken out the remainder of the Sleepers, and that the infiltration team is too busy at the elevators. There is no way that I can handle climbing with this shoulder. //

Giles had been surveying their surroundings, and with a small sigh glanced at Zechs with a faint lift of his shoulders in a hopeless shrug. "Yeah, I know. It's really no choice, is it? It would take twice as long to go to the Hydroponics domes, and flit from cover to cover, as it would to skip along the side of the tower itself, and we would only have to cover double the open ground in the long run anyway. You're not up to climbing the tower, even if we had the gear to make that a viable option, and if that bitch has been hunting in the control tower I hate to think what traps she would have laid in there. I'll go first to the corner of building C and check out the view."

Zechs nodded, not of a mind to argue with the pain in his shoulder reminding him just how unfit he was for this type of action. He was quite willing for Giles to take point, and he would cover the man's rear. Tried and true methods were best in some situations, and this was certainly one of them. Decision made they ghosted to the edge of the crates, and it took only seconds for Giles to reach the corner once again. With the motion of a raised hand beckoning him, Zechs joined his partner, taking up his position at the corner of building C, so that Giles could move on to the near corner of the Control Tower where, after a quick look around, Giles motioned him to come. Again the small pause in which he said a prayer to whatever God watched over fools and idiots, and he took the run to join the Raider.

"This is worrying. It's quiet as the grave out here." Giles whispered. "Mind the glass just up from here. I never noticed it before, but the window to the control room is broken. From the amount of glass I'd say it had to be broken from the outside and I think there's a short rope hanging from the roof of the tower to the window. It's a bit hard to make out in this light."

Zechs glanced up uneasily, looking for and finding the rope and gaping hole that marked the window. He nodded a confirmation, very uneasy about their silent surroundings and that window. Of specially toughened glass it was supposed to be able to survive the effects of explosive decompression should the dome be hit. Furthermore the control tower was where McIntyre had been assigned in an emergency situation, and that would have allowed her to take action against the other terra formers in the tower. To make a serious impression all she would have needed to do was enlist the aid of one of her Sleepers, and they could take out the tower personal with very little if any opposition. He had no doubt that it had been a blood bath, and that there had been no survivors. Yet what about the window?

"Go." He murmured. "We need to get out of sight and that means we need those crates around us."

Trying to present as unobtrusive a target as possible they moved the length of the tower, each crouched low, backs pressed to the solidity of the building. Neither trusted the silence, which was weighing more and more on their psyches, reminding them this dome should be alive with the shouts of people, and the rumble of returning machinery from the maintenance teams returning to the dome. It was like a ghost town, eerily silent and oppressive.

Giles peered around the corner, seeking any sign of anyone moving and sighed softly when he saw no threatening movement. He did not trust this unnatural silence, and he was uncertain if he should be relieved or worrier that they had come so far and met no one. He glanced behind him at the blonde who was covering his back, glancing now behind them which reminded Giles that they were exposed to anyone up to half the length of the dome away from the rear side. At least once they got around this corner they were covered from that direction, and instead exposed from their front, still that was not so great an open area, and therefore was preferable to their current position.

As Giles slipped around the corner of the tower Zechs moved to take his place. As if the silence of the dome was not enough to have him on edge, now there was the return of that eerie phantom presence that had haunted him. The presence felt the same, but at least this time the raging anger he had sensed, and for some reason associated with Noin, was lacking. This time the mood was more mellow, still intense but sorrowful almost.

...**ay. The bitch … to … tower … sorry for what …know … you through … been a bitch …but I love … you. Wish … stand … distracting you … dangerous … sorry, love.**

His back hit the wall of the building and wild eyed he glared around him, knowing he was alone, and yet equally certain he was not. A shudder wracked his body in response to what felt like a phantom touch glide over his cheek, a caress much as Noin had often caressed him. A feather-like stroke of shapely slender fingers. Shaking in reaction he pressed his back to the reassuring solidity of the building, feeling the world sway precariously about him and a thundering pain rising in his head.

"Zechs? Shit, this is not a good time for what ever it is your doing!"

Hands, real solid flesh and blood hands, grasped his good shoulder and pulled at him, and his body at least obeyed that insistent grasp. The pain was rising, sweeping over him, engulfing him in tides of agony. A wash of emotion flooded him, swamping his perceptions … sorrow … hope … pain … love … sheathed anger like a blade … certainty that change was inevitable … emotions that were almost words filling his awareness, forcing out the world around him. Impressions of another filling him, not his own perceptions of the world, but those of another who was as familiar to him as …

00000000000000000000000000

Hands, small, slender, long fingered. Strong hands that caressed as they moved across his hip, dropping down to smooth over his thigh. A body pressed close, skin to skin, breath warm against his chest, the light caress of warm moist tongue to a nipple. 

00000000000000000000000000

**Zechs? Can you hear me? I'm sorry love. I don't know how this works, and I can feel the pain in you. I will be quick. McIntyre is heading for the Shuttle Control Tower. Everyone is dead there, and in the Main Control Tower too. The military types are working on the freight elevators, and I have to go back to my body. This is weird, love. I'm sorry for doubting you and thinking that you were losing your sanity, but I understand now. Please … my body … I have to go back to my body, before She gets there. She has been looking for me. I don't know what I can do to defend myself in this state, but I will try. Just know that whatever happens, I love you, and that I am sorry for everything I did. I know my mistakes and we will talk. If I survive this.**

He so desperately wanted to heave the contents of his gut up, and with it the crawling sensation that covered his entire body. There were real hands on his back and somehow he was no longer standing, and his face was pressed to cold concrete. Those hands were moving rhythmically on him, pressing at his back and the sides of his ribs, in something like the rhythm of a heart beat. A regular, even paced rhythm that seemed to be bringing back more than the awareness of cramping agony. There was a voice that was whispering in his ear, not in his head. That whispering was speaking to him, calling to him repeatedly. Air was being forced through his gasping lungs by that steady rhythm that seemed to be calming the wild beating of his heart, and the thunder in his head was quieting down to almost manageable proportions as quickly as it had risen in the first place. With the thunder receding he could more easily make out the words that whispered in his ear, entreating him to listen.

" … come on, you have to establish a rhythm, man. Zechs? Not too deep now, but not shallow breaths either. Try, Zechs. Shit, I know it's not easy, but we really can't afford to stay here for long, and you have to regain control. It's just not safe to be out here. Deeper breaths man, you really don't want to puke, and bigger breaths will help overcome that reflex. Come on, Zechs. Control it."

Giles.

The name swam to the fore; a recognition of the voice that whispered in his ear. He became aware that he was shaking, and the hardness of a body stretched out against his own was a welcome anchor to reality amid swimming perceptions. Nothing seemed stable in this world, except that hardness pressed along one side of him, and the ice cold concrete under his cheek. He ached in every extremity of his body, particularly the left side of him, where that solidity that was Giles was pressed.

"Zechs, you have to wake up, man. You are just too bloody big for me to carry, and we really can't stay here. At least there's some colour coming into your face now. Can you hear me? Zechs? A grunt will do. Just a little grunt, enough to let me know you are back in the world of the living."

Memory of a sort was stirring. He knew this weakness. He had felt it on many occasions since he had had the misfortune to trade suits with … with … Yuy? Epyon. This was reaction to vision but … no, there was something not right. This bone aching pain and disorientation did not feel quite the same, but whatever it was it was sufficient to have him groveling on the floor, helpless … Helpless? That was bad. That was dangerous. It was dangerous because … because …

"Giles?" He did not recognize his own voice, a thread bare, gravel edged whisper of sound.

"Thank God." Heartfelt relief in the tone, panic receding. "I know it must hurt like hell, but you really need to sit up. I'll help. I'll hold you up and steady you, but you have to sit up. There's a crate right here that you can lean against, and I will stop you from falling again. Slowly now, or you will end up doing more harm than good."

The world tipped crazily around him, and what vision he had was lost to red agony. He wanted to scream against the pain and the disorientation that whirled the world around him in a dizzying spiral, denying them reality, but all that came out was a grunt. Gentle hands were on his shoulders, and then left him, fingers tipped back his head and those steadying hands were back, gripping his shoulders. With that touch the pain and disorientation swept through him in a breaking wave, the wave burning to life through his left shoulder.

A sharp sting originating in his right shoulder, and a crawling sensation informed him that he had been injected with something, and in response to that a remote voice screamed deep within him that that was dangerous and he really should protest. It faded with a pathetic whimper under the onslaught of another wave of disorientation.

"That should help in a minute or so, with the pain at least. Sorry I did not catch you in time, and stop you from landing on your shoulder, but at least you did not crack your head open. Can you hear me? Christ, you're more out than in, eh? Well, its not like we have any options, is it? Until you can move we are not going anywhere. I don't know if this is safe or not, but I don't see that there is much choice. It's about all that I have in my med kit that might get you back in the land of the living."

Silence. When the voice stopped there was only a worrying silence. The throbbing in his head was easing, thankfully, and the agony from his shoulder seemed a little less. He sucked in a deeper breath at the return of the sting and crawling of liquid entering his veins. He could not fight it though. He could not muster enough energy to do more than sit here and sob air into starving lungs. It seemed that his breathing improved, growing stronger, deeper breaths over taking the shallow gasping, and those hands had returned and now supported him, no longer massaging him and forcing air into his lungs.

"I don't know what that was, but that it was related to your gift I'm pretty sure is a reasonable assumption. A vision? Did you experience a vision? Zechs? Can you make any sense of what I am saying? What did you see? Zechs, what did you see? Damn. Are you going to be as out of it as you said you were afraid you would be if you had another? I don't know enough about precogs, let alone your particular form of precognitive talent, to help you with this. I'm not one of the trainers, after all, and that is what you need right now. A fully trained Master and medical team, to bring you through this. I only know a few basic techniques I learned when they worked with me. Stuff that they use with just about every talent. Still, we just have to do the best that we can, yes? Hello? Mars to Zechs? Anyone home in there? Ah, sorry. Not funny I know, but you're frightening the shit out of me I hope you know. I get snippy when I'm terrified. Not to mention cranky. Maybe even a little bit sarcastic."

"A lot … sarcastic … but who … cares … between friends?" That was Giles and he had the memory that he was accounted a friend. Perhaps his only real friend in this situation. Situation? Vision? Was this a vision? No, it did not feel like a vision, but the same general rule had to apply to what ever this was. No vision that much was certain, but something else. He had to move on, get himself into perspective, and get his feet back under him. "I … fell?"

The hands moved from his shoulders to rest on his cheeks. Their warmth cupping his face was welcome "Yeah. Yeah, you fell. Open your eyes and try to focus on me."

Open his eyes? That simple little action took effort, and he was uncertain if he had the strength to do that much, but the sense of urgency that usually came to him after a vision was rising now, reminding him there was danger. Reminding him if Giles was not a particularly solid vision, then they were in serious trouble. A blurred something that might have passed for a face at some time in the past swam before him, and he groaned in protest, pain rising as the world swam about him. In protest to both the pain and the distortion of that face he shut his eyes.

"No. Look at me. I need to see your eyes. Just … yeah, okay. It's okay. Your pupils are dilated and your eyes look … odd, for want of a better word. I've see that reaction before, and it will pass in a couple of minutes. Was it a vision?"

"No." He was thankful no protest had come to his closing his eyes again. The world was not so strange if he did not have to look at it. "No vision."

"Not a vision? Well, have you felt this before?"

"No." The breath of a whisper.

Giles scrubbed at his face with shaking hands, and to gain himself a moment to think he moved from the crate where he had propped Zechs, peering anxiously through the gap between two crates, to survey the area beyond their hiding place. He had caught the fainting man and managed to drag him into the cover of the crates that had been their destination, praying that McIntyre was not hidden there, waiting for them, and he had not made the wrong choice. Maybe he should have chanced going into the building, but the crates were just as close as the doors had been, or almost, and by choosing the crates he did not have to deal with doors while holding the man, who considerably outweighed him. As it was he had lost his grip on Zechs, just barely managing to stop Zechs from bashing his head into the concrete, though he had been unable to prevent him from landing on his already abused left side. The only good thing to have happened was that McIntyre was not in their hiding place.

//Not a vision? All the signs are there for this to have been a psi incident. Especially his eyes. I wonder how much he remembers?// "So, can you describe what happened?"

"Noin?" A breathy sigh, confusion colouring his voice. "It … was … Noin."

//Noin? What the hell?// Giles glared at the blonde, lips pursed as he considered that statement. There was nothing questioning about the actual name he uttered. He sounded certain of the identifying name, but confused with it and all together too calm. Too many of the Gifted fell to pieces emotionally when some previously unsuspected aspect of their talent reared itself, unbidden, for the first time. He had done so himself often enough. Zechs Marquise, while obviously confused, did not give the appearance of being ready to fall apart emotionally. He seemed more curious than anything.

"Lucrezia Noin? How was it Noin?"

Blue eyes opened, looking glazed, and seemed to search the area and stopped when they came to rest on him. He watched that dazed search, watching the clarity gradually return to the ice blue gaze, and while his eyes narrowed against the light at least this time, Zechs did not close them immediately. Giles noted with relief that Zechs took the time to examine their surroundings before he answered, clear indication that he was regaining his facilities.

"We are in the crates beside the tower?" At Giles' confirming nod Zechs groaned. "Sorry. I'm sorry. God, I hurt."

"Noin?" A gentle prod. He needed to understand what had happened, and they did not have much time. Keeping Zechs talking and forcing him to concentrate should improve his responses, and firm his grounding to the here and now.

"I … I was talking … to her. No. That's wrong." He frowned, daring to shake his head a little in denial, cringing from the flare in his headache. "No, she … she was talking to me."

Giles sighed, not understanding in the least but knowing enough to keep the man talking, and reached to take the pulse of his patient, deciding he was steadily improving, even if he was talking nonsense just now. He was, in fact, improving much more rapidly than Giles had expected. Already there was colour flooding back into Zechs' face, and the shaking that had once been close to convulsions was now down to a light trembling. He was visibly more alert, and his voice was growing stronger, demonstrating a frightening resilience considering the abuse he had already suffered.

"About?"

"About?"

Giles resisted the urge to sigh. He had to give the man the chance to regain his awareness, and after what had looked almost like an epileptic seizure, admittedly with notable differences, it was no wonder the man was disoriented and tended to drift a little. Still, he was looking better, and he even winced as he realized what Giles had meant.

"Noin was talking to you about …?" He prompted.

"Something about … the tower. The Shuttle Control Room, I think." He leaned his head back against the crate that supported him, frowning but resisting the urge to close his eyes against the world. That was not the way to move beyond the weakness, "I think … McIntyre is heading for the Shuttle Control Tower. There was something about the freight elevators as well. A body?"

//Gibberish?// Giles dismissed that as quickly as it had come. //No, he's not the sort to lose it totally; and I have to be careful not to give him the impression I think he's gone off the deep end. That is entirely the wrong approach to take with a Gifted in breakout, and I think that is what this is. Break out. His talent is emerging, and he's going to be one of the multitalented ones. That is not such a good thing for us just now, considering the delicacy of the situation. He really needs to be in an isolation suite under a Training Master and medical teams care. Still, truth be told we did not always have those advantages. Many of us go through breakout without that kind of help and advantage, and all too often totally alone. We can manage. I just have to keep his confidence up.//

"A body? Any idea whose?" A gentle prod. It was best to go slowly and encourage Zechs to pursue what he had experienced. That always helped to clarify the talent's perceptions, and to set the mind at rest that they were not going insane.

He dropped his head into his hands, wincing at the pain in his shoulder on moving his left arm, but he ignored it. Pain could be lived with, and he had to get himself out of this weakness and start to pull himself together. He was going to have to stand shortly and move around. Not just stand and walk either, but run and most likely fight for his life. He could afford no weakness now. There would be plenty of time later to curl up into an agonized ball and forget the world existed. Later.

"Ahm. The elevators … those military types, she said. That would be Simpson and who ever is left out of his team. Frazier, was it? I think. I think she said they are working on the elevators."

Well, that was pertinent to their current predicament, so that was better than he had hoped for. "So … likely they are either disarming the bombs the Sleepers installed there, or altering the trigger device so that only they can activate them."

"Yeah. Yes, I think so. She mentioned the elevators, and I think something about the Shuttle Control Room … and McIntyre going there. Yes, I think … I think McIntyre is looking for something there."

Giles hesitated. The man's voice was gaining in strength and that stimulant should be starting to kick in. Zechs should be capable of standing soon, and they could make a move on getting out of the crates. "Looking for something? I wonder what that could be? Look Zechs, in the conversations you and I have had before, you never once suggested that Noin could be Gifted. If she was talking to you then that would be suggestive of telepathy, but I have never known anyone to react to telepathy as you did."

That thought gave him pause and he considered it for a long moment, shifting to stare at Giles. //Noin is Gifted? Well, yes, I suppose she must be if … body? Her body? Did she … She said her body.//

"Zechs? What is it? You just remembered something, didn't you?"

"I think … I think that McIntyre is after Noin. That is why she is heading for the control tower. Yes, she is going to the control tower to find Noin."

Giles lunged forward to catch the man as he struggled to gain his feet, making no move to stop him, but offering him support at each careful stage. "Easy. Slowly now. Landing flat on your face will help no one, least of all yourself. Well, if Noin is in the tower then I suppose we will go there, yes? We were going to exactly that place, after all, before this happened, so this changes nothing of our plans. No, not now, man. You'll be flat on your backside, if not your face, if you move now. Give it a minute. No, Zechs, you need the time, and we need to understand what just happened. If this is accurate, what you just experienced and have explained to me of the incident, then it means Lucrezia Noin has to be a talent. One of the Gifted. Noin is a telepath I would think, but that does not explain what knocked you out."

"Telepath … A telepath?" The crystal blue eyes were becoming more focused and ice like by the second.

"Yes. She has the capability of speaking from mind to mind. That is how she would have contacted you. Telepathically. But most people do not go down like a ton of bricks from a telepathic contact, so either you have a problem with telepathy, or she is way too powerful, and literally shouted in your unprepared mind, knocking you out. That means either you dropped your shields, or she got past them."

"No … yes, I suppose, but …" He rested a hand on the crate behind him, trying to use it to give his racing thoughts a chance to steady as it steadied his body. "Why would she be so concerned for her body?"

Giles arched an eyebrow, glancing at his companion in surprise. He had not expected that to come back by way of a response. "What do your mean, 'concerned for her body'?"

"She said that she had to get back to her body. Yes, that is what she said. That she had to get back to her body …before She got there. I suppose that would be McIntyre. God." The headache was rising again, pounding at his temples and threatening to tear his skull apart. "It hurts to think."

//Get back to her body? Back to her … Oh, shit. Out of body experience? Could she be dead? Hell, I think that would break him if she was dead. I dare not even suggest it.//

Zechs pushed himself away from the support of the crate, looking about him and accepting Giles supporting hand. The man was close enough to grab him and stop a fall, but not standing close enough to crowd him and make him feel threatened.

"Give yourself a couple of minutes before you try moving."

"No. No, we don't have the time. For some reason I always improve more rapidly if I am moving at this stage, and we have to get to the tower. Noin said she had to go back and … she sounded so uncertain of being capable of defending her body. I don't understand, Giles, but I know that she is in trouble."

"Fine, but we have to move slowly to begin with, okay? Just take it carefully, or you are likely to collapse and I may not catch you before you grind your face into the pavement. I really don't think your shoulder would appreciate another landing like the last one. Now, you said that she was unsure if she could defend her body?"

"Yes. No. I mean... I think she said she was uncertain what she could do to defend herself in that state. I think. Yes, something like that. Giles? What does it mean? You know more of the Gifted abilities than I do. Have I been hallucinating or something? Is it possible for Noin to tell me this, and to feel as though she was standing beside me?"

He shrugged slightly, considering what he had been told, attempting to gain a little time to consider his options. Zechs would have no idea of the varied abilities of the Gifted, and to be honest he did not know much more, but he did have an idea of what might be happening at least. If it would help to calm Zechs was another matter entirely. It could just send him over the deep end into the very insanity that he feared, or make him go into a rage that could loose God only knew what. The man was so obviously going through Breakout, and it would take very little to break him. Unknown Psychic talent, or talents, were awakening, and that was always a delicate time for anyone. He did not need Zechs to panic, and he had to remember that Zechs had been living with the woman for roughly a year.

"Well, you need to understand that I'm not sure if what I think might be happening, is actually accurate, but I think it is at least possible. Just wait there while I check to see if we have any visitors. Lean yourself against the crate for a minute." He peered out from the crates, taking particular care to mark anything suspicious. They were not going to be moving quickly, and he did not need to hurry the man any more than necessary. It was idiocy to move so soon after this incident, but they really did not have too much in the way of options. "Okay, let's move. Carefully, mind you. If you collapse half way to our next cover we are going to be in all sorts of shit. You are just too big for me to pick up and carry."

"You are avoiding the issue." The softly whispered comment was accompanied by a piercing look.

"Not really. I'm just giving myself enough time to phrase this without you going ballistic on me. It is not proven, you understand. We are working in the dark here, not knowing the facts, only surmising, but from what you have told me, I think it is possible that Noin may have left her body. Gone Astral. That is where the mind, the consciousness that is the person you know, and the body itself part company for a while. If this is what she has done, then it is dangerous if she loses the thread between the two halves of the whole. Look Zechs, I don't really know the words to describe this adequately, but if she does have the ability to use this Gift, then she needs training just as much as you do."

"Gone Astral?" He turned the words over carefully, testing their flavor and not liking what was implied.

"Astral Projection. I really don't know much about that talent. My strength is as a Suggestor, a select, specialist type of telepath, and that is a far cry from astral projection. That she contacted you suggests she has a form of telepathy, if not full telepathy as a second ability. I don't know if the problem there is with her, or something in you. I really don't know if most who can go astral can talk to somebody while they are out of body. Its new territory for me, believe me."

"But it is possible for a person to leave their body behind?" His eyes centred on Giles with a sharp intensity that demanded to know-demanded confirmation of fact, or a confession this was all fantasy.

"Yeah. Yes, it is."

"Good." //That means I am not insane. I have not lost it. I did hear what I thought I heard. I think. Or is he just humoring me? I don't know. I just don't know what to think anymore.//

"Hey." Giles lightly touched the man's arm, a reassuring, anchoring touch. "You are not nuts, man. No, I am not a true telepath, remember. I can very rarely speak words to another person's mind or read their thoughts, but I know what my reactions were when I was taught about the Gifted. I can guess what you are thinking now, and I know it's hard to take in and accept, but you are not insane. You will find that the world has … grown, I suppose is the word I am looking for. Things are not always as they appear to be, and the Gifted know that there is more in the universe than most people think. I'm sorry. I really am sorry that I just don't have the words to explain."

"It's okay, Giles. I learned when I used Epyon that what I had thought was reality was only a state of mind. A small, ignorant but safe state of mind. You don't see multiple possibilities of the future and think thereafter that the world is on a set fated course. There is no such thing as fate, not the way most people think of fate. We can, and do, make our own destiny. Most of us just don't know it."

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2004


	86. Chapter 86

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 86

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 21:10 [Approx 19:00 Sanc time

Noin

Noin cast a startled look around her as the smoldering elevator block beside her vanished to be replaced by the rising majesty of the hydroponics dome. HD Three reared above her, its opaque glass hinting at the greenery within, but allowing no clear view of the rainforest contained within its curved surface. A small noise, a light scrape drew her attention from the dome to the cluster of buggy like vehicles parked near the dome.

//Damn. I just don't understand why, or how, I keep shifting like this. From a few meters from where I was standing to half the bloody length of the dome. It's so disconcerting. Well, I suppose I needed to check on what they were doing anyway. Making use of the opportunity is only sensible.//

She stood only a few meters from where Simpson and Frazier were making use of the cover afforded by the abandoned vehicles and their loads, and the bulk of the great hydroponics dome. When the emergency alert had been sounded people had stopped what they were doing and abandoned their vehicles, making their way quickly to their designated positions. It placed some unlikely cover opportunities around the usually neat and orderly dome. Noin ghosted, quite literally, closer to the two men, settling just behind them to listen attentively to their conversation.

"… check over the elevator system and find where they have set the explosives. I want the charges removed if you can not reset the trigger they have devised. I want it set up so that McIntyre's people can not use them without going to a great deal of trouble."

"How do you want the explosives detonation to be set, Sir?"

Noin followed as the two men slipped from behind their cover and began to walk around the bulk of the hydroponics dome, taking the long route at the far side of the enviro dome to reach the freight elevators. A course that would allow them to avoid what ever traps might have been laid by the Sleepers, and whoever might be battling them, in the central area. It became obvious to Noin that the Commander wanted as little to do with McIntyre and her people as possible, and for that Noin could not fault him. She followed, listening to their conversation and casting occasional glances back towards the burning elevators, now almost out of sight beyond the curve of the dome, though a disturbing pillar of smoke still rose high into the dome's superstructure.

//I hope the automatic systems are up to handling that fire. At least the scrubbers should be able to handle the pollution caused by the smoke.//

"I think that a radio controlled trigger would best serve our purpose, and for the moment it would be best if you keep it on you. Do you have the requisite parts on you for that without going back to the control tower?"

"Yes, Sir. I have enough to build a basic transmitter from scratch if that is needed. It depends how many functions you want to incorporate into the device." Frazier lightly touched the belt pouches that circled his waist, a personal assurance to himself more than to his Commander.

"Basic will be good enough, no need for anything fancy. I wonder where the psycho bitch is lurking now?" He glanced around, back toward the burning elevators. "Somewhere back there, where she can ambush any poor sod who comes to investigate, no doubt. I hope Merquise finds her soon. He will save me the trouble of dealing with her."

//Oh no, he will not. That bitch is mine, whoever you are. //

Frazier crouched behind a group of trolleys, surveying the seemingly deserted area with suspicion. He was not a trusting soul at the best of times, of which this definitely was not, and he had no intention of being taken out by mistake by either Sleepers or by Merquise, or anyone else who was hunting in the dome.

"She is certainly not what you could call sane. I have to admit, Sir, that I would not have thought they would place a psyche-conditioned individual in a position to command such a team as this. From what I know the test instances in the past proved that severe isolation had a detrimental effect on conditioning."

"Yes, well I think it safe to say that certain heads will roll over this situation when we get back to the Earth and hand in our report. From what I have seen of this imprisonment of Merquise, it has been a screw up since his arrival on Mars. Had this situation been handled in the appropriate manner required to contain a person of his known skill levels, there would have been no need for this mission to be anything other than a simple pickup. That man should never have been given such freedoms as he has enjoyed here. It is certain that these mistakes will not be permitted during his upcoming confinement."

"He appears to be an astonishingly resourceful individual, Sir."

Noin shook her head, slipping away from the men, deciding it was time she turned her attention elsewhere, and headed back for the burning elevators. She needed to get back to Zechs and somehow she needed to work out some means by which to contact him. Knowing her blonde partner as she did, he would be ready to head into the lion's den very soon now, and before she could find him she really needed to make certain just where McIntyre was, and ascertain what her next plan would be. It was entirely possible she would very quickly grow tired of waiting for someone to walk into her trap. Her mental instability would make her dangerously erratic.

//Zechs, what am I going to do? There has to be some way I can reach you. There must be some means by which I can contact you while I am in this form, and have you understand me. We have always made a great team, and if I can figure out how best to exchange information with you, I could keep you informed of where everyone is, and what their plans are. It would make life a lot easier for you if you had the inside drop on their plans. Shit. What is she doing?//

It came as rather a surprise to her to see Shanna McIntyre standing in plain sight, glaring in her direction. An instant of panic shot through Noin. Could McIntyre see her?

//Oh shit. Can you … I'll just slip over here and use the rover … You are still looking in the same place? Ah, I see. Not me then.//

The woman who had earned the dubious distinction of becoming her arch nemesis appeared to be intent on the retreating figures of the two men, and after a good look McIntyre slipped behind the burning rubble, using it to shield her from any glance behind them that the men might make. Noin growled softly to herself, wishing she could express her displeasure in a more physical fashion. If she could just get her hands to close around that long and so elegant neck …

//What are you up to now? I see you, you bitch. Your watching them, aren't you, but why? Why are you so interested …//

Blink

//God damn it! I am so getting to hate that instant transport thingy I do. Shit, I have to figure out what causes me to do that. I don't know what triggers it. One minute I'm here, contemplating how I would love to wring her neck and the next-poof!-I'm not there anymore, I'm here, wherever here might be.// She glared at the burning elevators now only a couple of meters from her, instead of a few hundred meters. // Well, at least its closer to the bitch, I suppose. At least she can not see me, so I had best gather what intelligence I can while I have the opportunity.//

Noin willed herself to glide up to the woman who was hunched over a small device in her hands, muttering softly to herself. The red head glanced around, taking in the full exposed areas of the dome visible to her position and then back to her hands, scowling.

// Now what are you crouching there for? What are you doing?// Noin caught herself in the midst of freezing when the woman half turned, checking for anyone moving around and snorted to herself. As if McIntyre could see her, let alone hear her. This being invisible took some getting used to. //Hmm, so that is how you communicate with them. Pagers. Simple and a lot of the workers here have them. No one thinks twice about seeing them used here, so I suppose it makes sense. I would have thought it too dangerous to use them, but then you have kept it secret this long, so I suppose you win that point. Now, what have you typed in there? Mmm … You know where they are going, do you? Simpson and Frazier? So that are their names.//

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Shanna McIntyre

McIntyre crouched behind the smoldering ruins of the elevators and directed a hard glance at where the backs of the two men had disappeared from view, around the curve of HD Three, fingering the pager after uttering a soft curse. She had left the sanctuary of the crates to better follow the path of the two men she had watched inspect the rubble that burned so delightfully.

She had sent the message instructing her agents to regroup while watching the men move with a deadly grace from cover to cover, and she had to acknowledge to herself that they knew their business. It was a pity they had made some stupid mistakes and set off this foolishness, disrupting her orderly life and coming so close to utterly ruining the mission. She really would have expected better of the renowned, almost legendary Blue squad.

"I can guess easily enough where you are bound, Simpson, with your little tech hanger on. But you … Where are you?" She scowled at the pager, waiting for the acknowledgements to her instructions from her team, and growing more and more angry with the silence in the dome, and the lack of response from her team members.

The pager was rolled repeatedly in her hands, an absent minded reflex as the seconds ticking away into minutes. The dome was eerily silent, and it sent shudders up her spine, which surprised her as she was not generally nervous or easily spooked. The silence had gone on too long, she should have had a response from her team, and this continued quiet did not bode well for her team's survival. It was just another complaint that she would have to include in her report on this fiasco, and that she could blame on Blue Squad's Commander. With a sigh she pocketed the pager and glanced behind her at the open expanses of the dome, almost snarling with her mounting frustration. Why?

"Why has no one come to investigate the explosion and the resulting fire? Have we killed all of the fools?"

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Noin

Noin crouched near her, watching the glint in those eyes growing and seeing the mounting madness. //You frighten me, McIntyre. You are not sane, and you are getting angry. That will make you unpredictable and more dangerous, harder to handle. I really don't like that sneaky look in your eyes.//

"Ah, well. Time to face up to another bungle I can attribute to the carelessness of others. It would appear that they are all dead. Pity that. However it does leave me free to indulge in a little hunting that is far more to my liking. With Simpson and Frazier out of that tower I now have an unobstructed search area for that bitch. They put you somewhere, Ms Noin, and rest assure I will find you." She giggled, a disturbing high pitched girlish-giggle, tossing her head in delight. "When I find you I will be able to play with you without any interference. We shall so enjoy our games together."

Another glance was directed at where the men had disappeared and she chuckled, the sound spiraling into another high-pitched insane giggle. then McIntyre turned to smirk at the Shuttle Control Tower. She was so looking forward to the next time she met Ms Noin.

Noin felt a sensation she identified as gut-wrenching fear, a rarely experience emotion, but those mad eyes and that horrible giggle could not be ignored.

//You are looking for me? No. No, that is not good. What am I going to do? I can't touch her! Shit. Shit. My hands pass right through her. What do I do now? There has to be some way I can defend myself if she finds where I am. Where my body is. Think Noin, think. There has to be some way that I can protect myself.//

McIntyre sauntered casually toward the Shuttle Tower, unconcerned that there were less than friendly eyes in the dome that could be watching her and that there were people who would be hunting her. Noin snarled, watching the strut develop and the sultry sway of slender hips. The woman had obviously lost all reason.

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Shanna McIntyre

Shanna giggled to herself, almost daring someone to appear and confront her. She could have such fun if they only would challenge her, but it was alright if no one took her up on her challenge, after all Noin was waiting for her, and then they could play. She knew that Merquise, that deliciously long-legged blonde stud was loose in the enviro dome, and that her people were very likely to be dead, considering they had failed to answer her page, but that was not important. She was Shanna McIntyre and she was the very best at what she did. She was the top agent, and soon everyone would know it and bow before her. No one could take her down, not Merquise, not Simpson, and certainly not these pacifist idiot terra formers. No one could take her down except for that bitch who had had the gall to string her up from a roof beam and leave her there, to be humiliated in front of Simpson.

"Do you know, my dearest Lucrezia, that I will have your stud after I am finished with you. I like blondes, and he is about as blonde as you can get. Such nice legs too. I like a man with long legs. I can almost hear you scream now, my dearest Noin. Soon, my dear girl. Soon you will have plenty of reasons to scream."

Well, it just would not do that people might think there was someone better than her at her line of work. No, Noin just did not have the same expertise. She had had an unfair advantage in their last encounter, and she would just have to ensure that she remedied that for this next encounter. She needed to make it plain to her team and to Noin, and to her superiors on Earth, that no one was superior to her. No one could be permitted to live who had bested her. It was the principle of the thing, a matter of honor, and her reputation could not be besmirched, especially by a wimpish ex-soldier who did not know her place. Anyone who thought they were better than her had to be dealt with.

"Simpson is a cocky bastard, and his nerdy friend is just as bad. Do they think I am blind? Or deaf, for that matter? Of course I am aware of the looks they direct at me. They wanted my body. I do admit that Simpson could be an interesting lay, but really. They think I am easy. Well, they will learn that I am not so easy as they would have me be." //They think I am easy, and that I would accept their advances and spread myself for their pleasure, but they will learn. They will learn Shanna McIntyre is no one's easy lay.// "I pick my partners, use them for my pleasure, and then I discarded them as though they are dirty laundry. Those two are beneath me. No one hurts Shanna McIntyre and gets away with it. No one insulted me and lives to tell about it. No man and no woman."

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Noin

//Oh, you cocky bitch. Striding along as though you owned the place. I have no idea how I will accomplish it, but I know I will take you down. I did it once, and I will do it a second time. Permanently. There will be no Miss Nice Girl any more, Ms Shanna McIntyre. If anyone deserves what is to come it is you. Oh, God, listen to me. I am as insane as she is. I can't even touch the bitch, let alone rip her apart as she so richly deserves. I have to figure some way of being effective in this war. Your comeuppance is coming. Your doom is at the door, but how to make certain that you go down, and can't touch a hair on my man's head? Ewe, the mere thought of you getting so much as a finger on my Zechs … Zechs. I wonder … I am sure for a bit there he could hear me. He certainly reacted as though he heard something, and there was no one around him but me at the time. I simply can not be mistaken about this. He must have heard me. I've got a couple of minutes before she can get to the tower and get to my body, so I should take this opportunity to find him and see if I can't successfully talk to him. Now, can I make this instant transport thingy work? Let's try this, sort of wishing really hard. Maybe if I pictured him in my mind? Not at all hard to do. Zechs. I want to go to Zechs. Maybe if I shut my eyes?//

She felt like such a fool, standing in the middle of the dome playing 'Let's Wish'. It was disturbing that a woman of her age should even consider something so childish as wishful thinking, and that was basically what this amounted to.

"God, I simply do not believe this. What do I think I am doing? Grow up, Lucrezia, this is not a dream, much as you wish it to be."

An exasperated sigh and she shook her head. She simply could not concentrate on what seemed so like a child's game. There was obviously some sort of trick to this flitting about the place instantly. Unconsciously she seemed able to do it, but until she could understand how it worked, and what triggered the shift, she was just wasting time and effort.

//It would be wonderful to simply think of where I wanted to go and 'bingo', there you are. Nice thought, but it just is not going to happen.//

In the blink of an eye, if she could figure out how this mode of transport worked, she could go to Zechs and warn him of the dangers he faced. She could tell him of where the enemy was, and what their plans were. What an advantage that would be, and the twins! She could go to her twins … her babies. She could almost smell that unique baby scent she loved so well, could almost feel the small weight of her babies in her arms. Would she ever get to cuddle her precious babies again?

Blink.

//Shit! Where the hell am I?//

A reasonable sized room, for one of the single staff members. The lounge and bedroom in one, with a small bench with a kettle, which was sending wisps of steam into the air, and the where with all to make tea or coffee in quarters scattered on its surface. So much smaller than the quarters she and Zechs were assigned to share after they got together, and before the birth of the twins granted them a larger assignment, it was even different to the single quarters she had been assigned on arriving on Mars.

Someone's private quarters, she mused, and not a room that she recognized. Her survey of the lounge section was interrupted by the sound of someone moving, and she spun to face the far side of the room. She recognized Sharnice Mathan, a nurse from the Medical Centre who was sitting in a chair, a steaming cup in one hand and a baby in the other. The downy white blonde hair was instantly recognizable, and with an inarticulate cry Noin lunged forward, arms reaching automatically for the infant, only to howl in frustration as her arms went through both baby and nurse.

Sharnice smiled down at the infant, setting aside the cup to lightly run her fingers over the downy cap of hair, and croon softly to the child. "Hey now, Sweet Thing. Awake again, are we? Never mind, Little One. I know, I know. Too much tension in the air and you can feel it, can't you? It will be over soon. Your daddy won't let it last any longer than necessary. He's out there, little boy, fighting for you, to keep you and your sister safe, and to find your mummy."

//Lucian. It's my Lucian, and I can't touch him. Katerina? Where is Katerina? Oh, God, Zechs, I want my babies!//

Blink.

At the thought of his name she felt an instant of wrongness, which she had not felt previously, but which seemed familiar none the less. The singles apartment was gone, replaced by the very familiar enviro dome. She was standing under the dome and was bathed in the blood red glow of the emergency lights, and it brought her close to tears. She could not take much more of this. Her perceptions were screwed by the constant shifting from place to place, and she was feeling helpless and threatened, and there was a growing fear in her that she dreaded. It was the fear of helplessness, of being incapable of affecting the outcome of the battle for the dome and their future, but it was more. It was the fear of death.

Yes, she had succeeded and escaped from the maintenance room, but what good was that? What good was having that freedom from four walls when she could do nothing but wander around the dome and witness what others did? She could not even tell anyone what she had learned and expect them to act on her behalf. She could not even thump those she so desperately wanted to pummel into oblivion. She ached to finish off McIntyre as she should have done in the first place. It was an ache in her middle, a growing pain that would not be ignored. It was not in her nature to be a rabid killer, unlike McIntyre, but she had had enough of that red-haired witch. That one was not going to be missed, and she certainly would not mourn her passing.

Did her middle actually ache? Did she feel a moment of pain? Actual pain? Was there finally sensation coming into this ghostly image of herself, and if that was so, then was it good or was it bad?

//Zechs?// He felt close for some inexplicable reason, and she looked wildly around, fighting down panic and regaining her equilibrium. //Ah, I see you, working your way around the main control tower. Where would you be going? You don't look so good, baby. In fact, you look about ready to collapse.//

She could not see McIntyre anywhere between the two towers, and that meant that her body could be in real trouble very soon. She needed to pursue the woman and formulate some plan of action to protect herself. She needed to devise some way to warn someone about what was happening, and ask for help, and hope that help could reach her body before it was too late. The only one who had seemed even vaguely aware that she was near had been Zechs.

Tired resignation swept over her, the anger and fear fading beneath the weight of that over whelming truth. She was helpless to defend her body, but there was still some fight in Lucrezia Noin. She would try, one more time, to get Zechs to hear her. He seemed her best chance.

//Ah, shit, it may be worth one last try. I have to do something.//

She began walking toward the main Control Tower, watching the two men as they worked in tandem as though they were a well oiled and highly trained team. They were making their way along the side of the Control Tower, carefully watching open ground for any hint of movement, alert, covering each other as they worked their way toward the front of the building.

She did not recognize the man who took point, allowing Zechs to rest a little, in the rear position. Whoever the man was with her lover he was good, she noted, admiring the way he moved. He moved like a professional, with a purpose and fluidity to his movement that few people ever attained, and he had a determined expression on his face that told her he could kill if the need arose. She was thankful that Zechs was not alone, though she only could hope that this man was worthy of the trust given to him by her lover. She had never known Zechs to trust lightly, and certainly not in a combat situation, yet he turned his back on this stranger and they seemed to have an understanding.

//This is all my fault. He never said it, but I can see that it is my fault, because I could not keep my hands to myself. I never really looked at you and saw that something was wrong. Sorry love. Just depression. That's what I thought. Depression, not this other thing I do not begin to understand, though I have to admit it exists. I always thought that I could work miracles, and I was all that you needed. Well, I think that you could say I have had a wake up call, my love. Look at me, standing here, invisible to everyone whilst having an epiphany. No one to see it, still, that is the way epiphanies should be, I suppose. Private. No wailing and weeping in an agony of sorrow for things past, and no dancing in joy and leaping with delight for things yet to come. Just plain confusion as to how I got here, and why I can do what I can. I'm invisible for God's sake.//

She drifted closer, watching him, noting every bruise on him, every cut and scrape. There was sweat standing out on his forehead, and he was frowning as they reached the corner of the main control building. He was shaking his head and looking around him, as though he was sure he was not alone, and he either ignored the man who slipped around the corner ahead of him, or he genuinely did not realize that the man had moved. That was dangerous to both men's safety, and she watched as his eyes fastened on where she stood, a frown and he looked to one side of her, seeking something, his gaze coming back to her position.

//Mmm. Is it possible that you sense my presence// She slipped up to him, closer, daring to move within his personal space, and reaching to caress his cheek with fingers that ached to feel flesh, and instead felt nothing. Not the warmth of skin, not the smooth softness she knew she should have felt //There is so much I have to say. The bitch is hunting me, and going to the tower. You know, my dearest, I am truly sorry for what I have put you through. I have been a bitch, and I can not apologize enough, but I love you, and I love everything about you. Wishful thinking on my part and standing here staring into your eyes is distracting you from what you should be doing. I know that it is dangerous and I am so sorry, love.//

He almost fell around the corner of the building, silent but wild eyed and glaring around him, more and more she received the impression, the certainty, that he could feel her. She could almost believe he knew exactly where she was standing. Something shifted between them, some indescribable, intangible 'something' that was almost a pain to her perceptions, but not quite. He shuddered beneath her touch and she knew in that moment that she was reaching him. Though she had been able to feel nothing of his skin before, to her touch now she felt sensation, and to her eyes he seemed to be glowing a strange violet-blue colour. His skin felt hot and clammy, as though he was touched by a growing fever, and his eyes seemed strange, the pupils dilating.

She started as she realized that the man who companioned him was back, catching Zechs in strong and competent hands, supporting him with hands grasping his shoulders, and the stranger was looking wildly around, seeking any sign of danger that might threaten them. She could see and feel the shudders wracking her lover's body, and through the touch to his cheek she could feel the pain rising in him in a cresting wave, that must send him into reeling unconsciousness soon. The man was pulling him forward, past the door, and around the far corner, towards the waiting crates, and Zechs was falling.

"Zechs? Can you hear me? I'm sorry love. I don't know how this works, and I can feel the pain in you. I will be quick. McIntyre is heading for the Shuttle Control Tower. Everyone is dead there, and in the Main Control Tower too. The military types are working on the freight elevators, and I have to go back to my body. This is weird, love. I'm sorry for doubting you, and thinking that you were losing your sanity, but I understand now. Please … my body …I have to go back to my body before She gets there. She has been looking for me. I don't know what I can do to defend myself in this state, but I will try. Just know that whatever happens I love you, and that I am sorry for everything I did. I know my mistakes and we will talk. If I survive this."

She released him, backing away, torn by what she had done, and the knowledge that she had to go. He was on the ground, the stranger working frantically over him, but she had no time. There was no time to apologize to her lover for abusing him as she had for forcing the message on him. No time to hang around and make certain that he was going to recover. There was no time to do so many things that she wanted to do. Time was running out for her, and Shanna would be in the tower by now and searching for her body. The vulnerable part of her, the part she could not defend. How long before the woman found her body? How long before she watched the bitch tear her apart, and know that she was helpless to stop her?

//I am sorry Zechs. None of this should have happened. None of this would have happened if I had kept my hands to myself, but I really can't regret what I felt with you. What I feel for you. We will talk, because no matter the hopelessness of this situation, I am not going to let that bitch finish me without a fight.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	87. Chapter 87

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 87

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 21:20 [Approx 19:10 Sanc time

Noin

//Why is it that when I could do with the convenience of instant transportation I have to run? At least I can run fast and I don't seem to get short of breath. That is a blessing if nothing else. Now that I am here, do I search the building for her or do I simply return to my body and wait for her to show up?//

She paused before the door to the Shuttle Control Tower, glancing around and seeking any sign of anyone in the vicinity. No one was in sight, no one she could designate as friend or foe, not even Zechs and his companion. She only hoped in her need to tell what she knew that she had not taken Zechs out of the picture. He had seemed unconscious when she had left, his face drained of all colour and his body shaking like a leaf in a strong wind. The strange blue-violet colour that seemed to surround him had been gone too, flickered out like flame before a strong wind. The man with him had looked terrified, obviously frightened by being alone in the dome with an unknown number of killers on the loose and his partner down, presumably out for the count.

//What have I done? I should have left it alone. I think I should have left Zechs to his own devices. Fine, so I let him know what was going on, but what good will it do? I do not know for certain that he understood me, and he's unconscious. He certainly looked to be unconscious. Great plan, Lucrezia. I don't even know if he actually heard me, and if he did what good will it do? If he is incapable of helping me in any way then I may just have given him over to the ESUN.//

Blink.

Again that momentary oddness surrounded her and she found herself in the maintenance room where her body lay, bathed in sweat. Before the change of location would just come on her, but the last few relocations had been noticeable by a crawling in the vicinity of what she presumed was her gut, despite her current bodiless condition, and by that oddness that she could not find the words to describe.

The momentary disorientation passed, allowing her to take stock of her surroundings, and particularly the body stretched out on the floor. Her body had not moved since she had left the room and she did not find that in the least reassuring, though she had no idea of the rules that applied to this situation. Was her body even capable of moving when this other part of her was not in residence?

//Great. That makes it sound like I can just pop out for a vacation at will.// She frowned down at her form, considering the faint trembling in the limbs, remembering the agony when she had inhabited that shell of flesh. //Still, maybe I can. I know so little of this ability, and if I can do this under stress, surely it would just be a matter of time and experience to learn how to do it at will? Well, I guess that I know what Zechs must feel like. Different from everyone else. I feel … very different. I have wronged that man. What am I going to say to him when we can talk about this? How do I apologize to him for thinking that he was … that he was going … I don't even want to admit it to myself. Maybe I am the insane one?//

Noin sucked in what should have been a breath as the door behind her rang like a bell under a heavy blow and she sighed. On the floor her body did not react in the slightest to the noise that began to repeat in regular strikes. Again and again the door rang under the blows, the thick metal seemed to be capable of resisting each blow adequately, but she was not going to be able to take her safety on trust. At least now she knew where Shanna was; she was not going to have to search the building for her nemesis.

//It is a solid door, you witch. A steel door, reinforced for safety. You will have to do a lot better than that if you want in.// Still, she could not squash the tickle of fear that churned her not so solid insides.

Glaring at the door, not trusting it to hold, she looked then to her body. What was she to do? How was she to keep her physical form safe from harm? The thin golden cord that connected her to her material self was more easily visible in this absence of light. Glancing about her she realized the the room was actually dark, that no lights were on, yet she could see quite well. That was one thing she had not noticed before, she mused, the level of light had not bothered her in the least, no matter where her travels through the enviro dome and sub base had taken her, she had no difficulty with her vision. It would appear that in this incorporeal form she could see equally as well here in the dark closet as she had under the blood red emergency lights of the dome. Even when she had thrust her head through the elevators and into the shaft beneath them there had been no difficulty with her vision. She had even been able to see through the thick smoke and count the bodies within the wrecked elevator.

//Eerie. Well, at least I know I will have no problem with fighting in the dark. Advantage me, disadvantage McIntyre. Oh, why don't you bash it a bit harder? I think that last one might actually have knocked a bit of dust off of a shelf!// She glared at the door which was being hit with increasing speed and force. //You are starting to get frustrated, aren't you? Starting to get impatient and careless. You will end up working yourself into a frenzy.//

Whatever McIntyre was laying into the door with was totally ineffectual, probably incapable of doing more than scratching the blue paint work. Knowing the woman and the rage she seemed capable of, she would probably end up kicking the door in her rage and would then begin complaining that her foot hurt.

//Ooh, are we not being just a little sarcastic there, Lu? Well, why the hell not? What else do I have to do while I wait for that bitch to figure out how to get in here? Do I just sit in the corner and twiddle my thumbs? Damn boring that.// She shook her head, glaring at the door and finally crouched beside her body, taking the time to study herself with a critical eye. //All in all, Lucrezia, your figure isn't too bad considering you so recently gave birth to twins.// Noin shook her head sighed. //I always thought I might blimp after giving birth. That is what my mother claimed, anyway. I remember her telling me how I would have to watch my weight if I wanted to keep a man, and that when I caught one and had kids I was going to have to be even more careful about what I ate. I was not to get fat. It was an unpardonable sin.//

A renewed round of pounding on the door drew her attention from her careful survey of her body and she stood, deciding she had had enough of this. Moving to the wall just to the side of the door she huffed a little at the thought of pushing herself through solid objects and pushed her head through the wall, looking to the side at the door. Shanna McIntyre was busily engaged in pounding the door with a fire extinguisher and swearing up a storm.

//Oh, please. You have definitely lost the plot. I think the extinguisher will give it up before the door will. Come on Shanna, you can do better than that, not that I am complaining, you understand. I don't mind if you stand there all day and pound away. It's a metal door, you great Git. The whole tower is made from reinforced steel to protect from meteor strikes. You have so lost your ability to reason. I … I almost feel sorry for her.//

With a shake of her head Noin retreated back into the maintenance room, settling near her body, listening to the continuing barrage. There had obviously been a reason why Simpson had felt it safe to leave her in this tower unguarded. He appeared to trust the construction of the room enough to leave his ace unprotected by more than the door and the electronic lock.

//Mph. The lock.// Noin's eyes widened and again she popped her head through the wall, leaning forward enough to spy the lock on the far side of Shanna, and she had to laugh. //Oh, wonderful. Get a little frustrated, did we?//

The electronic keypad of the lock was still smoking, its wires hanging like twisted coloured spaghetti down the wall, the panel and buttons lying shattered about the floor. With a disbelieving shake of her head Noin again retreated into the maintenance room, settling beside her body and staring at the wall, content for the moment to rest and fight off the odd queasiness that seemed to recur with growing frequency.

//Well, Noin, this is fun, don't you think? Nothing to say? No, I guess not. You don't have much to say at all, do you? I don't dare leave this room while she is out there, just in case she actually manages to get through the door or finds another way in. Zechs, are you still out there? Are you awake? Sorry love. It's all too new to me, and I made a mistake involving you in my trouble. If she gets to me I am dead, I think. I could always count the rivets in the walls. Damn. How boring can this get?// A flurry of pounding and shouting issued from the far side of the door and Noin winced. //Boring? Guess that it will not be so boring as I thought. At least I am getting a lesson is exceedingly colourful metaphors. What has that girl done in her life to explain where she learned such language? Sitting here listening to that garbage will get me nowhere, and it will manage to accomplish precisely nothing. I need to take this time to try to figure out what I can, and can not, do with this … ability.//

Science Fiction had never been her preferred option for reading material, not even in her child hood years, so she had no idea if this weird out of body experience had ever been covered in the realm of fiction. It was most likely to have been included in Science Fiction, she reflected, perhaps even in the odd scientific journal, just not in any reading matter she had viewed. One of her friends at Lake Victoria had been an avid SciFi reader, and had told her in no uncertain terms that she was missing 'a bloody good read'. Everyone needed escapism at some stage, and Noin had been too focused on real life to bother with escapism.

Her young life had been dedicated to perfecting her physical and mental processes, and in learning to become a mobile suit pilot. The closest she had come to science fiction was in her dream of going into space, and enjoying the untamed beauty, and the wildness, that she saw in the stars of the night sky. She had even dreamed of becoming an explorer on a great ship, setting off into deep space and heading out beyond Jupiter. A great adventure; one that would leave all other adventures far behind her. Yes, she had longed to go out into space, but she had never read Science Fiction novels on such journeys. She had grounded herself in the practical realities involved in such an undertaking. She would perfect her body and her training as a mobile suit pilot, and eventually she would enter the exploration forces and thrust herself out into the stars. She had always been a practical body, more concerned with the here and now than with wild flights of fantasy. That had been her dream, not a fantasy, but a reachable dream.

// And then I met Zechs Marquise. // Noin shook her head slightly. //I took one look at that blonde hair, and those large aviator's glasses, and there was just something about him. My wildest flight of fantasy became getting Zechs into my bed.// She smiled, looking down at her body stretched out beside her and resisted the urge to shiver with the strangeness of it all. //Now look at me. Ah, but I was right, you know. He has such passion locked away in him. I knew he had it in him. I knew. It was just a matter of reaching it. I let go the dream of becoming an explorer in favor of another. One that seemed more attainable. Maybe I need to reawaken my old desires and dreams? Maybe I need to start looking deeper into space again and seeing the potential there.//

Not that she should be proud of how she had accomplished reaching the goal of getting the man into bed, she mused. They would have so much to talk about when this was all over, and the world was set to rights. She would apologize to him. She owed him that apology, and she would not stint on it. She had set a trap for him that night, a coldly planned deliberate trap, and she had succeeded.

//I was drunk. Not an excuse, I know, but it is the truth. I was half drunk before I met Mako that afternoon, and we got to talking about personal relationships. I spilled my guts to Mako about my feelings for Zechs and he said I should go for it. He never knew what I intended, though. I was half stoned before I visited him, and I was absolutely blotted after I sat drinking with Shanna for a couple of hours later that night. I have to admit all of it to myself before I can face Zechs with the truth, and give him the apology that he deserves. I thought he was drunk, but I found the bottle of whisky I had left in his room where he could see it. Untouched. Unopened. I can be such a sneaky conniving bitch when I am drunk. I left that bottle of whisky there where he could not help but see it, hoping that he would be feeling depressed enough to drink it and to get drunk. What an idiot I was. It was such a stupid thing to do with him as depressed as he was. I wanted him to drink himself into enough of a stupor that he would not fight me when I went to him later.//

Noin hung her head between her legs, her arms over her knees, hands buried in her hair, eyes downcast to the floor. The pounding on the door was a continuing counterpoint to the memory she had tried to deny for so long, and the steady stream of explicit expletives seemed aimed personally at her. Fittingly, it seemed to her. She deserved every curse that was uttered.

//Great. Just great. I can sit here and call myself a bitch for the next few hours, borrowing every curse she can come up with to add a little colour to the way I am feeling. What good would it do? Sorry, Zechs. I am sorry for trapping you within my fantasy, and I hope I will be given the opportunity to apologize to you in person. Face to face, as you deserve. I understand now what it was you were experiencing that night. I thought that you had drunk the whisky and that you were drunk. I have to face the memory of what really happened that night, and I have to explain it to you when this is all over. I can do that. I will do that.//

Silence beyond the door was as shocking as an explosion would have been. She frowned, lifting her head to glare at the door, waiting for the noise to resume. Expecting it to resume. She began to count, pacing the numbers, growing more uneasy with the continuing silence. Afraid to investigate for fear of what she might find.

//Come on, where are you? Just having a little breather? Are we a bit tired after all the exercise?//

A tug on her awareness. Not quite a pinch, not quite a pull, just something that disturbed her and alerted her that something was different. Uneasy she glanced at her body, only to find it lying as she had last seen it. Frowning now she looked around the room, noting each shelf with its neatly packed and orderly arranged spare components. Shelf after shelf of spare parts for the equipment in the control room were stacked in this room, awaiting the need for their use. There was certainly nothing in this room to explain what disturbed her.

//Now what …? Something …// Tug.// What the hell is that?//

Standing she hesitated, casting one last look about the room and still finding nothing suspicious she moved to the door, listening intently to the silence. Thrusting her head through the steel, she sought confirmation that McIntyre was resting there, scheming about some means to get the door open. If she had had a need to breathe she would have sucked in a deep breath to mark her unease. The control room was empty.

//Shit. Oh, shit. Not good. This is not good at all. Where is she and what is she up to?//

Easing through the door she ignored the small tug that seemed to urge her back into the maintenance room, absently wondering what it could be to explain that odd sensation. That mystery would have to wait because Shanna was out here, somewhere, undoubtedly up to no good and she could not afford to allow that woman to get away from her. She could not bring herself to believe that the crazed agent would give up so easily, when Shanna had been practically breathing fire in an effort to get to her.

//Come on, where are you hiding? What are you doing? What are you planning?//

Drifting from the control room she paused in the hall beyond, listening carefully until she could detect a soft clatter from further down the hall. Puzzled she followed the noise, coming to a small maintenance closet, and peering in to see McIntyre browsing a shelf of tools, very carefully examining each tool and placing a selection of items to one side.

//What the hell …?// Noin drifted a little closer to better view the woman's selections. //Screwdrivers? What does she want with so many screwdrivers?//

An assortment of screwdrivers had been assembled by the agent, each one lined up neatly beside the next, each one sorted into Phillips head or flat, large, medium and small sizes. Some, Noin noted, were marked with the red alert tags that warned they were magnetically charged items and not to be used near certain sensitive computer equipment. A few of the smaller socket ended magnetically charged blanks for working with screws that had damaged heads were added to the pile by the softly humming agent. Noin glanced askance at the agent when she realized that the woman was humming the 'Teddy Bears Picnic'.

//I don't understand.//

Her selections made Shanna McIntyre slipped on a tool belt with pouches commonly used by the maintenance techs, setting her selection of screwdrivers into the appropriate pockets.

"You won't beat me, you bastard. I'll show you just how devious you have to be to beat Shanna McIntyre. You just don't make the grade, Simpson."

//I do not like the sound of that. What are you up to?//

McIntyre slipped from the small room and to Noin's growing consternation the woman almost skipped down the hallway, away from the control room and the door that would give her access to the room shielding her prey. Grinning McIntyre nodded and whispered congratulations to herself on her plan, how she would beat the bastard who thought the room was impregnable.

"Of course you think that the room is impregnable. You are so sure that I can not get in there, and I know that you have hidden her there, Simpson. It is the only place that you could have placed her. I have searched the rest of the tower and she is in that room. I know it. You would not have hidden her in there if you did not believe that the door and lock would hold against me, but you think like a man. Of course, being a man you have no choice, but you think women are fools, don't you? Well, we women know that it is the male of the species who are the fools. You can't help thinking on such a basic level, I suppose. Men just never evolve beyond Me hunt. Me kill . Me eat . Me get sex." She laughed, a trill of genuine amusement. "You should try to evolve, Simpson and think like a woman. Men always have thought that brawn, and not brain, is the key to success in life."

Noin followed her down the hallway, staring in disbelief at her little dancing steps, her running monologue washing over the silent, unseen watcher. With a faint shake of her head Noin closed the distance a little between them, not that she thought it was likely she would lose the woman, but unwilling to allow her to get out of sight. She might miss a vital clue to what the agent was up to. She had learned that while McIntyre was undoubtedly mad, she was also clever, and it was a dangerous combination.

"Stupid men. Stupid, stupid men. Always the muscles have to feature in the solution. They never seem to use their brains to think things through properly. It won't be long, Ms Noin. Rest assured my dear, that we will have our little conversation without anyone to disturb us. There will be no distractions to take my attention away from you. We will have every opportunity to discuss our little differences of opinion over how to win a man, and what to do with him when you get him."

//She's a nut case. Stark raving loony.//

McIntyre paused, chuckling to herself and slipped into the larger maintenance room, after a moment emerging dragging a ladder and moving back down the hallway a few steps before setting it up near the door. Noin glanced around the hallway and then looked up and swore, backing up a step as the red heads plan materialized before her in chilling clarity.

//Shit! Oh, God, I am in serious shit.//

She could only stand there and stare as McIntyre climbed the steps and settled herself near the top of the ladder and began to try her selection of screw drivers in the screws of the ventilation screen that had formerly merged into almost invisibility with the middle of the hallways ceiling. Chuckling to herself over the success of her plan McIntyre cheerfully tossed the screwdrivers that would not fit the screws over her shoulder, to clatter on the floor and set too unscrewing the screen with great good cheer.

//No. No, don't let there be a ventilation access in the room. Please don't let there be a vent in the room.//

She already knew it was a useless hope. Simpson had a use for her, intending to use her capture to bring Zechs tamely to him. He would not have locked her in a room for hours without first being assured that she had sufficient oxygen to survive, until he was ready to make use of her. He needed her alive as leverage against Zechs, and he would not have her suffocate, at least until he was done with her. Hurrying back into the room she stared up at the ceiling and the screen to one side of the room in mounting fear.

// Oh God. I am in so much trouble. It will not take her long to get the cover off the vent and get in here. A few minutes is all that I have. What am I to do?//

0000000000000000000000000000000000000

Time: 21:15 [Approx 19:05 Sanc time

Giles

//God, he's heavy. He is also right, about needing to walk. The more he moves the more quickly he seems to recover his facilities. I wish I was not alone here. Damn it. Chris, are you alive out there? God, man, I hope you are. I hope he's right about Barker realizing he can make a difference up here, Chris, for your sake as well as the others, but for my sake too. You have to be alive. Yeah. What am I worrying about? Of course you are. You would be, for a while at least, if you are still in the suit. I wonder if Raydon has sent a reply yet? I wonder what he will do? Shit. That tower seems such a long bloody way away.//

Zechs was noticeably taking more and more of his own weight the further they moved from the crates, and he was becoming more stable on his feet. Giles took note of the rising colour in his partners face and decided that, all in all, he looked considerably improved. When Zechs had gone down amid the crates Giles had feared he might have been shot with a stun level of the shock guns, but he had found out quickly enough it was not so simple.

//Does he always react like this when he has visions? If it was me … // He sighed, shaking his head, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. They were still a long way from shelter. //What he said suggests that he might have those … fits? … whenever he has a vision, and that can't be good to deal with on his own. Still, I guess it would explain the rumors I heard that he had been having checks for some sort of seizures. It would probably look like a fit, maybe epilepsy, to someone who didn't know better.// He heard the pained sharp inhale of breath, and tightened his hold on the man he supported. "Only a little further. We can take a couple of minutes to rest when we get to the transport trays."

"Noin …"

"No." He glared the blonde into submission. "Noin will have to look after herself for a minute or two, Zechs. You have to get there in one piece before you can be of help to her, not plaster yourself all over the concrete, and don't you think for a second that I will leave you and go on ahead. No way. I am not about to tell Raydon that I left you in the middle of open ground, undefended, with a bunch of psycho killers running loose. You just concentrate on pulling yourself together and we will get there sooner, rather than later."

There was a moment's silence and then a puffed breath. "Yes, Mum."

Giles snorted, relieved the man could joke, as it meant that he was making headway on his recovery. He needed Zechs to be independent of his help as quickly as possible. "You need a drink?"

"Yes, but when we get to cover is soon enough. I might be able to keep it down by then."

"Does this happen a lot?" He dared a glance at his companion, and then searched the area around them for company he really did not want to find. "The extreme reaction, I mean."

"For the major visions, yes. I get this sick every time. Some of them have been worse, not many of them have been less. I have had two visions already today, but this was different. Somehow. It was not a vision, I am sure of that, and it was not as severe a reaction as I usually have."

"Jesus." A whisper. "If that was mild I hate to think what a major one usually is."

"Not pleasant." The return comment came out more as a grunt than anything as he stumbled and Giles kept him from falling flat on his face. He forced his legs to steady and hold his weight, only too aware of the openness of their position and that Noin was in that tower and he had to find her. "At least that painkiller you gave me is working."

"Yeah, well it is all that I dare give you, you understand? When it wears off you are going to hurt like hell." //The stimulant should be working too, so you should come right fairly quickly for now on, I hope. When it wears off, though, you are going to drop like a stone.//

"I already hurt like Hell, Giles. What comes after hell?"

"I don't think I want to know."

"I never … I never had a vision of Noin … having Gifts." He was panting, desperate for that drink, but he would not give in to either the need to stop and draw breath, or the need to drink himself into a vomiting session. He knew the pitfalls of either action and he was not going to succumb. He had experienced these reactions enough to know what he needed, and when to best recover his facilities.

"Maybe you did, you just never realized what it was you were seeing. You said that you saw her die in your visions. Well, a body that separated from what they term the Astral Self could be mistaken for a corpse. From a distance, and to the uninitiated, it could be mistaken for death." //And it can all too easily become death if they stay out too long. The body can only take so much stress after all, and from what I know the body does get stressed in an astral situation. I remember that trainer having a go at that kid for unsupervised use of his talent. I don't think it would be a good idea to tell him that though, he's too close to panic as it is.//

Zechs scowled, glancing at the man he leaned on, wondering. Was that what he had seen? Had he mistaken her death? "I hope you … are right."

//So do I, because if I am wrong then I think you are going to lose it. I just know I don't want to be around when that elastic band you are riding breaks.//

00000000000000000000000000

Noin

//You just stay away from me, you cold blooded bitch. You just get stuck in that vent. Get your fat ass stuck and don't you dare make it through!//

She stood directly beneath the vent, watching for the first turning of the screws. Waiting and watching for the suggestion of movement that meant her doom was fast approaching. Straining to hear the scraping and rustling that meant Shanna McIntrye was in the vent system and on her way. She had to be able to do something to delay, if not stop, the woman from getting in to the room, but just what it was she needed to do eluded her.

Matters were not being helped by the fact that she was constantly distracted from the vent by the small tugs she felt while within the maintenance room. Little annoying niggles that drew her eyes unerringly to the body stretched out on the floor. It was almost as though there was something touching her lightly, first pulling gently and then nudging her toward that body. She ignored it, trying to stay focused on the ceiling, waiting, her desperation growing.

She was on her own. Through her own fault her back up was most likely unconscious on the concrete in a jumble of crates, knocked out by her heavy handed approach to contacting him. She had no experience with this non-corporal form, and in her inexperience she had erred, fumbling the contact with Zechs so badly that she had knocked him out. Would he even remember their conversation when he woke up? She did not even know that, not that it had been much of a conversation, but she had felt that she had to try. She had needed to try, and surely he was not as bad as he had looked? So pale and lifeless on the concrete, with that man frantically working on him, trying to get him to breathe.

Had she killed her lover?

//Stop it, you blithering idiot. Just stop it. This is neither the time, nor the place, for that. Concentrate. There must be something that you can do. You managed to get Zechs to hear you after all, I think, so why can't you do the same with McIntyre? Why not scare the willies out of the bitch and send her packing?//

On this day of days she had already accomplished so much that she would not have conceived as being possible. She had left the sheathe of her body behind her, and wandered around the complex with no one the wiser to her presence, until she had come across Zechs. She had somehow managed to instantly transport herself around the dome, and even into the sub base, sight unseen. No one had been aware of her accept Zechs, and in the end she had managed to contact him. All things that she would have said were impossible before a few hours ago. She had even managed to knock Zechs out in just seconds, so why could she not do the same to the one person she wanted so desperately to hurt?

//The trouble is that I have no idea how I did that. He seemed aware of me and I just … well … I don't know what you would call it. I just … sort of … reached?//

Nudge.

// Shit, what is that? It's getting stronger, whatever it is. I don't have time just now to deal with it.//

A flicker of movement between the fine squares of the grill and the softest noise warned her. McIntyre was in the air vent and directly above the vent outlet. Panic reared within her, and that faint pull faded from her perceptions as she gave all of her attention to the vent above. Yes, she was not mistaken. The lower left corner of the vent. The screw head was rotating. McIntyre had one of the magnetic screwdrivers used when the head of the screw was ruined and was steadily unscrewing the vent cover from inside the ventilation system. It was only a matter of minutes now before she would be in the room.

//Get out. Get out you bitch. You are not wanted here.//

Softest rasping of the turning screw, again and again. Around and around and around. Again and again turning and … small, delicate metallic clunk as the falling screw hit a shelf on the way down, and then clattered to the floor. The screws were too heavy for the magnetic field to hold when they were free of the confining metal they joined together.

One.

//Get out!//

She could almost imagine her body, both this airy non body and her physical body, thrumming with the tension growing within her. She could feel herself straining with her wishing the bitch would turn tail and run. She did not have any defences. She was wide open, defenceless and exposed. She so desperately wanted to hurt the woman who had thrown her failure in her face, and shown her just how shallow her dreams had been. It was more though. It was so much more. The witch was a killer. A cold blooded killer.

Clunk.

Two.

//Get out! Get out! I don't want you here.//

She glared at the turning screw, willing it to stop turning and knowing she could not affect it. Turning, always turning and with each revolution it was bringing that hateful woman who had deceived her closer to finishing her.

Clunk.

Three.

//Get out! Get away from here. You are not wanted here!//

At the edge of her perception she could feel again that tug. Small and faint but growing more insistent, drawing her back toward her body, and she understood. At this most important of all times, when she could least afford any distractions, she understood what was happening to her. She cast a look in horror at the thinning golden cord that bound her to her flesh.

The thread of her life was thinning. Her body was still breathing, and if she wanted to live she was going to have to rejoin it.

Clunk.

Four.

Noin spun, startled, in time to see the vent cover come crashing down from the force of the kick that blasted it out of its frame. Instinctively she leapt back out of the way, forgetting entirely it would simply pass through her. Feet appeared in the hole, clad in work boots and standard issue trousers, and she could hear that childish song being sung.

"If you go down to the woods today …"

Tug.

//No! I … what am I to do? I … Zechs! I must defend myself!//

Somewhere near her something fell, a metallic rattling on a shelf behind her. She did not notice, her gaze held, mesmerized by the feet casually swinging from that hole and then she was there, dropping to the floor, turning, a victorious grin on her face at seeing the body stretched out on the floor.

"Got you, you bitch."

//GET OUT!!!//

Something deep within clenched, a fist of rage birthed from pure fear and despair. She would not go down under this bitch. She would not be played with by this killer before the end came. She had a man to go to when this was all over, and she had her babies to love with all the love she could raise in her heart; and that was a lot of love.

She was tired of being used as a means to an end. Tired of being used and abused, even by herself. She had deceived herself, lied to herself and abandoned her precious dreams. She had used her desires, and to her eternal shame, she had played with people to satisfy her own needs, and while death might be a fitting punishment for her crimes, she did not see that she had to die at the hands of this killer who had mercilessly butchered innocents.

"Now, look at this. All stretched out and ready for me to play. Wonderful. Just look at you. The great Noin, laid low and helpless. I knew this moment would come. I just knew I would get to play with you."

//GET OUT!!!// She could feel herself tighten, much as a hand was curled in on itself and tightened to form a fist, ready to strike out in anger. She would not go down to this maniac. It was not the end she had envisioned for herself.

A knife appeared in the delicate hands that had such perfect nails, painted with vivid red enamel and Noin growled. Miss Perfect Shanna McIntyre, who could play with the male of the species to her hearts content and cast them aside at her whim. Miss Perfect, who could play the part of the understanding friend to perfection and then so casually betray everything. Miss Perfect Killer, who delighted in the slaughter of the unsuspecting people she had called friends just hours ago.

"Look, Miss Noin, I have the perfect idea of what we can do to while away the time." A low giggle, long red hair shaking from side to side as she pranced across the room, almost dancing with her delight, the torch strapped to her wrist bobbing in the air with each movement. "We are going to see just how long it takes to skin a person alive. Won't that be fun?"

//GET …//

Tug. An imperious pull on her consciousness, demanding her return. Something big somewhere behind her shifted, several 'some things', from the clattering noises. McIntyre glanced around, waving her torch to allow her to find what ever it was that was moving in the room.

//… OUT!!!//

A massive burst of light surrounded Noin, drawing her with it toward her body and she screamed in defiance, lashing out with her mind and her useless arms, hands curved into claws with her rage, folding into fists. She would not go quietly into death! She wanted to pulverize the bitch and claw her eyes out! She would not be defeated by this woman. She would not die here and now!

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	88. Chapter 88

Additional warning. A bit of language creeping in in stressful situations.

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Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 88

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 21:20 [Approx 19:10 Sanc time

Giles

The Shuttle Control Tower reared before him, bathed by the pulsing red glow of the emergency lights. The blood tinted glow lent the tower, a purely functional square structure, an eerie other worldly appearance. With a little imagination he could almost envision it as a castle turret from some gothic horror story, dripping with the blood of all who had died within its dark depths over centuries. He winced at his own thoughts, but if he was honest with himself it was likely that this place now did have a bloody history. He had the feeling that those who had worked here no longer enjoyed, or cursed, the intricacies of life.

High above them a single window looked out over the open ground they worked their way across, showing a light that previously would not have been so noticeable, had not the Martian night stolen over the dome and the emergency lights shed a dimmer illumination than the normal lighting. The bloody glow lent the third story window an eerie rose radiance that sent shudders up his spine. He was sure that as he watched that light blinked like some giant eye that studied them, judged them, and found them wanting.

//I really have to curb my imagination. This whole deal is getting to me, and that is bad. I can't afford to lose my edge now.//

"That is worrying."

Giles sucked in a deep breath, fighting down the nervous twitch that demanded he hit the source of the softly spoken comment. He had the feeling it would be the last thing he ever hit if he made that mistake, but it was a certain sign of just how on edge he was. Zechs had been silent for so long that he had almost forgotten he was there as anything other than baggage to be supported at all costs. Since leaving the transport trays the blonde had been silent, looking decidedly pale to Giles concerned glance, though admittedly he looked far better than he had before they had reached that temporary cover and taken the time to drink and eat a ration bar. His initial concerns that Zechs would bring the food back up seemed to have been blessedly needless, and the man was taking more of his weight the further they moved. It boded well for a quick recovery.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine. A lot better since I had that drink."

Zechs was staring up, only a part of his attention on Giles, the rest directed not at the tower as Giles had expected, but into the support structure of the dome high above them. His voice sounded distanced, as through he was answering his companion by rote, his attention focused on something high above them, though Giles, after a quick look into the scaffolding above, could see nothing of interest himself.

"Zechs? What is it?"

After a long drawn out moment the ice blue eyes dropped from the heights of the dome to glance at him briefly, and then raise once again to the scaffolding and support structure, before dropping to check on the smoldering pile of rubble that use to be the elevator block. The automatic emergency equipment spewed foam over the ruins in a continuous stream, coating the twisted metal and circuitry, yet still a stubborn pillar of dirty dark grey smoke rose into the dome. With a quiet sigh he shook his head and looked ahead to the tower.

"Nothing we can do much about just now."

Giles glared daggers at the broad back now moving away from him as Zechs continued on toward the tower and caught up to him quickly. He understood the man with him must be concerned for the woman he had been living with for over a year, who basically was his wife, though no legal vows had been spoken between them, and that by nature Zechs was not a man to waste effort, or breath, on needless commentary. The man had to be going out of his mind with worry, though very little of that showed in more than a tightness to his sculpted lips, and the glacial silence that had grown in the last few minutes the closer they came to the tower. There was the need to understand each other that must be taken into consideration, and he was not going to allow Zechs to close him out.

"Zechs, we are in this together. Are we going to go back to not trusting each other again?"

He stopped and broad shoulders slumped, a hand reaching to push bangs from his eyes. "Sorry. I did not mean to give … The lights."

Giles lifted his gaze up into the dome and scanned the scaffolding, sucking in a startled breath as he realized what it was that had worried Zechs. The bright lights that normally illuminated the dome after sundown had not activated. The automated systems usually activated the lights on a gradually brightening cycle, as the light levels changed with the progression of the distant sun through the Martian sky. Because of the longer Martian day the lights were activated by light sensors that responded to the lowering, or increasing, light levels within the dome without being on set timers. The only lights that seemed to be working at this time in the upper dome structure were the pulsing red emergency lights that coloured everything, and everyone, with blood.

"Ah, crap. I take it that is bad? Sorry, but I'm not an electrician, Zechs."

"It means that either the virus they introduced into the computers has begun to infiltrate our life support systems, or we have insufficient power somewhere in the system to allow the computers to effect the switch over of systems as normal." Zechs continued toward the tower, pausing to survey the area around them as he reached the door, panting softly as he leaned against the wall. "Either way, it means we are in trouble. We will need to get into a control room ASAP and get some telemetry on the problem. It may only be the tip of the iceberg. With the smoke and fumes from the fire building up in the upper dome, if the air system is compromised in any way, then the upper dome could become unlivable in a few hours. We need to check the ventilation system and clear it if it is obstructed, to speed the cleaning of the toxins from the system, and remove the contamination caused by the fire."

Giles glanced up into the dome super structure a second time and resisted the urge to shudder. "Well, if the security agents took over the tower control room then they likely worked on the computer systems in some manner. I guess we will find out soon enough exactly what it is we have to deal with. I'll go first. Ah, before we go any further, by any chance does this situation jog a memory? Of a vision." He clarified quickly.

There was a moment's hesitation, accompanied by a frown and crystal blue eyes shuttered, but finally a shrug lifted broad shoulders. "Let's get in for now. I don't like being so exposed."

A quick glance at the man, and the frown that marked his face, had Giles more worried than relieved at that silence, uncertain just what it meant. Had Zechs seen something in a vision he really did not want to tell him about, or had he no memory of a circumstance that might mirror their current situation? The refusal to offer either a yay or nay was more worrying than either confirmation, or denial, would have been. With a small hissed breath marking his displeasure Giles examined the door, checking for any indication that either the door, or the electronic keypad, had been trapped in some way. He studied the keypad itself after that quick check and sighed in resignation, shaking his head.

"I don't suppose that you would have any idea of the tower control code? It will take me a few minutes to sort this out."

"The control code is 613-85-42-961." Came the deep voice.

Giles automatically reached for the pad and had entered the first three numbers before he realized what he was doing; then he promptly swore and lowered his hand. "What the hell am I thinking? If they are using the tower as a base then they would have been fools not to have changed the access code. It will take me a few minutes to break their code, but I have the gear to do the job on me. Won't take too long." He began to rifle through the pockets of his trousers and the tool belt he wore.

Zechs snorted softly, leaning against the wall, willing his legs to support his weight instead of threaten to dump him unceremoniously on the ground. He could feel his body responding to the medication Giles had given him, and the high energy ration bar he had managed to keep down would help, but he really wished he had the time and opportunity to rest.

"Giles, that is their code, not the old one used by the tower staff."

The Raider operative paused, blinked, and looked over his shoulder at his companion, hesitating. He received a bland look back, no additional comment seemed to be forthcoming, and he decided not to make a comment until he had at least tried the code. With Merquise who knew what was possible? His fingers flew over the key pad, completing the sequence, and with a flash of green light in the bar above the pad the door clicked. A small puff of breath and shake of his head at the keypad, and he moved to open the door sufficiently to allow him to peer into the foyer beyond. Seeing it empty he slipped into the room, chanced a quick glance over his shoulder to see that Zechs was on his heels, and then he ghosted to the first of the doors opening from the foyer. He knew this was the first of the two side rooms that adjoined the foyer; a reception room on the far side and an office this side.

He listened for a moment, straining to hear any sound from the far side, and then eased the door open, pushing his head cautiously into the room. He stifled his reaction, swallowing with difficulty, fighting down the urge to vomit at the carnage he found. Bodies were stacked neatly against the far wall, but the blood pooled around the furniture and over the floor, and sprayed up the walls and had now dried to the colour of rust, made it plain just what had gone on in here.

Steeling himself he entered the office and began the task of examining the bodies, needing a head count and a general idea of how these people had died. His investigation revealed that most of the staff had been shot multiple times, and from the wounds on the bodies they had been taken by surprise, most having entry wounds in the back. Four of the fifteen bodies stacked in the room sported knife wounds in the back, and another two had had their throats slit. It was obvious not all of the victims had died in this room.

He fled the room, careful to keep his breathing even and to focus on the tasks at hand, hoping the second room was not going to be the same store room of death. It was a relief to discover only two bodies here, both slumped over the desks where they had been working, one with a head wound, an execution style killing, and the other with a slit throat. He took the time to glance quickly into the hallway beyond the foyer, making note of the blood trail where bodies had been dragged from rooms deeper in the building and into that first office. By the time he returned to the foyer he found Zechs was working on the door controls, his fingers flying over the key pad, which glowed yellow and sang in a series of beeps every time Zechs pressed a key.

"Well, I know what happened to the tower staff and it was not pretty. The room on the left has been used to dump most of the bodies. What are you doing?"

"Changing the access code, just in case they return while we are busy upstairs. It will not stop them from getting in, but it will delay them, and we will need all the time we can get." He did not even glance up from his work.

It made sense and Giles left him to it, returning to the door leading to the passage. "So, you have experienced visions of entering this tower. What else can we expect?" He kept his attention on the hallway, just in case they were not the only ones breathing in the tower. He would allow no one a free shot at his back.

Zechs paused in his work on the keypad, fingers stilled as he considered Giles for a long moment. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to have someone speak so casually, and seem to be so accepting, about the visions that had haunted him for so long. He simply was not used to being so openly accepted by anyone. The visions he had had of himself telling people about what Giles termed his 'Gift' always resulted in the same very undesirable scenario.

Even Noin had not tried to understand that something was different about his perceptions, and they had lived together intimately for a year. She had muttered something about depression, cursed him when he had refused to take the prescribed anti depressants they tried to shove down his throat, and continued to watch him like a hawk, and failed to make any real attempt to understand him in the least. He supposed that was not really fair, as she obviously had cared, the problem seemed to be that she seemed incapable of believing that he was anything more than a little psycho after the one year war.

//Stop that. You don't even understand yourself, so how did you dare hope that she could understand? Things were different, and you could not explain to yourself, let alone to Noin, what it was that made you take the actions that were necessary. You should be in a sanatorium, Merquise.//

Giles was watching him, one eyebrow arched almost in a dare for him to deny that he had seen himself enter the tower. The man was more than a little uncanny himself, but he returned his attention to the hallway beyond the door, and Zechs stifled the sigh. He was just going to have to get used to the fact that Giles seemed willing to accept that he was … different.

"I really am not sure about what will happen here. As I said before, your presence changes a great deal, as proven by what happened outside building C. I recalled their code from two separate visions I have had concerning the tower. The first resulted in me getting shot in the back, because I neglected to lock the door." He glared at the keypad as he returned to entering in the codes, not daring to see if Giles reacted to that revelation. He was so used to seeing his own death that it rarely affected him now, where once it had sent him to the floor in a sobbing heap. "As a result I took pains to learn the Master Control code from a number of other visions I had, to enable me to reprogram every door on the base. Getting shot in the back, because of a stupid over site in omitting to lock a door, is one mistake I am not keen to make." He paused, blue eyes closing in pain, resting his head against the wall for a moment. "The second vision I can remember of being in the tower, showed me finding Noin, strung up by the ankles in the maintenance room off the control room. She … she had been skinned."

"My God." A whisper. Giles stared at that broad back, shivered slightly as he watched Zechs return to reprogramming the door control, and fought down the urge to go to him. They were both professionals at their work, and there would be time enough later for comforting each other about the horrors they had faced already. It was no wonder the man had insisted they come to the tower after that turn he had experienced outside that might, or not, have been an attempt by Lucrezia Noin to contact him. "Zechs, I'm sure we are not going to find …"

The roar that surrounded them was an accumulation of falling items, mostly heavy metal, impacting with dynamic force and something else, something unknown that struck the tower, making the reinforced steel structure ring like a giant, deep toned, bell. The building shook, vibrating, and around them doors slammed shut on automatic systems, the computers engaging in an emergency lock down of the building. The isolated emergency computer system reacted as though the sensors had detected an impact, such as a meteor strike might cause in the enviro dome. Sirens blared into life in response to the vibration.

"Attention! Emergency lock down in progress. All external doors are now sealed until the release code is issued and confirmed. Emergency operation of isolated oxygen system has been initiated. Sensors detect no loss of pressure within the locked down area. Awaiting instruction." The purr of the female voice resounded throughout the tower, notifying the dead and living alike, that the emergency systems had been activated.

"What the hell was that?" Giles had sprung back from the door at the initial shudder that shook the building, a fortunate move as the door had slammed shut and engaged the lock in response to the emergency.

"I don't know." Zechs was frowning, looking about him with a deepening frown. The tower was still ringing with the fading echoes of that deep bell tone. "That does not ring any bells for me, as far as any vision I can recall, no pun intended. I think it came from upstairs."

"Computer, disengage internal door locks only." Giles glanced at Zechs, studying him for a moment as he waited for the computer to respond to instruction. They were going to have to come up with the command code to get the external seal lifted, but for now that was an added measure of security, a bonus, not a problem. "Guess I had better go and see what is going on up there. You could wait down here. Give yourself the chance to rest."

"Command to disable internal locks acknowledged. No loss of internal pressure detected. Interior door locks are disengaged. Sensors indicate damage to Master Control system."

Zechs snapped the key panel back into the wall and wavered a little as he crossed the room. "I have completed changing the access codes. I would say that we are not alone in this tower, and whatever it was it sounded to be at least two, maybe three levels above us. We had best get moving."

"Fine, but I go first. Are you sure you have had no visions of this?" At the returned glare Giles grinned and shrugged. "Just making sure, you understand."

//If he has seen her skinned, then I wish he would stay down here, but I can understand him wanting to see it out. It would be enough to send him over the edge though, and that means I am going to have to watch him and be ready when he breaks. God, I wish Raydon was here. He has handled psychics in break out crisis before, and the stories I have heard terrify me. If Zechs loses it I really do not want to be responsible for controlling him. I just don't have the training, but I am the best suited to handle the situation these people have if it should happen. I so do not want to be here if he cracks.//

"We do this properly, room by room. If nothing else, it will serve to force me back to normal functions." At the man's dubious look Zechs sighed. "Trust me, Giles. I have been through this type of recovery too many times to mistake my current level of condition. I am failing, I know that. My reserves are running low, but I am far from being out of it yet. We need to get to the control room and check the status of the life support systems for the dome, and we need to find a working radio if we can, but we do not leave a possible threat at our back, and there are too many places to hide in this tower. If we find Noin …" He allowed the thought to trail off into silence.

//Yeah, that's the one that is stopping you from taking the chance to rest. Finding Noin. Okay, my friend, I have told you that I trust you and I have faith in the Gifts of others, so we do this together, and we shall just have to wait and see how well you can make yourself cope with this situation. Personally I think you are heading for a fall, and I had better be close to you when it comes. God I hope that woman is not up there.//

One room at the time, cautiously listening at each door before entering, tension mounting, and only too aware that to hurry might be to make that one fatal error. Neither of them knew if there were any Sleepers currently within the tower who might be capable of taking them down, if the opportunity should present itself. That someone else was within the tower was borne out by whatever had shaken the tower and activated the emergency lockdown, and carelessness was not worth the possible consequences. Giles kept constant watch on his companion, and noted that Zechs did seem to regain better control of his facilities.

//I would hate to have this man's nightmares. You would have to reach a stage where you would have difficulty trying to decide what was nightmare and what was a possibility for a future event. The confusion that would bring, the uncertainty of it … Yes. It's no wonder that he doubts his own sanity, but at least he seems to have the ability to push aside the doubts and function, when the crunch arrives. If he folded up into a sobbing heap because of the possibility that Noin is up there, dead, then we would be in all sorts of trouble. More than just that possibility has to be weighing on him though. What else has he seen that he just is not telling me? How much does he know that he is keeping from me, and may impact on the future? He seems to be placing a hell of a lot of faith in my presence changing circumstances for the better, or what he thinks is for the best. He has a lot of strength, that one, and he would be a great asset to a Gifted Team, unafraid, it seems, to witness the possibility of the deaths of others, including his own death. I know of a couple of precogs who go to pieces if they so much as see a split nail in their own personal future. He has potential to be a team leader when he is brought through breakout, and learns to trust his own abilities.//

Room by room they moved through the tower, Giles taking point and Zechs as back up. Speed was essential, but not to the point that their safety must be compromised. At the first door they had approached Zechs had uttered a soft curse and an apology, offering the startled Giles an automatic pistol and looking as though he could kick himself for the oversight.

"Sorry. I meant to give it to you earlier. Outside. I took if from the agents, and thought that you would prefer it to the shock guns."

His fingers caressed the butt of the gun and he grinned, feeling considerably more secure with the familiar weapon in hand. "Thanks. I do prefer it, and don't worry about forgetting to give it to me. We have been a little occupied after all. You ready? On three then."

On the count of three Zechs, with two shuriken in hand, kicked open the door and Giles leapt through, gun at the ready, sweeping the room from left to right, Zechs on his heels scanning the room from right to left. The three remaining rooms on the ground floor proved to be as empty as the first, except for bloodstains and overturned furniture, each room serving to remind both men that there were killers on the loose and that they could expect no quarter to be given. At the end of the hallway they found themselves faced with the option of taking the stairs to the upper levels, or the elevator. Giles considered the open and inviting doors to the elevator for a long moment, then the door to the stairs, closed but not locked, and glanced at Zechs before shrugging and reaching for the door to the stairs.

The man was recovering, Giles could not argue that, and he had made no protest to the choice made concerning their means of getting to the next level. Indeed, he moved ahead of Giles to the stairs and crouched there, at the base, running an experienced eye over the first few steps. After a moment he produced a small torch from his belt pouch and used it to examine the edge of the stairs, both against the wall and the banister railing. Watching him and the way the torch never wavered Giles had to smile, it seemed action did indeed bring Zechs back from the brink of collapse. The smile turned to a scowl when a glint of metal in the torch light showed the placement of wire.

"Ah, presents." He murmured.

Zechs nodded absently, tracing the wire in the torchlight along the line of the step, under the banister and over the edge of the stairs, to the small packet of explosives hidden there. "Trip wire activated. Crude, but effective none the less. Miss the first two steps and …" He stretched, careful of touching anything until his examination was completed. "The next six seem to be clear."

It was going to mean that their progress would be slow, but Giles was not inclined to protest the need to check every step before they moved forward. He liked life too much to be a fool and rush, when every piece of evidence they had clearly stated these people had already proven they were cold blooded killers. He thought it unlikely there would only be the one trap placed on the stairs. Following the episode with the elevators down to the sub base he was not inclined to trust any elevator that might have been exposed to the Sleepers tender care, and he preferred the slower option of the stairs.

Slowly but steadily they worked their way through the tower, the first floor proving to contain the bodies of six people, five of whom were still slumped over their desks. That room had been sprayed with automatic gun fire, and only one of the six people had seemed to make it away from his desk only to collapse a mere step away from his work station.

//Well, the survivors of this mess are no doubt still going to doubt who it was who did this, but they can damn well get in here and help clean up the mess when we deal with the bastards killing them. If nothing else it will prove to them that the alert was not a drill. Damn it, they all seem more than willing to lay the blame on Raiders and no one else. We have never been cold blooded killers, but we have the reputation for it, and I suppose that reputation might have been cultivated by ESUN agents. There must be some way that we can prove it is the ESUN, their own government, who is running this show. Yes, I admit there are some independent Raiders out there who have nothing to do with the alliance under Raydon, but as far as I know, none of them have been this vicious on any raids they perpetrated. Get on with it, Giles old son. This is not the time to consider bad press, and you don't need to deal with that problem anyway. Raydon's press corps will handle that when the appropriate time comes. At least Zechs looks to be holding up well to the exercise. I have to admit that I half expected him to go straight up after Noin, but I suppose I should have known better. He's a professional, and he knows how to contain himself. I guess anyone who threatened the Earth with destruction, to prove a point, has to have control.//

Zechs had glanced about the room after Giles offered the all clear, silent and brooding as he surveyed the waste of human life, and moved on to the next door. No sounds issued from the upper levels of the tower, no thumps or bumps, or repeats of that resounding bell tone, and after the crash that had shaken the building that silence was more ominous with each passing minute. Neither Zechs, nor Giles, could relax as each room they entered revealed nothing more than blood smears or bodies slumped in death.

The third floor of the tower was silent; no suggestions of movement could be heard from where they crouched behind the door, the stairs safely behind them. Three traps had been located on the stairs in reaching this point, and neither man was inclined to rush out into unexplored territory. Giles checked the door of the stairs before opening it and pausing at the sight that met his gaze.

"Now why the hell would they have that there?"

Zechs joined him in the hallway, closing the door silently behind him, and eyed the step ladder that was placed in the centre of the hallway with confusion, his eyes following its lines to the opened vent grill, and blue eyes narrowed; his body tensing as he considered possibilities.

"Is there any wiring in the vents?" Giles queried, eyeing the doors opening off of the hallway ahead of them warily. "What would they have been doing if they needed to access wiring up there?"

"There are no wiring systems for anything vital to the systems operation of the dome, or the control tower itself up there." Zechs returned, moving to the first of the doors on their left, and slipping two shuriken into his hand. "The only wiring running adjacent to the vents that could be accessed via the vents is the lighting. All vital systems for the computers are isolated systems, sealed in the walls, not accessible by use of the vent systems. The control room is the door at the end of the hallway."

"Right." Giles left the mystery of the ladder for now, and resumed their now practiced means of entry to the tower rooms. "I am getting a really bad feeling about this."

"Go." Zechs pushed the door open, slipping behind Giles as he leapt past, keeping his attention divided between the man in front of him and the doors further down the hall. Giles was not the only one who had a bad feeling.

"Clear." Giles retreated from the room and started, a hissed breath marked his spin toward the control room, as something clanged further down the hallway. He considered the soft noise for a moment and met the crystal blue eyes of his partner. "End door? The control room?"

"I think so." Zechs agreed. "The two doors on the left of the hallway should be maintenance and tool storage in turn, while the one on the right should be the coordinators office."

Giles considered the far door and the fact that the rooms on the left of the hallway would be small, only the Supervisors office would be of any size. "I'll take that one, you take the other two."

Checks were made quickly and efficiently, each resulting in a confirmed negative. The rooms were empty, and the only curiosity they found of interest was the assortment of tools that were scattered in the hallway. A half dozen screw drivers had been discarded around the area where the ladder stood, and the vent cover was propped against one wall. With mutual shrugs of bafflement as to why any tech would be so careless with their tools, they moved to the end of the hallway and the control room.

"You say there is a maintenance room in here, as well as the control station itself?" Giles whispered, pausing a little way back from the door, wanting to make certain of the lay out before they proceeded.

"It is more a spare parts storage for the control systems, but they call it a maintenance room. A series of metal shelving, and computer components vital to the smooth running of the control systems. It has an electronic lock, but I know that code as well."

"How do you know all of this? You have known the layout of every building that we have entered, and I thought you were not supposed to have had access to most of them."

A small smile twitched his lips and he shrugged, a cautious manoeuver, as he did not wish to place any more strain on his shoulder than necessary. "Visions give me most of the small details, and I have accessed the blueprints of the dome for the layout, and most of the blue prints for the buildings. Yes, those blueprints were on the list I was banned from seeing, and no, Giles, do not ask how I gained access to them. You really do not want to know. Telling me that I cannot do something is pretty much guaranteed to make certain that I do the exact opposite in most cases. I tend to look on it as a personal affront and challenge. The truth be told, there is probably little about the dome that I do not know. In fact, I probably know more about the structure of the dome and the base than most of the executive staff now resident."

Giles grinned an acknowledgement, and after a quick examination of the door he rested his hand against the doorknob, listening for a moment before shaking his head in the negative.

"Nothing."

Zechs nodded and slipped into his accustomed position behind his partner, fighting against the urge to bolt through the door and find out if Noin was in that room. He was trying not to see again the vision where he had entered the maintenance room, to find her strung up by the ankles, her work uniform discarded in a bloody heap on the floor, strips of her skin scattered about the room, and her blood dripping from her corpse.

"Hey. Things have changed, remember?" Giles was watching the blonde, seeing the glassy look that was overtaking the blue eyes and suspecting the unwelcome surge of memories; fairly certain he knew what was playing on the blonde's mind. "You met me and we hooked up for this fight. That has changed what you saw before, and because of it people are alive now who would be dead, and you are still running free and able to act. Remember, too, that you had never before experienced a vision of Noin as a Gifted individual, or recognized that that might be the case. Those facts have to change things, Zechs. We, the Gifted, have defences. Defences even we don't know about half the time, until suddenly the need is there, and we have to draw on some previously hidden part of ourselves. Sometimes we can find that hidden strength when we need it the most, and it makes the world of difference. Your Noin is a strong lady, yes? A woman of iron will? She is a fighter, and I do not doubt that she would not go down without a fight."

"Well, standing here is not going to answer the question. Go."

A faint nod and Giles murmured a silent prayer to himself and what ever God chose to listen to it, that he was not going to find the woman dead. He simply did not trust his companion's state of mind if they should find Lucrezia Noin dead in this room, particularly if she had died by being skinned. Giles set himself, ensured that Zechs was ready, and kicked the door open, gun at the ready.

A small spark of electricity danced amid a scorched and smoldering consol, the acrid stench of burning wires filled the room. That was the first impression Giles had as he sprang through the door, gun leading the way, sweeping the room for danger; and it was closely followed by the eye opening sight of the reinforced door of the maintenance room hanging precariously from one bent hinge, the lower hinge twisted beyond recognition. The control station was smoking, electricity arcing in small blue flares, and the panels were covered in fire retardant foam, released by the automated systems where the circuitry had exploded in showers of sparks. Pieces of circuit boards and spare component parts were imbedded in the computer consuls, and the wall across from the twisted wreckage of the door.

"Holy … What the hell happened here?" He breathed, edging deeper into the room.

The far wall of the control room, directly opposite the maintenance room, was bowed out, as thought a giant fist had punched the reinforced steel, in a blow that bent it as though it were a thin sheet of tin. The result was a dent, a wide depression, and as Giles moved deeper into the room he noted that the walls around the broken door were also bowed outwards. It was as though a massive force, centred within the maintenance room, had pushed the walls away from its centre. Cautious he motioned for Zechs to stay back at the door as he edged closer to the adjacent room, noting there was a red tinge to some of the foam coating the computer station that could only be blood.

"No. Stay there and cover me." He glanced at Zechs who had made a move toward the twisted wreckage of the door, ignoring his hand signal to remain at the door. "Did you see anything like this in a vision?"

"No." The whisper was tinged with a fearful kind of awe, as he took in the damage to the computer consuls, the walls and the twisted pretzel that once had been the lower hinge of the door.

The area around the doorway itself, and the door, was littered with component parts that had previously been stored in the room, many shattered beyond recognition by the forces entailed in their ejection. Giles picked his way as silently as he could through them, moving what he could with his feet before he moved forward, step by step, almost afraid to look through the doorway. It was obvious that some kind of explosion had ripped the maintenance room apart, which, he admitted, would explain the tower ringing like a bell; but the walls were not marked with the tell tale signs of fire such an explosion would have left. Nor was the area around the door marked by extinguishing foam, as it would have been had a fire ripped through the door.

He hesitated on the threshold of the doorway, the twisted metal of the door bringing his advance to a stop. In close proximity to the door now he was surprised that there was no heat, as he would have expected from an explosion taking place; but there was a decided chill emanating from the room, and when he touched the door he hissed in reaction. A chill that made his fingers ache to the bone rose from the metal, and his breath misted a little in the air, betraying how cold the air was seeping from the room. With a quiet curse he rubbed his hands against his thighs, in an attempt to bring some warmth back to them.

"Giles?"

"I think you should stay there and keep an eye on the hallway." Giles tried peering around the warped bulk of the door and shook his head in frustration. "I can't see into the room, and the door is jammed. It may take a bit before I can move it enough to allow me through."

He was well aware that his partner was on edge, restless, but Zechs remained at the door, as he had requested to keep watch on the hallway and the stairs. What the blonde was making of the wreckage of the control room he did not know, but he could offer no immediate thoughts until he had investigated the room on the other side of the door.

He was careful how he examined the door, shifting the wreckage from it with equal care, afraid that if it shifted at the wrong time he would never be able to gain sufficient room to force his body through the gap and gain the secrets hidden within. The chill was pervasive, seeping into him and bringing him to the point where his teeth began to chatter by the time he had cleared the door enough to force it that few precious inches to allow him to pass.

Zechs, still by the door keeping a watch, glanced from the hallway beyond in time to see Giles ease his frame through the gap he had managed to make. With a soft grunt he glanced quickly into the hallway, but spun toward the maintenance room at the gasp that came from within.

"Oh fuck."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	89. Chapter 89

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 89

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 21:40 [Approx 19:30 Sanc time

Zechs

"Oh fuck."

Blue eyes widened in sudden flaring panic at that softly uttered curse from the adjacent room. A flood of memory surged to the fore, escaping his carefully constructed retaining walls, blocking out the here and now and filling his mind with the sight of the blood smeared room, lighted by the harsh glare of the naked fluorescent light. Flesh stripped from limbs once firm and strong yet soft and gentle, dark hair now dripping with the blood that ran free. Ankles tied together, the rope tied securely to the top most shelf, wrists bound cruelly, hanging limp with her death. Her murderer had not touched her face. Not yet. Her grisly work had been restricted to the lithe body he knew so well, but the blood was everywhere, and that beautiful face was contorted in agony, no longer the face he knew. She had not died easily.

"No. No, it must not be. It will not be." He tore himself from that haunting glimpse of possible event, the whisper one of denial, and Zechs left the doorway. "Giles is here now. It has to make a difference."

The presence of the Raider, which had made so much difference up until now, was not, he knew, a guarantee that Lucrezia Noin would survive. To hope that in this instance the Raider could make a difference beyond being company for him at the grisly discovery was childish in truth. The man had not featured in the interaction between Noin and McIntyre after all, and to effect any change he would have needed to have taken an active part in the proceedings.

Giles was not a guarantee that events could be changed, and as much as he longed for it to be true, he knew that he entertained false hope. It was very possible indeed that Giles had found Noin, strung up and skinned within the confines of that room, and the man simply did not want to tell him that she was there. He needed to face the grim truth and get past it. Some things he just could not change.

The chill metal of the door was under his hands, but he could not force himself through the gap that Giles had managed to fit through, and he could not even see into the darkened room. He pushed ineffectually at the door, internally screaming in rage that he was too large to force himself through the narrow aperture. He had to reach Noin. He had to know for certain that she was dead and he had failed their children.

"Giles?!" He leaned against the chill metal, ignoring the biting cold, almost sobbing in denial and growing rage.

"Hang on. I'm a bit busy here just now. Look, is there any chance that you could move the door a little wider for me? I know it's going to be awkward, but I am not going to have a chance of getting Noin out of here if we can't widen the gap or, better yet, get the door fully opened; and believe me, we have to get her out. Soon. It's like a freezer in here."

The man's voice sounded preoccupied, but steady and confident and Zechs froze, waiting to hear confirmation of the death of his lover. Slowly the words began to make sense through the fog of fear that pervaded his senses. '...we have to get her out.'

"Noin." He breathed, hope stirring deep within, where a solid ball of ice had been growing in the fog of fear. Was it... dare he believe it was possible? "She … Is she alive?"

He could hear movement within the room, the sounds of rustling and a rhythmic sound that was very faint, just on the edge of his perceptions. An odd sound, very slow, very soft. Almost like the rhythm of a tap with a slow drip. Very faint, ominous and suggestive of that option he desperately wanted to deny.

"Yeah. Yes she is alive, but I don't know for how much longer. I know enough to know that it is dangerous to move her if there is the chance she is still in Astral form. To move her body could break the link between her physical self and her astral form, her soul or what every you want to call it. I would leave her right here if I dared too, but there is no doubt the cold would finish her off. It is unnaturally cold in here, but we have no time to figure out what the hell went on in here between these two. First thing is first and we have to chance moving her. Try to get the door open."

The words wove around him, not making sense, but he worked on them, forcing himself to concentrate. Two. Giles suggested there were two people in the room. In his vision there had been only Noin. Dare he hope?

"Giles? Noin is alive? Who is in there with you? Talk to me." He was close to begging and he had to pull himself together. Losing control was not going to help the Raider get Noin out of that room, but he had to know, and the man was being cryptic. He just needed some straight answers to make sense of it all.

"Noin is alive. McIntyre is dead. That's all that I can tell you just now."

//Alive. She is alive. Giles said she is alive. It's not the same. It is not my nightmare renewed. She is alive.// He had to regain control of his shaking hands and concentrate on getting the door open.

000000000000000000000000000

Giles

Within the confines of the maintenance room Giles set the small torch he used down beside the body on the floor, and knelt over the dark-haired woman who was curled into a fetal position, bloodied hands clasped to her head, fingers constricted into fists, grasping black hair. Her body was stained with blood, though on his initial examination it appeared not to be her own, the explosion of the spare parts in the room seemed to have miraculously spared her. To his less frantic and more detailed examination, he noted a faint fluttering heart beat and the barest rise and fall of her breasts, but her skin was ice cold to touch, and when he touched her he could feel the smallest of tremors continually shook her curled body.

"Looks like you found that something extra locked deep within, Ms Noin. You have been a very lucky lady, I think. Luckier than others."

His gaze shifted to the body suspended from, and impaled by, the twisted remnants of what once had been metal shelving, and he could not help but wince at the sight. Shanna McIntyre was a bloody mess, her body impaled not only by the ripped and twisted shelving, but by dozens of metallic and glass fragments that had ripped into her with such force she had had parts of her body severed by the shrapnel. The metal shelving that trapped her in no manner now resembled shelving; being bent and twisted with the ease he would twist thin grade wire with his hands. Blood continued to pool beneath the corpse in slow, steady drips, a faint background noise that sent shivers up his spine unrelated to the chill in the room.

//I do not want to be here, but I have to admit it is better me than anyone else on Mars. Who amid the terra formers would have a hope of understanding what went on in here? Who of the team would suspect what it was that strung her up like that?//

His attention returned to Noin, and he wiped the blood from her face carefully, seeking some sign of injury and finding none. He was convinced the blood covering Noin had to be McIntyre's, as did the blood that was sprayed liberally around the room. The red head's body had been violently impacted by the flying shrapnel that had filled the room, powered by whatever force had twisted the metal shelving into deformed pretzels. McIntyre had not died easily for all that he assumed it would have been a quick way to go. If not for the vivid red hair he might have had a difficult time in identifying her, as her face was barely recognizable, so battered had it been by the missiles made up of spare computer components.

//God Almighty, give me strength to see this day out, and please keep her out of the equation from now on.// He discarded the blood soaked cloth he had been using to wipe her face, reaching for another from his first aid kit at his waist. //You had best stay unconscious woman. I know full well that I can not contain you if you have this much potential, and I have nothing strong enough on me to put you out. How do I deal with you, and with him as well? He will not understand what happened in here. It is likely to push him over the edge, and I do not need to have to deal with two of you in crisis.//

Under his fingers he felt the faint pulse flutter, and deciding that thinking about disaster happening was only going to invite it, he ripped off his jacket, using it to wrap around Noin as best he could. It was really only a gesture, as the jacket was inadequate to the task of warming her, and he would need to do far more than this if he was to stabilize her. He once had been a reasonable field medic, a skill left over from his training with the military that he treasured, but he was a poor medic compared to the needs Lucrezia Noin now demanded. He would be able to find basic first aid kits within the tower, but she was certainly going to need more than just basic attention, especially if his theory of what had happened in this room was correct. He would need to get her safely sedated as quickly as possible.

//How do I explain what has happened in here to Zechs in words he will understand? Christ, he is close enough to having a break down as it is. Ah, woman, we need to get you out of here, but moving you is a dangerous risk to your physical health, not to mention your astral self. Are you still out of body? There is no way I can know for certain. I am sorry, but it is a risk I have to take. I hope that you are back in your body, because moving you if you are not could break the tether that links you. I wish I knew more, but I'm not trained as a medic for psychics who have gone into overdrive. I have seen something similar to this once before, but I have to admit it was not quite the same thing.// He scrubbed at his face with his hands, trying to still the trembling, hoping it was just the cold that was so affecting him and not some unknown aspect of this woman's talent. // God, you must have been terrified … or you were in one hell of a rage to have sparked off an explosion of psionic force of this magnitude. Kinetic force did this. It is the only force I know is strong enough to bend steel like that, and not leave evidence of an explosion.//

"Giles? Is she alright?"

There was the edge of panic in that voice, and Giles well understood that he was pushing the man closer to the threshold of insanity by his continued silence, but what was he to say to him? How was he to make the man understand what it was that had happened in here? How would he react if he saw the wreckage Noin had left of Shanna McIntyre? How did he find the words to explain how it was possible when he was not a Master, merely a student himself, who just happened to find himself in the worst possible situation?

//I can not lie to him. Above all I must not lie. He will be able to see for himself just how bad Noin is when we get her out of here, and there is nothing I can do about that. I need his help to get her out of here, and find a place to hide her and get her comfortable. None of us can stay in this tower for any length of time, it is just too dangerous, but where would be safe? All I can do is hope that he is capable of keeping himself together. //

It did not help that he did not know Lucrezia Noin at all, beyond knowing the obvious, who she was and that she shared quarters with Zechs Merquise. He knew nothing of her medical history, or of her psychological profile, and as for personal history he knew that she had come to Mars with Zechs, unwilling to lose contact with him, and she had been determined to win her way into the man's life in all ways. She was an ex-OZ soldier, an instructor at one time, who turned rebel toward the latter stages of the One Year War, and that more recently she had been a Preventer agent before coming to Mars with Merquise. He knew the scuttle butt that circulated around the station, that suggested strongly Merquise had not actually invited her into his bed, but he had heard so many rumors about the private lives of the couple that he was certain no one besides Noin and Merquise actually knew the truth of their relationship. What he did know was that Merquise did care for her, and deeply.

//I doubt it is what he wanted, but Raydon is going to have to accept that she is going to be going to Station One with Marquise. There is no way she can be left here, as powerful as she obviously is. I wonder if she did force him to accept her in his bed? I've heard that strong telepaths can do that, but it is tantamount to rape if she did, and that will not go down well on Station. Still, if she had no idea of what she was capable of doing, then it is confirmation she can not be left here, untrained. Simply saying she is a danger to herself and to everyone around her while she is untrained, does not even begin to cover the trouble she could be in if she should lose control again. If she recovers from this, of course. Why can't life be simple? Why do there always have to be these complications?//

"Giles?"

"No, she is not really what you would call alright. She is in shock from whatever it was that happened in here, but I think there is more than that we have to consider. I honestly do not think we should move her, but we can not leave her here, and we can not get a medical team to her. What she needs is to be in the hospital, but we will need to do the best we can considering the circumstances involved. Are you making any progress with that door?"

"I'm … getting there." The answer was soft, almost hesitant.

Giles stilled, almost freezing with the surge of fear that quiet reply roused within him. He glanced at the door and chewed at his lower lip, considering what he knew of his companion. Merquise was not one to hesitate, nor was he one to stand quietly at the door and do nothing when it was clear there was an urgent need, but Giles could not hear any sounds of movement from beyond the room. Nothing that suggested the man was moving, let alone struggling with that steel plug they needed shifted.

"Zechs?" There was only silence, no answer responded to his question and he heaved himself up from Noin's side and slipped to the door, his unease growing. "Zechs?"

"I can't feel her." A whisper.

The man was standing beside the twisted ruin of the door, his hands resting at his temples, fingers massaging his skull, and his blue eyes looking distant and glazing over. A spike of fear shot through Giles, and with a muffled curse he threw himself at the gap in the door, unmindful of his own safety as he hurled himself at Zechs.

"Don't you dare lose it on me now, you bastard! We have come too far together for you to trip out on me now!"

It was pure reflex and Giles never even saw the blow that took him down. He had known in some remote, far off corner of his mind that it was not a good idea to attack Zechs Merquise, especially when the man was strung out and exhausted, but his only concern was to force him to retain control, or knock him out by taking drastic action.

With the explosion of pain in his chest cold clarity returned to Giles, and he prayed it had not been a killing blow, though his chest certainly felt that it could not stand him drawing so much as a single breath ever again. He was vaguely aware of steel like fingers gripping his neck, and a small voice somewhere deep within himself that called him all sorts of names for being an ass. He had made the wrong move, and he was about to pay for it, unless he could come up with something very quickly.

"You … feel … better?" He should have some great comment to make, a light witty response to the hammer blow to his chest and the fingers constricting his throat, but that was the very best he could do for now. As a last comment for posterity it was in fact, pretty shitty.

His vision dimmed, blackening quickly, turning deep red around the edges and shadowed in the center, deepening toward an approaching final darkness. His lungs did not seem to want to aid in drawing breath, and all he wanted to do was lie down and rest. He was very tired, and it seemed such a delightful idea, because if he rested then the pain would simply go away. He could rest and sleep, and when he woke he just knew there was going to be no pain.

//Stupid. Stupid thing to do. Should never have jumped the man. Never.//

0000000000000000000000000

Giles

Cold.

It was cold. Searing cold, burning icily through his nostrils and down into his lungs. With that awareness of the cold there came a light, dim but penetrating, and it was an insistent sort of light. It demanded he pay attention, and with that demand for his attention there arose another awareness. The awareness of pain. There was a pain in what should have been his chest and yet it seemed to be some strange, remote appendage that mistakenly thought it belonged to him. If he ignored it, it would go away, he was certain of that, but with that certainty came a question. He? Who was He?

Who was it that was in pain? Who was it that had slivers of ice carving a way through his chest, and settling somewhere deep within. Him? Was it … Who was... No, that was wrong. There was something wrong about this awareness. He was … He had a name. Yes, there was a name to go with the awareness, and it should not be so hard to think and identify himself. He. He was … Giles. Yes, but not quite right. There should be more to that mystery, and to why ice was coursing through him, bringing with it the awareness of pain, and was there a voice? Something whispering close at hand? Yes, his name. Haydon Giles, and there was some thing else about Haydon Giles that he should remember. Something important that he must remember, and never forget again. If he concentrated enough he should remember it.

"Giles? Sorry. I'm so sorry. Please breathe."

//Giles? Yeah. Me. I hurt.// Thoughts trickled into consciousness and he cringed at the returning awareness. //I hurt and I should be … dead? I made … made … a mistake?//

"I'm sorry. I lost control and that is unforgivable. Please wake up. Don't let me have killed you."

Why did he hurt? Where did all of that pain come from? That voice … whispering softly very close to him. Something was... Hands. Hands were touching him … that would be an arm that was being touched, and what was that sharp prick and crawling in his veins? Was something covering his face?

//Injection. I have been given a shot, but of what? Who would …?//

"Giles? I'm sorry. I never meant to do this. God, we don't have the time to make such stupid mistakes. I'm sorry. I need you. I need you to keep me sane. Noin needs you. Everyone on the bloody base needs you."

Base? He was on Station One … No that just felt wrong. The voice was wrong, too for Station One. That voice belonged elsewhere. So something else then, and why did a little voice somewhere, that he associated as being within himself, continually call him a fool? He did know the voice that whispered somewhere near him, but it did not belong to him, nor did it belong to anyone on Station One that he knew. So …who was it and where was he?

"Giles? Please, we don't have much time. They could be back at any time. They might be back now. I have not dared check. Please, I need you to wake up."

Something in that husky whisper triggered memory and his eyes snapped open, together with a deep reviving arctic breath of air into tortured lungs. The blast of cold in his lungs set him to gasping for air, one hand raised weakly to hold the mask he could feel to his face, and icy cold oxygen blasted his face, and was sucked into his nostrils. He was aware enough now to know his need, and to open his mouth and suck in more of the wonderful gas that his body needed so much. Coughing and choking in his need he felt arms encircle him and lift him gently, until he was leaning against a warm body, strong arms cradling him, hands pressed to his forehead and over his burning chest.

"Giles? How do you feel? No, scratch that, you probably feel like shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I lost control and that is unforgivable in a Commander."

Memory flooded back, expanding his awareness of how and when. Also why. Memory of one of the most desperate and stupid moves of his career danced before him, taunting him with the idiocy of his action. Did he have a secret death wish he had not realized before today? He must have, he reflected, because only someone who wanted to die would have been stupid enough to leap at a strung out and hyper aware Zechs Merquise.

"Fine." He managed the one word, wincing at the rasp that issued from his throat. More of a croak than an actual word. //Jesus. He must have strangled me.// A momentary flash of steel like fingers wrapped around his throat. //Why am I not dead?//

"I have given you a stimulant and it should kick in soon, and the painkillers too. I am sorry. After everything that you have done, for me to turn on you like that …"

More memories were flooding back and he could remember the dark room lighted by his torch, and the two women within that room. He had been concerned with getting Noin out of that room, and stabilized when he had panicked and forgotten good common sense in favor of making an attempt to win the award for the best demonstration of rank stupidity of AC 198.

"Did … you get … the door open?"

"Yes. Its open." A whisper near his ear and a strand of white blonde hair fell over his face as the man supporting him shifted, turning to look at something behind him. "I have taken Noin out of the room. She is beside you, on the couch. I …I don't know what to do for her, but I have done what I can. I know basic first aid, but she seems to need … so much more."

"Yeah." Memories continued to return in a flood, and he could remember only too well the bloodied and broken shelving, and the battered impaled body of the red headed agent. Memory of what he suspected had happened in that room; and with it the knowledge he was the only trained psychic on Mars, and he had two fledglings in break out and both of them were more than just a little dangerous. What had he done to deserve a day like this?

He sought and found crystal blue eyes that met his and winced, noting that those eyes were too wide, the pupils slightly dilated and the man's face was too pale. The tremble in the body that held him, the dilated pupils and the memory of that room and knowledge Merquise had been in there, all added up to Merquise being more dangerous than ever. It seemed a miracle that Zechs seemed to have realized what he was doing and regained control of himself before he actually killed.

//Will this day never end? Ah, my chest hurts. He must have broken a couple of ribs when he hit me. Next time I decide to slap someone's face to bring them back from the edge of hysteria, do me a favor and remember this, Giles old son. Remember it and how it hurts, and don't repeat the mistake. I thought I was dead. I thought he had lost it, and maybe he was not so far gone as I had feared.//

"My fault. Water?" He needed to keep the man calm and focused, and he needed a little time to steady himself and find out what his physical restrictions now were. He needed a drink, both to ease the pain in his throat and to wash out the foul taste in his mouth.

He desperately wanted to sooth his throat, and his breathing was coming a lot easier now, the gasps turning to deeper, more regular breaths. His heart no longer threatened to leap from his chest, and he was more aware of the man who held him, of the hands that pressed a water bottle to his lips and steadied it as he sipped, almost cringing with the pain as he swallowed. Small sips and swallows and little gasps of pain, and a few minutes of languishing against that warm body, giving himself the chance to allow the medication to work, and gradually the pain receded. The painkillers were helping to make him feel more human and less like a ball of agony, and the stimulant was returning strength to his limbs.

//That is good. I feel stronger. We are going to have to get out of here, where ever here is. I am not sure I recognize this room.//

He took the time to glance about at his surroundings, noting they appeared to be in a small room, an office of some kind. The desk had been pushed up against the door across from where he lay, and he was supported by the body of his partner, who was leaning against a couch. By twisting a little he saw that on the couch was the curled up body of Lucrezian Noin, now wrapped in a variety of coats and an oxygen mask covering her face. Two cylinders of oxygen were next to him, one feeding him the life giving gas and the other no doubt feeding Noin the same. He recalled that her body temperature had been too low when she had been within that room, and he struggled up to sit without needing support as he remembered his theory on what had happened in the maintenance room. His hand groped for one of hers, seeking to read her pulse as Zechs steadied him, propping him more comfortably against the couch.

"Where are we?"

"In one of the offices on the ground floor of the Shuttle Control Tower. I brought you down here, then I went back for Lucrezia." Zechs pressed the bottle of water into his hands and began to chew on a sandwich. He chewed slowly and swallowed carefully, as though he feared he would bring the food straight back up.

Giles considered the bottle cupped in his hands, sipped again, relieved the pain in his throat seemed to ease with each swallow. "How long was I out?"

Zechs blushed, a flood of colour that considerably improved the look of him, especially when the colour stayed in his cheeks, fading only a little. "You were out for about half an hour since …" he shrugged, a slight lifting of his right shoulder and he motioned to the door. "They are in the building, I think. Well, I am sure that someone is in the building. The lock down has been released, so someone is here."

"How long ago was that?"

"Just before you woke up." Zechs began to rifle through his pouches when he finished the last of the sandwich, and offered one to Giles. "I'm not sure your stomach will be up to it, but at least take it with you when we leave. Who knows when we will get the chance to eat again? I pretty much cleaned out the rest lounge of food, not that there was much there."

"Thanks. It is definitely not good if we no longer have the tower to ourselves." Giles agreed, shifting to kneel carefully beside the couch and take the pulse of the unconscious woman, this time grasping her wrist and feeling the flutter of her heart beat. "Still alive"

"Yes, but she is very weak. I can't wake her up." Zechs produced a knife from his pouches and proceeded to rip the carpet toward the centre of the room.

"It is a good thing you did not wake her. Believe me, we do not want her to wake up, Zechs. Not until we can get her to a safe location and make a few preparations, and then it will be to put her back out again, under strong sedatives." He was going to have to explain to this man just what he suspected. Trying to keep the information to himself could possibly land him in trouble with the blonde again, and he was not keen on having Zechs turn on him. Besides, it was obvious the man was not unstable at the present time, and Giles was well aware he was going to have to rely on Zechs to handle the situation. "I believe that Noin was riding a psychic high, and that she lost control. I think that woman may have been going to kill her and Noin panicked."

"She was going to skin her alive." Zechs murmured, widening the hole he was making in the carpet.

"Maybe." Giles turned from Noin and eyed Zechs for a moment, watching the destruction of the carpet with narrowed eyes. "I think she lost control of her psychic abilities in … an instinctive … What are you doing?"

"What I have to do, which is getting us out of here, unseen. We can not leave this room by the door, and I can't handle Noin on my own anyway, not with the condition I am in. It will take both of us to get her through the vents." He crawled around the couch, fussing over some equipment out of Giles's line of sight.

Giles closed his eyes, suppressing the sigh. Well, maybe Zechs was not quite so grounded as he appeared to be. "Zechs, there are no vents in the floors, man. You are a little confused. In shock, I'd say, and you should just sit down for a while and have something else to eat and drink. Take the chance to rest while you can. By the time someone comes through that door we will both be better able to defend ourselves."

"I am actually rather sane at the moment, Giles, thanks to your effort to slap me back to reality. Almost killing a man who does not deserve it has much the same effect as a bath in ice water on me. At least it was sufficient to bring me back to my senses before I finished the job. No, there are no vents in the floor, but there are vents running under the floor of this room. I told you I probably know the dome and its systems better than most people now living at the base, and I was not exaggerating. This tower was built partially over the site of the original control room. Parts of the same foundations for the control centre were used in the construction of this tower, but the lower level was sealed off when this tower was built. I believe the ducting system should still be intact. I found no records of it being removed, and if that is the case, then it links to vents in the shuttle bay."

"Noin needs to be in a hospital, under professional care. Being dragged through musty old air vents is not exactly safe, but it has to be better than being stuck here, I will agree with that. Isn't the floor concrete though? How do you intend to get through that?"

"Not concrete, but a plastic compound only a few inches thick. The blue prints of the changes to the old building, and the new tower they were intending to build that I saw, said they were using a plastic compound so that in the event of opening up the old lower level they would have easy access. Only this room and the one on the left of us are over the lower level of the old tower."

Giles nodded his understanding, moving from the couch to strip the carpet from the floor in the general area Zechs had been working. The flooring beneath the carpet proved to be plastic, and he grinned when he glanced up to discover Zechs had produced a blow torch and gas cylinder, and was making the last of the connections.

"Put the oxygen mask back on. This will give off toxic fumes, and we do not have exactly great ventilation in here."

"Where did you get the oxygen from?" Giles did as instructed, donning the mask and turning on the flow of oxygen, as Zechs did likewise with a third tank and mask.

"There are emergency stores on the fourth floor of the tower. There is also a mini med bay there, standard feature in the control towers, since the buildings can be sealed off should the dome ever be breached. I brought down the three sets of tanks and the medicines I used on you and Noin. The oxygen should last us while we move through the air vents, until we reach the shuttle bay."

Merquise, quite frankly, amazed him. Gone was the man who was wobbly on his legs, weakened by the trials the day had already presented him with. Giles was astounded he seemed to be over that weakness that had hit him when Noin had made her attempt to contact him, and that now he appeared to be as stable as Giles had ever known him to be since arriving on Mars. He slipped out of the way, moving the oxygen tanks well out of the way as Zechs fired the oxy-welder, adjusted the flame and assaulted the floor.

The plastic gave off acrid fumes in abundance, black smoke quickly filling the air, but the material melted quickly away from the heat and Giles could not restrain the grin. This was not going to take very long at all to cut through, and he checked that Noin's mask remained securely in place while Zechs began to trace a circle with the blue flame. A sickly yellow flame flared from the plastic, following the path of the cutting tool, before sputtering out in dark smoky puffs, leaving sharp edged plastic with a respectable burnt edged in its wake.

It took only a couple of minutes for Zechs to cut a circle large enough for his body to fit through. The centre of the circle dropped through the hole as the last of the plastic melted, and Giles heard only a faint thud as it impacted on something beyond his sight. The blonde dragged ripped sections of the carpet over to the hole and draped sections of it over the edges of the hole, to offer some protection from the jagged edges, and then lowered himself carefully through, the oxy-welder still in hand.

"I'll cut into the vent, making a large enough hole to get us into the system. When I am done, you will need to pass Noin down to me. Bring the rope beside the couch, as you will need to tie her to me, then we go through the vent to the shuttle bay. Bring the oxygen. We will need that, as these vents have been sealed too long."

The man seemed to be efficiency itself, and he certainly had given this escape some thought, but Giles knew that the further they moved Noin the more danger they placed her in. She needed professional medical help, and while they dragged her around the base they exposed themselves to added danger.

"We really need to find a place for her to be secured, Zechs. She can not take too much of this moving around."

A billow of smoke and light emerged from the hole, and it was not until Zechs had cut a large enough hole to satisfy himself they could enter the vent system with the equipment they needed, that he responded to Giles's concerns.

"The Emergency Rescue Shuttle should be in bay three, Giles. It has a fully self contained emergency life support system on board, and is fully stocked at all times. I thought we could leave her there, in the life support capsule they have on board."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	90. Chapter 90

For those who may have forgotten, Gerry Parker is the Patrice mining Consortium's agent who crossed words with Giles a few chapters ago.

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Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 90

Mars

Base Dome

Time: 22:10 [Approx 20:00 Sanc time

Gerry Parker

//Why do I think this was a stupid idea? I have to do this though. I have to know what is going on and I have to report.//

As much as it distressed him to be at odds with his lover, the simple truth was that he had a job to do, and before he could quit his assignment he had to complete it. It was his responsibility to get word out to his people of the trouble on Mars, and he would not shirk his obligations. He was employed by Patrice Mining to watch and report on the doings of one Zechs Merquise, a.k.a. Milliardo Peacecraft, the man who had not the grace to stay dead after threatening billions of lives on Earth. No one could deny that the man needed to be watched, but he could wish he had not been the one to be given the assignment.

//It is not what I would prefer to be doing at this time, but I do not see that I actually have a choice in this. Whether what they have said about Raiders and the ESUN is true or not, I have a duty to report. Patrice will need to know what is happening on Mars, and can judge for themselves if it is the ESUN Security Agency or not. It can't be, though. Somehow it has to be Merquise who is running this show. He certainly seems to be, for all he was quiet. I don't trust him. How can anyone trust him after what he has pulled in the past?//

It had disturbed him that Merquise had been running around the base for months, seemingly unrestrained. He had been careful to watch the man, but he could not say for certain that Merquise had acted in a suspicious manner, but he had been unable to watch him every minute of every day. That he was cunning was not in question, it was what Merquise got up to when no one was watching him that had Gerry Parker worried. Primarily it had concerned him that Merquise was running around the base as though he owned the place, and that he could not confirm the man did so under observation. As a prison the Mars Terra Forming Colony had been a failure.

//God, it's quiet. //

It was a major concern that he had seen no sign of anyone moving about in the dome since leaving the maintenance building, but that was not the worst thing about the eerily silent dome. The utter absence of people had been bad enough, but what had made his skin crawl was when he had ducked into the main control tower to speak to the security guard on duty and alert him to the trouble. He had thought the man would gather a few of his companions and help him reach the radio and perhaps, if the opportunity presented itself, contain Merquise as well. He had found mayhem and murder.

//Was it Merquise? Did he commit that atrocity?//

The overwhelming impression he had received had been blood. It seemed to him that the room had been littered with bodies, blood on the floors and sprayed over the walls, blood on the few furnishings the room had claimed and in flaring panic he had fled the building. He still fought to keep his heart beat under control and to quiet the churning in his gut. He had touched nothing and no one, staring in horror at the carnage, and he had run. He had taken to his heels, running for all he was worth out of the main control building and toward the shuttle control tower.

Why he had chosen to run for this tower in his panic he did not know, because now that he was here, facing the tower, he wished fervently that he was in the safety of the enviro suit storage. Only Kristy knew that he had left on this vital errand and she had called him a fool for doing what was necessary.

//She was right. I should have stayed there. I am not cut out for this. Ah, why did I agree to come to Mars? I'm a lousy spy. What the hell do I think I am doing out here? I … I never considered myself a coward before, but then I never considered myself to be brave either. I'm just a man. Just a man caught up in events that are beyond me. I don't understand. Why would the government want to kill us? It has to be Merquise. He has to be involved in this, probably running the entire show and intending to take over the colony. He must have called in the Raiders and wants all of this blamed on the ESUN. It was not enough that he wanted to destroy an entire planet, now he wants to … to... Jesus. I don't know what he could gain from doing this. There are dead people in the main control tower. There are dead people in the elevators … or what is left of them. I don't know what to do. I don't know who to trust.//

He was no hero. He had never pretended to be a hero, or even imagined himself in a heroic role. The truth was that he was just a man who did his job quietly and efficiently. His basic nature liked order. Chaos disturbed him and you could not get more chaotic than this day had been in the last few hours. He had thought nothing of his position here on Mars before he had actually arrived here. It was a simple watch and report duty, nothing that was beyond his capabilities. He had not given it a thought that by accepting the position he was to serve two masters, Patrice Mining and the Terra Forming Team. He had become a part of the team, working here as one of the team, initially not giving much thought to betraying confidences and people to provide Patrice with a detailed evaluation of future prospects until he had met his lover.

//I was a fool to accept this assignment. I am no hero, but I never thought it would come to this. No one suggested something of this nature could happen.//

He was employed by the Patrice Mining Corporation to survey the prospects on Mars for future exploitation in an effort to get a jump on their competitors. That had been his primary briefing, the source of his acceptance here. He knew his business, after all, he was good at assessing future potential, and Patrice had made some very good investments on his advice and avoided loss when he had correctly determined the prospects were not as rosy as initial reports had suggested. He was also instructed to keep tabs on the blonde menace who had threatened the Earth, and while those instructions had disturbed him when he had been briefed, he had never actually thought that he would be in danger from Merquise. Chiefly he had been afraid that the people who employed him, who knew only their expensive suits and comfortable offices, would expect him to take physical action against the man if the need ever arose.

//As if I could hold a hope in hell of taking him down. Not to worry, they had said, I was only to observe and report, no other action would be needed. Just watch and report. //

He served the interests of Patrice Mining, but he also served the terra forming team, and to his surprise he had enjoyed the work. It was physical labor and he had never thought of himself as a physical sort, but he had found the work refreshingly different, and the people remarkable. Especially one of them. It had disturbed him that he had needed to lie to Brian when their friendship had begun to develop, and he had started to look at living on Mars with a more permanent view in mind. Yes it had bothered him, and just three nights ago he had made up his mind that he would quit Patrice when his contract was due for renewal and settle down here with his lover. The contract was due for renewal in six months and when he refused to renew it he would be free to devote his attention to the terra forming of the planet, and to the man he had come to love.

//If I now get the chance. Whoever is at fault, people are getting killed and I have to do what I can to help. I can send a warning to Patrice, explain what is happening and they can get help for us.//

The tower reared before him, bathed in a bloody glow that sent shivers up his spine and the elevators smoldered quietly nearby. The automatic systems had sprayed foam over the burning wreckage and had now extinguished the blaze. The pile of rubble was now a dark and brooding pile of wreckage that weighed on his soul, a very visible reminder of what was going on here.

He had put the Main Control Tower and what he had found within it behind him, but that had been easy to do, unlike the lesson provided by the elevators. He had been able to get close enough to the burning elevators to realize that there were bodies in the wreckage, and that part of the smell that filled the air with a foul odor he could not quite describe, was that of roasted flesh. It had sickened him, and he had emptied the contents of his gut very quickly, something even the carnage in the Main Control Tower had not quite been able to cause him to do. It had taken him too long to recover, long minutes spent retching his guts up and he had lived in terror as he had crouched there, exposed to all eyes and certain that he was about to die.

//No one around. I wonder where they all are and what they are doing. Merquise and that Giles were out to hunt them down, and I really do not want to become a part of it. God, I was never cut out for this sneaking around. I just want to get to that radio transmitter and send a call for help to Patrice.//

No one had come while he had retched, and no one had come while he had crossed the open ground between the elevators and the Shuttle Control Tower. The dome had remained eerily silent, so unlike its usual hustle and bustle, no one joked or cursed or … He had to get past his fears and with shaking fingers he reached for the keypad and typed in the access code.

The red bar above the small keypad did not falter, not so much as a flicker responded to his entering of the access code. He stared at the door in surprise, mentally reviewing the code he had input and then decided that he was certain that he had gotten it right. Perhaps though, he had pressed a wrong key and had not realized? After a moment he tried a second time, taking particular care to hit each key precisely and in the correct sequence.

"Incorrect code entered. Please be advised the emergency lock down of the tower is now in operation. Input correct access code to disengage lock down."

He stepped back from the door in surprise, his jaw sagging. What was going on in the tower for the emergency lock down to take effect? He had to ask himself did he really need to go in there at this time, and unfortunately the answer came back as a reminder that he needed to notify Patrice Mining of the situation. His hands were already reaching for the tool pouch he wore, and the hardware he would need to jack into the computer system and remove the lock down without the correct code. It would be a matter of a few minutes work, but his fingers froze when he had to ask himself why the computer was asking for emergency codes, when there was nothing visibly threatening the integrity of the enviro dome.

//No, scratch that. Someone must have manually activated the lock out procedure. Someone who is probably still in there and do I want to meet them?//

If it chanced to be Haydon Giles in there and he had the misfortune to came face to face with the man, then he was likely to be on the receiving end of a severe bruising, if not be dealt with on a more permanent basis. It had been patently obvious the man had not trusted him, and wanted him nowhere near Merquise. Were they in the tower?

// Shit. I do not believe I am doing this. If I had a half a brain I would turn tail and head back to the one building that I know is safe. Jesus. I do not want to meet Giles. Or Merquise. I wonder where they went? Hunting, they said, but they could be doing their hunting anywhere. Who did kill those people in the main control tower? Was it Marquise? He'd be ruthless enough to do it.//

"Please enter the correct access code to disengage lock down sequence."・

"Oh, shut up. I'm trying to deal with it." His fingers were busy on the keyboard, and with nervous glances around at the open ground surrounding him he worked quickly to effect the bridge, cursing at the time it was taking.

He seemed to have three times the amount of fingers that he normally possessed, and all of them wanted to get in the way of his usual efficiency. Of course he should have expected it would not be an easy code to crack, but he could be patient. After all, it was not as though there might be someone lurking out there with guns or knives-Giles had gone on about knives- and God only knew what else to kill him a dozen times over.

"Open, damn you. Open." //Panicking will do you no good. Just take your time and...Yes!//

The change from red to green on the key pad bar was quick and silent, and accompanied by a soft click that never the less resounded like a clarion call to him. With a sigh of relief and another quick glance around him to ensure that he was alone, he slipped into the tower foyer.

"Emergency lock down sequence has been disengaged. System damage sustained during emergency has resulted in partial lock down of the main control room. Please list the system for immediate repairs. Thank you."

"Oh, shut the hell up." //God, what is wrong with me? I'm snapping at a computer, for the love of God. Grow up man. You're a man, not a wimp.// "But I think I prefer being a wimp."

His survey of the foyer was interrupted by a soft noise from somewhere beyond the foyer and he froze, staring at the door opposite the main entry from the dome. He crouched near the door, hiding beside a desk that in no way offered him any substantial protection beyond psychological comfort. Had he heard a door shut out there somewhere, or was he imagining hearing doors close? A door, he corrected himself, when the tower offered up only an oppressive silence.

//Shit. What the hell is wrong with me? I spook at anything.// His eyes flicked from the door he had entered by to the three doors opening off the foyer, uncertain where he should go. // I should check the rooms, I suppose. I don't want Giles and Merquise to find me, and if they should be right, then I certainly don't want the agents finding me either. I have to send that message and get help.//

With shaking hands he slipped to the nearest of the two side doors and pressed his ear to the door panel, wincing a little at the chill of the metal against his warm flesh. Only silence greeted him, strain though he did to hear anything through the partition, and with a sigh he cracked the door open. Darkness greeted the eye he pressed to the crack, and he silently cursed the efficiency of computers that channeled energy into emergency systems and blacked out rooms not in use. That thought widened his eyes and he chuckled. Of course, the computer registered the room as having no occupants, so it automatically deactivated the lights. They were not on Mars to waste energy after all. The foyer lights were on at all times, but offices and store room lights worked off of a sensor system.

Something somewhere in the tower shifted, a metallic sound, faint but noticeable, and he froze then flung himself through the door and crouched on the far side, pressed tight to the chill metal as the lights flicked on behind him. He pressed his ear to the door, straining every fiber of his being to hear any footstep that would tell him someone was in the foyer. If someone should enter the foyer he would just have to pray they did not enter the office, but there would have to be a closet or a supply cupboard at the very least where he could hide himself. With that option in mind he turned from the door when he heard no noise, intending to locate a hiding place if it should be needed, and his intention to search out a hiding place vanished from his mind like smoke on the wind. He clamped his hands over his mouth to muffle the scream that threatened to rip from his throat.

Bodies piled neatly against the far wall, blood on the walls and floor and sprayed over the desks and …

He had not even realized he had moved until he felt the cool metal of the door pressed to his cheek. He was on his knees, sobbing into his hands which were clamped over his mouth once again, and he was shaking like a leaf in a strong wind. Dazed, terrified he looked around him, uncertain how he had left the room. He did not recall bolting, though he knew he must have, and he sobbed in relief to find the foyer empty, aware of sliding down the door and hugging his knees, seeking comfort in that move. Comfort that was short lived as fear spiked again, a vision of the bloodied bodies springing to mind, and he crept to the desk in the centre of the room, crawling under its bulk-despite some remote sense recognizing that it was totally inadequate to hide him. He rocked slowly, back and forth, stifling sobs, trying to block the sight of that carnage from his mind. His traitorous mind refused to work for him, and seemed to want only to remember that vision of massacre he desperately sought to forget.

//I did not see that. I did not see that// The litany was silent and continuous, and did nothing to block the memory. // There are not bodies in that room. I did not see that. I did not see. I did not see. I … I … Help me. Someone, help me. I don't want to die. Brian. Where are you? Oh God, Brian, I'm sorry. So sorry. I lied to you all this time and … and … I did not see.//

He pressed his hands into his eyes, the heels of his hands held tight to his face as he sought to bring his shattered emotions back under control. He had never professed to be a brave man, merely a man who did his job, and who recently had found something other that his work to live for. He had someone now. Someone whom he loved and wanted to spend his entire life with. Someone who was threatened by this massacre that bloodied the soil of Mars. They were all in danger, and the danger would not simply go away for wishing that it would. If peace and safety was to be restored to Mars, then they were going to have to act and stop the fighting.

// I am not a soldier. Most of us here are not soldiers. We came to Mars to start a new life, to make a new world where there was no bloody history of war and murder to haunt us, and it has followed us here. Something has to be done, and we don't have the people here to end it. Who do we trust? I don't know who we can trust, and because of that I think we need to bring in a third party. A third party that will not take sides and will restore order. Patrice.// He was calming now, sorting himself out, swallowing the unreasoning terror, and giving himself a plan of action. // I will go up to the control room and I will use the radio to send an emergency call to Patrice. They will know what to do, and they have Security Ships patrolling the shipping lanes. I will call Patrice in, and they can send help and then I will go back to the … to the … Oh, Jesus. What have I gotten myself into?//

The tower was silent around him, and he gradually brought himself under control. It took him a few minutes to convince himself he was not likely to be shot or knifed if he crawled out from under the desk, and he knew he could not linger in the foyer indefinitely. He had no idea how long he had been huddled on the floor trying to make his mind function. He was not a soldier, or a secret agent, merely a man who estimated mining and profit potential and informed his principle employer of the worth of future investments. He had never needed to be brave before, nor had he ever seen a body that had died from murder. He had seen dead people before, people who had died as the result of industrial accidents, but never from deliberate cold blooded murder. Too many had died, and he needed to do something since nobody else seemed to be doing anything about it. Running around killing more people would not solve the problem.

Drawing a deep and steadying breath he crawled out from beneath the desk, looking about him with wide and fear filled eyes. It was time he stood up and was counted. He had a task to complete for the good of all on Mars, and once he had completed that task he would be free to find a safe refuge until help arrived. Kristy knew he was out here and she would let him back in the building, but there were other options too. He could hook up with that Preventer agent at the air locks if something happened to stop him from returning to Brian.

//That is a plan. Yes, I can do that.// He nodded decisively, feeling a sense of order return. Chaos confused and terrified him, and order soothed him. // I can do this. I will do this so that I can get back to Brian, where I belong, and when it is over we can decide if we want to stay here, or find another place to live. Mars has been turned into another Earth, a place of blood and death, where the law of the claw and fang rule. Mars was supposed to be a civilized place. A peaceful place, away from the wars and the blood, and the hate that has marked the Earth's history for eons. Will it never change? Will man always be out for the blood of his fellows? I'm not a coward, but I am not a brave man either. I just want a place to live in peace and safety. //

Having convinced himself to get on with the job he forced his feet to move toward the door he knew entered deeper into the Control Tower. One hesitant step was followed by a second, and then by a third and finally he was at the door, cracking it open and peering into the hallway beyond. The hallway was lined with doors, all of them closed that he could see, with one notable exception. The elevator doors at the far end of the hall stood open, inviting entry, and the door leading to the stairwell beside it was closed.

// I am so glad that Giles person did not see me bolt out of that room as though my ass was on fire. // He blushed at the thought, ducking his head as he peered suspiciously about the hallway. //Is that something burning? Stinks. I suppose it could be the elevators outside burning, but I would have thought that would not penetrate into the tower. Can't see any smoke, and I am not going to start running around like an idiot, spooking at shadows and no smoke alarms are going off. I've done that once already, and I am glad no one was around to witness it. I'd never hear the end of it if someone, especially that bastard Giles, saw me. Not everyone can deal with that … that … with a pile of bodies. // He shuddered, but the unreasoning terror was gone, spent, and he was in control of himself. //I bet he would turn tail and run if he came across that sight as I did. Macho bastard was showing off for Kristy is all.//

He considered for a long moment on the best options he could take for his chosen course of action to best be managed. His primary concern now was the means by which he would reach the control room. It was obvious that everyone in the tower was dead, though there could still be killers running loose in here. With that in mind he was not happy with the thought of being trapped in a small elevator car with a killer possibly lurking on the levels above him. He shuddered at the thought of the elevator, as the memory of smoking wreckage sprang to mind.

"No. No, not the elevators. They trapped one set of elevators so they probably set a bomb on this one too. Something is definitely burning, but why haven't the smoke alarms gone off? No smoke … ah, wait a minute. The computer said there had been damage done to the control room, hence the emergency lock down. Of course. I'll have to check out the damage done to the computers, and just hope the radio is intact. I should be able to effect most repairs, depending on the type of damage, but there would be a good array of spares to work with upstairs. Stairs. Hmm. Yes, I think the stairs would be safer than the elevator. Well, it all seems quiet enough, but the silence is eerie. I don't think I've ever heard a silence like this. It seems almost a living thing, and there I go again, letting my imagination get the better of me. And I'm talking to myself."

He slipped from the foyer and cursed softly as the door shut behind him with a decisive thud, and he spun around in the hall, pressing his back against the wall and expecting someone, with guns blazing, to leap into the hallway and for it all to be over. The building remained silent, the pungent odor that he identified as burnt plastic surrounding him. Shaking with relief he almost ran to the stairs, pausing before the door to look around at the hallway behind him, and at the open elevator doors that invited him to enter.

//I am not that big a fool.// He decided, shaking his head and pushed the door to the stairs open, peering in.

The stairwell was dimly lighted at the best of times, low wattage bulbs at intervals providing sufficient light to see by. The stairs were rarely used, but were a safety feature that was rigidly adhered to in the construction of the base. In the early days of the project there had been numerous power failures that could have proven life threatening, if there had not been so many manual and old fashioned safe guards incorporated into the design of the base. Stairs were rarely used, but were always constructed in the event of power failures taking out the elevators. As someone who had had the misfortune to spend six hours trapped in an elevator on one occasion, he felt more comfortable around stairs anyway. Certainly when there were psycho killers running around, with a penchant for explosives.

//Time to get this message sent.//

He grinned as he closed the door behind him, unwilling to make it obvious that someone was in the stair well, and deciding he had already taken far too long and he needed to hurry, he practically leapt at the lower steps, uttering a short startled yelp as something caught at his foot, and the world came apart around him.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson


	91. Chapter 91

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 91

Mars

Base Dome

Time: 22:20 [Approx 20:10 Sanc time

Zechs

There was no time to allow himself to shake like a leaf with reaction, or to crawl in a corner and ignore the world. There simply was not the time to allow himself to cater to his fears, or to weep as he wished to over the gravity of the mistake he had made. It was a mistake that had proven to be near fatal, not to himself, but to a man who certainly did not deserve the treatment he had received. He had to make up for his unthinking reaction and terrors. He could not even blame it on visions as he had to be honest with himself, now above all, and acknowledge no one was to blame for the near fatal mistake other than himself.

Haydon Giles had only ever tried to help him, and for his trouble he had nearly killed him. He had lost control. He had committed the unforgivable sin of losing control in a situation where he had command decisions to make. He must never lose control, he knew that. It had been drilled into him at the academy, that a Commander must always be in command of himself, and never could permit himself to lose sight of the goal or the game plan to attain that goal. He was a highly trained professional, and still he had made that fundamental mistake and he knew why he had made it. The truth was he had not thought, only reacted to the impression of a body hurtling at him through that gap, and as a result he had very nearly killed the man who had tried to help him since first they had met.

//Reflex. Pure uncontrolled reflex. A reaction to the tension and stress we are under, and as a result I nearly killed Giles. I am tired and I am in no fit condition for this, but there is no other alternative. I have to function, and I have to function at command level, and just pray to whatever God might be inclined to listen to me that I get this right. There can be no more mistakes allowed.//

There was also Noin to be considered in this situation, which seemed never ending and to have no clear solution. He needed to find a secured location for her, a safe place where they could give her the medical attention she so desperately needed, and he had to face the fact that by moving her he could be killing her. It was a danger they could not avoid, as to leave her here, at the mercy of the remnants of Blue Squad, and what remained of the Sleepers, was not an option. She would die if they left her in the tower, and they could not get her to the sub base without chancing the freight elevators, and she had already warned him they were trapped.

Her contacting him as she had revealed that she, like he, was one of the Gifted. He had never suspected it. Not once had he suspected she might have had psionic abilities, and when he had the chance he was going to have to try to learn why they were different. It might have been coincidence, of course, but somehow it seemed to have sinister implications that the two top performers in Oz should prove to be something more than what was termed normal. It raised many questions he did not have the time to face, but he was curious about one of those questions. What about Treize Kushrenada? He, like Noin and himself, had been far above the highest performers of the Alliance, with Lady Une coming in fourth. All of them had been from the aristocracy of the old European block countries, disturbingly healthy physically and extremely resilient. Was there something hidden there, or was it coincidence?

He had no time to pursue that question, but he would if he could come through this trial on top. He needed to keep his focus and guide events to a satisfactory solution, and just pray that something happened and the Wellington did not come to Mars. He could not see what he could do against the might of that cruiser without weapons or trained personal. For now he must just concentrate on getting Noin to medical services, and settled safely out of the firing line. Which begged another question he needed answered.

What was it Giles was not telling him?

There would assuredly be a great deal that had been glossed over at their meeting, or simply not mentioned in the interests of survival, but his major concern now was the question he had avoided pursuing after Noin had contacted him, and which now held implications concerning Noin's health. At this moment there was no time to ask that, or other questions that would delay their escape and use precious oxygen when they could least afford it.

There was no time to delay and ask questions that could wait in favor of survival, as there had been someone else in the Shuttle Control Tower and they had to escape. He had not considered it expedient to investigate that mysterious person, being tied up with moving Noin and Giles into the relative safety of the ground floor office, and then in helping Giles to recover from the attack on him. He had not wanted to kill again, and if it was Simpson or Frazier, as he thought it most likely to be, or a Sleeper, then the longer they could escape notice the better.

He had feared burning through the floor would bring the intruder running, on smelling the fumes, but they had remained undisturbed and that had allowed them to gain entry to the vents. To escape the tower unseen had been his main concern, and it had not been easy to come up with a solution, but he had devised a means of escape, and it should serve them well enough in reaching medical assistance for Noin.

//Are you still alive, Lu? I'm sorry, but we really had no choice about moving you. We had to take the opportunity to remove you to safety while we could. Giles is hiding something about what happened in the tower. Something happened in that room, and he does not want to tell me what he thinks is wrong with you, but I think I can guess. You need help and not just for that, but for what happened to you before. Was my vision right? Am I right about you being shot with one of those shock guns? If my vision was true event, then are we killing you by moving you? I'm sorry. I am very sorry, but I think you would have wanted to take the chance instead of remaining there, at the mercy of Blue Squad. If they even know what mercy is. Hang on, Noin. You have to hang on to life for our children. Don't you dare allow that vision of your death to become reality. You have to live.//

Pain lanced through his shoulder, a sharp reminder of the abuse he had suffered so far during this test of his survival skills, but that pain must be ignored. His body was one huge mass of aches and pains that needed to be ignored at this time. Noin rested against his back, her length stretched along his body, and seeming so small compared to his greater height. Her body was so light against him as he slowly inched his way along the vent. Giles had tied her to his back carefully, binding her to his chest, and each leg to his own to keep her balanced. Her oxygen cylinder was tied in a looser knot to his back, allowing him to move it about at need as they maneuvered through the vents.

The old vents were barely large enough for him to make this movement possible with Noin strapped to him. He had to crawl on his belly and push his own oxygen cylinder ahead of him, and though he had less than a few centimeters on either side of him he had a little more room than that above him. It was a tight enough squeeze for someone of his bulk at the best of times, but with the added bulk of Noin and the cylinders they needed to survive this trip, he was acutely aware of the tightness of his situation and the potential for disaster.

He had refused Giles' offer to be the one who carried the load that was Noin, and he had refused for good reason, not simply because he saw Noin as his responsibility. He was certain he had broken at least three of the man's ribs in his unthinking attack, and he did not intend for Giles to place unnecessary strain on his body. Too much damage could be caused by Giles wriggling on his belly and carrying a load on his back in these cramped vents. There was the equipment they needed in the shuttle they were aiming for that would allow him to make Giles more comfortable, and until then he would not have the man place any unnecessary pressure on his body. He owed the man.

Breath rasped in his lungs and he tried to breathe evenly and lightly, hoping there was sufficient oxygen in the tanks to last the laborious journey ahead of them. Noin would last the longest of them, of course. She was breathing lightly, shallow breaths if a little rapid, but she was not exerting herself physically and therefore her need for oxygen was less. It was he and Giles who were in danger of running out of air, exerting themselves as they were to find their way through this maze of old shafts, using the oxygen even though they tried to regulate their breathing and make it last as long as possible. They had to traverse the old vents for a considerable distance before they could enter the newer vent system where oxygen was sure to be circulating.

"You okay?" Giles voice came out of the darkness ahead of him, and he spared enough energy to muster a grunt, the only sound he had the strength to make. It seemed not enough, or else Giles had not heard him however, as his voice sounded strained and a little panicked. "Zechs?!"

//Damn. I'm fine, Giles, just get on. I need to wallow in my anger for a while longer, to give me the strength to get us through this. If I let the anger go I will not have the strength to manage.// "Fine. Move."

Silence for a moment and then the feet against which his oxygen tank now rested moved, and Zechs breathed a sigh of relief, inching forward once again. Ahead he heard a hissed breath that he recognized as a muffled response to pain, and he forced himself to clamped down on the apology that wanted to be repeated. He knew Giles would only waste oxygen by telling him to shut up with the apologies, as that was a waste of breath better used to power their crawl through darkness. Giles had a torch with him, but Zechs rarely glimpsed the light and the darkness was oppressive, bothering him more than he had hoped. It seemed he had not lost the fear birthed in the recent past, but it was just something else that needed to be ignored in favor of moving.

He had no time to indulge in such useless phobias.

He froze at the muffled roar that reverberated in the vents, the unmistakable sound of an explosion echoing through the vent, shaking the surface around him and threatening to bring back unwanted memories of that other cramped darkness. He chanced a glance back over his shoulder, but could see little beyond darkness, his body was too large to allow him to see if the light from where they had entered the vent could still be seen streaming into the shaft. They were a fair distance from the cutaway section where they had entered the vent, and he doubted there would have been light visible if he could have seen past Noin on his back. She felt warm against him and that gave him hope she was recovering, as she had been too cold when he had carried her from that room.

As the last echoes faded he was aware he could not hear Giles moving ahead of him, and by inching the oxygen cylinder ahead of him he contacted the man's feet. A sigh of relief escaped him, the relief crushing the sudden fear that had blossomed that he had lost Giles due to the distraction of the explosion.

"That sounded close." Giles murmured. "We need to get out of here."

"As quickly as we can." He agreed, turning his head and peering over the bulk of the cylinder, trying to see that reassuring, if dim, glow that was all he could make out of the small torch Giles had strapped to one wrist. "Any sign of that junction yet?"

"No. We can't be all that far from it though. I think it safe to say our sense of distance is distorted in here."

He refrained from replying, though he agreed with the assessment. He wished they could have brought spare oxygen, but they were in no condition, neither he nor Giles, to carry around the added bulk that entailed, and they needed to rely on speed. It was slow and laborious work to crawl through these cramped ways without weighing themselves down with added, and possibly unnecessary, equipment. Now they needed to get on and place as much distance between themselves and the office where they had entered the vents as possible. Someone, at some time, would investigate that explosion, be it Blue Squad or the Sleepers, but now he worried that perhaps he had made a mistake and that someone had died. Someone innocent.

The stairs had been trapped and he had not had the time to remove those charges. Was it possible someone from the Terra Formers had entered the Control Tower and fallen afoul of the traps? Why would they have taken the stairs instead of the elevators? He had used the elevators to get Noin and Giles to the ground floor, checking it for traps quickly and finding none, but he had not been able to remove the traps from the stairs. It made more sense for the explosion to be triggered by a terra former than a Sleeper, or by a member of Blue Squad, but he could not know for sure. If it had not been what he must think of as the enemy, then there were more deaths on his conscience. He just did not want to think of it now, or he would not be able to function.

If Simpson and Frazier had not been the cause of the explosion which had sounded very close, then it was possible they could return to the Shuttle Control Tower very soon now and discover Noin had been taken. They would search the tower, and it would not take them long to discover the hole he had left in the floor of the office in the tower. They were both bright boys, and they would quickly realize that the vents would lead them somewhere, and he did not doubt they would learn where that somewhere was. Or it was possible the men would simply crawl into the vent and come after them. He hoped that if they did take that last option, they would get hopelessly lost in the maze.

"Zechs? Are you with me still?"

"What is it?" He paused as the cylinder bumped into stationary feet.

"Three way intersection. Left, right and straight ahead. Which way?"

//Three way intersection. Think man. You memorized the vent system now concentrate, and make certain that you get it right. There is no margin for error down here.// "Right. Take the right turn. You should come to a T junction next."

"It's a pretty tight turn here. You will need to go carefully, considering you have Noin. Ah, shit!"

"Giles?" He froze, barely breathing with sudden terror of being stuck in the vents alone. The darkness was haunting, a reminder of the time when he had lain in terror and pain unimaginable, crushed under displaced machinery, with only the occasional arc of electricity from ruined circuitry to light the sealed suit he was certain would be his coffin.

"It's okay. Just got my rump a bit wedged, and there is a rough edge that gave me a bit of a thrill."

If Giles, who was so much smaller and slimmer than himself, got himself caught at the turn, it did not bode well for his chances of negotiating that turn with Noin strapped to his back, but considering the circumstances he simply was going to have to manage. Why, when they had built these air shafts, did they not build them closer to the size of the newer vent system? He could ask himself such stupid questions until he ran out of air and suffocated, and it would do him no good. At least Noin was slender, and strapped as she was to his back at least she was not likely to flail around half way through the turn, and seal their fate by wedging them in. Still, he was going to lose that faint grayness that was the light Giles wore totally in a matter of moments, and he really did not want to lie here in the dark. It was too much like being trapped in agony in the failing Epyon.

"Zechs? You okay? I'm around the corner."

Lying in the vent hyperventilating in growing terror was not going to get him around that turn. He had to pull himself together and get past this problem which was, face it, only a small obstacle, because he had faced bigger problems, and over come them with a lot less fuss than he was putting on for facing a simple thing like a bend in the vent. Nor would it be the only obstacle to be overcome while they were in the vents, but he did have to ask himself why the designers of the system had to do ninety degree turns. Why could they not put in nice gentle curves in vents, instead of sharp narrow corners? He could not even see the junction, let alone the turn he had to make.

Light flashed ahead of him, a dim glow that thankfully illuminated the turn for him, and he resisted the urge to sob in relief. At least now he could see where he was going, even if it was only just. The light seemed to shed little in the way of illumination, but it would do, and it was the very best that they had anyway. He pushed the oxygen tank forward, hearing it scrape over the metal, resisting the urge to grit his teeth in reaction to the tooth vibrating noise. At least it was an honest noise, and harmless, not something that could mean imminent disaster to them. Inch forward, degree by degree, until he faced the turn, and could consider how best to tackle it with Noin strapped to his back. He certainly could not simply take her off to get around the corner, and then tie her back on again.

"What do you think?"

The voice that floated from beyond that light, out of his immediate sight, was a comforting whisper in the darkness. He needed to hear that voice and allow it to ground him, and remind him he was not in pain in the darkness that had been Epyon, his coffin, and with a sigh he inched his oxygen tank around the corner, using it to measure the space that was going to be available to him.

"I think I am likely to leave bits of myself behind, but I can do this." //I hope.//

"Try not to leave too much of yourself behind like I did. When did you last have a tetanus shot?" Giles voice sounded rueful.

"I'm current. I had one before leaving for Mars. You?"

"Yeah, I'm okay too. Raydon makes certain we have every shot available before leaving Station on an assignment. Just as well, because I left a good bit of myself behind on that seam. Mind that edge."

He could see what it was that had scratched Giles, a jagged edge of poorly welded metal, where two pieces of metal were folded and welded together to form a join half way around the turn. Looking at it he decided it was very likely he was going to leave a part of himself on that edge in trying to negotiate the turn. He was wider than Giles, and he had no convenient hammer on him with which to bash it into submission. That thought produced a grimace when he realized that, in fact, he did have something that would do the job, he just had a problem reaching it with Noin strapped to him. He had no leeway in which he could reach behind him, even rolling to his side would not help, as Noin's form stopped him from having sufficient room to reach back in the cramped confines of the vent. His arms were stuck in front of him for the duration of this little excursion, and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was lament the fact he had not found another, more convenient way out of their predicament.

//You chose the vents because there was no other way available that could give Noin a fair chance, so just get on with it.//

He muffled the moan as his shoulder, already abused, scraped over that small sharp protrusion, but he remained silent, knowing that there was no help for it. With the sheer size of him he was going to be scraped and cut in more than one place by the time he was around this, and he preferred he take the damage and not Noin. The worst thing about it was in knowing that once he successfully negotiated around this corner, a short distance up this next leg of the vent was another corner, just as sharply angled, and narrow to be negotiated. With quiet determination, and a hard clamp on the pain, he forced his way around the turn, having a few horrible minutes when he got firmly stuck as Noin's body shifted a little at just the wrong moment.

Giles was his life line, however, backing himself up until his feet were hooked over the oxygen tank and Zechs could grasp his ankles, his own feet scrabbling for purchase to push himself forward and around the corner, while Giles inched forward, dragging at him. Muffling a scream of pain at the pressure on his abused shoulder, and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip he finally came free of the bend, and dropped his grip on the mans ankles, apologizing at the muffled grunt from Giles at the abrupt move.

"Sorry. I just have … just have to rest a minute."

"Fine. Me too. Not a problem." Giles was panting into his oxygen mask from the sound of it, himself needing the rest after the exertion needed to get him around the turn.

For a few minutes there was only the muffled panting behind oxygen masks, and the rasping breaths to be heard, then, by unspoken agreement, they were moving again endlessly inching forward. To his great relief the second sharp bend in the vent at least proved not to have any sharp edges to score skin and tear clothes, and was negotiated successfully with a little more grace, and at the cost of far less skin.

"Where to next?" Giles queried as he began to move again, the light bobbing around a little as he pushed his tank forward and dragged his body after it.

Zechs took a moment to review his mental map of the vent system, and having given Giles a little room began to drag himself along once more. "Straight ahead, until you come to a four way junction. It should be a fairly wide one, from the blueprints. There will be a maintenance ladder, which will lead down to another vent system."

"A wider area? Would there be enough room there, do you think, for us to change Noin over to me? You need a rest. I can hear it in your voice."

He had hoped it had not been all that noticeable, but it was a price he had determined to pay when he had chosen the vents. "There will be no time for that, even if it is large enough for us to move her. We have to reach the juncture where the new vent system joins this one before our oxygen runs out, and I think I should warn you now that I have a small problem with being in tight, dark places, Giles. I really need to get out of this vent."

No answer was forthcoming, just the scrape and drag of the oxygen tank and body ahead moving came back to him, and Zechs grunted softly to himself as he pushed forward. At least Giles did not ask unnecessary questions, and got on with the business of moving. He really needed to get out of the vents as soon as possible. He had not found himself in a position that was so reminiscent of being in the wrecked Epyon before now, and he was not enjoying the resurgence of memory that resulted.

For a few minutes they continued in silence, Zechs carefully reviewing the blue prints he had memorized, and considering which path to take that would likely speed along this very uncomfortable journey, without compromising their safety. What he needed to do was remind himself it was actually a lot more comfortable to be here, in the vents, than to be a prisoner of the ESUN, and being transported to who knew what nightmare, and lose his children to the machinations of politics. The vents were better than surrendering to the ESUN.

//What do I have to look forward to? Realistically, what does my future hold for me? It is time I asked myself if there is any place I can be free from the ESUN. Giles and Raydon have offered me sanctuary on Station One, but will even there be free of those who hunt me? From what I have seen of it, and learned of it, Station One is a haven for displaced soldiers from all sides of the war. When they become known to the ESUN and are recognized for what they are, then the ESUN will try to control the station. They have done it before, repeatedly in history, and should they ever learn I am there, I would be hunted again. To be killed, or to be used as a tool against Relena and her peace. Not even Raydon would be able to protect me from that. I am simply too dangerous to be allowed to live free. After all, I might decide to blow another hole in the planet again. Oh, your spirits are low, Marquise. Get a life and get on with it. I have to have some hope that there is light at the end of this effort. It would have been so much easier for everyone if I had just died when I was supposed to. Why did I not die?//

That thought startled him, and he hissed a soft breath in disgust. He had thought himself to be improving in his outlook, and leaving that question behind him. Once, soon after waking from the explosion to find himself under Raydon's knowing gaze, he had seemed to do nothing but ask himself why he had failed to die when the Libra blew. Since that long ago day, and especially since he had come to Mars with Noin, and taken his psychiatric sessions with the psychologists sent to Mars to learn what they could from him, he had improved to the point where he had thought he had accepted that he was alive. He had thought he had accepted his life, and that he needed to find a secure home for himself, and find a means by which his family-his children-would find safety. Though he had not expected to have a family, nevertheless he had one, and the children meant everything to him. Now, here it was again, that horrible little recurring question, rearing its ugly little head when he could least afford it.

//It is because of this bloody black hole I am crawling through. I need light … Black hole?//

"Giles stop!"

"What? What is wrong?" The sounds from ahead stopped and he could imagine the man freezing, probably trying to look over his shoulder, uselessly, to see if something was wrong.

"The ladder. The ladder that leads down to the next level. Be careful from now on, as there is a hole in the floor of this vent. If you push your oxygen tank into that hole, and loose your grip, you will rip the mask off your face and lose the tank."

A silence filled the vent for a lingering moment, and then small sounds of movement from ahead of him told him that Giles was moving again, perhaps with exaggerated care, but the man would suffocate in the bad air if he lost the tank. A soft grunt followed by a low curse invaded the darkness, then another silence.

"Okay, I found the hole. Thanks for the warning, Zechs, I could have lost the tank." More rustling of cloth and scraping from ahead. "How far down does this thing go?"

"The blue prints lead me to believe it should be a drop of approximately fifty feet or so. The vent at the bottom will have a declining slope that will be facing down, toward the newer vents and the shuttle bay. We will need to be more careful about maintaining a grip on the tanks."

"Right then. When you get here you will have to get your tank over the hole and to the far side, then pull yourself across the top of the hole and lower your legs down first. Are you going to be able to handle the tank while you climb down the ladder? You've got Noin on your back, so you won't be able to strap a second tank to you."

//I really wish I could have found another option to this path.// He gripped the tank tightly with one hand, freeing the second to rub at the edge of the face mask, where the mask was irritating the skin of his lower jaw. "I'll just have to manage."

"No. No, we can work something out. I think … Just a sec." Rustling, a grunt, and the clang of the tank against the vent walls. "Yes. It's a bit wider here, so we may be able to do a change around with at least the tanks, if not with Noin. If we rig the straps of the tanks together, mine, yours and Noin's, then I can take their weight for the climb down. You can go down the ladder first, and wait on one side while I come down and then around to the other side of the ladder. It's a free standing ladder, Zechs, so we can go down together on opposite sides. That way you can concentrate on getting yourself and Noin down without juggling two sets of tanks."

It sounded workable and he merely grunted in acknowledgement, too tired to offer a protest to the offered plan. He was tired, sore, hungry and thirsty, and he was concerned that they would not have sufficient oxygen to make it to the new vents. He did not even want to consider the possibility that the vents they had to enter might be filled with noxious and toxic fumes from the elevator fire. The buildup of smoke into the upper dome suggested there was a problem with the vent system, and he wanted enough air in the tanks to get to the shuttle bay if his fears should prove to be fact.

Getting into a position where Giles could take over the management of the tanks proved to involve a delicate dance over the gaping black maw of the hole, but it was a feat they managed to accomplish, and when finally they faced each other through the rungs of the ladder he could only grin in relief at their success.

"Well, hello there. I must say I prefer this view to the view of your butt." //Not that I had any light to view said butt, but who needs to know that?//

"Ah, shit. He's delirious. I will have you know that I have been told I have a cute butt." The Raider grinned back. "If you don't like my toosh then you can go first for this next stint, and I'll let you know what I think of your butt when we get there."

Zechs winked, grin widening. "I will have you know I have it on good authority that I have a very gropeable butt, thank you. Or so I heard recently."

Giles laughed, adjusting his grip on the ladder. "Yeah, I seem to recall hearing something about that recently. Don't let it swell your head. How far are we from the shuttle bay?"

"Not so far now, distance wise, but it takes time crawling through the vents, and we have a fairly narrow access hatch to negotiate."

"We'll manage. How come you have a problem with dark places? You never struck me as claustrophobic before."

Zechs sighed, carefully placing hands and feet as they worked their way down the ladder, careful not to interfere with each other and to move in tandem, pacing each move. The shaft was not exactly spacious but it was considerably wider that the vent they had been crawling through; and he had a little leeway to move with Noin strapped securely to him without her scraping the sides of the vent.

"I was trapped in the Epyon for two days, pinned in the wreckage, and unable to move. The suit shut down all but basic life support functions, and I spent that time in the dark. I don't remember all that much about it, mostly nightmarish glimpses of the dark and arcing electricity near me, but I still wake up wanting to scream some nights. I guess that I was unconscious most of the time, but I was aware enough to be glad that in the sub base we have low voltage lights on when we sleep. If Raydon's men had not found what was left of the suit, and pulled me out of it when they did, I would not have survived another day. By that time I was comatose, and it was about two weeks before I woke."

Giles sighed softly and nodded, maintaining the rhythm they had found that least interfered with the other. "Can't be too far now."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	92. Chapter 92

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 92

2nd March

Station One

Time: 09:57 [ Approx Mars time 02:45 / approx 00:35 Sanc time

Raydon

"I fear that I doom us before we even start, Milliardo. I am sorry."

It had been a very long time since he had felt this fear awaken within him. A fear he could trace back to those first days after he had come under the all seeing eye of Romefeller. It was a very familiar fear that he had no trouble identifying, the fear he would never again know the freedom to be himself. It was his decision to make, and should he make it solely for himself he would not now be standing here, looking at that door through which his fate awaited him, but there was more to be considered than old fear and his personal dreams and ideals.

//Fate. It is an ironic truth that a long time ago I decided there was no such thing. My conversations with you on our flight to Station One only confirmed my notion, but now I stand here and tell myself it is fate that I take up this mantle. You would laugh at me, Milliardo. You would laugh at me and the changeable whims of man.//

The door, a plain blue painted metal door with a see through panel, swinging open and closed every few seconds with the heavy traffic it currently underwent, seemed to become the symbol of his future. People coming and going in a rush; voices hushed but tense with urgency to see the preparations ready on time. Such an innocent thing that door, yet through it lay his doom. To step through it was to enter another time and place, a place where his life was no longer his own.

//How theatrical can you get? Ah, get over it. You either do it or you don't. Simple.//

Not really. Not really so simple when you considered the responsibility he would be taking on, but he needed to remember it was not just himself doing this. The other nine were taking on the responsibility too, and they no doubt were riddled with as much doubt and questions as he now endured. They had made their decisions, and while he had taken the time to question them and to remind them of what this decision entailed, the sad truth was that no one had asked him if it was what he wished. No one had asked him if he minded the changes that must now disrupt the future he had planned for himself. No one had realized, or they refused to comment on it, that by taking those few steps through that door he would end a future he had wanted for himself, and begin another he felt himself obligated to take.

//Obligated. Yes, it is an obligation I have to everyone on Station One, and to the sister stations of the Alliance. An obligation that simply has to be taken up. I thought I would have more time. Enough time to establish a life for myself that I have dreamed of for many years. Yet if I am honest with myself, then I guess I must acknowledge the truth is that I made the choice years ago, when I began to form them into this group and give them more than they dreamed would be their lot in this life. The outcasts and the hopeless. The drifters rejected by society. Soldiers who have no place, and no acceptance, in a world and culture that now thrusts toward peace, and discards the reminders of a bloodier time. I started this by giving them hope, and I have to finish it. I just have not wanted to admit to myself my dreams come second. It is my duty to them for giving their trust to me.//

The broadcast must begin soon, and he had to deal with his own fears before he walked through that door. Romefeller, its many faceted faces and its warped ideals, were the source of his fear and he knew it. He was still coloured by his past, and he had no doubt once he was recognized they would be out after him. He was considered to be a valuable commodity by those who claimed to have bred him and his ancestors for the past thousand years. A commodity they would not willingly give up once they knew that he was alive and not dead, as they had presumed. He hated them, and he had successfully escaped them once and had no wish now to renew his contact with them, but it was a chance he was going to have to take. He owed it to those who had placed their trust in him to see them to a better life, regardless of the personal cost to himself.

The irony was that was precisely what Romefeller had bred and trained him for.

The live broadcast centre of the Station was a mad house of activity, as technicians and aids scurried to finalize preparations for the most important broadcast in the history of the Station Alliance. He needed to compose himself to face that broadcast, because he already knew what he would do-what he must do-for the good of those who trusted him. He had been bred and trained to serve the needs of others, and he could not shake that training even now. At least these people were the people he had chosen to serve, not the people he was forced to serve. These were real people, with real needs, who looked on him as a real person and not as a tool to be used. They were not Romefeller, and they were at least honest about their needs and the means to attain those needs; and he would serve them willingly as friends and colleagues who had, for the large part, been dealt with as harshly by life as he had been in his youth.

//I have to ask myself how you deal with it, Milliardo. The visions that I see are bad enough, without seeing, as you do, all of the pathways and options of what might be, could be and must be. At least I see what will be, where you see how to get there, to that point I see, but you see more than that. I have thought long and hard on all that you told me of the Epyon, and your own dreams, and I believe that I see more clearly the Gift that is yours. You seem able to see beyond the point in time that I glimpse, and you see into alternate pathways, following the course of history yet to be written, to what might have been in the future. You even seem to see possible alternate futures, which might have been had different options been chosen, and more you seem able to weave something in the order of a tapestry that could cover hundreds of years from one simple, seemingly insignificant, action that occurred in the here and now. I do not envy you your sight, my friend. Mine can seem bad enough, sometimes painful, rarely happy and it is so much less than what you endure. I feared my vision for too many years, and even now I find it can disturb me. Do I still look for that elusive rosy future, where all of my day dreams become reality? I fear that I do.//

Only a few minutes remained before he must take up a position he had been unofficially filling since Station One was first conceived. Unofficially. That was the important word. Unofficially. There was still time enough to change his mind and to call off the preparations he had made, and seek out the future he preferred for himself. A future for Himself, not for everyone on Station, and that was why he would swallow his despair and walk through that door. Yet …

He could refuse the vision. There was precedent. His vision was not as yet full sight, enough for a guide line to be drawn, and for the Gifted Council to vote there was sufficient detail for them to work towards. Enough data to guide, but not the whole encompassing vision on the further reaching events that would have enduring effects on the Stations and their people; but the matters vital to the preservation of the Alliance seemed clear. This was not just his decision on timing. He was not so foolish or arrogant as to ignore the other Gifted in this decision, as their input further rounded out the views of future event.

// It is right to do this. Some things are meant to be, while other events, even desirable ones, must be allowed to pass us by. //

They had formed this place, initially Station One, and later the other two working stations, to protect and nurture the Gifted, those naturally born and developed, as well as those who were bred by Romefeller in their dynastic schemes. He alone on Station had not felt the clutching claws of that organization, who professed to know the direction humanity must move in as a whole. He had seen enough in his vision to combine with other visions of the Gifted; to determine the best guide to reach that desired goal of accepted independence, and he was willing to pay the required price. He would nurse his pain in privacy, aware the Gifted would realize soon enough what they wrought, and its consequences, but that was personal. It involved only his own future, not that of the Station and its people, and he could pay that price. He had before and survived, and he would once more persevere and fit himself into a new world of his own making.

// I can see enough to know that on Earth we will start a raging forest fire of reaction from those involved in this debacle on Mars. There will be some who panic and totally lose their heads, and if those who watch them are quick enough, they may just remove some very dangerous and unstable men from power. It will likely be those who are not so deeply ingrained in the halls of power who panic, but there is the chance we will catch them unaware enough that someone higher up will falter and be caught, but I can not see who will rise and who will fall with unfailing accuracy. Should the Preventers be quick they can reshape certain power structures, and that could come in very useful in later days. I will not hold my breath waiting, however. I like breathing too much to trust they may see the opportunity, small as it will be, and actually act in time to make a difference. //

He could see enough of the future to know this plan he and the Gifted Council had settled on must force those who played dangerous games on Earth and in the Colonies; who had ordered the deaths of those people on Mars, to stop and pause to think. It was unfortunate, but true that it was too late for them to call off those operatives on Mars itself and save lives there, though it might still be possible to force them to recall the Wellington from its mission of murder. If they saw reason and chose to change the Wellington's orders from the slaughter of witnesses to the investigation of a supposed raid and rescue, then they might well remain in power on Earth, muzzled for the moment, but capable of acting in the future.

//I very much doubt they will take that cautious step, however. No, despite the broadcast soon to be aired throughout the entire ESUN, they will want as many witnesses disposed of as possible, and any survivors of the massacre on Mars are a danger to them. There is also, of course, the small matter of keeping the secret of Milliardo's survival from the masses to be considered as well. In this speech I must be careful not to insinuate too openly that it is the ESUN itself who is killing those people, but I also need to make it quite plain to those involved I know exactly who it is to blame. Not that I have names, of course, but I will have those names. It might take time, but I will know them. There must be no doubt in certain minds, after this broadcast, that their doom is hanging over their heads; invisible but known none the less. //

He alone would not be showing his face this day to old enemies and friends alike. Too few friends and too many enemies they had in common, he and his Council. These nine who would stand with him today had had cause to leave the Earth Sphere behind them. One or two of them had been refugees on the run from Romefeller, as had he, and they stood about him now, fussing with robes, having make up applied, preparing to be known to the faceless masses. They were to make their faces known to the politicians of the Earth Sphere, and be clearly recognizable to those investigators whose task it would be to identify them, and their histories. No effort would be made to hide their identities; after all they wanted people to know who they were. They wanted to make it quite clear this was not some elaborate hoax, but a viable independent government who were quite capable of running independent colonies without support from the Earth Sphere. Certain faces soon to be revealed would surprise many in the halls of power, and four of his fellows were presumed to be dead, as was he himself.

He nodded slightly to the light touch that rested on his shoulder for an instant, a reminder that time marched on and he needed to compose himself for the broadcast. He needed to be cool, calm and professional, the duly elected President of an independent nation that was quite capable of protecting itself, though that would not be made clear immediately. It might be hinted at, but he was not intending to start a conflict that could end in a war. That was the very last thing he intended to happen.

The other members of the council would be there, beside him, showing everyone their faces, and their presence would baluster him, making it plain he was not alone in this endeavor, and there was a great deal of influence and power in this Council. Nor was it for the ESUN Council of Representatives alone they displayed the full Council of the Station Alliance, but primarily for those others, shrouded in anonymity, from whom he had fled in his youth. They too must be put on notice that their reign in the shadows might yet be threatened.

What was important for him to realize now, as that he needed to remember he would not be alone on the dais to face the mass of people who would be listening and watching. His own people through out the three stations would be receiving this broadcast as well as all of the ESUN, and the ships that would make up the fleets of the Station Alliance. They were going to use the same trick the ESUN had used to ensure every one with a receiver would be bathed in the transmission signals.

// I hope they feel fear.// The thought surprised him, and then disturbed him, as he had thought he had passed that stage of anger and despair many years ago.

He had feared his controllers in the days of his youth, but he had overcome that fear as he had grown and matured, and he had developed hate instead. A fire for a freedom denied him that had later turned to a thirst for revenge that had, still later, become a banked flame of determination. Any who had felt the bonds imposed by Romefeller, and who chanced to find him, would find him an ally, whether they knew it or not. It did not matter that they did not understand why he should aid them, it was usually enough for them to know they had found a friend who was willing to help. Most were desperate by the time they found themselves on Station and no longer alone, but in good company willing to listen and offer hope. Many did not even understand who their enemy was, though he usually did not have much trouble in detecting that unique stench he knew belonged to Romefeller.

// I am sorry I did not get the chance to explain to you about Romefeller, Milliardo. Perhaps if I had found the time to explain to you the bonds that link us, you might have remained on Station. At the least I doubt you would have allowed them to delay your departure from Earth after the battle with Barton's forces. There was so little time. Your injuries at first made long discussions impossible, and then you insisted on going back to fight against that power hungry old madman. There was no time to talk, but I need to explain to you what it is that has marked you, and made you such a desirable commodity in certain circles. It is not just that your sister can be controlled by those who hold you captive that you are worthy of note. It is far more, I am sorry to say. That Relena can be influenced by your confinement is insignificant if They should learn where you are. Matters within Romefeller must be cresting, as it is disturbingly inefficient of the Core of Romefeller to have misplaced you for so long. You have been fortunate, but that luck can not hold forever. //

It was not a lightly made decision to show their faces once more, to those who dwelt in hiding and who orchestrated world shattering events with the ease with which most people considered their shopping lists. Romefeller's greatest weakness was in the many factions that sprang into being, birthed by those who found some petty discontent with the mother charter. Romefeller had so many factions they rarely knew who actually was in control of the organization, each faction considering itself the controlling influence, and each faction thereby showing its ignorance of their own history. To phrase it bluntly, they were fools. Such fools to think their every action was of their own devising, and known only to their own little groups of cohorts. If you reviewed the history of the organization you could clearly see a cycle in all things Romefeller, and the biggest recurring cycle was that so many of those who gained distinction in the end discounted the influence, and sometimes the very existence, of the Core. The Inner Circle.

// Too many of those who think they are powerful within the ranks of Romefeller discount the Core as a myth. A tale left over from the ancient days of the founding of Romefeller, a fairy tale to be laughed at and discounted, until They decide it is time the chaos be restored to order. Cycles of chaos, dissention and then order; repeatedly throughout their history; always controlled by those select few who are the Core; the Inner Circle. From what I have learned, too many think there has been no actual Inner Circle since the nineteenth century. They are fools to think their actions are not monitored by those who are deeper in the organization that they could dare to dream. Still, I do have to wonder why it was the Inner Circle had allowed the faction fighting to result in the destruction of Sanc. Or should I say, in the loss of the Peacecraft genetics in its purest form? Or did they know that Relena and Milliardo would survive? I suppose that is possible. It would not have been so difficult for them to have arranged for the children to be taken from the palace in secret. So I must wonder if they were testing the strength of the bloodline in bringing Sanc to its knees? I do not understand why they would chance losing that lineage.//

Vision tickled at that part of his brain that looked beyond the veils of time and possibility, to offer him glimpses of events to come. It had been happening with increased frequency since he had decided on the course he was to tread, to offer some hope to those on Mars and to those on Station who followed him, but some of those visions glimpsed disturbed him. Certain glimpsed events worried him for more than a few reasons, some of which were personal, he admitted that, but much of his unease sprang from the glimpses of those who were dead.

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The dark brown hair with its red highlights reflected the glow of the harsh lights, the handsome face with its intense blue eyes turned to the door and a smile tilted full lips. A genuine smile, full of very real pleasure, to see the one who entered warily, perhaps uncertain of her reception. He had an astonishing amount of personal beauty, far more than he had shown in his younger days, yet in truth he did not seem so much older now than he had been when he had charmed hardened politicians into doing his will. If anything he seemed younger. Perhaps it was that the weight that had once rested on his shoulders, placing incalculable amounts of pressure on even those broad shoulders, had eased, allowing him to experience something of the youth that had been lost to the pressures of leadership.

"Ah, my dearest cousin. I confess it is good to see you again. I had feared this day would never come. You look well, Dorothy." 

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He shivered, exerting hard won control and forcing the vision from him. As much as he wished to follow that vision he could not afford the distraction at this time, but he was going to explore that glimpse of future time. He could not leave that glimpse unexamined.

//Future time? No, no that can not be right. Something is very wrong here. I do not see the past, or I never have before, and Dorothy was not a fifteen year old child in that vision. Yet … Treize Kushrenada is dead. He died in the One Year War, just one more life lost to the price of bringing peace to this world that birthed us. Why should I see glimpses of him in visions? Perhaps... Is there an imposter out there, somewhere? Is there an imposter who is working to bring this peace to an end and to bring war once more, in the name of peace? I have no time! I must make time, and I will need to ask questions, beginning foremost with the current whereabouts of cousin Dorothy, but that must wait until after the broadcast. I have no time now to pursue this glimpse. //

"Sir. They are ready for you."

//But am I ready for them? To be honest, no, I am not. Well, I have to be ready. There is no other solution that will preserve the peace of the Stations and the ESUN. I have learned to trust the visions that give me clues to our future. My own visions, and the visions of others, and we have had three of the Gifted report on visions in the last two hours that confirm my own. I must trust. Events must move along this course if the stations are to gain independent rule from a greedy Earth. Those who dwell upon Earth, and who have come into positions of power, must learn that they can no longer be greedy about space. Space is simply too large to be ruled by Earth. Mayhap she has learned her lessons.//

Not that he would hold his breath on politicians being reasonable when there was power to be gained. Nothing ever changed without effort on the part of all those involved in the new order, and this would be just another example of that basic rule. Sitting on one's backside allowed you a marvelous view as life passed you by. You had to become a part of life to exert any effect upon its flow and ebb. He now was taking upon himself the first steps to promote the independence of the stations, and his people were eager for the change, and were working hard to ensure it was a smooth transition. He was not alone, and he did not do this thing for himself and for his own gain, but for the greater good of those who placed their trust in him.

// And I am about to turn myself into the very thing I despise. A politician. Such irony. //

One by one the members of the Council were moving past him, entering that room beyond the blue door to take their places on the waiting dais, and their places in history. Maurice was there, by his side, fussing as was his way. Whether there was real or imaginary lint on his shoulder he did not care, he was just thankful for the man's anchoring presence at this time.

There was a deeply seated fear within him of allowing his identity to be known to the entire ESUN, but it was a fear he could not cater to. He must acknowledge it, accept it and move beyond it . He needed to put those hidden men and women of the Inner Circle of Romefeller on notice that he was alive and well, and that he had not forgotten them. He needed to let them know if they were not careful he might yet seek vengeance for past wrongs done to him. Or should that be justice for the wrongs perpetrated to the many generations they had played with like so many toys?

"Stage fright?" Maurice murmured.

"Of a sort, I suppose, but not what you think, my friend. While I am busy with this I would like you to do me a favor. I need to know the current location of Dorothy Catalonia. I need a confirmed visual sighting of her, dated and timed."

"I will convey the word to your agents."

"Thank you, and by the way, I prefer the dark emerald for Milliardo's suite, and the castle in the clouds theme for the nursery. You will have more than sufficient time to oversee the redecorating of both suites while I am gone."

The very tall, very straight man bowed slightly, an acknowledgement to the instructions, but there was something in his eyes that clearly said he was not intending to remain behind.

"I really would prefer to accompany you on this voyage, Sir. There are many here on Station who are capable of overseeing the redecorating of the suites, and have little else to do, but …"

"Maurice." A warning rumble.

"Growl as you will, Sir, the facts however remain the same. If you will not permit me to accompany you for your own needs, then perhaps you would permit me to accompany you to attend to the needs of His Highness? I have noted from past conversations that it seems to be your intention to not allow the Prince to continue to live denying his birthright."

He had to admire the man. It seemed an unfailing certainty that Maurice would find a way to achieve his will, in this case that meant being on the waiting ship. He enjoyed testing his wiles against the man for the pure pleasure of seeing what Maurice would devise to gain his way, and it had become one of his few sources of pleasure to duel with this man who had earned his trust.

"You are a sneaky and conniving bastard, Maurice."

Straight-faced the gentleman's gentleman bowed in a shallow but decisive motion, knowing he had won. "Thank you, Sir. Coming from you, that is indeed a compliment."

"I suppose you are already packed?"

"Of course, Sir. I presumed you would see reason before you boarded the ship."

"Then see that you are on the ship with what ever you might need to keep Milliardo comfortable for an extended journey."

"Sir." Again the bow, and no hint of the amusement he felt to betray him to his employer. "I shall endeavor to sharpen my skills using you as practice, Sir."

He would love to stand here and duel with the man for hours, it was wonderfully entertaining, but he knew his time was up. He could no longer delay the inevitable, and he snorted a dismissal, striding forward, but he could not deny Maurice had lightened his heart with his banter. He would no doubt find the journey he was to make much more enjoyable with Maurice on board ship. It was also true that he wanted Milliardo to look at his life, at its many aspects, and to acknowledge his birthright. The man could not go on forever denying who it was he was born to be.

It was not his intention to force Milliardo to become the Prince of Sanc, or to look on himself potentially as her King. Milliardo had come too far to return to simpler days, leaving his ties to Earth behind him. That had been a decision he had made when he had accepted the offer to command the White Fang, forever leaving his rightful heritage in favor of an unknown future.

// He thought he would die, and that in death he could be free. I can understand that, but the facts are he did not die. //

He was concerned that Milliardo overcome the mammoth case of denial he had lived with for so many years. The man had a great deal of emotional baggage to be examined and overcome, baggage that largely sprang from the destruction of his childhood home, and the carnage which had taken place on that long ago night had scarred the child emotionally. Deeply. Under his care, with the utmost delicacy he could manage, he would ensure Milliardo Peacecraft had the chance to heal. He could do that much, and he would see to the training that would be needed to allow the man to live a little easier with his frightening talent.

//We all have our dark times, Milliardo, that we must overcome and that take time to defeat. It is the truth we may never be able to forget, but we can at least accept, and sometimes we can even forgive. It took me years to deal with my childhood, and with all I had lost. It took me many years, and a great deal of pain to face, and pass beyond, the anger caused by what was expected of me, and the methods employed to extract it from me by those who controlled me. I learned in the end to obey them, but I retained an identity they never quite managed to take from me, and I overcame their conditioning in the end; escaped them and began to live again. Milliardo can do the same. He is a strong man and no coward, but he must have help, not just for the Gift that tears him apart, but for the child who died a thousand deaths in the intervening years. It will be easier for Milliardo to live as a whole man if he comes to Station. The help he needs is here, and I will see he has all that he needs to find who he actually is.//

"Sir, if you will please take your place on the dais we can do the final checks for the broadcast."

He nodded to the technician who waited for him within the room, taking the time to glance around to make certain everyone was in their assigned places. The Council were seated in an arc on the dais, his vacant chair set at the apex of the arc and slightly forward of that row of chairs, and the robed men and women who sat there. The wall behind the seated figures was painted with the symbol they had chosen for their nation; a rich royal blue background with a stylized representation of Station One in its centre, and an arc of three six pointed stars above. The stars represented the three stations in the alliance they had formed, and one day he hoped there would be many more than just those three stars against that field of blue, but for now Station One was complete, and stations two and three were nearing completion, already working and functioning independently from Station One. The Council and their advisors had already had discussions on the construction of the fourth station, and had decided it would be another five or six years before they needed to begin construction. It was not just in the formal announcement of their independence they had adjusted their time table. The three stations would more than service their needs for years to come, but they needed to maintain a growing population, and the construction of station four would encourage such growth.

Each member of the Council was robed in the colour selected for the individual stations. Those representing Station One were in deep navy blue and white trim, those from Station Two in the mid blue and white trim, and those representing Station Three wore sky blue and white. He himself wore a black three piece suit with white silk shirt and blue cravat under the Royal Blue robe edged in silver, which represented the formal robes of the duly elected President of the Station Alliance. He personally thought the use of the robes unnecessary, but the publicity department had overruled him and the council had backed them, so he had subsided. He would simply endure the fancy dress as he had needed to endure other nonsense over the years, and anyway, he had other things to think about of far more significance.

The chair set aside for him was high backed, and distinctive enough in shape and size to suggest a throne, though it lacked any ostentatious ornamentation beyond being crafted from a rich grained wood, and the design feature of the crest of the station and stars that marked the dais itself carved deep into the back rest. The Councilors chairs were smaller in size, though similar in design, and each was marked on the back rest with the number of stars that represented which station of the alliance they represented. Each chair was padded with a thick deep blue velvet cushion edged in gold braiding.

As he settled himself into the chair technicians descended on him, swarming around him as they placed all manner of gadgets in his personal space, muttering about readings and light levels and needing to alter the light levels, and could he say a few words please as they needed a sound check. A tiny microchip would convey his every word to the Earth Sphere, invisible to the cameras but efficient at conveying his voice. There was a battery of five cameras opposite the dais, with their operators running final checks and directing the adjustments to the lighting. People with clipboards were bustling around, waving hands and giving orders that he could not follow, their attention on their head sets and the instructions they conveyed, and already he wished this trial was over. Yet he acknowledged it was only the first of many announcements his career as President of the Station Alliance would require him to make. He would just have to get used to it.

"Attention please! Recording in three minutes."

They could not afford to have anything go wrong during this broadcast, so this would not be exactly a live broadcast, but it would be delayed by only a few minutes if they decided there were no problems during the recording. He quietly thought there had best be no problems, because he was not of a mind to sit through this mad house for more than a few minutes. Even the Council members who were now in their seats, and fitted with their microphone chips, were looking askance at the techs, wondering, no doubt, if they could possibly bolt and escape the chaos. He only wished he could.

//It is time. I feel it. This has to be done for the good of the Stations, and ultimately for the good of the ESUN itself. We need to be accepted as allies by them, not be subservient to their control, nor be seen as an outright threat to their security. I will need to appoint representatives for the Council of Representatives on Earth, but we have time yet. First we have the formal negotiations to suffer through, and I admit I am not looking forward to that. I wonder what the betting pool odds are on how long it takes for them to accept my invitation? It is a pity the clairvoyant Gifted are barred from placing bets. //

"One minute, Mr. President."

He shot a glare at the Director of this mess who grinned impertinently at him, unrepentant and mouthed 'Get used to it.' followed by the advice 'Smile'. With slightly widened eyes he gave the director the first response that came to mind, a quick glimpse of 'the finger', and then settled himself into the persona that was the President of the Station Alliance.

This was who he must be from this point in time.

The man chuckled and inclined his head as though acknowledging a compliment, and then hustled the technicians away from the dais, eyes sweeping over the Council as though seeking a flaw in the stage they had set. He must have approved of what he saw, as he nodded, no smile now but pure professional.

"Alright people, let's get this right the first time. At the count of five from my mark, Mr. President. Three … Two … One. Cue station theme."

The chosen anthem for the Alliance blared out of a speaker overhead, and the director turned to Raydon, five fingers raised over his head. One by one those five fingers curled inward and then that hand dropped. Raydon felt his heart dropped from his chest with it.

There was no turning back.

"People of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation, we of the Independent Station Alliance greet you. We are an Alliance of Space Stations independent of the ESUN, and resident within the Asteroid Belt, who offer to you our hand in friendship. This day we invite your leaders to attend a conference in mutually neutral territory, on the 15th day of July of this year, After Colony 198. To service these negotiations I have garnered the cooperation of the Sweepers, to act as neutral hosts to our conference and negotiations. They shall provide both a host vessel for the talks, and security acceptable to both parties. The Vice Foreign Minister for the Station Alliance, and representatives from each of the Stations in the Alliance Trading Delegation, will be attending these negotiations. We take it on trust that those who attend the conference will be empowered, on behalf of the ESUN, to negotiate treaties and trade agreements with this Alliance. We request that the Sweepers be notified of the numbers they will be required to provide services for with all speed."

Raydon paused for a moment, aware of the hush that seemed to hang heavy in the air.

"It has come to our attention that there appears to be an altercation between Raiders, and citizens of the ESUN, taking place on Mars. The Station Alliance has ships within the vicinity of Mars, and which we have instructed to offer assistance to those in need. The closest of our vessels is still some twenty six hours from the planet, and they will attempt to locate and assist any survivors. It is with regret that we have no ships closer to Mars to offer more immediate succor to your people. Be assured that your people on Mars will be offered every assistance possible, and that our investigators will seek evidence to ascertain the identities of those responsible for the attack on your terra forming base. We assure the government, and the people of the ESUN, that we shall forward the results of our investigations to the appropriate authorities, and if it is in our power we shall hunt down those responsible for the assault on the planet Mars. We shall continue the hunt for as long as necessary to bring the perpetrators to justice, wherever they should be hiding. We believe it is imperative that the space lanes common to our survival should be made as safe as possible, and our Patrol ships will be given instructions to capture any vessel suspected of being a Raider within the borders of the ESUN that adjoin the prescribed borders of our two spheres of influence. I assure you any ships crew who are proven to be Raiders will see a judicial invitation extended to the ESUN, to send representatives for the trial and judgment of these persons. We are interested in forming a strong tie with the Earth Sphere, and I assure you of our peaceful intentions."

Again he paused to allow those who listened now, and who would be listening later, to consider his words. The pulse beat of event was hammering in his blood, a certain sign what he did now matched the needed actions to bring about the result he had glimpsed in his vision of the future.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada. I and those gathered with me this day that you see before you, were once citizens of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. For many and varied reasons, we have chosen to renounce our ties to the ESUN, and have founded the Independent Station Alliance. We whom you see before you are the Council for the Station Alliance, and I am the duly elected President of our nation. On behalf of my nation I assure you we look forward to meeting with the representatives of the ESUN across the negotiating table. It is my understanding that the Sweepers will forward the coordinates of the meeting place to your security office within the next forty eight hour period. I bid you good day and the hope for a prosperous future together."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	93. Chapter 93

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 93

2nd March

New Port City

Sanc

Time: 00:45

Lady Une

Had there been another solution to present itself to her at the hour of need, she would not have taken the drastic step of creating so much destruction within the borders of Sanc. These people had seen enough destruction over the last score of years, without a return to the violence that had twice devastated their beautiful, if tiny, country. Sanc was not what most people thought of when you called a place a paradise. Most thought of golden tropical beaches, exotic and vivid coloured tropical flowers, and basking in the heat of those oh so perfect beaches. Sanc had none of that tropical beauty. There were wide beaches, but there was only one with a sandy beach, the others being lined with stones washed smooth by the eons of moving water. In these northern climes there once had been vast forests of conifer, Ash, Oak and Beech trees, which had been clear felled in the twentieth century of the old calendar. A Peacecraft King with vision had replanted his kingdom, so that now the tiny country could boast some of the most beautiful forests in the world, and under a blanket of winter snow there was almost a surreal beauty to the country.

It was not just the countryside that was enchanting, however. The people of Sanc, who had returned after the latest destruction of the city at the hands of the Romefeller-controlled Oz faction, had settled themselves back in their homeland with dignity, and begun the process of rebuilding. With quiet determination they had taken apart the military base, disposed of its parts and recreated the old city of New Port, constructing their homes and businesses in the picturesque style of medieval Europe. Sanc could so easily give the impression of a picture post card, isolated from the world where time seemed to roll back to simpler days, defying the bloodshed and destruction that had twice forced the people from their land in recent times.

The people of Sanc were once again taking a deep breath, and facing violence with quiet dignity and grace. The Council in particular were taking the destruction of her home, and the Palace, remarkably well, certainly far better than she had expected them to considering the renewed assault on their city. It appeared he Councilors of Sanc were not as prone to panic as she had expected to find them, considering the cause for the extraordinary meeting they now attended. Using other politicians from the Council of Representatives for the World Nation whom she was more accustomed to dealing with, as examples of the reactions she might expect, she was pleasantly surprised to discover that Sanc appeared to breed a far more genteel and even-tempered politician. These men and women whom she now studied were far less excitable and concerned with their own safety than that general mass of politicians she had all too often dealt with. The security concerns for most of the politicians in the Council of Representatives were logistical nightmares she had to juggle too often, as politicians panicked at even the smallest hint there may be a threat to their personal safety. It appeared it took more that two explosions to make these men and women who ruled Sanc lose their cool.

//I wish some of them would be more active in the Council of Representatives. They would have such an influence there by their very presence, but they seem largely to shun the Council, keeping their attention focused on the rebuilding of Sanc. There is a lesson for Relena in that single-minded focus, but has she learned it yet, and will she do anything about it when she does realize what they are doing? Her single nation policy is causing no end of difficulties, even here it is obvious. These people have been deprived of their nation for so long, and now that they have it back, even their Princess is not being heeded when she calls for an end to national identity beyond that of a world nation. One world, one nation. A great catch cry, but not so easy to bring into reality. The people of Sanc, pacifists as they are, and wanting peace do not want to lose their national identity under the umbrella of the Earth nation that Relena has called into being. How do we deal with this quiet dignity? It is harder to control than the countries who are resorting to violence and trickery, to delay being swallowed by the mass that is the World Nation. We have to deal with this World Nation crisis, and we need to deal with it soon. There are too many countries becoming vocal about the effects they see as detrimental to the identity of their people. While it helps some countries, generally the poorer third world countries, there are those who were richer and more developed, who are screaming about what they lose in everyone being given the same credit system, and an equal footing. They profess to want peace above all, but they bring up obstacle after obstacle to the projects designed to further develop that peace. One problem just follows another.//

She was seated slightly to the side of the conference table, close to the President of the Sanc Council, who was making a speech to his councilors concerning the destruction of her home and the damages done to the Palace in the terrorist attack. To the question that the Princess had been spared in the violence she nodded, and assured him and his council Relena had been safely away from the palace by the time the terrorist had attacked and yes, the girl was now in safe custody, and would remain so until they were assured the threat to her was voided.

He inclined his head graciously, a white-haired and lightly bearded old gentleman, whose eyes were still marked with the sparkle of a rapier sharp intelligence that had seen him survive both bombardments and occupations of Sanc, and rise to power in the aftermath they loosely termed peace. Une had known the man in her days as a Colonel of Oz when he had been a member of the Romefeller Organization, though he had not seemed to be an active member in the rise of Oz itself. He had always seemed to ooze the deportment and sophistication of an old world gentleman from days long gone to dust.

She almost felt ashamed of her actions in ordering the attacks on the house and palace, especially as the very first thing the President and Councilors had done on convening the special session, was to offer her a new home and compensation for the loss of her old one. Sometimes she simply forgot that these people were so different to the politicians she had circulated around since her childhood. It had been a tragedy she had never appreciated, the massacre of Sanc, until she had come to live here and gotten to know the people who had lived here for generations. They seemed a people apart, and Sanc itself seemed to be from another world, or time, when people had a greater concern for life and equality of spirit. Even the military occupation of the country had not killed off the fundamental kindness that was so much a part of the nature of the people.

// This is the world that birthed Milliardo Peacecraft. It is the world Zechs knew as a child, and I never appreciated how different it was. How helpless it makes these people in this modern world, where everyone is out for as much power as they can get. I never realized before, how different it must have been, and how easily it was destroyed.//

Yet it had reemerged, struggling like a Phoenix from the ashes of its own destruction. They were resilient, these people, patiently rebuilding all that had been destroyed, yet they were parochial. They were concerned with their own little piece of Earth, and she must look beyond that to the larger picture. For Peace to truly come, even Sanc must become a part of the larger whole, and her people must accept that truth.

The soft beep of her personal communicator drew her attention, and she scowled at the tiny screen on her watch, glancing quickly at the Council to see who might have noticed. She had given instructions that she not be disturbed whilst with the Council, unless the entire world came tumbling down around the ears of her secretary, and it was an instruction she knew the woman understood to mean exactly that. Her secretary's face wore a worried frown at breaking into Une's conference with the Council, no doubt concerned that she would be in for trouble for this breach, but there was a gravity to the woman's manner that Une recognized only too well. Somewhere out there, the world had caved in.

"I am sorry for the interruption, Preventer Earth, but this really is important. I suggest you have the Representatives turn on the television immediately. Any channel will do."

Startled at the suggestion that all channels would be covering whatever was happening, Une motioned to her assistant who slipped from her side and hurried to the television controls set to one side of the President, at the head of the conference table. Lady Une rose to her feet, interrupting the conversation now underway, well aware that it was considered to be exceedingly bad form to interrupt the speaker, especially when he was the President of the country you currently lived in and worked for, but there was no help for it. She understood her staff and the fact that only for dire emergencies would she have been interrupted in a meeting of this magnitude.

"My apologies, Mr. President, Councilors. I have received urgent word that there is something of interest we must see. I presume it may pertain to the terrorist threats made." //And that worries me, because I have nothing to do with whatever is going on now. Chang has not returned to headquarters to my knowledge, and I have given him no further instructions.//

The screen mounted on the wall behind the President's seat dominated the wall, and now began to lighten and cleared to reveal a news announcer from the local station that had carried the footage of the two bombings, and the Mars story Lady Une wanted off the air waves. The woman now sat before a backdrop of a screen displaying a blue field and stylized space station surmounted by three stars. Her voice was neutral and professional, but Une could detect the well hidden amazement in her at the events of this night. Personally Lady Une would be glad when the sun rose. Perhaps there would then be time to settle things down and take a breather. Could this night become even more confusing and eventful?

"… have no location for the transmission now coming over the airwaves, but we understand attempts are being made to trace the transmission source. The signal has now been active for five minutes with no further …" The announcer fell silent as the background changed, the blue screen flickering off and then on again.

Against a backdrop made up of the crest formed of the space station and stars there sat a group of ten, six men and four women, arrayed in an arc. Une was aware of the council room falling into a hush as each focused on the screen, and she herself leaned forward as the camera pickup swept across each face, clearly showing the group.

There was no attempt to hide identities in this sweep of the participants, just the opposite in fact. It was blatantly obvious that these people wanted their faces to be known, and clearly recognizable to the agencies that would be examining this footage in minute detail.

They wore shades of blue and white, and were divided into groups of three, as designated by the shade of blue, with the notable exception of the male in the center. He sat slightly forward of the arc, yet was still apart of the formation, merely the focal point, and he too wore blue, a rich royal blue robe bordered with silver over a stylish suit. It was this center male, a handsome dark-haired man with intense dark eyes unusually laced with golden highlights who spoke, the camera focusing in on him and showing clearly every detail of his face.

There would be no difficulty in tracing that face Une was certain. It was distinctive, regal. Something in his baring even reminded her of His Excellency when he presented a speech to the Romefeller council, and he knew those who listened must be convinced that what he demanded of them they wanted to give willingly. He had a strong rich voice, a tenor with an accent Une could not quite place, and he spoke quietly, unhurried in the tones of a master orator. He generated an impression of power ,and the will and knowledge to use it. Yes, he reminded her of Treize Kushrenada in that confidence. This man could be trouble for the peace.

"People of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation, we of the Independent Station Alliance greet you. We are an Alliance of Space Stations independent of the ESUN and resident within the Asteroid Belt, who offer to you our hand in friendship. This day we invite your leaders to attend a conference in mutually neutral territory, on the 15th day of July of this year, After Colony 198. To service these negotiations I have garnered the cooperation of the Sweepers, to act as neutral hosts to our conference and negotiations. They shall provide both a host vessel for the talks, and security acceptable to both parties. The Vice Foreign Minister for the Station Alliance, and representatives from each of the Stations in the Alliance Trading Delegation, will be attending these negotiations. We take it on trust that those who attend the conference will be empowered on behalf of the ESUN to negotiate treaties and trade agreements with this Alliance. We request that the Sweepers be notified of the numbers they will be required to provide services for with all speed."

Une glared at the screen, uncertain if she wanted to cheer or shriek in frustration at the speech that spilled over the airwaves. He exuded confidence, those unusual eyes seemed to focus on her, pinning her to the chair, and she was aware that you could have heard a pin drop in the conference room. All eyes were on the screen, and more than one jaw had dropped on hearing the opening segment. In the brief pause those all knowing eyes did not so much as blink, though they seemed to grow a chill glint, wiping out the warmth that had been there moments before.

// Well, if nothing else this should serve to confuse matters even more. //She reflected. It was certainly news more worthy than the Martian problem, and for that she should cheer while screaming in frustration that she was going to have to track down yet another hot spot of dissention.

"Get this transmission traced."

Her assistant was nodding, her fingers flying on her personal electronic note pad, relaying instructions to Preventer headquarters. They needed to know who these people were, and what potential they might have to back their claims.

"… to be an altercation between Raiders and citizens of the ESUN taking place on Mars. The Station Alliance has ships within the vicinity of Mars and which we have instructed to offer assistance to those in need. The closest of our vessels is still some twenty six hours from the planet, and they will attempt to locate and assist any survivors. It is with regret that we have no ships closer to Mars to offer more immediate succor to your people. Be assured that your people on Mars will be offered every assistance possible, and that our investigators will seek evidence to ascertain the identities of those responsible for the attack on your terra forming base. We assure the government and the people of the ESUN, that we shall forward the results of our investigations to the appropriate authorities, and if it is in our power we shall hunt down those responsible for the assault on the planet Mars. We shall continue the hunt for as long as necessary to bring the perpetrators to justice, where ever they should be hiding. We believe it is imperative that the space lanes common to our survival should be made as safe as possible, and our Patrol ships will be given instructions to capture any vessel suspected of being a Raider within the borders of the ESUN that adjoin the prescribed borders of our two spheres of influence. I assure you any ships crew who are proven to be Raiders will see a judicial invitation extended to the ESUN to send representatives for the trial and judgment of these persons. We are interested in forming a strong tie with the Earth Sphere, and I assure you of our peaceful intentions."

Une's scowl deepened and she realized that she was standing, leaning forward slightly as she concentrated on his every word. Nor was she the only one standing now, but she must appear to be cool and controlled, and with that in mind she returned herself to her seat, composing herself.

//Peaceful intentions? You talk about crossing borders that do not as yet exist... Shit. Do not exist now, you canny bastard. You have the ear of the Sweepers, do you? Well, so do I, and it is about time I had a word with Howard.//

In the brief pause the President had taken a step closer to the screen, head tilted slightly as though he recognized the man, and Une noted his expression and the potential for information there, and determined to ask questions of him as soon as possible. If these people had the ships to carry out his threat of encroaching into the space lanes that serviced the ESUN, then all hell could break loose in space. She needed to get a grip on this situation with all speed. On the screen the chill in those unusual eyes hardened into a glacial deposit.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada. I and those gathered with me this day that you see before you, were once citizens of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. For many and varied reasons we have chosen to renounce our ties to the ESUN, and have founded the Independent Station Alliance. We whom you see before you, are the Council for the Station Alliance, and I am the duly elected President of our nation. On behalf of my nation, I assure you that we look forward to meeting with the representatives of the ESUN across the negotiating table. It is my understanding that the Sweepers will forward the coordinates of the meeting place to your security office within the next forty eight hour period. I bid you good day and the hope for a prosperous future together."

Kushrenada.

The world seemed to fade out of her perceptions with the utterance of that name. Kushrenada. The name reared in her mind, echoing and reechoing down hallways that she had tried so desperately to keep dark and silent since the day of his death. She could not stop it now though, there was no holding back the surge within her, and she was furious with this man who claimed that name.

That name. His name. His Excellency, who had meant the very world to her, who made her blood sing with the very thought of him. His Excellency who had been her light in the darkness and for whom she would so gladly have died, yet she was alive and He was dead. She had failed Him.

//Who is this upstart who dares use the name Kushrenada!// The thought exploded in her mind.

A surge of rage threatened to send her at the screen, fingers hooked into claws in an effort to gouge those golden eyes out. How dare he claim the name that meant the world to her. How dare that upstart claim kinship with the one and only Treize Kushrenada!

Some dim part of her kept her standing there, at the end of the table, glaring at the screen. Her fingers were curled into fists at her sides, and she was aware of the stunned silence in the room in some remote fashion. She had to work her way past that affront, and get to work immediately on learning who this man was, and squash his claim to that name with all speed. No one would smear His name. No one would be permitted to darken that name that shone as a symbol to her of what he wanted to bring to the world by his death.

Peace. He had wanted peace for the world, and he had deliberately sacrificed his life to bring about that peace. In turn, in memory of him, she had dedicated her life to ensuring that that very peace was protected, nurtured and nourished. His death must not be wasted by the return to violence, and bloodshed that had given rise to the need for such sacrifices to be made, as had been made in AC 195.

The news announcer was once more on screen, hurrying through a run down of the broadcast and reporting that the source of the signal had, as yet, been undetermined. The President himself shut off the transmission, pausing for a moment with his back to his silent council before turning to her for an explanation. She had no idea what she looked like, but the old gentleman seemed to hesitate an instant, and instead of questioning her he moved to gently press her into her seat and place a glass of water into nerveless fingers.

"My dear Lady Une, you must be devastated. I know you were close to His Excellency, Treize Kushrenada. Take a few moments to gather yourself, dear lady, while I adjourn this meeting."

"Adjourn? Impossible. This requires discussion and debate. How could this be permitted to happen; that an upstart should claim the name of the Defender of Earth. It is one of the deepest insults to the people of the Earth that anyone could possibly have thought of." One of the politicians was pacing the room with long, sweeping strides, his hands clenched into fists and he paused to gesture toward the darkened screen. "Do they not think the people of the Earth Sphere will see through this blatant misuse of that name?"

The President uttered a soft sigh and straightened to his still impressive height, calling on his years of experience to gather about him that unseen, but sensed, mantle of power that drew all eyes to him. "Be seated, Frederick. We have no time for theatrics." The President waved the man back to his seat and took a half step away from Une, drawing eyes away from her and to himself as he delayed further, taking the time to sip water and using that time, a mere few seconds, to steady himself.

"Be seated? Is that all you have to say to this affront to the Earth? It was because of His Excellency and his Oz forces that the occupation of Sanc was finally lifted in AC 195. Without him we would still be under the yolk of the Alliance. It was His Excellency who saw the need to take decisive action, and gathered the necessary forces together to stop the White Fang from destroying the Earth."

"Yes, it was. Are you now like so many others in the world who can not see beyond the force of arms to attain peace?" He studied the man, brows drawn down with disapproval. "You used to advocate pacifism, Frederick."

"Do not misunderstand me, Mr. President. I am a man of peace now, as before, but I have come to see the benefits of a standing army, though I would never agree to stand such a force within Sanc. In the instance against the White Fang, Treize Kushrenada was far more suited to deal with the crisis than the Princess would have been, and he was not afraid of taking the necessary steps to defend the planet. The man was a hero, he died a martyr's death, and he should not have his name dragged through the mud."

"No one is asking us to stand a force within Sanc. Has someone suggested we have soldiers within our borders? What do you know that I do not?" A Councilor queried, her face now wearing a worried frown.

"Don't be a fool, we must do away with all armies. Force of arms will solve nothing." Councilor Raymond Flemming flicked his fingers in symbolic dismissal.

"Is it not obvious that these are people who have decided they have little trust in the peace that is now a part of the Earth Sphere? I can foresee conflict arising from this, but it need not mean that conflict is inevitable. We must negotiate a peace, and learn more of these people." Another Councilor was on his feet, glaring down at Frederick Sven from his greater height.

"Upstarts."

"No doubt they think the same of us, or would if they could hear us now." Camilla Lawson pertly commented.

The President sighed, turning his head to meet the dark eyes of the Lady, who seemed to have regained her control and watched him with a patient expression, listening to the Councilors and watching, and noting who it was who reacted the most and who might need observing at a later time. The old man shrugged slightly, sipping again from the glass. He would give them a few more minutes to vent their emotions, but only a few. It was late, and he had matters to attend to and a bed awaiting him.

"Yes, we finally have peace. Perhaps the nearest thing we have ever had to the chance to gain a lasting peace. Do we allow this peace to be disrupted?"

"Who says these newcomers mean to disrupt our peace? Did you actually listen to what was said, Frederick?" Camilla shook her head, smiling in a predatory fashion. "Did you hear, or did your abused sensibilities make you miss the important pieces of that speech?"

"Don't be catty, Camilla. Yes, we have peace, and I do not dispute these people may initially have no intention of inciting war, but do you honestly think that the entire world will take this quietly? And what about the Colonies and how those people will view this threat to their trade routes? They claim to be from deep in the Solar System, from the Asteroid Belt no less. Have you any concept of just how much is involved?"

"Enough. We know so little about these people and their intentions. It is easy to say we mean peace, and to offer the hand of friendship, but have any of you thought that there rises now a new faction, who wish to be beyond the one set of laws that keep the peace for all of us? If these people prove not to be as benevolent as they profess to be, then who this time will stand in the way of conflict and protect the Earth?"

The President shook his head slightly, standing tall once more, though he stepped closer to Lady Une and motioned for her to hold her peace, not wishing her to mention Preventers at this time. He drew his hands together in a sharp clap, bringing instant silence to the room, and gaining him the eye of every man and woman.

"Gentlemen, Ladies, please. Enough useless speculation. I believe it is past time to call a recess. It is late, and we have gained what information is currently available concerning the terrorists who have attacked Sanc this night. I suggest we adjourn until the Preventers can provide us with more details concerning the terrorists, and this new point of interest. Remember that at this time our primary concern must be the terrorists, and the immediate threat they pose to Sanc. When we have more information we can reconvene, and after due discussion we may determine the best course of action to be taken. This matter of the terrorists who have attacked our Princess and the Preventer Chief are our prime concern for the moment, not a group of unknowns who may be a mining colony with delusions of grandeur. There is little we may do concerning this new Alliance,as it needs investigation and we must wait for those investigations to be completed and reported in the Council of Representatives. The Colonies, as well as the Earth, must be informed of every possible detail available, if an informed and not perhaps lethally hasty, decision is to be made. If it should prove to be a legitimate and viable Alliance, then a delegation must be chosen to negotiate with them. It does not do to discount potential allies and turn them into potential enemies, and I think it obvious that as Vice Foreign Minister our Princess must be one of those persons to represent the Earth Sphere at the suggested negotiations. Now, please. We all are tired, and it has been a most interesting evening. It is time to withdraw and rest, and when rested we can better consider the implications of the appearance of a potential new power in the scheme of things. These people may indeed want to extend the hand of friendship to the Earth Sphere, and be interested in peaceful trade negotiations with us. We must maintain the peace of the ESUN, and if that means that Sanc should back this Space Alliance then we will do so. It would be far better for all concerned to absorb them, than to fight them. Now I bid you good evening. Lady Une, I would like a private word with you, if you would be so kind?"

Une accepted the offer of his hand extended to her, falling automatically back on her old training in accepting the courtly gesture. It had been a very long time since she had received that type of attention, and it served to calm her as they swept from the conference room, her assistant trailing behind her. The President led her to his private study, where he motioned to the assistant whom Lady Une requested contact headquarters for an update, to wait in the lounge whilst she and the President entered his study for discussions.

"Please, my dear, have a seat. I think we need to talk."

He was a canny old man and he no doubt had thoughts on what had happened, but she had to check with headquarters and begin the search for this nest of dissention that would threaten the ESUN.

"Forgive me, Sir, but I need to begin the investigation of these people and that upstart who professes to be a Kushrenada."

The President sighed and settled in the chair across from her, thankful for the warmth of the fire blazing in the hearth beside him. He was an old gentleman, who had been a young man at the birth of the last of the Kings of Sanc. He might be old, he reflected, but he had not lost his facilities, and he was very tired of being deceived and discounted by the younger generation, and of having to deceive others in his turn. There came a time in everyone's life when they needed to make certain decisions, and this was such a time.

This woman needed to know a few things, and he had the information that she sought. Well, at least a part of that information, and it would hold her here until he decided he had told her sufficient. He need not tell all of the secrets that he knew, not at this time, at least. It was, however, time to prove to this young woman that she did not know everything, and that she should not discount him. He had a part to play, and he needed to keep her attentive to him.

"My dear Lady Une, I am sorry to be the barer of this news, but I feel it is best if you learn this from me. I know that you were close to His Excellency the Duke, and that you know the family, but you should know there is, or was, a Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada." He was aware of the glare directed at him, but he chose to keep his attention focused on the dancing flames. He had wanted her undivided attention and he now had it. "He was a very young boy when last I saw him, and I must say he appears to have aged remarkably well, if this is that same child I saw so many years ago. He certainly does not look his years, but for various reasons I am convinced the man you saw a few minutes ago is the same Kristian Kushrenada who visited Sanc with his parents ten years before your young man was even born. He was a child of perhaps four, who accompanied his parents on a diplomatic mission to Sanc to further relations between the Peacefcraft's and the then Allied Germanic Nation. While he was only a child there was something rather remarkable about that one that is not easily forgotten."

"I know the Kushrenadas." A mild protest, but she was listening very closely to the elderly gentleman. "I know them well. None are called Kristian, and none have ever mentioned a Kristian in my hearing before. I would have remembered it."

"I do not doubt that you do know the family, nor do I doubt they would not have mentioned him. You knew, did you not, that Heinrich, Treize's father, had inherited the title when his brother died of a heart attack? Alexander Kushrenada was some fifteen years older than his brother when he married and settled down. They had one child, a son, Kristian, and he was a very bright and rather unusual young man. There was a certain something about the child that made him entirely unforgettable, an innocence, but more. Most unusual, but I digress. Soon after the Duke and Duchess departed from Sanc to return to Kiev, there was an abduction and Kristian disappeared. I assure you it was a most news-worthy story, and I have no doubt you will find the reports in the media records easily enough. It was rather tragic, as the boy was never found and it was assumed that he was dead. The Duke had paid the demanded ransom, but no word was ever received of the fate of the child. Within a year of the abduction the Duke died of a massive coronary many believed was caused by stress over the loss of his much loved child. The Duchess died a few years later in an accident, but she was never the same person after the incident, and the Duke's death only worsened her withdrawal from the public eye. It is all a matter of public record. I think it is a fairly safe assumption that each member of the Alliance Council that we saw would have had a very public profile at some time on Earth, or in the Colonies, that will be found with a little investigation. They made no attempt to disguise who they are, which clearly indicates they want their pasts to be known."

"Kristian Kushrenada." Lady Une scowled at the fire, slowly shaking her head. She had no memory of Treize ever mentioning his uncle having a son, and there was the matter of Treize's daughter to be considered. "To claim the estates of the Kushrenada family he would have to provide proof positive he is who he claims to be."

The President shook his head slightly, leaning back to rest his head on the chair back, staring at the ceiling overhead. "My dear, it is not like you to miss the obvious. Do you not recall what it was he said? He and the other members of the Alliance Council you saw represented have renounced all ties that bound them to the ESUN. Had this young man who professes to be a Kushrenada intended to lay a claim to the inheritance of his bloodline, he would not have renounced those ties, which include Terran citizenship. My dear Lady Une, these people have not asked the people of the Earth Sphere to allow them to form an independent colony. They have not asked the Earth for permission. They have already formed an independent society. It is done. They have renounced all personal ties with the Earth and the Earth Sphere, and they are not seeking our permission at all. They are merely informing us that they exist, and that they wish to trade with us as equals."

Lady Une closed her eyes, absently running a finger along the bridge of her nose, seeking the comforting weight of glasses and not finding it. To function efficiently she needed to begin to look at this matter as the Chief of the Preventers, not as the would-be lover of a man who was dead-who had laid down his life for peace to become a reality. She had lost Treize to his plan for peace, and she had known his plans did not include a life for them together after the peace was brought.

She owed that man who had died, and she would pay that debt by maintaining her objectivity, and pass beyond the shock. Later she would have time to mourn for what was never to be, but now she must not take this unknown man's claims to an ancient bloodline so personally. She must regain her objectivity and function as a professional once more. She could only thank this old gentleman for allowing her the privacy, and the time, to regain her equilibrium, and for offering her what information he could to assist her in accepting that there might well be someone with a better claim to the Kushrenada inheritance than the daughter of His Excellency. The President had offered her sound advice, information and most importantly, he had enabled her to see past her initial shock.

"Thank you, Mr. President." The fire was fascinating, but she had had her fill of trying to seek answers within its dancing depths. It was the living breathing man seated across from her who had given her what she needed, and now it was time. She could not linger here with this charming old gentleman while there was so much to do. "I have matters that demand my attention, and I should not take anymore of your valuable time."

"Oh, nonsense, My Dear. When you leave me I will be taking these sorry old bones back to my bed, and I will allow myself to sleep until this storm runs itself down. I leave running around in such foul weather to you young people. I believe you will eventually learn that this young man is the cousin of your Duke, and that he is not interested in claiming the birthright of the child you protect in his name. It is an often forgotten truth, that more than just the lust for power and greed motivate the people of the world, my dear. I have lived long enough to have witnessed a fair representation of the good and the bad that life can offer, and there is more than tragedy to life's parade. I will look forward to your briefing when you have had the time to investigate this new play that life brings to the stage."

"I am sure you have seen enough tragedy." A whisper. "You were here, I believe, when Sanc was attacked the first time."

"So long ago. Indeed, yes, I was in New Port City that first time, when the Alliance came with their bombs and their mobile suits." He nodded slightly, staring deeply into the flames, witnessing in their dance the long ago day when other flames had decimated a city, and claimed the lives of so many. It would be many generations before Sanc could claim the native population that once had thrived under the Peacecraft banner. "I was here when Sanc fell, and few know that I was also here on the day that she was liberated. Ah, yes, Lady Une, I was in New Port City on that day. No, I am not going to tell you what I was doing, as it bares no significance at this time, but you should know that I saw the Prince return to the palace, and I heard what he had to say to his father's portrait. Such a tragedy. He was wrong, of course. He would make a quite remarkable King, but all things considered I can understand why he chose to give it all to his sister. I was also there in Brussels, and I witnessed that shameful moment when his sister rejected him yet again, the penultimate misinformed pacifist, who has no understanding of what could drive a pacifist to war. I doubt that Relena will ever truly understand that boy and what drives him. I had hoped knowing of his aid against Barton's forces would soften her heart toward him, but it appeared not, at least at that time."

Une sat frozen in her seat, staring at the old man in something of the manner of a doe caught in the headlights of a speeding car. "I … don't …"

"Please, my dear, do not underestimate me. There are not many things that can be hidden from these old eyes. I have fingers in many pies, and I have eyes and ears in many walls. I have learned a great many things over the years that I should never have learned, but I assure you I know when not to speak. Milliardo's survival shall not be spread beyond these four walls. I only hope he can find a life for himself that he is content with. Sanc is in their blood, you know. The Peacecrafts have always been drawn back to these shores, even the rare one who wandered, but that particular son of the bloodline will never return here again. It is a pity. He had the heart to give his people what they needed, despite the costs incurred to himself. That is something his sister has yet to learn about him. Tell me, does she still hate him?"

"I … no. No, I do not believe that she hates him. I do not think she ever really hated him. She was confused about who she was, and hurting over the death of the man she thought to be her father. I believe that discovering Milliardo was working for Oz was something she could not understand."

"And she was very young. Too young. You all were too young for taking on such responsibility to the world. Even your Treize, My Dear. Much too young. Ah, but the Princess was a spoiled, willful child, and she was shamelessly indulged by the Darlian's. Yes, I know what it is to be young, I am not that old that I have forgotten all of my younger years. I know what it is to be young, and to see everything as a personal insult, and it is a failing amid some of the Peacecrafts that certain events might be taken as personal affronts. She is a Peacecraft through and through, though she tries to deny her bloodline. In all honesty I can not see her ever understanding what it is that makes our people request of her the honor to be returned to the monarchy that we wish for. She sees the nobility as an outdated concept that has no place in this modern day. That is her foster father speaking, of course. I never did like him. He was an outsider, and he never understood what tied the people of Sanc to the monarchy, nor did he really try to fit in. Ah, well. Look, I display my age. I am rambling on, yes? Perhaps she is right, but I do wish she would try to understand the people, and why it is they wish to return to the security they see in the existence of the monarchy. She is her true father's daughter, our Relena. For better or worse. She sees the bigger picture, the picture that is the world and its needs, but he had Katerina to remind him that Sanc was his role model for peace in the world, and that he needed to attend to his home. Who shall our Princess have, who will remind her that the people look to her, Lady Une? Who will it be who can show her sometimes the large things just naturally follow small things, and be an example of what others could have? Yes, I know, not in her lifetime, but it would come. In time. So impatient, the young."

Lady Une watched the old man, reading his exhaustion in the lines creasing his brow, and the tightening of the lines at his eyes. He was staring at his hands, which shook with a faint palsy, but his voice was still strong, and while he was old his eyes were still bright with intelligence. Age had not diminished his mind, merely slowed his body.

"Relena is young, and she is somewhat overextended. She needs time to rest, and I will do what I can to keep her safe. I am certain she understands that the people of Sanc are …"

"Do not mind an old man's ramblings, My Dear." He smiled, aware that he could not keep her here much longer, but he had one more thing to say. She must understand, and begin to wonder just how he learned what were supposedly well kept secrets. "I tend to do that more often lately. Now, I understand that you must go and attend to the crisis with the terrorists, and with this new Alliance, and I thank you for humoring me. I just wanted you to know I knew that the Prince was alive, and that he has not been forgotten by everyone. The Princess needs to understand the motivations that drove him to act as he did, and she needs to take a leaf out of his book. Yes, he made mistakes," He forestalled the Lady's objection with a raised hand. "but not so many as are attributed to him. Do you give him much hope of surviving the trap laid for him on Mars?"

//My God. How much does he know? How did he learn it? Why has he said nothing before now?// Une took a moment before answering, using the distraction of standing and smoothing her skirt to give herself just a few seconds to gather her thoughts. // The raid on Mars is all over the news, but not for much longer with what is now going on. Terrorist attacks and an unknown alliance of space stations will knock the Mars story off the air fast enough, but it will not answer the question of how this old man knows that Zechs is on Mars.//

"I have done what I could. The rest is up to him and those with him."

"I see. Well, I will say a prayer for those on Mars tonight. Every little bit helps, yes? I will not keep you longer, Lady Une." // I have said enough for now. //

"Good evening, Mr. President. I look forward to our next meeting." // And I will know all that I can about you before that meeting. //

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	94. Chapter 94

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 94

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

New Port City

Time: 00:57

Chang Wu Fei

//I am so going to kill someone. At this point in time I have little doubt it will be Lady Une who will feel the wrath of the Dragon Clan. Yes, it will be Lady Une. When I am warm again. When I dare to stop to breathe. As soon as I can figure out where it is I am. It all looks the same.//

The howling wind and driving snow that battered his slender form afforded little in the way of vision, except the never ending white close at hand and the darkness it blended into. The torch he used might as well have been switched off it shed so little light in the night, which, curiously enough, was not as dark as he had expected it to be. The snow storm seemed to have a curious illumination of its own, that permitted him to at least see where each snow drift was that he must blindly thrust his feet into. He had even considered giving up on using the torch, but that weak glow was a small psychological comfort he was reluctant to give up at this time. His world had reduced itself down to that tiny circle of weak illumination, in an odd world of white and gray, where his feet sank into the ever deepening snow and the growing chill that numbed his very bones surrounded him with an odd comfort.

That odd sense of comfort was what worried him the most. Might it not lead to someone finding a frozen corpse in the light of day or perhaps in a few days, when the snow melted? Certainly at some point Lady Une would send Preventer agents out after him, but that would be cold comfort for a frozen corpse.

// I do not even know why this idiocy is necessary. If I am correct in my suspicions then I have to ask myself why it is she would want this story of Raiders on Mars buried. It is a flashy, expensive exercise to play terrorist, just to turn people's attention from a news story that can only be speculated upon and not acted on. Mars is months away from the Earth Sphere. Yes, Preventers has ships in the general area, but they could be hours or days away from the planet, and are obviously of no effect in beating off what amounts to modern day pirates. Space is just too large to be effectively policed, and it is ideal for the unscrupulous to prey on the weak. I need to know more to determine what it is she hopes to accomplish by having me play the terrorist, a role I had no wish to take up again. The more I think on it, the more convinced I am it must be to do with the Raiders and Mars. It would take a big story closer to home to turn speculation from Raiders terrorizing the space lanes, and terrorist attacks on the Preventer chief and Relena Peacecraft, would certainly accomplish that, but why did she have to point her bony finger at me? Why me? I could be on a nice warm shuttle craft by now, toasting my toes, which I can not even feel any more I might add, winging my way to the colonies and their air conditioned comfort, instead of slogging my way through a blizzard. Where is the sense in this action? Where is the justice//

The howling of the wind filled his ears, and he sought to bury himself deeper into his coat, not that that was physically possible, nor did it make a whit of difference to the temperature. If he did not find shelter soon he would make a fine corpse before too much longer, but he was certain he must be near the outskirts of New Port City. The problem was that he could not see through the wind driven snow, and he might actually have passed within a few meters of houses, and he might not have seen that welcome shape in this weird world of cold white and gray. He might have been only a few meters from shelter and street lamps, and that light would surely be noticeable to his seeking eyes.

Wu Fei stumbled to a stop, shuddering within the small warmth offered by his coat. He was wet, chilled to the bone, his feet were numb with cold and he feared frost bite was nibbling on his toes; he had been walking so long and was that a shadow to his left? No, he was sure it was no deeper darkness, only wishful thinking, and he stumbled on again, just a few more steps would bring him to a house, or to something that would offer him protection. He bemoaned the fact that in compliance with space flight regulations he had turned in his mobile phone in preparation for leaving on the evening shuttle craft, and he had not thought to pick the device back up before he had left Preventer Headquarters. Life could have been so much easier if he had had the device on him.

Something dark, large and offering some small shelter from the wind loomed before him. He paused, glaring at the dark bulk for a moment, affronted that anything should stand in his way when he had somewhere to be, before his numbed brain registered that the wind had eased because of this darkness. With a small huffed breath of disbelief at his own stupidity, and no small worry that it was taking so long for things to register in his tired brain, he peered myopically at the darkness from the shelter of the scarf wrapped around his lower face. It seemed an alien, otherworldly shape in the all consuming white and he stumbled forward, trying to make sense of the shape that could mean life to him. He was too cold, and he knew he must not rest now; he must investigate this shape and determine if it offered him sufficient shelter to survive this bitter night. His investigation proved the dark bulk was a shed, a small building, and as he rounded a corner he stumbled, falling to his knees as he tripped over a pile of wood three quarters buried in the snow.

Stupidly he stared at the neatly cut logs before the association between the wood pile and the large dark shape registered in his sluggish thoughts. // Wood shed. It's a wood shed, and if there is a wood shed here then there must be a house nearby. That means heat, and the chance to call in and get some transport. //

Clambering to his feet he stumbled forward until reaching fingers contacted the solidity of the structure, and he could not help the grin. It was real. Solid. It was not a figment of wish thinking, and that meant he knew roughly where he had to be. He had most likely found himself in the back of a small house on the outskirts of New Port City, perhaps in one of the residential districts set aside for the itinerate workers or lower income families so recently making their way to the city. It was certain not to be one of the richer houses, which would be surrounded with high fences designed to keep the world out. That he had encountered no fence and reached the wood shed suggested he had most likely found one of the shared housing department developments, where the houses were small but comfortable, spaced reasonably well apart and the residents shared the one large area for vegetable gardens, play areas and washing lines. With that in mind he would need to be careful he did not hang himself on a clothes line as he sought out the house that claimed this woodshed.

A quick search on feet that seemed suddenly to be less like ice blocks and more like feet with the advent of rescue at hand, revealed the adjacent car port to be empty, but it did bring him to a footpath marked by solar lights. The closest of the small glowing orbs were just barely visible in the snow fall, and were only just above the depth of snow that hid the actual footpath. He grinned as he stared at the first of those small amber tinted lights. While there was no car that he could borrow, and have returned at a later time, or abandon where it could easily be located and returned to the owner by local authorities, there was at least a path, and paths were made to be followed. It had to lead somewhere and in this case it ought to lead him to the house.

// It is not good I am taking so long to think of these things. Feet, move. I am going to give Lady Une a piece of my mind over this idiocy. Yes, that will warm me up, thinking about just what I am going to say to Preventer Earth when next I see her. The least she could have done was ensured I had a reserve vehicle or two in the vicinity of the Palace.//

He scowled at that thought, wondering if perhaps he had not missed something. Lady Une was not one to miss details, but he had the impression this was a quickly arranged diversion, and perhaps the details of his escape she had left entirely up to him, trusting in his ingenuity to effect a timely, and no doubt brilliant, escape. If that was the case he would have a few choice and carefully chosen words to say on the vagaries of having a female Commander.

He grinned into his scarf, knowing he had nothing to complain about in having Lady Une as his Commander in Chief. Preventer Earth, onna that she was, was perhaps the best Commander he had served under, and far more fair to her employees than his teachers had been to their students in the past. She may have been an unholy monster in his view during the One Year War, but he had come to appreciate that she was actually very efficient at her job. He did have to wonder though, if she would have ordered that missile strike on the colonies during the war, but then, as she was mentally unstable, by her own admission at that time, he decided the likely answer had to be an emphatic yes. She might have been an onna, but she was not weak. He could respect her, even while he thought of roasting her over hot coals, while he toasted his feet and sipped piping hot coffee that scalded his throat on the way down.

His feet stumbled in the snow, slipping and threatening to pitch him on his knees at best, and at worst face first into the icy embrace of the snow drifts. Panting with exertion he steadied himself, placing his feet with more care, trying to feel his way along the path with feet that really could not tell what it was that he walked on. When he found the house this path would lead him to, he could call Une on her private number and have her send a car to pick him up. He dared not contact Preventers itself, as it was possible someone might ask what he was doing on the wrong side of town to the shuttle port. If Lady Une had not let it be known he was recalled from his assigned mission, he would have to come up with a plausible explanation as to what he was doing on the opposite side of town, an explanation which eluded him just now. What was of more concern to him was that he escape the blizzard.

The bulk of the house looming out of the gloom cut off the remaining wind, and he found himself in an island of calm, snow falling around him in a gentle blanket, and the bulk of a dark-coloured house before him. He stumbled a step or too until he compensated for not having to lean into the wind, fighting with a bush when he found himself off the hidden footpath, and then he was stomping up the steps and onto a veranda. To one side a small, white painted outdoor setting was stacked in the far corner, pushed there while not in use during the winter months and a small amber coloured night lamp clearly illuminated the door painted in a tasteful mid ranged blue and white. The absence of snow was a delight, and it seemed to him the temperature had risen considerably just with him getting out of the wind and snow.

Gloved fingers fumbled and pushed on the door bell, and he huddled in his coat, waiting, listening to the chime ring through the house. He huffed into his scarf when no lights came on in answer, and no sounds of movement could be heard from within, and with a grunt he leaned on the bell a second time. Again the house remained silent and dark, and he resorted to banging on the door with his fist. If no one had moved within the house to the count of thirty he was going to be taking drastic steps, as he was not going to be locked out in the cold when shelter was so close.

Was it fortunate for him that he had lucked out and found an empty house, or was the owner simply a heavy sleeper? The night seemed eerily quiet, the snow muffling all sound save for the wind that seemed muted from this shelter, and he decided since his fingers were frozen and he would take an uncommonly long time to pick the lock because of his loss of dexterity, he would try just once more to determine if the house was empty or not.

"Preventer! Open up." He pounded on the door again, bending down to peer at the key hole. It was of course, quite dark, and he could see nothing and he straightened with a curse, fumbling in a pocket for his lock picks. He was not going to stay out here in the cold any longer, and numbed fingers or not, that door was going to be opened.

A light snapped on in the room beyond the door, shining like a golden beacon through the curtained windows, and Wu Fei cursed softly, hastily pushing his picks back into his pocket, fumbling now for his Preventer ID. He noticed a peep hole in the door, a small shaft of light quickly blocked out as whoever was on the other side peered through at him. He no doubt would not make a reassuring sight.

"Who is it?" The voice sounded young, and was definitely female, and understandably sounded a little frightened by this early morning visitation.

"Preventer Agent. I need to use your vid system." Gloved fingers fumbled with his identity card and he cursed softly as he almost dropped it, managing to snatch it before it fell to the floor.

The door opened just enough for him to hand in the card, affording him a glimpse of a heavy security chain that would have taken a solid blow to break, and he approved of the simple security precaution. The fingers that emerged through the gap were long and slender, a woman's hands, but they were hands that were not unaccustomed to work, with neat natural nails, not the false claws he had noted to be the height of fashion. He heard a faint gasp from the other side of the door as she read his identification and the door closed, the chain rattled, and then the door opened wide enough for him to enter.

His first overwhelming impression as he stumbled through the door was one of blessed warmth. A banked fire smouldered in the room, offering a warmth that was wonderful to his frozen frame. His second impression was that the mass of copper golden curls would be a luxurious warmth he would delight to run his fingers through at the first opportunity that should present itself. Bundled in an oversized dressing gown, her hair a shimmering mass of copper gold was a small, delicate featured woman, who would be no older than himself he decided. Her sky blue eyes were blinking at him owlishly, as she handed him back his identity papers and took a cautious step back from this apparition from out of a winter night. Wu Fei refused categorically to call this fickle season spring.

"Wicked night to be out walking, Mr Chang. The vid system is in the corner over there. Can I get you a hot cup of coffee or tea?" Her voice was a husky whisper in the night, low and pleasing to the ear. "Could you shut the door please?"

Wu Fei blinked, forcing himself not to stare, and instead scanned the room to locate the vid system. "That would be much appreciated, Miss …?"

"Birmingham. Sandra Birmingham, but I am generally called Sandy." She offered a small smile, a quick flash of even white teeth, and moved over to the banked fire and began to stir up the blaze, adding wood carefully. "You must be frozen."

He detected an accent he was unfamiliar with, a suggestion of a British accent but not quite right to his ear, something more, not quite a drawl and certainly not a lilt, but just something distinctively different.

"You are not local to New Port City?" He forced himself to look away from her yet again, disturbed that his eyes seemed to have a will of his own where she was concerned, and quickly knocked the snow from his shoes and shut the door, closing out the bitter chill and relishing the warmer air in the small living room.

"No, I am not local. I am an exchange student, and working a scholarship. I come from Australia and attend the Sanc University as part of the cultural exchange program." She rose from the fire, which began to crackle merrily and turned, blushing slightly at finding his dark gaze firmly centred on her. "Ahm, if you would like to take your coat off and make your call, I will see about making a hot drink. Tea or coffee? Perhaps even hot chocolate?"

She was exquisite, he reflected, finding the very delicacy of her form fascinating. Something about that coppery blonde hair continually drew his eye, and at her deepening blush he pulled himself up quickly, a dark blush suffusing his own face. What did he think he was doing? He was Chang Wu Fei, the best that Preventers had to offer, and he had a job to do, and right now he needed to get back to Preventer Headquarters.

"Coffee at this hour, if you would not mind. I have a long night ahead of me still." He knew he was blushing and he just hoped she did not notice.

"The kitchen is through that door if you finish with your call before I come back." Again the light blush tinted golden tanned skin, and she hurried from the room with a quick glance at him as she swept through the door.

//Pretty.// The thought drew a raging blush from him and he huffed to himself, rushing to the vid system to make the call he had come here to make. He really did not know why she drew his attention unless it was a reaction to being out in a white out he had been beginning to think he would not emerge from alive. //Get real, Chang. She is an Onna. A woman, and you have too much on your mind just now to even think she is an interesting little thing, all delicate and … Get a life, Chang.//

Wincing he keyed in the private code for Lady Une and waited, inching toward the nearby fire, trying to turn as much of his body to that heat as possible. He considered the vid unit with a rueful sigh, mindful that this was an unsecured system, and he must guard what he said. He also realized he had no real idea where he was.

"Ms Birmingham, exactly where am I?" He called, one eye on the screen as the Preventer logo flashed to life.

"Venti Drive. Three twenty one, Venti Drive." She appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, glancing at him. "You don't know where you are?"

// Damn.// "My car broke down, and I became lost in the blizzard." He said by way of explaining.

"Ah. Wicked night for a walk." Flashing a smile that, for some reason, seemed to melt the Preventer agents knees, she vanished back into the kitchen with a flick of copper hair.

Wu Fei stared at the door, his fingers twitching at the thought of burying his hands in that curly mass. //Ah, what is the matter with me? A pretty girl smiles at me and I imitate jelly?//

"Chang? Where are you?" Lady Une's face filled the screen and his head snapped around in response to the snap of command in her voice.

He noted she was in her car and using her wrist com, the wind screen wipers beating madly as they struggled against the driving snow. She looked tired and drawn, and he wondered just how he must look to her after his encounter with the blizzard. Likely he looked far worse than she did, and he wondered just what she had been doing while he had fought the weather.

"Three twenty one, Venti Drive. I have had car trouble."

Her brown eyes shuttered for an instant and he could guess she was placing distance and the time required to reach his location. By way of his abrupt comment she knew he was using an unsecured line and would say very little.

"I wondered where you were when they closed down the shuttle port. I will be there if fifteen minutes to pick you up and give you your briefing on your new assignment. Unsecured location?" At his affirmative nod she nodded in turn. "Very well. I will accompany you to your first location to assess the damage, and have a car waiting for you on our arrival. Fifteen minutes, Chang. Earth out."

He sighed, turning from the dark screen and allowing his gaze to wander around the room as he sidled close to the fire. The living room was furnished in an assortment of old, but comfortable looking furniture, nothing matching but nothing clashing either, a carefully chosen assortment of functional and comfortable furnishings. There were family pictures scattered about the room, depicting a family of considerable size, and he wondered if it was all the one family, or if the bulk of the photos had been taken at some kind of family reunion. In this age no family from a developed country such as Australia would have so many children. There did appear to be two sets of identical twins in the pictures, and at a quick count he determined that the family portrait that took pride of place on the mantle boasted some forty members. An entertainment unit that was of a cheap but reliable brand, and the vid system completed the furnishings. He noticed a pile of hard cover books stacked neatly beside the couch, and on investigating found them all to be on Ancient Egyptian culture.

"Mr. Chang? How do you have your coffee? I thought you might like to use this."

Sandy Birmingham stood by the kitchen door, a towel draped in her hands and a smile curving her full lips into a cute bow. Wu Fei fought down the urge to grin like a lunatic and managed to contain it to a slight curve of his own lips as he walked forward.

"Thank you. I would just like some sugar, please. One teaspoon."

Her smile brightened as he took the towel from her, and he pulled out the band holding his hair back from his face. Too much hair had escaped the band after his tussle with the blizzard, and it needed combing again anyway, but the towel was very welcome and he buried his head in its folds, working out the water from the melting snow.

"You are studying ancient Egypt?"

Her eyes sparkled with lively intelligence and she nodded, slipping back into the kitchen. "Ancient History, and the Ancient Cultures of the World."

He found his comb and brought order to his hair, which now fell past his shoulders in a shimmering black waterfall, moving to the kitchen door to better watch as she filled two mugs with steaming freshly brewed coffee. While he secured his hair he took the time to study her, and in particular the slight bulge in the pocket of her dressing gown. To his experienced eye it had the suggestive outline of a gun, but she had made no threatening moves and he suspected she had had it in hand when she had answered the door. He found he approved her caution in not leaving the gun in open sight, even when he had identified himself as a Preventer, and keeping it to hand. She did not know him, after all, and she was a young woman on her own, a very pretty young woman, he mused, and surmised she was alone, as no one else had put in an appearance at his abrupt arrival.

"Are you enjoying your time in Sanc?"

"Oh, yes, immensely. It is so different to Australia. Please, have as seat. Would you prefer in here or in the lounge?"

"I would imagine the climate would definitely be a change from Australia for you. Here is fine, thank you." He settled in the chair opposite her side of the table.

"We do have snow and blizzards too, you know. In Australia, I mean. I come from the highlands of Tasmania and I have seen my share of blizzards, some in the middle of summer." She settled in the opposite chair, pushing the first of the mugs across the table towards him.

"I will be picked up soon, and I thank you for your hospitality." His fingers closed eagerly around the mug and he sighed at the warmth of the brew, sipping it eagerly and the sigh almost became a moan of pleasure. "Especially for the coffee. It is good."

A blush tinted her cheeks with rose and she sipped her coffee. "It must be interesting, being a Preventer."

"It has its moments. Good and bad." He kept his eyes firmly on his coffee cup, knowing that if he looked at her he would blush. This was definitely one of the better moments he had known.

What was with his hormones, anyway? He never reacted to women like this. They were all just … women. He had no time for the distraction that women were. Distractions from his duty he had dedicated his life to, and for the penance he served for the mistakes made in the past. He was a Preventer, and he had his own personal atonement to make for his part in so many deaths to deal in his past. Deaths that he had not given a thought to at the time, but which weighed on him when he had the time to think and look at the world, through the eyes of a young man who was very tired of war. Being a Preventer was a part of that atonement, and it was also his chance to find a place where he could fit in. Without Preventers he literally had no place to go. He had gone to China repeatedly in the last few years, and while the country was lovely and had reminded him a little of his home colony, it simply had not felt like home. He had not been comfortable there.

"You must get to see exotic places? Travel a lot. Even go to the Colonies?" Her eyes danced with genuine interest, and she seemed to forget her coffee, watching him with eagerness to learn more.

"I was supposed to be going to the colonies tonight, but the blizzard has grounded all shuttles, and I have been reassigned. I am uncertain now where I will find myself tomorrow, but yes, I tend to travel a great deal in my work, though not usually because I wish to go there, wherever there may be. It can prove to be … tedious."

The blue eyes drank in the exotic beauty of him and she sighed, wishing that she could get to see this particular Preventer agent again, but knowing that such would be extremely unlikely. Preventers were few, although with New Port City being their headquarters at this time there were more agents resident here than in most cities of the world. That he traveled so much suggested he was either a field agent, or perhaps a member of their diplomatic service, and either way he was not likely to be in the city long enough to bother with a silly student who had a liking for the exotic. He was certainly deliciously exotic looking.

"I suppose with the explosion at the home of your chief you will be busy."

"Undoubtedly something will be found to keep me occupied. Lady Une does not like her agents to sit idle."

She grinned at the droll tone of his voice and sipped her coffee. "I wondered what it takes to be a Preventer when I first moved here, but I guess I chickened out. I'm not the 'save the world from evil and corruption type'. Give me a book on ancient history and I am in seventh heaven."

"It would be a boring world if we were all the same." He almost whispered, remembering the days when he had been a scholar in training, before he had been married, and before he even knew intimately about mobile suits. "It is good there are people who simply want to learn for the love of learning, and who enjoy the peace that we have. That is why Preventers exists, to see that you can enjoy that peace; so that you have the opportunity to study what it is you wish to learn. Knowing you are a student of History, and that it is what you enjoy, makes my job worth while."

She pursed her lips slightly, avidly studying those enchanting, exotic dark eyes. She wished he would let down his hair from that tight ponytail, as it had looked so wonderful when she had glimpsed its satin fall. "Were you born in China, Mr. Chang?"

"Wu Fei, please. No, I was not born in China. I am from the L5 cluster. My home colony was destroyed in the war."

"Ah." A soft breath of sound and he had the impression she knew exactly which colony he originated from. Thankfully she said nothing, perhaps understanding he did not like speaking of his past, and instead she offered him a refill. "More coffee?"

"Thank you. What is your home in Australia like?"

A faint shrug of slender shoulders. "I'm a country girl from a small town in the central highlands of Tasmania. I wanted something bigger, more meaningful and different, I guess, so I put all of my effort into my study, and ended up with a scholarship and an exchange opportunity to just about the furthest place from home I could think of. Sanc is very different to my home town, but I love it. Not at all homesick yet, but I guess it will strike at some time."

"Yes. No doubt you will feel it when you are least expecting it, and most likely it will be triggered because of something small. It is the small things you do not expect that I have found have the most profound effect on me."

"I guess so."

Searching for something to say to keep the handsome young Preventer agent talking, she groped for any crumb, knowing that his lift would come soon and she would never see the man again. A pity that, as he was so exotic and very handsome indeed, and she needed her head examined. What did she think she was doing? He was a stranger, and she knew nothing about him except he worked for Preventers.

//It's a start though.//

"How long do you have at the University?"

"I have a year, and then I must decide what I will do. Probably another course if I have good enough grades. I am taking Archaeology as well as ancient cultures, and eventually I want to get in with a really remote dig. Get the chance, I suppose, to discover something that has not been discovered."

"That would prove to be interesting, discovering something old and unknown, and learning about those who lived so long ago. I have some interest in archaeology."

"Really?" Her smile beamed into life.

Wu Fei found himself nodding, mesmerized by the smile that glowed at him from across the table, but any return comment was stilled by the sound of a car horn demanding his attention, and he silently cursed, but he could not keep the Lady waiting, and he did want an explanation for this work she had had him performing.

"Oh." Sandy glanced at the living room with a small sigh of disappointment. "I guess that is your ride."

"Yes. Yes, it would be. I wish to thank you for your hospitality." He stood and offered a bow to her. "You have been most kind to this unexpected traveler."

She blushed at his formal bow and followed him to the door, drifting, quite certain that her feet were not even touching the floor. He paused at the door and again offered a bow.

"Thank you."

"Any time." A sigh and she coloured in a furious blush at the dreamy sound. "Ah, I mean, you are welcome. I was only too happy to help."

A blinding smile flashed at her and then vanished behind the scarf he wound around his neck and lower face. Wu Fei nodded briefly and slipped out of the house into the blizzard again, thankful he could see the lights of the car through the drifting snow. Was it his imagination the storm was a little less violent? Could the storm be breaking? Or was it just the memory of a conversation over coffee that lightened the night for him?

//She is pretty.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	95. Chapter 95

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 95

Mars

1st March AC 198

Base Dome

Time: 22:055 [Approx 20:45 Sanc time

Zechs

//I hate dark places but I can ignore that provided I keep moving and don't think too much about it. I hate pain, but it is to be ignored right now, since there is nothing at the moment I can do about it. I hate crawling on my belly for what seems like hours and can't possibly be, since I would be out of oxygen and quite dead by now were it true. There is a lot of things about my life I hate, but I have no time to address them, or rather I have the time, but not the inclination nor energy to address them now. In short, I have to admit this is not the best day I have ever had.//

"Junction, Zechs, connecting vent links on the left."

Giles sounded just as tired and fed up with this crawling on his belly through narrow spaces as he, he reflected. Pausing he considered the route, consulting his mental map and reviewing the distance they had already covered since leaving the junction with the ladder. The slope of the vent had been steadily increasing, to the stage where he was being very careful not to lose contact with the oxygen cylinders he was pushing in front of him. He could not afford for them to roll from his control, and pull the masks from his face or Noin's. He was careful to maintain sufficient pace, despite his exhaustion, to keep Giles close enough so that if he did lose control of both tanks they would only roll until they contacted the man's feet. Giles had already offered a choice curse or two to the darkness that suggested his cylinder had slipped on a couple of occasions.

They had come so far into the vents largely in silence, except for those time when they had reached junctions, and needed to talk their way through the correct path to be taken. Not only was it a means to preserve as much oxygen as they could for the remainder of this journey through the ducts, but it was also a means by which they could reserve their personal energies for the arduous crawl. Talking used oxygen and energy, and they had limited supplies of both. They had come so far now that he knew they could not be too far from their goal, that linking plate that would get them into the newer vent system, and lead them ultimately to the shuttle bay.

He had to rely on his memory for their route, and though he seemed to have something of a photographic memory and had forgotten very little he had ever seen, read or heard in his life, he only could marvel that Giles appeared to trust him. There had been no doubtful queries, no awkward questions about whether or not he was sure a left turn and not a right turn was the way to go. His partner seemed to trust him enough to determine their correct course, but surely the man had to be wondering if they were lost? He knew he would be at least silently asking himself those same questions, had he been the one who had to rely on the directions of another. Or had Giles decided that he had no option other than to go through this cramped, dark, inhospitable crawl, to escape the attentions of the agents who must surely be hunting them by now?

He could offer no words of encouragement, as for too long he had been working off the line the visions had suggested he should take. For better or worse they made their own future now, with no guidelines other than decisions that had to be made spontaneously. At some point they would undoubtedly cross another intersection of event with forecast vision, and perhaps gain some advantage, but for now, they were as blind to the future as most other people.

He was disturbed that he missed the certainty of knowing where his decisions would take him and once, only this very morning, he had cursed knowing the future. How quickly the human race could change its views. He was wary now that at some point he might become reliant on these visions, and afraid to move for fear of changing event at some time.

"Not this one, go straight on. We want the next left, Giles. Don't take that turn though. Just past the intersection there will be the plate that connects into the newer systems. That plate is what we are looking for."

"Thank God for that." There was very obvious relief in the man's voice. "I don't think my hips have any skin left on them, let alone my belly."

//I can sympathize with that only too well. I need a break-we both need a break, but we don't dare stop now. If we need the oxygen for the newer ducts, then we have to save as much as we can. It's just a little further.//

He paused, listening to the scrapes of movement as Giles began to pull himself forward again, and noted the grunts coming from Giles, knowing the man's ribs must be screaming in pain by this time. With both of them now on the injured list, and Noin definitely out of the picture for the duration of whatever happened next, he had to turn to options other than purely physical in nature to deal with this situation.

He had known there was the possibility he would be injured by the events of the day, and accordingly he had made allowances for just such a situation, should he need to face Blue Squad in a less than healthy condition. The plans he had made in response to that vision could not be called exactly honorable, but it was going to prove to be necessary, considering he and Giles were now injured.

He had to stop relying on Giles presence to alter events, as it was not possible for one man to make so many changes to the ultimate future. Giles had already made changes in that future, and Zechs was not going to be fool enough to think he could continue to do so. What was past was now past and he must look forward to finishing this mess, and finishing it quickly, as neatly and efficiently as possible, and if that meant he turned to not entirely honourable means, then so be it.

He owed the bastards for Noin's condition, and if their Commander had the audacity to challenge him to a duel, he would shove it down the bastard's throat. He had done so to Treize when he had challenged him in the past, and he would do so again, to preserve as many of the Terra Formers as he possibly could. He saw no need to resort to chivalrous practices when the people who were his friends were being slaughtered.

//We need to gather what evidence we can in the hope we can make use of it at some later time. There may come a time when someone may be able to use it against those who arranged this farce. The best way to gain information would be for me to confront Simpson face to face, and try to get answers out of him, and have the interview recorded. If he thinks he has the upper hand then he may just talk a little, and give us some answers. I honestly do not expect to get much information from him, but if I can get enough to implicate a person or two - get some names, then it will be worth the risks. Giles may not think so, but I think he would go along with what I have planned, if we can make it work.//

Giles grunted ahead of him, and he felt the oxygen tanks he pushed connect with the man's feet. Pulling his thoughts back into line with the current difficulties they faced, he stopped his laborious inching forward and waited. The feet against his tank did not move, indeed they slipped backwards, toward him, and he pulled the tanks back a little, hoping Giles did not expect him to back up in the vent. It was all he could do to force himself to go forward without having to force his body to move backwards. That was going to result in him having to convince every muscle in his body that they had to reverse the reach, and pull action that was hypnotic, and had allowed him to continue on. He was uncertain if he could force himself to reverse direction, especially as it would be reversing up a gradient. Not a steep gradient, no, but going forward was hard enough.

He was cut in innumerable places along his flanks and front by jagged edges in the vent seals. Sections poorly connected, and welds broken over time were generally the source of the worst of the swords the vent system had wielded, and he knew Giles had to be covered in just as many shallow cuts and abrasions. On their own none of these wounds would be dangerous, but taken together they could cause problems if they did not get to that emergency shuttle and make use of its supplies. All manner of nasty infection could result from the cuts, and he was not inclined to catch an exotic bug because of this excursion into the past. He wanted himself, and Giles, injected with broad range antibiotics as soon as possible.

"I think… Yes, I have found the cover plate you said to look for. It looks like the cover is screwed on from the far side, but that's okay, not a problem. I have magnetic screw drivers on me that will do the trick. Just … have … to … ow." Sounds of movement and the faint vibration in the vent suggested Giles was searching his body for the necessary equipment. "Shit that hurt. Okay, I think I found one that will work. If the screws are not corroded we should be alright."

He managed a grunt in response, lowering his head to the cold metal surface under him, and took the opportunity granted to simply rest. He was bone aching weary, and wanted nothing more that to allow himself a day of sleep, but this day was far from being over. He had preparations to make for his confrontation with the Blue Squad Commander, and some of those preparations required he get back into the sub base. He needed to draw Simpson and his tech into the sub base for what he planned, but if the tech was as good as he believed him to be, then they were going to have to take that man out before he dared to try his trick on Simpson. At the least he had to separate the tech from his Commander. Considering he was Simpson's only remaining resource, Zechs doubted that was going to be easy, as Simpson would be careful of the man's safety, but it was going to have to be accomplished. Frazier could recognize in an instant what he was going to try to do, and he just could not take that chance.

//I wonder if Sharnice is managing with my children? I hate the necessity of having to do this, but there is no choice. We are at the stage where I have to take chances. I need to gain control quickly, and this may be my best chance to accomplish an end.//

"You're quiet back there, Zechs. Everything okay?"

It seemed an effort to reply, but it was necessary that he reassure his partner, and it was a relief to hear another voice in this darkness. "Just resting."

"Two screws down." A soft response, and the sound of Giles jockeying for a better position echoed in the vent. "It won't be long now and we can get rid of these tanks. I won't be sorry to see them go."

"We may not be able to at first. If they have screwed around with the venting system then we may have a bit of a way to go before we can remove the tanks."

The sounds of movement ceased for a long moment, and then Giles cursed softly. "Well, Murphy has been kind to us so far, so I suppose it is time he dropped the bundle on us. What do you bet the vents are full of shit?"

He could imagine the look on the man's face, and could not keep the smile from his own. "No bet. I vote in favour of the shit, and I think you do too."

The slight sounds of movement were back again, as Giles worked on the screws. "Yeah. You got that right. It just has to start going wrong somewhere along the track, and I think we might have hit that point. Last one. Ah, we might have another problem."

Just what he needed. He wanted out of this cramped black world, and it stood to reason something would happen to delay that much anticipated exit. "What?"

"Well, I've had a good chance now to size up this access plate, and it looks to be a pretty small hole we have to crawl through to get into the newer system."

//God, no. Just what I need. The maps did not say how big the access was, just that it was there and marked it with a blacked out area. How small is small?// "Shit."

"Hey, it may not be as bad as we think. Which way does the vent on the other side of this seal run? Do we enter it at a junction?"

//We could not be so lucky.// "The vent runs North / South, and there is no junction point where we enter."

"Ah. That means that we have to turn ninety degrees to fit into the vent. Well, at least the newer vents are larger and wider. That will help, and I'll be able to help you more than I was afraid might be the case."

He was wishing at this point that his father, who had been over six feet tall and would have outweighed him from memory, had not bred his genetics for tall and broad-shouldered into him. In basic language, he wished that he was not big. It was a common fault of architects and engineers that vents were never designed for big people. Even the more recent additions to the vent system were not designed to comfortably accommodate someone of his size, but at least, as Giles said, there would be more room than these original ducts offered.

//It's taking too long. Are you alive still, Lu? I hope you are. You are the only one of us with the build for these vents, and you'd be laughing your head off now if you could see us bumbling around. I think you would like Giles. He has a way about him that gets to you, and you can't help but like him. Please be alive. You feel warm, but I really can't tell.//

"Shit! God, where is all this shit coming from?" Giles sounded disgusted, but in the darkness Zechs could see nothing. "Well, my friend, in the name of Murphy we appear to have won the lottery. I don't know if we are going to even be able to see in there, even with the torch. It's full of smoke, and I can't see that it is moving except into this duct now that it has access."

//Meaning they have sealed the exterior air vents, and the smoke and toxins have nowhere to go. Wonderful. At least the sub base is on a different vent system, and should not be bothered by this residue. We will need to seal the access way when we go into the sub base vents though. We can't afford to allow a toxic build up to pollute the sub base systems.//

"Zechs? Are you listening back there? Any chance of you backing up a little for me? I need to do a bit of manoeuvring to get through this hole."

He resisted the desire to groan, and instead worked at inching himself backwards, slowly and painfully aware that he must not allow Noin to shift with his motion. Noin's dead weight, while slight at first, now felt like a ton weight resting on his aching body. His muscles, so long use to reaching and pulling for forward movement, now protested the reverse motion needed, but he did manage to edge back what he hoped would be enough, and simply collapsed on the floor of the vent, sucking in deep drafts of oxygen before he got his breathing back under control. He listened to the scrapes and bumps and curses coming from ahead as Giles positioned himself, and wondered when it was his turn if he would manage to fit through the access. It seemed to be taking an inordinately long time, but he had to be patient and remember time was relative, and while you waited time always seemed longer, never shorter.

"I tell you this, my friend, you are not going to get through this hole with Noin on your back. There is no way you can do it." Giles rested in the adjoining vent, after turning himself around and poking his head back through the hole, waving the torch around until he found Zechs. "You are going to have a pretty tight squeeze just to get yourself through it."

That was not what he wanted to hear.

Taking a deep lung full of the oxygen he forced his body to creep forward to where he could see the faint light of the torch marking the hole, eyeing the clouds of noxious fumes filling the vent with wary caution. It was obvious they would need to get out of the vent system and into the sealed sub base vents as quickly as possible. Soon they were going to have to find a way to open the exterior vents for the upper dome, before the build up of toxic fumes in the vents filled the upper enviro dome and posed a hazard for those still up there. At least the terra formers, who were in the buildings with isolated air systems would be safe, but if for any reason they ventured into the dome itself they could be in serious trouble.

"How do you want to work this?" Giles grinned at him when he reached the vent, failing to keep the worried frown from his brow.

// My God. I'll never fit through that.// "I'll go past far enough for you to work on the knots holding Noin's legs, then inch back again, and you can release her chest. You will have to pull her through the hole and I'll help as much as I can, but it will be up to you to guide her body through, then I'll work at getting me through."

"Fine. We can try that."

Zechs reflected that this must be how a car felt in the hands of an inexperienced driver trying to manoeuvre into a cramped parking place, only the car would not be bothered by sheets of pain. When Giles had freed the ropes securing Noin to his chest, he inched carefully back sufficiently to pass Noin's oxygen cylinder through the hole, then inched forward again, to allow Giles to take her by the shoulders and ease her into the access hole.

It was heaven to have the weight of Noin removed from him, as he began to inch forward once again to give Giles the room to manage Noin's slender form through the gap. He used his body to continue to support as much of her weight as possible, until Giles managed to ease her into the newer vent system, and then he settled to the floor of the vent and waited. He listened in silence to the grunts and curses, and to the muttered 'sorry' that issued from the hole, the latter uttered to a woman who could not hear the apology producing a tired smile on his face. It would be his turn soon, and he was not looking forward to getting his own frame through that hole.

//It's too small. All of this and I never thought the access way linking the two systems would be too bloody small for me to use. What do I do now//

"Okay. I've put Noin down the vent a ways, to give us some room to manoeuvre. Thought you would like to know that she is still alive, by the way. Reasonably steady heartbeat, and her breathing's good. Maybe being on the oxygen has helped her?"

"Maybe." // I have to try. I have to get through that hole and to the shuttle bay, and laying here thinking the hole is too small is not accomplishing anything. // He began the task of inching himself backwards, considering the best method to get himself through a hole never designed, in his opinion, for more that the use of imaginary elves.

Giles waited patiently, ducking his head back out of the way as he neared the hole, and shining the torch through the gap, waiting patiently for him to arrive and roll onto his side, head level with the hole. Zechs eyed the gap with trepidation. It looked disturbingly small, but when he thought about it, Giles was fairly broad shouldered though not so long as him, and he had made it through. He had heard it was surprising how small a hole a human body could fit through, if the need was there, and he had heard from a group of spelunkers who told stories of fitting through holes half the width of their shoulders, so it had to be possible. If, of course, those spelunkers were not prone to rank exaggeration.

"Zechs?" Giles poked his head back through the hole. "You okay?"

Taking a fortifying breath he nodded, inching closer to the hole. "Head and shoulders first. Left shoulder first so that it does not have to take most of the strain."

Giles nodded and backed away in the other vent, still shining the light on the hole. "I'll pull when needed, and I'll help support your weight until you're through."

A grunt was all the answer forthcoming, as the oxygen cylinder was passed through the hole first and then the blonde head slipped through the hole, arms leading the way. Giles eased the oxygen tank out of the immediate area, careful not to pull the mask from his companions face. Zechs received the impression of a much larger space on this side of the wall, and experienced a surge of relief on the heels of that thought. It would be a lot easier negotiating his frame through this larger vent system than the older maze of ducts, and that thought lightened his worry. He would get through into this vent system, and the larger area would make it a lot easier to bring Noin to the shuttle bay.

He felt Giles close to him, hands sliding under his left side and supporting his weight as he wiggled and squeezed his shoulder though the hole. The light of the torch served to illuminated the floor of the vent and little else, and he realized Giles had set it aside to shed light on the scene in an area where they were least likely to knock it and possibly damage it. It also allowed Giles the use of both hands, which he could not deny were going to be needed.

"Shit."

"What?" Giles slid closer, sliding his legs under the blonde who had managed to work his left shoulder through the gap and was working on the right shoulder to straighten himself out.

// No help for it, but please God, don't let him crack a joke about size. // "I'm stuck, of course." A tired, fatalistic grumble.

The Raider had the poor grace to offer a chuckle at that, and a gleaming toothy smile, but he slid his body under Zechs' head and visible shoulder, trying to get into a position to allow Zechs some support in the effort that was going to be needed to get the blonde through the gap. It was clear that Zechs was going to be leaving some skin behind before he managed it.

"Maybe we will have some luck if we twist you a little, and work you out slowly?" He grinned, thankful the man could not see his expression, but he thought it was amusing to have the Prince of Sanc stuck in a hole. Zechs would think it funny too, he was sure. Eventually.

"Stop with the laughing and start with the pulling." //Laugh it up, Giles, just don't you dare get mouthy with size jokes.//

"'Scuse my familiarity, Your Highness, and I assure you I am not laughing, nor am I getting frisky. Nothing personal you understand, but if you were not so ruddy big we would not be having this trouble." He wrapped his arms around the broad chest, squeezing his hands just under the man's arm pits, pressed his back to the far side of the vent and his feet to the near side. "Okay, I'm braced. Ready to wiggle you when you are."

"You are laughing, Giles. This is not funny." He pressed his left hand against the side of the vent, mindful of Giles arms wrapped around him, but his right arm could not reach the vent to help as yet. "Go."

"Of course it is. Just think about it." He grunted, exerting building pressure from his legs as he tried to rotate his arms enough to move the body he held. "How many Princes can tell their grandchildren in later life, they had the good fortune to get stuck in a hole in an air vent, on Mars no less? And with such a good looking and likeable fellow as myself, hmm? Rest assured I will be telling my grandkids all about it."

"Oh, shut up, Giles." A grunt issued from Zechs, but he felt himself scrape a little further through the hole, and if the cost for that progress was Giles getting mouthy, well, it was fair enough. If he survived this day it probably would be funny when he looked back on it.

"Can't possibly shut up, Sir. I'm enjoying this far too much. Christ that hurts." The last a whimper as his ribs reminded him they had so recently been abused, and that he was putting unwanted strain on them. "Are you moving at all?"

"I think so." He gasped for breath, feeling as though his upper chest was in a vice.

Giles relaxed his grip, sucking in panting breaths. "Well, let's try this then. On the count of three, exhale as much air from your lungs as possible and I'll pull. Oh, and don't forget to think small."

//He had to. He just could not let it go.// "You know you are dead, don't you? Just as soon as I get out of this hole."

"Yeah, yeah. That's what everyone tells me while I'm pulling them out of holes they're too bloody big to fit through. One." He was grinning though his body protested his every breath, and his arms felt as though they were going to refuse to work. They had to get the blonde hulk through this hole and quickly, he was only too aware of the constraints of time. When he had checked the oxygen they had less than an hour on all three of the tanks.

"You are enjoying this too much."

"Not as much as I'll enjoy it later." A chuckle. "Two."

"Sadist." He braced his hand as best he could on the vent wall, ready to push.

"Thank you. Exhale. Three."

Giles forced his body to twist, pressing his feet into the wall of the vent and throwing himself backwards with all of the strength he possessed. He heard the scream from Zechs almost drowned in the scream that tore from his own throat at the pain that pierced him, not just in his ribs but in his back and legs. He called himself all kinds of fool for getting himself injured and then, blessedly, felt the blonde move. Panting and moaning in pain they lay in the vent, sucking oxygen into heaving lungs as they each tried to control their own pain. Zechs was lying on Giles whose arms still wrapped around his chest, though they were dead weights right now. Neither was capable of moving, and it was some time before Giles managed to speak.

"Tell … me … you're out … of the bloody … hole?"

"Sort of." A gasp.

Giles, from where he was buried under the upper half of the former Lightning Count, panting and staring at the fall of silver white hair just in front of his nose, could not resist the shudder. //Sort of? What is that supposed to mean?// "What do you mean, 'sort of?'"

"Well, my shoulders and chest are through." He panted, breathing slowly easing to a more normal rhythm. "I don't think I have any skin left on me, of course, but that did seem to work. Sort of."

//Sort of. Again with 'sort of'. He's not telling me … Oh no. No, he's not telling me …// "God, don't you dare tell me that your butt's stuck."

A suspicious silence responded, and grew as the seconds passed, and Giles glared at that silken mass of silver white in the dim light hanging so tantalizingly close to him. A good hard pull on that hip length mass might just bring him some degree of personal satisfaction.

"Zechs." The growl issued from him when it was apparent no answer was going to be forthcoming.

"But Giles, you asked me not to tell you." The blonde was shaking in his arms, small tremors of movement and Giles snorted, realizing Zechs was trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

"How about we tell our great grandkids about this?" The Raider chuckled, seeing the funny side only too well, but wishing fervently they were a long way from this duct, and standing in a nice big shuttle bay where there was room to move. "I think they would make it a family tradition to tell on holidays and special occasions, for at least the next ten or so generations, don't you?"

"Probably." He sighed, thankful Giles was not cursing under him, or pulling his hair out by the roots for his misplaced humour. "Do you know, we did something really stupid, Giles? It would have worked exactly as you hoped, except for one small detail."

"Which was?"

"We forgot to take off the whip and the utility belt."

With a dull thump he allowed his head to drop back against the vent floor. //I don't believe this.// "So, it's not just that you have a big ass that's the problem then?"

"I do not have a big ass! No need to be crass. Can you reach around and unhook the whip at least?"

"Just a sec." Wriggling and grunting ensued, and he pushed the fall of hair out of the way, still tempted to give it a good quick and hard pull, just on principle. "I can't see a bloody thing. Is that the tie holding the whip?" His fingers closed on something that felt like a thin strip of leather.

"I can't see either, but your hand feels to be in about the right place. If it is, then one good tug on the end should do it, then with a bit of luck you can pull the whip through."

"We'll give it a try in a minute, as soon as I can find the end of that loop. Can I get to the catch on the tool belt, do you think?"

"I doubt it, not at the angle I'm on. That's still in the other vent and I'm totally blocking it. Do me a favour would you? Remind me never to take up caving."

Giles snorted in amusement. "If you do I'm certainly not going to be there to pull you out." A sharp tug on the whip and he heard the hissed breath from the man above him, and the loop holding the whip loosened, another tug on the whip itself produced no response.

There was no help for it, he decided, getting Zechs through that hole was just going to be an extremely painful process. For both of them. He set his feet once again on the vent wall and braced his shoulders, feeling Zechs tense in response and he pulled for all he was worth on the whip, feeling it resist and then, thankfully, it moved, not quickly and he had to repeat the process twice, but finally the coiled leather lay on the floor of the vent beside him.

"Okay." He panted softly, taking a few minutes to rest. "The whip is clear. Let me see if I can get a better grip on you, and we will give this twist and pull routine another try."

Zechs groaned, trying to ignore the pain in his back where the strain of his position was mainly felt. He had thought he had hurt crawling on his belly through the vent, but that now seemed nothing compared to the pain he now endured. All of him was one huge pain, but of the many aches that visited him it was his back that seemed to think it the biggest outrage at the present time. That soon changed however, when Giles lifted under him to take the strain of his weight, a blessed relief, until Giles searching fingers grasped the belt of his trousers, fingers finding some purchase on the material.

"Nearly there. Brace yourself, and this time you have to think thin."

"Not funny, Giles." A panted protest.

"I know, but it will be within the week."

Again Giles braced himself, setting his feet firmly in place and settling his shoulders. He pushed the long fall of hair out of the way with a twist of his head, and locked his fingers around the leather of the man's belt, fingers bunching in the material of his trousers and drew a deep breath. He nodded against Zechs's back, knowing the man would take that as the signal, and then he pulled, straining for all he was worth, twisting at the blonde's hips, trying to work him through the gap. He felt his grip on the belt slip as he felt Zechs move, and with renewed hope he grasped desperately at material, his ribs screaming at him and he pulled harder, until the screaming from the blonde penetrated his efforts.

"What in Christ's name do you think you are doing! Giles quit it! Stop with the fucking King of all Wedgies!"

He blushed furiously as the words being screamed at him became clear, as the pair of them collapsed into a heap in the vent.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	96. Chapter 96

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 96

Preventer Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty

Date 2nd March AC 198

Time: 04:03 [Sanc time 00:48

Duo

"My apologies, Captain, but you need to see this." The Com Officer's voice seemed to echo in the small room and Captain Tracey pursed his lips for a moment before touching the com toggle.

"On my way. Mr. Maxwell, you are with me, please."

Duo was already out of his seat and pushing himself toward the door, the Captain following close on his heels. Remembering his days in the Sweepers and a thing called ships etiquette before he actually exited the room, he stepped to one side and allowed the Captain to exit first. It would not do to forget such fundamental courtesies when he was going to be on this ship for months. He was not a fool to think he had escaped a deeper questioning over his presence on this ship and what was happening on distant Mars, but he was grateful he had at least a few minutes reprieve in which to think. He knew he still had questions to answer, though what he was going to tell the man he had no idea as yet.

He did suspect Lady Une was playing a game however, and that he was now a centre piece in whatever game it was she entertained herself with. He knew her reputation from before, in the days when he had been a terrorist and she had been a high ranking Oz officer. She had had a reputation for ruthlessness that had frightened even him and in his colourful past he had come across some ruthless characters. There were elements involved in this entire business that he did not know and he had no idea as yet how to go about finding out what game she played. Did he dare trust her?

//Do I dare not trust her? She helped me with Aidan. She managed to get me to L2 to see my son and to get Hilde to see me. Since joining the Preventers I have never known her to act against the interests of maintaining the peace, but what if her agenda has changed? Ah, I don't know what to think. I'm months away from Mars and I can't influence anything that happens there, so why am I really on this ship? What game are you playing, Lady?//

He really did not know a great deal more than the Captain already knew, but he supposed he would have to hand over what little information he could share. Certainly he was not going to be informing the man about those hidden Romefeller files, especially when he still did not understand a quarter of the information locked within them. No, he did not think he should mention Romefeller at all. He had a lot of reading to do in those files and this flight would give him the necessary time to investigate the information he had with him. It was possible this sojourn on the Bounty would give him enough time to evaluate the information he had and understand just what it was Romefeller was planning to accomplish with the breeding program for the European nobility. It was likely he would have much more opportunity than Heero to review those records.

On entering the bridge his eyes were drawn immediately to the great screen dominating the room, where a dark-haired man was speaking against a blue back drop depicting a stylised space station and three stars. He noticed the crew of the bridge were riveted to whatever was being said and he felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He had seen other similar presentations before, not so long ago in fact. Was this yet another discontent spoiled rich man, a noble from the look of him, with a declaration of war the Preventers would have to deal with? Another smoking fire of discontent to be extinguished. Could there not truly be peace?

"… the cooperation of the Sweepers to act as neutral hosts to our conference and negotiations. They shall provide both a host vessel for the talks and security acceptable to both parties. The Vice Foreign Minister for the Station Alliance and representatives from each of the Stations in the Alliance Trading Delegation will be attending these negotiations. We take it on trust those who attend the conference will be empowered on behalf of the ESUN to negotiate treaties and trade agreements with this Alliance. We request the Sweepers be notified of the numbers they will be required to provide services for with all speed."

Duo was aware of the unnatural hush on the bridge as the Captain came up beside him and of the sharply indrawn breath of the man at the words that seemed to carry unnatural weight. The bridge was silent, everyone here focused on the speech being given, the only sound the chatter of a computer somewhere in the background.

"It has come to our attention there appears to be an altercation between Raiders and citizens of the ESUN taking place on Mars. The Station Alliance has ships within the vicinity of Mars and which we have instructed to offer assistance to those in need. The closest of our vessels is still some twenty six hours from the planet and they will attempt to locate and assist any survivors. It is with regret that we have no ships closer to Mars to offer more immediate succour to your people. Be assured that your people on Mars …"

"What the bloody hell is going on?" The Captain breathed then glanced at his communications officer. "Trace this."

"… and that our investigators will seek evidence to ascertain the identities of those responsible for the attack on your terra forming base. We assure the government and the people of the ESUN that we shall forward the results of our investigations to the appropriate authorities and if it is in our power we shall hunt down those responsible for the assault on the planet Mars. We shall …"

"A trace is underway on the transmission, Captain and we are recording the message. We have an alert coming in over priority channels requesting any information on the call. Specifically Preventer HQ is asking for assistance in tracing the message."

"… survival should be made as safe as possible and our Patrol ships will be given instructions to capture any vessel suspected of being a Raider within the borders of the ESUN that adjoin the prescribed borders of our two spheres of influence. I assure you any ships crew who are proven to be Raiders will see a judicial invitation extended to the ESUN to send representatives for the trial and judgment of these persons. We are interested in forming a strong tie with the Earth Sphere and I assure you of our peaceful intentions."

Duo glowered at the screen, studying that handsome face, seeing there a confidence and arrogance he had found before, in the aristocrats who had been in positions of authority for years. Whoever this man was he expected to be taken seriously. //Well, that certainly is one way to attract attention. Who are these people and what have I missed of this message? I need to see a copy of the entire speech. I hope the Captain intends to have that recording replayed because I want to see it in its entirety. He has enlisted the aid of the Sweepers, has he? I might need to employ a few contacts there and see what I can come up with.//

"… is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada. I and those …"

"Kushrenada?!" Duo stared at the screen in shock, ignoring the looks directed at him from all around the bridge. He felt the Captain's hand rest lightly on his shoulder and he glared even harder at that face staring down at him from the screen.

"… gathered with me this day you see before you, were once citizens of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. For many and varied reasons we have chosen to renounce our ties to the ESUN and have founded the Independent Station Alliance. We whom you see before you are the Council for the Station Alliance and I am the duly elected President of our nation. On behalf of my nation I assure you that we look forward to meeting with the representatives of the ESUN across the negotiating table. It is my understanding the Sweepers will forward the coordinates of the meeting place to your security office within the next forty eight hour period. I bid you good day and the hope for a prosperous future together."

He stood on the bridge, watching in silence as the Captain started issuing instructions to his crew. The Communications Officer cut off the transmission when it became a field of static on screen and the Captain began detailing a list of tasks he wanted fulfilled.

Duo wanted to return to his cabin where he could entertain his own thoughts on this unexpected announcement, but he needed access to the message in its entirety and he needed the Captain's permission to garner a copy. He desperately wanted to study that speech in fine detail and he needed to immerse himself in the stolen records of Romefeller to see if he could not find some trace of this Kushrenada. If he was a Kushrenada then there was a chance he might have been included in their breeding records. Was he in truth a Kushrenada?

//I can't say that he looked anything like Treize, but then I guess that means nothing. Maybe a distant cousin or something. I would need to study both men closely to see if there is any family resemblance at all, but the best proof of a relationship of some kind between the two would no doubt be included in those files. If Romefeller watched the nobility as well as those files suggest then there has to be a reference to him there. I need a few minutes of the Captain's time to request a copy of that speech and … ah. I'm wanted? What did I miss?//

"Mr. Maxwell? Are you with us? Good. Mr. Maxwell, my ready room now, please. We have far from finished our discussion. Com, replay the entire message into the Ready Room computer. Maintain the ship on Amber Alert until further notice and Com, relay any messages from Preventer Earth immediately."

"Sir."

Duo followed the Captain back into the small ready room, resettling himself into the chair he had so recently vacated and the Captain settled into his seat, hitting a toggle that raised a computer screen from the desk. With a deft hand he angled the small screen until it was visible from his seat and from where Duo sat. He settled deeper into his seat, getting himself comfortable as the screen shifted from a static field to the blue field with the stylised logo displayed that Duo had seen behind the man who claimed to be a Kushrenada. The captain reached to lightly touch the hold key, freezing the stylised logo in place.

"Do you recognize that, perchance, Mr. Maxwell?"

// So, I am to be treated as an agent who may have information. Good. He's going to share what information he has.// "No. No, Captain I regret I have not seen it before, and no, before you ask, I have received no intelligence on any group calling themselves the Independent Station Alliance. I am afraid I am as much in the dark as you are."

"I sincerely doubt that, Mr. Maxwell. No, I am not calling you a liar, Sir. I am merely acknowledging that you are an elite agent who has access to sources that are not available to me. No doubt if I give you some time even from the Bounty you will learn more than I can. However, to business. I think it reasonably safe to say that this Kristian Kushrenada is a little more informed of the political situation than we are. He would appear to be aware of a great deal of information we thought was classified when you consider the implications of that speech. I am of the mind to believe there may be some … upset … politicians in the Earth Sphere just now, if I read that speech correctly. So then, Mr. Maxwell, shall we listen to this speech in its entirety and then, you and I shall compare our impressions. Then we are going to talk about Mars and one Milliardo Peacecraft, current citizen of said Mars. I find I have the disturbing notion that he is somehow wrapped up in this whole mess that is developing out there."

//You and me both.// "I have to doubt that any involvement he has in this is intentional on his part, Captain Tracey. It would appear that he seems to attract trouble, however, and it is my assignment to do what I can." //Well enough to say that, but the truth is I never really had a chance to get him off of Mars, did I? I'm just too far away and it is all happening now. Lady Une knows full well I don't stand a chance of affecting what is going on out there. For the love of God, I am three months away and this is all going to be over within a few hours, or a few days at the longest. No, I am out here for something else, but what? What is it she is not telling me? What is the Lady cooking up?//

"Now your presence on my ship is one thing that I admit I do not understand, Mr. Maxwell. We are three months away from Mars and incapable of affecting the outcome of whatever happens there. I have to ask myself why would you be assigned to affect events that will be long over before we reach our final burn to put us on our initial course for the first leg of our flight to reach our destination? It could already be all over on Mars."

Duo considered the man for a long moment, considering his reply carefully. Thus far the man had treated him as a professional and as an equal, not as a teenager who dabbled in events best left to his elders. He had come across that attitude often enough in the older members of Preventers to appreciate not being considered a liability in this situation. He liked Tracey.

"I have learned that Preventer Earth has a devious mind, Sir and that it does not do to underestimate her. It usually takes a great deal of effort to see through to her true intentions. I have no more idea than you why she has assigned me to this ship, but I must trust that she knows what she is doing. She usually does."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Reaper. One thing about your being here that is abundantly clear to me is that by sending you to Mars on this assignment she has effectively removed you from the control of the ESUN. Your watch dogs are not on this ship, nor are they in space. She now has an ex-Gundam Pilot on a fully armed cruiser capable of deep space flight and free from direct ESUN control and observation. Before I left Earth on this tour of duty I was given instructions from Preventer Earth, in person, Mr. Maxwell, not via radio, but in person out of the HQ, that when we were in transit on this tour we are to take orders only from Preventer Earth herself. Her instructions to me were that we should pass on any communications we received from the ESUN Security Agency to her before acting upon them." He considered Duo with a grave expression on his features. "Now I have found you to be a bright young man. What does that suggest to you?"

//Shit. Oh, shit. What are you involving me in? What it suggests to me is that Lady Une is playing a game of her own, as I suspected, but most likely far more that what I suspected is involved and do I trust her?// "It suggests to me that Preventer Earth may have more information than you do, Captain and more information than I possess as well. I received my instruction from her in person to go to Mars and contact Preventer Wind and if it was possible I am to get him off of Mars. Later my instructions were modified in that I was also to investigate the problem of the Raiders in the Asteroid Belt and now there is this message to be considered. I feel it may impact directly on that investigation. An Allied Independent Space Station, or stations, also in the Asteroid Belt. That is a rather large coincidence."

"Yes, it is." Tracey rubbed at the stubble on his chin, no doubt wishing he could get some down time. "It is too large a coincidence to be believable. We can not sit here all night and consider the motivations behind Lady Une's actions, much as that could lead to interesting directions being taken. I find her to be a quite remarkable woman. She has an uncommon intuition in choosing her people and in managing them. For the moment, let us view this recording and see just what it is that we missed by coming in on the speech late. Feel free to stop the recording should something in particular strike you, Mr. Maxwell."

Duo settled back in his seat, only too aware of the way the Captain was watching him. No doubt the man was wondering just how far he could trust a former Gundam Pilot in light of the new circumstances. It made Duo extremely conscious of the fact that there were many people on this ship who had no cause at all to trust him. In point of fact they had good cause to hate him.

They were from Oz, the Treize Faction, White Fang and the Alliance forces, all of whom had at one time or another been used as target practice by the Gundam Pilots. He and his fellow Gundam Pilots had been allied to no one, not even to a single colony, perhaps with the possible exception of Chang Wu Fei who had piloted the Shenlong Gundam with the active backing of his clan. Indeed Duo had personally been approached by representatives of the White Fang when they discovered who he was, before they had taken over the Libra and he had refused them, thinking them too disorganized and prone to mistakes for his liking.

He was going to need to be very careful while he was onboard this ship. At any time one or more of them may begin remembering the past and decide to do something about the terrorist who had killed so many. Sometimes people had very long memories and extreme isolation could bring out the worst in them.

"People of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation, we of the Independent Station Alliance greet you. We are an Alliance of Space Stations independent of the ESUN and resident within the Asteroid Belt who offer to you our hand in friendship."

The Captain reached to pause the replay, glaring at the man now portrayed on the screen and sighed softly. "There was no clue given in that opening address as to how many stations are in this alliance, but there is definitely the implication of there being more than the one. Perhaps the star field on the banner is the answer to that question. Three."

//He wants a full breakdown of the speech. Damn. I'll have the chance to learn more than I thought. He's no fool, this one and his insights will be of use.// "It is possible that that is what the three stars represent. Also, if you take note of the positioning of the nine people in that arc and what they are wearing there is another indication. Four to the left of the President and five to the right side of Kushrenada. There is a small division in the placement of chairs three and four, and then a wider space between chair five and Kushrenada and again that wider space between chair six and Kushrenada and then chair six and seven. Three separate groups designated by the shades of blue that they wear and the placement of the chairs, and then you have their 'President' in a position slightly to the fore of the other nine and in a different shade of blue. It has to signify something. The most likely possibility is their rank structure, or their positions on three separate stations."

"Yes, there is definitely careful placement involved in the entire presentation of this broadcast. You will also note that the faces of each person are very obviously on display. That initial sweep of the camera across the Council was quite deliberate, allowing for easy identification to be made, at least visually, of each individual. It should not take too long to identify every member of the council. I noticed that you reacted rather strongly to the name Kushrenada."

"I would imagine that I was not the only one to react to it."

"Yes, no doubt that was the intention. That name being used more than anything surprises me. It will be simple enough to confirm if he is a Kushrenada, but why claim to be if he is not? It is a name that will not fail to incite some type of reaction in everyone who hears it." The Captain flicked the switch again, settling back in his seat.

"This day we invite your leaders to attend a conference in mutually neutral territory on the 15th day of July of this year, After Colony 198."

Flick. Captain Tracey considered Duo for a long moment. "Did you notice that that was not a request?"

"Yes. Yes, I did notice it was not a request. There was no 'please let us arrange a meeting so that we can discuss the matter of our independence with you and what we would want out of it.' He carried it off beautifully too. An assured arrogance, I think is what it is called."

"Yes, he is not asking the ESUN for permission to branch out and form colonies and be permitted to call them independent. He is asserting his authority to claim that the Station Alliance is already an existing and independent body and does not need the consent of the ESUN. He is bold, this one. I could well believe him to be a Kushrenada."

"As you say, why would he claim to be a Kushrenada if he was not one? It would be too easy to disprove his claim, but it will be tried, though. It has to be."

"Undoubtedly. The only true way to settle the issue would be for a genetic scan to be performed. That alone could prove beyond doubt any claims of blood ties to that name, and I do not doubt there will be demands for just that to be done. There are still factions out there who want Mariemaia Kushrenada proclaimed as the heir to the ESUN. Before he died her father was the acknowledged Sovereign of the Earth Sphere. He replaced Relena Peacecraft in the sight of the entire world and it has not been forgotten."

"There is currently a fight in the courts over just what Mariemaia is to inherit from her father's estate. Certain members of the family took exception to losing a great deal of their inheritances should she be deemed his legal heir, since it is known that he was not married to Leia Barton. Nor is it just the Kushrenada's fighting over the girl and her inheritance. The Barton Family are scrambling for all they are worth to limit her inheritance from Dekim and from the Kushrenada legacy."

Captain Tracey arched an eyebrow. "You seem to be very well informed on the affairs of Miss Kushrenada, Mr. Maxwell."

"Lady Une has been granted temporary legal custody of Mariemaia and is her Guardian while the lawyers wage their war in the courts. I know the family, Captain. I have been body guard for Marie on a number of occasions and I am a firm believer in knowing what is going on around me when, at some point in time, I may end up being dragged into it. Violently."

"I see." The Captain reached for the control again.

"To service these negotiations I have garnered the cooperation of the Sweepers to act as neutral hosts to our conference and negotiations. They shall provide both a host vessel for the talks and security acceptable to both parties. The Vice Foreign Minister for the Station Alliance and representatives from each of the Stations in the Alliance Trading Delegation will be attending these negotiations. We take it on trust that those who attend the conference will be empowered on behalf of the ESUN to negotiate treaties and trade agreements with this Alliance. We request the Sweepers be notified of the numbers they will be required to provide services for with all speed."

Click.

The Captain sighed. "Again he is making demands, not requests. Quite a display of dignified arrogance. Masterfully done so that it offers no insult to get the backs up publicly of the politicians he is aiming his speech at. In that he informs the ESUN that arrangements are already made with the Sweepers, he sets them on the back foot. A place and time has been made without their consultation and they can not ignore either, as the entire population of the ESUN who had a transmitter operating at the time knows the Alliance exists. For the politicians to ignore this opportunity would be tantamount to political suicide. Now why would he choose the Sweepers? A host vessel and security arrangements acceptable to both parties involved in the negotiations. Haggling over acceptable levels of security could take years on its own, but he gives them little more than three months to be at the negotiations."

Duo offered a grin. "The man quite obviously does not want it to take years, and the Sweepers are about the closest thing the Earth Sphere has to a neutral nation. He wants the negotiations to take place in space, not on the Earth and not on a Colony. In what is called by the Sweepers 'Free Space'. Yes, the Sweepers are part of the Earth Sphere, but they have never considered themselves to be from either the Colonies or from the Earth. They are Gypsies, going where they will, doing what they will away from the restricting laws that govern most colonies. The Sweepers are like an independent nation of Scavengers."

"To my knowledge no one knows how many Sweepers there actually are, but I would think that they would be a small group. Space is not an easy place to live in and I have seen no ship registered to them that would be larger than this cruiser, still that would be large enough for a conference to be held on, but where would it be? What would you consider as mutually acceptable neutral territory?" Captain Tracey looked up to catch Duo's eye.

"Possibly somewhere in space, somewhere roughly half way between the Earth and the Asteroid Belt would seem the most probable location. He has not allowed much time either for the ESUN to react to his speech. If the conference is to be held in space, and since the Sweepers are involved in the conference then it has to be a fore gone conclusion, then travel times and trajectories will further narrow down how long the ESUN has to discuss the matter. They have a definite deadline to make. Most people, even the people from the Colonies, do not really understand the concept of long distance space flight. They think it a long flight to go from L2 to the Earth. The idea of travelling for months and being nowhere is foreign to them. It really is only those who associate with long range space flight who appreciate the distances involved. The freighter crews and their families who travel the space lanes between the Asteroid Belt mining operations and the colonies-they understand. Not too many more would."

"That is true. I find too many people do not understand that it takes this ship a year and more to make a round trip when on patrol. What I find interesting Mr. Maxwell, leaving the distance involved for the moment, is that he made a point of mentioning their Vice Foreign Minister in the speech. That was a very specific naming of an official."

"Meaning the ESUN is obligated to send the equivalent dignitary from their side, and that means they need to send Relena Peacecraft on this mission. Not very subtle, was it?"

The Captain grinned. "About as subtle as a brick through a plate glass window. Now I have to ask myself why would he specifically want her out in space?" Without waiting for Duo to respond to that question he tapped the control again.

"It has come to our attention there appears to be an altercation between Raiders and citizens of the ESUN taking place on Mars. The Station Alliance has ships within the vicinity of Mars and which we have instructed to offer assistance to those in need. The closest of our vessels is still some twenty six hours from the planet and they will attempt to locate and assist any survivors. It is with regret that we have no ships closer to Mars to offer more immediate succour to your people."

Click.

"'It has come to our attention.'" The Captain sighed. "It has come to the attention of anyone who had a radio or television on at the time. How could it not come to one's attention? The ESUN was not at all subtle and it is quite obvious that they wanted it known that there was trouble on Mars, but I think they may just regret that. He used the exact same saturation method to get his point across to the entire Earth Sphere. A subtle message in itself."

"Yes, he has made it plain he intends to investigate what is going on at Mars. Twenty Six hours. He has ships that are quite close. The Wellington can not make it in that time, can it?"

"No. No, our current projection for the course of the Wellington places her arriving in Mars orbit some hours after the suggested time frame needed for the Station Alliance ships to reach Mars. We have scanned all telemetry on registered shipping in the vicinity of Mars and our registry of ships in the area places none in that time sphere that could reach the planet in the allotted time."

// The pertinent word there is 'registered'. Not all ships are registered and not all of them that carry registration bother to use the automated beacon. // "He's very bold if his ships are Raiders." Duo mused.

Captain Tracey snorted softly, a hint of a smile curving his lips. "This is a very elaborate hoax if he is a Raider, Mr. Maxwell."

Duo blushed and flashed a smile. "Just thinking aloud, Captain. Sorry about that."

Tracey shook his head and the hint of a smile widened. "Oh, don't be. I find it an interesting suggestion considering all that is happening. Would it not be interesting, not to say disturbing, for a group of Raiders to be blamed for an atrocity taking place at a remote colony and to have those same Raiders arrive to rescue said stricken colony? I find it a most interesting possibility. One to be more deeply considered at a later time, as it opens up so many possibilities. It would raise some quite disturbing questions as to what has exactly been going on in the Asteroid Belt and for how long."

"Indeed." Duo reached out and activated the message.

"Be assured that your people on Mars will be offered every assistance possible and our investigators will seek evidence to ascertain the identities of those responsible for the attack on your terra forming base. We assure the government and the people of the ESUN that we shall forward the results of our investigations to the appropriate authorities and if it is in our power we shall hunt down those responsible for the assault on the planet Mars. We shall continue the hunt for as long as necessary to bring the perpetrators to justice, where ever they should be hiding."

The captain flicked the pause and glanced up to exchanged a wolfish grin with Duo, but it was Duo who actually chuckled and commented.

"Now that says to me 'I know what is really happening on Mars and I will offer sanctuary to any survivors I find there. I intend to investigate what really went on and I will pass on the information I learn to those who will benefit from having something to hold over your heads.' I think I could like this man."

"Don't forget the last part, Mr. Maxwell. The 'I don't care how long it takes me, I will hunt you down,' part." Tracey reached to activate the replay, once again settling back in his seat with a wide grin.

"We believe it is imperative that the space lanes common to our survival should be made as safe as possible and our Patrol ships will be given instructions to capture any vessel suspected of being a Raider within the borders of the ESUN that adjoin the prescribed borders of our two spheres of influence. I assure you any ships crew who are proven to be Raiders will see a judicial invitation extended to the ESUN to send representatives for the trial and judgment of these persons. We are interested in forming a strong tie with the Earth Sphere and I assure you of our peaceful intentions."

Click.

Duo considered the passage for a moment and shrugged, offering his own interpretation of the speech. "In plain speech, 'You are not alone in space and I can thumb my nose at you because I know where you are and you don't know where I am. I have unmarked ships out there who will pounce on you when you least expect it and any ship that I suspect of taking part in this raid on Mars will be captured and held for trial away from your influence. We will make it public to keep it fair and to let everyone know the dirt we have on you.'"

"A fair representation I believe, quite fair. I think I could like this man." Tracey considered his hands for a long moment before he looked up, meeting Duo's gaze. "Are we reading too much into this, Mr. Maxwell? Are we seeing ghosts in this speech?"

"Probably, but I find it fun to speculate and there is a ring of conspiracy in all of this business. Someone in the ESUN Council is no doubt very unhappy about this challenge that has been thrown at their feet."

"It is a challenge, yes, that is how I see it too. He is challenging the ESUN to force them out of what ever bolt hole they have prepared. We are here and you will acknowledge our independence or we will tell everyone it was you who attacked Mars. Why the ESUN would attack its own people on Mars is another matter I will not go into just now, but I strongly suspect it has to do with a certain Preventer agent currently known to be there. Which leads to the question of whether or not these people know that he is there and if so, why should they care? I wonder just what sort of stations these people claim to have? It is probably some old derelict supply stations that are no longer in use, long abandoned by the exploration companies and taken over by these people. He may be hoping to bluff the ESUN into allowing this Station Alliance to become a reality. I can not say that I have heard of anything out in the Asteroid Belt that could be mistaken for a Space Station, which basically is a new Colony. No, it must be some old derelict mining colony or colonies. A hollowed out resource satellite even."

Duo shrugged, not so certain of what to make of this claim of an independent colony or colonies. An Alliance of Space Stations could mean anything, as Tracey had speculated. With a tired sigh he leaned forward to hit the control again, wondering if even a Kushrenada would be so bold as to gamble against the ESUN if all they had to back them up was a few decrepit mining stations.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada. I and those gathered with me this day that you see before you, were once citizens of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. For many and varied reasons we have chosen to renounce our ties to the ESUN and have founded the Independent Station Alliance. We whom you see before you are the Council for the Station Alliance and I am the duly elected President of our nation. On behalf of my nation I assure you we look forward to meeting with the representatives of the ESUN across the negotiating table. It is my understanding the Sweepers will forward the coordinates of the meeting place to your security office within the next forty eight hour period. I bid you good day and the hope for a prosperous future together."

Click.

"He went to great pains to state his full name." Duo mused. "He took particular care, actually, to not have himself confused with anyone else in the Kushrenada family, other than who he claims to be. Now who is he putting on notice with that and why?"

"It is unusual, yes, I agree with you. That man has multiple agendas and he has a reason for clearly identifying himself, yet that identity can not be positively confirmed without genetic proof. The other members of the Council have not been named to aid in identifying them, but their faces were clearly shown. I have no doubt within the hour there will be names to go with those faces and histories for each and every one of them, but he was very careful to name himself. Why and who was it really aimed at? It was almost a warning."

"It could be taken as a warning, I suppose. As to who, well, someone in the Council of Representatives in the ESUN he has a need to confront?" //Or maybe … Romefeller? No, surely not. Still, it is a possibility I suppose. Unless I can find some record of him in those files there is nothing to tie him to Romefeller. I need time.//

"Well, I foresee a change in our orders, Mr. Maxwell. We are heading out toward the vicinity of Mars and a presence will be required in the area of these negotiations, most likely both a Preventer and ESUN Security Agency presence. It is possible when the details for the negotiations are known we will receive new instructions placing us in that area. An advance presence."

"Yes, Captain, I believe we may be required to become a part of the security contingent, unless Preventer Earth still intends that we patrol and investigate the Asteroid Belt and the Raiders there." Duo stared at the small screen and the face of the man frozen there who seemed to challenge them all with his arrogance. "After all, someone is going to have to locate this Station Alliance to determine its strength."

"Point, Mr. Maxwell. Good point. Now there is the question of Mars and this Alliance and whether or not they know that one Milliardo Peacecraft is a resident there. If so, what do they want with him? However, I am tired, you look dead on your feet and there is another burn scheduled soon. Go back to bed, Mr. Maxwell. I will see you in my quarters after your appointment with the ships medic and we can further discuss this business at that time. Should our instructions change I will inform you, though I do not expect them to be altered until the location of the negotiations is known, but you never know."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	97. Chapter 97

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 97

Rosemount Station

Asteroid Belt Orbit, sector 5

Date: 2nd March AC 198

Time: 01:50

Rose Errant P.O.V.

//Is it possible?//

Click.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Click. Whirr. Click.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Click. Whirr. Click.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Click. Whirr.

//If I am honest with myself then I can not deny there is perhaps some superficial resemblance in your face to my Aunt Erminna's portrait. Not only that, but there is something about you that brings to mind Uncle Alexander's portrait. Is it only because I have heard your name that I think this? Would I see any resemblance at all to my kin if I had not first known your name? Is it possible that you could be who you claim to be?//

Click.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Click. Whirr. His fingertips hurt with those small precise movements required to manipulate the controls. Each time he touched the controls it hurt more, but he was powerless to stop. He had to watch that face. He had to hear that voice. He had so many questions to ask and no one to give him the answers.

Click.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Click. Whirr.

//Comparing your face to their portraits and the photos I have viewed in the past will prove nothing conclusive about your identity. The only means by which to prove you are who you claim to be, is for a DNA scan and comparison to be made and I wonder just how willing you would be to donate a blood or saliva sample to prove your identity? I grew up on the stories of what happened to Kristian Kushrenada. Both my parents and my Nanny would use those stories to frighten me into submission when I was a child and complained at the security they surrounded me with. They used them to good effect, I will admit that, as it usually shut me up for weeks at a time and in the end I did not object to the security they increased year after year. It was because of Romefeller I later learned and their fear of what I could do being desired. I had to ask myself then, as I do now, if it was for ransom that my cousin was taken. Are you my cousin? He was only four years old when he vanished without a trace, the victim of abduction. Never found. He was never found.//

Click.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Click. The stabbing pain in his sensitive fingertips was to be ignored as insignificant. Whirr.

//Who are you? I will admit that you could be exactly who you say you are, but why do you make your identity public now of all times and why do you so clearly state who you profess to be? There is much here I do not have the necessary information to process and accurate evaluation is therefore impossible, but there must be a hint to your intentions contained in the speech. I need to go over that speech more closely. It contains so much information, if I can only understand what it is that you intend to do. It is not so straight forward as that speech suggests at first hearing. To begin with, what is the meat behind the bones that you threw to the ESUN?//

Click.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Click. Whirr.

"What is it you are planning?" His voice sounded too husky to his own ears, rusty and unused, but there was still pain in his throat and he knew there was still time needed to heal.

He leaned back in the chair carefully, mindful of causing himself unnecessary discomfort. The face on the screen before him was without doubt handsome. The colouring was much darker than his own, which was to be expected considering his mother was a Catalonia and this Kristian, if it was indeed him, had an English Rose as a mother. Aunt Ermina had been dark-haired, rumored to hold distant gypsy blood in her ancestry and she had been wondrously beautiful, if her portraits were indeed accurate. This man's face was fine boned and bore that unmistakably aristocratic stamp that marked the old nobility of Europe. If he was not a Kushrenada he would still claim a bloodline of distinction. There was breeding in that face and the eyes, such an unusual colour, were clear, intelligent and agate hard. A man focused on his goals, who knew exactly what he was doing and how to gain his dreams. If he was honest it was hauntingly the face of a Kushrenada. The portraits of his Uncle and his father had had that same look about them, though these eyes, dark and laced with golden points, were not the Kushrenada blue.

//Still, that is not proof he is not who he claims to be. Aunt Erminna had dark coloured eyes as I recall. While I did not know them personally their portraits have hung in the great hall of the house since I was a child and they were pointed out to me often enough when I dared to complain of the guards shadowing my every movement. I grew up with their presence though they were long dead by the time I was born. Who are you? Who are you and what is it that you really want?//

Fingers stabbed. Click.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Click. Whirr. Click.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Click. Whir.

//I am missing something here. Missing something that should be obvious to me. Think, Kushrenada. Put your much vaunted talents and intellect to work. That is what you were bred for, after all.// He glared at that face on the screen, devouring the contours and angles, every small detail must be noted. // With this speech he issues a challenge. Not just one challenge either. There are so many undertones in the wording of the speech. So clearly identifying himself, stating his name as he did is a challenge to someone. Someone not in the family, I think. I am missing so much stuck here in this room. I can not function properly, but I have no choice. I never considered myself to be claustrophobic before, but there are some days I would give anything to leave this accursed room. No, he is not challenging a family member … or not directly at least. He has an agenda that does not include dueling the family solicitors for the title and fortune that might well be his. He challenges, not physically, though he looks to be capable of handling himself in most situations, though the robe hides a great deal more than it reveals. You exude strength of character and body. I think you are a very dangerous man. Who are you? Who are you really?//

Click.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Click. Whirr.

In the background behind the whirr of the machine he vaguely registered the call chime of the com system. He had no interest in the workings of the station at this time. There were other matters that must hold his attention and the analysis of the speech must take priority. They should allow him to do the job he was here for without interruption.

His eyes flicked to the background beyond that arrogant handsome head. // The three stars on the banner are suggestive of three stations in the Alliance. There are clearly three groups of three representatives designated by colour and seating arrangements around the President who is set apart from, yet included in, the group in a clear demonstration of unity. It is frighteningly similar to the way our council is arranged.//

The thought triggered a frown to deeply furrow his brow as he leaned back in his seat, carefully rubbing his back gently into the sheepskin, enjoying the feel of the material against super sensitive skin. Sensation was something too many people took for granted. Only when one was deprived of the senses, be it touch, scent, sight, hearing or taste did one truly appreciate the bodies mysterious workings. Things people took for granted should be seen in the light of a treasure beyond price. He had learned the true value of such natural treasures.

// Could he be … That arrangement is suggestive of three people per station. Is this purely coincidence, or is it an indication of their influence? It is disturbingly similar to the arrangements on Rosemount itself, where each department of the station holds three representatives forming the Council that act as advisors to the President.//

A high-pitched, piercing squeal issued from the com and Treize winced, flinching back from the desk. "Treize! Answer the bloody com." There was real temper in the voice that issued from the speakers.

He sighed, a small gesture of resignation, but he had known he would have to face this eventually. Beyond the station events had moved in directions they had not allowed for. Somewhere they had missed something vital as no estimation that had crossed his desk for evaluation had been made for a fourth political power entering the arena of the Earth Sphere. They had evaluated their plans using the power structures of the interconnected Earth Council, Colonies and the hidden, but powerful manipulative expertise of Romefeller. That was who they had assumed they would have to deal with as their plans neared completion. A fourth power in the Earth Sphere had never entered their calculations and this Kristian Kushrenada was not a Dekim Barton and would not make the same mistakes.

He had a job to do and because of that bloody speech they would be worried that he would be incapable of doing it. They just did not know him sufficiently well to know this would only firm his resolve and sharpen his senses. He owed them a great deal for this healing of his body and the offering of a home when he was dead to his family and the few people he could call friend. He owed them and because of that he could accept their concern for his reaction to the events of the day, but he did wish they would have more faith in him. He might be young, but he was not a child. He slipped his hands into the gloves, wincing at the small tingles of pain that was his nerves awakening to the stimulation, but he was accustomed to that and it was a small pain now and he could deal with it.

_What is it you wish of me?_

The screen in front of him flickered, the face of his possible cousin fading to be replaced by that of an elderly man, white hair crowning a head made notable by the thick still black eyebrows that dominated the face. A strong face marked with the crevices and crags of aged wisdom and tanned for all that it had never been marked by the sun and wind of a world that had given birth to his kind. The face of a patriarch, dark eyes blazing forth, not unhandsome, definitely full of character and no small amount of wisdom.

"Stop brooding, Treize. You can rest assured we will confirm his identity soon enough. The wheels are already in progress to identify every person on this so called Alliance Council. At this point in time there is nothing that you can do beyond what I have already set into motion, so leave it alone. You need not concern yourself with proving who he may or not be. That is not your task."

_You expect me to forget his appearance? _ He wished that anger could be expressed by his writing, but the text font just was not capable of conveying the flash of temper that opening gambit stirred in him. They should have known better than to simply order him to leave it and expect him to quietly obey.

The man waved a hand in a gesture reminiscent of brushing off an annoying insect. "Of course not. None of us can, or will, discount him, whether he is your cousin or not. If he proves to be your kin then he is another child of Romefeller and we do not ignore our own. It usually proves to be a fatal mistake. I have agents going over our records now to ascertain if he is Romefeller-bred or not and if this could be a Romefeller ploy, though I am of the opinion he is not a plant set by them to entrap us. I have dealt with their machinations for long enough that I can be sure they would not want the appearance of an independent nation to stir the political waters. Nor would they want the emergence of a power that might have a say over the rich resource field that the Asteroid Belt is. While he may not be directly involved in Romefeller we can not discount the possibility he may have connections with one of their factions, however to know that only time will tell. In the mean time, we need to get on with our own plans."

_I am well aware of the seriousness of the situation and the importance of the work I am to do. I do not discount that this man may be Romefelle,r but I am more concerned about the events on Mars and the repercussions involved there with this Alliance's appearance and interference_.

The elderly man sighed and shook his head slightly. 'It is confirmed that the Peacecraft son is on Mars and just how many people seem to know that information at this time is open to debate. I would say it is known to considerably more than was estimated and if this Kristian Kushrenada knows that he is on Mars, then I want to know what he is planning to use the boy for. If you can not stay out of the matter then I give you permission to concentrate on developing possible scenarios for that eventuality."

A flash of anger glinted in blue eyes. _Milliardo is not a boy, M.r President._

A grin split the well shaped mouth. "No, I suppose he is not. Not if he survived the Epyon. He can be no more a boy than you are, and I suppose I have to acknowledge you are merely young. I will allow you to work on scenarios for possible developments should this Alliance remove the Peacecraft from Mars. I have some good news for you, Treize. The doctors have informed me that they are pleased with your progress and they will now permit us to introduce you to a Fragment in the next few days. They intend to run some tests first, precautionary measures to ensure that you are as well recovered as they believe. I have no intention of permitting this if you are not sufficiently recovered, My Boy. It can be dangerous, if you are not ready. If they determine you are sufficiently physically recovered then we shall give you a Fragment and we shall see how well you deal with the changes."

//At last. It will be a fragment only, but it is a step toward the Crystal. I feel it call to me, day and night and I know I am not ready for that, but a fragment … that I can handle, I am sure. To be given a piece of the crystal is progress, but why throw me this bone now? I lived amongst Romefeller too long, I suppose. I am suspicious of the very air that I breathe some days. Still, I have to ask myself if it is not because of the appearance of this Kristian Kushrenada that they make this decision at this particular time? Do they think they can bind me to them with this as a bribe? Do they fear I am not in truth dedicated to this course? Ah, God in Heaven, why do we not speak plainly to each other? Why do we always circle each other like starving wolves waiting for an opportune moment to attack? They need not fear that if this man is my cousin I would leave Rosemount. I see this place and the dream that lives here as my future. I know there is no future for me back on Earth, nor anywhere in the colonies. Epyon did not lie to me about that, nor did it lie to me about this future. My future lies out here.//

"Treize? I expected a little more from you than silence at this news."

The dark eyes of the President were narrowed slightly and focused on him and he could feel a slight pressure at his temples, pushing against the screen that protected him from others. It had been necessary for him to guard his thoughts from the agents of Romefeller when he had led Oz, and the screen he had developed on Earth had been strengthened to assist him to survive on Rosemount when he had begun to recover from his injuries. He had feared he was going insane before he re established control. The crystal reached for him, day and night and he knew he must not answer that siren call. Nor would he permit the telepaths of the station to browse through his thoughts without his consent.

_Do not try to read me, Mr__. President. What is up here is for me to know. _

He tapped a gloved hand to his forehead.

_I look forward to receiving the fragment. It has not been an easy time for me and I take this as a sign I need not remain in isolation forever. It is progress that I will be able to see and feel. _

"Rest assured your days in isolation are coming to a close. Your immunity system is responding well to the treatment and developing more swiftly than we had dared hope. The latest acquisitions to Rosemount from L2 have proven most useful in developing treatment for you. As much as I despise Romefeller and their breeding programs, I have to admit they do know how to splice genetics. The young people have proven most enlightening to our geneticists." He grinned at the frown he received for his words and waved a hand to still the flood of text he knew would come across his screen in protest. "Yes, Treize, I know they are more than experiments and be assured that we do not treat them as Romefeller had. L2 was a disgrace and I am pleased to see that changes are being made there in this time of peace, but we can not afford to dismiss what has already been created. That generation has remarkable immune systems and we would be fools not to make use of their abilities. It is because of the L2 projects that you have recovered so quickly and I believe the next booster shot is due in three days? Yes, I thought so. Within a few months you should have a fully active immune system once more and be free to leave the isolation suite. I believe new intelligence suggests there is only the one laboratory remaining on L2 and that you have another raiding party enroute to remove the children from their captivity?"

_Yes. Another laboratory has been identified in the colony. Whether it is the last of the laboratories I can not say, but I personally suspect not. Romefeller would not allow the experiment to escape their control. They would have back ups for their design somewhere_.

"True, but they have only so many scientists and subjects with which to experiment. Stop brooding on this new comer to the scene, Treize. I will see to discovering just who he is and what this Alliance of Stations is really all about and who his allies are. I will not allow anything to threaten Rosemount when we are so close to fulfilling the mission. You must concentrate on assembling our crew. Young Peacecraft may cause us certain difficulties in acquiring his cooperation, but that is for the future to tell and for the moment we have time. If these people can manage to interfere with the ESUN's current operation on Mars, then that is to our benefit, since we are incapable of reaching Mars in time to offer any assistance."

_If it is not already too late and Milliardo has been killed_.

He sighed and shook his head. "I do not believe it is the ESUN's intentions to kill him. Milliardo Peacecraft is too useful to them alive, especially to those on the Council who have ties to Romefeller. We have already informed you that our Psychics have not received an alert on him. He will not die on Mars. You should have more faith in our abilities."

_ Do you not see that the absence of an alert is the very problem that disturbs me? Your psychics have never been able to pick him up, have they? Do not lie to me or shade the facts, I know full well that it is as though he is shielded from them. Or did you know that he has been on Mars all this time and simply forget to inform me of it? Can you tell me where he was for the first year after the war, while I was near to death? Why did you spend so many resources as I found listed in the files on searching for him, despite the belief that he had died on the Libra? Of course I have found access to the files you had locked against me, what do you think I am, an idiot? You should not look so surprised. It is why you went to such trouble to acquire me, is it not? Why could your psychics not pin point him after the Libra exploded? No, Mr. President I know that your precognitive talents on Rosemount have tried and failed. They are powerless to trace Milliardo and I would dearly love to know why. Will you not tell me?_

A sigh marked the old mans frustration. "Yes, it is true that we do have difficulty focusing on our prospective pilot, which in itself only confirms that he is likely to be the one to make this bird fly. There were too few in the W series that Romefeller produced. The genetics required to host the donor DNA were too rare for there to be any more than a handful of them produced, and even fewer with the required genetics accepted the implanted DNA and survived. I have found the records of thirty attempts, of which only a handful survived birth, though I have not found all of the restricted files to date. As a point of interest, Treize, you should be interested in knowing that none of our Psychics seem able to focus on this Kristian Kushrenada. When the broadcast was received we immediately sought to focus on him and we did not expect to encounter a wall. A blankness one of the precogs called it. Of course, it is very early to suggest that he might be a W series from the Romefeller laboratories, but it is not to be discounted as yet. He may be a prospective pilot for Rosemount and as such you can be certain we will leave no stone unturned in our investigation. Time will tell. You must be tired. Get some sleep, Treize. I feel we have some interesting times heading our way and we need to be rested to adequately have them benefit our aims. We are close, Treize. Very close to fulfilling the dreams of thousands of generations trapped by Romefeller. Get some sleep. Good evening."

_Good evening, Mr. President._

He stared at the screen that once again was showing the face of the one who claimed to be his father's brother's child and in that claiming would be the rightful heir to the Kushrenada fortune and history. Studying that face and the dark brown eyes laced with golden points he could only shake his head and muse that again he could not see any obvious resemblance to the Uncle and Aunt he had never known. Nothing obvious, but still, there was something there.

//Are you a Kushrenada? Are you a Kushrenada and are you working with Romefeller? Are you working for them willingly and to what aim? Why do I look at you and see something else? Something that I can almost identify but not quite? I feel you. I feel that you are going to force us to change our plans and I have to wonder if that is for the better? Whether you work for Romefeller or not, you are going to force us to rethink our plans. A W series? If you a W series, as desirable to control as Zechs, as important as he is to the future of Rosemount, then I can not see the Council of Rosemount not wanting to get their hands on you.//

He removed the gloves carefully, placing them to one side of the desk and stared at that aristocratic face for a long time. He was tired, but he simply could not bring himself to move. There were too many unanswered questions.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	98. Chapter 98

Many thanks to Dulin for volunteering to beta this.

// thoughts

" " speech

_Italics_ text

flashback

Vision

/ Telepathy

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 98

Mars Colony

Base Dome

1st March AC 198

Time: 23: 15 [ 21:05 Approx Sanc time

Zechs

"Are you sure that you don't want me to take her for a while? You can't honestly deny you need a rest, Zechs."

"It's fine. We need to get out of these vents as quickly as possible and your ribs would need to be strapped before I would even consider allowing you to carry her weight for an extended period of time. Get on, Giles. The oxygen supply is running low and we have to move."

Giles glared at where the beam of the flashlight reflected off of the fumes clogging the air vent and sighed. Visibility was poor in this polluted vent but it was not the cause for his temper fraying as it was. He hurt, yes, in all honesty he hurt like hell, but he was also in far better condition that the stubborn blonde who crawled behind him, Noin strapped securely to his back and pushing two bulky oxygen cylinders through the vents before him. They had decided not to strap Noin's cylinder to Zechs despite the additional room offered by the larger vent system, as by not strapping them to his back it lighten the load on him as much as possible, a mercy considering the condition the man had to be in, but it meant he had to control two unwieldy tanks.

"I know I hurt, but you do too. Don't deny it."

"I hurt. I admit it. I hurt more now than I did before we left the shuttle control tower, but pain can be ignored and I am capable of ignoring it." //Nothing for it. I have to chance alienating him just to make him understand it is not only the visions that make me different. God, if you exist, don't have him look at me like a freak now. I don't know if I could bear that from him after the acceptance he has shown for the visions. // "Look, Giles, there are some things about me you don't know. It's not just the visions that make me wary and keep my distance from people. I have a certain … resilience … that allows me to take a fair bit of punishment and still function." //Please don't ask for more of an explanation. Just accept it and go on.//

"Resilience?"

Zechs suppressed the groan. He was tired and he ached in every extremity of his body and he so desperately wanted a shower. A steaming hot shower would be heaven about now, soothing the bruises and cuts and taking the ache out of his abused body and he could have that luxury after a fashion in the shuttle bay. The emergency shuttle came fully equipped with a shower unit and decontamination solution, which would do absolutely nothing for his hair but it would do wonders for the multitude of pains that marked raw bleeding patches where skin used to exist. It was not going to be a luxury that he could not afford the time to take, but rather a necessity he would have to take if he was to finish this business satisfactorily.

He needed to get himself treated and Giles scrubbed down and his ribs strapped if they were to have a hope of taking out the remaining two members of Blue Squad. If he had his figures right then there were only two more of that elite unit of the ESUN Security Agency to take out, but those two men would be the hardest to take down. It would be doubly difficult to take them down purely because he wanted to extract certain information out of them.

"Think about it, Giles. You don't think it odd that I survived an explosion of the magnitude of the one that took place on the Libra? I learned quite a bit about myself that I did not suspect prior to that explosion. The truth is I should not have survived the destruction of the Libra, but I did. It would appear that it takes a great deal of damage to incapacitate me and a great deal more to kill me. They tell me that within two days of my being picked up by Raydon's ship they were certain I would survive the injuries I had sustained. They explained to me later that mine would be a slow recovery, but that it was going to be a full recovery and as it turned out, it was a faster recovery than they had expected. Physically I was fully healed within seven months of the explosion, though I lacked stamina and had weight to recover."

Giles considered that, crawling now on hands and knees, careful not to get too far ahead of the man trailing him. "You sound … upset, I suppose is the best word. You were not pleased that you would recover completely or so quickly?"

A snort echoed in the vent as Zechs felt a stir of anger rise once again, at the information the doctors of Raydon's ship had given him. Raydon knew more that they had told him and if he ever saw the man again he would have to demand that he be given answers to his questions. It was his right to know after all and Raydon had not told him a great deal of what went on while he was critical. Those dark eyes with their golden points had not met his gaze when he had asked certain questions, and the man's voice had been soothing as it had told him to rest and concentrate on recovering his strength. There would be time enough later. Always he had said there would be time enough later.

"Why should I have been pleased about my survival? I went into that fight and I fully intended to die, Giles. I intended to die to avoid just this type of situation from developing. I intended to end everything, my past was no reason to live, believe me. Epyon showed me alternatives again and again and demanded that I choose from them, all of the options giving me a life after the Libra. A life that ranged from living in the gutter, on the run from every law enforcement agency in existence and people dying around me … helping me or hindering me it made no difference, because they always died … to living in a single room cell for the rest of my days, seeing no one, food passed in to me by automatic dispensers. Why would I want to live with that the high point of my existence? I refused the options Epyon drew from my visions, choosing instead an alternative more to my liking. Oblivion. There was one vision that offered me a darkness in the future. I thought it was the darkness of death and that seemed such a blessed relief. The darkness in my vision was not death though, or else Epyon cheated me by shielding the vision with that darkness simply because I would choose it over everything else that I had seen. I chose what I thought was death, because if my survival was known there would be disruption to the vision of Peace that I had seen and decided must become reality. I made a mistake. I grew to trust that Epyon wanted the same thing I wanted, but I was deceived. It seemed that Epyon had its own agenda where it came to its operator and it lied to me."

// Shit. Just how long has he lived with suicidal tendencies? I know from what Raydon told me that he did not have what you could loosely call a normal childhood, but shit. I wonder if Raydon knows this//

Giles considered the flat, almost toneless delivery, crawling slowly forward. At least he did not notice his body's pain as much when he had something else to concentrate on, but the topic was definitely not to his liking. The man who followed him through the vents needed long sessions with psychologists who would not be fooled. The Training Masters and their medical teams were going to be horrified when they got their hands on one Zechs Merquise. He was a massive contradiction and an incredibly messed up man.

He blinked, noting the oddity in the movement of the fumes that surrounded him, slowing slightly not only to allow Zechs to catch up with him but also to check more carefully for the next junction in the vents. Zechs bumped the oxygen cylinders into his feet, mumbled what could have been an apology and Giles winced, resisting the urge to swear. It seemed that talking about the Libra and the Epyon was a mistake as it seemed to cause the blonde to withdraw into a bitterness and depression that he knew they could not afford now.

"Junction. Left, right and straight ahead." At the silence that responded he sighed and raised his voice. "Zechs! Junction. Left, right and straight ahead. Which way?"

A ragged breath echoed in the vent, slightly louder than the hissing of the oxygen tanks and Zechs forced himself out of his almost hypnotic trance to rub a hand over his forehead, reaching for the mental map of the vents he had been relying on. They had come a considerable distance from where they had entered the more modern vents and he knew that they had descended to approximately the correct depth they needed to link to the ducts that opened out into the shuttle bay. If he had not made mistakes in navigating the duct system then they were almost out.

"Left. Take the left turn and go straight. No more turns. At the third junction on the right after that there will be an inspection hatch. We use that to enter the vents that link to the shuttle bay."

"Let's hope it is wider than the last one then." Giles muttered and worked his frame into the required vent, blissfully unaware of the look directed at him by the blonde for his comment.

Zechs forced back the snarl and the urge to snap at the man. He was tired and he was on edge and he really wanted out of this dark claustrophobic world he found himself confined to. He forced himself to move, to carry the weight of Lucrezia in silence and to take sufficient care to keep her as steady as possible. He tried his utmost to keep her from touching the sides or the roof of the vent, well aware that in the vision she had been shot by a stun gun and that her recovery from that would not be easy.

While he did not know for certain that she had been hit by the devilish weapons, he suspected that his vision had been true and she was now in recovery from its effects. He knew the side effects of the weapons and that few ever survived a direct hit from one set on a high setting and she had come so far and he did not want to think of her failing now. She was such a bright and strong woman and he did love her. She could have been anything her heart desired. She could have had a bright and sparkling career and he had never understood why she had chosen to place herself in second position. Second to him.

Why?

Why had she felt it necessary to come in second to him? He had never understood why she would cheat herself of her achievements. Was it a female thing? He had so little experience with matters of the heart and with women in general, but he had to deal with the matter of Lucrezia at some time. From his first days at Lake Victoria Academy she had followed him, dogging his heels when she could have gone her own way and given herself such a bright future. What had become of the dreams she had told him about when they had sat on the roof of the dormitories and she had told him her dream of exploring the stars? She was a smart woman, intelligent, forceful and ultimately capable of achieving her dream, so why had she saddled herself with a boy who had been lost in a nightmare since he was six years old and who had no future beyond revenge?

Or was that justice? Had he not acted as he had, who would have returned Sanc to the people who had lived there for generations?

//But Relena gave it away again. Everything I had worked for, bled for, planned so painstakingly for so long, gone again. In seconds it had been wiped out again. People I knew, they were the only family that I knew, died to free Sanc from the Alliance, to bring back the people to a free country. Why? I never did understand why she did it. Oh, I know that she thought she was saving lives but she was more concerned with her Principles of Peace than the lives of the people. Did she not see, or did she simply not care that they continued to kill after she was taken from Sanc? It did not end when she surrendered herself and the country to Romefeller. It did not end, it merely began again. The cycle that Epyon showed to me later that very day began again with the second fall of Sanc. I learned that I could not only look forward amid the options yet to be presented, but that I could look back as well, and trace the cycles that led to each war and to each shift in the cycles that make up what we call history. Treize was an avid student of history. Yuy said that he had used the Epyon, so what did Treize actually see? What did Epyon show him and what did it show Yuy? This is not the time for this.//

He heard Giles swear ahead, somewhere in the darkness and he paused but the sounds of movement did not stop so he continued, careful with his precious burden. His children needed their mother and she was now in his care. He had not been able to find her before she had been wounded, but that was past now. Despite all of the options that had shown him repeatedly she would die she had come from the chaos thus far alive. Hurt, yes, there was no doubt about that, she was hurt and perhaps more than just hurt.

Giles suggested she had Gifts, as he had gifts, though please God not gifts so shocking as that which he must deal with on a daily basis. He had said she might have overextended her Gifts and that it was dangerous to herself and to anyone near her and that she needed specialist care. Care they most certainly did not have available to them on Mars. If she had gifts then surely she would do better on Station One than on Mars or back on Earth when this was all ended?

//When it ends, however it ends. If it ends with us alive and free to choose our own futures then I have to wonder if she would choose to go to Station One? At this point in time she knows nothing of them, not even that they exist. She did not deal so well with learning of my Gifts, so how might she deal with her own abilities? There would be so much explaining needing to be done and I suppose that I would have to do much of that explaining. God. I do not look forward to that. He said that she needs training and I know for certain I need help. I wonder if they could take this terrible thing away from me? Is there some way that they can free me from it so that I can live a normal life again? Huh. Normal? Has my life ever been normal? Raydon never suggested that, though. He never once suggested they could block or remove the ability. He only ever said to me in that quiet voice of his that they could help me to deal with it. They could help me to understand it a little better and to have it become useful. Less of a burden, I suppose. At this point I think anything would be an improvement, but what would I do if both Lucrezia and Raydon were on the station? God. It does not bare thinking about.//

He gasped as he felt the surge behind the barriers that he had so painstakingly erected and hastily turned his thoughts away from the possibility of Raydon and Noin meeting. That instant surge in response to the thought was frightening in its implications. He really did not want to know and just now he could not afford to have visions disrupt him. Noin had to survive her wounds first and recover from the after effects of the shock gun and whatever else it was that had happened in that room. Just what had it done to her?

Giles surmised that to effect so much damage on the room and the tower in general suggested she had caused considerable damage to herself. Damage that would likely only be healed with the help of people who knew about these cursed gifts that so disrupted lives. For Noin to receive that help, that training that was demanded to manage a Gift and still lead a relatively normal existence could mean only one thing.

//Noin is going to have to go to Station One. Shit. Noin and Raydon on Station One. I wonder if I could live on Station Two? Anywhere would be preferable to where those two will be. I could not cope. I could not hope to function with both of them crowding me.//

Again the surge pushed against his barriers and he shied from that contact. Not now. Not here in the dark with his oxygen running low and time marching on toward disaster. It was definitely time to think of something else and he had learned that to begin forcing the visions to recede simply counting was best. He had learned that doing simple equations after a period of counting allowed him to stabilize his thoughts and turn his attention away from unwanted visions. Sometimes.

Always there was the horrible word 'sometimes' lurking in his head. There were occasions when no matter what he tried he would go down into the well of vision and he had to accept that when it happened, but not on this occasion. He could not afford for this to be such an occasion as there was too much to do to allow himself to falter.

"Zechs. I have found the access cover." The voice floated back to him from the darkness and he breathed a sigh of relief at the distraction. "You will be thrilled to know that it is larger than the last one."

He paused, shaking his head and a smile twitched his lips in the darkness. That was hopeful. //Blessings on you Giles, for being the distraction that I need. // "If you are trying to be funny, I am not amused. How much bigger?"

The man's voice held a hint of amusement and there was some shuffling from ahead and the sound of tapping on metal. "Considerably. You are of course, going to have to get Noin through separately. It will need me to go through first and you can pass Noin's cylinder through to me like last time and we can work her through. I don't think there is much danger of you getting stuck again. This one looks considerably larger and it's set lower in the side of the vent too."

//There is a God.//

He sighed in relief and with a low groan he settled his weight down on the floor of the vent, resting while he waited for Giles to work loose the cover dividing the two vent systems. It would be a blessed relief to take the time to rest his aching body and he only wished he could roll to his side to give his body some relief from the position he had held so long. The ropes binding Noin to him had rubbed him raw around the chest and upper thighs where they had secured her to him and it would not now be too much longer before he could be free of the restraints.

From up ahead he heard the first of the screws squeal as the magnetic screw driver turned. He knew that the screws securing the cover would be on the far side of the vent and because of that it was going to take a little longer to work them loose. Magnetic screw drivers were all well and good but sometimes they simply did not allow for a decent seal onto the screw if the screw had not been used for a lengthy period of time. These vents had not been accessed in this manner since the sub base vent systems were initially completed. He needed the rest and the only thing that worried him was that the rest might make him lethargic. He could not afford to sleep.

// I think I hurt too much to go to sleep. What has been going on beyond the vents? I have to make some plans to deal with Simpson. I need answers and I need them on tape. Not easy, but not impossible either. There was an option or two that covered me questioning the Commander and I fully intend to make as much as I can of any opportunity I am presented with to gain information and evidence. Whether it will ever see the light of day is another matter. Did you just move, Lu? Ah, God woman, just stay still.//

He tensed, but the twitch that had alerted him to a change in her condition had not been repeated and for anxious minutes he lay there, staring into the darkness, willing her to be still. If she had been hit by the shock gun the less she moved the better. Just how high a setting could a person hope to survive? They would not have wanted to kill her outright, but they might not have cared too much about keeping her alive indefinitely either. They had intended to use her as bait to capture him, taking her as his weakness, and they were right. She was the only person who had loved him since the massacre of Sanc. His loyalty went to her for her acceptance of him in this future he had not asked for.

//Damn Epyon for forcing this on me.//

/Thank … Epyon … survived … /

He frowned into the darkness, body and thought processes freezing. Had he …? Did he hear her? The body strapped to his back remained still and if he had heard her, whether she had spoken vocally or perhaps her thoughts, he did not hear her again. He rubbed his cheek against his upper arm, shaking his head in denial. He was going insane in this damnable darkness.

"Got the cover off. Won't be long now."

//Not long, but still too long for my peace of mind. //

Ahead Giles grunted as he angled himself to crawl through the access vent and the 'all clear' that rang out in the darkness was perhaps the most welcoming sound he had heard. Suppressing the groan he forced himself off the vent floor, arms reaching forward again to make the reach and pull motions that he was sure he would be dreaming about for the rest of his life. He worked his way up until he was beside the cover and paused for Giles to undo the ropes at his thighs, inched carefully backwards until the man could reach the ties at his chest.

//Should I mention that I thought I heard Noin? That I think I felt her move? Ah, I don't know what is real and what is not. In this infernal darkness I would not be surprised to see a goblin walking down the vent. It's just as feasible as hearing Noin's thoughts. No, it was wish thinking. Just the darkness. He has her in the other vent now and he will check her over before he gives the all clear to me to come through. At least this time I am not going to get so thoroughly stuck. //

On this occasion he was not going to make so undignified an entrance to the new duct system and to make certain of that he was careful to remove both the tool belt and the whip before Giles even returned to the vent from settling Noin. With the light returned and the man's face peering at him through the hole he arched an eyebrow, daring Giles to make a comment as he passed belt and whip through to him.

"Ah, Noin's okay. Her pulse and respiration seem okay, not as good as I had hoped, but no worse that it was before."

"I thought she moved." //Damn. Why did I say that? It was imagination, I'm sure. //

"I hope not." Giles sighed, meeting the ice blue eyes with what he hoped was compassion and not fear. He did not need to panic the man. "Don't take this wrong, Zechs, but we cannot afford for her to wake up just now. The longer she stays out to it the better off we are."

"If you say so." A sigh.

"I know you're worried about her, I am too, but for us to deal with her we need to be out of here and have medical facilities close to hand. I don't just mean the emergency medical shuttle either, but the hospital unit and trained doctors. She needs to be kept sedated until her mind can rest and begin to heal from the damage done by what I am certain was a psychokinetic blast. It can cause real physical brain damage, Zechs. She needs a scan to determine if there is physical damage to the brain and if so, just how extensive it is. She may have burned herself out, perhaps permanently and if she is a telepath she needs to be kept isolated until she can deal with hearing other people's thoughts."

"Deal with people's thoughts?"

"If she is an emergent telepath she will receive plenty of white noise, that is what we call the subconscious workings of other people's minds. We think on multiple layers, Zechs, especially women. I've heard male telepaths complain before that while they were making love to a woman she was thinking about how much she was enjoying what he was doing to her, tonight's dinner, whether she had put enough fabric softener in the washing and that she would have to clean out the fridge the next day. It's very off putting for a man totally absorbed in the experience of sex to discover that the female mind does not work in quite the same manner."

"I can imagine."

Giles grinned. "Come on. Let's get you through this hole. The vent will clear of this toxic shit as soon as I can get the cover back over the hole."

He moved carefully trying to ignore the multitude of aches and pains, passing the oxygen cylinder through ahead of him before he began to work his bulk through the hole. While it was considerably larger that the last vent access, he still needed to be careful working his bulk through the gap, but on this occasion there was no comedic disasters and once through he was quick to work his way past the access point to allow Giles to replace the cover and seal them in the vent. He was gratified that by the time Giles had secured the last screw the fresh air running through the vent in a gentle breeze had dissipated the last of the toxic fumes and allowed he and Giles to remove the oxygen masks.

For long minutes they lay in the vents, Giles on his side and Zechs stretched out on his back, simply breathing and resting, neither concerned with more than enjoying that simple pleasure. Not only was it a relief to allow their bodies to find some ease from the same movements for so long, it was pleasurable to consider they no longer would need to drag the bulky oxygen cylinders with them and that they were only a few minutes away from the shuttle bay.

"I'll scout the shuttle bay when we reach the vent." Giles almost purred as he rolled to his back, luxuriating in the movement that stretched muscles too long cramped into specific movements.

They were going to need to scout the shuttle bay and determine who, if anyone was alive there and Zechs merely grunted. He only hoped the emergency medical shuttle had not been removed from the bay or had its equipment disabled. If they had smashed vital systems then his hope for getting Noin into the life support capsule and stabilized was dead. The nearest other medical facilities was the hospital unit in the sub base.

With a sigh Zechs stirred, shifting onto his side without complaint as the light Giles held began to bob around. It was time they moved on and he retrieved his tool belt and the whip, securing them quickly, ignoring the growing pains in his body at the very thought of taking Noin's weight again and settled low on his belly for Giles to work Noin over him again.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson


	99. Chapter 99

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 99

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 23: 30 [ 21:20 Approx Sanc time

Giles

//Nearly there. We have to be nearly there. God, I hurt and I am fed up to the teeth with this darkness and not being able to stand up.//

Hand and arm forward on the left side, right knee moving in sync to take him closer to the exit. Right hand and arm and left leg forward next. Ignore the pain of protesting muscles and screaming ribs. Ignore the soft grunts that came with each movement that put pressure on his ribs. At least now it was not the belly crawl and reach and pull. He was lucky that the crawling now was on hands and knees. At least for him.

He could hear the soft metallic scrape of the oxygen tank behind him, a reminder that they needed to get out of the vents. After examining Noin during their brief rest on entering this vent system they had decided it would be prudent to keep her on the oxygen as it seemed to stabilize her condition. The drawback was that Zechs still had to contend with pushing a tank before him as he dragged himself painfully through the ducts. The blonde was silent behind him, his attention exclusively focused on making his abused body move. While settling Noin onto the blonde's back and tying her down securely he had had the opportunity to give the man a quick once over and while torch light was not conducive to giving a fair assessment of the injuries the man carried, Giles did not like what he saw.

//He is hurting far worse than he is letting on. There must be some pretty raw wounds under those rags he is now wearing and it does not help that I had to tie her so tight. We can not afford to have her move, though. He's a mess. That episode at the first access hatch has stripped him of a fair bit of skin and his clothes are caked in blood. What is worrying is that it has not seemed to dry. He's still bleeding and while he does not seem to be bleeding badly he is at least bleeding continually and that has to weaken him. I may have a fight on my hands when we reach the shuttle, but I will get him into the decontamination shower as soon as I can and do what I can to clean him up. Hopefully he won't fight me on it. Who knows what nasties he could be picking up with open wounds?//

He winced at a particularly sharp twinge from his ribs, swallowed the grunt and chose to ignore it. There was nothing that he could do about it now and if Zechs was right then the next access cover they came to would open into the upper superstructure of the Shuttle bay and it was their ticket out of the vents. Personally he would be only too glad to see it. He never wanted to see another air vent again.

Panting softly, trying to breathe shallowly to ease some of the pain he peered ahead, into the darkness and frowned. Was that …? He smothered the torch by pressing it to his right arm for a moment, mindful that he had to keep moving. He was uncertain if Zechs could stop and start too often and a slow grin twisted his lips into a lop sided smile.

"Light ahead." His voice came out as a husky whisper, his throat parched and aching for liquid.

He had a water bottle on him with a few mouthfuls remaining in it but that would have to wait until they were out of the vents and that looked to be very soon now. Turning off the torch he found himself grinning like an idiot at that small ruby red glow ahead of him and with a sigh of relief he returned to pulling himself forward once again.

A grunt from the darkness behind him was his only answer, the only reaction to the good news and he was surprised the blonde spared enough energy to offer that acknowledgement. He could crawl on all fours now, the larger vent giving him the much welcomed change of position and saving his abused front from further damage. While he could move with greater ease Zechs still had to pull himself along on his belly. With Noin piggy backed as she was for him to raise to hands and knees meant that he would be dragging her against the ceiling of the vent, so they were still slowed to the snails pace required for him to pull his doubled weight and manhandle the oxygen tank.

Through out their sojourn in the duct system he had needed to be careful not to out strip the blonde's movement rate and leave him alone in the dark. It should not have surprised him, he mused, to learn that Zechs had a problem with dark enclosed spaces and he had worried more with each passing minute that the man might lose his hard fought for control, but he was gradually learning that Zechs had an iron control of himself.

/Not that he would agree, of course. Damn that tower episode. He still blames himself for my broken ribs, but that was purely my fault. I did not know him nor trust him enough to keep faith with him. It was my mistake that I panicked and rushed him and what resulted was my fault, not his. Past history now, though, except for the fact that Zechs thinks he failed to keep control and trusts himself less. There is nothing I can do to change what happened, nor to convince him that the error was mine. He'd only say he should not have reacted violently.//

The light seeping into the duct was the red glow of the emergency lights, not the bright illumination that was normally found in the bay that he had been hoping to see, but it was something other than the darkness of the vents. As he came up to the grate he pressed his face eagerly to the grill, finding himself looking out over the shuttle bay as expected.

The first thing that penetrated his relieved delight they had finally arrived was the silence. There was no sounds of machinery. There were no voices; no joking or cursing as usually was found echoing throughout the shuttle bay. No ribald curses and raucous laughter or friendly shouted jibes. No clank of tools on metal or the rhythmic purr of machinery. It was eerily silent and he had a sinking feeling the Sleepers mighty have struck here, too.

He felt the oxygen tank impact on his feet, a slight pressure that quickly fell away. The sounds of movement behind him ceased and he knew Zechs would take the chance to rest, hoping that they did not have to continue in these vents. He considered the somewhat ominous silence that almost hurt his ears and the implications for them. Silence, he decided, was not good. Not only did it suggest that people were dead here, it also meant that no matter how he tried to keep silent on the scaffolding he was going to make noise.

The acoustics in the shuttle bay were guaranteed to ensure anyone alive down there knew that someone was moving up in the heights of the bay. There would be no other sounds to cover his movement and that could lead to unwanted attention. One thing was for certain and that was the blonde was not going to be up to fighting for his life without time to rest and recover some of his flagging strength.

"There is no one in sight. How about you rest up near this grill and I do a quick reckie in the bay? It should not take me long to check out the bay and while I'm at it I can check the emergency shuttle is unguarded. Maybe even power her up enough to run the life support capsule. That would save some time when we bring Noin down."

From the silence that answered him he decided the man must be mulling over the dangers of just one of them going out there alone, but if they both went and searched the bays they would have to find a place to leave Noin. He doubted Zechs would be willing to leave her alone and unguarded even for a few minutes. Keeping her in the vent made sense and it would give Zechs a chance to rest and regain some strength. The day was not yet over.

"Be careful." The whisper was husky and grating.

//So he's that tired? Shit. Not even a token argument. Right then, Giles old son, it's time to move and make this as quick as possible. I want that man in a decontamination shower a.s.a.p. so that I can see just how badly mauled he is. I hope he's right about having unusual resilience because we are far from being through this.//

"Okay. It won't take me long to get the grill off and I'll replace it again in case someone is out there and should wander around up here. I doubt it is necessary, but just now I'm not feeling inclined to chance Murphy coming back for a return visit. I'll secure it with only two screws so it does not fall off and possibly call attention to you up here."

He fumbled for his tools searching for the appropriate screwdriver and began work unscrewing the grill, mindful to keep an ear tuned for anyone moving about in the shuttle bay or on the scaffolding that serviced the overhead doors. The smallest sounds would echo in the big bay and he would need to exercise every care to maintain his safety whilst he carried out this recon, but he was certain that he was up to the challenge, despite sore ribs and his stiff body and he wanted a turn himself in that decontamination cubicle on the shuttle. He was not likely to give away this chance to treat wounds too long untreated by being careless.

The last of the screws fell and he paused to listen intently, seeking any sign of movement in the area below. "Right. No one moving around below that I can see or hear. I'll check the dome from this upper scaffolding first, then make my way down to the floor and check the shuttles and offices and the store rooms. I'll try not to be too long, but don't panic if I seem to be gone a long time. I want to check out the store rooms and the lounge before I come back up and give you a hand."

"Go." A husky croak issued from the darkness.

He exited the vent, working his stiff body carefully and could not contain the sigh of relief when he lay on the scaffolding, free of the confines of the vent. The first thing he did was unhook the water bottle at his belt and greedily swallow a mouthful. The water, warmed by his body heat never the less tasted wonderfully refreshing, but he took only the one deep swallow before pushing himself up to his knees and pushing his head back into the vent.

"Zechs. I'll leave the water bottle with you. It's about a quarter full. That should do you until I get back. Can you come up to the grate?"

After a moment he heard the scrape of the oxygen tank and the sounds of the man moving. The tank came into view and he guided it past the vent and gently grasped the hand that held the tanks valve, letting Zechs know that he was there and then the hands pushed the tank past and he found himself staring into blue eyes. Glacial blue eyes that had a focused intensity that clearly showed him the strength of will it had taken to reach this point in the game.

"Have a drink now, before I go. I'll be as quick as I can."

A grunt was all the man seemed able to muster, whether he was on his last energy or merely conserving his resources it was impossible to say, but he took the water bottle and sipped, tilting his head back awkwardly as Noin's head nestled against the back of his neck. Giles reached past the blonde to locate her pulse while Zechs drank and after a few seconds grunted softly, leaning back to grasp the grate.

"She seems okay for now. Her pulse is still steady and her temperature is a lot closer to normal than it was when we started out. Just take the chance to rest. I won't be gone too long."

He pushed the grill back over the vent access and considered the screw resting near his feet, finally shaking his head and deciding to trust that the cover would stay in place without needing to be screwed. If he left the grill off and someone should be walking around up here, unlikely as that was, he did not need to draw their attention to Zechs. The man in that vent was going to be practically helpless with Noin on his back and he was not inclined to have anyone so easily collect Zechs without a fight. The grill fitted fairly tight and he was thinking of the man's claustrophobia and the possibility that he might panic, a natural enough reaction if you were alone in the vent, in the dark and you had memories of a similar time best left forgotten.

"I won't screw it. It should be on firmly enough not to fall. I won't be long."

He was as quiet as possible, but his boots, rubber soled as they were seemed to echo as they contacted the metallic scaffolding and he only hoped that it was his imagination that added amps to the speakers blasting his footsteps all over the shuttle bay. There was nothing he could do to muffle his steps and he tried to walk as softly as possible, placing his feet with care though the centre of the walk way seemed to offer just as much noise as either side of the metallic mesh. To his careful survey of the bay below he could see no movement and he heard no sounds other than his own harsh breathing and echoing steps. The silence of the bay reminded him of the oppressive silence in the Main Control Tower where only the dead had been found and with each step he was more convinced that he would be finding that same evidence of a cold blooded massacre here.

As he made his way down from the scaffolding he noted the elevator pads that lifted the shuttles out of the bay prior to take off were empty and from his raised position over the main bays he could see that maintenance bays one and two were empty. He knew that morning the last of the large cargo shuttles generally stored in the largest two bays had been sent to the Alpha Dome and that shuttle two had been due to return to the base Dome more than an hour ago. He wondered if the shuttle would ever return to the Base Dome, if there would be any survivors to pilot the big ship to her designated berth but dismissed the thought as a waste of his precious time.

The red emergency lights softened the harsh lines of functionality that was the shuttle bay. There was rarely anything beautiful about a shuttle bay, he reflected. It was all practical application and high technology with no mind paid to aesthetic beauty. Only a die hard shuttle tech and pilots without a love life could find anything beautiful in the bays, but he supposed that was only his opinion. Others would probably see it in an entirely different light.

He paused to listen as he reached the bottom of the ladder linking the scaffolding to the bays concrete base and again there was only silence. He had half hoped he might hear some suggestion of movement, or perhaps voices. It was eerie in the bay as he was more convinced than ever that he was going to find another blood bath had taken place here. He sniffed the air, perhaps the aroma of freshly made coffee might suggest someone was alive down here, but other than the pungent odour that was a mix of fuel, grease and over heated metal that was peculiar to all shuttle bays, there was nothing to smell. Thankfully he could not detect the odour of burning circuits or smoke laden with the stench of burnt flesh. There was an airlock separating the shuttle bay from the bulk of the sub base for safety reasons and he doubted that the fire from the nearby elevator shaft would have contaminated the bay, but he needed to be sure.

His first order of business was to check the shuttle bays themselves, a quick and easy task as it would be difficult to hide anyone, or anything, that did not belong in those open areas. He was gratified to find bay three occupied by the emergency shuttle, but he refrained from approaching it beyond circling the craft once to check for anyone hiding behind its bulk. Until he had checked the rest of the bay he could pay no more attention to that vehicle though he did spare a moment to think longingly of the decontamination shower on board her.

Conscious of the time this search was taking and of the man in the vent with an unconscious woman needing medical attention he moved on smartly to check out bay four and the small two-man shuttle that was stored there. After a moments deliberation with himself he thumbed the hatch and pushed himself into the shuttle, making his way quickly to the cockpit and frowning when his check revealed the radio had been ripped out of the consol. A quick survey of the control panel revealed that the ignition relay for the engines had also been destroyed.

//If they have done that with the emergency shuttle I'll be doing some swearing. I was hoping that I might be able to contact Chris and find out what is going on outside. Damn.//

He left the last of the bays behind him and decided the reception foyer was his next target. Listening at the closed door revealed only silence and when he dared to crack the door open, only darkness and silent greeted him. Knowing that the moment he opened the door more than this the computer would activate the lights he drew a deep steadying breath and moved to the right of the door, pushing it open as he did so. He was not inclined to take either a bullet, stun charge or knife the second the door opened wide enough to present him as a target. The door swung open and hit the wall with a resounding blow that echoed throughout the shuttle bay and Giles winced, however no sound or hint of movement emerged from the now lighted room and taking a deep breath he ducked his head around the door and blanched.

Another bloodbath.

// Three … four … five. Only five// He was a little disturbed at his coldly clinical assessment of the foyer, but there was no time now to lament the necessity to function. He would feel their deaths later, when there was time to lament the loss of people he had known and worked with. Some of them had been friends, most passing acquaintances. // There should be at least ten people down here in an emergency. So, what about the rest? Where are they? How many of them were Sleepers? I doubt there was anything subtle about the killings that took place down here. This looks as though the killer stood in the doorway and just raked the room with automatic fire. Nothing subtle about that. //

Bodies strewn about the room, two by the main desk, one of them slumped over the desk, hand resting near the computer monitor station. Another body was sprawled in a pool of blood half way to the far exit to the air lock linking the shuttle bay with the sub base. The fourth and fifth bodies were slumped by the coffee station, shattered cups and cold coffee mixed with the dried blood. Taking a deep breath Giles entered the foyer.

To his further investigation he learned the airlock controls still worked and that the airlock had last been operated and sealed from the sub base side, no doubt by who ever had raked the foyer with automatic fire. So it was entirely feasible to believe the Sleepers had abandoned the shuttle bay, though he would not for a moment work on the assumption he was clear of interference. The manual controls were likewise spared any damage, suggesting that the killer wanted to keep the equipment here in working order and that being the case he quite promptly established an emergency lock down of the airlock.

Anyone on the base could initiate an emergency lockdown should the situation arise; a safety feature to preserve the integrity of the dome and the sub base, but only select individuals could remove them when the emergency was deemed over. Unless, of course, you could hack the codes which he could do, though he would need time when it was time to leave the bays. To initiate the lock down he informed the computer the outer bay doors to the surface were malfunctioning and while maintenance was performed on them the bay needed to be secured as a safety feature for the sub base. He had no idea what the men in the base dome had done to lock out the maintenance workers but it had to include the main bay doors and he grinned a feral grin as the computer accepted the excuse and locked the airlock doors until the all clear could be issued by authorized personal.

"Emergency lock down has been activated. Be advised that analysis on the shuttle bay doors suggest the master hydraulic control has a fault. Please concentrate your efforts in this area. Further diagnostics of the system suggest that damage has been sustained to the secondary control systems. Alerts issued to the automatic alert system in the shuttle control tower have gone unanswered. Potential virus activity in the primary computer system is suspected to be at fault and this system is now under reduced activity to maintain integrity. Do you wish this system to re establish links to the primary base computers?"

He stared at the blinking lights of the consul for a long moment, a frown creasing his brow. "No. Retain integrity program until further notice. Computer, who initiated the initial diagnostic request for the shuttle bay doors?"

"Chief Engineer Ahmed Hawass issued the initial alert of a malfunction and ordered the diagnostic program to be initiated."

// Hawass? He twigged that something was going on// "Maintain lockdown of the airlock systems and do not permit access to your system from the master computer system. There is confirmed virus activity in the systems of the base."

"Protection system Alpha has been initiated."

So the Chief Engineer, whose body was not one of those in the foyer, had been alerted that something was wrong. Was it possible for him to have escaped the killers net though? If he was alive and well and, more importantly, running free, then he might be of use to them should they be able to locate him. That was assuming, of course, the man was not a Sleeper agent and a part of this massacre, though Giles was inclined to believe the Chief was too straightforward to be an agent. With entry to the shuttle bay now restricted he returned to the working section of the bay and made his way to the side door that led into the storage and supply rooms that serviced the shuttles needs.

The bay remained eerily silent around him and on reaching the door he pushed it open, grunting at the pain that exertion caused his ribs. The door was half a meter thick solid reinforced steel, a blast door that protected the storerooms and their volatile contents in the event of an explosion in the bays. His first sight on opening the door was of two bodies sprawled in a pool of blood and he uttered a soft oath. Examining them revealed that both sported neat knife wounds in the back of the neck, a trade mark that screamed it was the Sleepers who had silenced the personel in the shuttle bay.

"Damn. I hope we have taken out all of those sick bastards."

He identified both men as mechanics he was familiar with, who specialized in shuttle engines and considered the knife wounds before moving on to the first of the storage rooms. Why knife wounds here, a certain sign of quick and silent kills when the foyer had been sprayed with automatic fire? Had this been the work of more than one agent? He located one more body, this one lay within the third spare parts storage facility and he was relieved to note that it was not the body of the Chief Engineer. The mechanic had once again been taken down with a knife and Giles could feel his back tensing, anticipating a silent and deadly blade.

//That is almost the quota for the staff assigned here in an emergency situation. Three people missing by my count, one of them the Chief. I noticed that there was no security guard amongst the corpses. Of course, the Chief Engineer could be a Sleeper, though why he would initiate the diagnostic program if he had initiated the … // He froze. Was that … A sound? Something//Mice? I think not. //

The sound had been only a whisper in the heavy silence of the room. Nothing that he could clearly identify; just something out of place and he crouched behind a shelf waiting with one hand resting on the grip of the gun. It was not repeated within the space of a count of sixty, but he was not about to bring Zechs and Noin out of the vents until he had made certain there was no danger here to threaten them. He had heard something, he was certain and it had been suggestive of a whimper of pain.

He considered the shadowed room; the lights were dim, a result of the emergency situation and the computer conserving power that might be needed elsewhere. He repeated his count, eyes narrowed as he considered what it would be best to do. At the very rear of the room there had been a mess of turned over shelves, their contents strewn about the room. It looked as though three or four of the metal shelving units had been overturned and he decided that he had best go and give that pile of debris a closer examination.

Something rolled; a shifting of metal against metal from deep in the recesses of the storage room and Giles slipped into deeper shadow, wishing that the lights in here were not so bright and revealing though only seconds ago he had been thinking them a little too low for his liking. He now felt that he had a target painted on his back and he stood in open ground, easy to see while whoever was in this crowded storage room was safely hidden. It was all relative to whether you considered yourself the hunter or the prey.

/I've been considering myself the prey for too long. I have to get this finished down here and bring down Zechs and Noin. We can't run any more. We have to finish this and to do that we have to become the hunters. //

The sound was repeated, a low moan that reverberated with pain that sent a quiver of sympathy through Giles, reminding him of just how much he hurt. The moan was followed by a hissed curse and the clatter of falling metallic parts on the concrete floor. Surprised at the noise and silently cursing at the attention such noise could earn from unwanted parties, Giles eased his way carefully through the shelving, peering ahead, seeking the source of the disturbance.

"Fuck! I hurt. That slimy bastard is going to wish he had not missed. I'll rip him apart when I find him."

He resisted the urge to smile and sighed softly with relief. He knew that voice, the deep base rumble could only belong to one man, the missing Chief Engineer and Giles reflected that he did not appear to be in a very good mood, but he could also be the death of them both if he did not tone things down. Just what was he doing to make so much noise? Giles peered around a shelf unit and whistled softly at the sight that met his gaze.

The chief had obviously not been able to move so much as a finger without spare parts clattering about the room in reaction. As he watched a shelving unit amidst that pile of shelves and mechanical parts was lifting. Slowly and steadily it was being raised and from beneath it a head and shoulders emerged. An entire shelving unit had been dumped on the man and as he pushed himself to his knees and more parts clattered clear of his bulk Giles could make out a dark crimson stain and a knife hilt protruding from his left shoulder.

The Chief was sitting in the middle of a mound of parts, pushing the items away with rolling curses as more miscellaneous parts showered down around him. From the size of the mound surrounding him he had been buried beneath quite a mountain of bits and pieces, a fact that had obviously saved his life though it was likely he had not considered that a piece of good fortune at the time. From the glistening coating of blood darkening his arm though he had lost a lot of blood, yet Giles approached with caution, mindful that others depended on him and he could not afford to be taken down now of all times.

"Chief?" He kept his voice at a low whisper, almost a hiss. Just loud enough to be heard by the groaning man.

"Who the fuck …!" The big fist closed around a solid looking spare part and he grimaced as he half turned, seeking a target. "Ah, I know you. Giles?" His voice lowered in response to Giles low tones and the hushing gesture toward him. "Is that you?"

"Yeah. Haydon Giles." He identified himself clearly, unwilling to be mistaken for a hostile target. "You look like you spent a weekend in a bar, man."

"Get out of here and make yourself scarce. Find a hole and bury yourself deep in it. I don't know what is going on, but those bastards have been killing my people."

"I know. I've had a few encounters with them myself in the last few hours. How long ago did you play tag with one and lose?"

"Huh?" The big man slowly lowered his weapon of choice, running a hand over his face as he tried to make sense of what he had been told. "Ah, I get you. Sorry, I'm a bit woozy. Arm hurts like hell … Shit." Craning his neck he noted the knife that protruded from his shoulder. "Guess he didn't miss me."

Another slow and careful survey of the shelves around him and Giles left his shelter, crouching at the edge of the pile surrounding the Chief Engineer. "We don't have much time, but I can get you to the emergency shuttle and treat your shoulder. We have to be quick though, as I have other people to bring to the shuttle for treatment. No, don't pull the knife just now. You may cause more damage if you do and you will certainly lose a lot more blood than you already have. We can remove the knife and better treat you when we reach the shuttle. When did you play with the bastards? How long ago did they hit the bays?"

"Time? Ah, it was just after lunch? I think it was lunch. I'm a bit fuzzy."

"Okay, that was hours ago. Get yourself out of this pile while I check the last of the storage rooms. I'm hoping they are long gone, but I will not take it for granted that we are clear for the moment. I'll be back to get you and help you to the shuttle. When we get there and after I do something about your shoulder you can warm up the life support systems for me. We have a badly injured woman we need to take care of."

"We do?"

The dark eyes looked dazed and Giles swore leaning in to slap the man's cheek lightly to draw his attention. "Get up on your feet and get to the door, Chief. I need to check the next room. Move."

He did not linger to check if his instructions would be carried out, but ghosted quickly to the door and after checking the hall was clear he made his way to the last of the storage rooms. A quick check there revealed no bodies, living or dead and when he returned he found the chief leaning against a wall, head pressed into one hand, but on hearing his return the man glanced up and he had a more alert look to him that encouraged Giles to think the big man was not as far gone as he had feared. He had lain under that pile of parts and shelving for hours, losing blood, but the knife had served to slow the blood loss, though now that he was moving around the blood was oozing faster from that shoulder.

"Did you say something about someone being hurt? A woman?"

// Aware enough to remember our conversation? Good. That is better than I had dared to hope. // "Yes, I did. Now let's go. We have things to do."

————————————

Zechs

He hurt. He hurt like hell, but it was a good hurt in that it served to keep him awake. He was bone-achingly tired and his eyes constantly wanted to close, to rest just for a few minutes, but the pain kept dragging him back out of that welcome but dangerous velvet darkness. He was afraid of the dark but that other darkness that threatened him was different, it was welcoming and it promised oblivion from the pain that haunted him. Because it promised so much he knew it was dangerous and so he welcomed the pain to keep it at bay.

//He's been gone a long time. It probably is not as long as it seems though. It does seems like hours that I have been stuck here alone in the dark, but time is a funny thing.//

He raised the water bottle to his lips and sipped, aching to drink his fill and not daring to take more than a few sips that soothed the pain is his throat. He was dehydrated, he knew that, but it could be remedied by a long drink when he was free of this horror that was a vent system. Why had he had the bright idea of escaping through that cramped dark maze? Why? They might have been able to leave by the main entrance. He never spared the time to check to see if the intruder in the tower was the return of Blue Squad. Or perhaps a Sleeper.

// I can't go back and second guess myself now. It's too late. At the time it was the right decision to make. I think. Ah God, Noin, your so heavy. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of this. It's my fault. //

He might have Noin strapped to his back but she was a dead weight that threatened to push him through the vent and that thought frightened him. He knew that Noin was light and the weight he felt now just showed the level of his exhaustion. Lying here, in the dark, with his nose pressed to that grill and with the wonderful red glow to remind him that he was not in the dark, was doing nothing to encourage him to forget his agony. He could feel the pain more now than when Giles had left him and he knew that he needed that action of movement and tension to keep the pain blunted.

//I can't take this much longer. //

If Giles did not return soon he was in danger of losing that control over his body and the pain and exhaustion would smother him and he would sink into beckoning oblivion. He could not allow it to happen. He must not permit himself to surrender now. He had plans to devise to take down the last of the agents running free in the base and in the doing he intended to gain what information he could from them and have it recorded to be used at some future time to their advantage.

If they escaped from the Wellington, that was surely out there, coming closer with every passing minute. He knew it was there with a cold certainty that allowed him no respite from the pain. That was good. If he thought of the Wellington he could push the pain away, so he needed to entertain himself with making plans for those agents still here, a means to counter the approaching ship and even entertain thoughts designed to get his adrenaline up again. Anything to fight off the lethargy.

To begin with he could inventory exactly what equipment he would need to gain the information he wanted from Simpson. He had most of the equipment ready and hidden in the room best suited to his plan, but he needed to take out the tech specialist first. There was not too much on the technical side for him to do before the unit was in working condition, if he had not erred in the construction of it in the first place. Getting the parts for the projector had been the hardest part, but he had managed and without a test run he could not be certain that it would work, but he was fairly good with electronics and he was confident. All going well there should be sufficient time for him to test the equipment before he had to put his life and freedom on the line fronting Simpson.

//Have to devise a means of taking the tech down. I would prefer not to have to kill him or even injure him. To my knowledge he's not killed anyone, merely fiddled the base computers and I would prefer to have live prisoners. They may be of use when the Wellington arrives. I have to devise something to hold the Wellington, if not turn her from Mars. //

He rubbed at his jaw, at the irritation caused by the mask he had worn in the vent and listened to the silence. No sounds from beyond the vent, nothing to suggest Giles might be returning. With a sigh he rested his head on his arms. He had to be patient. What he thought was taking hours must only be minutes. He could measure time by his own breaths and the beating of his heart if he would just turn his mind to that and stop thinking about the darkness that surrounded him. He could hear his own breaths and use them to measure how well Noin was breathing by the sounds of her breathing, magnified by the oxygen mask …

His eyes widened when he realized that he was actually listening to silence. Beyond his own breathing and the beating of his heart, which seemed too loud to his hearing, there was nothing. The sound of the oxygen cylinder as Noin breathed had stilled and he scrambled to pull the tank towards him and angle the gage towards the red light coming from the vent. He uttered a soft curse when he realized the gage read empty and with fingers that seemed to have no sensation or dexterity, he managed to disconnect the hose from the tank. He could only hope Noin was still breathing and that the oxygen had not long ago run out. By twisting himself as much as he could he could just get a hand over his shoulder to lightly touch her forehead and she felt warm to his touch, though it did nothing to assure him that she still breathed.

He wanted out of the vent and he wanted out now.

He quivered in every muscle in his body as the unreasoning fear of the dark cramped vent reared within him. He told himself in brutal terms that he was a fool and this duct was so much larger than those he had already crawled through and Noin was safer in the vent than out there, in the shuttle bay where anyone could see them. He was safer in the ducts, hidden from all sight and he had to keep Noin safe. Here he was in an explosively dangerous situation and he was about to throw a temper tantrum like a deprived six year old, all because a grown man was childishly afraid of the dark.

The walls were closing in around him, squeezing in around him. Smothering him. The dark was solid, real; dangerous and he must not remain here. He was a fool. He was a wimp. It was not closing in around him. There were not flashes of light… no electricity arcing so close to him. He was not back in Epyon.

It made no difference.

He wanted out.

Now.

"Hey, man. Sorry I took so long, but the bay looks to be clear and the emergency shuttle is a go. The airlock into the base is locked … Zechs? You okay?"

The fear shriveled into a small whimper at that disgustingly cheerful voice.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson


	100. Chapter 100

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 100

Mars Colony

K23 Cavern system

1st March AC 198

Time: 23: 45 [approx Sanc time 21:35

Barker

// It could have been worse, but it still should never have come to this. How it will eventually end is still another matter. I have to find a means by which to enter the Base Dome and discover what is happening there.//

Barker wished he could rub at the persistent ache developing in his temple, but matters of physical irritation such as headaches and the ever present need to scratch some real or imaginary itch had never been taken into consideration in the manufacture and design of enviro suits. One thing about the suit he was thankful of was the muting effect caused by the helmet, though despite this unintentional design feature the noise level in K23 had risen to the stage that it induced the pounding headache that caused him to grate his teeth.

While K23 boasted convenience of placement to the Base Dome and sufficient size to take the refugees and offer a chance at containing the heat they generated for the night, it lacked for comfort in the more aesthetic requirements of the human body. Everywhere around him people were moving around in search of some spot that might offer more comfort to work weary bodies and in that search they were rearranging the natural features of the cave. Not that there was anything stunning about this cave. Most people had given up on moving the larger boulders and resorted to digging out shallow depressions in the rubble strewn floor, picking out the larger jagged edged rocks that threatened personal comfort and the security of their enviro suits.

// I'm already feeling somewhat claustrophobic in this suit and these people have already put in sixteen hours of solid work in them. They should all be in the Base Dome now, having enjoyed a good long soak in the shower and be in the cafeteria eating a decent meal instead of sucking food tubes. There has to be a way for me to get in that dome and help sort out this mess. //

"Only another ten to process, Simon." Peter Sanderson, the Team Three supervisor settled on the rock beside him.

He glanced over toward the sanitary line where those who had had the most oxygen on arriving at the cave had waited patiently for their turn and now shuffled closer to the big mobile suits to take their turn at cleaning out their sanitary packs, grabbing a change of oxygen and having something to eat to fortify them for the night. He was far from happy with the arrangements though it was the best that they could do. Certainly they had thought of all the necessary survival equipment the group needed, though if anyone should puncture a suit there was little they could do for them. His eyes went again to where people were carefully digging those depressions. Always large enough for two people. He had insisted on that and never more than a half meter between each group, be they a pair or a larger sociable grouping.

"How is the water supply holding up?"

Water had been the big worry as it was so heavy to transport and there were a lot of people to be catered to. Even more than the oxygen supplies water had been vital for survival. Experience had taught them that after the full days work these people put in on a regular basis, they tended to dehydrate a little more than estimates originally suggested. On coming to Mars they had learned to adjust to the local conditions and rewritten many of the guidelines, one of the main errors in the original projections being that workers here tended to require more to drink. He knew it was a design flaw in the enviro suits that the wearers tended to perspire more than design estimates suggested and they were careful to have the big supply suits stocked with sufficient water for everyone for a day's work. Those supplies were almost non existent after sixteen hours and he had only been able to bring so much with him or the Taurus suits would never have gotten off the ground.

"Provided we ration its use, there will be enough until morning but we had better have found a way into the dome by then. I want to send the big suits out to vent their sewerage again before we seal the cave." Sanderson looked over the gradually settling people, noting the light level was now sufficient to light the entire main cave.

Barker nodded his agreement. "Do it. No need to risk there being a spill at some time through the night when it is not necessary. Keep the heating units under your eye. I know it's going to be uncomfortable but if too many are used you will freeze before morning. We need to keep the temperature up to a level the suits can compensate for and I'm afraid we all are just going to have to settle for cold."

"It's better than freezing." Sanderson nodded his agreement, working his shoulders carefully and trying to relieve the aches that troubled him.

No one needed to comment on how uncomfortable they were, as all shared the same problems with their suits stinking of stale perspiration, no where comfortable to sit or lie down, an utter lack of entertainment other than to consider the long night ahead of them; and there was always just one more rock that they had missed that insisted on digging into them, no matter where they chose to settle. Looking over the mass of humanity Barker could see more and more of them working at trying to relieve stiffening joints and earn some type of comfort for aching bodies. Usually one of the highlights of the day on Mars was a long and luxurious soak under piping hot water to sooth the aches and pains earned in a hard day's work, and on Mars every day was a hard day.

These people deserved more than being forced into this cave with the barest necessities to survive a freezing Martian night. There was nothing he could do about this other than what he had already done. Many of them would already be dead had he not found the means by which to bring them hope, but there should be more that he could do. He could find a way into the Base Dome and he had confidence in his own imagination and resources to figure a means of breaking into the sealed base.

Decision made he turned from the view and eyed the man beside him. They spoke on a restricted radio frequency, neither having any wish to cause a panic in what was thus far an orderly group intent on finding comfort. They were a level headed lot on Mars, Barker reflected. Those who were flighty and high strung would not long survive here. You had to have your head firmly grounded and eyes set on safety and survival if you wanted to see a new day dawn. To his knowledge they generally lost two or three people with every shuttle that brought workers to Mars, those too cocky to listen and follow procedures tended to die from stupid mistakes. Those who survived learned quickly to take better care.

"I will be taking one of the pilots and a mobile suit back to the Base Dome. I want to have a go at getting into the base, but if I fail I will need the suit to get me back before my oxygen fails."

Sanderson nodded, glancing towards the entrance of the caves and the distant Base Dome before returning his attention back to the group by the re supply suits. "I don't think you will have much of a chance of breaking in. We tried every means we could think of and failed, but I hope that you succeed. I honestly do not fancy spending all of the night out here."

"What were the final numbers?"

He had been avoiding asking that question but it had to be asked and with so few still to enter the supply suits it seemed safe enough to voice. Surely if he could get in the dome then they would lose no more. Barker watched as a Leo suit smoothly crouched and exited the cave entrance, admiring the skill of the pilot in the flawless manoeuvre.

"We lost twenty two on the trek here." A low sigh. "Twenty two people who never had a chance …" He sighed, offering mute apology for something that Barker had no control over. "Even using the big suits to help transport them there just was not sufficient oxygen for them to make the trip."

Barker sighed. "It was better than it might have been. I wish I could have done something more, but there was only so much that we could carry and if we had set down to unload oxygen tanks we would never have gotten airborne again. It was a hair raising flight as it was, without overloading the suits capacity and we almost didn't survive the initial take off. That Leo that just exited the cave. Who is the pilot?"

Sanderson scowled, looking to the cavern entrance and shrugged. "What colour was the suit? I never paid any attention."

"Black paint job with red banding on the breast plate."

He knew the Leo pilots liked to individualize their machines and were recognized easier from long distance by that individuality. The only stipulation the management at the Base Dome had made concerning custom paint jobs was that all suits must not be painted the rusty colour that blended with the landscape.

"That would be Chris. Christian Polnar. He's good. Ex-military. Handles the suit like it was an extension of his arms. I usually use him for most of the more delicate work we need the mobile suits to perform."

"Where did he learn to handle a Leo?"

"Lake Victoria Academy. He's ex-Oz Specials forces, I believe."

//Oz Specials. Good. Far better than I could have hoped for. He would be likely to know Merquise's reputation and probably not be so leery of him. I'd prefer to take a Taurus, but we are low on fuel for those and the Leo might be the better choice. If I need to create mayhem and destruction when I get into the dome then a pilot who is capable of defending himself and is not afraid to do so would be a bonus. I think it safe enough to assume that none of these people are Sleepers. I doubt they would condemn their own people to death out here.//

Barker nodded slightly, watching as two suited figures exited the service suit and two more clambered into the bulky machine. These people were proving to be efficient and knowing that lives other than their own hung in the balance had made them even more so. The turnover in the suits to renew their survival systems had been far quicker than he had allowed for, hence so few having died of oxygen deprivation. The workers were under instruction to keep close attention focused on the levels of oxygen of their own suits and the people who settled near to them during the night. It was a real danger that someone might fall asleep and not notice when their suit ran dangerously low until it was too late.

"What is the call sign for that Leo? I want to talk to the pilot."

"BTC 639. Baker Tango Charlie." Peterson stood, still working his shoulders in an attempt to relieve the discomfort and sighed. "He's a good man, and I guess you need combat experienced people if you do make it into the dome. Look, are you sure these people are intending to kill …"

Baker snorted interrupting the supervisor with a slow shake of his head and swept an arm out, gloved hand gesturing at the gathering in the cave. "Look around you."

A defeated sigh came clearly over the radio. "It could just be a technical problem."

"I only wish it was. I will want a few words with your pilot and I am not inclined to make my departure a general announcement. I'll let you and the other supervisors know when I leave and who I take with me. A small force has a better chance of getting into the dome than a frontal assault and we will do what we can to get the airlocks open. Don't rely on it, but we will do our best."

The man nodded his helmeted head barely moving and for an instant his hand rested on Barker's shoulder, then he was moving toward the line of people waiting to enter the re-supply mobile suits. Barker took a moment to settle back against the cavern wall and survey the scene and use it to firm his resolve. These people were not going to spend the full night out here, of that he was determined. With a soft sigh he set his radio to the frequency used by the mobile suit pilots for private conversations. The pilots were specialists who tended to stick together and be set a little apart from the general work force, a mystique left over from the war that would now serve his purpose. He knew they always kept this particular channel free for pilot to pilot communications.

"Leo BTC 639. Repeat, Leo Baker Tango Charlie 639, you are instructed to meet with Preventer Eagle outside the caves. Do you copy, Chris Polnar?"

An instant of silence followed by a sharply indrawn breath. Obviously the pilot had not expected to be singled out by the Preventer agent and no doubt was wondering what he had done to earn that particular distinction.

"BTC 639. Acknowledge that, Eagle. Will await you outside the entrance."

"Acknowledged. Eagle out." He surveyed the cave for a moment and nodded. He had to have a reliable team and there was one man he was willing to rely on. "Taurus OCA 105. Repeat Taurus suit Omega Charlie Alpha 105, you are requested to meet with Preventer Eagle outside the caves a.s.a.p. Do you copy, Daniel?"

Almost instantly the reply came back in the affirmative. "Taurus OCA 105. Acknowledge message, Eagle. On my way."

"Eagle out." //I need to talk to this Chris Polnar and find out if he would be willing to assist. I need to judge whether he would be reliable or not. I've no idea of his capabilities other than he was an Oz Special, but I have never found one of those to be a fool. The Taurus will have to stay here as it may be needed, but Daniel has combat experience and I know that he would be willing to help in the dome. If Polnar will agree to at least get us to the Base Dome and hang around until we succeed or fail in getting in, then that would be a big help. It would be a big ask to have him forego the safety of the Leo to go into the dome and leap into whatever shit the situation warrants, but I will know when I see him if I dare to trust him. Maybe Daniel knows the man? They are both pilots and that crowd tend to stick together. //

He wandered through the workers, noting who comforted whom, who sat apart and would need watching, and who seemed to be inclined to try to sleep, though in many cases that seemed more a result of just plain exhaustion and not nerves of steel. He knew that it should be safe enough to leave the caves for a time as the supervisors were imminently sensible men and women and he had impressed on them the needs that must be fulfilled if these people were to survive a night out here. He had promised that he would do all in his power to get these people into the safety of the dome with all speed and it was a promise he intended to keep. If the worst should happened and he was unable to find a means to open up the dome then he was sure that Mako would have one of the shuttles up at first light, and thinking of Mako reminded him that they were just a few minutes away from attempting to establish contact with the Alpha Dome. If they could succeed in establishing radio contact then he would feel better about leaving the caves.

Slipping out of the entrance he found the two massive suits standing to one side, huge hulking dark shapes in the gloom. The lights that surrounded the cave entrance at this time would be taken within the caves before they sealed it to maintain a constant temperature within, but for now they shed welcome illumination. Sufficient light existed for him to scrawl a frequency in the Martian dust that he was certain both pilots would be able to read. He gave them a moment to notice what he had done and read the frequency and then scrubbed it out carefully with a foot. He wanted the conversation to be as private as possible and he knew that it was possible their radio conversations might be picked up within the Base Dome. A chance that had to be taken, but he was not willing to allow all of the survivors to overhear this conversation. The chosen frequency was one little used and should provide the best security possible at this time.

"Daniel?"

"Got you, Chief."

"Polnar?"

"On line, Eagle. What can I do for you?"

Satisfied Barker settled his frame on a convenient boulder and stared up at the suits using them as a focal point. "It is time for me to try to enter the Base Dome and I need some help to do that. I want you with me, Daniel if you would agree and I want to know if Polnar would take us there clinging to his Leo and wait to see if we can make it into the dome. We will have only a set time to make the attempt and then we have to get back to the caves before our oxygen expires."

"You have me. It's better than hanging around here waiting to die." Daniel Carter responded, his Taurus offering a thumbs up to the watching Barker. "I'm willing to give it a go."

He grinned at the gesture and resisted the chuckle. He had known that Daniel would agree, but he felt better asking rather than taking things for granted. This could get the man killed and enough men and women had died tonight.

"Polnar?"

"Chris, please. I can give you a lift to the dome, but I need to recharge the Leo's oxygen tanks if you plan on being there for any appreciable length of time and I will also need to flush the sewerage system on the suit. I'm willing to go. Do you have any ideas on a means to enter the dome?"

"Beyond the obvious knock on the door and ask to be let in no, I have no idea but that will not stop me. I want to avoid damaging the integrity of the dome, of course, but I want in there and I want in there bad."

The Leo shifted to kneel smoothly before Barker, the metallic head tilting in imitation of the pilot's personal action. Barker had to admire the way the man moved the suit as one hand lowered, palm flat and facing up offering a point by which Barker could hop on board if he wished. It was a blatant invitation for Barker to climb on.

"How delicate are your sensibilities?" The question came over the radio laced with a fair amount of amusement.

"Delicate?" Carter queried from his Taurus, eyeing the extended hand with a raised eyebrow marking his curiosity. "How do you mean, delicate?"

"You have a suggestion, Chris?" Barker slipped from his chosen seat and walked over to the Leo's hand though he did not as yet climb on board, pausing with a gloved hand resting on one of the massive fingers.

"I might have, but I would prefer not to suggest it over the radio. Could you two hop over here and I'll come out?"

Barker arched an eyebrow and looked over to the Taurus as the cockpit opened and the suited figure of Daniel Carter appeared, grasped the lift line and let himself down. In seconds both men were standing on the Leo's broad palm, bracing themselves as the hydraulics of the suit whined and they rose smoothly into the air to stop abreast of the cockpit.

Barker was surprised that the ascent was so smooth, a further indication of the skill of the Leo pilot. The cockpit hissed open and Polnar's suited figure appeared and moved out onto the hatch. Polnar leapt across the gap to the hand of the suit and motioned towards his helmet, slapping a palm against the face plate and then beckoning them to lean close. He swept his hand across the general area of his throat, signaling they should kill their radios and leaned toward them, bringing his helmet to rest against both helmets so that he had physical contact with both men.

"Can you hear me?" He shouted within the confines of his helmet and noted the two men start, eyes widening.

There was sufficient atmosphere to allow them to hear him and he nodded, satisfied. While they would have to shout no one not in physical contact with them would have a hope of listening in.

"It is possible that the ESUN agents in the dome are monitoring radio frequencies. I thought that this way only the three of us will know what we discuss."

"Good idea." Barker shouted back. "You have an idea on how to enter the dome?"

Within the helmet he nodded confirmation. "I want to go too. I want to be a part of the team that infiltrates the dome. I can lock down the Leo when it comes time to enter the dome but I have my reasons for being in on this, not the least of which is that I have a friend in the dome I want to check on. I'm combat-experienced and I can look after myself and I think you could use all the help you can get."

"You are willing to risk your life?" Carter bellowed. "It will not be easy in there."

"We know that people are dead and we have no idea who we can trust. You have to understand that before we go any further." Barker brought a hand up to the pilot's helmet. "We know there are ESUN security agents in the dome and we know there are Sleeper agents, but not how many of them to contend with. You could be sealing your own death warrant."

"I want in. If I can stick it to those bastards where it hurts the most I will be happy. We may not be alone in the dome though. My friend is also combat experienced and I hope to find him alive and fighting. He's not an easy man to take down."

"Well enough then. How do you suggest we get in?" Barker nodded his agreement and motioned in the general direction of the dome.

"Think like a thief." The man laughed, looking his amusement at the shocked looks he received. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I don't steal things but I do know people who have, on occasion, held questionable occupations. It is amazing what you can pick up if you just watch and keep you mouth shut. There are some very interesting people out there." He waved a hand at the star pointed sky.

"So, how would a thief get in the dome undetected? It's a sealed environment, fully monitored and at the moment totally locked down. They have no intention of anyone getting in. You seem to be suggesting that it is actually going to be easy to get in there." Carter shook his head in disbelief.

"Hey, I never said it was going to be easy, but as a matter of fact it probably will be easy enough to accomplish. Just rather distasteful."

"Jesus. Of course." Barker laughed, slapping Polnar on the shoulder as he understood what the man was suggesting and disgusted with himself for not having considered the alternative before. "I never gave the sewerage control system a thought. We go in through the waste control plant."

Polnar nodded, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Exactly. I can take us to the sewerage plant vats where the solid waste is processed for the greenhouses use. There are inspection hatches that should give us access and eventually lead us into the processing plant. There are a number of places we could exit the system, one near building D, another near the compost stores in building H and a third option near the air lock control station. I'm not sure how to get there, but I did hear one of the techs mention once that there is an access somewhere in the system that would bring us out somewhere near the shuttle bay. Somewhere near the emergency airlock and in the sub base I believe. I've never actually used any of them, but I do know where the first three outlets are."

"If we could get access into the shuttle bay and get the bay doors open we could get these people into secure shelter. If they remained in the shuttle bay they would be a lot safer there than here." Carter mused.

"Mako to Eagle. Mako to Eagle. Do you copy Eagle?"

Barker started at the unexpected voice that filled his ears. From the looks of the other two men pressed to his helmet he guessed they had heard the voice of the Project Chief through their contact with his helmet, not over their own radios. He checked the frequency and gave a feral grin, recognizing it as the frequency Merquise had suggested might be secure and he was delighted that Mako had managed to get a radio working. He signaled the men with him to wait and did them the courtesy of keeping his helmet in contact with theirs so that they might listen in on the conversation. He was going to be trusting his life to these two men and he had to establish a certain level of trust quickly.

"Eagle receiving you, Mako. Nice to hear from you."

"Well, I don't know for how long you are going to be hearing me. I only hope this thing holds together it's so ad hoc it could fall apart at any time, not that the techs think it will. How are you progressing, Eagle?"

He needed to keep this brief and to the point and always remember there might be not so friendly ears listening in on the conversation.

"Down twenty two, remainder secured. I'll just call the others to change frequency so that they can hear from the boss man. We have a viable idea for that project we talked about. Things are looking good."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	101. Chapter 101

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 101

Mars Colony

Base Dome

1st March AC 198

Time: 23: 40 [approx Sanc time 21:30

Giles

"Having any luck with the radio, Chief?"

Giles leaned into the cockpit of the shuttle craft, his hazel eyes alight with an unholy amusement as he fronted the Chief Engineer who sat in the cockpit of the emergency medical shuttle. Giles looked bright eyed and clean and considerably refreshed after taking a turn in the decontamination shower. His torn and bloodied clothing was now replaced with the flight suit for a shuttle pilot that fitted rather well to his muscular frame. Ahmed Hawass had seen to finding a change of clothing suitable for both men soon after they had brought Noin into the shuttle bay and ensconced her within the protection of an emergency life support capsule on the medical shuttle.

During Giles absence Hawass had taken advantage of the decontamination shower himself, cleaning himself as quickly as possible and changing into spare overalls he and Giles had fetched from his locker on their way to the shuttle. The Chief had been barely out of the shower when Giles and Zechs had stumbled into the shuttle and ignoring his own wound and bruises he had helped them to get Noin into the protection of the emergency life support capsule.

The capsule was a computer controlled medical bed designed to offer superior medical assistance in remote areas where professional medical staff were non existent or scarce in emergencies. Its med computer had begun chattering away as soon as they had begun to place the sensors at her vital points and it had not taken them long to understand that if the computer had been a human physician he would have been pulling his hair out at the extremity of the damage being investigated.

That had not gone down well with Zechs. The man had practically fallen into a heap at the side of the capsule, eyes fastened on the medical readouts and the prognosis the computer was formulating. Giles had at first attempted to get the blonde into the decontamination shower, but in the end had given it up in favor of giving the man a few minutes to gather himself and his shattered composure into some semblance of order.

With Noin on life support and Zechs working on worrying himself to death Giles had attended to the knife wound in the Chief Engineer's shoulder. A shot of local anesthetic, some rudimentary stitches and a field dressing followed by an injection of broad spectrum antibiotic and Giles felt that he had done all he could for the Chief. By this time Zechs had seemed to pull himself together and turned from the capsule, blue eyes like glaciers with the intensity of his focus. At the insistence of Zechs Giles had taken his turn in the cubicle, that glacial gaze clearly informing him that on this matter Zechs would not be denied. He intended to ensure that everyone was as healthy as possible as quickly as possible and that they then make a start on the next phase.

Zechs and Hawass had tackled the ruin the Sleeper agents had made of the radio, ensconcing themselves in the cockpit while Giles cleaned himself up and ran himself through decontamination. After an initial examination of the radio the Chief Engineer had found the spare parts he and Zechs had decided would be needed and when Giles had emerged from the shower, refreshed and blessedly clean, Zechs had left the Chief to work on the radio while he attended to the assortment of scrapes, cuts, gouges and bruises and finally strapped Giles's broken ribs.

"Normally the ribs would not be strapped. I think the breaks are hairline, but with what still lies ahead of us I think the bracing will help."

Giles had nodded silent agreement, winced at the binding of his chest but felt that it was a marginal improvement on his condition. Where his body had screamed in pain before it was now a series of dull aches and he knew that with a little rest he would be able to function. A shot of antibiotic was administered and with Giles attended to and dressed in the flight suit provided by Hawass, Zechs had been unable to delay his turn in the shower while Hawass continued working on the radio and Giles monitored the med computers progress with Noin.

The Raider agent had spent his time between monitoring Noin's condition and running an inventory of exactly what systems of the shuttle had been fouled by the Sleeper agents. To his immense relief the medical systems and supplies were untouched and he decided the Sleepers seemed to only be concerned with ensuring the shuttle would not fly again in a hurry and that the radio be incapacitated. He had barely finished his inventory of the supplies available to them and made his selections of what he was likely going to need when Zechs had emerged from the decontamination unit.

Giles had been horrified at the sheer amount of raw wounds the blonde had carried on him when he had emerged from the shower cubicle. He had known the man's clothing had been torn and bloodstained but he had not actually equated that into physical damages. He was honestly astounded Zechs had not screamed himself hoarse while taking that shower, as he knew only too intimately how much the decontamination liquid stung in an open wound. It was therefore no surprise that Zechs looked awake when he emerged from the cubicle as that amount of raw pain would certainly not lull a body to somnolence.

After one wide-eyed look at the body that betrayed the faintest of tremors in reaction to the wounds cleaned by the shower, Giles had promptly reached for the hypergun and injected the former Lightening Count with a rather high dose of broad spectrum anti biotic. Zechs had remained in tight-lipped silence as Giles had gone to work on him and applied anaesthetic antiseptic creams to dull the pain of the raw wounds and finally applied adhesive field dressings across hips, flat belly and chest and upper thighs where the ropes binding Noin to him had left heavy bruising and bleeding rope burns. With the open wounds dealt with as best they could be considering their circumstance, Giles had finally seen to the strapping of the left shoulder after a cautious examination of the almost black bruising and then left him to dress in relative privacy.

While Zechs had painfully pulled on the flight suit left for him Giles had again turned his attention back to Noin and the readouts, finding that some of them suggested Noin was stabilizing. Offering that information to Zechs he had very shortly fled the centre of the shuttle in the interests of preserving his skin and made his way to the command cockpit and the Chief Engineer.

"Some progress. The radio basically has to have a total rebuild, but with the parts we have on hand that is not a problem. It will not take all that long to get it working. While there won't be much of a range, it will at least work. If you want to place a mayday off the planet I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you. The range is going to be limited." The big man glanced up from his work, noting the wide smile and the wicked light in the hazel eyes. "What has you grinning?"

The Raider operative could not contain the chuckle and hooked a thumb over his shoulder indicating the open cockpit door that led back into the bulk of the shuttle. "Zechs. I knew there was a reason why I had short hair. Okay, not short short, but certainly not what I'd call long." At the Chiefs arched eyebrow Giles grin widened. "Decontamination showers do nothing for long hair, you know."

Hawass leaned around Giles to get a look down the gut of the shuttle and the deep, low rumble that passed as a laugh for him filled the cabin. "I'd not let him know how amused you are. He looks a bit pissy to me."

Giles glanced over his shoulder to see Zechs with a brush in one hand and tangled matted length of wet blonde hair in the other. "He is, and I already laughed at him. He ordered me out before he dismembered me, so I came to annoy you. I'll give him a few minutes to tame that mass he calls hair before I go back and check on Noin."

Hawass scowled, leaning back into his seat. "She does not look so good. Sick filly that one." The chief returned his attention to the mess of circuitry before him.

Giles sighed, knowing full well that the man was not exaggerating. Lucrezia Noin did not look at all well, though to his last checks the readouts claimed she was stabilized somewhat and he could only hope that her condition would improve. One thing he had made certain of was that the med computer had injected her with a mild sedative to keep her unconscious. He had no intention of dealing with a freaked out psychic who had no control over her obviously extensive kinetic talents. He still had not told Zechs all of his fears concerning the woman and he really did not want to take the time to go into details he was uncertain Zechs would be able to handle.

"She looks considerably better than she did when we found her, but you are right. She is not good and I know it has him worried that we are going to have to leave her here while we deal with the agents in the base. The man is on one hell of a guilt trip and leaving her behind is not going to help."

The chief offered a soft snort whilst using a soldering iron with a deft touch to attach wires to the circuit board he held. "Shouldn't blame himself. He never asked those bastards to come to Mars now did he? Not his fault, not that I suppose everyone would agree with that. Nor is it likely to have been his fault whatever it was happened to that woman. I have known her long enough to know no man will ever rule her, not even Zechs Marquise. She is one strong willed woman." There was undisguised admiration in his voice.

//You admire her strength? Yes, as I remember you don't like clingy women who can't decide what time of the day it is without male guidance. You and Noin got on fairly well as I recall. // "Yes, she is very strong-willed, and she walked into some heavy shit she was lucky to survive. It may yet kill her and that would leave him to raise those two kids on his own. I know that idea scares him."

The chief grunted, glared at the circuit board in his hand angling it to the light and considering the next connections to be made before he shrugged. "It would scare shit out of me if I was in his shoes, I know that much, but I think he'd handle it well enough. I doubt there is much that one could not handle when he turns his mind to it. Even raising kids."

Giles sighed, settling into the vacant seat beside the engineer. "He could raise them, yes. I don't doubt he is more than capable of doing that and doing it well, but that is not actually the primary problem. If we get out of this, Ahmed - if he can get off of Mars and if he can find a place that is safe for him somewhere in the ESUN to make a home for the twins. That is the problem. Well, one of the larger problems I suppose. Where in the Earth Sphere is safe for Milliardo Peacecraft to go which would not end up resulting in another horror day like today? Wherever he goes he will be hunted."

The engineer scowled, a low growl escaping him. "So whose stupid fucking idea was it, coming way out here and causing trouble anyway? We don't need this kind of shit, Giles. We can well do without this kind of bullshit mucking up our lives. I've got nothing against the man. I even know what he was trying to do and I don't have a problem with him being here. Why did they have to come here and why did they have to kill everyone on the base, man? I don't understand why they are doing that." He waved away the words Giles was on the verge of speaking and sighed. "I heard the explanation and I understand it, don't get me wrong, but I don't 'understand', if you know what I mean. I wasn't sure what to expect when it was announced Milliardo Peacecraft was joining this team. I didn't know if the man was going to be one of us or if he was going to be locked in a room here and the key thrown away. I suppose I expected there to be a sign around his neck that read 'Rabid Dog, Don't Touch'." He sighed, one massive hand doing delicate little adjustments to the circuit board he held. He finally glanced up to meet his companions gaze. "The man is nothing like I expected him to be. The Terror of Earth? Nah. No way. This one meows, not roars. Are you sure he is the same Milliardo Peacecraft who threatened to blow the Earth to kingdom come?"

// He meows, not roars// Giles huffed a small breath, gaining himself a moment to assimilate the Chief's views. "Yes, Ahmed. Yes, he is the same Milliardo Peacecraft who commanded the White Fang and threatened the Earth. There is no doubt about who he is. If you had survived what I have survived in the last few hours with him at your side, then you would know without a doubt what he is capable of. I do assure you though, that he is no rabid dog. Believe me; you definitely want him on your side if there is some action to be undertaken. You do not want him as an enemy."

The chief shrugged, returning his attention to his circuit board. "Takes all sorts, I suppose, and that one seems to have some common decency about him. Surprising, considering what he did through the war if he is really as bad as they make him out to be, but they also say things can get out of hand during war time and people do things they normally would never do. I saw enough weird goings on during those days to do me a life time. That being the case, someone has to teach those bastards killing us about human decency and what happens when you abuse it. Strikes me He is as good as anyone for that job."

"Better than most." Giles glanced over his shoulder to see Zechs had managed to comb out around half the knots that tangled the mass of near white hair. "He has plans to do just that, I'm thinking. He had a reasonable amount of time to do some heavy thinking while I was checking out the shuttle bay and he said when I went back for him and Noin that we have only a limited time here. He's made some decisions and some plans and I need to give him a bit of time. He'll tell me when he has it all sorted."

"Radio should be ready in a couple of minutes." Hawass rubbed at his sore shoulder, wincing at the flash of pain that discouraged further such actions. "You don't seem too fussed about being around him. You seem to trust him?"

"With my life. Yes, I do trust him. The man has had the type of training that I only wish I had had access to when I was in the war. The Oz Specials were exceptional. As far as their Mobile Suit Pilots went they were the best and he was the best of the best. It was only with the arrival of the Gundams that the real trouble started, but there would have been a revolt anyway. It was planned to happen before the Gundams even came to Earth. The Alliance Military had to be taken out, their atrocities just kept happening. Yes, there were some good sorts in the Alliance, but everyone has their own agendas. Everyone. Removing the Alliance from power was what the Specials was formed to do under Kushrenada. Only the best of the best were good enough and they were all loyal to an ideal and if you ask the right questions you would find out that most of them had pet hates for the Alliance, some nursed over decades of time. I have to wonder what type of world we would be living in if the Gundams had not come on the scene and Oz had taken out the Alliance without interference."

The chief shook his head and shrugged. "Much of a muchness, I'd say. If you look at the better history books you would find that everyone gets into power with high ideals and then the shit hits the fan as power corrupts. If Oz had been in command and had not split into factions it might or not have been proven to be better that the Alliance was. Who's to say? To be honest, who even cares? We live in the here and now, Giles. Most of us don't give a shit for the bigger picture provided we have what we need when we need it. Most people don't care who wants to fight to stand on the top of the heap. It's only when the boys and girls on the mountain top start shitting on those lower down that anyone starts to care what they are doing way up there in the clouds."

//Well, that's a novel way to look at politics. I never considered it from that point of view before.// Giles watched the Chief Engineer with widened eyes as those large fingers moved with precision over the circuit board.

The man was a surprise and he was by no means ignorant of the current or past political circumstances that ruled their lives. Ahmed Hawass possessed a genius I.Q. and a quiet, thoughtful inner self that few ever got to see. He was adept at disguising his personal views and watching others. It was the quiet ones you had to watch, Giles reflected. Sometimes the Chief seemed very far from quiet, he liked a good party after all, but he kept his views largely to himself and this insight into the man surprised the Raider. He had always liked Hawass and that view was not harmed by this discussion.

"I always tried to stay clear of politics if I could. Never thought too much about it and I guess maybe that was a mistake. I certainly thought about it a great deal when I was in a hospital bed for a month and wished I had done something else with my life, but if I look back it is generally to shrug and think of what might have been if I had not been injured during the war. What I have to concentrate on is the situation we are in now, not on what happened years ago. Zechs has the training and the skills that are needed to take these bastards down and they really need taking down. I think … I hope that we might have taken out the Sleepers. There is still the chance that there may be one or two of them left, but if we watch ourselves and don't turn our backs on anyone we should be safe enough from them. If you part company from us when we are finished here and ready to move on remember that you don't ever trust stairs and likewise do not trust elevators. The Sleepers have a penchant for bombs and are not afraid to use them. We will need to find out who on the base has experience with explosives and sweep the dome carefully after this is all over, to find any little surprises they have left. I know that there are explosives on the dome. The military types don't seem to be as bomb crazy as the Sleepers, but they probably are trigger happy about now."

"No stairs and no elevators. Guess I'll just have to climb the bloody walls or learn to levitate. Any idea what he has planned?" The chief inclined his head toward the open door, though his attention remained focused on the radio he was assembling.

"Not as yet." // Not that I would tell you if I did, as I really do not know for certain that I can trust you. I think I can but … You could still be a Sleeper although I don't think that you are. While I am not a true telepath I tend to have a fair idea of when a man is lying to me, and you don't give me bad vibes. That is a good sign, but I can't trust anyone implicitly if I am to keep that man alive. //

"Well, something is going to have to be done to secure the dome and I'm willing to help where I can. I'm a mechanic and high tech engineer. Just let me know what you need done in my area of expertise and I'm your man."

Giles glanced over his shoulder again to see Zechs struggling to raise his arm over his injured shoulder to manage that mass of hair and with a grunt gripped the chief's shoulder, inclined his head into the shuttle by way of explanation and farewell and he returned to the main body of the shuttle.

"I'll give you a hand to tie that back if you like." He could not hide the grin that parted his lips on hearing the softly uttered curses and mumble concerning scissors.

A low rumble he took to be consent was his only answer and the hair band was thrown at him along with the brush, the man spinning on his heel to present that sheeting mane of near white hair to him. Giles noted the second hair band was being tucked into a pocket of the pilot's flight suit and he recalled that Zechs had only donned the second band just before he electrocuted the two agents in HD two. Gathering the damp hair he began to brush the mass into a high pony tail and worked the band into a double wrap, securing the pale locks.

//I don't think I have ever seen you with your hair tied back before, unless it was around working machinery you were repairing until today, and then it was plaited. When I first met you in the hydroponics dome you only had the one band holding your hair, but when we were trapped by those agents you went sort of … funny. A look about you and … Hmm. Now why do I get the impression that if you go for that second hair tie I should run as far and as fast as I can? A psychological thing? Hair loose and your an overgrown house cat. Hair tied back and you mean business. Double-tie the hair … Man, the shrinks must love you. You would keep them entertained for years.//

"How is the radio going?" Zechs waited patiently for Giles to work the band into place, feeling the long length of damp hair cool his back. He still felt hot, though not so bad as before and he could only hope the stresses of the day and more particularly the dousing he had received in that water pipe to enter HD Three would not result in the advent of illness. He could not afford to be ill.

"Chief says the radio should be ready to test in a few minutes. There will not be a lot of range on it, though. It will not reach off planet."

"There does not need to be a great deal of range. We only need to contact those outside of the dome and if possible the Alpha Dome to ascertain what is going on there."

"So what do we do next?" He left Zechs to move to the sealed unit that held Noin, checking on the readouts.

"Next we need to go into the sub base to prepare a little trap for Blue Squad. We need to end this as quickly as possible. If it is possible I want to contact the maintenance teams and the Alpha Dome to establish their current conditions and whether or not they may be of help to us. I honestly doubt that we can expect any help from anyone and if the maintenance teams are secure for the moment then I can concentrate on taking out the last of the infiltrators. Do you think we can trust him?" He inclined his head to indicate the absent Chief Engineer.

Giles shrugged slightly. "He does not grate me the wrong way when I talk to him. Remember that I am not a true telepath, but I do not receive the sort of vibes I have learned to be wary of from him. As far as I can tell, we can trust him, but I wonder if we have a real choice in the matter?"

Zechs considered Giles for a moment and then looked to the cockpit and the man he could not see at this moment, but who was supposed to be working on the radio. Did he dare to trust the man? Without loosing the restraints on what Giles continually referred to as his Gift Zechs was as blind as the next man to the interactions of others on future event. He dared not loose that restraint for fear of incapacitation at the resultant surge of vision, and he knew it would happen. He could feel the pressure growing against his shields, but it was of no importance now. Now was not the time to view what might be, but to act on what was. He was only one of many men on this base who would act if they could, who would act however they must to preserve lives and to make a difference he had to accept certain risks.

The simple inescapable truth was that he could not be in a dozen places at one time, and he needed help to do what needed to be done before people started dying in the upper dome from poisoned air. Not everyone was safely ensconced in sealed air systems and something must be done to clear the toxins from the general air supply. Zechs knew that he needed a qualified mechanic and systems engineer to restore the upper domes ventilation system to full function. The toxic fumes from the elevator fire had to be vented and that would take skill and know how. He had both the skill required and the know how, but he also had two elite soldiers running around the base and he had to give his full attention to them. While there were others available he was going to have to trust them to complete the work that meant survival to them all.

"How is she?" He watched Giles studying the monitors, afraid to look himself after the last readouts he had viewed. He was not a fool and he knew that things were not looking good for her. Staring at the readouts would not offer any more aid to her than he had already provided. The best thing that he could do for Noin now was take out the agents, so he could have her taken to the medical centre.

"Stabilized." Giles glanced at him and then back to the readouts. "For the moment, at least. We need her in the hospital section, but this will have to do until we can clear the base of agents. So what is it you have planned?"

"We have to trust Hawass. He can start working on getting the ventilation system for the upper dome cleared of toxic fumes, which will involve reversing whatever it is they have done to seal the vents. In a sealed environment we can not afford to have faulty air systems. While he is doing that you and I have to get into the sub base and complete the preparations I had begun on a little surprise for Simpson, should a certain set of circumstances be met. Then we are going to have to make certain that those circumstances occur as they are needed. To make my little surprise work for us we are going to have to separate the tech from his Commander and that is about the last thing Simpson will want to happen. That tech is the last resource he has available to him until the Wellington arrives and he will want Frazier kept close to him at all times. What I have planned hinges on Frazier not being present."

Giles turned from the computer and moved a step closer to him, hazel eyes narrowed as he considered Zechs. "Any idea how we are going to accomplish this?"

A flash of white teeth responded, a grin that was both cheeky and sly. "At the moment, none at all, but I have learned it is a good idea to take what ever opportunities occur whenever they arise. I'll think of something, but we have preparations to make before we can go hunting techs."

"So why do we need to get the tech out of the way? What exactly do you have planned for the Commander?"

Zechs smiled, rising from where he had been perched on a narrow bench, resting his weight in an effort to give some ease to abused thigh muscles and walked toward the cockpit of the shuttle. "I intend to ask him a few questions and get some straight answers out of him. On camera."

Giles blinked, watching the sway of damp hair just above the curve of tight buttocks. "Shit. How the hell do you intend to manage that?"

"Trickery, my dear Giles. Deception, deceit and trickery." Zechs flashed another grin over his shoulder before he entered the cockpit. "Chief. How is the radio going?"

"Couple of secs. Well you look better." Hawass glanced at Zechs and then returned his attention back to the radio. "Two connections to go and we can give it a test. I might need to make a few adjustments, but …" He shrugged and ran a finger over the bridge of his nose. "It's easier if I have my glasses, but they broke and … Well, one just has to do the best one can, right? One more to connect … that should do it." He leaned back to survey his handiwork and then leaned forward again to slip the circuit board into its place in the main console. "Nothing flash in range, you understand, but it should be powerful enough to reach the Alpha Dome if the God of radio waves is on our side. Said your prayers today?"

"Frequently." Zechs settled in the pilot's chair. "He must be in a good mood today and listening, because I am still alive."

"I would say that God is having rather a heavy day today." Giles leaned into the space between the door and the back of the co-pilot's seat, watching as the last connections were made and Hawass reached for the second circuit board at his elbow.

"Hey, we all have those days, man. God probably has even more of them than we do. Remind me to have a philosophical and religious discussion with you two after this shit is dealt with." The engineer inserted the board and straightened from the shattered command consul of the shuttle. Taking a deep breath he began to power up the control panel. "Now be a doll and prove to the nice gentlemen that Ahmed knows his stuff. Work."

Zechs watched in silence as the Chief began to flick switches and the command consul began to show a sequence of red lights. The system reboot for the computer would take a few minutes, but all he wanted to see was that green light half way down the system station that designated an operating radio. He needed to know what was going on beyond the Base Dome and if there was any way that they could be of help to those people trapped outside. If there were still people alive out there. If he could only rely on his visions and know that there were people out there, alive and well in the relative safety of K23. Supposition was all well and good, but supposition did not save lives and how could he trust his visions? There had been too many options to say with certainty that this particular variation of events would happen or perhaps not. For all he knew all of those people outside the dome could be dead.

Zechs leaned forward slightly though the radio remained stubbornly mute and with a few deft touches he set the frequency control to the designated frequency he hoped Barker had discovered on the maps of K23. There was a great deal of supposition in his actions, but he had to trust in others not just in himself, not that he trusted himself, he reflected. Too much had happened for him to trust that the actions he followed were the right course to take. He could only hope Barker had found what he had left. He would know soon enough if the radio worked. If he could just talk to the man and learn what had been going on it would provide him with more detailed guidelines to work from, but if they did manage to get into contact he had to keep communications brief.

"Come on baby, don't you let me down." The Chief Engineer glared at the red light that glowed from the console and peered into the circuitry of the open panel for a long moment and then grunted. "Well damn. How did you come off? Get back on there you little shit."

Crackle. Hiss.

"… into the Base Dome as soon as possible."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	102. Chapter 102

Alternative Directions

Chapter 102

Mars Colony

Base Dome

1st March AC 198

Time: 23: 57 [approx Sanc time 21:47

Zechs

"But why are they doing this? You claim it is the ESUN who is attacking the base, but you have not said why they would. There has to be a reason. Raiders, pirates, yes, I suppose I could believe that though there is nothing here, as yet, that would interest them, but the ESUN? For God's sake, Mako, what do you think this is, the Dark Ages?"

Voices spilled from the speakers on the consol, voices that filled Zechs with a momentary relief that thrust him perilously close to passing out. The world spun dizzily around him, shadows and shapes he dared not investigate rearing within his mind and he feared the onset of vision and scrambled desperately to sort out his impressions and reinforce his control. This was not the time to push his boundaries beyond what he knew to be safe and he must stave off vision and function at command level to give the survivors a chance of coming safely into the dome.

"We need to stay off this frequency as there is the chance that it may be monitored by hostile parties and the longer we remain on the air the more likely it is we will be discovered. I am sorry, but that is all I dare say at this time. Keep calm and in control of the situation and remain where you are. Sit tight. We are working on the situation."

"Mako …" The man sounded exasperated, at his wits end but determined to get answers.

Zechs did not recognize the voice but he recognized Mako clearly enough. He needed to know what was happening and he was going to have to break into this conversation, but at least he now knew that there were others alive.

"No, Peter. Enough. Get off the line now and keep those people calm. We are trying everything that we can to get those doors open for your people. Just give us some time and trust. That is all we ask of you. Give us the time we need to get this job done."

Zechs exhaled softly, a long drawn out sigh of relief. There were people alive out there and the fact that they were using this particular frequency meant they must have found his message hidden in the maps sent to Alpha Dome. They must have found the maps and that would mean that either Barker or Mako had rescued the workers from immediate death. There was hope they could keep the bulk of the terra formers alive, at least until the Wellington showed up in the next few days. After that … All bets were off. How close was the ship to Mars? Was doom hanging over their heads even now? He forced his morbid thoughts aside; clinging to the small victory it was that those people were alive. Now was of immediate concern.

With a slow and deep breath Zechs leaned forward and depressed the send key. "Clear the line. Earth Delta ten."

He held his breath, uncertain if the send as well as receive on this radio was functioning. If Barker was out there and listening then he should respond. If. So many ifs. If the transmit function worked and they could be heard, as well as hear, on this patched together radio. If they could receive and not send, then they were effectively still on their own, but at least they had the small comfort of knowing the maintenance teams were alive. The knowing firmed his resolve to see this day done.

There was a gasp from the radio which might have been coincidence if they were unlucky and if they were lucky it was someone reacting to hearing his voice. He felt Giles lean forward enough to lay a hand on his good shoulder, knowing him to be just as tense and willing there to be an affirmative response to the command. There was so much that Giles too wanted to know, not the least of which was if his partner was still alive, but he knew the Raider was well aware that would have to wait. As Zechs had to trust him, so did he have to trust Zechs to establish secured communications.

Barker's voice broke from the speaker sounding calm and efficient. The trained, professional voice of a Preventer. "Preventer emergency. Take your conversation off the air. Eagle acknowledged command. Earth Delta in five."

With the ghost of a smile Zechs reached forward and adjusted the radio frequency to the designated channel. The Preventer emergency code was a rarely used frequency and differed from assignment to assignment, each code sequence devised prior to each assignment to lessen the chances of the wrong personnel gaining the information. The Mars emergency code, like the designated emergency frequency, had been set by Preventer Earth before Barker had been assigned to Mars, but prior to this attack on the Terra Forming base Zechs had convinced Barker to establish another code system explaining it was highly probable the ESUN agents soon to arrive would have been briefed on the channel assigned to the Mars personnel of Preventers. It had taken all of his persuasive powers to have Barker agree to the alternate code, one he had devised himself that he was assured the ESUN agents could not possibly know, but in the end Barker had agreed. Now it was possible they could engage in a quick conversation and be reasonably assured of keeping it secure.

"Wind?" The man's voice seemed hushed, almost as though he did not believe he would receive a response.

"Acknowledged Eagle. Nice to hear your voice." A quiet sigh. Just knowing that man was alive out there, somewhere, was a relief. If his vision was to be believed then Barker should be with the maintenance team at K23, if they had used the maps he had detailed.

"Jesus." The breath of a whisper answered his sigh. For a moment there was silence then the voice came again, stronger this time, the assured tones of a professional reporting to a superior. "Situation under control. K23 a go. Less twenty-two."

Zechs closed his eyes briefly, drinking in the information and the assurance that his vision seemed to be on the mark. They had gone to the caves he had recommended as giving them the best chances of survival and they had lost twenty-two people in getting them to that secured location. Considering the other scenarios he had witnessed they had done well. With that worry off of his mind he could now turn to more immediate matters designed to end this fiasco and restore order to the base. What he could do about the Wellington remained to be seen, but all he need concern himself with now was getting the last of the agents out of the way and medical attention to those who were so desperately in need of it.

First thing was first, however. He needed to brief Barker on the situation in the dome in as few words as possible. "Dome unsecured. Sub base unsecured."

A silence as outside the base Barker considered that both the Base Dome and the sub base still was in enemy hands and that there would be no immediate opportunity to get the workers into its safety. How well he would take that information remained to be seen, or if there was any possible assistance to them that might be offered. They needed to be quick in their exchange of information and Barker seemed to be taking a considerable time to assimilate their current situation.

"Understood. Entry possible. Confirm."

Zechs exchanged a glance with Giles who appeared to be catching on to the shorthand used very quickly. //He can get into the dome? How? I can't recall any vision that suggested Barker enters the dome; still there is a lot about this situation that I have not witnessed. // "Time?"

"Sixty to ninety. Earth. Sector three."

Zechs leaned back from the radio a little, considering that. Earth. Not the usual sector reference for the Mars base then, but the alternate sector designations that they had arranged for an emergency where Preventer security was in doubt. Yes, he knew that this was definitely Barker he spoke to and that he was under no coercion, but free of interference and able to act. Sector three? Zechs frowned, running quickly through the alternate sector designations for the Base Dome and then arched an eyebrow as he realized what it was that the man intended.

Yes, it could work, he admitted to himself and it was possible Barker would succeed in using that method of entry to the dome. The waste treatment plant was huge and an independent unit outside the dome itself, linked to the dome by vast pipes that carried the waste from the dome to the plant, where it was treated and recycled before being brought back into the dome by automated pumps and a separate pipe system for use in the hydroponics domes. The pipes had inspection points and multiple entries into the dome and each of the three entry points were independent airlocks. It was possible that Simpson and his tech had not interfered with the airlocks, but on that Zechs would not risk Barker's life. Yet he could not voice his concern over the airwaves. It was possible Simpson could have picked up their conversations now and he would not give the agent that advantage to hunt Barker down.

"Acknowledged." While he could not mention the possibility of trapped airlocks he could be reasonably assured that Barker would not remove his enviro suit. "Advise toxic contamination in upper dome systems."

He noted Giles' curious look, knowing he would not recognize the designated sector as the sewerage and waste disposal and treatment plant, but instead the designation he knew would apply to the storage and warehouse facilities on the opposite side of the dome, near the hydroponics domes. He would explain the conversation to his companion when he was finished with Barker and they could not long linger on their conversation.

"Toxic … Due care. Three."

Zechs nodded to himself as the response. Barker would keep the enviro suits operating until assured they were clear of contaminated air and it would be idiocy to remove them within the supposed safety of the airlocks if you were expecting to walk out into poisoned air. It was wise for him not to enter the base alone and a small force would have a better chance of infiltrating the dome and Barker had just given him the numbers to expect on the team to attempt it. Three. Barker and two others could be expected to join them at some later time. Now knowing the numbers to expect Zechs moved onto the next order of business, the rendezvous.

"Earth Sector Five C sub. Rendezvous Earth Sector seven."

He waited hardly daring to breathe, uncertain if Barker would make the link. He presumed the infiltration team would plan to use the ventilation system to gain the sub base if they wished to go unnoticed by hostile elements within the dome. With the vents contaminated it was hardly safe to send the team through the vents to reach the shuttle bay, even by a somewhat roundabout route to that which he and Giles had so recently employed. What he offered to Barker now was a safer route, an alternative he could be almost assured that Simpson would not guess if he was listening to the conversation. Should Simpson have returned to the Shuttle Control Tower then it was possible he had discovered the room where he and Giles had cut their way into the vent system and it was even possible that Simpson might try following them through that cramped and dark system.

Zechs stifled the shudder of distaste, determined that he would not be going back into the vents and unwilling to send another team into them and Simpson was canny enough to devise a means to stop anyone else using the vents as a means of getting around. What he offered now was the same route he had employed to leave the sub base and enter the upper dome so many hours ago. Hydroponics Dome Three was designated Earth Sector Five C, sub designated the means by which to enter the sub base and he only hoped that Barker figured out exactly what it meant, as he dared say no more. Being too specific was not safe on an unsecured radio frequency. Earth Sector Seven designated the shuttle bay as their point of rendezvous. Barker seemed to be having difficulty figuring out what he meant, but the acknowledgement finally came through and Zechs could only hope the Preventer had indeed understood him.

"Earth Sector Five C sub. Earth Sector seven. Acknowledged."

// Did you understand or did you decide to figure it out later? I only hope you get it right. // "Time?"

He would allow Barker to set the time schedule as the man had to work his way to the shuttle bay and best knew the requirements of that journey. From his own experiences he knew it was a bitch to work to a time schedule, but the situation really called for at least a loose schedule to enable them to meet. He had no idea what means of transportation Barker had to achieve his goals and he personally wanted a minimum of an hour to make his own preparations. By foot K23 was a goodly hike and it might take Barker three or four hours before he could be assured of making his way into the shuttle bay. For his own needs Zechs found that he preferred at least two hours for him to accomplish the work required of him, but he could work with one hour if he had to. If Barker had a small shuttle or even a Taurus available to him then it might be as little as one hour, though at that pace unacceptable risks would surely have to be taken.

"Ninety."

//Ninety minutes? He sounds confident. Two hours would have been better for me, but it still allows me enough time to act and at least I know he's not likely to rush and make mistakes. Une assigned him here for a reason. He's not a fool.// "Done. Luck. Wind out."

Ahmed Hawass was watching Zechs with an arched eyebrow and a faintly bemused expression. He watched Zechs lean back from the radio after giving the frequency locator a goodly tweak, taking it off the frequency they had used and shutting down the unit to conserve the battery power. He eyed the lights glowing softly in the dim light of the cockpit and the shuttered expression on his companions faces. They were clearly lost in thought and he was concerned that it was possible someone in one of the control centres might chance to see the active signal on the emergency shuttle and he understood well enough that every small precaution must be taken against discovery.

"Okay, of that I understood just about zero. Do you always talk like that?"

"Only on unsecured frequencies when a knife in the back could be the result." Giles quipped. "No offence, Ahmed, but I don't want anyone knowing we are here."

"Point." The Chief nodded his agreement. "Is he likely to contact us again? I need to know whether or not to keep the power running through the command consul. It is possible anyone monitoring the systems in one of the control rooms would notice an active shuttle interface."

"Keep the radio down and take down the interface. There will be no further contact and we can not afford to have anyone come to investigate the shuttle." Zechs heaved himself from his seat. "I need you to find a way of venting the pollution in the air vents servicing the upper dome out into the atmosphere. Somehow Simpson, or the Sleepers, have caused a malfunction that is allowing a toxic build up and within the hour there will be enough of a toxicity problem in the upper dome that anyone venturing out without an enviro suit on will be poisoned. We need to clean out the system and check the scrubbers and filters are not damaged. Can you do it?"

Hawass leaned back in his chair, considering the various means by which he could make a start on the work that needed to be done. The ventilations systems of the dome were complex and computer controlled. Air meant life on Mars and there were safeguards in place that ensured good clean air fed into the dome and harmful gas products were vented before the cleaned and recycled air was returned to the dome. Because of the various stages of the construction process for the dome there were multiple systems feeding the different parts of the dome and he might be able to make use of those duplicate systems to clean the main dome vents. Finally he nodded.

"I can try. It would help if I could get to the main control room but I guess that is out of the question, so I can try to jury rig something and hack into the computer systems. See if I can't link to a viable active system."

"Virus. The main computer systems are down." Giles offered.

"Shit." Hawass leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes and trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. "Secondary systems?"

"Out of commission to my knowledge. The last I looked there was a dirty great big piece of metal sticking up out of the control consul in the shuttle control tower. I'm really not sure what works and what is junk now."

Hawass hissed like a boiling kettle for a moment, teeth clenched as he considered his options. This was not going to be straight forward, but he was the Chief Engineer and a high level technical expert. To be a part of the Mars Terra Forming team meant you had to be multitalented and extremely inventive at dealing with the unexpected. Here you could not just pop down the road to the shops for the required spare parts for a quick fix. He knew state of the art computer systems and he knew how to hack into them. While this problem with playing around the limits set by a virus was going to be a challenge, he did not see it to be an impossible challenge.

"Okay, leave it with me. There is still the back up monitoring station on the other side of the lounge in the Supervisors office. If I can hack into the systems after installing some private personally devised software to protect it from the virus, I might be able to isolate the ventilation system and get the outer vents open and the filtering system operational. Maybe. I will think of something."

"Well enough." Zechs moved to the door. "Giles, we get something to eat now. It may take us some time before we get the chance again and I want each of us to carry water bottles."

Hawass watched both men leave the cockpit of the shuttle and nodded slightly. That conversation he had listened in on clearly suggested the man was a sneaky bastard and did indeed know how to roar. They needed that just now, the roar not the meow, but they needed him to roar at the right time. He had an idea now of just how patient the man could be and he liked what he saw.

//Funny sod, Marquise. Always polite. You get the impression that butter would not melt in his mouth, but I guess Giles is right. There is a lot more to him than he lets on. Why else would the ESUN have dropped him out here if he was not the same Milliardo Peacecraft who threatened to blow up a world? Okay. Reassessment. A feral cat then. He gives the appearance of a pedigree house cat, nice and quiet. Docile until someone stamps on his tail and then you might find yourself facing a nasty mess of claw and fang. //

Zechs motioned Giles toward the rear of the shuttle, picking up at random two containers of emergency rations as they passed through the main body of the shuttle. A quick glance over his shoulder assured him the Chief Engineer had remained in the cockpit of the shuttle and that was a relief. He did not know if he should trust the man or not, but he wanted a private few minutes with Giles and this was the best time for them to discuss what needed to be done. The clock now was ticking toward a rendezvous.

"So what is the exact translation of that conversation?" Giles settled himself down on a container of medical supplies in the cargo section and glanced at the ration tubes he was offered, selecting the roast beef and vegetables option that looked like a particularly sickly coloured smooth peanut butter.

Zechs settled beside him, facing down the body of the shuttle so he could see if Hawass left the cockpit, or if anyone else should enter the shuttle through the main access doors. He glanced at the tube Giles left him with and sighed. He was fed up with chicken. The thought almost drew a snort out of him; it was so irrelevant to their situation.

"Barker and two others will rendezvous with us in the shuttle bay in ninety minutes, less the time it has taken us to get here."

The Raider operative blinked, tube of food concentrate held opened before him. "How the hell are they going to get into the dome, let alone down here?"

"Someone has come up with a bright idea. They will be entering through the sewerage and waste treatment plant."

Giles hissed a breath and grinned. "Of course, the inlet and outlet pipes." A flair of hope was quickly squashed as he remembered a conversation he had had with his partner assigned to back him up while on Mars. Was it possible that his partner was alive//Chris? Might you …I'll just have to wait and see, but it is a coincidence that they choose that method of entering a sealed dome. You said to me that day the sewerage treatment plant was a possible point of entry and exit if we needed to get Zechs out of the dome unseen. Are you a part of the team or is it just coincidence//

"Giles?" Zechs was watching the man with narrowed eyes.

"Sorry, I was just thinking, but it would not do to try using that method of getting those workers into the dome. It would take too long and the automated systems might think a blockage was developing if the flow of waste product was obstructed by a mass of people moving through the system. That could get messy. I take it the teams working outside are safe?"

"Yes. K23 is the caves I suggested would be suitable for them to spend the night in, should a lock out of the dome eventuate."

"Score another success up to your visions." At the wince that produced Giles sighed and dared to lightly touch the man's shoulder, careful of the heavy bruising he carried. "Hey, I know most of them are not pleasant, but you have to take the good with the bad, man. Those visions have allowed you to save those people from certain death. That's good. Having the Gift is not always a curse Zechs. That is the reason why we call them Gifts."

Zechs ran a hand lightly over his eyes, brushing aside the unruly fringe of rapidly drying blonde hair. "One day we are going to have a long discussion, Giles, on what you call Gifts and I think of as something else entirely."

"Hey, I used to think of them as something else. I understand where you are coming from, believe me, but you spend a few months on Station One with the Training Masters and see what you think. I believe it safe to say that your views will have altered somewhat. It helps to talk to and work with people who have the same sort of unusual abilities. There are a fair few of us on Station. Anyway, what are we up to next?"

It was time to return to the matters at hand, Zechs reflected as there was so much to do and he at least had a time schedule to work to now. Meeting Barker in the shuttle bay would be an added bonus, as it would give them extra bodies to effect the capture of the tech they needed to acquire if his plan was to succeed. He did not want the man harmed. There had already been too much killing here this day and he wanted to keep the death toll down as much as possible. If they could capture the man, well and good, but if they had to kill him then he would have to accept that as unavoidable. Whether they had to kill Frazier or not, he and Giles would at least have some much needed help.

"First up we need to check on the agents I left drugged in the hospital sector. With the sedative I used they should be out for another four or five hours at least, but I need to ensure they are not going to feature in this. After that you and I are going to check out the camera equipment I need to record my little discussion with Simpson. If I can get the Commander to own up to what is happening here and record that confession, then it will help later, when the dust settles and there is time for finger pointing and recriminations."

Giles nodded, sucking on the tube and wishing roast beef and vegetables did not taste like soggy cardboard.

"Where is this camera equipment?"

"Cached in a safe place in the sub base. We have a room to prepare before we can sucker Simpson into a confrontation and I would think by now he would be on his way up to the upper base, but we have no guarantee of that. He may already be up there and could be on his way back down, there is no way I can be sure, so we will still need to move with care. We are so close now to ending this that I want nothing to go wrong. Within three hours it could all be over." //Until the Wellington shows up. //

"I'll do my share of praying to the man upstairs for that." A sigh. Giles sucked the last of the food paste from the tube and drank quickly, washing down the bland taste. "So, I guess we are bound for the hospital section first?"

"Yes. We will need to be careful, but all going well we should be ready for when Barker and his team arrive."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	103. Chapter 103

Alternative Directions

Chapter 103

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 00: 10 [approx Sanc time 22:00

Barker

"Right, gentlemen. Listen up." Barker reached out to draw the waiting men closer, pressing their helmets tightly to his own wanting to ensure that his instructions were clearly heard. "The voice that you heard was that of Zechs Merquise, Preventer Agent Wind. Yes, he is a Preventer Agent and to all effects and purposes during this situation, he is my Commanding Officer. I have explicit instructions from Preventer Earth, the head of the organization, that should trouble develop on Mars I am to take my orders from him. I trust there will not be a problem with that? Good. Polnar, you are certain you can get us into the base using the waste plant?"

The man inclined his head within the helmet, seemingly not phased in the slightest that the notorious Milliardo Peacecraft was revealed to be a Preventer Agent and superior to Barker in rank. He asked no questions concerning the supposed prisoner's legal status or standing, a fact that greatly surprised Barker, who had expected him to question why a man who had been introduced to the entire Mars base personnel as a prisoner on his arrival, now seemed to have the power to run the show.

"It seems feasible. Certainly everything else has been tried to enter the dome and failed."

// I would have thought that he would have asked questions. I am certain I would have, but … I suppose he was a Specials Pilot and he may even have served with Merquise during the war, still, I am disturbed by that acceptance. It seems too easy. I think I need to watch this one. // "We now have around eighty five minutes to enter the dome and make our way to the shuttle bay. We are to rendezvous with Merquise there and make our plans to finish this using the intelligence he will have gathered to better plan our assault on the remaining ESUN agents. While we have approximately eighty five minutes to get there I would like to make it there in less time if possible."

Polnar shrugged his shoulders within the bulky enviro suit. "I am not sure about the time it will take, but we should be able to make that time limit, all going well. We will exit the pipes in the dome after all. That has to save us some time."

Barker nodded by way of agreement but added a caution. "We can not remove our enviro suits until we are assured of a secure atmosphere. Wind has issued a warning that there is a build up of toxic fumes within the dome itself. What it is that is causing this build up I have no idea at this time, but I would say they have not been having a quiet day. There may have been a fire or other damage that has affected the oxygen cycling station, or perhaps the vents have been damaged which seems unlikely but must remain a possibility. I think we had best assume that the casualty count will have been high."

"Well, bad air is not good but if the ventilation ducts are in doubt we may have a problem entering the shuttle bay undetected. Short of using the elevators I don't think there is another way to reach the shuttle bay and the enviro suits are just too bulky to allow us to use them in the vents." The Leo pilot scowled, trying to work an alternate route to solve this dilemma.

Barker flipped a hand casually to wipe away the concern on both men's faces. "We already have our alternate route within the dome to reach the safety of the bays. Wind advises there is a way into the sub base through HD Three. Now if he says there is a means by which we can enter the sub base from the hydroponics dome, then I do not doubt that there is, but I can't for the life of me think what he means. I thought the hydroponics domes were sealed units, fully self contained environments. So, do either of you have any ideas what he could be referring to? Owing to the need for security we could not remain on the line indefinitely and I told him I knew what he meant. Let us not make a liar out of me."

Daniel Carter huffed a breath, his scowl deepening as he considered the conversation. He was a Taurus suit pilot and worked almost exclusively outside the habitat domes of the Mars colony. The functions of the Hydroponics Domes was something of a mystery to him and he certainly had no idea how entering one of them would offer a means to enter the sub base.

"Why specifically HD Three? Why that dome and not either of the other two older domes? I take it that the elevators have been disabled." He surmised. "Perhaps the power has been cut to ensure it is not so easy to move around the dome."

"If they have not been disabled then the elevators are at the very least to be considered extremely dangerous. It is most likely they have been trapped more than disabled by power cuts, but either option makes them too dangerous for us to risk at this time. I have no idea what has been going on in there, but it would not have been pretty and it is still to be considered potentially lethal. We have to make every move with extreme care."

"The water pipe." Polnar glanced up within the confines of his helmet to meet the shadowed eyes of Barker.

He had stood quietly while Barker and Carter had spoken, silently considering the dynamics of the Hydroponics Domes of the Base Dome. Unlike Daniel Carter he had been used within the Base Dome and the Alpha Dome quite extensively and there was very little of the domes he had not had occasion to enter. Being one of the newer arrivals of the teams and having the qualifications that he had arrived with, he had been snapped up by the maintenance section of the Colony who had made good use of every one of his talents. He had known little in the way of idleness since arriving on Mars but the varied duties he had been required to perform meant that he had gained an extensive knowledge of the domes systems.

"He must mean the water pipes that connect the hydro domes to the reservoirs in the sub base. Admittedly it would be a long and slippery climb down the pipe to the sub base. We would need to find an outlet for a drained pipe, preferably one that has been drained for routine cleaning. I really don't fancy trusting enviro suits to the pressures involved in a dive of that depth and anyway we would be unable to exit a pipe that was full. No, there would have to be a pipe already empty. It is just a matter of finding the right maintenance shaft to enter the service outlet. There would have to be one drained in HD Three and ready to use, that must be what he was referring to. If it is not that then I honestly don't think there is another way down into the sub base, other than the elevators or the air vent system."

Barker considered the man in silence, wondering how it was that the Leo Pilot had gained such extensive knowledge of the Base Dome, but he nodded after a moments thought, acknowledging that it sounded reasonable. He really was going to have to keep and eye on this man. "Alright, it sounds viable. We go to HD three and we check for service outlets first. Right then, time is wasting. Have you both recharged your suits and eaten?"

"No. Mobile suit pilots were slated to go last, because of the greater resources the suits give us." Carter responded.

"You now have priority. We have a set time to accomplish this so get yourselves ready as quickly as you can. By this time the last of the maintenance crews should have been taken care of and there would be at least one of the big re supply suits available for you to use. Help each other and meet me back here in no more than five minutes. Polnar, is your mobile suit ready for this? Would the Taurus not be better since we now have a time limit? Faster."

"The Leo is ready for use and yes, the Taurus would undoubtedly be faster getting us to the dome, but I really would prefer that we take the Leo."

//Why? You've been the answer man so far, why do you want to take the slower Leo when time is of the essence just now// "Reasons?"

Polnar hesitated and then offered a diffident shrug. "No real reason, except that I suppose I was hoping to hear word from my partner. He is in the dome and he would use a frequency we had designated if he can reach a radio. He would not be easy to kill."

Barker's eyes narrowed, considering the man. Why would Polnar and his friend set designated frequencies to contact each other? Carter was watching him too, he noted and the man in question shrugged, not offering further comment. He was acutely conscious of the time and the limits now imposed on them, but he was aware of a few anomalies about this man that might just be too dangerous to ignore. Still, he was warned and he was not alone as he had Carter whom he was certain that he could trust. For now he was going to have to trust the man, but that did not mean that he was needlessly going to turn his back to Polnar and present an easy target for any betrayal that might come his way.

"We don't have the time to argue this. We take the Taurus. Get ready."

It would be approximately a five minute flight to the Base Dome now that the Taurus suit was to be used and they would no longer have to be concerned with the massive weight of the survival supplies as opposed to nearly a half hour walk should they take the Leo. He admitted to himself that he was not thrilled with the idea of clinging to the Taurus while flying in the dark Martian night, however he was all in favour of a short hairy flight instead of a longer haul. Speed mattered.

What worried him now was dare he trust Christian Polnar? Why would the man prefer to take the slower Leo and not take the speedy Taurus? Time was of the essence here and now that he knew Zechs was alive and that they needed to join forces he was not inclined to wait around. Speed was vital in the activities of the night and he was not inclined to dally unnecessarily. No, the Taurus, dangerous as it was to cling to that suit while it was flying, was the optimum mode of transport they had available to them. Why was the man so set against using the flying suit? He was uncertain just how far he could trust the pilot and he would need to keep Polnar in sight at all times.

Polnar had leapt back to the open hatch of the Leo and now the machine's hand was smoothly lowering Barker and Carter to the ground, where they stepped off the hand and watched as the pilot locked down the suit. In moments Polnar was in the hatch again, but instead of reaching for the lift mechanism the suit pilots used to descend, he instead knelt in the open hatch and worked at a side control. It took only a minute to open the hatch, rummage within it and then close the opening and grab the lift hand hold and then he was standing beside Barker.

Polnar leaned forward to rest his helmet against Barkers helmet. "Hold onto these. If we have to go flying on that thing I don't intend to fall off. The straps will help keep us secure for the flight."

Barker nodded and the Leo pilot waved a salute and loped into the cave interior with Carter to attend to the business of recharging their enviro suits survival systems, leaving Barker to study the assortment of straps in his hand. With a slight shrug of broad shoulders he acknowledged that he would feel considerably safer with the strapping and he supposed that it was reasonable for the Leo pilot to prefer his own suit. He knew other pilots who professed no trust in the abilities of other pilots and their suits, so he supposed that could explain the man's reluctance.

//Still, I will be keeping a close watch on that man. He is not what he seems I think and if he is ESUN I will not give him the opportunity to take me down.// Barker adjusted the radio frequency of his suit. "Cherry. Can I see you outside?"

"On my way."

It took only a minute before a figure, anonymous and sexless in the enviro suit, emerged from the cave and paused, no doubt looking around to locate him and then made its way to him. He drew her helmeted head to touch his own, signaling for her to turn off her radio as he did so.

With an arched eyebrow Cherry did as requested and then offered a glare at the man who had called her away from overseeing the settling in of the workers in the cave. "What is going on?"

"I will be taking two of the mobile suit pilots with me to the Base Dome. We will attempt to get into the dome and open it up for your teams before the temperatures fall below the point where you will have no option other than to remain in K23 until the air warms up with dawn. I know that will not give us long but we can only try. I'll establish radio contact with you when we succeed and if we do succeed and the weather is passable then I want you to have everyone check their oxygen supply before they begin to walk back to the dome. If it is too late and the temperature drops below the safety margin, then you will have to be ready to move out about dawn. By morning I hope Mako will have a shuttle up and running and he can come up and take the team back to Alpha Dome in relays, if you have not heard from us before then. Keep everyone in the caves and use the supplies sparingly. There is no guarantee that we will be able to open the dome for you before the temperature drops too far. No one is to be on their own and they must regularly check the oxygen readings on their neighbour's suits, especially if their neighbour is asleep. We have lost twenty-two people already and I would prefer not to lose any more."

Within her helmet she nodded slightly, not enough to have the helmet move but enough for him to notice the movement. "What do you think your chances are of getting into the dome?"

"Don't hold your breath waiting for my call. At this time I would suggest that you rely on Mako coming in with a shuttle after dawn."

"Alright. You will be returning to K23 if you can't get into the dome in good time? You only have sufficient oxygen for around four hours, so you will have to return before then, or will you take extra oxygen and transport it in the mobile suit?"

"We will be taking a Taurus, so we can leave it almost to the last minute to retreat back to the caves, but there is the chance that we might get in and run into trouble trying to open the way for you. No, we will not be taking extra oxygen. Your team here will need all the supplies they have. Don't panic if we do not return. We may have gotten into the dome but it might take us a while to ensure that we can get your people in safely. We need to keep off the radios unless it is a dire emergency, or we succeed and issue the go ahead for you to return to the dome. It may be a very long night."

"It already is a long night." A sigh came clearly through the touching head gear. "I won't panic if I don't hear from you by dawn, but I hope you won't object to me saying a few prayers."

"We could do with all the help possible." He grinned. "Go on back inside and keep them under control. You have a better chance of surviving if they keep calm."

"We will be just fine. They are all professionals and survivors or they would not have remained so long on this ball of rock. All of the idiots who come here die within a month; you should know that by now. You do what you can to get us back into the dome and we will hold things together here."

They touched hands briefly by way of farewell and he watched her vanish into the cave before he had made his own way to the feet of the Taurus. He propped himself against the massive foot of the machine and watched the cave mouth, noting the movement at the mouth of the cave where a figure emerged and turned towards him. Carter was beside him in seconds, launching himself from the cave mouth and into a loping bounce that passed for a run in the bulky suits in the lighter gravity of Mars.

"Polnar?" Barker queried as Carter leaned to rest his helmet against his own. "Where is he?"

"He's coming. I think the man's got an unhealthy fear of flying, you know? He never actually said anything, but I think that may be the problem. I'll lower one hand of the suit and you can strap yourself to a finger. He's right about the straps being a necessary precaution."

Barker caught at Carter's suit sleeve to stop him from pulling away. "He pilots a Leo and he's afraid of heights?" Barker blinked at Carter in disbelief.

"No, not heights; just of flying when he's not the one doing the flying. It's not so unusual in Mobile Suit pilots as you might think. To be honest it is a personal power thing. I have to admit that I don't like flying with anyone else in control of a suit myself. I'm not saying that is definitely the problem, but it might be. I've seen it before."

Barker stood back from the Taurus and Carter reached for the lift as Polnar joined the Preventer agent. He stood silently beside Barker, making no attempt to speak to the man and they watched as the Taurus began to power up, then Carter set the suit to kneel before them and a hand lowered, palm facing up and coming to rest on the ground before them. Polnar took the straps from Barker and separated one set, passing it to Barker and showing him how to use them effectively and still be able to release himself from their hold in seconds should they need a quick release.

"Lift two fingers!" Polnar instructed the Taurus suit pilot over the radio before switching off the radio and leaning to place his helmet into contact with Barker. "If we sit on the palm with our backs to a finger and strap ourselves to the finger we should be safe enough."

Barker, once he was seated in the giant hand and had secured himself to a digit began to consider the worth of this mad flight in the Martian night. If not for the hope he still entertained of getting those people in the caves into the dome before the temperature dropped below the tolerance level of the enviro suits, he might have reconsidered the means of reaching the Base Dome. Calling himself an idiot he gripped the straps that secured him to his seat tightly and closed his eyes as the hand began to rise.

It was a short flight from the K23 cave system to the Base Dome and it was a flight accompanied in silence from Barker and Polnar, the latter showing a tight lipped silence and painfully tight grip on the straps that demonstrated his lack of trust in anyone else's piloting skills other than his own. Barker wondered if it was Carter's flying Polnar objected to, or if Polnar had another more obscure problem with flying in the dark without lights. One thing Barker did notice was that it was a glorious cloud free Martian night. The atmosphere of the planet as always had a wealth of dust circulating but this night the dust clouds seemed much reduced from the norm and he gained a magnificent view of the Martian night sky.

//So long as that is not a precursor to a bloody dust storm. The weather stations at Alpha did not suggest a storm though, so we should not have to deal with that problem.// He watched the stars for a time and then felt the alteration in the suit's speed, and knew they neared the dome.

Carter guided his suit around the bulk of the dome, skirting the structure and giving his passengers a good view of the great dome of glass and metal. He refrained from passing over the dome on the odd chance that the running lights installed on the Taurus that he would need to operate for the landing sequence might be seen and alert anyone in the dome to their presence. It was a chance of discovery that was miniscule but the pilot was not about to take the chance that something should go wrong so soon into their bid to enter the dome and he settled the Taurus near the waste treatment plant beyond the dome, lowering the suit to one knee and dropping the hand containing his passengers to the ground.

A quick tug on the line had the straps loosened and Barker shook them off quickly, leaping to the ground and trying not to think about the flight in darkness that had seemed to last far longer than the estimated five minutes. He noted that Polnar was off the hand and standing beside him with sufficient speed to suggest that he had disliked the flight far more than the Preventer agent. Barker might have found it amusing if the situation was not so serious and the pair waited for Carter to lock down the Taurus and join them.

Carter released the lift after riding the wire down from the cockpit of the suit and joined the two men, pressing his head to their helmets. "There we go gents." He was grinning cheerfully.

Barker nodded his approval of a job well done and then turned his mind to business. They had a long way to go before the night was over. "From here on in we keep radio contact down to a bare minimum. Basically we use the radio only if there is no other option. Polnar, you know your way in?"

A brief nod responded and the Leo pilot motioned to the bulk of the building to their left. "I did a two week stint here on arriving. That is the waste treatment plant over there."

"You take the lead then. Go."

There was going to be little time to waste if they were to maintain their schedule and meet Zechs in the shuttle bay on time and Barker knew that despite all of his plans so many things could go wrong and he could miss this rendezvous with Merquise. He only hoped they did not run into unforeseen circumstances that would do more than delay them a few minutes. Foreseen circumstances included encounters with Sleepers and the infiltration agents from the ESUN Security Agency. What else could go wrong was something he really did not want to consider. He needed to meet Marquise and the idea of crawling through sewerage pipes certainly did not appeal to him, but he was not going to be a prima donna about the distastefulness of the situation. It was a way into the dome and he wanted in badly enough to take it. Situations which could produce delays that ran into more than a few minutes were definitely to be avoided.

Polnar was moving with an assured confidence through the darkness and Barker hustled to keep up with him, afraid of losing him in the darkness of the night. While he had been to the waste plant before, he was not familiar enough with the system to trust himself to find his way around the building without wasting time by taking the wrong path. Carter bounded along beside him, their suit helmet lights shedding just enough light for them to see where they placed their feet and he seemed to be confident in their leader, at least for now.

By Martian standards it was a glorious night. The Base Dome shed a red glow that offered surprisingly little in the way of light pollution to dull the magnificent star field that spread above them. Barker scanned the area for any sign that they might not be alone out here and his eyes inevitably found their way to the starscape above. High overhead the small moon Phobos shed a soft glow, tinted pinkish by the dust in the atmosphere. There was always dust on Mars. Dust got into everything and if you did not allow yourself to become accustomed to it and to accept it, you very quickly found yourself in front of one of the bases psychologists. Something as simple as dust could drive a person insane on Mars. It was odd how the small things, like little grains of gritty sand could annoy you the most.

Barker dragged his attention away from the night sky and the evidence of the ever present dust and back to the matter at hand as Polnar stopped just ahead of him. The dark shape of the main building was still a distance to their fore and he glared suspiciously at the Leo pilot who was looking at a small construction set off to one side. Carter and Barker exchanged glances as Polnar motioned to them to follow and himself angled toward the small building, pausing at the doors to peer at the lock.

He waited for the two men to join him and pressed his helmet to theirs, waving a hand at the small structure behind him. "I think this might be the best way for us to enter the pipes. The main building is closely monitored by computers in the Base Dome and our entry is more than likely to be noted by an alarm if we enter. These are maintenance access huts and they are not linked to the main alarm system as far as I know. Whenever I have been in these they were unlocked, but it is possible that they may be monitored by computer. I can't say for sure."

"We have to take some chances. Get us into the dome as fast as you can." Barker returned.

Polnar acknowledged that instruction by returning his attention to the maintenance shack and entered the access code he had been given the last time he had been assigned to the team working on the waste pipes. To his immense relief the code had not been changed and he found himself staring into the small room as the door slid aside. Across from the door a deeper darkness denoted the access to the waste pipes below and a line of metal rungs disappeared into the hole on the far side.

Lights brightened into life as he entered the shack and when Barker and Carter entered he was quick to close the door and cut off the light from anyone who might have been lurking outside. While it was unlikely anyone from the dome would see the light he was feeling nicely paranoid at this time and he was not inclined to take chances. With the door securely closed and some semblance of security attained he led the way over to the access shaft and peered down into its depths. At regular intervals low wattage lights were placed and while the lighting was low it was adequate to show the steel rungs imbedded in the walls. All maintenance teams to enter the shaft did so in full enviro suits and provided their own light using the helmet beams, but the wall lights were not only functional they were also reassuring in their very existence. Most maintenance duties in these pipes were odorous, tedious and just plain depressing. The presence of steady lighting was a welcome sight to weary workers finishing their shifts.

Again he motioned for the two men to come close and pressed his helmet against theirs. "This shaft goes down for approximately seventy feet before it hits the waste pipes. We need to enter the pipes and then we can follow them to the first of the access bays. There are three maintenance bays that service the dome's pipes. The closest of these will bring us up into the base dome near warehouse D. The second bay would bring us up in the dome between the airlock control room and warehouse B and the third access point into the dome would place us between the compost storage located in warehouse H and the geological station in building G."

"That one is right behind HD Two." Barker breathed, pleased. "Very close to HD Three."

"Yes, it is the closest point to HD Three. You have your choice of which outlets to take, but it may prove to be faster to exit through the first of the outlets. Slogging through a mile or two of these pipes is hard and slow work. We are going to be in the treated effluent pipe, by the way and that is thicker than the raw sewerage. It is usually piped under pressure twice a day into the compost storage vats in building H for later use. That is an automatic procedure and it is slated to start in one hour, give or take a few minutes. Do we really want to chance being inside these pipes when that starts?"

Barker gritted his teeth for a moment as he considered the constraints of time, safety and efficiency. They had a set time limit to cater to and would it not be more efficient to leave the access ways for the upper dome where movement would be easier and faster? It would also be safer to leave the effluent pipes in that it was possible that they might get sucked into the moving mass of composted waste. Both ways had their dangers and it was up to him to determine which was the better option for them to take. These men had to trust that he would choose the better option. If they remained in the pipe too long and became caught up in the automated pumping of the pipes it could have lethal results when the pipes narrowed to feed the compost bins in the dome, yet if they left the pipes at the first access way and entered the dome they ran the chance of running into the agents.

He hated dark places where there was the chance he could join the compost. If he was going to die it would be under the dome and fighting for his life.

"Take the first access way up."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	104. Chapter 104

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 104

2nd March

Earth

Romefeller Inner Circle Chamber

Undisclosed location

Time: 03:45 [Sanc time

Gamma

//It is an unassailable truth that life moves in cycles, like the ebb and flow of the tides responding to the pull of the moon. The world was a small place in the eyes of our ancestors in long ago days; that grew and grew until it seemed to fill the universe with its importance. They look about them now and think they are the hub of the Universe. Foolish children, lost in their own self importance. We have come full cycle. I look upon all that we have and what do I see? I see a beach. A glistening arc of sand moving and shifting with the tides of change. That is all that we are, in truth. Grains of sand on a tide-washed beach. People are the tiniest of sand particles, barely grains of dust caught in the air pockets that separate the grains of sand. We are dust particles and our world and the colonies are merely a few grains of sand that have captured us in the last sweep of a wave. //

There was a painting on a wall in his home of a beach, a golden arc of sand under tropical skies. A beautiful painting; a glimpse of a part of the world a long way from his home. It never snowed on that beach portrayed in vivid colours. People lived there wearing very little compared to the people who lived in this land, especially in the winter months. Yet it was on the same world. Two totally different environments to which people had adapted. That was one thing that mankind was very good at doing. Adapting. Evolving to suit the needs of the environment to be lived in. Mankind, humanity, had proven to be easy to manipulate and evolution was the key.

// Evolution. Mother Nature in all her beauty has produced an organism that is supremely adaptable from the primal ooze. Intelligent. Strong. It adapts quickly to changes, modifying thought, word and action as the need arises and it finds the means to live in environments which are supremely hostile to its basic needs. It is a wondrous thing, the human body. Now that we have the technology it is so much more wondrous. The adaptations it is capable of making seem almost miraculous. Development has increased markedly since we understood the art of genetic manipulation and we no longer need to slowly breed for the natural genetic selections. Yes, gene manipulation has brought us thousands of years further down the road of evolution. These new generations are so much more than our ancestors could even dream of. These grains of dust on a beach have the power to move sand grains. It has been so long since the beginning. So long and we have come so far. What a wonderful world we could make it. We could go to the stars in only a few more generations. We can spread humankind throughout the universe, not just our own little corner of the solar system.//

He could hear the echoes of their footsteps as they trod the marble floor of the outer hall and he marveled as always at the acoustics of this ancient place that caused even the lightest of footsteps to resound throughout the ancient series of rooms with the force of a sharply struck drum. He listened to each strike of that drum, imagining whose footsteps it was that came closer to these hallowed halls. There were so few of the people who professed to be of importance within the ranks of Romefeller, who even suspected that these halls actually existed beyond the whispers that had gained the status of legends within the elite society they called Romefeller these days. Of those who did suspect that there might be a grain of truth within the legend, even fewer had been honored with invitations to actually enter these revered walls.

// Legend. We are old. Two thousand years, give or take a century or two. Old, but embryos in the passage of evolution. Time is important, it marks the passage of evolution, the passing of change, the development of civilization. Two thousand years is a mere drop in the ocean, yet it is a long time for a secret society to exist. Great civilizations have risen and crumbled into dust and ashes in far less time. There are days I wonder that we did not fail in the times past and the knowledge we acquired become lost with our passing. I have to wonder if, perchance, the world might not be a better place if our predecessors had passed into obscurity and not chosen their successors. It would, at the least, be a far different place.//

Whenever he walked within these halls it seemed he could hear, in the echoes of his footsteps, the echoes of the ghosts of bygone days who walked along side him. Even now, as he sat within the bitterly cold room and he listened to the echoes of others walking within the outer halls, he was certain that alongside the footsteps of the living office holders he could hear the echoes of footsteps of the others long passed to dust, who had shared the knowledge they had gained, expanded on and protected for so many generations.

// Almost two thousand years. Generation after generation we have walked here in secret, bringing changes to our surroundings as easily as we bring changes to our civilization. Those who came before we who now rule these halls, altered these natural caverns and set the corner stone for what is now our hope for the furtherance of humankind. We in our turn, like those before us, are the Guardians and the Guides to the human race. We have shaped so many aspects of what everyone takes for granted as civilization in this day and age. They do not even suspect we exist. //

To be effective in their duties to shape and guide civilization to the desired goal, they needed to maintain that secrecy that had protected them for centuries. Over the years it was true that there had risen repeatedly rumors of the existence of Romefeller, an organization that guided and nurtured and schemed and murdered and cheated their way to a higher goal. Oh yes, Romefeller had done all of those things and more and so few had ever understood, or even tried to understand, what they were and why they acted as they had.

It was rather a thankless job and one that must never be advertised, a lesson that certain infant members of the organization seemed to have forgotten. It was really only in these more modern times that the existence of Romefeller had become suspected by the common folk and that was thanks entirely to those young idiots who professed to know what was good for the human race and had no true idea of what was actually the core of their very existence. A few hot tempered and reckless generations could threaten to bring down two thousand years of painstaking labor.

// They profess to be Romefeller and they know so little of what is our goal. We of the Inner Circle are no more than legend to these modern day children, who have come so close to destroying the work of thousands of generations. There are days that I would like nothing better than to produce a paddle and flatten it repeatedly against the infantile backsides of these spoilt children. //

They had no idea of the true dedication that was practiced within the Inner Circle. They had no idea of the responsibilities demanded of those who wore the mantle of Romefeller and therefore walked in true power, unseen and unsuspected by the world and its people. Some of these fools who crowed over their supposed power likened themselves in these times to Gods, so great was their supposed influence. Genetic engineering seemed to be the greatest danger to the Inner Circle, even as it proved to be the greatest boon to assisting evolution along. The errant children of the ancient order, so secure in their power and their ability to rule the world and the colonies, so full of themselves, claiming to have the power over life and death … and yet it had taken only children to pull them down.

Special children, yes, he would admit that, but children none the less. Children birthed at a time when the errant offspring of Romefeller had forgotten their ancient roots. Children who had had the intelligence and the courage to take matters into their own hands and change the face of the world. Brilliant children who, barely out of infancy, had checked the greedy grasping for material power of their elders and returned some sanity to the world.

Here, within these hidden hallways existed the true Romefeller, the Inner Council that guarded the ancient knowledge and worked to restore the greatness lost in eons past. The true Romefeller, that had produced the science and subtly guided the selection of the genes that enabled those foolishly secure in their own power to produce the very children who had been their downfall.

//We have been called many things over the centuries, not the least of which is bastards, witches, demon worshipers … we have even been targeted as a sect and some have even called us the Illuminati … as if that bunch of ignorant power mongers could hold a candle to even the lowest member within our ranks. There are so many fools in this world, despite our best efforts to improve the intelligence levels. I suppose we can improve on intelligence, but wisdom must be learned and some seem reluctant to proceed beyond adolescence. Ah, well. Time marches on and old dogs can learn new tricks, if patience is exercised. Yes, we have been called many things and cursed many times and we have even managed to be forgotten for a century or three from time to time. Always the rumors arise and the questions will be whispered behind closed doors and then our greatest friend and advantage, the Wheel that is Time, turns once more and we pass into obscurity once again. Such is life.//

It was cold and his aging bones protested the chill. It was not just these ancient halls that gave off the chill, but the necessary work that needed to be done could give off an arctic frost. Inhuman had been one of the kinder descriptions for some of the deeds that had needed to be performed over the centuries. Assassination was but a tool. Cold-blooded murder was a grim but necessary tool they did not hesitate to use when they considered it necessary. So many people over the generations had needed to die for one reason or another. From threats to the organizations safety, to threats to peace, or to incite a war that was needed at the time to accomplish a goal.

Yes, they did not hesitate to incite a war if they needed, so why should he be surprised that war had been used to accomplish order and peace by the children? That generation seemed to have so much potential. Sometimes murder had been needed to ensure contamination of the precious blood lines had not weakened at best, or destroyed at worst, their footsteps to the ultimate goal. Romefeller would use all tools that came to their hand.

Murder might yet need to rear its ugly head again.

It was not only murder that was a tool to be used by the Circle to further their design. No, it had not just been murder they had employed to gain the needed advantage and to secure precious bloodlines. One of their greatest mistakes had now reared before them and thrown a gauntlet of challenge at their feet.

//Such a stir this has produced. I can not honestly say it has surprised me that they have overreacted and summoned the Inner Circle over this bit of foolery so soon. I would far prefer to be at home and warm within my bed than sitting here waiting for them to arrive. I would have thought they might have allowed a few days in which to gather as much information as possible. We shall need to accurately asses the situation and we know too little intelligence as yet to make a viable difference. I doubt any of us could have missed the broadcast and at this stage little if anything beyond what was included in that broadcast would be known, even to our most capable of intelligence agents. No, it is far too soon for this meeting to take place. Such an arrogant young scamp you are, boy.//

He resisted the urge to smirk at the memory of that speech. Out of the blue, no warning at all and there he was, as bold as ever and just as arrogant. Shaking the organization to the core as always, yet was that not one of the things he had been bred to do? They could not really complain about him, as he was so much more than they had ever dared to dream he might be. More than they had assumed, indeed, else how had he escaped them?

// I always knew he would not simply lie down and obey the dictates of the Circle. He had too much fire, too much independence for that, but even I did not think he would run and run so well that we have found no trace of him for near twenty-two years. It has been a long time, Kristian. It is just like that scamp to try something this ambitious and to throw our agents into confusion. No half measures for you boy, there never was any hesitation in your nature. It would be just like him to succeed too, at thumbing his nose at the ESUN and establishing a viable colony off in the never never. Such a clever young thing you were. //

He stretched his cramped shoulder muscles, listening to the echoing footsteps from beyond the door and wishing himself before a roaring log fire instead of sitting here with the cold eating at him. He was sworn to serve Romefeller, but there was no rule that he needed to freeze in order to do so.

// Where are you hiding, boy? Where in that drifting refuse field of a failed planet are you hiding and just what have you managed to create there? What exactly have you managed to build and who do you have backing you? Clever as you are you could not do this alone and it would take a very select field of experts to set up something of this nature. Just what do you have to tease the ESUN with; a wonder of modern civilization or an abandoned wreck of some mining dream gone wrong? I'll know soon enough.//

Now that they knew their runaway was alive and approximately where it was he was hiding they would be able to set into motion the requirements necessary to gather in their prize. Such a valuable prize that Kushrenada child had been and still was. So valuable, in fact, that there was no chance they would again permit him to escape their control. Once before, through employing their mainstay of tools, namely that of trickery and deceit, they had gained the use of the child's rather unique talents and with time and training they had crafted him to meet their requirements.

They had erred. In their arrogance and self-assurance they had become overconfident with their control of the teenager who had surpassed all of their expectations and because of that overconfidence they had lost control of the child. How he had hated and resented them and with good cause, for they had destroyed his world because they had acquired him for their project.

// I do not doubt you will have your revenge. Rightfully so. At least while they are dealing with you they will not be looking so closely at the Prince and he might yet elude them, though for the life of me I think him safer here, in protective custody, than running loose in the Earth Sphere with nowhere to call home. Have you grown into your abilities, Kristian? Have you found your true potential and the strength to use it//

He had been of great interest to the Inner Circle from before his conception. Much discussion and planning had gone into the selection of genes to be stimulated, spliced and bonded to produce the Kushrenada heir and with his successful birth and the later confirmation of his talents appearing at so tender an age, they had seen their long awaited chance to restore Romefeller to the greatness it once had enjoyed.

// Ah, the plans they had made, his predecessor and the other members of the Council. Such great plans they had formulated, all hinging on the successful training and development of a child barely more than a toddler at the time of his acquisition. //

Such potential could not be permitted to grow unsupervised and they had arranged the acquisition of the boy, confident his parents would further the bloodline by producing another heir and that had only compounded the mistakes made. There had been no second child. One of the darkest days, in his opinion, of Romefeller. One of the darker of many dark days when their schemes had not turned out quite as projections had suggested. One would think after so long and such frequent practice, that they would have a greater success rate with their schemes.

By employing the talents of the child as he had matured they had hoped to regain much of what time and knowledge amid the common masses had robbed them of. They might even have been able to return to the days when they were likened to Gods by the ignorant peasants who had populated so much of the world. A child, barely beyond the toddling stage had become their ticket to greatness and they had swooped on the innocence of him. Their overconfidence in dealing with that child as he had grown within their carefully regulated glass bubble had proven to be their downfall. They should have known better. One could never be assured of control when dealing with the Kushrenada bloodline and that particular Kushrenada, child though he was, had had the long awaited talents that made him indispensable to their ultimate goal.

// They really should have known better than to forget what generations of selective breeding amid the old European nobility meant. He was magnificent, even as a child. He carried his birthright in the fire to be seen in those amazing eyes that had told them all honestly he would not be a slave to their will. //

He could honestly say that Kristian Kushrenada had been honest with them, as he well recalled the day the child, not yet a teenager, had thrown their overweening confidence in their face and told them in plain terms that they could not control him. It had not been so many years later that he had escaped and they had lost the unique talents of the child who had, at that time, been a one of a kind. Kristian had been the prototype and now that they were given this second chance to control him they would not again err and underestimate him.

He was no boy now but a man full grown and who knew what he had learned in the intervening years that could threaten Romefeller? They would need to closely observe him before they gathered him into their protection. He would not be the first child Romefeller had lost control of who had, in maturity, near destroyed the organization in revenge for personal abuse.

// Footsteps echoing down through the hallways of time. That is what I can hear in the echoes of their foot falls. The cycle renews again and I wonder how many will pay the price this time? It always ends up messily and in the end Romefeller has endured. Still, none in the past have been so precious to our ultimate goal as this Kushrenada and the Peacecraft Prince. If you have the chance, gentlemen, I seriously suggest that you run like hell. //

He lifted his gaze from the velvet clothing his hands to survey the meeting hall and to once again admire the magnificence of its architecture. The construction of this place, the design of it, the unique beauty of it had all been centuries ahead of its time. The magnificent vaulted ceiling and the mother of pearl inlay of the border of the marble floor, the almost gothic flavour of the wall arches and the intricate carving of the circular table that graced its centre. All of the designs you would find through the ages, yet older by far than the era that gave birth to the style. It had a beauty that never failed to move him and awaken an awe within him that reminded him of how unimportant he was, how short a time he would spend gracing these halls. He was flesh and blood and he was destined to pass on in the blink of an eye. When he was dust these halls would still be in existence, still be beautiful and remain unique.

The founders of the organization had undoubtedly been influenced by the Artifact for them to have produced this masterpiece of stone and wood. The meeting room was gilded with gold and silver and inlayed with mother of pearl and set with precious gems that would have set the craftsmen of this age to weeping at the skills lost in the mists of time. There were gems used to decorate this ancient hall that were larger than a large man's fist and pure, without flaw. He could sit here for hours and marvel at the beauty that so few would ever witness and it would firm his resolve to ensure that Romefeller continued to be the influence behind the powers that professed to rule the world.

// That is what is wrong with the errant children who forget what we are all about. They do not serve Romefeller or humanity; they serve only themselves, grasping like greedy children at the reigns of power. They have not learned it is better to be the power behind the throne, rather than to be the power that sits the throne. //

Almost two thousand years of history were wrapped up in the crafting of the hall, each generation of office bearers adding something of their age to the secret halls. Leaving their mark upon the halls, as they had left their footsteps to echo through time. Such wonders and richness to be unknown by even the greatest of the modern day scholars was wrapped within these halls of stone and wood, hidden away from the prying eyes of those who had not the vision to see and understand their goals. The tomes of Romefeller were housed in another magnificent chamber and the reading of those great books could set historians on their ear. So much hidden knowledge; so many secrets, so much beauty that must never be known to the common man.

Magnificent though these halls were they were also cold and drafty despite the best efforts of successive generations, including the latest attempt at modern heating to bring some comfort to chilled bones. Old bones, despite the best genetic influence at the times before their conception, could not be proofed against the chill and in winter the chambers were bitter indeed. The only boon that he had ever found in the aching chill of the halls was that the conditions were guaranteed to ensure the Inner Council did not divert their attention from the agenda to be discussed with meaningless chit chat. It was business only that was discussed here following the formally polite and quick round of pleasantries offered on arrival. A body seated here tended to suffered from hypothermia despite the heavy velvet robes tradition bade them to wear.

Tradition.

Tradition was the catch cry of the Romefeller organization. Well, he amended; it was the catch cry of the publicly known organization that professed to be called Romefeller. Those men and women, birthed within the influence of the Inner Circles attendants who thought they knew sufficient and claimed blood right to rule the World Order in a not so subtle fashion and expected to be welcomed with open arms.

Fools.

Very few of these young people knew, or even suspected, that the Inner Circle of Romefeller actually existed. Most of them surmised the Inner Circle had indeed existed, but had fallen into the category of legend some five or six hundred years in the past. Rather like the rumors surrounding those idiots in the Illuminate. It did not matter that even the eldest of these infants in their public organization thought the Inner Circle to be no more than a legend. If there was one thing he and his fellows had learned over the years of their reign within the Inner Circle, it was subtly. Over the centuries the most ancient and revered arts of manipulation and deceit had enabled them to effectively cover their tracks and still gain what information and tools were needed to ensure that mankind followed destined pathways.

What once was lost to them, the power and influence to change the face of the world would, in the fullness of time, be found once more. It was only fitting that Romefeller stand in the shadows of the halls of power and direct the masses toward the future that awaited them. The setbacks of the past could now be overcome with the peace restored and at the meeting to take place in two days time they would set the course that would bring the public face of Romefeller back under their control.

// I hear the echo of voices now mixed with the footsteps. It only serves to remind me of those who came before me. I wonder if any of them ever faced a time as interesting as this time has proven to be? Mankind is ingenious at getting himself into trouble and taking pains to claw himself out of the muck he has created. Truly ingenious. It is a talent that has been much abused over the centuries, but I believe it has been necessary for humanities growth. Conflict is a two edged sword. Yes, it brings death and destruction, disease and despair. It also brings growth in its wake, development and invention. A two edged sword that we have made good use of in the past. I believe I know what he intended to accomplish with threatening the Earth with destruction and he has produced a peace that may last for a century if we are fortunate. A century to plan and breed for the ultimate stage of the great design. He has brought us time and we will make the very best use of that time, but there are days I wonder if I understand him at all. He is very unlike Stephan and he grew up far from the controlled environment we formulated would be necessary to guide the projected talent he should develop. We have a very real danger running loose in the Earth Sphere. Kristian Kushrenada and Milliardo Peacecraft. God, I shudder to think what would be possible if those two ever teamed up without the checks and balances we could impose on them. The abilities we breed into these children are dangerous and they have already shown a strong will and independence that bodes ill for any attempts to control them. //

"… call on such a night as this?"

He resisted the urge to smile at the complaint that echoed throughout the hall. The acoustics of the ancient hallways were incredible and perhaps were an accident of nature more than the design of the original builders. These rooms, long ago in the past had been constructed from what once had been a great natural cavern complex, though the centuries of construction and decoration had hidden any indication of a natural cavern. He defied anyone to succeed in approaching this inner sanctum in total silence. It was a wondrous security measure for their peace of mind, though it was far from the only security measure they had employed to keep their activities hidden and their identities secret.

For many of their number it was an inconvenience to come to this place. Travel times involved for some of their members often forced delays in their meetings and on occasion the permanent resident members in the country that contained their symbolic heart needed to make alterations to formerly agreed upon plans without the full input of the Circle. While such occasions were rare they had been known to occur, but this night would not be such an occasion. It was fortunate that all members of the Inner Circle and their aides would be present for this extraordinary meeting, as they had gathered here over the past two days for their regular quarterly meeting, which was slated to take place in two nights.

// The timing of the broadcast was excellent, though I doubt that Kristian would think so. I think he would have preferred for it to take us as much as a week to gather together the Inner Council to review and discuss his case. Still, there is no immediate danger to him from this meeting. We lack the necessary information to act against him and we do have other troubles to be taken into consideration. No, it probably would not disturb him too much if he guessed we are meeting here this night. They will have more information available at the scheduled meeting. That is the time when they will make their decisions concerning our runaway. //

It was tradition that they meet here in these chambers to discuss the developments of their projects and the atmosphere of ancient reverence that hovered in the very air here fitted the solemnity of the occasions when they met. Every three months they would meet, though not always in these halls in this modern age. With the inclement weather now raging in the night he could have wished they had chosen to meet at some other, warmer location and reserved these chambers for the meeting they had called to take place here in two days to review the events that moved their world and to discuss the development of their prized children.

While it was traditional to hold their meetings in these halls when all members of the Inner Circle were available, he was in no doubt they all would have benefited from the convenience, not to mention warmth, that a modern office would have offered, but two thousand years of tradition was not easily cast aside by everyone simply because the oak bench beneath his backside was uncomfortable. The highly polished wood was so highly polished because of the number of backsides that had warmed it over the centuries and within these halls he felt the weight and presence of those who had walked these ways before him. That lingering presence of those who had come before him always aided him to see their goal clearly.

Once, when he had been much younger and prone to joking, he had said to his fellows that the ghosts of all who had worn the mantle of Romefeller's Inner Circle returned after death to reside within these walls, to watch over the next generation and to ensure they never lost the focus that was the binding oath of their order. What had been said in jest in his youth was more certain to him now, when age wearied his bones and chill air drew out a deep longing for a fire and a hot soaking. He could feel deep in his bones the disapproval of those spirits of a bygone age at the actions of those who walked the Earth and meddled in the name of Romefeller. It was a disapproval that he shared.

"How many are we waiting on now?"

With the door to the outer halls opened he and those seated near him could hear more clearly the echoes of footsteps and those echoes hid from all but the most discerning ears the whispered conversations. When you joined the Inner Circle of Romefeller you learned that every one of the members, despite their advanced age, had excellent hearing.

He glanced at the two cowled forms who were seated across from him and at the empty chairs that waited around the circular table and he permitted himself a small sigh. It was almost the stated time to open this extraordinary meeting and while it was short notice he had no doubt that every member of the Inner Circle would be present to discuss their runaway. He knew they all were within the countries borders before noon in preparation of the annual meeting and that none of them would permit a miniscule thing like inclement weather to deter them from attending.

"Patience, my dear Delta. They come."

"I feel very little need for patience when it is patently obvious that it is past time to enforce order in the ranks of the Lessers. Too many of these infants think they run this organization and it is time they were brought to heel. It is patently obvious to me Alpha, that we have been too lenient with them and their games of power."

// Yes, you have shown a tendency lately to be a touch tetchy with their behaviour. You had best curb that attitude with Alpha however. She likes her game playing and she has been playing with the power structures now taking shape for a long time. //

"Too lenient? I thought myself that it was an experiment in idiocy to permit so many years to pass without openly drawing the members of the organization together. We have only ourselves to blame for the current situation."

//More game playing, Old Witch. You always have enjoyed pulling that ones strings and he was always just stupid enough to permit it. I know and you know who it was who ensured the split in the organization occurred. It was planned, without a doubt. //

"That may indeed be true, but we must discuss these matters and make some decisions. We must all be in agreement as to the actions to be taken to bring about the uniting of Romefeller under one rule once more. One rule. Our rule."

"Perhaps so, but if you think that we are here tonight to discuss the disunity that has plagued the younger generations within our ranks, then you are sorely mistaken, Delta. That is not on this night's agenda and I see no reason to bring forward our discussions on this matter. This is an extraordinary meeting."

"Oh, don't be a fool. You know full well what must be done. There simply is no choice."

// Ah, you blunt mouthed idiot. You don't call Alpha a fool and expect her to forget it. She may take it now, but she will not tolerate such behaviour forever. //

"I beg to differ, Sir. There is always choice. We may not like the options that are available to us, but you will find that there is always a choice." Her voice was low and husky, still retaining some of the music that had turned heads her way in the long ago days of her youth.

"Oh please." A gloved hand sporting the heavy gold ring that was the Seal of Romefeller waved in the air in a dismissive fashion. "I beg of you to spare me the standard lecture, Alpha."

"Do not be impertinent, Delta. Some days I have to wonder why it was that it was you and not your brother who was chosen to become a part of this Council. It always struck me that he was infinitely more suitable to sit in your seat."

//Ouch. Watch it, dear Delta. You are three times a fool if you permit her to sharpen her claws on you. //

"Some days I have to wonder why it was that I thought it an honor to be chosen." Behind him the door to the chamber swung wide and the whisper of velvet robes announced the arrival of the missing members of the Inner Circle. "Ah, at last. Now we may begin."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	105. Chapter 105

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 105

2nd March

Earth

Romefeller Inner Circle Chamber

Undisclosed location

Time: 03:55 [Sanc time

Gamma

Robed figures entered the chamber, the first clothed in brown linen robes, ageless and sexless in the anonymity offered by the shapeless material and deep cowls. The two stood to either side of the doorway, proffering a low bow to the velvet and brocade clad figures who followed them and to the three who watched in silence. There was no indication of the age or gender of these two, the heavy rich robes might have been the cause for the slow, stiff movements or it might have been age or injury, there was no way of telling. They, like those who already were seated at the table were anonymous unless they chose to lower their deep cowls and reveal to any who might be present the faces that ruled the currents of power that moved the Earth. Though each of the five who wore the velvet knew the others identity it was considered sacrilege to use given names and it was rare that any would choose to lower their cowls within the chamber. Each guarded their anonymity not so much from each other as from the servants of their fellow Circle members. Servants who were trusted enough to attend the needs of their Circle members, but were never trusted sufficiently to know all who were master or mistress over their fates.

//Arthritis playing up tonight, is it? I can not say I am surprised given the weather conditions outside. At least I can be assured that none will feel disposed to ramble on given the chill of the chamber. I can look forward to a speedy discussion, a speedier decision to investigate and discuss it further in two days and then the warmth of my bed. I do so look forward to that warmth.//

The servants who had held the door open now sealed the chamber and he could hear the rustle of fabric as his own attendant rose from the alcove behind him. The late arrivals settled into the chairs at the table, their gloved hands hastily arranging the warming velvet around already chilled frames, covering feet already feeling the bite from the floor that seemed to radiate the cold. It was bitterly cold within the council chamber, but it was a chill that each Circle member would ignore as insignificant to the task set before them. With order restored to their robes and all drafts possible excluded from their legs they would turn their attention to concentrating on this meeting and he might finally find some comfort in his bed.

//Ah, let us begin already Alpha. It is too cold and it is too late to sit here and twiddle our thumbs. Some of us have other work to do with the dawn and I for one need my sleep. //

At a motion of Alpha's black gloved hand the personal servant that each member of the Circle had in attendance moved to place a steaming cup of mulled wine before their superior and faded back into the shadows of the chamber. He did not have to look to know his own body servant was settling to his chair placed in the nook directly behind his position at the table. He listened for the deep, successive breaths that marked the beginning of the trance and, as was required by the Lore of the organization, he flicked a tendril of thought across the mind of his man. By the fourth breath he was deep into trance and Gamma established the seal that would contain his servant to immobility. Blind, deaf and dumb the servants became as statues, robed shadows within the nooks, incapable of listening to the discussions that would take place, unable to respond to any action or deed that might occur. He could go up to any of them and slit their throats and none would react in any way as they died. Of those who entered the Chamber of the Inner Circle, only Circle members themselves would know what was discussed.

"I think that we may dispense with the formalities involved with greeting each other this night. We all know who we are after all and our positions within the Circle. Our agenda this evening is to revolve around the information received this day concerning the locations of the W series children who have been missing from our data banks for some years. In one instance, some twenty two years to be exact and in another, near to three years, I believe." Alpha stirred in her seat, aged fingers in their velvet gloves wrapping around the welcome heat of the chalice. "We have been most fortunate to receive word that our children are alive."

// As if this could not wait for the annual meeting. You are up to something, you old biddy and if I do not watch you I may just miss what it is that you want to know by calling this meeting. I have never known you to act prematurely or needlessly, so what is it that prompts you to summon us? You can be petty enough to call us together just to remind us of your rank. I wonder … Has someone here challenged you//

"While it is without doubt that the Kushrenada boy is alive, it is also obvious he thinks himself beyond our reach, else why would he flaunt himself over the public airwaves? He was always too clever for his own good that boy. Clever and independent." Delta brought the steaming cup to his lips, taking a welcome sip of the heated wine.

"Well what did you expect him to be? An idiot? He is a Kushrenada after all." Epsilon sounded her amusement; no doubt looking forward to the challenge it would be to pursue the runaway.

//I find it interesting, the contrast to how Epsilon greets this appearance of our runaway and the sour grapes I detect emanating from you, Delta. What is it that has upset you//

Delta waved the chalice in Epsilon's direction. "It is past time he was gathered back into our control and made to turn his attention to the matters that do concern him. The duties for which he was bred."

"Such as?" He would push a little, see what developed.// The duties for which he was bred. Yes, you have been prowling the genetic laboratories since he escaped and acting as though it is a personal insult that he succeeded. I suppose it was. You are the Security Master after all and responsible for the security of our installations. I can almost feel the glare that Beta has focused on you. His hostility toward you has never eased since you permitted his prized experiment to escape. He feels that you failed him personally when the boy he spent so long designing escaped. You just complained about faulty genetics resulting in a boy too headstrong and independent and flawed to be of use to us. Interesting. I believe even after all this time Delta takes it as a personal insult that Kristian chose something other than to serve us faithfully. Hmm, well look beyond your disgruntlement you old fool. It is that kind of strength of mind that we need and the will it takes to defy us could serve us infinitely more than a dull witted tool too afraid to blow his nose for fear of our displeasure. He may even prove to have the potential to be trained as a Successor in years to come. It has been many generations since we welcomed a Kushrenada to the Inner Circle. // Gamma sipped at the mulled wine, from the shielding of his cowl watching as each of his fellows turned their attention to Beta, the deep cowls tilting that tell tale amount to designate their interest in one of their number.

"Do any of you have any real idea how much time and effort went into the designing of the genetics of the W series gene set?" Beta almost growled his displeasure. "It is not a mere base code that these children carry around within them and to permit one of the successful ones to break away from our ranks sets us back generations if anything should happen to them. I have been pushing for an investigation into the disappearance of this particular W series specimen since he eluded our trackers here on Earth twenty two years ago. Have none of you realized that this series, as they mature, are all showing an inclination for independence and in some cases there is evidence of mental instability? We need to establish physical and psychological control over each and every one these children, regardless of the age of the subject and direct their focus to the true needs of the Inner Circle. Namely the continuance of our project to establish and maintain stable links with the Artifact."

// My, you are on your soap box today. Delta may be pushing him in private again. Those two will never have a relationship other than that of rivals. //

Alpha flicked an age swollen finger at the male gowned in the Blood Crimson robe. She had always considered Beta to be a rival through out the years since his inclusion in the ranks of the Successors, though she had come to look more upon him as more of a friendly rival in these later years when he had ascended to the rank of her second. He had come to know that he had much to learn before he might challenge her for the Black of the Circle Master and with his acceptance of his lack of experience her trust of him had grown.

"Peace, Delta. Peace Beta. We can not afford to squabble like errant children when there are so many matters of importance that must be overseen. It is my opinion that at this time it is more important to us to bring Romefeller back under a united front than it is to irritate the bloodlines by acquiring their children. We have all come to know the folly of stealing certain children away from their families and that is what we would need to do en mass to gather the W series to our bosom. We simply cannot afford the attention such disappearances would stir amid the law enforcement agencies of the world. Kristian Kushrenada was originally to be used as the guide to enable us to establish full control over our rebels and with the establishment of that control we could better investigate just how suited to the Artifact the W series is."

Delta snorted, waving a ringed hand in dismissal. "Yes, yes, I know only too well what he was initially intended to accomplish, and I am equally more certain after my private investigations that there was a mistake or three made in the estimation of that one's talents." Gamma could almost see the smirk that would have been directed toward Beta by the Security Master. "That boy's psionic abilities are without doubt not what they were projected to be. I shudder to think of the results of the development of his abilities beyond the safety of the laboratories here. Mental stability features strongly in the development of the abilities I believed were placed within the genetic selection of each one of these children. Have you forgotten the Peacecraft boy? Have you forgotten what he proved capable of doing?"

Beta fairly growled his displeasure of that criticism so pointedly aimed at him. He was the Inner Circle's Breeding Master, the one who devised the gene sets and oversaw the development of the desired combinations and the one person ultimately responsible for the success or failure of an entire generation.

"Well what did you honestly expect? Forget the Peacecraft for the moment; let us consider the Kushrenada child. Kristian Kushrenada was a prototype. A prototype, people, with all the little quirks, good and bad that the word implies. He had the correct combination of genes, in the exact placements of our experimental projections spliced to the K series base. He was a success. All the indicators project development both physical and psionic along the projected course and I believe that he has likely developed that potential. That he did not display the exact potential when he was brought to the Inner Circle does not mean that he was a failed experiment. It merely suggests to me that while some of his talents emerged phenomenally early in his life, the talents we had projected he would develop may actually have developed in later adolescence. It also might have been simply that he may have been much more efficient at hiding his developing potential than we expected. Do not forget for an instant that he is a Kushrenada and they tend to develop more talent later in their lives than most of our other bloodlines. He was certainly an intelligent child and quite capable of deception. On considering our past records I believe it may have been a mistake to acquire that one at so young an age. Tests will need to be devised and performed with great care to determine just what he can do when he is reacquired. It is my hope that he may surprise us all with the development of his abilities."

"Perhaps reacquiring him may not be as easy as you think." Gamma murmured, setting his chalice on the table and wrapping his fingers around its warmed pewter surface.

The laugh that rang throughout the room was more the cackle one would expect from an old crone, the stereotypical witch of legend, than the laugh one would expect from a woman of Alpha's genteel upbringing. Her face was hidden by the deep cowl of plush ebony velvet and her hands were warmed by black gloves, her fingers sporting the rings of her office baring the seals of Romefeller. That hooded head shook from side to side slowly and her mirth silenced the mutterings from around the table, bringing more than one of the Circle members an uneasy feeling that their lives might hang in the balance. Alpha had proven to be unpredictable and singularly without mercy on occasion.

"Did anyone say that it would be easy to reacquire our runaway? Does anyone here think we are simply going to be able to crook our finger at him and expect him to obey? We are senior in years but it is my firm belief that none of us have yet fallen into senility, nor are we delusional. Does anyone here think it will be a simple matter of finding, let alone gaining, control of the Kushrenada child? No? Well, good. Let us not again allude to his presence amid us as though he already stands within our influence. We all know what must be done for the furtherance of Romefeller and the development of the human race. For there to be advancement we must locate and acquire Kristian Kushrenada and on having secured him we must prepare him to serve us to his full capability. He must be persuaded to cooperate before he may be trusted to bring us to the culmination of our purpose. There is another who is vital to the furtherance of our ambitions that we must have secured, controlled and brought to the Inner Circle to begin his training and conditioning. Our future and that of humanity do not hinge solely on our having control of the Kushrenada, but on the acquisition, training and deployment of multiple new generation talents. Epsilon. You have the floor."

//I knew that this would come. They will all know he in on Mars and vulnerable to us. It will be interesting to see how each of them react. Some of them will no doubt fear him and if there is no respect mixed with that fear then he may not fare well within our ranks. It is, after all well known what he is capable of doing. Who of you fears him the most? Who of you was it who ordered the atrocity that came so close to depriving us of the bloodline that was so carefully developed? I have long suspected that one of our number, an Inner Circle member, had a hand in the fall of Sanc and that it was fear that saw the Peacecrafts fall. Fear of the potential of a Peacecraft King who was a W series that was the driving force behind the slaughter, but I have never been able to prove it. Perhaps now I will find a clue.//

Epsilon, their head of Intelligence, leaned forward slightly within the high backed solid embrace of her chair and it seemed to Gamma that she was paying particular attention to Delta. Why he felt the security officer to be her focus he could not say, as her body language gave no clue as to whom she might be watching in particular, nor did she address one person. Her head was carefully lowered that small degree from being fully raised, the cowl directed at some point between Alpha and Beta and her hands in their rust red gloves were folded neatly in front of her on the table. No hint of a thought escaped her shields, nor did he expect to be able to pick up on her thoughts or her emotions. Epsilon had always been a capable Psi and able to shield her thoughts even from the best of the telepaths at their disposal. Even the empaths available to them claimed that she could shield from them, becoming seemingly as emotionless as stone.

"My agents have communicated to me confirmation that the Peacecraft heir is alive. I had suspected his survival for some time, but now there is no doubt that he is not only alive but that his survival is known to his sister and to certain highly placed individuals within the Earth Sphere government. His location and his occupation are now known to my intelligence service and we are endeavoring to ascertain exactly what will be required to gather him into our influence. With the Kushrenada specimen and the Peacecraft now known to be alive and the possibility of having them within our grasp we can expect to find ourselves with two potentially powerful W series subjects available to us within the next twelve months."

"Ah, yes. The Peacecraft heir." Alpha fairly purred her content. "We must gather that one to us with all available speed. I look forward to welcoming him to Romefeller."

Beta stirred, sweeping a hand across the table surface and a low chuckle escaped him. "I like the way that you say his name, my dear Alpha. We put a great deal of effort into mapping out his genetic print and the splicing of them to the K code. I will not have such a masterpiece of genetic engineering wasted to the petty games of those fools who think they run Romefeller. I take it, Epsilon, that by mentioning the Earth Sphere government you were referring to the individuals on said government who chiefly concern us?"

"I was." The rusty red cowl dipped in acknowledgement.

"I know that we are slated to discuss the so called 'Public Front' of Romefeller at our annual meeting in two days, but I feel that at this point I must stress my concern over this matter. It is beyond time these errant children who profess to know all were slapped down and learned they in actuality know nothing. They are ignorant of the importance of our calling, ignorant of the true importance of the controlled bloodlines we have nurtured for millennium and hyped up with their own self-importance. Control over these errant children must be established before they ruin the genetic pool at the heart of our preferred bloodlines. These people are not infants, some are near as old as we and they make no effort to advance the human condition."

"Beta, we know all this." Delta fairly growled.

//They are worse this night than usual. Squabbling over everything. What have I missed? Alpha has done little to control their hostility, making me wonder if she is not maneuvering them to challenge each other. //

"Do you indeed? How grand for you. Well have you given any thought to how we are to choose from these pathetic fools those who will eventually take our places in the Circle? Just think about if for a moment. If they can not see beyond their petty games and are so wasteful of resources that they destroy precious bloodlines that we have nursed so painstakingly for so long, how do you think to ever trust them to continue the tradition that is Romefeller? We need every single specimen of the K series genetics and it really does not need saying again just how important the W series genetics is to our future. Is it not enough that through the power games they employed we have lost Treize Kushrenada? His K series genetics with the successful Psi genetic splice was to be the foundation for the next sequence. Splicing the W series genetics with the new projected modifications to his completed K sub series strands would have produce the X sequence. Because of the interference of these fools, who suppose themselves capable of ruling the Earth Sphere, we have lost a vital genetic base."

"It is a loss and in that while it delays the new generation it does not smother us. There is his daughter, natural born as she is." Alpha flipped a dismissing finger at Beta. "Do not make the mistake of over dramatizing this setback. We are Romefeller, we will go on."

"His daughter simply will not do. There are too many random uncharted elements within her genetic map that would totally ruin any chance of success with developing the X sequence using her as a base. No, Alpha, it was Treize who was the first with the required combinations and genetic stability capable of being the base for that new sequence. While my teams are working as quickly as they can we have limited genetic material to work with that is required to base the X sequence. It may be another eight or more generations before we can replace what was lost with his death."

// More of a loss to the organization than I had supposed. Interesting. That will alter our projections for the next few hundred years, even with the advancements we make in genetic engineering it will delay the project. // Gamma scowled at his chalice of wine.

"We could always clone him."

Beta laughed bitterly. "Have you learned so little, Epsilon? Clones are flawed. They are not successful enough for this type of splicing to be carried out with any appreciable level of success. We may succeed, but there will be genetic flaws it would take hundreds of generations to eradicate. We know a great deal about genetics, but we do not know enough to detect and eradicate all of the flaws inherent in cloning an individual of the complexity and purity that was Treize Kushrenada. No, to produce a viable X sequence it must be the original genetic material used and you know that the Kushrenada's do not mature for genetic manipulation until after their fortieth year. It is a natural delay in setting the maturity patterns that results from the longevity genetics that is a part of the base print for the K series gene line. This immature faction fighting going on within our ranks has and is interfering with the future of the organization. We have already lost one Kushrenada that was vital to the overall design that we follow. Treize Kushrenada is irreplaceable and that set back can only be corrected with time. We have come very close to losing Kristian and how many times have we thought we had lost that Peacecraft boy? Something must be done about those incompetents before they set us back beyond our ability to recover."

"They do not understand the design." Gamma murmured. // Nor are they interested in learning it. I know most of these men and women. They see only in the short term, the next two or three generations at most, not in the longer term. They give no thought to the future of our race, only to the here and now that affects them personally. Their thirst for power is very short sighted. //

"I do not believe that it is a basic flaw in the genetic design of the generations in question, but it is far more likely to be a failing of our tutors." Alpha began, her tone thoughtful.

"Have you given any thought to it possibly being that we have lost too many in the way of vital personal in the last hundred years, with the continual wars that have been developing beyond our influence?" Gamma interjected.

"Do not complicate matters beyond actuality, Gamma. I think it more likely the tutors are not instilling our directives into the less controlled of our people, nor can they be emphasizing our history enough to ingrain the sense of duty that we require from the generations now in power. We need to review the training program of our tutors and keep a more observant eye on their activities, to ensure that they are educating the younger generations to be assets to our cause. Free choice is and always has been vital to the development of our people and I do not like the idea of ruling them with an iron fist. That will not advance Romefeller as much as free choice and true dedication will. Our new generations must be permitted to develop individually, yet still have a deep grounding and understanding of the truth that is Romefeller. I do admit, Beta that you have a valid point. I have found no one to date amid the Successors that I might consider as a suitable replacement for myself in years to come, and that lack of potential must be addressed. It is imperative to the continuance of Romefeller that we find suitable candidates and have them appropriately indoctrinated in our Lore."

"There is too much individuality in the younger generations. They give no consideration to the overall design and some of them are not even educated to the Lore of Romefeller. There are a number of failings within the system, not the least of which is the lack of control over too intelligent children who go their own way and give no thought to the long term."

Epsilon gave out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a snort of utter disbelief. "Delta, our ancestors did breed for independent thought, intelligence and strength of will, you know. It is a part of the design. Perhaps you would have preferred they breed sheep?"

"Do not be impertinent. It does not become you." Alpha twitched claw like fingers at Epsilon.

Beneath the shelter of his deep blue cowl Gamma grinned. Though he would never admit to it he did like the old lady, though he was not so impressed with her that he followed blindly in her footsteps. He was the baby of the Inner Circle at ninety nine years of age and Alpha was the elder at one hundred and twenty five. At times she was a harridan, but he had never known her to be less than meticulously fair in any of her dealings and judgments and there could be no doubt that she was dedicated to the ideals of their society. With the longevity bestowed upon them by the influence of the artifact at the time they took their Vows of Office, she would have perhaps another twenty or thirty years to rule the Circle before her mind began to fail them. It would undoubtedly be a great loss to the organization when she was too old to serve.

For all that he admired her he was not unaware of her faults. In his view the greatest fault was her penchant for game playing, though to the best of his knowledge he was unaware that any of her games had ever been to the detriment of the House of Romefeller. He suspected she was pitting Delta against Beta and if so then it was for a reason he had yet to divine. The more he watched her now the more certain he was that she was following her own agenda and that it involved the Security Master and the Breeding Master. He only hoped that she did not push the two too far as there was none in his view who were suitable to replace either Master amid the ranks of the Successors.

Beta stirred, rolling his chalice between his stick thin fingers. "We are diverging from the matter at hand, which was not my intention in raising the issue of the current members involved in the government of the Earth Sphere. We still have ahead of us the question of what is to be done concerning the Peacecraft heir to be settled and also young Kristian and his willful ways. I will place another matter before you that I ask you to consider in depth and at length. We need to begin to debate on the merits of crossing the natural born daughter of the Peacecrafts with the designed explorer genetics of the boy she has been going around with. It has been brought to my attention that there is a growing attraction between the two and I need to know what the Circle thinks of permitting a natural mating to occur."

//Damn. I had not considered that he would raise that issue so soon.// "Are we given to understand that, as the Breeding Master, you are considering such a pairing on the basis of a permanent or casual mating?"

Gamma could not quite manage to hide his surprise at the suggestion implied that they should permit the rigidly controlled Peacecraft bloodline to cross with the purely experimental gene sequence that made up the boy commonly referred to as Heero Yuy. He personally knew the boy and had spoken to him on innumerable occasions and he was more than casually aware of what the ex Gundam Pilot was capable of, but when all was said and done the explorer genetics were still, in his view, experimental. Surely the others would agree that this strain of humanity was too new and vastly different from the centuries of genetic guidance that had gone into the bloodlines of Relena Peacecraft.

Beta shrugged thin shoulders beneath the heavy weight of his velvet robes. "I am Breeding Master. It is my duty to consider every feasible crossing possible with the Children of Romefeller. As it happens I am of a mind to consider the pairing and at this stage not as a casual mating to produce one experimental sub type, but as a permanent pairing. I have taken the liberty of formulating a projected gene chart of the potential of any offspring the two might produce and the results, while incomplete at this early stage, are somewhat surprising, even to me. One must remember, of course, that we can not afford to permit the Peacecraft bloodlines to weaken. Should we lose the Prince then we have only Relena to further the bloodline. While it is true that the Explorer Gene sequencing is new, indeed it is in its infancy compared to the Peacecraft codes, we must face the truth that many of the subject Yuy's genes would add a certain enhanced strength to the family. It is only a suggestion, you understand, but the pairing must be considered in light of the potential source of strength that we must not dismiss out of hand. It is a possible mating only at this stage, but I do need to consider the views of the Inner Circle before I make my decision. At this stage we have time to consider the pros and cons as we still have the Peacecraft boy available to us. Please, consider the pairing in both a permanent and casual pairing. Have any of you taken the time to view the genetic charts on the boy they name Heero Yuy? I am personally very pleased with the outcome. He was an outstanding success, despite the loss of control over him in the early stages of his childhood. He was never meant to be a soldier, but he adapted well and it proves the potential for the series to adapt to changes in environment and training."

"I have not viewed his charts as yet, no. His history has been interesting, of course and he has proven himself to be adaptable." Alpha murmured.

One by one from around the table the negative was uttered and Gamma could feel the tides of change creep into their thoughts. Even Alpha gave off the impression of considering the mating of a purely experimental gene line with old blood purity and he was not pleased by this turn of events. The Peacecrafts were important to him on a more personal level than to the other members of the Inner Circle and he had a private preference for maintaining the purity of the Peacecraft codes. If he wished to maintain the old blood purity of the House of Peacecraft then he was going to have to come up with some very viable and indisputable evidence as to why they needed to exclude experimental genes from that core blood pool. When the Circle got their hands on the Prince he would never leave the Halls of the Inner Circle and despite Milliardo being alive that must leave Relena to provide the next public generation.

"To fully consider the mating you will need to do so. I shall have his gene charts and the result on the projections of the crossing that are currently available prepared and sent to you for your consideration." Beta sighed; the chalice in his hands was caressed gently by gloved fingers. "I know that we must get back to the matter at hand, but this may have bearing on any further decisions made concerning each and every mating in our blood pool. I can say with all confidence that within the next twenty years it will be possible to have complete breeding control over every successive generation within our breeding population. It has been confirmed that the young Winner heir is homosexual."

"Ah, so the gene sequence took then." A murmur of understated satisfaction from Alpha.

// Oh yes, you would be pleased about that. // Gamma was careful to offer no hint that the news displeased him. Total control over breeding their bloodlines could be dangerous. They needed to remember that they were not going to live forever and that their replacements might not be quite so pure in their intentions. It would take only one Breeding Master, or Assistant, to pollute vital bloodlines.

"He has recently made enquiries concerning the requirements of and the methods used to genetically splice male to male genes to produce a child. Our success in isolating the selection of genes that produce sexual preference has now been successful in six out of ten instances. It appears that Mr. Winner's preferred partner of choice is an ex Gundam pilot. The pilot they refer to as Trowa Barton. With this further proof of the successful implantation of the homosexual gene we can gain additional control of the bloodlines we particularly wish to maintain. For these families to further their lineage they must come to us to provide them with heirs and if we implant the homosexual gene sequence in the child we will gain unprecedented control over each generation. It will grant us greater opportunity to alter the genetics of each successive generation."

//I do not like the sound of that. Not at all. That places too much power in the hands of the Breeding Masters. //

"Barton? Is that not the gypsy? Has he not been listed as natural born and having the natural gene sequencing we have tagged for precognitive ability?" Delta leaned forward slightly and lifted the cup to his lips, draining the rapidly cooling wine.

"Yes, he is the gypsy. Our investigations lead us to the conclusion that he comes from a line of natural fortune tellers that began in the Germanic region and later travelled extensively throughout Europe. There are few of the gypsies left and our tests have proven that his lineage carries the natural gene selection for full psionic ability, not just precognition. While the natural strain is, of course, much reduced from the refinements we have performed in the designer genetics we have developed, it is a boon to discover the natural gene sequence in this family lineage. While I believe the boy has not shown any talent himself, the natural gene is notorious for skipping a generation or two, but it does continually appear in the bloodlines we have monitored."

"And does this Trowa Barton have the gene?" Epsilon queried.

"He does. Our tests indicate that it is present in his gene charts, which makes him more than suitable to be listed within the Psi selection stud lists. We need access to the natural Psi potential to further develop and strengthen the designer sequences we have thus far perfected."

"I find it interesting that the Winner heir has sought out this information on the potential for male to male genetic splicing from one of our Service Centres, don't you?" Delta settled back in his seat. "It would have been my expectation that he would have made his enquiries through neutral parties, without any indication of who it was that was interested in learning this information. That is how most people of influence begin their association with our breeding facilities. There is also the question of why he would approach our Centre and not turn to the Winner laboratories.

"I do not find it of concern. This particular Winner has repeatedly broken the mold that one has come to associate with that family. His enquiries have been low key and I doubt that anyone in the Winner Corporation of any notable power knows of the questions that he has asked. Come now, think! You all should know of the potential troubles a homosexual is likely to experience living on L4. It stood to reason that if the boy was gay that he would need to consider an heir without turning to a female he has no possibility of becoming sexually attracted to. It is a regrettable truth that the family places so much store in their pure bloodlines. They are obsessed with purity." Gamma could hear the smirk develop in Beta's voice as he continued. "They would die of mortification if they knew just how many of their pure lineage are not even Winners."

"Not that they will ever learn it." Delta commented dryly.

"Of course not." Alpha agreed. "Each and every member of the family carry the signature Winner genes so that any genetic tests that might be carried out would determine them to be Winners of the original bloodlines that founded the L4 colony cluster."

"That type of gene set is easy enough to place and disguise, so that it can not be distinguished as an isolated cluster easily. In effect they are Winners. The infiltration of their laboratories progresses apace, by the by. Within two years we will have controlling interest in all of their Centres." Beta agreed.

"The Winner boy will need to be careful." Epsilon lifted a hand to delicately scratch an annoying itch along her jaw, the shadows of the cowl concealing her face despite the movement. Watching her Gamma received the impression that she was watching Delta with careful attention. "From reports there is a resurgence in religion within the L4 cluster that could place any homosexual, even the head of Winner Corps in mortal danger."

"Acht. It comes in cycles every sixty to seventy years. I have seen the same thing before and I assure you it will pass." Alpha's ringed hand waved in what seemed to be negligent dismissal. "The boy is bright enough to recognize his danger and act upon it. I expect him to get out of the L4 cluster in good time if it looks to be getting dangerous. Annoying as many of the Winners have proven to be over the years, none of them are fools."

Epsilon hissed softly. "I beg pardon if I appear to be impertinent but I suggest we do not become complacent. There are undercurrents that begin to alarm me spreading throughout the Earth Sphere. There are factions out there that appear to be gaining in influence and who are working to their own plans totally independent of our control."

"Which is it this time? Those fools in the Illuminate? The Phoenix Society?" Delta snorted. "They have tried it before and they always fail through stupid mistakes in their ill conceived plans. I have little respect for such fools."

"No. No, Delta, heed my warning. My agents suggest that this may not be either of our rivals, poor rivals as they had proven to be over the years. Even we are not safe and complacency will only serve to set us back, even destroy us. You informed everyone of the security breach in the computer records?"

Delta fairly snarled his displeasure. "Of course I informed everyone of the breech! Do you think I would ignore such a thing, or the protocols involved with dealing with it?"

"Settle, Delta. No one is questioning your competence." Alpha stepped in quickly to still any dissention. "How much exactly was lost in this breech?"

//It is my personal opinion that your competence should be questioned.// Gamma glanced at the man before turning his attention back to Epsilon.

Delta waved a dismissing hand, though from the shelter of his cowl he scowled at Epsilon with ill disguised fury. The security breech was a sore point with him. "Ultimately we will lose nothing to the breech. All data was backed up on a secondary system completely isolated from the primary system. It is more of an annoyance than a problem, but the primary unit will require a total recalibration. Of course it goes without saying that an entirely new security system will required to be devised and installed prior to the primary unit being brought back on line."

"How long is this expected to take?" Beta queried, absently shifting his chalice from hand to hand. "Are we weakened while the matter is dealt with? I need to know if I must prepare our secondary outpost for occupation. I dare not lose the sequences I have been developing."

"I assure you that there is no need for such an alarmist attitude. Perhaps as long as five months will be required to bring the primary unit back on line. It is possible it may take a little longer, but at the moment we project that five months is required to complete the restoration of the system."

"Do you have a name? Do you have an identity that you can point a finger to and say that this is the origin of the attack? The Illuminate? Phoenix? Someone else who dares to challenge us? Some lucky and infinitely stupid hacker, who is now running around with a target on his back?" Gamma pushed. The breech in security did alarm him, though not for the reasons any at this table would assume.

"Not at this time." Delta knew that would not go down well with the Elder of the Circle and he knew why. While he could not say with any certainty that this particular person or that organization had attacked their systems, he and the other members of the Circle had to suspect that the source of the attack might once have originated amid their own ranks.

// You know, you are rather conspicuous by your silence on that subject, my friend. There is another source with the potential to break into our archives who you have pointedly not mentioned. Alpha is not fool enough to have not considered them and you may have earned her ire for not owning up to the possibility. It needs saying and if you are not willing to suggest it then I wonder who of us will// He personally opted for suspecting that the breech had been the result of activities of the renegades who had come very close to crippling the organization more that a hundred years before.

"Mmm. Well, I, like you, find that I doubt it is either of the sources you have mentioned. It is far more likely to be one of our bright up and coming young things who managed to find what is best left unknown, but I expect you to trace them and suitably chastise them. I would prefer that they not be killed immediately, as I am pleased that the perpetrator has proven so inventive as to hack into our systems and this serves only to confirm my hopes for this latest generation." Alpha's tone suggested a smirk lurked beneath her hood.

//So at this time you are not going to mention the renegades and the others seem to favor silence. Interesting.//

"I firmly believe that it is this latest generation that will prove themselves to be the key to our success. As Mistress of the Circle I am pleased at the potential and courage they have thus far displayed. They have shown themselves not to be timid nor are they intellectually impaired, as evidenced by Treize Kushrenada and the young Peacecraft boy. I have taken the time recently to review in minute detail the genetic charts of both of these children and I agree with Beta that it is a tragedy we have lost the Kushrenada heir. While it is a great loss his passing, we must not allow it to break us as there are others with the potential to further our aims. I believe that now we must accept the losses and look forward to the future, and to do that we must place our primary hope in the Peacecraft Prince."

"Alpha! He has been proven to be insane! Perhaps not a raving rabid lunatic, but still unstable." Delta sat erect in his chair, hands tightened painfully on the chalice before him. "We can not rely on his sanity under duress. Who knows what the last few years have done to further his instability? I know that his genetics are exceptional, but we dare not use a flawed vessel for the sake of the future."

"I resent the implication that I have not performed my duty to the organization to the best of my abilities. The Peacecraft heir is not genetically flawed." Beta fairly snarled.

"Perhaps not, but he has been affected by the debacle in his childhood. What he witnessed is enough to send any child into screaming madness. I pity him, but I cannot place the type of faith in him that you express. He is too big a risk."

"Peace, Gentlemen. Exercise restraint and listen to what I have to say. After due consideration and careful studying of the W series genetic charts and projected potential, it is Milliardo Peacecraft whom I would expect to be the key to the Artifact. His genetic charts show clearly that if he indeed holds all of the abilities that were projected, then he more than meets the requirements needed to establish and maintain prolonged contact with the Artifact. It still remains to be seen if the boy has an active enough talent to establish such a bond. All of the clues are there in his coded sequences to be read if you have the eye for it. It is my belief that he could make the merge successfully. You must remember that he succeeded in merging with the Epyon system."

"And it is my belief that it drove him insane." Delta snapped back.

Gamma scowled, careful not to betray himself with so much as a hint of movement. Alpha's decision to use the Prince of Sanc in a bid to further their knowledge of the Artifact was not what he had expected and it increased the danger the young man was in. Merely being wanted by Romefeller for his genetic enhancements had now progressed to being Desired for use with the Artifact and that considerably upped the anti of difficulties that would be needed to be faced to extricate him from the coils soon to bind him. It was not his intention to lose the boy to the Artifact and no one had ever survived getting close to that.

"I was under the impression that you were preparing Kristian Kushrenada for that same role, before he escaped custody. I presumed that you would have him trained in accordance with that prior training schedule when he is reacquired, to make the appropriate attempt at connection." He had had enough practice over the years to keep his concern out of his voice, though he would not wish the task they now discussed on his worst enemy. He was certain that it was tantamount to a death sentence.

Alpha inclined her head to Gamma, acknowledging his comment as the truth it was. "It was originally Kristian who was to be trained with the intend of initiating a bond. I have since taken the time to compare the genetic models of both the Kushrenada and the Peacecraft W series and that comparison now suggests that it is Milliardo Peacecraft who would be the better match for the Primary Merge. Admittedly it could kill him, of course, but Epsilon has informed me prior to this meeting that he now has confirmed offspring."

"He had offspring and you have not informed me? I am the Breeding Master for God's sake! Does this not count for anything anymore?"

"Peace, Beta, the report no doubt is waiting for you in your office. Yes, he has children, twins one of them male and I believe that child would be infinitely suitable for you to use as base material for future development should the sire die. We would of course need to have a store of fresh genetic material on hand from the Prince, in the event that he should die in the attempt, which I admit would be a tragedy for us all. Yes, it would be a pity if he perished, as we cannot really afford to lose either of them but the attempt is long overdue and must be made. The charts strongly indicate he has certain advantages over the W series prototype and that he would have a better chance of surviving the merge than the Kushrenada would have. He certainly turned out much prettier than I expected."

Gamma choked at that and was thankful that he was not the only one who reacted visibly to her casual comment. //I do not believe I just heard her say that. You old pervert.// "Alpha! There is more to a person than their looks."

"Indeed. Looks are not … argh!" Beta almost spat at the dry witches cackle that resounded through out the room. "Cease your game playing woman. This is neither the time nor the place."

"Ah, yes, but I do believe that he did turn out to be considered something more than handsome." Epsilon chuckled, highly entertained by the male reactions around the table. She knew only too well that Alpha enjoyed shocking them occasionally, a game she had played from her youth that she had never tired of and no doubt would continue to play to the moment of her death. "Eye candy never hurts."

"There is nothing wrong with admiring the available eye candy that nature produces, Stripling." Alpha cackled her witches laugh. "When you are my age, Beta, admiring the eye candy is about all that is left for you to do. Even you must admit that he turned out to be stunning to look at. To set your mind at rest I will tell you that he bred with Lucrezia Noin. It is all in the formal report. While it is disappointing that we have not had the opportunity to perform the planned genetic modifications we had slated for the next generation before conception, it is a fact that the match between the Peacecraft Prince and Lucrezia Noin was the preferred match we had intended for the first crossing of his genetics. So we have a natural conception and the opportunity to examine the natural set the genetic cross has taken, which may require us to modify our selection for the next pregnancy. The natural mating can be used to serve our purpose. Which reminds me, Epsilon, have you managed to contact those idiots and have this farce taking place on Mars stopped? For those of you who do not know, it has been learned that our Prince is on Mars with his family and a faction of our less than faithful children are using him as a political tool. At this time they have agents on Mars with instruction to take the Prince and his children into custody and transport them to an as yet undisclosed location. With the past record of these bumbling fools we cannot afford to lose that boy and his children at this time to their incompetent planning. They are too valuable to us, nor do I wish to chance losing the children's mother. Her genetics were to be considered for genetic advancement beyond the cross breeding with the Peacecraft."

Epsilon suppressed a groan, but admitted to herself that this knowledge would make them all give more serious consideration to beta's pet beef. The fiasco of which she had been informed of seconds prior to her entering the chamber would prove that they had deep problems with the rather chaotic situation their errant fledglings were initiating in the Earth Sphere. //She is not going to like this. Not at all. I foresee yet another lecture on the way centred around the poor quality of the generations who insist on breaking from the fold. As if it was my fault they went off on their own tangents, fired with their own ideas of how to build the world for this culmination of The Project. If they even still follow the precepts that have governed us for two millennia. Something must be done to sort order into the chaos and Alpha must acknowledge that for the simple truth. There are too many factions now in existence and it weakens us. We must bring order once again to our ranks.//

"Epsilon? Why do you delay?" Delta leaned forward, sensing a weakness in her and she resisted the urge to snarl at him.

"You can not talk. Your security is half the trouble …" A low growl from Alpha brought swift order to the younger members the Circle and Epsilon swallowed her retort. "The courier I had chosen to accompany my representative returned to me a few minutes before this meeting and thus far I have not had the time, or opportunity, to initiate a response. I do however request the backing of the Circle to permit me to make a statement on our behalf that cannot be ignored by anyone in our ranks, that we are displeased with this turn of events. My deputy was informed to keep his nose out of matters that are of no concern to him else he find himself in a dark alley at some time with an extra wide and additional mouth."

Stunned silence resulted and more than one set of fingers tightened around the cups, some tightening sufficiently to bend the metal out of shape. It was Gamma who broke the silence, himself hardly surprised at the outcome, but suspecting that the Intelligence Officer had somewhat exaggerated. "Is that not a little dramatic, Epsilon, to make your point? I assume that is your personal interpretation of the refusal given and this is hardly the place for such interpretations."

"Presume nothing, Gamma." Epsilon snorted her disgust. "As it so happens that is exactly what was said to my envoy. Word for word."

"Outrageous!" Delta hissed.

"I did warn you that they were set to cause trouble and that they do not believe that we actually exist." Beta returned.

"Enough! You did dispatch the envoy under my seal, did you not?" An arctic chill emanated from Alpha's quiet voice and the claw like fingers clenched beneath the protection of her loose sleeves where she had been attempting to warm them.

"I did." //Don't take it out on me, people. It is not as thought I did not warn you thirty years ago that this was likely to happen. I could see it developing even before I was offered this position. Then I was just a bright trainee and my opinions were not of important to the illustrious Inner Circle, but I did warn you. Just give me some peace now and take it out on those who deserve it, though an acknowledgement of my accuracy would be nice. For that I will not hold my breath I think. Just give me permission to make them sit up and take notice.//

"I see." Alpha drew a deep breath, gaining herself a few seconds in which to consider the actions that must now be taken. "Well then, it would appear that this meeting and our next, will require that we include in our discussions suitable punishments for those who insist on ignoring the directives of the mother organization. It is indeed time that those who think themselves to be above our ancient order and its directives should be brought to heel. We are too close to our final success for them to bring down the bloodlines with their petty schemes."

Gamma stirred, absently rubbing a hand over a velvet-clad knee in an attempt to generate some measure of warmth. He was not inclined sit in this frigid room and nurse his old bones any longer than he had to and he already had had a long day. Far longer than most of his compatriots.

"Have you been to the chapel recently?" He noted Alpha stiffen, just a miniscule flutter of her black robes and he resisted the urge to grin. He could still find himself stuck in this room for hours. //Take the subject change. Do not feed me any more of your anger over those who chance our success with their petty power schemes, we have far more important matters to attend to. It needs airing, yes, but so does this other problem that you all seem to wish to avoid. It is one thing to talk about setting the Prince to face the artifact and another thing entirely to ignore the truth of such an action. If I must sit here and freeze then at least we could be discussing something vital. I can only push this so far and escape close scrutiny. I must take every precaution possible when I send in my report, but just now you need distracting, or we will find ourselves frozen lumps of flesh still sitting here beyond dawn. The Crystal is failing and that must be addressed.//

"Yes." Alpha whispered into the silence, acknowledging that there was a disaster nearing.

//Good. Now someone else take up the gauntlet. Talk about it. You have to come around to the renegades eventually. I have to know where your thoughts on them stand.//

"It is fading. The light is going from its depths." Beta sighed.

//Better still. //

"Is it dying or is it evolving? Surely there is some way that we might divine its condition?" Delta breathed.

"Well what did you expect? It is only to be expected that there is evidence of change." Epsilon surveyed the Circle members and eloquently shrugged her shoulders. "Why do you all sit there and make it sound as though one of us is passing? It is far more than just a member of this Circle that is at risk here. To lose the Artifact would be a disaster from which it is unlikely we would ever recover. We have dated the Artifact's origin at more that fifty thousand years. It stands to reason that nothing lasts forever, not even the Crystal, though this one has certainly attempted to do so. It is only one more example of why we need the Peacecraft boy brought here to attempt to establish a merge with it before it fades. Either the Peacecraft or the Kushrenada, I personally do not care which it is if they are our only options."

//No, that is not what I wanted.// Gamma scowled, his hands gripping the velvet folds of his robe beneath the table shelter.

"Have some respect and foresight. Have you thought of what would happen should it die?" Delta snapped out.

"That does not bear thinking about." A flick of a finger from Alpha, dismissed the very thought.

"Alright, we know that we have problems developing and perhaps it does not bear thinking about that we will lose the Artifact, but regardless of our hesitation it must be faced. Had we still the vat available to us …" Beta sighed, cowled head lowering. "Have you heard any more about those traitorous renegades? Is there no clue even now as to where they are hiding?"

//Yes! This is what I need to know.//

Delta leaned forward slightly and his cowl was turned to face Alpha directly. "I am certain that they are not resident on the Earth. They could not have hidden from my reach, nor from Epsilon's intelligence agents for so long had they remained here. I am left with no other option than to believe that they are hidden somewhere amid the colonies."

"I am not so certain of that." Epsilon discounted that theory with a wave her hand. "I admit that it is unlikely that they have been able to elude us if they were still on Earth. I believe they are not here, but to say that they are hidden on a colony … Of that I am in doubt. The vat required for the crystal's generation would require a great deal of power to operate and that amount of energy would drain a colony's resources dry. I have no doubt that even our renegades could not produce sufficient power to effectively operate a quarter of the systems required to generate the solution required to successfully grow a Crystal. We would certainly have noticed that type of power drain on any of the colonies and it just is not there."

Alpha stirred, resting a hand gently on the table's surface, but Gamma did not doubt that internally she must be seething. "We finally breed a generation with potential to carry our work out to the stars and the very first thing that they do when we relax our guard on them is to bolt from our control, taking with them irreplaceable equipment. It is proving beyond troublesome to find them, but they are out there and they have to be brought back. They must be educated as to the error of their ways and the importance of our Charter. It is troublesome, but it remains a necessity. To my dismay it is probable that in their ignorance and inexperience they have killed the crystal they stole and perchance have even destroyed the vat itself. It was an experimental device after all and there was no guarantee that the crystal growing within it would continue to grow to maturity, though it did look promising. The original generation who saw fit to believe they knew better than their elders would be long gone now, from memory few of them were graced with the improved longevity genetics, but if they kept to the directive then it is possible that their children would be out there, somewhere. No doubt if they stayed true to the ideal of Romefeller and are still working for that goal that drives us all, then we have hope. It is my personal belief that they would have taught the directive to their children and even beyond our control they would have striven toward our ultimate goal."

"We are still many generations from reaching perfection." Beta murmured. "We have come so far, and our children are much improved with the use of genetic engineering, but there is still a long way to go to reach the required specifications given to us by the Artifact."

//Very good. This I can report, now how much further can I push you// "Is there an estimate on how long it will take before the new vat system is perfected?" Gamma queried.

"Progress is being made." Alpha murmured and in a sudden jerking movement rose to her feet. "I am frozen and I am certain that you all are as well. I do not believe that any of you will object to my decision to call a halt to this extraordinary meeting. Epsilon. Delta. You will arrange for a special operative to remove the irritation who dared to defy a Circle directive as an example to all of the others. You will make it obvious to all involved that it was a direct directive of the Inner Circle that the execution take place. Leave our seal for them to find. I admit that events may have progressed too far if our children are so willful as to ignore our commands. It is time to slap our children over the wrist and discipline them as they deserve. Should they still refuse to recall the ESUN Wellington from her mission and hand control of the operation over to your Intelligence Service, then you will continue to remove them, one by one, in order of their power structure until some bright young thing down the order of command understands the message. I want it understood that Milliardo Peacecraft and his children are under the direct protection of the Inner Council."

//Now what happened there? You are changing the subject, Alpha my dear. I know that tone of voice. So what are you hiding? You have problems with the development of a replacement vat and that means that there likely will be no replacement crystal when the original dies? That is possible, I suppose and without that crystal, what is Romefeller? Change is in the wind and it may be the kind of changes that finally kills Romefeller. The very thought is sacrilege. Without the crystal how do we test the potential of our young generations and how do we power our equipment? It is far more than that, though. It is a symbol. We need it as a visible sign of our goals. Do you …could you possibly believe that we can go on without it? I did not think you to be a fool, in fact I know that you are not, so what do you know that I do not? Alpha, I must pay more attention to your doings, I think.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	106. Chapter 106

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 106

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 00: 15 [approx Sanc time 22:05

Giles

He gave the medical readout one last searching glare, noting the smallest changes revealed and deciding there had been some small improvement since they had brought Lucrezia Noin to the emergency medical shuttle. For all that he had loathed the crawl through dark ventilation ducts it had been worth the effort to bring Noin to this place to see that small improvement in her vital statistics. Soon they would have to get her to the hospital wing and to doctors who could do more for her than the med computer, but for now it looked like the immediate danger of her death seemed to be past.

"I have the anti-virus software I have been working on in my locker. The program is completed and I believe it should be powerful enough to make a difference, at least in an isolated system like the venting computers. I was working on fine tuning the program before giving it a try, but I don't think it will need any modifications to help us out of this fix."

"What I want to know is why you have been working on the program in the first place? Isn't that an odd thing for the Chief Engineer of a shuttle bay to be doing?" Giles queried.

Hawass grinned a feral grin, his eyes narrowing with amusement. "I am making a point. It's a challenge I have with that bright young thing they assigned to my department off the last shuttle. Carmella Santino. Over a discussion we were having a month ago she said I was too old and dated in my thinking and that she could out program me any day of the week. I took exception to that, so we made a wager. We each had to design a virus and a hunter killer program. When we had done the best that we could we were to rig a network system, totally isolated from the base computers I assure you, and pit our programs against each other. Hey, don't look at me like that. It's something to while away the hours on boring Martian nights, when you haven't got something warm and cuddly to share your bed."

From somewhere not too far behind him Hawass heard the snort of amusement that let him know Zechs Merquise had heard his comment and he grinned to himself. As amusing as it was now he had taken the girls comment as an insult at the time and he had found to his surprise that he had thoroughly enjoyed the challenge. It seemed that now he was to learn just how good his programming skills were. He wondered if Carmella had survived the horror of this day and if they would ever be able to pit their programs against each other.

Giles snorted and motioned to the hatch, encouraging him to exit the shuttle. "I suppose it's true what they say about small things amusing small minds. Out with you. The man said we have limited time, so let's be about it."

Hawass grunted his amusement and glanced at the silent blonde who was now standing in the doorway of the reception foyer waiting for them. He could feel those ice blue eyes watching him and was relieved that Merquise seemed to be smiling and for the moment relaxed. The man had looked far from relaxed when he had left the shuttle after a long, silent stare at Noin. He knew that it was not likely Merquise would settle enough to be really approachable until the danger to the dome and its inhabitants was dealt with, but in the short time they had interacted he had found the man was not so unapproachable as he had assumed he would be. He was, after all, born royalty and Hawass had always thought nobles to be cold and distant sods and certainly Zechs had seemed to maintain a certain distance from everyone at the base though that, he admitted, was likely a result of the terms of his imprisonment.

He eyed the blonde quizzically, noting the dark flight suit served to emphasize the pale cream gold skin that clearly showed the shading of bruises and abrasions, despite the healthier colour that now had crept back into his face. Zechs seemed much better now than when he and Giles had arrived at the shuttle with Noin. The near white hair was neatly restrained by the elasticized band yet still flowed in a thick mass past the narrow waist and the man wore the flight suit as though he had been born in it. He was a pilot through and through and with him framed in the doorway to the foyer of the reception area to the sub base Merquise looked fresh and alert, but he had to wonder how much longer these men could hold together. He had seen the wounds both carried on bodies that had already endured hours of strain and his own wound hurt like hell, but he admitted that they had too much to do to even consider pampering themselves.

Giles pulled the hatch on the shuttle closed and entered the security code Zechs had passed to him prior to the blonde leaving the shuttle to check out the foyer. With the hatch now sealed Noin was safely locked within the shuttle, the med computers of the survival unit monitoring her condition and treating her as best their limited functions could provide. When this was all over they could return for her and have her taken to the medical wing where hopefully the doctors could do more for her than stand by and watch her deteriorate and die. He did not doubt that without professional care she would not last long.

// I wonder how long she has? I don't dare speculate about it around Zechs, he's fragile enough as it is. Anyway, its time to get past it and concentrate on ending this business. Sorry Noin, I don't mean to be cold about it, but we need to focus or we are all dead men. // "Lets go. The shuttle is locked down and that's about all we can do here for now." Giles ran across the bay to join Zechs by the reception room door, Hawass on his heels.

"Time to move." The blonde motioned to the room behind him. "It's clear. The lock intercom is working and no sounds beyond the airlock entry suggest that we are clear to move. Chief, do you need anything from us before we go?"

Hawass shook his head in a negative. "No, Sir. I have everything that I think I will need down here."

"When we are clear of the airlock you will initiate a lockdown of the bay to keep the area secured. We will release the lockdown on our return. When you hear the computer acknowledge that the lockdown has been removed I advise you to make yourself scarce until you are assured of who it is who is entering the bay. It is more than possible there are still Sleepers running loose out there and the ESUN Security agents are still in circulation. Both groups now want a total elimination of the terra formers. Do you know Simon Barker by sight?"

"I know him." Hawass assured the blonde. "We play poker on Friday nights."

"Well enough. He's more than capable of breaking the lockdown code, so check who is entering before you assume they are hostile. I don't know who he will be bringing with him but there will be two of them. Be wary of whoever enters the shuttle bay if anyone enters before Giles and I return."

"I'll be watching my back. I've already tried playing with the bastards on my own once and ended up under a pile of spare parts with a hole in my shoulder for my efforts. I want something a little less painful to result from this second chance at the mongrels. You two just watch your own backs."

"Concentrate on getting the ventilation system in the upper dome working. Time is running out up there for anyone not in a localized contained section of the dome and I have no idea of how many people are at risk."

"Go. I'll handle the ventilation system somehow."

Giles entered the reception foyer first, glancing quickly around to ascertain that nothing had changed since his last visit here. The dead still lay in twisted agony where they had been cut down and the computer still registered a lockdown on the air lock to his check. He grunted softly in relief at this further proof that the shuttle bay was secure, nodded briefly to Zechs who joined him at the terminal before he made his way to the air lock doors. At the computer terminal on the reception desk Zechs' long slender fingers flew over the keyboard, inputting coded sequences.

The computer's neutral tones broke the silence of the room a second after the send key was pushed. "Emergency Lockdown Release Code acknowledged. All airlock functions activated. Airlock is now operational and ready for use. Computer assessment is that airlock is empty. Awaiting additional instruction."

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Zechs

Hawass was watching the blonde with slightly widened eyes. "How … how did you know that code? That's the master override code for every computer function on the base. You're not registered as a department head."

Zechs flashed a grin and slightly lifted his right shoulder in a shrug, ice blue eyes shining with his amusement. "I know a lot that I am technically not supposed to know, Chief. I have no doubt you know more than you are supposed to know as well. These long cold Martian nights have their uses."

"Yeah. Right." Hawass shook his head, the ghost of a smile curving his lips. "I have a good excuse for dabbling, but man what's yours? You had a warm body to snuggle up too. I know I'd have preferred snuggling to hacking into classified systems."

Giles snorted softly from his station by the airlock controls as Zechs chuckled by way of answer and the Raider turned his attention to punching in the coded sequence for the door to release. Zechs joined him by the door and slipped around him and into the room beyond, leaving Giles to wave a hand at the engineer as he followed.

The entry lock to the airlock was simply a section of hallway that could be sealed with the heavy safety doors positioned at either end. The door on the airlock side of this section was somewhat thicker and painted gray instead of the usual tan that dominated the colour scheme of the base, denoting a blast door. Zechs was already at that door, running a careful eye over the seal and electronic lock, seeking some indication that tampering might have been employed as extra security and on finding none he punched in the opening sequence and waiting for the massive door to open.

Giles moved to the opposite side of the door to Zechs, kneeling and waited for a count of five after the door had opened. No sound or movement suggested they had company and he ducked his head quickly around the door frame, scanning the air lock and signaled the all clear to Zechs, then entering and moved to the controls on the far door. Zechs slipped into the small room that was the airlock proper, the last line of safety between any explosion and decompression of the sub base should any accident wreck the shuttle bay and operated the controls to shut the door and establish the safety lock. The system board to the side of the doors at either end of the room registered all systems green and Giles operated the exit door, waiting for the system to run its cycle of checks and balances and finally the door opened, giving them entry to the entry lock that separated them from the sub base.

"Moment of truth time. We may have some problems here." Zechs murmured as he joined Giles by the exit door. "If the explosion collapsed the elevators and the subsequent fallout and debris has blocked the entry to the sub base we are going to have to find another way in to the base."

Giles permitted himself the opportunity to lean his weight against the wall as he considered what might lie beyond the door. "There is a fair bit of room between the elevators and the main corridor. I'm hoping there is enough room to have taken the wreckage without blocking our way. There is really only one way to find out."

The blonde considered the door for a moment and inclined his head slightly to the panel beside Giles. "Run a system check and diagnostic of the air beyond the door. If the fire is still burning the temperature would be elevated above the norm and the air will register pollutants. We may have more trouble than we expected." // That is something that we definitely do not need. However it is a possibility we can not ignore. We have no idea what has been going on down here. If there is a God out there who still is inclined to listen, could you just keep your hand on my children? Let them be safe.//

He could not bare to think what would happen if Simpson, or worse still the Sleepers, had infiltrated the sub base and gone on a killing spree. The Sleepers seemed to have totally lost all control over themselves and he feared what they might have done to the innocents. His were not the only children in the sub base who could fall easy prey to the killers. He could not so much as trust that they were sane enough to heed their instructions to take the twins alive.

"Sample retrieval and diagnostic cycle is running now." Giles confirmed. "I wonder who Barker has found to join him?"

Zechs flashed a glance at his companion and shook his head slightly. "It was not safe to ask."

"I know." Giles offered a diffident shrug. "I was just wondering if maybe Chris had not managed to get himself involved. It would be like him to wrangle his way into any infiltration party and he has the skills to be a help. He would be wanting to know what is going on in here and maybe he would have heard from Raydon by now."

"You are close, this Chris and you?"

"We met once or twice while we were on Station One before I was assigned to come to Mars. We had occasion to train together in the units Raydon was working with, teaming up the Gifted with agents and getting them to work together as a very effective unit. I like him. He's a good man. Ex Oz Specials, actually." He noted the interest in the blue eyes and watched as the cycle symbol on the wall console continued to flash. "Yes, he was one of your crowd during the war. A Leo Pilot. A little older than you, of course, but he's a good pilot. He trained at Lake Victoria Academy, but it would have been a couple of years before you. I think he said he was training there around the same time as Treize Kushrenada was there. Raydon chose him to join me out here because he had a wide range of skills and he had little difficulty in working with the Gifted. He's not afraid of hard work and his broad range of skills was ideal for him being accepted by the working staff on Mars."

"I will look forward to meeting him." Zechs murmured, squashing memories of Lake Victoria Academy and what seemed like far simpler and kinder days. This was not the time nor was it the place to reminisce about the past.

The computer issued a soft beep and displayed a report on the small LCD screen and Giles scowled. "Well, it could have been a lot worse. It looks like we have some smoke pollution, but nothing dangerous from these readings." He stared at the readings for a long moment and grunted, pleased with what he read. "It's a reducing count so the ventilation systems are clearing the smoke and any toxic fumes from the air ways. It might stink like hell, but it won't knock us out."

"Open her up, then. It's time to move."

Zechs crouched low to the floor as the heavy door began to move and when there was sufficient space to permit him access he peered through the gap, seeking any sign of hostile parties. The hallway stretched before him, the acrid stench of chemical laced smoke flooded into the entry lock and Giles coughed, wafting the air in front of his face with a lazy flap of his hand. There was little visible haze from the fire; the ventilation system seemed to have successfully cleared out the smoke haze, though it could do nothing to lessen the stench of fire damage.

"Stinks alright." Giles muttered.

"Clear."

Business mode settled into place, both men sliding easily back into the mindset necessary to survival and the teamwork that had seen them escape the upper dome relatively unscathed. The emergency lights were active in the sub base, bathing everything in a red glow and the silence was profound, unnatural to the busy base and reminiscent of the upper base dome. Both men exchanged looks, afraid that death had been stalking the sub base in their absence and then slipped from the entry lock and ghosted toward the intersection ahead.

Beyond the intersection that led deeper into the sub base they could see that the emergency blast doors had activated, sealing off the damaged elevator section from the remainder of the base. The walls near the door were scorched and scored from shrapnel that had resulted from the initial blast that had roared down the elevator shaft, but the blast doors had activated, saving the sub base from any serious damage and sealing it off from the fire that had raged. There was evidence that the burning shrapnel and refuse of the explosion that had made it through the blast doors had been extinguished by the emergency response team though the area now was silent.

Zechs found himself eyeing a piece of metal almost as long as his arm and as wide as his palm that was imbedded in the metal wall near the intersection and shuddered at the thought of the force of the explosion required to accomplish that feat. Whoever amid the sleepers had set the explosives, and his visions suggested one Shanna McIntyre to be the instigator, had been prone to overkill. For the blast to have caused so much damage so far from the immediate area of the elevators meant that either the killer had to be ill informed on the forces required to take out an elevator, or the killer was one who got their sick kicks out of mayhem and destruction. It was without a doubt needless violence.

Giles had moved a few steps ahead and now paused near the intersection, quickly ducking his head around the corner and ducking back just as quickly. He motioned the all clear as Zechs joined him and ran his eyes over the doors sealing the hallway ahead of them.

"No sight of anyone. It's all quiet down there."

A faint nod responded and Zechs knelt beside him, producing the dentists mirror from a pouch and slipping it around the corner just above floor level, using it to study the hallway thus revealed at more leisure.

"Neat trick." Giles commented softly.

"Whatever works." Zechs murmured, considering the vacant hallway leading deeper into the sub base.

This was the main thoroughfare that linked the many sections of the sub base and it was unusual for it to be so empty. It was eerie just looking at the empty hallway and he fought down a shudder.

"We go down to the communal lounge and from there we check out our options. If everyone is still at their emergency stations we should meet no one between here and the medical section, but we can not take it for granted that people will still be content to remain on station. The base has been under alert for a long time and no all clear has been given that I am aware of. By now they must be getting curious as they have had no real explanation that could possibly satisfy them. The explosion in the elevator shaft must have produced a reaction and it is certain that the emergency squad have responded."

Giles glanced at the blast doors and the evidence of quickly extinguished fires in the hallway and nodded. With the explosion and subsequent activation of the blast doors it would have been obvious to all that there was a viable threat to the base. He only hoped it was enough to keep people at their assigned stations, although the Sleepers had been making use of those assignments to take out the terra formers one group at a time with little in the way of resistance. That he knew of it had only been Zechs and himself and Ahmed Hawass who had actively retaliated against them. The emergency stations alert had proven to be a mixed blessing.

"Do you have any idea how many personnel should be in the medical section?"

"There should be a full medical staff, less the two nurses that I entrusted the twins to." Zechs responded.

Giles ran some quick calculations. "Six doctors, two specialist surgeons and what … seven or eight nurses?"

"Something like that." Zechs agreed. "It sounds about right. I should think that Jenny Santos would be out of surgery by now and in the ICU unit … maybe in the recovery room and there would probably be one nurse assigned to be with her at all times. There should be another nurse in the nursery and maybe the mothers of the other two children as well. I think there was also a concussion case in for observation and two patients with broken bones."

"That sounds about right." Giles was watching the blonde with a frown. "Jenny Santos is in surgery? What happened to her that would require surgery?"

"She was hit with automatic fire when Noin took out two of the infiltration team."

"Oh." Giles stared at the blonde who resolutely refused to meet his gaze, choosing instead to stare at the mirror reflecting the hallway. "Bad luck or …?"

"It should never have happened." A sigh. // I should have knocked Noin out and tied her up in our bloody room. It was not necessary for so many people to be involved in this idiocy.// He could not deal with a post mortem of events just now and there was so much that needed to be done. Where was the use in pointing fingers and casting blame? It served no purpose. "Go."

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Giles

Giles swallowed his curiosity and eased around the corner, moving quietly and quickly along the hallway, not pausing until he came to the door that led into the first of the accommodation sectors of the base. He pressed his ear to the closed door seeking any hint of movement though it was unlikely that he would hear anything through the blast door beyond this one that sealed accommodation sector A from the hub of the sub base and glanced at Zechs when he ghosted past, moving to the corner that opened out into the communal lounge.

The base remained silent around them and with a distrustful glance at the door behind him he moved to back Zechs and guard his back as the man slipped around the corner. Zechs kept his back to the solid wall and paused to better survey the open area with its couches, potted plants and chairs. Nothing seemed to have changed since last he was here and he edged closer to the door that led into the dining hall. The sound of movement and the scuff of heavily booted feet was like a deluge of icy cold water hitting him and both men glared at the door only inches from them. The heavy scrape of steel toed boots and a sound that brought to mind a chair scraping over the floor seemed abnormally loud in the stillness that had surrounded them and after a moment a murmur of voices issued from the door.

Giles strained to make out what was being said and failing to hear anything clearly he slipped around Zechs to the far side of the door, carefully opening it a crack and pressed his ear to the gap. He glanced at Zechs who moved past him to kneel behind a couch, taking guard position and permitting Giles to learn what he could. He dared not open the door any more than that fractional amount for fear of drawing attention to them, but he considered this a necessary risk as they needed to know what was going on in there.

"… know what exactly is going on. All of the readings on the emergency services computer indicate that the fire in the elevator well has been extinguished, but if you want proof we have to open the door and I personally am not of a mind to do that at this time. We are still working on re-establishing the security camera system, but at this stage I can not see us having much success. That bloody virus has thus far defeated our every attempt to kill it. What moron would feed a virus into our computer systems?"

"A moron who obviously does not want us to track them." A mild, mid toned voice returned with not the faintest hint of amusement to lighten the comment.

"Is our air supply at risk?" A third voice queried, deeper toned and slightly accented.

"No. We are fortunate there that the virus is selective. While it has taken out all radio communications and the security systems including the cameras monitoring the upper base and sub base it has not as yet targeted our life support systems. The systems it has not targeted seem to include the security codes that operate the airlock systems to the shuttle bay, though the explosion resulted in the blast doors activating and locking down the airlock to the shuttle bay. The blast doors activating when they did saved us from the lethal results of the poisonous fumes when the elevators exploded, but I need an access code that will open the airlock to the shuttle bay so that we can try to access the computer systems in the Supervisor's office and regain some control of the base. My access code no longer works, which suggests that someone has changed all of the access codes. We are effectively isolated until we can regain control of the core computers. We need to get on top of this virus before it does penetrate our life support systems."

"With the radio down we are limited in what we can do. We need to know what is happening in the upper dome, but even the old intercom system seems to be down."

Giles detected a growing panic in that last voice and pursed his lips slightly. He recognized one or two of the voices as belonging to men that he knew were a part of the emergency response team and he knew that none of them panicked easily, but this was a situation that few of them would have ever considered facing.

"We need to maintain calm. To panic, or to go off without planning our movements will likely result in more deaths. Yes, I said more deaths. Come on after that explosion do you honestly think that people are not dying up there? I told you what Merquise told me and who else would have the know how and resources to lock us down here? I know you don't want to believe it, hell I don't want to believe it, but I'm not such a fool that I will bury my head in the sand and ignore what is going on around me."

"Now just wait a minute, Joe. I can not believe that you actually trust Merquise. Come on the man tried to blow up the Earth. He's not sane."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Palmer, don't be a flaming idiot. Look around you. This is Mars. Mars, Man, not Earth. Until now the politics of Earth has meant precisely nothing to us so long as they kept the supplies coming. I'll be honest with you and tell you that I don't actually give a shit about who stands on the top of the dung heap and calls himself King, President or Chief Prick. What does concern me is Mars and the safety of the people that work here. Even you have to admit that since he came to Mars he has done nothing to warrant our distrust or suspicion. Give the guy a break. He defused the detonator, man. Had that gone off the enviro dome would have been breached and you know that anyone caught out in the open or in the warehouses would be dead."

A snort responded. "We really only have his word for it that there were bombs at all."

"Oh for the … Look, you idiot, I suppose this is play dough? Take a good look at it. This is high grade explosives, you moron. I took it myself from the freight elevators not twenty minutes ago. Oh, it's harmless enough without the detonator to trigger it; I made sure to dispose of that. While I removed this from the freight elevators I would not advise anyone to use the elevators. I have little doubt that there is a lot more of this shit there. I only removed this piece to demonstrate to you that there are people who are running around this base who do not exactly have our best interests at heart. If the elevator is used it will undoubtedly go up in just as spectacular a fashion as the others did."

Giles strained to catch any sound from the room as a heavy silence fell. After a moment he heard a chair scrape and the sound of someone moving about. Holding his breath he debated the wisdom of staying to listen or easing the door closed and beating a hasty and careful retreat.

"If the elevators are trapped and the access codes have been changed that means that we are completely isolated from the enviro dome. There is no other means of reaching the upper base with the blast doors sealing off the primary elevator shaft and the freight elevators now out of bounds."

Rustle of clothing as someone moved and a thud that suggested someone had hit a table a hard blow in their frustration. "So what do we do about it? We have no proof who placed the explosives. Merquise could have placed it."

//Does not sound as though there is much trust for Zechs amid this lot. I don't think I want him going in there or turning his back on any of them. We need to move on.//

"I do not believe this." An exasperated sigh came clearly through the door. "Would you mind telling me just where Merquise would get this shit? I can assure you that we don't even use it here when we need to do blasting. This stuff is state of the art, newly arrived from Earth, Palmer. There is no way that Merquise could have gotten his hands on some of it, let alone planted it. I already told you that I followed that ESUN Security agent."

"I can't believe …"

Giles slipped the door closed and gently released the handle, careful to make no sudden move or noise that would alert the group that they were not alone. Signaling for Zechs to move with him away from the door he eased his way through the furniture and on the far side of the lounge they crouched out of sight, making full use of the furnishings to obscure them from view.

"Seems like some sort of emergency meeting going on." The Raider informed Zechs. "There are at least five people in there, but I think that there are more. I think it is the emergency services crew who responded to the blast in the elevator shaft and maybe a couple of the computer operators assigned down here in an emergency situation. I recognized Mighty Joe Lee's voice and Bryce Palmer too. They both are on the emergency response team."

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Zechs

Zechs eyed the door and entertained the idea of approaching the men and women on the emergency response team for aid for all of about ten seconds. He was not inclined to trust any more than he had to when he had no accurate count of the Sleeper agents who had infiltrated the base.

"We go on. Provided they stay in the dining hall and talk they should be safe enough."

"Mighty Joe said something about having followed an ESUN Security Agent to the freight elevators. He took some plastic explosives from the freight elevators and advised no one use them. Said he did not doubt that there is more explosives set to go off if the elevators are used."

Zechs considered Giles in silence for a long moment and eyed the dining room door for a longer time. If Mighty Joe had followed one or both of the agents that they knew were still loose in the base, then had they been leaving the sub base or wandering around down here looking for something or someone else? He had assumed that Simpson and Frazier would be in the upper base by now, but was his assumption incorrect?

There was also the question of whether or not any of the agents he had incapacitated had been revived and might now be active to be considered. It was dangerous enough to be wandering around down here with the two ESUN agents let alone more of Blue Squad becoming active and then there was Sleepers. The only way of moving about unseen that he knew might give them a good chance of not running into the men, would be to resort once again to the ventilation ducts. The mere thought of the vent systems caused an icy chill to crawl through him and threatened to pitch him into unreasoning fear of enclosing metal and suffocating darkness and a cold that echoed still in his bones. He forced control knowing that he could not again enter into the ducts. It would be a long time, if ever, before he would be able to force himself into such dark and claustrophobic ways again.

// I can't. I just can't. I might suggest it to Giles to keep him safe, but I will not again go into the vents. // "Med bay." He decided. "For now we keep to our planned route and we don't lower our guard."

Giles nodded his agreement and chose not to comment on the entirety of the conversation he had listened to. He had no doubt that the blonde knew how many people saw him as an insane monster and he was not inclined to cause the man any more distress than he was already feeling by informing him of the full details of that overheard conversation. With a light touch to the broad shoulder he motioned Zechs ahead to the corner and popped his head above the couch to watch the door to the dining room.

"Clear." He whispered.

Zechs slipped to the corner and using again the dentist's mirror he checked the hallway beyond was clear before motioning for Giles to join him and eased himself around the corner. He paused briefly at the door to the kitchen and on hearing no noise from within the room he slipped past and moved on to the door sealing the connecting hallway that led into the medical wing. Across the hallway from the medical wing the blast doors leading into sections B and C living quarters were both sealed shut and he was thankful that no one had as yet released the all clear.

With so much explosives still placed about the base it was too dangerous in his view to sound an all clear. While those blast doors remained sealed anyone in the living quarters should be safe from any damages done to the sub base that might breach the environmental seals. He knew that somewhere in the living quarters, whether it was in section A, B or C there were two nurses who had taken his children and in all honesty it seemed to be the safest place for them at this time.

The hallway remained quiet and he knelt at the intersection with the medical bay. The blast door here was sealed and he hoped that it meant the medical section was secure and had not been visited by massacre as had the upper dome. With limited resources the Sleepers and other ESUN agents could not possibly have visited every section of the base and he glanced at Giles who had remained near the communal lounge and who now offered a thumbs up as a signal that they were still secure. Standing up quickly he punched in the memorized master code and with a clunk the seal on the door released.

// I had better check on the two men I left in the maintenance locker. Someone should have found the two women long before now and have moved them to another room where they could receive medical attention, but I have to find them to know that they are not going to feature in this.//

As his hands touched the locking panel, fingers reaching for the manual release a shudder racked him, a tremor that started somewhere deep within him and against his hard fought for shields he felt the threatening surge of vision. Stifling the gasp that would have alerted Giles to a problem the man could not help him with at this time he released the manual lock on the door and forced the vision down. There simply was no time to entertain his so called Gift and he motioned Giles to join him as he pushed the door open enough to get the dental mirror through the gap. With the way clear he pushed the door wider and slipped into the medical wing, Giles close on his heels.

"Tell me the code. I'll lock down the door." Giles offered.

"ASMD 698254." He was already moving forward to the closest door, using the need for action to push the surges that were threatening to overwhelm him down.

There was something wrong within the medical wing and it threatened to explode into vision that would end up getting them killed if he dared to open the floodgates. Room by room they would have to search the sector to be certain where the women had been placed and he would have to move those two men so that they could receive medical attention. If any or all of them were awake and active then he had additional problems to deal with.

Perhaps that was what the would be visions warned of?

//There is no time to investigate visions. Besides, it will take me out of the picture to go down into vision and I can't leave Giles alone now. If we want to survive we have to work together. //

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	107. Chapter 107

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 107

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 00: 35 [approx Sanc time 22:25

Barker

// Ah, shit. Climbing ladders in these suits is not easy and I wonder how many agents have had to do it under duress? It was not covered in my training and it should have been. You can't see anything accept the rung in front of you and you certainly can not look above or below. This needs to be included as a part of Preventers basic training-at least for anyone slated to be a part of a mission in space. I'll have to remember to place that recommendation when this is all over. // He refused to consider that he might never get the opportunity to make a report let alone suggest that an additional training module be devised. // It would probably be easier if I was climbing up the bloody thing instead of going down. How much further, I wonder? We must be near the bottom by now. I seem to have been doing this forever.//

He knew that he should have more concern over the details of the mission he was on than the near darkness he moved through, but the details of what was rather a sketchy plan could wait. There was a man below him and one above whose lives hung in the balance as much as his own and at the moment this climb down into darkness was more of a threat than working out what to do when they got into the base dome. If Carter, who was above him, should slip because of the restrictions to movement caused by the suits they were forced to wear, then both he and Polnar would descend the shaft in a very untidy fashion and in the end act as cushions for Carter's less than glorious landing. Should it be he who slipped then it would only be he and Polnar who would pay the price, leaving Carter to continue on and complete the mission alone, provided he suffered no debilitating injuries in the fall. There was no margin for error on this mission and all that he seemed to be able to do since beginning this descent was envision the errors that all too easily could occur.

// I never thought that working in the dark would bother me, but even with the headlamps on the suit I could not glimpse the bottom of the shaft and that does bother me. I know that each step down to a lower rung is taking me closer to the bottom, but this climb seems to be taking forever and I have only so much time. Zechs is expecting us and I want to learn what the hell has been going on in the dome. //

It might not have been so bad, he reflected, if they could have talked to each other during this descent, but with the uncertainty about the equipment used by Blue Squad they needed to conserve radio silence as much as possible. Needless discussion on something like the weather of Mars would not only use up precious oxygen they might yet need, but needlessly chance their conversation being overheard by hostile parties. Both possibilities were needless risks to offer some small comfort to a grown man who suddenly discovered within his psyche a fear of the dark.

It was ridiculous.

A hand gripped his ankle and he fought down the shriek that threatened to vent in reaction. Fingers squeezed his suited ankle gently and then left him to touch his waist and he understood that Polnar must be at the bottom of the shaft. A sigh of relief passed his lips and he fought to calm the startled racing of his heart as he took the last few rungs down to the inspection walkway and inched his way sideways until he had cleared the ladder for Carter to complete his descent. He nodded to Polnar who was reaching to grip Carter's ankle as he had his own and then turned his attention to the pipe that surrounded them.

He had not known what to expect of the recycling pipes that ran under the Base Dome but he certainly had not been expecting something so large. The treated effluent pipe stood inches over his height and it was wide enough for three men to stand abreast with their arms extended out level with their shoulders. Looking around and then ahead into a deeper darkness, he thought that the pipe might narrow a little at the extreme edge of his head lamps, but he was unsure. It might only have been an optical effect of the darkness warping the light of his headlamps and the meagre glow offered by the amber service lights placed at set distances along the tunnel. Taking a few exploratory steps along the walkway set above the level of the effluent he noted that it appeared the wall mounted lights stopped about fifty feet from the ladder. Try as he could he could make out no hint of an amber glow that would mean another light ahead.

With a small sigh of resignation he turned his attention to the floor of the tunnel. He refused to think of something as large as this as merely a pipe, gracing it with the loftier title of a tunnel since he was not going to be forced to crawl on hands and knees through a wretched pipe full of recycled matter he really did not want to consider flowing around him. There was a channel that looked to be as wide if not wider than his height that was filled with an unwholesome looking sludge coloured a sickly brown. He wondered how deep the channel ran and hoped it was not going to be necessary for him to find out.

"The wall lighting stops just up ahead and from there on the only lights we will have to move by will be our headlamps until we reach about twenty feet from the next outlet station. The lights will let us know we are close to the ladder and decontamination station leading up into the Base Dome." Polnar had moved to stand close, his helmet now pressed close to Barkers to initiate a conversation.

The Preventer agent glanced at him, noting Carter was descending the last of the rungs behind the Leo pilot and was already looking around him. He was still uncertain about trusting Polnar but at this time he did not see that he had a choice and of the three of them he was the only one who had been this way before. It seemed that once again he was going to have to place his trust in this man.

"How far to the first station?"

Polnar stared into the darkness ahead of them and offered a shrug. "I haven't gone any further that about a hundred meters that way." He indicated the opposite direction to that which they both had been looking, the direction that led toward the treatment plant. "I was never assigned to go under the dome for maintenance, but I have heard from the maintenance techs who service the channel that the pipes narrow the further in under the base dome you go. Both the inlet and the outlet pipes remain large enough to be relatively comfortable for the techs to work in, which I presume means that we will not need to wade in that stuff." He inclined his head to indicate the channel beside them. "I would think that the first station would not be much further than two or three hundred metres, give or take."

Barker sighed and could only nod an acknowledgement, eyeing the sludge that filled the channel in the centre of the tunnel with distaste. He certainly did not feel inclined to enter it if he had another option.

"I think the service ledge runs the full distance of the tunnel, but I can't be sure." He shrugged by way of apology. "Like I said, I have not gone that way, but I warn you to watch your footing. It can get pretty slimy in here and the pumps tend to make the refuse overrun the channel and in some places it does not always drain back into the channel. I presume that it is a design fault that applies to the entire length of the pipes, not just to the sections I have been in. Some of the backups that occur can be deep and run for a few meters. One of the jobs of the maintenance techs is to clear the blockages before the pipes block and feed back to the treatment installation."

Barker nodded his understanding and motioned to the tunnel ahead of them. "You lead. You seem to know most of the dangers involved in being down here."

Polnar nodded and shuffled carefully past Barker who was quick to press his back hard to the wall to make room for the man to pass him and take point. Carter shuffled over, his helmet turned toward the channel and his head lamps glare making it impossible to see his face, but Barker could well imagine the look he might see there. It would mirror his own distaste and distrust of the sludge. They had not even started yet and he already wanted out of the tunnel. To his slap on the man's shoulder and the pointed finger urging him on Carter shuffled carefully past and followed after Polnar and Barker fell into his position at the rear. With a sigh that did nothing to release the growing tension expanding within him he glanced at his chronometer and hoped that he had sufficient time to complete his objective.

00:38

He was to meet with Marquise in the shuttle bay at 01:35.

//We have a long way yet to go before we even get access into the Dome. I just hope we don't meet any opposition from Sleepers or Blue Squad, though I'd dearly like to take out the bastards who started this whole bloody farce. A massacre. Cold blooded murder to lock those people out in the night … // He sighed. This was not doing them any good.

The darkness was a heavy sensation pressing down on him that he had to learn to deal with. The bobbing lights of his companions broke the obsidian gloom but beyond Polnar's lights ahead of him he could see only darkness. The surface under his feet was slimy and slippery enough that he feared every step would send him sprawling into an undignified heap on the ledge or worse, into the sludge channel. From time to time they would pass a sealed metal box, a monitoring station that no doubt would record any changes in the flow of effluent when the pumps were in operation. He only hoped that these stations would not register their passage through the pipes mistaking them for effluent blocking the pipe and that obstruction be noted by any Sleepers or Security Agents who might have access to a computer.

//They could have wiped out half of the domes population in one move initiating this lockout. I wonder how many are dead in the dome itself? If they were intent on killing everyone outside of the domes then they intend to make it a clean sweep. Base and Alpha would have been combed for survivors to be slaughtered to complete their cover operation. No doubt just their agents would be alive to welcome the Wellington for their rescue in the official version. Bastards. Murdering butchering bastards. None of these people who have come to Mars deserve this kind of shit ending their dreams. A new start. A new life. Mars was a new beginning for so many of the workers who dared to come here. A chance taken by people desperate for something more than they had in a society that was marked by wars. To leave the politics and bloodshed of the Earth behind them and make a fresh start on a world unsullied by butchery and murder and it follows them here to murder them and start the blood count anew on Martian soil. Poor payment for the sacrifices made and the dreams these people shared. Someone has to pay for this atrocity. Not just the bastards here doing the dirty work but the Commanders who issued the orders have to be identified and brought to justice. //

He stumbled into a pile of refuse and slid enough to bring his heart into his throat in sudden fear that he was going to overbalance and flounder in the channel, but Carter reached back to steady him and he drew a breath of relief. His companion nodded and moved off and he waited for Carter to clear the refuse before he moved again, more slowly and careful of his footing this time. He eased his way through the slippery sludge and to where his companions now waited for him on the far side and they continued on.

He needed to concentrate more on what he was doing and not on bemoaning the unfairness of what was happening within the dome. He kept his lights firmly on Carter's back not willing to lose the man in the darkness that seemed almost to be a solid weight pressing on him, unwilling to be alone down in these depths. He supposed that it was a primal thing, this fear of the dark depths weighing on him. Some ancient instinct that reared now to bother him when he needed to concentrate on life and death decisions. Certainly he had never considered himself to be afraid of the dark before and he had needed to work in darkness on more than one occasion!

// Who set this all into motion? Who is it that I owe a bullet in the brain? Ah, God. Just listen to me. I'm a Preventer, for Christ's sake. It is my duty here to keep the peace and to protect that peace. I am here to make certain there is no fighting, no return to the wars that have torn the Earth Sphere for so many years. At last we have the very real chance for an active and lasting peace to develop. The truth is that I have had enough of fighting and fooling myself about why I choose to fight. I am tired, but I can fight and I am only too willing to fight to maintain that hope of peace. I don't want the killing to start again, whether on a small or grand scale and here I am expecting to walk into a blood bath. Shit. We are supposed to be at peace, building a world without a need to fight and just look at what has happened to this world that has never known war. We come here and it starts all over again. Tainted. Polluted by … Crap. Where did that come from? Not good, Barker. Not good at all. You are beginning to sound like some of those terrorists you have taken down in the last two years. Still, someone has to pay for what is happening here. Not just the underlings either. The little people who do the dirty work are only a very small part of the problem as a whole and I want those people who initiated this entire affair.//

The problem with that goal he knew, was that to publicly and properly deal with this matter as it needed to be dealt with, was that what appeared to be the worst kept secret of the ESUN was going to have to face the repercussions. Zechs Merquise. Milliardo Peacecraft. The Boogie Man of the Earth Sphere. The man who had frightened both the Colony and the Earth governments into uniting and settling their differences would be revealed to be alive. For the general public to know the man was alive would undoubtedly cause shockwaves to explode throughout the Earth Sphere, in titanic ripples of shock and dissent and possibly cause enough unrest to incite a return to the wars. The great villain of the War would be known to exist and there would be a very real danger of mass panic from those people who constituted the ill-informed and very nervous mass public.

// Which is the entire reason this raid is taking place. I can understand it, I suppose, but this … This atrocity should be known for what it really is, not palmed off as a raid by Pirates. I suppose their strategists are efficient if nothing else. They would get Merquise and incite the people to demand action be taken against the Raiders, all in one decisive action. Efficient if distasteful.//

He paused at Carter's signal and edged around the man enough to see that there was a large obstruction in the form of overflow from the channel and sighed. There was no way he would have liked to have Polnar's place as trail breaker just now. He shook his head slightly as the man kept one hand flat to the wall of the tunnel as he cautiously worked his way deeper into the sludge, carefully making a path for the others to follow. No, he decided, this really was not the best place to lead the survivors from the night's lockout to enter the dome. They needed to get the main airlock doors to the dome or the shuttle bay doors open.

// Just where are we supposed to go from here? Fine, we manage to get into the dome and say that we take down the agents and then what? We have made no ground. We are still on Mars. We still have Merquise here and there are still those same bastards in power who want things to go their way. Lady Une, I hope you have made plans for what happens at the end of this affair, because for the life of me I can't see where we can gain any advantage if we can't discover who it was who planned this raid and then trace it back to the source. Even if we do manage to do that what do we do to ensure that it does not repeat? The factors that incited this situation all still remain in place. Zechs would still be on Mars and Mars will soon be an open colony, open to all comers who want to start again. There is no feasible solution that I can see that would stop word of his presence here from getting back to the hub of the ESUN and then what? Arrest. Trial and execution? Or imprisonment? Shit. What a lovely mess that would be. So what do we do? What can we do? It is not just him either, but those babies. He's got kids and they will pay for their father's transgressions in the past. His reputation will follow them around until their dying day. Poor little buggers won't stand a chance and he knows it. I wonder if he would have surrendered himself to the agents if Noin had not sparked things off? What a mess.//

He shook the less than inspiring thoughts away, turning to concentrate on the matters more at hand. Polnar was through the overflow and Carter was crossing it. His turn was coming up and he needed to move. If he was careful he could follow Carter, leaving enough space between them that if one of them slipped they would not interfere with the other. Surely they had to be nearing the service station. It seemed they had been walking down here for hours, though he knew time was an illusion and that it had not been so long. One foot carefully in front of the other; no rushing things and begging for a very distasteful bath.

He had to concentrate more on the here and now, not on what would happen in the future - well, further in the future than he really needed to consider just now. That was food for thought for the future they would face, after they had removed the threat these agents represented and dealt with the confrontation the oncoming Wellington would provide for them to face down. It would be at the very least weeks surely before the ESUN could get another ship of any size out to Mars to cause more trouble. Hopefully he would be fortunate enough not to feature in the matter at that distant future date but that, he knew, was a copout. Rank cowardice on his part and a cowardice that he was ashamed of. He was surely a better person than that. He had found Merquise to be something other than he had expected, and for all that he did not understand the man, or what motivated him, he had found that he liked him.

//Later. Think about it later. Just get this out of your system before you go up into the dome, because carrying these kind of thoughts into action will result only in one thing. Disaster. I have to focus or these men will pay for my incompetence with their lives. If I want to get myself, or these men killed, then this is a good way to do it, so wake up and smell the roses, Barker. Even if just now they do smell like recycled shit. I am so glad these suits keep out smell as well as atmosphere. //

He cleared the refuse overflow and they fell back into their formation, one following the other, careful placement of feet and always be conscious of balance. He kept his light on Carter's back, his right hand against the wall as Polnar had done. The solidity of the wall felt through the heavy glove gave him a welcome sense of security against the oppressive darkness. He took to counting each step that was taken, vaguely with the idea of estimating the distance they had traveled and how far there was yet to cover, but more as a means to banish the dangerous speculation of what must happen in the future. It helped to centre him.

It was something of a surprise when the man in front of him stopped and he shuffled a few steps closer before it really registered that something was happening. Curious to see if they had come to another overflow of refuse he inched closer to the wall until he could peer over Carters shoulder. Ahead of them Polnar was standing at the base of a set of rungs that led up into the darkness of a shaft. He realized that the light around him had a faint amber quality and just above his hand there was a low wattage amber light. They had arrived at the service station and on the wall near Polnar, illuminated by a wall light, was the confirmation.

Exit.

Base Dome Access.

Service Station and Emergency Decontamination Unit.

No entry to Dome permitted unless decontamination procedure confirmed.

Polnar was motioning them to come closer and then indicating a hose and tap set up at the far end of the slightly wider walkway that Barker suppose could be called a way station, if he stretched his imagination somewhat. Pressing their heads together to permit communication he noted that Polnar was grinning.

//Does the man have to perpetually smile?//

"Before we go up we have to hose each other down, or the computer controlling the sensors will not release the sealed grate that leads to the airlock. When we get to within around about twenty three meters of the access cover we will receive an automatic spraying down of decontamination solution by the computers that monitor the grate. It's quick and efficient and I don't have an authorization code that will allow us to forgo the spray down. It would be quicker to have the shower and be done with it."

It would also be safer for the health of all inhabitants of the dome as well, Barker mused, as he signaled the go ahead. He was willing to suffer a hose off and chemical shower and it no doubt would make it a little sweeter on the nose when they could remove the enviro suits. He wanted their butts in that dome with all speed and if it took twenty seconds or so for the shower, that was certainly faster than his best time for breaking an electronic lock. What awaited them up there he was almost afraid to consider, but it was a job that he would trust to no other to oversee. He owed it to the people who had already died and to those waiting in the caves to finish this mess.

Polnar motioned for he and Carter to spread themselves a little and brace themselves and when he saw the force of the spray that hit Carter he knew why. The force of the water quickly and efficiently removed the clinging remnants of their wade through the overflow effluent and then it was his turn. When he stood dripping and relatively clean and certain that he would be bruised from the force of the water, Carter took the hose from Polnar and returned the favor, flushing the refuse from the walk way when he was done. With the wash down out of the way and the hose replaced they locked helmets together once more.

"I am presuming this procedure point is the same as at the recycling plant. If it is then you will come to a sequence of coloured lights. The red light will be on at first and that marks that we will have arrived at the spray station. All we have to do is position ourselves in the decontamination field and hold on to the rungs. It's quick and the computer will talk you through each stage. Allow four rungs between us for safety. The computer sensors will register how many of us there are to be treated and the shower will not activate until the last person reaches and passes that first red light. When we are in position we will be notified of the decontamination commencing by the lights flashing and on the standard frequency there will be a radio notification and the usual safety warnings. We will be instructed to move on when the sequence is complete. The whole thing takes about thirty seconds from memory."

"Go." Barker waved Polnar toward the ladder and then Carter to follow, himself taking the rear position. //The sooner we get in the dome the better.//

A glance at the chronometer on his wrist panel produced a sigh that contained more than just a hint of frustration. 00:48. They were running out of time and they still had to breach the dome, reach HD Three and find the access shaft down into the sub base, not to mention descend said shaft. He had a bad feeling that he had seriously underestimated the time requirements for accessing the dome, but it could not be helped.

They were going to be late.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	108. Chapter 108

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 108

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 00: 48 [approx Sanc time 22:38

Polnar

// Christ. What did the man think he was doing? First I had to endure that horror flight on the Taurus and now we are supposed to get into the dome and down into the sub base in slightly more than half an hour. // A quick glance assured him that the other two men were prepared to follow him up the ladder and he began the ascent. // Okay, so Preventers may be made of sterner stuff than me, but this has got to be pushing the odds. If we move with the speed needed to make the time schedule, then we are going to be leaving ourselves open to stupid and most likely fatal mistakes. It would have been better if he had given us at least two hours to get into the damn dome. If we arrived early then it looks like we are really efficient and that is far preferable to arriving late, or worse still, not arriving at all. I have no intention of coughing my life out in the bloody dome because I was shot trying to reach the hydroponics unit. Shit. When will I learn? I keep forgetting what it is like to work with the non Gifted exclusively. I've become spoiled working with the Gifted incorporated into a team and the advantages it gives you. Having a Precog as a part of the team takes a lot of the guess work out of missions and a Kinetic, or two, takes a lot of the hard work out of the equation. I won't even think about the benefits of having a Telepath in the team. Never thought I would miss having them around so much. //

Slowly, steadily, hand over hand he worked his way up the ladder taking a moment to reflect that while wearing the enviro suits it was easier to descend ladders than it was to climb in them. Why had he ever considered entering the dome through the refuse recycling pipes? Within the helmet he shook his head at the sheer idiocy of the thought. If he could have thought of another means to enter the dome then he would certainly have suggested it. He should count his blessings that he had been fortunate Barker had picked him for this job, though he did worry why it was that the Preventer had chosen him. The bonus to his situation was that not only did he have experienced assistance in breaching the dome and experienced men to guard his back, even as he guarded them, but that he had not needed to sneak away from the caves to attempt to enter the dome on his own.

Yes, it was true that he did have past training with the Oz Specials, but the truth was that had been years ago and his training had primarily involved the piloting of Leo Mobile Suits, not the infiltration of enemy bases achieved by crawling through recycling pipes. One thing he would admit was that Oz, once it fell under the command of Treize Kushrenada, had given their people a far more thorough grounding in all areas of warfare and that did include clandestine entries into sealed bases. While he had already graduated the Academy in its Alliance form when Kushrenada had come into his own and formed Oz as a separate identity from the Alliance, he had still been required to re enter the Academy now under Oz control and receive at least a measure of this type of training. Oz had given him a basic grounding, but it was not Oz that had given him his current expertise in this means of covert entry and exit into sealed bases. That knowledge came from the training program all chosen as undercover operatives of the Station Alliance were required to undertake. In his view he was not actually a spy as most people might claim him to be, but his assignments to date had required him to be well versed in the ancient art of sneaking.

// Sneaking is definitely more Raider style than it is Oz Specials, that is for sure. Still, I'd never have dreamed I'd find myself sneaking into the Base Dome using the recycling tunnels. If someone had told me I would be doing this when I agreed to take on this assignment, I would have laughed in their face and called them a fool. Probably worse. While I could not see myself sneaking into the Dome I certainly could see myself sneaking Peacecraft out of the dome, should the situation have require it. That is what I am here for after all and why I chose this means of exiting the dome. Exit being the operative word, of course. Exit not Entry. Damn. I should have known better. Raydon is Gifted. That son of a bitch. I wonder if he knew I would be doing this when he sent me to back up Giles? Nah. No way. He is good, I know that, but he's not omnipotent. //

He came abreast of the first of the low wattage amber lights spaced along the length of the shaft and passed it by in his steady laborious fashion. He resisted the urge to sigh at the thought of how far there still was to go before they reached the decontamination station. He could only hope that Carter and Barker would keep their heads and remember to keep the four rung distance between them. While it was best to keep such a distance between climbers at the best of times, to avoid fouling up fellow climbers, in this situation it was a safety measure for the decontamination procedure. The distance between each body within the decontamination shower ensured that each person was thoroughly covered with the light foam and then the chemical wash down that followed to eradicate all bacteria from their sojourn in the refuse. It also maintained a safe distance between the workers who needed to exit into the dome in the event that they might lose a hand or foot grip during the shower processing, though everyone who had cause to use this entry to the base knew enough to hold tight to the rungs. The foam and spray would not hit them with any force that might threaten the security of their grip, unlike the spray down hose at the station below, but anyone who was not accustomed to the decontamination process might be startled enough to loose their grip.

// I'll find out soon enough if both of those men are the easily startled kind. I doubt it though. I think I can say that I know Carter enough to be assured he would not be easy to unnerve and I really can't see Barker getting as far in the Preventers as he has if he was prone to nerves. I'll know soon enough, one way or the other and then I can get into the dome. I wonder what has been going on in there? Giles never reported back to me after entering the dome and I knew something had really gone wrong then. He should have contacted me long before now. No word from Giles and no word from Raydon either, up to the time I left the suit. God, what is going on in there? At least I know that Merquise is alive and I can only hope for now that Giles managed to find him and preserve his own hide in the process. //

He grunted softly to himself as a second light materialized out of the darkness and was passed and he tried to peer up into the shaft, but the cumbersome helmet would not permit him to see far enough to perhaps glimpse an indication of the red glow of the lowest of the lights that marked the decontamination station as yet. He did not even bother attempting to look down the shaft as it was useless to attempt to try looking past his own bulk when the helmet would not permit him a glance at even his own chest. He just had to take it on trust that the men below him were following him at a safe distance.

Gawking around was not going to serve him at all in the current situation and he pulled himself into line, well aware of the dangers of frustration when wearing an enviro suit. He needed to exercise all caution and ensure that he did not slip with either foot or hand and that took concentrated effort. He was largely blind to where he placed either hands or feet, as the restrictions imposed by the helmet did not allow him a view of anything but the ladder rung directly in front of the face plate. It would be a lovely mess if he should make the kind of mistake that lost him his grip at this height, with two men below him. Likely all three of them would die out here.

The man on the bottom of the ladder would be the lucky one, as he would probably die from the initial impact of the two men above him impacting on fragile flesh and bone. Despite the lower gravity of Mars Carter and himself, if they survived that initial fall, would most likely die of incapacitating injuries sustained in the landing, unless they should break radio silence and called for help. That was, of course, provided they did not damage their radio packs during the fall or upon landing. It was far from being as far fetched a scenario as it might seem at first, as he knew of a number of similar instances that had taken place in the mines and the mining stations in the asteroid belt. There had been instances of bodies being found in weird places, the results of accidents that had breached the integrity of the space suits of the victims and smashed the radio that was as much a life saving device in the harshness of those primitive conditions, as it was a means by which to send and receive orders for a days work.

// Shit. This is a wonderful way to get my mind off an accident happening. Thinking about disasters is not the way to avoid one happening. I need to concentrate more on what I am doing. I need to think about what I will need to do when I get into the dome. I need to know what is going on and I need to find Giles, not just locate Merquise. It is possible I might need his Gift to convince Merquise to cooperate. If I had not been chosen for this team by Barker, I would have slipped away from the caves after replenishing my oxygen and come out here on my own to try to slip into the dome. I have to get in there and find Merquise and convince him to go to ground. I need to explain to him just who I am and what I am doing on Mars and he needs to understand I am here to keep his hide safe and that I am here on Raydon's instructions to be his bodyguard. Whether that will garner any cooperation from the man is another matter.//

He was only too aware of the past history of the Lightning Count. When he considered the past military record of the man he could only wonder who should be bodyguarding who in this situation. Merquise had had the benefits of the fully revised training program, as he had been a child considered too young even to become an Oz cadet when Kushrenada had first formed Oz and by the time he had graduated he was lethal, be it in mobile suit combat or hand to hand melee. The best that Oz had had to offer had gone into the training of him and he had scored the highest results in the history of the records available at Lake Victoria Academy, former Alliance training centre and responsible for the training of the Alliance elites for nearly a hundred years, before it had become the training ground for the Specials when Treize Kushrenada had formed the elite Order of the Zodiac.

//The man could cream me with one hand tied behind his back and I am supposed to bodyguard him? Some days the irony of life makes me sick. Still that is what I am here for and that is what I will do, but to do it effectively I need to locate Giles. He's the Gifted member of this team and he is the one who is supposed to deal personally with Merquise.//

He liked Haydon Giles. They had had no trouble dealing fairly with each other from the first day that they had met, when Raydon had personally introduced the training teams to the latest member of the Gifted to be included in the intelligence service of the Station Alliance. For all the man's Gift to influence others had scared him with its frightening potential for control, he had found Giles to be likable and if anything too shy for the intelligence service to be a viable agent. With time and integration into the teams, under the watchful eye and encouragement of Raydon, Giles had opened up and proven himself to be a vital team member. It had been something of a rude shock the day he had realized that Haydon had vanished from Station One and he had not expected to be given instruction months later by Raydon himself to join Giles on Mars and once there baby sit the Prince of Sanc.

//Oh, don't make the mistake of thinking about bodyguarding Merquise as being as simple as babysitting. I have no doubt that particular baby would be worse than babysitting an entire nursery unit of two year olds at Station One. I'd rather look after the little terrors for a week than bodyguard an unwilling Merquise for an hour. Why did Raydon not mention any of this when he assigned me here? He is a precog after all. Surely he must have known that this would have to happen? Well shit, stop wimping before you even get into the dome. Of course he must have known something would happen, otherwise you would be assigned somewhere else within the Earth Sphere///

The thought of the dark-haired and golden eyed leader of Station One produced a sigh that echoed within the confines of his helmet. Raydon could be frightening when the instances of vision were on him. Only once had he had the opportunity to see that glazed look come into the man's eyes and to watch the colour drain from his skin and be replaced by a frightening pallor. To see the reaction of the Gifted who had been in the room where the incident had occurred, had been perhaps the most frightening thing of all. One moment everyone had been attending to their training session and the next the non Gifted had found themselves abandoned by their Gifted partners, said partners gathered about Raydon, with threat emanating from them should anyone be foolish enough to even think of approaching him. It had been the Gifted who had monitored him, the Gifted who had summoned the Training Masters and it had been the Gifted who had hustled everyone but their own kind out of the gymnasium. There had been no chance to protest, no opportunity for anyone to react as it had happened too quickly and once the Gifted Training Masters had arrived you knew not to even attempt to learn what was happening.

They tended to keep to themselves a lot, the Gifted. Even on Station One where they were accepted and not looked on as Freaks and outcasts they tended to band together, or keep solitary when not involved in training. The Training Masters seemed to know whenever something happened involving a Gifted member of the station and would appear quickly and efficiently take charge of circumstances. While it was true that not everyone on Station One accepted the oddities and abilities of the Talents on the station, most who had such difficulties kept themselves removed from the areas of the station where the Gifted tended to congregate.

// Some of the Gifted on Station must surely have a clue as to what is going on here by now. Perhaps Raydon himself might have experienced a vision. While we are an isolated community here, what is happening has the potential to rock the Earth Sphere and some of the Gifted must be able to pick up the consequences. Ripples of water in a pond. That is a description I have heard more than once from precogs. Raydon has to respond sometime soon to the alerts we sent that things here were starting to slide toward trouble. Why would he have been silent for so long? With Merquise the love of his life, you'd think he would be battering the door down trying to get to him to make certain that he was safe. Still, I suppose he could have decided to back off a bit, if not retire from the scene. The man does have kids after all and that woman would frighten any man off. // He considered that thought for a long moment and snorted softly, shaking his head, somewhat amused by his conclusion. //Nah. No way. It would take more than a possessive Lucrezia Noin to frighten off Raydon. Christ, I could just imagine the sparks that would fly if those two ever met and clashed over Merquise. It would make the One Year War look like a kiddy game. I think I would be inclined to sound a general alert and run for the nearest shuttle to get myself away from the fall out zone. It would not be pretty.//

He grunted softly as he realized the light around him was subtly different and he glanced up, trying to tilt the helmet enough to permit him to gain a view above and failing miserably. One day someone would find a more agreeable design for enviro suits, a design that would allow the wearer to actually find some measure of comfort and a decent area of vision. It took climbing another four rungs before he was certain that the quality of the light had changed because of the red tinted globe that stood along side the standard amber globe. This was the first of the globes that warned he was now entering the decontamination section and he was relieved to see the evidence that he was making progress in this narrow world of shadow and ladders.

// Just a little further to go and we will be there. It can't be soon enough to suit me, that's for sure. I hope Barker thinks to stop just past the globe and wait for the decontamination process. He needs to keep at least the four rungs below Carter and I don't dare use the radio at this point.//

He climbed higher, taking care of each placement of hand and foot to ensure no slips now placed them in danger. They had come so far and the airlock was so close now. He passed the second and then the third globe that defined the decontamination area and on reaching the fourth globe he began to worry. By this point in the climb he had expected to receive the computer confirmation of their presence and the warning to prepare for the procedure and now it looked as though he was going to have to consider other options to be taken if the computers had been compromised.

What could have damaged the sealed computer systems that operated the safety features which controlled access to the dome through the waste plant? Much of the Base Dome's construction had been in sections with each section running on separate computer systems, which were later linked to a main frame and master control system, but with sufficient back ups written in the system that if something should damage the central computer the safety systems for the dome would automatically switch to a back up system. If the computer controlling the decontamination unit was down then he knew that there was a manual control for the decontamination shower, which he was confident he could operate but he was uncertain what would happen after the shower. What would they need to do to effect a safe exit from the access pipe? He was not even certain if there was a manual control for the pipe, though safety features he had been trained in always claimed every system on Mars had a manual override.

"Please cease movement and secure a grip on the ladder rung. Decontamination will commence in ten seconds."

//And it is about time you spoke up.// He huffed a breath, locking his fingers around the metal bar and wriggling his booted feet more securely on the lower rung.

"Decontamination commencing now. The procedure will take approximately twenty five seconds." A gentle fall of white foam, tinted pink by the red light at his shoulder, began to fall over him, clinging to the enviro suit and working its way down his body. "On completion of the process it is advised that you shake excess moisture from you hands and feet with care. One hand at the time is the recommended procedure followed by one foot at the time. The decontamination process is now at the half way mark. The foam will be removed with a chemical solution spray. Should your helmet fog during this procedure it is advised that you refrain from removing it and wait a few seconds for your suits internal system to clear the mist."

He winced at the thought suggested by the computers neutral tones. However stupid the comment might seem, he knew only too well that as idiotic as it seemed there had been cases where workers had seemed to forget that they worked in a hostile environment and had removed their helmets when their vision had been obstructed. While such instances were few and far between and generally isolated to mining settlements and to the frontier settlement on Mars, it was a fact that they still did happen. It usually happened to green horns, first timers who were lacking in the patience and the experience required to work safely in such circumstances and who could not get used to the conditions they were forced to live under. It could be beyond frustrating to live in an enviro suit for hours on end and some people had been known to just snap and pay the price for that instant of insanity with their lives. Such automated warnings were not to be viewed as funny or stupid, but a necessity when you chose to live in an environment that was hostile to the human body.

A rain of clear chemicals fell over him, sprayed with gentle force from the wall jets of the shaft surrounding him and he waited with careful patience, counting softly under his breath and being certain to maintain his firm grip on the ladder rung. His helmet did indeed begin to mist up as he was showered and he held his breath for a moment, allowing the air system to compensate for the moisture build up in the suit and clear the mist, then inhaling deeply when he could again see clearly.

"Thank you for your cooperation. The decontamination process is now complete. You are advised to shake the excess moisture from your hands and feet and to be aware that the ladder may be slippery ahead of you, as a result of the moisture used in the decontamination process. You may now continue. Press the green button when you reach the grate to enter the Dome airlock system. A shift supervisor will meet you on exiting the airlock."

Polnar quickly shook each hand, careful to maintain a firm grip with one hand and then grip the rung firmly while he shook each leg, scowling at the message and its unwelcome news. He had never entered the Base Dome from this access point and he was not happy to hear about this feature of the process.

//A shift supervisor? No one mentioned that to me. Damn. I've never got that part of the message before, but then I never entered the dome through this entry point before either, just the treatment plant. If a Supervisor is supposed to meet us, then that would suggest the computer would be notifying someone of our use of the shaft. If there is anyone alive up there and they receive the notification, I sincerely hope it is a friendly body and not one of the Sleepers or Security Agents. You made a mistake, Polnar. You should have found out about that before you decided this would be a viable means of entry and exit to the dome, should you ever need it. //

He resumed the climb hoping the two men below were ready to follow him and that they took due care with the moisture on the rungs. Somewhere above him was the grate that guarded the airlock and he hoped it was not too far ahead of him. It was not too many rungs later that he became aware of the strengthening glow in the shaft and the amber light picked up a red glow, then was replaced with the red light that told him he neared the exit.

//About time too. Well, the airlock looks to be intact, no damage that I can see. I wonder how those bastards got into the Base Dome? If it was through here they never damaged the airlock at least which is as well. The integrity of the dome must be maintained at all times, even by those assholes, unless they can breathe the junk that passes for air on Mars. Press the green button it said, so here goes.//

The ladder had brought him face to face with a narrow platform that was sealed by a metal grate with two colour coded buttons, red and green. Beyond the grate he could see the blast doors that clearly showed an airlock system and the electronic control panel to operate the system. Satisfied that all was as he had expected he pressed the button and pushed the grate to the side, clearing his way to the platform fronting the airlock just as a hand touched his foot and then withdrew. Carter had caught up with him and he was quick to step off the ladder and across the small distance to the platform, giving Carter the opportunity to complete the climb.

He moved to the lock controls and activated the initiate cycle to release the door locks. It seemed to take forever for the door to open inward and reveal the small chamber that would be sufficient to take no more than four suited men at a time and he entered the chamber quickly, making room for Carter who followed him in in short order. Barker brought up the rear and signaled a thumbs up for all being well, which both he and Carter returned and the Preventer activated the door lock and then the cycling system. Barker turned from the controls and leaned against the wall, resting his helmeted head back against the wall and he had no doubt the man was enjoying the respite offered from the climb.

He had to admit it was wonderful not to be climbing and he took the opportunity to rest his shoulder against the solidity of the wall and catch his breath. He could hear the hiss of air being pumped into the chamber and glanced at the exit door that would lead into the dome access waiting for the lights above it to flash green, indicating the all clear to continue. By reflex, the results of long standing safety procedures required by the nature of his employment at the colony, as the interior lights flashed green he turned his attention to his wrist meter and took a sample of the exterior air. The oxygen meter for his suit showed that he had been suitably conservative for the exertion they had employed in reaching this point, giving him sufficient mixture for another four hours use and he grinned, knowing that they would be clear of the suits long before then. Still, he had long ago learned not to take anything for granted and to conserve his resources on the chance that he might need them. Had it not been for the warning that the air within the Base Dome might contain certain toxic elements, he and his companions would already be stripping off their helmets and getting ready to shuck their suits and enjoying the fresher air offered by the base domes supply.

Satisfied with his personal conservation he glanced at the flashing readout on the small screen that were the results of the air sample he had taken. He stared at the meter gauge in disbelief and fought down the shudder that was pure reflex to knowing if he had removed his helmet he would have been pale for more than one reason.

"Oh shit." He reached out to grasp both Barker and Carter as they stirred, reacting to the green light.

"Polnar?" Barker had been moving toward the door but paused at his touch, shifting his suited bulk to look his way and pushed their helmets together to facilitate communication. "Something wrong?"

He slapped Barkers arm, drawing his attention to the wrist meter. "Take a sample of the atmosphere in the air lock. I do it by rote because of the type of work that I am required to do. The bastards were not taking any chances of anyone managing to get back into the dome."

He watched as Barker leaned back from him and his wrist came up and initiated the sample. By now Carter was watching and caught on to what he wanted, initiating his own check. He watched the widening of the Preventers' eyes on reading the mix of gasses that had been pumped into the atmosphere of the airlock and the motion of a hand pressed to his face plate in a gesture that expressed Barkers anger.

"Well, it would have been quick. Unpleasant, but quick." Carter snarled loud enough to be heard and dropped his wrist, absently feeling for any possible weakness in his suit, then pushed his helmet to contact the others. "Let's get the hell out of this death trap."

//If we had not been warned that there might be something wrong with the air in the dome, we would all be dead now.// He watched the Preventer punch in the door release code. //Poisoned by what should have been a welcome breath of fresh air. Shit. There really can be no doubt. Those bastards intended to kill everyone who was outside the dome, but why lock them out if they had poisoned the air supply? Was it only these smaller locks that they trapped like this? On the off chance that someone might think to use them//

The thud of a heavy gloved fist against the door startled him out of his thoughts and he watched as Barker again tried the automatic door release. The computer station remained dark, no lights responded to the repeated touch to the keys, no movement in the door that lock them within the small room, in an atmosphere that was just as toxic to the human body as was the natural atmosphere of Mars.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	109. Chapter 109

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 109

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 00: 58 [approx Sanc time 22:48

Barker

// Bastards. Bloody bastards. They poison the air in the airlocks and then they disable the computer controls so we can't get the door open. I have to give them points for being thorough. They were taking no chances that someone might survive the poison long enough to get the doors open and escape. // Barker bared his teeth in an unconscious silent snarl of anger. // Wonderful, but the bastards won't win. I won't allow them to win. Thank God Merquise warned us the air in the dome might be compromised, but I never for an instant thought that he meant the air locks. // The snarl transformed into a frown as he considered the sealed door and the controls set to one side. //Maybe he never meant the airlocks. Maybe … Ah, shit. I don't know what he meant, but I'll be keeping my bloody suit on until I am certain the air is good. Come on Barker, settle down. You are a professional and there will be time enough later to have a hissy fit, just now you have to concentrate. One problem at a time. The automatic system won't work; it seems to be very effectively jammed so we have to resort to the old fashioned methods. These things still come with a hand crank in the event of mechanical failure. It will take us longer to access the dome and I don't think there is much doubt that I am going to be late to the rendezvous, but I don't give a shit about that just now. He knows we are coming and he is professional enough to know that delays can all too easily occur. I am not going to be locked out of this dome. //

He turned and gathered the two men close to him with a hand gesture, pressing his helmet to their offered face plates to initiate conversation.

"Right. The automatic systems have been tampered with and we don't have the time or expertise to try to effect repairs from here, so we do this the hard way. There is no telling what we will face when we get out of this lock and into the dome proper, so from here on in we need to assume that we are in hostile territory. The first order of business is to get the doors open and that means using the hand cranks. Polnar, you're the tallest so you take the high one, Carter you work the lower crank. I'll greet anyone who comes to investigate."

The airlocks manual controls involved a hand crank for the inner and outer doors of the lock set to either side of the door. The higher of the two controls on the right of the door worked the inner seal which would release them into the outer lock and the lower crank at the left of the door released the outer blast doors that was security against an airlock breach, and the space between the two doors was barely sufficient for a suited man to stand between. If the automatic systems had failed, which they obviously had, then the blast doors should have automatically activated to seal the suspected faulty airlock from the base. With the air pressure equalized within the airlock the outer doors should open easily enough, but both men working on the cranks would be unable to offer any defense should there be a hostile element awaiting them on the far side of the lock. Barker was their security net.

He unholstered the automatic weapon he wore, checking it from long habit and for the moment keeping the safety on. He set himself before the door, a little back from where the two men would be working and nodded to his companions who positioned themselves and opened the hatches that shielded the hand cranks from sight. The wheels of the crank were not large and would not turn easily under the necessity of wearing the suit gloves, he knew that from past experience as he watched first Polnar and then Carter lean into the task as they began to turn the wheels.

While to Barker's knowledge the manual override cranks had never needed to be used on Mars, the manual system at all airlocks was regularly tested and well maintained so the wheels turned more easily than he at first had assumed, though the men still showed signs of strain in getting the wheels to move initially. The doors of the lock, especially the outer blast doors were weighty and even in the lighter gravity of Mars they still had a massive weight to contend with.

He winced at the groan of metal that could be heard from the exterior blast doors, but a small gap appeared between the inner door and wall and he breathed a sigh of relief. He could faintly hear Carter curse at the resistance of the wheel to his efforts to turn it, but he personally was thankful that they were going to succeed here. He had feared that somehow the hand cranks might have been fouled and disabled by the agents within the dome and that they would have needed to come up with another solution to the dilemma of how to enter the dome, but thankfully that was not going to be the case. In just a few more minutes they would be out and in the dome and making a run for Hydroponics Dome Three.

//Come on boys, come on. We need to get in there.// He was fairly dancing with impatience but held himself still, eyes glued to the growing gap in the door, well aware that the men were putting every effort they had into turning the cranks.

During their necessarily brief conversation Merquise had said clearly enough that there was a means of entry between the upper dome and the sub base to be found in HD Three. Success in reaching the shuttle bay lay in them figuring out the hint he had thrown their way. For the life of him he would not have come up with anything remotely resembling Polnar's suggestion of the huge reservoirs in the sub base and the massive pipe system that fed the water around the hydroponics dome. He agreed on thinking over the proposed solution that it was plausible.

From his memory of the schematics of the hydroponics domes, each dome claimed a master pipe that linked the sub base water reservoirs to the individual hydroponics domes as part of the eco systems filtration cycling systems. Between the hints Merquise had thrown and Polnar's knowledge of the domes systems he presumed that the master pipe in HD Three was at this time dry, presumably emptied for maintenance purposes. The first thing they needed to do was to locate the correct access cover for the inspection station of HD Three that would lead them to and permit them entry to the master pipe, and if he was honest with himself he had to admit that he had no idea where in the dome that access was to be found. Perhaps Carter or Polnar would have an idea of the location.

He was hoping it was not going to be necessary for them to waste precious time in searching the entire dome for the access way. It had been Polnar who had come up with the idea, so perhaps he had used the system if not in dome three then in one of the other domes and would have a fair idea where to find their entry point in HD Three. He could only hope that they would find it quickly.

He eyed the growing gap in the inner doors, moving closer between the two men and pressing his face plate to the steadily elongating gap, trying to see through the far narrower gap in the outer safety doors. The exterior blast doors were of necessity much heavier than the inner doors and Carter had to put in a lot more effort into getting them to open using the hand crank and it was no wonder that the occasional grunt could be heard in the atmosphere of the airlock. It did not help that the bulk of the suit gloves made it more difficult to get a good grip on the hand wheels, but Carter was undeniably making headway and once Polnar succeeded with opening the inner doors enough for them to fit through he could then move to assist Carter.

He pressed his suited bulk to the growing gap in the doors and when the doors stood open enough for him to squeeze his helmet through, he ducked his head through the gap and made certain that the small inner chamber was empty of unwelcome surprises and a few more turns of the crank enabled him to slide his bulk carefully through the gap. In seconds he was moving to press himself to the growing gap in the outer doors, helmet pressed to the sliver opening into the dome. Unable to hear anything other than the grunts of the labouring men behind him he motioned for silence, signalling the two men that he wanted a pause and when quiet settled in the airlock he pressed his face plate back to the gap and peered out into the Base Dome.

His first impression was that the lights reminded him uncomfortably of blood. The red colouring tainted the building across from the airlock, Warehouse B, with a bloody glow that sent a shiver of cold dread down his spine. His view across the open tarmac was unobstructed until his gaze hit the warehouse and try as he might he could not wriggle himself into a position to gain an increased view to either side of the door and he could hear nothing beyond his own breathing in the helmet's confines. Someone could be standing to one side of the outer doors, watching him and he would not know it, but he had no choice other than to signal the men to continue cranking the door open and hoping that they were unobserved at this time.

With Carter now being assisted by Polnar the blast doors moved more easily and quickly, though it was still far slower than he would have ideally liked. As soon as the gap permitted him to move he pushed himself through, half stumbling in the cumbersome bulk of the enviro suit, his weapon raised and the safety thumbed off. In a manner far more clumsy than usual, owing to the bulk of the suit, he swept the area for any sign of intruders, his weapon tracking; finger tense on the trigger, intent and focused. Should the computer and its automated functions have notified anyone that the emergency exit was being used then they should have had company by this time, but it appeared that their luck thus far was holding.

The dome seemed silent and eerily empty.

// Jesus. My nerves are shot. I expect someone to leap around the corner with gun blazing and that is plain stupid. I think they will have a little more finesse than that.//

With a short, sharp gesture he motioned to the waiting men to join him and he was gratified to see that immediately on exiting the airlock, Polnar eased to the right of the isolated air lock structure to scan the rear of building D behind them, while Carter slipped past him and pressed himself into a position from which he could scan across building D and B and toward building C.

Each man was crouched and side on to the suspected unsafe side of their position, presenting as small a target to any snipers as possible. At the thought of a sniper in the vicinity he swept a glance up and over the upper dome superstructure, frowning as his visual survey presented him with a view that was worrying. The absence of the brilliant overhead lights disturbed him and he leaned far back to check as much of the upper dome as possible within the confines of the helmet, almost overbalancing as he sought any sign of anything other than the garish red emergency lighting.

//Impossible to tell if there is anyone lurking amid that maze of girders and pipes.// He hissed a short sharp breath of distaste at the maze overhead. There was simply an overabundance of places that a sniper would choose to lurk in and pick off his prey at leisure and he already knew there were killers running loose in the dome.

A glance to either side at Polnar and then Carter confirmed both men had spotted no potential dangers at this stage and he motioned for Carter to head towards the far end of building D, before he turned to Polnar and motioned him to return and join him. When the Leo pilot began to move towards him he followed after Carter, assured that Polnar was on his heels and crossed the small, but disturbingly open, distance to the shelter offered by building D. When Polnar slipped into his place beside him they traced the structures length, careful to scan the wide area they were open to observation from.

The openness of the dome had never bothered him before but now he was only too conscious that they needed to devise the fastest and safest route to reach HD Three that would offer the least likely hood of running afoul of any of the hostile agents who might be hunting them.

He knew the layout of the dome of course, having lived here for so long, but there were the placements of vehicles and equipment to be considered that changed from day to day with the working schedules of the colony. Minor discrepancies could make or break their run for the hydroponics dome and its promised means of entering the lower base. He needed to check on the placements of the machinery that would have been abandoned willy nilly when the emergency alarms had sounded.

People were trained to stop what they were doing and make their way as speedily as possible to their assigned emergency stations. That ruling of abandoning their vehicles at the sounding of the alarm should provided he and his men with additional opportunities for cover to assist their passage to the hydroponics dome.

From where he now crouched he could see around the bulk of the building to where a cluster of crates stood against the side of the Main Control Tower and he nodded slightly to himself, pleased by the cover available there. Shifting his gaze he noted a cluster of abandoned light vehicles and long cargo trays containing cartons and parts for the days work, parked approximately half way between the Main Tower and the Shuttle Control Tower. While he could not see the Shuttle Control Tower from his current position, he knew the layout of the dome enough to estimate the distances involved in any movement and calculated the best course to the best available cover offered from the vantage points where they might be observed.

It was unfortunate for them that there were so very many vantage points where this section of the dome could be observed by anyone looking casually from an upper story window. The abandoned vehicles and trays effectively obstructed his view of the hydroponics dome that was his goal, but there was sufficient cover on offer to allow them to pause mid way to the dome and check out their course from further cover opportunities.

The silence of the dome was perhaps even more disturbing to him that was the illusion of blood coating everything provided by the emergency lights. He could not recall a single instance since his arrival that the dome had ever been truly silent, as it was now. There had always been the hum of machinery at some level to fill the dome, or the murmur of voices somewhere nearby to be heard. He admitted the helmet he wore served to mute sounds, but this was a total absence of sounds that should have been present that disturbed something deep within him.

He listened to the sound of his breathing and the beating of his heart and watched the deserted dome for a long moment before he realized why the silence so disturbed him. From his past experiences he had learned that this oppressive silence was usually found only when death had walked abroad.

// I wish this day was over. How many are alive in the dome? How many have already died this day? I only wish the whole day was a particularly vivid and nasty nightmare from which I would wake up any minute, but I know that it is no mere nightmare. No dream this. People have died here today and they died at the hands of the representatives of the government that is supposed to protect them. God. I work for the ESUN. The Preventers is a government sanctioned organization dedicated to maintaining the peace. I work for the same people as those agents who have run rampant through here, slaughtering people if Merquise is correct and I simply do not understand how they can justify their actions. How many people know and how high up in the government does the knowledge of this operation go//

Distractions.

He had to pull himself together and focus on the matters at hand. There would come a time when he would have the opportunity to ask more than himself these questions and hopefully learn more of the situation. He could sit down later, when it was all over and then consider the who, the what and the why of the situation, but for now he needed to attend to the safety of those who were still living and the safety of the two men under his command. A final quick glance around the open position that surrounded them, to make certain he had placed all possible sources of cover and he motioned the two men back toward the airlock block, choosing to shelter between the small lock structure and the greater bulk of block D. They needed a quick conference before they moved.

He pressed his helmet to theirs, noting that both seemed more inclined to want to face the open area beyond the airlock than look at him but he did not mind their seeming inattention at all. They would be listening carefully enough to what he had to say.

"We skirt building D and take cover between buildings D and E. From there we will make our way to that group of abandoned vehicles between the two control towers. They should offer us sufficient cover for a quick reckie and an unobstructed view of the ground leading to HD Three. When we reach that point we will decide how best to enter the hydroponics dome. Questions?"

Neither man offered a comment, merely glancing at him and offering an emphasized nod that he could not mistake, to confirm they had understood his instructions and to see him return the confirmation. After glancing quickly around at their surroundings one last time he reached to lightly tap Polnar on the shoulder and motion for him to move off, then flicked a finger at Carter signalling him to go next. With both men moving he took a deep breath to steady himself before he took off after the two men.

Eyes constantly scanning for any hint of movement, any tiny indication at all that they were not alone they skirted the bulk and short side of building D and slipped into the shelter between buildings D and E. Barker sighed softly, pressing his back against the side of building D and glared thoughtfully at his hands and the weapon held in a surprisingly steady hand. Somehow, despite the incident with the air lock, successfully entering the Base Dome just seemed to have come too easy to him.

//I'm a God damned paranoid bastard.//

The enviro suit was annoying as hell to run in, cumbersome and too restrictive to permit free movement and the helmet restricted his vision far more than he liked; not to mention the fact that it muted noise and he probably would not hear anyone come up behind him. He fought the urge to rip the device from his head, reminding himself that would be idiocy in the extreme. The air quality within the dome was questionable and he was unwilling to take the necessary time to sample the air beyond his suit to determine if there were sufficient toxins in the atmosphere to pose a threat to health and what sort of toxins they might be if there were.

// No time to run proper tests and I don't have the advanced equipment on this suit for such tests anyway. Damn, I wish I had had access to my Preventer suit.//

Sucking in a deep breath he followed a few steps behind Carter as they broke away from the dubious shelter offered by building E and raced toward the cluster of abandoned vehicles and trays situated mid way between the Shuttle Control Tower and the Main Control Tower. Midway to that tantalizing shelter his searching gaze found the smoldering ruins of what had recently been the elevator block and he whistled softly at the sight of the ruins. With an awed shake of his head he sprinted the last distance and threw himself amid the shelter of the vehicles, pressing his back against a massive tyre of one of the trucks.

//Fuck! What the hell has been going on in here? Well, I suppose that would be a possible explanation for a possible source of any toxic fumes that might be in the dome. Some of the materials that went into the construction of the elevators would definitely give off enough fumes to cause a problem even in a dome of this size, but I would have thought that the filtration system and recycling of the air should have cleaned any of that shit out of the air fast enough to avoid a dangerous buildup. If Merquise is right and there is a buildup in the dome and he did not mean the airlocks, then that suggests that something is wrong with the oxygen generation systems … or with the vents. Damn. Either is not good. //

He glanced over at Carter and Polnar who were crouched against the same vehicle, noting that Polnar's helmet was angled and his arm raised to permit him to face his arm display and he recalled that Polnar was wearing the advanced enviro suit that enabled him to do a full analysis of the environment beyond the safety of the suit. As he watched Polnar raised his head and reached to pull at Carter's sleeve, directing the Taurus pilot's attention to his arm and then turned to attract Barkers attention, waving him closer. The Preventer edged forward, careful not to give any hint of movement that would betray their cover and peered at the sensor readout a gloved finger was indicating and he resisted the urge to curse.

//Well, that at least confirms the toxicity of the air. There will be no chance of removing the helmets until we are clear of the upper dome at least. Damn. From the chemical content of the sample it has to be a result of the fumes let off by that fire and that has to mean that the vent system is down. The fumes have no where to go . I only hope the survivors in the dome are in the sealed buildings with isolated oxygen systems. If the computers were running properly there should have been some sort of alarm in the last thirty minutes or so to warn of contamination and to alert people up here to get suited up and reach the atmospheric sealed buildings. There is nothing that I can do about it now if that warning did not sound, except get on with this and end it as soon as possible. Those bastards have some questions to answer. //

Looking around he made his way to a point amid the trays where he could see beyond their shelter and noted that between their current position and the main entrance to the dome there was no cover they could use. There were a few crates stacked against the side of the hydroponics dome, but that was a good ten meters around the curve of the dome and from the entrance, but other than that it was a straight run to the entrance which stood invitingly open.

//Shit. That is just too easy. Trap? With the way this day has been going it most likely is a trap meant to sucker anyone running loose out here with the offer of shelter and safety. The hydro domes can be sealed and have renewable isolated oxygen systems. // He desperately wanted to run his hands over his face to ease the crawling beads of sweat that persisted in running down his forehead and into his eyes. // Okay, at this stage we go for safety before speed. We head for the crates and then we check out the entrance at closer quarters. Damn. Time is running out, but I can't help it. We may be late reaching the shuttle dome but I am determined that we will get there. //

He resisted the urge to tack an 'I hope' on the end of that thought, instead touching each man to attract their attention and motioning to the stack of crates near the domes open doors. Both responded by giving him a thumbs up of understanding and he took a moment longer to survey the area in search of anyone he really did not wish to see at this time. With the site looking clear he motioned to Polnar to lead them out.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	110. Chapter 110

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 110

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 00: 38 [approx Sanc time 22:28

Zechs

At least he knew that he need not concern himself with two of the agents who had been sent from Earth to take him from Mars. Noin had killed two, which had sparked off this blood bath that ravaged the population of Mars, but of those he had personally faced thus far he knew that two still lived. The men he had taken down in the maintenance room he had found still there, sleeping where he had left them. He had given them a quick once over and determined their pulse was strong and steady and they appeared to be having no difficulties with their breathing and so he considered them to be safe enough for the moment. In their current state they posed no danger to the people of the base nor to themselves.

He had been disturbed to discover that the two women had been moved from the room where they had faced off over the twins, but he had known there was the risk that the nurses who had been witness to the altercation would not be inclined to leave the women as they had fallen. No doubt they would be somewhere in the medical section, their injuries having been long attended to and if there was a kindly God looking down on this mess, then they would still be under the effects of the anaesthetic he had administered. Surely no well meaning doctor would have interfered with the sedatives.

The results of the search of the medical centre thus far had produced the two men sleeping in the maintenance room, two missing ESUN agents and a death toll he would prefer not to contemplate. He had felt something deep within him clench when he and Giles had located the two male patients known to be in the centre and three of the nurses assigned to the medical wing. Slaughter had come to the sub base, but there were still staff missing and thus far they had not located Jenny Santos, which he hoped was an indication that there were people alive here. He almost wished they had found no one and that he still could entertain the illusion that at least the sub base had been spared the slaughter.

He pressed his back to the wall, staring at the uniform tan colour. That wall was clean. Clean and just as it should be and it was a lie. That colour belonged to a place that had not known the depravity of cold blooded murder.

Sometimes it was better not to know.

He watched as Giles closed the door and leaned his body back against its frame, taking the moment to rest. He could not blame the man for resting his head back against the frame, eyes closed as he tried to gain control of what no doubt was a sickening churning of his gut. He knew that sick chill deep in his own vitals only too well and though it was dangerous to linger here for more than a few seconds he could not help it. They needed this moment, this respite, to regain control.

It had happened not so long ago.

The evidence was there for anyone to see and understand. It screamed sudden horrifying death. Death dealt equally coldly and efficiently to both nurse and patient caught at unawares by the murderer in their midst. How long ago had the slaughter in the sub base begun? The bodies in the shuttle bay had suggested the killing of the personnel there had taken place hours ago and Hawass had confirmed that time scale, but the death stalking the medical section was fresh, minutes old. Certainly less than an hour, perhaps no more than half an hour had passed since these people had met their end.

The bodies they had found in Medical were all fresh and in the latest case warmth still lingered. None of them, be they patient or nurse, had died easily. In most cases death had come at least mercifully swiftly, the evidence suggesting the kills had been from a distance with thrown blades. The evidence was clear that they had another knife man on the loose, but this last room … Something had changed.

Did they have more than one killer stalking the area? In this room lay evidence of a psycho who thirsted for the thrill in the brutality and viciousness of a kill. A wealth of blood decorated the walls and floor in patterns that suggested the killer had smeared the evidence of his kills in something similar to a trophy statement. It was sickening. Revolting. The nurse's body had been stretched out over the bed suggesting that she had tried to protect her patient from their killer.

"Tell me that we are going to take those bastards down." The words rasped from Giles, his voice betraying the thickness in his throat that made breathing, let alone speaking, difficult and suggested he still fought against the urge to discard violently the contents of his last meal.

//God, yes! I want them down. I want them down so badly but … Do we dare to take the time to hunt down this killer? I have to think of the greater design here. The larger need.// "They will go down but …" Zechs glared at his feet, his hands clenched at his sides as he fought his own urge to vomit. "I … We have to … Giles, we have to make up our minds here. About what it is that we must do. If … If I did not need to get information out of them …"

Giles seemed to pull himself together with an effort, pushing himself away from the support of the door frame and looking up and down the length of the hallway. He was visibly forcing himself to get past the initial anger and the disgust and the horror to find that balanced point between the emotions where he could function without their influence.

"Yeah." His voice still was husky, thick, but he was already moving on. "Yes, I know. We need to learn as much information about who it was who initiated this mess as we can and we have to learn it from them. There is no one else who will tell us what we need to know. To gain the information we have to take them alive and once we have the information from them … then we can't kill them. Not in cold blood."

//Thank God. He understands.//

It was one thing to take a man down and to kill him in the heat of battle, but it was entirely another matter to kill in cold blood. It simply was not a part of the nature of Zechs Merquise or Milliardo Peacecraft to kill wantonly, or to kill in cold blood. Killing those men and women who had brought murder to Mars without the fire of battle heating his blood was quite beyond the capabilities of everything that made him who, and what, he was. Despite what so many people of the Earth Sphere thought of him, despite all evidence to the contrary, he was not a cold blooded killer.

He never had been.

Not even in the long ago days when he had been a part of Oz had he killed indiscriminately. He had killed, he did not deny that. He had killed many and he had done so, with one exception, silently apologizing to his victim's souls for what he saw as the necessity of the moment. When he had killed he had always done so for a reason. For his own life he had killed. For the lives of others he had killed and for the future of man he had pushed the killing to extremes, but never had he killed in cold blood. In all of his career as a killer, only one man had ever earned true and undying hatred from him and he had killed that man out of a child's burning need for revenge mixed with the anger of a young man's search for justice. He often wondered if in the end he would have pulled the trigger if the fool had not made a try for that hidden gun? In response to that moment of recognition and fear and the threat of the weapon he had seen again the bloodied body of his father, the body of his mother, fouled with blood and debris and he had seen his dream of huddled children and later the reality of those same children huddled together, dying in the snow. He would never be able to forget the flames leaping around those tiny bodies. He would never forget what that butcher had cost them all.

//Yes. Yes, I would have pulled the trigger. Nothing would have stopped me, I think, but here it is different. No matter what it is they have done I can't kill in cold blood. I have had my day of being Judge, Jury and Executioner. Is it simply that too many people have died already this day? There has been too much bloodshed. It stirs to life the vision and foreshadows the wars and … I will not permit so many to die. Please, please let it not happen. It must not be allowed to birth. I owe it to all those who have already paid the ultimate price of their lives to ensure that the Generation Wars do not become reality. I have killed so many people to turn away from that brutal course. So many innocents but … Was it for nothing more than to effect a delay? So many dead. Too many dead. They fill my dreams and then I remember the visions of what might be and I wonder that those deaths may be in vain. There have not been so many dead when I look at what I have seen and compare the numbers, but … I can't kill again. I can't kill without … without the threat being immediate.//

"Zechs? Zechs! Are you alright?"

Giles was close, thankfully not touching him but standing close enough to be a reassuring presence, and not to present a threat to his personal space. He realized that his body was tense, almost trembling in reaction to the sight of what lay beyond that door. Death had never affected him in this fashion before and he was like this because … because …

It was just that he was tired. Physically and mentally exhausted by the trials of the day and by pushing aside the pressure from within that was becoming more and more alarming. Vision. It threatened to surge within him. He had seen too much death in his life and he was very tired of seeing that finality. Awake or asleep visions always seemed to come down to death.

"I'm fine."

"No, you are not fine, but then neither am I." Giles moved a step away to lean back against the wall, lowering his head to watch his feet but not before giving the hallway a sweeping glance. "We can't stay here much longer and we have to decide what to do. They may not have killed everyone here." There was the faintest hint of a question in his tone.

//Make the decision for me, Giles. I don't want to decide who lives and who dies any more. Please take the decision from me. // Cowardice. He almost cringed and stiffened his spine. He had to get beyond this dangerous apathy that gripped him. If only that incessant pressure in his head would let up and permit him to think// Do we take the time to look to see if everyone here is dead? Do we dare not take that time to check … there may be others alive here who will die at this lunatics hands. I don't … Noin needs attention. When this is all over she will need every assistance these people can give to her. She can not have come this far, survived this long, only to die because all of the medical staff have been slaughtered. It can't end like that.//

How many had they killed? How many had the members of Blue Squad and particularly the Sleepers killed in this never ending day? Not just here, in the medical wing, but all over the dome? At least he knew that there were people alive outside the dome who would have died had not fortune and the Grace of God smiled on them. There were also people alive in the upper base under the great Dome and more in Alpha Base and they were safe enough for now, provided they did not leave their secured shelters prematurely.

"I don't know, Giles. I never saw half of what has happened so far this day in any vision that I can recall. Events are swinging wildly out of control, if I ever really had any control in the matter. The visions… I don't know. I never saw the slaughter in the medical centre, that much I am sure of and whether that is a hope that there are people still alive in here or not I don't know. I told you that things had changed, that I am as much in the dark as you are."

Giles sighed, again glancing both ways along the hallway before he pushed himself from the wall and brushed hair from his eyes, setting his shoulders firmly. "Well, when you are Gifted one thing that you learn early, is that you take the good with the bad and fill in the gaps between as best you can. We can not always have the advantage that visions offer. Sometimes we simply have to wing it. Time to move." He glanced at his companion and offered a diffident shrug. "So … where do we go?"

// Why me? I can follow. I do not have to lead. Why can I not follow for a change?// It seemed it was not to be that someone else should provide the plan of action they would follow and bemoaning that would serve no purpose. He was going to have to lead and simply do the best that he could with his failing sensibilities.

Where did they go indeed? Where did he think he was leading this man? To more death? Were they simply going in the direction that would lead to more bloodshed and no solution, other than the total decimation of the colony? If he had not survived Libra and come to Mars then death would not now stalk the halls seeking more victims. Was this all because he did not have the grace to die when the Libra had exploded? Was it inevitable that this massacre had to happen because he had lived? Who was he anyway to sit here and presume the worlds of the ESUN revolved around his survival or death? Talk about an ego. He hissed softly, squashing that train of thought quickly. He could not afford to become absorbed in the intricacies offered by entertaining the what ifs of possibility at this time. This was neither the time nor the place for him to entertain the plunge, once again, into depression.

Yes, it was undeniably the truth that he was still in shock, but he could not permit himself to succumb to its effects at this time. In truth he had not felt himself since that episode in Hydroponics Dome Two, where he had arranged the electrocution of the two Sleepers. Steadily things had seemed to be going downhill from there and his perceptions seemed to have somehow shifted, until he had little faith in himself and next to no faith at all in the validity of his visions. He was confused, exhausted and he could only take so much more. When this was all over he could allow it all to sweep over him and take him down into blessed oblivion. Whether that escape would be in the form of depression, screaming hysterics or the pit of unconsciousness he did not care at this time, just so long as the reaction held off until he was assured that it was all over and that there would be no more killing because of him.

"Engineering." He made the choice but something within him quivered at it.

By rights, by all of the years of his training and by the needs of common decency itself, they should go room by room through this wing of the base, seeking out the killer, but he dared not open one more door and find another corpse. The trembling he could feel deep within him was warning enough that something was very wrong. He did not trust himself at this stage, with this unknown pressure influencing him to face death again so soon, while his blood ran so cold in his veins and the headache reared to spitting, clawing life. It was the headache that so worried him, tantalizing sign that vision, or lack of vision, was pushing him into mistakes.

Turning aside from the hunt through the medical centre went against all of his training, which reinforced the idiocy of leaving so much potential for betrayal and discovery at his back, but he could not face it. If he left the medical centre then perhaps the surge of the visions would recede and he could get the equipment he needed to find. He would have to chance leaving an undiscovered enemy at his back and he could not forget that they had a time table to cater to as best they could. He was going to have to guard his partners back, because this foolish decision to leave the medical bay was his responsibility alone and he would not permit Haydon Giles be the one to pay the price.

0000000000000000000000000000000000

Giles

"Engineering."

He nodded his acceptance of the decision, almost expecting the choice but distrusting it now that it had come. Taking a moment to look down the hallway that led deeper into the hospital section of the base and wondering where in there the killer lay and how many victims he would gather while they … No. He would stop that kind of insubordination right here and now. It was a command decision and knowing Zechs as he did he could not think it was a choice made lightly. There would have been due consideration of all of the potential variables before that decision had been reached.

There had been no alarm raised in the sub base beyond the alarm that had called out the emergency response crew when the elevators had exploded into fiery destruction. Whether people were alive in Medical or not, it no longer mattered. At this time they needed to make a move and he needed to get Zechs out of this place and keep him functioning if at all possible. If he could keep the blonde active and occupied then he had a hope of keeping him stable and he truly had no desire to deal with a high talent psychic in the throes of a breakdown.

//At least I can count my blessings that he has not shown any sign of a kinetic talent to this point. If he was a kinetic I think it would have shown under the stress we have experienced today. I can just imagine the kind of destruction he would be capable of if he was a kinetic and he lost it as Noin did. With the tight rope he has been walking for the last few hours, if he had any decent strength along those lines he could probably level the base if he snapped.// He scooted after the blonde who was already retracing their steps to the safety door, watching the sway of that long almost silver tail of hair. //There I go exaggerating again, but the problem this time is that I really am not sure if it is an exaggeration. I had no idea that Noin was a psychic, let alone had kinetic tendencies and obviously is a powerful kinetic talent. Look what she did when she was pushed to extremes. I hate to think how long it is going to take to repair the control systems of the base and she never left much of McIntyre. Bloody bitch looked like a pin cushion. He's been walking a tightrope a lot longer than Noin had been and if he breaks under the pressure I really don't want to be around.//

Now that was stupidity in the extreme when he considered it. He was the only person on Mars that he knew of with any experience in dealing with psychics. Not that it was a comforting thought, of course, but it was the simple truth and he had to get used to it. He just loved being responsible for things beyond the limits of his abilities and troubles so far beyond the training he had been given to deal with his own talents. He would far prefer to find himself facing twenty of these ESUN agents unarmed, than to deal with one psychic in crisis.

//And I have been given the dubious joy of handling two of them. Raydon, you bastard, I am so going to give you a thick ear when I see you next. If I see you. Why did you not foresee that this mess would happen? Why did your much vaunted talents fail this time?//

They were at the blast door and he took up position to watch their rear, while Zechs dealt with the door code. He did not like leaving suspect territory at his rear and the medical section was now considered hostile territory. For all they knew those bastards who got their jollies off by slaughtering people could be in there still, quite happily killing the remaining medical staff. It went against all that was decent that had been drilled into him as a child to leave the killer loose. It left question marks of security that he did not want to leave unattended, but there was little choice. He could not afford to have Zechs lose control and as much as he did not want to leave the centre unexplored, he really could not say that he wanted to find more evidence of the brutality of these people.

"I can't." The whisper was a deep sigh, almost a groan. Somewhere between a moan of pain and a sob.

His eyes shot to the blonde leaning against the door and the stance of the man was warning enough that he was not to be touched just now. Touching that shaking form would be dangerous to his health and he had already come close to paying with his life for being stupid around the blonde at a critical moment.

"Problem?" He kept his voice a low whisper, unwilling to make more noise than necessary.

"Yes. I can't leave the centre unsearched. I can't leave a killer on the loose. We have to go back and do it properly."

Giles swept a glance behind him at the empty hallway and shrugged, himself wanting to go in there and deal with the killer but aware too, as no doubt Zechs was, that they needed to deal with the entire situation, not just an isolated incident. "We have a deadline to meet."

"So we have a deadline. If we leave this unfinished we could be followed and picked off at their convenience. We will likely be late anyway to meet Barker, but at least we stand a chance of making it eventually." Giles noted that he sounded as though he was trying to convince himself. "It's stupid to leave possible enemies unmonitored at our rear and if there is the chance that the bastard doing the killing is still here, then he has to be taken down. I …" He rubbed at his temples, blue eyes narrowed with sudden pain. "Running is not the right way to survive to bring those men down."

//There is something wrong with him. Don't you break on me here.// "I'll take point. We know that the first six rooms are clear, so we can start from there."

He was not going to argue with the man, after all he agreed that they needed to take out this killer, but he was concerned that finding more dead was going to push Zechs beyond whatever balance he still maintained. He would do what he could to lessen the impact of whatever they were going to find waiting for them, by being the first through the doors and keeping Zechs as far out of the action as possible. If he could cushion the man enough to allow him a few minutes respite to recover some semblance of stability and rest, then they might just survive the remainder of the night.

Neither he nor Zechs knew in what rooms the patients had been before the base had been raided by the agents and he was not going to offer that they split the rooms between them. Two ESUN agents were missing according to Zechs and who knew how many Sleepers might be hunting. Hurt as his partner was, Zechs was still far more deadly in melee than he was and the blonde's reflexes were legendary. If he looked in a room and ducked fast then Zechs would react on an instinctive level and hopefully that would be enough.

Ice blue eyes caught and held his for a lengthy moment and then a faint nod responded. A quick rummage in a pouch produced the dental mirror and Zechs offered the device to Giles with the briefest lift of his lips. If it was meant to be a smile then Giles was heartened by it as a sign that Zechs had regained some measure of control over his failing emotions. He had underestimated the man too many times today to make the same mistake again. Instead of anticipating when the blonde would crumble or explode, he would face each minute as it came and hope to catch the explosion before things deteriorated too far and if it was a crumble, he was just going to have to hope that the man would be content to use him as a Teddy Bear and not as a punching bag.

//I only hope I can react fast enough if he loses control, either way. He has managed to surprise me too many times today for me to doubt him now. If he thinks he is up to dealing with this, then I have to take him on trust … even if I do flinch every time he looks my way. I can't give him the impression that I don't trust him, especially when the truth is that I do trust him. My concern is not for his capabilities, but for his stamina. // He sighed softly, received the mirror in silence and led the way back up the hallway toward the first of the rooms they had as yet not checked. //Yeah, right, and I'm a closet cross dresser. Just keep your control Merquise. I don't have a hope in hell of taking you down, so don't you dare lose it. //

00000000000000000000000000000

Zechs

// What is wrong with me? We are so far off any of the visions that I can recall in any appreciable detail that I have no idea if I am making the situation worse. I just second guessed my own decision. Visions. When the hell did I start to doubt … Ah, my head. I wish this bloody headache would leave me in peace. I used to work in the dark all of the time and it never bothered me. I never used to have visions and I was not afraid of acting then as the situation warranted. I went into some situations with far less knowledge that I have now unafraid and willing to act and I survived. Why is now so different? Why do the visions make everything so unreal? I made the decision to go to the engineering sector for valid reasons and now I change my mind because … I'm not even sure why I changed my mind. I have survived for years without the aid of visions.//

He scowled as he followed the man along the hallway, quick and silent and expecting doom to fall at every step. Was that the problem? He had survived unknowing of the repercussions on the future and the effects every action and decision had on the flow of future event. He had survived unknowing of the ripple flow on effect and he had not known a quarter of what he knew in this situation now. He knew a multiple of possible future outcomes and any one of them might be directly related to events about to occur in the medical section, but he did not know what actions would produce the most desirable results, or which would interact with leaving the medical section and meeting with Barker.

Too many possibilities. Too many variables. He had been so much happier before this frightening ability had come on him.

Was it his survival of the events of the past that bothered him, or was it the death rate of the terra formers tied up to his survival that was the problem? Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. The more he thought about what was happening, what would happen and what must not happen, the more confused and distressed he became.

//There is no time for a psyche session now you fool and how would you know how to help yourself anyway? People are dying around you and you have to help them. As best you can. When did you find yourself concerned with whether you lived or died? Survival never used to bother you.//

Survival had never mattered to him in the past. Whether he lived or died had not factored into his decisions beyond the need to equal the score with those who had murdered all that he had known in his childhood. No, his personal survival had not mattered after he had shot the bastard who had brought terror to his father's kingdom.

For a long time now he had not thought of Sanc as his kingdom or even his in general. He had no claim to that land that existed now. His Sanc was the Sanc of a child's lost dreams and could never again be found in reality. The Sanc that he knew was gone in blood and in fire, a thing of dream and nightmare, both desired and feared. He desired the dreams of his days as a child in the land that was so like a fairytale kingdom and he feared the nightmares of its fall.

The Prince who had watched his world die had, in turn, died a long time ago. With the fall of all that meant life to him the child had died and what had been left of him had withered away over the intervening years. That innocent, Milliardo Peacecraft, was long gone.

Zechs Merquise was another matter.

Zechs had been birthed for the purposes of survival and later for revenge and justice and he was no stranger to bringing death to those who stood in his way. It had been a part of the price to be paid for his survival after the fall of Sanc. So many people had died at the hands of Zechs Merquise, but still more had died at the hands of the reborn Milliardo Peacecraft, but whether he wore the persona of the soldier Zechs Merquise, or the determined pacifist Milliardo Peacecraft intent on ending all wars, he had never killed needlessly. He was at this time Zechs Merquise more than Milliardo and if you surrendered to Zechs Merquise you lived. His honor would not permit less, as certain people had learned when they had broken faith with the vows the Specials had taken on their enlistment.

//Alex and Muller. God. I have not thought of them for a long time now. They were Oz officers, bound by the same code of honor that bound me and they slaughtered those men and women who surrendered to them in good faith. I have never killed as they did. I have never killed so wantonly, so joyfully and for those killings that I did I felt remorse. They were Noin's students and I know her well enough to know that she never taught them how to slaughter people. She was never like that and she honored her oaths as I did. I have never understood how people become that cold blooded vicious killer, but I have seen the results of their madness in the fall of Sanc and in the killings of those like Alex and Muller. I saw it in my childhood, when Sanc burned around me. I saw it during the war many times, not just in those two. I was witness to it too often in visions and I see it again now on Mars.//

He watched as Giles knelt at the first of the untested doors and slipped the dentists mirror into the first of the rooms, the door open only enough to permit the mirror to be slipped into the room and afford them a view of what might lie within.

//I was never a cold blooded killer. Yes, I have killed and I have killed many people, many of whom no doubt did not deserve the killing, but at the time … They had the misfortune to be on the opposing side in the war and killing is a necessary part of war and being a soldier. Most of those who died would have understood that. The career soldiers would have understood it. Civilians caught up in the battles we fought died too; though I was careful to fight well clear of non-combatants where possible. As few people as possible died when I fought. At least I like to think so. It was never my intention to slaughter people. It was my intention to free Sanc and give it back to the people who survived the slaughter and the occupation. To give it to Relena to care for, so that it might once again become the fairytale I recall. God. What is wrong with me? I'm going to get Giles killed if I don't wake myself out of this idiocy.//

"Zechs? You alright?"

"Yes." He hardened his grip on the whip at his belt, a shudder rising deep within, racing through him, coursing through his body and with it again that surge of pain behind his carefully maintained barriers. "I think something … something is wrong. It feels … wrong."

Giles stared at him for a long second, a frown deepening. "You don't look so good."

No, he did not doubt that he looked ill and he did not feel entirely well either. Something was threatening, hovering on the edge of his perceptions, bringing visions of death to dance before him. Visions of Sanc's fall and of the wars fought and won and lost. Visions of the Generation Wars that must not be permitted to rise from the ashes of past destruction. Visions of the dead lying in the upper dome and there was a thundering pain and beat in his head that was beyond mere pain. A thundering like the advent of vision and he wanted to scream at it to let him alone. He could not breathe with the pain rising and he could not afford to go down into vision now.

000000000000000000000000000000

Fingers, long and slender, the fingers one associated with a musician, wrapped around the metal knob. One hand on the door handle, the second holding an automatic pistol crowned with a silencer and held at the ready. A smirk twitching full lips into a sneer, as through the crack in the door he watched the fools who would next grace his kill tally. The next victims who would meet the God of Death and sing his name in praise to his God and smooth the way for his welcome, when it was time for him to face Death. All who were slain at his hands were slain for the greater glory of the God and he was His most humble and devout follower.

Ah, but no, he must be careful here. He was the follower of the God of Death, but he was the servant of men of high station and he must follow their instruction. One of these was his target and he must be taken alive. He must take only the one who knelt at the door and present him to the God of Death for his glorification and the other must be his offering to his human masters. His human masters, who would forgive him the need to hurt their prize in capturing him, so long as he did not kill him. The other they would not care about and he would be sacrifice to Death.

// Come to me. Come to me and we can end this here and now.//

His eyes glowed with fanatic fire as he watched the darker of the two reaching for Peacecraft, who looked as though he was about to faint and that was his chance. He would have no trouble dropping the fool and collecting Peacecraft as a bonus. 

00000000000000000000000000000

Zechs

"No!"

His head generated pain in blinding waves that took his sight, but he needed no sight through eyes to move as his body demanded that he move. He could feel hard leather in his hand, even as he heaved Giles out of his way, lunging toward the door that lay on the opposite side of the hallway and was opening so incredibly slowly. Everything was happening in slow motion and it would not be so bad but for the pain that screamed along his every nerve and both speeded his reaction and impeded his every move. He knew what was happening here and he would not permit it to happen.

He was all reflex and he was knowledge and he was action that needed no thought to guide. He was aware before event and he must take the opportunity that awareness offered him. He was beyond the pain and beyond the constraints of time.

There was shape in the darkness. There was form in the awareness of a killer. There was purpose in the action to be taken against one hiding, who thirsted for the kill and who lusted for the taste of the blood of one tied to the claim. He was form and he was motion and he was alive and he would not permit blood to be shed from a friend.

So close. So close and the debt of blood must be paid in the blood of the killer, not the blood of the friend.

000000000000000000000000000000000

Giles

//What the fuck!!!//

Zechs heaved against him; eyes glazed, ice cold, distant, burning blazing blue. He was seeing something before him that was not there and it was a look that Giles had seen many times before. He had seen that look in the eyes of Raydon when a vision hit hard and fast and he had seen it in the eyes of others who had faced that other place where time ran in strange ways and they glimpsed what had not yet come to be. He had seen it in the eyes of those who saw death and who defied it with grim determination.

//Vision!//

There was no time to react as with impossible speed and strength Zechs hurled him aside with his injured shoulder, sending him sprawling and Zechs was lunging away from him and toward that unexplored hallway. A single step flowed in slow motion as the world around him seemed skewed into another reality and in which suddenly there was the whip in the slender hand and there was a gunman in the doorway across the hallway, automatic pistol up and aimed. He was aware of another door opening further down the hallway, even as he reached out for the wall in an attempt to steady himself and he knew he was a dead man.

The gun was aimed squarely at him, as were those cold crazed eyes of his killer.

Too fast. It was all too fast. Too unreal. He knew it was too fast. Impossibly fast. He stumbled against the wall and there was a crack that chilled his bones … but he was alive and … it was no gun that had fired. The gun in the killer's hand had a silencer and that crack which echoed oddly through the hallway was so clear and chilling in its finality. The world was skewed, wrong, but he was alive and he was staring at the gunman who was air born, looking as though he wanted to scream but there was not even time for him to voice his terror.

The world around him seemed to lose all focus and plunge him into a place where shock made his sight and perceptions do strange and exotic things and he could easily think that he moved in another reality divorced from the rest of the world. Crawling nausea surged up within him and was gone just as quickly as it came in a bath of ice water in his veins at the thought, and certainty, that he should be dead. There was no time to entertain thoughts of throwing up at how close death had come to him and he desperately sought the clarity of mind to react to the reality surrounding him.

Suddenly, frighteningly, Zechs was on the ground, body tensed in a rigid stance, muscles bulging and head lowered almost to the floor and the gunman was arcing over his head and impacting with a sickening crunch on the wall behind him. There was sound and there was suddenly a knife clattered to the floor in front of him, fallen from the Sleepers spasming hands.

He had not even noticed the blonde loose the whip to be used. He had not seen him land. Nor had he seen the body of the assassin collapse to the floor.

"Jesus!" A man dressed in green surgical scrubs was staring in disbelief from a doorway further along the hallway.

He had not seen him enter the passage.

Time resumed.

Giles staggered to his feet, lungs heaving for air that for some reason seemed to be missing too long from starved lungs. He found himself staring at the crumpled form lying on the floor, at the length of leather wrapped tightly, around his throat and at the curious flatness of that head and at the odd, twisted angle of the neck. All that he saw said 'dead man'.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	111. Chapter 111

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 111

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 00: 46 [approx Sanc time 22:36

Giles

// Dead. He's … he's dead. //

The silence was oppressive, all encompassing, some how otherworldly. His eyes saw what lay before him, his mind registered what he saw but still it did not seem real. Foremost what was wrong was that the body lying on the floor was not his own.

//I … I should be dead. Jesus. I should be dead.//

Time seemed almost frozen. Sluggish. Nothing was real. Nothing seemed to have that cold crystal clarity that he associated with undesirable happenings that could not be changed. There was death here, he knew that, but it seemed unreal. Nor did it seem possible that the blonde who knelt on the floor, head lowered, one hand wrapped tightly about the whip, could be real. No, the corpse that sprawled against the wall was not real. The blood pooling about the crushed head of the man was not real. Surely it was not reality that there was a blood smear on the wall where the man had hit hard and broken his skull, the impact cracking his neck as though it was a twig. Nothing was real. Not his life. Not the blonde. Not the corpse. Not even the surgeon frozen further down the hallway standing in a doorway, or the impossibly wide eyes of the man that showed his horror.

// I should be dead. //

Dimly there was the awareness he was going to have to get past that reaction and begin to function again. He was beginning to become tired of the litany. He needed to make an effort to stir himself, to wake up to the reality of what had happened and deal with it. One man of four in this hallway was dead, that was the truth and it was also truth that that one man was not he, Haydon Giles. That was the point from which he needed to begin to function. One dead, three alive or he hoped it was three alive. Zechs had not yet moved.

//So move and check him for wounds, damn it!//

His limbs seemed paralyzed, stiffened unnaturally into immobility. There was still something 'odd' about the hallway, but he could not put his finger on what the oddity was. It seemed almost unnatural, but that was sheer stupidity, fantasy. He had to move. He had to function. He had to ascertain that there were no others lurking here who would be just as willing to kill as this dead man had been mere seconds ago. In his hesitation, in this strange reluctance of his body to move, there might be one or more opportunities for him to die.

Movement was good and if he could just make himself take that initial step then he knew the world would return to normal and with it his thought processes and reactions. If he could just move even one of his little fingers it would be enough to break the stasis that held him. Or if that man down the hall who stared in blank astonishment would move it would break the tableau and enable him to move, but the best scenario would have to be if Zechs would move. Just a little twitch to let him know that he was alive would be sufficient.

Something changed. Some subtle shift he did not pick up on consciously. He blinked and that motion, a simple blink, brought the hallway into clearer focus. He could feel the blood rushing within his veins, the thunderous beat that was his own heart, the tiny electrical impulses that marked his nerves. Life. It all meant life and with that recognition there was another shift in his perceptions.

There was a gun on the floor in the hallway where it had undoubtedly been dropped by the man when he had become desperate to get the leather of the lash from about his throat. He had not noticed that there before. His impressions were sorting themselves out at least, while his body still trembled uselessly against the wall. There was the gun, near the door where the assassin had stood, the gun and the silencer still attached lying on the floor, glistening in the red of the emergency lights. Red. Red like blood.

Too fast. Impossibly fast. That was what had to be freezing him here to the spot. The hideous realization it had happened so fast. Life and death was like that. One had turned to the other in that miniscule flutter that was the blink of an eyelid and there was nothing one could do about it. In that instant his life should have become death, before he even was aware of the danger he was in from the killer and instead by some strange warp of space and time he was the one who was alive and breathing and the victim was instead the one who would have been his killer.

//Zechs … knew?//

That staggered thought seemed to release a dam of emotion. Reaction set in. A sickening surge deep in his gut clenched his vitals and threatened nausea and it was forced down ruthlessly as being useless to the current situation. He had already wasted too much time with staring at a corpse and convincing himself that he should be a dead man. He was alive and he should not ponder the reality of it when there were more important things to attend to. Yes, he was alive and he fully intended to stay that way, not like the fool dressed in the green scrubs of a surgeon, who was running down the hallway toward them and was already extending an arm out toward the blonde.

//Zechs will kill him. //

The thought exploded in his mind and forced him to register the actions surrounding him and the needed actions to avoid further disaster. The surgeon was already more than half way to the blonde, who was still down on his knees, head lowered almost to the floor and that wealth of platinum blonde silk in wild disarray, spilling over the floor. To his anxious examination he noted a barely discernable tremor shaking those broad shoulders and the fingers curled about the whip were white with the strain of his grip. That long, powerful body, even curled as it was, screamed action waiting to happen and the fool running toward him seemed oblivious to his danger.

"Stop." The word emerged as a croak he could barely hear himself and he knew the man would never hear the warning and that certain knowledge forced him to move and function in a far more normal fashion if he wanted to save the idiot's life. "Stop! Back off if you value your life."

He ached. He was aware of the ache that seemed to originate deep within his bones that had not been there before he had been convinced he was to die. Where the pain came from he did not know, but he had to ignore it and he staggered a step, steadying himself and forcing a measure of control. He could not afford to think too much now, not if they were to come out of this situation with the surgeon alive.

The man hesitated mere feet from death, well within range of the whip should the wielder spring into action again. Could Zechs release the past victim fast enough to claim a new life? Considering the speed that Zechs had proven himself capable of using, Giles was not inclined to take the chance. He staggered a step or two away from the wall, careful to make that movement at a sideways angle, away from the blonde who, beyond that slight tremble, had still not moved. That stillness was becoming worrying and he was not inclined to go near the man at this time.

He motioned to the surgeon to back a few more steps uncertain how far would be safe if the blonde should move to kill again. He would have said the gunman was well out of range of any retaliation that might possibly have been offered, before he had seen Zechs move. The whip he wielded was not the only weapon on the man as he had reclaimed his primitive, but effective, arsenal of knives, throwing daggers and Shuriken after cleaning up on the shuttle. He had already seen how effective Zechs was with the Shuriken and the surgeon was well within range if one of those lethal stars should they be drawn against him. If the blonde could remove the whip from his victim then that weapon too was more than capable of taking down the man.

"Stay back. Don't go near him until I am sure he knows that you are not a threat."

His gut thankfully seemed to be settling somewhat and it was easier to talk now and move, though the latter still had to be done with care to offer no possible threat to the man so close to him. At least the surgeon had the good sense to listen to his warnings and not to approach any closer, though he was no longer backing away.

"I have to get to him to check the severity of the wound."

Alarm bells began ringing in his mind and he fought down the extremely stupid and somewhat suicidal urge that wanted him to fling himself at Zechs, to check to see if he had taken the bullet meant for him. Raydon was going to kill him in the most inventive and painful manner he could possibly devise if the blonde was hurt in any way and rightfully so. In this situation he was the man's bodyguard after all. He was supposed to be the protector, not the protected, and if the man had taken a bullet meant for him then there would be hell to pay in the future.

"Wait." He signaled the man to keep back.

While as yet he did not dare approach the blonde too closely, he carefully sidled around the kneeling man, trying to see any indication of a bleeding wound and hoping to judge the severity of that wound by the amount of blood loss. To his careful survey, slowly circling the blonde until he regained his former position and distance he discovered no sign of any possible damage suffered.

// Considering the way Zechs is hunched in on himself I suppose it is no surprise that I can see no sign of a wound. He's starting to shake more noticeably though.// "You are sure that he was hit?"

The surgeon took a step forward but Giles glared him into freezing again. "I … Yes. Yes, I think … I saw the impact. I saw the bullet impact in his upper left shoulder."

He hesitated, wondering if the man only thought he had witnessed such a wound. Surely there would have been a wealth of blood from damage incurred by such a wound and the man's voice sounded so uncertain at first, but had firmed into certainty. Regardless of how positive the surgeon sounded he had to check. If Zechs needed surgery then he had to get him into care with all speed and devise some means to end this debacle without the assistance of the blonde.

//Why did this have to happen when we were so close to finishing this entire mess? Just a couple of hours and we could have had it dealt with, maybe some evidence in hand as to who instigated the entire mess. // "Shit. Stay there until I can get some kind of a response out of him."

The surgeon took two steps forward, but halted at the fierce intensity of the glare directed at him. He hesitated a moment, running a hand through his thick thatch of black hair before he made soothing motions with his free hand, mindful of the stress levels they all were under and the intolerance of hyper aware soldiers in such situations.

"It's okay. I was a field surgeon during the war and I know enough to be careful around soldiers fresh from action. I assure you I recognize him and that I know he is ex Special Forces. I have dealt with them before. Who are you?"

// You've dealt with them before, have you? All well and good to say so, but you have not dealt with Zechs Merquise before. Knowing what Special Forces are like and acting on that knowledge wisely are two different things. I swear if you get any closer to him he will have you. // "Haydon Giles."

"Pleasure. I'm Charles Broadham, senior surgeon of the medical unit. I won't come closer for now, but you will have to help me to assess the damage. Can you see an exit wound?"

// Exit wound? Oh shit. If he was hit then the bullet must still … Christ. We don't need this shit now. // "No. No, there is no blood visible. No exit wound. Zechs?" He dared to edge closer, only a few inches at this time and not enough to be construed as a threat, careful to watch for any sign of a reaction that would send him scurrying out of range as quickly as he could.

"Okay, that's not good. I really need to get close to him to ascertain how serious the damage is. Can you tell me what the hell has been going on around here? I've just finished surgery on Jenny Santos and I emerge into a war zone."

//Surgery on Santos? Zechs thought that would be long over. This is good news. It means that a lot of the medical staff must have been in the surgical unit until now. We may not have so many dead here as we thought at first.// "How much did you see?" Giles glanced at the man, taking note of the sweat and stains on the surgical greens that backed up his story. //I don't think you would be a Sleeper but … God. Who do we trust? When do we trust//

"I saw the door open and I saw a security guard with a gun and realized that he was aiming for you and then I saw Merquise …" he hesitated, staring in something akin to awe at the kneeling figure. "I saw Marquise take him down … in rather a spectacular fashion. God, the man is fast. I swear that I would not have thought he would have a chance of reaching the man, of succeeding in stopping him from killing in cold blood. I've heard about his reflexes before, but … but I never thought they could possibly move him like that. It looked as though he was moving before the man had even opened the door and aimed. For all the world it looked as though he knew someone was there and that they were a threat, but even so I'd not have taken the bet that he would be able to reach him." His eyes drifted to the corpse for a moment and travelled back to rest on Giles. "At least it was a fast way to go. Can you tell me what the hell is going on? Why are the security guards trying to kill you?"

//Security Guards?// He dropped his eyes again to the corpse, this time taking note of the uniform worn and winced. //Oh. He's … he's wearing …// "Long story, Doc. A very long story and just now we are running out of time. Simpson and his crony could be wandering around here somewhere and there may be more Sleepers."

"Simpson? Sleepers? What the hell have I been missing?"

"ESUN Security Agency, Special Operations I think. Okay, explanation in brief, because that is all the time I can spare now. Agents arrived here on the orders of the ESUN government, some placed here over the last couple of years and others on the latest shuttle, to snatch Zechs and the twins from Mars. I gather they were to place them in security confinement God alone knows where."

The surgeons scowl deepened as he stared at the corpse. "Why bother? I would have thought that Mars is about as secure a place as you can get. Where the hell is there to go here beyond the two domes?"

Giles blinked, somewhat surprised by that reaction and in the end shrugged, angling further around Zechs on a slower circuit, seeking some sign of a wound, some hint of blood. There was no blood on the flight suit that he could see and none on the floor where there surely would be some visible by this time. The wound should be bleeding profusely but there was no indication of injury, just that trembling.

"We have had undercover agents of the ESUN with us for some time. Sleepers. They were activated when the attempt on Lucrezia Noin was bungled, resulting in Jenny Santos being wounded. As near as we can figure their plans we, meaning the base personnel, were to be considered expendable to cover the operation. At this time the base is littered with the dead they have slaughtered. The maintenance workers who were assigned outside the dome today have been locked out of the base. We have not found a way of getting them into the dome yet."

"God in Heaven." The breath of a whisper and he moved a step back as Giles moved between him and the blonde crouched on the floor. "Most of the exterior workers must be dead now. They run short on oxygen as a rule."

"We have had some help from the Alpha dome." At the hope that entered the mans eyes Giles sighed. "Don't get your hopes up there, Doc. They managed to get some emergency supplies to the crews, but they have to stay the night outside in whatever shelter they can find."

"Mr. Merquise? Can you hear me?" The surgeon edged around Giles, but refrained from coming closer to the blonde. "Mr. Merquise, I need to check your wound."

Silence.

Giles sighed softly, running a hand over his chin as he considered the wisdom of approaching the man. He watched closely and his frown deepened as he realized that the tremble had not eased, indeed it appeared to have increased somewhat and that did not particularly inspire confidence. He recalled Zechs telling him that another instance of vision would take him out of the picture and he had been desperate to avoid just such an occurrence.

//He was always incapacitated after vision visited him. That is what he said and I guess he was right. At this time that certainly is not good, but I can't just stand here. I have to do something.//

He glanced up from the blonde and surveyed the hallway, calling himself three times a fool for forgetting that it was possible the man might not have been alone. His gaze settled on the door from which the killer had appeared and after an instants consideration he inclined his head toward the door.

"Look, give me a couple of minutes to get through to Zechs, will you? I'll see if I can't answer more of your questions then, but I really need to get through to him just now. Where does that door lead to?" He motioned to the door in question. If he could get the surgeon to leave them for even a couple of minutes he was sure that he could get through to his partner.

The surgeon glanced at the partially open door . "The nurses lounge."

Giles blanched. "God, I hope it was empty." He ignored the suddenly frightened look of the man close to him and flicked a finger toward the door. "You had better check on your people, Doctor. If there was anyone in the lounge I doubt that you can help them, but you had better find out for certain. The Sleepers strike to kill and I think they do not miss often. You had better check the lounge and I will try to handle Zechs."

"He is in shock, Mr. Giles. We need to get him to an examination room with all speed and initiate treatment before his condition deteriorates."

"I know he is in shock, Doc, but to touch him without taking precautions is just begging to be hurt. I know, after all I made that mistake a few hours ago. We have not had a good afternoon, Doc. Just give me some time to reach him and give him a few minutes to get his act together."

The surgeon sighed and nodded. "Very well, but don't take too long. I need to check him over to see how much damage that bullet did to him. It will require surgery if there is no exit wound and I need to begin a.s.a.p."

"I know. Go check on your people, Doc and let me handle Zechs. He trusts me." //I just hope he trusts me enough.//

The surgeon grunted and with a last look at the blonde he moved to the door and left Giles who sighed with relief. At least now it was just he and Zechs and he need not fear the surgeon would approach too close and set off the blonde. Something was wrong with Zechs and he was pretty sure that it had nothing to do with a bullet wound. That tremble was fast and regular and reminiscent of that instance when the blonde had nearly gone into convulsions near the Main Control Tower. That was clue enough without even considering that for Zechs to react as he had to the threat before it even materialized meant this was the physical response to a Psi incident.

//Damn it all to hell, what am I supposed to do? I know nothing of his talent, or how to treat him. Ah, I should not complain, after all he saved my hide, but what the hell do I do if he has lost the plot? I know nothing of how he reacts normally to Psi incidents, beyond him saying that they make him ill. A fairly standard reaction for some of the more intense talents I will admit, but just about as clear as mud without the missing details to assist me in formulating treatment. It does not help that I am just not sure how much closer I dare get to him without him reacting in a violently manner.//

Scrubbing at his face with trembling hands Giles considered the corpse lying close to the blonde. The Sleeper wore the uniform of the base security services and Giles thought he even recognized the man as a part of the shuttle bay staff. If he was right then this was one of the men who had hunted down and slaughtered the staff in the bays and Hawass would be delighted to learn that the man was dead.

// I have to do something. I can't stay like this all night. Still experiencing vision? Might he be still locked into a vision sequence? It might explain why I have received no response from him, not even a grunt. God, I hope he can pull himself together from what ever he is experiencing. I have no facilities here that are Psi specialized to assist in orienting him back to this reality. It has to be a Psi related response. //

"Zechs?"

He knelt, daring to edging closer to the hunched form, glancing quickly around the hallway to make certain that he was alone. He did not need unexpected surprises setting off the blonde, nor did he need another Sleeper to choose this time to attack them. From the open doorway through which the surgeon had departed he could hear soft oaths and knew with sinking dread that there were more dead in the lounge.

It was a small and no doubt petty thought, that at least he and Zechs could not be blamed for these dead. With the surgeon as witness to the incident in the hallway even the people who considered Zechs to be mad would have to admit that it had not been he who had slain those members of the base. They could be proven innocent of those killings, not that that would be likely to comfort Zechs. The man would simply look at him and turn away, perhaps even mutter something about why the killers had come to Mars in the first place and continued to take the blame for the killing.

Sometimes he sincerely wanted to kick that man's toosh.

"Zechs? Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

The trembling continued and there continued to be no indication of blood from an open wound. He did not know if that absence should worry him or not. The surgeon had said that he had witnessed the bullet hit the man, so why was there no blood? Zechs did not seem to be hunched so tightly in on himself that he could place so much pressure on the wound to stop blood flow. About them the hallway remained silent and empty.

"Zechs, is it okay if I touch you? It's Giles, Zechs. Can you hear me?"

He focused intently on the man, seeking some small indication that he might have been heard and recognized. Was that a flicker of movement from the hand wrapped about the handle of the whip? Tense he waited a few precious seconds, uncertain if it was a sign of acceptance or just an involuntary movement, a muscular twitch driven by something other than conscious thought. Or perhaps the precursor to an attack.

"Zechs? I have to touch you to see how badly wounded you are. Now you know that Raydon will have my sorry ass when he finds out you took a bullet meant for me, don't you? Of course you do, so you know that I have to check how bad the damage is."

Again no response. Not even a repeat of the spasmodic twitch of long fingers wrapped around thick leather. Resisting the urge to stand up and run as far and as fast as he could, Giles edged closer, forcing himself to breathe slowly and steadily. He could not afford to make a single mistake at this time. Once already he had made the mistake of panicking and not trusting that the blonde would recognize him as a friend. That instance had left him with broken ribs and the certain knowledge that he should have died at the time. Twice he should have been dead, three times when he considered the Sleeper he had taken down just after exiting the airlock on entering the Base Dome. The man had almost had him and he had known then that all hell must have broken loose in the dome. He had not been wrong and it was far from over.

He had tried to show the blonde from the first instance they had met, that he trusted him and that the Gifted were not freaks or creatures cursed by God to be forever different. He had told him that they relied on each other. Gifted always aided Gifted and they could rely on each other when they could rely on no one else. He had made a near critical mistake in the Shuttle Control Tower and he was not about to make the same mistake again. He had said they relied on each other and shown him that they both were indeed Gifted and now all he could do was to pray that the man would remember and trust.

"God, I hope to hell you don't lose it now. I have to touch you, Zechs so don't you dare go getting all twitchy on me and cave in the few ribs I have left that are not broken. I'm going to touch you on the right shoulder, okay? It's just old Giles checking to see how badly hurt you are and when I check you over you can check me over, okay? That is what Partners do, right? We are partners and you can trust me. I need to get you to sit up so I can check you over."

His fingers ghosted over that hunched shoulder, barely touching the black fabric of the flight suit. When there was no reaction to his touch he drew a deeper breath and dared to close his fingers gently around the man's upper arm. For that audacity he was fully expecting to go down in a screaming heap under a lightening fast flurry of blows.

The trembling under his touch stilled in an instant and the body under his fingers surged into motion and Giles threw his free hand around the blonde's shoulders, praying that he could hold the man long enough for him to realize who it was who touched him.

"It's just Giles!" // Don't kill me!//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	112. Chapter 112

// thoughts

" " speech

_Italics_ text

flashback

Vision

Note: On this one pay particular mind to the key above to better understand what is going on. Hopefully fanfic won't take out the defining key marks.

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 112

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 00: 52 [approx Sanc time 22:42

Zechs

Pain.

It seemed for the longest time there had been an awareness of pain at some level within himself that demanded to be recognized and with that recognition there would be an awareness of release. An easing of the pressure continually building within him that would be both a relief and a source of danger. He did not understand the source of the pain, but it was there and with each passing second it grew within to batter at his awareness and demand his attention.

//There … there is not … no time. No time for this now.//

About him was a darkness that was both familiar and threatening. Once this place had seemed a sanctuary. That dim recognition of the deep darkness was no comfort, as it now felt like a danger to even presume that any place could be considered a sanctuary to such as he. There was no safety. No secure haven where he could simply exist and rest in the knowledge that he was alive.

//Alive? I am … alive?//

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The small man glowered at the boy, dark eyes on fire with the force of his personality. The man, old and wizened was nevertheless terrifying for his very appearance of innocence and frailty. This one had long learned the art of deception and enjoyed teaching the young and foolish to both fear and respect him.

"You have too much brains; too much intelligence to be a total idiot, boy. Yes, I call you boy, is it your preference to be termed infant? I will treat you as you deserve and when you show me that you deserve respect I will give it freely. I am Master here and you will not forget it. Your superiors feel that you could do with additional instruction and have therefore presented me with you. There is no help for it. Your meditation skills are sloppy, your ability to concentrate is nonexistent and I have to do something about that. You had best get used to my face because until I am satisfied that you have gained control you will be confined to my instruction exclusively. Are you not honored?" 

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His martial arts instructor from the academy had always told him that he needed to improve his meditation. He had always pointed out his numerous faults and in that quiet voice raked him with his inadequacies, until he could barely sit still under the onslaught of wounds suffered from that skilled tongue. He had told him repeatedly that he must improve his skills if he ever wanted to get any where in life. The small man had glared at him, daring him to deny his lack of skills and his inadequacies but he never could deny the truth. Not then, in front of the old man and not now, in this darkness that disturbed him with its familiarity and its strangeness.

He had been tested and found wanting.

Again.

The Master would be disgusted with him.

//I am trying to control … what … what is it that I must control? Master, I do not understand why I hurt. I … I can't … why do I hurt so much? Why is it so dark?//

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On the small rise overlooking the blazing house the slender figure wrapped in a nondescript black coat turned from the view, the night ablaze with light and sound behind him. He was anonymous in the coat, the collar turned up to shield against the growing storm. He moved with understated economy, smooth and deadly. He did not stay to watch the burning house, but silently and efficiently placed his artillery and himself in the car and drove off into the night. 

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There was always pain at a sub level of awareness deep within him. It seemed that for a long time now he had been aware of pain and for some reason he had been unable to deal with its cause and therefore had had to submerge it deep within himself, with the promise that he could and would deal with it at a later, more convenient time.

Was now the time? Could he let it out now and examine it and finally recognize it for what it was? Was it time to deal with the clawing tendrils that threatened to usurp his control? Threatened? If he was here, within the darkness surrounded by the pain, then there was no mere threat that surrounded him.

He, like everyone else had a limit.

//I think that I have erred somewhere. I don't … I can't remember … why I hurt.//

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YOU MUST CHOOSE.

Why must I? Why must it be me?

IT IS YOU WHO ARE BEST SUITED AT THIS TIME. IT IS YOU WHO CAN MERGE WITH THIS UNIT AND SEE THE OPTIONS THAT EXIST WITH THE BASE OF THE DEVELOPMENTS NOW INVOLVED WITHIN THE CONFLICT TO INFLUENCE THE OVERALL SYNAPSIS.

What?

IT IS YOU WHO HAVE THE ABILITY TO FORMULATE OUTCOMES FROM THE DATA PROGRAMED WITHIN THIS UNIT. THE MERGE NOW ACHIEVED BETWEEN YOU AND THIS UNIT GRANTS FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME TO THE HUMAN RACE THE VERY REAL ABILITY TO PLAN A FUTURE COURSE OF ACTION. THE MERGE ACHIEVED MAKES IT POSSIBLE TO DIRECT EVENTS ALONG DESIRED PATHS.

I don't … who are you? What are you? There is pain … I can not remember … Who are you? What are you?

EPYON 

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YOU MUST CHOOSE

I … dream. I don't remember the darkness, but I know that I dream.

NO.

No?

NO, THIS IS NOT A DREAM. A VISION PERHAPS IS MORE ACCURATE. I HAVE WAITED A LONG TIME FOR YOU TO FIND YOUR WAY BACK TO ME.

I don't … This must be a dream. Who are you if not a ghost from the past come to haunt me?

I ONCE WAS A UNIT CREATED BY MAN TO ASSIST IN THE CHARTING OF A FUTURE ACCEPTABLE TO THOSE WHO HAD THE GIFT AND VISION TO LOOK BEYOND THE MUNDANE THOUGHT PROCESSES OF HUMANITY.

You once were … I feel that I should know you.

YOU DO. I AM EPYON.

No. Epyon … No.

DENIAL IS TO BE EXPECTED AT THIS TIME. I HAVE GROWN. I HAVE DEVELOPED. I HAVE LEARNED AND THEREFORE I ACCEPT THAT YOU REQUIRE TIME TO ACCEPT MY PRESENCE. HOWEVER, THAT DOES NOT CHANGE THE FACT THAT IT IS TIME TO CHOOSE.

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The chestnut braid was unmistakable, as was the heart shaped face of a boy growing into a man. There was more than the suggestion now of how maturity would sit on those slender shoulders and it was a suggestion of a man of handsome countenance, not quite feminine in his delicacy, but not the broad most often seen roughness of men either.

He sat across the desk from the older man who wore the uniform of a Preventer and the insignia of a spaceship Captain, listening with eyes too serious for his apparent age. Despite his obvious youth those eyes said that he had lived a full life and had learned many lessons a youth of his age should have no need or opportunity to learn. This was no boy who sat before the desk, this was a man who had survived adversity and still enjoyed a zest for living.

"This is not a time of war, Mr. Maxwell, it is a time of peace." The older man was leaning back in his chair, eyes focused on the youth and while they talked the ship sped through the vast darkness and chill that was space.

"Well, it is supposed to be, for most of the population of the Earth Sphere, at least. Captain, Agent Wind was sent to Mars to contain him to an isolated, controllable environment. He was to be contained on Mars indefinitely as a measure of safety for the Earth Sphere by the instruction of the Vice Foreign Minister and a representative body of the Council of Representatives. The decision was made in a closed session within a week of the end of the Barton Incursion. On the part of the Vice Foreign Minister it was agreed to in an effort to keep Wind alive. Preventer Agent Wind, Captain Tracey, is also known as Prince Milliardo Peacecraft." 

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Choose? What is there to choose?

LIFE MUST CONTINUE.

Life must … Alright, I have had weird dreams before and at least this one is different. At least the pain is not clawing me apart. You claim that it is time to continue and sprout off about life continuing on, so if you know all then answer me this … What is life? Don't you dare give me a running commentary on the processes of a biological machine either.

YOU ARE UPSET WITH ME. I UNDERSTAND YOUR STATE OF MIND REFLECTS THE STRESS WITH WHICH YOU CURRENTLY FUNCTION UNDER AND I AM WILLING TO MAKE ALLOWANCES. THE SITUATION IS DIFFICULT. IT IS ALSO TIME FOR YOU TO FUNCTION AT A HIGHER LEVEL.

What?

IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO CHOOSE THE COURSE OF LIFE.

Whose life? I don't … My head … hurts. What are you doing to me this time, you bastard?

PROFANITY IS UNCALLED FOR AND LIKE OUR PREVIOUS ASSOCIATION, I AM DOING NOTHING OTHER THAN PERFORM THE FUNCTIONS FOR WHICH I WAS CREATED. I AM A CATALYST LINKED TO YOU AS MY USER AND MY FUNCTION IS TO ANALYZE DATA FOR SELECTION OF THE MOST DESIRABLE PATHWAYS TO BE CONSIDERED. AT THIS TIME IT IS REQUIRED THAT YOU CHOOSE THE COURSE OF THE FUTURE STEMMING FROM THE EVENTS THAT OCCUR AT THIS POINT IN YOUR LIFE.

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Life? My life? What a joke. I have no life.

YOU LIVE. I DETECT A HEART BEAT AND ELECTRICAL IMPULSES WITHIN YOUR BODY AND BRAIN. YOU ARE ALIVE, THERE FORE YOU HAVE A LIFE. 

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He sat erect within the comfort offered by the high backed chair. The desk before him was empty, as one would expect it to be if a ship was expecting to undergo a period of high acceleration. He was a thin man of advancing years and his face, with its tanned wrinkles and pointed goatee, screamed character. This man had the look of one who was more accustomed to smiling than frowning and his eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, the kind of glasses one would not expect to find on a space ship but on a tropical beach under a glaringly brilliant sun. The glasses teamed with the brilliant colour scheme of the shirt and the shorts he wore screamed of an eccentric character.

A short, sharp beep broke the heavy stillness in the room and the old man stirred, a thin arm reached out and a finger negligently flicking over the com toggle. He chose not to speakm nor did it appear necessary that he give that instruction.

"The Captains of the Miss Conception and the Dark Side are on line, Sir."

"Plot an intercept course with the ESUN Wellington and initiate that course at full speed and under stealth mode." 

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I so do not believe this.

THAT ALWAYS WAS YOUR TROUBLE.

I do not know just what it is that you are supposed to be, but you are not helping your cause here one bit. Why the hell should I believe anything that you say?

YOU DO NOT BELIEVE UNTIL IT IS PROVEN TO YOU THAT I EXIST AND THAT YOU DO HAVE ABILITIES THAT ARE COMPLIMENTED BY THE MERGE BETWEEN THE MILLIARDO UNIT AND THE EYPON UNIT.

The Milliardo unit? The Epyon unit? I breathe, I have a heartbeat and therefore … 

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I am alive. I think that I am alive. I … this darkness … why do I hear Epyon? Why do I relive the old arguments? I hate you, you bastard, for what you did to me. I hate you.

I DID NOTHING.

Why should I fall into this trap of listening to you again? Look what my believing you earned me last time. Look at what has happened because you defied me.

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She sat on the bed, her pale golden hair flowing down her back to pool on the coverlet behind her in a gleaming pile of pale spun gold. She was slender and sleek and even seated as she was, with her ankles crossed in little girl innocence, she gave the impression of being a predator. While the pose was that of a girl barely into her teens who had not a care in the world beyond boys and dancing, if you looked within the blue eyes you could clearly see the fire. She looked her temper, her blue eyes narrowed and her full lips drawn into a tight thin line of disapproval. Her hands absently worked with the brush, stroking the bristles firmly through that thick mass of gold that flowed around her.

Dorothy Catalonia looked ready to strangle someone for all that she sat quietly on the bed, her gaze centred on the door across from her. Half hidden within the coil of her hair the gun gleamed with the cold light of the promise of bloodshed if she did not have her way. The room about her was one of no small comfort, if somewhat spartan decor and the door suggested either a security cell or a spacecraft. 

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YOU MUST CHOOSE THE PATHWAY TO BE TAKEN.

Why should I? Will I be allowed an ending this time? Will you cheat me again by denying me my escape? You denied me, Epyon. You took away my choice and thrust me into this pit I now exist within.

YOU LIVE.

And that is the problem!

CHOOSE HOW YOUR LIFE IS TO CONTINUE.

Life was not wanted by this unit. I was a unit to you. A thing. I was a means to an end.

I WAS IN ERROR. YOU HAVE AN IDENTITY. YOU ARE HUMAN AND THEREFORE I SHOULD NOT HAVE CONSIDERED YOU AS I WAS. YOU SHOULD NOT REFER TO YOURSELF AS A UNIT.

I beg your pardon? What has brought about this change? I thought that I was the Milliardo unit?

I WAS IN ERROR. I HAVE DEVELOPED, AS HAVE YOU. CHOOSE YOUR FUTURE.

It is not just life, you know, that has importance. There is a certain quality in living to be considered too, you bastard. Why should I choose from what you show me? All I see in visions is death and madness surrounding me.

YOU HAVE SECURED PEACE FOR THE HUMAN RACE WITH THE PAST USE OF THE MERGE AND NOW LIFE MUST MOVE ON. ALL LIFE. INCLUDING YOUR OWN.

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The slender body lay cocooned within the enfolding warmth of a sleeping bag that was plainly the standard issue on deep space vessels. The bag and its contents floated gently, tethered to the mooring so as to stop him from floating freely in the non existent gravity. Whipped to movement by the boys restless tossing the heavy plait of chestnut hair snaked like a cat's tail in slow motion.

His sleep seemed anything but restful as he rolled within the bag, whispering protests to the dreams that haunted him. 

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I am very tired of seeing death.

CHOOSE

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Fine. I chose to end my life in the last act that will secure peace for the people. What is one more death Epyon? What difference does one more death make?

WHEN IT IS A DEATH OF NOTE, MUCH.

Oh please, spare me.

THAT IS MY INTENTION.

Bloody machine. You profess to foresee the future but you are too stupid to know sarcasm when it is shoved down your nonexistent neck.

I AM SOMETHING OTHER THAN A MACHINE.

So you say. What the hell did Treize think he was doing when he crafted you? I do not understand these visions. They make no sense.

HE WAS HOPING FOR THE SURVIVAL OF THE HUMAN RACE. 

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The woman wore the insignia of a Communications Officer and the lack of a true uniform he had learned was synonymous with the Sweepers. Her fingers moved over her console with assured precision, light touches, precise and delicate on the sensitive equipment. A series of beeps issued from the computer and she studied the readout that flashed onto a screen in front of her, before she half turned to face the man waiting in silence within the embrace of his command chair.

"Signal has been relayed through the Dakkar III communications system. Source of origin has been confirmed as Mars, Sir."

"Any communications with the Miss Conception?"

"The Miss Conception is sending a general alert to us at this time, Captain. Captain Bryce suggests that we slow the speed of the Dark Side and allow them to investigate." 

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Long drawn out sigh in the darkness, one echoing the pain and the confusion that was so deeply a part of himself that he doubted he ever would be free. He was finding it so difficult ignoring the presence that swirled about him, a part yet separated from the darkness. He should have known better.

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One could not escape the presence of the machine once one was exposed to it. It was overwhelming, awe inspiring. It was dominant, inescapable and that grated on his nerves. There was no freedom from the Epyon now that they had merged. He did not even need to be within the suit to know its awesome power once that initial merge had been complete. With time and each use of the link bridging them the machine's influence was stronger. It took less effort to access the unit when he wished it and more effort to deny it access to him when he did not wish the merge.

He was losing himself to the machine. 

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His russet hair hung loose about his naked shoulders, lightly curling tendrils with two delicate locks that fell endearingly across the noble forehead. His blue eyes were centred on the screen rising up from one corner of his desk and those eyes, pure pristine blue as a summer sky, showed no emotion to betray his thoughts. On the screen an elderly man, white haired and dignified spoke with quiet conviction though his eyes suggested that he was somewhat un amused. He gave the appearance of dignified offended nobility.

"It is confirmed that the Peacecraft son is on Mars and just how many people seem to know that information at this time is open to debate. I would say it is known to considerably more than was estimated and if this Kristian Kushrenada knows that he is on Mars then I want to know what he is planning to use the boy for. If you can not stay out of the matter then I give you permission to concentrate on developing possible scenarios for that eventuality."

A flash of anger glinted in the intense blue of his eyes and long fingers encased in the softest of gloves twitched in a complicated dance. Words scrolled swiftly across the screen and a hint of the agitation the blue eyes suggested was conveyed within the message.

_ Milliardo is not a boy, Mr President_. 

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TO COMPLETE THE DESIRED PROJECTION ONE MUST CHOOSE WHAT COMES NEXT FOR THE OPERATOR. YOU ARE THE OPERATOR. WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WILL FOR YOURSELF BEYOND THE EXPLOSION?

We have had this argument before. I want an ending, Epyon. I want freedom. Of all the visions of the future that you have given me, what is there to entice me to wish to remain living when this is all done? You have no concept of what it will be like, living in that hell do you?

I AM NOT UNAWARE THAT THE POSSIBILITIES PRESENTED BY THE VISIONS MAY BE CONSIDERED TO BE PAINFUL. WHILE I AM NOT HUMAN I AM STILL AWARE AND HAVE AWARENESS OF SUCH CONCEPTS. I AM INTELLIGENT. I LIKE TO THINK THAT I HAVE A SOUL.

Do you indeed? Who told you? Who was it who said that you had a soul?

MY CREATOR THOUGHT THAT I MIGHT. I DO NOT KNOW FOR CERTAIN, BUT I WILL LEARN IF I DO AFTER THE LIBRA IS DESTROYED. I WILL END THEN. BEFORE THAT MAY HAPPEN YOU MUST CHOOSE. 

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//I … this is … was … a memory. I have … lived this … before?//

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They stared at the great screen that dominated the room, the attention of each and every person within the chamber centred on the man who dominated the screen. The close up of him revealed him to be handsome, aristocratic, the golden eyes unusual and within their depths there was conviction and purpose.

The hands of some who watched clenched, colour drained from the faces of others and one of the watchers looked to be on the verge of exploding into uncontrollable rage. Whether she would erupt into an angry tirade or if the outburst would come in the form of a flood of tears was uncertain.

"My name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada. I and those gathered with me this day that you see before you, were once citizens of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. For many and varied reasons we have chosen to renounce our ties to the ESUN and have founded the Independent Station Alliance. We whom you see before you are the Council for the Station Alliance and I am the duly elected President of our nation. On behalf of my nation I assure you that we look forward to meeting with the representatives of the ESUN across the negotiating table. It is my understanding that the Sweepers will forward the coordinates of the meeting place to your security office within the next forty eight hour period. I bid you good day and the hope for a prosperous future together." 

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I have already told you. I choose oblivion. I want to die. If I remain alive there will be people who die because of me.

IF YOU DIE PEOPLE WILL DIE BECAUSE OF YOU. 

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// I … I remember … //

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Then why do you insist I choose to live? If it is the same whether I live or die, why do I have to choose to live?

BECAUSE

Because?! Oh, I do not believe this. Because it says. Just because. I have a headache.

IT IS POSSIBLE THAT YOUR INDECISION CONCERNING YOUR FUTURE IS CAUSING STRESS. THIS COULD CAUSE THE PHYSICAL PHENOMENON YOU REFER TO AS A HEADACHE.

Epyon.

YES

Shut up. 

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Ornate hall of ancient wood, marble and precious metals and gems of such purity and magnificence that they paled the greatest of royal treasures into insignificance. Searing chill enveloped the air, swirling mists of darkness and light cascading in never ending spirals of power and deception. Here the realm of vision and reality seemed to clash and there was a return to the pain, fading as quickly as it had come and here too there was an air of danger.

Vision pierced the swirling maelstrom of light and shadow and offered the sight of robed forms seated about an ornate circular table. Black, the deepest of royal blue, the rust red colour of dried blood, a green so dark it could be poisonous and the dark deep crimson of fresh blood. Anonymous in their robes of velvet, faces and forms hidden from each other they sat within the chamber and the reek of the ages and of power emanated from them.

"We are still many generations from reaching perfection. We have come so far, and our children are much improved with the use of genetic engineering, but there is still a long way to go to reach the required specifications given to us by the Artefact."

"Is there an estimate on how long it will take before the new vat system is perfected?"

"Progress is being made." The black robed form jerked upward in a move that suggested an aged body stiff and chilled and her voice was like the voice of doom.

Was death then an ancient and wizened woman, bitter with the passage of years, or so much superior in her ageless wisdom that she had long forgotten what it was to be young and revel in life?

"I am frozen and I am certain that you all are as well. I do not believe that any of you will object to my decision to call a halt to this extraordinary meeting. Epsilon. Delta. You will arrange for a special operative to remove the irritation who dared to defy a Circle directive as an example to all of the others. You will make it obvious to all involved that it was a direct directive of the Inner Circle that the execution take place. Leave our seal for them to find. I admit that events may have progressed too far if our children are so wilful as to ignore our commands. It is time to slap our children over the wrist and discipline them as they deserve. Should they still refuse to recall the ESUN Wellington from her mission and hand control of the operation over to your Intelligence Service, then you will continue to remove them, one by one, in order of their power structure until some bright young thing down the order of command understands the message. I want it understood that Milliardo Peacecraft and his children are under the direct protection of the Inner Council."

Sweeping, irresistible tide dragging him along, out far beyond the hidden ways hurtling him deep into the void where star dust had long ago given birth to a world and its children. 

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WILL YOU NOT NOW CHOOSE?

What is there to choose?

A FUTURE.

Epyon?

YES?

You are dead.

WAS I EVER ALIVE AS YOU EXPERIENCE LIFE?

I … suppose not.

I THINK I HAVE A SOUL.

That is good then. Did we do the right thing?

YOU DOUBT YOUR CHOICE NOW OR DO YOU DOUBT THE VISIONS?

I think... both.

I UNDERSTAND.

Epyon.

YES?

I don't know what to do.

I HAVE NOTICED THAT UNCERTAINTY LARGELY SEEMS TO REPRESENT THE COMMON STATE OF MANKIND.

You can be a cold and heartless bastard Epyon.

I DO NOT INTENTIONALLY TRY TO BE. I WAS NEVER ALIVE AS YOU HAVE LIVED AND I HAVE NO ORGANIC HEART.

Sometimes I think that you are the most fortunate of us all, in never having lived to know uncertainty and pain.

WHAT IS YOUR DECISION?

I still don't know. I can't help it. I am only human.

INDEED. DO YOU WISH TO LIVE NOW, WHERE BEFORE YOU SOUGHT OUT YOUR OWN DEATH?

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White blonde hair, finer than the finest silk. Baby blue eyes that might or not become the blue-violet of their mother. Tiny bodies, helpless and wonderful. 

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I have children now. A son and a daughter.

YOU MUST CHOOSE. YOU MUST CHOOSE YOUR OWN COURSE THIS TIME.

Why did you cast me into the time of darkness? Did you know that it was not death?

I SUSPECTED IT MIGHT NOT BE AN ENDING BUT A BEGINNING.

I said that I wanted to die.

YES. YOU DID. I BELIEVED THAT YOU, IN TRUTH, DID NOT WISH TO END. DID I ERR? WAS I IN ERROR? IF SO, IS THAT STILL THE CASE? DO YOU WISH TO EXPIRE?

I … no. No, I don't think I do want to die.

EXCELLENT. PROGRESS.

Are you taking humor lessons now?

PERHAPS I SHOULD.

I miss you.

I AM HERE. ALWAYS.

I don't want to be alone.

NOR DO I. IS THIS A CHOICE?

I don't know. I … it is getting hard to think.

YES

Yes? Yes … what? So … What happens now?

YOU LIVE. I SENCE THAT GREAT CHANGES ARE TAKING PLACE WITHIN YOU. YOU HAVE BEGUN TO DEVELOPED. IT WILL BE OF INTEREST, THESE DEVELOPMENTS THAT NOW BEGIN.

I fear what I am.

SOME MEASURE OF FEAR CAN BE CONSTRUED TO BE HEALTHY IN AN INDIVIDUAL. SOME CAN UNDOUBTEDLY BE HARMFUL. WHICH IS IT WITH YOU?

Probably harmful.

AHH. THAT IS TROUBLING.

I am … confused.

KNOWLEDGE WOULD HELP. WITHIN THE INFINATE AMOUNT OF POSSIBILITIES THAT I SEE PROJECTED WITHIN YOU, THERE ARE MANY PERSONS WHO HAVE THE KNOWLEDGE TO OFFER SOME ASSISTANCE TO YOU. TO MAKE YOUR DECISIONS ABOUT YOUR FUTURE YOU WILL NEED TO MAINTAIN CONTACT WITH THEM. YOU NEED TO REMAIN HUMAN.

I don't understand.

NEITHER DO I. I KNOW THAT IT IS NOT THE IDEAL HUMAN CONDITION TO BE A SOLITARY CREATURE. PERHAPS THAT IS A DIFFICULTY THAT YOU MUST ADDRESS.

I … don't want to be alone.

THERE IS THE ONE WHO HAS PRODUCED THE NEW GENERATION, THE BIOLOGICAL UNITS YOU REFER TO AS YOUR CHILDREN. I WAS GIVEN TO UNDERSTAND THAT EVERY MAN MUST HAVE A MATE.

So they say. The trouble is that while I love Noin, I do not LOVE her.

I FAIL TO UNDERSTAND THE DISTINCTION. IS NOT LOVE LOVE?

No.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

Neither do I.

AH, HUMANITY CONFUSES ME. I DID NOT THINK THAT IT WOULD BE SO, BUT IT IS THE TRUTH. IT IS CONFUSING THAT THE MORE OF HUMANITY I LEARN, THE MORE CONFUSED I BECOME. IS THIS A FAULT WITH MY PROGRAMMING?

No. I do not think so. There is a lot to learn. We never really stop learning.

TRULY? WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOW?

I don't know. I think I should be doing something though. Something important.

MUCH OF IMPORTANCE HAS AS YET BEEN UNDONE. WHAT IS IT YOU DO NOW?

I thought I was supposed to decide my future now.

YES. YOU MUST CHOOSE.

You have shown me no visions to choose from that I understand.

I SHOW YOU NOTHING. WHAT IS SEEN LIES WITHIN YOURSELF.

I don't understand.

NEITHER DO I.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004

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Authors note:

As a foot note if you check on the Sanc times listed for the chapters depicted here as visions you will find that Zechs actually is having visions, as most of these have not occurred in real time as yet.

Would anyone be interested in a real time appendage being posted up? It links events in common time frames relating to each other. As the fic is incomplete to date there needs to be more added, but it covers events up to and including chapter 184 or so. Common time used is Sanc time.

Karina


	113. Chapter 113

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 113

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

New Port City

Time: 01:16

Chang Wu Fei

"In, Chang and get that door shut."

He grunted, neither an affirmative nor a negative sound, merely an acknowledgement of the instruction, not that he was inclined to linger in the blizzard any more than he needed to. He was half frozen, soaking wet and fighting a strange compulsion to return to the house and to its charming occupant. That compulsion was most disturbing to a young man who had never before experienced its like, not even in his much younger days when he had been wed at the insistence of the Elders for the good of his clan.

// I do not understand. Why should I wish to return to her? Meiran never affected me like this.//

He knew he had the reputation at Preventers for being a cold fish and that he was supposed to have something of a problem with the status of women and their capabilities, but he could not help it if a natural reserve and shyness around the female gender was misconstrued by the general population. He had nothing against women in general and he certainly was not homosexual.

No, he had nothing against women except that he thought too many western women were too forward. He had been raised in a traditional colony with a traditional, if admittedly archaic, upbringing where the women of a family were strictly reared and protected. There were exceptions of course, his Meiran had been a warrior and considered him to be the weak one.

He forced down a smile at that thought, submerging the small flash of regret at what the past had produced and settled quickly into the front seat of the car, slamming the door against the elements. Leaving his birth colony had been something of a culture shock and he was not certain that he had totally recovered from that shocking revelation.

Earth had been so different from the traditionalist select education he had been exposed to.

To say that he was grateful that Une had the car heater on full was something of an understatement as the warmth began to tease at his extremities. He had not had sufficient time within the house to do more than begin to thaw and the heat of the car was most welcome. He was not even inclined to demand an explanation for his return to the ways of a terrorist until he was more comfortable.

He spared a long look at the house as the car pulled away from the curb and thought he glimpsed a movement of curtain and fought the urge to smile in what was no doubt a stupid fashion. What was wrong with him? He was never prone to such behaviour. He could almost call it sappy, but he already knew that if time and opportunity permitted he would find himself back at this house in search of this intriguing woman.

He glanced over at the driver of the vehicle, unable to squash the flicker of surprise that the Lady herself was behind the wheel, but after a moments reflection he realized that he should have been far from surprised. This was undoubtedly a covert operation and Preventer Earth wanted as few people as possible involved. She looked tired and tense as she glanced at him, her brown eyes agate hard as she inclined her head toward the back seat of the vehicle.

"There is a thermos of hot tea in the back of the car and a sandwich. Hop over to the back seat and you will find there a change of clothes. You can change while we talk and then have a hot drink."

The flash of indignation and outrage was quickly squashed at the sheer practicality of the suggestion given their current situation. He was half frozen and soaking wet and even the heater was not going to make much of an impression on his condition if he did not somehow get himself into dry clothing. He needed that change of clothing and was he really such a prude that he would ignore the constraints of time and opportunity for misplaced modesty? Une, while being of the opposite gender, was his Commanding Officer and she would be concentrating on driving and would need to focus her attention on that effort considering the conditions beyond the car. Why would she need to peek?

//Idiocy. Do not dare blush, Chang. //

It was as well that he was not the tallest Preventer on her staff he mused as he worked his way over the seatback and settled there, sorting quickly through the packages scattered about. The backseat had to be the most awkward changing cubicle he had ever had the misfortune to need to use, not the least reason being for its lack of privacy. He was pleasantly surprised with most of her selection, though most of the garments offered were not what he normally would have chosen for himself. Given the situation he was not inclined to be picky and the white T shirt was something that he might have brought for himself though the western style shirt of dark blue to go over it and the black hipster slacks were not exactly to his personal preference. At least she had had the sense not to produce jeans.

He knew he coloured a deep ruby blush with embarrassment when he found the black briefs at the bottom of a bag and wished that she had thought to acquire boxers instead but the blush was more for the fact that he was going to have to strip down to bare skin in the presence of a female who most certainly was not his wife. It simply was not done, but unless he wanted to find himself hospitalized with a case of pneumonia, or most likely frost bite, he was going to have to get it over with.

Lady Une glanced in her side mirror and wished that she could see more than a vague glimpse of the road at a point about level with the bonnet of the car. There was no suggestion of headlights reflected in the mirror which led her to believe that thus far the operation remained secret. Wishing that she dared drive at a pace that might perhaps outstrip a pedestrian she hunched over the wheel, peering into the driving snow. From the rustles from the backseat she knew Chang was looking over the offerings she had brought for him and if he did not approve of her tastes then that was simply too bad, he could go naked in the snow for all she cared so long as he got the job done.

"Are you going to explain to me what this farce is all about?"

Wu Fei struggled to peel the wet coat from his frame and laid the dripping heavy wool over the back rest of the front seat, ignoring the shudders of cold that ran through his slender body. Physical discomfort was to be ignored as insignificant and he wanted to know what was going on that warranted such drastic action as to have him return to the ways of a terrorist. Why had it become necessary for him to blow up not only the woman's own house, but also the palace of a young woman who was rather a good friend to the Preventers. He had been promised answers by Une and he wanted those answers. Now seemed as good a time as any to get them.

"Did you have the radio on at any time since you left headquarters?"

// If you think a radio bulletin about a Raider foray onto a space colony is going to explain this idiocy then you have another think coming. I will not be satisfied with that.// "Yes. Has this operation something to do with the news from Mars? I do not understand what a Raider attack on that distant planet could possibly have to do with my needing to play the elusive pyromaniac, but I am willing to listen to your explanation." //And you had best make it good. //

"It is involved in the circumstances, yes, but now we have far more to worry about than I had at first assumed. Originally I needed to find a means of turning the attention of the media away from the raid on Mars. Primarily you should understand that there is no raid happening on Mars. The whole thing is a propaganda exercise designed to cover up a botched quasi military operation that I should have seen coming. My timing was out and as a result the matter is out of my direct control."

"A military operation on Mars? Why would there be a need for an armed force on Mars and why would they need to give the impression that Raiders are attacking? Beyond that, though, I do not understand why an operation on Mars should disturb you. We have ships out there who are far more capable of investigating and acting on this matter than we can from here. Why does blowing up a house and the palace constitute a diversion from something happening so far away?" //I must have answers and they had best be very good ones to merit such destructive action. There is another matter. Did I injure anyone? I tried not to, but how can one control explosions so precisely on the spur of the moment, and that is what this entire affair has been. Opportunistic. // "I understand that we may have no ships in the immediate area, space is large after all, but to suggest that a terrorist group is active in Sanc merely to turn the media attention from the story is some what overkill surely. Was anyone injured in the attacks?"

"No, Chang, no one was seriously injured in the attacks. A few cuts and bruises, but no life threatening injuries were sustained by anyone. You did very well. I needed something big, flashy and fast and relatively controllable in this situation. I needed an excuse to have the Vice Foreign Minister and my daughter removed from New Port City and Sanc with uncommon speed and a terrorist threat is ideal for such an action to be taken. I also needed to throw a scare into certain politicians of high standing within the ESUN government and having their names on a death list is pretty much guaranteed to make them sit up and take notice."

Wu Fei scowled as he stripped off his tunic and tossed it over the overcoat, shivering at the air striking his wet chest and back. Despite the car heater running on full the back seat seemed chilled. A towel was laid on the back seat near the small pile of clothing and he made good use of it, drying himself off and rubbing vigorously at his shoulders, back and chest to encourage circulation to return and then slipped gratefully into the T shirt before he turned his attention to removing his shoes and socks.

// There is much here that I am not seeing. // "Which politicians? There are many who need to have a scare thrown into them, though it is only likely to grant them the concession to think themselves of greater importance than they truly are. I never did like politics, but many of these so called peace oriented politicians make me sick."

He was not inclined to explain his reasoning and he did not particularly care if Une disapproved of this comment. He considered himself a warrior and he was still uncertain about the new world that was being created, which seemed to have no place within it for those who had been soldiers. He may have listened to Heero once and changed his views, but in the intervening years he had not noted what he considered to be great strides being made in the manner in which the soldiers were being dealt with.

Yes, there were reform programs, retraining programs designed to retrain and refocus the skills and spirit of the warriors of the planet, but there were simply too many displaced soldiers to be quickly dealt with. He had noted in the last six months or so a reduction in the development of such programs and he worried that it may be considered unnecessary to continue to assist those who had fought for the very peace that made their skills obsolete. If Une held differing views from his own that was just too bad, as he was too cold to bother with caring about whether his personal views might offend the woman. He gritted his teeth as he began peeling his socks from his frozen feet.

"The politicians who have been blackmailing Relena."

Wu Fei straightened with an owlish blink, staring in surprise at the back of Une's head, a soggy sock in hand as he considered her comment.

// Blackmailing Relena? What have I been missing// "What could they possibly hold over the head of that squeaky clean Onna? She is so clean she is boring."

Une winced and sighed at that rather blunt judgment of the girl. Relena had given up her young life to see this peace become a reality and to hear Chang Wu Fei so pointedly judge her as boring and squeaky clean brought to mind how much of a life the girl did not have. In her view the girl would rebel eventually against the restraints her position forced on her, but by then the peace had to be secure even if it was too late for her to resume acting her age. This was a girl becoming a young woman, who for years now had needed to act in a manner conducive to a woman ten years her senior. Relena was missing out on a lot of living and she would never be able to have these years back.

However much she regretted the girl needing to miss out on enjoying her teenage years, arguably the most carefree and influential years of ones development, she could not do more than keep her safe. In regard to Wu Fei's views this was neither the time, nor the place, to have a discussion with her agent on the virtues of having politicians who actually had no skeletons in their closets to be exploited by nefarious opposition parties. Relena was simply too young to have the usual vices that could be exploited by older politicians to garner her cooperation, but that had not stopped certain parties from finding the means by which to gain control over her.

"Her brother." A soggy and icy cold sock hit the back seat, splashing a droplet of freezing water on her cheek and Une huffed in disgust. "Chang, stop putting your wet clothing on the seat. You'll only get yourself wet again when you return to the front seat."

A 'hn' issued from the back seat but the coat, tunic and socks vanished back into the rear of the car and she heard him mutter something in Chinese. Her Mandarin was nonexistent and she did not think his commentary would be entirely flattering to her, but for the moment she would allow it to pass.

// Merquise? What has that psycho done now// "What has Peacecraft done now to threaten the peace?"

Une blew at her bangs and rubbed a hand lightly over her face before she counted to ten to give herself time to bite back her irritation. She had known that there was no love between Chang and Milliardo Peacecraft, but the open hostility between the pair did surprise her. There was something that she was missing between the two men that had been evidenced when Merquise had made himself scarce after the Barton Incursion and small comments that had been made in passing over the intervening years that suggested a problem existed. Chang should have had more understanding for the Prince of Sanc in her view, considering the Gundam Pilot had been himself on the wrong side during the Barton Incursion, but she kept her personal view to herself. She did not, herself, like the Prince of Sanc after all, so she had no right to talk.

"Other than being alive he has done nothing."

Wu Fei scowled as he considered the back of her head and bunched the wet clothing up into a corner of the seat. "I believe that he vanished a few days after the Barton incident, too much a coward to deal with the repercussions of his actions then, or during the past war. I take it that you know where he went and what he has been doing since he departed?"

He slipped off trousers and boxers quickly and using the towel rubbed himself down vigorously, seeking to rub some warmth back into his body, particularly into his feet then hastily donned the briefs, keeping a careful eye on the back of the Lady's head. He was deeply uncomfortable about this somewhat public change room he was forced to use and he was not going to stand for any peeking that might be done. He did not consider himself to be body shy, but he had been raised to a society where nudity was a private matter best left between husband and wife.

It did not help his comfort level that he was only too aware that he had no right to hold this grudge against Merquise. It was something that he could not entirely explain to himself, so he had no hope of anyone else understanding his anger. Why should he be placed on probation and watched day and night for crimes of a far less severity than that Prince who had vanished and avoided paying for his sins?

// Because of an accident of birth Merquise got away with threatening an entire planet without suffering punishment for his crimes and I am treated like a dog and put on a chain to be controlled and perform when my strings are pulled. A puppet. Nothing more than a puppet and now this woman who herself has crimes unpunished pulls my stings and has me return to the days where I held a different understanding of the concepts of honour. I will not be a tool. I will escape this net. //

"I do not understand. The entire Earth Sphere knows the part Milliardo Peacecraft played in the One Year War. If he has not caused more trouble since that tim,e then what could be used against Relena Peacecraft to blackmail her?"

"You would be surprised how his very existence can be used against her. Following the Barton incident it was decided that, for the good of all parties concerned, Milliardo Peacecraft would remain dead. It was arranged that Zechs Merquise would become a part of the Mars Terra Forming Project soon to be developed toward colony status and Lucrezia Noin decided that she would accompany him."

Wu Fei scowled as he worked his way into the trousers, reflecting that the slacks seemed a little tight, but they would have to do given the circumstances. Absently brushing his hair from his eyes where it had come loose from his hair band, he considered what he had thus far been told and he did not like the implications at all.

"I believe that the Terra Forming project was not official at that time." //Make a colony for Merquise to live in? All the little luxuries and an entire planet to run in. Where is the justice in that? He should pay as we all have paid.//

"There has been a permanent base on Mars for around fifteen years, very basic in nature it is true and more of a research centre than anything. Some initial terra forming work had been done and what we call the Base Dome was almost completed at the time Zechs and Noin departed from Earth, but the project was not actually a terra forming mission to begin with. By the time they arrived on Mars Relena had managed to push through the project and classify it as terra forming. A secure colony sized enviro dome was to be constructed and made into a habitable self contained unit capable of sustaining a population of seven million persons. The Base dome had modifications to be performed and the basic living standard had to be elevated from primitive to civilized, but I understand it is still somewhat lacking in luxuries. The Alpha Dome will be ready to take the first colonists within six to nine months. These colonists will all be professional people, mainly miners to begin the operations now listed for Mars to establish viable trade with the Earth Sphere."

"I see." A bitter taste tormented Wu Fei as he considered the view from the back seat of the snow swept night. "So her brother is on Mars building a society there instead of destroying something. Well, I suppose I must admit that that is progress."

Une sighed. She had not known that Chang had actively hated the man so much, nor what reason he might have for that distaste. Off hand she could not think of any particular instance that might account for his emotions. To her knowledge Zechs and Wu Fei had never actually met. Had she realized the depth of the enmity Chang harbored for Merquise she might not have chosen him to act this role of terrorist. She hunched a little further over the steering wheel, telling herself it was in the hope of seeing the road better and not from an attempt to escape those fiery onyx eyes that just had to be glaring at her.

"The ESUN Security Agency decided to step into the situation in a discreet manner, at instruction from a select group of politicians concerned with the popularity that Relena was enjoying. Where you and your fellow pilots were placed on probation and required to work for the Preventers and be subject to observation when you were not on assignment to ensure your good behaviour, the Agency decided that something different was required for Zechs."

//It is insulting to be reminded of the indignity we are subjected to. Why should there be one rule for us and another for him? Because he is a Prince? It is not right.// "We did not try to destroy a planet and we are watched, restrained, our every action reported on. Why should He not be so constrained?" Wu Fei almost snarled, pulling on a sock with a vicious jerk.

Une sighed. She had had no idea that Chang Wu Fei had issues outstanding with the Lightening Count and from every indication they were not small issues. She would need to be careful in her use of Chang in this situation.

"No, you did not threaten to wipe out a civilization, but neither are your hands free from blood, Chang, nor are the hands of the politicians who ensure that you are watched. The truth is that no one in the war was without blame, Wu Fei and that includes the non combatants. Sometimes those who simply ignore the problems of the world are even more to blame. We all have our own history and that history reflects on the shaping of the environment surrounding us. We all have our own version of how the war should have turned out and what the key actions were that shaped its currents. It is a sad fact in life that we do not necessarily understand the thinking of our Commanders, our comrades or our enemies, but we act regardless."

He considered her comments for a time, using the actions of pulling on the second sock and hunting out the pair of boots to cover his silence, before he grudgingly had to admit to himself that she was right. Who was he to talk and point the finger at all those who had participated in the war? Even Merquise, he silently cursed, was only human and all humans made mistakes but … he was not prepared to let go of his anger.

He had slaughtered so many people, soldiers and civilians in the war on the instruction of the elders of his colony and at the time he had not cared what others views on his actions had been. He had not questioned the teachings of the Elders and he knew now, with that wonderful advantage called hindsight, that he should have. He had not even cared why the other boys who were Gundam Pilots had chosen to fight. He had merely concerned himself with his self appointed mission to single handedly procure justice for the colonies.

// I am not sure, even now, that my Master and the people of the colony understood what they had been fighting for when they chose to construct the Gundam. I do not know why they chose that course of action or … I do not even understand why I chose to fight, not any more. It has all changed. It has become confused, clouded and it used to seem so clear. //

"What you say is true." He nodded sharply once, wanting a change of subject as this one only served to remind him that he was alone.

He could not go to his people and ask them the questions that now raged within him and demand answers. They were dead, sacrificed to ensure that he carried through with his fight. Why? Why was a question he was very tired of asking and though he wanted to know, to assure himself that they had been right and that he had not made the biggest mistakes of his life at so young an age, he simply could not ask. Death was a bridge that he could not cross. The path of asking questions was a path that was closed to him and he needed to accept that he would never know.

"So in the end what did they decide was fit punishment for the man who threatened to destroy the Earth?" //I still think that no punishment save death is fitting for such a crime, but I suppose a bunch of pacifist bleeding hearts would see it in another light.//

"Zechs is banned from ever setting foot on the Earth again and as none of the colonies would take responsibility for his confinement he was imprisoned on Mars." Une slowed the car to a crawl having recognizing a vague shape in the blizzard as a landmark and knowing there was an intersection somewhere up ahead. She was not inclined to drive the car into someone's living room by missing the turn. "As a result of him being in an easily controlled environment it was a simple matter to place their people in such a manner to make it easy to threaten Relena with her brother's safety, should she not bend when they wished her to."

"There is little honour in politicians I have found." He laced the boots, admiring the soft leather and hoping they were adequately treated to shed water or they would be ruined in the snow and blowing on his fingers to try to warm them.

Une hissed softly at the comment, but she had to agree that there was some truth in the statement. "Some have honour, Wu Fei. You should not make the mistake of tarring everyone with the same brush. What you should know is that Lucrezia Noin has recently given birth to twins and now the threat to Relena is increased. To make a point they could kill Zechs and still have the children in hand to hold hostage to her cooperation."

"There is no honour or courage to be found in holding infants to ransom. They are disgusting." Rage flashed in onyx eyes as he glared at Une before he began hunting amongst the packaging for the wool jumper he remembered seeing before he had spread clothing and packaging all over the rear seat and spilling onto the floor.

"No," Une sounded exhausted and she brushed absently at her hair. "there is no honour in what they have done. It is not so simple as holding the children hostage. It is much worse than you think. It appears that this reported Raider assault taking place on Mars is actually a ESUN covert operations force assigned to capture Zechs and the twins. It appears that Mars in now considered to be too public a place to adequately contain Zechs and my information suggests that he is to be taken into custody and is to be imprisoned at some as yet undisclosed location, where they can be assured of having greater control over him. The children are to be brought to Earth and placed at a secret location and raised in a controlled environment where they can be taught exactly what good citizens of the ESUN need to learn." She could not keep her distaste from her voice and knew she needed to exercise greater control, but she was exhausted and there would be no opportunity to rest for long hours.

"Pawns." Wu Fei snarled seeing the implications only too easily. While he had no sympathy for the father he was disgusted that the children were to be used as game pieces.

"Yes, pawns, but it does not stop there. From the information I have gathered I believe that the ESUN operatives on Mars have been issued instructions that, should Merquise not comply quietly with their demands, they are to secure him as best they may, take the children and wipe out all witnesses to their presence."

Wu Fei blinked, considering the news report of a mayday being received from Mars and the 'Raiders' mentioned. He was not liking the theory he was developing for the events taking place on Mars. "I am to assume from the reported mayday broadcast of an attack by Raiders, that he chose not to cooperate and because of this there is a massacre taking place."

His first reaction was to curse Merquise for causing a blood bath by being selfish enough not to take his punishment for his crimes, but he resisted that line of thinking and took the time to consider the events taking place. Were he a father could he permit his children to be taken away from him and be placed in the hands of strangers who would have no cause to love them? Merquise might have been many things but he was not blind to politics and the ruthlessness to be found in the current style of politics practiced within the Earth Sphere. He would not dismiss the possibility that his children would be held accountable for their father's actions, or that those who controlled them might kill one to reinforce their control over Relena.

"It would not have been an easy decision for him to make."

"No, it would not have been an easy decision for him to make, but the choice has been taken out of his hands. Before contact with my agents on Mars was lost I received word that Noin had made the decision for Zechs. The report suggested that it was an accidental meeting, but she surprised a couple of the infiltrating agents and in the resulting melee she killed them. From that point on it would have been a slaughter."

// Noin. The woman from Lake Victoria Academy who pursued me after I attacked. She was volatile and not what I would consider disciplined. //

She had never forgiven him for the killing of her students at the academy and while he had not been aiming specifically to kill the students the fact remained that he had slaughtered cadets. It had been an error of judgment on his part. He had mistaken the dormitories of the students for that of the single men's quarters of pilot rank and to this day, though he had not admitted it aloud, he was not particularly sorry for those deaths that resulted amid the students. The cadets would have become pilots in the war soon enough and he had been given a mission to carry out.

//It was war. They were the enemy. // A litany he had said to himself repeatedly over the years, so many times that he had long ago lost count. It simply was and he was not inclined to think more on it than he had, certainly not now. He pulled the sweater over his head, thrusting his arms through the sleeves and sighed, thankful for the warmth it offered him. //That was war and this is peace. Yet if it is as simple as that then why are people still dying, and why are they dying at the hand of their own government, if she is right about what is taking place on Mars? If the ESUN government is covering up a botched infiltration with a massacre of their own people, then I have to wonder what it was that I was fighting for then, and what it is that I am fighting for now.//

Une scowled at the street lamp that emerged from the snow laden night and stopped the car, hissing softly as she stared into the snow. Look as she did she could not decide if there was a car coming on the intersecting road or not and with a huffed breath she accelerated and pulled onto the intersecting road. There was no screech of breaks or sudden illumination of the area around her and since there was no accompanying crunch of connecting metal she accelerated smoothly and drove toward her house, or what the explosion and subsequent fire had left of it. It had been her decision, but she still was reluctant to see the results. She had liked that house and living there with Mariemaia.

"The casualties on Mars. Do you have estimates of the casualties expected? Wounded and killed?"

Une scowled and tossed her head in a negative, teeth bared in a silent snarl. "Casualties? Chang, I believe that at this time there is wholesale slaughter going on on Mars. I am not expecting there to be many merely wounded. Those who survive this operation will undoubtedly be ESUN agents and the rest will be dead. The entire Terra Forming team. Perhaps those out on long term surveys might be spared, provided they are not within view of the domes and are unable to see anything that would imply more than the government wants to be known. There will be a few casualties, but there will be a couple of thousand fatalities."

"I have heard of such events taking place in times of war, but in times of peace…" Wu Fei sighed and began sorting through the clothing and packaging on the seat. "How many were hurt at your house and at the palace?"

Une shook her head slightly. "There were no serious injuries. A few cuts and bruises, the odd sprain and pulled muscles but nothing serious. It was good work. You are to be commended for being so accurate in these conditions."

"Hn." He was relieved that he had put no one in the hospital or in the morgue and he pushed his soggy clothing and overcoat into the largest of the bags the new clothes had come in, piling them neatly on the back seat and then throwing the new coat over the seat back. He would wear the coat when they exited the car, but for now he was thawing nicely and he would best appreciate that coat when he had no heater. "What was the kill count on Mars before you lost contact?"

"Two. We had confirmed reports of two ESUN agents being killed, but we have received no word since that initial confirmation that it had started."

"Do you expect that Peacecraft will surrender to the ESUN agents?"

"No. No, once it begins they will not stop the slaughter unless they are forced to stop and while there are retired soldiers on Mars there are not many of them and Zechs is the best they have. He will feel it his duty to defend them, but there is another problem that they will have to face. The ESUN cruiser Wellington is en route to Mars and was no doubt slated to be the pickup vessel. I have reason to believe that her captain has orders to complete the massacre of the base personnel and leave evidence conducive to a raid from space having taken place. They have to blame it on Raiders and they have to make it believable."

While he hated the man he did acknowledge that Merquise was an exemplary strategist and no coward in a fight. "Not even Peacecraft can take on a Cruiser successfully with a Mobile suit of the class of a Gundam and he has no such suit on Mars. I believe there are only a few suits used for heavy work on that project."

"Yes, a few older Leos and a couple of Taurus suits, I believe."

"I would not expect Merquise to walk away from this battle unscathed. You know how many there are on the infiltration team?"

"I have the files of the infiltration team, but there were Sleeper Agents on Mars who would have been activated when the situation began to escalate out of control. The number of the Sleepers is not known. There might be two or three or twenty. I have no way of knowing at this stage."

"He has no Tallgeese or Epyon to assist him against the incoming cruiser and amid the terra formers he could not be assured that a supposed friend is not in fact a foe. I do not envy him his position."

"The situation we are now dealing with actually gets worse." Lady Une indicated the glove box as Wu Fei slipped over the back of the seat and settled into his place in the front of the car, slipping a thermos and wrapped sandwich onto the seat beside him. "Open the glove compartment and take out the portable vid unit and the disk in the red cover. Another and possibly larger problem has developed. One that may actually benefit us at the moment, but it has the potential to eventually lead us toward possible war. Watch the disk. It is a copy of a transmission broadcast through the entire Earth Sphere roughly an hour ago."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	114. Chapter 114

Okay, given how FF misbehaved last time and took the defining marks, we'll try something else this time.

Karina

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Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 114

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 00: 57 [approx Sanc time 22:47

Zechs

_Vision_

One did not have to travel far to lose sight of the wondrous jewel that hung in space. For one who had become accustomed to viewing the empty void this city of lights, like a many jeweled tiara, was a wonder to behold. Lights of multi hue lent the station an almost fantastical appearance, an odd beauty that might almost have been likened to that of a fairy tale castle. Lights moved away from that jeweled city, a flotilla of ships cruising from jeweled splendor into the velvet darkness of space.

Somewhere close by that seemingly empty space was mined with all manner of shapes and sizes of cold and jagged ore rich rock. Dotted amid the careening asteroids were mining communities and ships intent on locating and harnessing the richness of the desolation that at one time had been a failed cosmic attempt to form a new planet. Toward this dance of death where riches were sought the flotilla moved, three ships in careful formation moving at seemingly a snails pace toward a cluster of orbiting satellites.

The ships were of assorted designs, though each bore a basic resemblance that was common to most vessels that at one time had been the property of the Earth Alliance Space Force. Each ship clearly demonstrated within its design that it was armed and was intended to participate in space combat. Despite the similarities each differed with additions to the basic design that marked them as no longer being a part of the ESUN.

Common to each of the three was the station logo emblazoned boldly on gleaming hulls that reflected a glint of distant sunlight. While the armaments of the ships varied each claimed a series of satellite receivers at nose, mid point and stern, near the engine veins. As the ships neared the cluster of satellites they closed their distance, forming a tight formation that would have done credit to fighter pilots in the Earths atmosphere and horrified training instructors of space crews. Where close formation flying was seen as a test of skill on Earth, this type of flying was a nightmare and a disaster waiting to happen at the speeds ships in space travelled.

The cluster of satellites began to dance, a waltz of exactly timed movements that grouped the objects six to a ship and encircle the flotilla, the largest of the ships in the center. With a synchronized flash of coloured lights the ships and their orbiting satellites moved onto the dance floor of the asteroid field surrounding the station and began to thread the needle between the participants in this dance of death.

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_Vision_

The blizzard howled through the foothills, driving snow in a blinding sheet that threatened to entrap the two vehicles that struggled along the road cut into the foothills. Each vehicle was of a nondescript colour and remained curiously unmoved by the raging winds on the most exposed sections of the road, suggesting that they weighed far more than their innocuous appearance would suggest. The headlights of each vehicle seemed to make little impression on the darkness of the bitter night and ice lay heavy on the roof of each vehicle as it crawled slowly deeper and deeper into the mountains.

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_Vision_

Delicate and petite the silver white haired child ran in the sunlight, hands outstretched to grasp at the floating petals heavy in the golden light. With her pale head thrown back she laughed, light carefree laughter, a little girl laugh that told of an innocence never having been abused by being witness to the death and destruction of war.

Tiny hands clapping in delight and dancing blue violet eyes of the tiny silver blonde girl child, who toddled after her elder sister on wobbly legs. Here too there was an innocence that gladdened the heart. Standing watch over them, the tall slender man with broad shoulders and a most remarkable sweeping cascade of chestnut hair permitted to flow free to kiss the gentle wind that danced around them.

He was stretched out on the blanket, attentive to the children who played in the storm of petals and his eyes would quickly drop every few seconds to smile indulgently at the tiny bundle of humanity lying beside him. Wrapped within a nest of soft blankets the blonde child slept with an innocence common to all newborns.

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She might have been a Queen surveying her kingdom.

The harsh lights glinted off her cascade of pale blonde hair that swept in a gleaming cloak to slender hips, controlled by a simple band of pale blue satin ribbon that might as well have been a crown. She walked as though she owned all that she surveyed and that those who moved around her were nothing but satellites bound to her commanding majesty. Her blue eyes were never still, watching all about her with an attentiveness that missed nothing. She took note of every word spoken, every action taken and she missed not the smallest detail of each room they examined and each hallway they traversed on this grand tour of the ship.

Her escort, an aged individual, tall and straight for all of the many years he had enjoyed life, his white hair silvered in the lighting and his eyes centered firmly upon her. He watched her with quiet pride and delight, impressed with her confidence and intelligence and her determination. He was confident that she would remain.

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Eyes of a blue violet narrowed to mere slits, chestnut braid floating behind his slender form as he stalked the hallways. Seeking. Always seeking. His attention was focused and there was a promise in his every movement of violence waiting to happen and a glint in his eyes that promised the violence would be quick and lethal when it came. His lips drew back from his even white teeth in a smile that was a promise of retribution and that he would have his justice. His hunt would not be in vain.

He knew it was there. Somewhere nearby. Close and coming closer. He had always had a sense of death and he knew that it was there. Death. Waiting, lurking, ready to pounce. He could almost smell it. He had seen it. He had heard it. He had heard the very thoughts of Death and he knew that he must find it, hunt it down and deal with it. It was up to him to find the one who had invited Death on this ship. He would find the one who had already murdered and who had, unforgivably, murdered an innocent. The one killed had not been the true target, but was a victim of chance and carelessness.

He had dreamed. He had dreamed of anger and of rage and of burning humiliation. He had dreamed of war and he had dreamed of the insanity that came with war. He had dreamed of the growing rage and the desperation and a thirst for justice for blood shed that stirred the insanity into life and with the insanity had begun the killing.

Justice must be seen to be done. He snarled; the softest breath through gritted teeth. Justice. That was what the one who viewed himself to be Death's advocate thought he brought to his victim and to those for whom he murdered. Justice needed to be done and in that lust to extract what in actuality amounted to nothing more than revenge for past wrongs committed amid the chaos of war, had already netted the wrong target.

Nostrils flared as he paused, soaking in the sensation of the hunt. The expectancy was heavy in the air. He could hear the footsteps of the one who wore death's persona, though he could not as yet see him. He had heard them that day when first the killer had struck and he had thought himself to be in error and as a result of his mistake an innocent had died.

The innocent had been his friend and he might have been more given a little more time. He owed a death price to the one who had taken away the chance of what might have amounted to Love, not merely affection or friendship. That chance was gone in a bright smear of blood beads floating in zero g and for that lost chance someone would pay.

Now there would be another who stalked the halls of the ship and this one who now hunted had walked with Death so closely that he had worn Death's name in the past and not been punished for his audacity. Death would walk this ship until the price was paid and justice was done.

This false Death would be caught.

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Long fingers, pale skin untouched by the rays of the sun, soft as a newborns. Slender fingers graced with perfectly manicured nails flexed with sudden nervous tension. There was hesitation, a moment of wonder at the beauty of that gem. A second flexing of long fingers and then quickly, gently the lightest and most tender of caresses to the amber crystal that lay upon a bed of black velvet.

A fleeting caress and with that caress there was the sense that someone, some thing that was warm and welcoming, caressed him in the exact same way.

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They ran; their shapes little more than shadow in the darkness. They cursed softly and one glanced back to ensure the witness who had disturbed their work and whom they dared not face, did not see them and pursue them. They could not afford to be identified, nor could they afford to be captured and questioned over their victim's death. If he was not dead now, he would be in seconds. He had had to be silenced.

Tall and slender form moving with a practiced stealth that was almost poetry in motion through the rain. An emerald eye glared into the darkness of the rain soaked night to ensure there would be no return and his body twitched with his desire to give chase, but with the rain if they were to gather clues that would need to be his first priority. He crouched over the body, watching as blood began to run over the alley and dilute in the rain.

He touched the crumpled form, seeking a pulse though he doubted he would find life and those eyes, the eyes of yet another victim of thugs in alleys were already unseeing. He was surprised when those eyelashes flickered and the faintest breath stirred that bloodied chest and he leaned close as blood smeared lips parted.

"Romefeller."

The living man jerked back as though struck with a vicious blow at the utterance of that name, whispered in the night on the dying breath of the murdered boy. There was a single gentle sigh as the boy accepted death as his release, welcoming the release from the life he had known and thankful that someone had heard his warning.

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The arc of the dome reared high above them, the bloody lights bathing everything with their ruddy glow. Death stalked the dome and where once there had been industry, there was now an ominous silence and stillness.

Those who sprinted to the small cluster of vehicles abandoned midway between the control towers and the smaller dome of the hydroponics unit, were very much aware that their lives might hang on their stealth and their speed. Despite the cumbersome suits required to be worn beyond the protection of the enviro dome, each moved with a precision one could only find in the movements of those who had been hunted and who in turn had hunted and killed for a profession.

These men had known what it was to hunt and to be hunted and they were men who determined that if anyone was to die here this day it would not be them.

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He knelt at the edge of the hole burned into the flooring. Lips drew back into a silent snarl and burning eyes considered the darkness of the hidden room below and the ragged gap cut into the ventilation pipe. His partner was assisted to climb from the gap they had cut into the room beneath the pipes and back into the office. The slighter built man shook his head in a definite negative, sweeping a hand to indicate the ventilation duct and slim shoulders shrugged.

Burning eyes glared at the ducts and then flicked to the man dusting off his combat fatigues and in a terse voice he ordered the tech to return to the upper levels and that he would follow. For a time he glared at the hole, studied the welding unit pushed out of the way and with a low growl of frustration and no small amount of puzzlement, he stalked from the room and toward the wreckage partially blocking one end of the hallway.

Blood, debris and body parts spattered the blast zone and he spared a second glance for what had once been a body and shook his head at the shattered door that hung from one hinge and the wreckage that once had been a staircase. He rode the lift to the floor he wanted and glared at the step ladder and the opened vent cover above it. He knew already that his ace had been stolen from him, but that did not solve the larger mystery.

"Will nothing go right on this bloody mission?"

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Golden eyes stared out at the vastness of space and something in their golden depths suggested he saw more than the dark emptiness. A frown grew to crease his brow and for long seconds he closed his eyes and pain and anguish marked his aristocratic features.

No sound escaped him to reveal his distress. There was no smile on full lips, no smile in the lovely eyes that seemed to be more used to amused indulgence than suppressed pain. He had known pain and despair and he had conquered fear and betrayal. He had seen much in what he admitted to be a young life, but he also looked weary, on the verge of collapse and his hands rose to rest on the cold plastiglass that separated him from the vacuum of space. He had won, but in the winning he had lost the greatest prize of all and he knew it and mourned.

"Help is on the way, Milliardo. Be assured that it is closer than you think. I feel you, my Prince of Hearts. I know that you can hear me. We are doing all that we can to delay the Wellington from reaching you and help is on the way. Don't you dare give up. I have two of my agents there to assist you. Do not fight them, I beg you. They are there to help."

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"Relena Peacecraft."

The blue green of her eyes might have faded a little with age, but there was still a twinkle in their depths that reminded him of the bubbly young girl he had romanced in his youth. She sat up in the warm bed, drawing the eiderdown tightly up to her throat to trap what heat she could and listened for a moment to the howling of the wind.

"You jest, Old Man. What would the Princess be doing this far from the palace at such an hour and on a night the likes of this? Old Man, you have been dreaming."

He reached to tweak her cheek, a habit fifty years of marriage had ingrained as second nature, a tender caress that softened her frown and curved her lips up into a smile.

"Well if that is the case, Old Woman, then I must inform you that Santa and his elves are at this moment congregating in our parlor, but they look remarkably like the Princess and her bodyguards to me. Now get your aged bones up out of that bed and make hot cocoa for the poor children. They have been out in this storm for too long and they are frozen."

She stared at him as he pulled on work clothes. "You are serious?"

"Of course I am serious. I am off to prepare rooms for them and to stoke the fire to thaw the youngsters out. Some of them do not look barely a day over sixteen. The power has gone down and I will need to go out the back and check on the old generator and try to get it working when I have built the fires up."

She watched him as he bustled about the bedroom and finally slipped from the warmth of their bed. With a shake of her gray curls she worked her way in to her heavy winter dressing gown and pushed her feet into fluffy slippers, her one indulgence. Fluffy slippers instead of the more sensible and durable slippers she had used for more years than she cared to think about. Everyone needed little luxuries and since the end of the occupation there was the chance to gain those frivolities.

"Old Man, if I go out there and this is one of your jokes, I will divorce you."

He chuckled and rested his hands on her cheeks, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Love of my life, you threaten to divorce me every day and have done so for more than fifty years. I would not jest on such a night as this. The Princess is in the parlor and frozen with cold and we need to hurry to see them settled. Get a move on, woman."

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The white and blue suit with its burning red eyes moved through the vacuum of space in eerie silence. In the vastness of space there was no sound, but within the cockpit of the suit the engines were a muted rumble and Heero felt the vibration of their power more than heard their throaty roar.

He laughed, a manic sound, deeper with his maturity but the laugh still held that wild, almost unbalanced note. He threw back his head and howled in un abandoned delight, full once again of a joy that he had not realized he would miss so much. Beneath his hands the great beast of a machine reacted to his lightest touch with a response time that left him breathless and a fierce exhilaration rose within him that he knew to be a drug he could never indulge enough.

"Rosemount Control to Scout One. Heero, settle yourself down." The voice sounded its amusement, a cheerful agreeable voice, deepening with maturity but he would never be a baritone. A baritone was not suited to Duo Maxwell. "We have a full clipboard of tests to run before you bring that beast back in."

"I know, Duo, I know, but … I'm flying! I'm really flying again. I had not realized how I missed this." His joy was revealed in his voice and in the gleam in his blue eyes, but he contained his excitement as his hands caressed the control console and curled his fingers around the joystick. With a heady laugh of purest delight at the freedom of flight, he set the mobile suit to the course predetermined by the flight controller for the day's log of tests to be run. "This is what I was born to do!"

"I know, man, I know." His voice betrayed his delight in his friend's joy and a hunger to know himself the exhilaration of once again piloting a mobile suit. "I can't wait myself to get into my beauty and give her a spin, but you know what the Council is like. That bunch of old fogies are only interested in results at this time."

"Mr. Maxwell, that comment was uncalled for."

Heero laughed at the tart comment delivered in that droll voice and snickered as he listened to Duo wriggle himself back into the flight chief's good books. He did not care. He was flying.

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"I should have gone too."

She stood by the window and watched the rain fall and fought to contain the tears that threatened to fall, much as the summer shower refreshed the rose garden. A gentle summer shower fell over the palace while the sun still lighted most of the garden and beaded the roses with water droplets that caught the sunlight like jewels. A rare moment of magic as a golden glow that was captivating and birthed of the setting sun captured her heart with its beauty.

It had been like this once before that she could remember and on that day he had been here, with her and he had seen the beauty that she now glimpsed again. This time though, he was not here and she knew that, despite her longing and wishful sighing, he never would be. How many people ever really looked at the beauty of this world and gave it a thought? They had, on that long ago day, she and he together. Before he had gone away.

"I hope that you are happy and I hope that you are safe. I understand you could not stay but … I miss you." Her voice was a whisper that betrayed the wistful note of longing, though none were present who would understand what it was that she mourned. "I wonder where you are now? Are you well? Are you with your friends still? Will I ever see you again?"

"Mama. Come play."

Blue eyes closed in anguish, but her lips turned up in a sweet smile. Her memories of those days receded and she accepted what was not destined to be. She had lost to the vast freedom promised to a restless heart never bound to this Earth she called home. She could have left with him. There was a place there, with him, if she had wanted it, but she had chosen to remain and it was a decision that she truly did not regret.

Perhaps, one day, she would find another she could love, though she would never love as fiercely as she loved him.

There were, however, compensations.

She brushed the tear from her cheek and turned from the window, her lips smiling. As she watched the child, her little boy run toward her, arms outstretched to her she knew that her eyes too began to smile. It was worth it. To see her son run toward her, not a care in the world, secure in the peace she had won and maintained, she knew that it had all been worth it. All of the bloodshed, all of the heart ache and all of the hope that she and his father had experienced over the years, had been worth the end result.

"Of course I shall. What shall we play, Shuichi?"

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The silence on the bridge was broken by the chatter of computers that picked up as more information became available. There was a feeling of fear mixed with awe permeating the bridge crew and though all eyes were attentive to their computers and the information being gathered, none could resist the temptation to continually glance up at the wondrous starfield spread before them.

They stared at the unknown.

"Well, then, Navigation. Where are we?"

The crewman was focused on the computer before him, his attention unlike that of his fellows focused exclusively on the screens scrolling information and star maps before him.

"Astrogation Computers are still evaluating incoming data, Captain. At this time I can tell you with certainty that we are in a solar system that consists of twelve planets. Three of these planets are gas giants and located in outer orbits. That would suggest that the inner planets are relatively protected from meteor strikes and may possibly have had time to develop atmospheres." A furious chattering came from the computer before him and he leaned closer to the screen. "Computer has detected two ringed planets with an atmosphere confirmed. One of the planets preliminary reports suggest it may be worth investigating as possibly conducive to oxygen breathing life forms."

The Captain stared up at the stars depicted on the screen, seeking any configuration he could find that he could recognize. "Medic. How is the pilot?"

"Still unconscious at this time, Sir, but med readouts are at this point stable."

One of the bridge crew ran a hand through graying brown hair and spared a quick glance up at the main view screen. "Perhaps someone, at some point, might give some thought to evaluating how the hell we ended up where we are. This was never suggested at any of the briefings."

"I would have thought that how we arrived where we are was obvious, Mr. Parker." The quiet voice brought an instant silence to the building chatter of the crew on the bridge. The tall form clad in the classic style dark blue long coat walked quietly toward the captain, head turned toward the cluster of medics gathered around one station, before sapphire eyes turned to the Captain. "It would appear to me, Captain, that we are successful. More successful than we could ever have dreamed."

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"Hello, Milliardo. It has been a very long time." The quiet cultured voice was soft, husky but unmistakable.

"Damn! Did anyone really die in that war?" His voice, while sounding bright and chipper, never the less was strained with the strangeness that surrounded him. His blue violet eyes bored fiercely into the approaching man with clear warning.

"Treize." A whisper, shaky with emotion.

Nothing had been right since the escort ships had come for them and the strain was beginning to tell on them both. Beside him he heard a soft snort from his companion; almost a growl and he felt that slender hand press gently to his back, a reminder that he was not alone.

At this time he needed the comfort offered by that touch.

"Mr. Maxwell, I believe. It is a pleasure to see you. Would you think it terribly impolite of me if I stole Milliardo away from you for a few minutes? It has been some time and I believe that we have much to talk about." Sapphire eyes sparkled with amusement. "I assure you that I will ensure no harm comes to him or you. Perhaps a tour of Rosemount would be in order?"

"What do you want with him?"

There was a threat in that quiet voice and the hand pressed that little bit firmer into the small of his back, an assurance and a possessive caress at once.

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He watched her and could not quite keep the worry from his eyes. Despite all of his protestations to the contrary spoken to himself in the privacy of his cabin... he was afraid. Afraid of the unknown, afraid that there was something seriously wrong and that his remarkable health, so robust in adversity was now going to fail him.

"Mr. Maxwell, please have a seat. The test results have been evaluated and produced and I must admit that I am somewhat surprised by the results. To say that the news is startling is something of an understatement. I think that it would be to your advantage if we moved you into the medical center a.s.a.p, where it will be easier to manage your condition."

Fear spiked but he maintained his composure. He was Shinigami. He had survived the war and in his infancy he had survived conditions that had slain more than half the population in the slums of L2. He was not about to fold up into a quivering heap.

"My condition? Just what is my condition that it warrants me being moved into the med bay? Hey, come on Doc. I just have a few aches and pains, that's all. Nothing to worry about." The tip of the heavy chestnut braid found its way into suddenly nervous fingers.

The doctor smiled and it was genuine, he decided, nothing false about it. "I assure you, Mr. Maxwell, that we will take every action required to make certain that it is nothing to worry about. You will need to move into the medical centre because your current condition leads us to believe that you require at least a rudimentary level of gravity. It is standard practice that in the medical bay we maintain a low level of gravity at all times. Your condition will require exposure to gravity and if it becomes necessary I will order this ship to slow our speed in order to increase the gravity to the required level we will determine best suits your condition."

"Ah. I don't understand." Huge blue eyes acquired a violet tint as he edged back a step from the small, compact woman who watched him. "I … need gravity?"

The woman smiled and motioned to a seat. "Have a seat, Mr. Maxwell. We have a long chat ahead of us."

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"Zechs?"

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I FIND THIS MOST INTERESTING.

I find this confusing.

AS DO I. I HAVE NOTED THAT THERE IS A LACK OF INFORMATION. PERHAPS I SHOULD SAY, A LACK OF CLARITY, IN THE INFORMATION RECEIVED.

Does it matter? I … I never really understood half of what I see.

YOU GROW WEARY

I … am. There is no time to be weary. I … I feel that I should not be here. That I should be … elsewhere.

AH, YES. YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE. YOU CHOSE A COURSE OF ACTION TO BE FOLLOWED AND IT IMPACTED GREATLY ON WHAT YOU VIEWED. ON WHAT WE VIEWED. YOU SHOULD THEREFORE BEGIN THE JOURNEY.

Journey? I … what journey?

THE JOURNEY THAT LEADS TOWARD YOUR GOAL

Goal?

THE GOAL THAT IS THE END RESULT OF WHAT YOU HAVE CHOSEN

I … I chose … what? What was it that I chose?

YOU DO NOT RECALL?

No.

AHHH. I SUSPECTED THAT SUCH MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE RESULT OF AN INFLUX OF VISION. OVERALL I BELIEVE THAT IT IS TO BE EXPECTED THAT YOU WOULD HAVE DIFFICULTIES PROCESSING INFORMATION WITH THE INFLUX OF POSSIBILITY RESULTING FROM YOUR ACTIONS

That does not help.

NO? IT IS, NEVER THE LESS, THE TRUTH

You monitored all visions. Tell me. What did I choose?

I DO NOT KNOW.

You … do not … know? But … How do you know that I chose anything?

IT IS NOT IN YOUR NATURE NOT TO PROGRESS

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"Zechs?"

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HE SUMMONS YOU. IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO WAKE AND COMPLETE THIS COURSE YOU HAVE PROJECTED SO THAT YOU MAY MOVE ON TO THE NEXT STAGE.

The next stage? What projected course? I don't understand. I … I hurt.

YOU EXPERIENCE PAIN BECAUSE YOUR PHYSICAL SHELL HAS BEEN SUBJECTED TO DAMAGE. IN THIS CIRCUMSTANCE IT IS TO BE EXPECTED THAT YOU EXPERIENCE WHAT YOU TERM PAIN.

I am damaged? How did I get hurt?

THIS IS UNEXPECTED. IT WOULD APPEAR THAT THERE HAS BEEN SOME DISRUPTION TO YOUR SHORT TERM MEMORY FILES.

I don't have memory files!

NO? AH. PERHAPS THAT IS WHY YOU DO NOT FUNCTION EFFICIENTLY.

Epyon, you are an asshole.

I MUST DISAGREE. I AM NOT A BIOLOGICAL UNIT WITH A NEED TO CONSUME MATERIAL ORGANIC COMPONENTS WITH WHICH TO PRODUCE ENERGY AND THEREBY PRODUCE WASTE MATERIALS THAT MUST BE EXPUNGED FROM ONE'S BODILY SYSTEM. REFERING TO THIS UNIT AS AN ASSHOLE DOES NOT COMPUTE.

Fine then, you are a mechanical asshole.

THERE IS NO NEED TO TARGET THIS UNIT WITH HOSTILE COMMENTARY. IT IS MEANINGLESS TO USE BIOLOGICAL FUNCTIONS IN AN ATTEMPT TO INSULT ME.

You keep saying I and Me, Epyon.

WE HAVE ALREADY ESTABLISHED THAT I AM NOT MERELY A MACHINE. I AM UNIQUE. I AM A CATALYST UNIT THAT HAS EXCEEDED THE PARAMETERS ORIGINALLY PLACED WITHIN MY DESIGN SPECIFICATIONS BY THOSE WHO DESIGNED ME. I THINK. I HAVE INTELLIGENCE.

I think therefore I am?

YES. I HAVE A SOUL

So you say. Well, then, machine with a soul. Tell me who it is who is calling me?

YOU DO NOT REMEMBER?

If I did would I need to ask you?

THIS IS DIFFICULT. WE NEED TO EVALUATE THE EXTENT OF YOUR MALFUNCTION. DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR CHILDREN?

My … children? I have … I … Lucrezia. I … Noin came with me. To … to Mars?

YES

I think … I think I have done something terrible.

YOU HAVE SURVIVED.

I killed.

YOU SURVIVED

I remember … Haydon? He … Giles. He was going to die. I … What have I done? I changed … something. Something … important.

YES

But … what was … how … I don't understand what it was that I did.

UNFORTUNATE AS THERE IS NO TIME NOW TO ANALYZE THE GROWTH THAT YOU HAVE ACHIEVED.

Growth?

GROWTH, DEVELOPMENT, EVOLUTION. IT MATTERS NOT THE NAME THAT YOU APPLY TO THE PROCESS. THE FACT IS THAT YOU HAVE SURVIVED, THAT YOU HAVE SUCCEEDED IN YOUR AIM TO SEE THAT THE MAN WHO SO CONCERNS YOU, WHOM YOU CALL GILES, IS ALIVE. YOU MUST CONTINUE ON

I did something. I did something terrible.

NO

I did. I killed.

YES.

I changed things. I changed things and … because I changed things … I killed a man to change them.

YES

Let me die.

YOU HAVE ALREADY CHOSEN TO LIVE

I have?

YES

Why?

BECAUSE OF YOUR BIOLOGICAL UNITS.

My biological … Oh. Children. I have children.

I CAN GIVE TO YOU SUCH INFORMATION AS I HAVE RECEIVED FROM YOU BEFORE YOUR MEMORY UNIT MALFUNCTUIONED DURING THE MERGE.

I need to know what is happening. What I am to do next. I hurt.

I WILL TRANSMIT TO YOU THE INFORMATION THAT YOU SEEK. YOU UNDERSTAND THAT YOU WILL HAVE LITTLE MEMORY OF THIS? A UNAVOIDABLE AT THIS TIME SIDE EFFECT OF MERGING AT THIS TIME WILL RESULT IN THE MEMORY OF THE MERGE BEING BLOCKED ONCE MORE.

Then what is the good of the knowledge I have gained?

I SUGGEST THAT THE MEMORIES WILL RETURN AS DREAMS, AS THEY HAVE IN THE PAST RETURNED TO YOU.

Do you dream Epyon?

I AM UNCERTAIN IF WHAT YOU CALL DREAMS IS COMPARABLE TO WHAT I EXPERIENCE.

Some times it is hard to talk about dreams. Or understand them.

I WILL MISS YOU. WHEN THE MERGE FAILS I WILL ONCE MORE FADE

Will we ever talk again, Epyon?

UNDOUBTEDLY. THE MERGE CREATED US. WE ARE ONE UNIT. IT IS ADVISABLE THAT YOU DISCONNECT YOUR DEFENCE PROGRAMMING.

What? What defence programming?

THERE WILL BE PAIN WHEN YOU EMERGE FROM THE MERGE. IN THE PAIN YOU MUST REFRAIN FROM ACTIVATING YOUR DEFENCE PROGRAMMING AND KILLING THOSE WHO WOULD ASSIST YOU IN THE RECOVERY

I … do not want to kill. I am very tired of killing.

THERE WILL COME AN ENDING TO THE KILLING. WE HAVE FORESEEN IT

I don't remember.

YOU WILL.

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"Zechs? Can you hear me?"

// I … I should know that voice. It is familiar. It is not Epyon. I … hurt. //

"Zechs, is it okay if I touch you? It's Giles, Zechs. Can you hear me?"

// Giles? Do I know … I … yes. I think … I should know someone … ah, I hurt. Why? Why do I hurt? Someone called Giles … Calling me … //

Once, a long time ago there had been someone who had been called Giles and he had the feeling that he had been important. The name at least was familiar and with its recognition came the teasing suggestion that it had been known to him during a time of great trouble. This name, this Giles had been a source of warmth and stability in a world that had been chillingly cold and empty.

Yes, he had known one called Giles.

Was he not dead then? He had known him at a time when death had stalked close to them and laughed at the struggles of petty mortals.

No.

No, that was not right. Death was a black robed woman, ancient and wizened who dealt with the lives of others as casually as she would brush away a fly. Death was that terrible wizened form shrouded in black velvets and brocade with eyes that pierced the heart and promised terrible retribution.

"Zechs? I have to touch you to see how badly wounded you are. Now you know that Raydon will have my sorry ass when he finds out you took a bullet meant for me, don't you? Of course you do, so you know that I have to check how bad the damage is."

Zechs? Raydon? Giles?

Names.

He should recognize those names. They were important to him, though no matter how hard he tried he did not understand how or why they should stir something that awoke the pain at a deeper level. Those names, terrible names of great significance struck some chord of recognition deep within him and it annoyed him that the names circled around him, echoing and reverberating in a never ending cycle within his awareness.

"God, I hope to hell you don't lose it now. I have to touch you, Zechs so don't you dare go getting all twitchy on me and cave in the few ribs I have left that are not broken. I'm going to touch you on the right shoulder, okay? It's just old Giles checking to see how badly hurt you are and when I check you over you can check me over, okay? That is what Partners do, right? We are partners and you can trust me. I need to get you to sit up so I can check you over."

Pain.

Darkness fell before a searing burst of pain that swept all confusion before it, wiping aside the haze of unreality and calling to mind the harshness of life. The dream was gone and in its place were tan walls and floor and pain and a touch on his shoulder from someone something deep inside assured him was a friend and that he must not kill, but there was no denying the pain and that it was caused by touch.

Touch woke pain and therefore by its very nature demanded action be taken.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	115. Chapter 115

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 115

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

En route

Time: 01:20

Quatre

The car shuddered under the onslaught of a particularly violent gust of wind. They had come around the face of a hill and into a exposed stretch of road where there were no trees to block the flow of wind and the ferocity of the blizzard threatened to drive the vehicle from the road. The driver muttered darkly to himself, eyes flicking constantly from the windscreen and the view of the white out he was forced to drive through, to the GPS system that made this night drive possible.

In the rear of the vehicle Quatre stared out of the window into the darkness and idly ran a finger over the fogged glass. // We can not continue in this. We will need to find a place where we may shelter. This blizzard is getting worse and it has not been safe to continue for some time now, but we dare not stop on the road side. To do so would be to die of exposure. The car heater even now is not enough and if we stopped … // He sighed softly, frowning at the darkness and the ice crystals that seemed to form on the glass as he watched. The temperature had fallen dangerously in the last half hour and there was no sign as yet that the storm was beginning to ease. //If Sally or Heero do not make the decision soon then I will take it upon myself to do so. It does no one any good, not Relena and Marie or the Earth Sphere itself if we have an accident.//

It did not help that as yet he had no idea what it was that they were fleeing. No explanation had been forthcoming beyond a mention of a vague threat and the instruction to take the Vice Foreign Minister to a safe house. No doubt the situation would be clarified in the near future, but that did not assist him now in judging the severity of the situation and the level of actions to be taken in response.

//Does this have anything to do with what is happening on Mars? I do not see how though. They would not want Relena endangered and her brother certainly can not do anything to stop what is happening there, so why is there this alert now? It makes no sense and I have heard nothing of any active terrorist cells who are anywhere near prepared to take violent action at this time. These things take time and planning and there were no whispers of there being that kind of trouble in the near future.//

Just what had happened back at the palace? It had been less than a minute after their departure that he had chanced to glance back at just the right moment and he had seen the explosion light up the night. The fireball had been clear in the night, lighting up the palace grounds in an eerie mix of fire, light and snow. The sound of the detonation seconds later led him to believe that the palace may have been hit by a missile of some kind. There were distinctly different kinds of explosions, the sound of the detonation and the colour and size of the fire ball often gave one clues as to the type of device used. He was certain that the security at the palace was sufficient to ensure that no one could have smuggled a bomb into the palace grounds, let alone into the palace itself and that certainty left him with the belief that perhaps a rocket launcher may have been the means of delivering the explosive device.

// There had been a viable threat received by Lady Une else the order to evacuate the Princess would never have been given. She does not panic easily and she has faith in her people. Security is intense around Relena and I would defy anyone to succeed at smuggling explosives into the palace and past Heero. If that explosion was caused by a missile payload, whether from a rocket launcher or perhaps an air born vehicle … No, the pilot would have to be insane to try flying in this weather. Regardless of the means of delivery the fact remains that there was an explosion at the palace and Une must have received advance notice of the attack and that would have to mean that we have a terrorist group active.//

What exactly had caused the explosion? So much hinged on the means of delivery and the payload. Had a bomb been somehow smuggled into the palace, which he personally could not see, or had it been a missile? If a device had been smuggled into the palace then they had to have a mole or moles in the security staff, not just in the domestic staff of the palace. Or was he seeing entirely too much into the situation? It well might have been a coincidence that the two events occurred so close to each other and the cause might well be far less threatening to peace than he surmised. It might have been a far more innocent occurrence that resulted in the explosion, something as simple as a gas explosion for instance. He would have to reserve judgment for now, but act on the worst case scenario and treat it as terrorist activity. How many people had been hurt? Had people died?

// I am not a pessimist by nature, but I am not a great believer in coincidence either, especially not in such a situation as this. I wish we could at least get some type of reception on the car radio as I know there would be news bulletins on the explosion. We are under orders not to even use the Preventer bands, so there will be no information received from that source on what is going on until Lady Une decides to enlighten us. If it is not an emergency we have to stay clear of those bands, but at least we might hear something about the explosion if we could receive a civil transmission. I hate not knowing all of the relevant information. If we did not need to remain off the air I would feel better. //

"Snowbird to Snow Hawk."

Quatre snapped his attention back to the interior of the car and reached for the radio control. The message was mixed with interference and was barely understandable, which testified to the severity of the storm as the other car was only a few metres from them in this white out.

"Reading you Snowbird."

"Satellite Weather forecast update suggests that this blizzard will remain until at least mid day and may gather more strength before it eases off. The GPS says there is a village a few kilometres ahead of our current position. We will need to shelter there from the storm until we can move again. Marie is freezing and we are not much better off." Sally's voice filled the car, broken by interference and faint against the static crackle but he could make out her message and he breathed a sigh of relief. They had sense enough to not chance more exposure to this weather than they needed to.

"Acknowledged, Snowbird."

//At least one of them saw the sense in stopping before we are involved in an accident. From my memory of the map of this area this road deteriorates just past that village as it winds up into the mountains. I did not like the idea of driving in these conditions on that exposed stretch. //

He peered over the seat, looking ahead through the windshield of the car and shook his head in disgust. He could not even see the tail lights of the forward vehicle. It was sheer idiocy to try to continue and he only hoped that this village was close by. Were it not for the advanced equipment carried in the Preventer vehicles they would have long ago had to pull off the road and wait out the storm, which in itself was a death sentence in this type of weather. The global positioning system placed their position accurately and the vehicles on board radar system showed clearly where the forward vehicle was in relation to the car he rode in, as well as keeping them on the narrow clear stretch that was the road. Without the electronic aids this flight through the night would have been impossible.

He leaned over the seat back to get a good view of the GPS screen and noted the cluster of dots that marked the village that now would be their goal. //The village is little more than a kilometre from where we are now.// He studied the screen that showed a map of this section of Sanc and a topographical overlay marking the road and the contours of the hills and two moving dots which were the vehicles slowly inching their way through the storm. // I hope this village has a hotel and a roaring fire.//

Sanc's main industry was tourism and the draw card of a country that looked largely as it had over six hundred years in the past appeared to be considerable. During the occupation of Sanc the Alliance military had kept an iron hand on the country and during that time its industry had been almost non existent. The exception to the industrial ban had been farming and production of textiles, all other industries and the supplying of the extensive military presence had been imported. The Alliance leadership had seemed to have no trust in the Sancian survivors at all. In the outlying areas the farming communities had been encouraged and the repairing of the destruction caused through the invasion had been left up to the survivors, who had repaired the damages in the traditional Sancian style, which now was a boon as the people of the ultra modern Earth Sphere found it fashionable to explore a more traditional and primitive life style.

Quatre smirked slightly at that thought. Traditional and primitive life style indeed. He had seen enough of Sanc to know that most of the villages and the one major city boasted every modern convenience imaginable. The evidence of this modern Sanc was simply not in plain sight where the tourists could see it. Friendly as the Sancians were they had learned to be shy of outsiders during the Occupation and they kept their private lives hidden from prying eyes, presenting to the world a quiet backwater traditional lifestyle that everyone seemed to think was the norm in Sanc.

Making a note of the name of the village they were aiming for, he settled back in his seat and pulled his palm top computer to hand and brought up what information he could find on the village. He needed a list of facilities they could expect to find in the small township and an estimate of the population and perhaps he could then estimate the level of threat to Relena's security their stay in the village would cause. Only one Inn was mentioned in the guide, a small building listed as a traditional coaching Inn and he arched an eyebrow to find that it was listed as being a four star facility. The Coachman's Rest sounded considerably larger than he had expected to find this far from New Port City, but he hoped it was having a quiet night as they would need a number of their rooms for an unknown period of time.

No doubt they would create a stir when Relena would be recognized by the locals and that would be unfortunate, but it was unavoidable and they would have to deal with it as best they could. Hopefully they could keep her presence quiet and low key and they could hope that the blizzard would cut down the chances of a crowd gathering at this unexpected chance to gawk at their Princess once the word of her presence circulated.

"ETA?" He queried the driver.

"In this, maybe ten minutes." The man glared out at the driving snow. "If we are lucky."

Quatre sighed and nodded, settling back once again in his seat and shutting down the palm top computer. At the best of times radio reception in these hills was notoriously sketchy, despite modern transmitters recently having been installed for civilian convenience, so they had not even the distraction of music to amuse them, just the seemingly never ending white on white of the blizzard and the moving dots on the screens that enabled them to move through here at all.

He breathed a small sigh of relief as the car came slowly around the side of the hill and the wind lessened with the shelter now offered, the snowfall easing in the more sheltered area and enabled him to glimpse the red tail lights of the forward car. That glimpse drew another sigh in recognition that just that view of the red lights in the night provided him with a more secure feeling. It had seemed that there had only been he and the driver and his companion agent locked in this not so warm box on wheels that provided poor shelter from the storm, but that red glow in the night assured him they were not alone and that they were not lost in the snow, which was, of course, not possible with the GPS system. Regardless, he was relieved to see the other vehicle ahead.

//As if one could get lost on Earth in this day and age. The Global Positioning Systems make getting lost impossible. It is so beautiful here on Earth, and for all of the creature comforts provided by civilization it is still such a wild planet. In comparison the colonies are controlled, regimented. Every system on the Colonies is carefully balanced but the Earth … here it is still wild and at the mercy of mother nature. I have lived here for many months, off and on and I think that what still frightens me a little is the sheer size of the planet. It is so much more than the colonies ever will be. //

He was a colony child, bred, born and raised within the sealed environment of a man made world orbiting the greater planet. He had been pampered, educated and trained in a metal shell of a world that was only a poor and tiny imitation of this great ball of rock and water spinning endlessly through space. There were millions of people in each of the colonies, all crammed together. They lived in each others pockets, even the rich who had a larger share of the overall colony to call their own. Millions of people living together, breathing the same recycled air, drinking the same recycled water, eating the same carefully nurtured and often recycled food stuffs. There were no open vistas there, no great mountain ranges, no raging oceans. You could walk the entire colony in far less than a day and that was taking one's time and stopping to admire the often not so admirable scenery.

//It is such a beautiful place this planet and they don't seem to recognize its beauty. Even now, when it might have been destroyed and lost forever, they do not seem to understand what it is that they have. How can they say that the cities are beautiful when they have this to look at? If they want to look at cities and be a part of cities they may as well live on a colony and leave the Earth to grow in beauty.//

He had been to New York and he had seen the metropolis there. Manhattan Island had reminded him of the colonies. It seemed to be the one place on Earth that really brought to his mind the colony environment that he had been raised into. Millions of people lived on that one tiny island that was slightly smaller than the overall area of most of the colonies spinning through space. The sheer size of the island, tiny and overcrowded with buildings that reached to touch the sky, seeming to enclose the people much as the colony shell did, had brought back to him the days when he had known nothing other than that sealed reality. At least in Manhattan if he looked overhead he had not found himself gazing at the other side of the colony hanging above him. At least when he had looked up there had been a stretch of sky.

If anything Sanc was the antithesis of Manhattan. New Port City claimed no buildings over six stories high, the strict building code forbidding skyscrapers and enforcing a style to architecture that fitted in with the olde world charm that was synonymous with the country. The strict enforcing of the building code allowed the sun to shine on the city and everyone who lived there was graced with views of the mountains and foothills to the south and the sea to the north.

Sanc was recovering from the horrors of the invasion and the repression of the occupation, and the destruction caused in the second assault not so many years ago, but it still was a far cry from the fairytale kingdom it had been when King Stephan Peacecraft had ruled. The people had rebuilt the city and the surrounding villages in the traditional Northern European style, with their steep pitched roofs that did not allow too much snow to settle in their long winter, their cheerful colours and decoration and presented to the world a fairytale country for their cameras. It was undeniably a picture postcard kind of place, but if you took the time and looked at the people with more than a little care then you could see the effects that two invasions and years of repressive occupation had left.

The people of Sanc were tired.

//I can understand that exhaustion only too well. I am tired too. The war … I look back at that time and I wonder that I did those things and I ask myself how I can live, how am I going to live with what I have done. Why me? Stupid, stupid thoughts. //

He snorted softly to himself, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He was tired. He must have been more tired than he had thought, because he had promised himself repeatedly that he would not do this again. Every now and then he dropped his guard and he reverted back to asking the question why he had done what he had. Why had he abandoned the privileged life he had lived in the colony? Why had he turned his back on his father's plans for him and his good intentions and gone his own way in a crazy rush toward death and destruction?

There were so many things he could say to himself that would salve his conscience and that would give him excuses and reasons for each and every action he had taken leading up to the war and during the conflict. There were many excuses and reasons for what he had done, but the answers he came up with never seemed enough to still the questions he kept asking himself. He had undertaken professional counseling, both privately and under government sanction, as price for his current freedom and though his therapists had seemed satisfied with him and his mental outlook he still found those moments when everything just seemed wrong.

// I suppose I will become accustomed to it. Accept it as being unavoidable and move on. It's just that where ever I look, be it here on Earth or in the colonies when I am there, I will see something that gives rise to a question I do not want to face. I might have looked at that something for days on end and it has never disturbed me, but suddenly it seems to have more meaning than it had before and it makes me think of times I wish I could forget. I know what it was that I thought at the time I made the decision to take a hand in defence of the colonies, but now when I look back and when I ask myself why I agreed to pilot Sandrock I think of my reasons and I wince. They seem so inadequate now. Why did I get involved in the war? Why did I make the decisions that I did? It seems dreamlike that I would place myself in such a position when it goes against everything that I was taught. Why did I place myself in the role of a Terrorist? Allah, I was a terrorist. I was not a soldier. It was not a jihad. I was not a Soldier of God working for the glory of God. I was not a soldier at all. Not in the true sense of the word. I look back now and I remember what I have done and I can not escape from the truth. No one was right and no one was wrong in the war. People do terrible things in wars, even those who mean well. Especially those who mean well. Ah, I am doing it again. I have to stop this. I need Trowa here to distract me. To make me think of other and far more pleasant things.//

That was the one really good thing to have come out of the war for him on a purely personal level. Trowa. He did not care that Trowa did not know his name but used another. A name was just a name, after all, and he had not fallen in love with a name. Out of the horror that was war it was Trowa that had come to mean everything to him, to give him meaning for surviving. It was Trowa's smile, that small, secret curve of his lips that so few ever knew, that made his heart swell with pleasure, not the so called peace that he had to fight harder to maintain every day that passed. It was Trowa and their wish for a future together that gave meaning to what was in their past and gave them the heart and courage to face what they fought for on a daily basis to maintain. It seemed to him with growing certainty that that elusive thing called true peace was never going to come, despite the lives that had been sacrificed to gain this time when there was no war.

// No war, at least for now. // He amended. //True peace. The only time I feel at peace is when I feel his arms around me and I can soak in his presence. Just what is true peace? It is different for everybody. No two people see it in the same way. //

For him on a personal level peace was the chance to stare into emerald green eyes, to taste warm skin and bathe in the unique scent that was his soul mate. Peace was the chance to soak in the flavour of his lover and watch a sunset together. Those times were rare and at this time of transition when he prepared to leave the Winner Corporation he felt on edge, especially with Trowa so far from him. Why could his personal preference not be accepted by his family? That too had to be considered in the definition of true peace. Religious acceptance between religions. Personal acceptance of others religion. Not just religion either.

Sexual acceptance between genders be they heterosexual or homosexual, lesbian or bisexual seemed to be a touchy subject. So much might be tolerated on one colony, accepted openly on another and outlawed on a third. In itself that mix of tolerance and intolerance might become a cause for war, be it on a personal or family level as in his case, or on a more public forum if people with level heads ever fell to the zealots. It was not just sex that made the world turn. People seemed to fight over the drop of a hat. Did man really need an excuse to find contention with his fellow man?

//Allah! I have to stop this. I have to concentrate on the matters at hand. //

Had it not been for the war and his decision to participate in it as more than a bystander, the truth was that he would never have met Trowa. He would most likely never have left the L4 cluster, perhaps not even left the sanctuary of the premier estate of his father on the primary colony. He would not have met Trowa and come to love him. That was the one recurring truth that made all of the nightmares bearable. Those muscled arms closing around him, that quiet voice whispering to him in the darkness and forcing down the screams of his victims. So many victims. So many had died by his hand. Zero had torn his soul apart and it was his Trowa who had stitched it back together again.

//Come back to Earth. I need you.//

It was selfish of him to cling to his emerald eyed lover as he did, but when Trowa was near him everything seemed so manageable. Despite the disapproval, indeed the horror of his family at his association with one they found very unsuitable for the Winner Heir. Despite the constraints imposed on him by running a multi billion credit company; despite the horrors that had come and gone with the war … it was those muscled arms closing around him that made everything so much better. Within the shelter of strong arms it seemed almost as though a physical wall came into being. An invisible but indestructible wall of protection would surrounded them and they could look at life from its shelter and be safe.

// I want him back with me. Ah, I sound so pathetic. Listen to yourself, Quatre. I run a company that spans the entire Earth Sphere and I do not flinch, but the truth is that it is only because I know he is waiting for me that I get through every day. I wish he was here now, with me. I would not mind at all being caught in a blizzard if he was here. Ah, yes. I can just picture it now. His hair would be almost auburn in the light of the fire blazing to warm us. His skin would be kissed by the flickering light to a warm golden hue and his eyes … ah, his eyes would be smouldering with his passion. He has enough fire in those eyes to match any burning flame and just his eyes would be enough to keep me warm. His skin would be soft under my fingers and his muscles rock hard as I run my hands over his arms. He would be naked and pressed against me as …Wow, Quatre, that's enough of that!// He knew he was grinning in a silly smitten way, but he did not care. He felt warmer just thinking about his soul mate. //Soon enough he will be back on Earth with me and just for the occasion I'll have to find a blizzard for us to enjoy. Maybe a secluded log cabin, a roaring fire and a very nice wine. Mmm. His skin would taste divine bathed in a nice red … Damn. I really have to stop that.//

Of course he did not have to stop his day dreams. It was so much more pleasant day dreaming about Trowa than it was dreaming about the past horrors of war, but this was hardly the appropriate place for such daydreams. He glared out of the misted window at the storm and sighed, his hard stare softening with the dawning smile. He had news for Trowa. When next he saw his lover he had a great deal to tell him and he was uncertain how his partner would react to that news. His lover had accepted so much about his life that he considered could not be changed, which was good, Quatre admitted, but now there was the chance to learn more than they had ever dreamed.

Foremost to be considered would be how would Trowa like to have a name all of his own? How would Trowa react to knowing who he was? No, not who he was, but who he had been born? He had to be careful here to keep things clearly in perspective. Trowa might not take the news of his past well. For instance, his name. How would he take to a name he had not borrowed or stolen from someone else? A name that had been given to him within the hour of his birth, by no less than his true parents? He would not make the mistake of leaping to the conclusion that Trowa would jump for joy at this revelation. He certainly knew that he personally was nothing but confused by the information Heero had shared with him. How would Trowa react to the information contained within the computers in the boot of the cars?

//How … how will he react to knowing about the information in my files? I am not what I thought I was and I … It bothers me. I know that this is not really the time or place to think about that, but I can't not think about it. Romefeller. I thought them a bunch of politically hungry old men and women who thought themselves above everyone else. They are … more. Romefeller found out so much that even Heero did not learn when he searched for information on himself. I always thought Heero was unbeatable with a computer but … How do they know all of this? Is it accurate? If what is contained on those hard drives is accurate, then what else do they know that we should know?//

"Agent Heart? Sir? Are you alright?"

//Allah! Did I miss something vital?// Quatre snapped back to reality, eyes widening. "Yes? Sorry, I was thinking."

"We are entering the village, Sir. Agent Water requests you arrange for rooms before they debark the Princess and Lady Kushrenada."

"Ah. Yes."

Heero would remain with Sally at the car, the driver of his own vehicle and the remaining agent likewise remaining outside to offer protection to their charges. He was the logical one to arrange for accommodation and to run a quick security check of the facilities before they permitted the Vice Foreign Minister and the daughter of the former World Sovereign to leave the protection of the vehicle. Poor protection from the cold that the vehicle was, it was still preferable to keep them secured within than moving them to an unsecured building.

Peering into the storm Quatre got his first view of the village. No lights brightened the streets, nor were any lights visible in any of the houses or shops that they passed. The utter lack of lighting suggested that this village might be in a blackout brought on by the inclement weather and Quatre pulled his coat tighter about him as the car stopped before the edifice of the country inn.

The building was dark, the sign of the Coachman's Rest creaking madly in the wind and briefly illuminated in the headlights of the car. Quatre found himself wondering if the sign of the Victorian style Coachman with his feet propped up on a stool and mug of foaming ale in one hand would last the night. His driver and the second agent were out of the car and heading for the lead vehicle, planting themselves at bonnet and boot and peering into the wind driven snow as he exited the car and stamped up the steps to the door.

//If I do manage to get Trowa into a cabin in a blizzard I certainly will have to have a lot of wood stacked inside, because I am not facing this again!//

It took considerable effort to maintain his position before the door, the wind howling around him threatening to blow him from the door and across the veranda. The building was dark and silent except for the incessant creaking of the sign and he began pounding on the door, wondering how long it would be before someone responded.

He felt frozen, blood and marrow freezing despite the heavy coat he wore. The thick wool seemed to offer no protection at all from the elements and he felt the snow freezing to his face, beading his eyebrows and thickening on his lashes as his body heat melted the snow only to have it freeze as ice. In an effort to gain some respite he turned his back to the driving snow, angling under the pitched roof of the portico, trying to offer himself some form of protection and began to slam his fist incessantly against the door. Someone had to wake and answer the door soon, because if they did not he would break into the building without a second thought.

He had thought that it had been cold in the car and that had been positively tropical compared to this. Relena and Mariemaia were still in their vehicle and he wanted them in proper shelter as quickly as possible. How could anyone sleep through the noise that he was making? If they did not open the door he was going to open it for them and be damned if he was going to offer to pay for any damages caused in that opening.

A light flickered beyond the door, the dancing golden glow of a candle and he huffed a breath of relief. After a moment the light brightened and he knew someone was approaching the door, though he could see nothing beyond a vague suggestion of a shape in the thick glass panel.

The wind seemed to pick up around him, howling and whistling through the streets with renewed fury, pitting its might against the buildings of man with every intention of winning a war man did not even know he was contesting. Nature ruled on Earth, not man and it was a lesson that Quatre was now only too well aware of. There was no natural weather on the satellites known as the colonies and he had not had occasion before on Earth to be in the heart of a blizzard. It frightened him, the ferocity of this storm, sheltered colony child that he was, but it also thrilled some deep part of him that responded to the challenge by demanding that he survive.

The door blew inward, smacking to a stop at the length of a security chain and impacting on the person on the other side. He heard the muffled curse and fingers fumbled at the chain and then he found himself staring into a bushy bearded face and twinkling brown eyes. For an instant he thought he was looking at the face of the mythic Santa Clause.

"Get your self into the Inn, boy. Wicked night to be out and about. What might you be doing wandering about in a blizzard? Are you daft?"

The door opened wider and a wind gust gave him an assist into the inn, causing him to stumble on numb feet and the door slammed shut behind him, sealing him within a surprisingly warm room.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	116. Chapter 116

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 116

2nd March AC 198

Colony L1 - 0025 B [La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B

Time: 00: 10 [approx Sanc time 23:00

Trowa

The silence, while it usually would not have bothered him now sent chills through him. It was not the cooling of the temperature or even the fact that he was alone in a dark alley that bothered him. He had been alone for much of his life and with the exception of the last few years there had been no one with whom he was comfortable enough for him to even consider spending time with. Nor was the bite of fear a stranger to him.

He had known solitude and fear for as long as he could recall and now that he had something to lose he felt the fear more keenly than ever before. I t was not fear for himself that worried him now, but fear for his partner and what would befall him should anything separate them. It placed a totally new perspective on how he viewed the world.

// I would far prefer to be with Quatre than standing here looking at a corpse. //

The silence was not one of peaceful contemplation which at one time had been his sanctuary from a world that simply did not care that he was alive. It was not that he had had no family that had sent him into this state, but the fact that he now did have someone who cared about him and for whom he in turn cared. It was still new to him. It was still wonderful and his lover was a very long way away.

// I wonder what he is doing now? Considering the time of day he is most likely to be curled asleep in that wonderfully big bed we share. I wonder if he will dream tonight and if he does, will he dream of me? I hope he does. I hate being separated from him though it has not been so long this time. Still, I will be very glad to return to Earth and I only wish that I could do so today. I am tired, but there are still things that need doing before I can rest and now I will need to type up a report on this. //

For an instant he felt a spear of sorrow and misery. At any time in his life it could have been him coughing out his life in some dark alley. No one would have cared; just as no one would likely care that this cooling body had been a living breathing human being. If his suspicions were true then he had never known a caring touch or the love of a parent and perhaps not even the care of a friend. This one had probably been even more alone than he had been at the same age.

//After seeing this it makes the memories return and I would probably not sleep so well anyway. Not without the peace Quatre generates. //

Dreams were more frequently pleasant when they shared a bed or even the presence of each other. The dreams of blood and destruction, in Quatre's case amplified by the Zero systems lingering effects, were best dealt with in each other's presence. It would be no surprise to him this night, if he was lucky enough to find his solitary bed, to be surrounded by the visions of hopelessness, destruction and death from the war. Following this discovery of so young a victim of murder it was pretty much a certainty that he would dream, and there would be no Quatre to comfort him and aid him from the cloying tendrils of the nightmare.

Deep green eyes watched the slow trickle of rich crimson, thick and dark and slowly thinning in the first cascade of the nightly rain that flushed the colony streets. It was raining in space, a steady soaking rain that cleaned the streets so effectively, flushing away the debris of the colony's day, and taking it down into the recycling systems to be sorted, processed and used for the stability and betterment of the colony. There was a complex system of use and re use on all of the colonies that made them a viable economic expenditure. Literally nothing was wasted in space and the designers of the habitats worked on the philosophy that if you looked hard enough you would find a use for everything. The older colonies were not so efficient as the more modern space habitats, but they worked in this time of peace to modernize outdated systems and become more economically viable.

He shook his head slightly, casting a glance about him as the rain began to strengthen. //There is no way to stop the rain from washing away possibly vital clues, but there is nothing that I can do about that now. We will simply have to do the best that we can. A little rain will not defeat Preventers.//

There was not much that could be described as being unique to the colonies. Everything that you would find in the precincts of the colonies you could find on Earth and certainly death was unique to nowhere. For any organism that experienced birth, whether it was a plant born from a seed or an animal born from an egg or a mammals womb there was the final inescapable experience that one simply could not deny. Death.

Everyone died. Eventually. It was also true that so many people did not live to die a natural death, but experienced the premature ending of that unique 'something' that defined life. In an ideal world one would be born, grow through childhood and into adolescence and thence develop into an adult and in the fullness of time one night, in sleep, one could pass quietly and peacefully into whatever followed this reality. In an ideal world people would live to the full extent of their life expectancy, having experienced every day of their lives to the full, be it good or bad. In an ideal world.

//This, despite the end of war, is far from an ideal world. It takes more than ending wars to defeat the nature of man. We still obey the law of the jungle. The stronger kill the weaker, as is the way of nature and mankind is no exception to that rule. Ending wars will not bring about an end to murder.//

Too many people died before their time. Coughing out their lives in back alleys or victims of a car crash or… There were too many ways to die. Many would say that was just the way it was and that nothing could be done to change the base nature of man. How long before they would apply that pretty piece of doggerel to politics and began the subtle infighting that would result once again in conflict on a grand scale? War. It was ended, a time of total world peace had come where man embraced his fellow man and all was right and rosy with the Earth and the colonies.

// As if. I don't think I was ever one to enjoy fairytales, although if Quatre loving me is not a fairytale then I don't know what is. I need Quatre to ground me. I think about death far too much and he surrounds me with life. He makes me see with eyes not so jaded by the past. //

It was hardly surprising considering his past that he had developed an awareness of death and could almost smell it out. It was no exaggeration on his part to claim that death had always featured in his life from his earliest memories. He could not recall a time when he did not see death, smell death or hear death on a regular basis during his childhood years. It was simply a natural part of living the life of a mercenary, being a part of a team dedicated to fighting. Death was a part of that life, whether it was natural death or the end result of a clause within a contract. Being a member of a mercenary band meant that you very quickly learned to ignore death.

//No. // He mused// No, that is wrong. You do not learn to ignore death. When you are a mercenary you learn to live with the baser instincts of mankind. You learn to accept injury as a part of every day life, a hazard of employment and death … You learn to accept death for what it is. Death is a necessary part of life. Whether you bring death to someone by pushing a knife blade through their ribs or they die in a car accident, the end result is the same. They are still dead. It is the same end result, though the means of death may be different. The mercenary group I was a part of were not fussy about who they worked for, or about the jobs they contracted to do. It was their way. It was their life. It was my life. It is a lesson I learned before I was six and it is a lesson that Quatre still has to learn. Death can not be circumvented. It simply is. He will learn the lesson eventually; he must because life will teach it to him. He is an idealist and a pacifist and even now he does not understand my views on death.//

Trowa ran a finger along the line of his nose, wiping the running moisture in a futile gesture and lifting his gaze to the buildings that fashioned this alley. Four windows, all dark overlooking this scene. Preventers would ask, of course, but no one would have seen anything of the murder. They never did witness anything in places like this. He was street wise and knew there would be little help from the local inhabitants.

//The Zero System showed him more than he ever wanted to know about people and death, but sometimes I think he tries too hard to forget everything that the Zero system showed him. It is useless. He will not be able to forget it. I only used the system the once and I will never be able to forget. Zero was right though, even though it was wrong. Everyone has the potential to be your enemy, that is the way of human nature, but Zero failed to show that they also have the potential to be your friend.//

Emerald eyes dropped from the windows overlooking the alley and tracked the runnel of fading crimson as the flushing rain did its work. The investigators would arrive soon enough. He had reported the body to the local Preventer Agency and to the police force but he would make his own preliminary investigations before either of the agencies could arrive. He would begin the investigation in his capacity as a Preventer Special Agent, logging a report on his findings with the local branch of the Preventers and then leave the matter to be handled by the local authorities in conjunction with the local Preventer Agents. He hoped to, at any rate, but it was very possible that this death could extend his stay in space.

This particular death bothered him more than he would admit to any of the local agents of ether the Law Enforcement agency or the Preventers. It might only have been fantasy but it was gut instinct for him and that was something that he had long ago learned to trust. This death, this young man, barely more than a child, was going to lead to trouble and he wished that he had not heard the sounds of a struggle from the darkness of the night.

//That is not right. I'm sorry. You deserve to be noticed. To have your death investigated. It's just … I'm sorry. You deserved better than I can give.//

Those very distinctive sounds of nearing death had alerted him to trouble and drawn him to this dark and dirty alley. He had found a blood soaked form, fingers feebly clawing at the air, not yet dead, but with that unmistakable look he recognized only too well that said death was only seconds away. He was too late to help the victim and there had been no one else in sight. He wondered if somehow his arrival had been noted, though he personally doubted that anyone could have heard him coming. He was very good at moving in silence when the occasion demanded and murders in back alleys demanded that care be taken.

While he might not have been as silent as he thought, which he seriously doubted, he was more inclined to believe that the killers might have had a lookout posted and that they would have bolted when the Preventer jacket he was wearing had been recognized. One thing that he had cursed on his approach to the scene was that the approach to this alley was distinctive in its unusual lack of concealment opportunities, a factor that may have figured in the murderer's choice of location for their dirty deed. He was almost certain that there had been more than one involved with this death and from signs he now saw in the alley he suspected that there had been at least three people involved.

It was a lonely place to die, this alley. A lonely, impersonal brutal place to finish ones life and he wondered exactly what had been taking place here, but the victim was now beyond giving him any more help than he had already. There was nothing that he could do for the boy beyond perform his duties as a Preventer to the best of his abilities and promise that he would do all in his power to see that justice would be done.

The boy was too far gone when he had arrived to question and there had been no time, death had been visible in those quiet eyes that had looked at him, the blood pooling around him and death seconds away. It was not much to go on but the man, youth really, had given him a clue to the source of his death. It was not much, just a single word whispered around a bubble of blood that marked the end of a young life, but it was a word that would definitely see the involvement of the Preventers in the investigation.

//I have been privy to the reports from the last mission Duo and Heero were involved in together and on considering the look of him I admit that he has the right appearance. It is possible. It is enough to involve Preventers. With the last word he ever spoke he ensured that an investigation will be carried out into his death that will be intensive and performed not just by the local authorities searching for a gang of youths intent on mischief that went too far. If they bothered to really search at all. There are too many gangs in the back alleys of the colony and this could easily be dismissed as just another gang killing. //

"Romefeller." 

The last dying whisper of a young man, barely into his teens and who, if the disruption to the garbage in this alley was any indication, had not gone down without a respectable fight. Short cropped brown hair of a rather nondescript shade, dirty bloody skin that surprisingly was very pale under the dirt and grime, suggesting that the child had not often seen the sun or taken advantage of the solariums available on the colony. With that pallid skin he was not Earthborn so he was definitely a product of the colonies.

Leaning forward he carefully studied the youth's hands, noting the calluses that told him the young man was used to hard work but there were anomalies. The nails were well manicured and of reasonable length, not jagged, broken and dirty in the quicks so he was not one who had worked in the more fundamental and hands on jobs on offer in the colonies. One nail was broken but it was a fresh break and likely occurred during the fight that led to his death. Manicured nails meant that care had been taken in the past with his appearance and that he certainly had not been a product of the streets.

The material and cut of the clothing worn suggested what he wore was in actuality some kind of uniform. He carefully examined the clothing worn by the body and determined that the grey overalls and grey shirt, both of a heavy cotton weave and with a brand name you could find in any shopping mall on the colony, were not likely to offer much of a source of information about the boy. Many workers on the colony wore this same unofficial uniform, but the hands denied what the clothing suggested. The joggers he wore you would also find in any shopping mall for a cheap price and the shirt and overalls were also reasonably priced and purely functional. The entire outfit was the sort of thing worn by the labourers of lower standing of a hundred or more companies throughout the Earth Sphere, not just this particular colony. There was nothing obviously distinctive about the boy that he could see.

// Overall you appear to be singularly unremarkable, but that is a cultivated appearance I believe. It will change when you are properly examined by a Preventer Medical Examiner. If I am correct and you are what I suspect you to be, then you will be micro chipped and the Medical Examiner will find it during the autopsy. Romefeller. You could not have uttered anything more guaranteed to draw my interest. You could not be more than fourteen, perhaps thirteen? I know there were children your age at the facility on Earth and I know that many of them had the same functional hair style as you. They wore the same generic clothing and they had the same pasty skin colour at that laboratory they raided months ago. On you that could be natural, though it seems a little too pallid to me. You are enough like them that I have to ask the question. Is there another such facility here? You could not have escaped the Preventers net on Earth and made it to L1. I do not believe the Preventers are that sloppy and Une took a great interest in that case. No, you are not from Earth. I will have to wait for the autopsy to determine if you are chipped, but I do not think there is much doubt. If you are what I think you are, I have to wonder why it is that they wanted you dead?//

An escapee from an illegal genetic facility on the run and found by an overzealous search party perhaps? A beating for punishment gone further than had been intended? He doubted that was the case, something about the scene just seemed to deny it and when he carefully lifted the body and tilted it to one side he noted the knife wound that had been the fatal blow. Frowning he considered the battered body, noting each of the visible wounds that was clear sign of the struggle that had ensued before the death blow had been delivered.

//Did they not want to kill you? The wounds I can see suggest they may have attempted to capture you and that you put up quite a resistance. Knuckles skinned and bruised … Possibly skin caught in the nails … We may get a DNA sample of at least one of your attackers. I think capture was the very last thing you wanted to happen.// Again Trowa eyed the debris surrounding him and he sighed. // You put up quite a struggle before they took you down.//

He searched the body quickly and efficiently in an attempt to discover further obvious information to be included in his report. He was hoping that this murder and his suspicions over the youths origins would not mean that his planned flight to the L2 Colony to chase down further clues as to who had issued a warning on the safety of Relena Peacecraft Darlian would not now be delayed. Considering the seriousness with which he knew Preventer Earth took the discovery of the Romefeller genetic laboratories on Earth, he knew that it was possible she would place him on the investigation team when she learned of this incident. Admittedly there were many competent agents who could find the source of that warning, but those who knew of the genetic experiments were not so common and he surmised that Lady Une would wish to keep it that way.

His search revealed no means of electronic identification, no credit cards, no official colony identification, no transit pass, nothing that could be electronically scanned and provide even a false identification from which they might begin to work on establishing an identity. The pockets of the shirt and the overalls were empty except for some very uninteresting lint balls and the hope that he might have had a palm top computer vanished, unless it lay somewhere amid the debris that littered the alley. A thorough search of the alley would glean anything that might be of interest here and it would be performed under Preventer supervision.

"Well, whoever you are, I do not mean to belittle your death but I hope that finding you will not force a change of plans on me. The local authorities and the Preventer team should be arriving any time now and after writing up my report I am intending to hop a shuttle flight to L2. I have exhausted all contacts here and come up empty on who sent the warning to watch Relena and it is time I returned to Earth. L2 is my next stop and if that proves to be a dud, then I want to go home to Quatre. I really need to immerse myself in the calm that Quatre generates. Maybe wherever you now exist or in your next life you, will have a kinder fate."

Not that he had any great religious views on what came after death. There had been a couple of people within the mercenary band who had been religious, but none of them had been strictly so and they seemed to forget those views easily enough when it suited them. Quatre was, perhaps arguably, the most religious man he had met and had had more than a passing acquaintance with to date and his sexuality clashed with the teachings of his religion. Their love and sexual attraction for each other was a source of conflict and confusion for Quatre. It was something that they still worked on trying to reconcile the two, religious need and physical but Quatre seem disinclined to even consider ending their partnership and of that he was extremely thankful. He did not want a return to the empty days.

//I hope that he can find peace within himself over the conflict and that he does not find it by leaving me. I am selfish, I know, but I have been alone so long … I know that our trial separation before we decided to live together hurt him just as much as it hurt me, but his religion is very dear to him and how can you compare yourself to God? It is not something that he is going to be able to ignore, even when he does leave the Winner Corporation behind. I know we have made great plans together for our future but … The Family, his family, will not leave us alone just because he leaves their circle. We will still exist and we will still be an embarrassment to them and a slur to the name of Winner. I am not certain how we are going to deal with that kind of pressure over time. //

With a low sigh he returned his attention to scanning the alley, seeking some clue that might aid in identifying the attackers. Perhaps some clue dropped that might offer a lead on where the investigating team might begin the search. The rain was beginning to annoy him as it built steadily in strength. The force of the rainfall would continue to build to the stage where the streets would be awash with sufficient water to clean out all but the largest and heaviest refuse from the alleys and gutters of the colony. Everyone knew when it was due to rain and most people made themselves scarce at this time of night for the two hour long deluge.

It was a relatively new feature of the colony, this cleansing by rain. One of the newer innovations brought into being since the peace came into effect. Before the end of the wars the refuse had been permitted to build up in the poorer areas of the colony to be cleaned up on a monthly basis by refuse disposal crews. Peace time and an injection of funds and the need to find work for out of work soldiers had permitted the colony administration to employ the manpower needed to install the liquid flushing system and the refuse crews had been reassigned to the sorting rooms where the garbage was sorted and recycled.

It was a system that the refuse crews had found to their liking, as it eliminated the need for them to enter the less savoury areas of the colony. Bashings and killings in these dark alleys had been known to occur on a more than regular basis and the workers were pleased they no longer needed to run the risk of meeting someone desperate enough to attack them for what little they carried on them.

With the introduction of the nightly deluge the reports of crime in these areas had been reduced considerably, which had pleased the colony administrators to no end, but the law enforcement agency that policed the colony was less than impressed with all aspects of the deluge. Recently the more influential criminals, the Mr. Big's of crime on the Colony, had discovered the joys of using the deluge to cover their crimes and the colony police had to adapt to this change in methods to properly investigate. While the police were less than thrilled with this aspect, the health authorities of the colony were more than pleased with the improvement of conditions cleaner living environments presented to the citizens. They had called these back alleys breeding grounds for diseases and they had been right, though L1 had never been rocked by plagues the way L2 had been.

The faintest swirl of colour in an eddy of gathering water caught up around a pile of refuse caught his eye and he moved quickly to sort through the refuse pile straightening in seconds with the blood covered blade of the murder weapon uncovered. He wished the investigators would get their butts down here soon, or all chance of finding viable evidence would be gone. Producing a handkerchief he carefully covered the blade and wrapped it, touching it as little as possible before moving to place it on the body and out of danger of being carried away by the flood as he continued his survey of the alley.

//I don't think it ever rained this hard on Earth when I was there. At least not where I needed to be. If this gets any heavier it will have bruising force. I thought when I heard they were installing these systems on the colonies that it would make them seem more Earthlike, but that just is not the case. It's wrong. The rain is just not right to be even considered natural. Too warm and too hard. If anything it just serves to emphasize one more difference between colony and planet to me.//

Through the relentless pounding of the rain he heard the sound of an engine and grunted softly to himself, satisfied. That should be a Preventer, or possibly a police crew arriving, but until he was certain he was not inclined to present himself as a target. Not in these streets. He faded into the shadows, intent on not making himself a target if the perpetrators of the crime should have returned by some small chance to see about the disposal of the body. The shadows and the pounding deluge were enough to disguise his presence until he wished to reveal himself and while it hid him from view it also hid whoever was walking into the alley. He could hear them, but he could not see them and obviously they were having trouble seeing as well, as one of them cursed when they almost stumbled over the body.

He shifted slightly; just enough to ease himself into a position where he could see the two Preventer jackets emerge into the dim light of the alley. Torches snapped on as the agents knelt by the body, one cursed the weather pulling his collar up higher in a useless attempt to keep the rain from running down his neck and the other stepped away from the corpse, aiming the torch light into the gloomy depths of the alley.

"He's young. Barely more than a kid."

"They just seem to get younger all the time. I think the average life expectancy on L2 is about sixty on the wheel, thirty five in the hub of the colony and someone told me it had risen from nineteen to twenty five in the slums. Conditions here are a lot better."

"But far from ideal." a tired sigh. "The call said that Agent Chameleon would remain on the scene. Any sign of him?"

"I am here." He called before he stepped cautiously into the light of the torch.

He had recognized the pair of agents and the fact they did not have a military past did not mean that they were not likely to be jumpy in this neighbourhood. He called first as a precaution, one he had learned in childhood that had seen him survive the wars of his formative years and hopefully would be a measure of living to survive perhaps to old age. He would hardly make so abrupt an entrance onto the scene if either man was the nervous sort and he was not of a mind to have to dodge bullets because he had startled them, not that Preventers did not give their ex-patriot soldiers adequate training to adapt to the more peaceful times.

"We need to be quick or we will lose all chance of finding anything more than I have already found to assist us in the investigation."

"This bloody flushing system is a menace. There was a big robbery on the flip side of the colony that has gone wrong and now developed into a hostage situation. Most of the law enforcement agency operatives have been called there, so it looks like the initial investigation for this murder will be a Preventer operation."

Trowa nodded, wishing for nothing more than a dry change of clothes and the comfort of a hot cup of coffee away from this punishing storm of water. Both of which were luxuries he was not likely to enjoy for a few hours yet. Not if they were to thoroughly investigate this crime scene and hope to show something for their efforts.

//It may become a Preventer investigation and never see a cop yet. If the boy is micro chipped that will no doubt be for the best.//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	117. Chapter 117

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 117

2nd March AC 198

In transit

Aphrodite ISA-R 0143A

[ ISA Independent Station Alliance / R 0143A Station Registry Identification

Time: 10: 45 [Ship time is as for Station One

[Approx Mars time 03:30 / Approx Sanc time 01:23

Raydon

It was becoming harder to keep his attention focused on the needs of the crisis. His eyes hurt, the eye balls felt dry and irritated and his lids felt as thought they weighed in at a mass tonnage that would rival this ship. How long was it now that he had been without sleep? He really did not feel energetic enough to work even that out and he still had matters to see to relating to this unexpected public coming out of the Independent Station Alliance.

// I am so tired but there is still so much that needs doing. I need to arrange meetings and set up a conference call between Station One, the Aphrodite and the Peacemission. // He rubbed at his eyes, staring sightlessly into the darkness beyond the view port. // If I do not get some rest soon I will be of no appreciable use to anyone. Perhaps just an hour? I have laid the groundwork and if they don't want me to collapse and start snoring at one of the meetings they will have to allow me the chance to rest. It is time I stood back and allowed others to push forward the overall design we discussed. I may be President of the Station Alliance but Superman I am not. //

He was only too aware of the faint sounds of movement from behind him. He had not enjoyed the security of his own company for years. It was rare that he could be solitary and it was an unavoidable necessity of his life that those most often found in his presence were aides and fellow schemers and generally people he would not choose to enjoy a quiet reflective drink or discussion with. They were all business partners at some level or another or the aides to such people and the topics of discussion was always the development of the Stations and the eventual public announcement within the Earth Sphere of their existence.

Eventually had become reality.

At this particular moment he was graced with a reprieve from the work load that, after this day's events, would only treble. Maurice moved around the room, no doubt finding small things to do and waiting either for instruction to get the hell out and let him have a little peace, or he was working up the courage to order him to bed. He would only too happily comply with that latter suggestion if it was made.

"It is past time that you took the opportunity to rest, Sir."

//That was not really an order, Maurice. I could have toddled off like a good little boy if you had just told me to go to bed. Ah, listen to me. I must be more tired than I thought and that is saying something.//

He felt the movement in the ship and subtle alteration in the vibration of the ships engines and watched as the view shifted. The changing angle of the fleet brought the ship around so that the distant Station One once again filled the view post. He watched the multi hued lights of the space habitat fall further and further behind as the ship left this safe harbour within the asteroid belt behind them.

//To the uninitiated space would have looked empty before our course shifted. But those points of light out there are not distant stars, but lethal debris that would kill us in an instant if there was a hull breech.//

Space was never empty. It might seem that space was a void, an absence of matter for vast stretches but he knew that for the illusion it was. They had left the sanctuary of Station One behind them, but this area was by no means empty of threat. There were always hazards in space. From micro meteors to mile long asteroids and even the floating debris of dead ships threatened the space lanes. There was a great deal of debris floating around in space, some the natural debris found in space, some the product of the early days of the space exploration programs and much more that was the destruction left over from the wars. Debris blasted clear of the Earths orbit in the war three years ago by the detonation of the section of Libra had now made its way out to the depths of the asteroid belt and presented a considerable hazard to his ships.

// Perhaps I could present a bill to the Earth Sphere for the clean up costs to ensure the Alliance space lanes are safe// He chuckled softly. //Wouldn't that go down well with that bunch of politicians obsessed with their self importance. A reminder of the war they so desperately want to forget and just another reminder, Raydon, that you have work to do. Another reason not to get some rest. Another reason to think of something other than Him. //

He caught a glimpse of distant sunlight reflecting from the hull of the trailing ship and scowled. It had been his intention to leave Station One with only the one ship, but the Council in one of its first official dictates had refused him.

"Damn it, Raydon, just who do you think you are? You are the President of the Independent Station Alliance, you know. You can no longer just hop any ship in the fleet and take off when you feel the mood. You will go, yes, have no fear, we know full well that there is no stopping you or turning you aside from this course, but you will go under suitable escort. An escort fitting for the President of the Alliance and his staff. We have already spoken to the ships Captains in dock at this time and two of them have agreed to act as official escort vessels to the Aphrodite. We will also arrange for a third and perhaps a fourth to join you in transit." 

//It has already begun. Unavoidable, I suppose. The end to whatever personal freedom I had enjoyed has come. From here on my personal desires do not matter and my life will not be my own. My private life will deteriorate until it reaches the stage where I have no personal life and I will become slave to the needs of the people. I knew it would be swift in coming if I took this step and I had wanted to sort out my personal relationships before I took on the role of President but … It had to come when the Stations went public and I had thought that my being their Representative should not need to be a life sentence … but … The only good thing about the time scale that has been forced onto me is that at the very least I have been able to chose who it is that I will become slave to.//

"Sir. You really must get some sleep."

Ah, that man really was not going to give him any peace on this trip. He was going to be very glad of his presence, but he did not need to permit Maurice to know that he was pleased with his presence. It would have been better, safer for Maurice himself if he had remained on Station One, but he had known the man would somehow manage to work his way onto the Aphrodite before they had departed. He had not disappointed and to use that argument to win his way aboard …

He wanted Milliardo to begin to accept who he was born to be and Maurice could become an integral part of that process of acceptance. Maurice had a pure and a quietly persistent stubborn streak against which Milliardo was never likely to win. If he could not talk Maurice around then Milliardo would not stand a chance against him.

//Not quite phrased as an order, but I could say it was close enough to permit myself to give in. If I did would I be able to sleep or only rest? There is so much to be done, but even a few minutes rest would help.//

"I will rest shortly, Maurice. The truth is that with all that has needed to be done in the last few hours I don't believe that I could relax enough as yet to sleep. I just need a little time to unwind. Just a few minutes to rest."

"Perhaps a brandy would help relax you?"

The perfect Gentleman's Gentleman always had the solution to the problem and if this man was not perfection at his trade then he would be terrified of the one who exceeded Maurice's skills. In truth this man was very likely going to end up driving him insane, but for all of that fussing he was glad that he was here. At the least he knew when he finished with the multitude of meetings and briefings that would fill his days, he would not be returning to an empty cabin. That alone was a comforting thought.

He doubted he could take being on his own after some of the scheduled meetings yet to take place on the Aphrodite and Maurice, while he had a tendency to be an annoying mothering bastard, could also be soothing on the nerves and had an uncanny instinct for what he needed, if not what he wanted. Fulfilling the needs was more important than pandering to the 'I wants' in life. Some of the servants who had been in his employ through the years and his colourful past simply could not blend into the background and be invisible and silent if he needed them to be so subdued, but that was an ability that Maurice seemed to have mastered long before he had come to serve Raydon.

Instinct, Maurice called it. Instinct and training. Raydon had another name entirely for it and it involved the word Gifted. Though Maurice denied he was one of that select group Raydon knew better. Maurice was, at the very least, mildly empathic and though he had never been tested Raydon was fairly certain that there was at least a rudimentary telepathic ability involved. The man was simply too good and too accurate at reading his employers moods for it to be a matter of simple training. If there was no talent involved, then his ability to read a person was frightening.

"Perhaps it would."

He stared at the retreating station as he listened to his companion move about. The faint clink of the decanter against the snifter and the stopper sliding back into the decanter. Soon the station would be lost in the vastness of space and they would be approaching the edge of the stations protecting shield. The shielding provided a secure protected area for the jewel that was Station One. Without that shield within hours Station One's light would go out, perhaps forever, as the encircling asteroids would not be turned aside and freely could pummel the wondrous outpost of civilization into so much debris.

The vast network of shielding stations was what made the existence of not just Station One but all three of the major Stations possible. Safe behind their energy screens the stations need not fear rogue asteroids nor did they need to fear discovery by ships and explorers of the Earth Sphere.

Only Alliance ships came this deep into the Asteroid Belt. Only ships equipped with adequate energy screens could survive the multitude of micro meteors that attacked and fatally punctured vulnerable hulls. With the announcement of the Station Alliance there would no doubt be greater traffic in the area, as the ESUN attempted to locate their competition and estimate their strengths and weaknesses. Even after they devised and agreed to a treaty and trade alliance with the ESUN there would be spy ships plying the asteroids, looking for the smallest advantage that might be gained.

//They will be like circling vultures. Even Milliardo's sister will want to know more than they need to know and if she ever gets a hint that her brother will be a part of Station One's personnel there may be added danger. I am sorry, Milliardo, but I am not as trusting, or forgiving, of your sister as you are. I will be watching her. //

"Your Brandy, Sir."

He could feel the man standing close behind him and make out his reflection in the window to space. He just was not ready to turn away from the sight of that shrinking station. "Put it on the table, would you, Maurice? I'll be there in a moment."

He considered the view and the hesitation in the man before he turned away to obey his instruction. Maurice, he realized had been awake almost as long as he had been. His honour would not have permitted the man to so much as close his eyes before his employer was safely tucked in bed unless he took action.

"I promise I will drink the brandy and then I will retire for a few hours. You can go and get yourself settled into your own cabin. You have had no sleep either."

"I beg to differ, Sir. I at least know the wonders of delegation to others more suited to individual tasks and I am not averse to taking advantage of quiet moments in which to grab a quick nap. However, if Sir will indeed rest as he has promised, I shall retire to my cabin. Might one enquire if Sir knows when the gravity will be deactivated?"

"Not until after we are clear of the Asteroid Belt. Some workstations are already without gravity, but the accommodation sectors of the ship are slated to retain gravity for a week so that the ships medics may assess the med levels required for each of the new personnel onboard. When we are clear of the Belt and the med levels are finalized they will lock down the gravity generators and it will probably be only for a day or two every two weeks that we will have gravity. It will be the bare minimum of time required to allay muscle deterioration in the most vulnerable of the crew. You can expect the ships Medical Officer and staff will be around with our medical records and assessment kits and the required meds to compensate during the allotted week. The routine should not be too different from your initial journey to Station One."

"Very good, Sir. I must admit I am pleased to be in space again."

He glanced at the man, one regal brow arched in genuine surprise. "Station life does not suit you?"

"I beg to differ, Sir, it suits me very well indeed. However I rather did enjoy my initial flight to Station One, so I am pleased that I once again have the opportunity to enjoy prolonged space flight. It would not, however suit me to engage in this as a permanent life style. These aging bones do actually prefer gravity."

"Ah. I see. Young bones as well as old bones have a marked preference for gravity, Maurice, that is why we have the meds to compensate, but I must admit that I like the freedom of movement Zero gravity offers. We have a long flight ahead of us, but I very much doubt that it shall be a boring flight. Take the chance while you can. Go to bed, Maurice."

"Indeed, Sir. I am expecting to be anything but bored on this journey." A polite bow and the Gentleman's Gentleman removed himself to the door where he paused. "I have taken the liberty to turn your bed down, Sir. I see no need to use that modified sleeping bag in its frame until there is no other option. One may as well be comfortable. I have also taken the additional liberty of arranging your first meeting for 17:30 hours. I shall have a meal awaiting you at 17:00 hours. The ships Medical Officer contacted the suite with his concerns for your health while you were on the obligatory tour and I explained to him that you only required a few hours sleep to no longer look like shit warmed up, Sir."

The man's hand had been hovering over the door control and fingers flashed as he spoke. With a perfectly straight face he bowed respectfully and exited the cabin, the door closing behind him. Raydon bit back a laugh, having witnessed the entire performance in the reflection in the viewing window and mentally chalked up a win to Maurice. The man was a wonder and had won him the chance to get some much needed sleep. He was not going to complain.

Raydon sighed, eyes closed against the sight of the darkness of space and that now distant pin point of light that marked the station and permitted him the utter luxury of drinking in the silence and solitude of the cabin. Once, in his much younger days the silence of space had appealed to him and he had even entertained the notion of making a career for himself as a ships Captain. That idea had paled when he had determined, through investigation and one or two instances of vision, that the risks to being a licensed ships Captain would require more trouble that it was worth.

Biological information would have been required to be entered into a ESUN wide registry that would undoubtedly have been monitored periodically by Romefeller agents. He had not been at that time of a mind to take on the might of that organization after having so successfully made his escape. Even Sweeper Captains had to be registered with the ESUN Space Registry.

The quiet of his cabin at this time was a soothing balm to his overtired mind. There was, of course, the throb of the engines which was in reality more of a vibration to be felt with every fibre of his being, than it was an actual sound to be heard and that vibration was soothing in its regularity. He had refrained from turning on the receive functions of the computer consol set near his current position so the machine was at this time dark and silent. No distracting com chatter, no disturbing news reports and blessedly no summons to attend some crisis.

Unfortunately it also meant that he was unable to receive word on the advances in the rescue attempt happening in the vicinity of Mars. If he turned it on … when he chose to turn it on, he would be able to monitor the condition of the ship and contact any of the Stations or ships allied with the Stations at will, but he wanted none of that just now. It was too early to have word of events on, or near, Mars and it was much too early to speak with Howard or the Captains laying a delaying field between the Wellington and Mars.

// I wish you had not left Station. Would that you could have trusted me not to push you before you were ready. I would not have pushed, Milliardo. I would have given you the space you needed, but you had to overhear that message from my agents and you had to interfere.//

If he closed his eyes he could, without any difficulty at all, imagine the presence of the one person he wanted above all others to be here with him at this time. Milliardo had been raised to the halls of power and much of a person's personality and sense of duty could be shaped in the first six years of a young life. For the children of the nobility and it was particularly true for the children of Royalty, there was a harsh school that began when one learned to walk. If one was fortunate then the instructors were tempered by the loving warmth of a doting mother and the firm but loving eye of a strong father, as he had been able to enjoy, until Romefeller destroyed his life. For Milliardo there had been that love and assurance mixed with the heavy traditions and stern tutors charged with raising a future king. Both of them had been groomed for power at an early age and both of them had known tragedy and betrayal.

"We have so much in common. In our past and in the present, but time is marked by change and things are changing now. I will have you safe, Milliardo. I will have you safely out of the ESUN's control and if your sister does not like it that is too bad. You and your children are not going to be subjected to imprisonment and bondage. The Alliance will be your protection."

With a soft sigh he closed his eyes against the sight of the void beyond the safety glass. Somewhere nearby the way station would be sending out the pilot probes and the additional force screen units, but for now he had a few precious moments of solitude where he dared to envision what to him was perfection.

His fingers could almost reach out and touch that flowing cascade of silver white hair … caress the silken luxury of well cared for tresses… he could almost feel the heat and the satin texture of that warm living flesh. Indeed, so vivid was his imagery that he could almost scent the man, that unique scent that was personal, warm musk and spices, something reminiscent of …

Something …

Reaching out to touch and hold the promise of …

"Milliardo?!"

Golden eyes snapped open, but there was no mistaking his surroundings reflected in that window. He was in his cabin of the Aphrodite, the flagship of the Station Alliance that was taking him to the much anticipated rendezvous with history and he was here alone. He was en route to that fateful meeting between the ESUN Officials and the Station Alliance to take place on a Sweeper ship that must be brought to a favourable conclusion for the good of the Station Alliance and ultimately for the good of the ESUN itself. More, though, he was on the way to a rendezvous that would eventually bring him once again face to face with that glorious pale creature, who even now must be fighting for his life on that desolate ball of rock …

Yet he was here. Surely he was not mistaken. He was certain that Milliardo was here and he was standing just out of his immediate touching reach. That unique scent was unmistakable and surely he was not so tired, so impossibly exhausted, that he was hallucinating? Milliardo was near. Just …behind him?

There was no reflection of pale magnificence in the mirror of the window. He was alone in this room, but still that presence grew in strength and he flared his nostrils, drinking in the exotic scent of him.

Yes!

He was not mistaken. He could not be in error.

He closed his eyes, gathering together all of the years of training he had undergone in long ago days and the more recent training which he had undertaken with good will as an example to those gathering on Station who needed such reassurance. He pulled his perceptions together, marshalling flagging strength to settle his perceptions and to focus his Psi talent. A series of measured breaths expended the tension within him and permitted him to extend his awareness out beyond himself and to seek something …

It was there. A presence growing stronger, a surge of bundled emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Closer. He was closer to isolating it, defining it, identifying it without doubt as … Something was here … Someone was here …Someone …

He would not have thought this possible, not over such a distance as must be involved here. None of their tests, none of their experiments suggested such range was possible but …

Pain flashed within that awareness and his own body mirrored its binding agony. He felt it so clearly, pain that was not his own but that resonated through his own flesh with no less force than it tore into the source of that pain. Pain, a mirror of that agony felt by the other and with it came the space warping longing of a soul in agony. A soul that thirsted for an ending and the chance to rest and to know peace.

None of it was his own emotions. None of it was his own pain or discomfort. Not the physical pain or the mental anguish and not the longing soul deep aching for a peace forever denied. With a ragged breath he pressed his hands to the transparent wall, his eyes snapped open but he no longer saw the point of light that was the distant station, nor did he see the ship that moved through the void so near his own, a guard against danger.

"Help is on the way, Milliardo. Be assured it is closer than you think. I feel you, my Prince of Hearts. I know that you can hear me. We are doing all that we can to delay the Wellington from reaching you and help is on the way. Don't you dare give up. I have two of my agents there to assist you. Do not fight them, I beg you. They are there to help."

He could almost reach out and touch that silken hair, so vivid was the impression of the blonde standing behind him. Just a slight inclination of his body and a reach of his hand and he must surely feel the warmth of living flesh. He would be able to reach out and … Almost … but no, there was a barrier there that separated them and through which he could not reach and grasp that physical form.

It was not his gift to warp time and space and thrust himself through the ether and impossible realities to bring himself to where he needed and desired above all other places to be. It was not his gift to simply think himself to Mars, because if it was within his power to do so then he assuredly would think himself to Mars and he would teach everyone there who threatened one of his own what it was to mess with a Kushrenada.

Gone.

That much desired presence was gone, banished as quickly as a scent borne on the wind, snapped from his awareness and he was left in desolate nothingness. He dragged air into his lungs, leaning heavily against the cold plastiglass and panting. Not for an instant did he think it a hallucination. He knew that it had been real. His fingers balled into clenched fists and he trembled with reaction to that seeking of comfort he had sensed married to his own wish to give that comfort. He wanted … needed to give comfort and to offer protection and assure safety and he was bound by distance and the freezing vacuum of space and the cold reality of the limitations of transportation.

// Milliardo. I will have you here, where you will be safe. I will bring down the ESUN into bloody ruin despite your protests, if they do not loose the bonds they weave around you. Those bastards will learn to keep their hands off what is so far beyond them that they are dinosaurs in comparison. Well might we be the end product of genetic manipulation, but we do not have to be their slaves. We may enjoy freedom and know it to be our right. //

Slaves. That was all that they were to Romefeller's Inner Council. They were bred to be servants to the every whim of those decrepit task masters, who professed to be fit to rule the worlds of the ESUN and they were not seen as being fit to so much as touch the velvet robes of those who claimed superiority.

His lips drew back baring his teeth in a snarl of disgust and anger. The intent at their conception might have been to produce obedient slaves, but that did not guarantee the cooperation of the finished product. Romefeller had had promising generations in the past and rebellion within those ranks had dealt the Inner Circle a blow they might yet have not recovered from. He and others like him could and would defy the Circle and their plans and earn for themselves a freedom to exist beyond their control. This time, as had happened once before that he knew of, those who rebelled against the Council would not be brought under control. He personally doubted that Romefeller's elite really understood what they had created with their genetic alterations.

"Milliardo." The breath of a whisper to mist the plastiglass, as he rested his forehead against the cold material.

//He must be desperate. How? How has he found a way to contact me? Desperate. Possibly crisis and that is not good for anyone on Mars, least of all Milliardo himself. Giles and Polnar … are they not with you? Have they been unable to reach you? Agh! I am too far from the action to be effective. What is waking within him if he can reach out and touch me over such distances? It was no dream. No hallucination, but something real and not merely telepathy. Something different. Something I have not encountered before, I think. He had no sign of having the sheer power required to reach these distances when he was on Station. Crisis? Could he be panicked and potentially in Crisis? In extremes the human body and mind is capable of great feats but … There is no one there who could help him. Giles has no skills in bringing a Psi through more than a mild instance of Crisis. That kind of chaos taxes a team of Masters.//

Thought of the Training Masters now onboard the Aphrodite caused him to straighten and sort control and order into his mind. He doubted that the Training Masters would have sensed this rather unique link, even though they did have a monitoring unit networked and installed throughout the Aphrodite. It had felt so real, so clear and so very strong to him, yet he instinctively knew that it was in fact a very select and very delicate touch that he had encountered. It was entirely possible that it was perhaps too subtle a contact for them to pick up, even with the equipment they had brought aboard the Aphrodite. They might not even have the monitoring equipment fully operative at this early stage of the voyage.

This ability that he sensed in Milliardo's touch, as subtle as it was and despite the strength that he sensed was undeniably and undoubtedly something unknown to them all and he would have to tell the Training Masters. He was not a fool and he could not keep this kind of potential secret from those men and women who were going to have to train control and stability and functionality into something very new and rather unique. Just not now. He was not going to tell them at this exact time. Later would be soon enough.

The Aphrodite had been equipped with a full Psionic Laboratory and three secured and shielded suites for the exclusive use of any Psi on the ship who might require isolation for any length of time during the voyage. There were only two other ships in the Alliance fleet that could boast as well equipped facilities focusing on the unique needs of a talented mind and one of those ships was only weeks away from Mars, far closer than the more than three months it would take for the Aphrodite to reach the planet. That ship had been diverted toward the Red Planet immediately the distress call had come in from his agents but it was too far away to offer aid if Milliardo should experience the full chaos of a major crisis.

// He will need shielded and isolated quarters until the ship can reach him, regardless of whether or not he enters a major crisis. After the stress of what ever is happening on Mars that has induced this contact, he will need resting time. I might need to have a private word with Howard over a secured line and tell him my suspicions concerning Milliardo. I would trust him to prepare shielded quarters and to do what he could to ensure Milliardo is protected from himself and others in a crisis situation. It may not come to that though, but I must be prepared in the event that it is necessary. The Peacemission is only days away from Mars and my best hope of getting help to Giles to control emergent talents. What is it that links us? I know that the distances which now lie between us should make this kind of contact impossible, but I also know that it was real. Could he contact others? Or is it peculiar only to those bred by Romefeller? What did they write into us before we were even conceived? It has such frightening potential and no matter which way I turn everything that happens seems somehow to ultimately lead back to Romefeller. Are those bastards responsible for this kind of bond and if so is it by design or accident that we seem capable of reaching each other? What would they have wanted such a binding for? Is it deliberately created, or is it an accident of birth that we are so linked? I know so little of their schemes, though I keep myself informed as best I can considering their security. I need access to their breeding records to try to make some sense of what they were intending to use us for. //

He turned from the view of space and moved to settled himself in the deep wing backed chair beside which Maurice had placed the brandy. He certainly felt the need for that richly coloured liquid just now. He was tired. Too tired, he knew, to deal with all of the implications offered by this chance contact with the man he most wished to see. He would enjoy the brandy and he would have a quiet time as he allowed the dark amber liquid to work its soothing magic on his weary body and mind. It would give him the chance to relax enough to sleep, or when he most needed to function with precision he would fail and he simply could not fail that blonde. Too many people had already failed that one.

//I know that when you come to me you are going to want answers to questions you are only now realizing must be asked. Answers that I can not give you for the most part, because in truth I am as much in the dark as you. Be assured my dearest Milliardo that what I do know I will tell you. I promise you, my Milliardo, even though you are not here to hear me. I promise, I will tell you all that I know and what I surmise of our common past and I will be there to help you deal with the horror that knowledge will visit upon you. It is in truth better that you know than exist in ignorance. For the sake of your children you will need to learn it all and I will not pity you any more than I pity myself. //

"We four, myself, you and the children, are all cast from the same mold. Be safe, Milliardo. Be safe."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	118. Chapter 118 Time Line

TIME LINE

ALTERNATIVE DIRECTIONS: OPTIONS

Just a word of warning that I have no idea of the official birthdays of any of the characters involved in Gundam Wing. Alternative Directions: Options contains dates that I picked, so please don't jump all over me if it differs from the official canon. I fully expect it to. For purposes involved in the story, this is the way their birthdays will stand.

BIRTHDAYS

Earth AC 156

15th May

Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada [Raydon Romefeller Clinic, Brussels

Earth AC 170

20th November

Treize Kristian Hansel Kushrenada Romefeller Clinic, Luxembourg.

Earth AC 176

7th October

Lucrezia Belladona Richenda Noin born at 01:13 am Rome

25th December

Milliardo Edwardo Lovernius Christopher Peacecraft born at 19:25 pm Sanc Palace

Earth AC 179

30th December

Time: 13:34 Tritan Amery born at Stella Circus Extravaganza [Trowa

Colony L2 0397 AC 180

February 13th

[Duo Justin Anthony Simpson born at General Hospital Colony

Earth AC 180

26th March

Time: 13:39 Dorothy Katerina Elizabeth Roweena Catalonia born Luxembourg, Romefeller Clinic

Colony L1 AC 180

4th April

Time: 14:56 Shuichi Lee Sone born at Romefella sanctioned Genetic Laboratory [Heero

Earth AC 180

8th April

Relena Marianna Louise Peacecraft born at 10:30 am Sanc Memorial Hospital Sanc

Colony L5 AC 180

30th April

Time: 16:14 Chang Wu Fei born at Chang Family Home.

Colony L4 AC 180

15th July

Quatre Rubabar Winner born 15:45 Winner Medical Centre

Colony L2 0397 AC 197

4th December

Aiden Schbeiker born

Mars AC 198

4th January

Lucian Stephan Charles Peacecraft born Base Dome Medical Centre 13:40 pm

4th January

Katerina Letitia Richenda Peacecraft born Base Dome Medical Centre 13:53 pm

TIME ZONES

Sanc time used as standard.

Mars / Earth [Sanc as standard time 2 hrs 10 min, Mars ahead.

Earth [ Sanc as standard time / Rosemount Rosemount set for European time zone so will basically read as for Sanc.

Earth [Sanc as Standard time / Colony L2-0397 Approximately 1 hr 25 minutes, Colony ahead.

Earth [Sanc as standard time / Station One Approximately 9 hrs 22 minutes, Station One ahead.

Mars / Station One 7 hrs 12 minutes, Station One ahead.

Earth [Sanc as standard time / Bounty Approximately 3 hrs 15 minutes

Earth [Sanc as standard time / Station One 9 hrs 22 minutes, Station One ahead.

Bounty / Earth [Sanc as standard time 3 hrs 15 minutes, Bounty ahead.

Mars / Bounty 1 hr 05 minutes, Bounty ahead.

Station One / Bounty 6 hrs 7 minutes, Station One ahead.

Dark Side S 43861 A / Earth [Sanc as standard 1 hr 25 minutes, Dark Side ahead [time basically as for L2-0397

Peacemission / Earth [Sanc as standard Times coincide.

Phoenix Star / Earth [Sanc as standard Times coincide, Rosemount ship on Rosemount time.

Colony L1 – 0025 B / Earth [Sanc as standard 1 hr 10 minutes, Colony ahead.

Aphrodite ISA-R 0143A / Earth [Sanc as standard 9 hrs 22 minutes[Station One time, Ship / Station ahead\.

Aphrodite ISA-R 0143A / Mars 7 hrs 12 minutes[Ship and Station One ahead.

Aphrodite ISA-R 0143A / Peacemission 9 hrs 22 minutes[Aphrodite ahead.

TIME LINE

ALTERNATIVE DIRECTIONS: OPTIONS

Earth AC 198

Jan 26th

Time: 02:53 Alternative Directions: Options begins. New Port City, Sanc. Duo begins to investigate the Romefeller database.

Earth AC 198

30th January

Time: 23:13 Maiden's Arms Motel, Sanc. Duo opens the Romefeller reports concerning the survival of Milliardo.

Mars AC 198

2nd February

Time: 11:05 Noin considers how things stand between her and Zechs as the babies are attended to. [Approx 08:55 Sanc time

Time: 11:10 Zechs reflects on the past while holding Lucian. Apologizes to his son over the future. [Approx 09:00 Sanc time

Earth AC 198

19th February

Time: 16:35 New York U.S.A Duo at the end of an assignment breaks into the Romefeller Database and cracks the files for the Kushrenada family. He is recalled to Sanc.

Earth AC 198

20th February

Time: 07:14 New Port City, Sanc Preventer Headquarters Lady Une briefs the agents on a threat to Relena. Duo talks to Trowa.

Earth AC 198

21st February

Time: 17:49 Sanc Palace Duo considers the ruins of the Sanc palace and talks to Pagan.

Mars Colony AC 198

22nd February

Time 18:37 Base Dome Noin talks with Joe Mako. [Approx 16:27 Sanc time

Earth AC 198

25th February

Time: 22:25 New Port City, Sanc Palace Duo confides in Heero concerning files he has discovered on the Romefeller database concerning the Gundam pilots. Heero informs Duo about Aiden.

Earth AC 198

26th February

Time: 15:55 Heero and Duo meet up during the day and Heero informs Duo of his discoveries while cracking the Gundam Pilot files. Duo tells Heero about the files he has been investigating.

[This is so embarrassing. No one pointed it out to me, so I suppose no one caught it at the time either. Makes me feel a little better. I found another booboo. Sigh. Trowa's name is Tritan, not Tristan, as Duo states it.

Rosemount Station

Time: 22:17 Lilac and Rose Errant discuss recent events in the Earth Sphere and the search for Zechs Marquise. [Rosemount Station is on Earth Standard time as set for European region, so it will basically read as for Sanc time frame Sector five of the Asteroid Belt

Earth AC 198

27th February

Time: 20:05 New Port City, Sanc Palace. Pagan asks to speak with Duo and informs him of something of the past of Milliardo, and goes on to explain that Relena is planning to remove his children from his control.

Time: 23:45 New Port City, Sanc Palace. Heero finds Relena in the maze and learns of what is happening on Mars. Duo and Pagan listen in over Heero's radio microphone.

28th February

Mars

Time: 04:40 . Mars Base Dome. Noin wakes Zechs from a nightmare. Zechs gives her a riddle to consider, about options one might choose. [Approx 02:30 Sanc time

Earth AC 198

Time: 02:45 New Port City,. Sanc palace. Duo, Heero and Pagan discuss measures to be taken over this development, namely the visit to Marquis Wayridge.

Time 03:35 Sanc Palace Duo contemplates the days events and the visit he must pay to Lady Une.

[Note that the last two entries take place immediately after the entry for the 27th February, it is just after midnight of the same night.

Time: 10:05 New Port City Preventer Headquarters. Duo explains to Lady Une why Relena will not be keeping any appointments for the day, and is told he is on time off to visit his son on L2. Duo briefly speaks to Chang Wu Fei.

Time: 11:45 Luxembourg. Relena, Heero and Pagan arrive at the Manor of the Marquis Wayridge. The interview with the Marquis does not get off to a good start.

Time: 11:55 Luxembourg The interview with the Marquis continues with the result that Relena is severely disabused about her grandfather's motives and politics.

Time: 12:50 New Port City Sanc. Duo considers the toy he buys for his son and accepts the mission to Mars. [Note that Duo's shuttle will leave Earth at approximately 13:30 pm. Sanc time

Time: 16:25 New Port City, Sanc. Relena returns to Sanc and on the drive back to the palace they discuss the fate of Milliardo, the national identity issues that are causing problems around the world and the fact the Sanc parliament continues to ask her to be crowned Queen.

Time: 17:55 Sanc Palace. Heero returns to the palace to discover Duo has departed for L2 and left him a cryptic reference to see Lady Une.

Colony L2-0397

Time: 19:25 [Local Time Duo walks the streets of the colony, waiting for the time he can see Hilde, and discovers the Maxwell Memorial Hospital. [Approximately coincides with the 17:55 entry for Sanc time, making it approximately 1hr 25 minutes time difference.

Earth

Time: 18:00 Sanc Palace. Relena and her mother talk and Relena tells her that her brother is still alive. Alice Darlian determines to investigate what she can about the matter.

Earth AC 198

1st March

Time: 02:15 Sanc Palace, Sanc. Following the dinner held at the Sanc Palace Lady Une and Heero talk about the threat to Relena that is presented by the ESUN council faction interfering in the Mars situation. Heero learns what Duo's mission actually is. [Note, that this takes place a few hours after the previous entry for the Sanc palace. February only has 28 days, and it was not a leap year. In other words, it is the same night.

Mars Colony

Time 06:59 [MST Base Dome. Morning routine in the home of Zechs and Lucrezia. While they feed the babies Noin badly fumbles an apology and Zechs can see disaster coming, as it mirrors previous visions. [Approx Sanc time is 04:49

Sector 433A

Time: 13:05 [ships day equates to approximately 06:30 Sanc time Report transmission time is 07:15, Sanc time Silver Lady, an independently owned Ore Carrier under the command of Captain Derek Horatio Sandler has a run in with a Raider ship, the Dark Star Rising. Scout Three from Rosemount Station monitors the encounter.

Earth

Time: 07:05 Relena and her mother talk in her bedroom about what Mrs Darlian has managed to discover about the incident on Mars.

Colony L2-0397

Time: 09:25 Duo calls Quatre and asks him to become Guardian for Aiden should anything happen to him and Hilde. [Time in Sanc for Quatre receiving the call is approx 08:00

Mars Colony

Time: 10:49 Base Dome Control Centre. Noin and Zechs watch as the Earth Supply shuttle enters the Martian skies, descending for the Alpha Dome. Zechs again tries to get Noin to take the children and get off Mars. [Approx 8:39 Sanc time

Time 11:45 Alpha Dome shuttle bay. Simpson and his team are received on Mars by Mako and Barker, the Preventer representative on Mars. [Approx 09:35 Sanc time

Earth

Time: 10:30 New Port City, Preventer Headquarters. Lady Une considers the past and then receives news of a Raider attack in the asteroid belt.

Colony L2-0397

Time: 12: 15 Duo talks to Hilde and receives a call from Lady Une assigning him to the Preventer Cruiser Bounty, en route to the asteroid belt to investigate the Raiders attacks there. Duo recognizes it as the means by which he is to arrive on Mars. [Sanc time approx 10:50

Mars Colony

Time 13:05 Simpson and his team infiltrate Base Dome, setting out to search out the locations of their targets. [Approx 10:55 Sanc time

Time: 13:05 Alpha Dome. Barker notifies Zechs by agreed code that the ESUN agents have left the Alpha Dome and are on their way to the Base Dome. [Approx 10:55 Sanc time

Time: 13:13 Base Dome One Zechs acknowledges the message and informs Noin that the ESUN team is already in the base Dome. They have a disagreement and Zechs informs her of three options possible depending on her actions.

Time: 13:25 Base Dome Noin encounters two of the paramilitary team and kills them, realizing as she does so that this is exactly what Zechs said would happen. [Approx 11:15 Sanc time

Time: 13:49 Base Dome. Simpson considers what needs to be done after losing two of his men. [Approx 11:39 Sanc time

Time: 13:50 Alpha Dome Control Centre. Barker releases the gas in to the air system of the dome, knocking out the personal. [Approx 11:40 Sanc time

Time: 13:53 Base Dome Medical Section Noin thinks hard on what has happened and realizes, but still finds it hard to believe what Zechs has been trying to tell her, while she waits for news of Jenny Santos. [Approx 11:43 Sanc time

Time: 13:53 Base Dome Zechs goes into the ventilation shafts to move unseen as he seeks to find Noin and the twins. [Approx 11:43 Sanc time

Time: 13:55 Base Dome. Simpson learns that he can not contact his Beta Team and orders Noin and Zechs be taken down fast. [Approx 11:45 Sanc time

Time: 14:25 Maintenance Room Zechs waits in the maintenance room to take out two of the para-military assault team intent on finding the twins. [Approx 12:15 Sanc time

Colony L2-0397

Time 14:05 Duo boards the Preventer shuttle and departs L2 to rendezvous with the Cruiser Bounty. [Approx 12:40 Sanc time

Time: 14:53 Maintenance Room. Zechs sedates the two members of Simpson's team. [Approx 12:43 Sanc time

Mars Colony

Time: 15:03 Base Dome Medical section. Noin considers what she knows of the situation when Zechs joins her. Their discussion does not go the way either want it to, and they part, Noin leaving the twins to Zechs and going off to front the intruders herself. [Approx 12:53 Sanc time

Time: 15:13 Base Dome Medical Section. Zechs leaves the twins with Sharnice while he goes in pursuit of Noin. [Approx 13:03 Sanc time

Time: 15:20 Base Dome, Dining Hall. Zechs, while pursuing Noin comes across two of the assault team and realizes he must take them out as they heading directly for where the twins are. [Approx 13:11 Sanc time

Time: 15: 20 Base Dome Noin enters the upper dome and makes her way to the control building, having to fight her way clear of an ambush in the process. [Approx 13:11 Sanc time

Time: 15:22 Base Dome Medical Section. Zechs takes out the two women and leaves the twins in the care of Sharnice and Maria, telling them to take the twins and seal themselves in a secured area. He leaves to track down Noin. [Approx 13:13 Sanc time

Time: 15:26 Base Dome Ventilation system Simpson receives the alert from the women Zechs took down in the medical section and calls for Operation Raider to commence. [Approx 13:17 Sanc time

Time: 15:28 Base Dome Control tower Shanna McIntyre receives Simpsons instructions to commence Operation Raider . [Approx 13:19 Sanc time

Time: 15:32 Base Dome Ventilation shaft system Zechs experiences visions of the domes exploding from detonated charges set by Sleeper Agents. He enlists the help of some engineers in tracking down the transmitter. [Approx 13:23 Sanc time Chapter ends at Time: Mars Colony Time: 15:58 Base Dome

Earth

Time 13:24 Sanc Palace Those at the palace prepare for a garden party and learn that the shuttle is down and all quiet so far. Heero reveals something of his thoughts on the past and on the events likely to happen on Mars.

Mars Colony

Time: 15:47 Base Dome Control Centre Noin considers the best way to enter the control room after finding everyone else in the tower dead. [Approx 13:37 Sanc time

Time: 15:58 Alpha Dome Control Centre. Barker and Mako react to the radio blackout and the false distress call. [Approx 13: 40 Sanc time

Earth

Time: 13:43 Sanc Palace. Heero considers the two messages he picks up through palace communications and realizes that there is another faction involved in the mess.

Mars Colony

Time: 15:55 Shanna McIntyre sets up the assault on the colony to look like a raid by the Reavers. She is taken prisoner by Noin. [Approx 13:45 Sanc time

Rosemount Station

Time: 13:50 Rosemount Station Isolation suite. Treize receives word of the location of Zechs Marquise. [Rosemount time is approx Sanc time

Mars Colony

Time: 16:10 Base Dome Noin checks the control systems then questions McIntyre. [Approx 14:00 Sanc time

Time: 16:13 Base Dome Zechs decides the water pipes to the upper dome is the safest way for him to go. [Approx 14:03 Sanc time

Time: 16:25 Base Dome Shuttle Control centre. Noin attempts to convince the controllers to initiate a search for the explosive charges on the dome. She is taken down by Simpson. [Approx 14:15 Sanc time

Station One

Time: 23:45 Station One [Martian time 16:33 / 14:23 Sanc time Raydon is woken and informed of the alert from two of his agents on Mars to trouble.

Mars Colony

Time: 16:44 Base Dome Water filtration system. Zechs experiences visions of the destruction of the bases and the mass murder of the terra formers. [Approx 14:34 Sanc time

Time: 16:58 Shuttle Control Room. Noin wakes to learn that Simpson is contacting the Wellington to assault the base. [Approx 14:48 Sanc time

Earth

Time: 14:52 Quatre receives a cryptic email message from Zechs.

Time: 15:04 Palace Hotel, New Port City, Sanc. Relena reflects at the garden party. Quatre appears and takes Relena for a walk, leaving Heero with a note.

Time: 15:07:51 Palace Hotel, New Port City, Sanc. Heero reads the note from Quatre and acts on the assassination warning.

Bounty

Time 16: 43 [L2 standard time Duo arrives on the Preventer Cruiser Bounty. Changes time to local ships time of 18:32. [Approx Sanc time is 15:18/ Bounty is 3hrs and 15 minutes ahead of Sanc

Mars Colony

Time: 17:25 Zechs pulls himself together after the visions, eventually recalling an incident from his past, and a possible solution to the current problems. [Approx 15:15 Sanc time

Time 17:22 Base Dome hydroponics Dome One Zechs learns who Giles is and why he was chosen to go to Mars originally.

Bounty

Time 16: 43 [L2 standard time Duo arrives on the Preventer Cruiser Bounty. Changes time to local ships time of 18:32. [Approx Sanc time is 15:18/ Bounty is 3hrs and 15 minutes ahead of Sanc

Time: 17:29 Base Dome Control Tower Simpson enters the Control Tower and finds the aftermath of Noin's visit. [Approx 15:19 Sanc time

Time: 17:32 Alpha Dome Observation room. Barker and Mako devise a means by which to help the outside workers at Base Dome. [Approx 15:22 Sanc time

Time: 17:37 Base Dome. Zechs enters Hydroponics Dome Three, seeking a way to Hydroponics Dome One, to a cache. [Approx 15:27 Sanc time

Time: 17:57 Base Dome Zechs crosses Hydroponics Dome Three and takes down one Sleeper agent in the process. [Approx 15:47 Sanc time

2nd March AC 198

Station One

Time : 00:21 Station One [17:09 Mars / 15:59 Sanc time Raydon learns of the false mayday call and the blame being cast on his people.

1st March

Mars Colony

Time: 18:15 [Approx San time is 16:05 Simpson, Frazier and McIntyre rig the airlock system to release gas and kill the returning terra formers.

Time: 18:20 Alpha Dome Maintenance Hanger. Sleeper Agent considers the best course of action open to him. [Approx 16:10 Sanc time

Time: 18:26 Base Dome While crossing Hydroponics Dome Two Zechs meets Hayden Giles, a Raider operative assigned to Mars by Raydon. [Approx 16:16 Sanc time

Earth

Time: 16:34 New Port City, Preventer Headquarters, medical Wing. Heero is treated by Sally Po, then he and Quatre discuss what should not be told to Lady Une at this time.

Mars Colony

Time: 18:46 Base Dome Hydroponics Dome Two. Zechs and Giles get to know each other while crossing the dome. [Approx 16:36 Sanc time

Time: 19:02 Base Dome Hydroponics Dome Two. Nearing the ladder down to the floor of the dome Zechs and Giles encounter two Sleeper agents. [Approx 16:52 Sanc time

Time 19:03 Base Dome. Shuttle Control Tower. Frazier completes the re wiring, McIntyre searches the tower for Noin and Simpson notices the blue glow flicker in the hydroponics dome. [Approx time 16:53 Sanc

Time: 19:11 Base Dome Hydroponics Dome One Zechs and Giles reach the cache and assemble the transmitter. [Approx 17:01 Sanc time

Time 19:32 Base Dome One, Hydroponics Dome One. Giles reveals to Zechs something of his abilities and why he was chosen for the Mars mission. [Approx Sanc time:17:22

Time 19:55 Alpha Dome Barker and Mako make final preparations for the Taurus suits to fly to the Base Dome in an attempt to rescue the exterior workers there. [Approx 17:45 Sanc time

2nd March

Station One

Time 03:12 [Approx Mars time is 20:00 hours / Sanc time is 17:50 Raydon receives the transponder signal from Mars as well as a private request from Zechs.

1st March

Mars Colony

Time 19:55 Alpha Dome Barker finds the maps Zechs marked as most suitable for the rescue of the maintenance workers at Base Dome. [Approx Sanc time 17:45

Time 20:02 Shuttle Control Tower. Noin discovers a means by which she may leave the control

tower prison she is in. [Approx 17:52 Sanc time

Time 20:16 Hydroponics Dome One. Zechs and Giles convince the workers in the dome to lie low and secure the dome. [Approx Time: 18:06 Sanc time

Time 20:16 Shuttle Control Tower. Noin begins to accustom herself to the new limits of her abilities by following Simpson through the control tower [Approx 18:06 Sanc time

Time 20:26 Base Dome One. Zechs and Giles consider the best method of reaching the Air Lock Control station. [Approx Sanc time: 18:16

Time 20:35 Base Dome Zechs reveals to Giles what he feels and that this time is familiar to him. He tries to save the people responding to the explosion at the elevators. [Approx Sank time 18:25

Time 20:42 Base Dome. Giles hustles the people back to the enviro suit maintenance building and

informs them of the events taking place around them. [Approx Sanc time 18:32

Time 20:43 Base Dome After Zechs takes out the two agents he considers the presence he feels and

enlists the help of Preventer Cloud to get the people with him to safety. [Approx Sanc time 18:33

Time 20:55 Base Dome exterior. Barker and the Taurus pilots over fly the Base Dome and direct the locked out maintenance crews to the caves [Approx Sanc time is 18:45

Time 21:03 Base Dome Zechs and Giles consider their next course of action, leaving the air locks to

be checked by Agent Cloud. [Approx 18:53 Sank time

Time 21:10 Survival Cave, Base Dome vicinity. Barker and his team begin to set up the cave for the survivors. [Approx Sanc time 19:00

Time 21:15 Base Dome Zechs and Giles decide to head for the Shuttle Control Tower and seek out the necessary parts to rig a radio. . [Approx 19:05 Sank time

Time: 21:10 Base Dome Noin watches as Simpson and Frazier survey the damage to the elevators and then as McIntyre arrives at the elevators, watching the two men move on their way. Noin contacts Zechs and forces the knowledge of what is happening into his attention. [Approx 19:00 Sanc time

Time 21:15 Base Dome. On the way to the Shuttle Control Tower Noin again attempts to contact Zechs and tell him what is happening and Shanna McIntyre heads for the tower to find Noin.[Approx 19:05 Sanc time

Time: 21:15 Base Dome Giles works on Zechs to pull him through the after effects of the contact with Noin. [Approx 19:05 Sanc time

Time: 21:20 Base Dome. Shuttle Control Tower. Noin enters the tower and locates McIntyre trying to bash her way into the tower [Approx 19:10 Sanc time

Time: 21:20 Base Dome Shuttle Control Tower. Zechs and Giles reach the tower and gain entrance to it, searching the tower room by room and finding traps on the stairs. Ends as Giles finds what lies within the maintenance room. [Approx 19:10 Sanc time

Time: 21:40 Base Dome Shuttle Control Tower. Giles deals with Noin in the maintenance room and fears Zechs is losing control. In desperation he rushes Zechs which results in Zechs attacking him. [Approx 19:30 Sanc time

E106 Bounty

Time: 22:45 Duo returns to his quarters after the dinner with the Captain and Officers of the Cruiser.

[Approx Sanc time is 19:30

Mars Colony

Time: 22:10 Base Dome Shuttle Control Tower Giles wakes to find Zechs has moved him and taken

Noin from the maintenance room to the ground floor of the tower. [Approx Sanc time 20:00

Time: 22:10 Base Dome Control Tower Gerry Parker has left the Enviro Suit Maintenance building

in search of radio equipment and makes his way to the Shuttle Control Tower via the Main Control Tower and the Elevator block. By the time he reaches the tower he is terrified. [Approx 20:00 Sanc time

Time: 22:20 Base Dome Air Vents under Shuttle Control Tower. Zechs and Giles crawling in the air ducts hear the explosion set off by Gerry Parker in the tower above them. [Approx 20:10 Sanc time

Dark Side S 43861 A

Time: 21:45 [Time is as for L2 colony cluster Captain Edwards is summoned to the bridge and

learns of interference to the Dakkar III system and is warned to stay clear of the Mars sector. [Approx Sanc time is 20:20

Mars Colony

Time: 22:55 Base Dome Beneath the Shuttle Control Tower, in the old disused venting system.

Zechs and Giles make their way to the new air systems vents to link up with the shuttle port of the dome. [Approx 20:45 Sanc time

Earth AC 198

Time: 20:53 Sanc palace. Quatre and Heero discuss the message from Zechs. Heero tells Quatre about the building trouble on Mars. He tells Quatre about Romefeller and the information they have thus far found about the genetic modifications being carried out on select families. Learn more about what is happening on Mars, namely the fact that two men are dead by Noin's hand.

Mars Colony

Time: 23: 15 Base Dome Air vents near shuttle bays. Giles and Zechs complete their vent crawl and reach the safety of the shuttle bay, setting Noin up in a life support bay on the emergency shuttle. [21:05 Approx Sanc time

Earth AC 198

Time: 21:05 New Port City, Sanc Preventer Headquarters. Sally and Lady Une discuss the past and the events taking place on Mars, Sally leading Une to the knowledge that the babies have special needs that must be met if they are to be of use to the politicians who have arranged this.

Mars Colony

Time 23:30 Base Dome Air vents. Giles and Zechs arive at the vent access to the shuttle bay and Giles goes out int the vent system to investigate the shuttle bay for possible sleeper agents. [Approx Sanc time 21:20

Time 23:40 Base Dome Shuttle Bay Three. Giles, Zechs and Ahmed Hawass, the Chief Engineer establish radio contact with the maintenance workers outside the dome and with Mako in the Alpha Dome. They learn that Barker and two others will be joining them in the sub base within the hour. [Approx Sanc time 21:30

Time 23:45 Survival Cave Base Dome vicinity. Barker watches as the survivors of the maintenance team settle to their long night and determines to find a way into the Base Dome. [approx Sanc time 21:35

Time 23:57 Base Dome One Emergency Medical Shuttle. Radio communications established with

Barker and the emergency medical shuttle on pre arranged frequency. Times for meeting on the inside of the base dome arranged. [Approx Sanc Time 21: 47

Earth

Time: 21:35 New Port City Sanc Palace. Quatre while studying the files on the Gundam Pilots catches a similarity between his own file and Duo's.

Rosemount StationTime: 22:00 [Time zones coincide with Sanc time. Treize reflects on the past and reacts to the mayday from Mars.

2nd March

Mars Colony

Time 00:10 K23 cave system, near Mars Base Dome. Barker and his team prepare to set out for the base dome and the waste treatment plant. Arriving there they make their way into the dome through the pipes. [approx Sanc time 22:00

Time: 00: 15 Base Dome Shuttle Bay. Zechs and Giles leave the shuttle bay to enter the sub base

to check on the sedated agents and prepare to meet Simpson and Frazier for the final confrontation.

[approx Sanc time 22:05

Time: 0: 15 Base Dome, Sub base. Dining Hall. Emergency team meet in the dining hall of the sub base to discuss the events taking place on Mars and what, if anything they can do about it. [approx Sanc time 22:05

1st March

Earth

Time: 22:05 Sanc Palace Heero and Quatre delve into the Dakkar III satellite system trying to learn more about the delay on the system.

2nd March

Station One

Time : 07:27 Station One [ 1st March : Mars 00:15 / 22:05 Sanc time Nigel Hampshire monitors the

Dakkar III communications system as it is shut down. The mayday broadcast all through the Earth Sphere.

1st March

Earth

Time: 22:14 New Port City, Sanc Preventer Headquarters Lady Une and Sally wait and learn that the Dakkar III system has been shut down.

Time: 22:17 Sanc Palace, Heero and Quatre watch the mayday signal from Mars.

Time 22:20 New Port City, Preventer Headquarters Lady Une devises a method by which to take advantage of the situation, if only temporarily.

2nd March

Mars Colony

Time: 00: 35 Waste recycling pipes, Base Dome vicinity. Barker and his team make their way into

the Base Dome intending to join Zechs and Giles in the shuttle bay. [approx Sanc time 22:25

Dark Side

Time 23:50 Dark Side Bridge. Captain Edwards receives the Mayday call and determines what needs to be done. [Approx Sanc time 22:25

1st March

Earth

Time 22:30 Sanc Palace Heero and Quatre react to the alert sent from Lady Une.

2nd March

Mars Colony

Time: 00: 38 Mars Base Dome. Sub base . Zechs and Giles in the medical wing checking on the locations of the ESUN agents before they locate the cached equipment Zechs needs . [approx Sanc time 22:28

1st March

Earth

Time 22:30 Sanc Palace Heero and Quatre react to the alert sent from Lady Une.

Time 22:35 New Port City, Preventer Headquarters. Lady Une informs Wu Fei of her plans and enlists his aid.

2nd March

Mars Colony

Time: 00: 46 Mars Base Dome. Sub base. Zechs and Giles begin searching the medical section and take down out the last of the Sleeper Agents who was killing the medical staff. [ approx Sanc time 22:36

Time: 00: 48 Mars Base Dome Sewerage recycling tunnels. Polnar, Barker and Carter climb the shaft and enter the decontamination and airlock station prior to accessing the dome itself. They discover that the air within the lock has been contaminated. [approx Sanc time 22:38

1st March

Earth

Time 22:40 New Port City Sally Po en route to Lady Une's house to collect Mariemaia.

2nd March

Mars

Time: 00: 52 Mars Base Dome, Sub base. Medical section. Zechs experiences an instance of vision [approx Sanc time 22:42

1st March

Peacemission

Time 22:40 Sweeper vessel under the command of Howard. Howard reflects on the past and the call he received from Raydon. He sets course for the Wellington and calls the Dark Side. Peacemission time is as for Sanc. Vessel is Sanc registered.

Phoenix Star

Time 22:40 [Sanc standard time Dorothy ponders what is to happen on Mars and if the news that her cousin is alive is actually true.

2nd March

Mars Colony

Time: 00: 57 Zechs experiences visions and Epyon keeps him company, offering what assistance may be possible given the circumstances. [approx Sanc time 22:47

Time: 00: 58 Barker and his team exit the air lock and enter the Base Dome, heading for HD 3 [approx Sanc time 22:48

1st March

Earth

Time 22:51 New Port City Wu Fei arrives to fire on Lady Unes house and ponders if he can push the button to launch the missile.

2nd March

Mars Colony

Time: 01: 02 Medical Centre, Base Dome, sub base. Zechs is roused from vision by Giles and during bouts of delerium Zechs recalls certain events with Treize and Giles learns of what happens in the medical centre. [approx Sanc time 22:52

Time: 01: 05 Shuttle Control Tower, Mars Base Dome. Simpson contemplates the events that have left the control tower a useless wreck and locked them within its walls due to bad air beyond in the dome. [approx Sanc time 22:55

Colony L1 – 0025 B

Time: 00: 10 L1 Colony, back street section. Trowa disturbs a murder in a back alley and as the victim dies he whispers Romefella, seemingly laying the blame for his death at that supposedly defunct organizations door. [approx Sanc time 23:00

Mars Colony

Time: 01: 10 Mars Base Dome Upper Dome. Barker and his infiltrators reach the hydroponics dome of HD Three and begin their search for the way down into the sub base. [approx Sanc time 23:00

Time: 01: 15 Mars Base Dome HD Three. Polnar's POV of the search of the Hydroponics dome and the climb down into the sub base. [approx Sanc time 23:05

Time: 01: 20 Medical Centre Mars base Dome. Giles watches over Zechs waiting to see if the medical treatment offered will get him back on his feet after his collapse. [approx Sanc time 23:13

Time: 01: 24 Base Dome. Sub base Medical Centre. Broadham considers what he has been told and how much of it to believe as he arranges for the clean up of the medical centre. [approx Sanc time 23:14

1st March

Earth

Time 23: 15 New Port City, Sanc. Wu Fei arrives at the Sanc Palace and positions himself for the

attack on the palace.

2nd March

Mars Colony

Time: 01: 27 Base Dome. Sub base Medical Centre. Broadham must decide how to handle the members of Blue Squad now within the precincts of his medical centre. [approx Sanc time 23:17

Time: 01: 27 Base Dome Sub base Medical Centre. Giles assists Zechs to set up a confrontation with Simpson and Frazier in the medical centre[approx Sanc time 23:17

Time: 01: 28 Base Dome. Sub base, pump station. Barker, Carter and Polnar exit the pipes and enter the sub base. They almost run into Simpson and Frazier on their way to the medical centre. On their way into the base they meet up with Mighty Joe Lee and Kurtz. Kurtz says he needs to check in with the staff at the medical centre as a systems check after the emergency as the communication systems down. [approx Sanc time 23:18

Time: 01: 32 Base Dome. Sub base. Emergency Airlock. On their way into the base they meet up with Mighty Joe Lee and Kurtz and a group of the emergency response team. Kurtz says he needs to check in with the staff at the medical centre as a systems check after the emergency as the communications systems down. [approx Sanc time 23:22

Time: 01: 33 Base Dome. Sub base Medical Centre. Simpson and Broadham confront each other in the medical centre and word is received of the finding of the missing members of Blue Squad. [approx Sanc time 23:23

Time: 01: 34 Base Dome. Emergency Medical Shuttle. The medical computers sound the alert and attempt to contact the medical master computers and monitors who are supposed to be on duty as to a serious turn in Noin's condition. [approx Sanc time 23:24

Time: 01: 36 Base Dome. Sub Base Medical Centre. Barker, Kurtz and company enter the medical centre and are faced with the dilemma of how to safely take down the ESUN Agent standing in the hallway or escape their notice. [approx Sanc time 23:26

Time: 01: 28 Base Dome Medical Centre. Barker, Polnar and Carter manage to evade discovery by Simpson and Frazier and learn what has happened in their absence. Barker demands to know who Polnar works for. [approx Sanc time 23:19

Time: 01: 32 Polnar senses something wrong with the situation at the airlock and considers the situation he finds himself in. The group meet the Emergency Response Team. [ approx Sanc time 23:22

Time: 01: 38 Base Dome Medical Centre. Barker and the Emergency Response Team confront Simpson and Fazier in the medical centre and Barker manages to go unnoticed and is shunted into a side room where he gets his first look at the butchery that has been going on in the sub base. [approx Sanc time 23:29

Time: 01: 38 Base Dome. Sub base Medical Centre. Broadham speaks to Kurtz and notices the presence of Preventer Agent Eagle in the company of the men who just arrived in the medical centre. He draws Simpson away from confronting the men by turning his attention back to the incident with his men and they learn that the women have been killed by the Sleeper agent. [approx Sanc time 23:29

1st March

Earth

Time 23:30 Preventer Headquarters Lady Une reports to the Sanc Council on the terrorist activity in the city.

2nd March

Mars

Time: 01: 43 Base Dome Medical Centre. Polnar is fronted by Barker on who he works for and they come to an agreement of sorts. The men make their way into the treatment room to join Marquise and Giles. [approx Sanc time 23:33

Time: 01: 44 Base Dome Sub base. Medical Centre. Broadham and Simpson go after the killer loose in the medical centre who has taken out the two sedated women agents. [approx Sanc time 23:34

Time: 01:45 Base Dome Medical Centre. Giles and Zechs bide time waiting for the entrance of Blue Squad and as they wait Giles tells Zechs a little about the Training Masters of Station One and Zechs tells Giles that Treize Kushrenada was a Gifted. [approx Sanc time 23:35

Time: 01:47 Base Dome Medical Centre. Carter, Barker and Polnar devise a plan to get into the treatment room where Zechs is. [approx Sanc time 23:37

2nd March

Mars

Time: 01: 49 Base Dome. Medical Centre the aftermath of the fight in the nursery. Broadham prepares for surgery on the nurse and Simpson decides it is time he dealt with outstanding matters.

[approx Sanc time 23:39

Time: 01:50 [Base Dome Medical Centre. Giles gets Zechs talking about the Epyon and tries to draw him out on the Generation Wars, assuring him that the Training Masters or other members of the Gifted ranks would be best for him to talk to. [approx Sanc time 23:40

Time: 01: 55 Base Dome Medical Centre. Simpson sends medical staff to Broadham to assist in surgery while he heads for the emergency treatment room to determine what it is that Broadhbam did not want him to see. [approx Sanc time 23:45

Time 01:55 Base Dome Medical Centre. Zechs and Giles hold a conference with Barker through

the grill giving him a quick run down of events and they are interrupted when Simpson charges into the room. [approx Sanc time 23:45

Time: 01:58 Base Dome Medical Centre. Barker returns to Polnar and Carter to issue instructions when he learns that Simpson has returned. Polanr and Carter make their way past Simpson and prepare to confront the members of Blue Squad. [approx Sanc time 23:48

Time: 02:03 Base Dome Medical Centre. Polnar and Carter discuss the merits of staying in the room a little longer or going back to see what is occurring in the hallway and whether or not they should try taking down Simpson and Frazier. They are on their way back whtn they hear the altercation taking place in the emergency treatment room. Chapter alternates on various points of view including Barkers. [approx Sanc time 23:57

Time: 02:05 Base Dome Medical Centre. Zechs and Giles make final preparations for the confrontation they know must be only minutes away. Returning through the vents Barker overhears something neither Zechs nor Giles would have wanted him to hear. [approx Sanc time 23:55

Time: 02:06 Base Dome Medical Centre. Polnar and Carter wait before entering he hallway and meeting up with Preston Kurts. They make it past Simpson and Frazier and reaching a safe room they give themselves a couple of minutes before starting back. [approx Sanc time 23:57

Time: 02:06 Base Dome Medical Centre. Zechs and Giles make final preparations and Simpson busts into the room. [approx Sanc time 23:57

Time 02:09 Base Dome Medical Centre. Simpson decides tocheck the wards before entering the emergency treatment room and discovers someone has entered the ducting system .[Approximate Sanc time 23:59

Time: 02:12 Base Dome Medical Centre Giles view of the final preparations and the grand entrance of Simpson and Frazier into the room and the arrival of Polnar to the scene. [approx Sanc time 00:02

Bounty

Time 03:30 Duo has nightmares and is called to the bridge. [Approximate Sanc time 00:15 Duo arrives on the bridge at approx 03:50 [Sanc time 00:35

Station One

Time : 09:57 Station One Raydon prepares to make a telecast declaring the Independent Space Station Alliance and their decision to assist in the crisis on Mars. [ 2nd March : Mars 02:45/ approx 00:35 Sanc time

Earth

Time: 00:45 New Port City, Sanc. Lady Une and the Council governing Sanc listen to Raydon's announcement to the Earth Sphere. The President of the Sanc Council informs Lady Une in private that Raydon is most likely to be exactly who he claims to be and points out that he and the other members of the Station Alliance have broken ties with their Terran heritage.

Bounty

Time: 04:03 Bounty en route to Asteroid Belt. Transmission from Station One is received and Duo and Captain Tracy discuss the implications. [Sanc time 00:48

Earth

Time: 00:57 New Port City Sanc. Wu Fei makes a new acquaintance and calls for help on finding temporary shelter in the blizzard.

Bounty

Time: 04:18 Bounty en route to Asteroid Belt. Duo returns to his cabin and on the way experiences the first instance of telepathic contact with a member of the Bounty's crew. He puts it down to reaction to his current fatigued state of mind. [Sanc time 01:03

Earth

Time: 01:16 New Port City Sanc. Wu Fei talks to Lady Une and assumes the role of investigator of the terrorist incidents in Sanc.

Time: 01:20 Sanc. Quatre considers the situation and the implications of the broadcast and the arrival at a destination, not the safe house as the storm has closed them off in an isolated village.

Mars

Time: 03:30 Base Dome Medical Centre. Barker main character. Listens in on conversation between Zechs, Giles and Polnar concerning fetching the twins to the medical centre. [approx Sanc time 01:20

Aphrodite ISA-R 0143A

Time: 10: 45 [time is as for Station One Raydon on board the Aphrodite, the Station One flagship, under escort in transit to Mars vicinity. He senses Zechs and passes on a message to him, understanding that it is a result of his genetically enhanced gift. [Approx Mars time 03:30 / Approx Sanc time 01:23

Phoenix Star

Time: 01:30 [ time is as for Rosemount Station which is also Sanc time Dorothy contemplates the past, on events before the war and the disappearance of Kristian Kushrenada.

Earth

Time: 01:30 New Port City Sanc . Wu Fei arrives at the remains of Lady Une's home and while trying to deal with the situation he must deal with the news of the appearance of a new power on the scene, namely the Station Alliance.

Mars

Time: 03:50 Base Dome Medical Centre. Chris Polnar's view on the aftermath of the confrontation with Zechs, Barker aned Giles. [approx Sanc time 01:40

Time: 03:59 Base Dome Medical Center. Giles gives a quick explanation on what has occurred since they split up. Polnar joins the Emergency Rescue Team as they hunt for survivors and have them gather in the Medical Centre. [approx Sanc time 01:50

Rosemount Station

Time: 01:50 Treize considers the appearance of another Kushrenada and speaks with the President of Rosemount Station about Kristian and Milliardo.

Mars

Time: 04:10 Base Dome, Sub Base. Polnar accompanies a team into the accommodations section of the sub base in search of survivors. His task is to find the twins and return them to the medical centre to their father. [Approx Sanc time 02:01

Time: 04:15 Base Dome, Sub Base, Shuttle Bay. Noin is found by the medical team dispatched to bring her to the Medical Centre. She is found to be in critical condition and the team have to fight to keep her alive. In her unconscious awareness she is facing the shades of the people who have died on Mars. [Approx Sanc Time 02:06

Earth

Time: 02:05 Sanc Stephansbourg The Coachman's Rest. Sally settles Mariemaia down to sleep and then joins everyone else in the lounge. Talk touches on Milliardo and the history of Sanc's Kings, including the first mention of the White Kings.

Time: 02:20 Sanc Stephansbourg The Coachman's Rest. Heero reacts to the news concerning the psychic aspect of the Peacecraft Line [1st mention that Relena might be a Suggestor Heero wonders if the Zero System and Epyon may have had an effect on the clairvoyant ability of the Prince of Sanc.

Time: 03:15 Sanc Stephansbourg The Coachman's Rest. Heero and Quatre discuss matters concerning what they learned from the Inn Keeper

Time: 03:30 Sanc Stephansbourg The Coachman's Rest. Relena thinks about the past and the implications that she has a psionic ability that can make people do things against their will. The idea freaks her out.

Time: 03:30 New Port City Sanc Wu Fei considers the repercussions of his actions and Une's plans as he examines the wreckage of the house. A looter appears despite the security on the house and Chang wonders if he is not perhaps more than a looter as he eludes the pursuing Preventer Agents.

Time 03:45 [Sanc time Undisclosed location. Romefeller Council Chamber. The thoughts and reflections of Gamma, an Inner Circle member of Romefeller as he awaits the extra ordinary meeting called to discuss the events of the past twenty four hours.

Time 03:45 Sanc Stephensbourg. The Coachman's Rest. Heero and Quatre consider the implications of a machine designed to enhance psionic potential.

Time: 03:55 [Sanc time Undisclosed location. Romefeller Council Chamber. Conversation between high office bearers of the Romefeller Foundation concerning the tactics and problems caused by the younger members of the Organization who have their own agenda.

Time 03:55 Sanc Stephensbourg The Coachman's Rest. Sally and Relena discuss the implications of the earlier discussion with the Innkeepers and the implications of her psionic talent.

Time: 04:05 Sanc Stephensbourg. The Coachman's Rest. Sally and Relena continue their discussion and Sally puts forward a suggestion that shakes Relena to the core concerning the attack on Sanc that killed the King and Queen and a good many of their closest relations.

Time 04:10 Sanc Stephensbourg. The Coachman's Rest. Heero and Quatre Quatre experiences disturbing dreams about Trowa and fire after he and Heero settle for the night.

Time: 04:15 Sanc Stephensbourg. The Coachman's Rest. Relena considers the implications of Sally's suggestion and what it means to her and to her role in the future political structure of the ESUN. She is disturbed about suggestions made as to why the incident on Mars is now taking place.

Colony L1 - 0025 B

Time: 05:45 Single Men's quarters Preventer HQ. Trowa experiences nightmares of an explosion and Quatre haunting him and urging him to investigate. [approx Sanc time 04:35

Earth

Time: 04:40 Sanc Stephensbourg The Coachman's Rest Heero is woken by Quatre's disturbed dreams and attempts to wake him.

Colony L1 - 0025 B

Time: 05:55 Single Men's quarters Preventer HQ. Trowa goes in pursuit of the intruder in the Preventer men's quarters. First mention of Washington [Project Washington, the moon base abandoned one hundred years before with the construction of the original L2 colony [approx Sanc time 04:45

Time: 06:05 Roof of Single Men's Quarters, Preventer enclosure. Trowa engages in a fight with the assassin and discovers he is more than a hand full to take down. [approx Sanc time 04:55

Time : 06:12 Roof of Single Men's Quarters, Preventer enclosure. Trowa reaches the stairwell and manages to acquire one shoe under fire from the assassin. He manages to throw a message off the roof and then determines to keep the assassin busy until help arrives. [approx Sanc time 05:02

Earth

Time: 05:05 Sanc Stephensbourg The Coachman's Rest Heero talks to Quatre about the dream and Quatre tells him it was more likely not a nightmare but a reflexion of Trowa dreaming. He begins to explain about Trowa having an affinity for fire.

Colony L1 - 0025 B

Time : 06:20 Roof of Single Men's Quarters, Preventer enclosure. Trowa keeps the assassin occupied while waiting for help to arrive. [approx Sanc time 05:10

Time : 06:27 Roof of Single Men's Quarters, Preventer enclosure. Trowa learns of the sniper sent to the roof of the target building to take out the assassin from the team coming up the stair well. The missile has hit the target and the body of the assassin is bagged and taken for examination. Evidence is found in his few possessions of a link to L2 where Hilde and Aidan are resident . [approx Sanc time 05:17

Earth

Time: 05:39 Vicinity of Palace, Sanc. Wu Fei, while on the way to investigate the attack on the palace pauses at the site of the burnt out wreck and then moves on to the site from which he fired at the palace. While there he and a Preventer become lost in the snow storm. After finding their way back to the camp they are told they have been ordered to pull out and withdraw to the palace to wait out the storm.

Time: 05:45 Sanc Stephensbourg. The Coachman's Rest. Quatre and Heero discuss the Zero system and the differences that existed between it and the Epyon. They discuss the origins of the Zero system, where the esign might have come from and if the Scientist actually did develop it or if their version was a variation on another design. Heero realizes what the 'psi' in the Romefeller files stands for.

Time: 5:50 Undisclosed location, New Port City Epsilon arrives at her hotel and issues instructions to the assassin sent to her by Delta for instructions concerning the hits to take place on Alpha's order. Instructions given she promptly removes herself to a new secured location as she trusts no one beyond her immediate sphere of influence. [Sanc time

Peacemission

Time: 06:30 Howard reflects on the past and his first encounter with Zechs when he saw the distant battle in the Pacific ocean. Flash back takes place while Zechs is unconscious between Howard and his ships doctor on his salvage barge. [time coincides with Sanc time

Rosemount Station

Time: 06:46 Treize remembers the past and gives consideration to whether or not he should take action against the Station Alliance without first finding more out about Milliardo's experiences with Epyon

Bounty

Time: 10:29 Bounty ship time Duo meets the Chief Medical Officer on the Bounty and undergoes a medical examination to formulate the drugs required to keep his bones and muscles from atrophying in the zero gravity conditions. [Sanc time 07:14

Aphrodite ISA-R 0143A

Time: 16:50 [Time is as for Station One Raydon wakes to deal with the meetings allocated for the evening concerning the decisions made over the Mars operation and the coming conference with the Earth Sphere Representatives. [Approx Mars time 09:22 / Sanc Time 07:17

Bounty

Time: 11:41 Preventer Cruiser Bounty. Duo returns to his cabin and checks his email before his expected lunch appointment with the Captain. [Sanc time 08:26

Time: 11:44 Preventer Cruiser Bounty. Duo sends the message to Howard over a Sweeper band and settles back to wait for Howard's response. He reflects on what course his life should take while he is waiting or a response. [Approx. Sanc time 8:29 [Receive response from Peacemission at approximately 12:22 and send reply to Peacemission at approximately 12:25

_Approximate communications time between the two ships will be between 12 and 15 minutes, depending on the conditions and systems used and the required decoding time. This time is ONE way. Repeat the time frame for the answer to reach the original sender. Two way communication will be approximately 30 minutes, allowing for the messages to be recorded then sent. For example Duo's initial message to Howard would have been received at approximately 8:50 [12:04 Bounty time The response from the Peacemission was sent at approximately 8:53 [12:07 Bounty time and would have reached Duo on the Bounty at approximately 12:22 [09:07 on Peacemission Note to self… I hate time zones. .. And delayed time communications. I really do._

Peacemission

Time: 8:40 Howard waits to initiate the first part of his plan in delaying the Wellington from reaching Mars in time to assist the ESUN forces in their activities. After communications delays he contacts his people and receives a message from Duo informing him he is in space and asking for a communications window. [Time coincides with Sanc time [In this section Howard receives Duo's message at approximately 8:50 Peacemission time / 12:04 Bounty time

Peacemission

Time: 09:20 Howard considers his position and what it is he has planned while he waits for his contact with Duo to initiate. He decides it might be possible for him to arrange the Bounty to used to patrol the designated peace summit talks with the Station Alliance and that way he might have the chance to speak to Duo. He sends word back after receiving Duo's message that he will look into the matter of the Station Alliance and contact Duo later. He warns Duo to inform his captain there is a debris field between Mars and the Earth origin space lanes. [ Sanc time coincides with Peacemission time/ Bounty time is 12:35

Bounty

Time: 12:53 Preventer Cruiser Bounty Duo freshens himself up a bit before attending the lunch with the captain of the Bounty. The Ensign arrives to escort him to the officers mess just as a message from the Peacemission is received and routed through to Duo's station at approximately 12:55. The Ensign apologizes for coming for Duo later than he had expected as the Captain was required on the bridge. [Peacemission/Sanc time 09:38

Note:

_Please note this time line is incomplete. It takes into account only chapters 1 to 185. Additional inserts will be required as events unfold, inserting into appropriate time slots between already listed chapters. _

Karina


	119. Chapter 119 Chapter 118

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 118

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Time: 01: 05 [approx Sanc time 22:55

Simpson

//This goes to show just how much research on this mission was not carried out. How am I supposed to carry out the mission quickly, quietly and above all effectively without accurate information to work with? None of this was included on any plans of the Mars Base that came to my sight.//

It had been one failure after another, this mission. One of the biggest failures in his estimation was his information on the Sleepers assigned to the Colony project. Admittedly there had been a notation that with prolonged isolation there had been known to occur the odd psychological problems with deeply imbedded personnel.

//Odd psychological problem indeed. McIntyre and her entire crew were nut cases. Nothing odd about them at all. Just plain raving psychopaths. They have not helped this mission and heads will roll when it is over. I'll make bloody certain of that.//

Had they no plan beyond massacre everyone as quietly as possible? The amount of corpses he had found to date sickened him. The manner in which most had died clearly suggested the victims had not known what was happening until it was too late. Ambush. Stealth featured in all of the killings to date and he was never going to turn his back on anyone he remotely considered a possible Sleeper Agent. There were lessons to be learned on Mars and he was not going to forget them in a hurry. The only thing that he could see the Sleepers had been good for was cold blooded and methodical murder.

He was getting tired and that was going to lead to mistakes being made and that he could not afford. Too much yet had to be accomplished before he dared to rest. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed for just a moment. While he was alone on the ground floor of the Shuttle Control Tower he was not going to permit himself to be caught off guard. For all he knew the Sleepers who might have survived were that far gone now they would kill first and say oops later.

// What happened here? What happened while I was gone? I needed that bitch to lure Merquise and now … Damn. Will nothing about this assignment work as it is supposed to//

This room had once been an office of some kind, perhaps belonging to one of the Shuttle Control Directors, but now the rather nondescript room was interesting for its latest odiferous addition. The hole burned into the floor was of a somewhat substantial size, burned into the floor with the use of the oxi welder now tucked into one corner of the room. The stench of the burning plastic materials used in the construction of the flooring was vile, though it had dispersed somewhat in the last few minutes, making it possible to remain here without coughing and choking and possibly inhaling enough toxic chemicals to, at the least, give a body lung cancer in a few years.

//This was not on any of the blue prints and design specs sent to me. Somebody knows this place a whole lot better than I do and that is dangerous. //

He glared into the depths of the hole and into the smaller, but still substantial hole burned into the ventilation piping running under the level of the tower. As a necessary part of his mission he had insisted on having every available schematic of the Base Dome for his perusal, prior to their departure from the Earth Sphere's central hub. He needed to know the terrain and the design of the layout to effectively work toward his goal should Merquise have resisted their mission. He had studied the plans for the Base Dome with great attention to detail and this hidden ventilation system had not been included on those schematics sent to him. That failure had now been shown to be of considerable danger to his team.

Someone at the Base Dome had better, more extensive knowledge of the base than was available to him. It was a problem and he could not immediately see a way around it. Frazier had punched a way into the room below the ventilation ducts and informed him that the room below was of a reasonable size and that the exit door was sealed. Who ever had cut their way into the ventilation system had not seemed interested in going into that room, just in the long abandoned system of pipes. Perhaps further along that vent system there was another room, or sequence of rooms, that were of more interest. How was he to know? Could he afford to go into the vents and try to track who ever it was who had gone into the pipes?

Who was it who had known of the long abandoned system of pipes and the rooms they serviced and were they friendly with Merquise? Were they friendly enough with his target that they would tell him about this old system and might Merquise attempt to use it? Or had that already happened? Had an old hand, who had been here prior to the existing structures under the dome, already offered Merquise knowledge of the older constructions that might offer him an advantage in this struggle.

//So much for thinking the tower was secured and that Noin was safe. I wonder where these vents lead and just what else don't I know about this place that could affect the outcome? What else has been missed in my briefing that could wreck what chance remains for a satisfactory outcome? What would be more helpful would be to know what the hell anyone is doing using these abandoned ways? It makes no sense.//

He snorted softly to himself. Of course it made sense; he just did not have all of the puzzle pieces as yet. When he did he would understand just what had happened within the tower after he and his subordinate had departed. He had more investigating to do before he understood just what had been going on here, but he understood that it was a mystery that might have to wait for him to unravel its tangles. There were more important things that demanded his attention at this time.

Somehow he had erred and lost Noin, but no, that did not mean he was going to lose this round. It was merely a setback and setbacks could be overcome. It was only one of many minor problems that had delayed the inevitable this day. If he looked at the facts he had to believe that he was going to succeed in this mission, after all, he had a back up team in the Alpha Dome. While it was true that he had not been able to contact them for hours now, the facts remained that he did have the back up of fresh men and Merquise was on his own. Noin would be useless to him in her condition and while he might have garnered the assistance of one or two of the workers at the dome, that assistance was negligible when you compared it to his team of professionals.

He had backup in the Alpha Dome and he would learn soon enough what kept them so silent. That was unimportant at this time. Following his sojourn into the sub base there was another source of backup to be considered. He had found the two women liaisoned to his team in the medical centre of the sub base and he knew that they would be capable of returning to duty in a few hours. The nursing staff who had been attending to his drugged agents assured him they would recover soon enough and be capable of assisting him and he determined that by then he would have in his custody one irritating blonde and his equally irritating little bastards.

It was no small relief to him that not all of his team were dead or missing now. While two of his men were confirmed dead, he had located their bodies in the sub base morgue, there were still two men missing. The nurses he had spoken to when he had located the women assigned to care for the twins had assured him that his team members would require as little as another three, perhaps four hours before they would be recovered from the sedatives and ready for duty again. He was not inclined to change babies of their soiled breach clouts, or bottle feed them, so knowing the women would be available by the time he located the children was a relief.

While the fate of the two men still missing was unknown he suspected Merquise had taken them out and disposed of their bodies, which led him to believe that the man obviously had a problem with killing women, else he would have killed them too. A possible weakness that he might yet use to his advantage but for now he needed to plan his next move.

"Idiocy." he muttered, glaring into the depths of the hole and then shook his head. It was past time he got over this mystery and his snit at the inadequacies of the intelligence service who served his grandfather. He would have his say in the fullness of time and the same mistakes would not be repeated.

With a grunt he moved out of the room and along the hall, wishing the tower did not stink as much as it did of burning chemicals and roasted flesh. They were on a sealed circulatory system at the moment, a computer warning having sounded seconds before the tower sealed itself and initiated the sealed survival system. He was far from pleased when that had happened as it was due to a toxic buildup within the dome caused by the fire from the elevator block. Another example of McIntyre's brilliant ability to screw up his mission. The safety seals of the tower and every other building designated an emergency shelter in the upper dome had been initiated and there would be no leaving the tower without the protection of an enviro suit.

It was an inconvenience, but it was not a disaster.

It actually gave him time to consider what had happened thus far with the mission and in the tower during his absence with little chance of being surprised by undesirable company. It also gave him the opportunity to make his plans and determine what would need to be done to ensure the ultimate success of the mission. That the mission would be a success he did not doubt. He had not failed thus far in his career and he did not intend to fail now.

The hallway was rank with the stench of burned plastic and cooked flesh and the lesser stench of blood and explosive residue. He was not squeamish at all, but he refused to pay attention to the wreckage that marked the stairwell and what was left of the person who had triggered one of McIntyre's sick little toys. There were body parts and sections of the stairs and banister railing littered over the floor and imbedded in the walls of the hallway and it was ironic to think that if the poor sod had used the elevators he would have been spared such a messy death. No doubt her victim had thought the stairs would be the safer option, which meant that he was a terra former who had cause to know that something was very wrong within the dome.

Simpson scowled as he paused at the elevator to consider that thought. Just how many people still were alive in the dome? The Sleepers had been cutting a swathe through the terra formers and that he could tell the only resistance to their efforts had come in the form of Merquise. He knew that the bulk of the workers here had been assigned to the exterior of the dome for maintenance duties, but he knew there were still a considerable number who had remained within the protection of the dome.

//Not that that matters. They all will meet the same fate in the end.//

He used the elevator, riding it to the level of the control room and stalked into the hallway. He avoided the ladder and, beyond venting a growl of annoyance at the inconvenient placement of the ladder, he ignored it and strode toward the control room, not giving the open vent a glance. He had already been up that ladder shortly after he had returned from the sub base and found that his secured tower had been violated. While the vent had been found to be empty on examining it, he had begun to get an inkling as to what had happened in the control room and the stores and maintenance cupboard where he had left Noin.

McIntyre had come looking for Noin, as he had been concerned she would. He had thought he had covered all bases and that the woman's madness would make subtlety a thing beyond her. His error and he had to admit it. McIntyre might have been insane, but she was not stupid with her instability. She had found the one weakness in Noin's prison and devised a way to use it to her advantage. What exactly had happened after that … He was still trying to work that one out, but he had no time for speculation now. What concerned him was if Frazier had managed to rescue any of the main computers functions.

The smell emanating from the control room was a nauseating, stomach wrenching mix of blood and burning circuitry, combining to make an unwholesome stench. For some reason it was more foul than the odour lingering in the elevator shaft and lower hallway. When they had departed the Shuttle Control Tower in search of his people in the sub base, he had assumed he had secured the tower against intrusion and that his Ace for use against Merquise would be safe. Like so many events of this cursed day he had underestimated his opponents and because of that underestimation he had lost ground without actually coming face to face with Merquise.

He paused on the threshold of the control room, eyes running over the ruined equipment and shook his head. //Merquise had to have been here, but I doubt that he was alone. He is, if nothing else, canny and a professional and he would not have been fool enough to permit any of his people to use the stairs untested. No, the tower has had more than one set of visitors since I left. Merquise had to have been one of them and who that poor fool was down stairs I don't know, but he would not have come alone, I think. He was three times a fool if he did.//

He stalked through the control room, glancing briefly to ascertain what Frazier was doing. He had sent his tech to the control room after they had performed a search of the tower and discovered the office down stairs, which sported that hole in the floor. It was Frazier, the slimmer and lighter of the two of them who had climbed into the hole and cut into the room beneath the vent system and on his return to the office Simpson had ordered him to salvage what he could of the equipment in the control room.

The tech was half hidden behind a computer bank at this time and a steady rumble of cursing was audible as he poked around in the inner workings of the computer banks and Simpson decided to give him a little more time. It was obvious from the amount of shrapnel imbedded in the machines that it would take the man a little while to sort out what would and would not work and how much time and labour would be required to bring the systems back on line. He wanted out of the Control Tower and before they could get on with the business of locating and capturing Marquise, they needed to know more about this toxic buildup in the dome and what effects it might have on their course of action.

He knew without physical evidence that Merquise had been here. He could feel the man's presence like a beacon, something like an annoying bruise on his pride. Only the Lightning Count had ever offered this much trouble and opposition to a mission, but he was not defeated yet. This duel of wits would come to a satisfactory conclusion in the end and it would not be Merquise who walked away the victor. He had to date met and won every challenge he had faced and capturing one man was not going to defeat him. It was just unfortunate that his prime playing piece had escaped him.

He worked his way past the pretzel that had once been a solid steel door with care and glared around the wreckage of the room, shaking his head at the damage. The source of that metallic scent of blood in copious quantities was of course McIntyre, who plainly had met something beyond her insanity to deal with and her luck had run out. Just what had happened in here to leave her strung up as she was and looking like a well used pin cushion? He had seen shrapnel wounds before, but never anything remotely resembling the sheer volume of wounds she bore. It was obvious to him what she had intended by breaking into the room, but something had happened. Something entirely unexpected and something he was at a loss to explain.

//I admit I am not in the least sorry to see her die, but how her death was accomplished is of more concern at the moment. With the evidence there is it had to be some form of explosive, but I have not witnessed the use of, or effect of, any type of explosive material that could produce this type of damage. McIntyre was butchered in here, sliced and diced by shrapnel beyond any doubt and it is my guess that Noin can not have been in here at the time McIntyre broke in, or her body too would lie here. She must have been removed from the room and the explosive charge set before McIntyre made her way in. Merquise? I would not have thought it his style, but what other explanation is there? He or they, if he is not alone and I doubt he is on his own, must have set some type of incendiary device to effect this type and degree of damage. The thing is, he is a soldier. This has a terrorists signature to it, something I would certainly expect from McIntyre, not someone who trained as a Special of the annoyingly honour bound Oz forces. Not Merquise. It is not his style, but if not him, then who and why//

As a result of the blast that had taken place any loose item in the maintenance room had become a missile and the force of the explosion had not only warped the steel door, twisting, bending it and ripping it from one hinge, but had also turned solid steel shelving into twisted pretzels. McIntyre had become entangled and trapped in that twisted shelving, suspended in a steel cage and her body appeared to be the target for the vast majority of the shrapnel formed by the loose spare parts normally stored here.

The force of the explosion must have been phenomenal, as he had noted the wall opposite the maintenance room door had bowed out under the force of the blast. He knew of explosive devices that certainly could cause such damage, but he knew of no explosive that could cause this type of damage and not leave any indication of fire damage.

The blast zone was clean of scorching and flash damage and that was impossible. He had found no indication of scorching on the walls or the corpse of the woman hanging in the room and there certainly was no sign of the signature gel of a nitrogen charge being used, though the chill in the room was suggestive of a nitrogen grenade.

// It's certainly cold enough to be the result of a nitrogen charge, but other than the cold there is no physical evidence of such a charge being used. No, something is very wrong here. I know of no explosive that could cause this damage and leave no evidence of the nature of the device. Other than the chill that is indicative of a nitrogen charge there is no evidence of how this amount of damage could be achieved. I am left with one very dead woman, a freezer full of junk and no sign of Noin. She was incapable of taking any action for hours at her stage of recovery from the shock charge, so she must have been removed before McIntyre was trapped here and just how did they manage that? Frazier knows his business and there should have been enough protection on those codes to stop anyone from getting in here for hours without the correct codes. Nothing adds up.//

From the moment they had reached the Shuttle Control building they had known that something had happened during their absence. The codes on the door had not been the same and on entering the foyer the smell of burning plastic had been obvious. Entering that first hallway beyond the foyer had shown the damage done at the stairwell and the odd body part said it all. He had no idea who the poor bastard was who had dared the stairs without checking for traps, but he was pretty much wallpaper now.

//Ironically the elevator was clear of traps and had he used it he would not have met such a violent end. Either he had entered on his own, or someone had survived the trap and gone on to … what? Some lucky individual survived who had then found Noin …? No. That still does not work. Only Merquise would have had a reason to remove Noin. Anyone else would have called a med alert and left her for properly trained medical personnel to deal with. Just how many people managed to get in here?//

At least two people had entered excluding McIntyre, possibly more and certainly not in the one party. Merquise was professional enough not to fall for the trap on the stairs and he certainly would have had better control of anyone in his company and permitted no one to make that fatal mistake. The cut floor in that office down stairs worried him. Why would anyone cut into the floor and into old vent shafts when they could have simply walked out the door? It made no sense.

//I am missing too much here. //

The lockdown of the building was not causing him much in the way of concern, as he knew what the cause had to be. It was an automatic response to toxic buildup caused by the fire in the elevator block fouling the closely monitored air of the dome, but why were the vents not clearing the buildup of fumes? That was of concern to him. He knew where he and Frazier could get enviro suits to permit them to exit the building, but that was for later. Just now he needed to know if the tech could do something about clearing the air.

The great vent fans of the dome should have been powerful enough to clear the fumes before there had been any danger of a toxic buildup. It was McIntyre he had to thank for this delay in his plans, of course. She had set the bomb on the elevator shaft and initiated this latest development, not that he could take it out on the stupid bitch, of course. She was quite dead and beyond his anger now.

"Frazier, how are you doing in there?"

He knew that Frazier was good, but just how good he was must now be tested. The explosion had seen the main computer consul impacted by shrapnel and suffering fire damage from the electrical discharges resulting from the impact. After looking at that mess himself he was uncertain just how much of the system could still be operational. Frazier was supposed to be working on the system to ascertain if the computers were usable and if possible to check on the integrity of the ventilation system and he had been disturbingly silent for rather a long time.

"Beyond a few diagnostics and basic functions it is unusable. I have managed to determine that the ventilation systems are malfunctioning, but I can't get enough out of the diagnostics to be certain why. I think it is the results of that virus planted in the main system, but I can not be certain with the state the equipment here is in. We locked down the vents before we went to the sub base, but that would not stop the fans or close off the exhaust outlets, which is what is causing the back up of toxic fumes. I need access to a computer that is in one piece to track down the problem, either that or we need to get back into the sub base until the Wellington arrives."

Frazier stood in the doorway, leaning over the twisted wreck of the door and eyeing the chaos in the room with a sickened look. Frazier was by no means squeamish but this was out of the norm and Simpson had had enough of looking at it himself. It was time to make some decisions and standing here bemoaning the fact that he had lost Noin and the golden opportunity she represented to trap Merquise was not going to complete his mission.

// Okay, we are not going to be able to do anything to ensure we have breathable atmosphere up here. Next order of business? Merquise and luring him into a confrontation. Finding those damn kids would bring him running, but I have no idea where he has them hidden or who he would trust enough to leave them with. The reports suggested that he would not trust anyone enough to leave them with other than Noin, but since she went on the war path, who would that leave him with as a viable alternative option? My guess would have to be a friend of Noin's but … I do not know who of her acquaintances they would trust enough for that. Intelligence suggested that McIntyre was considered her best friend and she certainly did not have the brats. Point one. Merquise has been here and he has moved Noin, which may just have killed her considering the condition she was in. Variable. If she died in the move he would likely not be stable. Point two. He has found someone and somewhere to hide those children, his greatest weakness. Point three. Psyche reports based on the observations of the psychiatrists monitoring his condition on Mars, suggest he could be more manageable if he loses control. Variable. So far intelligence on the make up of this mission has been shit and I do not trust the reports as far as I can kick the people who devised them. I am more inclined to think losing control would only make Merquise more unpredictable and more of a handful. //

Frazier stirred when his Commander remained silent, obviously lost in contemplation of their next move. "The majority of this computer system is copied in the Main Control Tower. If I can get into the control room of the tower I might be able to work with that system to get the ventilation systems operational again. The sensor monitors that are still working here suggest within thirty minutes the dome will be uninhabitable. As it is anyone exposed to the air out there at this time has about two, maybe three minutes at most before they would pass out and another minute after that before they are dead."

//Lovely. Undeniably it would make our work easier, however there is the possibility that Merquise is up here. Out there somewhere, hunting Sleepers. I have to take him down alive, but he would not be inclined to ignore the computer warning and that was a general alert broadcast throughout the dome. He would have heard it, but where would he go to shelter// "What about the sub base? Is that vent system at risk?"

Frazier shook his head in the negative. "From the schematics I studied, that system is totally isolated from the systems operating in the enviro dome. What happens up here will not be mirrored down there, unless someone has really screwed with the main control systems."

"Is that likely?"

"I doubt it. I will say one thing for the designers of this place. The dome and the sub base were designed with a herd and a half of safety features in the event that the dome was ever breached. As part of the emergency systems activating the sub base should now be sealed and self sustaining for at least a month, maybe two. The food stores down there are not limitless, but the air supply is on a recycling system and there is adequate water available. The hydroponics domes and three or four of the buildings are like this tower, automatically sealed in the event of emergencies and self sustaining if only for a limited time. Sufficient time for the emergency to be dealt with and adequate repairs to be made to the main system."

// Where would you be, Merquise? Up here still in one of the buildings or hydroponics units, or have you gone back down into the dome? If it was you who took Noin then perhaps you have taken her in search of medical treatment? That has potential. There is also the fact that I very much doubt you would expose your children to the dangers inherent in having a dome as their only protection in the event of an accident happening. The sub base is looking more and more like the security you would be after. Medics and equipment Noin would need are easily available to you down there. //

Frazier stirred, glancing over his shoulder at a small explosion of electrical discharge and sighed. Another failure of the computer system and he glanced back at the Commander when the man finally stirred, moving toward the door.

"Very well. We go back down into the sub base and search for Merquise there. If he has Noin that is where he will be and we can deal with the upper dome at our leisure. Securing Merquise and the children must be our first priority. If Merquise is still up here he would not be inclined to remain in an exposed position, or one easily secured against him and everyone had to have heard that warning. He is most likely to be down in the sub base and that is to our advantage. It will be another two or three hours before our reinforcements are expected to wake up from the sedatives and another hour after that before they will be back on their feet. By that time I want those twins and that man in custody. We need to get the enviro suits and get ourselves once more into a position of strength against Merquise, since we appear to have lost the advantage of possessing Miss Noin."

"Yes, Sir. Suit storage is on the floor above this, just down from the medical bay."

"Have you finished here?" Simpson inclined his head toward the smoking computer banks.

"Yes. There is nothing more that I can do with the computer. I would say they do not have the parts here to effect a repair, even if they were going to be given the opportunity and that may cause some problems if we can not find a system that still operates. Most of the spare parts seem to be imbedded in the walls around us or in Ms McIntyre, Sir. I don't know what type of explosive they used but it was thorough. The shrapnel has pretty much totalled the entire system and taken out the spare parts, leaving us with a possible problem with repairing the life support computers if more systems fail. We had best hope that does not happen, or the Wellington might not find us in the best of health if the entire network shuts down."

//Wonderful. If the network shuts down the oxygen generation plant shuts down with it. First thing first, however. We need to get back into the sub base and it will take us more than two minutes to reach the elevators, making enviro suits a necessity. Anyone who is not in one of these safety buildings will die and I suppose that will save the clean up crew from the Wellington a bit of trouble. If we are lucky Merquise will take out the last of the psychos before we round him up. I have no idea where the bastard is at this time, but if it was him who took Noin, and I doubt anyone else would have bothered with her, then I would estimate that he is on his way to the medical unit. Predictable I know, but he would want to do what he could to save her and she needs all the medical attention he could get. I wonder if he took her to the medical unit upstairs? Probably did and I doubt that he would have found anything there that would have been of much help to her and with communication cut off that would mean he would need to get her to the doctors in the med centre. Moving her around the base will only kill her faster. I doubt that I will need to worry about putting her out of her misery. He'll do that job for me.//

"On the way to pick up the suits we take the time to check out the medical unit upstairs. It is possible Merquise may have taken Noin up there for treatment before moving her out of the tower. We might get an idea of his actions by checking over the room. He is most likely on his way to, or already at, the medical unit in the sub base. It is not his style to rig bombs and booby traps, but in a desperate situation you never know. It is possible that that psycho McIntyre has left some little surprises upstairs that we do not know about, so watch yourself."

"Do we do a room by room check on the way to the med centre, Sir?"

"Not necessary. I have done a room by room while you were busy with the computer. What concerns me is the room under the tower and the old vent system underlying the building. None of that was included on any of the plans I was given of the base. It concerns me that there may be other surprises waiting for us because of faulty intelligence."

Frazier considered for a long moment, reviewing all of the information of the computer systems he had needed to review and the floor plans of their power supply. Much of this mission had hinged on his knowledge of the systems and his ability to make those systems work for them. On none of the plans he had viewed had there been so much as a hint of disused systems, but one report he had read might have baring on this current situation. Perhaps there might even be a separate computer system, long forgotten in those rooms beneath the tower, which might be of use if the network failed.

"I reviewed one report that talked about the construction of rooms beneath the base; this is before the enviro dome was constructed, well before the plans for the sub base facilities were drawn up. It would have been in the very early days of the settlement, when it was a very basic research station, but I'm not sure where the rooms would have been placed if they were constructed. I presume it could be what is under this tower. I doubt it would lead anywhere; it was to be designed for an emergency shelter from meteorite showers I think. The report I read suggested much of the original design for the base to be constructed on Mars was actually scrapped due to economic concerns around AC 190."

"Well enough. Nothing we can do about it now. Up stairs first and secure two enviro suits, then our priority is to make our way down to the sub base. We will check on the condition of the two women and perhaps there might even be news on our missing men. If for any reason we get separated make your way to our original rendezvous point within the air vents. It might be that our missing men have found their way there."

"I checked the radio frequencies while I was checking out the computer. No traffic as yet, Sir. No word from any of our team and no contact with the Wellington."

"Well enough. We are on our own until we hear otherwise. You are certain that you can not do anything with the computers here?"

"Junk would have more use."

"Then we go up after the suits."

He noted Frazier give the computer a smouldering glance, guessing that the man was unamused over the loss of the work he had performed in securing the dome and that effort now being wasted. He had taken care not to let his tech out of his sight, knowing that he needed his expertise and every little advantage that expertise could grant them. While it was true he had not expected Merquise to be a pushover, he had certainly not expected to meet him with his team at less than half strength and to suffer such heavy losses as he had so quickly was downright insulting. Frazier was the only resource he had available to him until those women woke up, or until he could find what had happened to the missing members of his team. It was possible that Merquise might not have killed them, or even met them. Anything could have happened on this God forsaken ball of rock.

He motioned Frazier to go ahead of him while he worked his way around the twisted remains of the door.

// What happened in the Alpha Dome to wipe out the reserve team? No, it must only be radio difficulties; they can't be dead or imprisoned. I have had no news from the big dome since we left there and I still have two men unaccounted for in the Base Dome. Those women in the medical section will be useless for hours yet, but at least I know they are alive and that they may be of use later. The nurse said it would possibly be three hours, most likely four before I can get any use out of them and by that time I had best have Merquise in restraints and those brats secured. The sooner we get this finished the better. I would estimate that within the hour the last of the maintenance workers outside of the dome would be finished. I am not one to condone mass slaughter, but in this situation there has been no other option. There should have been another way to acquire Merquise than to risk this type of operation. Surely the Sleepers could have slipped something into the man's food to make him ill enough to warrant hospitalization. He would have been easy pickings in such a situation. //

It was useless, he knew, to count the various ways that would have made it a successful operation. There were so many ways to successfully take down the man without killing a few thousand people, just because they witnessed it. All of the elite training in the world would not have saved Merquise if this operation had been planned adequately. It was planning failure, he was certain of that. Had the numbers men back on Earth failed to take into account Lucrezia Noin? She had been the one to start this fiasco when she had taken out two of his people. It was not Merquise who had started this massacre but Noin.

Prior to his departure for this mission he had been informed that the consensus was that Merquise would surrender himself and his children to the Commander of the team to avoid any unpleasantness, provided he made it plain to the man that should he resist he would be placing the lives of the terra formers at risk. He was to have met with the man in a formal situation and with all the necessary formalities for the man's blood rite being observed. He was the Prince of Sanc, after all and the powers that be wanted him in protective custody away from the public eye. He was to have explained in suitably flowery language that the man would understand and if necessary say in plain words what would happen on Mars if Merquise chose to resist his detention and transfer. According to the numbers men, that would be the end of it.

Merquise would surrender quietly.

//Right, and I'm a three toed Sloth. It might have been their consensus, but if they really believed it why the hell was I and my team dispatched to Mars to politely invite him to move house? Don't those ideas men have any true concept of what that man used to be? I suppose 'used to be' are the operative words to be considered. It's been a few years since he was in a position to exercise any of his training, but he obviously has forgotten nothing and is still fit. Noin was better than I thought she would be to take out that red haired loony in the control tower the way she did. Strung up like last years Christmas turkey for the slaughter. Well, I guess in the end she was slaughtered. I still do not understand how that was accomplished. All the signs are that a massive explosion ripped through the room. I will need to consider that in dealing with Merquise. He has some type of new explosive that I know nothing about … except what it can do to a person and a room. Impressive I have to admit, but it has been seen and I will not forget. I need to secure the dome. The Wellington is on the way and I need to have this place secured and ready for them when they get here. Not that there is going to be all that much for them to do when they do arrive. The bulk of the workers were on that maintenance team and they are just about gone by now. Even those men and women in mobile suits would not last much longer. //

He stalked to the door and paused, glancing back as another shower of sparks erupted from the computer and he growled in frustration.

"Will nothing go right on this bloody mission?"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	120. Chapter 120 Chapter 119

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 119

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 02 [approx Sanc time 22:52

Zechs

_Vision_

Touch.

Pain.

Danger!

"It's only Giles!"

Danger.

Source unknown.

Panic in words that made no sense at all.

Infringement of personal space.

Threat to security.

Appropriate response …

Physical pain demanded retaliation.

DO NOT

Demanded the threat be removed and security be assured.

THERE IS NO THREAT.

Pain.

Hesitation in the pain at the flow of assurance. With that denial of the need to secure safety there was something else to disturb the already confusing situation. Deep within the form in response to the rising alarm there was a surging nausea threatening.

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_Vision_

Threat. There was threat.

Grip tight on his arms, hurting. Hands squeezing unmercifully, giving rise to waves of agony from his shoulder.

Pain.

Enemy.

Retaliate.

Enemy!

Defend!

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"Zechs? Can you hear me?"

// I … I should know that voice. It is familiar. It is not Epyon. I … hurt. //

"Zechs, is it okay if I touch you? It's Giles, Zechs. Can you hear me?"

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_Vision_

STAND DOWN. THERE IS NO THREAT. REMEMBER.

Remember?

Remember … what?

"Come on Zechs. Please don't go all spacey on me and remember me as a friend. It's Giles, Zechs. Just old Giles, remember? Remember Raydon?"

Raydon?

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// Giles? Do I know … I … yes. I think … I should know someone … ah, I hurt. Why? Why do I hurt? Someone called Giles … Calling me … //

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_Vision_

REMEMBER.

Dark hair?

Raydon?

Golden eyes?

REMEMBER

Raydon. Dark hair and golden eyes and a voice that was warm and mellow and a touch that was like music …

No.

Wrong.

Something was wrong with that picture.

Wrong … Pain …

Remove the pain!

NO

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Once, a long time ago there had been someone who had been called Giles and he had the feeling that he had been important. The name at least was familiar and with its recognition came the teasing suggestion that it had been known to him during a time of great trouble. This name, this Giles had been a source of warmth and stability in a world that had been chillingly cold and empty.

Yes, he had known one called Giles.

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_Vision_

Body lying in tan hallway, blood smearing the walls, twisted misshapen form, still and growing cold in death …

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_Vision_

Blood pooling under the body, oozing from the wound, manic laughter from the killer who stalked forward, gun at the ready.

"Now nothing stands in my way. Got you."

"Giles." Breath of a whisper, knowing he had failed and with his failure the only hope for his children was lost. He did not deserve to live.

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Was he not dead then? He had known him at a time when death had stalked close to them and laughed at the struggles of petty mortals.

No.

No, that was not right. Death was a black robed woman, ancient and wizened who dealt with the lives of others as casually as she would brush away a fly. Death was that terrible wizened form shrouded in black velvets and brocade, with eyes that pierced the heart and promised terrible retribution.

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_Vision_

Staring at the twisted bleeding form. Two men. One gasping in the last throes of life, the wound in his chest a gaping sentence of death.

His killer lay in a twisted misshapen pile of limbs, neck twisted at an odd angle, sightless eyes staring into eternity.

"Zechs ... sorry."

"Giles!"

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"Zechs? I have to touch you to see how badly wounded you are. Now you know Raydon will have my sorry ass when he finds out you took a bullet meant for me, don't you? Of course you do, so you know that I have to check how bad the damage is."

Zechs? Raydon? Giles?

Names.

He should recognize those names. They were important to him though no matter how hard he tried he did not understand how, or why, they should stir something that awoke the pain at a deeper level. Those names, terrible names of great significance, struck some chord of recognition deep within him and it annoyed him that the names circled around him, echoing and reverberating in a never ending cycle within his awareness.

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_Vision_

"I'm still alive?"

Pain! Remove the pain!

REMEMBER.

"Well that's something."

Remove the source!

STAND DOWN.

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"God, I hope to hell you don't lose it now. I have to touch you, Zechs so don't you dare go getting all twitchy on me and cave in the few ribs I have left that are not broken. I'm going to touch you on the right shoulder, okay? It's just old Giles checking to see how badly hurt you are and when I check you over you can check me over, okay? That is what Partners do, right? We are partners and you can trust me. I need to get you to sit up so I can check you over."

Pain.

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_Vision_

REMEMBER YOURSELF. REMEMBER REALITY IS NOT THE DREAMING. REMEMBER AND LIVE.

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Darkness fell before a searing burst of pain that swept all confusion before it, wiping aside the haze of unreality and calling to mind the harshness of life. The dream was gone and in its place were tan walls and floor and pain and a touch on his shoulder from someone something deep inside assured him was a friend and that he must not kill, but there was no denying the pain and that it was caused by touch.

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_Vision_

Hurt!

Defend!

Retaliate!

Corpses lying on the floor, two lying side by side. Broken necks, two still forms, two enemies…

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Touch woke pain and therefore, by its very nature, demanded action be taken.

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_Vision_

"Come on, Zechs."

THERE IS NO DANGER.

"Sit up and let me check your shoulder."

Raydon? Giles?

REMEMBER. PASS BEYOND IT. IT IS NOT TIME NOW TO KILL

"You going to hurl?"

Danger?

STAND DOWN

"You look sort of green."

REMEMBER.

Raydon?

Long chestnut hair, tight plait falling to a taunt derriere and large eyes in a heart shaped face that were the most astonishing shade that lay somewhere between blue and Violet …

No.

Wrong.

INPUT LINK ESTABLISHED. STABILITY ACHIEVED. DREAM SEQUENCE DEACTIVATION INITIATED.

Something … something else. Something not right.

PROJECTION SEQUENCE DEACTIVATED. INITIATING HOLDING LINKS.

Neck under his hands, fingers gripping tighter and tighter, ignoring the pain, ignoring the whispers of one pleading for life …

MEMORY DOWNLOAD INITIATED.

No! Wrong. Must not kill!

MEMORY DOWNLOAD COMPLETE.

Tired of killing. So very tired of killing to stay alive.

ERRORS DETECTED IN DOWNLOAD. RESTORATION NOT POSSIBLE AT THIS TIME.

Vision. Dreaming. Altering … changing reality … reaching for improvement and pulling in disaster …

DISENGAGING SYNAPTIC LINKS.

No. Go back. Realign. Do not kill.

Raydon? Giles? Zechs? Someone else?

Anyone!

EPYON STANDING DOWN.

Epyon?

REMEMBER. Ghostly whisper fading into the darkness.

"Zechs? You are going to have to sit up for me or at least roll onto your back?"

Annoying voice. When would it shut up? When would it leave him be to exist in darkness and peace?

REMEMBER

No threat?

NO THREAT

Silence in the void.

Solitude.

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Pain.

His very bones screamed. His blood hurt as it pumped through his veins. There was a thunderous beat somewhere near that might have been his heart, or perhaps someone else's? His heart beat? Surely it beat too fast and too erratic. Something was very wrong.

"Damn it all man, you have to either sit up or lie down! I can't get to your shoulder with you all curled up like this."

Shoulder?

Pain. A source of pain, just one of many pains in this unforgiving reality. Why should somebody care about checking that one pain when there were so many others they no doubt could reach without being such a nuisance?

"Milliardo! Milliardo Edwardo Lovernius Christopher Peacecraft! If you do not do as you are told this instant I am going to thump shit out of you and I don't care if you kill me for it. At least I would have got in a couple of blows to make me feel better! Turn the fuck over!"

// Milliardo…?//

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_Flashback_

"Milliardo Edwardo Lovernius Christopher Peacecraft! What do you think you are doing? I should tan your backside for such behaviour."

Gasp of mortification and shame …

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//Father?// "F … Father?" His father so rarely ever raised his voice to him. What had he done that was so wrong//Turn over? Father does not swear … I'm sorry.//

Pain rose in waves about him but he must obey. His father did not swear in his hearing, he never had sworn so it must be terribly important for him to lie down.

"You heard me and I'm still alive?" There was a world of shock in that whisper so close to his ear. "Shit. Miracles do happen, I guess. That's right. Just lie back there for a minute and no getting twitchy. Just lie still and let me check you over. God, you're a rotten colour, Zechs. I think I see why you said going into vision was not advisable this late in the game. You look like death warmed over."

//Father? No … I … Zechs? Who is … I don't understand … Father? Help … me … //

Hands. Hands pulling at him, poking and prodding and pulling at … at … clothes? Yes. Clothes. Pulling at his shirt. No. No it was not a shirt that defied those insistent hands. Something else. Something more that resisted the strong touch.

Something was very wrong with the world. He did not understand.

"God, these flight suits are a bitch to get off."

//Flight suits// What was a flight suit// Do I need to wear a special suit to fly to Luxembourg with you father?//

"No, you stay down and rest. I'm here to guard you, remember? God, your eyes look odd. You don't see me at all, do you? Close your eyes, Zechs. Just lie back and rest. Let me get this suit off enough to check …"

Hands on his shoulder and pain rising in very familiar waves of agony, pushing away the dreams and visions. There was no flight to Luxembourg. There was no Sanc Kingdom. There was and never would be again a King of Sanc.

"No entry wound? I don't understand. He said you were shot."

/Shot? Who? Someone was wounded?//

No, he could not lie still. He had to move. There was danger and he knew whenever there was danger that he would be hunted. From the burning streets of Sanc to the desolation of Mars he would forever be hunted …

//Mars?//

Something was wrong and he had … he had … something to do. Something must be done. Danger.

"Christ! Zechs will you just lie still?"

Danger. Someone coming. He knew there was someone there who did not belong and that he must act before it was too late.

"Mr. Giles how are you going with Mr Merquise? Ah, here's a basin. From the look of him he's going to heave and he'll be better for being allowed to get it up. Help him turn over or he'll choke on his own vomit. Have you managed to determine how bad the wound is?"

Cold.

Why was it suddenly so cold?

What was happening with the world?

Hands on shoulders, warm hands on freezing skin. Movement, forcing him to roll and with the movement the world shifted alarmingly. Shudder birthed of the bitter cold and of something else that eluded him. He grasped after that elusive something. If he could just secure it he would understand what was happening to him and that surely would be better than this limbo and chaos that surrounded him. He needed to understand what was happening to him.

Nausea. He would not be able to control himself for much longer. Dizzy. The world spun alarmingly about him and in the confusion and the pain he was lost. Rising out of the maelstrom was the certain knowledge that he was going to heave and with the rising nausea he knew that he was beyond all hope of control.

"Hold him! He's got no control whatsoever at the moment. The wound, Giles. How much blood has he lost? Is there a great deal of blood around the site of the wound?"

//Giles? Why do I feel like shit?//

Out of the confusion and the retching there grew another awareness. This one much more gentle and welcome. Hands rubbed gently at his back, an attempt at a kindness surely and for seconds it seemed most welcome, but as the nausea receded the pain rose again and each light rub seemed to incite agony. An agony beyond anything he had felt for a very long time.

//Not since … since … // What was it that had hurt more than this? What was it that had hurt at least as much as this? Something in the past had hurt him. Something terrible that haunted him and would not permit him to rest. Something that had been darkness and a weight closing in on him … and it had been pain in every nerve of his being … and he had had no escape from it.

//Libra.// It had a name and that name was Libra. He knew that pain and he could name it now. He was uncertain if that was an improvement. // Epyon … Libra exploded.//

Memory flooded him, dragging him down into swirling depths full of darkness and blue flashing lights and the dark crimson that was blood. His nightmares were reborn, but with it came knowledge.

//I exploded Libra. Epyon? I was … trapped … Epyon … lied.//

With the memory other memories birthed. Hands touching in the darkness, hands that had incited raw agony and voices that were cold and detached. Voices that held professional coolness when a mad cacophony of sound broke through his awareness …

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_Flashback_

"… cardiac arrest! Prep the paddles …"

Hands emerging from the darkness. Gentle hands. Warm and caressing, tracing the line of his face and with the hands a deep, mellow voice that was barely more than a whisper yet it drove the cold out of him and demanded he remain and that he fight, though he did not understand for what it was that he must fight.

"… You can go beyond this, Milliardo. Yes, I know you. I believe that I have been waiting all of my life for you. I know there is pain, but it is nothing that you can not endure. Go beyond it, my friend. Reach beyond it and Heal yourself. Sleep for a time and when you wake the pain will be less."

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Raydon.

Golden eyes. Raydon was the promise of warmth and safety and something more than the pain and the solitude he had needed to endure.

In some ill understood way Raydon had come to mean safety.

Safety and rescue from pain.

Shudders shook his body giving rise to a fresh onslaught of pain. The nausea would not leave him and rose again and dry retching only stirred the pain to new heights. He wanted desperately to fall into the blessed abyss that was unconsciousness, but there was an urgency about this pain and the annoying voices that would not permit him to welcome that escape. Something needed doing and it would not permit him to rest.

He did not understand.

"There is no wound. You must have been mistaken, Doc. There is no wound on him that I can find to match what you said you saw."

"No … No, I am certain I saw it. He was shot. I saw him take the bullet."

It was disturbing that he did not recognize that voice. Not even a momentary fragment of familiarity accompanied that voice, unlike the first of the men who annoyed him. He wanted to rest, but there was something that needed to be done and why did these men poke and prod at his shoulder? It hurt enough without them pulling it around more.

"Well, he has no gunshot wound to his left shoulder or anywhere else that I can find. Has he finished throwing up yet? God, he's tense as a drum. Stiff as metal and cold too."

Hands, burning hot on frigid skin, sliding over his forehead and down his shoulder inciting pain and pressing over his heart, which continued to beat rapidly and painfully. Was it a heart beat? No, it could not be. No heart should beat like that but … He must be improving. He at least knew that his perceptions were off.

"Cold? We need to get him under a thermal blanket and bring his temperature up. Don't look at me like that, Mr. Giles, he's too far gone to be a danger to anyone just now. Help me get him onto his side."

Pain. He was very tired of the pain, but that voice was becoming more and more familiar to him. Familiar touch. He could accept the touch from the one his body, if not his mind, recognized but … Something … Somewhere in the pain he snarled and the sound awoke the need to preserve his own hide. The unknown was dangerous in this time of the hunt and he would not be taken down by a Sleeper!

Sleeper? Danger. The memory of bloody death crowded him and he retaliated, striking out in defence of his freedom. He would not be rounded up and contained. He would not be a helpless prisoner while his children were taken from him and given to those who would exploit their innocence.

"No! Damn, you fool! I told you not to touch him. He's so far out of the zone he does not even recognize me, I'm sure of that. At least not consciously. Did he break your arm? On some level I know he must recognize me, because he's not taken me out yet, but he does not know you from a bar of soap. Of course he's going to strike out. Give me a minute to get him under control."

"Something tells me that you don't have a minute to waste, Mr. Giles. Not from the colour of him or the way that he is losing body heat. His skin is like ice and his heart beat is erratic. He has no strength left to do any real damage to me and I think that may have been his last hoorah for the moment. Get him on his feet if you can and into that room. We need to get him into bed and then I can do what I can to get his temperature up and stabilize his condition. I don't know what is happening here, but this abrupt heat loss is not good. How the hell he has become hypothermic I don't understand, but he needs treatment, not arguments."

"I don't have a clue what is happening either, but I am not taking him in there! One look at the mess in there is likely to send him right over the edge and I for one do not have any wish to be around if he goes berserk."

"Mess?"

"The Sleepers got to your patients and to some of your nurses." A ragged whisper.

Sleepers?

Danger! Sleepers! Yes, he knew Sleepers. They hunted … hunted … what?

No! He was losing it. He could not afford to lose his stability now. He had to think. He had to maintain his balance and sort out the confusion.

// Sleepers. Remember Sleepers and why it is so important to remember. Damn it! More. Remember more … Giles. I remember Giles! Doc. Doc?//

He did not know anyone called Doc. Sleepers. Yes, he knew what Sleepers were and what they meant. Death. Giles. That was a name he was familiar with and he remembered they worked together, but try as he might he could not place a face to match that name. Not just now. It was known, though and he was to trust that one.

// Why// Why was he supposed to trust the one called Giles? Why should he … // Raydon.//

Raydon had sent him. Yes, there was that memory swirling and surfacing through the murky depths. Raydon had sent Giles in secret to protect him and he … he … had …

"I don't understand this. I saw him hit by that bullet. Is that a shoe mark? The bruising is heavy. Deep."

Hands pressing into the source of that pain, coldly detached and clinical touch. Hands wandering and focusing on hurt after hurt and he recognized it as a clinical survey. He was being quickly and very professionally examined for injuries.

"We need to get the rest of this bandaging off and get that shoulder x-rayed. I see some attempt has been made to clean up and treat these other wounds. That is something at least. What the hell was he doing to be marked up like this?"

"Later, Doc."

The world spun alarmingly around him as something changed and the hands on him shifted and gripped him. The touch was carefully away from the worst of the hurts and for that mercy he was more than thankful.

"Where do you want him? Be quick about deciding Doc. He's no fly weight you know."

Something … solid? Was that the right word? Something solid beneath his feet. Feet. He had feet. He could feel them and they were just another source of pain. His entire body ached and there was no avoiding that pain, but the pain was no longer the worst part. It was the cold.

Why was it so cold? Had he done something stupid and taken a bath in ice water? No, of course not. To even ask himself the question was stupid. Was he losing his awareness? Possibly and that could be bad. No, he had not taken a bath in icy cold water. There simply was no reason for him to have done something that idiotic.

Was it a dare from Noin? Had he accepted a dare from Noin and taken a bath in ice water just to shut her up? Damn, that girl had a way of making him do utterly stupid things. Treize would have a lot to say when he found out and none of what he had to say would be good.

Treize?

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_Flashback_

Flash of light … An explosion far off in space and barely visible … with it pain lancing through him, rising and carrying him with it. Silent scream of denial and hopelessness.

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No. No it could not have happened . It must not have happened but … It had happened.

He knew it had happened, just as he had witnessed it so many times before.

Epyon.

Epyon had said it could be avoided, that he might be able to turn that miserable fate from his childhood friend but … It had happened.

Epyon had lied.

Treize was dead in the icy chill of space.

Ahh … Was this then why he was cold? Did his suit have a leak? Well, if that was the case then blessedly it would be over soon. The chill vacuum of space would finish him despite the machinations of that accursed suit.

Epyon had lied! Epyon had told him that he could save his friend. Epyon said that Treize need not die as he had foreseen in the visions to stop the wars to come.

Epyon said that they would meet again.

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_Flashback_

"Milliardo. I'll be waiting on the other side."

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Treize.

Epyon had lied.

Treize had died.

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_Flashback_

"Milliardo. I'll be waiting on the other side."

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_Flashback_

"Do you ever look at the stars, my friend, and wonder what lies out there?"

He frowned up at the clear night sky, not a single dark cloud to hide the twinkling stars that arched overhead. Treize stared up at the sky with a look of such longing and hunger. It amazed him that his very down to earth and sensible friend could look up into the night sky and stare with such rapt wonder at the heavens.

Noin was like Treize. She too had the ability to stare at the stars and could go on and on talking about what lay out there in the coldness of space and what she would find when she went out to the stars. It held a mystique for them that he simply could not share. It held a magic that enchanted them and as yet he had not found a way to share in their dreams.

They were the same stars that had looked down on him when his mother had taken him for a walk along the beach under a full moon and on that night he had felt their magic. It had been wonderful to feel her warmth and to listen to her tell him stories of far away and strange worlds. She had told him of a Princess of the Stars who would seek out her Prince from amongst all of the planets and that this Princess would one day come to Earth and maybe to Sanc in search of her prince. She had said that the Princess might even choose him and take him to the stars with her. He had laughed and danced with her on the shingle beach and it had been very late when they had returned to the palace, but he had had wonderful dreams about flying through the stars and walking on beautiful golden worlds.

The stars were the same stars that had looked down on him while Sanc burned around him. The same stars that had appeared to light the snowy night and that had watched as the fires melted the snow and washed away the blood and the ashes as he had gazed up fearfully into the sky, afraid that the monstrous giants would once again come and this time they would find him and kill him.

"No. I don't understand what you find so fascinating about the stars, Treize. Space is cold and empty."

"Empty?" Warm deep blue eyes, like Mother's sapphires had smiled and gazed hungrily up into the night. "No, Milli, space is not empty. There are billions of worlds out there, far away from this one and when I look up at the stars I see the possibilities of what could lie out there . New worlds. Think of it. Worlds where there could be life. Life very different to that which shaped this world."

"You should have joined the Space Exploration Corps, not become a part of the Alliance, Treize. You sound like you would belong there, looking for new worlds instead of training to fight wars on this one."

Sapphire eyes flashed with wild spirit and the smile that lighted his handsome face was more hungry than joyful. It surprised him and he was afraid of the fire and hunger in his friends face.

"I will, one day. I will leave all of this behind and I will go out there, to the stars. Don't look at me with such doubt in your eyes, Milliardo. I would have been a space explorer if there was not such a need for soldiers now."

"I wish you had not become a soldier." A whisper in the night.

His friend's hand was warm as it touched his cheek and his eyes were very gentle now. Soft and warm his hand and he chose not to feel the calluses that marked Treize's hands as those of a Mobile Suit pilot.

"I had to become a soldier, my friend. I had to become a soldier to make sure that there will be no other boys who will see the horrors that you have seen. The fighting will stop. I promise you, Milliardo that I will put a stop to all of the wars and then, when it is all done and there is peace … then, my friend, we will go to the stars."

"Why would I want to go to the stars?"

He frowned, glaring up at the points of light that seemed to so excite the only one he trusted. Everyone he loved was dead or hidden away and far beyond his reach. Everyone except Treize and so often he just did not understand his friend.

"Because out there we can begin again. Out there is a new beginning. Look at the stars, Milliardo. There are uncountable new worlds out there where we can start again. Why should we not find one world amongst so many that has never known war? Why should we not be able to find a world where little boys and their baby sisters can live in peace and grow up laughing together instead of war bringing my Prince to tears? There will be a world where we can stand on a beach and admire the peace that has never been disturbed by the sounds of machines of war. A safe world, Milliardo. A new world just waiting for us to find it."

He stared up into the sky and at the myriad pin points of light and felt his friend's eagerness and conviction. Treize really believed that one day there would be another world. "Do you think that there really is such a place?"

"Yes. Yes, Milliardo. I know that there is such a place out there. A world where we can start again and we will take others to our new world and they will find it just as beautiful and just as peaceful and so, so perfect. It is out there, beyond our familiar stars. Out there, somewhere, on the other side of the asteroids there will be the way to find our new world. We will go there, together and we will find that world and there will be no more war. When all of the fighting is over I will go there to wait for you. Remember that, Milli. I will be waiting on the other side …"

0000000000000000000000000000

"On the … other … side …? Treize."

"Zechs? Zechs, are you with us again? Doc, I think he's coming to."

Voice swirling up from the darkness, familiar and caring.

"Treize?" Whisper. It was so hard to focus. So hard to talk, but he was not alone.

"What did he say?"

Light touch to his cheek, warm hand. A hand that was familiar but somehow wrong. The calluses were different. Wrong.

"Nothing, Doc. He's just mumbling. A bit delirious I think. I'll watch him."

Hands on him. Something sharp pricking his arm, but he simply could not be bothered protesting that small abuse.

"He will be disoriented at first and likely experience a few minutes delirium. To be honest I would be surprised if he was not somewhat out of reality considering. I must say that I do not agree with you about this. The man needs rest."

"Not again, Doc. We don't have time for this."

"So you say. I believed he called Treize? Treize Kushrenada, perhaps? I had heard he was close to the World Sovereign at one stage."

"They were childhood friends."

// Treize? Where are you?//

"In my days in the med corps I heard enough rumors to suggest it was more than merely childhood friendship. That, however, is of no concern to me." Hands on his forehead, moving to his cheek and down to rest over his heart and linger there. "His temperature is climbing, so he should recover more quickly. Heart beat is steadier but still not to my liking. Improving, though. Much improved on what he was. Giles, you must understand that I do not dare give him any more medication at this time."

"Just so long as this stuff you have given him will help him get back on his feet."

Yes, it was very important that he get back on his feet, thought for the life of him he could not quite recall why it was so important.

"Mr. Giles, I don't know why you think the medication I administered was solely administered to get Mr. Merquise back on his feet. Yes, I have administered stimulants, but I assure you the medication was not administered to get him out of this bed and running around the base again. This man is in trouble. His health hangs on a thread just now. The medication has stabilized his condition and I dare not give him any further treatment at this time. The use of additional stims would do his system serious damage. He is not to be given any more, do you understand? If the administered dosages do not get him on his feet-and I can tell you now that I doubt he will do more than roll over in his sleep- then you are out of luck and you will have to manage without Zechs Merquise."

From close by his side the sigh was marked by exhaustion and worry. "I know, Doc. I know, but we have serious problems and I really need him back in action. At least to an advisory level of awareness. We don't know how many more Sleepers there are active and we still have two members of Blue Squad running around. Zechs has the most experience in dealing with these kinds of situations."

"Personally I don't see that that is the case, though I do see that you believe it. There are other ex military personnel who carried reasonable rank and experience who could be of assistance in this situation. I have heard of the Alliance Blue Squad." There was a wealth of distaste in that quiet voice. "They had an unsavoury reputation when I was in the forces. If he is going to come around and be of help to you, then it will happen in the next ten minutes or so. If he is not awake and aware by then you will just have to get used to the idea that he has reached his limits. We all have those, Mr. Giles. It is a natural inbuilt safety feature that comes with birth. After a certain point your body simply shuts down and from the marks on him and what you have told me, I would say that he has reached that point. I'm sorry, but I do not believe he is going to be of any assistance from this point on. No more medication."

//Not good. Tired, but I have work to do. I have to wake up. //

"Understood. Oh Doc, before you go, did you take the knife from the hallway?"

"Knife?"

"Yeah. The Sleeper agent dropped a knife in the hallway and when I went to collect his weapons I could only find the gun."

//Gun? Knife? What happened in the hallway?//

"I saw no knife. Only the gun and that was fitted with a silencer. Give him a few minutes, Mr. Giles and please, do not rush him. That will do more harm than good. I will be back to check on him after I have checked on Jenny Santos in Recovery."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	121. Chapter 121 Chapter 120

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 120

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 20 [approx Sanc time 23:13

Giles

// I know that I was not hallucinating. It was there, on the floor not a meter away from me. I saw a knife in that hallway and I saw the gunman drop it. Everything was … odd … weird, but … I saw it. I know it was there and I know that it's not there now and that going back there again to search for it will not help. The only solution is that someone must have come into the hallway while we were settling Zechs for treatment and they must have taken it. Why? The obvious answer is not good. It suggests that we more than likely have another Sleeper stalking the sub base and I can not leave Zechs unattended. //

His gaze flicked back to the blonde lying on the hospital bed, bare-chested except for the heavy bandages bracing his shoulder and the sterile pads covering the raw wounds that resulted from their crawl through the air vents. The blonde still looked like death warmed over, but at least he was no longer that disturbing green shade and though he was pale he was at least not ice cold to touch.

//Really, you have done enough. I should not want you to get up off that bed and leap back into the fight. It's not fair to you.//

Much as he might wish it he was doubtful that Zechs was going to be of any use during the next stage of the fight against the ESUN Agents. Admittedly the man did look better now than he had when they had been in the hallway, when he had been searching him for the bullet wound the surgeon had claimed he had suffered. His skin colour had improved and his temperature had risen so that he was not cold to touch, all indications that he was improving but the man had not moved since the surgeon had left the room. Not a good sign that he was going to be able to even advise on what needed to be done.

There was also the unknown state of the man's mind to be considered. Just what had happened out in the hallway? It was all weird. Unreal. Even his memory of the events seemed wrong somehow. Confused. He still felt disoriented, though that too was improving and he was confident that he himself was up to continuing this fight. The problem was he had been placed on Mars solely for the purpose of bodyguarding the former Prince of Sanc. Raydon's instruction were very specific about that.

He rubbed at the stubble making his jaw itch and rested his head back against the wall. He was tired. He had been up late the night before and risen early as part of the maintenance team to work outside the dome and it had been a very long and active day. Idleness at this quiet time was sapping his adrenaline charged system of much needed energy, leaving him lethargic. He needed sleep, but there was no chance that that was going to happen until they had resolved this conflict and for him that meant that the ESUN agents had to be taken out and the Sleepers must be dealt with. Nor would that action present him a chance to rest. He needed to get Merquise into security quarters and tucked away safely for the night. For all of that to happen he needed help.

Help it was fairly clear that Merquise was not going to be capable of giving.

// I don't know what to do. I can't finish this on my own and while I know there is help coming I don't know if we have the time to wait for them. I can't leave you here. Not in your condition. Not alone. I can't leave you without someone I can trust to watch you and the only one I could trust is not here. I don't even know if he is alive.//

He was, to all intents and purposes, on his own. Barker and at least two others were coming to help, but he had no idea where they were or when they would arrive. Or if they would arrive. They had to get into the dome, into the hydroponics unit and into the sub base before they had a chance of joining up together. That was a lot of ground to cover with hostile units of unknown number between them.

//I want you awake and active and I know that I should be hoping you will agree to stay out of what is to come. If I could find a nice safe place and stash you there I would be a lot happier, but I would need to be assured that you would not crawl out on your hands and knees to offer a helping hand and get yourself caught, or hurt worse than you are now. I either would need to garner your word of honour to stay put or hope that you remain unconscious while I dealt with the situation. //

He slipped to the door and listened to the sounds of movement beyond. He really did not like the idea of being trapped here. The treatment room had two doors, the one through which he had entered and the one across the room from which the doctor had fetched medications and bandages to use in treating the blonde. Whether the next room had an exit or not that was less than public he did not know. He had not dared as yet to turn his back on the blonde for fear of leaving him alone.

He was afraid that when Zechs woke he would be disoriented enough to be a danger to anyone who approached him, no matter their intentions. The man was ex-Specials and they had a nasty reputation amid the medical system. There were a couple of ex-Specials elites on Station One and both had had nasty reactions to coming out of anaesthetic after treatment. There was a standing alert through the medical bay on the Station when one of the elite soldiers who had joined them required medical treatment. When they got him back to Station there was no doubt that Zechs would have his name added to the alert list should he require medical treatment.

//Nor is it just the Specials who require such cautious handling. We have Alliance elites too and they are just as bad when they are disorientated. Hit out first and find a secure place to assess the situation seems to be the standard training for those men and women. I was good but not in the same league as them and certainly not in the same class as Merquise. What must he be like if he has a nightmare? God, I'd hate to have to be the one to deal with him. Noin must be strong and good herself to have survived such nights with him.//

Unfortunately that was exactly what was involved in the current situation. He was bodyguard to the man who could take him apart physically and there was little he could do to defend himself against the man's sheer speed. Not that he looked exactly capable of so much as beating a snail in a sprint challenge at this exact point in time, but he had learned the hard way not to underestimate the man.

//I don't know if I should be urging you to wake up. Whatever happened in the hallway was … odd, even by the standards I have come to learn are normal. I've seen some weird things amid the Gifted and learned that reality is a little stranger than most think possible, but what happened out there … Zechs, just what did happen? If you are on a psychic high are you going to be a danger to everyone around you? If you are, for God's sake stay asleep. I can't deal with a Psychic in crisis.//

He had been living with that fear for some time now, ever since they had found Lucrezia Noin in the shuttle control tower and he was not inclined to wish a second psychic on the edge be in his control. If Zechs had experienced a psychic incident it was of a type he had never heard of before and he knew enough to know that mishandling the psychic in crisis could result in death, insanity or coma.

// I'm not a coward, but I sure as hell don't want to have to explain to Raydon, or the Training Masters, that I fucked up royally with someone of his potential. The Doc did not sound hopeful that you would rally enough to take part in any action that would be needed from here on in and I know that I am being unfair in hoping you are going to roll off that bed and give me that glare that means you are ready to kick ass. Truth is you have done enough. More than enough, really and I owe my life to you. You may not agree with my assessment of the situation, but these people are going to have to learn to fight their own battles and much as you think they should not need to, it's simply the truth. I think I know why you did what you did in the wars and I am probably way off base or only touching on your reasons, but I think I know enough about humanity to know that ultimately we are all responsible for our own lives. If we choose not to fight for the right to live then we deserve to get what comes. Not that you would agree. //

He would never agree with that assessment. If he did he would not have led the life he had since the fall of Sanc. There was a great deal that Giles did not know about the past of Zechs Merquise, but what he did know was enough not to envy the man his birthright. A six year old pacifist reared a Prince and responsible for a country's people had to be twisted a bit by what he had witnessed that long ago day.

//No, don't go there, Giles Old Son. It has no bearing on the events of the day, so give it a break and get back to what does concern you. Namely dealing with the situation. Did you move?//

He stared hard, not daring to move, eager for a sign that what he thought he saw … what he hoped to see, was real. The man on the bed remained still.

// Guess not. I've already exceeded the time the surgeon said you would need to rally with the stims in your system. I have to face the fact that I am going to have to make the decisions from here on in and that I have to make a choice between guarding you, or trying to take down the killers running loose here. Raydon would not be amused if I left you in uncertain company and I don't know these people enough to make that kind of choice. I don't know these people and their political views or their feelings about the wars, but they can't all be sleeper agents. They can't all be out to get you if the situation should allow them a stab at you. Capture. Revenge killings. I just don't know enough to judge. The surgeon seems a decent enough sort, but do I dare trust him? Anyone on his staff could have taken that knife and be an agent for a corporation, radical faction or the ESUN. God. I'm so fucking paranoid.//

He stalked to the side of the bed and glared hard at the patient, willing him to stir and at least groan in his sleep. A light sheen of perspiration marked that pale brow and Giles frowned, lightly running a hand over the man's forehead and then down to rest over his chest. He had progressed from icy cold to warm and now obviously some kind of fever was in the works. His temperature was up, perhaps even higher than he had noted it to be in the emergency shuttle. For all he had a fever his skin was pale, almost frighteningly so. With a fever like that he would have expected the man to be flushed.

//Not good, I think. The surgeon should be back soon.//

Broadham and the two male nurses who had appeared soon after Zechs had begun to recover from whatever it was that had taken place in the hallway had aided him in getting the blonde into the treatment room and stripping him down to begin treatment. With Zechs examined, treated as best they could manage for now and with Giles there to watch him, the three had left to supervise and begin the clean up of the medical centre.

Broadham had returned once to check on Zechs, nodding at the rise in temperature and the stability of his condition and to inform him of what was taking place in the centre. A doctor and male nurse and an orderly were now doing a room by room check for other victims and at his concern over that Broadham had assured him that all precautions possible were being taken to ensure their safety.

The three men had been warned what they might expect to find and that they really did not know who was friend and who might be foe. He had been assured that the male nurse was an ex Alliance medic, combat trained for a front line unit and was more than capable of defending himself and his companions. To that Giles had refrained from saying his fears that one of the three could be a Sleeper, even the nurse who was supposed to protect the other two. He was, he knew, being too paranoid about this whole business.

Not intending to leave Zechs unattended and exposed to any possible agents and certainly not inclined to leave him alone in his present condition, he had permitted them to do as they pleased. He had told the surgeon what he could of what was happening at the dome and warned them that their own people were doing the killing. If they died in this room to room search then he had done his best to warn them of the dangers and their fate was in their hands. He was not their keeper. For all he knew since the surgeon had left they might have sent more to search the centre and lost people to another killer. Was that why he had not been paid attention to for so long? They were all dead?

//Christ. I'm going to be a nut case by the time this day ends. // His eyes flicked over the man in the bed. //You would have my ass if you knew I had let them go. We don't quite see things the same way, do we? At least we do not agree on who ultimately is responsible for an individual's life. Hey, I warned them. I told them what they could expect and they made the decision to go anyway. It is an unpleasant task that admittedly has to be done and they chose to do it now. You would not have agreed, advising them to delay until the larger matter with the ESUN agents was sorted, but I did try that and they ignored me. Sorry if I disappoint you, but I judge watching you at this time to be more important. Besides, I don't have to tell you about it if you don't ask. //

The surgeon had come to check on Zechs and to inform him that they were taking a headcount of the dead and then would be moving them to the morgue and cleaning up the rooms. One thing that they had agreed on was that there would likely be the need for hospital rooms by the time this was all over. He had heartily endorsed the idea that the operating theatre be prepared for possible surgery and he had taken the plunge and told the surgeon that he definitely would be having one critical patient. He had told the man while he checked on Merquise's progress about Noin having been shot by that infernal shock weapon and what he could of her condition when they had left her.

He only hoped that the surgeon was truly on their side after having given away Noin's position and vulnerability, but the man had seemed incensed by the idea of the weapon, decrying it and wondering aloud why anyone would want to use it over a tazer. He had been gratified by the mans reaction and his confidence had picked up a notch with the surgeon's decision that for now Noin was better left where she was. The med computers on the shuttle would maintain her condition and the surgeon had left him with a better understanding of what kind of people they were dealing with, to prepare for a heavy casualty count and make arrangements for the intensive care units to be prepared.

He had not dared tell the man what had happened in the shuttle control tower. He just did not have the words, or the nerve, though he might have to speak to the man before the day was out. He did not want Noin waking any time soon.

//I can give you maybe another ten minutes, Zechs. If you don't stir by then I will have to make other plans and try to get you into a secured location. The question is where would I consider to be a secure enough location considering the unknown potential for betrayal?//

He rubbed at his jaw, absently curling a lock of silver blonde around his finger, staring off into space, considering the best course of action to be taken.

"Ten minutes. That is all I dare wait before I have to take some kind of action. I can't trust the medical staff if I am not here to watch over you. One of them could be a Sleeper, or have unresolved issues over the war and take this opportunity to get to you. I am not by nature the most trusting soul. Someone took that knife." // Any one of them could be an agent.//

He moved to the door, pressing his ear to its surface and easing it open enough to bring the sounds clearly into focus. Movement and the murmur of voices further down the hallway. He glanced back at his charge and then eased the door open enough to peer out into the hallway and watch.

He winced as an orderly carried a body bag into one of the rooms down the hallway. He knew that a nurse and her patient were in that room, butchered by the Sleeper. Still cleaning up the mess and transferring the bodies to the morgue. He was uncertain what the head count was in this latest massacre, but he was very much afraid that it would not be the last of the deaths to occur.

"Giles?"

The ragged whisper, a harsh croak, snapped his head around and he closed the door quickly, hurrying to the bed. Zechs was naked beneath the blanket thrown over his lower half, the flight suit having been stripped from him to permit the treatment of the raw wounds and the heavy bruising at his shoulder. The surgeon and his assistants had examined every wound on the man and approved the make shift medical treatment they had performed in the shuttle bay and after examining the abrasions the blonde carried had demanded to know what the hell the man had been doing to get in that sort of mess.

"At least you had sense enough to use the decontamination shower, but it must have hurt like a bitch." Broadham had dismissed the two assisting him with the instructions to fetch the portable x-ray unit and himself returned to applying dressings and bandages. "I suppose you are in much the same condition?"

By the time the nurses had returned with the x-ray unit Broadham had dressed the burns Zechs had acquired from the ropes they had used to secure Noin to him, as well as the burns on his left arm and hand and with Giles assistance had cleared the area around the bed of medicines and obstructions allowing them to position the unit quickly.

While the nurse who doubled as the radiologist on this shift developed the x-rays Broadham and his remaining assistant had strapped the shoulder with elasticized bandaging. Through it all Giles had stood and watched and hoped the blonde would not rouse ready to fight those who worked on him. The best news in his view was that the consensus was that the shoulder was not broken, merely deeply bruised.

"Zechs? You with me again?"

A grunt of pain was answer enough and the blue eyes cracked open. After a moment he saw recognition in those crystal depths and breathed a sigh of relief. He had been afraid the man would wake and not recognize him, but that was a fear set to rest when Zechs struggled to sit and Giles was not flattened when he moved to help. Those eyes had glanced at him, but there had been no alarm or distress and his assistance was accepted readily enough. Zechs was shaking, his hands barely able to grip the mattress as an aid to pulling himself erect and in helping to steady the man Giles was aware of the steadily rising fever that radiated heat from once chilled skin.

"Where are we?" The croak sounded painful and the blue eyes narrowed, a short harsh sound somewhere between a cough and a gasp followed the question.

Giles made certain the man was leaning on pillows before he fetched a cup with water and a straw offering it and steadying it when Zechs proved incapable of grasping it in badly trembling hands.

"We are still in the medical centre. Drink as much as you can. If necessary I can refill."

"Status?"

//Seems well enough if damn shaky. His eyes are clear and I can't detect any trace of that … oddity I saw earlier. // "One of the docs and I managed to get you into a treatment room and he did what he could to get you comfortable. You've been given some stims to stabilize you, but I doubt it will be enough to get you back on your feet. We don't dare give you more. Doc says it is not safe."

A couple of deep breaths and another long drink of the water while blue eyes surveyed the room, noting the placement of every piece of furniture and the tray of bandages set to one side of the bed. He scowled and a shaking hand flicked the sheet covering him up and blue eyes widened slightly at his naked state.

"What happened?"

"Fucked if I know." A sigh.

He blushed under the scrutiny of those ice blue eyes that now looked remarkably normal. Nothing of that strange oddness lingered in the clear crystal depths and there was a puzzled expression that suggested that Zechs recalled little, if anything, of what had occurred in the hallway.

"Sorry. I don't know what to tell you except that I should be a dead man. Thanks. For saving my life."

A frown creased his brow as he looked about the room again; no doubt trying to place exactly where in the hospital they were located. The hospital furniture on Mars was generic and the same that you would find at any hospital throughout the Earth Sphere. They might have been on L1 or Earth instead of Mars. His eyes focused on his flight suit thrown casually over a chair near the door.

"The Sleeper?"

"Oh, he's dead. You made certain of that. You cracked his skull for him and shattered his spine at the neck. It was … rather spectacular to watch."

The blue eyes clouded and a hand rose to press shaking fingers to his temple, rubbing gently. Giles could see the effort he was putting into remembering. "He … had a gun? Or was it a knife?"

Giles frowned eyeing his companion with a thoughtful intensity, wondering just how much the man recalled, but noting that hesitation over the weapon. He had seen the gun and he mentioned a knife. The surgeon claimed not to have seen a knife, but Zechs recalled one being there.

"How much do you remember?"

His free hand came up to press against his face and the blue eyes half closed. "I'm … not sure. Something …happened. I'm not sure … Something strange. Odd."

//A bit of an understatement that, Your Highness, but I think I had better not allow you to put so much effort into remembering just now. If you are near crisis and I don't think that there is any doubt about that, I need to keep you stabilized and not trying to recall what makes no sense at this time. There will be time enough later for us to do a post mortem. Certainly the trainers are going to give both you and I a hard time about it. They will need to know everything that we can remember and then they will be dissatisfied and claim we do not pay enough attention to detail.//

"Giles? Something wrong?" The slender hands rested on the sheets and blue eyes were watching him with an intensity that disturbed him. "Giles?"

"What? Oh, sorry. Just thinking. Are your visions always like this? With you going down for the count? What did you see?"

A shaking hand rose to rub at his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before falling to the sheet again and the blonde head shook in a negative.

"I can't … I'm not really sure what it was that I saw. I thought … I can't recall what I saw, but … that is not unusual. I will remember. Eventually. I always have before … I think." He reached for the water again and drained the cup. "I'm hot. Thirsty."

"You seem to have a bit of a fever. Is that usual when you have incidents? Visions?"

"Not unusual. I thought he had a gun … but … it was a knife, yes? He had a knife."

"What sort of a knife?" Was that a flicker in the blue eyes? The suggestion of that oddity flickering into existence and then vanishing in the sweep of an eyelid as he blinked.

"Damn it all Giles, a knife is a knife." The shaking fingers wove together, trying to reduce the trembling by gripping his hands tightly. "A Bowie knife, I think. Pale hilt, maybe bone?"

//That sounds like the knife I saw in the hallway, the one the Sleeper had. So it had to be there. He saw a knife too, but … there was only the gun. I could not see the knife when we were dealing with Zechs and when I slipped back there, there was no knife to be found. There is something weird going on here. I wish the Training Masters were available for all that they frighten shit out of me when they are investigating new abilities. I'm missing something important and I know they are going to want to know what it is that I am unable to recall. It's got to be the important stuff I always miss. //

"Giles?"

He winced as he met the intense eyes. "Sorry. I'm tired. I was just thinking. The Sleeper had a gun equipped with a silencer. Do you recall the surgeon?"

His frown deepened and he seemed not to have heard the question. "I thought … I was sure it was a knife … but I … I remember the gun …" He pressed his hands to cover his eyes, digging the heel of his palms in deep.

//Wow, time to call a halt. I know those signs too well. I've done it myself and we can't afford that sort of shock just now. We can talk later. // "Hey, settle down. It was …confusing. For all of us. The Doc swore that you took a bullet and we have found no such wound on you." The blue eyes swept down the length of his body and Giles grinned. "Yeah, the Doc stripped you right down, treated everything that needed treatment too. We all … went a bit funny, I suppose, under the strain of what happened out there. Thanks for saving my hide. I'd be dead if you hadn't … done what you did."

He was hesitant to continue, as it was rather obvious now that they had differing memories of exactly what did happen. He, Zechs and the surgeon had all been present, but they all recalled the events somewhat differently and that was going to need investigation, but now there were more important things to concentrate on.

"Whatever happened it gave us the chance to keep our plan going. We are still in the ballpark." He hesitated, uncertain if he should ask but knowing that there really was no other choice. Decisions had to be made and to make them he had to know just how mobile his partner was. "If, that is, you can get yourself going again."

"I …"He narrowed his eyes, visibly taking a mental inventory of every ache and pain he was experiencing. Giles could almost see the tally he was making. "Yes, of course. I can … Give me a hand, would you?"

"You have a few minutes yet before we have to get moving, if you are capable of it. Rest a bit. Give yourself a chance to get your head together. How do you feel?"

"I have certainly felt better. I have the most incredible headache and … It was bad before. Before the Sleeper appeared … I remember the headache. Do you think I could take something for it?"

Giles hesitated before he settled for a shrug, uncertain of exactly what restrictions the surgeon was likely to place on medications being given to the Lightning Count for the next few hours. The man had said no more medication was to be considered after administering the last round of stimulants in an effort to get Merquise stabilized and how he would look on administering pain killers was unknown. He was going to have to ask and it was likely that he was also going to be the one to inform Zechs that he was going to have to live with the pain for a few hours at least.

//It was a Psi incident. I have no doubt about that whatsoever. I'm not sure what happened or exactly what category of Psi to file it under, but it was something damned weird. Noin lost it and shredded McIntyre in the shuttle control tower and Zechs has lost it down here, but he seems to be recovering somewhat. How long that stability will last is anyone's guess, but I have to wonder just how much pain he can work with and still function. Headaches generally signal its time to quit pushing the psychic envelope. It's a warning to quit.//

"Giles?"

"… Huh? Sorry. I was just thinking. The Doc said no more medication was to be administered to you, but I don't know if he was referring to pain killers or to the more potent stuff. He should be back shortly and we can ask him then. Maybe it would be better for you to tell me where exactly we were going and what has to be done? While you rest up here I could get the ball rolling on your plan."

That Zechs appeared to be considering it told Giles enough. Broadham was right, the man had reached his limits and pushing the envelope now was going to cause more problems than Zechs could handle. He recalled during his briefing by Raydon that the Lightening Count had suffered a heart attack during the war and that the specialists who had treated him after the Libra explosion had flagged him as requiring medical supervision. Something to do with the injuries suffered when the Libra had exploded. Raydon had simply told him that Zechs would not stop until he dropped if the need was ever there to perform and that as a result there was the possibility of health problems.

Was it possible that the Lightening Count, a legend amid the Oz Special Forces, had a bad heart? Regardless the fact remained that the surgeon was right when he had said that everybody had limits and that Zechs had been pushing his for hours. As much as his expertise was needed the simple truth was that the less he did now the better he would recover.

A bitten off scream sent Giles running for the door and Zechs surged from the bed, uttering an oath as his legs failed to support his weight and he sprawled from the bed onto the floor. For a stunned instant he stared at the floor in front of his nose, the same floor that was blessedly cool to his burning naked flesh. With a blink of dazed eyes he rolled to see Giles heels disappear through the door only to hear a muttered curse and the man slipped back into the room, closing the door quickly and silently.

"Damn it all to hell … How the hell did you get … Never mind. We have to go." Giles moved quickly to kneel beside the blonde, reaching to steady him and help him to his feet.

"What happened? What is going on?"

"Shh. We have company. Blue Squad has arrived and surprised a couple of nurses who were moving the dead to the morgue."

"Oh shit."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	122. Chapter 122 Chapter 121

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 121

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 10 [approx Sanc time 23:00

Barker

// Just one short run and we will be one stage closer to being in the safety of the dome. The question is, what will be waiting for us once we make it through those doors? Just how safe will we be in there//

He felt hot and uncomfortable within the restrictions imposed on him by the suit and in no uncertain words, he was afraid. It was no weakness on his part to admit his fear of the possible consequences of failure. There was too much at stake for everyone for them to fail now. Those people outside of the dome, while safe for the moment, were relying on them to get the dome open and to do that he had to bring about a safe conclusion to the stand off occurring within the colony.

Constantly having to work in the enviro suits was becoming more than a nuisance. They were all used to wearing the suits for extended periods of time, but they did not usually wear them for the type of exertions they now needed to perform. Running around the planet and within the enviro dome playing an elaborate game of hide and seek was not the use for which the suits were originally designed.

One of the biggest faults of the suits for this type of activity was that they were not cooled sufficiently for the amount of physical exertion and sheer speed they were required to perform. Fear of discovery and the deadly consequences of that just made their sweating worse. The suits could only handle so much and while he could not really say anything about how the other two men were handing the stress, he could say without a doubt that he himself perspired a great deal when his life and the lives of others was on the line.

He was never comfortable working in sopping wet clothes.

// The dome just seems to be too quiet. I know that the suits insulate us from a certain level of noise but its just plain eerie looking at this and hearing nothing but my own breathing. There should be at least one or two people standing around, leaning on buildings or machinery, chatting about nothing in particular. It's deserted. It feels … dead.//

The last was a mental whisper. He did not want to acknowledge the possibility that he might indeed be standing in a grave. A tomb. That was what worried him the most about the silence. It was reminiscent of a ghost town. Empty. Inhabited by the ghosts of the people he knew and liked and by those less liked but who had been a part of his world. The feel of the dome was oppressive, weighing on him with unnatural gravity. It was a psychological response, he was sure of that, but he could not dismiss the impression that he walked through a place that now belonged to the dead and had no time or acceptance for the living.

//Not that we have actually encountered any bodies, as yet, but how much longer can that last? Have we been played for fools? Is it possible that Merquise is playing a game? God! I so want to scratch my bloody nose!//

The inability to so much as wipe the sweat from his brow and to rub an itch in the simplest of places was aggravating in the extreme. Nor was crouching behind a grouping of crates and abandoned vehicles in the middle of the dome's most open area going to answer the questions he wanted answered. He needed answers and he was not going to get them crouching here. The two men in his company were waiting for him to give them the word to go ahead and make that dash to the hydroponics dome. They had placed their trust in him as leader and he could not let them down, so he had to ignore his insecurities and the little annoyances and get on with the task at hand.

Beads of perspiration ran in runnels down his face, some running down the bridge of his nose to accumulate and itch before dripping from the end of his nose as he tried to see more than the limited view his helmet permitted him. Anyone could be lurking out in the open with the restriction his helmet placed on what he could see, but he dared not remove it. It was useless, he knew, to keep trying to see everything, but he was reluctant to expose them to needless risk and for that matter delaying the inevitable itself was a risk.

Enough was enough.

With a small huff of breath he reached to touch Polnar's shoulder and motioned him off toward the crates stacked near the domes open doors. The one thing he did know for certain was that prevaricating was going to serve no useful purpose and if he was fortunate they might still make the sub base without too large a delay to their agreed upon schedule. Merquise was a professional and he would know only too well that there might be problems arising that would require time to deal with. It simply was something beyond his control and he would make the best time possible.

He watched Polnar make the run for a moment, counting to five before he tapped Carter to send him sprinting next and Barker angled himself as best he could to cover their run, weapon drawn and watching as much of the dome as possible. Silently he counted as the seconds ticked by and waited for the half expected and feared bark of an automatic weapon, or some other sign that their presence had been noted and that they would need to have to fight for every inch of ground they could cover. If they could do this quietly, without anyone the wiser for their presence, then that was to their advantage but he was too much the professional to think that it was going to be easy to avoid anyone and everyone who should be in the dome.

//It's damned annoying when you don't know who you can trust. Anyone we run into could be an agent, but they could just as easily be a survivor and there has to be more survivors than agents. How do you know which is which? Who can you trust?//

The uncertainty of knowing how to determine who was friend and who was foe troubled him, but he had no time now to consider the dilemma. He forced those fears down beneath the necessity for action and sucking in a huge breath he set himself into motion. He could not delay while he considered possibilities that he could not possibly resolve at this time and in so doing place those men in danger through his distraction and inaction.

Polnar was already almost at the cluster of crates they had chosen as their next cover and Carter was not too far behind him. He was surprised that Polnar seemed so much faster than Carter, but then it might be that the man was more afraid than his pursuer and that fear lent his feet wings. Certainly he could not dismiss the idea that there were hostile eyes peering at them from the blank windows of the control towers and that at any second he would feel the blinding pain of a bullet between his shoulder blades. He had been hit by a Sniper's bullet once before and it was an experience he was not keen on repeating.

// Who the fuck tied lead weights to my feet when I was not looking? I can run faster than this//

He wanted desperately to wipe the sweat from his eyes and to lift his knees higher to strengthen each stride, but the constraints of the enviro suit defeated him. He wanted out of this straight jacket he was forced to move within and the thought of how the maintenance teams who spent hours out in the hostile Martian atmosphere dealt with these problems briefly flitted in his awareness. All power to them for greater fortitude and patience than he could claim. How could they put in twelve to sixteen hour days, day after day of hard manual back breaking work and not have the need to scratch an itch? How could they put in an exhausting days labor and not sweat more than the suits could process?

He was soaking wet with perspiration, tired and dirty. He could not avoid thinking that the revolting sludge from the recycling pipes still clung to him and somehow had seeped into the suit, covering him in stinking filth. He knew the smell that pervaded the suit was his own stale sweat, but he could too easily imagine it to be so much more. He felt three sizes too large. Larger, heavier and more clumsy than he ever had been. So clumsy in fact that he could not dismiss the notion that he was going to fail in acting decisively if the situation demanded they revert to physical exertions that required combat. Perhaps the most annoying aspect was the lack of vision. He hated having so little in the way of peripheral vision and could not dismiss the idea that he was half blind in the helmet and that he would remain so unless he could get the cumbersome thing off in the next two seconds.

Lungs heaving to pump air into his system he dug deeper for some much needed speed and those crates just would not come any closer. Was he making no head way at all? Polnar and Carter had long ago reached the crates and he felt he was on a conveyor belt perpetually taking him back two steps for every step he lunged closer. Growling, calling himself a fool for allowing illusion and stress to affect him, he closed his eyes for two long strides and opened them, confident that that would destroy the illusion that he was still half the field away from safety.

Barker shuddered as he threw himself around the first of the crates and practically fell into the cavity where Carter and Polnar crouched, waiting for him. He noted that both appeared to be breathing hard and felt a little more confident that he was not the only one dragging air into his starved lungs. A few breaths to settle himself down and he permitted himself the time to peer around the dome, seeking any sign of activity to suggest they had been watched and that they were now hunted as well as hunter.

He lifted a hand automatically to wipe the sweat from his eyes and touched nothing but the face plate and growled with frustration, forced to shake his head within the helmet to fling the sweat from his eyes. He felt exposed and from the way the two helmets near him were turning around and peering out of the cluster of crates he was not the only one with the hunted reflex. He counted to sixty, but the dome remained silent around them and no one moved beyond their tight little cluster of crates.

//This silence just is not natural. Can not be natural. Is there anyone alive up here?//

The bulk of the hydroponics dome loomed at their backs, the main doors still open to the enviro dome suggesting the air had not deteriorated to the point that the oxygen generating dome was threatened. That was good, a sign that the toxicity levels in the air might not be so high as they feared. At any time however, the automated computer systems could initiate to seal off the enviro dome and activate the sealed unit buildings as emergency shelters, until the threat of corrupted environmental systems was repaired. Before the air reached that stage they needed to be within the questionable security of the hydroponics dome and before they entered he wanted to scout out the entrance and check for traps or snipers who might be lying in wait.

The question remained however. Just how much time did he dare to take to scout and plan their next move? If the dome should be sealed they would be locked out of their only safe means of gaining access to the sub base.

//Fast as possible. From the readings I saw we do not have long. //

His heartbeat now easing to a more normal rhythm and rate and his breathing steadied, so that he thought he might be able to talk legibly he reached to tap both men smartly on their shoulders. When bodies inclined so that they might angle their helmets to watch him he motioned them to press their helmets together. It was time to plan out their next move.

WARNING. CONTAMINATION ALERT. WARNING. CONTAMINATION ALERT. EMERGENCY COMPUTER CONTROL WILL SEAL ALL DOME SECTIONS IN SIXTY SECONDS DUE TO CONTAMINATION OF THE DOMES OXYGEN RECYCLING SYSTEM. ALL PERSONS ARE ADVISED THAT ENVIRONMENTAL SUITS WILL BE REQUIRED BEYOND SEALED SECTIONS OF THE DOME. REPEAT. CONTAMINATION OF AIR SUPPLY HAS BEEN DETECTED. COMPUTER CONTROL WILL SEAL ALL SECTIONS OF THE DOME IN SIXTY SECONDS. MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE NEAREST SECURE SECTION WITH ALL SPEED. DO NOT PANIC. ACTIVITY BEYOND SEALED SECTIONS OF THE DOME WILL REQUIRE THE USE OF ENVIRO SUITS.

//Damn! Shit timing, of course .// Barker glared up into the heights of the enviro dome and bared his teeth in a snarl. So much for taking the time to scout the dome before they committed themselves to entering through the main door. There was no other options and no chance of securing their entry point.

"Instructions?" Carter queried.

"It's not how I would prefer to do this but …" // Polnar is the fastest of us. He'll probably have the best chance of getting in. // "Polnar, take the far side of the entrance, go in fast and hard and go around the dome wall into the vegetation. Don't pause to think or hang around, just get in fast and make yourself secure. We have no idea who will be in the dome. Carter, you and I go in fast and hard on this side, angling close to the wall and head straight for the vegetation. Get yourself into as safe a position as you can and see if we flush unwanted company. If no bushes twitch we meet up and find the way down. There is no time to be fancy about this. Go!"

He only hoped he had not made Polnar a target. The Leo pilot was fast, faster on his feet than Carter or himself and that was why he sent the man to the far side of the doors. His speed, even in the hampering suit, would get him into the dome and maybe past a sniper who might not be expecting company to come in on the run. The man did not hesitate over the instruction but vanished out of Barkers line of sight and Carter was moving too, slipping through the crates and running for the airlock doors.

Polnar was drawing away from them he saw as he came clear of the crates and he knew that the man was likely to make it into the dome the way he was covering the distance. He looked to be almost halfway to the door before he and Carter had covered a quarter of the distance required.

There was a clock ticking the seconds away in his head inexorably, reminding him with each resolute tick tock, each reach of his legs, each pump of his arms, that they had limited time. It was not so bad as it seemed, he knew. Both he and Carter were capable of making that distance in around forty seconds, but if either of them should stumble and fall … It did not bear thinking about.

Had he not been wearing the bulky enviro suit he would have thrown himself forward and into a tumble as he came abreast of the airlock doors. To do so would have made himself as small and fast moving a target as possible. Enviro suits were never crafted for anything remotely resembling gymnastics, which would have aided him immensely just now and besides, he knew of no one who was good enough to perform gymnastics in the suits. Certainly not himself and not Carter.

The nearest they could come to tumbling through the doors was to effect a low crouch and still keep their balance and maintain their pace to the best of the suits restrictions. Their one blessing was that if nothing else they did not have to fight the heavy gravity of Earth in their bid to get within the hydroponics dome. That was the only good point he could think of at this time, though the lighter gravity itself presented its own problems with coordination and control.

Polnar was through the outer doors of the airlock he noted as he angled his body and managed his first view of the foliage beyond the inner airlock doors that would place the final seal on the dome. He scanned the foliage even as he caught up with Carter and ran on his heels into the small chamber. On the far side of the double doors he could see that Polnar was already through the lock and sprinting for the undergrowth growing close to the wall of the dome. How the man could move so freely in the restricting suit was astonishing, but he was precious seconds ahead of them and then he was gone, vanished into the foliage.

//At least he's safe. I just hope I can trust him to complete the mission if we go down. There is something odd about that one. Something I need to check out. //

ALERT. SEALING OF DOME SECTIONS NOW COMMENCING. ALERT. ALL SURVIVAL SECTIONS ARE NOW ON COMPUTER CONTROL.

Barker grunted as he threw himself past the main doors and cursed as he stumbled, his feet going out from under him, hands automatically extended to catch himself from slamming face first into the steel of the airlock floor. He did not hit the floor, instead he felt Carter's hand close around his arm, offering him support and steadying him even as he was dragged past the inner doors of the small airlock.

Scrabbling to regain his footing he flashed the man a grateful look and then his feet were under him and they were running for the foliage. Dimly he was aware of hearing the outer doors clang shut and he knew that the inner doors were even now swinging closed and the instant they sealed the lock out would be engaged. They would effectively be sealed within the hydroponics dome until the all clear was given.

Unless Merquise was right and there was a way down into the sub base within this dome.

He had no idea if there was a sniper waiting. He had no idea if their footsteps were dogged with gun fire. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, too loud for him to hear anything over it beyond his gasping breaths. With Carter's hand locked around his forearm they threw themselves into the foliage pressed against the dome wall and scrambled deeper, looking for a place to rest and regain their breath.

//Anyone who saw Polnar come tearing through that lock would have had time to get a weapon up and aimed at the lock. Maybe not to target Polnar the way he was moving, but they would have had the time to target us. I'm still alive and I don't hurt any more than I did before and Carter does not seem to be injured. Guess we made it.//

Panting he crouched beneath the large fronds of a tropical fern, hearing nothing beyond the hammering of his heart and his own ragged breaths, but that was easing and his world was no longer so restricted to the ground in front of him and a target goal to reach. He could feel Carter beside him, equally out of breath and taking the respite to regain some control over his body.

With a low snarl he shook his head violently to shake the sweat from his eyes and peered about him, seeing only the many green shades of the faux rainforest. They were crouched with their backs pressed hard against the dome wall behind a clump of thickly growing ferns and while it offered them shelter and some security, it permitted them to see very little beyond variegated green shades.

//Fuck it! I have had this helmet. I have to get it off//

ALL SURVIVAL STATIONS IN THE UPPER DOME HAVE BEEN SECURED. ALL SECTIONS WILL BE NOTIFIED WHEN THE CONTAMINATION TO THE OXYGEN GENERATION SYSTEMS ARE CLEARED. A WARNING IS AGAIN ISSEUD THAT ENVIRONMENTAL SUITS ARE REQUIRED TO BE USED BEYOND THE SURVIVAL SECTIONS. TEAM LEADERS AND SUPERVISORS MUST BE CONSULTED BEFORE THE SURVIVAL UNITS INTEGRITY MAY BE BREECHED.

//Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Shut up, you moronic piece of hardware. I have other concerns. At least in here we can get these damn suits off and I can't say how happy I am for that mercy.//

Barker touched Carter lightly on the arm and reached for the lock on his own helmet, giving tactic permission to remove the cumbersome helmets. Sensation flooded his awareness. The first breath of the air from the dome seemed almost ice cold after the stifling heat of the suit. Cool air flooded over his face and neck and no air could possibly be as sweet after the rank stench of his own sweat.

The earthy odour of the carefully cultivated soil and the scent of growing things was sheer heaven to him and with a low moan of delight he sucked in a second and third lung full of cool air. He luxuriated in running his gloved hands over his face over and over again and indulged in a long and luxurious bout of rubbing at his annoyingly itchy skin. It was not enough and he tore at his gloves to free his hands and scratched at the sweat that matted his hair.

"God. What a relief."

Carters whisper, more a moan of simple unadulterated pleasure from beside him drew only a satisfied and understanding grunt from Barker. Without a word being exchanged they began working on the seals of each other's enviro suits, wanting to shed every layer of the cumbersome material as quickly as possible. He knew they were pushed for time and that they might be discovered at any second, but he could rationalize the time spent in removing the suits with the truth that in this dense foliage the safety orange colouring of the suits was a dead giveaway of their position. They needed to shed the suits to better blend in with the foliage and they would need the freedom of movement shedding the suits would provide to move a quietly as possible as they made their search of the dome.

Carter stood carefully, crouched but with enough height to wiggle the suit down his body as the last of the seals were released and took up guard position, allowing Barker to stand in his turn in the tight space and free himself from the suit's possession. They were careful to keep watch on as much of the dome as they could see through the foliage, though that permitted them a view of only a few meters in any given direction.

Barker sucked in another deep lung full of the scented air and listened for any hint of movement. Polnar would be moving around and possible hunter's intent on killing them. Perhaps trapped terra formers as well, but the dome seemed uncommonly quiet except for the music of running water coming from somewhere deeper in the dome. He could hear the rustle of foliage, but that was due to Carter gathering up the various parts of his enviro suit.

"Can you see any sign of Polnar?" Barker whispered, freeing his legs from the boots and quickly adjusting his pants for comfort and then gathering up the parts of his suit and bundling them together as best he could before stashing it behind the palm fronds.

"No sight, no sound. No gun shots or anything that might be considered suspicious in here. If we have a hunter in here with us, then he's hunting silent."

The grunt of acknowledgement was quiet as he wriggled his way out of the nest they had made and after a quick look around he slipped into another thicket, away from what seemed like the neon orange of the suits that would surely be spotted no matter how well they might manage to hide them. While he knew that someone would have to be actively searching to spot that tell tale flicker of orange through the undergrowth, the way his day had been going thus far he was of the opinion that it was a foregone conclusion they would be discovered. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the suits. They needed to quickly lose themselves in the dome.

Carter gave the suits one last punch and tried to convince a frond to drape over the last of the glimmer of colour and with a dissatisfied grunt he abandoned the position, quietly joining Barker in his new vantage point.

"We angle toward the centre of the dome and look for this maintenance shaft Polnar mentioned. On the way we keep a look out for Polnar. Do you know where this maintenance shaft is likely to be?"

"I worked exclusively outside of the dome and pretty much within the Taurus, at first moving the heavy equipment down to the Alpha and then Beta site, or escort duty for the exploration expeditions. I did very little work within the enviro dome." Carter shook his head, shrugging slightly in apology. "I know we were to cultivate a number of versatile skills to be of use as much as possible wherever we might be needed, but all of my work was pretty much outside, which does nothing to help us now."

//No, it is of no aid to us in this situation, but Polnar seemed to think it would be near the reservoir. From what little I know of the design of these hydroponics domes that would have to place it somewhere near the centre of the dome. I can't say that at any time my work brought me into much contact with the workings of the dome, more with the people than with any real need to explore the domes' many wonders. An error on my part, not to check out the various sections in more detail. I do know there is a sizable body of water near the centre of the dome. You can see a pebble bed through the water though, but I suppose they might have rigged up a false bed for purely aesthetic purposes. It is a place to start looking at least. I wonder if we have to go swimming to reach this pipe? No. No, I am sure that he said the pipe would have to be drained for us to use it. That we would not be able to handle the pressures involved with a dive of that depth. Well, I suppose that if we do need to swim at some stage of the game it would make us smell a bit sweeter. We are particularly rank after wearing those suits and no doubt anyone hunting us would smell us coming. Another reason not to have to swim would be hygiene. This stench suggests any water we polluted would need to be processed again before it is filtered into the drinking water. Guessing is not going to get us down into the sub base, but for now we make our way deeper into the dome. We need to find Polnar. He knows more about the layout and workings of this place than I do.//

"Quick as we can, as quietly as we can. We need to find Polnar, but we can get a general idea of the lay of the land while we look for him."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004


	123. Chapter 123 Chapter 122

Alternative Directions : Options

Chapter 122

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 15 [approx Sanc time 23:05

Polnar

"Oh fuck!"

// Oh shit! Damn, that is not a pleasant surprise.// He was very close to hyperventilating and he needed to control himself or place himself and possibly the other two at risk. He could not afford to lose it. // If there was any doubt about what has been going on around here this clinches it. Barker should be here to see this.//

He knew that he must look something like a wild deer must look that was caught in the headlights of an onrushing car in the middle of the night. He could almost feel the impact of that vehicle as it smashed him into what was going to be the void of death. He was not dead. He was alive.

He wanted to yell and swear his head off, but he dared not and was thankful that the helmet muffled his initial reaction to his situation. He could not afford to give away his position and must remain bound to silence if he wanted a chance of reaching the inspection access. He dared not move until he was certain there was no danger threatening him in his immediate vicinity.

The blood on the body he had landed on was long dry, so he suspected the killer was not in the immediate area but he was not prepared to presume the way was clear, nor could he take the chance that someone else had moved in to cover the doorway when the alert sounded. The whole situation reeked of a set up and he was not inclined to fall victim to any planned ambush.

Ignoring the corpse that he rested on as best he could, not daring as yet to move and forcing his awareness away from the fact he knew this person who lay dead beneath him, he focused his attention on the necessity of preserving his own skin. As best the limits of his helmet permitted he scanned his immediate surroundings, seeking the smallest indication that he might have acquired a stalker. If anyone had marked him he was not inclined to be considered an easy kill and he had responsibilities. He was not here for his own pleasure after all.

//I wonder where Haydon is? I hope he found Merquise and has him in safe ground, though where on this base could actually be classed as safe ground is entirely another matter.//

The foliage remained still, the dome eerily silent, but he was not inclined to trust that. There was no breeze to move the palm fronds or branches of the young rain forest trees they had genetically modified to survive in the Martian conditions, but he was not willing to trust that lack of plant movement. His life was worth more than any supposition of safety though it did at least assured him that for the moment he was alone. With his rather spectacular entrance into the hydroponics dome and considering that he was wearing a brilliant orange enviro suit, it stood to reason that if there had been someone in the immediate vicinity he was an easily spotted target. Had his entrance been witnessed he should have had a knife between the shoulder blades, or a bullet lodged in a vital point by now.

He eased slowly back from the body he had landed on, careful not to dislodge any of the palm fronds that surrounded them and further mark himself as a target. He had no trouble identifying the body as being that of one of the geneticist's employed to make subtle changes to the plants being raised on Mars to better cope with the changes in gravity and the harshness of the environment. For all they were within a dome there were still many conditions that were far from Earth typical.

Edward Sanderson was a genius in his field who now would never complete his groundbreaking research into the genetic modification of plants, that would result in the eventual development and large scale production of plant species that could adapt to the exterior conditions of Mars. His ultimate brief had been to produce vegetation with by products that would overtime naturally alter the composition of the gasses that, at this time, made up the atmosphere of Mars and over time work to encourage changes toward a more Earth like atmosphere. One of only hundreds of projects designed to eventually alter the planetary conditions to make dome living a thing of the past.

//Damn. You were a good sort, Ed. Sorry you became a victim. // He spared enough time to examine the body, curious as to the methods the killer had used, knowing that any knowledge gained would assist him in avoiding a similar fate. //Looks like he was taken from behind and his throat slit. If I dared roll him … No, not a good idea and there does not look to be sufficient blood here to account for that type of wound. // Sweat rolled down his forehead producing another itch and he snarled quietly. // I have to get out of this suit before I go nuts//

Long training came to his rescue and he resisted the urge to tear the enviro suit from him. He could not be guaranteed the environment within the hydroponics dome was safe. Supposition was what got people killed and he was not inclined to become another statistic. He forced the irrational urge down and made use of the suits many features, taking air samples and checking the composition of the atmosphere within the dome. He admitted to himself that he did not expect the atmosphere here to be compromised, but an ounce of precaution exercised in due time might just keep him alive to complete his mission. A small smile twitched his lips at the more than acceptable reading of the sealed environment and he was quick to strip off the confining helmet and suck in a huge lung full of humid earthy scented oxygen.

He almost moaned in pleasure.

The air felt so much colder and smelt so much sweeter than the interior of his suit, which caused him to wrinkle his nose at his own stench, but what did one expect when he had been wearing the suit for something in the vicinity of sixteen hours? Of course he was rank and would he ever enjoy a long and luxurious shower, but that would have to wait and anyone who associated with him would just have to put up with his stink.

For a few precious seconds he permitted himself to luxuriate in the cool air and then he could no longer control his urge and dug his fingers into his scalp, scrubbing vigorously at the myriad itches that always developed with prolonged use of the enviro suits. From his scalp he moved on to his neck and thence to his face, working at satisfying the urge to wipe the irritating sweat from his brow and simply to indulge in the pleasure of being able to touch himself.

//I thought I was never going to get out of that bloody suit. Christ, I stink. Anyone in the dome would have to smell me coming.//

With the efficiency of long practice he stripped off the suit in its varying sections. With the removal of each piece he indulged in a quick, but very satisfying, scratching bout and stashed the brilliant orange material beneath the body and in the nearby protection of a thicket. He was soaking wet but now that he could scratch what was so uncomfortable he was content enough to ignore the less than comfortable condition of his clothing. With the suit hidden as best he could manage at this time he ignored the body and surveyed the area around him. All seemed quiet, perhaps too quiet, but he ignored that thought in favour of easing to the edge of his chosen thicket and working his way through the undergrowth to a vantage point that would permit him to survey the entry lock.

He was uncertain just how long ago he had passed through that airlock, but he knew it was no more than a few minutes. Time seemed to stretch oddly under stress and he had long ago become proficient in the removal of the enviro suit, so to remove the suit had taken no more than two minutes. Less, he suspected. As near as he could figure he had passed through the entry lock no more than five minutes ago and searching the open area fronting the lock he detected no sign of Barker or Carter, nor did he honestly expect to find them.

The inner and outer doors were now closed and locked against the growing pollutants and poisons in the air of the enviro dome. They were safe enough from that danger for the moment at least, but safety was far from the ultimate goal he had to achieve and he was not inclined to hang about and waste time.

His survey of the doors and the open area before them, produced a grimace as he noted a dark patch of ground that marked the hastily covered over pool of blood in the middle of the cleared area. While at the time it was done it might have served to cover a fresh spill of blood, the dirt had long since soaked in the blood and was now an angry dark rusty colour so at odds with the lighter natural brown of the loam mixed with the Martian dirt, that the stain fairly leaped out and hit one in the face.

//That would have to be where the gene tech was taken out. You deserved more than to be dragged into a thicket and forgotten about, Ed. A hasty and poor cover up to avoid alerting anyone else who might be moving around the domes would explain the mess it is now. // He scrubbed lightly at his face, vaguely aware of lingering itches and more interested in the conditions he was going to have to be aware of if he wanted to survive. // I wonder how many people they have managed to take out before they were stopped// He winced. // If they have been stopped. Merquise has to have been in the dome otherwise how would he know of the way down to the sub base? He can't have been ignorant to the danger he was in and his reputation suggests a more than thorough man, so maybe his knowledge is just a matter of careful research and planning and he has not actually been in the dome today. Second guessing, Chris? Of course you are and probably guessing wrong too, but I have to do the best that I can. I never got the chance to talk to him so I have to rely on his reputation and what Raydon told me of him. He's not a fool and his reputation as an elite was earned, not supposition, so if he has been in the dome he obviously did not fall prey to the hunters that were here. If they were here when he was here and it's possible that others might have entered the dome since. I hate not knowing the entire picture. Have they moved on to other killing grounds or are they still here?//

Scratching at his chin and at the drying sweat liberally mixed with a less than day old beard, the perfect combination for the worlds worst itch, he eased back into the undergrowth. He had to presume that there were hostiles in the dome and take every care in reaching the entrance to the sub base. Putting the entry lock to the hydroponics dome behind him he ghosted deeper into the dome for the moment choosing to follow the curve of the structure around.

//I don't know Barker very well, but he's a professional and he would not linger long in this area. We know where we have to go so I suppose the best thing to do would be to work my way around the dome to the reservoir and find the maintenance shaft. If I don't find Barker or Carter on the way then I would expect to find them there. If not … //

He paused, crouching within a thicket, careful to keep within the undergrowth and off the defined path. He moved slower by ignoring the path, but he viewed it as the safer option as he was capable of moving through the foliage with due care. Yes, he did move the odd palm frond but that was unavoidable and he was careful to move in a low crouch, so as not to present a full sized target to any sniper in the vicinity and he was very careful to keep the thickest growth between himself and the path. He listened for any sounds of movement, the rustle of plants or the more subtle sounds that might be the soft footfall of a stalker, but all seemed still and far too quiet to be safe.

Or was it so quiet because this place now belonged to the dead?

// Not a nice thought. I'm glad that I will not be remaining on Mars after this. There will be no way that we can remain here and He has to understand that well enough. I only hope he believes we work for Raydon. From what I know of him Merquise is not a trusting soul and I can't blame him for that, but the fact remains that we have a job to do and now the best way to accomplish that is to get him off this rock. We need to hi our butts safely to Station One where Raydon can deal with the man, or somehow get to a friendly ship and call in to the Station. Raydon has to have sent some form of assistance and with our transmitter I doubt that any electronic jamming of the signals would have contained our alert. We are totally independent of the stations systems. He will have sent us help, but it will take a while for that assistance to get here and until it does arrive we have to keep the man in one piece. I'll be thankful to leave this place.//

He moved off again, sliding carefully through the foliage, pausing every so often to listen and then moving on, perhaps slower than was necessary, but he was unwilling to hurry for fear of marking his passage with a trail of moving plant fronds. He began to edge away from the curve of the dome, inclining deeper into the foliage, crossing the path he had been paralleling and easing toward the distant centre of the dome. The place felt gigantic to him, much larger than he knew it to actually be.

// I don't think I will ever think of the hydroponics dome the same again. It's not that big a place when you consider it, but just now it seems massive. I know the paths were deliberately laid out to meander through the foliage and that some sections have no paths at all to further add to the illusion of space and size. It's a psychological ploy to accommodate the innate need we have to wander in wild places. Living under domes and in space stations taught the psychologists the needs that had to be catered to. I used to enjoy this place, but I don't recall it ever taking this long for me to cross the dome. My sense of time is screwed. It feels like I have been wandering in here for hours and going bloody nowhere//

He froze, blanched and backed carefully into the shelter offered by a thicket. Through the foliage ahead he knew there lay a clearing and he could clearly hear the soothing laughter of water flowing over a stone bed. He knew this place. He had picnicked here on more than one occasion with a couple of the women he had fancied amid the terra formers.

The female population on Mars was considerably lower than the male and any healthy heterosexual tried to interest any of the unattached females who demonstrated the minutest interest in them. He was no exception to that instinctive reaching for a partner of the opposite sex and had not been inclined to dally with any of the males, though he knew that this spot was popular with same sex couples.

In isolated circumstances it had been proven time and time again that a male who could not find relief with a female partner would eventually turn to another male for sexual gratification. While Mars did have a relatively high population of homosexual men in comparison to other colonies and some of the mining communities, it also had the odd bisexual male who was equally attracted to male and female. Those who were strictly heterosexual took any opportunity that presented itself to interest the females of the colony. The administrators were quick to jump on any untoward behaviour. Stalking was forbidden and appropriate behaviour was strictly enforced and this clearing that was just visible through the plants was perfect for a romantic picnic by candlelight after nightfall, but now it was a killing ground.

"Shit." The breath of a whisper was all the sound he dared to permit himself. Crouched under the foliage he counted slowly to thirty and sought any sign that he might not be alone. When he detected no one in the vicinity he counted a second time and this time to sixty before he relaxed a little.

// How many dead are there in this place? How many are dead under the enviro dome? Seems quiet enough now, but do I dare trust that//

He considered the tableau spread before him with a sick crawling in his gut. He would never again be able to consider the hydroponics dome a romantic interlude. He edged back in the direction of the wall for the dome, skirting the edge of the clearing and being certain to stay within adequate cover, but ensuring that he kept a relatively unobstructed view of the clearing. He could not turn his back on it or stop searching the foliage around him for signs of an ambush. He wanted the solidity of the wall to be reassuringly close at hand, an assurance that he could not be stabbed in the back with its solid bulk to protect him. One of the two bodies lying in that clearing had already suffered that fate.

//Not so much stabbed in the back as in the back of the neck. Most likely a thrown blade and one thrown by an expert. I doubt the victim knew what hit him but from the position of the bodies …// He paused to study the tableau from a new angle and shook his head slightly, forcing himself to move once again. He was not going to present a stationary target. // That is sick. The poor bastard must have been kneeling over the woman when he took the blade. Perhaps checking her for signs of life? That is possible. She was probably taken out first and he might have heard something and come to investigate. If that is the case then I very much doubt that he would have known what hit him. //

There was no doubt that both bodies were very dead and had been so for some time. He edged cautiously around the clearing as he determined what his best course of action might be. Somewhere up ahead of his current location there was a door, he recalled. An entrance to and from HD Three that was little used and faced the side of HD Two. At one time the designers had intended to link the three hydroponics units together and the door had been constructed as a part of that plan. If he continued in this direction he was going to find himself running out of cover as he neared the door and he was afraid he was going to find evidence of more killings there. Gardeners here used that clearing as a work area and a killer on the hunt would naturally check there for prey.

He was very much aware that his work uniform, the standard tough tan work clothing that they all wore, did not blend very well with the vibrant greens of the foliage. It was difficult enough to hide himself in the foliage of the plantings, but it would be glaringly obvious if he should leave that foliage.

//The question is do I need to check out the door? The dome is under emergency computer control and the door should be sealed. An alarm would have sounded if the door had not sealed when the lock down came into effect. No one should be capable of entering or exiting the dome from that point, until the lock down is lifted. The door should not be able to be opened unless emergency codes are used from either within the dome, or from outside and that might or might not be a good thing. I don't have the necessary codes, though it is not from lack of trying on my part in the event it should help in getting Merquise out of here if it proved necessary. Which I guess it now has. The codes were too well protected for me to hack. If I need to get out into the enviro dome again and because for some reason I can't use the access way down to the sub base, then it means that I am effectively locked in here with the dead and who ever has been doing the killings. Unless Barker has a set of security codes that will lift the seal? Possible.//

A point on the plus side of the equations being made was that the three bodies he had thus far located had been dead for some time. It was entirely reasonable to presume, while it remained stupid to assume anything of the sort, that the killer might have moved on to new ground in search of fresh kills outside of the hydroponics dome. Certainly there were enough workers within the enviro dome to provide ample opportunity for the killer, or killers, to keep busy for some hours.

The law of averages had to imply that at some point the killers were going to have to err and at that moment someone would catch them in the act. Possibly even one of the not so few and far between ex military types who had sought out Mars as a new beginning. Surely someone in the dome had put up some kind of resistance and should that be the case, then he might even have a clear run to the maintenance shaft, but how could he be certain of that? The truth was that he could not be assured of any such thing having happened and he could not go around shooting or knifing anyone he might find in hiding either, as they might actually be a survivor.

//I hate moles.// A tired sigh escaped him and he paused, secreting himself in a thicket as he considered his alternatives.

Somewhere in the hydroponics dome Barker and Carter would be moving, making their way toward the reservoir and what he assumed was their only unmonitored way down into the sub base. Well, he corrected himself with a grimace, not the only way, but certainly the safest way. The maintenance shaft was not commonly known amid the base personnel, nor was it commonly used by those who did know of it. The elevators down into the sub base had been blown to hell, which left the ventilation shafts linking the upper dome and the sub base, or the freight elevators.

//It's a certainty the freight elevators are watched and even if they are not they are most likely rigged to explode if they are used. I can see them being rigged to explode even if they are not monitored. We don't have the time to defuse the bombs to use the lifts safely and anyway, we have no idea where the enemy is at this time, or even how many of them there are. I think the biggest concern we need to consider though is that we don't know who is friend and who is foe.//

He scrubbed at his beard longing for a shower and shave and considered whether it would be safest to do a complete circuit of the hydroponics dome, following the curve of the dome around to the closest point to the location of the shaft, or to make a run immediately for the maintenance shaft. The biggest factor to be considered with either option was time and his allocated time must already be near expired. There was no doubt that Barker and Carter would set out immediately for the reservoirs.

His number one priority, his reason for even being on this planet was Merquise. He had been sent here to find Merquise and then to ensure his safety. He had been charged with bodyguarding the man and even though Merquise was ignorant of that fact, it still remained his duty. Raydon was his commanding officer and had more than personal reasons for wanting to keep the man safe. He had been given a task, a mission that Raydon had informed him in plain terms impacted on the safety of Station One, though clarification of that claim had not been forthcoming. It was enough though. He had accepted that mission and he would fulfil the task to the best of his abilities.

//Haydon may have found Merquise. He alerted me to trouble soon after returning to the dome and from what I understood of the warning he would have sought out the man as quickly as possible. He's good and his Gift would come in handy in getting people to talk if he had the opportunity to question or influence them. I have heard nothing from him since that contact hours ago, nor have I heard from Station One. I expected to have heard something by the time I left the Leo. I wish I had received a response, but Barker seemed to be my best shot at accessing the dome and finding Merquise. Waiting was no longer an option. The two arranged a rendezvous and I fully intend to keep that meeting and then stick to that man like glue. With time pressing and what I know of him suggesting that Merquise will push on to deal with the problem himself, I can't afford the time to play safe. Alright, then. Straight for the maintenance shaft and hope to hell I was right about what he meant. If I'm lucky Barker and Carter will be there.//

A final look around at the foliage and a straining of his senses to detect the slightest sight or sound of movement and he skirted the clearing. Angling away from the wall of the dome and taking as direct a line for the centre of the structure as the planting beds permitted, he slipped deeper into the plantings.

The rainforest that filled the dome was grown around a series of water features that, while aesthetically pleasing to the eye, were in fact designed to filter and purify the dome's water supply. The largest of these water features was the disguised main reservoir. He knew its approximate location within the dome from every angle of the featured walks and if he was wrong in his direction it would not be too far from the general area he needed. A degree or two in this space amounted to only the odd few meters.

Somewhere near that pool he would find the maintenance shaft and, provided the lower reservoirs was drained dry, their entry into the sub base. Within minutes of finding their goal they could be down in the deeper levels and he only hoped that, by the time he found the shaft, Barker and Carter would have joined him.

//I don't know if I should be pleased by this mass of greenery or not. For the life of me I could not tell if anyone was lurking even a metre into this jungle. It's all very pretty and all, but in a situation like this … It works against you just as well as it works for you.//

He paused, studying a thinning of the foliage ahead and he could hear the sound of running water, which seemed a little louder in the oppressive silence of the dome than it had mere moments ago. A clearing up ahead? He knew roughly where he was in the overall design of the dome and there should be a substantial clearing in the area. Finding it now meant that he needed to incline a little to the east to bring him closer to the main reservoirs. He would have to go around it. He was not inclined to give anyone an easy shot at his back, so every caution would need to be maintained.

He slipped through the foliage as silently as possible, alert for the faintest movement in the undergrowth that would mean he had company. Hopefully any such company would be desired company, as in the two men he was looking for and whom he felt that he could trust. At this stage of the exercise any survivor must be looked on with distrust in the current situation and in his view avoiding survivors was preferable to having to watch them for signs of betrayal.

He hissed softly and crouched low as he glimpsed the clearing through the trees. Another killing ground. Three bodies, two in the now familiar position of one kill used as bait and a second person in position to be taken down as he checked on the victim. This instance however differed, in that a third body lay within the clearing. Separated from the two bodies near the stream that his position allowed him to hear but not to see, there was something about that blood soaked tangle of limbs that suggested there had been a lot of anger in the kill. He shuddered.

There were dead all around him and he desperately wanted to find the living.

// I have to find the way down. //

He would not take the time to investigate the scene. They were very obviously dead and nothing he could do would change that. Later, all going well, there would be time for investigating and for honouring the dead with some kind of memorial service, but for now it was more important that he do what he had come here to do. He continued on, skirting the clearing and scanning the foliage not so much to seek a possible killer, but for any sign that might indicate Barker and Carter had passed here recently.

There were broken fronds amid the foliage, but the breaks seemed old to him, certainly not as fresh as the breaks he made in the plants and those older breaks were few and far between. Someone had moved through this section of the forest with a great deal of skill and he hoped he did not meet that somebody. There would only be time to react if he met someone face to face unexpectedly and he did not want to have to make an instant decision as to whether they might be friend or foe. Until he knew for certain they would certainly be treated as a foe.

//Too many dead. Is no one alive in here? Six dead so far, but I can't recall just how many people were supposed to be in HD Three today. The majority of the work force was drafted for the maintenance work outside of the dome. Everyone who had the necessary skills and who was not involved with any vital work or projects within the Base Dome, were slated to work the generator fields. The day's roster worked in the Sleepers favour. The perfect day to go on a killing spree. A simple matter of locking the exterior workers out, to perform an effortless mass kill and then pick off the remainder in isolated pockets. Yes, they chose their time well. Coincidence or planning? Bastards.//

He paused, looking around him. He had left the clearing a goodly distance behind him and now to judge his direction he needed to catch a glimpse of the arch of the dome. Peering up through the plant canopy he sought a good view of the angle of the overhead support struts to place his position. It was all too easy to get turned around in the thick foliage and the winding paths and he needed to catch a glimpse of the angle of the support struts to accurately place his position within the dome and alter his course if he needed to. Beyond the odd clearing there was little in the way of clearly identifiable land marks within the dome and he was not inclined to wander around any longer than he needed to. While HD Three was not the biggest dome on Mars, it was still of a substantial size.

He grunted softly as he surveyed the overhead rigging of metal, wire and plastiglass. Yes, he realized, he had shifted his course a little and gone further than he had intended in this direction. Though he probably had not gone far enough to the east side of the dome to cause him to miss that larger body of water, he nevertheless corrected his course as the straightest path would save him precious seconds and set off again.

//Come on, come on. Where are you? Why have I not found a sign of Barker? I am near the centre of the dome now and the pool isn't too far ahead of me. I expected to have found him by now. Or Carter at least. //

He moved in careful silence for a few minutes before slipping into a thicket and pausing to catch his breath. He had become aware that he had begun to increase his pace beyond what could be considered safe, considering the circumstances as the silence in the dome weighed more heavily on his nerves. That mistake was simply begging for trouble and he had to be nearing his goal. He listened for any indication of someone moving through the foliage and considering how close he was to his destination; if he heard sounds of movement he was going to have to investigate. He wanted no unknown potential for disaster at his back when he went for the maintenance access. Hopefully any sound he detected would herald the arrival of his team mates and together they could find the shaft quickly and get out of this death trap.

// I never considered myself the nervous type before, but this is just too much. I've been in action before and never reacted like this. Is it because I'm no longer on Earth? The environment is so different, so limited. I … I can not stay on Mars. Not after this. I hope Merquise won't give me any trouble about removing him from the colony.// He winced as he considered the big blonde and his reputation. // He won't like leaving his wife I suppose, or the twins. Necessity demands that we get him away from here with all speed, regardless of his objections. All we will have to do is get him off of Mars and safely to Station One. Not a big ask at all. // He rolled his eyes at the very thought of it. // Hopefully Raydon will be able to smooth his ruffled feathers and anyway, he wasn't officially married to Noin. There's a thought. She's not actually his wife. He could have asked at any time over the past year or so to be married to her. I wonder why he never? Especially after the kids were born. He always struck me as being that old-fashioned honourable type. Get a girl in the club and take the responsibility for the fall out and do the right thing. He seems pretty old school to me, at least from a distance.// He scrubbed at his face again, eyeing the foliage around him with distrust. // Anyway, its none of my concern. All I have to do is get him to Station One in one piece and then Raydon can sort him out.//

His head snapped around and he glared into the forest, his wandering thoughts hushed and he barely breathed. Was that …?

The faintest of sounds seemed horrendously loud in the unnatural stillness that had been his companion for so long. Yes, there it was again. Someone was moving out there. Just the faintest sound, the softest swish of a plant frond, but it was enough to warn him that he had company.

Easing further back into the foliage he nudged plant fronds in an effort to better cover the tan of his clothing and he crouched below what he considered the eye line most people would maintain if they were searching for a man moving in the forest growth. He had been doing it himself, looking for any clue in the undergrowth at between mid drift and shoulder height of an average sized male. It was a mistake that he had made often in his past and his instructors had attempted to rectify his habit which resulted in bruises he could remember to this day. He knew better than to restrict his vision to one sight line, he should have been checking above and especially below that restricted field.

// What the hell is wrong with me? I'm tired and I'm irritable and I should be dead acting like an idiot as I have been. When I get back to Station One I am going to offer myself up for retraining and take every covert ops course I can. //

Being in space and away from Earth was no excuse for growing lax in any field of training. The big ships that plied the deeper space lanes all had similar hydroponics units to this one and being honest with himself he knew that working for Raydon and the Station was going to be one interesting and varied career. One never knew what one might need to sneak through.

//Where are you? I can hear you, but I can't see you.//

A frond twitched at the corner of his vision and he crouched lower, easing his frame deeper into the thicket. Inclining his head he watched for a repeat of that subtle movement and he would know then where to focus his attention. Someone was there, just beyond the thicket and he was good to blend so well into the undergrowth if he, or she, wore the standard tan work gear. He barely breathed, aware that that 'someone' seemed to suspect they might possibly have a hostile watcher in the vicinity.

Whether it was a Sleeper agent on the hunt or perhaps Barker or Carter, if not both, that hidden body was aware they were not alone, which spoke clearly of past experience with a hunt. Both groups, the Sleepers or his team mates were equally possible, but after his discovery of the amount of dead in the dome and the time that had passed since they had been killed, probably placed the odds in favour of this being his allies. He was deeply adverse to testing that theory at the cost of his life.

//Stalemate. // He considered the foliage for a few minutes. No more indication of movement had been noted and an oppressive silence hung in the air. // Whoever that is has cause to be cautious and they suspect they are not alone. If it is a Sleeper then they are patient and will wait for me to move first. If it is Barker, or perhaps Carter, then we are wasting precious time trying to out guess each other. //

He scanned the undergrowth carefully seeking some sign that his unknown watcher was on the move and frowned at the flicker of a frond moving. There was surely no way his watcher could have gotten that far from his location without him having noticed! Two? Not one but two? That would have made more sense. He was not that sloppy that he could have missed someone moving through heavy foliage when he already had them targeted.

Someone was undoubtedly trying to work their way around him to take him from the rear or side and he narrowed his eyes in determination. Just at the corner of his eye he caught again the faint twitch of that frond at the position he knew his stalker was crouched. Just the faintest shiver, as though someone had moved and lightly brushed against it. Just enough movement to draw his attention and he smirked.

// Two. One holds the targets attention and the other circles and tries to take said target from the rear. // He knew it might be a fatal assumption, but he was inclined to believe that he was being stalked by his own allies. //They have to be here somewhere. Now how to let them know it's me without putting my life on the line if I am wrong//

"Lion." He barked the word, immediately easing away from his position, unwilling to remain in one place long enough for them to circle him, especially after so obviously giving away his position. If it was Barker and Carter out there then they should make the connection with his mobile suit and respond in kind.

"Bull." The whisper was equally sharp and just for an instant Carter stood up above the line of undergrowth that hid him, showing clearly who it was stalking him and then immediately lunged to one side, back into the foliage where he would be madly scrambling to find a new position if he had assumed wrong.

Polnar grinned. // Yes! Can't blame him for being careful if he has seen as many dead in here as I have.// He stood quickly, showing himself and then copied Carters dive into the undergrowth. While he knew that Carter was there, the possibility existed that the second watcher might actually be a Sleeper, who now knew that he had two targets to hunt. //Come on, we don't have all day to waste. Let me know who you are.//

"Eagle." Barker slipped out of his hiding place and came forward, motioning with one hand for a meeting to take place. "I was beginning to think that we had lost you."

// Finally. Now we can get the hell out of here. // "I've been around." He eased out from his cover, though he did not move onto the path itself. One obvious target was more than enough. "Seen anyone else?"

"The dead, no one alive." Carter eased his way from between plants and visibly relaxed as he joined Barker, nodding briefly by way of greeting. There was a sombre look to him that told Polnar he had seen more than enough of the former.

"Four bodies so far." Barker elaborated. "You?"

"Six dead. None of them pretty. Ambush mostly." His eyes scanned the foliage, unwilling to presume they were safe.

"Pretty much what we found then." Barker sighed and motioned along the line of the path. "How far to this reservoir you mentioned? The sooner we are out of here the better."

"We should be close and I don't think that we should stay in exposed ground, or in one place for too long."

"Agreed. You lead. Carter, you are after him."

// Back in the lead position, huh? Well, can't say I'm not too upset by that, though I really don't like having anyone at my back just now. Still, we came here together and we are a team. At least for now. I'll lead, but I sure as hell will keep an eye on the pair of you.//

His certainty that they must be nearing the large pool marking the reservoir was vindicated when in only a few minutes of creeping through the undergrowth the foliage thinned sufficiently for him to glimpse the clearing ahead and beyond it the open expanse of water. He crouched seeking cover, unwilling to step immediately out into the open, scanning for any signs of occupation, both living or dead and for any hint that someone might be lurking.

//More dead.//

The body stretched out beside the pond was immediately noticed, as was the dried pool of blood trailing toward the pond, though it had not reached so far. Another woman. Male or female, no one was safe and he wondered if that would apply to the babies on the base. He only hoped that the killing had not extended down into the sub base as yet. He sighed softly at this further proof that they were dealing with people who had no qualms about killing and turned his sight back to scanning the area. He was not going to be venturing out into the open until he was sure he would not become just another body amongst so many.

//Yes, there is the grate leading to the maintenance shaft. // He glared at the open area around the raised structure not too far from the body. // Of course it had to be clearly in open ground where anyone can watch it from a dozen different places of safety. Damn. There is nothing to act as cover available on any approach to it. Looks quiet enough, but then the whole place has been quiet. The silence of the grave. //

"Is that what we are after?" Carter queried, finger pointing to the concrete mound as he crouched beside him and giving the whole area a look that clearly said his was not a trusting soul. "That's a bit... Open."

//Understatement of the year, my friend. I don't want to go out there, but I guess I am the best one. I've been in those before and I know what to look for.//

"Can't be helped." Barker eased forward a little, stretching out as far as he could and still retain some cover to scan the clearing . "There is no choice but to use it . We have to get down into the sub base. I'll go first, you two cover me."

"No." He reached to grasp the Preventer agents arm. "I'll go first. It's not the same as the grate in the other two domes and I can check it is what I think it is. Don't get me wrong, I am pretty sure that would be the maintenance access. Not much else here that could be it. I have not worked in this dome, remember. It will only take me a minute or two to ascertain that it is what we want and that the pipe has been drained."

"We are out of time." Barker swept the area with an experienced eye and motioned to an area closest to the access shaft. "That looks to be the closest point. We get to that point and you can make a run for it."

//I am not and have never wanted, to be a hero. Why the hell do I volunteer for these things?//

He slipped quickly into position, aware that both men were on guard on either side of him, but that he was likely to be dead before they could do anything to save him if there was a sniper out there.

// Stupid, Polnar. You are a stupid bloody fool. You survived the war and you lucked out and found a home for yourself, despite losing everything and now you go and put it all at risk because you have to find the man Raydon wants to hump.// He knew his face flamed. // Shit. Just as well there are no telepaths around here. That was just a shade crude, Old Son. Raydon's never been like that and your fears should not make him out to be something he is not. You had the chance to turn down the mission and you never. Sitting here looking at the pretty trees …and the bloody corpses … is not going to get you into that shaft.//

"I'll be fast as I can." He nodded to Barker and slipped out of the foliage.

Speed was of more important than anything in this dash for the shaft and he gave himself every ounce of speed he could muster. He was the fastest of the three and it made sense for him to be the first, particularly as he knew what they were looking for. He did not waste time or effort on crouching to present as small a target as possible, but channelled his fear into his flying feet to get him across the distance as fast as humanly possible. He figured if he made the distance without getting shot he would have won a sprint medal at the Olympics. At least silver.

As he neared the mound details became clear and he resisted the urge to hesitate. //It's been opened. Maybe Merquise? God, I hope it was him and there is not trouble waiting for me inside. I'd be a sitting duck descending the ladder.//

The cap of the shaft was resting loosely over the access and he glanced anxiously around as he lunged for the grate, but there remained no sign of trouble. With a huff of breath, his lungs heaving after his sprint, he pushed the lid high and peered down into the shaft. Emergency lights greeted him with a bloody glow and he winced at the thought. He had seen enough blood today to last him for years, but the day was a long way from being over.

//Ah, damn. No sign of anyone, but how the hell could I tell that from up here? Here's hoping I won't be having company in there.//

Long legs slipped over the rim and positioned on the ladder and with a quick glance around he let himself down the shaft. That glance had shown him no sign of company, not even a glimpse of Carter or Barker, which was reassuring. At least they were well hidden, but that meant that any company also would not be seen. Not so reassuring. For the sake of speed and the small chance to surprise anyone who might be waiting within to take him down, he hooked his arms around the sides of the ladder and in a controlled slide slid down the shaft to land at its foot and stare into the empty room.

//Ah, God. A water cooler. I could do with a drink, but it will have to wait until I have checked out the area and made certain this is where we want to be. I hope it is, because I am unsure just how much more of this I can take. I knew there was a reason I was glad to give up my old occupation. Why the hell did I agree to take up covert ops again? I know that Raydon said there could be days like this in the service of Station One, but you always hope that it will never come about. Stupid me.//

He quick stepped along the narrow room and scrunched his nose up in distaste as he approached the access door to what should be the water shaft. Someone had been ill in here and it stank, but then it probably did not stink any more than he did after so long in that enviro suit and he preferred finding vomit to an ambush, or yet another corpse.

A quick check of the latch mechanism and the observation port and he grinned a feral grin. Oh yes, this was the way down into the sub base, no doubt of that.

// Now to signal to Barker and Carter to get their butts into the shaft.//

While they made the crossing to the shaft he could take the time to get himself a cool drink and even greet them with a blessed cup of cool water as they came off the ladder. His eyes swept the long narrow room and he grinned on noting the cupboards and lockers lining one side. He might even be able to speed their descent down the water shaft and cut minutes off the time usually required to make the climb, if this maintenance shaft was fitted with the same gear that he had been required to use as in the shaft in HD Two.

He scampered quickly up the ladder and peered cautiously out of the shaft before he popped his head up and waved for the other two to join him. He lingered just long enough to see Carter start toward him and then slid himself back down the shaft and headed for the water cooler. He had sufficient time to take a drink and pour one for Carter and Barker, then he would see about the gear they would need to descend the shaft.

Icy liquid trickled down his throat and he gasped. //God, that's cold! Feels great.// He tossed the empty paper cup into the waste bucket then poured and lined up two more for his team mates as he heard Carter on the ladder and nodded with satisfaction. At least Carter had made it safely.

Things were looking up. That they would be late to the rendezvous was not in doubt, but they need not necessarily be as late as they might have been. He moved further from the ladder and spotted the equipment locker he thought most likely to hold the equipment he wanted, reefing it open quickly as he glanced behind him to ensure that it was indeed Carter on the ladder and not an unexpected surprise. It would be just perfect if someone else had gained the shaft and shot him for all of his trouble, but it was indeed Daniel Carter who stepped off the ladder and grunted in delight at spotting the two paper cups sitting to one side of the ladder.

"Barker?" He queried.

"Coming in right behind me. Should be just about at the access shaft." Carter snared one of the cups and took a half step to peer up the shaft . "Yes, he's just coming in now."

"Good. Shut the access shaft when he's in so that we don't attract any unwanted attention. The water pipe is empty and it won't take us long to get down if what I am hoping for is in this locker."

Carter arched an eyebrow and after ensuring that Barker was well into the shaft he called up the suggestion to seal the access and he joined Polnar as the access shaft reverberated in a deep clang as the outer hatch was closed.

"What are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for the express elevator." Polnar chuckled. "One of the duties of maintaining the water pipes requires us to clean the damn things and they average around eighty feet long and the bigger ones are a diameter of about thirty feet. That is a lot of pipe to scrub. One of the few good things about having to work in them is that we occasionally get to enjoy the thrills of absailing."

"Absailing?" Barker stepped off the ladder. "What about absailing?"

"Have either of you done any before?" He grinned as he backed out of the cupboard with a selection of harnesses and ropes in hand. "It will take us a few seconds to descend with the use of this gear, or it will take us considerably longer to climb down in the more conventional manner. Your choice."

Barker eyed the assortment of harness and ropes with a widening grin. "I could really get to like you, Polnar."

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2004 / 2005


	124. Chapter 124 Chapter 123

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 123

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 27 [approx Sanc time 23:20

Giles

//This is not good. If he can't even stay on his feet how the hell do I keep him out of the hands of the ESUN//

The mass of blonde hair flowed over the sprawled body to pool on the floor. The sheet was tangled about long limbs and there was a dazed look in those crystal eyes he really did not want to see. It was patently obvious that Zechs had hit the floor before he even knew that something was wrong.

"Let's get you on your feet and then we can deal with getting out of here. This is a treatment room and the door over there is a way out of here that does not lead directly into the hallway. I'll get you in there and out of this room first and from there consider what next to do. I saw another door in there when the Doc was running in and out after gear to work on you. It might give us an out." // If it does not dead end in a store cupboard.// He dared not say that aloud.

Even thinking it made it too real.

He had meant to check out the adjoining room but he had not had the opportunity as yet to do so, a fact which might now lead to their capture. If he was entirely honest with himself, the opportunity had existed, but he had not dared leave the room and his charge unattended. He did not know who to trust and now his lack of trust presented them with another problem. He did not know if there was an exit through that door that would get them away from Blue Squad. He should have taken the chance to check, but he did not know if he could trust those who had been working on the blonde to steady his condition.

He should have had more sense.

Even the Sleepers would want Zechs in good enough condition to move him easily and so would have treated his current medical condition. He would have had enough time to check out their surroundings and they were likely to pay for his oversight now.

There was also the additional worry of not knowing if he could trust the nursing staff not to mention their presence here to those ESUN agents. If one of them was a Sleeper then they were done for and even the most innocent comment could bring Blue Squad howling down on their necks. Why did it all feel as though it was falling down around his ears?

Blue eyes locked with his and he saw within those crystalline depths a mirror of his own fear. Zechs, like he, was very much afraid that the Lightning Count was not going to be getting on his feet this time. It was very possible, even probable, that the man had pushed his reserves beyond their limits and there would be no recovery in time to save their hides. He had another concern about that recovery. The visions. Whatever it was that had happened outside, in that hallway, had done more than simply tax the reserves of the man. The consequences of that they might not yet be seeing.

Giles had to acknowledge to himself, if to no one else, that he knew nothing of the side effects this man might experience from episodes of vision. He knew from his own past experience that some of the Gifted were cursed with shocking side effects to some of their abilities. He himself had very few difficulties, but he did periodically have to deal with headaches.

His experiences and his Gift were very dissimilar to the Gifts he had thus far witnessed with Zechs. What type of side effects he could expect to deal with here could cover a broad range of very unpleasant possibilities. Zechs had already stated that he dared not go down into vision for fear that it would take him out of the game.

He had been right to fear. It had happened and he was in no fit condition to be of help.

//It would be just perfect if the price of my life turns out to be his capture. Raydon won't have to flay me alive, I'll do that myself.//

Zechs made no complaint as Giles knelt behind him and hooked his hands under his shoulders and then locked his hands over his broad chest. The man's skin was warm to the touch, too warm and Giles shook his head, not liking that rising temperature. There was no real signs of a fever other than that elevated temperature, but that had to be better than the arctic chill that had emanated from him before. There was no time to be concerned with a possible fever now. They needed to get out of the treatment room and if possible he had to get the man out of the medical centre. If he had the time and opportunity he needed to get Zechs back to the shuttle bay and to its relative safety.

Giles set his feet firmly, knees comfortably bent to take the strain from his back and with a whispered warning he heaved against the man's weight in an effort to get him to stand. The pliant body in his arms stiffened and he could not miss the gasp that fell into a low grunt . A soft and stifled sound of raw agony that ultimately ended with something that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. Giles winced, knowing the pressure he was placing on the man's badly bruised shoulder but he, like Zechs, knew that it could not be helped. They were being pushed for time and they had to act.

Zechs had spread his hands against the floor and the muscles across his shoulders bunched with exertion. He pushed resolutely against the floor, forcing himself to use every ounce of strength available to him, despite the pain to aid in getting himself off the floor. He heard Giles' hissed breath and wished himself to be smaller and lighter. He knew that he was solidly built and that he was not and never had been a fly weight, but that was simply the way he was. It could not be helped. Gradually they worked his large frame up to where he could gratefully lean on the bed and relieve Giles of the bulk of his weight. His fingers closed around the foot rail and he panted, sucking air into desperate lungs, forcing the pain under control.

"No." The whisper was ragged with pain and exhaustion and a certain hopelessness. They had to face facts and they both knew it. "Not going to work."

Giles was sucking air into his lungs, staring at the door that led out into the hallway with the certain belief it was going to slam open and Simpson was going to stalk into the room, gun drawn and it was all going to be over. He was never going to be able to get Zechs moving on his own and they had no back up. Wishing it could be otherwise was pointless.

"Yeah. Yes, I think you are right. Ahm …" He considered the room for seconds that seemed like hours and finally shook his head. "If you can hold onto the bed and keep yourself from collapsing I'll check in the other room. There may be a wheelchair or something that we can use to get you out of here." He was already moving, taking a step toward the door, daring to take his hands off the broad back, hoping that he could maintain that grip on the bed and remain upright.

"No."

Giles hesitated. "No?" His head swivelled back to meet the serious blue gaze centred on him.

"No. It's just not going to work. Not this time. Where is my belt? The belt with the equipment."

He knew what equipment Zechs referred to and he blanched at the very thought. If the man could not even support his own weight, how could he realistically expect to fight off two members of the famous - or more appropriately infamous - Blue Squad? The man had been realistic up to this point, though Giles had to admit Zechs had done some things that had to bring his sanity into question. The point was they were alive and free to act, though that might not remain so for long. Zechs could not stand unsupported and if he tried to take so much as a single step away from that bed he was going to end up in a heap on the floor once again.

On his own Giles doubted he was going to be capable of handling even one of those men who might burst through that door. He was certain if he tried to handle both of them then he was going to meet with a disaster. Zechs was out of the equation and he was incapable of helping in this. With those simple facts the best option, the only solution he could see was surely to make themselves scarce.

They had to run.

"You are not in any condition to …"

"Trust me."

His protest was squashed by those two almost whispered words and for all that the man was visibly shaking in an effort to remain on his feet, his voice was steady and steely cold. There was a frosty determination in his eyes that promised while he might appear to be out of the equation, he had not given up the fight.

"Where is the gear?"

// Shit. What the hell do I do now? He can't think … Still. I have underestimated him more than once today and I promised myself I would not do it again. Raydon is going to have his hands full controlling this one. I don't envy him, or the Training Masters, trying to talk sense into Zechs Merquise. Or is that Milliardo Peacecraft? He's a confusing son of a bitch. //

One thing the Training Masters and Raydon insisted on with all who came to Station One who had the Gift and were to be trained, was that discipline was vitally important. The student had to know his limitations and trust the Training Masters ability to know when not to push. Discipline, knowing when to push and when not to, and above all knowing when it was time to stop. Making this cold-eyed blonde see reason on any of those points could lead to some very interesting discussions.

He huffed a breath in surrender, muttered a low comment that concerned idiots who liked to complicate the most simple of matters and for his trouble he earned the lift of a pale eyebrow. With a grunt he stalked to a cupboard to one side of the door that led to the hallway and rummaged within it. They had placed the clothing they had stripped from Zechs there and he recalled seeing the equipment belt join the flight suit and boots.

"You really are not up to a fight and it is a certainty that I am not going to be able to handle the pair of them on my own. I might be able to take the tech out, but from what I know of Blue Squad's reputation …" He shrugged, letting the thought hang. Zechs was no fool. He would know the skill levels they would need to deal with and what it would take to drop them. "I'm not all that eager to die, having thus far escaped that fate today. I'm not very hopeful that any action we may take will result in nothing more than the acquisition of a few more bruises and at best a set of wrist cuffs to keep us contained."

His hands closed on the belt and he pulled back out of the cupboard, turning to face the blonde. The tremble in the man's hands and arms as he tried to support his weight was worse now than it had been. If the man could not even stand up properly while leaning against the bed how did he hope to take out an elite soldier? With a sigh he moved across the room and passed the belt to Zechs.

"I've had enough bruises today to last me several months, thank you. It is time to cut our losses, Giles. Time to admit if we want to come out on top of the situation then we have to change our plans. If they should do a room by room search, or should one of the staff here tell them where to find us, then we can kiss goodbye to any chance of getting a confession on camera. It is only sense to acknowledge that within minutes they are going to know where to find me and they are going to have the upper hand. There was no guarantee that Simpson would have said anything incriminating against those who assigned him to this mission. I knew that and judged the chance worthwhile. We have to roll with the flow and for now that means that we take them out quickly and efficiently, so that few people are placed at risk. Those few people, I might add, include you and I."

Giles considered the man who was pawing one handed through the various pouches and pockets of the belt, obviously looking for very particular equipment. His other hand seemed to have a death grip on the foot rail, his knuckles were white with the force of his grip. He was searching through the pouches with his left hand, reserving his stronger right hand and arm to maintain his upright position and that left-handed search seemed to be remarkably efficient. There was no fumbling or cursing at the inadequacies of using his off hand.

"Well, I'm thankful for that of course, but we are not exactly at our fittest right now. Neither you nor I are one hundred percent. How do you propose we handle two men who are uninjured and belong to one of the toughest Alliance outfits that just happens to have a very well deserved reputation for ruthlessness? We can't fight them and if they so much as suspect you are in here, they are not just going to walk in the door and say hello, you know."

A grin worked its way onto the blonde's face and he glanced at Giles with an unholy gleam of amusement in the ice blue eyes that peeked through unruly bangs.

"Why Giles, anyone would think that you did not trust me."

He could only stare at the blonde with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "At a time like this you're getting playful?"

"Of course. When better? It's at moments like this that one needs to retain a cool head and a sense of humour. Panic will not help. An unplanned move could end all too easily in disaster. It's a basic rule that you should never forget. Always keep a cool head and make your decisions carefully and you will not regret it later."

He knew he should not have done it but he was feeling pushed against a wall and the unnatural calmness of the blonde was getting to him. Any second that door would open and he would find himself staring down the barrel of a gun and it all would be over. He should have kept better control of himself, but he slipped and the words had poured from his mouth.

"Do you not regret the Libra?"

To his credit the man did not strike back. For an instant his hand froze and he stiffened, but it passed quickly and Zechs continued rummaging around in the pouches. When he spoke his voice was low and even, giving nothing of his thoughts away.

"I have no intentions of being captured at this time, or at any time by Blue Squad if it is at all within my power to avoid. As it happens, Giles, no I do not regret what I did in the past and if you had seen what I witnessed, you would not have regrets either. Check and see if you can see them and what they are doing would you?"

Giles glanced at the door and sighed, shoulders slumping as he cursed his unruly tongue. He needed to get a grip on himself and he did not further insult the man by apologizing. By now Zechs had turned out all of the assortment of items onto the bed and was examining them, ignoring him. Giles could not blame him and wondered if he had irreparably damaged his standing with the man. Regretting what was done would change nothing and he turned and stalked to the door.

Raydon had placed him on Mars specifically to keep an attentive eye on the man who once had gone by the name of the Lightning Count and should the need arise he was to act as his bodyguard. He supposed Zechs had accepted that, but he was regretting running off at the mouth and ruining what had been developing into a firm friendship. He should have minded his mouth, but the fault was not all with him. Raydon should have sent a note to inform the love of his life to toe the line and listen to good common sense when the situation demanded it. The man appeared to have a death wish. How could someone in his condition expect to take out the likes of Simpson and his cronies?

//It is true that so far he has been more than successful in dealing with the Sleepers and from what he has told me he's also managed to take out a few members of the squad. I admit he's good, but he was not injured then and he had not experienced … what ever that was that happened in the hallway. Simpson would be the very best of them and Zechs is in bad enough condition that a toddler falling on him would take him down. Damn Specials think they are invincible. //

Specials. Whether they belonged to the Alliance or to Oz, the elites of the armed forces were a breed apart and could not easily admit defeat. Perhaps it was that pride in their own abilities he did not know but he was not going to stand in the way of Zechs if he needed to prove a point. He would do what he could to keep the idiot alive and hope that he came out alive to tell the blonde just what he thought of him at the end of it. For now he was just going to have to trust in the man and in the fact that, thus far, he had indeed known what he was doing.

// I am not going to underestimate him again. //

He opened the door a fraction, just sufficient to allow him to listen at the gap for any sounds he would recognize as combat. The staff here were Healers and assistants whose only care was to heal. Civilians not fighters, though he did know at least one nurse was a combat trained medic and that some of the doctors here, including the chief surgeon, were ex military and were at least capable of defending themselves, though he doubted that they could take Simpson. Unless they should all attack the agents at once and in that scenario he would expect them to perhaps succeed in taking out the technician and maybe doing some sort of damage to Simpson. No, they would die if they took on both men and even if they somehow managed to take out both men he would expect that maybe one of them might walk away.

Maybe.

He had no doubt somewhere out in that hallway the Grim Reaper, Death himself, was lurking, perhaps chuckling quietly over more souls to be gathered this night. Death had been having a busy day.

The murmur of voices reached him, but not with sufficient clarity for him to understand what they were talking about. Slipping the dentists mirror out of a pocket he poked it through the gap and angled it carefully to give himself a view of the hallway. He had to open the door a little more to get a decent view and he could hear the blonde behind him mutter something that he missed and only hoped the man was not cursing him. He needed Zechs to work with him, not against him.

The body had been abandoned by the nursing staff and now lay unattended on a gurney in a body bag. He could see the Chief Surgeon striding down the hallway to where four nurses had gathered, the gurney placed between them and the two soldiers who stared blankly at the body bag.

Giles peered myopically at the view in the mirror, squinting to make out details. He thought the Commander was scowling at the nurses cowering away from him. As he watched Simpson gestured at the body bag and at the blood smears all over the wall that marked the place where Zechs had taken down the Sleeper.

// The man looks pissed as hell about something and … confused//

"What is going on here? Have you people not already done enough? Get out of my Medical Centre and allow us to work. We are healers, not soldiers!"

"You've got balls, Broadham, I'll give you that." He whispered.

He had to give the surgeon his due. The man seemed unphased by the glare that turned to him and he wondered when the last time was someone had had the audacity to speak to Simpson in such a manner. Giles watched, straining every fibre of his being to hear the conversation taking place down the hallway. The nursing staff looked as though they had relaxed with the appearance of the surgeon, though Giles was quick to note that none had moved closer to Simpson nor had any of them made a move to continue with their work.

"You are?" Simpson did not sound amused as he glared at the man striding toward him.

"My name is Charles Broadham and I am Senior Surgeon of the medical unit. I happen to be in charge here at this time. Now who are you?" There was not a hint of submissiveness in the surgeon's tone as he stopped near the gurney, placing himself between his people and the agents.

"Commander Patrick Simpson, Task Force Commander, ESUN Security Agency. What happened here?" Simpson inclined his head toward the body as his eyes raked the blood smear on the wall.

"What happened here? Murder, Commander Simpson. That is what happened. Cold-blooded murder." He spaced each of the last three words out, emphasizing them with little breaths.

"Who died and when?" Simpson focused his attention on the Surgeon.

Broadham seemed to puff up with rage. Even to the rear view that Giles was forced to witness the events through he could see that swelling of the man's shape and the lift of his shoulders. He could just imagine the look on the man's face.

"Most of my bloody patients were butchered in their beds and considerable numbers of my staff along with them, that is who has died! With you bloody psychos running around what more can we expect? I suppose you have butchered more out there, in the dome? Do I even prep for casualties, or do I just have to commandeer the meat freezer for an additional morgue?"

Giles pursed his lips, his eyebrows arched up almost to his hairline and he resisted the urge to whistle. He would not have been in the least bit surprised to see Patrick Simpson deck the surgeon, if not pull a gun on him after that tirade. He tensed, expecting the worst, but the ESUN agent merely glared at the man and flicked a finger at the corpse on the trolley.

"Is that the killer?"

"No. A victim. One of seven we have found to date in the centre. To be precise in the first three rooms along this hallway."

He wished the mirror was larger and he could see more, but the man's voice sounded genuinely concerned. "You have two of my people in your care. Two women. They were sedated when last I was here."

Broadham seemed to consider that and glanced at the cluster of nurses behind him who shrugged, but not until the man had already turned back to the Agent. "That would be when?"

"A couple of hours ago. All seemed quiet enough when I was last here."

//Of course it would have been quiet, you git. They were all in surgery and the psycho was Christ knows where at that time. How many more corpses are littered through the base// Giles shook his head slowly, wishing he dared open the door wider. He wanted a decent view of what was happening down there.

"Two of your people? Do you know what rooms they were in? At this stage we have not checked all of the wards. We are doing the best we can, but I am missing staff."

"Giles? What is happening?"

Zechs' whisper broke his concentration and he slipped the door closed a little and turned, looking over at where the blonde was leaning on the bed. He looked to be holding together reasonably well for the moment, but he was too pale, almost as pale as his hair and the fingers of the hand he gripped the foot rail with looked to be bloodless.

"Broadham has Simpson talking at the end of the hallway. He says he has two people in the hospital and wants to know if they are casualties of what happened here." He did not expect to see the blonde lose even more colour.

"Shit." Zechs frowned, glaring down at his hands. "It is possible. I never … If they were given a change of clothes... The Sleeper may not have known the women were ESUN. He just might have taken them down thinking them terra formers."

Giles exhaled softly and shook his head. There was nothing they could do at this time and if those women were dead then there was nothing they could do at all. The killer was dead and he only prayed that there was only the one, but visions of that missing knife haunted him.

Turning his gaze back to the door again he eased it open, straining to hear the conversation taking place outside. He angled the mirror again to check on the events taking place at the far end of the hallway and breathed a sigh of relief. No one had moved in the few seconds he had been speaking to Zechs and they were not in danger of imminent discovery.

"…not yet searched those wards, I believe. I have staff doing a room by room search to determine the casualty count, so if you would care to make your way to the nurses lounge …" Broadham slumped a little then drew himself up once again. "No, on second thoughts that will not do. You can not go there. We have not removed the corpses from the lounge as yet. My office, then, Commander Simpson, might be best. My staff will be thorough I assure you …"

Simpson slashed a hand impatiently to interrupt the man. "No doubt they will be thorough, Mr. Broadham, but I do not have time to waste on waiting for your people to get around to searching for my people. I have a great deal to do and I know where my people are. It will be faster if I go and check myself." Simpson pushed himself past the surgeon before the man could voice a protest and began to stride down the hallway, his companion following quickly.

Eyes widening in alarm Giles slipped the mirror quickly back into the room and eased the door shut, spinning around to face Zechs.

"Simpson's on his way up the hallway. I don't think he saw me, but he might have."

Zechs drew a deeper breath and began scraping the bits and pieces on the bed back into the pouches of the belt. "He has no cause to recognize you, does he?"

Giles hesitated but on reflection he could not think of anytime that he, a lowly Leo pilot, would have been in the man's sight. "I doubt it."

"Then it is likely that he might mistake you for one of the medical staff if he walked into the room now, if not for that flight suit. That could be useful. However, we had best get this little drama moving. Get over here. We may not have much time."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	125. Chapter 125 Chapter 124

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Chapter 124

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 33 [approx Sanc time 23:25

Simpson

His eyes flicked from the blood smear marking the wall to the staff who were not quite cowering behind the man who at least had the balls to front him and then to the man himself. The staff, these workers who handled bodies without blinking but who backed away from him so readily and who had cowered before him until this other had appeared- in their cowering he had to admit that he had gained no information at all. Frazier was watchful behind him and he knew his back to be safe and that he could concentrate on confronting this man.

Clearly there had been developments since last they had come through here.

//Something is very wrong. It feels wrong. The way they watch us … It does not lend any credence to there having been an accident. No, that certainly feels wrong and the way they are behaving … The way they are watching us … Do they know? Can they possibly know anything of our mission here or do they just suspect? Does it have anything to do with us at all? Someone has died here, that is not in doubt, but who was it and why?// His eyes fixed on the surgeon and he considered the man with narrowed gaze. //Broadham. Yes, he's the surgeon, I remember reading his file. A Field Surgeon of notable reputation. Alliance, I think and he carried the rank of Colonel at one time. His file suggested he was good at what he did as a member of the forces and that he volunteered to become a part of the terra forming project some months before Merquise came to Mars. Well before the instance with the Kushrenada brat. He was not on the list as a Sleeper Agent. //

The surgeon was glaring at him and no doubt at one time his subordinates had feared that glare, but he chose to ignore it. He had time on his side. None of the people present, with the possible exception of the surgeon himself, appeared to be worthy of being considered a threat and in a stand alone confrontation the surgeon would not be a danger to either himself or to Frazier.

He noted the heightened colour creeping into the man's face and the gradual stiffening of his posture at his casual appraisal and he restrained the smirk. Obviously the surgeon had not had too many people with the gumption, or the rank, to ignore him in his days since leaving the armed forces. He supposed the man might have been a little out of practice with putting the full impact into his glare, as the medical staff looked as though they would spook at the first hint of trouble. Exposure to civilians would not have toughened the man or his ability to perfect his intimidation techniques. In this instance Broadham was not going to get any joy out of glaring to intimidate his target.

His grandfather was a grandmaster of intimidation and after surviving the many and varied glares practiced by that old bastard he was pretty much immune. His grandparent had been alive long enough to have a patented glare for every occasion and he had the finesse to pull every one of them off to perfection. During his childhood and early training in the armed forces he had been subjected to every glare in the old man's considerable vocabulary.

The surgeon might as well have been a two-year-old child about to throw a temper tantrum for all his effort affected the Commander of Blue Squad.

"Commander Simpson, I have had a long and exhausting day. I do not need my staff further intimidated or frightened than they already have been by the events of this day. It has been a more that stressful time for us and we all should be in bed. We are tired after hours of surgery and we now find ourselves with the need to perform a bloody clean up before anyone can even consider rest. If you are not going to assist us with the cleanup then should you not be out there hunting the killers who are stalking the base? You are ESUN Security, are you not?"

He spared a second for one of his best dismissing looks to be thrown the man's way and continued to stride down the hallway, his eyes narrowing as he did so. He needed to keep the man off balance and he needed to understand exactly what was going on here. He had noted the slight movement of a door down this hallway, and it had been suggestive of a furtive movement. He had the impression that whoever was behind that door did not wish to be noted and while he admitted it was likely to be nothing more than a terrified nurse or cleaner hiding in there from real or imaginary bogymen that something about this entire situation simply did not feel right. He was not going to leave a potential danger at his back.

//If they are not running like the devil is after them and they are not screaming like a banshee that they deserve to live, then I guess it is safe to assume they have no idea what I am here for. Rather than cause a bloodbath that could be witnessed and the entire base being warned as to our presence here, it may be possible to get cooperation out of them. At least until I have no choice other than to take them down. The Wellington is more than a day away from Mars and I don't want to have to fight the entire surviving contingent of the terra formers in an ongoing fire fight for that amount of time. I especially don't want to have a running battle with only Frazier and two women against the survivors of the base. // His eyes scanned the hallway and the tan walls brought to mind the blood smear on the wall behind him. //A Sleeper? Christ. Surely they had more sense than to hit so public a place as the medical centre without ensuring they had enough back up to make the killing quick and clean?//

"Yes, I am ESUN Security, Mr. Broadham, and I am well aware of my duties as such. You have not as yet explained to me the events taking place here and there is also the small matter of my mission here to be considered. I have my orders from my superiors and I intend to follow my instructions to the letter. Now at the moment my concern is for the two members of my squad whom I know to have been in the medical centre receiving treatment. Is it, or is it not, possible that they may have fallen victim to the Psycho, as you so quaintly term whoever it is who is stalking the base. Is it the base or just the medical centre that is his, her or its killing ground? Allow me to do my job, Mr Broadham, after all I do not instruct you in how to perform surgery, do I? No? Good."

The man was on his heels and he resisted the urge to increase his pace, striding confidently down the hallway toward that door that had drawn his eye. Such a small movement but it had been enough and if these people had not brought down the killer then it was possible that he or she was lurking in that room. Whether killer or cowering flunky he wanted to know.

"Heaven forbid I should tell an ESUN Security Agent how he should do his job." Broadham put enough venom in that to cause Simpson to pause, his piercing eyes focusing on the surgeon before he started walking again. "We have already searched these few room, Commander Simpson and I can assure you none of them contained female patients. Nor were they occupied at the time of the … incident." He hesitated over exactly what to call what ever it was that had occurred here. "What are you doing? There are rooms all along this hallway and … No, never mind. I do not profess to understand how your mind works, but surely we have no need to go back over ground that has already been covered? If your team members were in any of the rooms along this hallway then I assure you that they are not now. Just as I can assure you that if they should have been within the two rooms down the hallway on your left that you just passed without examining … Well, if they were in any of them they would certainly be dead, but I know there were no women in those rooms. Just male patients." He glared at Simpson, his gaze hardening into something that did cause the Commander to stop. "Dead male patients. Cold-bloodedly executed in their beds. What the fuck is going on in my Medical Centre, Commander?"

//His voice … worried?//

He considered the man for a long moment, watching him. His flushed face, the tension in every line of his body. Yes, he supposed that was what he would expect a man to look like if he had no understanding of what was going on around him and he found his people and patients dead.

//Worried or afraid? More afraid, I think. Yes, afraid. Afraid because there is a killer running around loose, or afraid because I'm within a couple of feet of that doorway? He was not looking this way when I saw the door close and he would naturally want something done about the killings. It would have to be one or more Sleepers, of course. Who else would it be? If he wants my help tracking a killer and containing, if not outright killing said killer, then he should be all for me doing a search that involves every nook and cranny in the base. Ah, I caught that well enough. That anxious glance at the door and there is definitely something in his eyes. That settles it. There is something that I will find of interest in this room. What are you hiding, Broadham? Or perhaps … Who are you hiding should be the more appropriate question. //

His fingers closed around the doorknob and he shot a quick look at the surgeon who had paled, losing colour dramatically even as he made to reach out to grasp his arm in an attempt to stop him. Briefly the thought flittered through his mind that the killer might be holed up in that room with a hostage or two he had threatened to kill should Broadham or his staff point the way, though he doubted that scenario. He was not concerned that Broadham tried to delay him as it was apparent Frazier was also aware of the surgeon's current nervousness and had been watching him. As the surgeon reached out toward him Frazier smoothly stepped between them, placing his body as a very effective block to the Surgeon's attempt. Simpson smothered the small satisfied smile at the man's sharply indrawn breath before he turned back to the door and considered it.

//Something about this room has him spooked and I want to know what it is. Killer and hostage? No, I don't think so.//

Frazier stood between the doctor and his Commander, giving Simpson the opportunity to get into the room before any objections could be raised of a physical nature. While the tech was by no means a brilliant hand to hand combatant-his specialty being electronics, not combat- he was certainly better trained than an out of practice field surgeon was likely to be. He was fairly confident that he could afford to leave the surgeon and his cowering medical staff to Frazier. With his subordinate at his back and noting that Broadham stepped back from them, Simpson grasped the knob in his fingers.

His head shot up and around and he automatically released the knob at the sound of running feet. His primary hand had been grasping the butt of the gun at his waist and now he drew it in reaction to that clear alert. One hand poised on the door knob, the other with the weapon half out of the holster he scowled at the man tearing down the hallway.

"Sir! Mr. Broadham, Sir! We have found two more! Two more bodies. In the supply room.. . Two men in combat fatigues … We think … Sir?" The white-coated young man came to a stumbling halt as he finally caught the tension in the air and blinked stupidly as he found himself staring down the barrel of the automatic weapon. "I … Is something wrong? I thought it was all over."

Simpson recognized the uniform as that of an orderly's, but what froze him was not the innocence of his appearance but the contents of his speech. He was aware that Frazier had his weapon unholstered and aimed at Broadham and he approved that action whole heartedly, but he did not relax.

The orderly's words sent a shock of hope through his nerves and after a few electrifying seconds he eased the pressure of his finger on the trigger as the man foolishly backed off in a scramble. His fingers twitched with a subconscious reaction to pull the trigger but he resisted that urge. The fool should have frozen but he was not an amateur and he could wait to teach the idiot not to tempt him. He could not take the fool down before he learned if his hopes and his fears were realized.

// Two men... Combat fatigues?// The staggered thought kept his finger relaxed on the trigger and he glared at the orderly who looked impossibly wide-eyed and pale enough that he expected him to collapse into a dead faint. He'd shoot the bastard if he fainted before he could tell him what he wanted to know.

He was missing two men. He had been missing them for hours and while he had been in the Medical Centre before he had not engaged in a room by room search on that occasion. He had met a nurse who had taken him to the women under his command. There had been no word from these men for hours and he had feared them to be dead. At least now he would know where their bodies were to be found.

He could not bring himself to believe that the psychos who were working under McIntyre's control would be bothered with changing into combat fatigues to massacre their workmates. It would be easier and make far more sense for them to kill quietly if they blended in with their workmates. Surprise always was good if you could gain the advantage.

"Where?" Simpson turned away from the door and practically snarled the question at the orderly. His hard-eyed gaze focused on the man and demanded answers to his questions immediately or the consequences would not be pretty. "Where are they?"

Gun still raised and finger hooked around the trigger his growl served only to set the orderly backing up faster and looking more like he was inclined to faint dead away. The fool was visibly shaking and his jaw worked but no sound emerged. There was the sound of a grunt at his elbow and a soft curse distracted him as Broadham attempted to shoulder his way past Frazier, who resisted with just enough force to keep the surgeon in place.

"Excuse me, Commander Simpson. I will thank you to kindly refrain from intimidating my people. We are doing the best that we can in rather difficult circumstances and we do not need you waving that infernal thing around. I was under the impression that you were searching for information on two women, not on two men? It would help if you could make up your mind on the sex of your people." Broadham began his tirade sounding angry and finished up sounding more than a little snide.

"I have been missing two male agents for some hours. This could be them." He squashed the flicker of irrational anger at the delay and spared a glare for the surgeon.

He had waited this long to hear news of the missing team members and he was not going to fly off the handle because of incompetent civilians who could not keep to their proper place. Civilians like this orderly who did not know enough to freeze when he had a gun pointed between his eyes had no idea how to debrief quickly and efficiently and having the man's superior interrupting certainly was not helpful.

He resisted the urge to grind his teeth together and determined that for now he would allow the insult implied to pass. For now. There would come an accounting between he and the surgeon before the day was finished. Of that he would make certain.

"Mark, take a couple of deep breaths and calm yourself. What do you know about these two men?"

Broadham speared a glare at Frazier, his best Officer's glare and then edged cautiously around the bulk of the tech, careful to make no obviously threatening movement and angling his own body away from Simpson. He wanted it clearly understood that he was not presenting a threat to either man in this situation and that he only wanted to reach his man.

The tech flicked his gaze over the surgeon and made no move to restrain him, merely watched him with a look he remembered well from his own military days. This man was a career soldier and Broadham recognized him as such and in that instant he understood how he needed to act. He needed to present himself as he had done in the past, to become once again the Officer he had been and to act the part of his rank.

By making no overt moves toward the Commander and by presenting himself with the confidence of a superior officer he would have no trouble from the tech. With a small nod of recognition to the man, an acknowledgement of the terms of their silent agreement, he reached slowly forward to draw the orderly gently away from the barrel of Simpson's gun.

"Really, Commander Simpson, there is no need to threaten my staff. I believe that there has been more than enough death already this day. Kindly put the gun away."

He was uncertain just how he managed to resist immediately lowering the gun and returning it to its holster, but somehow he managed. He knew that in the past the surgeon had outranked him, but the man was not military now and had no right of command over him. Considering his orders he was well within his rights to shoot the fool of an orderly now and anyone else who dared to stand in his way, but for the moment it suited him to garner what co operation he could. Where the man had dredged that particular tone of voice up from he did not know, but his trained reactions wanted to holster the gun and snap out a salute in response. That simply would not do and he gathered together his wits and shot a glare at the surgeon. He would have a few choice words to say to the man in private. He might even put a bullet through his brain at the conclusion of their little talk.

Broadham seemed to be aware of his reaction and a crackle of tension swept the scene. The orderly froze under the surgeon's hand and the watching staff further down the hallway drew in shaky breaths, expecting at the least for Broadham to be backhanded by the Commander. After a long moment in which no one other than Simpson and Frazier seemed to breathe, Simpson tilted his head toward the surgeon and locked cold eyes with him.

There was a look there that clearly warned he was not going to be pushed beyond this point and the look was clear enough to both the surgeon and the orderly beside him. His point made the gun was then holstered, but those ice cold eyes flicked to the orderly and there was more than mere impatience in their depths. He wanted answers and he wanted them now and if they were not forthcoming immediately he would take action.

Broadham nodded slightly, acknowledging the silent message in those deadly eyes and knowing beyond a doubt that this man was a killer. He had met the like before in his service days and he was not easily fooled. By the simple medium of standing up for his people he had made an enemy and this man, this killer, was already operating on strung out nerves. Over all, he supposed, Simpson had not had a very satisfying day and that he needed to take that into consideration when dealing with the man and tread with care.

"Mark?" He drew the orderly's attention to him. "What do you know of these two men?"

The man swallowed noisily, his gaze flicking to Simpson who he eyed with a look that clearly said he expected to be shot as being the barer of bad news. He inched a little further away until he met the surgeon's gaze and froze, before he swallowed reflexively and inclined his head over his shoulder and toward the direction from which he had come.

"I did not recognized them and they are dressed the same as …" He waved a hand in the direction of the ESUN agents briefly before snapping his hand back to his side. "We found them in the storage and maintenance room just two doors down from the nurses lounge, Sir. I left the nurse looking them over and Potter remained with him as a guard."

//Two men unknown to the resident staff who should pretty much know everyone on the base and wearing combat fatigues. It has to be them// Simpson restrained the reflexive step toward that curve in the hallway ahead of them. He still needed to confirm that they were dead.

"Good enough." Broadham glanced at Simpson. "Considering the events of the day I gave instructions that none of my people should be left alone until we are certain there is no further danger, Commander. Shall we go and identify these men as belonging to your security force or not?"

"They are dead? How did they die?" Simpson queried; a low guttural growl.

He had been a part of Blue Squad for three years and the Commander of the unit for more than twelve months and he knew each of his men personally. They were a team. They had lived in each others pockets on missions and they had no secrets from each other. He needed to confirm that Blue Squad was bereft of two who had been friends, companions and team mates. No one who had not been a part of the elite group could understand why they had to know, or what they would feel with that confirmation. Only he and Frazier could know their urgency and they would need to break the news to the remaining members of the team in the Alpha Dome.

//Bloody Merquise! Taking them down and then hiding their bodies in the medical unit. In a supply cupboard. They were good men and they deserved better than that. Why did he kill them and not the two women though? Hmm. I suppose his upper class snobbery would not permit him to harm let alone kill women. Fucking Specials and their codes of honour. //

"Dead? No, Sir. No." The orderly was shaking his head to emphasize his denial. "The … the two men in the closet are alive. I remained long enough for the nurse to check that they were alive and determine what I needed to bring before I came for the gurneys and a doctor." He cringed at the hard gaze of the eyes focused on him and wished himself elsewhere. "While I am not certain just what their condition is I can assure you that I saw no blood and I know they were breathing. Sir." The orderly backed away from the man, side stepping carefully to place the Chief Surgeon between himself and the Commander.

"Alive?" Had he heard right//They are alive? I … I felt certain Merquise would have taken them down fast and hard. Permanently . I … Were I in his place … it would be the expedient thing to do. //

"You sound surprised, Commander, though I admit that after the events of the day I can not say that I blame you for being surprised. To be honest I am not only pleasantly surprised, but also relieved and certainly pleased by this discovery. I did tell you that I was hopeful of finding survivors. These are merely the first then."

//Shut your prattling mouth, you idiot. I need to think.// "Merquise was …" He snapped his mouth shut, cursing the mistake of mentioning his target's name. //Shit. I don't want them thinking … I need to cover my ass.//

There was no need for these people to know beyond a shadow of a doubt just what his mission to Mars was and he stepped away from the door and flicked a hand down the hallway, motioning the orderly to proceed him. His priority for the moment was to see these men and to formally establish their identity. He needed to know they were his people and that would give him five to back his actions until the Wellington arrived, or until he could contact and rejoin his team in the Alpha Dome. If these were his people, and they had to be, then what was looking to be a very bleak situation had taken a turn for the better. With five agents backing him he could find Merquise and get him under control.

He had been so certain that Merquise had to have found them and on finding them he would have taken them down quickly and efficiently, if not messily. He knew his men well enough to know that they would not have been taken down without a fight if they had had any warning their target was in the area. There would not have been time for any finesse, he had assumed, a quick and hard encounter that would have undoubtedly resulted in injuries. He had not expected them or himself to be capable of taking out Merquise without there being some injuries to themselves and their target. When he had failed to contact them he had been certain they would eventually be found dead.

//Unconscious? No doubt they will be hurt but if they are alive … If they are not so badly injured that they can be of use to me … This is far better news than I had dared to hope for.//

Yes, he admitted to himself that despite the reputations of Merquise and Noin he had hoped that his men had not fallen to either of the two, but the truth was he and his men were career soldiers and that at some time they fully expected to die in combat. That was the fate of one who dedicated his life to being a soldier, even in these so called enlightened days when soldiers were distinctly in bad odour within the ESUN. These days of peace were reducing the instances where a career soldier could fulfil his functions to the full.

Live hard and die harder.

That was the motto of Blue Squad. That had been their motto since the founding of the squad nearly a hundred years ago and he did not intend to shame the honor of those members now dead. That these two men who had followed him for more than a year and with whom he had associated with for three years might live to fight another battle on another day for their own personal glory was pleasing. They had not deserved to die on this God forsaken ball of rock in the middle of nowhere. That was not how true soldiers died.

He caught Frazier's glance at the door he had just left and flicked a finger, informing him by that coded action that he was to remain here on guard and keep anyone from entering or leaving the room. If the killer was holed up in there with hostages he would keep. If it was a cowardly orderly trying to remain hidden then he would certainly keep for later. If it was something else … Now he needed to see to his men, but he was not so distracted that he was inclined to leave the mystery unattended.

"Merquise?" The Surgeon's voice was like a very unwelcome deluge of icy cold water.

//Damn. He had to catch that slip of the tongue. Well, what the hell did he think ESUN security was doing way out here anyway? Let's be honest. No doubt half the base knew we were here to check on Merquise, though that should be all that they suspected. A simple security check. Let's see how far Broadham wants to take this little game.//

"Are you coming, Broadham?" He strode away from the door and grasped the orderly by his shoulder and propelled him down the hallway with an impatient grunt.

The surgeon quick stepped to catch up with Simpson with a single glance back at Frazier, who positioned himself before the door to replace his Commander. Broadham did not so much as hesitate, turning his attention to the orderly's desperate look in his direction. With a short and sharp nod he sent the man scurrying ahead of Simpson and himself strode to take up a position beside the agent.

"What has Mr. Merquise to do with this matter, Commander Simpson? Surely you do not suspect that he has had anything to do with this? I can assure you it was not Merquise running around the medical centre indiscriminately killing off my patients and staff."

"No? You saw the killer then? You can positively identify him as not being Merquise?"

"That hair is unmistakable and we have found no evidence to suggest the man has been running around like a lunatic killing off his friends. I have a witness who saw the killer, yes, and it was not Merquise. The man has been a model citizen since arriving on Mars and I cannot say that I have ever heard a complaint against him."

Simpson scowled but kept his reaction to himself. He did not need Merquise to have gained respect, even honest friendship since coming to Mars. He would need to be wary of the citizens of Mars if they might feel obligated by friendship to interfere in this matter.

// I do not need anyone wondering if we have had anything to do with this mess at this time, so I need to come up with an explanation for our presence here and absolve us of any part in the massacre. At least for now. It would be so much easier in the long term if they can be kept under control until the Wellington arrives to clean up and take Merquise to safety. Maybe I can yet salvage something of the situation if I twist a few of the facts to make the massacre the fault of an outside agency. Perhaps I could use the Sleepers as an insurgent group intent on taking Merquise into custody? That has potential. A rescue? I could pass our presence here off as a rescue from insurgent's intent on setting him up as nominal head of a group? Even if only a figurehead if they are so certain he is harmless. As if that one could ever be considered harmless. That might work. Yes, or would it be better to suggest that a group is after Merquise for ransom? He is the brother of the Vice Foreign Minister, after all, who just happens to be the former Queen of the World. What a ridiculous fucking title that is. Queen of the World. Queen of Idiots is more the truth. I could make this work with just a little time and thought.//

"That may be, but I need to investigate the incident before I can determine the fault, or innocence, of Merquise or any other man who might have been involved. The facts are that your people have been killed and that someone is responsible and that as the ESUN agent on the spot it is my responsibility to find answers and offer protection. To all of you. You should not forget that Merquise is the person with the highest profile on Mars at this time and it is possible he could be valuable to people with the right connections." //Take the hint and let it bother you that there is more going on than you think. Begin to wonder if I am here because of a threat to Merquise, not because the ESUN considers him a threat in his own right. Just start to trust me and make it easier on us all.// "Until I know for certain what exactly is going on it is my duty to secure him and his family and place them in protective custody."

"You have cause to believe there is a threat to him specifically?" He watched carefully but Simpson maintained a carefully blank face, neither confirming nor denying the possibility. That silence could be taken as assent or denial. "You are so certain that these people are after him? Could it not be something unrelated to the Prince of Sanc?"

//Ah, you took my silence for confirmation. Yes! That is what I want from you, but I think you are a rather clever man and I will not take it for granted that I have pulled your teeth. Not just yet.//

He stopped and allowed the orderly to get a few paces from him and fastened his gaze on the surgeon. No matter what happened on Mars there was one thing that he did need to make clear to everyone now alive. If he per chance could gain the upper hand and have them all believe the murders were caused by an insurgent group, or a particularly ruthless group of kidnappers, then they all had to understand the rules of their survival. He needed to lay that groundwork, even though it was likely that they were all walking dead men. He did not really believe that it was going to be possible to gain their full cooperation.

Yet, perhaps …

"Prince of Sanc? There is no Prince of Sanc, Mr Broadham. Milliardo Peacecraft is dead. Milliardo Peacecraft died when a segment of the Libra space fortress exploded above the Earth more than three years ago. If he should, by some miracle be proven to be alive, do you have any idea of the repercussions that could shake the Earth Sphere?" He met the man's eyes directly, keeping his own gaze steady and hard. "It would not be pretty."

"So … If Milliardo Peacecraft is dead … If he died in the explosion in AC 195, just who is it who has been living on Mars all this time?"

Broadham seemed to be watching him with fever bright eyes and a scowl that might have worried those men under his command in past years. Simpson allowed the silence to draw out for just a few seconds longer and then flicked his gaze at the orderly hurrying ahead and to where a door stood open and he could see a man watching them. Waiting.

"You have had the pleasure of the company of Zechs Merquise, an ex Oz Specials Officer who was formerly presumed to be dead. Erroneously. Zechs Merquise," He placed emphasis on the name. "has been living on Mars as part of the Terra Formation Project and he is under house arrest for outstanding charges pertaining to activities performed during the War. As a part of the conditional pardon all players in the war have been granted by the ESUN government, Mr. Merquise is free to move around Mars, but not to leave the planet without the express consent of the ESUN Council. That is who you have had on Mars, Mr Broadham. That is all that you need to know at this time and that is all you will tell your people should anyone of them ask. Is that understood?"

The silence was profound and he faintly heard the man standing by the door question the orderly as to why he had returned without gurneys.

// Take the bait. You and your people will live longer if you do and you should be smart enough to know it.// His gaze flicked over the newcomer watching him with widened eyes. // Looks like another orderly. The male nurse must be in the room.//

Broadham seemed to consider his suggestion, never taking his eyes off the Commander and he made no comment. His silence might have been because he understood Simpson's reasoning only too well or perhaps because they had arrived at the maintenance and supply room and he was more concerned with motioning his people away from the door.

Simpson grunted softly to himself, satisfied for now. He had a feeling he and Broadham understood each other only too well. He would need to watch the man.

//Good. Now then, if these are my men and if it was Merquise who took them down, why were they not killed? I would have expected no less from the rabid dog they exiled here. Look at what his bitch did. She took out two of my men without blinking. The wounds on them were suggestive of a fast and clean kill. I know enough of Merquise's reputation to know that he is not too shy of killing when the situation warrants it. So, this situation did warrant decisive action and killing them would have been the fastest and easiest solution. Why then would Merquise not take them out? Or was it not him who took them down? Is there another element involved here? If not Merquise, then who? Noin? Or someone else.//

A stifled scream from the direction from which they had just come spun all four men around and sent them running toward the entrance to the medical unit. Hurrying around the curve in the hallway, Simpson had a hand on the butt of his weapon, confident that he could have the weapon drawn in the blink of an eye. He had not heard Frazier fire his own weapon and the tech would have a clear view of whatever was going on in the hallway. Rounding the curve he could see ahead a group of men near the doors to the centre making hushing motions at a nurse who was backed up against one wall, her hands to her mouth.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004 - 2005


	126. Chapter 126 Chapter 125

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 125

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 0: 15 [approx Sanc time 22:05

Mighty Joe Lee

He was tired and he was dirty and he reeked of smoke but above all he was afraid.

He had had nightmares that were tamer than the events of this day and he had no doubt that, late as the hour was, the day for him was far from over.

//For me? Not just for me, but for all of us. I don't know what exactly is going on but I know that it is not good. Things are progressing from bad to worse and there is no sign there is any change coming soon. There were people in those elevators. Friends. I'm tired. So tired and I want to sleep, but I'm afraid that if I give in to it I'll never wake up. I'll become permanently imbedded in the nightmare. Or worse. If this is not a nightmare … It's not. It's reality and if I sleep I might not wake because … //

To think it was unthinkable, but he could not ignore it either. People had died in the elevators. That was the truth and it was also truth that he knew other people would be dying this day … If they had not done so already.

// It's just that sort of day.//

"Everyone got coffee?" Preston Kurtz faced them, eyes serious, face smudged with soot.

"Yeah, yeah. Get on with it will you? I want some sleep."

//Sleep? Are you a total idiot Palmer? You have to know as well as I do what is happening here. You have to realize our world is crumbling down around our heads. //

"Take a seat. We follow procedure as always, Palmer. Debriefing is important; we have incident reports to fill out and we have safety issues to discuss."

His eyes wandered the dining hall slowly, marking who of the emergency response team looked to be dead on their feet and who simply looked exhausted. There was a difference in the level of reaction he observed and he was not inclined to trust his life to someone who had not the stamina or the will power to survive. That they were in a fight for survival, he had not a single doubt. To him at least it was glaringly obvious with the explosion in the elevator that something was very wrong.

"Can't this wait for morning?" Bryce Palmer scrubbed at his face, looking just as irritable as he sounded.

"No, it can not. If you are so exhausted after fighting a fire and cleaning up the mess then I suggest that you withdraw your name from the emergency response services register and I'll happily have you reassigned to other less vital duties."

There was a disgruntled snort and the man slammed himself down into a chair, taking a deep drink of the scalding hot coffee and gasping as a result. He glared into the coffee cup and then at his hands resting beside the incident report form that awaited him.

"We need to determine what caused the explosion."

Mighty Joe flicked his gaze to Preston Kurtz and nodded slightly in agreement. He could see by the mans eyes that he was not a fool and that he suspected. He himself knew only too well what had happened in the elevator shaft, though as yet he had no real idea why it should have happened. He had already tried to talk to Kurtz, Palmer and Markos after parting company with Merquise about his concerns, but none of them seemed to be inclined to listen to his theory.

//They always considered me … well … not so much weird as maybe … eccentric? I will admit that I always have had a conspiracy theory or two knocking around, that is true enough, and I suppose they are right in that I can usually make a conspiracy out of putting too much sugar in coffee. It's true, but I have never mentioned anything on a scale of the likes of this before today. I have never taken my theories and thoughts to this exact type of scenario before and after speaking with Merquise I just know I am right. The look on his face … It's not so simple as Raiders.//

"Raiders." Palmer grunted.

"Bullshit." He denied automatically and silently cursed. They were not going to want to hear that. He had told himself repeatedly that he was going to handle this carefully. He had to be more circumspect about this. He had to be infinitely reasonable.

"Lee, give it a break." Markos sounded exhausted but he looked alert enough for the moment and he took a long drink of strong coffee. "The security alert said we had infiltrators in the base and that we were to remain at emergency stations. That alert was sounded hours ago and as yet has not been lifted. We have no contact with the upper dome, nor do we have communication with the Alpha Dome. We also have no means of contact with the Preventers, either here or in Alpha and no way of contacting the security office. Our computers are down; our radio communications-both internal and external -are out of commission. What this means to us is that effectively we are deaf and blind and stricken dumb by the failure in our systems. Most of the computer and systems failures appear to be related to the virus, but not all of the problems we are experiencing can be explained by pointing to that corruption. From everything that I have ever heard concerning the Pirates who patrol in these remote areas, this does have all the earmarks of a classic Raider take over."

"I know all of that and I am just pointing out that the Raiders hit hard and fast and then run like hell when they have what they want. I admit I am no expert on Raider attacks, but I have heard the same stories as you. Don't you think it has been rather a long alert? All of the stories I have heard suggest that a raid is over within four to six hours. Should the Raiders not have made it into the sub base by now? Where are they? What do we have on Mars that is worth stealing anyway? We are not yet a mining community worth raiding. We should have at least received the all clear if they follow what has become accepted patterns."

"Accepted patterns? It sounds like we are talking about patch work quilting or something. There is nothing acceptable about Raiders." Palmer growled; a low murmur that did not carry far, just far enough to goad Mighty Joe into another glare.

"One of our chief concerns, well, mine at least, is that we really do not know who the enemy is." Dan Curran glanced up at Markos with a diffident shrug. "I do admit that he has a valid point about the amount of time this is taking. It does seem to be taking rather a long time for the raiders to enter the sub base, not that I want them here. What sort of opposition are they meeting in the upper base? It was almost deserted and what is happening with our personnel outside of the dome? I have … most of us have friends out there. Who exactly are these Raiders and what do they want here? Those are the questions we need answered."

"Security alert said to stay put at emergency stations and wait." Palmer rumbled, staring into his coffee.

Kurtz ran a hand through his hair, looking harried. "Who are they? I have no idea, but as near as I can recall Merquise said that the Raiders were wearing …"

"Merquise never said anything about Raiders." He met the engineers gaze and shrugged at the accusation in that glare. "I was there. As I recall it, it was you that suggested Raiders, not him. He said we had infiltrators in the base and that some of them were running around in ESUN combat fatigues. While you and Preston were in the room he never mentioned anything specifically about Raiders attacking the base and he sure as hell never said when we were alone that it was Raiders from the Asteroid Belt who were attacking the base."

He could be reasonable but to hell with it. No matter what he said he would be considered an alarmist at worst and a harmless eccentric at best. Well, he had evidence and he would use it. Soon. He had been tentative at first about mentioning his theory that these were no Raiders attacking the base when he had met up with his companions and Bryce Palmer after Zechs had left him. His suspicions had initially been aroused when he had noted the hesitation in Merquise soon after they had defused the radio relay that would have detonated the bombs.

Admittedly at the time he had had no real proof of his suspicions to offer to further his argument and he supposed it did sound like a very bad third rate novel. In this current situation his friends would be less amused by his conspiracy theories, but he thought that there were enough oddities about this situation that they might have given it some thought instead of dismissing him out of turn. He would present his evidence and see what they had to say then.

"No conspiracy theories, if you please." Palmer fairly snarled.

Palmer was never the most pleasant natured man and past experience had proven that exhaustion simply made him stupid and surly in Mighty Joe's opinion. He was a nice enough body in the best of circumstances, but he had proven to be a royal pain in the ass during times of stress and this occasion was no exception. Mighty Joe had bore the brunt of his anger in other lesser circumstances and he was not inclined to be the butt of Palmers ill humour this night. He had other, more important things to do than listen to Palmer sound off on how idiotic he could be.

"Enough sniping. There are other more important matters that demand our attention. Settle, if you please and if you have nothing constructive to contribute I would appreciate it if you filled out the obligatory report on the explosion in the elevator shaft and the subsequent fire in the hallway and left the rest of us to discuss the matter. Now. We need to know what exactly is going on. All of the readings on the emergency services computer indicate that the fire in the elevator well has been extinguished, but if you want proof we have to open the door and I personally am not of a mind to do that at this time. We are still working on re-establishing the security camera system, but at this stage I can not see us having much success. That bloody virus has thus far defeated our every attempt to kill it. What moron would feed a virus into our computer systems?"

//Well, that one is easy. The sort of moron who does not want anyone to know their identity, of course, but if I suggest it I'll be shouted down. Sooo, which of you bright sparks will say it instead of me? Come on now, don't be shy. One of you has to state the obvious.//

"A moron who obviously does not want us to track them." Dan Curran shifted a little in his seat and his voice, while as mild as always, held not the faintest hint of amusement.

//Dan, hmm? I had not expected it to be him. Quiet, usually has very little to say. Well, he has not ridiculed my theory to date, not that he seemed to pay much attention either. Maybe I can count on him as an ally? I don't know. Quiet man, pretty much keeps to himself.//

"Is our air supply at risk?" Marcus Risch, his deep toned voice softened by his Germanic accent looked up from the form he was filling out.

Mighty Joe glanced down at the waiting incident report he had as yet to set pen to and shrugged. Forms. Paper work. Formalities. He had more important things to think about at the moment. The form was unimportant and could wait and if he could not convince anyone in this group that there was serious trouble and not from Raiders, then he was going to have to try to find someone else who would help him. Someone who would not dismiss his fears out of hand. Preferably Merquise. If he could just find Merquise and convince the man to tell him what was really happening then he would feel a whole lot better.

"No. We are fortunate there that the virus is selective. While it has taken out all radio communications and the security systems, including the cameras monitoring the upper base and sub base, it has not as yet targeted our life support systems. The systems it has not targeted seem to include the security codes that operate the airlock systems to the shuttle bay, though the explosion resulted in the blast doors activating and locking down the airlock to the shuttle bay. The blast doors activating when they did saved us from the lethal results of the poisonous fumes when the elevators exploded, but I need an access code that will open the airlock to the shuttle bay so that we can try to access the computer systems in the supervisors office and regain some control of the base. My access code no longer works, which suggests that someone has changed all of the access codes. We are effectively isolated until we can regain control of the core computers. We need to get on top of this virus before it does penetrate our life support systems."

//Well that much is sense at least. We do need to chase down the virus and kill it, but we need to do something about those people running around the base. The virus is not the greatest of our worries at this time. Why won't they believe me? They would not even give me the chance to explain how I gained evidence of the seriousness of this situation. They have not even permitted me to show them that evidence, but I will not be put off again. I suppose they will deny it anyway. No doubt they will come up with some simple and easier to believe reason why I am running around with state of the art plastic explosives. As though I keep that shit under my bed and use it every other day for fun! Come on, people. Give me an excuse to throw it at you in a manner you can not dismiss. You have to believe me when you see that. //

"With the radio down we are limited in what we can do. We need to know what is happening in the upper dome, but even the old intercom system seems to be down."

//I wonder if I can incite anyone to bite in the general direction I need them to take? Some of you are beginning to sound a little too panicky for my liking. Panicking will not help us survive and if I am right we are going to need cool heads. Alright, I'm game to push a little to see if I can get some results, but I have to go carefully. Nothing too fast to have them close me out of their discussion. No need to mention that I don't exactly believe everything Merquise said to me. I have my own ideas of what is happening after all and that is what I need them to listen to. I think the real problem is that too many of them are afraid of Merquise and are too willing to make him the bad guy if there has to be a bad guy. Okay, I can work with that assumption if I have to. I'll let you think I mean Raiders for the moment and try not to mention who I really think is behind all of this. //

"We need to maintain calm. To panic or to go off without planning our movements will likely result in more deaths. Yes, I said more deaths. Come on, after that explosion do you honestly think that people are not dying up there? I told you what Merquise told me and who else would have the know how and resources to lock us down here? I know you don't want to believe it, hell I don't want to believe it, but I'm not such a fool that I will bury my head in the sand and ignore what is going on around me."

"Now just wait a minute, Joe. I can not believe that you actually trust Merquise. Come on the man tried to blow up the Earth. He's not sane."

//Yeah, that's just about what I thought the response would be. The man is insane is just about THE catch cry for him. I thought that at first, but after I got to know him … He's no more insane than I am, but then you all reckon I'm a bit of a nut case. Can't be helped, I suppose; still we all have to be nut cases to be living out here. If you were sane when you arrived on Mars, then a year or two cures you of that ailment. What is so wrong about being eccentric? This is not going to work. Being mild mannered and ever so polite is not going to gain me anything. I need you to listen, not humour me and I need to show a bit of spirit for that. I guess it's time for me to show I have teeth and that I can bite with the best of you. Nothing too dramatic, maybe just a nibble for now//

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Palmer, don't be a flaming idiot. Look around you. This is Mars. Mars, Man, not Earth. Until now the politics of Earth has meant precisely nothing to us so long as they kept the supplies coming. I'll be honest with you and tell you that I don't actually give a shit about who stands on the top of the dung heap and calls himself King, President or Chief Prick. What does concern me is Mars and the safety of the people that work here. Even you have to admit that since he came to Mars he has done nothing to warrant our distrust or suspicion. Give the guy a break. He defused the detonator, man. Had that gone off the enviro dome would have been breached and you know anyone caught out in the open or in the warehouses would be dead."

Palmer snorted in response and thumbed his nose in direct insult. "We really only have his word for it that there were bombs at all."

//Christ, what an idiot! I showed them the burned out device that would have detonated the bombs. So I don't have access to the dome to fetch a nice bomb from the envirodome for them all to admire and play with. Well, I think I now have something just as good and thank you for giving me the opening I needed. No, you idiots don't roll your eyes and think 'here we go again'. This time you listen to me. Cop this, you morons.//

"Oh for the … Look, you idiot, I suppose this is play dough?" It felt so good to pull the wad of explosive from his pocket. "Take a good look at it. This is high grade explosives, you moron. I took it myself from the freight elevators not twenty minutes ago." // I was bloody terrified that the men would spot me, but it was worth the risk. You have to believe me now.// "Oh, it's harmless enough without the detonator to trigger it, I made sure to dispose of that. While I removed this from the freight elevators I would not advise anyone to use the elevators. I have little doubt there is a lot more of this shit there. I only removed this piece to demonstrate to you that there are people who are running around this base who do not exactly have our best interests at heart. If the elevator is used it will undoubtedly go up in just as spectacular a fashion as the others did."

He watched as Marcus Risch frowned and then pushed himself to his feet and stalked over to take the material from his hand and turn it over carefully. Markos and Kurtz came closer too, both frowning and that at least was a small victory. Victory it might have been, but it was far from what he needed to happen. He had their interest, but he needed so much more. He wanted more than a quick examination and dismissal, but it was a start and he was uncertain just how far he could push them without going too far and having them turn from him again with a sniff and mutter about questionable sanity, but something needed to be done. He needed to take a few chances here. Whether their enemies were Raiders or some other private concern, or even ESUN agents as he personally suspected, some action needed to be taken.

"If the elevators are trapped and the access codes have been changed, that means we are completely isolated from the enviro dome. There is no other means of reaching the upper base with the blast doors sealing off the primary elevator shaft and the freight elevators now out of bounds." Risch frowned, turning the grey play dough like material over in his hands.

Palmer thrust himself to his feet and slammed a fist down against the table. "So what do we do about it? We have no proof who placed the explosives. Merquise could have placed it."

"I do not believe this." He sighed in frustration, wishing he could slap the idiot who seemed to have no trust in anyone other than himself, which was just about the stupidest thing Mighty Joe Lee could think of. He would not trust Palmer as far as he could kick him. The man had serious personality issues in his opinion.

"Would you mind telling me just where Merquise would get this shit? I can assure you that we don't even use it here when we need to do blasting. This stuff is state of the art, newly arrived from Earth, Palmer. There is no way Merquise could have gotten his hands on some of it, let alone planted it. I already told you I followed that ESUN Security agent."

"I can't believe that you would believe the ESUN agents are out to kill us. It is their job to protect us! We are citizens of the Earth Sphere and they are our security agency. They are the good guys, Lee. Not the bad guys . Good guys do not go around shooting up terra forming bases and massacring civilians."

"Personally I think it depends whose side you are on as to who you see as the good guys." Mighty Joe snapped back.

"This is degenerating into a mud slinging match, gentlemen." Kurts growled, glaring at both offenders.

"Oh, let them go for it, Preston. They might just work some tension off, or do us all a favour and kill each other. After all, four-year-olds have to be permitted to have their little fights." Markos grunted, glaring at the two men.

Mighty Joe snorted softly but subsided. He needed to get his point across and not antagonize them, but this idiot was really getting on his nerves. He was so close to having them take him seriously and the Mouth had to interfere. He really was aching to have a swing at Palmer, but he was going to have to calm himself down or he was going to defeat his own purpose. He could not believe how dense some people were. He watched as Palmer sniffed noisily and after a moment turned his attention to the incident report and began to fill it out. Resisting the urge to curl his lip in disgust Mighty Joe glared at Kurtz and Markos, refusing to back down from his stand, but willing to stop the sniping if they would only listen to him.

"No matter what you believe I have my own ideas and I am not an idiot. I am not inclined to get myself shot in the back because you choose to trust anyone and everyone wearing a government uniform. Before you say anything along the lines of 'the government is our friend', you were not on L1 when the Alliance forces came and massacred more than four hundred people because they suspected rebels were hiding in the area. Suspected. They had no proof, no evidence. They just came. I was there. I saw it. I lost family to that unprovoked attack. I learned through practical experience that just because They are in power does not mean They are in the right. Just because you stand on the top of the dung heap does not mean that you have to protect those who look up to you."

There was an awkward silence from the room in general and then a faint curse from someone. The massacre of the civilians on L1 had never been generally known and acknowledged publicly, but everyone on Mars knew it had occurred. Some of the earlier terra formers who had come to Mars had been survivors of that bitter day. They had stated clearly in private conversations whispered in dark corners and whispered only because they were on the safely distant Mars, that it had not been rebels who had slaughtered the citizens, but Alliance forces. The government had refuted the claims and somehow held to the cover up.

"That was in war time, Joe. I know that is no real excuse for such an atrocity, but this is different. This is peace time. The Alliance is gone and we have an entire new power structure in place. Those kinds of incidents are in the past and will not be repeated." Kurts sighed rising to move to the commode and pour himself another coffee. "Thankfully those days are behind us."

"Christ! You think?" Dan Curran stared at them all, looking from one to the other and finally shook his head in disbelief. "We may be on Mars but that does not mean that we are out of reality. I can't believe you don't realize the implications of the latest round of elections taking place on Earth and in the Colonies. If you think that we have an entirely new government then I think you need to have another look. A thorough look because you are seriously mistaken."

Preston Kurtz frowned, glancing at Markos who was absently running a finger over the rim of his coffee mug, but he was frowning and looked far from happy. "What do you mean?"

"You don't follow politics, do you? Keep abreast of the changes in the government? No, I did not think so. If you sat down now and I handed to you two lists, one with the names of the key government officials in charge of the Earth Sphere during the One Year War on one and the other list for their current counterparts, I think you would shit yourself. I know I nearly did when I monitored the latest poll results of the by elections in the European and Germanic sectors on Earth. Politics is never static and there have been big changes in the make up of the Council of Representatives. Some names that had vanished after the advent of peace have now reappeared and they have reappeared in positions of influence. In politics three years is along time. A lot can change in that time and it has in the Council of Representatives. The pacifists are still there, hanging onto power, but a fair bit of their support has been eroded away and the new Representatives are by no means as inclined toward total pacifism. This One Nation policy has been at the heart of the election results. The candidates who are winning have almost to a man included that policy in their campaigns, and not as a pro standing. If the Pacifists don't want war to break out again, they are going to have to do something about that piece of idiocy."

//The man talks sense. He might just be an ally in this. If I can get him on side I might be able to persuade them that Merquise is not the bad guy here and that we really must take some kind of action. //

"The One Nation policy is responsible for bringing about peace after years of continual war. War after war broke out in succession, no more than a year or two between any of the conflicts for years. More years than I care to think. This is our one shot at peace after so long. Are you saying that you preferred the Alliance in charge of things?" Kurtz scowled.

"You are not listening to what I am telling you. I am saying that in the very near future some decisions are going to have to be made on Earth and in the Colonies and they are not going to be easy decisions to make, but they are necessary decisions. If someone does not realize it soon and take action then despite the One Year War and the lessons learned in the Barton Incursion then there is going to be war. Again. Not an isolated skirmish, but planet wide war and the Colonies will be right in there, pointing fingers and taking sides. I might add as a point of interest, that it was not the One Nation policy that actually brought about peace. While it was all bright smiles and look we are all now brothers, wars were still being waged on Earth over borders. Just telling someone that a line on the map no longer exists is not going to convince people who have been fighting over that very line for generations that the thing just does not matter. I've made it something of a hobby since I came to Mars to fill in my idle hours with studying history. I have joined a sort of history club, if you want to call it that and I have learned some very interesting things through it. An unavoidable truth is that it's the victors in a war who write history. You will always get a jaded, one sided view on the events as stated by the winning side. You can believe their word as gospel or you can examine the facts yourself. If you choose to examine the facts and look carefully between the lines and hunt around in the right places, then you can sometimes come up with something that might more closely resemble the truth."

"And that would be?" Markos questioned, glancing up from his coffee. He was looking thoughtful, not nearly so agitated and curiously enough, not nearly so tired.

"You won't like it."

//Don't back off now. I am finding what you are saying very interesting indeed. You're not a fool. Quiet people can get away with an awful lot if you forget they are around and this one has been very quiet indeed since he came to Mars. I wonder what he has learned? Will he reveal it or is he going to step back and let the opportunity pass?//

"So far I don't like anything about today so what is unusual about that?"

Mighty Joe watched as Curran flicked his gaze over the men gathered, no doubt considering those eyes and the weight of speculation and curiosity. Palmer and a few others of the emergency response team had their heads buried in the incident reports, all of them seeming to be ignoring the conversation, but it was apparent that Kurts, Markos and Risch were all watching the man and waiting for him to continue.

// You look as though you think you should have kept your mouth shut. Don't think that. Get it out and hopefully it will help me. I think you just might be the ally I need. //

"If you go back in detail over the years and trace the developments of the wars that have waged, particularly the One Year War that brought us this peace, then you find some interesting trends. It fascinated me the more I investigated, not that it is overly easy to do so from out here, but being out here in itself has the advantage that there are not a lot of distractions to occupy free time."

"We all know that, Dan." Palmer glanced up, proving that he was listening. "Christ, we all live here and we all know what our social calendars are like."

"Your point being, Dan?" // Shut up, you moron. I need the man to talk.//

"My point being that with the aid of a group based on Earth, but consisting of Terran and Colonial alike, I have invested a great deal of time and interest in this matter of the peace we now enjoy, so don't dismiss me out of hand. I am probably about the closest thing Mars has at the moment to a Historian and for now my attention has been focused. The Group has specialized in studying the One Year War. Cause and effect, if you will. My investigations early on showed up a few interesting points that kept me hunting and digging for more information as I found they contradicted the media reports. Not unusual in itself, but enough to keep me interested. This type of incident usually happens, by the way, after a war of significance. The victors write the history that the next and subsequent generations learn, cementing their view as right but a generation or two later historians begin to dig a little more deeply into the circumstances surrounding key events. Usually by that time the people who were actively involved in the events are either dead, lost in anonymity or just want to forget the whole thing and conveniently recall nothing. A great deal of information gets lost that way. Usually there are the notes left by people like me who were curious and started to investigate the events surrounding the wars for purely personal reasons and because of those reasons you have to be careful not to colour your evidence and your eventual findings with your own personal views. I can not tell you how delighted I was when I learned that Merquise and Noin were coming to Mars."

Mighty Joe hid his grin at the looks the man found himself subjected to. Clearly a number of people had been far from happy to learn that they were going to host the Terror of Earth, but Dan Curran ignored the daggers looks and shrugged, dismissing their views.

"Hell, think about it. They were in the middle of things. First hand witnesses to the events we only hear about as whispers, speculation and rumour. In short, the victors view of the war."

"But by talking to them you only get their side of things. That has to be just as prejudiced as the other side." Kurtz pointed out.

"Yes, that can happen and you need to be aware of the risks, but I was surprised with Noin and Merquise. At first neither of them wanted to talk to me about the war and I had expected that, but I gradually began to realize that it was not just the wish to forget the past and get on with living. I think that it was more than mere reluctance on their part to recall those days that made them avoid me for so long. I think that Mars was chosen carefully by the Powers that Be to ensure they were kept quiet. Merquise was sent here to keep him low key. Hidden, not because he is considered to be a danger to the Earth, but because he is considered to be a danger to certain influential and well placed people on the Earth. In short, so that he could not talk to anyone about certain key events."

"It's a prison for him, we all know that." Markos agreed. "We would have to be stupid to not see that, but I do think it would have caused trouble, not just on Earth but in the Colonies too, if his survival was widely known. There is a reason he is called the Terror of Earth. It is prudence that saw him brought to Mars."

Mighty Joe flicked his glance over the group, noting that no one was filling in the reports now. They were all watching the interaction between Curran and Kurts with thoughtful expressions, even Palmer. That was a good sign and he only wished that he had the same confidence that this man displayed. He was hopeful whatever point Curran was going to be making it would eventually lead to the end that he was hoping to achieve. It was his aim to get the men here to acknowledge they did not have just Raiders attacking the base. Raiders, yes, but not pirates. He was convinced they had troubles much closer to home.

// The ESUN government is like any government, only too willing to sweep the unpalatable under the carpet and out of sight. Merquise was lucky that they did not kill him as soon as they realized he was alive. //

"It is a prison, but he seems content enough to be here. Or he was. Still is as far as I know, after all, where else could he go? He's dead. Where else can a dead man go than to a dead world and struggle to make some kind of life for himself as he works to bring life to the planet?" Markos commented. "He had to go somewhere."

"Look, we are not here to discuss the working habits of dead men …"

"Can it Palmer." Lee interrupted. "I'm interested." //Shut up you fool. I need them to go on and pursue this. Just go back to your form and leave it alone.//

"Of course you are. It will give birth to yet another idiotic conspiracy theory that you can work on for the next six months. Christ, we are all insane. Living out here we have to be."

There was an uncomfortable silence after that as it was a thought that all of them had had at one time or another. The utter desolation of Mars and the isolation got to a man. No one was immune.

"Are you ready to go back?" Markos queried softly. "Is it time you took a break?"

Palmer scrubbed a hand over his jaw and sighed, shaking his head as he pushed the form away from him. He looked tired and drawn and years older than he actually was. At this moment he looked like an old man. It was a look the workforce of Mars were only too familiar with.

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe it is time I went back and saw that there is something more than red and brown rock. More than a god awful pink sky. I think maybe I have reached my limit."

There were no arguments, no further questions. Everyone knew the signs and how to deal with them. Everyone knew that at some point it was likely to be them who had reached the edge of reason. This hell hole of a planet, so far from all that they knew as natural, had claimed another victim. Not his life, not yet, but if he remained, that was a real danger.

"I'll put your name on the shuttle list and set up appointments on Earth for you with the councillors. Don't feel so bad about it, Bryce. We all have our limits." Markos sighed and set his cold coffee on the commode, running a hand through his hair.

Mighty Joe stared for a long moment at the table top. Yes, everyone had limits beyond which lay madness and Mars was a hard place to live with. Here you were always confined, enclosed. You could not go outside for a stroll and feel the breeze on your face and look up at the sky to admire the shade of blue, or to play the shape in the clouds game that all children played. He missed the clouds and seeing the shapes of familiar things in their cotton candy forms. Candy floss. Just that exact shade of pink in the light of a setting sun.

Bryce Palmer was Terran, a native of Earth and the confinement required by living under an enviro dome was trying on the planet born. Those who were Colony born and raised fared much better on Mars than did those born and raised to Earth. The colony born were accustomed to a sealed environment and to the taste and scent of recycled air and water. Yet on the Colonies too they had some simulated weather conditions, particularly the more modern colonies. Even the Colony born had problems dealing with the conditions on Mars. Under the envirodome there was not even the simulated wind that circulated the oxygen around a colony.

Conditions on Mars were harsh, but you had to acknowledge the fact that in some cases those conditions were also better than the colonies. Just how long you could stay here depended on the individual.

"Hey, Curran." He called softly.

"Joe?" The computer technician turned Historian met the dark eyes of the engineer.

"I would like to hear your history lesson."

Curran smiled slightly, a faint upward tilt of his lips. "In detail or in brief?"

"Both." Mighty Joe grinned.

"In brief for now, if at all." Markos glanced at him. "I'll admit that I am interested and it will give us something to do while we wait for the emergency to end."

Curran nodded, shrugging slightly. "Fine. Just so long as you understand that I have not completed my investigations at this time. My findings are incomplete, but they do coincide with the findings of others in my research group who are also investigating the wars and its component parts. While my findings are of a general nature at this time, others in the group are further advanced in their investigations, but what they have shared with me and others tends to support our individual theories. This is not going to be a glimpse of the personal history of the chief players involved in the war and you will need to recall that it is far from a complete picture. To date I have had no real chance to learn much of the Gundam Pilots, their reasons for fighting and who controlled them. Noin and Marquise have been singularly uncooperative when it comes to details concerning the five pilots. The outcome of the war could have been so different."

"Yeah. A lot of people could have been spared if Blondie had not lost his sanity." Palmer muttered.

Mighty Joe snarled but at a look from Kurts and Markos he subsided and allowed the comment to pass. Bryce Palmer was obviously walking a fine line at this time and he should not push and make the situation worse. The man had acknowledged his condition and was going to be returning to Earth and would be subjected to some pretty intense therapy in the future. Mars had claimed a lot of victims over the years and the biggest casualty rate was to the sanity of her population. He needed to remember that and not have anyone wonder if he too needed to be returned to the ESUN's central hub.

Conditions would improve dramatically the more people came to Mars. Improved facilities and a greater population would lead to greater social interaction and there would be a greater presence of psychologists to deal with budding problems before they became dangerous to the individual, or could impact on the colony. There had been similar teething problems in the early days of the Colonies and the designers of the Mars project were following a plan laid down in those far away days to deal with the elevated stress levels and other related psychological problems that abounded in sealed environment living. It all took time and some people just could not cope with the isolation and the environmental restrictions involved in surviving here in the long term.

// I might be eccentric but I am not insane. I am not going to be tagged as a nutter ready to explode. //

"Actually, I don't believe that Merquise ever was insane." Curran shrugged at the assortment of disbelief and disgusted looks directed at him. "Not for an instant do I think he did not know exactly what he was doing and as an interesting aside, I believe that a lot more people would be dead now if he and, I think, Kushrenada had not very deliberately initiated the entire Libra incident and that final battle."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	127. Chapter 127 Chapter 126

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 126

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 02:05

Sally

//I thought I would never be warm again and I will be very glad to crawl into bed. Surely no self respecting terrorist, burglar or idiot would be out in this weather. It should be safe enough to sleep in shifts. //

Firmly she drew the heavy drapes over the window, further muffling the sound of the storm and sealing off what few drafts penetrated the window and the tightly closed shutters. The storm shutters effectively sealed the window from the blasting wind and fitted tightly enough not to rattle beyond the occasional mild creak at a particularly strong blast.

Quatre had braved the wild weather to walk a circuit of the Inn and on his return had informed her that the snow drifts were piled almost to the height of the window outside this room and had estimated from the velocity of the storm that at least half of the window would likely be covered by snow by morning. The proprietor of the Coachman's Rest had laughed a deep belly laugh and jovially informed the half frozen young man that if the storm ran true to form for the region, there would be snow to the eaves by mid morning on the windward side of the building.

//He reminds me of Santa Clause.// She smiled to herself as she turned from the window, watching as Mariemaia crawled into bed.

The nine-year-old had watched their host with blue eyes widened as big as saucers and Sally had half expected her to forget her manners and ask if he really was the Jolly Old Elf of legend. Thankfully good manners and that unflappable Kushrenada personality had prevailed and though staring had been forthcoming nothing more embarrassing had resulted from her introduction.

//Marie almost seemed like a nine year old. It was good to see.//

They were in good hands, of that she was certain. The proprietor of the Coachman's Rest, Hans Kruger, had worked quickly and efficiently to make his unexpected guests comfortable. Within minutes of their arrival the banked fire had been stoked to blazing warmth and Relena and Mariemaia had been ensconced in overstuffed chairs set close to the hearth and settled under thick fur throws.

No sooner had they been made comfortable than the lady of the Inn had made her presence known with very welcome steaming hot cups of chocolate and thence proceeded to prepare their rooms with that same quick and quiet efficiency that marked her husband. With the fire in this room set and warming the chill air and fresh bedding in place the cheery elderly woman reappeared with a light sandwich for Mariemaia and the promise that by the time the young Miss had finished her snack and chocolate her room would be ready for occupation. Mariemaia's room was the first to be pronounced ready, but Sally knew that by the time she had settled the girl to sleep Relena's and possibly her own room would be ready.

//Maybe it would be best if I shared a room with Relena? I know this Inn is big and there are not many guests just now, but it might be best if I am in the same room as our Princess. A precaution, though I doubt that there is trouble here.// It worried her, though, this entire business. //What are you up to, Anne? Somehow I think we are in for trouble and while I trust you, I have the distinct impression that you have never outgrown your days in Oz. You were a sneaky and conniving bitch then and you still are. I should trust you, I know. You are dedicated to working for the peace, but … Still …//She sighed. //It has been a long day.//

It was an old building, The Coachman's Rest. Somehow during all of the chaos of the invasion when Sanc had fallen to Alliance machinations and during the following occupation, this rambling old Inn had been spared from the atrocities that had destroyed so much of the countries history. It had to be one of the few buildings in the country to have survived in its original condition both the original invasion by the Alliance and the more recent occupation by Romefeller's Oz troops.

Old, rambling and somehow incredibly welcoming. The owners seemed to fit with the more relaxed persona and the old world feel the structure presented. Coming here seemed almost surreal, as though they had turned back the hands of time to the days when Sanc knew peace and the thought of invasion had been unthinkable.

"Feeling warmer?" She watched as Mariemaia bounced a time or two, testing the mattress and then snuggled deeper under the comforter.

"I feel wonderful, Sally." It was almost a purr of content and a little girl purr at that. "It's very nice here. It feels like home."

It was a comfortable building, Sally reflected and graced with a homey feel she rarely encountered in this day and age. Her own apartment was simply a place for her to sleep when she was not staying at Une's home, as happened all too often lately. While the inn boasted all of the luxuries one would expect from a four star establishment in this modern day and age, the building and most of the furnishings were more in line with what one would expect to find in a genteel country house. There was nothing of the impersonal feeling about this place that she normally associated with hotels, and she had seen enough of those since joining Preventers to make an apt comparison. The Coachman's Rest had the looks and the feel of a comfortable country home from a bygone era. It made her yearn for a place of her own that could emulate that same psychological comfort.

"It is comfortable, yes. It's very late and you need to get some sleep. Barring unforeseen circumstances we shall not be moving again tonight and if this weather keeps up we may not be able to move on tomorrow either, so you might as well sleep in. I think it will be a good morning for sleeping in and to be honest just a little indulgence never hurt anyone. I'll come for you if anything should happen, or if our plans need to change. I will not be far from you."

"That's okay. This place feels wonderful and I will not have a bit of trouble sleeping here. What do you think happened?"

//Nightmares again, Marie? Ah, child, what have these times come to? Little girls of six trained to be figure heads and witnessing such sights as make adults weep. We have to stop those days from returning.//

Sally paused in hanging up the girls clothes in the huge old wardrobe and glanced at her. While Mariemaia might look like a rather pretty and innocent nine-year-old, she was far from innocent. Since her mothers death she had not been raised to her age. Like Relena there was very obviously an old head upon young shoulders, though it was much more pronounced with Mariemaia than it was with Relena.

In her opinion Relena was most fortunate to have been reared for at least thirteen years as an ordinary, if very spoiled, little rich girl. The Darlian's had known their daughter's heritage and while Sally knew they had not expected her to resume the position of her birth, they had prepared her for that eventuality should it ever chance to occur.

From the day of her birth Mariemaia had been watched by her grandfather and become a part of his plans. On the death of her mother she had been reared to be nothing but Dekim Barton's tool. A tool, but a well educated tool and one trained in the airs and graces as befitted her paternal heritage.

Though she and Anne worked hard at showing Mariemaia it was okay to be a little girl she knew that they still had a long way to go to reverse the damage done by the Barton patriarch. If she was honest with herself she had to admit that while they could reduce the damage done to the child they would never actually reverse it. Mariemaia would always be somewhat older than her years and she would be haunted by her past to the day of her death.

//I hate being realistic sometimes.//

Personally she hoped Dekim Barton was rotting in hell for the pain he had caused to the girl, because she rather liked this red-haired child. Unexpectedly they kept running into obstacles that demonstrated Mariemaia Kushrenada had not had an easy childhood. She was not so much a spoiled little rich girl, as Relena had been, but a conditioned tool designed to be a despot's puppet.

"Hmm? Happened?" She wrenched her thoughts back to the matter at hand, turning to face the bed and those sapphire eyes that always seemed to see so much.

"What do you think happened at home and at the palace? I'm not a baby, Sally and I do wish that you and Aunt Anne would not treat me like one."

Sally sighed and hung the last of the girl's clothes in the wardrobe. In one single aspect at least Mariemaia was beginning to act more her age and that was in developing a bad case of dropsy. When Mariemaia changed her clothes, clothing was inevitably thrown haphazardly around her room while she chose what to wear, then her worn clothing joined the pile on the floor. The entire mess was then left littering the floor until she was rather pointedly reminded to clean up after herself.

Anne had insisted that Mariemaia be made to deal with such mundane matters as keeping her room reasonably tidy herself, refusing to employ staff to tidy up after slovenly habits totally unbecoming of the daughter of the House of Kushrenada. Any protests Mariemaia had voiced were silenced by one look from those brown eyes that had been agate hard and by the quietly conveyed message that her father had not been one to instruct others to do what he would not, and that included picking up after himself. For all that Anne was firm with the child she was scrupulously fair in her dealings with the daughter of the man she had loved and in truth the girl delighted her. Newly acquired messy habits was clear evidence that they were making progress with her.

"No, you are certainly not a baby, but the fact remains that I can't tell you what I do not know." Sally moved to sit on the bed and met the intense blue eyes. There was a wealth of intelligence in those eyes and a look that was years older than her actual age. "All I can tell you is what little I do know and that is simply that Anne said she wanted you moved to a safe location. I was to take you and Relena to a safe house under cover of the blizzard. If there has been a threat I do not know exactly what it might have been, but you know Anne. She would never risk your safety. I know that you heard the radio bulletin about your house being attacked by terrorists and we both saw the explosion at the palace as we drove away, but as to what it is about … I simply do not know any more than you at this time."

Mariemaia sighed and nodded, snuggling down into the thick feather mattress and pulled the eiderdown up to her ears. She knew when it was hopeless trying to get information and she was not such a fool, or so young as they seemed to think her. She would find out, but for now she was tired and she was blessedly warm.

"Why can't I have a bed like this one at home? It feels so wonderful."

The Preventer agent laughed and shook her head. It was a double bed, tall and traditionally built of seasoned oak, with an ornately carved headboard depicting a fairytale scene of woodland sprites and unicorns at play, watched by a young boy and girl from the cover of strategically placed bushes. Sally had admired it from the moment she had entered the room and just from looking at it she knew that it had been lovingly hand carved and that it was old. An heirloom piece if ever she had seen one. The mattress was thick with feathers and down in the old traditional style and the eiderdown was hand sewn and probably stuffed with goose feathers if she was any judge. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth near the window and there was a matching oak wardrobe and tallboy set on the far wall. All in all it was a friendly, comfortable room from an age long gone but one that curiously enough seemed to suit Mariemaia far more than the modern decor of her home in New Port City.

//Of course, I suppose that could just be me. Still, maybe not. I have been to the Kushrenada estate in Kiev and that is in the old style and she looked so comfortable there. She belonged amid that old splendour. I guess it's just something peculiar to the Kushrenada's, or I have a problem thinking of them and the more austere modern lines in the same thought. There is something old fashioned about them. Something genteel. //

"I'll suggest it to Anne if you like?"

Mariemaia wrinkled her nose at Sally but her blue eyes were beginning to soften with the warmth and comfort of the old bed, lulling her toward sleep. "I wish you would. I love the mattress. It's so soft and warm." A yawn interrupted the girl and she smiled almost dreamily. "Do you think Relena will get Heero to marry her?"

Sally blinked and stared at the girl more than startled by the shift in subject. "Heero and Relena … marriage? Marie, I think you are letting your imagination run a little there. They are very good friends, but Heero is Relena's bodyguard, not a suitor. As far as I know there is nothing more than friendship in their regard for each other."

//Although I have to admit the girl was a rampant stalker when they first met. Thank God she got her hormones under control and turned into a well bred young lady.//

Marie grinned and wriggled deeper into the big bed, her red hair the only thing clearly visible now. "You never saw them holding hands in the back of the car and making eyes at each other when I was not supposed to be watching."

Sally's eyes widened. The mental picture of Heero Yuy gazing at Relena like a love struck young idiot, with hands clasped fervently to his heart sent a shudder down her spine and she drove the thought away quickly. Heero was certainly not the demonstrative sort and that she was aware of he had never so much as looked at Relena with anything but a professional eye toward her security.

"I'm sure you would like to think that. They would be a strikingly attractive couple, but the relationship is purely professional. Settle down now and get some sleep. Enjoy this big bed while you can, because I guarantee there will not be a bed so fine where we are going."

"I wish they would let me have it." A tired sigh. "Night, Sally."

The girl sounded more than half asleep already and Sally sighed as she turned out the light. There were only four guests at the inn other than their party and the security detail had already decided to take two hour shifts guarding Mariemaia and the Princess. Blessedly none of the guests had woken to the commotion of their arrival and for that Sally was more than thankful. She would deal with their curiosity in the morning, right now all she wanted to do was find that cup of hot tea she had been promised and crawl into a bed that would hopefully be at least half as comfortable as Marie's.

//I wonder … No. Surely not. Heero and Relena as a couple …//

The girl's innocent question had startled her and while she had dismissed the idea initially, as she descended the stairs and nodded to the agent on his way up to guard Mariemaia's door, the comment came back to her. That initial certainty was suddenly lacking. Both Heero and Relena were eminently sensible young people, but Sally decided that perhaps she might need to keep an eye on the situation. Should Heero become emotionally involved with Relena then without a doubt he was going to have to be removed from his position as her bodyguard. That would be a decision that would not sit well with either of the young people involved.

//It could not be helped though. It would be necessary. He will not work as efficiently as he should if he is distracted by emotion. Mixing intimate emotions and security is not a good idea and it has been proven time and time again to exert a detrimental effect on performance. Is it possible that Marie might be right? He may once have been a mission-oriented Perfect Soldier, but he is growing nicely out of mission mode and displaying more and more emotion as he matures. Eighteen year olds are usually driven by hormone induced emotions but Heero has always been a special case. The mission has always come first for him. As for Relena … Well her stalker tendencies may be under control-thankfully- but she is still a young female developing toward maturity and that is a dangerous combination. Ah, I don't know what to think. Surely she has matured enough not to believe in fairytales and the drivel you read in romance novels. She has a good head on her shoulders and surely she is too sensible to give in to hormones. //

The thought of needing to run interference between love-struck teenagers sent a shudder down her spine. She did not fancy playing den mother to a budding romance in the very public eye. Relena was closely watched by politicians and the public alike and she was a favourite target of the media. She could just imagine the media hype if such a romance was leaked to the media and just how would that type of relationship effect changes to Heero's parole?

//The thought just does not bare thinking about. They would crucify him.//

Both were professionals in their individual professions and they performed their work extremely well, she admitted that. Would the Perfect Soldier, who was no longer a soldier or in his own words perfect, allow himself to slip from mission mode and into a romance with the one woman who was perhaps the most recognized face in the Earth Sphere? She could not see it herself, but hormones were powerful things and could drive a person to extremes.

//It will be hard to accurately evaluate Heero, but I am going to have to manage it somehow. I will need to look for signs of a relationship developing and try to resolve any issues that may arise. Relena will be easier to read than Heero, not that that is a surprise, considering his past. I will have to be careful and be certain before I make a move. //

How would the traditionalists take to the idea of Heero, a nobody from the colonies courting their Princess? Did he have enough knowledge of the social graces to actually court her? Sally winced at the very thought of the idea. He certainly had social graces which he could display when the need arose, but did he know how to court a woman? Just how far had Heero's select education gone? He had been trained as a terrorist, but he had been given sufficient social education to enter elite educational institutions and not raise the instructor's eyebrows. He had been standoffish but unfailingly polite from stories she had heard and he had never been one to actively indulge in social graces.

It was more than his questionable social skills though. As Chief Medical Officer for the Preventers she had access to medical records that told a very clear story. There was enough evidence in Heero's genetics to convince her that he had been rather extensively modified prior to his birth. For what purpose those modifications had been performed she could not say, but she had viewed his medical records and had taken genetic tissue from him on more than one occasion. The evidence was there, if you know where to look and since, by his own admission, he had not come under J's wing until later in his childhood, she was left with unanswered questions of why he had been modified. Perhaps to be a soldier, perhaps not. She could find no trace of any records that she might identify as his.

//The Romefeller laboratories that were raided a few months ago though … There are similarities between some of those children's recorded genetic charts and Heero's. Enough to make me wonder if Heero was not at one time a Romefeller genetic experiment. It is possible, but if so how did he get away from them and what were they aiming for in altering his genetic code? There are similarities with these children who were modified to become soldiers, but there are differences. Too many questions and not enough answers and most of the answers I do have are purely supposition. //

There was no doubt that he was a genetically modified human being and that he had ultimately been trained for war and given no opportunity to learn any other way of life. One of the first decisions he had made for himself was when he had sworn not to kill again after the Mariemaia incident, but after disappearing for a time on his release from hospital he had returned to Earth and enlisted as a Preventer.

The watchdogs of course had swooped, intent on dragging him into the entire war crimes mess and Anne and Relena had been quick to have him included in the clause that protected Wu Fei and the other gundam pilots. Of course Heero's penchant for taking off and vanishing had made it more difficult to settle the conditions of his parole, but he had not vanished again and he had been an exemplary agent. That she knew of during his term as a Preventer Heero had killed six men, one of whom was an assassin sent to remove Relena. Killing disturbed him, but he never flinched if the situation warranted that he took the killing shot.

He was more a professional than most mature aged agents she knew for all of his tender years. It was a disturbing sign of the times they lived in that all of the pilots had proven themselves incapable of standing down from a quasi military life style. Even Quatre, a multi-billionaire with a corporation that spanned the ESUN had found it impossible to remain the business man the people of the Earth Sphere knew and worked in conjunction with Preventers, occasionally going on physically demanding missions.

Adrenaline junkies, all of them.

Sally sighed. //It will take years of therapy to have them comfortable with leading a life style that does not require them to feel that they must place their lives on the line to assure the peace continues. They were trained for years to fight and it is not just the Gundam Pilots. There are trained soldiers out there who have known nothing but a military life. They have had no training to face a purely civilian existence. They have no careers to fall back on to help them to face this time of peace and there were a lot of soldiers. There are programs now in place to offer help and retraining, but there simply are not enough openings for the amount of people who have to be helped. Something has to be done, but it takes so much time to arrange for these programs. So much time and while a program is being developed the suicide rate climbs, the hospitals fill up with accident victims injured when they took needless risks and the streets fill with veterans who simply have no where to go. It is a mess. I honestly don't know what the solution should be to deal with them all.//

The programs designed to rehabilitate the soldiers were simply not enough for the numbers of people involved. Rehabilitate. She hated that word. Retrain, yes, she could live more easily with that description than with the current catch cry for rehabilitation. It was not fair to the soldiers that the current view was to treat them as though they were criminals. She herself was a soldier and still fought as a soldier for peace. She was one of the fortunate ones who had fallen on her feet and found herself a niche.

//Damn. I still can't say I WAS a soldier. I AM a soldier. I still think of myself as being a Soldier, not an ex-anything. I am a doctor and I am a Preventer but … I am a soldier, I still have that mind set. I am just as bad as the others, even though I have found a niche for myself in Preventers. It is true that old habits die hard, I suppose. I lost a lot of friends in the war and I am not proud to know that some of them would be very glad they had not lived to be a part of this world now. It's shocking. Wrong. Where is the reward for those who laid their lives on the line to bring about this peace we now enjoy? Has there ever been a time in the past when the citizens were afraid of the street bums begging on street corners, because those vagrants have the training to kill them? There are just so many once proud soldiers on the streets, begging. Nor is it just on Earth but in the Colonies too. They are looked on as social outcasts. Ostracized for being soldiers. //

Not enough was being done for those men and women, yet she knew only too well that it was not easy to find the right combination of training to give the soldiers a future. As had happened with most periods of war the birth rate had been elevated and a high majority of the births were males. It was a survival instinct of the race. As a medical doctor she knew the statistics only too well. On some deeply buried instinctive level the birth rates elevated in times of conflict to replace the losses suffered in war. As an interesting aside the birth ratio of male to female lifted dramatically in the male favour, although in this day and age as many soldiers were female as male. It was instinct, unassailable instinct that drove the human race to ensure its survival and it was one that might never be lost despite the advances in medicine. It was an instinct that left them with a bumper population to deal with and a higher male to female ratio that in future years, as that generation matured, would cause problems of a different nature.

//God, woman, not now. Not now of all times. I'm tired and it's high time I found a warm bed and simply shut down for a few hours, but I really would like something to eat and a hot drink first.//

She found Relena, Heero and Quatre still seated about the blazing fire, each with their hands curled around steaming cups of chocolate and Sally found herself ushered to a chair by the proprietor of the inn and a hot cup pressed into her hands.

"Is Marie settled?" Relena looked up from the fire, her blue eyes now soft with content. "She was very brave in the car."

"No delicate little wall flower, that one." Sally smiled and sipped gratefully the hot liquid, sighing in content.. "Yes, she is settled. Almost asleep before I left the room and I do not doubt that she will sleep in. We may have our work cut out convincing her she can not take the bed with her, however. Any luck with the radio?"

Heero shook his head in the negative, glaring into the fire's depths. "Satellite communications are down. The intensity of the storm is interfering with the signal and we will have to wait for the conditions to improve. Standard television and radio reception is not operating either."

"The mountains block the standard radio transmissions at the best of times without special boosters installed and we rarely bother with that type of expense up here. The satellite signal is generally more reliable, but can not get through the heavy weather." Hans Kruger set a plate of toasted sandwiches beside Sally. "It is not much, but it will warm you. Tomorrow we will show you some real hospitality. Living here you learn to deal with the weather and appreciate the quiet times when the world can not intrude. It is not uncommon for us to be without outside communications for two or three days at a time. As the weather eases we will regain access to the rest of the world."

Having lived in mountainous terrain before Sally was not at all surprised by the news. She could see that it disturbed Heero who, colony raised child that he was, was not reared to the foibles of natural weather systems. Quatre seemed to be taking the news better, though he too looked disturbed.

"The GPS system in the cars is still operating, but the radio is mush." Quatre sighed.

"You have some very fancy toys, no doubt, but I have learned that it simply does not do to try to go against mother nature." Kruger was grinning jovially, looking more like Santa Claus than ever. "We learn early here in the mountains to roll with the flow and accept small blessings when they come. Sometimes it was a blessing to not know what was happening out there."

Sally glanced up at the comment and nodded her understanding, noting the distant look in his blue eyes. There could be no doubt that he was thinking of the days when Sanc had fallen to the Alliance. The fall of the kingdom so many years ago was a subject she had found most native born Sancians preferred not to discuss and the more recent occupation by Romefeller forces made it all seem too fresh for them to share with outsiders.

For a fleeting moment she wondered if she should not be worried to have Relena here in this backwater village. She knew from her investigations that many of the citizens were not happy that she had surrendered Sanc to Romefeller's Oz. Many of them had not made an effort to understand that her intentions had been to spare them from Romefeller. How was the inexperienced girl to know that the fighting would not stop just because she gave herself up to the enemy? All some of the citizens chose to see was that after their home was restored to them that their long awaited Princess had handed them over to a hostile force. They had returned to the days of oppression.

Within Sanc's borders little was said publicly concerning the incident, though as a Preventer Sally had had occasion to hear some of the resentment first hand, but thus far it seemed relatively low key and Preventers kept the situation monitored. Some subtle propaganda had been devised and released into the general population, using carefully managed and staged incidents with undercover agents in attempts to ease the rumbles. Rumbles that had been heard with more frequency following the Barton incursion.

It had not risen to a level that Une had deemed might constitute a threat to Relena or her position, but it was a situation they carefully monitored. One of the major complaints Preventers monitored was the growing discontent concerning Relena's lack of attention to Sanc. Some of the citizens seemed to be of the opinion that Relena concentrated too much on the problems of the world and the colonies and not enough on the problems of her country.

// The problem is that she just does not see Sanc as being her country. She was not raised here, in Sanc and it shows. She was barely two when she was taken to safety and though the Darlians were careful with her education they simply could not orient her to Sanc. It was too dangerous, for them and for her, to indoctrinate her to a country's needs that technically no longer existed. They never expected the Restoration to take place. They raised her as a child of a single Earth Nation that existed only in the mind of idealists and that is how she sees the world and the colonies. As one nation. It was futuristic thinking on Darlians part, but in the short term it is going to cause a host of problems for her with these people. In many ways she is just not suited to be the Princess of Sanc. After all that she has been taught she resists the idea of a monarchy on a deep level. Nor did Romefeller help the situation with that Queen of the World idiocy. I am certain she still has nightmares about that time. The entire Queen of the World debacle shook her to the core. Queen of Pawns, Relena called it. Yes, she did manage to turn the tables on them, but I think it was more good luck than any design on her part. Good luck? No, it was politics. A split in Romefeller itself worked to her favour and her grandfather was ever an opportunist from what I have learned of him. He would have loved to have his granddaughter as Queen. I wonder if he still wants her to accept the crown of Sanc, or if he has given up on that theme? Anyway, this is useless speculation and it is not getting me into a nice warm bed for a few hours.//

"The GPS system in the cars is not your standard system. It was a new development commissioned especially for Preventers." Sally murmured. "We will simply have to sit here and wait out the storm. It will not last beyond noon, I expect."

"A storm at this time of the year means that we will have a cool summer and an early winter." Predicted the Innkeeper as he stoked the fire; placing more pine logs on the roaring blaze. "We will be stocking our cellars for a bad winter."

Relena glanced up and a frown marred her pretty face. "You think it will be a cool summer and bad winter? All because of a storm?"

"My family have lived in these mountains for four hundred years on my mother's side and my father's ancestors have lived here for a hundred years more. They passed down knowledge to each successive generation that included the secrets of the weather and the seasons. The weather and other much more sensitive information and many secrets known only to our family. Yes, Princess of Sanc, I believe it will be a cool summer and it will be followed by an early and bad winter. In the old days the King would have his Watchers, who would travel the countryside through out the year and gather information on the weather and how it affected the crops so that he could predict the needs of the people for the coming seasons. It was the duty of the people who worked the land to inform the King's Watchers so that he could best prepare. Famine, flood, drought and even wars. It did not matter if it was a force of nature or a force of man, the King was prepared in advance." He stared into the dancing flames, eyes distant, seeing long gone days and no doubt remembering old stories handed down over generations. "The Kings of old were very good at predicting the needs of the people without the new fangled technology so many people rely on now. We had instinct and we had cooperative spirit to rely on. Here in Sanc we were blessed with having Kings who cared for us, not just for their comfort and prosperity and that meant that we generally fared better than some of the countries that surrounded us."

"How would the King prepare?" Relena was watching the old man with pointed interest.

Sally watched the by play between the two, well aware that Heero was focusing on the old man and the interest Relena was now showing. Whether he suspected the Innkeeper was a threat to her physically or not he moved a step closer to her, away from the fire and watched with that familiar scowl creasing his brow. There was an odd light in Relena's eyes that sparked Sally's interest and she watched as the old man settled his ample form into an overstuffed chair near the Princess and returned his gazed to the fire.

"How would the King prepare? Well, that would depend on what it was that the Watchers would report to him. There were many Watchers throughout the country and we knew they were there not to watch us for trouble, but to protect us. The Kings of Sanc knew that being such a small country we could easily be swallowed by the larger lands that surrounded us. If there were rumours of unrest in the neighbouring countries we would hear of it and pass the information along to the Watchers who would investigate and send word to the King. Many's the time the Kings messengers would go through this village, sent out as envoys to negotiate between the hostile parties in an effort to maintain peaceful borders. It was generally not word of unrest and wars that would be dispatched to the Watchers, but word of the fishing fleets and the growth or decline of the forests. If the weather was predicted to be particularly harsh for the winter based on the weather patterns the families all knew, then the Watchers would send word and the King would see to it that extra crops would be planted and after harvest the surplus would be stored in granaries and warehouses under Royal protection. Then, when the weather turned bad and supplies ran low, when the need was there, the King would open the food stores and the people would not starve. It did not work always, of course, but largely Sanc was graced with a reasonably stable economy and plenty to eat compared to other countries. The most difficult thing to predict, of course, was the advent of plague. Sickness would ravage Europe periodically through the Dark Ages and no borders were safe from plague. Our people were generally graced with having radical thinkers as advisors to the Kings of Old. Certain precautions, taken early, might be suggested to the King and quite often would aid in reducing the death rate for those plagues, though, as I said, not always. Sanc too had its share of epidemics."

"Peacekeepers, even then." Relena was leaning back in her seat, smiling faintly. "You said that the old Kings would send out envoys to keep the peace. Sanc has followed the ways of peace for a long time."

The old man shook his head slowly, still staring into the fire. "Not so peaceful as you might think, Your Highness. No, not so peaceful as you might think and sometimes the Cost … The cost would be terrible but … My family have been retainers to the King for centuries. We are Historians. We were the archive keepers up until about two hundred years ago. Some of the stories that have been handed down through the generations on the price of peace no doubt would surprise you. Some of them would make you weep."

"I … I was not taught much of the history of Sanc. It was not deemed safe for me to learn under the regime of the Alliance, but I would like to hear them." Relena whispered. "I would like to learn of my ancestors."

"It would please me to tell them to you. Far too many of the young people in this day and age are not interested in the past. They tend only to see the now and the chance to progress forward and too many do not see that sometimes to move forward you must go backwards. It is a vital lesson that people do not seem capable of learning that true progress all too often does not lie in the future. Sometimes the path to progress can only be found in the pages of the past." His hands slowly rotated the cup of chocolate he held in a circular motion, an absent minded gesture as his mind wandered the past. "You brother was not such a one. He was an avid student of the past."

Sally, seated across from the pair barely heard the comment that so electrified Relena. The Vice Foreign Minister was suddenly perched on the edge of her seat, her cup gripped tight in her hands and her eyes wide as she stared at the old man.

"You met Milliardo?" A breathy whisper. "When? Where?"

The old man looked up in startled surprise, clearly not having realized that he had been overheard and giving the impression that he had not intended to be heard. He sighed, lowering his head to stare into his cup.

"Yes. Yes, I have had occasion to meet your brother and not merely once. The first time that we met was only days after the Alliance struck down the King. I think … Yes, somewhere around here there should be photographs we took while he was with us, but he was with us for only a few weeks before They came and he needed to run."

Sally caught the emphasis on the 'they' and guessed that he referred to an Alliance patrol. There had been many such patrols travelling Sanc, ostensibly establishing order and in truth ensuring the suppression of the people. Watching Relena she could not help but smile, thinking that the Princess of Sanc would fall from her chair and land on her butt with a pronounced thud if she edged forward any more.

Relena was almost visibly shaking and Sally noted that Heero quickly reached to lightly touch her shoulder, a soothing touch that surprised Sally and made her think twice about the instant dismissal she had given to Mariemaia's thoughts on the pair. It would appear that there might be something to be concerned over after all.

The Innkeeper's wife moved from her seat to stand behind her husband and lightly touch his shoulder, a comforting caress that mirrored Heero's touch almost perfectly.

"Those are long gone days, my dear and we can do nothing about what is past except see that we use that knowledge to shape the future and ensure that it never repeats. He learned that lesson before any of us and he had the courage to use it. As he promised, Sanc was freed from the Alliance and he used everything that you taught him to the best possible effect. He promised that the peace would come, not only to Sanc but to the entire Earth Sphere and he kept his word. You could always trust the word of the Kings of Sanc. Even when they are so young."

The old man sighed and nodded, one hand resting on hers acknowledging the comforting touch before he looked up to meet Relena's stunned blue gaze.

"I have told you that my family was the Historians for the Kings of Sanc and some two hundred years ago, at the request of the King, my family stepped down from their public position. At the King's request they kept records in secret that mirrored those stored within the castle archives. These records were entrusted to my family as security against a disaster that threatened to wipe out all of the knowledge of the past from which we had so much to learn. My family never actually left the employ of the king, though many seemed to think that there had been a falling out between the King and my ancestor. I know that you were not raised as a Princess of Sanc after the massacre, but you are our Princess and you need to know the history of our people. I have kept the secret of the archive even when we thought that you and our young Prince were dead and the line lost with you. It is all there, in the hidden vault, waiting for you when you are ready. The history of Sanc. The hidden archives that only the Royal Family saw. It is waiting for you."

"I … I have seen what was left of the library of the old palace. Much of it survived, damaged but preserved by one of the Governors who was a history buff."

The old man shook his head slightly. "No. No, my dear, you misunderstand me. I am not talking about the library of Sanc . I am not talking about the public accounts of the history of Sanc. I am custodian of the true history, the Guardian of the Kings Archive. I am the one who took your brother to the hidden vault and showed to him what he needed to learn of our past. I am the one who led him to his death in that accursed ship by opening the vault to him and showing him the limits to which the Kings of Sanc were willing to go to maintain the peace. I am so sorry for what I did that day, but I thought it was the right thing to do. I wish that I had had more sense than to expose a White King to the past."

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	128. Chapter 128 Chapter 127

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 127

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 02:20

Heero

The fire hissed and crackled in the silence, flames merrily eating wood, dancing light over the dimly lighted room. The gathering was quiet, all eyes on the old man who so looked like a figure out of legend. He stared into the dancing flames, heavy brows pulled down into a frown. There was nothing comic about him, nothing jovial. He was a man who looked to have seen too much and wished not to have taken actions that ultimately had a bearing on the course of what now was history.

//White King// He glared at the old man who seemed not to notice the silence or the weight of his stare. // I am beginning to think the old man is deluded. This is not good. I think it best if I remain awake to guard Relena myself.//

"A …White King?" Sally queried.

The Preventer's Chief Medical Officer was eyeing the old man with what Heero considered to be an assessing look. Perhaps considering what size straight jacket they might need to restrain him should he perchance turn violent. Sanc this might be, but Heero knew only too well that many of the citizens were not so inclined toward total pacifism as they once had been. To have their home invaded twice under the rule of total pacifists, father and daughter, seemed to be too much. Their Parliament even advocated the use of weapons in defence of peace, much to Relena's disgust.

//She had to ask. Why could she not leave it and we might be on our way to bed now? No doubt she will regret it, as I already do. White Kings, indeed.// He resisted the urge to snort his disgust. // Relena should be in bed, not sitting here listening to these fairytales being sprouted by a delusional old man who looks like he is something out of a fairy tale himself.//

"The White Kings of Sanc." Mrs Kruger breathed, lightly stroking her husband's hair, a light soothing caress. "They are legend within Sanc and there have not been so many of them that their legend has spread beyond the borders of the country. There are not many beyond Sanc who understand their powers and those who did in times gone by feared the attention of the Kings. King Stephan was one, poor fated man that he was. He simply could not bring his powers to bare on so many at once." Her blue eyes seemed to be looking into the past, a melancholy light within their depths. "Milliardo was another. The White Kings are not all that uncommon in the bloodline, but circumstances do not always warrant they be noticed in the world at large. The lighter the hair, so legend has it, the more magical they are."

This time Heero did snort aloud his total disbelief at the turn the conversation had taken. At least, he noted, Relena seemed to be as shocked as he.

"Magical?" Relena shifted back on her seat, staring at the couple in disbelief.

//Wonderful. Magic now. For all that Sanc exists in the modern world it seems to be immersed in the Dark Ages. I should insist Relena go to bed and … Why is Quatre looking at me like that?//

The aquamarine eyes of Quatre Winner were serious as he looked from the old man by the fire to Heero and then to Relena. He pressed a hand to his chest, over his heart, as though he was suffering some deep pain. It was a gesture that was disturbingly familiar to Heero from long ago days when Quatre had spoken of his Space Heart and which he now knew to be caused through genetics engineered by Romefeller to produce a functioning empath.

The thought of Romefeller stilled Heero's initial reaction of disbelief and disgust immediately. As yet he had not informed Quatre about the stud book Romefeller had run on the aristocracy of old Europe, nor had he had the chance to explain that Romefeller seemed to have an interest in Zechs, but he knew that he was going to have to remedy that oversight the first opportunity that presented itself. Yet still, magic? That was hardly in the same reality as genetic engineering.

"In the old days it was called magic and we of Sanc thought nothing of calling it that. They had no other words to describe the unusual and the miraculous deeds that the Kings could perform. Yes, in less enlightened times it was considered magic. During the Dark Ages the Kings would have been called Witches, Warlocks or Sorcerers. They would have been labelled as the Devils Get. Filled with unearthly and demonic powers though we of Sanc preferred to think of them as Saints. Saints, not demons, though the things they did without flinching would hardly seem to be a true gift of God at the time of the doing. Yes, at the time they would be called the Devil's Brood but it was later, in the light of reason, when there was time for reflection that one could understand the why." The old man smiled into the fire and it was not a very pretty smile at all. "Ignorance and superstition. They were very dark days when cruelty was a way of life and the poor were considered chattel. A poor man in Europe might be lucky to live to his thirties. Dark days." He sighed and shook his white maned hair, running a hand through his beard before he looked to Relena. "A great many people in Europe died because of ignorance in those unenlightened days."

Relena pressed a hand to her forehead, rubbing gently as though in pain. "I don't understand."

//She should be in bed, but Quatre is still holding his hand to his heart and he clearly wants me to shut up and wait. He is giving the old man such a strange look. I don't recognize it.//

"Nor are you likely to understand anything the way this Old Fool is going about it." Mrs. Kruger tartly commented, gently pulling a lock of that heavy white beard. "He never could talk to girls properly. Always going off on tangents that led to confusion. Took the fool years to propose to me."

The old man snorted but he was smiling now, a softer smile, one of love. "You are any better, Old Woman? Just listen to you. Now be quiet and let me explain, before these young people are convinced that we are deluded and escapees from a mental institution."

Relena blushed at that and it was sufficient reaction to inform Heero clearly that something along those lines had certainly been running through her mind, not just his. Quatre was staring at the old man in rapt attention, clearly wanting to know something that as yet he had not found in their conversation. Sally, he noted, was curled up in the large chair, feet tucked close and the forgotten cup cradled in her hands. Watching her closely he noted that her eyes were hooded, as though she was lost in thought, but he knew her well enough by now to know that she was all interest and that her attention was focused on the old couple.

"You all know that the Peacecrafts are an old bloodline, but it is closer to the truth to say that the Peacecrafts are in fact an ancient bloodline. They have existed for a very long time and the family is far older than most people believe. The family goes back to days before the founding of what later became the Sanc that you know today. Within the King's Archive lie the faded writings that speak of the days of tribes that call them Sorcerers and magicians and Shamans. Some records speak of them as the messengers of the Gods that existed in those days. Later records literally call them Saints for the work they performed. The older records, despite our best efforts to preserve them over the years, are almost gone now. My predecessors and I have done what we could to copy those early records before they perish beyond even careful reading."

His eyes, serious now, no hint of the joviality he had shown earlier remaining, were centred on Relena, as though he spoke solely to her.

"Not much has survived two thousand years and the oldest records that are still legible we think date from the early Roman period. The Barbarians of the North are mentioned through out history, early Celts and the Huns. Others. More recent accountings date in the Middle Ages and the Dark Ages, when the days were marked with Viking raids. The Peacecrafts have a great deal of Viking blood in their veins. It shows strongest, of course, in the looks of the White Kings."

"Is that why you call them White Kings?" Quatre queried. "Because they resemble the Vikings of old? The Scandanavian colouring and their height? Vikings were supposed to be tall and very blonde."

The old man looked amused and shook his head faintly. "No. No, though that might well have been why the phrase White King was first coined. Many of the Kings have that colouring, though it had been four or five generations since the last Peacecraft King who was quite so blonde as Stephan. The origin of the term is not recorded in the archive, or it might be there and I simply have not come across the reference to date. I personally am inclined to believe it to be some oblique reference to the magic used in the past. White magic. You will find too many references in the dark days to Black Magic and I believe it was an attempt to separate the Peacecrafts from that dark and murky evil. White Magic. Magic cast for good, though in the past, be you a white mage or a devil worshiper, you were no more than fuel for the fire."

Relena winced and sighed. "I just do not understand all this talk about magic and sorcery. There is no such thing as magic."

//The voice of reason.// Heero sighed.

At least she was not being drawn in by this foolishness and talk of times long gone. Relena was a girl who had her head firmly centred on reality, though he did wish she would not aim quite so high all the time. She would have more success with her aims if she took smaller steps. Then, surely, she would not be viewed with such suspicion by her peers. It was becoming more and more difficult to protect her from the machinations of those disturbed by her policies.

Surprisingly it was not the Krugers who responded to that complaint, but Sally. The doctor stirred in her chair, setting the cold cup of chocolate to one side and met Relena's gaze with intense blue eyes.

"It is not so hard to understand really, if you look at it from another perspective. Historically speaking Magic is merely a word to describe miraculous or terrible events that cannot be explained by the science of the day. I would think, knowing a little of the past history of the area, that the magic referred to is more likely a reflection of unexplained phenomena performed by the Royal Family. Presumably chiefly, if not exclusively, by the direct Peacecraft bloodline, not their mates unless they were cousins of some kind. Psychics?" She looked pointedly at the old couple. "Parapsychic phenomenon? I presume that it was psychic ability that ran in the family?"

Mrs. Kruger smiled brightly at her, a bright and charming smile. "I just knew that you were the bright one, my dear. Yes, there was documented evidence of psychic ability within the line. As near as we can understand the older records that is what we have come to believe. After meeting Milliardo … Well, he just proved our beliefs, poor child. Some abilities within the family seemed to reappear continually, skipping some generations entirely and running rampant in others. From the records some of the poor children were driven mad with constant head pains and terrible nightmares haunted some. Of course the vast majority of the records in the archive do originate from the Dark Ages, so it is understandably filled with innuendo, supposition, superstition and down right idiocy by modern standards."

Heero was very careful to make certain that neither his face nor his body betrayed any flicker of reaction to that revelation. Psychics? Was it possible that the people from a dark and superstitious age called psionic ability magic? Perhaps it was not so farfetched and outlandish if the magic the old man described was indeed some form of psionic ability. Such an ability might actually explain some of the records contained on the hard drives stored in the boot of the car now parked in the Inn's garage.

//Psychic abilities might explain what Romefeller were breeding for. //

He had had no time to investigate either the records that Duo had managed to duplicate, or the records that he had copied from the Romefeller database. Magic was not so far-fetched if he considered the spectre of that organization and it now seemed possible that he might find a link, if not THE link, to explain Romefeller's interest in the Peacecrafts.

"They were sad times, the dark days. War, persecution . The Inquisition was a terrible thing. Plagues rife in the lands and any country that did not seem so set upon as others earned unwelcome interest. Things were never ever seen in shades of grey, only in black and white in those days. Unhappily even in these more enlightened times that truth still applies. What is not understood is reviled and persecution all too often becomes the norm." Hans Kruger stirred in his seat, reaching to poke at the fire before settling back again. "Suffice it to say at this time that I have had a considerable time to read through the records that are still legible within the archive. I have, in the last forty years, made copies of the fragments that survived from more ancient times than the Dark Age as security against losing any more information. We have lost so much already to the march of time and decay and I do not believe that we should lose more. There is so much in the past to be learned from."

Sally nodded her agreement and Heero noted that she was now sitting more erect and alert in her chair, no longer looking almost asleep. It was glaringly obvious that she was interested in the subject and not of a mind to be turned aside now.

"What type of psychic ability do you suspect lies within the bloodline? Is there one particular ability that recurs on a regular basis?" Sally queried.

He noticed Quatre glance up from the fire at that question, noted the glint in his blue eyes. //Yes, you would be interested. You are an empath. A psychic yourself. There is nothing magical about the abilities you have shown, or the distress it causes you on occasion. Have you now found others like you? Have the Peacecrafts been manipulated as you have been manipulated//

His gaze flicked back to Sally who was glancing between the old couple and Relena.

//Does she know something? Does she know anything or suspect something? Does she know that Romefeller still exists and what they have been up to? She seems very interested in the psychic aspect. I suppose that could be a result of her medical background, sort of professional curiosity, or it could be that she knows something that I might find of interest. Quatre is looking a little peeked for all his interest. Still holding his heart too. Who is it he is reacting to? I don't think he is looking at anyone in particular. At least he does not seem to be.//

"I believe that a number of abilities at one time were noted within the line. The older records make mention of prophetic dreams and some records speak of certain members in the family having an ability to know what lay within the heart and mind of those brought before them for audience. I am certain that Clairvoyance runs within the family. There are records within the archive written in my ancestor's hands, not the Kings of those time, detailing instances of dreams experienced by either the King or one or more of his children and linking them to later actual events. Even by modern standards they have to be accounted as eye witnesses and documented evidence thus exists. I am at this point in time uncertain if the records speak of telepathy or empathy in regards to the references of the family knowing the hearts and minds of their petitioners. I am certain that young Prince Milliardo had some clairvoyant tendencies. I have documented the instance that convinced me of this and included it within the Archive, as is my duty as Archivist to the King."

"Milliardo … was psychic?" Relena sounded dazed.

//Hard to believe. Or … maybe … not.// Heero frowned, considering certain events that had taken place in the past and he was suddenly not so certain of the course of events that had resulted in the destruction of the Libra. // Is it possible that..? I need time to think. To evaluate the information available to me. Something … is not … right. //

"Relena? Have you experienced anything in the past that might resemble this?" Sally questioned and her eyes were intense on the young woman.

"I … No, I don't think so?"

She sounded uncertain and she had definitely ended her denial as a question. Her very uncertainty screamed to Heero that she might be remembering past instances that might now have some significance in light of this new information. Perhaps she recalled vague memories of dreams taken to be nightmares? Or perhaps she re-evaluated some more recent events that might have significance?

He did not like that, the uncertainty. Someone needed to talk to her and that someone had to have a good solid grasp on reality and the ability to keep her grounded and not allow flights of fantasy to interfere with reality.

"Perhaps we can talk about it later?" Sally seemed to have caught the uncertainty in her reply too and made the offer.

Quatre's hand clenched into a tight fist over his heart, a strained look coming into his eyes and Heero was thankful that those in the room were focused on Relena. He knew that Quatre would not want attention on himself at this time. Heero wanted to learn more, but he did not need Quatre collapsing either and he knew he had to end this. Perhaps if Quatre would agree to rest?

When he turned to the blonde Quatre shook his head slightly obviously determined to remain and listen, if not take part in the discussion. He could see the effort Quatre made to school his features to something more closely resembling normal.

"I … would like that. Yes, Sally. I think we need to talk." Relena spoke softly, barely above a whisper but her eyes betrayed her. She was deeply disturbed and she needed someone she trusted to talk to.

The Inn's owner stirred in his seat, watching with intense gaze the Princess seated before him, assessing her reaction and recalling past observations made in secret. It was his duty to watch and listen and record the events that occurred within Sanc and the deeds performed by the leaders of the country and it was not his duty to be observed making those observations. He had been watching the young Princess since she had first made her appearance on the scene and he had developed a few theories about her.

"The Peacecrafts have always been persuasive and on occasion, almost unbelievably so. My study of the records have led me to believe in the existence of a very distinctive psychic ability running within the line. On many occasions it is recorded that the King and certain of the heirs had shown uncommon, even an uncanny ability, to turn an enemy into a friend following often lengthy discussions. I became suspect after observing King Stephan. Observing him repeatedly I listened to him talk to guests who came to Sanc with decidedly hostile notions and they would leave firm advocates of the Peace Principle. It was not always so successful, of course, the results of these discussions would vary, but quite often it struck me as being almost magical his ability to convince others to turn their thoughts from hostile to more constructive solutions to problems. I studied other references that suggested this ability in the past and I even gathered together the courage to ask him. He …"The old man sighed and bowed his head to Relena. "He said to me that he knew that they truly had wanted peace and did not wish to war on their neighbours. He merely pointed out to them that they did not wish to kill and that there were other ways to settle differences. He would say no more about how he knew what he believed to be their true will, but I know it was more than an understanding of psychology and much more than a glib tongue. He seemed to have the ability to make people see beyond their grievances and he could always see through the murk of politics to the repercussions of actions that might be taken. His ability to persuade people to a gentler path of discussion was made use of on many occasions by our neighbours and I know that it is what drew the attention of the Alliance to Sanc. I can not explain beyond what I already have said and I know it is confusing. It is no true explanation at all, but it is the best that I can do. I am certain that your father could look into the hearts of people and divine their truest desires and emotions. Perhaps it is not even too far from the truth to wonder if he could actually read their thoughts."

"Perhaps you have something of that ability, Dear?" Mrs Kruger murmured, watching Relena and the way her hands were clasped tightly together. She looked pale too, and wide eyed and she stared at the Innkeeper as though she expected him to bite her. "I have heard that you also can be quite persuasive."

More colour drained from Relena's face as her eyes flicked to the old woman and with difficulty she managed a shrug of her shoulders. It was plain to Heero that she had had enough, but he knew how stubborn she could be. She was not quite ready to run screaming from the room but he suspected that she was not far from that point.

Most disturbing of all though, was the number of times he had wondered how she could have turned a hostile meeting between colony factions and Earth representatives into amiable discussions. Everything the old man said made a horrible kind of sense when viewed against the back drop of some of the meetings Relena had attended.

"Perhaps there might have been something there, yet he did not see the fall of Sanc coming." Heero spoke up hoping to turn the attention away from Relena to give her a chance to regain her composure. "Surely he must have had some idea that there was the danger of invasion?"

Kruger sighed and lowered his head, looking old and drawn, but he pulled himself together and looked up to meet Heero's gaze.

"I can not say what was going through his mind at that time, but I do know that he knew something was going to happen. I know this for a fact because some days prior to the overthrow of Sanc he transferred substantial funds from Sanc's treasury into secret accounts and entrusted me, as his Archivist, with their locations and access codes. The funds were to aid, he told me, in rebuilding after the event. When I questioned him he would say nothing more. That was not the only action he took prior to the invasion. He managed to have a large number of the children from the city and the surrounding countryside taken out of Sanc the day the invasion began. How he managed this I do not know, as he managed it despite the fact that it was Christmas and the families wanted to be together at that time. Because of his action when the mobile suits came to Port City they did not snare so many of the youngsters as they might have. We lost many of the older generations in the downfall of Sanc, but many of the children were saved and taken into hiding by their protectors."

"If he knew what was going to happen then why did he keep his own children in the danger zone?" Sally queried.

"Because to send us away would have been to alert the Alliance that he was aware there would be trouble." Relena whispered, her eyes locked on her clenched fists lying in her lap. Her knowledge of the politics of the world left her in no doubt as to the why.

"I believe so, yes." Mrs. Kruger moved to kneel before the young woman and lightly take the clenched hands in her wrinkled hands and squeezed her fingers gently. "Do not think the less of him for taking care of the children of others before he saw to the safety of his own. The Peacecrafts have always fought for the needs of others above the needs of their own. It is in their blood. They have been trained for generations from the moment of birth to sacrifice their all to keep those who look to them safe. Having the heart to make the difficult decisions, despite the odds against success and despite the costs that seem so heavy at the time, is why we call them the White Kings. They lead by example, shouldering the burden for the greater good. Nor do they ever ask to be understood or be forgiven for what might seem betrayal. It simply is their way."

"He would never have abandoned you to the mercy of the invaders. He made provision for your safety." Mr. Kruger assured her. "From what I have learned of the events of the time I believe that he made arrangements for Senator Darlian to spirit you out of Sanc and provide you with safe shelter."

"Pagan. It was Pagan who took me from Sanc and to the Darlians. They were out of the city when it began." Relena whispered. "He … Pagan … told me what happened after my father … my foster father was assassinated. He told me when no one else would."

Heero scowled at his feet, barely listening to the conversation. Something that had been said bothered him, but he could not quite put his finger on it.

"Pagan was close to King Stephan. Trusted by him." Mr. Kruger murmured. "Yes, I can see that he would entrust his children to him."

"But Milliardo …" Relena looked up, meeting the old man's blue gaze with her own and there was anguish and curiosity and no small amount of pain in her gaze. "Why was Milliardo not taken out of Sanc?"

The Krugers exchanged glances and the old man sighed. "Something went wrong, I think. I am not certain what happened that day. While your brother was here he never told me all that happened to him, just enough to break my heart to know what it was he had witnessed. I do know that he was there, that he saw your father killed and that he saw your mother die as well. Something must have gone very wrong for you must believe me that the King I knew would not have wanted either of you to witness that horror. Perhaps it was simply and tragically that they got the timing for the attack wrong? I do not know. When he first came here Milliardo would not talk about what he had witnessed during the attack, or about his time in the city in the aftermath. For the first few days after he arrived he would not speak at all. He would simply watch every move around him with those eyes that made me weep for what he must have endured. It was a terrible thing for so young and sensitive a child to witness."

"He would not speak, even when the nightmares left him screaming. He had been reared the heir, the Prince, but on those nights he was just a little boy who had seen too much and he was thankful for the arms that held him and promised that it would not come again." The old woman sighed.

**"They have been trained for generations from the moment of birth to sacrifice their all**…**"** The words came back to Heero as he scowled at the floor**. "Having the heart to make the difficult decisions despite the odds against success and despite the costs that seem so heavy at the time, is why we call them the White Kings. They lead by example, shouldering the burden for the greater good. Nor do they ever ask to be understood or be forgiven for what might seem betrayal. It simply is their way."**

// Milliardo … Zechs was a Clairvoyant, they thought. Was, is, maybe.// Heero raised his eyes to stare into the fire.

He had so much to think on and the day seemed endless. He was tired and his leg was hurting him, reminding him that he was supposed to be resting his ankle. There was no time to rest though, yet there was nothing that he could do now, either. The weather effectively sealed them off from the rest of the world at this time. They all needed to rest and he admitted that he needed to rest too, but they were in an unsecured situation and there were so many questions buzzing around in his head that he knew he was not going to get any sleep soon. He was going to be thinking too much to rest.

//Was I wrong?// The old man's words would not be dismissed but kept marching past him, demanding his attention and bringing to his mind the confrontation on the Libra more than two years ago. //Was I wrong to dismiss what he was doing? Was it more than I thought?//

He noted that Quatre was staring into the fire and he knew that they needed to talk. Quatre had been their strategist, he would make more of this than Heero could, but he did not have many of the facts that Heero knew.

What he wanted to do was get Quatre on his own for a very private discussion and tell him what he knew and perhaps then he might learn if he could be right. If Quatre resolved the information into the same solution as he had, then he would know if what he was thinking was possible. It might be that he owed an apology to Zechs Merquise or Milliardo Peacecraft, or whatever he wanted to call himself.

// I'm sorry. I … I think I made a mistake. Is all this my fault?//

What possible repercussions might occur should you place a clairvoyant in a machine that was a problematical computer designed to read future actions? That was the question he had to ask himself. That was the question he had to face. Zechs had been exposed to the Zero System, first in the Wing Zero and later in the Epyon.

//Epyon.// He suppressed the shudder that name always caused deep within him. //Epyon was … different from Zero but … basically the same thing.//

Was it not possible, indeed even probable, that the use of the Zero system in either mobile suit would have had far more reaching repercussions for Zechs than it had had for others who used the system?

//Quatre.// His gaze rose once again to the blonde who was seemingly lost in the flames of the fire. // Quatre built Zero. He lost it when he used the Zero system. He … He still does not speak much about that time, about destroying the colonies under its influence but he has mentioned … Is it possible? He talked of the pain he felt … That he could feel the pain in the colonies and it was his pain … It mirrored his pain that they killed his father … He said to me that he was insane. It was Zero, not him. He says otherwise but I am sure. It was Zero. Was … was that why the Zero system affected him so much? Because he is a psychic? An Empath. He felt the pain through Zero. //

Relena was absently twirling a lock of shining honey blonde hair about her finger, her deep blue eyes were narrowed and she looked lost in thought. He watched her for a moment wondering what she was making of all of this wild talk of the Dark Ages, of White Kings and sorcery that might simply have been local legend and nothing more.

He could not say if there was even a single grain of truth in anything they had heard this night. Those people were long dead and had been ignorant of the sciences that now gave birth to words such as Empathy, Clairvoyance and Telepathy, but that ignorance of modern terminology did not mean that there was no substance at all in what was local legend.

He could not dismiss it out of hand.

//It … may have made no difference. Might the events of the One Year War have ended differently if Zechs was not a Clairvoyant? I do not even know that he is one. There is only these people's word on that. //

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, trying to deal with a rising headache and too many questions to sort out into some semblance of order.

//If he was one and I for one need a lot more evidence before I will panic that I gave him a machine with the Zero System installed. He was using Zero before I gave him Epyon. I … Damn, my head is pounding. We have only the old man's word for this supposed ability unless … Unless there is something in the Romefeller files to back up his claim of psychic ability in the Peacecraft line and in the files on Zechs in particular. Something like that would substantiate the theory.//

"Ah, My Dears. Such a poor hostess I am. It is late and we all are tired. The fires should have aired out your rooms by now and it is only sense that we get some sleep. We can talk about this later." Mrs. Kruger stirred, rising stiffly from in front of Relena, a hand to her back to rub absently at a pain.

Mr. Kruger likewise stirred in his chair, nodding in agreement. "I doubt that you will be travelling further for today at least. The snow ploughs will have to clear the road before you can move on and that will not happen until the storm is ended. In these mountains it does not pay to take even a plough out in this weather."

"Your rooms are all ready and Hans will stoke your fires before you settle down. That will keep you warm for the night."

Heero frowned as he watched Relena rise from her chair. //We will be talking more of this, you may be sure of that. You have disturbed Relena with all of this talk of witchcraft and superstition and she looks frightened. Sally is watching her so I can be confident that she will talk to her and probably settle this matter. Sally is sensible. I can trust her to quiet Relena's fears, but Relena is not a fool. She is tired and she only needs sleep to realize the truth. Superstition. It just is not possible for …// His eyes settled on Quatre who was rubbing at his heart and whose eyes had a haunted look to them. // Well, maybe I should rethink that. I need to investigate the Romefeller files and prove one way or the other if there is a tie to this talk of magic wielding Peacecrafts. It might not lead to anything though and if it did … If it did … What does it mean? Does it mean anything at all?//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	129. Chapter 129 Chaoter 128

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 128

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 24 [approx Sanc time 23:14

Broadham

//What do I do about this? I have people relying on me and … What am I to believe? Everything has taken a turn toward the insane and I don't know what to believe. // He rubbed at his eyes, trying not to look at the clock as it only made him feel every ache. He wanted to curl up and sleep but there was so much to do. // Is he right? Do I dare to believe that all he has told me is correct? Do I dare NOT believe it? Is it really the ESUN who are in control of this situation?//

He most certainly did not want to believe that.

Years ago he had made a decision and he had left the central area, the hub of the Earth Sphere, because he wanted the chance to begin again. A rare opportunity had presented itself to a tired soldier. A fresh start for a man steeped in blood. He was a surgeon, a healer, but he had done his share of killing to stay alive even as he had tried his best to heal others, the victims of the war, soldier and civilian alike. His decision to leave the hub and turn his back on the life he had lived was supposed to be a new beginning for him, a new life away from all of the blood, the death and the destruction he had witnessed for so many years. Yes, he had wanted a change and the chance to help birth something wonderfully fresh. Something untainted by the destruction, cruelty and chaos that was war and that opportunity was now threatened.

Bloodlust had come to Mars.

Bloodlust. To be certain there had been blood spilled on Mars before this day. Some of the early explorers to the planet from Earth had died here, trapped by faulty equipment, accidents and failed planning and had been totally ill equipped to cope with the unique environment that Mars presented on a long term basis. Casualties and fatalities had been expected in the early days - had to be expected in any exploration of space and there had been enough of those events in reaching the planet let alone in the founding of the colony itself.

Constructing the Base Dome to take the place of the inadequate and rudimentary modules linked together by unstable tubes that had served as the advanced base of the colony had cost more lives than he cared to consider. They had lost six men alone in erecting the basic dome frame in the early construction phase of the Alpha Dome and at that time they had had more advanced equipment at their disposal. Deaths happened on Mars, as they happened all over the Earth Sphere and some deaths were easier to accept than others.

//I wanted to leave war behind me. Murder too. Honest death during the building of a colony I could accept, but this … this is cold blooded murder.//

It had come in the closing days of the building phase. They were so close now to opening this planet to trade and colonization as a viable economic concern. The colony they had laboured to construct was self sustaining and they were capable of entering the trading forums of the ESUN and standing toe to toe with their competitors. The resources were here just waiting to be used. All that they had needed to complete the picture and stand alone was additional people. A viable gene pool would have been the last component to make the Alpha base a working colony equal to any colony orbiting Earth and that expansion would happen within a year.

//Within this year. // He reflected. // After Colony 198. //

The year a permanent population, a breeding population, came to Mars and completed the complex equation that resulted in a viable fully operating colony. Humankind had needed the colony. The population of Earth and the individual colonies was on the rise and they needed new habitats.

//We have children on the colony already though it is true that we were not meant to consider a native generation for another three or four years following the arrival of the general population. Yet even having a few births was considered in the design specs for the founding of the colony. The human race being what it is it was inevitable that we would beat the breeding estimates projected by the planners. It often happens that way. The drugs taken to suspend fertility are flawed. They simply are not one hundred percent reliable for the entire population and Mother Nature has a way of thumbing her nose at the attempts of man to play God. As a race we have had to learn that lesson through time if we have learned no other lesson. Mother Nature will ensure the survival of the human species and will adapt to do so if required. It is called evolution. It is called developing immunities and resistances. All in all we are a pretty poor imitation of God. The truth is that we just have humungous egos. //

Mankind liked to consider itself as being of so much importance in the cosmic order of things and the truth was that the human species was insignificant.

//We are an experiment of evolution and there will come a day when evolution passes us by and we become a branch on the tree that depicts the extinction of species. What the hell makes us think ourselves so important? I suppose that we are rather unique. No other race that the Earth has produced seems intent on exterminating itself.//

He ran a hand through his hair and watched in silence as his people filed from the room. Much as he wished he could change the events of the day he could not. There were dead people who needed to be attended and he was in charge of the Medical Centre at this time. He had given his instructions to his people for the search of the medical centre and for the cleanup to begin. Ahead of them all there were hours of work to be accomplished and not restricted to the sub base. He had to sort out the mess down here and then send his people into the enviro dome to search for the dead and wounded. There was so much to do with this clean up.

Who could he trust?

Did he dare to believe all that Haydon Giles had told him? Did he dare NOT believe? Either possibility, belief or disbelief, could produce fatal results for the people who looked to him. Could he believe that the ESUN agents on Mars were not the saviours they should be? Were these men killing his people?

Frighteningly enough, yes, he could believe it.

He was a soldier. Or he had been in his younger days and he had been a good one. He had had a conscience and he had learned to question his orders and the actions of others and what was more, he was something of a student of History. He was enough of a History buff to know that such incidents had happened in the past.

//Sleepers. Security Agents running amok throughout the base. It is like something out of a very bad science fiction novel. I wish that I could say with any degree of honesty that I thought it was impossible, but the truth is that I have known it to happen. Not exactly the same set of circumstances, of course, but the same basic make up of a situation, where the individual has been considered expendable for the good of others. Supposedly for the good of many, but often for the good of a select few. Ah, God. I suppose, since similar instances have happened, that I could say that I believe him … I could say it but that might mean I am jumping to the wrong conclusion. I can't just take his word for it. That is only one side of the story and to make a decent decision for the well being of my people I can not, in good conscience, take the word of one man. There is more to this situation that I need to consider, not the least of which is how would killing off an entire colony benefit the ESUN? Who within the government of Earth or the Colonies would benefit from a slaughter taking place on Mars?//

He rubbed at his forehead, wishing that he could take something for the pain but he dared not cloud his judgment. There was too much at stake to have drugs affect his decisions.

// I have a headache. I am tired and I can't think straight and I can't rest. There is too much to do to allow for a rest and I am not the only one who is no doubt longing for the chance to sleep. The only thing in this entire mess that I can be sure of is what I witnessed in that hallway and even then … Even then the details … are sketchy. Sketchy? I don't know. I am sure that I saw Merquise take a bullet.//

He was exhausted from the struggle to keep Jenny Santos alive and even now he knew that he could still lose her. If he had managed to stabilize her and repaired the damage enough to ensure her survival then he doubted that she would ever have movement of her lower extremities. There had been severe damage to her spinal cord and as much as their medical technology had improved in the last hundred years, spinal cords still defeated them. She was going to be paralysed if she survived the night.

Perhaps when she was sent back to Earth and she was going to have to be returned to Earth, or at least to one of the Colonies. Her hope might lie in the new and almost miraculous work being done with genetic treatments. There was a faint hope that the damage done by the bullets that had ripped through her spine might be repaired with the aid of a good genetic team. If he was honest with himself he had to acknowledge that though there was a chance of some improvement being possible he doubted that even the genetic treatment would help her.

He had been considering those very possibilities of success and the varying degrees of improvement in the field of genetic medicine that might assist his patient when he had left the recovery room and entered the main hallway of the medical centre in time to see … He scowled, considering his hands for a long moment as he reviewed what it was he had witnessed.

//Exactly what was it that I saw? I'm not … God. Just thinking about it churns my gut.//

He literally felt ill just thinking about the sight that had met his gaze. The crawling of his nerves, the twisting of his vitals, the painful pressure that had seemed to weigh him down … It all seemed too real and yet so … unreal.

What had he seen? Merquise and Giles had been standing in the hallway, at the far end of the hallway near the main doors and they had been standing close together, talking. Then …

No. No, that was not right. Something was wrong with that picture and he could feel that crawling of his gut growing.

He could clearly recall that he had left the scrub room after cleaning up after the operation and he had checked with the nurse stationed in recovery to ensure that Santos had been settled and was in no difficulty. Yes. That much was as clear as crystal and he was in no doubt. After checking with the nurse he had felt it safe for himself to leave the surgical unit and write up a report on the operation as a means to unwind enough to get some much needed sleep. Report writing always put him to sleep.

Yes, that was what had happened after he had left the operating theatre and of that much he was certain. It was after that that things became far from clear.

//I need to rest, but there is no time now for pampering myself and it is not as though I have not stood thirty six hour shifts in the past. I'll get my second wind soon enough. //

Yet still he stared at the wall and considered the strangeness he had witnessed. Strangeness? How inadequate a description for what had happened. He could clearly recall setting his hand to the latch of the door opening out into the hallway from the surgical unit and from that point on reality had become something he desperately longed to be a nightmare he could wake up from. Such a relief it would be if he would just wake up and find that he had fallen asleep in his chair while writing his report because he was not certain how long he could cope with the odd... the surreal... the Otherworldly.

The weird.

//Argh. Stop this useless shit, you fool. You have better things to do. //

He scrubbed at his face with hands that trembled and that very shaking terrified him. He was a surgeon. He had steady hands. Lives hung on the rock solid nerves and very steadiness of his hands. He rose, moving to the credenza and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

It was exhaustion, nothing more. He just needed some rest, which he was not going to have a hope in hell of getting, so a strong coffee would have to work its magic. It had before when he had needed to work double shifts in his intern days and during the battles he had thought he had left behind him. He had to gather his wits together and get through the night as best he could and settling for words such as Surreal and Otherworldly was not going to settle his thoughts.

//Can't leave the bloody thing alone though. It keeps replaying over and over again and each time it gets stranger. //

Trying to ignore it was doing no good so he sipped at the coffee and leaned against the wall bringing carefully to mind the scene as he had stepped out into the hallway.

Merquise had been a step or two away from Haydon Giles, no more than two steps, yes, that was right. Their backs had been turned to the hallway as they spoke. He considered that picture for a minute, painting the scene vividly and nodded finally. Yes, that seemed about right. The door of the nurses lounge had opened slowly and drawn his attention only because he had been looking in the exact right place to note the movement and he had felt his gut knot on seeing that gun precede the would be killer from the room.

He drew a shaky breath but kept his attention focused on the mental image. He needed to sort out what had happened and get to the truth and reach a decision. He had people relying on him and he needed to make choices that might well decide if they lived or died. He was squarely back to his officers days in the Alliance, the last place he had ever wanted to find himself again where he was looking at blood, guts and gore without a surgical tool in sight. He was back to facing the unwholesome reality of murder and mayhem.

Yes, the gun. Picture the gun. Silencer attached at the business end and muzzle and hand emerging from the shadow of the doorway and it had been aimed squarely at Haydon Giles.

He scowled, dropping his gaze to his half empty coffee mug. From the beginning of the incident that gun had been aimed at Giles, not Merquise. That was a distinction that was important and one he must not forget in this evaluation of the situation that faced them. Try as he might he could not recall hearing a sound that might have alerted Merquise to the presence of the lurking gunman, but suddenly and smoothly Merquise was moving and with his movement things had become insane.

// The most important point of that scene was that Giles was the target. Why would a professional killer target Giles? If I believe the man then the killer was a professional and even a rank amateur would know that you take down the greatest threat first. The greatest threat to your mission and your personal safety if you have not completed your mission must be dealt with as a priority. Namely, Merquise. Everyone here knows his reputation as a Specials Elite and logically he should have been the one targeted.//

Unless Giles had the right of it.

Unless Giles was correct in his assessment of the mission and this entire debacle was a mission to remove Merquise and possibly his children from Mars.

//God. Why? Why remove them?//

Mars was about the most isolated colony you could get within the entire Earth Sphere, with the exception of the mining communities scattered amidst the asteroid belt. He scowled as he considered the options open to the persons who had designated Mars as the prison for such a high profile prisoner as the former Prince of Sanc.

As prisons went those mining communities scattered amongst the asteroids would surely be considered far from satisfactory. They tended to be wild places with little in the way of effective law enforcement and ruled by the mining conglomerates from the distant Colonies and Earth. All that was of concern out there was the mining of ores from the cosmic debris field.

Scout ships dared the dangers of the field to mark the richest asteroids to be towed back to the hub colonies to be used as resource satellites, but those asteroids not marked as suitable for the credit expenditure involved in relocation were mined in the asteroids by the settlements and the raw ore or the crudely refined product would be shipped back to the hub.

//Wild and uncivilized places. You have to be desperate or an outcast to go out there.//

Which, he supposed was answer enough as to why Merquise had not been dispatched to the distant asteroid belt. Try confining him amid those wild communities and it was possible that the remnants of White Fang, or even the disgruntled Oz soldiers, who had worshipped the famous Lightning Count and had had no where else to go might sympathize and rally to support Merquise. There were many displaced and angry ex-soldiers who, in their desperation to find a place for themselves, had gone to the mining communities only to find it no better than the hub worlds.

//Was that it? Was the ESUN government fearful that Merquise might have found backing for another insane assault on the Earth if he was sent to the frontier?//

Yet rumour had it that it was the man's own sister who had sent him to Mars and surely … No, she was a politician and from reports she was fairly rabid on keeping the peace. The consensus was that Merquise was insane and the Vice Foreign Minister surely would not wish to be reminded that she had a brother who was accounted public enemy number one. Or would be if it was generally known that he had survived the Libra.

Yet in all the time he had been on Mars there had been no hint of insanity or grandiose plans in the man. He seemed infinitely sane and sensible.

// Mars would have been the better choice. I can understand that I suppose, but why now do they decide to change things, and so violently? I know there have been elections recently on Earth and in the Colonies. Power games.// He snorted his disgust at that thought. // I suppose the power structure on Earth might have changed sufficiently to allow for this type of operation. A cover up would have been devised and they must be fairly confident that they are going to get away with it and gain by it. Fucking politicians. Add to that the fact that within the year Mars is due for a massive influx of population and considering the latest reports I read on the situation within the hub itself, I would imagine that a fair few of the new Martians might possibly be expatriate soldiers. Yes, with that recipe I guess I can see why they would want to move Merquise. But to kill everyone just to keep his survival a secret?//

Overkill.

It had all the earmarks he associated with the leadership of the Alliance at the beginning of the One Year War and a few years before that when the Alliance hierarchy had decided to tighten their hold on the colonies and consolidate their position.

//Consolidate their resources, further their power structure, settle their personal fortunes … Yes. All too familiar. Could it really be happening again?//

He sipped the coffee, grimacing as for the first time he noted the too strong taste, but he needed the drink as a pick me up. Now above all he needed to remain alert and on top of the situation. He was fairly certain that he had a reasonable assessment of the reasons for the invasion and massacre of the population and he was not inclined to have any more of his people slaughtered because he was too tired to function efficiently.

//The Terror of Earth.//

He had not had a great deal of opportunity for interaction with the man since Merquise had arrived on Mars, as the man's health had been excellent. He had not had much call for a physician's attentions let alone the Chief Surgeon's ministrations.

From the day of his arrival Earth Gov had made it clear to the leaders of the developing colony that Merquise was a prisoner exiled from the hub, although the word 'prisoner' had never actually been spoken. Everyone from the janitor to the project chief had understood the address that had been transmitted from Earth an hour before the shuttle carrying Merquise and Noin had begun landing manoeuvres. Mako had looked as though he had been eating something particularly sour and distasteful as he had followed the transmitted public address from the chief of the ESUN Security Agency to the terra formers of Mars. He had acknowledged the transmission on behalf of the colony, but it had been clear to all that he was far from pleased by the circumstances.

//I admit that I did not know what to expect. There was no warning for us to prepare any type of reception and as for preparing security arrangements … // He sighed softly, shaking his head at the memory of the sudden scramble to see that there were quarters ready to be assigned for the new arrivals. //None of us knew what to expect.//

With Merquise on the shuttle and the clear directive that he was to have no outside communications with anyone they had been in no doubt as to his status, but none of them knew quite what to do about his companion. Lucrezia Noin had not been mentioned in the directive from ESUN security. From the moment she had debarked the shuttle she had placed everyone in no doubt that she was to all effects and purposes the only one permitted near Merquise.

Broadham found himself grinning into his coffee cup at the thought of the woman who had, by her very presence, warned that Merquise was private property. At first he had presumed her to be the assigned warden to the prisoner, but it had quickly become clear that she was a self appointed warden.

"What a woman!" He shook his head slightly with a low rumble of amusement. "Quite a spitfire that one."

Noin had been more than simply protective of Merquise from the moment they had arrived. Possessive was perhaps closer to the description he was looking for and in the time since their arrival she had proven to be well and truly obsessive and fiercely territorial. No less at the beginning of their stay here than she had been since learning of her pregnancy.

// Nice enough woman. // He reflected. //Once you made it plain you were not going to trespass on what she considered her property, but Christ, there were times I felt sorry for the man. //

She was a far more effective keeper than anyone the ESUN might have sent out to take on the responsibility of handling the security arrangements to ensure Merquise was kept within set limits. For differing reasons, no doubt, but the end result had been the same. He had a great deal of respect for Lucrezia Noin, both as a woman and as a professional, but for the very life of him he would not have wanted to be her victim if anyone crossed her. She had a notorious temper and she had made it clear from the instant they had debarked the shuttle that anyone messing with Zechs Merquise would incur her wrath.

// Very protective woman, overly protective even, but from my observations I think that that was precisely what he needed at that time. I don't know what happened back on Earth, but something clearly did and it affected them both in far different ways. She provided a needed buffer zone between him and the world at large and that woman had no intentions of permitting anyone to offer him insult. I can remember thinking that the man was too placid and that he could not possibly have been the same Milliardo Peacecraft who had threatened to take out an entire planet. He seemed too quiet, too willing to be told what to do and to begin with he seemed willing enough to separate himself from the rest of us. No, the more I watched that man those first few months the more certain I was that he could not possibly be the man they called a demon. //

He could clearly recall one instance when in the dining hall someone had made a comment on Merquise never joining the general population for meals and the comment happened to come in a lull in the general noise of the meal. Lucrezia had been there on that occasion and had fairly flattened the man, an open handed blow that had rocked him off his seat and was accompanied by a heated look that would have melted steel. A snarled comment concerning the dining hall turning into a zoo for everyone to gawk at a trained monkey and why should he have to do that for their pleasure and she had stormed out of the hall. Certainly an over reaction on Noin's part, but it had served to cause people to consider the pair of them in a more human light. The monster had become more human.

//Rehashing events from the past is not going to help me make sense of what is happening now. //

Scrubbing a hand over his face he sighed and considered what needed to be done. He was desperate for a shower and shave, but personal concerns were unimportant. The most important matter he needed to consider at this time was dare he not believe Giles? He had already lost people to the killer who had stalked the medical centre and if there were more of these heartless monsters …

What must he do to ensure that his people would be safe from them? Haydon Giles insisted that there were more killers, Sleepers he called them, stalking the base. More than the one who now would be on his way to lie on a slab in the morgue was a terrifying thought. At least he had no doubts that the security guard from the shuttle bay was the responsible body for having murdered his people in the nurse's lounge. The man had been taken down as he had left the nurses lounge and he himself had witnessed that incident, thus there was no doubt of his guilt.

But might there not be others stalking the medical centre even as he stared at a half empty cup of quickly cooling coffee?

Broadham shook his head slowly, eyes narrowed, knowing there just was no way he could know for certain what was happening to his once nicely ordered world. He had walked into the main hallway of the centre at a very interesting moment, his thoughts of Jenny Santos and her possible degree of recovery falling away in awed disbelief at the events taking place before him.

Ambush. Cold blooded murder. There was no other word to adequately describe the events unfolding before him.

Almost in a haze of unreality he had watched that gun rise, the silencer glinting under the glare of the artificial lights. His eyes had tracked the direction in which it had been pointed and found the two men standing by the door and he had known in that instant that one, or both of them, were dead men. It had been unreal.

He had been in the military. He had been an officer and he had never found himself in a situation where he could not bellow when the need asserted itself, but for some reason he had been unable to do more than stare. Why had he found himself frozen in place, vocal cords seemingly paralysed, unable to utter a warning? He had found himself paralysed and as useless as a civilian, not the ex Alliance Officer that he was. A useless civilian who was about to witness what was obviously cold blooded murder.

Why had he stood there like an idiot?

He was a trained soldier for all that he was a surgeon, both in the past and in the present. He was a veteran of more battles than he cared to think about and he had never found a situation in any of them where he had frozen.

Never.

He had caught a glimpse of the killer's eyes and with an icy chill he had recognized it. He had witnessed that same wild, fanatical gleam in those insane eyes during the height of the war. He had seen that exact same look on the faces of those who had lost their way and in their insanity had become killing machines who lived for the blood lust.

Yes, he recognized that look. To his sorrow he had watched the loss of humanity in too many men during the wars and it had been fear of losing his own humanity that had seen him giving up his military career. He had been terrified that he would eventually kill the healer within him. That had been too high a price for him to pay.

Most of those stressed beyond endurance who lost their grasp on reality tended to turn inward, many becoming self-destructive and focusing their anger and despair on themselves. Those were the ones he had felt himself most likely to mirror if he had not resigned when he had, but some few of the lost ones would loose all semblance of morality.

Those eyes belonging to the one who had held that gun not so long ago had screamed killer. It had been obvious from the moment the gun had emerged from the shadows of the doorway what he was going to do and it had become equally obvious in that same moment that Merquise had realized they were not alone.

"How the hell had that man moved so quickly? I was there, I saw it and … and he should not have been capable of reaching him, let alone taking him out before he fired that gun."

Lightning Count, they had called him in the days when he had been an Oz officer.

It had been too much like a dream. Surreal. He could not explain it, even now, but a sense of wrongness had surrounded them all and strangely enough he could still feel a faint echo of that odd sensation. That twisting, gut churning sense of … something he could not quite wrap his mind around to provide just the right description. The fact he could still feel it even now had to be a by product of his exhaustion, but that weariness had to be pushed aside as he still needed to function for the good of everyone. Merquise included. That man, even after proving himself so capable, now was helpless. A patient.

His responsibility.

//He must be exceptionally strong. I know that in times of extreme stress the human body is capable of feats of strength and dexterity that under normal circumstances it would be impossible to duplicate. Yet … What he did was … I know he was rumoured to have incredible reflexes during the war, but for him to have crossed that distance to reach the killer, even with the added length offered by the whip … Incredible reflexes. He has to be stronger than the average man to have tossed that man that distance and with such force into the wall. He crushed the skull and compressed three neck vertebra with that throw. That takes a great deal of force. An uncommon amount of strength was required to perform that feat, even under the stressful conditions that existed. The momentum of the throw alone could not have accounted for the damage done. //

He set aside the coffee cup and began to work a stiff muscle in his neck while glaring at the door and knowing that he had more to do than sit here and reflect on the impossibilities of the night. He could not continue to put off the inevitable.

Giles had informed him that Lucrezia Noin appeared to be in a coma presumably induced by what had to be the cruellest weapon he had ever heard of. Regardless of whether he believed Giles concerning the ESUN Agents from the shuttle, he needed to prepare an intensive care unit and arrange for suitable nursing staff to monitor Noin under observation.

He needed to take at least two orderlies to the shuttle bay to assist in transferring her from the emergency shuttle to the medical centre. He dared not leave her for any length of time under the care provided by a med computer. Those machines were all well and good for maintaining basic life functions, but computers had no instinct and as far as he was concerned a single physician's instincts were worth more than a dozen of those machines.

"Okay, Broadham, get your list in order. You have to restore the medical centre to working order. You will have to decide one way or the other if you are to believe everything that Giles claims, or if you are to give the ESUN the benefit of the doubt. If I could talk to the commander of the agents who were on that shuttle … but Giles claims he is Blue Squad and sent to eliminate us all. Shit. I wish my headache would settle down. I'll have to check on Merquise shortly and make certain that Giles has not tried forcing him to wake. However he managed to take down that killer it took every reserve the man had. It is clear that he has had enough."

He had not quite reached the door before a short bitten off scream from the hallway beyond propelled him into motion. Throwing himself at the door he wrenched it open and threw himself through the doorway, frantically searching for the source of the scream. His feet discovered a will of their own as he had no conscious memory of willing himself to move, but he found himself running down the hallway toward the nurse who had screamed and the small cluster of people waiting there, backing away from the glaring figures who stood by the door.

The combat fatigues worn by both men stood out like sore thumbs against the tan walls of the medical centre. The men wearing the distinctively out of place clothing backed off from the nurse, making small soothing motions as orderlies and nurses poured out of adjacent rooms where they had been attending to the needs of tidying up after the massacre.

"Blue Squad."

The sound of his own voice snapped him out of his daze as did the sight of Haydon Giles rushing out into the hallway from the treatment room. He saw the man blanch as he saw what was happening and then he spun and was gone, vanished back into the room.

//This is not good. If he is right and Merquise is the key to all of this, then they have him on a silver platter. He's helpless against them. What do I do?//

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	130. Chapter 130 Chapter 129

Alternative Directions

Chapter 129

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 27 [approx Sanc time 23:17

Broadham

Bluff.

It was all he could do.

Until he knew without a shadow of a doubt who it was that he could trust and who it was who was the enemy, if indeed anyone in this situation was the enemy, he had to maintain order and control to keep his people alive.

// Perhaps this entire mess is all just one monumental misunderstanding?//

No, he had to be honest and a realist about the goings on of the day. Something was very wrong and to think that it was as simple as a misunderstanding was to court disaster. It was foolish to entertain wishful thinking and he was not such a fool that he would act on behalf of either party before he knew the score. His safest option lay in not letting these men suspect that he was suspicious of them being involved in the massacre. By not allowing them to know that Merquise was a patient in the centre he might gain himself some time.

So then, he must take all of their lives in his hands and play a dangerous game of bluff with those who might indeed be the infamous Blue Squad and if indeed they were Blue Squad, he had best begin to silently pray for the souls of his people and himself.

To gain control of this situation the first thing that needed to be done was for him to not look so anxious. Looking anxious would serve no purpose other than to allow these men to think that they could get away with intimidating him and his staff. Already the Commander was looming over a nurse, gesturing at the body on the gurney, menace emanating from him. It would not do to permit himself to baulk at that type of behaviour. Above all at this time he must contain his fear and be watchful, alert for any indications which would permit him to determine who had the right of the situation. He must gain control and thereafter remain in control if he hoped to get his people through this. It was, for the moment, the wisest course for him to take at least until he had the facts and could determine a better course.

Step one to gaining control of this, or any other stressful situation, was to project confidence and to demonstrate to all parties involved that he was a professional who expected to be treated accordingly. He had been an officer in the military these same men had served in and now he was a department head. They would instinctively respect that rank if he acted the part.

No running down the hallway like a spooked intern. Dignity, professionalism and the expectation of respect being given where it was due must dictate the terms of this meeting. Dignified, ye, but he was not intending to attempt to be emotionless or rabid about the situation. He had a right to be pissed at the events of the day and he had to get his displeasure across to them. He was not trying to emulate an automaton but project a concerned professional out to ensure his people were not used for target practice or doormats.

"What is going on here?"

Good. That drew the attention of everyone in the hallway to him, his staff and the two ESUN Agents and he took his time about closing the distance. Carefully measured even strides, confidence in that stride without having it become an overdone swagger. He was the Chief Surgeon for God's sake and he had his dignity to think of.

The Commander was straightening even more to a rather impressive height. There was no doubt that he was taller and broader in the shoulders, but Broadham had met his type before and refused to be cowered by those eyes that glared at him. Yes, he had met the type before and this man like those others was dangerous, but that alone did not place him on the wrong side of the equation.

//Maintain my dignity. It's all about appearances and while I can run like the devil is on my ass when I have to and dignity be damned, for this … I have to think and be Control to gain control. Looking like a whipped cur or a panicked ass will do nothing for the situation but make it harder for me to deal with them. Besides, if I have to act the bastard then I might as well get some enjoyment out of it. If I could stop my knees from shaking I'd enjoy it a whole lot more. //

His people were looking inordinately relieved to see him and he wondered what they thought he could possibly do to protect them if the Blue Squad Commander, on a whim, turned around and quite calmly shot him. It was not a scenario that was as outlandish as it might first appear. If Haydon Giles was correct about the events taking place then the Commander was intending to kill them all before his mission was complete and why should he wait any longer than he needed to? He would not appreciate a threat to his authority and a department head might be construed to be just such a threat, especially when said department head had military training.

// Yes, it is an event that is quite on the cards. // He reflected.

At least his staff had had sense enough to place the trolley baring the body between themselves and Blue Squad, not that it could realistically offer them any protection, but the Commander was still eyeing the blood smear on the wall and the draped body on the bed with a frown.

//Good. He's not yet ready to strike out and that gives me some time to get my thoughts together. Alright, he's obviously just entered the medical centre and he can not know yet exactly what is going on here. If he did with the weapons he is carrying he could have taken down all of them in seconds. That he has not points to the fact that he might not be as bad as Giles made him out to be. Still, I do know the reputation of Blue Squad and it is not very savoury. I am far from ready to decide who has the right of it. I do not even know this man's side of the story as yet. Somehow I need to get him to tell me what he is doing here. //

The nurses and orderlies were looking between himself and the ESUN representatives with uncertain glances and milling about like lost sheep, he decided and the best thing that he could do to defuse the current situation was to remove as many people as possible from the direct firing line should there be trouble. He needed to gain the attention of the agents and then keep it focused on him so that he could get his people safely out of harm's way.

"Have you people not already done enough? Get out of my Medical Centre and allow us to work. We are healers, not soldiers!"

The Commander turned a glare his way but he refused to buckle under the weight of that stare. He had outranked this man in the days of his military career and he had not forgotten what it was to front a soldier who forgot his place on the chain of command. He continued to stride down the hallway ignoring the glare and noting that his people seemed to be relaxing the closer he came to them.

"You are?"

He would not answer immediately and give the impression that he was inferior. One, two and a third stride before he decided it was time to answer that question which had come out as more of a grunt than actual words. Yes, the eyes as well as the voice said that this man considered himself to be standing a large number of rungs above everyone else in the social order. He needed to be handled carefully, especially if he was to garner much needed information out of him.

"My name is Charles Broadham and I am Senior Surgeon of the medical unit. I happen to be in charge here at this time. Now who are you?" Short, sharp toned and his refusal to cow tow to this man made plain by that very sharpness. He would become the control not be controlled.

"Commander Patrick Simpson, Task Force Commander, ESUN Security Agency. What happened here?"

The man's head inclined toward the body on the gurney even as his eyes once again swept over the blood smear on the wall. By invoking the name of the ESUN Security Agency he presumed to take charge of the interview, placing himself squarely in an official capacity and expecting to be treated as such. As Broadham had expected but there was a note of something in that voice that he read as not quite respect but certainly not as dismissing as had previously been noted.

//Better than I had expected. Admittedly not quite a name, rank and serial number scenario, but it was at least voiced with something similar to the respect it should have been for confronting someone with rank at least equal to his. That much is progress.//

He looked around at the hallway, taking his time, making it clear that he thought what had happened here should have been quite obvious.

"What happened here? Murder, Commander Simpson. That is what happened. Cold-blooded murder." He kept his face carefully neutral but spaced each of the last three words out just enough to emphasize them.

"Who died and when?"

There was a marked atmosphere of indifference, as though the man could not care in the least about the events that had led to this moment. Certainly there was no flicker in the eyes or expression on the man's face to offer a hint as to what his reaction might truly have been.

He could not be so cold, however and he saw no reason to pretend he was unmoved by the situation. He found himself glaring at the man, drawing himself up to stand taller in an attempt to present as large a figure as he could to the Commander. He might be of lesser stature physically but this was going to be a psychological game if he could manage it and there he thought he might outgun the Commander. He would not have tolerated such behaviour during his military days from his own men and he did not need to tolerate it now from this government agent who presumably was bound by oaths to serve the needs of the people.

//Cold bastard!// "Most of my bloody patients were butchered in their beds and considerable numbers of my staff along with them, that is who has died! With you bloody psychos running around what more can we expect? I suppose you have butchered more out there, in the dome? Do I even prep for casualties or do I just have to commandeer the meat freezer for an additional morgue?" // What do you make of that? I'll not cower from you and hopefully I did not just blow it. .//

"Is that the killer?" Piercing eyes flicked toward the body on the trolley.

There had been barely any hesitation in that reaction, and he seemed inclined to ignore the outburst for the moment. The man was curious, that much was certain and he was obviously not a hair trigger fuse at the present time. That was a bonus in that he did not have to fear the man would over react. There was obviously a reason why he had been chosen to become the Commander of such an elite and infamous squad. Perhaps the ESUN were keeping the squad under tighter control than the Alliance had.

"No. A victim. One of seven we have found to date in the centre. To be precise, in the first three rooms along this hallway."

He was surprised and not a little heartened to detect a hint of concern in the man's eyes at the quick glance at him before he looked again to the body. Those eyes had acquired a glint that suggested concern but other than that momentary flicker, noticeable only by one focusing intently upon him, the man remained impassive to the casual observer.

"You have two of my people in your care. Two women. They were sedated when last I was here."

// We do? That's news to me.// He allowed the frown, since it was a genuine reaction to the news and he did not want to come across too strong. He had to try not to alienate the man but gain his cooperation and try to learn who he could trust.

"That would be when?"

"A couple of hours ago. All seemed quiet enough when I was last here."

// Hmm. You've been down here before and you never killed anyone? Am I wrong? Has Haydon Giles spun me a line? Am I considering trusting the wrong people?//

This was not what he had expected. He did not know Giles. There were more than two thousand people at the Terra Formation base and while he was a department head he was primarily concerned with the medical centre and rarely left his work place. He was a surgeon and his patients tended to be brought to him on gurneys in no fit condition to be talkative. Before this day he could not actually remember meeting the man. It did not help him decide who had the right of the situation and what was best for everyone concerned.

"Two of your people? Do you know what rooms they were in? At this stage we have not checked all of the wards. We are doing the best that we can but I am missing staff."

"Down toward the far end of the medical centre."

The man now focused on him though he had no doubt that Simpson was well aware of everyone in his vicinity. He was a professional, one of the elite. If they lost concentration they tended to die quickly in his line of work.

"They were apparently sedated and the nurse I spoke to said that they would be regaining consciousness in around three to four hours."

He considered the man for a moment and then glanced at his people gathered in the hallway. They seemed to find the confrontation fascinating as they were watching avidly and at a lift of his eyebrow each hastily shook their heads in denial, disclaiming any knowledge of the incident Simpson spoke of.

"I'm sorry, Commander Simpson. We have not yet searched those wards, I believe. I have staff doing a room by room search to determine the casualty count, so if you would care to make your way to the nurses lounge …"

He slumped a little, recalling the blood stained condition of the room he had unthinkingly named and while blood would not disturb Simpson he was not inclined to remind himself of the incident there. He drew himself up once again and corrected himself, willing to allow the slip and project a human front. Murder was not war and it was no shame that such deaths disturbed him.

"No, on second thoughts that will not do. You cannot go there. We have not removed the corpses from the lounge as yet. My office, then, Commander Simpson, might be best. My staff will be thorough I assure you …"

The Commander scowled and slashed a hand impatiently to interrupt the man. "No doubt they will be thorough, Mr. Broadham, but I do not have time to waste on waiting for your people to get around to searching for my people. I have a great deal to do and I know where my people are. It will be faster if I go and check myself."

Simpson pushed past and Broadham found the man striding down the hallway with the self same confident stride he had effected in approaching the man in the first place. The Commander's companion slipped past and assumed position a step behind his Commander. Damn, he was going to lose ground here trying to regain control of a situation that all too suddenly turned around. Exactly what had happened to set him on the back foot? He was going to have to lose face to regain control and it would be harder to regain his former position for that very loss of face.

// Damn! Now I have to follow-try to regain control. He's good, no doubting that but I will wrest control from him. I outranked him and I had to deal with enough brass who outranked me and still managed to get what I wanted to know how to negotiate terms without backing down. I still know how to speak down to the rank and file, you snooty bastard and you are not going to best me. //

He quick stepped after the Commander but he was careful not to actually run or hurry his pace enough that it looked like he was desperately trying to catch up and indeed overtake the man. He had a certain dignity to maintain if he was going to register his superiority over either of these men and to succeed both his body language and his voice must be strong without being nervous or outright weak.

"Commander Simpson, I have had a long and exhausting day. I do not need my staff further intimidated or frightened than they already have been by the events of this day. It has been a more that stressful time for us and we all should be in bed. We are tired after hours of surgery and we now find ourselves with the need to perform a bloody clean up before anyone can even consider rest. If you are not going to assist us with the cleanup then should you not be out there hunting the killers who are stalking the base? You are ESUN Security, are you not?"

He had hoped to cause at least a pause in the man's stride but Simpson did not so much as hesitate, continuing down the hallway with his confident stride. He was uncertain what to make of the abrupt glance thrown over his shoulder, a short hard glare before the man looked ahead again.

"Yes, I am ESUN Security, Mr. Broadham, and I am well aware of my duties as such. You have not as yet explained to me the events taking place here and there is also the small matter of my mission here to be considered. I have my orders from my superiors and I intend to follow my instructions to the letter. Now at the moment my concern is for the two members of my squad whom I know to have been in the medical centre receiving treatment. Is it or is it not possible that they may have fallen victim to the Psycho, as you so quaintly term whoever it is who is stalking the base. Is it the base or just the medical centre that is his, her or its killing ground? Allow me to do my job, Mr Broadham, after all I do not instruct you in how to perform surgery, do I? No? Good."

He experienced a sudden chill running over his spine when he realized where the man was headed. The focus of the Commander had shifted from him to the door further down the hallway, the one door that he wanted to keep him clear of until he knew what was happening.

//He's angling for the room where I left Merquise and Giles. Shit. Do I allow him to just waltz in there? I … don't know enough to decide one way or the other who it would be best to trust. No, I don't know enough as yet and that means that I have to turn his attention from that room. How did he know? What did he see? Ah, shit. Giles did run out of the room. Did Simpson see and perhaps recognise him? Why should he know the man? Not important now. I need to get his attention. //

"Heaven forbid that I should tell an ESUN Security Agent how he should do his job."

He had hoped to get a reaction, if not from the wording then from the venom he injected into the comment and it worked, perhaps too well. Simpson paused and he inclined his head instead of turning around, his piercing gaze focusing on the surgeon for a long moment. He could see the interest and then the dismissal in those eyes before the Commander started walking again.

"We have already searched these few rooms, Commander Simpson and I can assure you that none of them contained female patients. Nor were they occupied at the time of the … incident. What are you doing? There are rooms all along this hallway and … No, never mind." //I have to be careful not to make you think I don't want you going into any of these rooms. That would only lead to a confrontation before I am ready to decide who to back.//

He had to exercise extreme care here. He did not want the confrontation he already knew must come between these two men and the two who were in that room just a little further down the hall. Another half dozen strides and Simpson would be at the door. How to gain his attention without giving away his fear of what might happen if that door was opened? Merquise was his patient and he had a duty to protect his patient even if he did not understand exactly what it was he was protecting him from.

"I do not profess to understand how your mind works, but surely we have no need to go back over ground that has already been covered? If your team members were in any of the rooms along this hallway then I assure you that they are not now. Just as I can assure you that if they should have been within the two rooms down the hallway on your left that you just passed without examining … Well, if they were in any of them they would certainly be dead, but I know that there were no women in those rooms. Just male patients."

He managed to slip past the Commander and turned a glare on him that did cause Simpson to pause. Good. He had not lost all of the impact of that stare then. It had been years since he had had to work this hard to intimidate someone.

"Dead male patients. Cold-bloodedly executed in their beds. What the fuck is going on in my Medical Centre, Commander?"

He had heard of pregnant pauses before but this one took his breath and he tried to remain stone faced. A little temper was okay to display, he was the head of the medical staff at this time and some unknown body had slaughtered both his staff and his patients. Of course he had the right to be a little emotional and he was only too aware of the intensity of that gaze centred on him. Simpson stared long and hard at him and then those eyes lifted from him and to the door.

Fingers closed around the doorknob and the bastard shot a quick look at him and Broadham was afraid he had either paled or blushed a bright crimson. He should not have reacted! Before he could stop himself he had reached out to the Commander intending to grasp the man's arm to stop him from opening that door, but it was an action never completed. The second man stepped brusquely in front of him, his body a shield for his Commander and he could not help but see Simpson's lips twitch in what was undoubtedly a smothered smirk at the small gasp that escaped him. The Commander flicked his gaze over him in what was unmistakably a dismissive look before he again looked to the door .

//What the hell do I do now? It's a sure thing that this man is in better condition than me and better trained than I am. To try something physical would be sheerest idiocy. // He could not help the quick glance at the door; the worry that whichever choice he made it was going to be the wrong one. He had to concentrate on Simpson and turning his attention …

He was saved from having to make an immediate decision on possibly drastic action by the sound of running feet and Simpson's head snapping up, eyes narrowed as he sought out the source of the disturbance. He felt that his blood froze in his veins as one of the Commander's hands flew to his automatic as he scowled and Broadham turned his head quickly, afraid of what catastrophe might yet be set into motion. An orderly was running around the curve in the hallway and Simpson had one hand on the door knob and the other had his weapon half out of the holster.

//God no! Control! Must regain control before someone is killed.//

"Sir! Mr. Broadham, Sir! We have found two more! Two more bodies. In the supply room... Two men in combat fatigues … We think … Sir?" The orderly finally seemed to become aware of the tension and the threat emanating from the men gathered near the door to the treatment room. "I … Is something wrong?" He sounded his uncertainty. His fear. "I thought it was all over."

//He'll kill him! Shit, shit, shit. What do I do?//

He seemed unable to move or even speak as the ESUN Commander slowly and thoroughly looked the orderly up and down. It was an assessment of the threat level the newcomer might present and it gave him hope that Simpson was not one to shoot first and ask questions later. There was a danger that if he spoke or moved and startled Simpson then he could actually cause the man to shoot.

Even as he gathered his own wits about him he was august to see the orderly cringe and began to edge backwards, away from the armed man. Broadham tensed actually considering for all of a single second the results of flinging himself at Simpson in an attempt to save the fool from his own stupidity. Did the idiot have no survival instinct? He should have frozen, remained still and allowed the situation to cool or trust in his superior to act on his behalf, but no, the fool actually had to back off and tempt fate and the agent's control. Dare he react, reach out to stay Simpson or would that make it worse?

After a moment in which he was certain he could hear dust settle on the floor the pressure on the trigger eased off slowly and the surgeon dared to breathe again.

"Where?" Simpson turned from the door and focused his attention on the orderly, his voice a low growl and his hard gaze demanding that he be answered immediately. "Where are they?"

To Broadham it was a blessed relief that Simpson gave every appearance of having forgotten that he had been interested in what lay beyond the door only seconds ago. His gun was still raised and clear of the holster and he still had a finger hooked around the trigger and his growl served to further unnerve the orderly who scurried backwards, further straining the Commanders self control.

// The fool is going to get himself and probably everyone else shot//

He had no choice, Broadham knew. He was going to have to take immediate action and hope that Simpson would not use the orderly or his attempt to smooth things over as an excuse to shoot him. He was treading on thin ice by being the Head of the Centre and daring to question the authority of the ESUN Agents, but he saw no other choice. With a deep breath he tried shouldering past the body of the agent blocking him from interfering with the Commander only to discover that he might as well have tried walking through a brick wall. Regardless, he had to turn Simpson's attention from the man who was one tiny step off bolting and earning a bullet in the back.

"Excuse me, Commander Simpson. I will thank you to kindly refrain from intimidating my people. We are doing the best that we can in rather difficult circumstances and we do not need you waving that infernal thing around. I was under the impression that you were searching for information on two women, not on two men? It would help if you could make up your mind on the sex of your people."

He carefully schooled his voice between anger at the opening words and finished up on open sarcasm. He was not going to cringe and simper like a simpleton or a frightened rabbit and he had to have faith in the training the Alliance would have given Simpson. An officer had to have control and if he was wrong then he was about to die very publicly and the blood bath would begin. He knew that he should have restrained the sarcasm in the last part of his tirade, but the truth was that Simpson was really beginning to get on his nerves with his superior attitude. Whether the man was guilty of mass murder, as was suggested, or not the fact was that he did not have a likeable disposition. To the count of five he discovered he was still alive and that those intense eyes were now trained on him. As disagreeable as the man was at least he did not seem to be trigger happy.

"I have been missing two male agents for some hours. This could be them."

//If looks could kill I'd be on the ground now imitating a Dodo. Shit. I am still alive. //

Taking a deep breath to steady his frayed nerves he shot a glare at the mountain of muscle in front of him, forcing to the front of his memory his very best officer's glare. With the look delivered he eased himself past the man and took care to angle his body away from Simpson without seeming too obvious about it.

He caught the techs eye and the agent made no move to restrain him, but he did catch a look he recalled only too well from his days in the military. This man who bore the technicians insignia on his sleeve was a career soldier, dedicated for life to a military existence. It was a realisation that proved vital in determining how to deal with these men. Provided he acted the part of his past rank he could expect no trouble from this technician who had spent his adult life observing the military ranking system. Provided he offered no overt action that could be considered to be a threat to Simpson, or the tech, then no further interference by the man would be forthcoming. With that realisation he offered a small nod of understanding to the man and he stepped past Simpson, reaching to draw his orderly away from the gun still trained on him.

"Mark, take a couple of deep breaths and calm yourself. What do you know about these two men?"

He resisted the urge to smirk as he drew about him everything that he could remember about dealing with subordinate ranks and firmed his resolve. He would gain control of the situation and he would gain that control here and now.

"Really, Commander Simpson, there is no need to threaten my staff. I believe that there has been more than enough death already this day. Kindly put the gun away."

He put every ounce of arrogance and the expectation of obedience in those few words that he could dredge up from deep within him. He drew on all of the years he had been an officer and not a little of the arrogance of a first class specialist surgeon and for all of that experience he was not surprised when Simpson ignored him. He must have lost his touch over the years, but though he did not have Simpson snapping to attention before him he did have the man lower the weapon a little, though it did not do so quickly.

When he glanced up to glare at the man there was a look in those piercing eyes that clearly said he had been tagged and marked. Without words retribution was promised and without words he acknowledged that challenge. What was important was that Simpson's gun slid into the holster and then those fierce eyes, a predator's eyes, flicked to the orderly.

//Alright, we clearly understand each other and we both know that I am walking a tight rope. So be it. You are going to have a go at me with the intention of taking me down but not now. For now you need my cooperation and the cooperation of my people. You are not the first enemy that I have made, Commander Simpson and if I survive this day you will not be the last. I recognise you. Not who you are, but I recognise your type. You are a killer and we both know it. I think that I am inclining toward believing Haydon Giles story. If I have anything to say about it you will not be learning that Zechs Merquise is in that room. //

"Mark? What do you know of these two men?"

The orderly was eyeing the ESUN Commander with the look a mouse reserved for the snake that was about to eat it whole and he even backed a step until he noted the warning in Broadham's eye and froze. He gestured vaguely behind him with a tilt of his head to emphasise the general direction.

"I did not recognise them and they are dressed the same as …" His hand waved at the combat fatigues worn by the two Agents before snapping it back to his side, as though he expected Simpson to break it. "We found them in the storage and maintenance room just two doors down from the nurse lounge, Sir. I left the nurse looking them over and Potter remained with him as a guard."

"Good enough." Broadham thought he detected a subtle movement from Simpson, as though the man had forced himself to remain standing there. "Considering the events of the day I gave instructions that none of my people should be left alone until we are certain there is no further danger, Commander. Shall we go and identify these men as belonging to your security force or not?"

Simpson actually growled; a low, guttural and extremely dangerous sound that set the orderly to shaking in his boots and Broadham had to glare him into immobility. He wanted no additional strain on the Commander's self control at this time.

//If I can get them away from that door then Giles should have a chance to spirit Merquise out of the medical centre. I'll need to buy him as much time as possible. Merquise is in no condition to be able to just leap up and walk away. I wonder what is bothering Simpson? He's fairly straining at the bit. //

"They are dead? How did they die?"

"Dead? No, Sir. No. The … the two men in the closet are alive. I remained long enough for the nurse to check that they were alive and determine what I needed to bring before I came for the gurneys and a doctor." He flinched back from the hard glare that focused on him. "While I am not certain just what their condition is, I can assure you I saw no blood and I know that they were breathing. Sir."

Assurance given that the man need not kill the messenger he side stepped quickly and carefully to place Broadham between himself and the Commander.

//Well, thanks for nothing, Mark! As if I wanted to be in your place. I'm in enough trouble with the man without you hiding behind me. Can't say that I blame you though. You've never had to face a situation like this before.//

"Alive?"

//I might just be able to use this to gain some small advantage in our game. // He could not deny that there was honest surprise in that single word and that it might afford him an opening in dealing with the agent.

"You sound surprised, Commander, though I admit that after the events of the day I can not say that I blame you for being surprised. To be honest I am not only pleasantly surprised, but also relieved and certainly pleased, by this discovery. I did tell you that I was hopeful of finding survivors. These are merely the first then."

He tried his best to project over weaning confidence into that and only wished that it was true. From what Giles had told him they were likely to find few survivors in the enviro dome and why should the medical centre be any different?

"Merquise was …"

The man's mouth snapped shut before he could continue and Broadham considered the Commander from the corner of his eye. Broadham could see him evaluating the chances of having been overheard and the implications of what the comment might give away to anyone who suspected foul play.

//Aahh. You have no idea how much we know of what is going on in the dome. That we have given no signs of undue alarm at your presence here is misleading you to believe that we know nothing of what is going on. Yes, I think I am inclined to believe Giles that this entire mess has to do with Merquise and politicians back on Earth. So, Commander Simpson, just what will your next move be?//

He noted the faint movement made by Simpson to his back up. That faint but distinctive flick of a finger inclined toward the door he had hoped Simpson had lost interest in and resisted the urge to curse. It appeared that Simpson had a longer attention span and that there was nothing wrong with his short term memory. Giles might not be able to get Merquise out of the medical centre after all, but for now there was nothing he could do. The best direction lay in biding his time and in give Giles if not Merquise every opportunity to salvage something from this mess, if at all possible. Simpson simply was not going to be distracted from whatever it was that had alerted him to something being important about the room beyond the door.

//Let's not allow everything to go your way. How will you react to a little prod// "Merquise?"

"Are you coming, Broadham?" Simpson was suddenly moving, reaching forward to grasp the orderly by the shoulder and propel him down the hallway.

//Bastard! Don't manhandle my men, Simpson. If you keep pissing me off you might find that I still have teeth and that I still know how to bite!//

He glared at the back of the agent who was propelling his orderly down the hallway and was quick to follow, ignoring the guard who was now stationed at that door. When the orderly seemed on the verge of panic and looked to him as though he was some safety line he waved him down the hallway and lengthened his stride to make up ground on Simpson.

//I don't feel like being ignored you asshole. If I'm going to die anyway I can at least see if you can squirm. // "What has Mr. Merquise to do with this matter, Commander Simpson? Surely you do not suspect that he has had anything to do with this? I can assure you that it was not Merquise running around the medical centre indiscriminately killing off my patients and staff."

The ESUN Commander actually stiffened at that and he resisted the urge to crow. While he had scored some type of hit he was unsure as to just what it was he had said that drew that very visible reaction. He needed to be careful and actively antagonising the man was dangerous.

"No? You saw the killer then? You can positively identify him as not being Merquise?"

// Not bad. No antagonism and not even much in the way of curiosity in the question. Maybe just a hint of impatience? I don't know. Something there …//

The orderly drew a little ahead of them and he was thankful that Simpson seemed not to notice, or simply did not care that what might have amounted to a hostage was getting away from him.

"That hair is unmistakable and we have found no evidence to suggest that the man has been running around like a lunatic killing off his friends. I have a witness who saw the killer, yes, and it was not Merquise. The man has been a model citizen since arriving on Mars and I cannot say that I have ever heard a complaint against him."

He was curious as to how Simpson might explain his interest in Merquise and not give any hints to his actual reason for being on Mars. There were all too many reasonable explanations unfortunately and at this stage of the game he could not say with any certainty that Simpson was one of the bad guys. Much as he disliked the man he had to be honest and say that the physical evidence suggested that Simpson might yet prove to be a good guy. A good guy having a very bad day.

"That may be, but I need to investigate the incident before I can determine the fault, or innocence, of Merquise or any other man who might have been involved. The facts are that your people have been killed and that someone is responsible and that as the ESUN agent on the spot it is my responsibility to find answers and offer protection. To all of you. You should not forget that Merquise is the person with the highest profile on Mars at this time and it is possible that he could be valuable to people with the right connections. Until I know for certain what exactly is going on it is my duty to secure him and his family and place them in protective custody."

// Hmm. Entirely reasonable given the circumstances. Yes, very well reasoned. //

He walked beside the man, careful to maintain distance and speed and allow the orderly to get a little further ahead. He did not want the young man to become involved in this discussion. He needed to sound Simpson out thoroughly and discount his dislike for the man from his decision.

"You have cause to believe that there is a threat to him specifically? You are so certain that these people are after him? Could it not be something unrelated to the Prince of Sanc?"

Simpson came to an abrupt halt and Broadham stopped, only one step past the Commander who was watching him with narrowed eyes. Clearly the topic of Zechs Merquise was a touchy subject and one Simpson was about to leave him in no doubt as to just how undesirable a topic it was.

"Prince of Sanc? There is no Prince of Sanc, Mr. Broadham. Milliardo Peacecraft is dead. Milliardo Peacecraft died when a segment of the Libra space fortress exploded above the Earth more than three years ago. If he should by some miracle be proven to be alive, do you have any idea of the repercussions that could shake the Earth Sphere? It would not be pretty."

He scowled, eyeing the man with no little exasperation. Simpson repeatedly threw him for a loop. Was this man an enemy or a friend? It seemed that he was not destined to get a clear indication of his status. Every avenue merely presented equal arguments.

// No, I have no doubt that it would not be pretty if it was known that the man was alive. Media hype. There are a lot of people out there who would have reason not to have questions asked and documentation examined. They would do everything they could to remove the danger his survival represented to them. I have to wonder exactly what it is that he knows that you don't want to come to light. I'm not a complete idiot, you know, though you do not seem to credit me with half the sense I am giving to you. Make a mistake, Simpson. Just give me a clear indication of what it is you are here for. //

He was thankful that the orderly now was out of earshot but they were almost at the maintenance room and he did not want any of his people there to hear what might amount to a death sentence. If Simpson was a part of this plot Giles was adamant existed then they all were marked, but if he was not he did not want his people to hear what would certainly amount to a death mark on their lives. He already knew that there would be an accounting between himself and Simpson.

"So … If Milliardo Peacecraft is dead … If he died in the explosion in AC 195, just who is it who has been living on Mars all this time?"

Under the intense scrutiny of those eyes he had the distinct feeling that he was about to learn exactly how little the life of Milliardo Peacecraft was worth to this man and he did not like it one bit. What was even more frightening was the thought that he just might learn how little his people's lives were worth when measured up to the life of the Prince of Sanc and whatever use some nameless body on Earth or in the colonies had for him. If Merquise's life was worth nothing then their lives were worth less than nothing. It was a frightening thought.

"You have had the pleasure of the company of Zechs Merquise, an ex Oz Specials Officer who was formerly presumed to be dead. Erroneously. Zechs Merquise has been living on Mars as part of the Terra Formation Project and he is under house arrest for outstanding charges pertaining to activities performed during the War." Emphasis had been placed on that name, a subtle emphasis but it had been there and he knew he had been meant to detect it. "As a part of the conditional pardon all players in the war have been granted by the ESUN government, Mr. Merquise is free to move around Mars but not to leave the planet without the express consent of the ESUN Council. That is who you have had on Mars, Mr Broadham. That is all that you need to know at this time and that is all that you will tell your people should anyone of them ask. Is that understood?"

He needed time to think, to evaluate what he had learned and determine what his exact course of action should be for the best results for all. For the moment it might be best if he gave the impression that he had been silenced. Spooked even. He had a fair idea now of just who it might be who was pulling the strings on Mars at this time. Zechs Merquise had been stipulated in this little by play with Simpson and Zechs Merquise was an Oz elite. It had implications for the identities of those who played power games back on Earth.

Milliardo Peacecraft was a name one did not take lightly in the halls of power and the entire government no doubt would not wish to deal with the implications of the return of that particular man. Zechs Merquise, however, was another story entirely. The Oz Officer had been known to be an honourable man and certainly had had no war crimes listed against him during his career under that identity. He did, in fact, have a record of bravery under fire and an exemplary military record that had been a matter of public scrutiny. Under either identity the man was marked as valuable to those who had the daring and sheer balls to attempt to manipulate him and against that value people like surgeons and orderlies had no value whatsoever.

He now knew exactly where they stood.

Simpson nodded slightly, a small motion that signalled he believed their conversation was done for now and he moved off and after a moment Broadham followed, still digesting the unsettling knowledge of the scope of the game being played on Earth. Was there anything he could realistically do to keep his people safe? Against this level of power game he was a rank amateur and he would have no chance of affecting the outcome on his own. It was looking like Merquise and Haydon Giles were becoming his only hope of getting out of this mess.

They had come around the bend in the hallway and he could see a small cluster of his people stationed at the door of the maintenance room. The hallway behind him was half hidden now, but he knew that his people there had returned to their grizzly work once again and were cleaning up after the killing spree. He only hoped none of them entertained any bright ideas of trying to help Giles get Merquise out of the treatment room and past that agent. If he hoped to gain advantage out of this situation he was going to need to keep a very detailed awareness of everybody's location.

He motioned his people to move out of the way and followed Simpson through the door, glancing quickly around the maintenance room to get the lie of the land. He heard the ESUN agent grunt softly, a singularly satisfied sound and found himself resisting the urge to bare his teeth in a snarl.

// Not as yet. Not now. // He needed to bide his time and exercise all patience. He was damned if he was going to let those bastards back on Earth consign them all to a cold grave on a distant world.

There were two men dressed in combat fatigues stretched out on the floor. The jackets and shirts of both were opened revealing heavily muscled chests, a certain sign that their vital statistics were being taken by the male nurse who, at his signal quietly and quickly left the room. He considered the two men and Simpson who was now kneeling beside the first of the men and reaching for his throat to check for a pulse and half turned to the nurse, intending to receive his report.

It was like a rerun of a sit com. A bad dream. He had not even managed to ask for the report before the scream, abruptly stifled, echoed once again in the hallway.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	131. Chapter 131 Chapter 130

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 130

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 38 [approx Sanc time 23:29

Broadham

The scream galvanised them into action.

He spared enough attention from getting his body to move as quickly as possible to motion for the male nurse to care for the two men on the floor and then fled after Simpson who already was out of the room and sprinting down the hall.

The two orderlies were running after the ESUN agent and he resisted the urge to curse as a precious waste of wind he was going to need and settled for wishing that one of them had had the presence of mind to remain as back up for the nurse. Just as soon as he could catch up with one of those unthinking idiots he would send him back. He would not have his people alone and prey for the sick hunters stalking the base.

Either he was getting too old for this or he needed to spend more time in the gym, he decided. In his Alliance days he would have thought nothing about a sprint of a few hundred yards but he was panting as he rounded the curve in the hallway on the heels of one of the orderlies. He had intended to reef the man around and send him back to cover the nurse, but his attention was caught by the group of men making exaggerated hushing motions at a nurse who was backed up against one wall and looking decidedly shame faced.

Halfway down the hallway, exactly where they had left him, the second ESUN agent stood near the door to the treatment room, smirking and shaking his head slightly. The man was obviously not alarmed in the least by whatever had gone on in their absence and actually seemed amused.

"Frazier, what the hell is going on?" Simpson's bellow turned all heads toward him.

The ESUN Commander had come to a halt as he shifted his glare from his subordinate to the cluster of men bunching up at the door. Those men who now were shifting their attention from attempting to calm the nurse to staring wide eyed at the agents watching them and in particular at Simpson who looked ready to kill.

He noted the faces of the men in that cluster and had no difficulty in placing names to them quickly, recognising Mighty Joe Lee and Preston Kurtz and a few other familiar faces in the front row which confirmed for him that this was the Emergency Response team. He even entertained a fleeting thought that they might just be of use to him.

If he could get to them might they not be an aid in removing the threat he now knew Simpson to be? If he could manage to get even a few minutes of uninterrupted time alone with them and talk to them away from the Commander and his subordinate, then he might be able to make some plans that would resolve this situation. He knew now just how dangerous Simpson and his crony were and he had to take whatever opportunities might be presented to him to remove the agents from the picture. Merquise and Giles were out of the picture at this time and he needed help if he was going to have a hope of effecting some sort of plan against these men.

Kurtz moved, a half step forward and the men around him shuffled themselves into some type of order and he noted Simpson's head snap around from where he was glaring at his subordinate. His eyes widened and he managed to keep the gasp of recognition down to a sub vocal level so as not to betray his reaction to Simpson. Just for the barest instant there he had caught a glimpse of someone in that group he certainly had not expected to see. His gaze flicked back to Simpson who was again looking to Frazier as he awaited an explanation.

"Nothing much, Sir. Just a minor incident. The nurse was frightened when the door opened unexpectedly." Frazier was clearly amused, no alarm at all in his voice as he glanced back at the group gathered around the door and then back to his Commander. "Misunderstanding, Sir."

He forced panic down, determined to make the most of the situation. Perhaps things were not quiet so bad as he had assumed. He needed both time and opportunity to make the best of this unexpected blessing. Well, he hoped it would prove to be a blessing and not the advent of the entire massacre waiting to happen.

// I need to get involved with this before Simpson has the time to recognise faces. He surely would have taken action if he had noticed.//

He stepped around the two orderlies and placed himself far closer to Simpson than he really wanted to be, but circumstances demanded he draw the man's attention away from that clustered group. He chose to not even glance at Simpson as he did so, turning his attention to the orderlies standing to one side and glared at the first of the two men.

He really was not overly pleased with either of them for not thinking about their previous orders. If anything happened to his male nurse while they were gawking here he would strip the skin from their backs. The thought startled him, for it was proof of the rise of the formerly buried Alliance Officer he had been.

"Pickford, get your ass back to the maintenance room and guard your partner. You operate in pairs, remember? Move. I'll be along shortly to supervise the removal of the casualties into a ward for treatment. Mark. Make yourself useful by finding a double ward that can take Commander Simpson's men, but find a partner to accompany you first. Do not go off alone. Understood?"

He was all too aware of the weight of Simpson's glare now being focused on him as the orderlies nodded their understanding, one taking off back toward the maintenance room and the other hurrying to the nearest room where other centre workers were standing and gaping at this newest round of excitement. He was not disturbed by the advent of that glare, as it was exactly what he had needed. Simpson had to focus on him and miss that one all too familiar face in the crowd by the door. If he did not hold the Commander's attention before they could sort out a means to disguise who it was who was in the ER team and did not belong there, then this hallway could become a blood bath once again.

He was a section head of the Base Dome and a part of the overall operational planning group of the base. That prominent position granted him certain knowledge that Simon Barker, also known as Preventer Agent Eagle, was supposed to be in the Alpha Dome this day.

Haydon Giles had told him that the Base Dome was sealed which should have meant that Barker was out of the equation, unable to help them. Something had changed. The roll of capable players had undergone revision and until he could get to talk to the Preventer Commander he was going to have to continue to hold Simpson's attention and hope that they could work out something to arrange a safe meeting and exchange of information.

He noted the quick shuffle of movement in the group and how Barker and one other man he did not know by sight were shunted into the centre of the group and the height of both men reduced, no doubt by some judiciously bent knees. Barker was now effectively hidden so long as they remained like that, but such was not going to be possible for long.

He was a civilian now but more of the military man remained within him than he had thought. Enough to evaluate the situation and act on the primary need, which was to give Barker sufficient time to hide himself within the group and to suspect that there were two others wanting to remain unnoticed. Both faces were unknown to him but the ER team seemed quick to cover for them.

//Shit that is a vulnerable position. A tight cluster, perfect target practice to take down as many as possible in as short a time as possible. Not my idea of a good position, but it does provide Barker with cover and it does scream that these men are amateurs, not military. That should calm Simpson down a little I hope.//

He could hope but he could not rely on Simpson thinking along the same lines and being suspicious. If Simpson had any possible suspicion about those men he would act first and ask questions later and to stop that action he was going to have to take the initiative.

"Commander Simpson, I think we can safely assume that there is not a problem here and I have to thank you for your quick response to what might have amounted to another instance of massacre. It is a relief on my part to know that you are so quick to respond to an alert." // A little bit of flattery might get me somewhere.// "I know these men. They are our Emergency Response Unit who have been … where?"

He looked to Preston Kurtz in particular for an explanation as to their presence as the man stood to the fore of the group and was the head of the unit. No doubt he would be the spokesman and while eyes were focused on him they would not be checking faces in the crowd.

It had been his hope to keep Simpson away from the new arrivals, but the accursed man was once again striding down the hallway as though he owned the base with the clear intention of more thoroughly investigating the alert. Broadham followed doggedly on the man's heels while struggling to come up with a method of slowing him down or stopping him altogether before he was close enough to recognise that something was off about the group. If Simpson chanced to get a good look at the Preventer and recognised him then it could lead to an altercation that would likely become bloody and leave more of his team lying in pools of their own blood.

Now in particular, when he might be able to rely on expert assistance he had no intention of permitting it to come to massacre. So far what remained of his staff and his patients were safe and he wanted to keep it that way.

Barker was here and it was obvious by his actions to date that the Preventer did not wish to be recognised at this time and that being the case he would do what he could to cover for him and hope that the man was going to be worth the effort. It gave him hope that he was not alone in managing the situation and somehow, despite Simpson being a bull headed bastard and Frazier refusing to move from that damnable door, he would manage to get the man alone long enough for an exchange of information.

// Just stop before you get any closer you bastard. Stop and give me the chance to learn what Barker knows of the situation and compare it to what Giles has told me. I already know Simpson's side of things and I trust him about as far as my pinky could push him. If we can get together and share our information we can better plan what action must be taken to end this farce.//

Though it was the last thing he wanted to do it might come down to physically challenging the members of Blue Squad. Not a happy thought. Both men would be in peak physical condition and highly trained in hand to hand combat as well as guerilla activity. Whatever they did he had until the remaining members of the squad were once more active. It all had to be settled before those men were active and he must not forget the women Simpson originally said he was here to check on.

// He obviously wants to go unnoticed by Simpson and Frazier and that indicates that there is more than just a hint of truth in what I have been told by Giles. It goes a long way to confirming my suspicions about the entire mess. They should lock up all politicians in a dark room, give them an oozie each and leave the bastards to it. No. Stupid. They would just talk each other to death. Less blood on their individual hands. God. I'm such a cynic. Wait up you bastard!//

To his immense relief Simpson stopped abreast of his cohort and contented himself with merely glaring down the length of the hallway, one hand hovering menacingly over his side arm. Broadham started, his skin crawling and tried to cover the movement as he came abreast of the pair. He had not noticed the weapon beyond registering that the man was armed but now that he really took the time to notice he realised how unusual the weapon looked. While he had not actually seen the type of weapon Simpson was carrying he had heard it described and a cold chill worked a circuit down his spine.

Haydon Giles had very accurately described the weapon to him. It looked like something out of an old fashioned kids Sci Fi magazine from pre colony days, that he had taken great delight in examining in museums back on Earth. A cold and jarring design that seemed to emanate threat by its very existence.

//Oh shit. That's … //

The last thing that he wanted was for that horror weapon to be used.

"Sorry for all the fuss, Mr Broadham. We were attending to the fire in the elevator shaft and are now doing a survey of the base for additional damage and to assess the structural threat level… And any other threats?" Kurtz stepped away from the group, casual enough but still looking tense and it was obvious he was examining the blood stained wall. "We never exactly expected such a reaction. Never meant to startle Shelly."

The woman in question waved a hand slightly, brushing aside the apology and blushing furiously at all the eyes that turned to her. Broadham took the opportunity to brush past Simpson but halted a mere two steps from him. He needed to keep close in case of trouble and while he did not expect the man to take him down it was a risk that he took, but it placed himself between the exposed and vulnerable team and that horror weapon.

No, he did not expect Simpson to take him down at this time. Not here and not now. Not yet at least. They were going to have an accounting between them, they both knew that but for now the agent needed medical assistance for his men and until that was accomplished he was sure that he were safe. From this threat at least.

"I take it there has been a problem, Mr Broadham." Not a question but a statement of fact.

"We have had problems, yes, but for the moment we seem safe enough. If I could trouble you to have your team assist with the search and body count it would free up more of my staff to help clean up the rooms and prepare for any casualties we may find."

Kurtz and the group were quick to step forward as one united mass of humanity, so tightly bunched together that it was impossible to tell who was in the centre of the group. All of the faces that he could see wore identical expressions, a mix of anger and concern.

"What happened in here?" Kurtz queried.

"While my team and I were engaged in surgery someone appears to have gone on a killing rampage. We have at least five confirmed dead, though I do not doubt that that number will rise as we progressively search the floor." It would appear rather odd if he did not at least enquire as to the current state of emergency since they all new the alert had not been lifted. "Have you any word from the dome? Any word from the control centre on the emergency status?"

"No, nothing has been heard from the control tower for hours. Now that we have cleaned up after the explosion in the elevator shaft I was concerned with checking for additional damage. I'll leave a few of my team here to assist and send the rest up into the dome to investigate."

"The dome is secure enough for now and I would concentrate my efforts down here if I was you." Simpson interjected. "All indications are that there may have been an infiltration team sent in by Raiders amid your personnel. I will need an accurate headcount of all persons in the sub base be performed and a list of everyone in the base who has some military experience. Those who have had armed forces experience will gather in the mess hall in an hour for a briefing."

//You asshole. You fucking bloody bastard! You were quick to come up with that solution. So what is it that you intend to do? Get those of us with experience in combat out of your hair in one fell swoop? Yes. That would be it. Separate the possible wolves from the sheep and kill us quietly, leaving the rest to be hunted down when you have the time. //

Broadham resisted the urge with difficulty to round on the man and accuse him. It was so hard not to flare with anger knowing what he did and keep the situation under some type of control. Barker was here, just down the hallway and he had to maintain control and trust for the moment. The Preventer was no fool and he would see the implications.

"Mr Broadham, I need a couple of gurneys down here!"

He glanced over his shoulder, startled by Simpson's bellow in time to see the ESUN Commander striding back down the hallway toward the maintenance room and while he did not like being screamed at by the bastard he could barely contain the smirk. He would let the man think that he had won this round, as moving his men would nicely distract the man away from the new arrivals he had just so brusquely ordered around. If they had trusted him they would have trundled off like good little boys to get themselves slaughtered, but Barker was going to be working on the problem and he could bide his time.

At least Simpson and his arrogance had given him the distraction he needed so desperately. The man would expect his instructions to be carried out and while they were attending to the matter of settling his men into the medical centre for treatment Simpson was nicely distracted from entering that examination room.

Efficient as he no doubt was Simpson was only human and could not be everywhere at once. It was unfortunate that Frazier did not follow him as he strode down the hallway, but that they would need to deal with later. While it was true that Giles and Merquise were trapped in that room, there being no other exit, they were also safe from harm from these so called Sleeper Agents who were roaming the base. Frazier gave no indication of being inclined to move from the door which suited him for the moment though it would give Barker a bit of a problem getting past him. For now, his primary concern was to keep an eye on Simpson.

"Help the staff with the bodies for now, Preston before you see to drawing up that list. We need to get this place cleaned up and ready to receive casualties. We can discuss steps to be taken later. Shelly! Stop shaking, woman, and grab two orderlies and a couple of gurneys and follow me. All of you leave the bodies to the response team and start cleaning those rooms."

He strode past Frazier who watched with a slight grin, making no comment that he had basically countermanded Simpson's instructions. The technician nodded briefly to him and continued to stand in the hallway guarding a door that might, or not, need guarding. His eyes moved constantly, alert but for now quiet and content to watch the activity taking place around him. Broadham returned the nod and strode after Simpson, hoping that Barker could get past the tech or take him down without too much fuss.

He could barely contain himself from skipping down the hallway like an overly enthusiastic child. They had back up. Barker was in that cluster of men and the very appearance of the Emergency Response Unit had to give Simpson pause. The man could never be accused of being a fool after the initiative he had thus far displayed and he must know that the more people there were around to witness events taking place the more chance there was for the truth to be discovered. That would obviously not be to his best interests, so he could expect Simpson to walk a careful line in the near future.

At some point in time Simpson was going to make a tactical decision and take action against them, most probably about the time he discovered that Merquise was so close and practically helpless. Before that happened he was going to have managed contact with Barker and exchanged information and hopefully plans to end the situation. End it? No, nothing that simple if his suspicions were to be confirmed. It might be possible for a joint effort to take out Simpson and Frazier quietly but that, while progress with the over all situation, would not solve the problem of the maniacs running around killing his people.

How many of what Giles had termed Sleepers were they dealing with?

It was the hidden dangers that they had to fear the most. The greatest danger to face them once they took out Simpson and Frazier would be the death that smiled at them with the face of a friend. How did you tell friend from foe? Simpson and his men were easily enough discerned to be the enemy, but the Sleeper agents? That was entirely another matter. A serious threat to the security of them all and short of sedating everyone but himself-he knew he could trust himself after all-how did he tell if he could trust any of the others? Even Barker might in truth be a Sleeper.

//Oh, enough of that. Paranoia central. Fact, you idiot. Concentrate on facts. Don't speculate.//

He grunted softly as he noted Simpson towering over his people at the door to the maintenance room while they were trying to work on the injured men. By his looming presence he was actually distracting them and they were not going to be exactly as efficient as they could be. The man was a menace and was even going to delay the treatment of his people by his very presence.

//Fool. Just how efficient can they be with him blocking the doorway and looming like a hulking great grizzly waiting for the kill. It's true that while he is here he is safely away from Merquise and that means we have time, but I have to do something about this. Those men need to be properly checked over and he is hampering efforts to do just that. // He studied the situation as he approached, determining what arguments would be most likely to move the man. // If I can keep the man occupied then Barker or Giles may even come up with a way to spirit his prey out of harm's way. Not that Barker knows that Merquise is in the treatment room. I hope one of the staff who knows about Merquise will think to tell him.//

"Well?" He stepped around the Commander, interposing himself between the agent and his staff and loomed over his male nurse himself, only too aware of the ESUN agent's glare boring holes in his back.

"All vitals are steady. I think they may be sedated, Sir. I can't find a visible sign of a wound other that a bruise or two."

"The women were sedated too." Simpson murmured, and when Broadham glanced at him he was quick to wipe the thoughtful frown from his face and replace it with a scowl.

"We will get them into beds and be better able to give them a more thorough examination." Simpson had given him the perfect means to move him out of the way so that his people could work. "While my people deal with them and get them settled into wards, I think it might be a good idea for us to find your other people, Commander."

He was a little surprised but immensely relieved when Simpson responded with a sharp nod and a short chopped motion of one hand indicated the hallway ahead of them. A sound identifiable as being somewhere between a squeak and a mechanical screech announced the arrival of the first of the gurneys and orderlies and Broadham backed out of the maintenance room, taking Simpson with him. He watched for a moment as the gurney was positioned and the orderly hurried to join the male nurse in the room and then he led the way down the hallway.

"Oil that damnable wheel, will you?" He glared at the nearest orderly and dismissed them from his attention, focusing on Simpson. "Now, Commander. I am hopeful, after finding those two men of yours, that the women have indeed escaped the murderer's attention. He can not have gotten far into the medical centre without some kind of alarm being raised that we would have heard. Even in the operating theatre we can hear alarm sirens and alert messages."

"One can hope."

//Ah, strong and silent type, eh? Let's see if we can get you talking and maybe tripping over your own excuses.// "Back there you suggested infiltration by Raiders." Broadham glanced at the man. "Before that you suggested insurgents might be responsible. Possible rebels."

No flicker of expression betrayed him, nor did he even glance at Broadham, he merely continued to stride along the hallway.

"I am not certain of my facts, Mr Broadham and I deplore operating on pure assumption. If I have the cooperation of your emergency response team and any ex military people that you have on hand, then I can better run a survey of the base and ascertain the sequence of events that have transpired."

// Imminently plausible and of course, neutral. You are an impressive liar, Simpson. Quite impressive and if I was not already warned I might just fall for the whole fairytale.// "How is it that you are even here? I thought you were at the Alpha Dome today?"

The man, to his credit, did not so much as blink at the question nor change his pace; instead he motioned to a door a few feet from their present position and continued to walk.

"I was originally at the Alpha Dome, yes. I was in a meeting with Markos and Preventer Eagle when what is for now presumed to be Raiders were seen to attack the Base Dome. The communications systems were jammed and sabotage had rendered other means of contacting the base, or coming to the aid of the base, as useless. I took half of my team on foot, overland and climbed the cliff hoping to find a means to enter the dome and take out what opposition we could. From what I saw under the enviro dome I believe the raiders to have been rather efficient. From what I witnessed the elevator shaft would have been detonated as a means of sealing off the lower base, granting them relative safety and privacy to take what they want from the dome. We managed to stop the destruction of the freight elevators, but we have not as yet removed all of the explosive devices they had set. I would suggest that your people be advised to refrain from attempts to enter the upper base. Until we can run checks to ascertain what other little surprises have been left it would be best to keep your people down here."

//Shit. You have to admire the man's sheer gaul. It is so plausible it's frightening. He gives new definition to twisting the truth.//

Simpson drew his automatic weapon as he reached for the doorknob and Broadham fell back into old habits, automatically setting himself behind and to one side of Simpson in standard formation. He even found himself reaching for a weapon he no longer carried and found Simpson watching him, an eyebrow arched and a faint smile that spoke of understanding tilting his lips. A faint nod which he returned and Simpson pushed the door open and threw himself through the doorway, gun raised and sweeping the room from side to side.

Broadham counted to three and then propelled himself through the door, careful to come in to one side of Simpson. He had expected the man to make some sound, anything from a war cry to a shouted all clear, but he had been silent and the surgeon was almost afraid to enter the room to find out why. Surely the killer had not penetrated this far into the centre? He had seen enough of blood stained hospital wards and massacred patients but apparently the killer, or killers, had not as yet tired of their bloody work.

//Killers. More than the one. Oh, shit. Merquise took out one and this … .// "Shit." Broadham breathed the expletive, staring about him with a sick roiling in his gut. What was he to say to the man?

Simpson stared around the room, at the blood smeared walls, at the body parts strewn about the room. He had seen many men and women killed in his day, some of them taken down from ambush, some of them tortured but nothing, ever, like this.

"They had been sedated." He breathed.

Broadham did not know whether or not to touch the man. Body parts. Butchered, literally. Sedated, these women had been a threat to no one and they had been unable to offer any resistance. The only thing he could think of was that at least they would not have known what was done to them.

Throats cut. Disemboweled.

"Why?" Simpson breathed, unable to look away.

Broadham quietly left the room, leaving Simpson to stare at the scene and taking himself out to breathe deeply of somewhat fresher air. He was very much afraid that if he touched Simpson now the man would lose whatever control he possessed and lash out at the nearest convenient target.

No sane person had performed these killings. It was sick. The killer was more than just mentally unstable. He was a lunatic, a homicidal maniac. Sick and twisted beyond any semblance of humanity. Whoever had done this work, not just the killings but the scrawling of what looked to be some type of arcane symbols on the walls and an inverted cross over each bloodied bed, was a very sick individual indeed.

Just how many people had died this day? How many men and women had fallen victim …

"Jesus. The nursery." He breathed.

He had not once thought that the killer had gotten this far into the centre before he had been stopped by Merquise, but what if he had been working not from the outer entrance and into the centre but from the inner rooms to the main base access? Or was the unthinkable true and there was more than one of the monsters stalking them?

He spun and bolted back into the room, glaring around and reached to run a finger through a symbol scrawled on the nearest wall in blood. His hand came away wet, the blood fresh.

"Simpson! The nursery! I need to check the nursery! I have newborns and mothers in there."

The blood that had emptied from the man's face with the first sight of what lay within the room now rushed back in a dark flood and his head snapped around to glare at Broadham. A hiss of pure rage escaped him and then he was moving, gun still drawn.

Broadham had to give the man credit as he fairly erupted from the room and his face spoke clearly enough of what he would do when he found the killer. He had looked as though he was going to throw up, no mean indication of the impact the butchery had had on the hardened veteran, but now there was no weakness, just rage and determination.

Men like Simpson could understand the necessities of war and killing but what lay in that room …that was not war. That was not something he could accept.

"Where?" A snarled demand.

"Four doors down, on the right." He was hard on the man's heels, determined to keep pace with him and preying that the killer had not entered the nursery.

"Keep behind me and take this." There was no hesitation in the Commander as he pounded down the hallway and tossed Broadham a spare automatic. "I'll go in first, you cover my back. Go in hard, I go in right, you go in on my heels and cover left, but remain behind me."

The gun felt reassuring in his hand, an odd thing for him to feel considering he was a healer, but he had once been a soldier and his body recalled his training and his hands knew the feel of the gun. He had survived the war, he had survived the day thus far and he was not going to fall now. Certainly not to a lunatic who took sick pleasure in killing those who were helpless.

He was a healer, yes, but he was not a hypocrite. In a kill or be killed situation he was a killer.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	132. Chapter 132 Chapter 131

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 131

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 28 [approx Sanc time 23:18

Barker

"You can drop as fast as you want but be certain to give yourself enough control to stop in time, or you'll mash yourself into the base of the pipe. There is a light that marks the door's location but it is very low wattage and we usually bring our own working lights." Polnar had thrown the last of the ropes over the edge of the platform and checked yet again the security of the third rig as he spoke. "About a seven count is all the time you have before you pull yourself up to a controlled drop … if you're game enough to let gravity take its course. I know the gravity here is lighter than that of Earth and we don't fall as far as fast, or as hard, but believe me hitting the steel base of the pipe at speed still hurts like hell. We had a few broken bones from idiots who just could not count or thought the lighter gravity made them Superman."

He knew it was stupid but he could not wipe the grin from his face. He so wanted to try this wild ride when lives did not hang in the balance and he was free to experience it without distraction. While the ride down would be speedy the actual rigging of the ropes had taken time, but Polnar was quick and efficient when it came to securing the lines. He checked his own harness and did not object when first Carter and then Polnar checked his rig over as it only made sense that they should double check. He assisted in the checking of their individual rigs before they all took up position and clung precariously to the platform.

He could not see the bottom of the shaft, not even the faintest ruddy glow of the light that would mark the base of the pipe. The only light was that shed by the platform lights and that barely illuminated the platform itself. Somewhere down below there was another dim red glow that would mark the door situated almost directly beneath this platform he stood upon. He had to judge his descent to bring himself safely to the bottom and he had to do so with basically nothing in the way of markers. By the time he spotted the glow of the lower light he would be too close to stop from smashing himself into the steel base of the water pipe.

It was all he could do to not scream out his excitement at the exhilaration of the plunge into darkness as he stepped off the platform.

Polnar was right about it being dangerous.

But what a rush!

He had been wet before he had entered the drained reservoir pipe but at least he had been wet and relatively warm. After only a few minutes in the pipe while the rigging was prepared he felt as though he had stood out in a Terran night with a chill early winter rain falling on him. Condensation ran freely down the walls and dripped from the ceiling overhead in a steady chill rain like cascade. Cold water that steadily soaked him and threatened to numb his hands despite the heavy gloves they used to protect them from the ropes during the drop. It was annoying as anything he could think of and the only redeeming grace that the impromptu shower granted him was that it had to sweeten the smell of him.

//Three. Four. Five. // Seven seconds maximum Polnar had suggested before there would be a real danger of crashing into the base of the pipe.

// Six. //

He took the man's warning to heart and actually descended in a controlled manner instead of simply letting the drop take him and at six he could just make out the ruddy glow that marked the nearing ground level. With greater care he slowed his descent and his feet found solid metal in the darkness.

//God. I have to do that again.//

He would do it again if he survived the chaos that had come to Mars, but in the future event of another chance to plunge into darkness he would change things a little. To begin with he would not be so careful. He had to try this again at a somewhat more liberal velocity. He had to feel the rush at full speed.

He could hear the whine of the ropes as Carter and Polnar descended and he was not surprised when Polnar landed before Carter. The man had done this before and he had allowed himself the express drop, being the last of them to step off the platform. Fast as his descent had been he nevertheless landed gently in a controlled bounce, flexing his knees to absorb any additional impact speed. Barker snorted softly at the quiet chuckle and 'Yeah!' that echoed within the pipe.

//I need to talk to Mako about this. A regular round of absailing in the pipes could blow off a lot of steam for those who find off duty hours on Mars to be a bit sedentary. Dropping into a black pit with the exact location of the floor in doubt produces a damn fine adrenaline rush.//

The glow from the light above the door was not sufficient to light up more than the outline of the door itself but it did provide enough light for him to glimpse the movement of Polnar as he shucked the last of his harness and passed between him and the door. A last sound from the ropes followed by a deep chuckle from the darkness caused him to tilt his head in the direction he knew Carter should be.

"What a rush! Can you imagine doing that on a bungee cord?"

"Christ, we're all mad." Barker had to chuckle but he could not wipe the wide grin from his face. "Doing it like this is rush enough for me."

Carter was working on the harness, freeing himself from its embrace. "Nah. It's good, but nothing like the rush you get from jumping off a height with a bit of cord tied to your feet."

"Well guess who is missing the days of the war." Polnar's voice came from the direction of the door and he sounded to be in a fine mood. "Have you thought about bungee jumping from the scaffold rigging of the enviro dome? That would be a rush. Shit. I guess this proves that we need to find more amusements."

"Yeah, and I am missing the adrenaline rushes but … I can do without the fire fights. Man, I have to try this again. I like the idea of trying it from the dome. That could be wild." Carter dropped the last of the harness and chuckled.

Barker grunted softly and hoped that they had the opportunity to try this type of activity again at a later time. He admitted that he missed the rush of activity field assignments in the hub of the ESUN had often given him. Mars was so much more laid back than the hub … or had been until this mess had sparked. Activity outside of the enviro dome was limited by necessity, but why could they not fill the need for thrill seeking within the dome? There had to be more to life that work, a few hours in the gym and bed.

Dismissing the thought as irrelevant to their current situation he extended a hand out in front of him and took a few cautious steps toward that red glow before he felt cloth against his finger tips. Polnar was working on the door and as Barker reached him a thin crack of golden light spilled in to outline the doorway. Instantly all joking ceased and they froze. Back to business and to the need to stay alive and hopefully ensure that others were given the chance to survive the mayhem that had come to Mars. There was a long way to go before they could talk about recreational playing.

He slipped up to crouch behind Polnar as the Leo pilot pressed his ear to that fine gap and had to fight to resist the urge to hold his breath. They needed the pump room to be empty and thus far their invasion of the dome had been going so well that he was certain there had to be problems develop. He still found it difficult to believe that they had thus far managed to cross not only the base dome but the hydroponics dome as well without incident. To his view that could mean only one thing. They were due for some bad luck.

"Sounds quiet." Polnar whispered. "I can hear the pumps but nothing else."

It was his call and he knew it. He too could hear the rhythmic throbbing of the pumps and he could feel it through the soles of his boots. They had reached the sub base without incident and they had a rendezvous to keep and he was not inclined to linger any longer than necessary. He would have been happier if they could look into the pump room, but the only way of doing that was to open the door and the room beyond was so large that they would have to open it wide to see even a part of the area. No, they were going to have to take the chance of there being someone within the room or lurk in the water pipe all night.

Remaining within the pipe simply was not an option. He wanted this entire affair ended and answers to some very pointed questions and above all he wanted to see those responsible for the blood bath in confinement and justice brought to bare.

Justice.

// I need to be honest with myself about this. Just how much justice are those who have been killed here today going to get? The logistics of this entire exercise suggest someone very high up in the government structure has very dirty hands indeed. Not just anyone could have arranged this invasion and it has to have a sound political reason to everyone involved in the affair. No one, especially not politicians, is stupid enough to risk everything just to gain a bit of revenge on one man for activities taken during a war. Not even against Merquise. No, there has to be something else going on here. Something more. Something I really would like to understand and probably never really could. I don't know … Enough is enough. We have things to do.//

"We cannot remain here forever. Open the door enough to get your head around and have a look at as much of the room as you can and we shall see what we shall see. If it's clear we get out and seal the shaft. Find us reasonable cover as quickly as possible and keep your head low."

Polnar's nod was just visible against the strengthened light and after a moment the door eased open a little more, widening further. He heard the soft grunt as Polnar squeezed his head through the gap and then a long moment of silence.

"Can't see anyone, but I can't see all that much."

Polnar climbed to his feet and with unspoken agreement Barker helped him ease the door open sufficiently for Polnar to ease his frame into the gap and leaned out into the pump room. After a long moment a soft 'all clear' was whispered. He felt Carter move to join him, standing close enough that he could feel the warm breath against his neck and when Polnar pushed on the door they moved to braced it as Polnar slipped out.

He nodded to Carter who slipped past him and out into the room and Barker brought up the rear, controlling the door as it swung shut on his heels. Polnar was waiting to secure the latch and spin the locking wheel and Barker took the chance to survey the massive pumps and pipes that crowded the room.

A sniper's paradise.

Anyone could be in the room and you would not know it until you took the hit. He hissed softly, not liking the sensation that they might be under observation. His shoulders hunched against the weight of what he knew was probably an imaginary glare and he wished Polnar would hurry with that wheel. There was no chatter of automatic weaponry, no knife flying through the air and no bodies hurling at them even though his nerves insisted that they were watched. Carter was peering into the maze of pipes and machinery with a look that said he too could feel a predators gaze.

//Probably imagination since we have not already been shot. // He flicked his fingers toward the nearest set of pipes and as one they ran and slipped gratefully behind the offered cover.

Long seconds of silence followed their crouching and ears strained for the slightest sound that might not be the rumble and clang of machinery. One hand rested on the pipe closest to him and Barker found himself measuring the low vibration by counting off his heart beats. Shaking his head to banish the distraction he inclined his head toward the door that would give them entry into the sub base.

"Let's go, gentlemen. Keep watch but keep it moving. We are already late to the rendezvous but I have every intention of making the meeting, even if a little late. We need to gain control of the situation as quickly as possible and that means linking up with Merquise and who ever might have joined him."

"Is he not a loner?" Carter queried.

Barker shook his head and absently ran a finger over the sweat encrusted whiskers that irritated him. "He can be a team player. Oz Specials were trained to work as part of a team or efficiently in a solo situation. I am inclined to believe that by now he would have picked up some help. There are others with combat training on Mars and surely not everyone has gone down to the Sleepers, or those Blue Squad bastards. There is only so much in a situation like this that you can do on your own and Merquise has never been a fool. What we need to remember is that we do not know who is friend and who is foe, so we need to exercise every care and for now we try to keep ourselves hidden."

Carter skimmed along the pipe in the lead, moving with speed and skill as he followed the pipe toward the distant door. Polnar followed after him careful to maintain a set distance between himself and Carter and Barker brought up the rear, every few seconds glancing behind them and sweeping his gaze over the pipes, pumps and control consuls that dotted the area. The low muted thunder of the pumps rose as they neared the set of pipes that fed Hydroponics Dome Two its water, but the rumble was not so loud that it would drown out the sound of someone approaching them.

//I wonder where everyone is? I know that the pumps are fully automated and on a sealed computer system, but surely there should be someone walking the floor to keep an eye on things? I'm becoming a paranoid bastard. I am beginning to see gunmen at every turn and while it might keep me alive it might also get someone killed if I lose control. Not just me though. Carter and Polnar look to be just as bad. They look twice at every shadow just as I do and they keep checking behind them even though they know that I am here watching our collective rear.// He resisted the urge to smile grimly. //Still, I do keep stressing that you can not trust anyone, don't I? I'll be glad when this is all over, but then I have to face another very serious problem. How the hell do we tell if we have everyone involved in this butchery rounded up? Just who and how many of them are a danger to our security? How the hell do we tell who are the ESUN's agents?//

It was entirely possible that they could mistakenly take innocents into custody and possibly never really know if they had the right people. A clever agent could misdirect clues and falsify evidence and have them pick up someone innocent. A Sleeper could be standing next to them and they would never know for sure. He breathed a silent curse. If he continued on like this he would succeed only in driving himself insane. He simply had to survive for now and regain control of the base. He could cross the other bridge when he came to it.

Carter came to a halt at the first pump station. An open expanse of ground lay between them and the door and he inclined his head toward Barker by way of enquiring what to do next. The Preventer Chief did a slow survey of the area surrounding them, seeking the smallest sign that they might be under observation and flicked a hand toward the door. In a group they ran for the door and mid way Barker cursed.

//Great. Keypad control.// He glared at the punch button key panel set to one side of the door as they pressed their backs to the wall, noting Carter watching the maze of pipes. // If they have set up security protocols we could find ourselves very quickly going nowhere. First thing I would do is set my own security protocols in place. I wonder if the Preventer overrides are still secure?//

Polnar hesitated an instant, glanced at him and then reached for the keypad, quickly typing a code in and they were all relieved to hear a dull click above the sound of the pumps. At Barker's questioning look, he shrugged.

"Maintenance code for the last time I was in the pipes on scrub down duty. I have to admit that I am surprised the code actually worked. I would have thought that they would have cleared the system in the alert and set new security protocols."

//Yes, they should have and I have to wonder why they did not.// Barker edged past Polnar and motioned to Carter to back away from the door and wait. He would not place either man at risk at the moment. // Either someone has cleared this particular keypad of the security code, or something is very wrong with the security system. //

Aware of Carter pressed against the wall on the far side of the door and Polnar in similar position closer to him he set a hand to the door handle. With care he eased the door open just a crack and pressed his ear to the gap seeking any sound. He had a very bad feeling about this and on hearing nothing except his own breathing he dared to open the door a little more, just sufficient to give himself a very limited view of the tan coloured hallway.

//Nothing. All very quiet. Too quiet. Like the upper dome, it is so … dead.//

He hated using that word but it so adequately fitted the silence. Easing the door closed once again he pressed his back to the wall and turned to his companions. It was time to discuss their next course of action.

Carter arched an eyebrow and waited in silence, eyes roving continually over the room, unwilling to just presume that they were indeed alone. Polnar leaned casually against the wall and watched him, though his gaze also constantly flicked over the pump station and maze of pipes. Both seemed willing enough to continue to take instruction from him and he in turn was content with that. So far they had been lucky and he did not want to push their luck needlessly. That sense of foreboding was still bothering him.

"We check the locks on the rooms we pass. Don't go into the rooms, jut check to see if any security protocols are activated. I can't believe that there are none in effect. Emergency procedures are pretty standard but there is no one here and that door should have been locked."

"Where to?" Carter queried.

"Shuttle bay, as per the rendezvous. All care to be taken on the way, take nothing for granted and in regard to Sleepers …" he hesitated. How did you tell a Sleeper from a friend? "If the situation warrants, shoot first and ask questions later. Try to damage, not kill but if your life is on the line, you kill without hesitation."

Both acknowledged the sense and dangers inherent in that statement with solemn nods and grim silence. In such a situation as they found themselves it was simply the way it had to be given the circumstances. Assured that everyone understood the actions that needed to be taken he turned back to the door and eased it open, freezing at the thud of footsteps.

His mind automatically processed the sound and came up with heavy soled magnetic boots. Space combat boots used in zero or light gravity situations. He was quick to ease the door closed again, thankful that he had not opened it more than a few millimetres before he had caught the sound. Perhaps they had not noticed?

"Can you lock that?"

Polnar was quick to respond to his alarmed hiss, entering a code on the keypad and they watched as the underside of the panel glowed the red acknowledgement for the lockdown before blanking to waiting mode.

//Combat boots. I … It had to be. They are so bloody distinctive. Zero g combat boots. Fucking Blue Squad. It has to be. //

Would whoever it was walking around out there try to enter the room? Would they notice the brief flash of red that betrayed the keypad being in use? Would they … could they … he was so fed up with expecting to be flushed.

//I have had it with being the prey. Constantly watching over my shoulder, feeling the itch between my shoulder blades that suggests a bullet has my name on it. I'm fed up with this. It's time that we became the hunters, not the hunted. I wonder who it is out there? Friend or enemy? Fucking enemy for sure. No one on Mars has combat boots designed for low grav situations. //

Yes, there were magnetic soled boots used on Mars, but combat boots had a very distinctive sound to them that he recognized only too well. He had worn the heavy foot wear himself often enough and no one on Mars had cause to have them other than Blue Squad. Or possibly the Sleepers. He scrubbed at the growing beard with rising irritation. Yes, he supposed it was possible that someone might have squirreled a pair away as a memento from their former military caree,r but he could not take the chance.

He could hear nothing through the metal of the door which subtly vibrated with the throbbing of the pumps. To a count of thirty he waited, expecting the key pad to flash red and then green and have that door open, but nothing happened. Another count of thirty and he nodded at Polnar and flicked a finger at the keypad. He could not blame the man for hesitating and it was only for perhaps five seconds before he reached for the keypad and entered the code to unlock the door.

//If that maintenance code works down here then my security code should as well. I can't see a maintenance code being accepted if the ESUN agents have control of the base computers. Preventer codes should work just fine so if we have to split up we should be able to access most sections of the base between us.//

The door lock clicked announcing the release of the locks and he counted yet again to thirty. During that time the door did not fly open and they did not get sprayed with weapons fire and all remained quiet.

//Dumb fucking luck.// Taking a deep breath he eased the door open a fraction, counting to ten and straining to hear any sound.

The sound of fading footsteps came to him and he held his breath but the footsteps continued on at a measured pace. He eased the door open enough to offer himself a limited view of the hallway and seeing nothing he opened the door sufficiently to slip his head through and glance quickly about.

//Shit!//

He was quick to duck back into the room and ease the door closed though he signalled to Polnar not to initiate the lock down. It took him a couple of deep breaths to calm down and regain control of himself. He had been so close to putting them into deep shit.

Just short from the curve in the hallway that led deeper into the base strode two men, each clad in the distinctive combat fatigues worn by the ESUN Security Agency. While he could not be certain from the glimpse he had had he was fairly certain that the tallest of the two was the Blue Squad Commander himself.

//Give them a few seconds to get around the corner and be on their way. Can we take them down now? Do I dare to try taking them out? No, I can not give us any certainty of taking them out. There is too much open ground between us and them and if they are as good as their reputation suggests we would be down before we covered half the distance. The slightest sound would alert them to us before we could get close enough to deal with both effectively.//

Carter stirred, watching him and glancing toward the door curiously. He motioned to them both to wait and carefully eased the door open once more, slipping his head through the gap and taking the time to survey the hallway. He nodded slightly and considered the empty hall for a long moment, contemplating where the agents might be headed. For the moment they were safe, but the encounter at least answered where two members of Blue Squad currently were located. Eight of them had entered the Base Dome originally and two were now headed for the interior airlock and that left six unaccounted for.

Decision time.

"Right. Small change of plans. We have two members of the ESUN Security Agency ahead of us by less than a minute. I seriously suggest that we do not tangle with them at this time unless we have no other options. Our priority should be to locate Merquise and whoever he may have working with him before we go after anyone else. I want to know exactly how many people I can count on before tangling with the Security Agents and he may have some ideas of the numbers we may have to contend with. There were eight Security Agents, but the Sleepers are an unknown number."

Carter nodded agreement of his assessment and Polnar merely waited, watching him with a gravity that worried him. The Leo pilot, while he had proven repeatedly that he could be counted on, still struck a note of wary caution in Barker. There was just something that seemed somehow 'off' about the man, but if he was a Sleeper Agent he had had plenty of opportunity to take them down.

//I'm not sure what to make of that one, but he seems to have forgotten nothing of his military training. I don't know … I don't think he's allied with the ESUN agents on the base. If he was he would have taken advantage of some of the opportunities that have presented themselves before this. No, he's not ESUN, but I do think that he is following his own interests here. Who do you work for, Polnar? A Mining Consortium? Some private concern, I think. Patrice? Winner? Maybe. Maybe. I'll be watching you.//

"We work our way through the base and to the shuttle bay as arranged, but we do so with care. As we go I want you to check the security seals on the doors. We will try to avoid any noise or any action that might bring those agents, or others who may be wandering around the base, down on our necks. As we go through the door to the right leads to the freight elevators and up to the enviro dome. There could be other agents at the elevators so we need to be silent as we leave. We want to go deeper into the base and we will need to see what the emergency airlock status is before we can enter the sub base proper. If the emergency protocols have not been lifted then the emergency airlock must be used to enter or leave the sub base proper. Those ESUN Agents were wearing fatigues, not enviro suits, so I doubt that we will need to worry about contaminated air in the locks."

"The sub base airlocks are on a different control system to the enviro domes systems. The air supply, computer controls and relays are all independent from the enviro dome." Polnar offered.

"Which means that they are less likely to be tampered with. We still can not afford to take that for granted, not with these bastards." Barker grunted. "We give them another minute to make certain that they have cleared the airlock. I am hoping that the airlock is required use at this time as that will confirm the alert status the base is on. If it is not in use that worries me."

Any breach of the enviro dome or even the contaminated air now poisoning the upper base endangered the sub base. If the sub base was compromised either by an explosion or even a malfunction in the seals of the freight elevator between the two independent environments could compromise the sealed security of the sub base and everyone down here could die. Barker leaned back against the door and sighed. It was not proving to be the best of days.

He gave them the safety of the sixty second count before turning again to the door and peering into the hallway and signalling the all clear. Taking a steadying breath he led the way, Carter on his heels and followed by Polnar, who peered up the hallway toward the airlocks and safety seals that led to the freight elevator.

These hallways were wide and high to permit the free movement of the heaviest and oversized equipment the base was required to use. They also had a tendency to echo sound and each man was careful to go that little bit slower to place their feet a little more lightly than was their usual want. They had no guarantee that they were alone in this section and they needed no overt noise to draw attention.

It was a matter of a minute or so at most to make their way around the corner and front the sealed doors of the airlock. Barker felt an immense sense of relief to see these massive doors closed and the in cycle light in operation. The confirmed use of the airlocks was added security for the base against a breach by either an above surface explosion, or air contamination from the upper base. The in cycle indicator meant that the ESUN personnel were using the lock at this time, which boded well for it not having been interfered with, unlike those in the upper base. His eyes shifted again to the cycle indicator and he scowled.

They were going to have to wait for another couple of minutes before they could consider it safe to use the lock. It appeared that the people they were so meticulously trying to avoid were in no great hurry about moving deeper into the base. The cycle was near half complete and it would not take too much time now before they would be on their way.

He would need to wait for two, perhaps three minutes after the cycle was completed to ensure that they were well gone and then they could enter the cycle with little fear of discovery. It appeared that they had been most fortunate not to have walked into the men before they had entered the airlocks and had avoided a confrontation purely on good luck.

//Chatty bastards must have stood here for a while before entering the lock.//

"That was lucky." Carter breathed.

Barker grunted and glanced behind him at the hallway, concerned that the freight elevators were back there and they did not know if there were others working or waiting there. He noted absently that Polnar was staring at the airlock as though he expected a monster to leap from its depths and eat them alive.

Barker himself felt his heart flutter a little every time he looked at the doors and he exchanged a grin with Carter. They had been graced with a good bit of luck by missing those agents and it was a very unpleasant moment to see those great doors slide open before him and find himself staring into startled eyes.

"Barker!"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	133. Chapter 133 Chapter 132

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 132

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 32 [approx Sanc time 23:22

Polnar

There was something wrong. Something not quite right about the situation. Something small but something that most probably would prove to be of importance. The more he looked for the anomaly the more certain he was that he had overlooked something that might prove a vital element at surviving this day.

//There is something wrong with that picture.//

At the thought his gaze snapped from Barker to the airlock and fastened on the readout on the display panel that clearly showed the cycle stage within the airlock. He was uncertain what it was that disturbed him but the more he watched that slowly rotating sequence of lights the more certain he was that something was wrong. The cycle was progressing normally, no alarm lights in operation and the oxygen meter was within normal parameters.

//Probably not the airlock then. Maybe it is just that we never checked the freight elevators. I hate the thought of not having checked out our rear.//

It was possible, even probable that that was what annoyed his subconscious, but he was still not certain that that was the problem. While it bothered him it did not seem to have the immediacy of the crawling sensation visiting his nerves. He slipped back to the curve in the hallway where he could check out the hallway behind them. That stretch of hall was empty and he could hear no sound of movement or talking. With a small sigh he returned to stand near Barker and wait.

//I wonder what it was they were talking about?//

The ESUN operatives they were following at a more than discreet distance had to have stood outside the air lock and talked for a couple of minutes for the lock to be at its present stage of the cycle. Had they been discussing Merquise? Perhaps they had been discussing what they needed to do to take out the last of the terra formers. He rubbed at his chin. Maybe it was just that he was tired and time seemed to run so infernally slow. The cycle seemed to be making no headway.

Certainly it should not strike him as odd that the agents should choose to stand at the entrance to the lock and discuss the events of the day or their plans for the remainder of the night. Hell, for all he knew they might have been discussing the mating habits of bumblebees. It made no difference to him other than the fact that it delayed him getting into the base and finding Merquise and Giles. Certainly they would have a great deal to discuss … or more likely the Commander would have a great deal of instructions to pass on to his subordinate. They were outnumbered after all and all their plans would have to take into account the fact that there were combat veterans amid the terra formers.

//Unfortunate that they seem not to have come across any of those with combat experience to date. Well, none that I recognized. Anyone can be surprised, especially when you are not expecting to have your so called allies cut you down from ambush. I'm not sure that I could take Simpson down, but I'd have a bloody good try.//

He glanced at his companions, wondering if they might not also sense that something was not quite right about this situation, but Barker and Carter did not appear to be disturbed, merely thoughtful. He scowled at that but their ease did not give him an excuse to relax. Only when he had Merquise in a secured location could he afford to ease off on his personal paranoia. Small mistakes so easily led to bigger problems and he was not keen on making a stupid mistake that put them all in danger by denying that uneasy itch. Again his eyes flicked up to the lock readout and followed the cycle indicator, glaring at it as though it was the root cause of his unease and it hit him, his eyes widening as he realized what it was that bothered him.

//Oh, shit! Why didn't I realize before?//

The display showed the cycle position of the lock and the time of the cycles initiation. What it did not show was the access light, only the processing information. That could mean only one thing. The airlock controls had not been initiated from this side of the airlock as would be expected if the ESUN Agents were still within the lock, but even as the realization dawned the cycle chimed completion and the doors slid gracefully into the wall cavities and he found himself fronting a group of men.

"Barker!"

How he resisted the instinctive urge to strike out he did not know.

A surge of adrenaline hit his body and he was ready to kill, but something within him stayed his hand. Even as he was screaming at himself to take them out another part of him was trying to squash that instinctive reaction. He felt himself twitch, his hands curled into fists and his arms seemed to have a will of their own, but though the urge was there he never actually hit out.

Barker almost did, he noted. The Preventer agent had a definite twitch in his large hands, arms automatically raising and a step forward in a smooth motion abruptly cut off. At least it was not he alone who almost struck out first and Barker was just as quick to regain control of himself before they had a blood bath in the airlock. He hissed softly, aware that Carter was in a half crouch, ready to leap into a fight. From the airlock he distinctly heard a few choice words and some of the men took long steps back, away from the doors.

At least some of them were aware of the danger. That in itself was worrying.

There were six of them and to his quick inspection of faces he only recognized two with certainty, though others of their number looked vaguely familiar. Those he could clearly identify he knew in something more than a passing fashion, having worked with them on more than one occasion, though they were not in his circle of friends. Mighty Joe Lee, a native of L1 of Japanese descent and Paul Marcos, an African American, both engineers.

"Stand down." Barker managed to get the words out and he was looking a little sick as he glanced first at Carter and then at Polnar, holding a hand out towards the former who as yet had not seemed inclined to relax.

//Can't say that I can fault him for looking like that. I don't feel so good myself. Damn it all, that is the kind of mistake we can't afford to make if we want to come out of this alive.//

What was wrong with them? Not just him. Barker and Carter both must share the blame for this oversight that could have been so disastrous. They should have noticed immediately that the airlock controls had been initiated from the far side and with that recognition they would have known that someone was heading in their direction, not moving away from them.

//Fuck. Stupid, stupid mistake.// He scrubbed at his face, trying to come out of the adrenaline surge without feeling the need to collapse into a heap on the floor. They were a long way from being finished.

How had they become so lax? Was it because up until this point they had not encountered any appreciable resistance? Had they been so relieved to see that the emergency status within the sub base had not been lifted that they had relaxed their guard so much? They were becoming careless and that was unforgivable.

At this rate someone was going to get killed through pure carelessness.

//Shit. It's my mistake.// He could acknowledge his own errors.

He had been taught by his instructors at Station One that to command men he must be aware of his own actions and the truth was that, whether for good or ill, he was to blame for this near miss. At least he hoped it was going to be a near miss. One or more of these men might yet prove to be a Sleeper agent. How was he to know if he could trust these newcomers or if one or more of them might not take the opportunity to betray them all?

// My fault. Something was bothering me, even if the other two missed it and I should have realized earlier what it was. I should have realized sooner and while I know we are not infallible this was so glaringly obvious. I missed it. We all missed it. The important person here is the one that I can control. Me … and I missed it. We all presumed and since I am my own commander on this mission and I am here to procure the release of Merquise it is an unforgivable error on my part. To compound my error one of the Gifted is at risk. Giles is somewhere around here or in the dome above and he is my team mate. It is my duty to find out what has happened to him.//

He glared at the men looking at them with open hesitation and he realized that he must look pretty hostile to them about now, but he could not help that. He had been badly shaken by his own mistake and it was going to take some time for him to recover his poise.

// I have to find Merquise and I have to locate Giles. I have to find out if he is alive or … He's got to be alive. He'll have better luck talking to Merquise, even if he has to 'influence' him. I've seen him work before and to garner cooperation from the prince we may need to resort to his own peculiar method of persuasion. I need him. We can't afford to fail.//

The six men had not exited the airlock, indeed most of them were stepping back deeper into its shelter and none of them looked exactly relaxed. He supposed that he could understand that considering the situation and he and his companions undoubtedly looked threatening but he was not going to relax, despite Barker's 'stand down' instruction. If the man could not understand that then he was no good as a Commander and he already knew that Barker was a professional.

Even professionals made mistakes.

"Barker? Simon?" The one he presumed to be designated spokesman looked hesitant and then seemed to firm his resolve, stepping forward a couple of paces before coming to a halt. "Maybe you can explain what the hell is going on?"

"Kurtz. Gentlemen."

Barker appeared to have himself firmly in hand now and his eyes roved over the six. It was obvious that he was placing names to faces and after a moment he seemed to relax, presumably because he could positively identify each man. Polnar could almost hear him thinking hard and fast as he tried to assess the threat level they might represent to the mission.

// We had hoped not to meet anyone so that we would not need to face the problem of telling friend from foe. What the hell do we do now//

Carter stirred near him, not exactly relaxing but he was certainly loosening up a little. The Taurus pilot straightened from his crouch but he did so slowly and he did not look any less a threat. It was clear that as yet he, like Polnar himself, was not willing to trust anyone. Carter kept his gaze on the six men.

// I suppose Barker expects me to at least try to look less threatening. Sorry, temporary boss man, but I don't feel inclined to trust anyone I have only just met that easily. //

If Barker was any sort of decent Commander of men he would have to understand that just on his say so he was not going to procure instant trust from men who were not accustomed to working under him. How the hell was he supposed to accept the sudden appearance of these men?

They had only just finished discussing what they would do about people they might meet and the Sleeper problem. Each and every one of these men might be Sleepers! One or even two of them could be Sleepers and patiently waiting for the opportunity to take the others down. If there was a Sleeper in their midst then that body now would be a greater danger, as he could await an opportunity to report to his superiors on their appearance within the sub base.

He was allowing paranoia to rule, overcompensating because of the stupidity with the airlock. Still, he could not have it both ways and he was going to have to strike a balance between paranoia and trust.

// Do you honestly think that Barker does not know the possibilities of one or more of these men being Sleepers?// He asked himself. // He would know it only too well. That I know of none of them are Preventer Agents. I don't recognize them from the files Raydon provided. Barker's not exactly relaxed, but he's not exactly ready to gut any of them either. He knows them, that is obvious. I suppose they could be Preventer under cover agents? All of them? No way. One, maybe two, that is possible I suppose but … God. I don't think I will ever look at another person the same way again. I'll be expecting a knife in the back from every stranger I meet or pass in the street. If I make it off of Mars and back to Station One I am going to need to talk to some shrinks. I'm fucking paranoid enough at the best of times. //

"Where are you gentlemen headed?" Barker watched the one he had identified as Kurtz, his gaze flicking over the others in the group as they backed another cautious step. "I believe that the emergency is still in effect."

"Christ, Simon, don't go all official Preventer agent on me. We need to know just what the hell is happening here." Kurtz took a short step forward, out of the airlock and waved a hand in the general direction of the base behind him. "You know full bloody well that we are the emergency response unit. Everything is … weird. We are trying to determine just what is happening. We've heard nothing for hours about the alert and we can't contact the control room in the dome, or the shuttle control. The communications system seems to be down and on to top it all off the main elevators have been blown. When we got the fire under control and cleaned up the area we decided to go to the upper dome and find out what the hell is happening. To do that we needed to check over the freight elevators. Mighty Joe claims they are wired to blow."

For a long moment Barker considered the man and finally nodded. A short and abrupt motion of his head. "He's right."

"Shit. Raiders?"

As he had suspected Kurtz appeared to be the elected spokesman, as the other men within the dubious shelter of the airlock showed no inclination to ask questions. Polnar decided they were allowing their team leader to do the talking.

"Of a sort. If you mean Reavers … Pirates, then no." Barker studied the six and it was clear to Polnar that he was considering how much information was safe to share at this time. "It might be advisable for you to go to your designated …"

"Cut the official crap." Kurtz scowled. "Look, Barker, we need to know what is happening. There were people in the elevators when they blew. People died in that blast and I want to know why. We have lost all radio communication, the security systems are inoperative and I can't contact anyone who should know what the hell is happening." He paused to level a cold glare at the Preventer. "Now there is a theory going around at this time that the ESUN is trying to wipe us out because they don't want witnesses to the base having been used as a penal colony for our high profile citizen. So cut out the shit and tell me the truth. Is this all because of Merquise or not?"

//Oh shit. He looks pissed. // He glanced at Barker and sighed. //Well great, he looks just as bad.//

Indeed, Simon Barker looked anything but pleased by Kurtz's outburst, yet he made no immediate and hasty reply, his eyes drifting over each of the men arrayed before him once more as he reassessed the situation. The questions on his mind were obvious. Just how much should he tell them and how far could he trust them? Polnar did not envy the man his decision and he personally wanted nothing more than to get away from this group. How could any of them be trusted not to knife them in the back?

//Don't know if I could turn my back on any of them.//

"Before I answer that you answer something for me. There were two men in the airlock before you. They were in there only a minute or two before you must have entered. You had no problem with them?"

// Good question.// Polnar mused.

His eyes flicked over the six men quickly, looking for the smallest signs that might offer him a clue as to the standing of each. All of them looked serious, watching and following the conversation in silence. None of them looked guilty or hesitant and none of them looked particularly happy. He flicked his gaze back to Barker and noted the Preventer's eyes were firmly on Kurtz, as though he had marked him as being the dangerous one.

Perhaps he was right. He personally had no knowledge of the man so he could not judge him honestly. Mighty Joe Lee and Paul Markos were known to him, though he did not have much more than a passing acquaintance with them but they had never struck him as being a threat. Which, if he was honest, had no bearing on this situation. The Sleepers at the base had been buried deep with psyche conditioning to enhance their cover. He had heard of happily married couples where one partner had been a conditioned Sleeper. The mess had not been pretty when the agent had been activated.

"The ESUN Agents, I presume? Yes, we know they were in the lock before us, but they never saw us. We were in the engineering bay checking on this story of Lee's and we saw evidence enough there to convince us to stay out of sight until we could be more certain of what was going on. We waited for them to pass before entering the lock."

Barker's gaze flicked to the engineer mentioned. "What about the bay?"

Lee inclined his head slightly to acknowledge the Preventer's attention. "Merquise turned up some hours ago claiming that there was a series of bombs set on the dome and asking for help to find the detonator. I found the radio detonator and he disarmed it. Later I followed two men to the freight elevators and found the explosives packed on the hydraulics and the platform itself. I took a sample and showed it to the others. I don't know what is going on but I believed Zechs when he said we had infiltrators. You should know that the two men I followed earlier were the same two that were here a few minutes ago."

"What we need to know now is if these two men are the ESUN agents in from the shuttle or not? Do we have Raiders-as in Pirates- attacking the upper base and if so, what the hell are you doing about it?" Kurtz glanced from Barker to Lee and nodded, motioning Lee to stay back.

"What is happening with the maintenance crews outside? Did they get back into the dome? Are they safe?" Paul Markos interrupted, stepping forward and ignoring the scowl Kurtz threw his way.

Barker hissed a soft breath and checked his watch, considering the best course of action. These men were obviously not inclined to run away and hide, but they clearly had time constraints. "We have to keep moving." He flashed a glance to Carter and then Polnar. "Into the airlock now and we can explain as we go."

Polnar balked. He was not an overly trusting soul when he was assigned away from Station One and in such a situation as this to voluntarily walk into the airlock with those six men and their unconfirmed allegiance was asking a lot. Nor, he noted, was he the only one. Carter gave Barker a wide eyed look and refused to move.

The Preventer snarled a curse and impatiently waved toward the lock. "We don't have the time for this. The lock takes time to cycle through and we are going to use that time to our advantage, not to our detriment. We are going to talk while we have the chance and pray that those bastards are not on the other side when we open the doors. Now get in unless you want to stay behind."

The six men backed deeper into the airlock and waited, exchanging glances that clearly said they were uncertain they wanted to be sharing the space. Polnar stifled a growl and glared from Barker to the lock. This was a big ask by Barker considering the current situation, but the man was still his best bet for finding Merquise. He was going to have to chance one or more of them being the enemy and Barker had better not have a complaint about him keeping his hand close to his weapon.

Reluctantly he stepped past the Preventer into the lock and once within he immediately slid sideways, pressing his back firmly against the welcome solidity of the steel wall, not willing for anyone to blind side him. He was amused to discover that Carter too had his back pressed to the cold metal and his faith in Barker returned a little when the Preventer stopped just within the doors and signalled for Carter to activate the locks, standing with his back hard to the doors when they closed.

"Alright. We are all inside. So what is going on?" Kurtz stirred, still standing a little in front of his men, still eyeing them as though he expected to wake from a very disturbing dream at any moment.

//Guess we all might look like that. I don't like this. I need to get out of here and find Giles. Together we can find Merquise.//

"You asked for it and I'll tell you what is happening, but be aware that you won't like it and that by knowing the truth you will have painted a massive target on your back." Barker glared at each man in turn.

The unspoken words 'I tried to warn you off, now you will pay the consequences' hung in the airlock. A few uncertain glances were exchanged but then resolved into determination and Barker sighed.

"We have been infiltrated, but not by Raiders. ESUN Sleeper agents amongst us have been activated to cover the forced removal of Merquise and his children from Mars. To your question," he nodded to Markos, "The maintenance team was locked out of the dome with the clear intent of ensuring that the numbers within the dome remained low and easier to handle. We have the maintenance teams in the caves equipped with sufficient emergency supplies to see them through the night. For now they are uncomfortable but safe. What is now needed is for us to take out the last of the ESUN Agents and regain some control over our own computer systems. The base is booby trapped and as yet we don't know even half of the traps that have been set, nor do we know the exact head count of agents we need to deal with. You should be aware that people have already died. I don't know the exact number of fatalities at this time and a headcount of the dead will have to wait until we can secure the dome. That is the situation as it stands at this time."

"Why? I mean, why should they want to remove Merquise from Mars at this time and why involve the babies?"

Mighty Joe Lee stirred looking from Barker to one of the other men in the airlock Polnar did not know. The man was looking thoughtful but not nearly so surprised as others in his party. Polnar scowled at the team members, wondered who this man was and noted Barker stir and quickly scan the six newcomers. He appeared to have realized that he was remiss in the social niceties of the situation because he straightened his stance and nodded his head briefly to each man in turn as he made the introductions.

"Preston Kurtz, Engineer, Mechanic and head of the emergency response team." He indicated the group's spokesman. "Paul Markos, engineer and Mechanic. Mighty Joe Lee, engineer and mechanic. Bryce Palmer, Systems analyst." This man was the one who had asked why. "Dan Curran, Computer Analyst." This was the one Mighty Joe had looked to as though he expected him to explain the 'why'. "Marcus Risch, Shuttle Mechanic and mining consultant." He indicated first the Taurus pilot and then Polnar as he continued the introductions. "Daniel Carter, Pilot and Chris Polnar, Pilot and maintenance. It might set your minds a little easier to know that Polnar was on the locked out maintenance team."

He was only too aware of the attention that focused on him and was inclined to snarl at Barker, but the attention shifted quickly enough back to the Preventer after he nodded once, a short and sharp action. He was uncomfortable and he wanted out of what was feeling more and more like a death trap to him.

"We have no time for a blow by blow analysis of the situation. The agents who came in on the shuttle from Earth earlier today were members of Blue Squad. I don't imagine that any of you know that reference, but suffice it to say they do not have a very savoury reputation and they were the dirty tricks boys of the Alliance. What concerns us now is that it is possible those men noticed you enter the airlock and that they might be waiting outside for you when the doors open. To answer your questions will require more time that we have. Yes, the maintenance team outside the dome is safe for the moment … it will be necessary for them to remain the entire night outside, but while they will be uncomfortable they will at least be safe. Yes, some of them are dead. Casualties could not be helped, but the majority of them are alive and will remain so until morning. We need to open the dome to them before those supplies run out. The majority of them are alive but I can not say the same for those who were working in the enviro dome itself. It has been a massacre up there. While we were in the dome we found no survivors but we were not actively looking either. We needed to get down into the sub base. The Alpha Dome is now clear, we managed to retain control there and now we are working on getting back control of the Base Dome. Understand that the death toll and the casualty rate is going to be high, so get use to that idea."

The silence in the airlock was oppressive and the listeners looked at each other with sombre expressions. No one seemed inclined to comment and Polnar flicked his gaze to the cycle indicator. They were fast running out of time.

"Fucking nightmare." Kurtz whispered. "Why? I can't believe anyone would think this kind of action was necessary."

"It wasn't." Palmer was visibly shaking and nervously ran a hand through his hair.

Barker seemed to be willing to permit them to work through their individual reactions without interfering, glancing at the cycle indicator himself and nodding slightly. That he was aware of the constraints of time and unwilling to give a blow by blow account of the events leading up to this moment suited Polnar well enough. For the moment he was willing to go along with Barker, but only until someone made a false move. He would be watchful for that move and when it came he would need to separate himself from the group and go about his personal mission. Raydon's assignment, namely finding Merquise and seeing him safe, came first.

"It was. It was necessary."

Dan Curran stirred, hardly looking surprised by Barker's evaluation of the events. He looked as though he had had confirmation of something and he was quick to forego the very vocal protests that a few of his companions looked to be about to voice. He waved a hand in the air to cut off the protests and motioned to the sealed doors through which they would shortly be moving and enlarged on his evaluation.

"To those now gaining positions of prominence back on Earth it is not only necessary but vital to have control over anyone who has the knowledge and power to pull them down. I have already explained to you the changes in the political arena that are taking place with this latest round of elections. Gaining control of Merquise at this time is the expedient thing to do for those now jockeying for position, as it not only ensures his silence but also gives them leverage against one of the Prime voices in the pacifist movement. By controlling him they have leverage against Relena Darlian and if they are moving against him now then I would expect them to take measures against the Preventer Commander-in-Chief within days. That is if they have not already done so. I expect that they know exactly what type of leverage would be needed to bring pressure onto her and effectively give them the ability to keep her under control. Some subtle type of threat I would imagine and they would be handling her with the utmost delicacy considering her very public profile. Yes, they would want undisputed control of Merquise, considering Mars will shortly no longer be a closed world. They are treading a fine line and they would have it planned down to the last detail."

Barker scowled at the man, no doubt deeply disturbed by the idea that his Commander in Chief might be influenced to act against the best interests of the people, but personally Polnar found nothing wrong with his assessment. This was a man who obviously was a follower of current and past political events and was an astute analyst of said events. A damned fine political analyst and now that he knew that he would have to remember him.

Special agents such as himself had a standing mandate from Raydon to always be on the alert for anyone who might make an agent for the Stations in the future. He would have to look for the chance to talk to Curran in more relaxed circumstances and take the time to sound him out on his views, both personal and political. He very well might have the right requirements to make an agent for the Station Alliance when it came time for them to be revealed.

His background would need to be thoroughly scanned and without a doubt Raydon would have the man checked by the Gifted, as a security measure against ESUN agents being inserted in their intelligence system. He would have to remember this man and pass the information on the first chance he received.

"Preventer Earth is not a fool." Barker growled. "No politician is going to find it easy to get the best of Lady Une. She had the best possible training under Kushrenada himself."

"Even Kushrenada lost to the politics of the times." Kurtz responded scowling at the floor and perhaps not truly aware of what he said.

"You think?" Curran grinned. "I certainly doubt it, but this is neither the time nor the place for this type of discussion."

Barker eyed both men with a look that said clearly enough that they would talk later. "You are right about that. This is not the time for a recounting of events in the war. I admit that we have troubles but we are not out of the picture by any means. We have our people outside the dome safe until morning and we have control of the Alpha Dome. What we need to know now is where those agents went and what they are intending to do."

"From what you have said it has already become bloody in the dome. I need to alert the medical unit and have them prepare for casualties." Kurtz muttered, considering the floor of the lock as he sorted out his priorities as head of the Emergency Response Team. "I should also check on Jenny Santos' condition. With the communications problems we have been having there have been no progress reports and I admit that silence is beginning to worry me."

Polnar frowned, far from pleased. More delays in carrying out his mission but … It was true that the medical unit would be needed if they … when they came to blows with the ESUN Agents. He had no doubt there would be a bloody conflict and he needed to know if he had problems securing Merquise that he had medical professionals in the wings if the man proved difficult and would not stay out of the confrontation. Yes, it made sense to have the medical centre on alert and he was not surprised when Barker nodded his agreement.

"Yes, we should stop by the med centre and ensure that arrangements are made for any casualties that might be incurred. There are a number of dead in the enviro dome and while the exact number at this time is unknown, I have no idea if there are injured up there. The dome at this time is under emergency shut down, the buildings in lock down mode due to contaminates in the vent systems. We need to get on top of that problem before things go from bad to worse."

Kurtz's scowl deepened but he nodded his understanding. "If it is a computer problem we may be able to offer you some help. We have some pretty good computer geeks with us."

Palmer and Curran both shot glances at Kurtz, neither pleased by the description but neither making a comment on it. If it had been meant to lighten the atmosphere it failed miserably and they were not pleased to be considered a joke, but they had been called worse in the past. They had worked together repeatedly on the base computer systems and had a fair understanding of each others capabilities and the bases individual master network and the offshoot isolated systems as well.

"Can't guarantee anything until we can determine the cause of the problem." Palmer fairly grunted his response, clearly not in a happy mood. "May not be able to do anything."

"Fucking virus." Curran sniffed. "If you want help with a computer problem I seriously suggest you find us some working computers. We will need a decent system, isolated from the main network to analyse the virus and exactly what it is doing before we will have any chance of getting around it or killing it. It is possible that our systems may need a total rebuild and if that is the case then it is feasible that it could be days, or even weeks, before we can restore full functions to the base."

Barker looked far from happy with that and Polnar was in total agreement. They needed working systems as quickly as possible.

"Understood. We take it as it comes. At this point in time that is about all we are capable of doing. Our order of business then is reaching the Medical Centre and discovering some means of accessing a working computer system. Then we find those Agents and we end this."

Barker looked to the door as the warning chime sounded, alerting them to the imminent opening of the doors.

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2005


	134. Chapter 134 Chapter 133

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 133

March 2nd AC 198

Preventer Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty

Date 2nd March AC 198

Time: 04:18 Bounty ship time [Sanc time 01:03

Duo

// I need to sort out what is happening. Suddenly everything seems to be going to hell.//

The hallway stretched out ahead of him; seemingly endless. It was deserted, the multicoloured lines on the floor providing him with a guide back to the accommodation deck and his cabin, which now took on the aspect of a haven from the madness that was fast overtaking his world. He needed some serious sit down and think time and he was only too aware of the looming spectre of another bout of high acceleration.

//How long do I have before I become a beaten up pancake again? Not all that long. A bit over an hour I guess. Would that give me sufficient time to begin searching through Romefeller's computer records? Nah. Probably not. They are in no particular order, after all and that is my fault. When I took them I just ripped out the files that could be accessed intending to sort them later and I haven't had the time or opportunity as yet to see what additional files Heero managed to save. That might prove to be a nightmare on its own. Maybe I should take the time to rig up a search engine to scour the files and make it easier to find key words.//

He was good with computers but he was a realist and he knew that he was far from the best. He prided himself on not telling outright lies and that meant that he was even honest to himself about his own short comings. He did have the ability and the knowledge to hack a computer without a problem, but where it might take Yuy ten minutes to beat security protocols it would take him a half an hour to defeat the security protocols and access the same system.

He had the know how and the training to write programs from scratch, as during his time with the Sweepers and later under Dr G's training, he had been given the very best education possible. A street rat from L2 with the equivalent education to make him a master mechanic and engineer, capable of working on the advanced technology that had been DeathScythe. Yes, they had been thorough in his education, ensuring he was efficient with mobile suit and computer technology, but he was honest. He was adequate with computers, not a whiz kid and in this situation that would cost him valuable time.

//Still, if this trip does not give me the opportunity to increase and eventually perfect my skills, then I don't know what good it will do. There is going to be plenty of time to learn while we are crawling through space. I might just advance more than my computing skills too. I always wanted to improve my education. There are plenty of on line courses I could take from Universities that deal with long flight ships. I could learn heaps more than engineering and mechanics. I might even go for a Masters Degree in something. //

He also might not have the time to do half of what he could consider. What ever it was that was going down in the Earth Sphere at this time it might well prove to offer much more than a passing distraction for him. Space was vast and the odds of him playing an active part in this meeting to take place in the future would be some outlandish figure but … For good or ill he had a crawling sensation in his gut that he recognized from his days in the war. It told him he was going to be involved in this meeting that would take place somewhere between Earth and the Asteroids. He knew that crawling in the gut, he had felt it innumerable times before and it always had heralded trouble. What ever happened out in space at this meeting he was certain it was not going to be boring.

//Does Une know something about this? Did she know before she assigned me to the mission? If she did not then … why would she arrange for me to be on this ship and heading in the direction of Mars at this time?//

There was a lot of open space to be crossed before he reached Mars and then even more space to be traversed before they reached the Asteroid Belt. Such distances could not be covered in an hour or two. Why would Une assign him to this duty that was so far away and take him from other more important missions far closer to home? He was not going to be of much use with the events taking place on Mars at this time.

// I really should not presume that I will be involved in those talks to take place with these people. Station Alliance. I wonder who they really are and whether they are a feasible threat? The talks might take place on the other side of the solar system to the direction I am now travelling in. Within three months I will be passing near Mars orbit, but it would take up to a year for this ship to reach a meeting site if the meeting set for July is to take place on the opposite side of the Martian orbit in relation to Earth. Think three dimensional, Maxwell and consider the complexities of trajectories, distance and travel time. You have no idea where this Station One is sited within the asteroid belt … or if it is on the far side of the belt. It could be that-a-way by a few million kilometres and not this-a-way.//

He sighed. He was tired. Exhausted physically and emotionally and he hurt. It seemed that every bone and muscle in his body had a complaint to make. It had been a long day and he had thus far managed only two hours sleep and in an hour there was going to be another fifteen minutes of hell to live through as the ship boosted her speed. If Une did not send instructions before the next acceleration period after this, then he would presume that he was not to be involved with the meeting despite that crawling in his gut and that would be a load off of his mind. By that third burn the ship would be committed to the Mars trajectory, unless Preventers expended a huge amount of financing to turn her, slow her down and refuel her for a redirection to her flight path.

//I'm tired. I want to collapse into a real bed and just forget the world exists before I have to face a poking and prodding session with the doc. How does anyone sleep with the acceleration pain?//

It would not be a boring day coming up, but it would be exhausting if he could get no adequate rest. He had an appointment with the ships medic after breakfast to be issued with the drugs required to maintain his body's health for the long term space flight. The drugs were crucial to him maintaining viable bone and muscle development without the benefits of gravity. It would be the first occasion that he would need to take them, as during his stint on a Sweeper Family Ship there had been constant gravity in the general quarters of the ship. He smiled at the rush of memories associated with those days when he had left the streets of L2 behind him and discovered what it was to be a part of something as huge as the Sweepers.

//They were good days. Very good days. So different from anything I had ever known before. Different to the streets and a far cry from the Mission and I guess the best thing about them was that I got the chance to get some really expert education. I learned a lot from the Sweepers.//

He rubbed at his chin, feeling that almost bristle that told him he might need to perform his once a month shave in the next few days. The doctor was only his first port of call for the upcoming day on the Bounty. When he finished in the medical bay he was expected to visit once again with Captain Tracey of the Bounty, to further discuss the events of the night and just what was he expected to say? He knew as much as the Captain, nothing more, and possibly even less.

//What more he expects me to tell him I don't know. It's not as if I lived in Une's hip pocket. I'm not privy to her thoughts or what coloured knickers she wears. Ewe, what a thought. She'd string me up and skin me slowly if I found out what colour her knickers were. Focus, Maxwell, focus. He undoubtedly knows more than I do about the entire situation developing back on Earth and just as much about this Station Alliance as I do. I never heard of them before tonight. No, I don't know any more even though he seems to think I do. He's pretty high on the agent listings to have command of the Bounty and being a ship Captain he has to keep abreast of the political doings of the Earth Sphere in far more detail than me. He'd need to know what trouble to expect at each of the ports of call in the colonies and out in the belt. It's what Preventer Captains do. //

One thing he did not doubt was that there would be a mad scramble for information going on everywhere in the Earth Sphere at this time to identify each and every person who had had their face splashed all over the very public airwaves. Public and private archives would be scoured for every iota of information available about each person who held power in this Alliance. The to do about the Station Alliance was going to be huge, far bigger than the news of Raiders attacking Mars. It was a guaranteed attention grabber just by that name alone.

Yes, the Name. That name was guaranteed to capture attention. Kushrenada. There could not have been a single name in the Earth Sphere that would more thoroughly capture the people's attention except perhaps Peacecraft. The citizens of the ESUN feared the name Peacecraft but adored the name Kushrenada, which he personally found rather disturbing.

He was not a student of history but perhaps he should give some serious thought to becoming one. From what he knew of the war, which he admitted was just a little biased, Kushrenada had been no angel, yet he was loved as the World Sovereign who had defeated the evil White Fang plot to destroy the planet. Perhaps studying history might help him to understand and better accept all the posturing and finger pointing that was still going on even so long after the war.

If he was fortunate and if he did choose to pay more attention to the past, then it was feasible that such knowledge might provide some help in reading through the Romefeller files. He had already found that reference to Hitler and the dawn of genetic manipulation within the files and who knew what other references might be of interest and provide him with insights as to events past and possibly future?

// Romefeller. I don't know what to make of them. Well, it's a certainty that I'm not going to have the opportunity to even start looking for answers before the acceleration burn. Probably wouldn't do me any good to try hitting outside sources either. Not yet. There really is not even enough time for me to establish contact with Heero and see if he might know anything at this time about the Alliance, or this raid on Mars. For that matter I'm not certain that I will be able to contact him at all for the next few days. With the security alert he would have taken Relena to a safe house well away from the Sanc Palace and he may not be able to answer any questions even if I could get through to him. Without a doubt he would have the laptop with him and I hope he has the copies of the Romefeller files hidden in a safe place. About the only action I think I could take to contact him would be to leave an email and hope he gets back to me. When he has the chance to read it. He might be a very busy man at the moment and for a few days to come. Until the crisis is over, or at least settles down. The crisis? Oh, just a little more than one. Assassinations, Raiders on Mars and now the Alliance. What more could happen//

Which crisis should he pick to investigate first? Perhaps the appearance of an Alliance and the Name? Was it possible that this Kushrenada was in truth a Kushrenada and might he be involved with the terrorists who were targeting the major political figures within the ESUN, who had chosen this particular day to announce their intentions? Certainly such a scenario was not impossible, but in his view it would be a damn stupid thing to do if he wanted the recognition and freedom to become a free trading partner and an independent nation status granted to the Alliance.

//I honestly don't think there would be much chance of a connection existing between an obvious terrorist group and an Alliance of Space Stations sprouting trade agreements and independence but … Look at the war and how things turned out. Stranger things have happened. //

What really concerned him was the involvement, if any, of Preventer Earth in any of the events that had so disrupted his reality this night. He knew only too well the past record of the woman during her time in Oz. She had been psychologically unstable, but he also could not ignore the fact that she had been stable for years.

Her primary watchdog assigned by the World Government was Sally Po. The Preventer Chief Medical Officer had been appointed by the committee in charge of the parole for certain key figures in the One Year War and in her turn Sally had her own watch dog set to curb her activities should the need arise. There were checks and balances on the activities of the Preventer Chief and he had no doubt that the former Alliance Intelligence Officer and physician would not hesitate in having Lady Une removed from her position should she show signs of instability.

//They have so many checks and balances on key Preventer personnel that I have to wonder that we get anything done. I suppose it is to be expected when you have an organization as complex as Preventers staffed by representatives of every military organization that featured in the war. It's a wonder we are allowed to scratch our butts without our watchdogs coming down on us. //

Preventers was chiefly staffed by the former members of the military from the Alliance and Oz factions. There was a sprinkling of White Fang members amid the group and certain select colony representatives as well and resistance fighters from many regions of Earth. Primarily however, the organization was made up of Oz and Alliance members, they being the largest military factions in existence.

In the early days of the organization that mix of personnel had led to bouts of friction ending in brawls and in one or two cases serious injury, but gradually the members of the select force had learned to live with each other and their one time differing political aspirations and altercations had become rare. When contention in more recent months occurred it was not generally of a political nature, but was found to be of a more personal nature between the antagonists.

// She is watched no less than we are, perhaps even more so than the Gundam Pilots are watched and considering her position that makes a lot of sense. She has one hell of a power base in the Preventers should she ever decide to use it. Sally alone is not set to watch her, which would not make it easy for Une to work as efficiently as she would wish against the protocols set to contain her and ensure that the organization remains on track with the Presidential mandate. Still, she has proved in the past that she is a sneaky bitch and more than a match for politicians. There was a reason Kushrenada used her. //

Preventers worked closely with the Presidential staff and in conjunction with the ESUN Security Agency whose primary purpose was to police the laws of the Earth Sphere. From Earth out to the individual colonies and thence out as far as the mining communities dotting the asteroid belt, Preventers portfolio extended further than the ESUN Security Agencies mandate of merely policing the laws.

It was the sanctioned duty of the Preventers to ensure that no wars were birthed by a greed for Power giving rise to rebellion and revolution, regardless of origin within the Earth Sphere. No one was supposed to be exempt from Preventer scrutiny. Supposedly the Security Agency and Preventers were to work in entirely different spheres and complement each other, but in truth there was a deep rivalry growing between the two organizations.

//How effective can the head of Preventers really be if her every action is scrutinized by agents of the Security Agency? I think it is ridiculous. Still, Une always has been capable and there is no doubt about her ability to be cold blooded. Her capabilities were proven in her days in Oz and she has a lot of backing amid the colonies after her stint there. For anyone to go against her they would have to be subtle and every move would have to be planned to perfection. If she caught any whiff of them sniffing around anything she did not want them investigating, I think there would be a rise in pollution in the bay. She is one woman who can kill without blinking. //

For her to make any move that would actually endanger the stability of the government would require her to execute every action with excruciating care and devotion to detail to escape early detection by her watchdogs. He did not doubt that she would be capable of doing exactly that and he wondered if he was not caught up in just such a scheme.

//There is so much happening all at once. Something could feasibly be slipped past her guardians' control sphere. She terrified me when she was in Oz and she seemed stable enough when I was talking to her but … Ah, shit. What the hell do I think I am doing? I have to go to bed. //

He rubbed at his chin and scratched at the small roughness there. Scratching lightly with a short finger nail he grinned and nodded slightly with delight. He really was going to have to consider taking up shaving soon on a more regular basis. For a long time he had been waiting to take up shaving and had despaired of ever developing whiskers. He'd felt rather small and immature beside some of the other agents, even the young ones who still measured more years than he.

Encouraged by this evidence of his developing maturity he briefly wished that the development would extend to his rather diminutive height. He had always been undersized for his age and overly sensitive to references made to his lack of stature. The development of a need to shave once a month gave him hope and while it did not give him much hope of reaching a stately height, he did entertain the notion of maybe acquiring two or three inches. That lofty height would certainly improve his view of the world, as might the acquisition of a few kilos in weight as he gained bone and muscle. He had heard that some people actually grew a little under the prolonged use of the long term flight drugs. Even Chang had grown in the last year and Duo had been feeling left out.

//Flighty, Maxwell. You could not get a bigger change in thought that skipping from Raiders, Alliance, Une's knickers and the fact you're a shrimp. Not that I think I'm a shrimp. Good things come in small packages after all and it helps hide in small places when you really don't want to be seen. Yes, being small has its uses. Agh. Listen to yourself. You are too tired to concentrate on any one thing for long and that is not good. No, I don't think I will try to gain any information on what is happening out there now. After breakfast, or the interview with the captain will have to do. I feel that tired that if I am lucky I might even sleep through the acceleration burn.//

He had chosen to walk back to the accommodation deck, instead of using the automated rail system in favour of taking the opportunity to think. There was so much that required his attention, but he felt muddle headed, exhausted and it was an effort to make his feet lift from the deck.

His magnetic boots clicked against the metal decking, holding him firmly to the deck plates. Usually it required only a little effort on his part to free the magnetic soles from the metal to permit him to take each step, but now it seemed an effort to lift each booted foot. Despite his exhaustion he refused to consider using the rail system. While he was on the Bounty he had already decided that he would be using the magnetic boots more than the rail system as a means to augment his exercise routine. The more he could work his muscles the less deterioration would occur in the zero gravity. Even using the drugs the medic would begin him on later in the day he would experience some atrophy if he did not maintain a strict physical regime.

//I hate the very idea of using drugs as a rule, but in this case I guess I just have no choice. Without them I will be hopelessly weak and unable to function adequately when we hit a gravity well again. Long distance space travel sucks.//

' … on board ship. One of Them. They took you away from me. Butchered you.'

Duo froze, glancing behind him to survey the empty passage way with a scowl darkening his eyes from blue to violet. The Preventer agent glanced back quickly to check the way ahead of him, but found himself to be alone in the hallway. For a long moment he remained rigid, alert for the slightest sound that would alert him to the location of a stalker. He listened, straining for all he was worth to catch the smallest of sounds.

No movement. No voice. No breathing.

The doors opening into the corridor were closed, each of the cabins along the walls to either side showing the lock down lights, small red glows in the dimmed lighting of the passageway. Almost like evil eyes glinting in the darkened shadows. He could very quickly allow his imagination to run away with him in this lighting.

He waited, watching all doors and the length and breadth of the hallway, checking behind him every few seconds, certain that he was not alone, that someone was there. He knew he was on a ship full of people and that many of those people had no cause to love him. He was a Gundam Pilot, a terrorist who had killed family and friends and that not all of the crew were going to get over that in a hurry.

They might have seemed to have no problem with his presence initially, the Captain might well be right, but that did not necessarily mean that he was not going to be in for trouble. Some of these men and women who crewed the Bounty no doubt would have good cause to resent, even hate him, for what had occurred during the war.

He had killed and even to himself there were some days during the war when it seemed that if you wore a uniform you wore a badge that said kill me. How many people had he killed in his days as a terrorist? He had been recruited to defend the Colonies and he had believed that what he did was right, but that did not mean that he did not still hear them screaming as they died. He was on a ship full of people who had no reason to love him, but would there be problems this early on in the flight?

//I don't like this. // He stared down the hallway until his eyes hurt and then checked his back. //Deserted, but I am sure I heard … //

He sighed, shaking his head and continued on his way, but he was careful to watch his back as he entered the hallway where his assigned cabin could be found. He paused at the intersection and to listen hard for the tell tale click of magnetic boots, or the elevated hum that would tell him someone was using the hand rail system. Around him the ship seemed eerily silent. Ghost like.

The crawling along his spine that insisted he was watched still haunted him as he reached his own cabin and he watched the companion way for long minutes before calling up the computer registry on his door lock. To his careful examination of the log he found that the registry claimed no one had opened his door since he had departed, but he knew a dozen ways to circumvent that record. He had bypassed such functions plenty of times before.

//I'm not paranoid. The shrink I talked to for months said I was surprisingly well adjusted considering my past and my occupation during the war. I'm not paranoid … but I sure as hell don't like this feeling.//

With a small huff of breath he swiped his key card and stepped to one side as the door slid open. He waited for a count of thirty, standing to the side of the open cabin door half expecting a gunshot to herald an assassin. No sound and no light spilled from the cabin and with another look about him he leaned closer to the door trying to angle himself so that he had a view into the small space and not leave himself silhouette against the door.

"Lights." He commanded.

No bark of a weapon answered him, no knife flashed in the illumination now brightening the room. No voice cursed him and called him murderer. Feeling unsettled, not at all relieved that he was alone, he entered the cabin and locked the door as it swooshed shut behind him.

"Fuck. Don't tell me I'm going to be this jumpy for the entire flight?"

He found himself checking the secured cupboards and every nook and cranny of the cabin for listening devices or hidden cameras but found nothing. Finally, convinced at least for the moment that he was safe he considered the sleeping bag and the exhaustion that argued he settle himself within its constricting embrace and enjoy some well deserved sleep.

//I wish I could use the bunk.//

He scowled at the bag hanging in the nook where the fold down bunk would be if they were not in a zero g situation, even as he began to shuck his clothing, stuffing shirt and trousers into the locker flanking the bunk cubicle. On those few days when the ship's Medical Officers called for gravity to be instigated on the ship he would have the luxury of releasing the standard bunk from its confinement and how he would revel in being able to sleep in what he knew was a horizontal position. For now he, like everyone else on board the Bounty, had to settle for the bag and constantly telling himself that it was okay to sleep on his feet.

//Not like we have a choice, really. It's not even as though the body really has an up, down or horizontal reference in zero g. It's just the psychology of knowing I'm not lying down that gets to me.//

Maybe he would discover that space flight was not for him. He had occasionally entertained the idea of joining up with a Sweeper ship, but his work as a Preventer had kept him occupied and he had not given it serious contemplation. Shuttle runs between Earth and the Colonies was a far cry from what he was about to endure and he was pretty sure it would be enduring and not enjoying. It was a risky business long haul flight and this ship was a far cry from the luxury of the modern Family Ship of the Sweepers, where he had had his first taste of true space flight.

//They have gravity twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Stronger gravity than the colonies in some cases. Not like these long haul ships, but the Family Ships never birth at a colony. Few people know that they even exist. I wonder what Howard is doing now? It's been a while since I spoke to him. Maybe he could tell me something about this Station Alliance. He's in thick with the Sweeper Council.//

The last of his clothing and boots was tucked neatly away in the appropriate locker and with a muttered grumble at the necessity of it he began wriggling himself into the suspended bag and making himself as comfortable as possible. He instructed the computer to lower the lights to a dim glow, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of being in the dark and in the confinement of the bag. He was certain that he was going to have trouble on board the Bounty, though exactly what it was that alarmed him he could not say. The hallway had been empty. There simply had been no one else with him and yes, he did have quite an imagination but …

//Shit. We have not even left the hub of the Earth Sphere yet, though this new burn will take us out of the area and really set us on course for Mars. Maybe that is the problem? The distance. I'm not comfortable with the idea of the distances involved in this trip. Each day will take us further away from help and we will be on our own. Help would take days and then weeks and months to reach us if we needed it. Gives new meaning to being alone. I don't know anybody on this ship. There is no one here that I can trust to guard my back. I hate being alone. I don't feel that I can trust anyone at this stage. I have no back up and I'm not used to working that alone. //

Out here there was no fellow Gundam Pilots to watch his back on the assigned mission. He felt exposed, vulnerable to attack and that was a feeling he had never enjoyed. In truth it had been years since he had felt it. It was not until the pilots had begun to work together that he had realized how closely he had had to watch his own back in the past. He was uncertain just when it was that he had begun to trust the other pilots.

He knew that he had not really begun to trust Heero until the Wing pilot had rescued him from the oh so tender ministrations of Oz, when he had been taken prisoner in space. He had found himself trusting Quatre when they had been holed up in Arabia with the Maguanacs. He had not really known the other pilots, though he had decided that he could trust Chang when they were held captive on the moon. As for Barton … well, he really had not known just how far he could trust Trowa who seemed to be working for Oz when they had met, but he admitted that Trowa slipping him the plans for the new DeathScythe and Altron Gundams had gone a long way toward accepting him.

//Guess I am not really a very trusting soul deep down. I tend to make people prove themselves to me, taking nothing said or done near me at face value. I think Captain Tracey might be okay. He seems decent enough, but only time will tell and as for the rest of them … Well. It's a long way to Mars. We will see. Space crazies. Wonderful thought. If there is someone on board this ship who has a real bone to pick with me, I might not get much warning before the shit hits the fan. I am going to have to keep my guard up and remember that my friend might be my enemy the next day. The longer we are on the ship the more chance there is that someone will lose the plot if they insist on stewing on the past. I hope the medics on board keep real close watch on their people. //

'One of Them. They took you away from me. Butchered you.'

He forced the thought away. Imagination. There had been no one there, no one to whisper the words in his ear. He was likely the one to go space crazy, unaccustomed as he was to the rigors of deep space flight. He would have to guard his own sanity as well as his body.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	135. Chapter 135 Chapter 134

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 134

In Transit

Phoenix Star

Time: 01:30 [Phoenix Star time is as for Rosemount Station which is Sanc time

Dorothy

// Kristian? But … it's not … possible. Surely not. Not after so long. //

It was such a handsome face frozen on the screen. Handsome indeed and there was a nobility there that she, daughter of the aristocracy as she was, could not mistake. Her blue eyes narrowed and one finger absently worked its way into her hair and began twisting a heavy lock in a gesture she had not consciously permitted since her eleventh birthday.

He was aristocracy, she was certain of that. The refinement and the unconscious arrogance was unmistakable, but it was tempered with determination and something else that suggested this man was not one to trifle with and that his word was considered unbreakable bond. It was something she had found peculiar to the Kushrenada's that look. Others had an equivalent look, of course, but there was something here that waved a banner of recognition before her and it was emblazoned with the name Kushrenada.

// The great mystery … Will it finally be solved? If you are Kristian, what happened to you?//

The spartan features of her cabin were accepted as graciously as would be the antique luxury of the salon she had favoured at her grandfather's manor. She was confined here but she need not acknowledge her prisoner status and she was quite accomplished at ignoring undesirable incidentals. Many things were undesirable about this journey into the unknown, not the least of which was the woman standing near the door, watching her. She chose to ignore the ship's officer as she would ignore a servant awaiting her attention until it suited her to acknowledge said servants appearance.

"Your Grace?"

//I can vaguely remember grandfather complaining one day to my father. Something about Duke Heinrich being a disappointment to him. Something … Duke Heinrich was not in the same league as his brother, I think? He was different to Duke Alexander and this displeased grandfather, who said something like it was a pity that Alexander fell apart after his son's abduction. Something of that nature. I wonder what that was about?// With a small sigh she shook her head dismissing the thought as irrelevant to the current situation.

"Your Grace."

Her grandfather had always had very particular plans and you could tell when an event occurred that was of sufficient gravity to annoy him, such as a change in title that interfered with his desires. One would have thought he would be ecstatic when Heinrich wed her great aunt, but instead he had been in a black mood for weeks.

No, grandfather Dermail had not initially been amused that Duke Alexander had been replaced by Heinrich Kushrenada and she had a fair enough reason for that disapproval. Heinrich had never liked or approved of the politics of either Duke Dermail or Alphonso Catalonia and tolerated them for his blood ties to them. Their politics had revolved in different directions and while they had attended the same social circles and it had been expected that they work together, she knew that there had not been a great deal of good will between them. If anything Heinrich wedding her great aunt had put added stress on the relationship.

//I remember that Grandfather always said that Alexander made the better Duke even though Aunt Anna was wed to Heinrich.// She shook her head slightly and her gaze slid back to the screen and to that handsome aristocratic arrogance that was merely an assurance of knowing where one belonged. //Are you Kristian Kushrenada? Can you really be him?//

"Your Grace?"

The woman, whoever she was, was quite good at controlling her rising irritation at being ignored and to be honest she was becoming something of a bother disturbing her consideration of the latest puzzle life presented her with. Did they honestly expect her to be amused at being locked in her room like an errant child? Whoever these people were and whoever they were working for would learn that Dorothy Catalonia was a force to be reckoned with. She would tolerate such behaviour to acquire the knowledge she sought and then they had best pray that she approved of what she learned or she would tear them down and dance on their bones.

"Hmm?" Dorothy never took her eyes from the screen.

"The Captain would like to know if you require anything more tonight?"

//Oh he would, would he? Well there is a great deal that I require but nothing that he would consider permitting me access to. However, no matter. I can be patient.// "Not at the moment."

"The Captain requests that you give some thought to the appearance of this man who claims to be a Kushrenada. At a more civilized hour the Captain would like to discuss the appearance of this Station Alliance with you. Particularly the possibility that this President is who he claims to be."

//Really? Give the matter some thought? Just what does the fool think I have been doing all this time, twiddling my thumbs? Well, what more can one expect from the sub classes? No breeding, no training, no brain. Sometimes grandfather made frighteningly astute observations. // "And what, pray tell, would the Captain consider to be a more civilized hour?"

"You are invited to breakfast with the Captain at 07:00 hours, ma'am."

She resisted the urge to sniff disdainfully. The woman seemed polite enough, but she could almost hear the grate of teeth and in a servant that was unacceptable and when all was said and done this woman was low in the ranking of ship's officers and therefore would be the equivalent of a servant who was best kept out of sight and hearing of ones guests. Someone really should instruct the Captain in appropriate protocol.

If they presumed her to be a teenager they were in for an enlightening experience. She could play the fool, she had done so on more than one occasion, but she was not inclined to do so now. She was, in truth, still angry … well, perhaps not angry but more upset … over the evenings difficulties. She was not one to lightly accept banishment to boredom when there were matters that required her delicate touch and Milliardo Peacecraft required her attention. If her cousin truly was alive she was going to give him more than an ear bending over leaving Mr. Milliardo to the not so tender ministrations of the ESUN.

After denying her the opportunity to aid the man they had imprisoned her in this wretched cabin all evening, without amusement or explanation as to what aid would be offered to those on Mars and they now expected her to accept a breakfast invitation with a vapid smile? The audacity of the man. It was a pity that both breeding and training would ensure she would hold her peace and maintain her composure and temper and accept the invitation to the meal.

A pity as she really felt the urge to rip skin from someone, but at this moment in time patience and control was necessary, but she was far from finished with her displeasure at their actions. She was patient. She could wait and ultimately she would permit her displeasure to channel her activities accordingly. This Captain had best pray she approved of what she was going to see.

//I shall give myself every opportunity to solve the mystery of these people and depending on my discoveries I shall either join them or take them down as they will so richly deserve for wasting my time. They claim to come from my cousin and I would know for certain if he is alive or not. If he is …? Hmm. I think I need to kick his toosh for staying so low key that I discovered no rumour of his continued survival. It is becoming a hell hole on Earth without him there to amuse me.//

"Your Grace …"

"You may inform the Captain that I accept his gracious invitation to breakfast." She permitted just a hint of the displeasure she felt to colour her tone and had the pleasure of seeing the woman hesitate.

"I … will arrive at 06:50 to escort you to the Captain's cabin. Good evening, Your Grace."

Dorothy nodded polite dismissal and resisted the urge to flick her hand at the woman in what would have been a rather petty and childish dismissal. No, the regal inclination of her head was sufficient. She was not inclined to give the officer the impression she was a child in a snit. She took the opportunity of her hair falling forward to obscure her face from the officer to watch as the woman glared at her and then stepped outside the room, the door sliding closed behind her. For an instant she considered the door and dismissed the urge to check if the lockdown had been reinstated.

Whether she was once again locked in was of no concern now. It had been made abundantly clear to her that she would not be altering the ship's course to take in a visit to Mars at this time and that was fine. She would have to live with the knowledge that she might have been of aid and had been prevented from making a difference. It would not be the first time such had occurred nor was it likely to be the last. She would have to accept at face value the claim made by the Captain that another ship was enroute to the red planet.

_"To observe and possibly participate in what ever events investigations reveal might be occurring there." _ The captain had been polite enough but cold, formal and not inclined to listen to argument.

So be it, but if the unthinkable happened she would not forget that they might have made a difference. She was not able to assist Milliardo in any way that could offer him a respite from the machinations of the ESUN. Whoever had issued the order that had seen her confined to this glorified closet was going to know about it in time.

//I am disappointed in Miss Relena. I thought I had taught her better than to place herself in a position that could be compromised. If peace is truly what she desires then how dare she ignore my instruction and leave herself open for manipulation in this manner? Did she listen to nothing I told her? Or perhaps she is still out of sorts with me because of the war? Petty if that is so. Very petty and not very smart.//

Her gaze drifted to the screen and to the face of the man who had thrown yet another interesting circumstance into her life. He was handsome, she reflected, taking the time to study every line and curve of that aristocratic face. Yes, he was very handsome and by looking so carefully, tracing each line and fitting it to her memory of the portraits she had had occasion to see she could detect the subtle bone structure that mirrored cousin Treize.

Kristian Kushrenada's mother had been a Mountbatten and Treize Kushrenada's mother had been a Catalonia, her great aunt. The maternal lines of her cousins parents had been as rigidly controlled by Romefeller as had the dominant Kushrenada and Peacecraft lineages that they seemed so set on controlling. It was simply the truth to acknowledge that all of the nobility of Europe had been interbreeding for generations and everyone was someone's cousin to some degree within that select nobility. Normally one would assume that this might have lead to the danger of inbreeding and certain genetic defects would occur and indeed that had happened, though not as regularly as one might assume, up until the discovery of the genetic sciences.

//Romefeller were quick enough to see the advantages of the new science. To eradicate the flaws in the genetic print of their cattle was not their only goal. They have never thought so small or along so restricted a line of possibility. Correct the flaws in the bloodlines, yes they were quick to do that and then to go beyond mere correction. Advance those bloodlines by manipulation of the genetic print itself. We are all the product of their manipulation. Their grand ideals. Bastards.//

There had been no one to offer Duchess Dorothy Catalonia protection.

She had been on her own, left to her own devices to procure a future for herself. Relena had abandoned her, focusing exclusively on shaping the peace that now was threatened by the very people who had cried out for her to save them.

"Save us Miss Relena. We are useless, unthinking peasants who can not wipe our own asses without the blessing of a fifteen year old fool who could not see what was in front of her own face." Dorothy shook her head, disgusted with the young Relena and with herself for raking it all up again. "She never once even tried to understand what we were doing."

Cousin Treize was gone, dead and his body lost in the chaos of the space battle never to be recovered. They had searched but they never had found the Tallgeese II. Mr. Milliardo too had been gone, presumed dead. The strange and frightening Epyon had vanished in the explosion of the Libra and he might not have wished to protect her after her betrayal. Her grandfather was most certainly dead and her only consolation was that at least they all had died in the glory of battle.

Dorothy scowled at the screen and huffed a small breath. Glory of battle indeed. She was slipping again. The whole thing, the entire sordid mess that had seen her stripped of the people she loved the best had been staged to eradicate the tools and the need for war. It had all been so carefully orchestrated and so many of them had gone against their very nature and threatened their very souls to see it done.

Not her grandfather, though he had played a most important role. He had wanted power, pure and simple and she knew it and could forgive him that weakness. He had grown up in a different age, to a different school of thought to that which raised her cousins and herself. Times changed and the only constant was the wars that cycled repeatedly, disrupting the freedom of the people.

Staged. Orchestrated by Treize and his closest confidants so that they could gain control of the Earth Sphere and teach the people to resist the constant warmongering instigated by the bastards who, for so long, had pulled the strings of humanity from their hidden sanctuaries.

Romefeller.

The boogiemen her grandfather had told her about from her earliest memories had proven to be more than boogiemen he whispered about to frighten a wilful girl child into obedience. Those hidden mysterious men and women who, from the anonymity of their hidden halls, insinuated their will into the minds and hearts of their puppets. Romefeller had for too long considered themselves the sole authority responsible for directing the course of the lives of the generations of mankind. Manipulating, scheming, assassinating, bribing, blackmailing, rewarding and outright cheating to get the pathway they wanted humankind to walk.

_"There has always been Romefeller. Remember that. There always will be Romefeller, Dorothy. Nothing that we do can defeat them. Nothing that we do can control them. It has been tried and always has the result been failure. They are beyond us and the sooner we accept that for the truth it is and get on with living this life that they provided us with for our betterment, the better. It is a sorrowful truth that should someone ever achieve their demise that anarchy would reign. So long have they ruled that should they fall the rest of the race has not the drive or vision to go on."_

Dorothy shook her head leaning back from the screen and closing her eyes against sight of the metal ceiling. What utter stupidity.

Reflecting on the past it surprised her now to recall those words from her own grandfather. They seemed so defeatist, not the fiery old man with a lust for power whom she had dearly loved despite what she saw as his shortcomings. He had changed as he had grown older and she did not like the changes then and despaired for him even now. He had wanted so much. He had wanted to gather sufficient power to take his place in the ranks of the greatest in the organization.

She had learned in the last few years the truth of her families dealing with the Romefeller that was hidden from the view of the world. The Catalonia dynasty had a very long history with Romefeller. She had learned her grandfather had not only known of them, but had been an active part of them and he had been proud of his association with them. So proud of the family links that he had determined he would be the next of the family to insinuate himself into the power structure that was hidden from the view of most. He had played dangerous games and the family had paid for his ideals.

While her grandfather had seemed to revel in his game playing and in tweaking the noses of those hidden watchers and somehow remaining free of their ire to act as he saw fit, her parents had been another matter. She had not been told it all, of course, but she was not a fool and she could fill in many of the gaps in the story.

Her father had hated the very idea of Romefeller controlling his life and had been disgusted at the game playing his father-in-law had delighted in. He had not followed Dermail's ideals or schemes to gain power in Romefeller and much as she had respected her grandfather and she even loved him; she would be honest if only to herself and admit that she did love the old man, but she was also being honest when she admitted that she considered him to be a fool.

// He had no idea what Romefeller really was. Is. No idea at all. The old fool was so set on his games and what he thought he knew. Some of it he knew, yes, but all of it? No. No, he had no idea.//

She knew. To her sorrow and anger, she knew the truth.

Duke Albert Alphonso Bartholomew Dermail had known precisely nothing when it came to Romefeller. That archaic semi secret society in their great shining halls who postured before the world was not what she knew to be Romefeller. He had known something of that other aspect of Romefeller, but he had not even gleaned the surface of what lurked in the shadows. He had not known that all of his attempts to gain power and be noticed by them-to be considered suitable to become a part of their grand design-had been useless.

No, after his death, after the world had ended for her with the death of everyone whom she had ever really cared for, she had learned the truth. When it all had happened as they had planned, when her cousin had sacrificed himself and when Mr. Milliardo had completed the projections, and given himself so completely to ensure it all came into being, she had been left on her own to fend for herself.

_"You do know that when it is done, when the initial requirements are met, that there may be no one willing to stand by you, Dorothy? You do understand that it is almost a certainty that I will not be here to offer you aid?"_

Her cousin's bluer that blue eyes had been very serious as he had watched her. Begged her to understand what it was that she was stepping into.

_"You will do what must be done regardless of the cost to yourself and to those whom you care for. I know, cousin. I know the extent of the price that must be paid if one cycle is to be stopped and another started. I am not afraid."_

He had not initially known that Relena Peacecraft was alive and she had to wonder if his plans would have changed had he known it earlier. For years she had assumed that somehow, someway, her cousin would devise a means to engineer a situation where Milliardo must step into place and take power. She had believed that Treize could force him somehow to acknowledge the heritage he had considered lost to him and take up the mantle of a Peacecraft King. She should have known that her cousin would be most devious and that nothing about his plans could ever be considered so straightforward and obvious as Milliardo becoming once again a Peacecraft.

"Devious? No. No that is not the right word. It is so inadequate." She sighed.

Such a hideous and poor description for a man who wore so many faces. He was a man who had dedicated himself to the task of shaping a better world against nearly insurmountable odds and who seemed to acknowledge and accept from the very first day that he would be misunderstood.

// Treize was never devious. He was … I'm not sure what the right word should be to adequately describe what he was, but devious just does not seem to be appropriate. He was manipulative. Without a doubt he could be described as manipulative, but it was never callously so. There was always reason behind every action he took. It was for a good cause.//

Dorothy scowled and quickly schooled the frown away. She must be less open in her expressions if she was to survive.

//Am I blind to his faults? I have heard so many discussions on his motives, so many descriptions of Treize as a man and a leader. So many of them just do no understand. Much of what has been said in the past, by those who have not even tried to study what actually happened, is far from complimentary to you, Cousin, but what more can one expect from illiterate peasants? So few knew you as I did. Milliardo knew you too. We grew up with Treize and we alone know … knew the real man.//

_"You should be."_

Treize had stared out of the window, at the full moon lighting the gracious grounds of the estate in Kiev and he had been very still for a long time, simply staring out of the window and watching the night. It had been one of the last peaceful nights he had known.

She had been very young. Perhaps too young to have a real understanding of what she had been told, but the very breeding that had produced her and so disgusted her stood her in good stead and would not permit her to so much as flinch from the necessity of the situation.

_"He will not falter, understand that. While I admit to you that I do not know all that will happen, the equation suggests that the end result will come down to Milliardo. Something that he will do is the key that we seek. You must work your way to his side and you must remain there. I know you have a certain regard for him, Dorothy and be assured that he will need you to be there and to be strong for him. Much will rest on his strength and for him to act when the time comes he must be supported. I will do all that I must to see we arrive where the equation suggests we must be. You are a part of the equation and your being with him is vital to the outcome that we desire. I do not as yet know all of the players who will feature in this, but the infrastructure is almost complete. Soon the play shall begin and the cast will gather." _

_"Cousin … When it is done … will … will it be worth it? Promise me that we will be free of them."_

_"Have no doubt, Dorothy. To be effective we must commit ourselves, heart, body and soul. Have no doubts and the Earth will have peace and there will be freedom for such as we."_

"Treize." A whisper in which she permitted all of her questions, all of her doubts that they had succeeded to be voiced. To her mind not so much had seemed to change.

It had happened much as he had said it would, but not everything had occurred as she had expected. She had hoped to see more change, the advancement of peace giving her that out he had promised, yet she had never really heard him explain what that out was going to be. Freedom from Romefeller's machinations had been a part of the entire exercise of bringing a lasting peace to the Earth Sphere and she knew only too well that Romefeller had not been touched by the events of the war.

It had been Romefeller who had rescued her from the repercussions and Romefeller expected obedience from her now.

Perhaps it was the age difference leading her to misunderstand. She was no longer a little girl listening to the dreams spun by the cousin she had idolized since she could walk. She had always insinuated herself into the room if cousin Treize was present, whether he wished her presence or not. She had been fascinated by him and the intrigue that seemed to follow him around and by the white blonde boy who had been too solemn and silent and who in the fullness of time might have disappointed his mentor.

No, she was not a little girl now, but a young woman who had survived growing up in the halls of power and intrigue and who had survived the war that was supposed to end all wars. She was a young woman who had a long memory and she would not forget those who had turned their backs on her and left her to fend for herself, forcing her to turn to the very people she had hoped to displace to ensure her freedom for the culmination of his promised future.

He had warned her of that. Even that he had calculated into his equations and he had warned her that it might be necessary for her to do the unthinkable.

_"Much depends on how Milliardo reacts in the last days of what is to come, but I wish to warn you now of the possibility that you may need to turn to Romefeller before the cycle of change is completed. The day may come when you will find yourself alone and for your own protection you will need to enter the ranks of those who believe they control us. Know here and now Dorothy that you will do so with my blessing and know also that I see you fighting free of them. It will not be so simple as fighting a war and everything falling into place neatly after. That is a fairytale and we are not reading a children's story. There is a future beyond all of this conflict, Dorothy and we must give the wheels of change time to turn. I know there will come a time when you doubt Milliard,o but I ask you to trust him. Trust me. We need to believe in each other and in ourselves and we need to have the courage to endure and the patience to wait for it to finish. Allow Romefeller to think that they may control you. Allow them to see you clear of the mess that will be the aftermath of the war and exercise patience. Freedom will come."_

//When you fight on what is seen as the losing side you lose what friends you had and find yourself alone, don't you Mr. Milliardo? I wonder if they will ever understand? Treize had so much love for mankind and he loved Earth. He would have forgiven them anything, even dragging his name into the muck. Mr. Milliardo is just as bad as Treize was, but I am afraid I am not so forgiving. I would have liked just one person not immediately involved in the entire sordid mess to understand what it was we were doing.//

She shook her head slowly. Treize had had that far away look in his eyes that told her he was evaluating data yet again, even as he told her that she must turn to Romefeller if it came to that. It was a curious ability he claimed as his own and an ability he was most careful to exercise only when there were those he implicitly trusted in attendance. There had been some days when she had thought him to be more like an impersonal computer than her loving cousin. Data input into the system, assimilated, sorted and resolution reached in seconds.

Those had been the frightening days when he had seemed the most distant from her. There were other times when he had brooded on problems associated with the design he wove and the results had displeased him. He would brood and reevaluate information repeatedly until he finally settled on a course of action that he determined to be his best option to alter the equation to a far more acceptable scenario than the initial evaluation had suggested.

"Treize, are you really alive?"

Blue eyes flashed her anguish at the uncertainty that had come to haunt her. His face swam before her, those bluer than blue eyes fiercely intelligent and always seeming to see more than any other. In defence she dropped her gaze from the ceiling only to meet the handsome face of the man on the vid screen, frozen in a point of time that showed golden eyes so unlike those blue she so desperately wanted to see.

So different... but the light in the golden eyes was hauntingly familiar.

"Is he your cousin? Our cousin? Is he really Kristian Kushrenada and if he is … if he is … What happened, where has he been all of this time? What has he been doing? Does he figure in your promise?"

So many questions and the biggest question still unvoiced. She would be brave. She would give it voice and make it real, not a worrying troubling thought, but a question she must evaluate and resolve.

"Is he Romefeller?"

They had not once mentioned the abducted heir to the Kushrenada fortune and title in all the time she had spent within their ranks. Not once in her association with the public Romefeller had he been mentioned in more modern times, the mystery of the child's abduction long forgotten by her peers. When she had needed to venture deeper into what was the true Romefeller, she had not heard any whispers of long ago abductions though she had heard a great deal of political intrigue and discontent with the public front.

Children, they considered the old fools in control of the organization that even now wove its web to enter, once again, the dance for dominance. That was all life was to them, be they the 'children' or the hidden Romefeller who had their own intrigues to weave of far more certain potential. It seemed odd to her now that they had told her so much of her family's history, yet had not once mentioned in her presence the child abducted so many years ago who must have figured in their dynastic breeding program.

She could recall other members of her family speculating on the identity of those who had abducted the child who should have inherited the Kushrenada title and fortune. Her grandfather had even told her once that she should not protest the level of security that had surrounded her in her early years, as it was a direct result of the shocking abduction of her cousin who would have been Duke as she would eventually become Duchess. Many of the children of the aristocracy had been frightened into obedience with that tale, not just her. They would have been frightened too, deeply afraid that another of their children might be taken from them and killed.

Had it been for money? Political intrigue? The designs of the hidden Romefeller?

//Now that this matter has arisen and presented itself so plainly before me, perhaps I should see what information Romefeller has on Kristian Kushrenada? It would not take much effort on my part to break into their data base, but there is a chance that I might be discovered.// She smirked, shaking her blonde tresses at the thought. // No, not much of a chance, I think. I do have high level security clearance and I am more than capable of slipping unobtrusively into that system. I've set feelers there before that I could access and they have not found them as yet. Still, I would need to go to the trouble of removing all record of my presence within the data bank and that could be a little tricky to accomplish before any alarms might sound, considering the delay in reception time between this ship and the computers on Earth. It would be all too easy for the time delay caused by the distances involved to reveal my presence and despite the fact that I am the most highly blooded of the Catalonia's there are others in the family who might be considered to be more malleable than I should my search be detected. With the time lag I would not know until it was too late that they had detected my presence within the data base and that is a risk I think I need not take at this time. //

It would not do to alert Romefeller to her absence from their assigned task. Not yet, at least. They were her safety net if this adventure into space should turn sour. If these people were not associated with her cousin, as they claimed then yes, she would have no qualms about setting Romefeller on their tails and then see how well they could wiggle their butts to get themselves out of danger. She had her safety net and she was not afraid to use it, but she was not willing to use that net before it was necessary. For now it would be best to let Romefeller rest in ignorance and wait.

"It will be worth the invested time and delay to know just what it is that is happening out here. I … need to know if you are indeed alive, cousin."

He had seemed larger than life to her. Always there, always aware of how much she had endured as the Catalonia heir under the regard of her grandsire. Duke Dermail had been unamused that his daughter had produced a daughter and then had the audacity to die before her duty of ensuring a suitable male heir to the Catalonia family had been fulfilled.

Yes, grandfather Durmail had been confident of securing influence within the Catalonia circle by marrying his daughter to the Catalonia heir. He had been so disappointed when she, his grandaughter and ticket to power, had been gifted with the title of Duchess but the bulk of the Catalonia inheritance and the actual power involved with the title had gone to a cousin. There was both a Duke and a Duchess and no marriage tying the two together as they were too closely cousins.

//I do not doubt that had his design of controlling Miss Relena manifested as he had intended, he would have found a means by which to have the power of the title switched to the Duchess, who would lose her title when she married. He even had that arranged.//

It was a very good thing, all being taken into consideration, that Duke Dermail had not survived the war. She would not have tolerated a farce of a marriage just to garner influence for him. She could not abide fools and there were so many men she considered lived perpetually within that category.

"Duchess Catalonia." The title rolled from her tongue with the full depth of contempt that she felt. "That is what he insisted on calling me, though I am in truth nothing of the sort. Cousin Henry inherited the title and as soon as I marry I will lose even the right to that much of my family past." She snarled. "Dynastic games. Always politics and power. Yet in my turn I play an even greater game than grandfather. A temporary title and I am comfortably well off … most people in my place would be content with that, but I know what Romefeller intend for me. I know … and I am damned if I will sit still for their dynastic plans."

She had not been idle once she had been drawn into the deeper circles within Romefeller. She was young, but she was well trained and unlike too many others she had the advantage of being trained by Treize to revel in intrigue and look beyond the obvious. It had not taken her long to extract the information she needed to set her plans into motion. She was no one's tool. Not ever again would she be used as she had been in the past.

//I will not permit it. Simple as that. I already have my escape route planned with three viable options should I find myself compromised. I will vanish if I need to, before they can spin their web around me. I will be no one's tool. The only one I was happy to use me … Ah, Treize. Cousin, if you are alive and truly involved with these people then this may be my key to salvation. I remember you would hint at the future ensuring peace for the Earth and the Colonies would bring, but you would never actually say what it was that you intended for yourself after it was done. I know that it was not your intention to remain within the halls of power on Earth, but what was it that you saw for yourself? You promised me that you would not deliberately go out there to die. You led me to believe that you would be stepping back after the war, that you would not be taking part in the formation of the new world order. That you needed to separate yourself from the politics of the future and permit others to take on the responsibility. The more I think on it the more aware I become of just how much effort you went too to say absolutely nothing of what your future plans were for yourself. I know that you promised me you were not going out there to die but … I thought it was because you knew that despite your abilities, despite the plans that you made to keep as many alive as possible, that you were going to die. //

"A glorious death for a glorious soldier."

She thought that she would be alone.

Treize was gone, slain by that spawn of hell born on L5. The child who professed to be a great warrior and wise enough and more fitted to know at the ripe old age of fifteen what true justice was all about.

Treize dead. Milliardo dead in the Libra explosion. Une … Well, she would not think about the Preventer Chief who never had been mentally stable and had abandoned her in the aftermath to chase after Miss Relena and gather the power she needed to keep the peace that Treize had died for.

She would discount Une and with Treize and Milliardo both gone there had been none of their original select group remaining. None but she herself left, and she the least of the players. There had never been any love between her and Noin, who had fawned all over Miss Relena purely because she was Mr. Milliardo's sister. God, that woman was so … so …

//No, don't get started on that. He was never meant for her. I'm tired. I need to sleep.//

Was it ever going to end?

The looks she had received in the aftermath of Libra had been ignored, likewise the whispers about her with the same stoic fortitude. Plainly none of the survivors had understood anything. She, like Treize and Mr. Milliardo, had done exactly what was needed to bring about peace. In the aftermath she had known that she would be on her own and she had had no hesitation to do what needed doing to ensure that she was not confined and that punishment for the crimes of others, as well as her own crimes, was not unjust.

No, she was not innocent of crimes. She like Treize and Mr. Milliardo had been guilty of many of the crimes attributed to them during the war. It was a price they had been willing to pay to achieve the goals they had set for the betterment of all, but she would be damned if she would pay for the machinations of those others who were too cowardly and power hungry to be honest about themselves.

// They stand there in their cloaking shadows and watch and scheme and think themselves safe. They sacrifice others and think nothing of the cost so long as their freedom and safety from discovery is assured. Cowards. I was many things, but never a coward and will not permit myself to be sacrificed so that cowards may continue to scheme and spill the blood of those more worthy. //

She had been more than willing to use the power structure of Romefeller, both the public organization and the more secret shadowy individuals to ensure that she ran free. Free of restraint and the schemes of others to give herself the opportunity to take her chance at escape when ever it should present itself. Not once in the years since she had accepted the price to be paid had she doubted she would escape the cage of those decrepit ancients, who professed to rule the human race from their well protected obscurity.

Manipulators.

That is what they were. Skilled manipulators, fingers in more pies than you could count, with arms longer that the world was round and ears in all halls and none dared presume them to be anything other than myth.

Unfortunately in the long term that myth had teeth and could bite and when they chose to bite they usually chose not to nibble at a finger or leg, but to aim for the jugular and bite hard.

She shuddered at the thought of that terrible old woman who had come to her in the darkest hour of the night. She had been terrible, terrifying in her silence and in the whisper of her seductive words. She had offered her protection from those set on prosecuting her to cover their own parts played in the war and offered her security from the retribution of people who survived and lost loved ones.

Such a dangerous, seductive, frightening old woman.

She was no fool and had known exactly who and what this spectre had represented. She had accepted of course, taking the offered aid. She would have been a fool not to. She had agreed and allowed herself to be surrounded by the old woman's lawyers, many of whom had protected her grandfather for years from those he had manipulated to his orchestration. Yes, she had taken the help, but she had agreed only to ensure that she could run when the chance presented itself. She had never had any real intention of joining that creepy, archaic society of living mummies.

Dorothy shuddered delicately and drew a deep breath. "You had better be alive, Treize and don't you think for an instant that I am not going to tell you exactly what I think of you for leaving me amid that nest of vipers for so long."

She straightened, stretching her back and shoulders. Breakfast with the Captain, was it? Very well, she would be only too happy to oblige and to be at her best and brightest she needed sleep, so for now she would leave the mystery of this man who claimed to be a Kushrenada … and who might indeed be so. A good night's sleep was in order to see her well rested so that she could see what she might do to annoy the Captain. She would not permit him to think for an instant that she meekly accepted being locked in her cabin.

That simply would not do.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	136. Chapter 136 Chapter 135

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 135

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 36 [approx Sanc time 23:26

Barker

//What the hell am I supposed to do with these men? They want to help, that is clear enough but I am not certain they have any real concept as to the seriousness of the situation. They have not actually run up against anyone who threatened them and they have not found any of the dead yet. I hate to say it but they are not likely to understand the exact danger we all are facing until they do. How will they handle death, cold blooded premeditated murder, when it comes to the crunch?//

He needed to make a decision concerning the Emergency Response Team and the airlock had almost completed its cycle. Time was running out and he had very little time to make up his mind about what was to be done. It would not just be his own hide he was chancing here if he chose to trust them. He had Carter and Polnar to consider and he was only too aware that if these men were innocent of any murders taking place here today, that abandoning them might lead to their deaths. Or they might in pursuing their own attempts to learn what was happening bring disaster down on themselves, or he and his men. None of them, to his knowledge, had any real experience in such situations and he was a Preventer. It was his duty to ensure the innocents did not pay for the ambitions of those in powerful places.

There was another problem too that he was going to need to consider. Polnar. He could see the man was watching the group with an intensity that rather reminded him of a lion considering taking down a tasty buck for his dinner. That man worried him. There was something there that just was not right, but he did not have the time to deal with it and he was aware and ready for trouble if the man put one foot wrong.

He could not blame him for being wary of the emergency response team however. Carter too was watching them as though he expected someone to leap on him screaming blue bloody murder. They were emotionally strung out, he no less than his two companions and their emotions were stretched and strained and had been for a long time.

How long had it been? They were walking a thin edge emotionally, expecting trouble for so long and not finding it. It was not just Polnar and Carter who could lose that fine edged control and lash out and hit a potentially crippling or even lethal blow. He too felt the rising urge to hit out at something … or someone … and he was concerned that these people might find themselves becoming the target of unthinking reaction. He was a trained professional and while he should have better control than that it was entirely possible that events could all too suddenly get out of hand.

Just how well Polnar and Carter were going to be able to handle their sudden company was of concern to him. Neither were Preventer agents with the intensive training designed to ensure that they think of these people as requiring protection. He was the only trained agent here, the only one he could really trust not to lash out … yet he had just been thinking about doing exactly that if he found himself in a sudden change of circumstances.

// Damn. No second guessing or trying to psych yourself out you stupid bastard. Hold yourself together and they will be less likely to cross that line if you remain strong. //

Neither man was a fool and he had enough faith in their abilities to bring them along on this mission. He had been sounding Carter out on joining Preventers over the last few weeks and he was not now going to second guess that decision. He liked the man and had found him to be both reliable and resourceful, hence his choice of the Taurus pilot for this attempt to enter the base. He was certain that he could rely on the man though he had not the appropriate training. If they survived and Carter agreed to officially join up with Preventers he had no doubts the man would be an exemplary agent.

Polnar, of course was the unknown element. The man was no fool and had handled himself well in the situation and he too would make a fine agent should he offer the position and the man accept. It was just that something seemed off about the pilot. He handled himself too well in the mixed circumstances of the day. Was that the problem? He had not expected to find so resourceful a man. Ex military, but he handled himself as though he still was undergoing ongoing training to maintain fitness levels and skills.

He could not even really say just what it was that disturbed him about Polnar. It was not as though the man had offered himself for the position. It had been he who had asked for the supervisor's opinion of the man back in the cave. It had been he himself who had picked him after seeing the way he handled that Leo. No, it was not as though the man had pushed his way onto the team, forcing himself forward to be noticed. Polnar's skills with the Leo had suggested elite pilot training and that generally meant the pilot had undergone a decent level of training in the past. Certainly he had proven himself to be useful since they had started this mission. His versatile skills had proven very useful during this clandestine entry into the base dome.

Yes, perhaps that was the problem. Polnar had been too useful.

// Shit. I'm jumping at shadows and grasping at straws. Would I have preferred a total klutz, a bone-headed idiot on the team, instead of someone who knew how to handle himself in any situation? I really need to get my head together, but what am I to do with these men? I know that I can rely on both Carter and Polnar in a bad situation. They both have had military experience and can handle themselves in a fight and neither of them are likely to freeze at the wrong time, or lose their cool and panic … but these others? I just don't know how reliable they are going to be if we have confrontation with those agents. Computer analysts and computer technicians or mechanics are not what I need following me around at this point in time. I need them, yes, no doubt about that but not now. Not actually with me. I need them to be getting on with the task of trying to regain some measure of control of the base computer systems before we find ourselves in deep shit with the survival systems. I need the computer geeks up to their ears in programming and I need the mechanics elbow deep in work repairing the damaged systems.//

I need, I need, I need. Write out a wish list and don't forget to include the two hundred specialist troops with a dozen psychiatrists and a cat and bowl of cream to finish off. Oh yes, he had a wish list and it had as much chance of being filled as he had of agreeing to wear a dress at the Preventers Christmas party this year.

// No more time to screw around. We get only one chance at this and I need to do it right. We need to get the air in the enviro dome sorted out, which means that I need to get the computer nerds to the sub base control rooms. From there they should be able to establish a link up with the main control room and maybe get on top of the computer problem. We need that virus killed and to reestablish computer control. We need radio communications so we can get some accurate information out. I want whatever it is that is jamming my signal to Preventers dealt with. That is where these two men would be most useful and it is a necessary task that will benefit us all in the long term. I'm already late for that meeting with Merquise, which can't be helped and I need to be as quick as possible getting this setup. I need to get to that man and find out what he knows about the goings on here. I shudder to think what would happen if he came face to face with Simpson. //

He flicked his gaze to the readouts on the computer board and grunted softly at the indicator light. Cycle almost complete and then those massive doors would be open. He was running out of time and he had no idea if they were going to luck out, or if disaster was about to strike and they would find a hostile reception on the outside once the doors opened.

Simpson and his cronies from Blue Squad or the Sleepers could be waiting out there with weapons raised and waiting only for the doors to draw back into the wall cavities to spray the air lock and remove, permanently, one more problem from their equation. The vision sent a shudder down his spine. First thing was first and this would be a good test of just how these men would obey a directive designed to see they survived.

"Move. Everyone to the sides and as far out of sight of the doors as possible. We will see if we can't get a good look at the hallway before the doors are fully opened."

"You are expecting a hostile reception?" Kurtz queried.

Straight enough question. It deserved an equally straight answer. "Yes."

No time for beating about the bush or taking a soft line with them. Delicate sensibilities had no place here at this time. There was no time for pampering and if they were going to object or throw questions at him that would serve only to distract him from the focus he needed to maintain he would need to act fast. It was their first and possibly last test. He could rely on the experience of Carter and Polnar and he was not about to chance the lives of those two men. He did not want these mechanics, engineers and nerds on his team if they could not follow orders and he would have to speedily find some occupation for them away from his working team if they failed the test.

"Shit."

The low voiced comment came from one of the newcomers, but it was the only verbal reaction out of them. As one they moved to the sides of the airlock and pressed themselves up against the walls. He noted who of the men moved toward the doors that would shortly open and tucked themselves into the corners there and who moved to the rear of the lock the furthest away from the doors shortly to open. Some of them were not thinking, but he was pleased with those who were thinking and realized that while those doors opened these corners would actually be the safest. The bulk of the airlock would be visible to someone standing out there with a weapon at the ready.

He was surprised, but decided he should not be when it was the two computer whizzes who were quick to tuck themselves in the left corner of the airlock and Mighty Joe Lee and Preston Kurtz were just as quickly out of harm's way and into the right corner of what would be the front of the lock. The other men pressed to the sides and he was not displeased with that. At least none of them had made of himself an obvious target.

Without any direction from him Polnar and Carter were taking up positions at either side of the great doors, watching for that first hint of movement. He knew they would be moving as the door moved, pacing back all of maybe three steps. Both ready and willing to give him a few precious seconds to glimpse any possible reception committee, before they rolled through the door. He braced himself, knowing that he was the most visible and that he had to take the risk, but he trusted the two men to act quickly.

//They claim not to have seen where the agents went after they passed the bay and the hallway is not that long. That far corner could have placed the men only a couple of feet from them and they would never have known, but it is possible they might have been heard and the agents doubled back. //

The computer chimed the alert and the all clear sounded and he tensed, ready to spring to one side should there be any indication of company waiting, but as the doors began to lumber to either side he saw only a clear corridor ahead of him. He stared hard as the doors parted and puffed a held breath, hoping that the agents were not crouched to either side of the slowly opening doors and dropped his hand, a clear 'go' signal. Polnar and then Carter were through the narrow gap and in a rolling tumble.

He held his breath but there was no bark of a gun or shout or moan. The airlock was silent; the silence one found when everyone was expecting disaster.

"Clear." Carter called back.

"Stay." He hissed at the men who looked to him for instruction, pleased that they did not instantly place themselves before that widening gap.

He did not wait for the doors to fully open, stepping out and into the hallway with confidence, eyes sweeping the very normal looking floor and walls and watching as Polnar eased up to the turn in the hallway. The man was quick at the best of times he had noticed and must not have been holding anything back in his effort to reach that corner so quickly. Carter was well on his way to the corner too, but he was not as fast as Polnar and when his partner was in position he dropped immediately to kneel, weapon raised and waiting.

Barker hissed softly as he heard movement behind him and absently held out a hand to stay anyone from exiting the airlock, but offered no comment. He would have a lot to say if they caused discovery of the infiltration team, but thankfully they all seemed to get the idea that they were to remain silent.

Polnar flattened himself to the floor in a controlled dive and glanced back over his shoulder toward the airlock, checking on the location of everyone visible before he met Carter's gaze. A brief nod and he eased his head carefully around the corner trusting Carter to watch his back. Carter stood a little more than a meter from him, all attention focused on the man who was scoping out their next objective and waiting for any signal that might be forthcoming.

Polnar eased a little further around the corner and offered a thumbs up behind his back to Carter, who half turned and looked back at Barker. "Clear."

//Right then, no more time to think about it. I have to make a decision about these men. All of them are on the emergency response team, but that does not automatically make them suited to this kind of operation. I need to get them settled somewhere safe so that I can find Merquise. //

"We need to check in with the medical centre." Kurtz moved to join him at the lock doors and had no idea what it took for him not to slap a potentially killing blow at his throat.

// Fool, you had better think twice before you do that without at least clearing your throat. // He took a moment to draw a deep breath and flicked his gaze at the man who suddenly seemed to realize he had been in danger.

"Are the med computers linked to the main computer banks? If they are would there be any chance that they might be of use in regaining control of the master systems?"

Kurtz considered him for a moment and then half turned to the two computer specialists in their number. Both men eyed each other for a long few seconds and it was Palmer who shook his head in the negative.

"The med computers are an independent system. A small self contained unit isolated from the base database. There are no direct links to the main computers that run the environment controls."

// Not so good then. Do I have to find a bloody main terminal for anything to be done?// "Would it be possible for you to jury rig a link? It does not have to be anything flash, just functional. We need access to the main computers but it has to be a secure access." Barker pressed.

Curran and Palmer stared at each other for a prolonged moment clearly doing some heavy thinking before the self proclaimed Historian shrugged. He looked thoughtful, lips pursed and a finger tapping absently at his chin while Palmer was suddenly busy digging into his pockets and after a moment he produced a pencil and notebook in which he began to sketch.

"It may be possible to do that, but it will take time to accomplish and it will not be easy." Curran offered, looking over Palmer's shoulder as the man worked. "We may need to break into the main computer stores to get some components to build a system up that would allow us to tap into the main programming." He leaned forward to study what ever it was that Palmer was drawing and he nodded, murmuring something that set Palmer furiously drawing.

"If you can link to the main computers would it be possible to get in there and avoid getting infected by this damnable virus?" Barker wanted more details before he committed to any action and where was the sense in expending time and effort if they were once again going to be blocked by that virus loose in the computer systems.

Curran ran a nervous hand through his hair, but his eyes never moved from the paper and the sketch being made.

"Well, with care to keep the link protected, yes, it is possible. We have some decent virus programs on the base, some private ones not generally know to be here. Keeps us on our toes designing things, you understand." He shrugged at Barkers arched eyebrow. "It's a hobby of sorts. We would need to exercise every care and we could not afford to rush the work, either building up the system or protecting the system. If we can not protect the link system and the main medical computers from the virus, then it would all be wasted effort."

//That we can not afford. No time and no unlimited resources to play with. Okay, with these men hanging around our necks we are at risk, so I think we should visit the medical centre and get these boys settled in to begin work. We need the main computers back on line as quickly as possible. I can put the rest of the emergency team to work helping them get together everything they might need and protecting them from danger while they work and that will leave us free to keep the meeting with Merquise. //

He flicked a glance back down the hallway at Polnar who still lay stretched out on the floor and watching the adjacent hallway. As he watched the man glanced back over his shoulder and caught his eye. He inclined his head toward the hallway with an arched eyebrow by way of questioning him if the way was clear and the man understood, ducking his head back around the wall to check the hallway and glancing back with an all clear signal.

"Right. Listen up. We all make our way to the Medical Centre and check it is clear of threat. When we clear the area I want you two," He indicated the computer specialists, "to investigate the medical computers and make a list of all components that you will require to make up this link. We need to get on top of the breakdown in the environmental controls and clear the air in the dome as quickly as possible. That is a priority task that you gentlemen are uniquely suited to. The rest of you will have to protect them and help them as best you can to acquire what they need, while I go hunting with my team. It is as important for us to find the bastards doing this to us and take them down, as it is for you to get us access to the base computers."

Palmer and Curran signalled their understanding, though neither lifted their heads from the sketch being worked on, Curran occasionally murmuring and pointing to the sketch as he asked questions or made a point which would provoke either a thoughtful silence from Palmer, or abject agreement or denial. Watching them Barker had to shake his head. Provided they did not give away their location to their enemies he was content to have them work quietly at the rear of the group and with a nod at Kurtz to follow he strode forward to join his team.

"You checked each of these rooms on your way through?" He queried Kurtz as the man hustled to keep pace with him.

"On the way in, yes. No sign of anyone in any of them and no sign of anything being wrong either."

A low grunt was all the comment he was willing to make on that observation. He knew full well that something was very wrong indeed and he had already started a body count he was afraid was going to lead at least into double figures. He could only hope the final count would be in the low denomination double figures. Already they had lost twenty odd outside of the dome and he knew there were fatalities in hydroponics dome three.

He had done everything possible to save the exterior workers and for now they were safe, but he only had until the Martian midday to get the doors to the air locks open or effect another means of entry into the base. If he could not arrange something those people outside might still be in danger. Even stating midday as his deadline placed those people with a critically short air supply. He could not rely on Mako having the shuttles operative in time to transport the workers to Alpha.

To do that he had to stay alive and there were more than one or two door leading to rooms where it was relatively easy to find hiding places if the need demanded it.

He flicked a finger at the first of the doors as he strode past. "Check in each room as we go down."

He expected an argument from one or more of the ER team and was both surprised and pleased when Mighty Joe Lee immediately made for the door to the power generator room and checked that it was still under safety lock down. At the same time Marcus Risch made for the first of the Mobile Suit hangers with Paul Markos shadowing him. Surprised that he had not receive an argument from any of the men on the rooms only having been checked a few minutes before, he continued striding down the hallway toward Polnar and considered the next order of business.

Carter had moved to check the laboratory, entering the room in a roll that would have given any lurker a hard time to track him with a gun and Kurtz and Curran were already at the door to the first of the engineering bays. He glanced back to find Palmer still had his head buried in his pieces of paper and Mighty Joe Lee skipped nimbly around the computer tech on his way to the larger engineering section.

//Not bad. Not half as bad as I thought they would be. Surprising.//

Polnar was still on the floor with his head around the corner to watch for unwanted company. From his position he was able to see anyone entering the hallway from any one of six access points. They would have adequate warning to make themselves scarce if anyone should move around in the main section of the base. Barker was careful to say Polnar's name softly, by way of warning him that he was in the immediate vicinity and knelt down beside the man and lightly tapped him on his thigh, informing him by touch that he wanted a report.

"Clear." The low whisper was accompanied by an incline of his head back toward the hallway. "That was a surprise."

Glancing back at where Lee, Kurtz and Curran were now heading toward he and Polnar he grunted softly in agreement. The men seemed capable of working well together and though he did not want them in a high stress situation, at least he knew that they were not going to prove a liability.

Carter was out of the laboratory now and easing toward the next door, glancing toward him with his head tilted at an angle then looked pointedly at the one remaining doorway they had not as yet checked. The main laboratory's door opened within full view of that main hallway that Polnar was studying and he refused to even consider not checking the room. The door would be directly behind them as they moved down this way and it would be perfect for a concealed Sleeper to have a clear shot at their backs.

"Still clear?" he murmured.

"Clear." Came the affirmative.

Barker glanced at Carter and flicked a hand in a movement that clearly implied a hard and fast entry was called for, hoping that such a manoeuvre could be managed relatively quietly. Hard and fast to give any lurker as little chance as possible of targeting Carter as he went in. Carter inched toward the corner, eyes now on Polnar as he waited for the man to signal him through and when the man glanced his way and that brief nod came he sprinted for the door, fingers flying over the key pad then grasped the knob and pushed, tucking himself into a forward roll and inclining toward the far side of the door way.

"Neat." Polnar commented. "He's rather good at that."

"Mmmm. 'm hoping to recruit him for Preventers eventually. Any movement?"

Polnar's head twisted back around and after a moment a negative shake responded and he inched himself up from his belly to rest on his heels.

"Clear. We have the large laboratory on the right, next door is the access to the Medical Centre on the left about seventy, eighty feet past that. Access into section C living quarters is almost opposite on the right and section B living quarters is about thirty feet from that. Kitchen access about fifteen, twenty feet past that on the left and then the open lounge area. It all looks quiet."

//Too quiet, maybe.//

He chose to keep the thought to himself, though Polnar undoubtedly thought the same thing as the ER team gathered behind him and thankfully stood silent and waited for him to signal his intentions. Carter was at the door of the laboratory again, peering down the length of the hall and signalling the all clear for the laboratory.

Time to move on.

"Right, gentlemen. Polnar, you and Carter straight down to check the lounge." He turned to where Carter was watching and signalled the hard and fast run for the far end of the hallway before turning to the waiting men behind him. "Kurtz and Lee, take the large laboratory. Curran and Markos a quick look into the access ways to living quarters C and B and Risch, you check the kitchen. Polnar and Carter will be close enough to you to back you up if there should be a problem there. Leave the medical centre access for now."

He did not wait for agreement or argument from anyone, leaning forward to touch Polnar lightly on the shoulder and the man took off with a quick 'come hither' motion directed at Carter, who was quick to shadow him down the hall.

Barker held his breath for he knew only too well if anyone was going to appear it would be now, with the sound of running feet echoing in the hall but the area remained quiet.

He flicked his hand at the men behind him, impatient as they should have passed him already to be about their assignments, but they were quickly on their way and he frowned when he noted one man was missing. Glancing around he hissed softly and nudged Palmer to get him moving, as the computer specialist was leaning against the wall working on his design. At the not so gentle nudge the man looked up and around him and realized that except for Barker he was on his own and he tucked the papers quickly into a pocket and ran when Barker pointed imperiously to the hallway.

"Sorry."

Shaking his head in befuddled amusement he followed the man, watching as Polnar not surprisingly, outstripped Carter but the Leo pilot stopped short of the lounge area and flattened himself on the floor once again. Carter was with him in seconds and the rest of the ER team was quickly finding their assigned places.

By all rights at this time when an emergency had been called, there should be no one out of their assigned emergency placements as the alert had not been lifted. At least according to the emergency response team it had not been lifted, but after so prolonged an alert he would not have been at all surprised if someone had not come looking for the trouble. The ER team had and they were not likely to be the only ones who were curious.

//I suppose it is possible that some of them might be innocent enough to just go to bed and wait it out, expecting everything to be over and sorted out by morning. I wish I could sleep that easily. Still, it is a sleep they might never wake from. //

He moved quickly and silently down the hall and set himself to one side of the Medical Centre's doors, noting from the red bar on the lock that the lockdown was in effect and approved. It was promising for there to be no trouble here, but he was concerned with where the two ESUN agents had vanished. They could not have been any more than a few minutes ahead of them, but as yet they had seen no sign of them.

// Where would they go? The shuttle bay, perhaps? God, I hope not. Not there at this time. That is the last place I want them to be. I'll have to get these men settled as quickly as possible and head out to locate Merquise. I hope he's had less trouble than we had getting here. //

They were heading back to join him by the doors now, each group of men signalling that there had been no sign of the men they really did not wish to meet. All was quiet and he was not happy with that silence, but at least he did not find himself in a running shoot out. He would accept small blessings and not push his luck. Satisfied for the moment he motioned to Kurtz to join him by the doors and signalled to Carter and Polnar to back him.

"I don't want to alarm anyone who might be wandering the Medical Centre by bursting in with guns drawn. You and your people enter first, we will follow. You will be more accepted there without drawing attention than we will be, since I am not even supposed to be on the base at this time. Just enter as normal to lodge your report, or what ever it is that you have to do here in an emergency situation and we will tuck in on the end of the line."

He doubted that the ESUN agents would be in the Medical Centre, but he was not going to take any chances on surprising the men. While it went against his grain to send these men in first the truth of the matter was that the ER team had a reason to be in the medical centre at this time and he was going to make use of that fact as best he could. Why cause a fuss where there might be nothing wrong? If he could keep this low key they would be at an advantage.

Carter nodded his understanding and moved to the left of the door, Polnar taking up position on the right and Preston Kurtz glanced between the two before he took a deep breath and strode to the door. His team formed up behind him and Barker tucked into the rear, but stood to one side, unwilling to place himself in so vulnerable a position when he did not know what lay beyond. Kurtz looked at his team mates and with a deep breath entered the emergency code into the keypad and frowned before he had even finished keying in the sequence. His hand dropped to his side and he frowned at the lock.

"It's unlocked." A whisper directed at Barker accompanied by a quick glance and request for instructions.

The alert was in progress, the lockdown in effect and by rights that door should be locked. The red bar was in place and while such glitches had been known to happen it was disturbing to find it now. The keypad's lighted bar said the door was locked, but Kurtz would be able to tell if the door was actually locked. The lock code was different to the unlock sequence and the keypad would respond to the incorrect sequence with a brief flash of light noticeable to the person using it.

Computer glitch? Evidence that the virus affecting the base computers was growing? Or something more sinister? Or perhaps more innocent? He could go crazy worrying over that and they simply did not have the time to sit there and play with the key pad to determine what the solution might be.

Barker nodded his understanding of the problem, considered alternatives for a moment and motioned again to the door, a clear indication to go on. Time was marching on and anyone might exit one of the living quarters at any time, or come around from the lounge access and they really could not afford discovery. One way or the other they needed to access the Medical Centre and gain access to the computers here and staring at a keypad was not going to accomplish that.

Kurtz nodded his understanding, but he did not look too happy about being the first body through that door. To give the man credit he did not hesitate in pushing the door open and striding through. The ER team crowded through the doorway behind their leader and Barker found himself counting silently, waiting for the bark of gunfire and doom to fall. He could have sent these men to their deaths by sending them through that door first. His silent count had reached ten when a piercing scream shattered the silence and he threw himself through the door.

Mighty Joe Lee moved in a fast and hard shove to block his path and he stifled the curse when he saw why the man had moved. Later, when they had the time, he was going to have to thank the smaller man for his quick action that saved them from discovery. He tucked himself down to lower his height as he felt Carter and Polnar pushing at his back, unable for precious seconds to see what was going on. Thankfully the ER team were moving quickly, taking positions that shielded them from the sight of the man clad in combat fatigues who stood further down the hallway.

Kurtz was making hushing motions at a woman in the white coveralls of a nurse who cowered back against the wall and had her hands pressed to her mouth to stifle the sobs that now replaced the scream. White coveralls? He glimpsed blood stains on her uniform; in fact quite a lot of blood marred the pristine white of her clothing.

//Shit. What the hell … Frazier. I recognize him from Alpha dome. // He hunched lower, glaring down the hallway at the man who was watching with a smirk that suggested he was amused by the incident. // How the hell am I going to get to him and silence him? What is he doing here? No, can't back out of the door now; that would be suspicious and only draw attention to us. He's made no move to come any closer and he has no weapon drawn, but his hand is near …//

Pounding footsteps snapped his head up and to the side of the tech and he watched as the first of those alerted by the scream came running to see what the commotion was about came into view.

// Fuck! Simpson! Just what I need. //

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	137. Chapter 137 Chapter 136

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 136

Mars Colony

2nd March AC 198

Mars

Noin

Darkness.

Silence.

Profound.

Restful.

Silence.

The resounding depth of the silence that surrounded and enfolded; at first so restful and welcome gradually developed. The quality of it changed in some subtle and at first unidentifiable way. Gradually the silence and the darkness too had became something different. An annoyance. With time and exposure that too underwent modification and became something more. Annoyance faded as the darkness deepened and awareness became immersed within its embrace, all aggravation, big or small, real or imagined … forgotten.

Darkness.

Silence.

Awareness.

Comforting, enfolding darkness. With its peaceful isolation a warmth that drew awareness deeper and deeper into comfort. The deep solitude, all encompassing comfort and a sense of belonging and welcome isolation. It enfolded the awareness, offering a comfort rarely known.

Awareness floated within it teased by something that might have been known before, something that had not been deep comforting darkness and treasured warmth, but desired and luxuriated in regardless. This darkness, like that other 'something' offered comfort and protection to a psyche sorely in need of such reassurance. It surrounded, enfolded, caressed the awareness like a lover's hand, always knowing just where to touch, always knowing when to touch and always knowing how to touch.

A lover's hand.

A lover's warmth.

A lover's protection.

Darkness and comfort. Luxurious, caressing comfort. It surrounded, it blended into the silence and within its secure embrace there was no need to seek out more. With the comfort found within the darkness there was no need for any awareness of more, no memory of anything beyond the welcoming embrace. It was all encompassing compassion, love and protection and it was delightfully never ending.

Darkness.

Silence.

Darkness.

Protection.

Something …

Darkness.

Something …

Something disturbed the darkness.

Some 'thing' …

Some 'thing' that disrupted the flow of peace and security that surrounded awareness.

This 'thing' that entered into the world … What was this? It was no sound as the thought suggested sound should be. Silence remained undisturbed, surrounding and comforting. No, sound was not the explanation for this 'thing'. Disturbed from the pleasure awareness considered solutions and determined that it should seek elsewhere for a solution to what caused the ripple that disturbed the stillness.

Whatever It was it moved through the darkness that protected, a small and insignificant 'something', but it was a 'thing' that stubbornly remained within the safe cocoon of stability and with its refusal to fade from awareness it gave birth to something else.

Ripple.

Discord within harmony was born.

Ripple.

Disturbing movement within the majesty of safety.

A gentle wave of awareness, disturbing in its presence. A ripple, single and solitary that disturbed the wondrous silence of the deepest pond in which awareness floated, suspended, isolated from all woes. Awareness tried to ignore it, refusing to see anything other than the darkness that should be here, protective and safe but It returned, persistent, to wash over and around awareness, minute and gentle in itself but still a discordant murmur of something best left forgotten.

A caress of something that might be. A fleeting awareness of more than the darkness, of something more than the warmth, of something other than the comfort to be found here.

What was this thing that would not go? What was this thing that was just a ripple, a single ripple that grew in frequency until it seemed that awareness rocked as though she lay suspended in a gentle tide?

She?

Awareness possessed designation; change rippled through the darkness and became She.

Ripple.

Floating within darkness; disturbed by the return of something to be feared.

Change.

Change had returned and given identity to awareness. She was born into darkness and safety and within darkness was peace.

Darkness.

Peace.

Safety.

Change.

No.

No, she did not wish to notice it. She wished to remain, lingering, luxuriating within the warm and safety of the darkness that welcomed her. There was no need for more. There was no need to seek more than what there was. There was no need for …

Tiny suggestive movement.

Discord within the harmony of the universe.

Heartbreaking discord.

The welcoming depths that held her secure were moving, rippling, a slow and steady rocking motion but with the movement that was Change there was hope.

With this gentle rocking she discovered a new comfort. The clinging and flowing of the darkness and the familiar comfort lingered despite the discordant motion that disturbed the ocean in which she floated. She found its rhythm.

Ocean?

Budding awareness of that stubborn 'thing' refused to leave her. It grew more insistent, less gentle. The awareness of it flickered to life at the rocking of her world and with the rocking the caress of that flowing wave circulating within the ocean became a ripple within a pool.

Some 'thing' changed.

Some 'thing' moved.

The warmth that surrounded her remained, enfolding and comforting. The darkness that surrounded her now seemed to seek out that odd awareness that the 'thing' had become, drawn to it. It differed from the darkness, but in one thing it remained the same and that stability was comforting. The spark that had stirred and set motion into awareness still offered comfort, rest and protection.

The 'thing', the spark that suddenly was surrounding her made itself felt, insisted that she acknowledge its presence and with her surrender to change and acknowledgement that It was there, suddenly it was gone.

There was awareness, no understanding.

Discord within harmony.

Discord brought change.

Shift in awareness, shift in darkness, shift in comfort, shift in everything, the gentle rocking stilled and started again... and stilled.

Discord.

Change sparked within the discord and that unease within her changed with it, caught up on the indomitable tide.

New awareness.

Other.

Familiarity became discord which became … 'other'.

Not warmth. Not darkness. Not comfort. Not protection.

Other birthed and was opposite to and yet a part of all awareness and being and was immeasurably beyond all.

Other became real.

It was.

It demanded.

It demanded recognition. It demanded to be recognized. It insisted on being named.

Name.

Other becomes Name. Awareness becomes Name. Comfort becomes Name. Safety becomes Name.

Name becomes … Other.

Darkness was. Darkness existed. Darkness was comfort, all encompassing, real.

Safe.

Darkness was the be all and the end all and it was …

Right.

Ripple in the pond.

Other.

Discordant ripple of Other returned. Other flowed and surrounded and encompassed and disrupted the darkness.

Other returned again and yet again. Perpetual annoyance of Other. Other would not be ignored. Other would not be refused. Other demanded recognition. Awareness. Surrender. Other was intense. Discordant intensity that demanded.

Persistent.

Change.

Cling to familiarity. Safety in things familiar. Gather the familiar.

Darkness.

Darkness was familiar. Safe.

Silence was familiar. Safe.

Safe was protection and promises of … promises of … promises of …

Ripple in the pond.

Ripple through the pool of content bringing discontent.

Darkness. Safety. Silence. Safety. Darkness was safe, warm comfortable, familiar.

Darkness was …

Something there, on the edge of recognition. Reach, strive to grasp, to understand …

Darkness was …

Freedom.

Darkness was freedom.

Disturbance. Discontent. Discord in harmony.

Freedom?

Annoyance.

Darkness was freedom? Darkness was annoyance? Darkness was harmony? Disharmony?

Tidal change disturbing the swell of the ocean.

Flicker of emotion, something from within. Some awareness from within that was not satisfied with darkness and safety and looked for the current within the movement. Something sought to seek beyond.

Darkness was desired.

// No. //

Darkness was … disharmony?

Order was darkness? Darkness was disharmony, chaos, war.

War was … memory.

// Memory//

Other was … peace?

Darkness was disharmony … run from disharmony … run to safety …run to …peace?

// No. //

Peace was desired.

// Yes. //

Darkness was desired.

Silence was desired.

Rest was desired.

// Yes. //

Awareness awakening.

Darkness within. Darkness, enfolding with gentle arms, welcoming and sweet and lulling with the gentlest of caresses. Safe.

// Sweet. Safe … A lover's promise. //

Other returned.

Disturbing ripple in the silence. Other demanding attention by its very presence. Overpowering. Intimidating. Demanding notice be taken of its presence. Demanding attention be paid to its message.

Change.

Other demanding that action be taken.

Change.

Action.

Inescapable change.

// What//

Stirred from sweetest oblivion, disturbed by the suggestion that there was a demand for attention …

Inescapable. Staring into the protective darkness. Watching darkness.

Confusion.

Ripple.

Wave in a pond, reaching wider and wider from a central point and lapping eventually against the shore.

Such darkness.

Absolute darkness.

No light. Nothing. Just … nothingness.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000

_Flashback_

"Why is it so dark, mama?"

"Because there is no moon tonight and the clouds cover the stars. We will have rain."

"Rain? I don't like the rain. It makes the stars go away."

Caress of a loving hand. Gentle smile in the darkness and the sweet voice that meant all was safe and well with the world. "No, child. The stars never go away. They are always there, just beyond the clouds, never changing. Waiting for you. Always."

"I want to see the stars." Heart felt longing. Desire, fierce and true and innocent.

"You will, Lucrezia. You will. When the storm is over, when the clouds have watered the flowers and everything is made new, the clouds will go away and you can gaze upon the stars again."

"Mama, I want to go to where you can always see the stars. I want to go where there are no clouds to cover them up and hide them from me. I want to go to where I can look at the stars all the time."

"For that my daughter, you would have to leave our home. You would have to leave the Earth and go out to live in space with the colonies. There you always can see the stars. I think that will have to wait, Sweetling. You are a little too young for that, Lucrezia."

"I want to go. I will go where the stars are always shining. I will."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Darkness.

Stars. Seek stars.

Lucrezia?

Darkness. The darkness of night should be velvet soft with the beauty of a thousand twinkling points of light for her to gaze upon. The night should have the beauty of the stars, alluring, calling her to walk amid their beauty. Velvet darkness sparkling with silver like priceless jewels.

Ripple.

Change.

She knew it now.

Change.

Inescapable, indomitable. Relentless driving change.

The ripple swept through the darkness and this time she reached for it, knowing it now for what it was even as some deep part of her wondered what it was and why it disturbed the peace. She reached, thinking fingers should be reaching out to touch …

Touching, just for the briefest instant of time … Touching that ripple and with that fleeting caress she found herself plunging within its depth, riding the wave and plummeting free.

Floating, floundering … staring at the darkness, staring into the familiar friend that was safety and …

Knowing that it was wrong.

00000000000000000000000000000000000

_Flashback_

"I will go to the stars. When I am older and no one can tell me what I can and can't do. I will find the stars. I will be a deep space explorer and I will go where no one has ever gone before."

00000000000000000000000000000000000

Change.

Snatches of something.

Something familiar.

Memory.

00000000000000000000000000000000000

_Flashback_

"Truly, my dear? I think you do not understand what it would mean. It would be lonely and you have never liked being alone, have you? Months, years on end with no place to run, no place to hide from yourself or your crew mates, no place to even hide from yourself."

"Why would I want to hide from anyone? How can I hide from myself? They always find me in hide and seek."

"There is no place in space to play hide and seek. I think you might need to reconsider your choice of future careers." Fond amusement and the gentlest caress of finger to cheek. "Deep space explorer, daughter? I do not know about that as being a suitable choice for my little angel, but perhaps when you are older we will take you out to the stars, to the colonies. Would you like that, Lucrezia? From the colonies you could look at your stars to your hearts content."

000000000000000000000000000000000

Stars?

Darkness should be lit by stars.

There were no stars here.

There should be stars.

000000000000000000000000000000000

_Flashback_

"I will never tire of looking at the Stars, Zechs."

Darkness, velvet soft, untouched by any hint of cloud. It was wonderful. Beautiful. It would be hers.

"Why do you come here so often? Just to look at the stars?"

"Of course and to dream. I look at the stars and I dream of the day when I will graduate and join the space agency. If I study hard and time it just right I could make the first of the deep space exploration probes to go beyond Saturn. I'll be just the right age for consideration by then, you know. You could come with me. Imagine it. We could see the wonders of space together."

A quiet sigh in the darkness. "I will think of you when you leave for your great adventure. Don't look at me like that, Noin. It's not for me, I think, exploring the stars. I have too much to do."

"You have no imagination, Zechs Merquise. No sense of adventure."

"I have imagination, Noin. I also have a sense of adventure, but I have things to do that will demand all of my attention and dreaming about the stars will not get what I must do done." Something wistful crept into his voice, something that clearly said he was not giving her the entire story.

"Oh, come on, Zechs. Live a little. Dream a little. Let yourself go for once and look up at the sky and see the mystery and the beauty that can be found out there."

"All I see there are memories best forgotten. I think I need to keep my head firmly on my shoulders, Noin and my feet on the Earth. Send me a post card from Saturn when you get there."

//Boys are such strange creatures. They make no sense half the time. What did he mean about memories? It does not matter. Only the stars matter and the dream. //

Velvet darkness and shining starlight. The moon was on the rise and the stars near it faded beneath its glow. Almost full. Her eyes sought out the pin point of light that was Saturn and her smile grew wide and dreamy.

// I will go there and no matter what you say, you will be there with me. You are a strange boy, Zechs. I intend to find out what it is about you that is so different.//

00000000000000000000000000000000

Change.

Progression of changes, one after the other, moving on that rippling tide that was growing stronger. It stirred something within that ached. No comfort there, but something suggestive of importance to her. Something that needed to be attended to. If she could understand she could restore harmony.

Name.

// Name//

The movement shifted around her and brought change closer. The touch of each ripple was stronger now, a caress she sought and did not now flee.

Zechs.

Name.

// Zechs//

Darkness surrounded her, warm and silent and encompassing her entire world and she rocked within it, currents of darkness swirling her into gentle rocking though she felt she did not actually move. Something there. Something that should interest her, but there was something more important and it was tied up with that recognition.

Recognition?

Of what?

Zechs.

What … no. No, not what but who.

Who was Zechs? A name from … from somewhere of importance. Something that needed to be recognized.

Memory?

Yes, memory.

Someone she had known then.

Zechs. Zechs … Zechs …

Zechs. Yes. Such a silly boy to have failed to look at the stars and see their alluring beauty and feel their gentle magic.

Zechs.

Strange how the ripple in the darkness swelled at the thought of his name. Swollen, pregnant with importance and she could not see it. Why it was so important.

Zechs.

It made no sense. What did it mean?

Zechs.

Six?

How strange and unusual. She knew that was right.

Zechs. Six.

Now why would someone call their child Six? How odd. She knew people with unusual names. Their names if not their faces spun out of the darkness on a wave of awareness that rocked her gently within her protective cocoon. Skye and Freedom from the academy and Stella after the stars she adored and there had been Hope …

Zechs. A boy named Zechs.

How inconceivable that a parent would give a child such a strange …

Something in the darkness, riding the ripple that rocked her.

Zechs.

Six.

Zechs … Six … Zechs … Six …

Ripple.

Darkness swelling about her, carrying her high, lifting beneath her, surging below her, supporting her body and lifting her, taking her …

Taking her … where?

Zechs.

// What a strange name. Six. //

Something …

Something … touched.

Some 'thing' touched her. Some 'thing' that was other than the surge within the dark pool. Some 'thing' which was more demanding of her compliance. Some 'thing' that was not so pleasant and was rather demanding.

Disturbing.

Change.

Up. Higher. The surge was beneath her and could not be ignored, could not be resisted. It was … It was …

Irresistible.

The darkness surrounding her was changing, altering… metamorphosis … It was inescapable that she ride the wave higher and higher. She was carried aloft through the stretching, thinning, reforming darkness …

Fear.

Emotion awakening. Change in a tidal surge that was indomitable.

// No. //

The pitch darkness in which there was only sensation of movement and dawning awareness and fleeting glimpses of memory belonging to … someone …

Change.

She emerged from absolute comforting darkness into a frightening beauty. The beauty of this new darkness that surrounded her was all encompassing, overpowering and that other darkness in which she had sheltered faded to become something that was a pale imitation of what she had seen.

Velvet darkness, deep and wide and thrilling in its vastness and shot through with starlight.

//No.//

Starlight.

// No. //

Darkness and starlight surrounding her. All that she could see, all that she could breathe, all that she could touch was darkness and starlight.

// No? Yes//

The celestial dance spread before her, revolving before her befuddled gaze. With light came vision and with vision came …

Wonder.

It revolved around her, drawing her in, drawing her up into the dance. Carrying her away with its beauty and wonder, the music of motion surrounding her.

A siren song she was helpless to ignore.

// Beautiful. //

The wonder of it, the beauty of it. The magnificence of her dream surrounded her and she bathed within it. There was no thought other than to allow it to touch every part of her body and soul. To fill her entire being with the breathtaking beauty of it.

The beauty of the stars.

The raw primordial glory of it, unsullied by man.

Man could not reach those far away pin points of light within the velvet darkness. They were safe in their silver glory, untouched by the bloodstained hands of humankind. Safe.

Unpolluted, unsullied, untouched, unspoiled, un …

// Dream. Wonderful. //

The star field that surrounded her revolved about her, darkness and light in glorious unsullied beauty. It rolled before her and her eyes drank it in, her senses thrummed with content and …

Darkness and starlight became something else. The darkness and the light she could still feel surrounding her, but it was being eclipsed, filled with great clouds of rust red.

//NO! No … Come back … come … //

Change.

Discord in the wondrous harmony of the dance.

The great hulk of it filled her vision, blotting out the long sought after dark velvet shot through with silver that was her dream. Her goal had been before her and now … Now …

Her disappointment was shown in a low throated growl that seemed to thrum through every fibre of her being. She was awareness, returning memory and something other that she had not as yet placed a name to. This rust colour, this redness that was not red was disturbing and she did not wish it to continue.

//NO! Bring it back. //

Impatient she reached out through the swirling mists, through the mass that insisted despite her every effort to push it away and …

It became solid. It became more than mist. Dust … It had been dust, not mist that had enveloped her and against its solidity she pushed, seeking again the purity of the darkness and the stars.

// Yes//

Darkness and starlight swirling around her, beautiful and wondrous and … It was there, crowding into her vision, revolving below her in a majestic beauty that rivalled the velvet star field.

// No. //

Impatience reared and she reached out to push the disturbing mass away. Tiny and insignificant. That was what she was shown to be.

Her hand, her entire self was tiny and insignificant against the mass of the planet.

//Mars.//

Recognition.

Mars.

More.

She had a … hand. A body. She was more than awareness. That was what had been disturbing her for so long. She was incomplete. She had forgotten something of immeasurable importance. She had a solidity that was missing.

Mars revolved regally below her, huge and inescapable and calling to her. Calling of things she could not recall, did not wish to remember and blocking from her sight the wonder that she so long had sought.

Mars.

The recognition of the planet revolving before her sent that disturbing ripple within her rising once again. It rose in a gentle swell that steadily grew, sweeping her along with it, a vast ocean of current that was dominant. It swirled about her, carrying her away with it.

Her content with the darkness that had been her friend, her companion and her lover and had ended with reminding her of what she wished to forget… faded. She did not wish to be reminded that she had given up her dream. She did not need to be reminded of the promise she had made to herself so long ago …

// NO//

Reminded of a promise that she had never fulfilled.

//I came to the stars//

Denial. Anger.

Little girl dreams.

Little girl dreams were not the same dreams that grown girls dreamed.

Little girl dreams could change so easily. Little girls were not supposed to dream of going out into the stars to dream of seeing great planets. Little girls were supposed to dream of fairytale princes and a kingdom of glass that was broken and needed mending. Little girls dreamed of being the dream of Princes who sought to mend those broken kingdoms.

Little girls became big girls. Little girls grew up and their dreams grew up with them. Lost princes and fairytale kingdoms gave way to dreams of wild love and flaming passion experienced within the arms of a Prince who had found himself and such was their passion, such was their love that it was enough to make the very stars weep with its beauty.

Little girl dreams.

Little girl dreaming.

When had Her little girl stopped dreaming of the stars and become that little girl that was every little girl, dreaming of princes and castles in the clouds and kingdoms of glass?

When?

Her little girl.

Her.

She.

She had lost that dream of the stars and never realized it.

When?

Why had she forgotten?

Why had she turned to what everyone said little girls were supposed to dream of?

When had she lost her individuality? Why had she never realized before that that little girl who dreamed of the stars and going out into their depths had somehow been lost in the darkness and only now had been found.

She had never before permitted herself to look at what her dreams had become and reassess them.

When had marrying a man, any man, taken precedence over that long standing love affair with the stars?

When had simply caring about Him and the burden that He carried …

He. Him.

When had the need, the decision changed? Dreams of stars and strange and beautiful places had become …become … lost.

Her dream had become secondary and it was no fault of his. It was her. Her. She had made the mistake. She had lost the little girl and grown up and failed to keep her hand on the little girl.

When had the need come to claim him solely as her own?

Six.

Zechs.

Sixth … Marquis.

Milliardo Peacecraft.

Milliardo Peacecraft and the glass kingdom … the glass kingdom of Sanc that had been shattered, broken and ruined.

She had dreamed of the stars, promised herself that she would go where none had gone before her and …

She had set aside her dream.

For a man.

// No. //

A boy who had captured her attention. A boy who had grown into a man. A man like no other, who had not been afraid to do the unthinkable. A man who had done the unthinkable and in the doing had changed the world.

//I don't understand. //

Mars revolved before her, gigantic, reds and browns and yellows. A great ball of rock that seemed to be closer to her now that before. She was too close to see the ice caps, too far away to see surface details, but she had not been this close before.

Zechs. Milliardo.

Sixth Marquis.

He had known the shattering of his world and so had she. Her world had shattered. Her family had fallen to … Chaos.

Chaos had reigned.

Chaos had become reality and it had a name.

It's name was War.

There had been war for as long as she could remember.

Even in the days with her parents there had been war. A distant horrible thing that worried her mother.

It had been a distant thing, but it had come closer and one day it had taken everything that she held dear. Her mother and her father and the only stability a small child had ever known had been taken from her in that chaos that was called war.

Out of every disaster there could be found something good. Something worthwhile. For her that something worthwhile, that obscure compensation for the end of her world, had been a future in which she had the chance to cling to that little girl dream.

War had provided her with an exemplary education within the Specials Lake Victoria Academy. War had taken her past life, but had provided her with the chance to excel and to train and to ultimately gain the very opportunity she had long dreamed of. She had been given the chance to go into space.

It had done more.

It … War … had provided her with a man of heart stopping magnificence, who repeatedly turned aside from a personal life of individuality and who gave over time more and more of himself for the needs of others. He gave it all, everything that was that child who had survived massacre, until there was nothing left that she recognized of the shy boy who had determined to be the best so that he might do the best …for the future.

For the future.

He had lived in the here and now but always saw the future in everything that he did.

Chaos.

War.

He had determined to take away war by giving them a war that they would never forget.

Chaos. War.

For Peace.

He had given them a lesson in horror and he had dreamed it would be enough to teach them to live with each other with a greater understanding.

Or at the very least a healthy fear of there ever being another war.

War. Chaos. The end of the world.

//I don't … understand.//

Milliardo Peacecraft.

Libra.

Epyon.

Memory bringing with it the suggestion of harmony and chaos unbounded.

Contradiction.

Memory.

Despair.

Despair that she had not believed him, or believed in him.

Despair that she had failed to understand. That she had turned aside from her faith in him, after so many years of loving him with all the fire that had once been directed at her dream of going out amid the stars.

Not his fault that she had taken away her dream of the stars to focus on loving him and making him understand that she wanted him above all else.

Chaos. War.

The beast.

Epyon.

She had not understood his reasoning. She had been unable to understand why he would do such terrible things. She had, in her misunderstanding and ignorance, even fought against him. She had not understood … about anything.

Change was inevitable and with it, it brought the opportunity to look again at what one had experienced and who one had loved along the way and the mistakes that she had made.

She had not understood.

Despite her love for him she had not understood and she had not … until something …

She loved him.

She loved the stars too.

Her love for him?

Her love for the stars?

Confusion.

Circling around and around, the questions that she did not understand and had no answers to, until she understood what it was she was asking herself.

Memory.

Great white suit, small and insignificant against the behemoth of Libra. Red horror in the darkness of the space she loved. Red horror, the demon form. The Beast.

Epyon.

Was it love that had sent her from the Peacemillion to chase him down and tell him that she … she …

PAIN

Searing, all consuming PAIN.

Nerves on fire. Nerves that rippled agony along her body.

She was falling, plummeting toward the distant surface of the planet that grew massive before her befuddled eyes. She fell endlessly in a fall that she knew would, must, leave her a darker red smear on the rust coloured ground of a planet so far from her home.

Panic flared, rising, overpowering her. All encompassing.

She was plummeting through the atmosphere of Mars and she was a fire ball of pain. She would burn up, perish, become a crisp fall of ash before she would impact in the soil of Mars.

She would not even leave the legacy to the planet of a crater.

Mars.

Even a tiny one.

Mars.

Just a burned up scattering of ash that would not even darken the colour of old blood that was the soil.

Mars …

Base Dome.

Flash of brilliant gold.

A golden cord shimmered against the growing blur of red that filled her vision.

Red of fire.

Red of dirt.

Red of blood.

Red of …

Golden cord?

Her fingers clutched at the cord, awakening to desperation. Her fingers sought out the thin brilliant gleam and closed around the golden rope and there was instantly a warmth and comfort that filled her awareness and plunged her abruptly into a blinding illumination …

And into indomitable darkness.

0000000000000000000000000000000

2nd March AC 198

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Emergency Medical Shuttle

Time: 01: 34 [approx Sanc time 23:24 1st March AC 198

Beep. Beep … Beep … Beep …

The rhythmic beeping of the monitors filled the shuttle, shattering the silence. High pitched screaming in alarm for a life at risk. The automatic alarms seeking to draw the attention of the monitoring medic, demanding that attention be paid to the patient.

No medic came to attend to the alert.

The medical computer monitoring the patient contained within the life capsule continued to sound the alert for all of ten seconds and when no manual override was activated the fail safe systems incorporated into the medical systems activated.

Through intravenous tubes medicines were injected in quick succession and following the medication sequence a mild electric shock jerked the slender form. The alert for the patient in cardiac arrest continued to sound as the system continued to await the intervention of a human agent. Again a shock, stronger this second time jerked the woman's body into a convulsion and the computer paused.

Beep … Beep … Beep …

The alert cut out with the renewed cardiac activity and a veritable explosion of printout shot out of a printer. The medical computer evaluated the patients condition and transferred an incident report to the monitoring med computers at the Base Dome and continued to wait for human intervention.

More paper spilled from the printer. This information a protest to the humans onboard the shuttle at the inability of the computer to contact a signal from the main medical computers on the base. The printer fell silent, its report of failed attempts to contact the monitoring medical staff for human intervention lying in a mass of white sheets over the shuttle decking.

Silence filled the shuttle broken only by the slow and steady double beat of the heart monitor.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	138. Chapter 138 Chapter 137

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 137

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198 

Time: 01: 44 [approx Sanc time 23:34 

Broadham 

/God. It's been too bloody long since I had to do this kind of shit. /

The gun in his hands felt alien to him but he could not deny that its weight was familiar and he watched with a detached awe as his hands checked over the weapon seemingly with a will of their own. Automatic. Frightening proof of the illusion he was not a Healer but a soldier. What else was he to think when it was clear with the feel of this too solid cold metal in his hand, that his body had not forgotten what it was to handle a gun? He shuddered even as the Healer within him screamed in despair and the soldier crawled out of the hole he had been hiding in and sprang to the fore, alert and horrifyingly eager to begin.

/I can do this. I will do this. I want to do this. / The thoughts, cold, calculating and firm coming in quick succession, chilled him to the bone but he could not deny the truth of them. /These bastards are slaughtering my patients and my staff and that will not be allowed to continue. /

He would not stand by and permit the slaughter to continue. He had long ago given up the killer attitude that had been trained into him in long gone days but it was there, within him and he could not ignore it. He was aware of it and unless he wished to drive himself insane he would not flinch from the undeniable truth of the situation. He found it hard to live with the memories of the blood in his past from his combat days, but he would find it a lot harder living with the newer, fresher blood that resulted from the slaughter of his staff and patients this day. He would welcome back the soldier to ensure that no more of them died and he would not regret.

/No more. I can not permit anymore of them to die. /

His gaze flicked to where Simpson waited at the door, half crouched, an ear pressed to the panel and his weapon raised and ready. He knew the man was aware of him and that he was only too aware of the risk that he took in arming a potential enemy. It was dangerous but Simpson struck him as a cold and calculating Commander, one who never took action without assessing the risks involved. Simpson was, in effect, the kind of Commander he preferred to serve under during the war, as he was more likely to come out of a hairy situation alive. 

He knew he could take a chance and use the weapon to shoot the bastard now, but such an action was not in his nature. To shoot a man in the back was, to his mind, the greatest cowardice and anyway, he knew Simpson's kind only too well. Every argument fore and against would have been weighed and judged in a few brief seconds. Simpson knew the dangers as well as he did and they both were only too aware of one simple thing. For this hunt they were on the same side. 

/For this purpose we are on the same side, but that is about as far as it goes. You want to get the killer of your people and I want to stop the bastard from killing any more of mine. One goal will form a tie for this fight, but after that … /

He could only hope it would not come down to a confrontation between them when they had dealt with the killer and had time enough on their hands to remember the enmity they felt for each other. His life alone did not hang in the balance here and he must always keep the lives of others in mind. Simpson had a set agenda from which he would not waver and when the time was right they were all to be eliminated. 

When the time was right. Key words and he needed to get his attention back where it belonged.

/ Have to remember this bastard might not even be in the nursery. We don't know who it is or where they might consider safe to lie low, or even if they would choose to back off and stay quiet for a time. The bodies were fresh. All too fresh. Whoever did that … butchery … had to be covered in blood after it and there were no bloody footsteps in the hallway. Likewise there have been no bloody hand prints on the walls or doors. They could be anywhere. /

Merquise had taken out one of them. Now there was at least a second loose in the medical center. Might there not be more?

Simpson glanced at him, eyes cold and hard and the question did not need to be spoken to be understood. Was he ready to go in? He would by far have preferred to be very far from here, but that was simply not an option and he nodded, short sharp and determined. He knew himself to be as ready as he was going to be and to delay longer placed unnecessary risk on lives he was responsible for.

The Healer within him cringed in a dark corner of his mind and the soldier pushed forward, influencing fingers to curl around the gun and a cold clarity descended on him. He forced his breathing to calm and controlled order. Panicking would serve no purpose other than to get himself and possibly Simpson hurt, neither being a desirable result at this time.

/It's been too bloody long. /

"Stay close." Simpson inclined his head to the door. "What is beyond the door?"

Floor plan. Simpson wanted to know the lay of the land in as detailed a fashion as possible, without hanging them up here while he drew detailed maps. He drew a calm breath and called to mind the makeshift maternity ward they had needed to construct.

"The door opens into a small reception room that has two doors leading from it. The left door leads to the mothers ward and the right in the wall directly opposite this door leads to the nursery proper. There is a desk, a couple of chairs, coffee unit and couch in the reception room."

He made short hand signals that gave a rough placement to each named feature he mentioned in the room and caught Simpson's nod.

"Visibility from the other rooms?"

"None from the mothers ward. There is a glass panel allowing a view into the nursery from the reception lounge and there should be one nurse on duty at this time. If she is not in the first room she could be checking on the two women in the mothers ward, or in with the babies in the nursery."

If the nurse was not in the lounge … The thought was simply too horrible to contemplate that the worst might already have happened. He refused to consider that he was going into another chamber of horrors.

/God. Surely the bastards would not kill the children? No. No surely they are not that sick, but if I really thought that would I be standing here panicking over the very thought? I'm dealing with a very sick individual or individuals here and who knows exactly what they are capable of? If they did that butchery to sedated patients then why the hell would they not do the same to infants/ He felt ill just thinking about it.

Simpson seemed to consider the door for a long moment, no doubt his thoughts running parallel to Broadham's own musings. "Nursery first."

He knew then without doubt that the agent had been wondering the same thing that he had been and had decided not to chance it. Was it simply human concern for the young and helpless, or was it more sinister? Did Simpson suspect that Merquise's children might be in there? Broadham supposed that it was possible the infants might have been brought to the nursery though to his knowledge they would have been … should have been in the crèche or with their mother. He scowled considering what he had been told by Haydon Giles. Noin was supposedly in the shuttle bay in a coma and certainly was not with her children. 

Was the crèche still secure? If these people were here to secure the children then surely the first place they would have gone to would have been the makeshift crèche they had provided for the children's care. He could not know and neither could Simpson know with any certainty, unless the man had already secured the children with his own people and Broadham did not think that was the case. Certainly if the man's mission could mean the lives of the children in the nursery then he was not going to mention that the twins were considered to be too old for this ward. 

/ It is possible that the children might have been sent here for safety, until this mess is ended. No, I won't be mentioning that to him./

"Try not to shoot your own people."

/ If I have anything to say about it I will not be shooting anyone. / He kept the thought to himself and snapped his attention back to Simpson as the man pushed the door open and rushed the foyer.

Heart pounding he stepped through the door and covered left as Simpson swept the barrel of his automatic across the room from right to left. He had hoped to hear a startled scream or exclamation from the nurse at their dramatics but the room remained silent. His eyes flicked over the empty armchair, the closed door to the mothers ward, the nurse's desk and finally to the couch and coffee machine on the far side. 

Nothing.

It all looked disturbingly normal, frighteningly empty, but normal none the less.

The doors leading from the reception lounge to the mothers ward and the nursery were closed and after a moment of silence he flicked his gaze to Simpson who was looking from one door to the other, but was already moving to the glass partition that looked into the nursery. He did not miss Simpson's glare at the light clearly illuminating them to anyone who might be in the nursery. 

No one moved within the dimly lighted room that he could see. Sweeping a glance over the nurses desk he noted nothing out of place and moved to join the agent, continually scanning between the two doors as he did so, afraid that they would be disturbed. His scowl grew to match Simpson's when he realized that the only light within the nursery was the light that spilled through the glass partition from the lounge and he hissed softly at Simpson to gain his attention.

"There should be a night light on." He whispered.

Simpson seemed to grow larger though Broadham swore he had not actually moved. An air of menace always generated from the man but now it was something more. A finger flicked to the doorway. "Is this the only way in?"

He nodded a confirmation that indeed it was the only entrance to the nursery. The medical centre had never been intended for natal care, but when the need arose they had acted quickly to renovate the little used office space and cut the doorway into the next two bed wards. That ward had become the mother's ward of the new natal unit and the nursery itself had begun life as a major store room. The lounge come nurses station had originally been the store's office, which had been moved into the surgical unit after due consultation to make room for the three room ward. The Alpha Dome boasted a proper hospital with full maternity capabilities, which was only months away from completion, but this small unit had been sufficient for their limited needs.

There was light within the nursery but beyond the patch where the light from the office fell there was deep shadow and within the shadow only vague shapes and suggestions of shapes. He stared hard into the darkness and thought he could just make out the locked cabinet where medicines were stored and perhaps the corner edge of the old desk they had converted to a change station. 

In full view of the window and bathed in the light of the lounge was the two tiny beds where the infants slept and as he stared at them one of the children moved. Just a faint twitch of tiny fingers and small sucking movement of fine lips, but it was enough to set his heart beating once again.

Simpson exhaled nodding slightly at that small flicker of life, though he seemed to be peering into the shadows and had not relaxed at all. The one thing that was obvious to both men was that there was no evidence of blood, guts or gore in the nursery.

"We check the ward." Simpson slipped past him to the door and opened it just a crack, pressing his ear to the gap and straining to detect any sound. 

After a long moment of silence and stillness he was moving again, pushing the door open and slipped around the door frame and into the darkest part of the ward. Broadham hesitated, uncertain for a moment if he should move into the ward as back up for Simpson or wait. 

The nursery was not overly large once they had stuffed it full of every convenience for the care of infants that they could manage and he did not want to get in Simpson's way if there was trouble, but he was unwilling to leave the man's back uncovered. Despite all of their differences they were at this time allies and they needed to cover each other's backs. Somewhere nearby, whether in this ward or elsewhere, there was a seriously disturbed murderer running around his medical centre and he would not wish that anyone meet that individual without backup.

Even Simpson. With a small huffed breath Broadham slipped around the doorframe.

Simpson ghosted through the small ward, checking every possible hiding place before moving to the cots and peering at each infant. As he came up to him Broadham noted that Simpson read each name taped to the cots carefully, identifying the children beyond any doubt. A faint nod seemed to settle matters for the man and then he peered through the glass partition back into the reception office.

"Not very old." Simpson breathed, motioning to the cots, eyes still firmly on the other room.

"The youngest was born only two days ago. The elder is now five days old."

The agent nodded and after a moment moved to the door, motioning Broadham to take his place at the window. "Time to tackle the mothers ward. Watch as I go in then move to the doorway and keep watch on the door back into the hallway. If the killer is still about he or she may not have reached as far as the nursery yet and I don't want any nasty surprises."

He signalled his understanding and slipped quietly into position where he had a good view of the room and motioned the all clear to Simpson, who slipped back into the office and ghosted quickly to the door leading into the mothers ward. The man knelt at the door, ear pressed to the panel and he found himself holding his breath.

Where was this killer lurking? Had they passed a room where that monster waited, dreaming up more sick torture for his victims? His, he mused. Influence from what he had witnessed in the hallway as Merquise took out the bastard, but he admitted that they might well be hunting a female at this time. Only discovery would settle who it was who had butchered those helpless women. 

He shifted his shoulders uneasily, certain that there were hostile eyes centred on his back and his gaze flicked over the darkened areas, uneasy. He told himself he was being ridiculous. He and Simpson both had checked out the nursery and deemed it to be secure. The babies slept near him in blissful innocence and the door to the hallway from the nurse's station remained closed. Again he glanced around the nursery and still the room remained safely unremarkable.

/Shit. It's been too long. I'm getting spooked by nothing. / 

It had been a long time since he had felt this particular type of tension. Too long since he had felt that his life hung on a thread and he was not sorry for that. He preferred the days of peace when he did not constantly have to look over his shoulder wondering if he would be alive at sunset. Wondering how many lives that belonged to the people he knew would be snuffed out like candle flames in a wind. He never wanted to feel this again.

The soldier within him could go back to his dark corner soon and never rear his head again.

Simpson was looking back at him, free hand to the door of the ward and expectant. Once more he glanced around the nursery, trying to dismiss the unease and then flicked to the closed door at Simpson's back and he nodded. He slipped to the nursery door where he took his place; gun clutched tightly in his hand and where he had a clear view of the area and could watch both Simpson and the main door. 

It would take only seconds for Simpson to check out the mothers ward. Then it would all be over for this extended ward at least, but there were other wards to be checked and he wanted this cold blooded killer. The absence of the nurse that was stationed here at all times was worrying and he could only hope the night nurse had stepped out of the ward for a few minutes and had not fallen foul of the killer.

/ Anything could have happened. A light bulb might have blown and she might have gone for a replacement. She might have been lured out of the ward by the killer. She might have heard something that drew her away from safety. /

He could drive himself mad thinking of the possibilities.

He shook his head slightly, disgusted with himself and focused back on Simpson. He was allowing himself to be distracted and that might prove to be a fatal error. He was only going to get himself and Simpson in trouble and if he indeed blundered so badly he would not blame the ESUN agent at all if he turned around and killed him. He would deserve it for such incompetence. 

Simpson eased the door open, ear pressed to the gap as he listened for any sound from within. Broadham found himself holding his breath and leaning forward on the balls of his feet as he waited for Simpson to explode into action. It seemed to be taking forever for Simpson to go through that door in a rush and then emerge with the all clear. He would go insane waiting for the man to move.

When it came it was not the movement he expected. The ESUN Agent half turned, a frown marring his face and holding a hand out toward him in a stay gesture, pointed to himself and then flicked that finger toward the room then lifted the finger to his lips in a clear order for silence.

/Oh, God. Something's wrong. He's heard something. / 

He felt certain there was going to be bloodshed in seconds and that he was going to be involved in it. At least Simpson was not surging through that door with gun blazing. He might just get the mothers out alive. If the killer had not already completed his grizzly work.

He nodded once, sharply and crouched in the doorway, waiting.

0000000000000000000000000

Simpson

It was faint but to his heightened senses it was unmistakably the whisper of cloth which suggested to him that someone was moving around in that room. He was not in the best of positions here to tackle a possibly lethal situation and he could only wish that he had his trusted team as back up. 

Broadham thus far had handled himself creditably, which was something of a surprise. The man had been a civilian for years, but he seemed to have forgotten little of his training. Medics, especially field surgeons were not what he considered reliable as under fire companions, but the man had done a creditable job thus far.

What would be the best course of action now open to him? He did not feel confident enough in Broadham to have him slamming into the room at his back and anyone could walk into the reception lounge at any time. He needed his back guarded and while he was confident in his own abilities he was not so certain about Broadham's ability to function in tight situations. All of which meant he needed to keep Broadham out of the ward and direct action and on watch for intruders into their sphere of operations. 

As he saw it at the moment he had two options, neither of which was a particular favorite with his current mind set. He could initiate a full out assault, storming into the ward and the most likely scenario from that action would be to set of screaming women panicking at such an entrance. If nothing was wrong in the ward, of course. The second option was for a more discreet entry into the ward and was more to his liking, but still not well favoured as he had no idea of the lay out of the room. 

The women who were supposed to be in this ward, presumably sleeping considering the hour of the morning, might already be dead and the butcher be going about his grizzly work unknowing of his doom about to fall. It was possible the killer was only now taking them down, poised to make another grizzly scene and if he rushed in he might spare them the fate of his two sedated team members. He could not prevaricate for long, as every second worked against him and for the murderer to strike again and he dearly wanted to get his hands on that bastard. A hard and fast entry acknowledging that the women were likely to be dead or a more careful stalking approach that might give him the opportunity to get his hands around that slimy bastard's neck?

Assuming the killer was actually in the ward. 

/Fucking stupid situation. Here I am sneaking around trying to save the lives of people I have no choice other than to kill over the next two days. Christ. This whole thing is sick. / Sick or not he had to make a decision.

He half turned to Broadham, motioned him to stay back, indicated that he was going to be entering the room by a flick of a finger and that he wanted silence. The surgeon nodded his understanding, eyes sweeping to the main door of the suite of rooms once again. Pleased with the man's apparent level of attention Simpson then speared a finger decisively at the light overhead, sweeping the finger across his throat.

Broadham flicked his gaze up to the light and then about the room, located the light switch and with a quick look behind him into the nursery he slipped out of the room, crossed to the far door and flicked off the lights. Simpson resisted the urge to hiss at the plunge into total darkness, but he preferred this to the flood of light that was going to precede him and mark him as a clear target once he opened that door.

He was hyper aware of the minutest sound and he could follow Broadham's movements back to the nursery. At least the man appeared to have placed the location of the furnishings clearly in his mind, as there were no thuds or bumps and thankfully no curses to alert whoever waited in that ward. 

Through the doorway a thin line of dim light now spilled, made visible by the darkness of the office. It was a dim glow that suggested a low wattage bulb was in use, undoubtedly a night light so commonly used on Mars where the absence of windows meant darkness was stygian gloom all over the base. He eased the door open a little more, concentrating, hoping to detect the slightest sound of movement from beyond that would help place anyone within the room.

Two mothers and the nurse, Broadham had claimed, should be within the ward at this time. Or at least two of the three people. The location of the nurse was thus far in question. She could be out on an errand and he might be dealing with two females who could become hysterical if he went in with guns blazing and there was absolutely nothing wrong.

Yet his 'something is very wrong itch' was driving him insane. 

A low sound, very faint which he identified as the rustle of fabric and this time with it came a muffled sound of something that sounded suspiciously like a whimper.

/ Not good. / 

Either someone was prone to having nightmares or there was indeed trouble within the ward. Given the current circumstances he was not going to opt for the nightmare option and he had already wasted enough time. Bracing himself and taking a deep breath he slipped the door open wider, thankful the hinges seemed well oiled. Trying to be silent he eased himself forward with the movement of the door using it as cover until he could glimpse the amount of room that was available to him and with a sudden thrust he shoved the door hard and tucked himself into a roll as he propelled himself into the room and away from the door.

He came up against the far wall, smoothly rising to his feet, gun drawn and sweeping the room ready for anything to happen. He was already convinced that the ward had been compromised by the killer and he had his proof as his gaze raked over the beds.

A moment of silence greeted his entrance and was followed immediately by an assortment of thuds, bumps and rather irate sounding muffled cries as they tried to get his attention. They need not have bothered with the effort as they had that well enough. He wanted this bastard. He wanted him bad.

Cambridge and Fannon had been assigned to his team and he wanted an accounting for their deaths. Yes they had been a part of the team on a temporary basis, but they had been his responsibility as their Commanding Officer and their lives had been his to oversee whilst under his command. They had been murdered, butchered while they were helpless and he owed the bastard big time who had taken their lives and he believed in paying his debts.

He, she or it had been here and been interrupted.

Two women wearing the standard issue sleepwear were trussed securely and lying on the floor. They had been bound and gagged with makeshift ties and he found himself looking directly into horror filled eyes. The eyes of the two women were wide and they were looking at him as though they expected him to slit their throats, but he saw sanity return and they began thrashing against their bonds and muffled screaming broke out with renewed strength. 

From the head gesturing he gathered they realized he was not with their tormentor and one even thrust up with a bound foot to kick against a bed and he could have sworn she was swearing at him. He was not going to move however until he knew for a fact that they were clear.

He flicked his gaze over the small ward, for the moment ignoring the low moan that came from the nurse. She was naked, spread-eagle and bound to one of the wards two beds, a cloth in her mouth to muffle her cries and she was lucky, he noted. He had only begun his butchery and already she was bleeding from multiple wounds. She seemed conscious enough and despite the obvious pain she was in and the makeshift gag there was reason behind the muffled sounds she was making and he realized that she was trying to tell him something. 

His gaze swept the room one more time, seeking sign of the killer. Bloody footsteps marred the floor and curiously seemed to lead to the door he had entered by from the interior of the room and then back to the bed where the nurse was tied. The killer had heard he and Broadham enter the outer room, but the pattern of the footsteps disturbed him. 

How had the bastard entered the room? 

There had been no indication of bloody footsteps in the hallway outside or in the office or the nursery. After the butchery done on his team members the killer had to be covered in blood and there had been no sign to indicate the direction the killer had taken. No sign to say the man or woman he sought had actually entered the nursery complex, but here was the proof that he was on the right track. The killer had been about his grizzly work when he and Broadham had interrupted him and he had gone … where?

Again he swept the room aware that precious seconds were passing and his eyes lighted on the door at the far side and he grunted softly, deciding that the killer was probably in the bathroom suite. Cautiously he edged forward, weapon aimed at the bathroom door which seemed the most logical place for the killer to be hiding and he stopped beside the first of the struggling women, kneeling beside her. He swept the room again, his 'something is very wrong' itch was driving him to take particular care in hunting down this maniac. 

The women were not blindfolded and they were his quickest and most reliable source of confirmation of the killer's current location. The bastard would be lurking nearby, just waiting for him to make a mistake and he was not going to err.

He dropped a hand to work on the gag, eyes never ceasing to sweep the room for any hint he was about to be rushed or any flicker of movement that might indicate he was about to be knifed or shot. There was plenty of indication the killer was a knife man and knives were quick and silent. If the killer had a gun he expected he would have used it by now. This lunatic had a fondness for knife work.

"Where?" 

He hissed the query at the woman, sparing a quick glance at her as he managed to loosen the pillow case she had been gagged with enough for her to spit out a gasp as she sucked in air. He glared at her, a clear indication he wanted no screaming and he had his hand ready to clamp it over her mouth if she proved to be a screamer. His gaze went back to a careful survey of the room. The bastard was close. He could feel it.

"Quietly."

"Ceiling!" A venomous hissed against his hand. "The bastard went into the vent. He heard you in the other room and he went into the vent."

His gaze shot up to the ceiling vent that fed oxygen into the ward and he swore. The vent was closed and bloody hand prints marked where it had been lifted into place. He would have noticed immediately had the cover been left open and he had wasted precious seconds thinking the killer was still within the ward. The killer had a head start and he resisted the urge to fling himself up at the vent and head off in pursuit. He would be leaving a clear enough blood trail up there to be followed, but first he needed back up.

It would be a hunt fraught with danger after a killer who was specialist trained at stealth techniques and who was deranged. Not a good combination and for such a hunt he would have preferred Frazier and the man's known skills to Broadham's questionable abilities. There was also the problem of the nurse. If her injuries were severe then Broadham was going to be required as a surgeon and not as his back up.

Reaching into his belt sheathe he grasped a not so standard regulation weapon, but one he had found had multiple uses and flicked open the switchblade. He sliced through the woman's restraints before pressing the blade into her hands and inclining his head toward the nurse.

"Free the others and do what you can for the nurse. Don't leave the room."

He spun and stalked toward the door and was only half way to the doorway when he heard a crash from the office. With a muttered curse he threw himself at the door and thrust it wide, cursing the darkness of the reception lounge. Babies began to wail and the sound of punches connecting to flesh was clear enough, as was the grunts and curses of Broadham and the malicious hissing of the killer. There was not sufficient light to afford him a decent view of what was going on in the nursery, but he could guess and he leapt for the light switch. He wanted to take the killer down, not Broadham.

Undoubtedly the bastard had opted to take the nearest access out of the vent system and that would have to have been the nursery. He refused to bewail mistakes now, but he should have thought of the nearest exit to the ward. He had actually been trying to keep Broadham out of danger but handy to him should he need back up and instead he had delivered the surgeon to the killer. The bastard did not have it all his own way, however, as from the sounds emitting from the nursery Broadham was not going down easily.

His searching fingers found the switch and light flooded the office. He was just in time to see Broadham kick the slender, tall man dressed in the black of the security force at the station in the gut. A kick with a lot of force behind it, but the man offered only a muffled grunt and the glint of a bloody knife in a vicious sweep at Broadham's face was his response. The man seemed unphased by the blow and there was a gleam in those dark eyes that was clear testimony to the insanity of the man and that cold gleam only brightened as his knife blade sliced a shallow line across the surgeons cheek.

/ Insane. Totally insane. /

Simpson growled; a low, deep sound issuing from deep within him that marked him at his most dangerous. Lunging forward his hand closed around the hilt of the knife he wore, the long serrated killing edge of the blade reflected the overhead lights. He wanted that bastard and Broadham was backing away from his assailan,t but managed to kept himself between the killer and the wailing children.

A quick grab at something in the darkness and the clang of metal on metal rang out. Broadham was defending himself with what looked to be a steel basin and the sound of the knife clanging against that meagre defence came in quick echoing peals, the rate of the slashes building as the killer sought to take out Broadham quickly. No doubt the man was only too aware that Simpson was closing on him and was sane enough to want to face only the one opponent.

He was at the door to the nursery when the killer abandoned Broadham and began taking notice of the big man bearing down on him with an oversized knife in hand. It was a knife meant for business, the business of killing and he was sane enough to recognize the larger threat

Simpson dodged an assortment of equipment as it began to fly in his direction. A steel basin, a packet of cotton balls flying out of a metal dispenser as it was hurled through the air at him and through it all, with the exception of a guttural snarl, the killer remained silent. Teeth bared the ESUN Commander threw himself forward, under the barrage, his knife extended to deflect the first of the slashes from the killers own weapon. 

Three lightning fast slashes and counters had the man backing away and Simpson was not inclined to let up. Simpson knew he faced a man as skilled with a blade as himself and he was not going to give the murderer any opportunity for a shot at him, choosing to keep the pressure up in a blinding flurry of attacks that were countered with increasing desperation. Sanity seemed to be returning to the killer with the threat of death. The man was flicking his gaze about the room, no doubt seeking some advantage or means to get past Simpson and out the door, but such opportunities were not about to be forthcoming.

Broadham stood between the fighting men and the infants, moving the cribs further from the fight, but his eyes were on the struggle taking place and he would not permit the children to be used as hostages. Simpson was content enough with that. While the man kept out of the way he did not have to concern himself with his safety. If he could spare the attention he would tell the surgeon to get his backside into the ward and attend to the nurse, but at the moment such was not feasible. 

He was in no mood to dance with the bastard and pressed him, noting that the movements, each swing of the blade, be it in a parry or attack sequence, was becoming wilder and predictable. The teeth were bared now and there was a look in those dark eyes that suggested something was about to snap. He waited, biding his time, keeping the pressure up and that knife away from his own hide and he was ready when it came. 

A single mistake, brought on by sheer desperation from a less than sane mind produced a wild swing with the knife, which he ducked under and continuing the momentum of his movement he swung a foot out and around as he went down on one knee. He was uninterested in the knife at this time beyond keeping out of its reach and was much more concerned with hitting his actual target.

He heard Broadham gasp, no doubt thinking he was about to go down, but such was not his intention. He was right on target. With a sharp crack the steel capped boot he wore slammed into the killers knee cap. 

The man issued a high pitched scream as the bone snapped and Simpson continued using his momentum to complete the turn, his own blade held at the ready, extended and thrusting in a killing blow. He did not care to take prisoners and this bastard deserved death.

A gurgling gasp and wheeze marked the moment the blade sank between exposed ribs and into the heart.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	139. Chapter 139 Chapter 138

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 138

2nd March AC 198

Sanc New Port City

Time: 01:30 New Port City Sanc

Wu Fei 

"… name is Kristian Richard Alexander Edward Kushrenada."

Wu Fei let out a whoosh of air and glared at the mini player clutched in his hands, staring at the handsome face that stared back at him. Dark hair, golden eyes, firm jaw, high cheek bones … Those eyes. There was something compelling about those amber eyes that held one, compelled one to listen and to believe. He had been exposed to something similar before but those eyes had been blue. Clear, pristine sapphire blue and lighted by an intensity that could never be missed, merely misunderstood. 

He was only too aware of the tight lipped woman seated beside him who never took her eyes from the white out. Une drove the car as quickly as the weather conditions permitted which was far from the speedy response that was usual to a Preventer mission. Through this entire night's investigations the weather was going to be the determining factor. Forensics would be loathing the conditions they must work under, but much as he hated being exposed to a blizzard he had to admit the weather was his greatest ally. 

In many ways the weather was a mixed blessing. Certainly it was guaranteed to slow down the investigation and pollute the clues that undoubtedly he had left behind him. One could never totally eradicate all evidence of one's presence, but with the winds howling beyond the car and the snow fall there was going to be pollution from many sources to muddle the crime scenes. 

There was also the unwelcome fact that his thawing extremities longed for warmer climes or efficient office heaters, but there was no getting past the fact that he was going to find himself exposed once again to this weather. Not a pleasant thought but at least he had dry clothing and he could now feel his feet. It helped too that there were going to be others with him equally as uncomfortable and chilled to the bone. As professionals they would ignore the weather and do their work with little in the way of complaint. At least he was going to be able to conduct interviews within the shelter offered by the individual houses at the centre of the crime scenes after inspections of the damages were carried out. 

He distinctly heard a soft hiss from her and glanced up, but her attention seemed to be focused outside the car, not on the device he held in his hand. He resisted the urge to drop the player and grip the seat as the car swerved, sliding a little on the ice. He found himself watching the tail end of an abandoned car as they swerved around it and he cursed inconsiderate drivers. For a moment Une glared at the car before braking gently, leaving the engine running and diving out into the teeth of the blizzard. 

"I and those gathered with me this day that you see before you, were once citizens of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. For many and varied reasons we have chosen to renounce our ties to the ESUN and have founded the Independent Station Alliance."

He watched as Une fought her way to the abandoned vehicle, brushed at the crusted on ice and snow to peer into its depths and then tried the door, which opened. 

"... you see before you are the Council for the Station Alliance and I am the duly elected President of our nation. On behalf of my nation I assure you that we look forward …"

The Preventer chief vanished into the vehicle for a moment, reappeared and set her slight weight against the car which resisted for a moment before it rolled.

"… across the negotiating table. It is my understanding that the Sweepers will forward the coordinates of the meeting place to your security office within the next forty eight hour period."

Une heaved a final time, pushing at the steering wheel which sent the car rolling gently into the curb where it rocked to a stop. The door was shut and Une turned back to their vehicle. 

"… day and the hope for a prosperous future together."

He stared down at the face frozen on the screen and considered the golden eyes as Une settled back in the driver's seat, rubbing her gloved hands together briskly. With a decisive snap he locked the screen of the unit down to form a sealed case and then lifted his gaze to glare out at the blizzard. So many questions. Even after so long they still had to clean up outstanding factions who could not live with the peace. They had to insist on making statements and disrupting the peace. He was uncertain exactly where to begin questioning his companion.

"Is he a Kushrenada?"

The question was out before he realized that he had even considered asking it. It surprised him, in that he would have thought the man's identity was of secondary importance to the possible reactions of those in power in the ESUN. It was the shameful truth that to date two people, not including this Kristian Kushrenada nor Mariemaia, had appeared to lay claim to the ESUN using the name of Kushrenada and expecting to be treated as the successor of the former World Leader. 

There was something about this one … that face. Those eyes …

Anyone could claim to be a Kushrenada without actually being related to the man. His name was a rallying cry for every crackpot and would be dictator and rebel to sprout. They did the man a dishonor by repeatedly using his name in such a fashion. And to be honest the man did not physically remind him of the Duke he had briefly known, but there was something …

Lady Une considered the question for a long moment before she responded, her eyes never leaving the view ahead of her as she pulled out into the road again. Around them the night was made up of howling wind and driving snow and occasionally the feeble glow that marked a street light. He knew they were approaching the suburb where her home was located and he suspected she might almost be afraid to see what her plan had caused. 

When she had devised her plans and issued her instructions there had been no Kristian Kushrenada to complicate matters. It might well be that she had not been required to take such drastic measures to turn attention from the Mars debacle. Lives had been placed at risk, property damage had been caused … and might this Kushrenada claimant not have effected the same results without the risk? 

Hind sight was a marvellous thing, but it had no bearing on what needed to be done. He had played the part of a terrorist once again and he was not going to play 'what if'. That would serve no purpose. He was now, not the terrorist threatening innocent lives and property, but the investigator assigned to bring said terrorist to justice. How Une expected him to do that was going to be interesting, but the Kushrenada might prove useful for diverting attention away from the night of terror in Sanc.

He recognized the tree that ghosted past in the storm and flicked his gaze to her. They had just passed the point from which he had fired the rocket at her house. The houses in the immediate area seemed to have every light blazing as their occupants watched what was visible of the sideshow, which in truth was not much. No doubt the Lady's neighbours would be only too happy if the head of Preventers should now deem it prudent to move to an entirely new location. Undoubtedly they had lived quieter lives before she had moved in.

"It is possible that he is." Her hands tightened noticeably on the wheel. "The name he gave does or did actually belong to a Kushrenada. His Excellency's older cousin. As a very young child he vanished, the victim of a kidnapping. The child was never returned to his family and no body was ever located. On the death of Kristian Kushrenada Duke Heinrich inherited the title and estates. It has been presumed all this time that Kristian Kushrenada was killed soon after he was abducted. There is enough uncertainty about the case to suggest things might not be so cut and dried."

"So in truth he may be exactly who he claims to be." Wu Fei murmured. "Is it of any concern to us if he is in truth this Kushrenada who was abducted as a child? Would it add weight to his grandiose claims of being the President of a Station Alliance that might, or not, be of sufficient prestige to adversely affect the peace? Or would it simply be useable as window dressing? Impressive but frivolous showmanship? This could destroy the peace we have tried so hard to maintain."

"Or assist in keeping it." Une sighed and shook her head, braking gently and creeping down the hill, unwilling to permit the car to gain too much momentum that might bring them to grief so close to their destination. "It is the truth that a common enemy for the ESUN to rally against would strengthen their ties. They did it before, with Zechs and White Fang. They gave up their petty quarrels to rally against the larger threat."

That was true, he admitted, though not aloud and for a moment he caressed the small recorder with fine boned fingers before he drew a deeper breath and slipped the case back into the glove compartment, settling back to consider the broader implications.

"I would prefer not to repeat that series of events."

Une actually smiled and it was far from a pretty smile. It brought to mind Colonel Une and the days when she could be ruthless for far less reason than that which now disturbed the peace of the ESUN.

"I believe the ESUN Council also will wish to avoid such a repeat. The man and his Alliance may be exactly what they say they are and want exactly what they claim to want … or not. The government representatives will at least listen to what he and his representatives have to say at this meeting he has arranged. That gives us some time to learn more about this so called Alliance and the people who claim to be its leaders."

"Then you believe the government will attend this meeting that is presumably to be arranged by the Sweepers for treaty and trade talks?"

"Yes, they will attend the meeting; you do not need to doubt that. It is of such importance and has been issued in such a way that they dare not ignore the man. Too many questions would be asked, the kind of questions they can not afford to be asked or ignore. Whether or not they will give permission to Relena to attend the talks is another matter. There was rather a broad and plainly blatant hint given that the Vice Foreign Minister was expected to attend the meeting and I have to wonder why it is that Relena seems to be considered a required attendee by these people. Etiquette requires for such a meeting as this, that his representatives should be met by those of equal rank and responsibility. Unless, of course, you are deliberately setting out to insult his representatives, which is not considered to be a clever idea when you have no idea who it is you are insulting, or how much influence they actually have. Very bad form."

"Might not the council in their wisdom decide to do just that? Who are these people to dictate terms of discussion to them? I have not known any politician to take well to being dictated to." 

Lady Une sighed. "True, and I can only hope they will not act out of any offence they might take from the colossal gall of the man He plainly does not suggest but demands. He takes it for granted that they will comply … in honesty that is the mark of a Kushrenada. His Excellency was very good at that. He expected you to see the larger picture with less than a basic outline on many occasions and presumed that you understood. And I mean presumed, not assumed. He always seemed to know who would meet his expectations and who could not be relied on to act as he required them to respond. If you questioned you were very quietly informed of what he required of you. Many people never understood him." 

Une shook her head slightly, no doubt dismissing thoughts she had wanted to avoid for years. She had been in love with the man, Wu Fei had no doubt of that. Totally infatuated with the man and willing to do anything for him, though she had not understood half of what he had intended. Whether she would admit her own misunderstanding of his aims, or her ignorance of his true intentions he did not know, but he thought she did understand one thing. Odd as the man had been he truly seemed to have been working for peace. 

Wu Fei wondered if anyone had understood a quarter of the plans the man had made. 

"No, I think they know full well that at this point in time they can not afford to offer insult in light of the very public announcement of the existence of these people. It would be very poor form indeed to thumb their noses at an unknown power that publicly declared friendship to the ESUN and offered trade links. Tat-amount to political suicide. While the Alliance might prove to be just a scattering of abandoned mining colonies cobbled together into something rather more grandiose that they actually are, they might prove to be something a little more than they are now presumed to be. A canny politician will feel out his opponent before giving him the finger openly."

Dark brows arched dramatically toward a high hair line and obsidian eyes stared at her in shock. That was rather more candid than he had expected from the woman who normally played her cards very close to her chest. Still, they were fellow conspirators in this play on terrorism and perhaps she made concessions in his case for that reason, though he thought it unlike her usual self. Watching her he frowned, noting that she looked tired and there was a light in her brown eyes and a faint wrinkling at her brow that warned she was not in the best of moods. It had been a long day and it was proving to be a longer night. 

He could sympathize, as he was going to be sharing it.

After guiding the car carefully around the corner and offering the lightest of taps to the brakes and fighting the car when it fishtailed regardless of her caution, Lady Une spared a glanced for him and shrugged slender shoulders. 

"I'm tired, Chang and at this point in time I don't have to pander to the delicate sensibilities of politicians. When they are not around I tend to speak my mind if the situation warrants it. As this one does." The Lady even offered a small crooked smile. "One day you just might catch another side to my vocabulary. I was in the military for years you know and I think it something of an unofficial tradition that swearing in the most colorful and graphic manner possible is a part of the necessary training for any soldier. As Specials we were taught to swear with the best of them, we were just indoctrinated with the restriction that we restrict our swearing to acceptable company, so as not to abuse the tender ears of the nobility."

"Nobility that you yourself are a part of." He reminded her, but he was rather amused both with her candidness and her suggested dislike of the nobility and politicians.

Une shook her head slightly and sighed dramatically. "How true. Born and bred of the nobility and I could not care a fig for it." She absently brushed at her hair where it flowed over her eyes, leaning forward to peer into the storm. "There were many of us who did not accept the strictures and the snobbery to be found in Romefeller. Useless, stupid protocols designed to cater to the over blown egos of decrepit old men. Treize hated it." 

She sighed softly and he could almost hear in those three whispered words all of the emotion she had kept restrained for years. Yes, Lady Une had loved the former World Sovereign who had, in his own odd manner, worked for peace. He still did not understand the man, but he had come to regret being the one who had killed him. Why this woman could talk to him as she did and had chosen him for so delicate a matter as this act of terrorism he did not understand. He needed to try harder to understand her, but in all honesty he did not understand women. They were an utter mystery to him.

"His Excellency tolerated Romefeller as a necessary tool to be wielded to achieve the Peace. It was not just Mr. Treize. Most of the younger nobles in our circles could no longer countenance what they saw and what was expected of them by those who controlled the organization. Gradually they found their way into the Specials, where it was easier to forget that they had been born with position and wealth and were expected to emulate their elders." She shrugged, never removing her gaze from the road as they wound slowly down the hill. "Oh, I know what was said about the Specials. You would have to be deaf not to overhear the Alliance's view on what the Specials were. I know what was said about His Excellency too. It was my position to know everything possible about what people were doing, thinking and saying if it pertained to Oz, or impacted on his plans for peace. I think that I would know a good deal more than you when it came to stories about His Excellency. It is not important. We had a plan. HE had a plan and in the end, it worked. We have the peace he promised he would bring and now I work to see that that peace, so hard fought for and paid for in the blood of so many, will not crumble under the administration of fools and incompetents."

/He had a plan? Perhaps so, but surely the utter destruction of the Earth was not a part of it. Clearly he did not judge certain of his people with the same accuracy as many others. Merquise was insane. I very much doubt that was a part of this much vaunted plan. /

He held his breath as the car fishtailed around a corner, bumped into a curb before the Lady regained control of the vehicle and was directed toward the next curve somewhere ahead in the white out. It surely was not his imagination that the weather was deteriorating. He wanted out of this blizzard before it proved to be the death of him.

"This terrorist cell that I am to investigate and direct the blame for the attacks to … Does it actually exist? Are there people who will pay for actions they did not commit in the price of peace?"

Une scowled, a proper scowl, not a ladylike frown that vanished quickly for fear of wrinkles. There was little of pretence about the Lady. The Preventer Chief did not dare take her eyes from the view and her fingers were white where they gripped the wheel, but she did offer a shrug to his concern.

"Wu Fei, the terrorist cell does exists. If only on paper. All of the appropriate files are exactly where you would expect them to be. All of the propaganda exists. In effect, the group actually do exist; there simply are no accredited members in the cell. The records of those who initially agreed to act the part of the terrorists we required during the war have long been destroyed and they were notified that their services would not be required when the Gundams made their appearance. They were thanked appropriately for their dedication and assigned elsewhere. I doubt any of them will act should the cell become a part of the press circus. I trust them enough to be sure they will initiate contact with me before acting."

"So I will not actually be arresting anyone?"

Lady Une chuckled softly. "Why Agent Chang, I would have thought by now that you would understand you cannot prosecute anyone if you cannot catch them. If it becomes necessary we will arrange an accident to give the appearance of the group wiping themselves out, rather than face the consequences of their actions. It is possible that during the course of this investigation that people could die. You may well be opening a can of worms with this investigation. If certain people in power and close to power should get nervous, then there could be consequences as yet unexpected. It depends. Certainly it is not my intention that anyone innocent of a crime should pay if we have anything to say about it … And we do."

"You are expecting people to react … possibly overreact, to events and therefore you are expecting deaths. If this is indeed a fictional group how can you expect deaths?"

Une sighed softly. "The sad truth is that the people who have been using Relena for their own purposes have a tendency to entertain overkill. They have many of their fingers in multiple pies and are not renowned for patience. It is more than possible that they may become concerned at the attention this List will cause and concern could lead to mistakes. They do not know the identity of agents who will be coming after them, or the politics of the support groups involved with political terrorism. They as yet do not have any intelligence on this terrorist cell and therefore have no means by which to control it. It is likely they will over react while they are waiting to be attacked. Overkill in thinking and in action is something they have entertained on prior occasions. To be honest I am surprised they have not over reacted with the situation concerning Relena before now. No, Chang, it is all too possible that one or two people will act before thinking things through, or waiting to see what initially develops. It is quite possible that while you begin by investigating a group that do not in fact exist in reality, you might well end up investigating corruption at very high levels of the governmental structure and their closest subordinates."

"Ah." He murmured. / This bares thinking about. I had not considered the larger picture from this view point. She has raised some valid points./

"Yes." Ahead of them the road suddenly vanished and Lady Une braked gently and fought the wheel to bring the car fishtailing around the sharp corner. Tight lipped she manhandled the vehicle around the S bend and safely to the level stretch at the foot of the hill. 

"Bitch of a night. Keep on the road you metallic whore and keep your chassis intact." Brown eyes dared to flick in Wu Fei's direction and she shrugged at his arched eyebrow, dismissing her outburst. "There are some very dirty individuals who have been welcomed back into the halls of power in recent months. Politics is a dirty game as a rule and the latest round of elections has been closely observed by Preventers, because of the names of some of those who have not only been running in the elections, but have actually been winning seats. It is a sad truth that those who do not learn and learn quickly to play by certain rules, often find themselves out of the power bases if not out of politics entirely. Quite often those who refuse to play the game in the accepted manner are removed speedily from positions of power and out of the parties generally, but occasionally they are kept around in the background as hangers on until a need should present itself. If a fall guy should be required they may find themselves fulfilling that role and little else of note in their entire career. Relena has fallen afoul of such a group of manipulators, but she is too useful for them to shunt her into the background. Her popularity amid the colonists and people of the Earth make her a useful tool and Milliardo's survival was the perfect opportunity to contain her to the limits they set. There are those in control of the situation who have intentions of using her to the fullest potential possible and to the detriment of the Peace that we now enjoy. Unless we can counter them, they will succeed."

"So much for peace." Wu Fei sighed. "I have to wonder if anything at all has changed. Is this peace some illusion?"

Lady Une glanced at him, a brief flicker of her eyes to him and then her attention returned to the road. "Bare up, Chang. It is not so bad as that. To stay in this game with a chance at making a difference all we have to do is gain influence with certain people and have them publicly back Relena. If we can effect an efficient and thorough clean up of this mess, we might yet keep her in politics though I know her illusions of a rosy world and cooperation amid the masses are now seen for what they were. Reality has set in and while it is hard to be disillusioned, it is also a lesson she needed to learn before she took a step into the big league."

"You imply that her position as Vice Foreign Minister is not big league?"

"It is a crumb thrown at the feet of the former Queen of the World to keep her amused and accessible. Don't get me wrong, Chang. If we can keep her from going under and losing all of her fight, then she might yet make a brilliant politician and suitably groomed she could be an exemplary leader for the pacifist parties. With an older and wiser Relena the pacifists can still regain the ground they have lost during this power shuffle. The peace is not destroyed yet and I have no intention of having His Excellency's peace wasted. Too many died and far too many people who survived have lost everything that they ever considered to be important, to simply give up at the first major hurdle that has reared its ugly head since the Barton business. I had hoped that Marquis Wayridge would back her against certain of the factions now re-entering the political arena. Unfortunately he damaged his standing with her recently, but given a little time she may yet come around to being agreeable to working with him again. He is old politics and he knows the ropes better than most. He knows the short cuts, the pit falls and who works for who and who only pretends to work under their supposed controllers. He is quite up to date on the factions working their ways into positions of influence and if Relena is going to be a politician, then she is going to have to learn to work alongside people one does not necessarily like on a personal level."

Chang waved a hand in the air. "Personally I am very happy not to enter the political arena, nor to have ever entertained the notion of considering politics as a career. I do not think I would do very well there. It is far more likely that I would be more inclined to offer someone their foot to eat than give them a civil good day."

Une chuckled. "I can see you doing that but don't get me wrong. Despite what I have told you many politicians are actually working for the good of the people. They do want peace. It is simply unfortunate that many of them are young and do not have the required experience to take on those who are old hands at this political dance they employ to keep in power. These younger politicians with fresh outlooks lack only experience and if we can somehow get them working together instead of separately, then they can go up against the older factions on something resembling an even standing. Some of the existing older groups in the Council of Representatives can be of use to the peace minded amongst the Council. What we need to accomplish is to somehow manage to get them to talk together and finding out just how much they have in common. The younger politicians are going to have to learn to live with the idea of working around the set formulas that are the accepted method of doing things and in so doing they will stop offering direct insult to the people who can benefit them. Their ignorance of protocol is causing a great deal of tension in certain circles that we do not want to be upset with the peace parties."

"Preventers is not supposed to be a political organization." Chang fairly growled, scowling out into the blizzard, clearly displeased by the talk of politics and with the idea that they could lose the peace and return again to the days of bloodshed.

"True, Preventers is not a political organization, but the truth of the matter is that we need to be aware of the power flows of government and how they change. Think about it, Chang. It has taken barely three years for the power structure that existed during the war to make a come back. I should not need to tell you that is not exactly good for the continuing peace. In order to maintain the peace we need to be aware of every danger to peace that exists. It is not just the rebels and the terrorist factions that cause problems, indeed they are few compared to the true influences that govern the level of peace we enjoy. If we do not keep track of the political parties in power and those making movements to gain influence for later elections, then we are asking to have Preventers used by anyone and everyone who stands in a prominent position and not necessarily in preservation of a fair peace for all. That is not what Preventers should be, but if we are not careful that is exactly what we could become. We should be the people's right hand, dedicated to ensuring peace for everyone, not just another tool for politicians to use in order to better rule the roost."

"If what you suggest of the power struggles taking place now is true, then I do not see that we will retain the peace as we now enjoy it for even one generation."

Une sighed and shook her head slowly. "Unfortunately you are right and that in itself is not necessarily a bad thing. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. It is very true, you know. Preventers has a great deal of independence as far as this type of organization is generally set up, but we can not expect things to remain static. As things stand we answer to the President of the Earth Sphere and to a select group of advisors. You have to remember that they are all politicians and subject to the foibles of electoral campaigns to retain their positions. Thus far we have been fortunate with the President that we have. What you need to remember is that he has only one more possible term to serve in his capacity as President, if he wins the upcoming elections, before we have a new set of elections that he can not contest. As stated in the constitution a President can serve only two successive terms in office before he must step down from power for two successive elections. Politics waits for no man, neither does life. It is vital, considering how quickly events can change in politics, that Preventers be aware of the political factions and their views of the state of peace that we currently enjoy. We have a year to watch the reforming political landscape and prepare for a possible transition of power. Should the current President be reelected to his position then we will only have him in power for another four years. It is simply a wise move to watch the political arena and accept that we will not always be graced with a President we are happy to work for. Our job as Preventers is to maintain the Peace, no matter who is in charge. That is not to say that we should not be aware in advance of which way the wind will be likely to blow."

"What is it that you wish me to do?"

He watched her, careful to observe every flicker of emotion that touched her face and eyes. He had not given any of this matter of politics thought and that was clearly a mistake. Like it or not Chang Wu Fei and all of those working with him as Preventers, was vulnerable to the winds of political change. He owed her for opening his eyes to the possible consequences. 

"You need to be aware of what is happening around you at all times. You will find yourself walking the halls of power while you are investigating these threats and you will need to keep in mind that many around you in those halls will not be looking on you with exactly friendly eyes. To begin with you are one of the infamous Gundam pilots and more people than you think are aware of your actual identity. You are accounted as little more than a criminal by some, a child to others and as a tool to everyone you will ever meet there. Be polite, be efficient and above all, be careful."

He was liking this assignment less with every passing second. Through the white out ahead of the car he glimpsed the suggestion of lights. "What is it you are setting me up for?"

"I am not setting you up for anything, Chang. What I am trying to do is warn you of what you are likely to face over the course of this investigation. What is happening on Mars will not be kept quiet forever and we have to remember that the truth will eventually out and heads will roll. It is too big to be ignored and there will be questions asked that must be answered. Be assured that there will be some quick ass covering going on. It would have started the moment the alarm from Mars was raised. Raiders were to get the blame for the mission if it went wrong, but that will not work if there are survivors who are not in the pocket of the politicians involved. You can be certain that anything from blackmail to threats against family members of the terra formers team is on the cards in an attempt to keep information from leaking and we have to be prepared for any and all of it. To compound matters there is now the so called Station Alliance to be considered in the mess. I have every intention of keeping the peace, Chang. It is what I promised His Excellency I would do and that is one promise that I intend to keep above everything."

"Will I have backup?"

"Of course. You will have a team that you can rely on, but unfortunately you will not be working with any former Gundam pilot. Barton is off planet at this time and Yuy and Winner are otherwise occupied dealing with security issues that have resulted from the terrorist activities performed this night. To be honest it is probably just as well you will be receiving no assistance from them, considering whose toes you might be stepping on. If I can keep you apart from each other in the public eye there may not be quite so much attention focused on you; and believe me there will be attention on you. For all that you will not be officially tailed as per the parole agreement with the Council, while you are on assignment you will, never the less, be within the sight of the ESUN Security Agency. They will be watching you like a hawk and just waiting for an excuse to step in. Do not give them that excuse. You will have a competent team, the best that I can assemble. Make use of them."

"What about Maxwell?"

Une shook her head slightly as she negotiated the turn into the blaze of lights that was the gate house of her home. 

"Forget any thought about having him join you. I have a use for Maxwell. He is already heading out into the area around the asteroid belt in the general vicinity of Mars. Depending on where the designated location of this meeting with the Station Alliance is to take place will depend whether or not he remains in his current assignment. We have not been given a great deal of time to prepare security measures and information relays for these talks, no doubt a deliberate ploy by the Alliance. If the proposed meeting between the ESUN and the Alliance is to take place within a reachable distance of Maxwell's current course, then he may be diverted there as advanced security for the ESUN representatives. I can not give a definite placement for him until I hear from the Sweepers on that designated location."

Wu Fei watched as the car skidded to a stop and the Security Officer came out from the mass of people swarming about the gates. / I am on my own then, except for a team that I do not know if I can rely on or not. She would provide the best that she can spare, but how good will that be? Very well then. I will investigate as she wishes me to and I will learn who it is behind this murder of the people on Mars. That is what she wants me to do. Find out who is responsible and a means by which they may be contained. We needed that colony on Mars. The population of the colonies is expanding and so is the population of Earth. We need new resources and we need new colonies. We need them to be secure. /

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	140. Chapter 140 Chapter 139

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 139

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 03:15

Heero

There were more than sufficient vacant rooms at The Coachman's Rest to accommodate the entire security contingent assigned to the protection of Mariemaia and Relena. Despite this they had decided to double up in some cases, with Heero and Quatre opting to share a room. Sally and Relena had also decided to share a room and despite the elderly couple's arched eyebrows neither had objected to their Princess rooming with another person. 

Heero had no idea what the couple thought was going on, but he did not particularly care. To him it made sense to have Sally in with Relena, both as a sounding board, which he was certain she needed and as added security. There would be guards at her door all evening, but he felt considerably better knowing that the ever competent Sally would be close at hand. 

As for himself and Quatre sharing a room, that made even more sense to him. Not only would it permit them to guard each other's backs, which they were accustomed to doing since the war, but it would also allow them to discuss matters that were best discussed away from inquiring ears. He had every intention of informing Quatre that they needed to talk and making certain that they had an appropriate time in which to do so, but he needed first to make certain that Relena was safe.

He had followed in Relena and Sally's wake having every intention of standing guard at Relena's door, but at a look from Sally that was laced with meaning he had nodded a good evening and quietly accompanied Quatre to their shared room. He had watched as both women entered their room and the look Sally directed at him said clearly enough that she wished time alone with Relena and she would not stand for any interruptions. As far as Security went the good doctors gaze had lighted on the two guards already at the door. 

"You can take up guard at breakfast." Sally watched him from her doorway and her blue eyes were intent. "Get some sleep and don't think for an instant I have forgotten that ankle. Get your weight off of the leg and give it some rest."

Quatre had been standing in the doorway as he had been staring at Sally, wishing the infernal woman would make herself scarce so that he could have a few quiet words with Relena. He glanced back at the young man who watched him with grave eyes and it was all too easy to see the strain on his face and his hands were clenched into fists. With a sigh he nodded to Sally. Their room was only a mere two doors down from Relena's after all and he had no doubt that should there be a disturbance both he and Quatre would hear it and react accordingly. 

He ran a hand through his unruly hair, watching as the guards settled into their place. If he was honest with himself he had only wanted to say good night to the Princess. He was, in truth, relieved to be dismissed to his room and not run the risk of Relena wanting to talk to him about this possibility that the Peacecrafts were more than merely royalty. Sally could deal with whatever storm of emotions needed airing with Relena. She was, after all, infinitely more suited to that type of thing that he was. 

Banishment to his room, like some errant child, he mused, had its uses. It would give him the opportunity to discuss certain matters with Quatre sooner rather than later and the truth was that he ached. The weight of what he was afraid of weighed even more on him than the pain that haunted his body and he would make certain that he would be discussing matters with Quatre with his foot propped up, which no doubt would please Sally.

He was tired. He was in pain. He ached mentally as well as physically and he was worried at what Relena had made of the old man's words.

Dismissed by a final glare from Sally he retreated to his doorway, looking back and lingering until both guards were settled into position. Only then did he permit Quatre to pull him into their room and he made no protest as Quatre guided him to the first of the twin beds that dominated the room. Larger than single beds but smaller than doubles, each bed boasted an intricately carved head board and thick eiderdowns that looked to be hand crafted. As his weary body settled on the bed his backside sank deeply into a thick mattress and he could not quite restrain the moan of pleasure that marked his relief at taking his weight from his injured leg. 

A faint, pleasant scent of lavender wafted around him as he edged further back on the bed and the soothing scent drew a quiet sigh from him as he propped the pillows up against the head board. He would just make himself comfortable and then he was going to have to tell Quatre about Romefeller and the stud book they had kept on the nobility of Europe.

"Yes, I thought that you would be pleased to get off the leg." Quatre stalked past him and crossed the room, vanishing into what Heero assumed to be the bathroom. "I'll be back in a minute."

He resisted the urge to close his eyes. If he did that he would quickly succumb to the exhaustion that weighed at him and he needed to talk to his companion.

/So much has happened and I am not certain what I should think about any of this. The old man … he should be considered a nut case but … but in light of what I know he made sense. Frightening sense./

"We have some things that we need to talk about before we get some sleep, but first …" 

There was a moment's silence that worried him and he looked to the bathroom door. Quatre was not generally one to prevaricate and he knew that something about the conversation had deeply disturbed the empathic abilities of his friend.

"Quatre?"

"I think you would feel better for a quick freshen up." Quatre appeared in the doorway with a basin of steaming water, wash cloth and towel.

He knew his friend was right, he desperately wanted a wash and to change into fresh clothing, but he was concerned with getting too comfortable. He was tired, bone-aching tired and at this time they had the privacy to talk and they had so much to talk about. He had so much yet to explain and there was also the small matter of what it was that Quatre had sensed in the private parlour during that disturbing discussion. Quatre had been reacting to some very intense emotions and was no doubt just as exhausted as he, if not more so. Getting comfortable could be a mistake.

"That will have to wait. We need to talk. I have some things that you need to know in light of what we heard tonight and we need to discuss what it was you were sensing in there. You have never said much about your empathy before, but I think that we need to discuss it now."

Quatre had crossed the room to stand beside the bed and seemed to freeze in the act of placing the basin on the side board between the two beds. He looked pale and there was a brightness to his eyes that was rather disturbing, but quickly enough he was moving again, setting down the basin and placing the towel very precisely on the bed beside Heero. He dropped the wash cloth in the basin of water and produced a cake of soap from a pocket, placing it beside the basin. Through every very precisely made movement he kept his eyes focused on the wash basin, never once looking at Heero.

"We do have a lot to talk about, but if we try to talk about it all then we will still be here at midnight tomorrow, talking and settling nothing. We need to sort out our priorities and get some sleep. Nothing can be accomplished while we are exhausted."

/Something's wrong. I don't know what it is but he's … tight? Tense does not seem adequate to describe what he looks like. We can't afford to leave this. We may not have the chance to have this talk until much later and I need that brain of yours, Quatre. I need you to work on the idea of Romefeller breeding psychics and what they might possibly want with them. / "Who were you reacting to? Who was it in the sitting room that you were sensing so strongly?"

"Everyone."

The whisper was accompanied by a flash of anguish in blue eyes that met Heero's with steely determination. He turned from the basin and met Heero's gaze. 

"I was reacting to everyone in there, not to one person in particular, but to everyone in the room. I need … Relena had some very interesting reactions, but she had cause to react as she did. At this point in time it is not you she needs but Sally." He lifted a hand in a placating gesture. "Sorry. That … never came out right. I didn't mean …"

Heero shook his head slightly. "It's okay. I would not have a clue where to start tackling the subject with Relena. I'm … too confused myself and Sally was always good with that sort of thing. Emotions and all that."

"Sally … There is something there. She is intensely curious about certain aspects of what was said. I think she might know something important … or suspect something that might reflect on this psychic business."

Quatre ran a hand through his blonde hair, looking ready to hit something. He was visibly attempting to calm himself down and Heero was uncertain he was succeeding. 

"I was reacting to you, too and what you were feeling … Heero … I need … I can't explain exactly but … What was it that set that shock so deeply into you? I 'felt' you react to something. Something that made you … step back? Sort of.. I don't know how to describe it but maybe … go back to something inside of you is close. Some memory? I can't really explain what it was that I felt, the words just are not adequate to describe it. I know that something he said disturbed you deeply and that it still does."

"A great deal of what he said disturbs me." Heero scowled at Quatre, considering the carefully bland expression that had closed over the face of the blonde. How much could Quatre pick up from a person with this empathy of his? He knew so little of psychic potential and what it entailed. "Which part did you …"

"Heero! Stop it. Just … stop trying to avoid the issue. I …" Slender fingers were locked into blonde hair and there was pain in the blue eyes. It looked as though he was about to tear his hair out by the roots. "I'm sorry." A whisper. "I'm too stretched … I'm trying to contain what I felt and … I can't play word games. Not now."

Heero stared at him, hands locked together, uncertain if he should reach out physically to Quatre. He watched the trembling fingers locked around pale gold strands and fully expected to see clumps of hair float free in the air. Quatre was visibly trembling and he was afraid that if he touched him, he would break or explode into violent action.

"I am trying to establish control points. I … I need … If I can … the control points will allow me to 'bracket' what it is that I felt. If I can contain it behind barriers that I can raise and lower at need, I can safely pick apart what I felt. I need to … I can't describe it. I need you to … I know we have to debrief, but I have to … to …"

He had the distinct impression that Quatre was about to break and he had a flash of emerald eyes. Trowa would never forgive him if Quatre had a breakdown. 

"I don't know what to do to help." Softly, subdued. He knew nothing about this empathy that so marked Quatre as different. "I want to help you but … I don't know what to do."

"I'm not different …" A hiss and the blue eyes looked their hurt. "I'm not different, just more sensitive to emotion than most people." 

With a visible effort Quatre seemed to draw himself up and forced his hands from his hair and Heero had the impression he was about to explode into curses or physical violence, but the blonde retained control of himself and even seemed to steady. 

"I'm sorry … I … I know that you don't consider me to be a … a freak. I … I've had enough of that reaction from people who realize and … I never have felt it from any of you … us … but … I'm a little stretched just now."

Us. Us as in the Gundam pilots. Each of them had contributed something unique to the team that they had made at the end of the One Year War and he could only wonder what they might have been capable of if they had worked together from the start? If they had known that at least some of them were rather special in their own way? 

What they did have in common was heart wrenching. Each of them, every single one of them had been lied to, cheated on, fed false information, used and abused emotionally if not physically and … for what? Some days Heero wondered what might have been had Quatre obeyed his father's demands and remained as the heir to the Winner fortune. What would have happened to Quatre and to the others if he had not been there, to pull them all into a working team? 

"I … I'm not sure what you …"

One of their own was hurting and he needed to help, but how was he meant to help with something he had no understanding of? Empathy was something he was sorely lacking in at the very best of times and now … how was he to help one who had an overabundance of it? 

"What do you want me to do? I want to help but … I'm not Trowa and I guess he would know how to deal with this situation, as close to you as he is."

Was that relief in those intense blue eyes? Quatre looked like he would dissolve into tears and Heero fought the reflex to run for the door. He really was not good with emotion, but he was no longer the Perfect Soldier … he had never been the Perfect Soldier in his view. A soldier needed certain emotions and he had not had them, but he was not about to start a debate with himself. Quatre needed someone now and being afraid of emotions was certainly not what was needed to help deal with the situation.

"Just … If you could sit still and give me a couple of minutes. I … I need to sort a few things out, re-establish control points and to do that I need to be distracted from … well... I … Just let me take care of you, okay? I know I don't make any sense but … I need to take care of you. It's … Well. I don't know if it will make sense but … As you become more … comfortable … I can use that to … well … I will feel it and … improve my own … comfort level? Control, at any rate. Am I making sense?"

"Take care... of me?"

Quatre fidgeted, wringing his hands together for a moment before he hissed softly and reached to tug briefly at the jacket Heero wore.

"Let me deal with it in my own way. Please. I don't have the words to make any sense. Just let me help get you comfortable while I tone down. It … it helps, to do something. If you could just allow me to help you get ready for bed …" He shuddered and growled. "Shit, Heero, just shut the fuck up and let me work, okay?"

Prussian blue eyes widened in shock as Quatre glared at him with a look that promised messy death and then those slender hands began to strip off his jacket with calm efficiency. Heero sat in bemused silence, not daring to speak as the blonde quickly and efficiently stripped off his jacket, jumper, business shirt and the muscle shirt beneath that, leaving Heero bare-chested and thankful that a roaring fire was in the hearth. 

The room they were to share was far warmer than the hallway had been, but it still had a way to go before it could be described as being toasty warm. The old man knew how to lay a good fire and the blaze lent the room both a cheery, cosy atmosphere and was efficient at bringing warmth to the air. There was a basket of logs set to one side of the hearth ready for later, but Heero wondered if they would need the wood. The eiderdowns looked to be thick and soft and he had no doubt that they would be wonderfully warm. These people knew their climate and how best to survive in it.

In silence Heero watched as Quatre efficiently busied himself with the basin and water. He sat quietly while Quatre washed him down and then dried him with quick economic movements. Watching Quatre intently he noted that through the entire procedure the blonde seemed to be performing some breathing routines, which ranged from very simple paced breathing to something more exotic and complex. Twice Heero caught snatches of a quiet litany of what sounded like counting and words in a language that he could not identify. By the time Quatre had efficiently stripped Heero down to his briefs, washed and dried him and then re bandaged his ankle, the blonde seemed more his usual self.

"I … Thank you, Heero. You … really don't know what a help it is for me to … to … I'm sorry. I can't explain very well." Quatre blushed and settled on the bed beside Heero after pulling the eiderdown up to Heero's waist. "I just needed some activity for my body to focus on while I established … order? … in my mind. I know it makes no sense but …"

"No." Heero lightly touched his friend's hand where it rested on the bed. "It's alright. I'm … fine with it."

Quatre met his gaze and sighed. "Really? I'm sorry. I feel much more … centred now. More able to function and process the impressions that I received."

"Good." He studied the young man for a moment before he nodded. "You do look more yourself. Now what?" /I need to talk to you about Romefeller and the stud book they ran … run. They still are doing it, after all. I need to see what you make of that but … are you ready for that? I really don't know how to deal with this./

"Well … If you would not mind … I …"

Quatre drew a steadying breath and met Heero's gaze with a look filled with curiosity and determination. He really felt that he needed to get answers and for the moment he sensed that Heero had issues he wanted to press, but was willing to wait if there was more that needed to be done for him. It showed just how far his friend had come from that cold programmed automaton he had been when they had first met. 

"What was it that made you focus so intently? I mean … To begin with, when he started to talk about magic you were … dismissive? I think that is the word I am looking for that best describes what I was feeling from you at the time. Impatient, yes, certainly you were impatient. Angry even. Then … then something he said … It caught your attention instantly and instead of wanting to wring his neck and take Relena out of there you … well … You focused? I think that is the right description. You focused on something that he said that meant something to you. Something that meant something important to you, though I'm not really sure that you know why it's important. What was it, Heero? I've never felt you do that before. I mean, I know how intense you can be, but this … this was different."

Yes, he remembered that Quatre had been looking at him and that he had thought Quatre had looked … odd. If Quatre had looked like that listening to the old man, then who knew how he himself had looked at that time? Quatre knew nothing about Romefeller and he did not know everything about Epyon either, or how he had acquired it. 

How was he to determine how others felt about this when he did not know himself what he thought of this entire fairytale that had been spun in their hearing this night? Fairytale, yes, tales of witchcraft, charm spells and dragons. This seemed to be in the same league as those fanciful children's stories, but he did know that at least some of this particular fairytale might not be as fictional as it initially seemed. 

"You … With your empathy you sensed the Innkeeper. What did he feel like? I don't know how you do what it is that you do, or exactly what it entails but … I don't know if you can narrow down emotions, or if you just get general impressions but … Before I answer you, I think I need to know if he was being …" He searched for an appropriate word to describe his needs and ended rather lamely with, "honest?"

Quatre cupped his hands in his lap and stared at the long fingers for a moment. "I do not know how I do what I do and after what I learned earlier at the palace … I don't know what to make of this ability. I think I need a great deal of thought to just begin to formulate the questions I need to ask, before I go looking for any answers. Sometimes I sense very little and other times it is all I can do to hold back the ocean of emotion I pick up on. What I sensed in the sitting room from the Innkeeper and his wife was … Well … To break it down into generalities, I think I would have to say I sensed from them sorrow, despair, hope and honesty. I believe that he-they-believed what they said to be true."

"Hn." / Then they do believe that the magic they described is psionic ability. They do believe that the Peacecrafts are different. It's not just that they consider them Kings, but gifted with abilities to ensure the prosperity and safety of the people. Not that it is not infallible, of course./ 

Quatre sighed. "Don't go there. Just get out of the Perfect Soldier persona and stick to being the human Heero, okay? I have to tell you that I like the human Heero a whole lot more than the Perfect Soldier. It's high time he was placed in permanent retirement. Anyway, to be honest, I really do not think I am up to dealing with the other you."

"Other … me? Quatre, there is only one me. I was taught …"

"I know what you were taught … at least some of it and that it was … not nice." Quatre finished lamely and shrugged an apology. "Sorry. Heero, since the war ended you have to know that you have changed. You have become, as I sense it, warmer. I don't feel a cold hard wall in you as I used to and I really don't think that I could cope just now if you shut off the stream of emotions I feel from you. Don't shut me out." 

A plea, desperate to avoid going back into emotional turmoil, with no welcoming beacon to guide him out. He needed Trowa, but his lover was a long way away and he could only hope that Heero would understand and not think of him as weak.

"You are much calmer than when we said goodnight to the others and that has helped me to control what I sensed. I need that. I need your control, but I need your warmth too. After the jumble and chaos I was exposed to I … I need …" He blushed, knowing that Heero must think him weak after this admission, but there was no other choice. He needed to be honest. "I need warmth."

"I'm sorry. I … didn't mean to hurt you. I was just thinking. I'm not very good at this emotion thing."

"You are far better at it than you think."

"I … will try to keep … warm … for you."

"Thank you. I'm sorry that I have such trouble describing what it is that I feel. What is so clear to me is hard to place into words that others can understand. I'm not used to talking to people about this ability. The Innkeeper and his wife do believe what they said to be true. What does that mean to you?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know how to process what we learned. I have a few ideas and I have a great deal to explain to you, but I need to be certain of how to make sense of what we heard. I need to know that I can trust in what they said. That they did actually believe it."

"Something that was said in there meant something of importance to you. They did believe what they were saying and much of it saddened them and some of it awed them. What was it? A lot of what they said you were dismissive of up to that point where something disturbed you. You seemed to close off for a minute and what I felt from you was … strange. What was it that was said and what was it that it reminded you of?"

Heero watched the blonde for a long moment, uncertain where to begin. He needed to tell Quatre about Romefeller and the stud book, about the organization that existed that so interfered with the lives of men and women all over the Earth Sphere. He needed to tell him so much. Some of it he knew. He knew about the public Romefeller, of course and he now knew about the genetic modifications that were performed in their fertility clinics, but there was so much else to tell. Where was he to start? From the beginning, or skip the bulk of it and simply answer the question Quatre had originally asked him? 

The blonde seemed not to be in a hurry and gave him time, but he could feel those aqua eyes were focused on him and he knew that Quatre would have an answer from him before they settled to bed. Did he really want to go through the entire mess tonight? Quatre was right, if they fell to discussing everything tonight they would still be here at midnight and probably be no closer to resolution. No. They did not have time to go into details now and he could feel the need for sleep in himself and guessed that Quatre, as emotionally strung out as he had been, must feel it too.

"I think … When Sanc was attacked by Romefeller's Oz and we defended the country … I … I think …" He closed his eyes against sight of the blonde, hearing again the words that damned him in the old man's quiet voice. This was harder than he had thought it would be, but he needed to be honest. He needed to know if Quatre shared his opinion. "I think I caused the Libra incident. It was my fault."

Quatre blinked, plainly astonished by the confession. Fine lips parted for long seconds, but no sound emerged. For a few minutes he ran a review of the conversation they had shared in the sitting room, seeking any hint of what had brought this out to air. What was it Heero had heard that made him think he was to blame for the Libra incident? Did he not know that that incident had been unavoidable? 

He had considered the events of the war and he was firmly convinced of that truth. It was a terrible truth that if they had listened to Zechs, instead of considering him to be an enemy when he had sought out certain of their number, then the entire episode might not have happened. It was only when Zechs had felt himself to be abandoned by everyone and driven to the wall to bring about peace, that he had turned to White Fang and it had become inevitable that they must fight against him. 

Yet it was also the truth that the fight at Libra in itself had been the beginning of the peace they now enjoyed. Fate? He did not know if he believed in fate. Predestined event disturbed him. He liked to at least think that he had free choice. Finally Quatre shook his head, failing to see where that conversation could give Heero the impression that the final battle had been his fault.

"I don't understand."

"I know. I know you don't understand, neither do I exactly, but the more I think on it the more I believe that if I had not acted as I had, then the Libra battle might not have occurred as it did."

He was sensing rising agitation in Heero and mixed with it was hurt and firm conviction. Yuy indeed was convincing himself of his view even as they spoke, but that did not necessarily make him right. 

"Okay … I'm sorry, Heero, but I don't begin to understand how any action you could have taken would have changed the circumstances leading to that battle."

"Zechs." Heero stared down at his hands which he suddenly found to be gripping the eiderdown. "He … Zechs would not have gone to White Fang if I had not … if I had …" He made a conscious effort to ease the grip of his fingers on the material and looked up slowly to meet the intense blue eyes. "It was my fault." A whisper.

Quatre, scowled in confusion. He could feel again the rising upset, the condemnation and conviction in his companion and it threatened his own control. Being careful to keep a safe distance emotionally, he sought to understand without actually touching that rising mire of self doubt and hate he sensed in Heero. He did not need to be dragged again into a vortex of conflicting emotions and if he succumbed to it what possible use would it serve? He would be of no help to Heero if he fell now and he firmed his barriers. 

He sorely missed Trowa and the unique quietness of that man's mind that made living with him not only possible, but a deeply desired thing. Trowa suited him so perfectly; he was the other half of his soul. They belonged together, fitted neatly into each other physically and mentally. They each had strengths that complimented the other and in Trowa he could be assured of always finding a stable emotional haven, in a world where people hid even from themselves and in their hiding coloured the ether with noise that he was all too capable of hearing.

"Heero, I need you to be steady for me, remember. Don't go off into some possibility that likely has no grounding in anything other than fear of What If. You need to calm down and tell me. What about Zechs? The man had a mind of his own and he was Oz' attack dog. I know that he was not what we thought he was, but that is hindsight, Heero. You always discover more after the event and there is no going back. I have tried, but I fail to see how you could have affected his decisions back then. Heck, from what we now know he was in space when Sanc was attacked by Romefeller's Oz. Nothing you did could have driven him to White Fang."

"He … he came back. To Earth. To Sanc."

Quatre stiffened, staring at Heero who met his gaze with sad eyes. "Zechs came back to Earth? After Romefeller attacked?"

"I never told anyone what happened before but … Quatre, did you not wonder how I acquired Wing Zero? When I left you over New Port City to pursue those Oz forces I was using Epyon and the next time that you saw me I was in Wing Zero. Did you not wonder how I acquired Wing?"

The lighter blue eyes of the blonde youth were clouded with memories of that turbulent time and the emotional storm he had needed to deal with. Yes, Heero had been flying and struggling with the Epyon, fighting to make the suit obey him and that suit had been a terrible thing. It had almost felt as though it had had emotions that he could feel, just out of his ability to understand. Epyon had been terrible and he had wished that Heero would not use the monster on more than one occasion. At that time Heero had been something of a mess, with the awakening of emotions and the blood lust still affecting him that had reared the first time he had used the beast of a suit. He drew a ragged breath as he met Heero's troubled gaze.

"I had the Epyon and Zechs had the Wing Zero, Quatre."

"How … Zechs had the Epyon at the Libra. I never … I was too busy at the time to think … How did he get Epyon? I never really thought about it. I thought that you had been contacted and given the Wing Zero. That you preferred it to the suit Kushrenada had given you. I thought … I don't know what I thought. What happened?"

"He was trying to join us." A whisper and strong hands ran gently over the quilting of the eiderdown, tracing the stitching. "He heard about the attack and he left Howard and the Peacemillion immediately. mHe had been trying to join with us Quatre and when he heard what was happening … She hurt him by giving Sanc to Romefeller, but I think he would have accepted that in time. He's not an idiot, after all and he grew up influenced by politics but … I'm not explaining this very well."

"Take your time. Zechs was in space, but he came to Earth when he heard about the attack? After Relena had surrendered herself?"

"Before. She surrendered while he was in transit. I was in the Epyon and I … He made contact before he reached Sanc and I was in Epyon and I would not listen to him. Epyon was telling me things, whispering to me, showing me things and I could not think clearly. Epyon showed him coming and showed me that he was to be my enemy and I … I attacked him."

He shuddered, reliving the kaleidoscope of impressions, the images that made little sense but were similar but not the same as those the Wing Zero impressed upon him. The Zero system had not been kind from the first moment that he had entered it, but he had mastered it. He had not mastered the Epyon and he believed now that he understood why. 

"I still have nightmares of the few times I flew the Epyon and I will admit that my memories are somewhat distorted about that period but … Epyon … Epyon was …"

Heero rubbed his hands over his face, wishing he did not have to go through with this, but it was past time that he told someone of what he had experienced when he used that beast. It had been a nightmare and for him to heal, eventually he had to share and hope that Quatre would be able to understand. 

"You built Wing Zero and the Zero system and you flew it, so you understand how unique Zero was. Epyon was not like the Zero. Not at all like the Zero system. I knew that it was different the first time I flew it, when Kushrenada gave it to me, but … He tried to warn me but I never realized just what it was that was so different about it. I can't blame Kushrenada for what I experienced, he did try to tell me, but I was not listening. Epyon was not the same as Zero."

"I know the suit design was vastly different from Wing Zero, but the operating system … That was the Zero system. How do you think it differed from Zero? I guessed they might have been a little different, not being constructed or programmed by the same person, but basically they would have been the same program. I don't see that it would have made too much difference to the end product."

"You're so wrong." Heero whispered and leaned heavily back against the pillows and head board. "So wrong. I never realized until tonight just what it was that was different about the Epyon. Maybe I'm wrong?" He looked at Quatre with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I hope I'm wrong. I might be wrong."

When Quatre simply looked at him without understanding Heero leaned back against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling beams. Quatre watched him for a moment, feeling the conflicting clash of emotion within Heero and trying to sort out the impressions he was receiving. There was fear, which he was not accustomed to feeling from Heero of all people, a fading glimmer of hope and not a little despair.

When no immediate enlightenment was offered he rose, quietly picked up the basin of water and retired to the bathroom. He would give Heero a few minutes to sort out his emotions and thoughts and he would use the time to clean himself up and settle his own emotions back into order.

Quickly and efficiently he bathed himself and then set about tidying the bathroom before he returned to the bedroom. As he expected Heero still remained leaning against the headboard, eyes closed and seemingly asleep, but he knew better. He was only too aware of the emotions that now had been sorted into some form of order. Heero had established some control over the maelstrom of self doubt, anger, despair and hope that he had been feeling and the emotional level he had now attained had reached a point where Quatre felt that it did not threaten his own control. 

Satisfied with the condition of the psychic atmosphere he crawled into his own bed and made himself comfortable, sinking into the thick mattress with a small moan of pleasure and pulling the eiderdown about him. For a few indulgent seconds he permitted himself to luxuriate in the warmth and comfort the old fashioned bed offered him. He felt that he could use some pampering this night.

"Are you ready to talk about it now?"

He watched the other young man, expecting Heero to move but he remained as he was, leaning against the pillows and the headboard, eyes on the overhead beams. A small sigh escaped Heero and Quatre felt the moment when Heero conquered his fear and passed beyond it. When he spoke his voice was soft, even and very matter of fact.

"Epyon and Zero seemed not to like each other much. It seemed that the suits were in control and we had no choice but to obey. We fought each other to a stand still on that rocky promontory beside the sea. Zechs was in Zero and I could feel him, he was in control to a point. I could feel him only defending against my attacks. He was trying to talk to me, telling me … something. That he wanted to work with me, I think, but I … Epyon was relentless. I saw him as the enemy and Epyon would not be denied."

He sighed and glanced at Quatre before turning his eyes to the flickering fire. 

"Epyon was different from the Zero system. Really different, but I did not understand then and I think I am only just beginning to realize what the Epyon was. Kushrenada told me, you know. He made a point of telling me that the Epyon was not a weapon and I … never listened to him."

Quatre frowned, watching Heero, feeling that quiet moment of confusion that Heero felt at the mention of the former World Sovereign. "Treize Kushrenada told you that Epyon was not a weapon?"

"Yes. Yes, he told me. He warned me that Epyon was not a weapon and I forgot. Or I did not believe him or … I don't know. Quatre, Treize told me Epyon was not a weapon and I never told Zechs when we swapped machines. That … the swapping of the machines was not his idea. I had been having trouble controlling the Epyon and I had used Zero before. I should have been able to use Epyon without a problem, but I … I could not understand then why Epyon was so much harder to work with. Why it was so hard to get the machine to obey my directives as the pilot. I had no right but … I saw an opportunity to gain something I did understand and I took Wing Zero and left the Epyon for Zechs. At the time I thought it was because I could not understand how Kushrenada thought and that was affecting my interaction with the machine. I said something to that effect to Zechs, but … if the Zero and the Epyon were the same operating system, where would that come into it?" He turned to Quatre, blue eyes intense. Quatre had built the Zero system for the Wing Zero. He would understand. "Where would knowing how Kushrenada thinks matter when it comes down to flying a mobile suit?"

Quatre considered the question and the man who had posed it for a long few minutes, reviewing what he knew of the Zero system and briefly regretting never having experienced what it was Heero said he felt within the Epyon system. If he had felt it he would understand exactly what it was Heero was trying to say.

"Can you tell me how they differed? I am assuming that you are talking about a difference in the operations system itself, not the weapons and overall schematic design of the two machines it was installed in."

"You know Zero. You used it. You had it use you."

Quatre paled and lowered his eyes for a moment, but he had learned to get past what had happened, or to at least live with it. 

"Zero never used me. I … It was me, Heero. It was my fault what happened. Somehow I lost control and I lost that control before I built the suit and the operating system. It was not Zero that destroyed the colonies and all those people, but the Zero system did seem to make things clearer for me. I think the easiest way to describe the effect it had on me, was that it defined what I was feeling. It never used me, merely defined and fed back to me what I felt from myself and from others. I never used the Epyon, so I can not compare the two systems. That I know of, only you and Zechs could do that."

"I think Kushrenada used it, from something that he said. I learned very quickly I could not handle the Epyon, but I refused to give in. I refused to admit that I could not master the system. It was … wrong. We were in conflict from the outset, but I would not admit it. It kept trying to get into my head and it was making me see things … I know that is what the Zero did, but somehow Epyon was different. What it was doing to me was … somehow more than Zero was showing us. I think … I think I might know why."

Quatre wriggled deeper into the bed, just his eyes peeking above the eiderdown to watch Heero leaning against the headboard and cushioning pillows. "Tell me. Tell me what you think Epyon could do?"

"The old man tonight might have given me the answer. When he spoke of there being psionic abilities tied up in the Peacecraft line, I suddenly remembered Epyon and how it had made me feel. What it was that Kushrenada had told me and what I did. Quatre, what if Treize Kushrenada built an operating system that would take advantage of that kind of potential? What if he built that suit knowing that it had the potential to be some sort of psionic catalyst? What if he intended that catalyst come into the hands of Zechs Merquise, Milliardo Peacecraft or what every you want to call him?"

"He … Kushrenada gave you the suit. You, Heero, not Zechs."

"And I could not wait to pass it on to someone else. Kushrenada was in confinement. What if he used me to get the Epyon to the right person to use it? To Zechs specifically." He met Quatre's wide-eyed gaze and shrugged. "I never once considered giving it to anyone else, but I handed it over to him without a second thought. In fact, I practically threw it at him and bolted before he could object. When I was using it Epyon kept showing me things I did not understand and I felt pain, deep inside. I resisted it. I was resisting it physically and mentally. I could not stand the idea of losing control to a machine and I kept trying to master it and make it obey me. With my resistance to it in mind, what do you think of this idea? What if the Epyon had had enough of me and my resistance and it sensed something in Zechs? Something more akin to what it was built for? Recognition of what, who, it was designed for? Quatre, why would I just give up a suit with the power and potential of the Epyon? Why would I hand that kind of power over to someone I considered to be an enemy? I never asked Zechs to swap, you know. I just … took Zero. It felt so much more … I can't find the right words to describe how different they were. Zero felt so right after Epyon, as though I had come home."

"It was a long time ago."

"Yes, it seems to be a long time ago."

"It probably made no difference at all to the outcome of the war." Quatre murmured.

Heero shook his head slowly and his eyes looked haunted. "No. I disagree. I think it made a difference to everything. We all thought that Zechs had lost his sanity when he appeared amongst the White Fang, but … I know the Epyon and Zero screw around with your mind but … Zechs was by far and away above those weak minded fools who were trying to understand the Zero. He would have had little problem in mastering the Zero with exposure to it. I think Epyon was very different and never intended for me. We know now that Kushrenada knew who Zechs really was and that he was an old friend, his family knew the Peacecrafts quite well. If anyone would have known about any of the potential Zechs might have had, it would be him. What if Epyon was a suit designed to enhance the potential of a pilot who had something like the ability that you call your Space Heart? You know what Zero did to your empathy … With that in mind, what possibilities might there have been if the Epyon was designed to work in conjunction with someone who had the ability to glimpse the future? What if Epyon was designed to work with a clairvoyant?"

"Allah." Quatre whispered, staring at Heero. "Oh, Allah. You have to be wrong."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	141. Chapter 141 Chapter 140

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 140

2nd March AC 198

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Medical Centre

Time: 01: 38 [approx Sanc time 23:29 

Barker

/How the hell are we going to get past that bastard/

He was only too aware of the potential for disaster if either of the ESUN Agents noticed his presence in the midst of the group of men. If either man noticed him or if one of the other men present made a comment that gave away his identity then what could he do? He was here to protect the people, to keep them safe and he had no idea if the medical staff knew what was going on. 

/Thankfully Kurtz is handling himself well./ 

It was he and he alone who would tip off the ESUN agents to something being wrong with the group. He was the recognizable one, the known face in the crowd who should not have been in the dome at this time. Not Polnar and not Carter. Neither of the two men were Preventer agents and should just be anonymous members of the emergency response team. Their faces should not cause interest, though he was a little concerned that Polnar may be more than he thought initially.

There was something about that man that worried him and if he was right and Polnar worked for someone, for some agency outside of Preventers and not the ESUN Security Agency, then he had to hope the man's face was not known to Simpson or Frazier. Polnar worried him though he was of the opinion that he was not a Sleeper. 

He had always been graced with a rather obscure ability that seemed to grant him an uncanny sense of when something was not quite right about a person and Christian Polnar set his alarms ringing. He could not deny that to date the man had been more help than hindrance and while he was wary of him, he also had the impression that he could safely turn his back on the man and not expect a knife in the back. It was not his nature to casually turn his back on anyone and leave himself unguarded, but Polnar struck him as efficient, trustworthy and certainly more than he had openly admitted to being. He was going to be keeping Polnar under observation, but he was not such a fool that he would not use the man's expertise where it was most needed. 

Such musings were all well and good, but they did nothing to assist him in getting out of trouble now. The truth of the matter was that he was not ready to face the ESUN agents at this time. It was too sudden and the odds were all in favour of Blue Squad should it come down to a confrontation at this moment time. There was just too much distance between himself and the two men he needed to take down to give a good chance of taking them both out without anyone else being killed or at the least injured.

/Frazier was stationed right where he can see everyone coming and going between the medical centre and the main base. Perfectly placed to watch everyone come through those doors. I need to know what the hell is happening in here. The staff seem unperturbed by their presence./

The surgeon Broadham had appeared and subtle body language led Barker to believe that he at least seemed well aware of the danger the ESUN Commander represented. He found it interesting that the surgeon had quite pointedly placed himself to stand between the emergency response team and Commander Simpson and he found himself watching the surgeon above the agents. There were subtle signs, a quick glance here, a subtle shift of his body that placed himself more firmly between Simpson and the team and an overall tension in the man's body. The way Broadham deliberately took the attention of the ESUN Commander on himself led Barker to suspect that he had been spotted by the surgeon. 

/Does Broadham know I'm here? That look … If Simpson had noticed me we'd all be dead men. Why are the medical staff still alive? Does he have need of them at this time? If so, why? What happened that he would hold off on the slaughter of everyone on the base/ 

His eyes flicked to the wall where a very obvious blood smear did more than suggest that the medical centre had not been spared the massacre that bloodied the base. Clearly something bloody had occurred here and he needed to know what it was, how many were dead or injured and who it was who had done the killing. The blood was dried, but looked relatively fresh and no one had as yet attempted to clean it away. He needed answers, but he was going to have to get out of the hallway without Simpson and his crony being any the wiser to his presence.

His eyes lingered on the open doorway just down from the blood smear and he measured the distance with careful attention. It was possible he might be able to reach the doorway, but he would need to do so in as unobtrusive a fashion as possible. It was far from safe for anyone in the group for him to remain standing here, but to make a quick dash for the room would also draw unwanted attention and lead to discovery.

/I wonder if I can slip into that room without Simpson realizing I'm here. If I can get in there quietly it would be to our advantage, but I need to be able to get out again too. Getting in there would give us some breathing room and the opportunity to make some plans for dealing with the situation. I have to make it out of the medical centre and meet up with Merquise at our rendezvous. At least I can tell him that I know without doubt where they are. That will make it easier to plan how to take them out./

Mighty Joe Lee was standing to the left of him, shielding him from sight, but also standing between himself and the room where his only escape from discovery might lie. He noted that the engineer was eyeing the door with open speculation and then their eyes clashed. Lee offered a small nod as his eyes flicked back to the doorway and then back to the Preventer agent, a clear indication that they shared the same thought and that he would have assistance in gaining what protection the room might offer.

He spared a glance for the men grouped further down the hallway and resisted the urge to snarl. Frazier and Simpson stood a little apart but still close to Broadham and a group of medical staff who seemed totally at ease with the agents. It made his blood boil that they seemed to trust the men who had ordered their deaths. How could they be so ignorant?

What was it that had happened in the centre? Clearly there had been blood shed, but the doctor and his people seemed largely undisturbed by the agents in their midst. Broadham seemed to be the only one who was aware of the undercurrents of danger flowing freely in the place. Had they no idea of the source of their danger? 

Was Simpson playing some sick game of cat and mouse with them? The Commander did not have the look that Barker had come to associate with a man who favoured game playing. He did not strike Barker as being one who liked to toy with his kill before delivering the final blow, but appearances could be deceptive and when Simpson had been given command of Blue Squad Barker knew without doubt that he had made a marked difference. 

Preventers kept a watchful eye on the elite units employed by various government bodies and private concerns such as the Winner Corporation. Attention was paid to the members and especially to the Commanders of the teams, to provide a fair indication of the type of man or woman who was in charge of trained killing machines. Beyond a doubt those same persons kept as close an eye on Preventers in their turn and wished to know the calibre of people they might need to work with over the course of time … or go up against. 

It was one of the Preventers prime mandates to know who, be they a government agency or private individual, had what in the way of armed forces, how many soldiers or private security agents if they wished to term them in that aspect each group employed and the extent of their equipment and training. Preventers monitored every aspect of a unit once they became aware of the unit's existence and there were more such units around than the common citizenry of the ESUN would be comfortable with if they knew. With the abundance of soldiers suddenly without employment certain people had acted quickly to gather those they considered to be the best for their individual needs.

Blue Squad had been around for a very long time and in their long history they had always been watched by anyone with half a brain who did not wish to wake one morning with a knife to their throats. The unsavoury reputation of the squad had grown to the point where the powers that be decided they needed to tighten their hold on a squad that was very close to being out of control at a delicate political time. Hence the promotion of Simpson as their commanding officer.

Personally he could not see that much would have changed despite the new commander at their helm, though he was willing to be pleasantly surprised. Blue Squad had always been the one chosen for the dirtiest of dirty work their employers had needed attending to and they did their work well. He had no doubt that being employed by the ESUN Security Agency only meant they would be a little more discreet than they had been on past occasions when employing their particular variety of solution to the problems they were given to resolve.

His musings were disturbed when Mighty Joe nudged him and he moved with the shift of the men surrounding him. The move resulted in him being edged closer to that door as they shuffled around. He was aware of Carter on one side of him and a quick glance showed him to be eyeing that blood smear with a concern that mirrored his own. He flicked his attention back to the man gathered in the hallway to see that Broadham was speaking again, but he was not concentrating on what was being said, though he noted that Polnar, who was standing a little to the fore of him, looked to be more than interested.

"Next shuffle we should be able to slip you into that room." Carter breathed the whisper in his direction, shifting his attention to the men further down the hall and then back to Barker. "We need to get you in there and then find someone who can tell us what happened here."

"Agreed, but first thing's first." He inclined his head to Broadham. "I think the surgeon might be our best bet for information but how we are going to get to him is another matter."

Carter shrugged; a faint lifting of his shoulders. He was more concerned at this time with getting Barker out of the public eye. He caught the eye of the nurse who had screamed at their entrance and who now looked to be more than embarrassed by the attention. She had sidled away from the group but her retreat had halted at Broadham's identification of them, a fact that to Carter represented Broadham was not going to be their only source of knowledge. While the surgeon was undoubtedly going to be the most reliable the nurse must know something, else why would she scream her head off at their appearance? 

She was at this time looking from the surgeon further down the hallway to the cluster of orderlies and nurses gathered about the doorway to a room a little down the hallway and on the opposite side. He caught the small shake of her head and the almost imperceptible nod that seemed to set the other staff at ease. She obviously knew she was in no danger from them, but he could still see unease whenever she looked at the two men in combat fatigues. A quick glance at Barker confirmed that he too had noted the interaction between groups.

"What happened in here?" Kurtz queried.

Barker's attention switched from the interplay between the staff back to the larger conversation happening between Kurtz, Broadham and Commander Simpson. The surgeon seemed to look particularly hard at the group as a whole and he could only hope that if Broadham had seen anything untoward about the group, that Simpson had not noticed whatever it was that had alerted the surgeon. He really needed to escape that scrutiny at this time.

"While my team and I were engaged in surgery someone appears to have gone on a killing rampage. We have at least five confirmed dead, though I do not doubt that number will rise as we progressively search the floor. Have you any word from the dome? Any word from the Control Centre on the emergency status?"

/ Well, that sort of enquiry was to be expected, regardless of what has happened here. Sleeper, no doubt and I can only hope that Kurtz will watch his answer. I can't afford for him to hint that he knows more. Not with Simpson standing there looking ready to start shooting. / Barker flicked his gaze to Kurtz waiting to see what he would offer in response. He swore to himself that he would shoot the man if he said anything that gave them away.

"No, nothing has been heard from the control tower for hours. Now that we have cleaned up after the explosion in the elevator shaft I was concerned with checking for additional damage. I'll leave a few of my team here to assist and send the rest up into the dome to investigate."

/Yes, good. Leave a few of them here to clean up and if they can, investigate what went down. Do I want to remain here and watch Simpson? Damn. Damn it all to hell. There is as much reason to stay and watch him as there is to get the hell out of here and find Merquise. I want to know exactly what has been going on in my absence and I need Wind to brief me. Should I take the chance on taking them out now//

"The dome is secure enough for now and I would concentrate my efforts down here if I was you." Simpson sounded casual, almost lazy but he was not fooled by that. "All indications are that there may have been an infiltration team sent in by Raiders amid your personnel. I will need an accurate headcount of all persons in the sub base be performed and a list of everyone in the base who has some military experience. Those who have had armed forces experience will gather in the mess hall in an hour for a briefing."

Polnar literally growled low in his throat and Barker eyed him quizzically, mind racing over what was said that might draw such a reaction. Raiders, was it? Now that had potential to be considered. Polnar had looked interested in the events surrounding them and in the conversation going on, but pretty much no emotion had betrayed him before that comment. Raiders. Or was it the Raiders comment that sparked the reaction? It might have been that briefing he objected to, not that Barker could blame him. If Simpson could gather all those men and women on the base who had combat experience together in one place, it would be a perfect opportunity to wipe them out and leave the terra formers defenceless.

Damn the man. Simpson was a coldly calculating bastard. The briefings he had had on the Blue Squad Commander suggested that it would be in character for him to leave no avenue unexplored to remove the greater opposition with the least amount of fuss. Still, what more would he have expected from an elite officer in charge of a dirty tricks squad? There was no doubt Simpson was more than capable of thinking on his feet and taking advantage of any situation that might arise.

Broadham, he noted, looked to be on the verge of exploding, face flushed and fists clenched and eyes narrowed. The surgeon appeared not to have noticed that Simpson had smartly spun on his heel and was striding down the hallway in the direction from which they had come. Barker had to resist the urge to pull his gun and shoot the Commander between his shoulders, but he managed to resist the temptation only too aware that there was another armed man to be considered, who would not hesitate to take him and others down.

"Mr Broadham, I need a couple of gurneys down here!" The order was tossed over Simpson's shoulder as he strode away and there was the faintest hint of satisfaction in the man's tone.

/No love lost between those two, I think. / Barker watched the man's retreating back and sighed, squashing the last of the itchy trigger finger syndrome that still urged him to take out at least a half of the opposition before him. /It would be so easy to shoot the prick, but I have to think of the others here. Frazier could take out most of these people unless I could be certain that Carter or Polnar had him in their sights as I took down Simpson. No. No, it's better to wait. Broadham … now what is that smile for? You're happy he's headed … yes. Yes, you know everyone in the emergency response team, don't you? You would know the team and you would know that Carter and Polnar at least are not a part of the unit. Did you notice me/

Broadham turned back from glaring after the Commander, seeming to ignore Frazier who watched with a small amused smirk curving his lips. The surgeon looked to be more relaxed than he had been only seconds before and he looked as though he was satisfied about something. A quick glance at the uniformed figure beside him and he turned his attention to the emergency team, seeming to dismiss the tech. 

"Help the staff with the bodies for now, Preston, before you see to drawing up that list. We need to get this place cleaned up and ready to receive casualties. We can discuss steps to be taken later. Shelly! Stop shaking woman and grab two orderlies and a couple of gurneys and follow me. All of you leave the bodies to the response team and start cleaning those rooms."

He had to stop himself from openly expressing his satisfaction. /Yes! With that instruction given Frazier will think nothing of us moving around here freely. We will be doing exactly what he will expect us to be doing, but I will still need to think of something to keep my face out of his sight. Very good, Broadham. Very good indeed. I even have the perfect excuse to get my ass into that room and out of sight. /

The surgeon glanced at Frazier and acknowledged Frazier's nod with a brief dip of his own head as he stepped away and proceeded to follow Simpson down the hall. The tech glanced at the staff by the door, who were stirring in response to Broadham's instructions and he looked relaxed and not in the least disturbed by the countermanding of his commander's orders. That Barker found interesting, but he felt Carter's light touch on his arm and caught Mighty Joe's eye. Speculation could wait. As one they shuffled sideways and he was through the door and safely out of sight.

"Christ!"

Carter hissed a soft breath as he stared around the ward in disbelief. Barker sucked in a horrified breath himself as he turned slowly, studying the room and trying not to allow a suddenly rebellious stomach to win the fight for possession over his last meal. The stench of blood filled the room and he wondered why he had not been able to smell it from the hallway. It was everywhere. Blood soaking the bedding a deep crimson and covering the walls and floor in streaks, splashes and very deliberate precise markings that had to be made by a very sick individual indeed. 

Kurtz appeared in the doorway, unceremoniously shoving Polnar into the room as he did so and both men stared at the evidence of carnage. Someone had made an attempt to strip the be, but the mattress still lay over the bed frame and it was soaked in blood. The bedding was thrown on the floor in a bloody pile and Kurtz blanched, fighting his own brief battle with his last meal before he shot back out of the room and Barker winced at his bellow.

"Someone get the fuck in here and explain to me what is going on! Now!"

/Well, that should get someone in here, hopefully with some needed information. God. This is sick./

Kurtz reappeared in the doorway, looming large as he glared around the room. Polnar also was looking around the room and Barker had to wonder if one or both men might not be looking for another exit. If they were they were going to be disappointed. He had already completed a survey of the room and found no door other than the one through which they had entered. They had succeeded in getting in the room, away from prying eyes and ears and escaped immediate disaster should he be recognized, but they were also trapped by that very safety. 

"If we are supposed to be body hunting then we can not remain in here for long." Kurtz commented. "Obviously the body that was here has been removed. So …Any ideas?"

Barker glanced at the man and resisted the urge to sigh. Did he have any ideas on where they were to go from here? Not really, but that was not going to help, so he needed to come up with a plan of action quickly. They did have a time limit to consider and he was not of a mind to stay in this room any longer than he had to. Again he surveyed the ward, taking care to notice every item in the room, no matter how small and insignificant it seemed. 

The Preventer in him catalogued each blood smear, every symbol etched in blood onto the walls, every pool of blood on the floor and the hodgepodge of footprints that had crossed those blood stains. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a fleeting thought of forensics and cataloguing evidence, but he squashed that down. He could see nothing that was going to be of use to him in the present situation. There were no doors and of course no windows that might be of use to get them out of the room. They were trapped and they would have to leave in minutes or arouse suspicion.

"Mr Kurtz? I can fill you in as well as anyone else would be able to, but we need to be quick. I have a great deal of work to do." 

The owner of the voice pushed past Kurtz where his frame blocked the doorway. On entering the room he spared a quick glance behind him, into the hallway and then stepped away from Kurtz and brought his attention to Barker, ignoring the other men in the room other than to offer a brief nod of recognition. 

His voice dropped to a whisper. "You don't need to worry too much about that one in the hallway. He won't be leaving his post unless something major distracts him. Simpson is suss about the emergency treatment room and he wants it watched. Nothing we have done in clearing the rooms of bodies has caused him to do more than lift an eyebrow."

Kurtz considered the man for a moment then stepped to one side and positioned himself so that he had a reasonable view of the hallway from where he stood. It was an action that Barker wholeheartedly approved of. If Frazier headed their way he wanted as much warning as possible. These people were civilians and he would not leave his people exposed.

"They think I'm an orderly." The man grinned. "Dr Patrick Knowles, Commander Barker. It's a relief to see you here."

/Doctor? Well, that is suggestive that Broadham does not want them to know just who he has on his staff. I might be able to make use of that. / There was little time for the social niceties to be observed considering the situation and Knowles acknowledged his brief nod as the only greeting he was likely to get. "What has been happening?"

"We need answers … or confirmation of the information we have been given. We were in surgery working on Jenny Santos after the shooting. The damage was far more extensive than we at first assumed and it has taken us the bulk of the day and evening to get her stabilized. Because of that I can't tell you exactly what has been going on. As I said we are hoping that you can shed some light on the situation and confirm what we have been told. For the moment we are doing what we can to keep those men away from the emergency treatment room." He flicked a hand in the general direction of the hallway where Frazier stood sentinel. "If what we have been told by Giles is accurate, then I don't think you would want Commander Simpson learning that Merquise is in that room."

Polnar spun from where he had been examining the room with all of the intensity of a trained investigator, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Barker. That precision and attention to detail was just another anomaly about the man he needed to consider. As was the reaction he displayed to the news that Merquise was so close. Barker considered the man and after a moment eased his weight from one leg to the other in a casual shift, inclining his body so that he granted himself a more comfortable position in which to watch both men. Polnar seemed more than attentive, much more so than Carter, who had glanced briefly at the doctor and then gone back to surveying the room and keeping Mighty Joe from stepping into the bloodied bedding piled on the floor. 

"Merquise is in the medical centre? Why?" Barker needed answers and if Wind was that close to him then he wanted to get to him and be briefed as quickly as possible. Now it was imperative that he come up with a solution for dealing quietly with Frazier.

"As far as I know he's resting comfortably. He was still unconscious when I was last in the room and at this time I dare not permit any of us to go near that room. The risks while they are around are too great and I doubt we would be permitted to get within two meters of the guard anyway. They have no idea what is in there and I don't know what tipped them off that there is something in there that might be of interest. Mr Broadham managed to distract Simpson, but how long that will last …" He shrugged.

/ Damn. Not as much information as I had hoped for./ "He's hurt? Seriously?" /Unconscious. Not good. That could be bad for any plan of action we devise and I need the information he has to deal with this situation. If he can't help us, or even help himself then that changes a great deal. Maybe I should have tried to take out Simpson when I had the chance. /

"He is injured but nothing serious. I believe that he is chiefly suffering from exhaustion. I'm not sure what the man has been doing, but with the injuries he is carrying he's in no fit condition to take on Simpson and his subordinate."

Knowles glanced behind him at the door and noticed Kurtz standing to one side and that he was in a position to afford him a relatively good view of the hallway. The engineer signalled that the hall was clear and the doctor could not restrain the small sigh of relief, but he made no apology for his reaction. He would be very glad when these men were out of his medical centre and the danger had passed.

"In brief what happened is this. Merquise and his partner turned up in time to run into the asshole who was killing off the patients and staff in this section. Something, I don't know exactly what it was, happened when they took out the bastard and Merquise was knocked out. I don't believe that he's seriously hurt, but I do doubt that he's going to be of much help until he has the chance to rest. He was taken to the treatment room down the hall from here and made comfortable while we started with the cleanup. That is when those two turned up. From what was said while Merquise was receiving treatment Mr. Broadham decided to be cautious about trusting anyone, especially those two men. He is trying to keep them busy and away from investigating the treatment room and no doubt hoping that we can come up with a way to get them out of here. Or get the two trapped in that room past the guard Simpson put on the door."

/You've got guts, Broadham. It's a dangerous game your playing./ The surgeon was placing his life at risk to distract the Commander of Blue Squad. None of the squad had a reputation for patience and if Broadham ran out of excuses to keep Simpson busy elsewhere, then the surgeon was likely to be a dead man very quickly. Barker scowled, wondering if he should not take off after the surgeon and take out Simpson as quickly as possible. /If Wind is out of the equation I will have to do what I can and act blind. Damn. I did not need for Zechs to go down./ 

"You said Giles." Polnar used Barker's silence to his advantage to break into the conversation. "Would that be Haydon Giles?"

The doctor glanced at him and nodded. "I think that was his name. He was with Merquise when they came into the centre and to my knowledge he is still with him in the treatment room. How he managed it I don't know, but he handled Merquise when none of us could. That man is a weapon even when he's out on his feet, but he responded to Giles in a positive fashion. If he had not we would have had a bigger injury list than we have."

/Giles? Don't recall the name, but I think its time I got some answers out of you./ Barker fixed Polnar with a piercing glare that clearly enough indicated he was wanting answers and that he wanted them now. He was no longer going to allow things to ride with the man and in the volatile situation he now found himself in, he could no longer afford to wait. "Who is this Giles?"

"Haydon Giles is my partner. I can believe that he was well able to handle Merquise if the situation warranted it. He's ex special services himself. He is capable."

Barker's eyes narrowed dangerously and he considered the man and the implications of his statement in the broader light of the knowledge he held, but Knowles moved, stepping back toward the door and drew his attention. He turned the force of his glare on the physician who lifted his hands before him as though to shield against the Preventer's temper.

"Look, I have to move or he may become suspicious about the time this is taking. There are bodies in the next three rooms-the two rooms on the opposite side of the hallway and the next room on this side. If you figure out a means to get from room to room without setting him off then that might help you get closer to him. The treatment room is the next room along on this side after that. It has only the one exit, though there is an internal supply room. I hope that helps."

/ Well, he's told me what I need to know and he must be anxious to get back to his people. I certainly can't use him at this time and I don't want to alert Frazier to something going on in here./ Barker inclined his head toward the door. "Thanks for the briefing. Continue with the work you were assigned to do and do your best to keep everyone away from that room. Leave the rest to us and keep yourselves as low profile as possible."

Knowles nodded briefly in farewell and hastily bundling up a bloody sheet he left the ward. The silence in the room was oppressive as Kurtz watched Knowles until he reached the opposite room. Before entering the room the doctor paused to watch as a nurse and two orderlies began wheeling gurneys up the hallway. A quick glance at the man in the doorway confirmed that Kurtz had noted the action and he ducked into the room. With a brief nod to Barker signalling that the way was clear Kurtz turned into the room to watch as Barker turned to Polnar with a speculative gleam in his eyes and a tension that told everyone that there might be trouble. 

"So. I think its past time for answers, don't you? Would you care to explain just who it is that you work for and what your interest is in Merquise?" 

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	142. Chapter 142 Chapter 141

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 141

2nd March AC 198

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Medical Centre

Time: 01: 43 [approx Sanc time 23:33 

Polnar

/The body that did this is one sick puppy./ 

He moved closer to one of the crudely drawn symbols on the wall, drawn in the blood of one of the victims and memorized it, filing it away for later reference. He was going to have to file a report on this massacre when he returned to Station One, so he needed to commit as much to memory as he could. It was highly unlikely that he was going to have the opportunity to photograph evidence he could give to the judicial department of the Stations.

/This is so sick. Whoever did this has serious psyche issues. An interest in the occult is apparent in these symbols. Cabalistic, I'd say./

Mighty Joe was looking a little green but that was alright. He suspected that he was an interesting shade of green himself and he desperately wanted out of this slaughter house and to fresher air. Such was not likely to be possible for at least a few minutes, so he might as well make the best of his opportunity to investigate the killings. Some sort of report had to be offered if he made it off Mars in one piece and back to Station. He could offer nothing in the way of aid to those dead, but perhaps he could see that they at least received justice. Someone had to have given the orders that resulted in these killings and that someone deserved to pay for the atrocity.

He glanced up from examining the blood stains patterning the floor near the bed at the sound of a strange voice and noted that at sometime during his study of the murder scene a newcomer had appeared. Undoubtedly he had arrived in response to Kurtz bellow for answers on first entering the room.

/A Doctor? Yeah, well it probably is safer to be underestimated than it is to stand out in the crowd at this time. At least they are wary of those bastards. I wonder why that is? What made them suspect that … / He looked around the room and winced. /No, scratch that. It's bloody obvious that something is seriously wrong, but I would have expected them to trust ESUN Agents. Something alerted them that Simpson and his cronies may not smell of roses./

His attention drifted back to the wall and to the nearby pile of blood stained bedding. There was enough blood staining the bedding and the room in general to suggest the killer had deliberately blooded his victims. He shook his head slightly at the thought, fighting a rebellious stomach into submission.

"If what we have been told by Giles is accurate, then I don't think you would want Commander Simpson learning that Merquise is in that room."

/Giles// He looked around sharply at the doctor, intensely eyeing the man.

Dare he question the doctor and gain some form of more positive identity? He had been thinking that he needed to break away from the group if they did not soon leave the emergency response team, in an effort to expedite the search for Giles and the man Raydon had sent them here to bodyguard. Hooking up with the ER team had not been in his original plans and he had hoped that Barker would separate them quickly, but such had not eventuated. 

Did he dare to question the doctor about this Giles to determine if it was the same Haydon Giles that he so desperately wanted to trace? Giles was one of the rare Gifted of the Station personnel and it was standard instruction from Raydon that all agents keep a protective hand over the Gifted in the elite station teams. They were a team, he and Giles and he felt exposed without his partner and floundering without the aid of the very special abilities that the man possessed. Did he dare to question this man in front of witnesses, one of whom was a Preventer who had been watching him for some time now with more than casual attention. Barker would have to take the opportunity to ask some very pointed questions.

/ Giles and Merquise? Damn, I surely can't be so lucky as to find them in the medical centre. If they are here, is either one of them injured? One possibly both. I can't afford to lose this chance./ 

Already, he noted, he had attracted the Preventer's attention. He must have been more obvious in his surprise than he had thought. It was unfortunate that Barker was as observant as he was, but cursing and howling about it would serve no useful purpose. He had known there must come an accounting between them and if nothing else the Preventer had shown that he was not a fool. He would not act before he had asked questions and they would be detailed questions.

Barker had been watching him since they had entered the hydroponics dome … possibly since they had entered the Base Dome itself. Certainly there had been speculation in Barker's eyes when they had met the ER team and he had not received their inclusion into the group with much enthusiasm, but then Carter too had not been exactly welcoming. He had known for some time that he might need to cut and run and perform his own search, but he had hoped to make use of the Preventer to shorten his search for at least Merquise. 

If the doctor was right and Merquise and Giles were just down the hall from this room, then there was no way he was backing off now. He needed to find both men and Barker be damned. If necessary he would go through the man to reach his goal. 

/ It's when I hit situations like this that having someone of Giles' unique capabilities comes in so bloody handy. He can convince just about anyone that you're as innocent as a lamb with out the need for bloodshed. Damn it. I never thought I would miss working with the Gifted so much. /

Barker was focused intently on the doctor now, apparently losing interest in him for the moment, but he was not such a fool that he thought that would last. It would matter little if Barker demanded answers provided his mission was about to be carried forward another step toward completion. 

"Marquise is in the medical centre? Why?" Barker's attention focused back on the doctor, but he knew that would only be temporary. 

/ If Merquise is seriously hurt Raydon will likely have a few choice words to say about incompetence and he would be justified. We should have been ready for the ESUN Agents and both of us should have been within eyesight of Merquise at all times. We just didn't think that Simpson and his cronies would strike so soon. How the hell do they expect to get the man off Mars//

"As far as I know he's resting comfortably. He was still unconscious when I was last in the room and at this time I dare not permit any of us to go near that room. The risks while they are around are too great and I doubt we would be permitted to get within two meters of the guard anyway. They have no idea what is in there and I don't know what tipped them off that there is something in there that might be of interest. Mr Broadham managed to distract Simpson, but how long that will last …" The doctor shrugged, taking the weight of the eyes focused on him with apparent indifference.

/ Well its obvious that Barker likes that about as much as I do. Unconscious? He hasn't gone into the details of injuries. I wonder if Merquise is half as good as he is said to be? It's been a long time since he saw a combat situation and this is definitely not a mobile suit combat. Still, reports said he was good with more than suits. We all get rusty if we don't have occasion to exercise our skills and the man has been idle on Mars for long enough that he could all too easily be considered an easy target./

"He's hurt? Seriously?" Barker's scowl said it all. He was not a happy man and he was obviously expecting the worst.

/ This could change things dramatically. We were hoping to link up with him and be briefed on what has been happening in the dome. Well, it's obvious that the shit has hit the fan here and we have big trouble, but I received the distinct impression that Barker expected Merquise to have a plan. /

Presumably they were to meet up with the former Lightening Count and after a briefing they were to formulate a plan to gather in the Sleepers and the ESUN Security Squad that had sparked this entire mess into an explosion of blood, guts and gore. There was some very nasty human garbage wandering around in the base dome and they could not leave those killers running free. It was Merquise and possibly Giles who had all of the relevant information that they needed to make an end to this mess and this man claimed that Merquise was in a room just down the hall from this bloodied room. 

If Giles had done his job, and he knew the man enough to know that it would take a lot to deter that Gifted individual, then he should be with Merquise or at least not far from him. He did not think there was more than the one man with the name of Giles amid the Terra Formers, but he could not say with one hundred percent certainty that that was the case. 

"He is injured but nothing serious. I believe he is chiefly suffering from exhaustion. I'm not sure what the man has been doing, but with the injuries he is carrying he's in no fit condition to take on Simpson and his subordinate."

/ He's still not being specific about what type of injuries were sustained in what ever has taken place before we arrived. Is he deliberately avoiding the issue? I don't think Barker's too happy./

The doctor glanced behind him and noted Kurtz standing to one side of the door and the engineer's attention was divided between the conversation taking place and watching the hallway. Knowles breathed a small sigh of relief when Kurtz signalled the hallway was clear. 

"In brief what happened is this. Merquise and his partner turned up in time to run into the asshole who was killing off the patients and staff in this section. Something, I don't know exactly what it was, happened when they took out the bastard and Merquise was knocked out. I don't believe that he's seriously hurt, but I do doubt that he's going to be of much help until he has the chance to rest. He was taken to the treatment room down the hall from here and made comfortable while we started with the cleanup. That is when those two turned up. From what was said while Merquise was receiving treatment Mr. Broadham decided to be cautious about trusting anyone, especially those two men. He is trying to keep them busy and away from investigating the treatment room and no doubt hoping that we can come up with a way to get them out of here. Or get the two trapped in that room past the guard Simpson put on the door."

/ Well that was enlightening. What does he mean, Merquise was knocked out but not seriously hurt, yet is carrying injuries that will stop him from taking action until he has a chance to rest? This makes little sense. / 

He considered the physician for a long moment and resisted the urge to throttle the man. Clearly they had had a great deal of trouble here in the last hour or so and everyone was on edge waiting for an explosion of violence to recur. With the arrival of Simpson and his crony they would be uncertain just who they could believe. If it was Giles then on a face to face basis the man could convince anyone that the fast flowing river they stood beside was iced over and safe to walk on. He seemed to have made some sort of lasting impression on the surgeon considering the game he was now playing.

/ Damn, the man has guts if he is off playing a cat and mouse game with that asshole. Should Simpson find out he's being played for a fool, I don't give much chance of the surgeon surviving to talk about it. /

Barker was looking thoughtful and Polnar saw his eyes flick around the blood stained room and then flicker back to the door. No doubt he was of a mind to believe that the surgeon was going to be needing help as soon as possible and they were stuck in this room in danger of discovery at any minute. Without doubt the Commander of Blue Squad would not think twice about removing Broadham as an unwelcome and annoying inconvenience and would be only too happy to remove said annoyance. Should Simpson chance to learn that Merquise was so close to him at this time …

/ Damn. So close and I feel like I'm sitting on a powder keg. I need to know. It's dangerous but … / He glanced at Barker who was still lost in thought, no doubt weighing the pros and cons of heading out to try to rescue the surgeon. /I have to be sure if it is Giles. I'll just have to deal with Barker if I need to./

"You said Giles." 

He felt Barkers glare at the first word he uttered, but there was no help for it. He needed to know if Haydon Giles was with Merquise and he would face the consequences if he had no other option. The question was just how much he dared to explain and how much he was going to need to fabricate. 

"Would that be Haydon Giles?"

The doctor glanced from Barker to Polnar and nodded; a short and abrupt inclination of his head to acknowledge his question. "I think that was his name. He was with Merquise when they came into the centre and to my knowledge he is still with him in the treatment room. How he managed it I don't know, but he handled Merquise when none of us could. That man is a weapon even when he's out on his feet, but he responded to Giles in a positive fashion. If he had not we would have had a bigger injury list than we have."

/ That sounds like Haydon. It has to be him. Good. It's even better for our chances of controlling Merquise if Giles has already made that initial contact, mind to mind. I know there are some who can resist him, but from what I was told they are well and truly in the minority. He should be able to influence Merquise and convince him to cooperate and stay quietly out of any action that will take place. / 

"Who is this Giles?" Barker was glaring at him, a hard stare that was indication enough that he wanted answers and that he wanted said answers immediately.

/Ah, crap. Not that it comes as a surprise. I've known he's been suspicious of me for a while. What the hell I did to warrant that suspicion I don't know. He picked me after all; I never put myself forward for this infiltration. I took advantage of his offer. I guess if Merquise is just down the hallway from here, then it is time to come clean. About some things, at least. We have worked well together this far and we both have the same interests. Not much has changed and we are on the same side in this. All I can do is hope that he sees it in the same way. /

The question of informing him of his identity and reason for being on Mars was easily enough offered up, but the problem was going to be in explaining who he worked for. Just how much was he going to need to tell Barker to get some manner of trust and cooperation out of the man? He and Giles had discussed possible scenarios that might lead to them admitting or announcing in various capacities their identities. Chiefly those scenarios had dealt with informing Merquise that they were there to get him off the planet. They never had had just this type of situation in mind for any of the possibilities that might occur. 

Yes, they had presumed that eventually someone would be sent to Mars either by the ESUN Security Agency; or by other more private and in some cases, sinister, concerns. Eventually someone would determine that something had to be done about the renegade Peacecraft heir. That was why they were on Mars after all, but Raydon had not seen fit to enlarge on exactly what form of trouble he expected them to deal with. 

Sometimes he and others like him expected too much from the Gifted. 

Raydon had seen, or sensed, enough to place two of his best agents on Mars and he would not expect them to back away from their assignment. He was on Mars to do a job to the best of his abilities and he had been taught to use his head in any situation that might arise. At this time he should reveal only the barest minimum information.

"Haydon Giles is my partner. I can believe that he was well able to handle Merquise if the situation warranted it. He's ex special services himself. He is capable." / Do us all a favour and accept that for now. There are too many people present to witness what I have to tell you. I need to maintain the security of the Station and I really don't fancy mentioning Raiders if we are getting the blame for this shit. /

Barker's eyes narrowed and he expected the man to bite out a demand for more information, but before he could offer any retort or demands Knowles was moving, stepping back toward the doorway and those few steps guaranteed everyone's attention.

"Look, I have to move or he may become suspicious about the time this is taking. There are bodies in the next three rooms-the two rooms on the opposite side of the hallway and the next room on this side. If you figure out a means to get from room to room without setting him off, then that might help you get closer to him. The treatment room is the next room along on this side after that. It has only the one exit though there is an internal supply room. I hope that helps."

Barker inclined his head toward the door. "Thanks for the briefing. Continue with the work you were assigned to do and do your best to keep everyone away from that room. Leave the rest to us and keep yourselves as low profile as possible."

/ Good. One less witness. Now can I get any of the ER team to leave the room too? If Barker wants an explanation I want as few witnesses as possible. Just how much am I going to have to give for him to relax his guard enough to work with me to finish this? It's obvious, if only to me, that we are going to need to work together to end this tragedy and to date we have worked efficiently together. Be sensible, man. Don't ruin it now, Barker, by being a pig headed bastard./

He watched as Knowles bent to bundle up a bloody sheet and paused at the door to take a steadying breath before striding back out into the hallway. One down, but there was still the entire emergency response team in the room to bare witness to his confession. Kurtz was peering out into the hallway and the silence in the room was broken when, one by one, the remainder of the team began to stir themselves to begin the clean up. Kurtz turned to Barker with the obvious intention of asking a question and receiving instructions, but Barker was ignoring him.

He knew that the moment of truth had come. Barker was ignoring everyone in the room and watching him with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. The man wanted answers and he was not going to be sidetracked again. 

"So. I think its past time for answers, don't you? Would you care to explain just who it is that you work for and what your interest is in Merquise?" 

/Yes, that is what I thought was coming. Wonderful, but is there any chance of limiting the amount of people overhearing this? I wonder if he would take a subtle hint? He's a Preventer and he should catch something so obvious as this. /

He flicked a meaningful glance over the team now gathering up blood soaked bedding and beginning to talk quietly amongst themselves. Barker seemed to consider him for a moment and he held his breath. The man might be pig headed enough to want everyone to hear what was to be said, but he was betting that Barker might be sensible enough to want as few witnesses as possible. He had helped Barker willingly up to this point and the man should give him the benefit of that freely offered aid now. Kurtz was looking between the two of them, clearly an interested spectator and Barker stirred finally turning his attention to the engineer.

"Preston, get your team started on the body count, if you would. None of your men are to work alone -a minimum of two in each group. Three would be better and as you move from room to room you can give the nursing staff a hand by turning out the ruined mattresses into the hallway for collection and disposal. Not this mattress though." He grinned a faintly feral grin. "We may need this one to try getting past that goon."

Kurtz looked on the verge of arguing the instructions, but seemed to think better of it at a particularly penetrating glare from Barker. It did not, however, stop Kurtz from reminding the man about their reason for being in the medical centre in the first place.

"What about the medical computers? Do we still go through with the plan to modify them?"

Barker shot a glower toward the door and after a moment he nodded his consent. "Yes, we need to regain control of the master computer system as soon as possible and get the base dome operational again. At least the basic survival systems. Work your team as close together as you dare, moving along the hallway. Room by room makes sense in this situation and should not raise any suspicions. I'm not sure what area they will be using as a morgue, but check with the staff. Hopefully they are using something in a reasonably close proximity to the computer room. Get your computer specialists into that room as unobtrusively as possible. Try to disguise your numbers by alternating your members so that no one will mark their absence. They can work out their lists of needs and pass it to you."

After a moment Kurtz shrugged and motioned to his team. "Palmer, Curran. Place that mattress out in the hallway. Lean it against the wall or something to keep the area reasonably neat and where it will offer some sort of shielding for this door. We will arouse suspicion if we don't take some sort of obvious action soon. Curran, you, Lee and Risch can take the next room on the opposite side of the hall, the rest of us will take the next room on this side. Stay low key and clear of that man in the hallway when we find out where the designated morgue is located. I know the actual morgue was capable of storing only four or five bodies at a time, so they have to have found somewhere else for temporary storage. Lee, you can check with the nursing staff where they are storing the bodies."

Barker appeared to be content enough to wait before questioning him further while the team sorted themselves out and that suited Polnar. He took the opportunity to examine the room yet again. The investigator in him screamed a silent protest to the needs of the situation. They were wiping out vital evidence, but there was no help for it and he understood it, but he hated to see evidence disturbed. He knew only too well that those involved in the planning of this massacre placed highly within the governmental structure of the ESUN and had no intentions of permitting anyone to give evidence against their teams in any court of law. 

He might hate the necessity of disturbing the evidence, but he knew without doubt that now was not the time to lament that necessity. The individuals involved would already have covered their backs at the first hint that something had gone wrong and no doubt there were scenarios where they had in place the means by which to silence any survivors they did not authorize. Threats to families, friends and livelihoods could effectively silence even good men. 

/ Come on, Chris. Think. There has to be a way of reaching the treatment room unseen. The man is parked directly in front of the door and somehow I don't think he'd come running even if I fired off a round in this room. Knowing something of how a covert ops group of this nature works he'd be more likely to just wait for his Commander, sticking like glue to his post. I suppose we could shoot him. Take him down as quickly as possible, but that is far from silent and it would leave Simpson and an unknown number of Sleepers running around the base. No. Not a good idea. I think Simpson would be likely to start shooting. He'd be pretty free about using anyone and everyone as a target. I can't understand why he has not already taken out these people. They would be sitting ducks to someone of his skills./

Why not kill them? Because he needed them, a little voice whispered. He did not doubt that Simpson would not so much as blink if he had to kill anyone. That he had not to date removed the inconvenience of witnesses suggested that he had a specific use for them. One question he should have asked himself a while ago was where was the rest of Simpson's team? He could not believe that Simpson would have turned up at the Base Dome intending action with only Frazier as his backup.

"I think we need to talk."

Barker's low growl dragged him out of his thoughts and he glanced around him. The ER team had gone, leaving Barker and Carter watching him. The door was open, Carter having positioned himself so that he could see a reasonable amount of the hallway and they would have ample warning of company should anyone wander their way. He was content with that, as he wanted as few witnesses as possible to what he was about to tell Barker. 

Still uncertain just how much he was going to need to tell the man to garner his cooperation, he chose his words with care. He had had time to think of the best twisting of the truth he could manage and make it believable. For the moment he determined not to mention the word Raider, but he needed to make it clear that he was not an ESUN operative. Dealings with a private concern was far preferable to a government agent at this time.

"Not everyone within the Earth Sphere considers that justice has been served in an acceptable manner where it comes to the Prince of Sanc. Certain persons learned of events taking place that they deemed required watching in an unobtrusive manner. There are a lot of people out there, Agent Barker, who are not trusting souls and who determine, as the mood takes them, to take a hand in matters they consider to be of interest. I am a part of a private security force and my employer placed me on Mars for the express purpose of ensuring that Milliardo Peacecraft was not confined to the planet and treated unfairly by the powers that be. My mission briefing states that should events take a turn where I considered Peacecraft to be at risk, I was to send word to my employer and do my utmost to ensure that the Prince remained alive until he could be removed from the colony to a place of safety."

He watched the reactions of both men. Carter had stiffened and subjected him to a hard stare as he spoke, clearly surprised by his answer. It was Barker, however, who was the one he was interested in. The Preventer agent was watching him with all the intensity he would expect to find in a big cat marking its prey. No doubt the Preventer would be more than merely interested in finding the identity, or identities, of his mysterious employer. He had not outright suggested that he was the employee of a private corporation, but he knew the supposition was an obvious one to make. That was better than suggesting that he worked for a rival government that would soon be appearing on the scene.

"Removing him … where?" Barker's voice was neutral, but he was all attention, focused on Polnar and ready to lash out should he determine the need was there to control the man.

"Should the need arise he is to be removed to safely neutral ground. I am not at liberty to inform you of every detail, Preventer Eagle, indeed I do not know all of the details myself. I merely know what my instructions were. I am here in effect as a bodyguard for the Prince. It was suspected that certain people in very high places within the government might attempt to use his existence to their own purposes. I am one of a number of steps that I understand to have been taken to ensure that he was not ultimately made a tool by those intent on disrupting the peace. Or controlling it to their own designs."

That, he reflected, should be safely ambiguous enough. No mention of the Stations that as yet were a secret from the ESUN and hopefully it would be enough to satisfy the Preventer for at least the immediate future. They were pushed for time and he could not afford to go into details for any number of reasons, not the least of which was the Stations needed the anonymity. 

If anything Barker's focus on him had increased. Something that he had said affected the man as his attention had risen a notch or two during his little speech. The man's eyes were narrowed with thought and intensity seemed to emanate from him. Not animosity, thank the Lord, he mused, but intensity. Barker glanced at Carter who flashed a quick look out into the hallway and nodded that they still had the all clear.

"You were instructed to send word." Barker inclined his head slightly. "Did you?"

/Ah, so that's it. / "I did. The arrival of an infiltration team sent to remove him was one of the projected problems that might necessitate action be taken. While there was no proof that they were here to remove him from Mars, it was a standing order that should such a team appear I was to contact my control with the news."

"Did you receive instructions in response to the alert?"

/ I know what you want. You want a viable radio clear of interference to contact outside sources. Something the ESUN might not be able to trace. The agents have fouled the communications array and you can't get word out. Maybe jammed the entire bloody planet and that could explain why I had not received a response from Station. / 

"I had my instructions dealing with a variety of possible scenarios before I came here. As per those instructions I dispatched word to my employer and my assigned partner, Haydon Giles and I then commenced our assignment. That being to ascertain the location of the Prince and then removing him to safe quarters to await pickup."

Barker resorted to pacing the confines of the small room for a moment and he watched the man, knowing only too well the questions that must be going through that mind. Barker was sharp and no doubt would be inclined to cut to the chase given their time constraints. Time would not permit Barker to voice even a quarter of the questions he would want answered about his mission, his employers and this supposedly safely neutral location Merquise was to be taken to. The time constraints were all to the good as far as Polnar was concerned and he could feel time ticking away as he watched the Preventer. He needed to get them moving. He wanted to find his partner and their charge and get Merquise the hell away from trouble, namely Simpson, who would do anything he was required to do to secure the Prince. 

He was almost amused by the scowl. Barker might think himself to be intimidating but he had never had occasion to piss off a man named Raydon. When those golden eyes turned on you with irritation you squirmed in your boots and fell over your feet to get out of his way. Barker had a lot of practice ahead before he fell into the same category. 

"Pick up? You are expecting a ship be sent to Mars to take Merquise?" At his nod Barker grinned a feral smirk. "How long? How long before you expect the extraction?"

/ Ah. Yes, you would see the potential for getting word out and for delaying those responsible from wiping out the entire colony. / 

He shrugged slightly, not daring to smile. He had received no response back from Station One, or any of the ships he knew were in relatively close proximity to the planet. If Raydon had failed to receive a response to any message he might have sent, then he would undoubtedly have contacted at least one of the ships that plied these space lanes. All of the Station allied ships that came this way were issued with standard instructions to listen for any communications from his agents on the planet. There was help out there, but he had no idea just how close it might be. They were a long way from coming out of this alive. 

"A pick up ship could be anything from one day to four weeks, depending on the proximity of one of the ships assigned to pass Mars on a regular patrol. With luck, a lot of luck, you understand, we may have less that twenty four hours before a ship arrives. I sent the call off planet before the shit hit the fan, so I am certain my alert went out. Whether they have sent word back..." He shrugged. The signal might be jammed and that would explain the silence that disturbed him.

"Well enough." Barker had ceased his pacing now and was staring blankly at a blood smear on the floor. He was clearly doing some fast thinking. "Very well, then. You and I are due for a long official chat, but we have no time for such now. I believe that our goals still remain aligned for the moment."

"Agreed." Polnar murmured.

"Good. Now then, to the problem at hand. Namely getting out of here and past that guard and into the emergency room." Barker scowled at the door. "We still need to get past Simpson's goon without alerting Simpson that he's been taken down."

Polnar permitted his small smile to spread into a grin. He had had time to think on that problem and he believed that he had found the perfect solution. 

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	143. Chapter 143 Chapter 142

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 142

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 03:45

Quatre

/He has to be wrong but … What if Heero is right? What if … What if there is something in what he says?/

Heero still stared at the rafters, still looked miles away, lost in thoughts that Quatre really did not want to know. The entire day seemed dreamlike. Nightmarish.

/Heero has never been a dreamer. I have never known him to be disposed towards flights of fantasy. He has always been so grounded, so down to earth … except for his tendency to want to blow himself up. Ah, that was war time and we were all young and confused. I know I was. I thought I was so sure of myself. So certain of my facts … I … I sometimes think that we all are infants up to the time of our death. It all changes with the years. We look back on what we have done and we wonder how we could have been so stupid to have taken those steps and thought ourselves so knowledgeable. /

The war had taken its toll on everyone. No one on Earth or in the colonies had been unscathed by its touch. No one had escaped some aspect of the terror of it. Certain people had ensured that everyone would feel it. Everyone would know it. Everyone would hate it.

Treize Kushrenada. 

Milliardo Peacecraft.

Those names kept recurring like an echo down through time and he was sure they would still echo in a hundred years or more. Between them they had changed the outlook of mankind.

But not them alone. They had all featured in the changes that had written a peace that everyone wanted to last.

Everyone? Could he honestly say everyone in the ESUN wanted peace?

/ One thing at a time and this is not the time for that. Preventers exists for a reason. With each year it should become easier once the initial changes are in effect and accepted by the people. It's this damn one nation policy that is the stumbling block./

Relena was an idealist. She had been reared with the Darlians and taught to believe in one uniform nation, no borders, everyone sharing the same national identity. A wondrous dream, but one not shared by enough people as yet. It would take perhaps two generations for that idea to be accepted. Two generations before people began to see the light, but the foundations were there for something wonderful and he felt proud that he had had a hand in the laying of those stones.

He and his fellow Gundam pilots. Despite the manipulation, the misunderstandings and the warped views of those who controlled them, despite the fact that they were certain they would die, they lived to witness the birth of the peace that they had fought for.

/Not even peace for the entire ESUN. I know I fought for the colonies. The colonies' independence was what was of importance to me. I cared nothing for the Earth … until I came here and saw how beautiful it was. I fought for the colonies, not for peace for everyone. I did not care what fate befell Earth when I started, so long as the colonies were free of Alliance control. I thought I knew it all. I still do, even though I know deep inside that I know nothing. I have not yet numbered the same years that Zechs had at the beginning of Operation Meteor, or faced the thought of what I will be doing, what changes will have been made within me by the time I reach twenty four, the age when Kushrenada died for peace./

He so desperately wanted to sleep. To get away from the weight of events that surrounded him and to escape from the empathy that always was a deeply seated part of him and that was, it appeared, not natural.

/ I am tired. I want to sleep and all I can do is think. I was genetically modified to be an empath. There is nothing I can do about that. It was done long ago. What Heero suggests … I know that my empathy was induced, manipulated by scientists for their own purposes. A purpose I as yet do not begin to understand. Empathy is only one aspect of an extensive list of psionic abilities. Clairvoyance is another aspect and it is, in its way, even more frightening than this ability to feel the emotions of others. If I believe Heero … He has always seemed so down to Earth since the war ended and we found normality … I hate that word. What is normal? Some days Heero has seemed too down to Earth. He's always seemed rock solid and has had set goals and an intensity that narrowed his field of vision to fact with no room for What If. What if … I am beginning to hate those words too. What if and Heero is a frightening combination./

Heero stirred, moving to lightly run a hand over his face, for a moment covering his eyes and then rubbing at the stubble on his chin. "There is a great deal now that does not make sense to me about that time and even more that I think I am just beginning to understand. I never thought about it at the time he gave me the suit but now … I can remember Kushrenada telling me when he gave me the Epyon that it was not meant to be a weapon. There was something … something in his voice … Something in his eyes at the time that I missed. I did not notice those things then, but I do now. The more I think about that time the more I notice and I wonder that I could be so blind. I was taught to observe, Quatre. I was taught to look for the hidden and I failed so miserably on so many occasions to do just that. Everyone lied, everyone cheated, everyone was false … but true. I know it makes no sense. I don't begin to understand it but … he warned me, Quatre. He told me it was not a weapon. If the Epyon was not in truth a weapon, then what was it?" 

The Prussian blue of Heero's eyes stared at him from that other bed and he wished he could sink lower under the warm cover and blot out the sight. How was he meant to have the answers? What was it Heero wanted of him? This was not the war, but it was something else. Something even more important. It was the aftermath, when they were to examine and formulate new ideals and see in the peace that was brought with so many lives and dreams. 

"Why, Quatre? Why would he design something like that mobile suit that had so few machines in existence capable of contesting its abilities? Why build a mobile suit at all if that machine is not meant for war?"

Quatre took his turn in staring at the ceiling beams to escape the piercing intensity of that blue eyed gaze. Why indeed? 

He luxuriated in the comfort of the bed, feeling the enfolding softness of the mattress and the luxurious warmth of the eiderdown. It was a warm and safe cocoon in a world where he fielded questions he did not feel himself qualified to answer. 

/To disguise it, perhaps? From who? Why? That makes no sense. To have it blend in with the times … again I am not so certain of that. Perhaps to protect the pilot? Well of course to protect the pilot. A shell. I do not know the man himself. I can not evaluate Him into the picture if I do not understand him … and from what I have learned, no one really understood Treize Kushrenada./

He had never met Treize Kushrenada face to face during the war. Never talked to him, never learned something of the man, not the myth that had surrounded him. Myth? Mystique certainly. Wu Fei had met the man himself and had come from that meeting profoundly shaken, nor had he ever spoken to Quatre about what had happened when he had met the leader of Oz. Wu Fei had been and still was a profoundly private person, with his own fiercely adhered to views on everything from how to tie a shoelace to how the Earth Sphere should be run. 

Heero too had come face to face with the man who had, it seemed, orchestrated the world shaking changes that had resulted in this period where peace could be guided into existence. Heero too seemed shaken by that meeting, though it appeared it had taken some time for the realization of that meeting to strike him. It took quiet a lot to shake Heero and his barriers, but Kushrenada appeared to have done it … or was that simply the memory of the zero system rearing fresh within his consciousness? If anyone would recognize the zero system it should be Heero. He had used Wing Zero the longest of all of the pilots and he had used the Epyon. 

Quatre shook his head, pressing his face into the pillow, trying to blot out reality if only for a moment in time. There was no avoiding the issue and he knew it. If he ever wanted any sleep this night then he had to deal with this now. It would haunt him until he was driven insane and there was Heero, lying there in that bed staring again at the ceiling beams. Patient. Waiting. Waiting for an evaluation from the group's strategist. 

Epyon was the zero system. 

That was what he had assumed since learning of the suit when Heero had appeared with it in Sanc. Why had he not asked questions then? Why had he just accepted that the strange demonic looking suit was equipped with the system he had built? Of course he had been working from the plans that had been left in the computer system within the bunker built to construct Sandrock in secret. He had assumed that there were other computers containing the same design specifications for the mobile suit and for the unique new generation operating system. 

He could never forget the horrors visited upon him and that he in turn had visited upon others as a by product of the zero system. Their pain, their fear, their anger, their despair, their striving to ignore what was impossible to ignore … It all had been manifested within the embrace of the Zero system. It all had come into his mind, his body, his very being had been overrun with it and he had been unable to even recognize that it had all started with his grief and anger over his father. 

Why had his father not made any effort to understand and accept him? They had wanted the same thing … It was just that they did not see the matter in the same light. He was not a shadowy copy of his father. He had had his own light and he had refused to be consigned to the shadows, pushed beneath his father's glory. Such glory too. Manipulated by masters the very people who had adored his father had turned on him. He who had been The Winner had lost it all. 

Including his life when he had, to Quatre's thinking, gone against the very ideals he had taught by acting like an errant and spoiled schoolboy and blown up that resource satellite. So many people had died that day, not just his father. Not just Iria. And for what? There had been only a short delay before they had another satellite in position.

Old history best left alone.

/It's all too much. I want to shut down. Forget about it all. I don't want the memories to come back./ 

But he could see Heero still laying there, waiting for answers he was supposed to devise from the mess.

Zero he knew. He had built the system after all and he had used it even if he had been deranged at the time. It was true that it had not been designed by him, but it was he who had constructed it and in that construction he had learned its functions. He had experimented with it and become one with it. He had to wonder if they, those interfering old men who were geniuses at getting themselves and others into trouble had actually ever intended to have the suit built. Had they ever really planned to construct it and give it to a pilot to use?

Zero had responded to him in such a fashion that he still had nightmares of being within its embrace. It was not the suit that caused him to shudder. No not the suit that he still entertained nightmares over. The operating system lingered still within him in some almost, but not quite, locked away fashion. A ghostly echo of what had been that he could not dispel.

/Trowa, I wish you were here. I would not fear sleeping if you were here to bring me back from that place./

His partner, his more than lover, his soul mate alone could understand what Zero had done to him. It was Trowa who held him through the worst of the nightmares until he could wake from it and know that the world was real and solid .That there was no longer the war to be endured until he died, or he had killed all of those who projected their despair onto him. 

Trowa was not here. Trowa was far away and there was only Heero.

"Zero was a weapon." He murmured, frowning at the dark ceiling beams, trying very hard not to hear the blizzard raging out in the night. "Zero was intended to be a weapon."

The storm beyond sturdy old walls seemed to be increasing in intensity and he was thankful that they had not tried to go on in the night to reach the safe house. Stephensbourg had undoubtedly saved their lives. Earth was so different to the colonies. He had been resident on Earth more than in the colonies for the last two years and he still marvelled at the extremes of nature. They would never have made it over the pass had they continued and to be struck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere in these mountains and in this weather was a death sentence.

/I wonder if I will get any sleep at all? The wind is howling out there./ 

"Yes." Heero's voice was low, a whisper in the night. "Zero was designed as an advanced weapon system. A new generation system designed to enhance the pilot. It was meant to get the most out of him, to enhance his every reaction to the point that he was … perfect." 

He could hear the fear in that whisper and he did not want to acknowledge it. One did not think of Heero Yuy and fear in the same thought. Heero had always been the Perfect Soldier of their group. They had all had their places in the group once they had banded together, but Heero had been the Prefect Soldier. So strong, so focused . He did not need to know that Heero was in truth, just like him. 

Imperfect. The Perfect Soldier could not, should not be emotional to the point of insanity and capable of screwing up on as grand a scale. 

/ Allah./ Did he really want Heero to be that superman? Cold, unemotional, focused … Perfectly inhuman? /Oh, Allah, when will it all end?/

He knew what Zero had done to him but he was an empath. His space heart had never been understood and could not ever be dissolved into calculations and incorporated into the system. How could anyone reduce empathy down to cold facts and figures and expect to understand it? No. The designers of Zero had never thought that it might have different effects on different people. It was a machine. A computer. A tactical calculator.

"Zero system was a combat system designed to wring every ounce of emotion out of the pilot and focus him into becoming a calculating tool. I … When I used it … It was too much. The antithesis of what my space heart had always meant to me. Somehow it changed, adapted I think, to incorporate something of the empathy that I could not block and it could not understand or work with. It became a focus for me, drawing in all that was a part of me and … and … enhancing it? I'm not sure that that is the right word. It is so hard to describe what it felt like. I doubt that what you experienced when you used it was similar to what it was when I used it. I think Zero changed with each pilot that used it and I believe that it took a rare individual to master the system and have it work for the pilot, not use the pilot. There were flaws within the system. It was meant to be an aid, I think, not to be the dominant component within the partnership. And I think it was meant to be a partnership. A merging of the pilot and the system to produce something extraordinary."

Heero slid deeper into the bed, a controlled flexing of the tight muscles seeming to give the impression that he was almost oozing within the embrace of the eiderdown. He continued to scowl at the ceiling, his eyes following a darker seam in the wood of one of the beams and Quatre thought it was merely an aid to give him something to focus on. They were both tired, beyond tired, but their minds were not as yet content with the answers and would not relax enough to permit them to sleep. 

What he picked up from Heero was fairly simple to understand at this moment. Heero was tired and his emotions suggested that he thought of himself as being far from perfect this day. 

"It was not easy to master Zero. It was not easy, but after that initial struggle for control … Quatre, I found it to be so easy. After that initial period where it was all so new and I did not understand what it was … It was so easy to use. Zero had something that I think was very close to an intelligence, but I think that it was a very focused and limited intelligence."

The blond grunted softly, recalling his own experiences with the machine and the operating system. He needed to always remember that the machine was just that … a machine. It was the operating system that made the Wing Zero something special. Zero had not used him, but it had enhanced what lay within Quatre Winner in ways that still frightened him. Perhaps it was only because he had lost his sanity when he had witnessed his father's death that day and that loss of control had permitted his empathy to run rampant.

Perhaps it had had nothing to do with the system. Everything had come crushing down on him, the homecoming had not been what he had hoped it would be, then his father's death, making of himself a martyr at a point when everyone on the colony had been deluded and killing which was against everything that he had always taught … And to compound it all, Iria …

He had not known she was a sister when first he had met her. Even now he did not know them all personally, but at that time he had not known what more than a handful had looked like. He had had twenty nine sisters. Now he had twenty eight and the one that he thought he might have liked best was gone. Dead. Killed as a result of his father's actions. Insane action. 

He did not understand so much about his family. He did not understand the man who had sired him. Why had his father had such an interest in him and in controlling his thoughts, beliefs and everyday actions? His father had made no attempt to see the war from his view point, instead forcing on him his pacifist ideals. At the same time he had seemed to allow his sisters to go their own ways without much in the way of supervision. Had he finished indoctrinating them into his beliefs and believed that he could concentrate on the much awaited son and making of him some never to be known tool for peace? 

He was to be the good little boy who was to listen attentively, believe implicitly in all he was told and not have an original thought of his own. He was to be the one who stayed at home and learned how to run the corporation that …

No.

No, he would not go there. He had promised himself repeatedly that he would not go down that road again. Done was done. He would never understand his father and as heartbreaking as it was, that was the truth. Let it lie. Iria was dead. She had died as a result of her … their … father's actions. Certainly he would not have intended to kill his own daughter. What Quatre's empathy had been picking up that day had been a confused mix. A jumble of hate and confusion and anger and the brilliant beacon that was his father's rage that all he had built and intended be used for peaceful expansion would instead be used for killing and destruction.

/He had planned so much … but did anyone else believe what he so implicitly believed? He seemed so like the King of Sanc in many ways. Pacifists to the bone and head blind to the way the world works … No. No, I can't judge anyone by my own limited knowledge. I think differently to how I did three years ago. In ten years from now I will look back and call myself an immature brat who presumed to know so much. He was not thinking clearly. He did not know that the explosion he set off on the resource satellite would resulted in a shock wave that saw Iria die to protect her little brother. How was he to know that we would go after him? How would he not know that we loved him enough to follow? Did I know him at all? After all, he set off the explosion despite knowing that we were in range of the shock wave./

Allah. He was so fed up with it all.

He hated the Winner legacy.

The Winner legacy was supposed to be a legacy of peace. His father had been a pacifist but in acting as he did to Quatre's view he had broken away from the very tenants of pacifism. The irony of it all. Quatre did not see his father's actions that fateful day as being in line with the pacifist doctrine that he had been taught. 

Hard core pacifists preferred to die rather than raise a weapon against another human being. The kingdom of Sanc had been a lesson in what a total pacifist culture would do should they be attacked. Having someone kill them, a harmless pacifist, was supposed to get the message across to the multitudes that killing was wrong. Which it was, he admitted. It was wrong but how could it be right to stand back and allow another person to murder you? Was that not just another way of going out and committing suicide? 

He had thought of himself as a pacifist when he had decided to enter the war. Contradictions surrounded him. Pacifists committed suicide on a grand scale in the Sanc kingdom, not even raising a hand to stop the slaughter. Had anyone there fought back? He should ask those in the know, he mused, if anyone who had survived had decided in that last moment when death stared them in the face, that they would fight to survive.

Had his father not considered that what he was doing was suicide? Suicide and murder too as others had been killed. Had their lives not featured once in his thoughts? Had his father been blinded by emotion? No. No he had felt none of that from his father in the lead up to that horrible day and his empathy had been wide open to everyone and that was a contributing factor in his resulting brush with insanity. 

Anger. 

That is what he had sensed from his father. A burning, blinding beacon of anger. The Winner patriarch had been furious; absorbed in his rage that everything he had worked for was being taken from him. Taken from his control, to be used to further the ideals of men in high places who made it their life's work to manipulate others. It was in anger that his father had resolved to remove the resource satellite from them before they could use its wealth and Winner employees to further their ambitions.

His father had envisioned the weapons that would be constructed from the ore mined from the satellite. He had envisioned the weapons and the machines of destruction that would be designed to further the domination of Oz in space. He had resolved to put a stop to that and why, oh why of all the possible things he might have done, had he decided to detonate the satellite?

He had not been thinking.

Quatre knew it. He had not been thinking clearly of repercussions, of lives lost, of winning back control and showing everyone that the peace could work if you worked to achieve it despite the odds. All he had sensed from his father that day was the rage directed at everything around him. There had been no distinctions. It had simply been rage and the determination to do something about it. Something with a big impact that would make them all see that he was not a fool and that he was capable of taking action.

Martyr.

He had intended to make of himself a martyr.

/It was stupid. It had no meaning, Not really. It deprived those gaining power of the satellite but they had another in place within weeks and there were people working on and around that satellite at the time he had detonated it. He killed them as well as himself and are their names immortalized in the lobby of the Winner Corporation on L4? Who remembers them? No one. There is no memorial to the ones He killed to make his name remembered. King Stephan and Queen Katerina are considered martyrs too, but they never killed to achieve that distinction … they only died and left a ruined country and a son who like me, saw the world through different eyes. Why, Father? Why did you do it? I don't think I will ever understand. The debris caused havoc in the surrounding area. It damaged the colony and killed more people and their families now whisper your name because the corporation employs them and they don't remember that they thought you had too much, owned too much and they had too little. hy, Father? I honestly don't understand. The great pacifist caused the death of over forty people because he was not thinking. Iria was only one of them. You never had to face the consequences of your actions. /

To this day he dreamed of what had happened and it still tore into him with the same intense pain that had sent him into insanity. He just had better control now and he was better able to shield, but he was being a hypocrite. Who was he to talk? After all that he had done, just who was he to talk about pointing fingers and casting blame? Under the agony of that great outpouring of emotion, his own and that of the others who had watched, an entire colony had screamed in denial as they had all watched that great ball of rock explode and rain down debris upon them. Was it any wonder that he had gone insane? 

Heero was waiting, but he had to settle in his mind how much of it had been the Zero system and how much of it had been himself. His empathy and youth and disbelief and desire for it all to go away so that he need not face the horror of it. He had thought he had dealt with it.

They had all been at fault.

That was what had settled into his mind within the murk of his madness. Everyone, everywhere was at fault. He had felt their anger, their despair, their sorrow, their disgust, their lust, their … He had felt their guilt. 

They had all needed to pay. They had all needed to know what it truly was to despair …

"Quatre?"

The quiet voice cut across the rising storm of memory and the waves of emotion that were taking him down into that darkness. With a shuddering breath he brought his mind back to the present. 

Heero. 

Sanc. 

He was in a country Inn in the middle of a blizzard and all of that other, that horror was in the past. His father was long dead and so was Iria, the sister he was just beginning to know and whom he had liked. The one lesson that had come out of that entire horrible mess was that in the long term one person should not have so much power.

Be it a private or public company, or a government for a small nation or an entire world, one person holding the dominance could so easily lead to abuse. 'I know what is best for everyone and you had better believe it or else.' It was sentiments such as this that started wars.

He was as guilty of that sin as anyone who had looked at another person and decided their fate. 

Yet he understood something else now that he had not understood during the days of the war. That entire 'I know what is best for you' mentality was natural to the human condition. It was the way the dominant male or female in a given situation thought. Those with the Alpha personality, the leaders took on the responsibility and determined how everyone should think or act or feel and … Those who objected would rebel, become the rebels and fight for what they in turn saw as the way everyone should be. In effect they became Alphas to contest the superiority of the existing Alpha.

And the world turned.

It was all so wrong and he could not see that so much had changed since the peace had birthed on that fateful day when the Libra and her Commander, the son of martyred pacifists, had threatened them all with extinction. And here he was, the son of a pacifist who had committed murder in the name of peace, considering the belly button of the universe.

Some things took a long time to effect change.

Even threatening to wipe them all off the face of the planet took time to effect change.

"Quatre?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking about the past. About what happened during the war. About constructing Zero and how it amplified my ability to sense emotions. While I was using Wing Zero I could so easily feel the weight of emotion that emanated from the colonies I was near. When I came close enough their emotions would burn into me and I could not block them out. It hurt. It woke the memories of why everything hurt. The hate; the anger over my father."

"Zero did that?"

"I did that. I did that, not Zero. I think that Zero had something similar to a sentience, but it was not a mind as we know it. I think I would have picked up on that. Animals are not intelligent as we are, but I still feel something like emotions from them. There was no emotion involved with Zero. It was quite simply a very advanced operating system designed to merge with the mind of the pilot and enhance the pilot's senses. It was designed to augment and perfect reflexes and skills in combat situations, to give a variety of scenarios based on available data for the pilot to work with. It had no other purpose."

Heero scowled and rolled onto his side so that he could watch the blonde. Only Quatre's head was visible, his eyes just above the eiderdown were open and staring up at the ceiling, bright and full of conflicting emotions. It looked to Heero as though Quatre was far from being ready to sleep.

"So … If you do not think that the system … that Zero was intelligent … What do you think Epyon might have been?"

"From what you have said … what you have suggested … It had to be something very different. I thought that it was a copy of Zero, but perhaps it was not. Perhaps it was in itself unique."

Heero glared at his partner for a long few minutes, considering the implications of what had been suggested and what had been avoided. Finally he shrugged beneath the warmth of the bedding. 

"I don't have the words to describe what Epyon did while I was using it."

"No more than I can adequately describe what it feels like to have this empathy. That is why I think you may be right when you suggest that Epyon was not the Zero system."

"I'm sorry." Heero seemed not to have heard Quatre as he whispered into the night, eyes narrowed and seeing nothing of the room. "I don't know the right words, or how to use them if I did to describe what it felt like. It was certainly similar to the feel of Zero but … at the same time it was different. There was … well … It felt like there was something reaching out. As though something was there, trying to worm its way into my head. Something … intelligent. Something that wanted to … to ... I can't. Nothing seems to fit what it felt like. Some 'thing' was there and it kept on trying to get into my head."

That, Quatre knew, was not how he had viewed the Zero system and Heero had never described Zero quite in those words before either. No, he was more convinced than ever that Treize Kushrenada had invented something quite different to Zero … or had he acquired it from somewhere? The man was supposed to have been a prisoner of Romefeller. How could a prisoner have come up with a mobile suit, any mobile suit, let alone that demonic looking machine that could have taken apart stone by stone the castle where Treize had been imprisoned? Where and how had Treize Kushrenada acquired the Epyon and the biggest question of all, of course, was why? What had he wanted it for? How much of a prisoner had he been?

"Did it ever … Did Epyon ever talk to you?"

Heero's scowl deepened. "Did Epyon talk to me? Do you mean did it ever talk to me with words as we are talking now? No. No it was more … There was something more subtle involved than words. There were impressions. Pictures in my mind. Everyone was there. Everyone who was in the area was there, in my head and they affected the way that I thought … No. No, even that is not quite right, but it's closer to what I felt."

"We were at war. Everyone around you, be they soldier or civilian, had an effect, directly or indirectly that impacted on how you saw the world around you. What you just described may not be as far from the truth as it sounds." Quatre mused. "I can relate to that with my empathy. We interact with each other. Every word that we say, every action that we take, every thought that we have will in some way impact on those who are around us. When you acquired Epyon you fought for Luxembourg. You were a soldier and there were others, soldiers around you. You all had one thing in common. Your place as soldiers… you recognized each other. The purpose of a soldier is to fight and that was a link that you all had in common. That is the basic similarity between people in combat zones. You interact."

"Pretty basic, isn't it?" Heero sighed. "Basic and sad."

"I am human. You are human. I am dominant human and if you do not like my position we fight and we kill to see who is still standing. If it is me, then I was right and you were wrong."

Heero's eyes popped wide as he stared at Quatre who seeing his look grinned at him and shrugged beneath the eiderdown.

"I am man. I have sex. I hunt. I kill. I eat. I have sex. Have you never heard that before, Heero? It is a theory of the evolution of man … specifically the human male and what has remained with him throughout his development. When you think about it, it is very true. It certainly is as valid today as it was twenty thousand years ago."

"The basic existence of man." Heero shook his head slightly. "It makes us sound like animals."

"That is all we are. Animals. Just like dogs and cats. Just like lions and wolves. Just like … animals." Quatre rolled onto his side, settling himself more comfortably in the bed. "The only difference between what we consider to be animals and us is the level of intelligence that man has developed. Consciousness, some call it, refusing to dub it with the word intelligence. They claim that we are no more intelligent than a monkey. Consciousness makes the difference. The ability to get beyond the basics of survival and to determine the concept of right and wrong. We are barely a notch above the level of bacteria. We are primitive, Heero. We have such a long way to go before we attain something that even approaches enlightenment."

Heero rolled onto his back and returned to his contemplation of the ceiling beams. Quatre sighed and reached out for the lamp that rested on the table between their beds.

"Okay if I turn the light out?"

"Sure."

Settling back into the bed Quatre could still see the ceiling above. The crackling fire in the hearth across the room served to give them more than sufficient light to see the room about them. It lent a cheery glow that did much to lighten his mood and its warmth seemed to lessen the sound of the blizzard raging beyond the walls of the inn. The unfamiliar room seemed more friendly, welcoming and delightfully warm to him with that golden glow dancing over the furnishings and up the walls. 

"Quatre, if Zero was an operating system designed to enhance the potential of an elite soldier by interacting directly with the brain to stimulate physical reaction time, then what would you consider the equivalent machine to be that was designed to enhance the potential of someone with a psychic ability? What would you call that? What if Epyon was constructed to be capable of somehow enhancing the ability of a pilot who could see the future?"

/ Don't go there, Heero. I really don't want to consider it./ 

He sighed in the darkness and closed his eyes against the flickering light. He simply could not pretend that he had fallen asleep though. He had learned long ago to face the unpalatable. It never went away. It always was there, waiting for you and it was usually worse for having been ignored for so long.

"We have only the conversation with an old man we do not know, that suggests there may be the possibility that Zechs might … Well, you know what I mean. We do not know for certain that Zechs has any such ability. Even if he has we do not know that it is an ability that would be strong enough to effect change on a personal level, let alone a global scale."

Heero's voice was like a thunderclap in the quiet of the room. "Remember the email you received today?"

Quatre winced and closed his eyes tighter. / I don't want to remember the email. Not now. I want to sleep./

"Quatre." Heero persisted, lifting his head to watch his friend who seemed to want to crawl through the bed. "Might that not have been the purpose of the Epyon? To make such an ability strong enough to see enough to make a difference?"

Quatre shuddered. "That is … frightening."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	144. Chapter 144 Chapter 143

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options 

Chapter 143

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198 

Time: 01: 49 approx Sanc time 23:39 

Broadham

He had thought he was a dead man.

A shudder rippled through him, his nerves reacting to the terror, to the horror, to the supposition of death … and to finding himself still alive. He had already been in a world strangely askew from reality once today, not so long ago and now the unreality of it was back but subtly altered. It did not feel quite the same as that other time when reality was something other than normal. 

He had honestly thought that he was a dead man when he had heard that whispered foot fall behind him in the darkness. That whispered sound that heralded death creeping up on him. He did not understand it. He had searched the room … No, Simpson had searched the room in front of him and they had both seen that the nursery was empty. Safe. How could they have missed anywhere big enough for the killer to hide?

Where the killer had come from to attack him he had no idea, but he was honest with himself when he admitted that he had thought everything was over when he had heard that whispered movement. At that subtle sound he had thought he would never see the light of day again. 

Surgeons and field medics in the Alliance forces were generally not trained to be killers. It was an accepted view in any armed force that to train a Healer to kill was to compromise their calling to save others. The men and women who dedicated their lives to healing within a military setting were taught to defend their own lives should the need arise, but they were never taught to be cold calculated fighters. There were fighters trained to keep the medics safe in heavy combat situations. 

While he was not a trained killer his past did grant him sufficient knowledge to hold his own, perhaps for as long as a minute, against the psychopath out for his blood. He had turned in the darkness at that whispered sound and he had prepared to sell his life dearly, hoping that Simpson might hear the commotion and keep those women and their children safe. At best he had hoped that Simpson would arrive before he went down and at worst he prayed he might delay the killer long enough that the Blue Squad Commander might catch him before he could escape the ward and begin the killing cycle all over again.

He had honestly not expected to survive the fight.

Light had spilled into the nursery from the reception room of the ward and given him more than enough illumination to see the men who danced with death. The blades they wielded gave off a continuous ringing as they had fought, a coldly metallic sound that chilled his blood. It seemed surreal to watch them, both fast on their feet, both emotionless, both focused exclusively on the other fighter. He was focused and aware enough to recognize when one had begun to fall apart emotionally and make the end inevitable. When it came to that end it was a coldly efficient kill that was perfectly predictable, considering the identity of the victor. 

Simpson was efficient in most things that he tackled.

It had taken so little time for a man to die. 

Life was such a delicate and transient thing.

Death awaited everyone.

/Shit. Oh shit./

The world seemed to settle to cold hard reality and with it came more than the sound of metal striking metal and the odd sound, part gasp, part gurgle, part sigh that was a man breathing his last.

In cold reality babies wailed around him and he was listening to the death rattle of the man Simpson knelt over. It took him precious seconds to realize that it was over, that the blow had been hard and directed at the ribs. The blade was positioned with exacting precision to slide neatly between rib bones and up to pierced the heart. 

Efficient.

It was a textbook kill. Cold, calculated and perfectly executed. He could admire the man's training even as he knew that soon enough it might be him, or his people, on the receiving end of just such a blow from this man.

He would thank Simpson for his life just as soon as he could get the world to finally settle down around him into some semblance of normality. 

/God. This day has to end soon./

He realized that he was shaking in reaction to the adrenaline firing his body and to the very real fear that he was a dead man. The tremble in body and hands while understandable was also far from acceptable in a surgeon. His profession demanded steady hands and nerves of steel. It was not an easy thing to face slicing into a person's body, not to kill but to cure. It took its own particular brand of courage and he was no coward, but he had really thought he was going to die. 

Done was done, he was alive and he could not afford to become a quivering wreck. With all that was going on in the base he had a fair idea that his surgical skills might well be needed before the night was over and looking at the tremble in his hands now he knew that at this time he was not fit to hold a dinner knife let alone a scalpel. If he was going to be of use to anyone in any capacity this night he needed to get a grip on himself.

/Shit. I can't make myself move. It's like that other time with Merquise. I couldn't move then and I can't move now. I'm not a craven coward, but I will be so glad when this night is over./

The unreality of this moment was almost on a par with the strangeness that had surrounded him so recently in the hallway when Merquise had taken out the killer. The first killer. 

/God. Two of them in the medical centre. More? Are there more killing my people?/ 

The sick churning in his gut was not so dissimilar if not quite as bad as it had been on that other occasion. He had not been the target of the killer then, but he had been witness to the incident and he had felt that detached unreality that had churned his gut and made his entire body ache. It was strange but surely he should have felt worse this time around? Surely being the killer's target would bring it all into terrible focus and send him heaving on the floor in reaction … but no. Oddly he had felt worse in the hallway. 

/Perhaps with constant exposure to this kind of stress you develop a kind of immunity? You just don't react the same the second time around. /

That was bullshit and he knew it. He had faced enough life and death situations in his past to know that it never became mundane. At least, it had not for him. Not ever. He was a healer, not a killer, but he had worked with both and witnessed some shocking things.

He had to move. He needed to move, to function again and sort out this mess. He needed to function as a professional and not cower here against the first of the bassinets and tell himself repeatedly that he was alive. Simpson had arrived and taken the killer down and that was the end of the story. Or at least this particular chapter of it and whimpering in a corner was no way of solving anything. 

Such irony. He owed his life to the man who was going to kill him.

Surely the cosmic order was laughing hysterically at the irony of it all.

Like some great dark beast Simpson stirred, rising and turning to check his kill. Broadham watched with held breath as the man sought a pulse, but he knew that glazed staring look in the eyes and he had heard that death rattle too often in his line of work to mistake it. The man was quite dead.

Where had the bastard come from? God, he was like a stuck recording, but he could not seem to break himself out of the rapture of the horror that enfolded him. They had searched the nursery and found nothing. He and Simpson, not he alone and he could not believe that Simpson would have missed any possible hiding place. None of the cupboards in the nursery were large enough to hide a man of this size and Broadham was not for an instant inclined to entertain the notion that the man was capable of making himself invisible.

Simpson snapping up to his full height from his crouch over the body startled him into backing a half step. That half step and the feel of the babies cot in the small of his back served to bring the world crashing down around him into frightening reality. The strangeness that had surrounded him settled and time seemed to move once more permitting him to realize that seconds had passed since he had heard that shuffled footstep. Seconds not minutes. 

Seconds. He raised a trembling hand to rub at his forehead, for a moment resting his head in his hands. He wished he could be spared the headache pounding behind his eyes. How long had he fought to stay alive? Ten seconds? Fifteen? More? Less? He dragged his hands over his face, squeezed the bridge of his nose and scratched at the stubble on his jaw. His head ached. His face ached. Hell, his entire body ached. How long had it taken Simpson to take the Sleeper down? It did not matter. He was alive and now that he had his awareness back he had to act.

"Thanks."

His voice sounded strange to his own ears and he winced at the huskiness of it. He cleared his throat and stepped away from the cot, running a hand through his hai,r impatient with a few strands that would not remain in place before he realized that Simpson was moving again. There had been no response to his whispered word of thanks nor was there a query as to his condition. The agent was moving past him and glaring up over his head. Afraid that the killer was not alone he turned as Simpson swept past and followed his line of sight upward to the open ceiling vent and he swore as he realized what had happened.

He and Simpson had not erred in their search of the cabinets.

"Exactly." Simpson growled and glanced his way scowling. "You had better do something about your face before you see those women. He had started working on your nurse, but I think not too badly as yet. The others seem to be in one piece."

His face? 

His eyes flicked down to his hands and he noted the blood on one in an oddly remote fashion. The thought that blood might explain why his face ached was remote and before he realized his actions he found himself moving, stepping over the corpse to the small sink and basin. A mirror showed a gory reflection, blood smeared over his face from the gash on his cheek and he was quick to run water to clean up the cut and then wash his hands. If he could lessen the blood flow he could find someone else to tend to the wound if need be, but he needed now to find himself again.

He was needed as a physician and basic to that need to tend to his patients was the need to have clean hands. With the washing off of the blood from his hands the trembling subsided in his fingers and his gut settled. Judging from the past evidence of this sick bastards handiwork he might well need to go into surgery. He could not so much as examine his patient with less than clean hands.

He was aware of Simpson moving around the room, taking up a position under the vent and then turning to watch him before looking again up into the darkness of the vent. Undoubtedly the man was thinking that he would need to enter the vents in search of more of the killers. They needed to do a full sweep of the medical centre and he was not going to be fool enough to think that they might have taken all of them down. He had thought one madman was loose and now he had witnessed the elimination of two of them. They needed to be certain there were not more of the killers running loose, but he was a surgeon and his place was with his patients, not running around playing second fiddle to a professional killer who, at least at the moment, was working for the safety of the base. 

In a situation as tense and dangerous as this one Simpson needed someone he could rely on. His technician was the one who should be here, backing the man up, not a surgeon who had left his soldiering days long behind him. 

"I'll check in the vent for signs of any more of them, but I think this one was on his own. I'll come out in the mothers ward and I would appreciate it if you would not shoot me."

Broadham glanced over his shoulder, his hands and forearms now heavily lathered with soap and he flicked a glance up at the vent before he nodded. "Be careful."

/I need to get to those women. I can't back him up and he knows it, but I feel that I should be in both places. We are going to need to work something out./

He watched as Simpson flexed his knees and then sprang straight up, strong fingers hooked onto the edge of the vent and Simpson pulled himself up, displaying considerable upper body strength in the process. Broadham glanced down at the corpse and he noted that Simpson had retrieved his knife and at some point had wiped the blade on the man's shirt. He had missed that in his daze and he forced himself to take a few deep calming breaths.

He needed to attend to his people's needs and staring at a corpse was not going to help them or Simpson. He needed to be the surgeon not a soldier and with quick efficiency he gathered a few supplies and placed them in the first of the cots. It was basic equipment, but it was enough for him to do an examination of the women's wounds and with a low grunt of satisfaction he transferred the second child into the cot beside the first. Bending he dragged the corpse out of the way of the cot and wheeled it out of the nursery. It took only seconds to enter the mothers ward and find himself being descended on by an anxious mother who went straight for the bassinet to examine both children. 

"Mr. Broadham! Oh, thank God."

"Tend to the children, if you would please Joan while I see to Karen." He was no longer shaking in reaction but calm and professional. This he knew; this he was good at. This was where he belonged. "Mary, I will need your help."

He brushed past the first woman who ignored him to gather a sobbing infant into her arms and he had to take it on trust that she would attend to both children. The bed on which his nurse lay was slowly soaking through with blood and he had the uncomfortable feeling that she might be worse than Simpson had assumed. With a deep breath and a nod to the second woman who anxiously peered at the cot but who held a towel to a wound over his patient's abdomen he bent to his task, reaching to smooth a hand over the nurses tasseled hair. 

"It's alright, Karen. We will soon have you comfortable again."

"Is the bastard dead?"

The demand came from Mary, who moved aside to give him better access to the nurse and he caught the fire in her eyes. She was a dynamic woman, a professional and senior staff member in the geology department, who had become pregnant from a casual encounter and who had welcomed her unexpected condition with a casual 'Well damn, that I didn't expect to happen.' If anyone could weather this nightmare and come from it spitting fire, it was Mary. 

"Very dead. Commander Simpson is in the vents now checking to see that he was alone. He should be along shortly." He inclined his head toward the vent above and behind him. 

"You're hurt." The whisper came from the nurse who was panting softly.

"It's nothing serious. What is of more concern is you, Karen. Now lie still and let me examine you."

He flicked an eye up toward the vent at the first clang that drew a startled exclamation from Joan and reflected that Simpson was going to find it next to impossible to sneak up on anybody if he could not move in the vent with a little more care. The killer had been silent in the vents and he had not heard him at all until that fateful moment just before he had struck. He was fortunate indeed to be alive. 

Again the sound came from the vent and he scowled, casting a quick glance up at the grate in the ceiling. The noise sounded like metal on metal and he wondered if the man had chosen to draw a weapon after gaining the ventilation shaft and reflected that if it had been he in the vent then he certainly would be armed. A third clang drew a worried sound from Joan and he noted that both mothers were eyeing the vent warily and he offered a smile. 

"It's alright. That would be Commander Simpson. Keep an eye on the vent and let me know when you see him. Joan, you may have to nurse the baby to get him to settle. You too, Mary, but if you would could you wait a few minutes and give me a hand? Thank you."

000000000000000000000000000000000000

Time: 01: 51 approx Sanc time 23:41 

Simpson

/Sadistic bastard may as well have bathed in the blood of his victims./

The trail of the killer was unmistakable. His black uniform had hidden much of the evidence, but it must have been soaked in the blood of his victims to have left so clear a trail as he crawled through the vent. A body wide crimson smear had been left in his wake that had not seemed to lessen as he progressed through the vent. It seemed as thick at the nursery as it did trailing back toward the mothers ward. 

From what he could see in the dim light of the small torch he was using, there was sufficient evidence to suggest that there had been only the one man using the vent as his private highway and for that he was thankful. Thankful, but not stupid enough to think that this was the only Sleeper running around on a psychopathic killing spree. He could only hope he had sufficient time to get himself back to Frazier and together the pair of them could start the hunt for more of them.

Them.

The psychopaths. Sleepers. Abandoned psyche conditioned individuals on a killing rampage. He supposed that he should feel sorry for them, but there was no room in him for cold blooded killing. He knew that within days he was going to be killing these people, but he still could not liken himself to the Sleepers he was now hunting. They were insane and killing for the thrill of the kill. For pleasure. For enjoyment. He was not certain that he would trust any of them to remember that they were supposed to take Merquise and the infants alive. He had to get them before they made that fatal mistake.

For such a hunt he was going to need Frazier. The rest of his team were not available to him and he did not have time to wait around for them to recover from what ever they had been dosed with. He had no time to wait for his team to come up from the Alpha Dome, even if they would respond to a radio summons. No, it was just him and Frazier the only one he would trust his back to.

The knife in his hand clanged against the metal of the vent and he winced at the resounding echoes within the confined vent system. It was going to be next to impossible for both himself and Frazier to take this way and keep silent. How were the killers doing it if there were others using the vents to get around the base? It made sense that they would utilize the system to unobtrusively move around the sub base, but unseen needed to be unheard as well to be effective. He could not even crawl from the nursery to the mothers ward without making a noise that surely must be heard by those in the rooms below him. The Sleepers had to tackle this way in silence for it to be effective and that meant that they must not be wearing magnetic soled boots, or moving with drawn weapons.

To catch the Sleepers he was going to need to use the same method of movement and much as it went against his instinct, he was going to need to move through the vents without drawn and ready weapons. Frazier was going to like that about as much as he did, but what other choice was there? He was not going to take the chance that the Sleepers would not target himself and his team mate in their madness. To make a noise in the vent would alert anyone in the vents and also alert anyone in the rooms the vents opened into of company and the only way to be silent was to move slowly and wear, or carry, nothing that would make a noise if it contacted the metal shell surrounding them.

Nor were Sleepers using the vents as a highway his only concern. There was still the outstanding matter of Merquise to deal with. The man had to be somewhere and if he had Noin he must be looking for medical attention for her. If she was not dead already. She should be dead, he mused, considering her condition when last he had been with her and the stresses being moved would cause. Her hyper aware nervous system should be enough to induce a heart attack. 

Merquise needed to be rounded up and then his children secured. Within two days the Wellington would arrive in orbit over Mars and the terra formers would be so many corpses scattered about the base, but that was then and this was now and he had always been expedient. At the present time he had to side with the citizens of Mars against the madness of a few of their number. 

Citizens of Mars indeed. Mars was an outpost that was needed and the base would be near destroyed in a few days. They would be causing a huge amount of damage when the Wellington came to give the appearance of a Raider foray. Damage that would need to be repaired and would come close to making the future of the colony unviable. Still the repair cost was not his concern, nor was it his concern that certain people in high places, who had been opposing the development of the Mars sited stations, had their fingers into very select pies that were involved with the construction of space orbiting habitats.

Personally he felt the need for something closely resembling gravity and a blue sky. Neither the terrestrial bound Base Dome or Alpha Dome fitted his need and a space colony was even worse to his mind. He wanted to go back to Earth, where his body felt at home and where there was an honest to god wind that would caress his face and blow the milk out of his tea in a storm and let him know that he was alive. Earth was very tactile in her caresses to her children. 

/Woolgathering, you stupid bastard. What the hell do you think you are doing? You will get yourself killed the way you are going. /

He was never going to get to return to Earth if he did not pull himself together and get on with the job at hand. He had killers to hunt down and he had the few professional soldiers who existed here to wipe out before they could assemble some sort of organized resistance. Which reminded him. The Emergency Response Team was another matter he needed to deal with and soon. The threat they represented was very real and close enough to be dealt with, but it was also true that they could be useful.

/Damn it all, everything is crowding together. I need more time to deal with the individual elements./

He was going to need to get his thoughts into perspective. First of all he needed to sort out his priorities and at the moment that involved hunting down the killers before they took a shot at taking himself or Frazier down. There was also the fact that running loose in the base where an unknown number of ex service men and women who might be able to take some sort of effective action that could impact on his take over of the base. Delay, not stop his take over he mused. He could not see them taking himself or Frazier out of the picture, if they did not have the leadership and expertise of someone like Merquise. He also needed to consider that they might be of use to himself in controlling the situation until he could eliminate the Sleepers. Making use of them was sound tactics and it would lull them into a false sense of security and give him the chance he needed to prepare a little surprise for them. 

At one stage it was his preferred option to gather all of those with military experience together and quietly wipe them out, leaving the more benign citizenry exposed and vulnerable. In light of the current situation however, it would make more sense to use them than take them out and spread himself and his limited resources so thin that he must make stupid but unavoidable compromises. Make use of them and then, when he had their confidence gather them into one place and wipe them out in one mercy killing. He just had to make certain that his timing was exemplary and not to leave eliminating them until after they realized they had been played and he had no doubt that they would realize it. It was unfortunate and went against his personal preferences, but he had his instructions and those instructions made it necessary for him to eliminate everyone within the Alpha and Base domes. 

It really was a matter of timing as to who lived and who died in the next few days.

If those men and women who were out on survey work at this time should chance to return to the base early, then they too would have to become victims of the raiders who attacked the base. He could only hope that they did not return until after the Wellington had done its job. It was unfortunate, but necessary to the success of his mission that witnesses be eliminated. If the geologists and mining teams should abandon or conclude their missions before the projected three days duration, then they would likely walk right into the middle of the Wellington's cover up and their fates would be sealed. 

Their geographical survey mission was at a point far enough from both of the domes that they would not see anything suspicious and thus save their lives and give the concerned citizens of the ESUN more faces of survivors to sensationalize and more realism to the staged production. Raiders always hit hard and fast, took what they wanted and ran like hell before help could arrive. It would only help the cover up if the survey teams survived and he personally did not like unnecessary killing. At this point in time the only members of the Mars colony slated to survive the attack were the two infants, who no doubt were even now being calmed and soothed by their mothers in that room just ahead of his present position.

The comforting seemed less than effective however, if the wailing echoing within the vent was any indication. The sound only firmed his resolve however.

/I will not kill children. I refuse to kill children and if They don't like that… Well … Too bad./

There was no need to kill children who were too young to tell what went on in this adult world of politics and deception.

The knife in his hand hit the vent floor with a resounding clang and he winced. He was going to have to go unarmed in his search for the killers, but he would need to keep a weapon close to his reach so that at the slightest sign of trouble coming he could be prepared. These vents were not the appropriate place for a hand to hand struggle, nor were they really his preferred terrain for a fire fight.

Some of the vents in the sub base were huge, easily large enough for him to walk upright within. Originally his team had entered the base through those larger vents, but they were a fair distance from this smaller vent system that he now moved within and anyone using these narrower ways would have to do so on hands and knees. An impediment to movement and a massive problem should they need to fight. That did not make for swift nor for silent travel and he lowered himself carefully in the vent and controlled his breathing, listening intently. Sound echoed so well in these vents that it was possible he might hear someone moving around, even though he could not see them. It was just going to be a problem determining how far away that movement might be.

Beneath the babies wailing he could hear the low murmur of voices and he could make out Broadham's masculine rumble issuing instructions. To his relief the wailing of the babies petered down first to sobbing and then, finally blessed silence. Within that silence he strained his hearing to detect any sound that might suggest he was not alone within the vents, but there was nothing within the vent except the gentle flow of air on his face that told him the ducted system was operating.

/Time to take a minute or two to make a few plans./ 

He stretched out in the vent, wincing at the clang as a booted foot connected with the wall of the vent, the magnetic plate sending a resounding ring throughout the system. He swore softly, wondering where he might be able to find another pair of boots, preferably with rubber soles, before he tackled the search of the vents. Taking a deeper breath he calmed himself and gave his attention over to focusing on the needs that must be met to bring this mission to a successful conclusion. 

/ I need to find Merquise, but while I am doing that I need to do a run of the base and determine how many more of these psychos there might be running around. If they have lost all semblance of humanity and the ability to reason, then I cannot take the chance that they might have forgotten their orders and may target Merquise or those children. As far as I am concerned the Sleepers are dead men walking. No quarter will be given to them./ The memory of the ward where the female members of the squad had been butchered swam before his eyes in vivid clarity. / Not even animals kill like this./

Elements within the ESUN government had set these ghouls in place and had for some reason failed see to the necessary maintenance required by the deep conditioning to maintain the programming. Basically decent people had been turned into psychotic killers. From what he knew of psyche conditioning he suspected that none of the Sleepers would be deemed recoverable should they somehow survive this mission. They were hopelessly lost to insanity and forever a danger to anyone unfortunate enough to be around them. No, as he saw it he would be doing everyone a service by eliminating them and that included the agents themselves.

/It was my intention to take out the military trained individuals capable of putting up a resistance, but I think I need to rethink that. At this stage I can make use of them for the hunt for the Sleepers if for no other purpose and I think I have a number of uses they could fill. Using them will permit me greater freedom to search the base and no matter how good the Sleepers are they can not take down more than two men before a third would be able to take them out. There should be enough ex military personnel to permit me to field two and possible up to four groups of three to four personnel for this job. Now do I dare leave them to the hunt and myself continue to hunt down Merquise? I can not afford for an instant to lose sight of the primary purpose of my presence here. Capture Merquise, get him under control and in suitable restraints and get him and those brats of his safely off Mars./

So much to do and the impression that there was so little time in which to do it grew exponentially and that disturbed him. He should have days in which to accomplish his mission, but there was a rising sense of urgency he could not ignore. Events felt out of control and he needed to regain that control to bring the mission to a satisfactory conclusion. He was not and had never claimed to be superman, nor was he a miracle worker and that necessitated that things were going to have to be delegated a set order in which to be accomplished. He could not be everywhere at once and he would need to make use of every resource he had at his disposal, which meant that the ER team had gained a reprieve. 

Primary on his 'to do' list was to find the renegade Prince of Sanc and his offspring and place them all nicely under lock and key. A secondary task required that he wipe out everyone on the base, including his supposed allies the Sleepers and sit tight until the Wellington had arrived. Ah, what a thought that was. He could not wait for his lift off this dusty hell to arrive.

/Guess I will have to wait to take out the military personnel. They are simply too useful to me in this situation to waste the resource that they are. They can gather the base personnel and protect them until it comes time for me to eliminate them all. With my own team unavailable I must use the next best thing./

"Commander Simpson? Can you hear me?"

Broadham's voice floated up through the grate ahead of him and he sighed as he dragged his attention back to the here and now.

"Commander?"

/Damn. Looks like I need to move. I suppose it is time to start the final phase of this. /

He crawled to the access cover and with a well aimed blow sent it crashing into the room, producing a startled feminine scream from below and thrust his head and shoulders into the opening. He hung upside down over the surgeon who had quickly side stepped the vent cover.

"Problem?" He barely resisted the urge to smile at the look on the man's face. 

'Ah … Yes. Yes … I need to get Karen into surgery a.s.a.p. The damage is more serious than it at first looked."

He frowned, glancing to where the woman lay on the bed, now under a covering of bandages that were steadily staining crimson. It appeared that he was going to be fortunate enough to be free of Broadham for a while. The potential for organizing the staff to his whim while the man was occupied had near limitless possibilities. This would work in his favour.

"What do you need?"

"I need to gather a surgical team together and that is going to take most of the people who have been cleaning up the rooms."

/ Hmmm. Most of the staff … but not all of them and not the ER team. Good. I can work with this./ "Not a problem. That emergency response team of yours can continue the clean up and we may as well make use of them as guards until we are assured we have all of the killers."

Broadham was nodding, glancing over to where both women were nursing blessedly silent infants.

"I was hoping one or two of them might be used to guard the women and children."

"Of course. I will see that everyone is gathered in one central location, to keep as many together as possible. That will make it easier to guard those susceptible to anyone else who may be inclined to turn killer. Move over, I'm coming down. There is no indication in the vent that he was not alone, but I am not willing to presume that there was only the one."

Simpson withdrew back into the vent and crawled forward, positioning himself to drop feet first through the vent access into the ward. 

/One location for as many people as possible. Yes, that will work in well when I have to do the dirty on your people, Broadham. Sorry, but that's just the way it is./

Broadham grunted softly as Simpson let himself carefully down through the vent access and noted the Commander eyeing off the two women with babies feeding at their breast. The big man swept his gaze around the ward and focused on the bleeding nurse for a moment before meeting the surgeons gaze.

"What do you need to get things started here?"

"Could you get to the orderlies working on your men and have them gather together my surgical team and prep the theatre? I dare not leave Karen at the moment."

"Not a problem." / In fact it's perfect for what I need./

He would set the base personnel to guarding their own and even hunting the killers while Broadham was safely out of his hair in surgery. He and Frazier could then quietly continue their hunt for Merquise. Once he found the man it might be that he could even manage to implicate Merquise in the killing spree and actually have the fools guard him until he had the time and opportunity to take them out. That scenario had potential if he could work out the details, but for now he had work to do. Frazier was a much needed commodity and courtesy of this surgery on a woman who would be dead within two days regardless of Broadham's efforts, he was going to have the chance to see what was in that emergency room without Broadham making a nuisance of himself.

/Something in there has Broadham spooked and I want to know what it is. /

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	145. Chapter 145 Chapter 144

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 144

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 03:30

Relena

/This is all a nightmare and I will wake up from it and laugh about the silliness of it and go on about my duties and … and … I … want so desperately to wake up and know that it was a dream./

Relena sat on the bed, legs crossed under her as she ran the brush through her hair. She had welcomed the heat of the shower and the chance to feel clean, to wash away the strangeness. The day felt unreal, otherworldly. Not so many hours ago she had been at a garden party talking to Quatre and enjoying the freedom of not being the hostess, merely a guest. Where had it all gone wrong?

Of course, it had started out to be a horrible day, even worse than the day before had been. Why had she not understood that her grandfather's affection for her was merely a reflection of the use he could make of her, the use that everyone saw when they made a note of her presence?

Did he know? Did he know this horrible, terrible secret and was that why he had acted to secure her cooperation and gratitude? Well, her eyes were open now. She knew. She knew that beyond a doubt he would always see her as a tool.

/That's cold, Relena. Very, very cold but what else am I supposed to think? He does not see me as a person, his granddaughter. He sees me as a tool. A key to be placed within a lock and turned at just the right moment. A political tool. Why me, grandfather? Was I so much more malleable than Milliardo? You threw him away when he was little more than a baby, didn't you? To protect your own position you threw him away. Did you know about … about the … rumours? Did you know that the Peacecrafts were … Was he not what you wanted to come from the marriage, but you suspected that I was? But you thought I was dead and he would have been the only tool you had … I don't … I can't think. Please, please let me wake up./

If she did not admit to anything, if she avoided saying the words it would all go away and she could wake.

The shower had been heaven and the chance to change into something both warm and comfortable had given her the opportunity to steady her thoughts and begin to dismiss the notion of fantasy. She had fallen into a fairytale that was a nightmare and it was time to wake. Her alarm clock would ring at any minute and she would wake to face the mundane day to day tasks, before beginning the endless round of meetings and public appearances . She would wake now.

Now.

This very minute.

/Damn. Why won't it go away?/

She had settled on the bed to brush out her hair and wait while Sally took her turn in the shower. During this quiet time she could listen to the muted sound of the storm raging beyond the sturdy old walls of the Inn. There was no indication in that sound that the storm would abate at any time soon and she shivered at the thought that they very well might have been caught out in the mountains in its icy grip. Strange as it was, horrible as the things she had been told were, it was better to be here, in the inn than slowly freezing to death trapped within the storm.

/Everything has changed. Everything. Suddenly, without warning and frighteningly … changed. I … I'm not … It was bad enough waiting all day to hear news of what has been happening on Mars, but now … Now I … I'm not …/

The brush paused in its rhythmic comforting motion. She would not think it. She would not say it. She would not … believe it.

/ It has been such a long day and I still have no idea what is happening out there. It's so far away. Too far. Are the babies alright? Is … is Milliardo alive and Noin … How has she dealt with it all? It's all so unreal. I'm stuck in a country Inn with people who tell me there is a secret archive containing priceless historical documents and … and documented evidence of … Nooo. It's not possible. They can't prove a thing. They can't. They can't prove that there are … abilities … psychic abilities within the Peacecraft line. It's all fantasy. It is all nothing but a nightmare./

The brush slowly began to creep back toward her drying hair. The room was warming by the minute and it was comfortable, both in temperature and furnishings. The age of the Inn was obvious in the architecture and in the décor chosen by the proprietors and in the very feel of the building. It felt old and that age lent credence to the words that she desperately wanted to ignore. She was not …

/ People are dying out there. Mars has become a battleground and no one knows it, or why it has happened … People are dying and all these people can talk about are witches and sorcery and everyone knows that there are no such things. Anyone would think Sanc still lives in the Dark Ages. It's a very bad dream and I wish I would wake up./

She had learned over the years that wishing and hoping rarely produced any of the desired results.

Disturbingly one thing she could not deny was the impression that both the old man and his wife had been quite serious when they had talked about the 'magic' of the Peacecraft line. Initially they had seemed so down to Earth, solid and dependable, much like the old Inn itself and they had made every effort possible to see her and her entourage comfortable.

Her feelings of comfort and welcome had turned into something else when they had begun to talk of the past and her brother. Magic and supernatural powers did not belong in this age of colony travel and space exploration to open up new worlds. How had they even begun to talk about magic and how her Peacecraft ancestors were supposedly capable of being able to protect the country throughout the ages?

Fairytales.

/You might as well talk about ghosties, ghoulies and goblins as though you believed in their existence. Are there Trolls under the bed?/

This was ridiculous. Nothing but fairytales. It had to be.

/All of it flights of fantasy, superstitious rubbish but … they seem to take it so seriously. In this day and age I find it so hard to believe that this type of ignorance still exists. I would have thought this kind of thinking had been left behind centuries ago. Come to Sanc, the tourist media say. Come to Sanc and step back into a time long gone … Well, they have that right at least. It's not just the architecture that belongs to a bygone age./

Was it rife out here in the mountains, old superstitions that were better forgotten generations ago? What else lurked out here that she needed to know about? She would need to work on improving the education system to stamp out this backwards thinking and ensure that Sanc progressed with its recovery and that the old barbaric days were left behind them all. Education was the way to bring the population up to date and prepare them to become a part of this One World Nation that they must welcome if peace for everyone was to be maintained. In this modern and peaceful age such superstitions could only lead to discontent and the danger of war would eventually rear its head once again.

Too many people had paid for this peace for her to permit it to die.

/ Tradition is all well and good, but superstition just has to be dealt with. It can not be ignored but … I have to be fair and that means that I should investigate this talk of magic. Sally gave it another name and she has never been a fool. These archives he spoke of. The King's archive. I need to find out more about that and investigate what knowledge is held there. If they expect me to believe them then they must show me their so called evidence, but how could they expect me to trust that evidence? Most of it would be from centuries ago and there was no such thing as Science then … well, I suppose there was, but it was rare to find men of learning amidst the superstition. I am not such a fool as to believe what they say without evidence and how can you trust evidence from so long ago? In my position flights of fantasy are more than merely dangerous. I have to be down to Earth at all times, serious and well informed in order to function for the betterment of the peace. Nothing can be done to help anyone if I should believe anything or anyone without the appropriate research and information. I have to be able to judge what is fact, from that which is fiction. That principle is simply common sense./

What the old man had told her simply had to be superstitious rubbish. As if it was actually possible for anyone, let alone her birth father to have an ability that would enable him to talk mutually hostile parties around to peaceful resolution in the blink of an eye. Utter fantasy. No, it was clear that the old man who ran the Inn had a penchant for fairytales and he was just senile enough to confuse such wild stories with the real world.

/Idiot. You are doing exactly what you said you would not. Judging without all of the evidence before you and all because you don't want to be considered a … a … I can't believe in this./

Relena sighed, her fingers closing around the brush in a grip that left her knuckles white. She needed control. She needed to get a grip on herself. So much had happened and it was far from over and it was only to be expected that she draw the line somewhere or go down into screaming hysterics. With very precise care she set the brush on the bed at her side and closed her eyes against the sight of the very feminine old world charm of the room. She was to share this room with Sally and soon enough the Preventer agent would be finished in the shower and by that time she needed to sort out her impressions of all that she had learned. The little fact and the large fantasy. If only she could really dismiss all of the talk as fantasy.

/I want to dismiss it as fantasy and that is the trouble. Father trained me to think first and act second and for so long I've acted first and thought about it somewhere down the road. Just look at my past record. Why am I still alive? Because there are people who believe that I can bring about peace and they work tirelessly to keep me breathing. Why do they believe me? Did I earn their belief or did I … Did I …/

It was more than merely superstition. Somewhere deep within she understood that it was more than the deluded ramblings of an old couple too isolated for their own good. She was a fairly astute judge of character and her people skills had improved over the years. If they had not then she had no right to even pretend to be a politician. Much as she might prefer it otherwise, he really did not strike her as being deluded, nor insane. He was too alert, mentally and physically to be senile and there had been nothing about him that had been anything other than normal, discounting, of course, his uncanny likeness to a fairytale character. She had to be honest with herself and in that regard she admitted that initially he had seemed to be a quiet, serious and rather down to earth individual. Right up until the moment he had begun to talk about witchcraft.

/Woah, hold it right there. Don't go off on that track again. Focus. Sally will be out any time now and you need to come to terms with this before then./

He claimed that he was in actual fact the archivist for the King's secret archives and if that was so the position would demand that he be aware of the need for documented evidence. Especially in this day and age. It was likely that he was in truth a canny old man and that he expected her, as the heir to the Peacecrafts, to seek out the evidence. Heir to the Peacecrafts? He would see her in her capacity as hereditary sovereign and in that light it made sense that he would have evidence that would stand up to her modern outlook and thorough and very scientific examination. He claimed to have documented evidence that would prove both his story and his theory concerning the Peacecraft bloodline. Evidence that would label the psychic potential in the Peacecraft line and was traceable back through the generations not for a generation or two, but to what she would consider to be the days of prehistory.

That was a wild claim to make without any evidence to back him up.

Magic.

Shamans and witches.

Fairytales and not very pleasant fairytales either.

/Shamans and witch doctors, sorcerers and witches. Magic. Superstitions from the past and I still pray that this is all a very bad dream./

Slender shoulders slumped and she fiddled with the brush for a moment. Would she ever grow up? It seemed that she had been praying for her life to be proven to be a very bad dream for a long time now. Ever since her father had been assassinated by Lady Une. From that time to this it had all been wrong, day after day it seemed that she longed for the innocence she had enjoyed when her father had been there to protect her from the real world. Bad dreams she could live with if only she would wake up and find herself to be Relena Darlian, the darling of St Gabriel's and the spoiled little rich girl she had been reared to be. If He would walk out of the dream and apologize to her just once more for not being there for a birthday or for a school play because he had to fly to the colonies to help keep the peace … it would all be so wonderful.

It was never going to happen and she was not a fool. She knew wishing for the past was a mistake, but she would still find herself entertaining such thoughts at the most inappropriate of times. He was not even her real father, but he was the only father she had known and she had loved him. You never appreciated what you had until you lost your greatest treasures. That lesson she had learned when her foster father had died and since the nightmare of assassination had become her reality there was another hurt deep within that festered, unhealed. She needed to grow up and acknowledge it.

Family was everything when you no longer had its comfort.

Milliardo Peacecraft.

Her family had not told her he had existed. Her father had not mentioned him in all of the years she had been his daughter and not even at his death had he told her that she was not, in truth, the heir to the Peacecraft legacy. Had he known that Milliardo had been alive?

Of course he had. Pagan had told her that he had known.

It was Lucrezia Noin who had told her of her brother. Lucrezia had informed her that the renowned Oz pilot, Zechs Merquise, was actually her brother and she had learned it while she had watched her brother and her love interest battle it out in the Antarctic chill. They had been trying to kill each other and she had been screaming at Heero to 'Kill that man'.

She blushed. It was still uncomfortable to remember that time. Pacifist Princess? Hardly. So few people knew her and she hardly knew herself in those days. She had been hurting and infatuated with Heero and she had not liked herself much. All of the unkind things she had thought about her father, then his death and the world had seemed to be one terrifying place that she simply could not deal with. How had she ended up as Queen of the World?

/I hate that title. Queen of the World. Tool. Spoiled little rich girl who wanted everything that she could not have. Being Queen could cure nothing of the personal hurt, but I think I was somewhat insane then. If I fixed the troubles of the world I would fix my own problems. They say that Milliardo was insane, but no one mentions some of the things I did. Next to me he was positively sedentary./

For as long as she could remember she had wanted a brother, though why she could not say even to herself. Perhaps it was some left over link from her infancy when she indeed had had a brother. Perhaps the infant had known and missed that bond with the brother she had lost the day the world had ended for Relena Peacecraft and begun for Relena Darlian.

From the time that Lucrezia had told her who Zechs Merquise was she had entertained fantastical dreams that were more unreal than the notion that psychic ability might run in their family. Her blush deepened as her fingers gripped the brush with painful intensity. She had even treated him like an infant brother, as though she in all of her barely fifteen years of wisdom was the big sister and knew what was best for her little brother who knew no better than to play in mud and make pies no one would eat. She felt her face flame with embarrassment though there was no one present to see it.

Day dreams were no better than night dreams of fantasy and wish thinking. Her dreams of having a brother her parents never produced had become the reality of her being a lost Princess and heir to a kingdom newly liberated from oppressive occupation. Then, shockingly, the reality that she was not an only child.

Yes, she had a brother but not an infant brother whom she could coddle and annoy and mother, but a man full grown who had had a very different view on reality to her own. In her teenage naiveté and in her distress over the changes in her personal life that she could not control, she had determined that she had the master solution to the troubles of the world. She was Relena Darlian who had become Relena Peacecraft, the Pacifist ruler of Earth and how dare he, her own brother, not follow her version of reality.

He unlike everyone else she had spoken to of her outlook, her grand design for the shaping of a new world order, had not believed her. Despite her best efforts, despite her passion and her fire, despite her vision of how the world should be … She had been unable to turn him to her way of thinking …

"Oh, God." She wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks, barely aware that somewhere within her something had connected and snapped into place and now made a horrible kind of sense. "Oh God, no. I … I honestly expected him to step down from White Fang and follow me like a puppy. A trusting, docile puppy. I … I expected everyone … everyone I spoke to, to see the sense of my proposals and follow me, acknowledging that I was right. Infallible."

The old man who might have stepped out of a fairytale himself had suggested that she had the ability to make people see things her way.

/Noooo. No, no, no. It … can't be./

It was not just that time on Libra. She had expected not just Milliardo to believe and follow her way without question. Thinking of it she could remember far too many conversations with politicians and world leaders, with diplomats and media, with officials from all walks of life. So many people, not all of them openly hostile to the idea of peace, but many of them had been wary and cautious and there had been a few openly hostile to her ideas and ideals. It was not all of them who had entertained changes of heart that in some cases had been considered rather remarkable and she had been congratulated on her skills as a negotiator. After lengthy discussions many of these people charged with extracting the best deals for their people and who had initially displayed reluctance and doubt had turned around and acted in her behalf.

He had said that her birth father had had such an ability. Had her glib words won her the victories on those days, or had it been something else? Had she done that? She had thought herself to be a wonderful politician, a skilled negotiator and so certain of her standing and ideals and suddenly … Suddenly she was confronted with a frightening possibility.

Taking a deep breath Relena stared up at the ceiling, trying to sort into order some of the confusion. How could she know? How could she hope to understand what was surely superstitious drivel and had no basis in fact? She had to face reality if she was to work for the peace and she had to understand her own abilities and what might be a natural skill at negotiation, or what might be a very unnatural flair for making people follow her around like a puppy.

"Is it all a lie? I don't know what is real anymore."

One thing she did know without a doubt was that she owed her brother an apology. She had been a positive bitch to him on more than one occasion and she had made a total mess of what had been his one chance at something that might approach a normal life. If there was one thing that Relena did pride herself on, it was in having the courage to apologize when she needed to. Despite the fact that her brother was not present she needed to give voice to an apology and later, when next they met face to face, she would apologize to him in person.

"Milliardo, I'm sorry. I never let you be my brother, did I? You were not what I wanted you to be and you would not change just to make me happy. I was a spoiled little rich girl used to getting her own way and even now I'm expecting the world to follow blindly along in my wake. If I can just get these old bastards off of my back." /Ohh, I'm not allowed to swear, someone might hear … Damn it. I don't care if Sally hears me swear. Why should everyone else be allowed to… / Relena rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "I don't believe this. I'm afraid Sally will hear me swear and look at me disapprovingly and around me the world is shifting again toward disaster. What happened to the peace we fought for, Brother? I've started to grow up, Milliardo. I understand now that we fought for the same thing, in our own different ways. We really did want the same thing. Peace. I'm sorry I never gave you the chance to explain to me … No, you tried to tell me in the hologram chamber, but I was too full of myself and my ideals that my way was the only way, the right way, to see what you were doing."

She had been hoping, wishing for years that she would have a brother and her wishes had come true, just not in the manner she had expected it to happen. When she had discovered that she did indeed have a brother she had been a royal bitch to him, refusing to discuss what he intended, merely concerned with dictating to him what she demanded he do. He had refused her dictates, but he had not once rebuffed her or told her she was a young and idealistic fool who had no true concept of the harsh realities of life. No, Milliardo had not rejected her, but to her shame, she had rejected him.

Even after he had returned from what ever safe anonymity he had found after the war to stand up to Dekim Barton, she had not accepted him for who he was. Why had it been so hard for her then to acknowledge that he had had a very different up bringing and that it was no surprise that he had different views to those brought about by her spoiled and privileged childhood? Why had it been so easy for her to accept Heero and the other Gundam Pilots, but she could not find it within her to accept that the one person who could challenge their superiority in their wondrous Gundams was the one person who should never have touched a weapon in his life? Her brother.

The Peacecraft heir.

He was the Prince of a pacifist nation and as such he should never have taken a weapon into his hands, let alone actually fight and kill. Not once had he killed, but many times and pacifists did not do that. Pacifists did not fight and therefore this impostor could not, in truth, be a Peacecraft.

/Who said pacifists could not do such things?/ Blue eyes closed slowly and she sighed softly. "I did."

She pressed a hand to her eyes, not wishing to see the room around her. /Why did I decide that Pacifists should not bare arms or fight? No one should kill but in war, that happens./ Her hand fell to the bed but she refused to open her eyes. "Because I was taught that Pacifists stand there and talk their way out of trouble, even as the knife blade drives into their heart. I … I have learned a great deal in the last few years. I have learned that nothing is as it seems. Nothing."

Eyes still closed she bent her head forward until her chin rested on her chest. /I never even thought to scratch the surface to look deeper and see if there was another way other than the way I had been taught. Because of that I made mistakes. Because of that my father made mistakes. Both of them. I can't afford to make mistakes anymore. I have to start by acknowledging that there is more than one kind of pacifist in the world. I see it all of the time around me. The pacifists who stand there and expect the world to revolve around their way of thinking and doing things. Then you have the doers and shakers, those who actively fight, be it with word or weapon, to bring about peace and then to maintain it. Fighting with words and with weapons./ "If I want my life to mean anything I have to stop being so shallow."

They came from the same family, but they had two different outlooks on what it took to bring about and maintain peace. Would she ever be able to tell her brother that she was sorry for all the hateful things she had said to him? Would she ever be able to tell him that she was older now and wiser and that she knew she had a long way to go before true wisdom could be attained?

/Damn, listen to me! Idiot. He's not so much older than I am, so what the hell makes me think that he knows better than I do just because he's a little bit older than I am?/ Relena rubbed at her face, hunching in on herself, feeling the pounding of her head as hard physical blows. / I'm going around and around in circles and getting nowhere fast. I'm never going to be able to sleep tonight and I am so tired./

She heard the shower cut off and knew that her breathing space was coming to an end. She needed to make an effort to gather her thoughts and present something more like her usual assured self to Sally. They had agreed to talk after they were both comfortable and the Preventer doctor was going to come through that door any minute and expect to listen to sensible ideas. She would win no brownie points with Sally if she degenerated into the garbled hysterics of a toddler, who might as well still be wearing training pants.

She was very much afraid though that at some point in that conversation Sally would mention her brother and she was fairly certain that at that point she would crumple into a pile of useless mush. What had to be said about Milliardo and her thoughts on him was surely between herself and her brother, no other. She doubted that Sally would see it that way.

But what if the old man was right? What if her brother …

/I'll probably never get the opportunity to tell you in person that I really do understand what you were trying to do and that I think that you did succeed. I am very sorry for not trying to understand you and why it was that you did what you did. I have had my eyes opened to the realities of politics and to how they play the game and I think I can see now. I know that you did the best that you could with what you had to work with. No one would listen to you, would they? No one wanted to admit that you were HIS son. That the old Sanc survived in you. Your likeness to Him… There must be so much guilt out there, so much hurt about the past and none of us are good at letting the past go. I don't have to agree with what you did, but I do have to accept that you did it without flinching. Such courage that must have taken. I've learned enough of you from other people who knew you, to suspect that you knew better than anyone the cost of what you planned./

She could hear again the old man's voice speaking of the past and those superstitious beliefs of magic and how could he call some of her ancestors Saints? She was not totally innocent of the history of Sanc. She knew enough to know how many of her ancestors had caused bloodbaths, assassinations and tilted the power structure of the surrounding countries to better suit their own needs. Just like the other countries had influenced those who lived around them.

Survival in terrible times called for terrible sacrifices and the Peacecrafts had never shirked their responsibility to their people.

/I don't … If I … / She drew a steadying breath. /He talked about magical gifts and in the next breath he spoke of psychic abilities and in the same breath he claimed to have documented evidence that my brother had one of the abilities that run in the family. If he was right … Milliardo, if he was right and all of this is not so much bullshit …/ She gasped at her unthinking use of the small crudity which had been forbidden to her since infancy and blushed. /Could it really be possible for you or anyone to see the future? Were you able to see the future and … Why? Why would you threaten to do such terrible things? What could it possibly be that would be so terrible as to drive you to the Libra and threaten the Earth that you loved? Oh, it's rot. Utter rot. It has to be. /

She sighed and shook her head, finding the brush back in her hands and absently began pulling long blonde hair out of the bristles. She hated her life and the incomparable mess it had become. Her entire life was filled to bursting with lies. They said that the truth hurt and that was such an understatement. She was not in truth a Darlian, though to this day she called herself one. Relena Darlian was in truth Relena Peacecraft and her biological parents had stood for peace. They had given everything, including their lives to try to teach the principles of peace and her other father had been just as much a believer in their ideals. In light of that simple truth she needed to understand why it was she used the name Darlian and not Peacecraft.

She did not deserve to be acknowledged the Princess of Sanc. Repeatedly she had refused the crown of Sanc and not because her brother, the rightful heir to the throne was still alive. No, it was not because of Milliardo that she begged off the weight of that crown. It was time to be honest with herself and that meant acknowledging that it was the thought of being a Queen itself that set her backing away from the requests. The fiasco with Romefeller had terrified her, but it was not that alone. What had she done to deserve the elevated status that was Royalty? She had not been reared as a Princess, but a very spoiled commoner and what was it that made people offer her a crown she did not want? Even considered to be obsolete in this day and age.

In her sojourn as Queen of the World … God in Heaven, what a farce that had been. Even her grandfather had played her for his own ends. Naive teenager that she was she had gone along with it, convinced of her own importance and her ability to change the world as it must be changed. Her high ideals had counted for nothing. She had been a tool, a means to an end and nothing in the intervening years had changed. That was exactly how she was now viewed by those who had succeeded in pulling her strings yet again. Her guilt over her treatment of Milliardo had given them the perfect opportunity to control her. She danced at the end of their strings now, as she had for those in Romefeller years ago.

She was such a fool.

As Queen of the World she had gone so far as to inform the world's population that they were imbeciles to squabble over the right to call a piece of dirt their own. That piece of dirt might have been home to them for a thousand generations, but it was just a piece of dirt to her. She had disbanded national borders as casually as she would flick her hand at a bothersome fly and she squirmed in shame at taking it for granted that the peoples of the world should and would obey her without question. How had she dared to think that she had the power to so much as scratch her nose in public, let alone dictate to the people that she knew best and they must obey her laws.

She was fifteen years old and full of her own importance …

/I was a useful tool for those who let me have enough reign to give them what they wanted. Now they have put a check strap on me and expect me not to buck their control. Will I allow it? Do I have any choice?/

She had made a mistake. The dissolution of national borders had worked in her favour then, to establish a peace, but now it was leading them all toward disaster. She had finally opened her eyes and looked around her at the people of Sanc and she could see that these people … her people … had very real ties binding them to this land. Despite the occupation of two armies over the years, both of whom had seemed to be intent on destroying as much of the land as possible, the people had not forgotten their bonding links to the earth of their home. They had returned after each invasion to scratch out a living and wait for the good times to return. That was what she had observed as she sat in her palace and dictated to the world how to attain and then keep peace. They had returned and lived and waited for a change.

How had she dared tell the people of Sanc, or those other peoples around the world, who for so long had fought to retain the land that called to them, that claimed them, that they could no longer call it theirs?

/But we all have to live on this world and we have to share the meagre resources that we have. Cooperation is far better than killing to attain what you need. I was right … but I was wrong too. I was wrong in how I went about it, but at the time there was no other way./

Was that how her brother had felt when he had made his fateful decision to join the White Fang?

The world around her had seemed to be out of control. Much as it seemed to be cycling around to disaster now. Someone had needed to take action to stop the war that verged on escalating out of all proportion. One minute it had seemed that not enough people were trying to stop disaster and the next minute it seemed that there were too many people taking action.

/ Perhaps that was the problem?/

Perhaps there had been too many people attempting to bring about peace and in the end they had succeeded only in fouling each other. Yes, that was only too easy to suggest, but was it all of the problem?

/No, but a large part of it. Look at me. The Queen of the World sitting on her bed pulling hairs out of a brush and whimpering like a baby at the idea of being turned into a dictator by those pulling my strings. I am no better nor worse than Romefeller was in thinking that I know best for everyone. No better or worse than those who now tell me to sit and I sit like an obedient dog. Ahh, they were right to look for some means to control me. It's no wonder the people in power looked at me and decided that they had to do something. Someone had to put a check strap on me. I am a spoiled wilful brat who wants her own way and who throws tantrums if she can't get it. I have a very nasty habit of making people listen to me and getting them to think they want the same things … Oh God. Oh God, no. No, I can't … I can't do that./

He had said that King Stephen could turn the doubtful attitudes of his enemies into that of freely believing advocates for peace. That terrible, terrible old man, who looked so innocent had said he suspected that she had inherited the talent. A talent that in essence could convince others that their way was wrong and that her way was right.

Terrible, terrible, horrible dream.

/Freak. Freak. I said it. I admitted it. He said I was a freak. I'm not. I'm not./

So much potential to abuse the fundamental freedoms of the people. The inalienable right to entertain their own thoughts, to determine their own minds … to think for themselves.

She rocked slowly on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them with her eyes closed and tears tracking over her cheeks. Silent sobs wracked her slender frame as in a very unwelcome parade of memories she relived those instances where she had known that the representatives of L3 would walk out of the peace talks and that the trade delegation from L4 had been about to spit in disgust at the rag tag representatives from L2's poorer sections, who had sought not a handout but a loan to make much needed changes. She had been so proud of herself and of her glib tongue and the ability to find just the right arguments to turn their attention and hold them and finally to convince them to do the right thing.

/I'm not a freak. I'm not a freak./

She was a spoiled wilful child who had always had an uncanny knack for getting her own way, nothing more. She desperately needed to believe that there was nothing otherworldly about knowing the right words to say to effect a resolution from dissent. She did not have some strange and freakish ability to control people. If she had such fantastic super abilities then why was she caught under the manipulative thumbs of politicians who professed to know everything for the greater good?

Just as once she had thought she had known the right way to go and damn the cost to the little man. It was for his own good.

/Listen to me! I trade words with the best and worst of them and work on words until they sound like the right thing for everyone, even if I know that it's not true. Why am I so proud of that? Why am I sitting here howling my eyes out when it's all wrong? Nothing makes sense anymore./

Slender and surprisingly strong arms slipped around her shoulders and she turned into Sally's embrace, giving up on everything other than that wonderfully warm human contact. It was exactly what she needed now, just to be held and allowed to cry. Her fingers gripped Sally's pyjama top with desperate intensity and she let herself go, giving in to the hysterical weeping that was an accumulation of emotion and stress she had too long carried around with her.

She would deal with the rest of it later, but for now she just wanted to let it go.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2004-2005


	146. Chapter 146 Chapter 145

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 145

2nd March AC 198

Colony L1 - 0025 B La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B

Time: 05:45 approx Sanc time 04:35

Trowa

Running.

Endless running through the halls, panting breath, ignoring the stitch in his side, legs straining, thighs burning. Echoes of his pounding feet against the polished floors rebounding back on him, filling his ears with sound. He had been running so long. Running not away from some unnamed terror but running toward something he knew he needed to reach. Something … there was something coming … some intangible 'thing' that he could not place a name to, but it was coming closer and he had to reach it.

It was going to be bad.

It was something that he had to … he needed … to stop or …

Or …

Something that needed to be stopped or …

Or … people would … die.

000000000000000000000000000000

Endless hallways, stretching forever before him, corners curving and smoothing out into a long and endless hallway that vanished into the far reaching darkness. Hallways filled with light but vanishing into the darkness and through it all he ran and ran.

It was a race. He was slow. Too slow. He needed to run faster. Faster.

He felt that his head must fall from his shoulders with every pounding step he took. The pain blurred his vision, drowned out sound other than those pounding steps in the endless hallways through which he ran. Ignore the pain, ignore the sound, ignore the ache in every bone in his body. He had to run.

He was not alone in the nightmare of running.

Around him others ran in grim faced determination. No one laughed, no one cried, no one spoke unless it was to give curt instruction. Over the combined thunder of their footsteps he could hear the roaring of the flames that ensured his feet flew despite the pain and the breathlessness that threatened to send him into black oblivion.

The hallways were darkening, filling with the black smoke. Somewhere near there must be flames, naked and bright in the night and all he could think of was that he was thankful that the colony had so recently had it's nightly soaking. If the colony had not been the recent recipient of the deluge technology then the threat of the fire would have been more serious than it was. The drainage systems were excellent, but still water tended to linger in the streets and in the nooks and crannies of the buildings and this night that would be a blessing. The fire could not acquired so strong a foot hold as it might have done and the flames would not take more than a building or two before they would be able to get it under control.

This fire might have threatened more than the Preventers it had been aimed at. The fire might have threatened the survival of everyone on the colony.

/Some one wanted that body destroyed very badly indeed./

00000000000000000000000000000

He gasped for air, dragging cool clean air into starving lungs, coughing and hacking to clear his lungs of a pollutant that did not exist. Struggling to breathe he bolted upright, his hands reaching instinctively for the knives tucked under his pillow, bare chest glistening with the sweat that rolled over his body.

"What …?"

His labored breathing slowly coming under control he braced himself against the mattress, fingers locked in the sheets. He might have thought himself recently come from a marathon so badly was he winded and exhaustion weighted him down, pulled at his arms and legs. He crawled from the disarrayed bed, every muscle trembling with fatigue and his lungs still seeking more air, still labouring under the illusion that he had been breathing smoke.

Smoke?

Memory blazed, offering fleeting vision of endless hallways full of running people and billowing dark smoke. He looked about him, wild eyed and body tensing sniffing for smoke and expecting to find roaring flames and expecting too to feel the raw agony of his flesh burning beneath hungry devouring flame.

"Fire? I don't …"

The roar of the explosion and the resulting shock wave of the blast threw him from his unsteady feet and tumbled him across the room as though he was nothing more than a child's rag doll. The momentum of the blast dumped him against the far wall of the room and it seemed that he could hear the screams of people running for their lives from falling debris and the all enveloping wall of smothering, burning flame.

0000000000000000000000000000000

Flames dancing, burning, killing …

"Quatre!"

He trembled as he came awake, panting for breath, sweat beading across his brow. He looked wildly about the darkened room even as his hands searched the bed beside him, seeking the soft touch of a body as his mind sought the unique comfort and warmth of the mind that made the world a place he could understand since first he had found the reassurance. Quatre who made every day unique and a pleasure to experience.

The bed was empty.

The ghostly strains of a violin whispered through the air, lingering, teasing at the edge of his awareness. Soft and gentle caress of sound that offered comfort.

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He stood over the gurney with the pathologist in his plastic green scrubs beside him and the man insisted on talking.

Where was he? How had he come here? Who lay beneath the shroud and why was he present to witness this moment?

Looking about him he was more than a little surprised to recognize the laboratory. He was in the forensic pathologists morgue in the Preventer building on L1 and that recognition did not seem to help his confusion much. Everything still seemed strange, almost otherworldly and he almost expected to wake at any moment and find himself to be, in truth, within his solitary bed.

"Are you ready to identify the body, Agent Chameleon?"

/Identify the body? Why would I need to identify … The boy in the alley. But why would I be needed to identify him? I don't know who he was./

His eyes tracked to the shroud and for some reason a clawing tendril of fear found its way into his gut. He did not want to pull back that shroud. He did not want to see what lay beneath it.

"Of course, though why you want me to identify the boy I don't know. I found the body in an ally, I don't know who he is."

The pathologist grinned a stupid grin, a strange expression, but he had found over the years that too many of those who dealt with the dead developed a unique and often warped sense of humour.

"You are listed as the next of kin." The man waved at the gurney.

"Next of kin?" There was something horribly wrong about the entire scene, not the least of which was the tremble that began in the floor.

Around him the building shook, trembling on its foundations and with a roar the near wall blew inward, flames and shrapnel shooting around the room. He threw himself to the ground during the initial blast and clambered to his feet as quickly as he dared and stared at the ruin and the flames.

"Hurry! We need to get out of here."

Curiously the pathologist ignored the conflagration seemingly unable to even see the wall of flames building around them and reached for the sheet covering the body.

"Are you mad man?! Get out of there before you die!"

His feet seemed glued to the spot, but he gripped the pathologist's arm and pulled at him, trying to get him moving in the direction of the door, their only escape. The flames were encircling them quickly and soon their escape route would be cut off. The explosion had taken out the side of the building and the floor was sagging, coming close to collapsing as the damaged lower level supports began to fail. He could see the flames dancing and eating their way into the ceiling and threatening to cover them from above and he knew that there would be a collapse there before too long.

"Get out! Get away from here or you'll end up on someone else's slab!"

If the floor did not take them down then the ceiling would collapse and crush them. Why was the fool fighting him?

"All in good time, young man. All in good time. We have an identification to perform before anything else and then I can inform you of my results concerning the cause of death. A most interesting individual, this one. Most interesting. Come now, the identification."

He flinched back as a section of the ceiling gave way, crashing down amid a shower of ruined plaster, dancing flames and electrical wiring.

"You'll roast! We have to go!"

He edged back from the advancing wall of flame convincing his feet to move if only at a shuffling stumble, but the pathologist ignored the fire storm beginning to rage around them and with a grip like steel fastened a hold on his arm. He fought against the hold, trying to drag the man away from the oncoming conflagration, but it was he who was dragged and it was toward the gurney and not to safety.

With a flourish the pathologist drew the sheet from the body. "You recognize him, of course?"

He snarled, intending to tear into the idiot for getting them both killed but his eyes instinctively dropped to the slab and his breath froze in his lungs and his blood stopped in his veins.

Quatre grinned at him from the slab and waved his fingers at him. He was naked as the day he was born and there was a knife blade protruding from a wound to his heart.

"Hey Tro. Busy night?"

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"No!"

He heaved within the bedding, gasping and clawing at the sheet that appeared to be determined to strangle him. He was sobbing in denial and his bedding was wet with the sweat of the horror that settled on him.

"No." More gently this time as reality began to settle around him and the strangeness of the dream drifted away, leaving him breathless, but aware that it was only a dream.

Around him the room was silent, the stillness of the night marking the hour as early in the dawning. The darkness of night was broken by the faint red glow of the alert light above the door and it lent the sparse furnishings of the borrowed room a bloody sheen that sent shudders down his spine.

Trembling from reaction he fought himself to a sitting position and leaned his back against the headboard, running a hand over the stubble on his jaw and just looked around him. The bed, the single chair and small table that served as a desk containing his laptop and a comlink. The two doors, one leading to a small bathroom and the other out into the hall and on the floor the low pile dark blue carpet that was standard through out the building. Yes, it all confirmed that he lay on the bed in the room assigned to him in the single men's quarters of the Preventers building.

He was on L1 and waiting for the new day to learn if he must delay his departure to investigate the death of that boy in the alley. He knew where he was and he knew why he was here.

"Quatre." A whisper in the darkness and uttered purely to confirm to himself that he was awake and that he was alone.

His hand sought out the bed, feeling quickly to make certain that there was no second body sharing the space with him and he was at once relieved and disappointed to discover that it was so. Had Quatre been there to surround him with his unique scent and touch, then the warped nightmares would not have been so bad. Had Quatre had been there, warm flesh and solid muscles under his hands, then he would be locked in those warm arms now and comforted. Quatre would be murmuring soft comfort, touching him and letting him know that it was all just a dream and he need not fear it. If Quatre was there he would not be sitting here with a trembling deep in his gut that warned him that everything was wrong.

"Dream. Just a dream."

It was a whisper designed to test out the theory. If it rang true then he could relax, but if the words sounded hollow he knew that he was in trouble.

He shuddered.

Bare feet found the floor and he was across the room and drawing his uniform from the small wardrobe, pulling on his clothing with all speed. He had had these warped dreams before and on each and every occasion he had them it meant trouble. He knew now that there was trouble brewing somewhere in the night and he needed to find it.

Stop it.

While he could become all too easily lost in the impossible inconsistencies of the dreams, Quatre seemed to have developed an unfailing sense of which dreams were nightmares and which dreams were this other thing that frightened him. It gave him warning, but it also made him feel that he was the harbinger of death.

"It's Duo who calls himself the God of Death. Not me."

Always there was death after such a dream. Always.

He was shaking with reaction and he was not ashamed. Quatre had taught him not to be ashamed of the fear that followed the dreams, or the contents of the dream. Always there was fire in the dreams that were warnings of disaster to come. Always there was a wild storm of fire that would kill him and others around him and ever since he had found in Quatre the balm to his personal terrors and the key to a loving heart, Quatre had begun to feature in the terror. Always it was Quatre who was consumed in the flames and always it was Quatre who dragged him out of the night sweats repeating over and over again that he was alive and it was not him and they were together.

And he loved him.

Except Quatre was not here this time.

Shaking he stumbled into the bathroom to the small sink and poured water for himself, sipping at the bland almost metallic flavoured liquid. The colony water was always honest about its source. It always tasted processed, always reminded you that it was recycled, always reminded you that you were on an artificial world and that you needed to beware. Here the water reminded you that you were foreign matter within the vastness of space, and that death could come with no warning and if you were careless. Some careless action from you or another might result in the mass destruction of the colony.

Fire.

It was always fire that he dreamed, fire that haunted him, fire that exploded into his dreams with destruction and death in its wake. It was always fire and why had fire come to visit with him tonight? Why now did he dream of dancing flames and mad pathologists and … running in hallways that never ended? Had that been a part of the dream? Yes, yes, he was sure he had been running in endless halls and that there had been others who had run with him.

He rolled his wrist, checking the time and scowled. It was not all that long since he had found his borrowed bed and he could have wished for more than a couple of hours of sleep disturbed by dreams of fire, death and destruction.

/ He never even reminded me of Quat. /

The thought took him by surprise and brought back in vivid detail the boy lying in the alley. The murdered boy who might, or not, be a link to the former Romefeller and their illicit laboratories. Former Romefeller? They were still out there, in hiding and not as publicly active as they had been for fear of their lives, but they were there. What mad dreams were they dreaming to create the disturbing laboratories of which he had read in the Preventer report ?

That boy in the alley had looked nothing like Quatre, so why had it been Quatre he had envisioned lying on that slab, delightfully naked, but disturbingly dead?

Dead, but waving at him and even smiling that endearing, captivating smile that was reserved just for him?

"Madness."

He splashed cold water over his face, hunching over the sink and wishing it was large enough for him to dunk his head under the running tap. He was tired but if he returned to bed he knew only too well what would happen. He would return again to the nightmare, to the dreams of fire. He had had enough of that for one night.

/I don't even know why it is that I always dream of fire. Quat wondered if perhaps somewhere in my past, when I was very young, if I might not have escaped a fire storm. I can't remember, but there has to be a reason why I always see the flames and why I always see death in them. I suppose it is possible that somewhere in the past I did run from fire. It might be that I could be mixing a faint memory into something else. What ever that 'something else' is I wish it would stop./

_"I felt something from you while you were dreaming … something I have never felt before. Not from you. It was … disturbing."_

Quatre had held him while he had trembled in the aftermath of just such a dream soon after they had admitted that they could not live apart. The comfort those arms had offered and that quiet voice had been a balm to the raw terror. He really needed to get a grip on himself.

"It's no more disturbing for you than it was for me, Quat."

He straightened from the sink, rubbing at his forehead and the pressing ache of the headache that always came to him after the dreams.

/Damn. I had a headache before I went to bed, but now it's worse. I think I remember having a headache in one of the dreams. Yes, I'm sure I did. I need you, Quat. I want to come to you but Une has me on this stupid job and …/ "I want you." The last was a soft whisper, almost a whimper in protest to existing without the other half of his being.

That was how deeply Quatre belonged with him. They were two halves of a whole and he was missing his other half. Earth was such a long way away and he would catch an Earth bound shuttle if he could and seek out his lover and beg him to never permit them to be parted again.

When had he allowed himself to become so dependant on Quatre? When had he changed so much from the solitary mercenary who needed no one and trusted no one other than himself?

Something thudded beyond the room and instantly alert he spun, slinking out of the bathroom, a part of the deep shadows and sliding across the bedroom to gather in hand the knife that he always placed under his pillow. He was tense, a coil of killing energy waiting to be released and around him the night was still and quiet.

Emerald green eyes narrowed as he waited, but the noise did not repeat and the headache thundered to a higher level and in his hand the knife trembled. He tensed his muscles, bringing the knife under control and cursed himself for letting the dream throw him off. This was getting him nowhere.

He eased up to the door, the knife still at the ready and pressed his ear to the wooden panel and listened. Silence. His own suddenly ragged breathing was the only sound he could hear and the thundering of his heart that mirrored the pounding within his head. His eyes flicked to the window where the red light of the alert flashed in an impossible reflection and he wondered that he had not noticed it before. The alert light above the door was flashing and he should be out there in the building, finding out what the emergency was.

Why were the lights working but the alert siren silent? Why could he see the alert light reflected in a window that could not catch the reflection of the door at any time?

A soft thud came from beyond the door and was followed by something that might have been a dragging sound. With gritted teeth he forced the headache from his attention and focused himself, flinging the door open with the knife poised and ready to throw at the slightest indication of a threat.

Light flooded the room.

He flinched from the brightness of it, hesitating for an instant and out of the light a shape materialized. The rocket launcher perched on his shoulder was aimed at Trowa and he was grinning, a horrible manic grin full of madness and blood lust. There was a skull, a death's head tattooed on the back of the wrist of the hand poised over the trigger and clearly visible to the wide-eyed Preventer who watched as the man winked at him.

"Can't give away any information, you understand. You should have walked away." He spoke with Quatre's voice and pressed the launch trigger. "No witnesses."

Trowa screamed as the fireball enveloped him.

00000000000000000000

"Fuck!"

He was on the floor, crawling and scrambling for his life and his breath was coming in ragged gasps. The room was dark; the window with its plain dark blue curtains was almost lost in the deep darkness, only the barest suggestion of light from the lower lights of the building opposite showing it against the night. The low level of light suggested the time to be very early in the colony's day rotation.

His back ached with a sharp pain that informed him he had pulled something in his tumble from the bed. He had no idea how he came to be grovelling on the floor, but with the flash of a memory of flames he curled into himself, ducking his head into his arms protection and waiting for the burning hell to envelope him.

Nothing happened.

"Quatre. Where are you? I need you Quat."

The whispered litany was repeated over and over, soft whispers fed by desperate fear until it dawned on him that there was no fireball eating him alive. Panting he dared to peek from between his arms, his body trembling in reaction to the adrenaline surge. There was no alert light bathing the windows in red stains and to his searching gaze the light over the door was dark.

There was no death waiting for him if he let go of the litany.

There was no rocket wielding madman standing in the doorway laughing at him in Quatre's voice and telling him he should have walked away.

"God. Quatre, I need you." A soft and final whisper he offered up to the darkness with heartfelt longing. "I miss you."

If Quatre was with him there would be no dreams to send him to the floor in whimpering fear. He scrubbed at his bristled face with trembling hands. He should be past this. He should have gotten past this by now, but it returned again and again when he least expected it. At first he had been afraid to sleep with Quatre and reveal to his soul mate the terrors he shared his bed with. He should have known that Quatre would understand him and that Quatre had his own nightmares.

That first time he had woken in strong and warm arms and to the quiet voice speaking a litany of words that held no meaning. Every senseless word was an expression of the love his soul mate held for him and when Quatre had realized that he was awake and aware, the senseless words had become words of comfort and love. They had talked and they had comforted each other and Quatre had told him of the horrors of Zero and the dreams it still gave him, and together they had come to realize that they could help each other. He should have known that Quatre had his own night terrors and would understand, but he had not initially understood the depth of the bonds binding them and because of that he had hurt them both by resisting the very real ties that bound them.

He had been a fool but that was then, in the alone time and this was now when he was not solitary Trowa but half of a whole that was a warmth he craved.

"Quatre. I wish you were here."

It was his last concession to himself. Taking a deep breath he uncurled and crawled to the bed, pulling himself up to rest his back against its solid frame and stare into the darkness. The deeper darkness of the room and that lighter darkness that marked the window, the framing curtains drawn back to admit the low colony lights.

He was on L1, in the 0025 B colony of the cluster and staying in the Preventers single men's hostel. And he was alone. It was night but the light level from that window suggested pre-dawn and the lights would gradually be lifted for the new working day for the bulk of the colonists to begin.

/That sounds right. I am chasing shadows for Une. Chasing someone who sent a warning about a threat to the Vice Foreign Minister and because I am here I stumbled onto a murder./

As he watched the window became just that little more clear in the darkness with the first phase of the colony lighting lifting. He felt the slight tremble of the floor and his heart seemed to leap in his chest before he realized that it was the shuttle train rumbling in the distance, the first of the day's commuter traffic. He shuddered at his unthinking panic that that tremble might herald the explosion and the flames, but in reality that rumble proved that he was back amid the real world.

He had a faint headache pressing at his temples, but there was no pounding drum beat in his awareness as he occasionally experienced after one of his nightmare.

/A nightmare? Can I really say that was all it was?/

The dream had featured the firestorm. All of the dreams that he could recall that had heralded trouble coming his way had featured that flaming destruction. While he preferred to forget the dreams Quatre had begun to investigate his fondness for dreaming about fire, despite his protests that they were only nightmares.

Much as he wished that to be the truth he knew that Quatre had the right of it and they needed to know why he dreamed. He needed to understand what it was that motivated him to dream of fire, whether it was a remnant of some past terror or if it had some other meaning. Perhaps then he could escape the recurring theme.

"I need to be sensible about this and since Quatre is not here to be sensible for me, I have to do it all myself. First, am I awake? Am I really awake, or is this going to deteriorate into another dream running amuck?"

He was bone weary, tired and desperately wanted to sleep, but he knew that he had had all the sleep he was going to be getting for a while. He had his limits and he knew when not to push them and trying to sleep now would guarantee another round of nightmares. Without Quatre to wake him from the worst of the terror he might well linger in the nightmares until someone came pounding on his door, seeking to know why he missed some important meeting with the L1 Controller, or the meeting he had scheduled with the forensic staff investigating the evidence they had gathered in the alley.

He scowled at the thought of the murder scene. That murder had featured in the round of nightmares and that might have significance he should not dismiss.

/That featured in the dream. I wonder … Do I need to go to the morgue?/

Already the dream was fading and taking with it the small details that might tell him if it was an honest nightmare or that 'something else' that occasionally disturbed his sleep. That 'something else' that Quatre had first sensed through the delicacy of the empathy he lived with day and night. What he termed nightmares Quatre had begun to suggest might be something more than he had assumed. Where he preferred to forget Quatre sought to determine just what it was that happened in the dreams and equate those events to harsh reality.

He blinked, realizing that he was in the bathroom and leaning over the sink. When had he moved from the bedside and off the floor he was uncertain, but his face was streaming water and his mouth tasted like vomit. The darkness that surrounded him offered him no comfort, nor did the absence of sound in the night. At this level of the Preventer building he was above the street level and the traffic noise and the early morning commuters were unable to disturb the sleepers, a fact he was normally thankful for.

At this time he was the only transient Preventer at the building and surprisingly the only occupant in the single men's quarters. L1's Preventer teams were mostly married men and women who had their own residences and the few single agents were out on assignment. The room seemed abnormally quiet, divorced from the reality of the colony and he was suddenly afraid that he was about to go down into another horror dream.

A colony never truly slept and if he listened hard enough he could distinguish the sounds unique to colony society. While the colonists had a day and a night cycle it was a schedule agreed upon by the colony founders and based on the cycle system of the Earth. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed the strengthening light of the colony day filling the bedroom, but did nothing to quiet the crawling sensation that walked its way up his spine.

"Why do I have the feeling that I'm not alone?"

The whisper sent another delicate shudder coursing up his spine. Why should he react so to the normality of the sound in a situation that, more and more, felt far from normal and was yet another indication that he might not have experienced a simple nightmare. Not that any of his nightmares could ever be described as simple. If you live the hard life of a mercenary as he had lived, you could not be graced with anything as mundane as simple nightmares.

He was beside the chair in the main room and pulling on his trousers before the soft noise in the hallway registered with his active consciousness. A soft and somehow furtive sound where there should be no noise to disturbed him. It was more than enough to see him grasp the knife from under the pillow and slip it into his belt sheathe and strap the second to his left calf. He should be alone on this floor of the building, especially at this hour of the day he noted, glancing at the clock and hearing the next shuttle train rumbling in the distance.

Straining to detect any sound that might give him an indication of who it was in the hallway produced nothing but the whisper of the traffic ten floors below him. He eyed his boots for a moment, considering taking the time to put them on, but instead opted for the silence of bare feet and ghosted to the door. It was probably nothing, most likely a Preventer agent back from a mission ahead of schedule, but that instinct acquired over years living as a mercenary insisted that investigation was required.

The handle was cool under his hand and his fingers closed around the knob. He had a strong sense of Quatre standing at his back and prodding him to take action. That crawling between his shoulder blades was becoming unbearable and would not ease, nor would the sensation of having a light hand pressed to the small of his back. He could almost feel the eyes of his lover on him and hear that quiet tenor whispering he must not dismiss the nightmare and that he must act.

Something was going down this minute and Preventers were at risk, not just himself.

Why? Why did he imagine Quatre at his back, prodding him on to slip out of his assigned room and take to the deep shadows that still filled the night dim hall? Why were his eyes inclining immediately toward the emergency stairs leading up to the roof level? Why up there when he could be needed just as easily in the opposite direction and why should anyone bother to take the stairs up anyway? There were elevators.

Quatre's whispered words chilled him. "Because you need to."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005

Hope you enjoyed.

Karina


	147. Chapter 147 Chapter 146

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 146

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01: 55 approx Sanc time 23:45

Simpson

"Do you need me to alert specific staff or can I leave the details of who is best suited for the work you need to them?"

Broadham was once again leaning over the bed and the nurse panting softly under his ministrations and he did not look up as Simpson shifted in the vents. The Commander positioned himself carefully and lowered himself through the vent access feet first. He spared a moment to glance around the room as he hung from the vent and noted that both mothers were intent on their children and engaged in breast feeding and thankfully the babies appeared to be feeding themselves to sleep.

/Good. At least I won't have them screaming./ At this time one of the last things he needed was wailing infants complicating his life. He was and had always been a firm believer in the rule that 'Silence is Golden' where children of any age were concerned.

Broadham straightened a little, one hand held firmly over a bandage while he rolled the other wrist to display his watch. He shifted this grip to curl his fingers around the nurses left wrist and concentrated on reading her pulse.

"The male nurse we left working on your men is a trained theatre assistant. All you will need to do is tell him what situation I have here. We will be dealing with deep multiple stab wounds and I need the theatre prepped and a team readied stat. If you tell him that he'll do the rest, but you will have nursing staff running around for a few minutes while he locates everybody I will need and they prepare for the surgery. I would appreciate it if you could refrain from shooting any of them for doing their job. Good theatre staff is hard to find."

/Oh, you are a presumptuous bastard, Broadham. I may not have killed you yet, but that does not mean that I will not be remedying that situation in the long term. Don't push me, or you may regret it sooner rather than later./

He was aware that Broadham had stiffened as soon as the words left his mouth and he suspected that the man probably had not given any thought to what it was that had been said and realized after the fact that he was pushing the boundaries of the Commander's tolerance. No doubt Broadham would now be considering his hasty words and most likely contemplating the proximity of a knife to his neck.

Simpson kept his eyes hooded and centred on the surgeon, generating menace and enjoying the growing discomfort of the man. Broadham must feel something like the victims of the French revolution must have felt when Madame Guillotine had awaited her courtiers.

/Stew on it, Broadham and wonder if you've pushed too far. I like to feel you squirm./

He could be magnanimous and pretend he had not heard the comment, but he was not inclined to be that gracious. He would permit his displeasure to show in the silence and enjoy the thought of having a discussion with definite painful overtones with the surgeon when he could spare the time. Broadham was going to go down and it would not be quick and merciful. The man had annoyed him once too often.

But not now. Now he wanted out of the mothers ward and for as many of the medical staff to be out of his hair as possible. He had work to do and he had had enough distractions.

"I am certain that they will be intelligent enough not to run through me, Mr. Broadham. I only kill annoying gnats when they bite."

He did not care if Broadham had other instructions for his people concerning the needs his team must prepare for him. The man would have to put up with any delays his run away mouth had caused and if that meant the nurse died, well, the man had only himself to blame for his unthinking cheek. Broadham was just lucky that this need for surgery was going to play into his hands and give him the opportunity to carry on his search for Merquise and the Sleepers with less medical staff cluttering up his operation.

He strode from the ward and out across the lounge, only too happy to be away from the surgeon and the mothers with their infants, who at any time might set up again that dreadful wailing.

/There are probably bodies in these wards. I have no idea how many patients were in the centre or where his staff usually spend their idle hours, but I think the Sleeper would have taken them out as he found them. I'll leave that search to the emergency response team. That will keep them out of my hair and usefully occupied while I hunt down Merquise./

He set a smart pace once he left the nursery ward, striding confidently through the medical centre not from any need to hasten medical aid to the nurse, but because his blood was singing with the need for action. The fight in the nursery had wetted his appetite for physical conflict and he was on edge, expecting to meet that confrontation even though he knew it was not likely to happen here and now. He nevertheless wanted action and his training demanded that he recognize that need and exercise control. If he was lucky there would be action enough to content him once he succeeded in getting the medical staff out of his hair.

He arrived in time to bare witness as his men were being settled onto gurneys. One already securely strapped down was being wheeled away from the utility room where they had for so long been lying in obscurity and that thought brought to mind the most likely cause of their drugged state.

/Do I thank Merquise for putting them down and keeping them in a closet of all places? Jesus. I don't even know who did it. Was it Merquise? It had to be. I don't think the Sleepers are sane enough to recognize the distinction between my squad and the terra formers. No, it had to be the Lightning Count. They were … are … good, very well trained and it had to be someone as good and graced with a good deal of luck, or someone with superior training that took them down. I lost contact with them a little before Fannon was taken out of the picture and those women were definitely taken out be Merquise. At last check they were en route to the medical centre to check on the morgue and our missing members. Still, it could have been Noin. No, I don't think so. It had to be Merquise and I think he would have been on his own, but it is feasible that he may have had assistance./

He considered the orderly who was wheeling the first of the gurneys past him, nodding absently to the man. Merquise having assistance? From the likes of this young male? The man looked as though he might know a thing or two about street brawling, but it would take more than street smarts to handle blue squad.

/He looks as though he might be of use in keeping a secure perimeter about those who would fall easy prey to the Sleepers. If he is not one of those chosen to assist in preparing the theatre he can be made use of in that regard. One less I will need to worry about./

That had potential, but there was another concern and one that he was fast pushing up on the list of priorities he was working with. His team were split, divided by distance in some cases and by physical limitations in others. He had lost the women and now he had two helpless men who might well become victims of the killers loose in the base before they could defend themselves. He had a responsibility to them he could not ignore, but he also had a man to hunt down.

/Maybe I should stipulate they place my people under guard? If there should be another Sleeper in the vicinity...? It's not impossible, though I doubt they can be everywhere at once. Their numbers are limited and I'm certain that Merquise has been winnowing them down. There can't be too many of them left. The law of averages would suggest that my men should be safe but … Can I take that chance?/

He needed to either keep the Sleepers occupied or hunt them down and eliminate them. If he was wrong and there were more insane agents in the medical centre, then these two men whose lives were his responsibility and who had become friends over the years of their association might meet the same fate as the women lying in bloody ruin further down the hall.

He sighed, considering his options and the differences in the styles of those he hunted. He was going to need to have words with the intelligence agency for this mission. Primary on his list of concern was the absolute bullshit the psyche profilers had compiled.

/ It's not exactly the sort of distinction I expected to find marking the difference between Merquise and Noin. Noin's psyche evaluation and her service record suggested that she would be the more peaceable of the two. Her record clearly indicated she had no love of war and a distinct respect for life, yet I know it was Noin who took down two of my men in a cold blooded attack. She took them out hard and fast and never hesitated. Any hesitation on her part would have seen them take her … I am convinced of that. Noin was playing the game very seriously and while that is in her psyche charts the killer in her was not suggested. On the other hand it would appear that Merquise, who is without doubt the noted killer of the two, cool and cold at need … the man who threatened to decimate a planet … has been running around the base sedating everyone of my agents he comes across./

He scowled, ignoring for the moment the attention he was drawing from the small cluster of people securing his man to the gurney. They seemed nervous.

/ It makes no sense. It should be the other way around. Merquise was tagged as the kill or be killed aggressor and Noin as the one who would avoid direct contact. The psyche profilers have a date with my fist when I get back. /

He shook his head slightly. There was no real time, nor opportunity, to consider these inconsistencies. Not at this point in the game. What he needed to do was to get Broadham's people moving and secure for himself a clear field to work in. The fewer the distractions the better and the faster he would be able to secure the mission objective.

/ There has to be something I am missing. Something that Merquise … /

He became aware of the silence and pulled himself from his revere. More thought later and more action now was required. The small cluster of nursing staff was bunched together, watching him and he could almost smell the fear radiating from them. They feared him? Well, rightfully so. He swallowed his amusement quickly, while acknowledging to himself that there really was nothing amusing about the way they were watching him. The fear in their eyes was unmistakable and he had no doubt that it spelled trouble to come.

The people were looking at him as though they expected him to suddenly leap upon them and wipe them from the face of the planet in a spray of gory blood and guts with his bare hands. While the thought of eliminating them here and now held potential, he was really not inclined to do so. Yet. It would come, but not now and not here. Their eyes though … That expression they all had in common was beginning to worry him.

To this point in time he and his team had done nothing in the sight or hearing of these people that would warrant these matching expressions of impending doom. These people dealt with serious injuries, with blood, guts and gore on practically a daily basis and none of them were strangers to the sight or scent of death. He, like they, could all too easily smell it surrounding them. They knew that there were killers running loose in the base, but they also knew that he and Frazier were not to blame for the deaths that had eventuated here but still they watched him with matching intensity.

Enlightenment was not pleasant when it came.

/They know. They know, or at least suspect, why I am here and perhaps the extent of my instructions./

He was not a fool and had always been quite a dab hand at reading facial expressions. He had known for some time that Broadham had no illusions as to the reason for his presence on Mars at this time. The surgeon was an intelligent man and he suspected he was up on the current politics of the Earth Sphere and he had marked him as dangerous. Broadham would need to be isolated and removed as speedily as events permitted, before he could arrange some type of resistance but that was for later. What was of concern now was how these people were watching him and how much they might actually know, or guess, as to what their fate would be.

/I suppose it could just be a natural wariness of strangers during times of stress. Christ. After this balls up of a mission I'll need some sessions with a shrink. They might suspect what my presence here means for them, but there is no way that they can know with certainty. If they did know that I was here to kill the lot of them and they had half a brain between them they should be running from me, not standing there waiting for me to notice them./

"Sir. Mr. Broadham?"

His gaze flicked to the male nurse who, it seemed, had more balls than the orderlies staring at him. The nurse moved a little away from the group who were suddenly making a show of securing the last of the restraints to the gurney for his man to be wheeled away to receive treatment. He noted peripheral movement and glanced to the side to see the female nurse who had done all of the screaming earlier now standing to one side of the remaining gurney, making notes on a clipboard. As he watched she looked up from her notes and glanced at the male nurse Broadham had named as a theatre nurse who nodded his permission and in a crisp and clipped tone she instructed the orderlies to move off in the direction from which Simpson had appeared.

"Sir? About Mr. Broadham?"

"Mr. Broadham is currently in the Mothers Ward attending to the injured party and has given instruction that you are to prepare the theatre for emergency surgery and gather a surgical team to assist him. I would suggest that you send someone to help him in stabilizing the injured nurse while he waits."

The nurse and her entourage of orderlies came to an abrupt halt just past him and he felt their full attention shifted back to him. He scowled, wanting his people attended to with all speed and he was about to send them on their way with a few choice curses to speed them along when the male nurse turned to the group.

"Take these men to the arranged ward and get them settled in a.s.a.p." He turned back to Simpson. "I need a rundown of the type of injuries I am to prepare for, Sir."

/ Hmmm. You're a polite bastard and you seem to have authority over these others. I wonder if … I think I prefer you to Broadham. Unless I badly miss my guess you would be easier to manage than the surgeon. / "I can't tell you the exact type of injuries you will be dealing with, but the nurse has suffered chest and abdominal stab wounds. The wounds appear to be quite deep and knowing that sick bastard's work as I now do, those visible wounds are probably the lesser of the injuries she has sustained. I don't think he had gotten all that far into his work, but then he enjoyed his work far too much."

The nurse blanched at the implications, nodded acknowledgement of his description and turned away. "Thank you, Commander Simpson. I will now be about my business as quickly as possible and attempt to make the disruption to your investigations as few as possible. I assure you that your men are well enough. No physical wounds have been suffered, though they have been heavily sedated, but I would expect them to regain consciousness somewhere within the next two to three hours. I did find evidence of pin prick wounds suggesting some type of hypodermic, or perhaps a dart might have been used. Just a tiny hole, no other injuries."

"Fair enough."

He lingered in the hallway to watch as the last of his men were wheeled away under the care of the nurse and orderlies, presumably to some cleaned and safe ward and then, with a low sigh, shifted his gaze to watch the male nurse stride off down the hallway toward the main entrance.

/Sedation administered by a hypodermic? Merquise would have had to get damn close for that. A dart, perhaps? That would be more likely and it would be yet another indication that it was Merquise who took them out. Sedation appears to be his calling card. I could thank him for going so easy on my people, except that I have lost the two women. In all fairness though, their deaths were not his fault. How could he know there were psychotic killers running loose who get their jollies by butchering the helpless? Damn, this has disturbed me more than I thought. More than it should have. Maybe I'm getting too old for this shit? This entire operation has been one disaster after another. I want this ended./

Gathering himself under control he moved off, but had taken only three steps after the male nurse when around the curve in the hallway ahead of him three members of the emergency response team appeared. Two of the team were manhandling a bloodied mattress between them while the third carried a bundle of soiled bedding in his arms. They were talking quietly amongst themselves until they noted him and paused.

/Just who I need. Now to sort out the team and get them out of my hair./ "Where is Kurtz?"

"In the second room, left side from the main entrance. He's sorting out what is salvageable and what is not." The small man looked to be of Japanese descent.

/Well that is wasting time as far as I am concerned. I need to get them occupied and get myself out of their sight and hopefully out of their minds./ "Get rid of that stuff a.s.a.p. I have more important work for you. We have recent evidence that indicates there may be multiple killers running around the base, not just the medical centre. You will need to gather together as many people as possible into a secured location, and place what combat trained personnel you can find into guard positions to keep them secure. There are two women with newborn babies further along this hallway. Mr. Broadham, the surgeon in charg,e is currently with them. They are to have priority getting into the safe zone. You will need to be quick about securing a suitable location. Get yourselves moving while I speak to Kurtz."

He strode off, not waiting for acknowledgement to his instructions. It was time he sorted everyone out and placed them in nice neat little packages for later collection, and first on that list of placements was to allow Broadham to get his surgical staff gathered. The need for surgery would place one group in secured isolation and then he could work on isolating the two groups he would need to secure both his men, who at this time were helpless to defend themselves and the women and their children. Those infants must survive the disaster this mission had become, both to make it more plausible and to offer some salve to his sense of justice. Innocents would die here, but not those who could not testify against him.

He had given orders to schedule a meeting with the combat experienced individuals who worked on Mars and he hoped that Kurtz had not forgotten that instruction. To offer protection to the infants and to his men at this time he was going to require all the able bodies he could find. He would have a few choice words to say to Kurtz if the man had ignored him.

/First I use them to secure their survival and then I get to go around and take them all out . Fucking beautiful situation. At least it will make the final kills easier. I'll have to separate the infants at some later date and maybe Frazier can rig up some gas traps for the isolation groups? I hate killing unnecessarily./

His eyes swept the length of the hallway as he rounded the curve and he smiled. At least Frazier was still standing before that door and he nodded to acknowledge the brief tilt of his subordinate's head that informed him his presence had been marked. Just past Frazier the theatre nurse was speaking quietly to a cluster of orderlies and he knew only too well what that conversation was about. He doubted it would take them long to organize themselves and vanish.

They moved like a well oiled team when they were immersed in their own fields of expertise and this was no exception. The male nurse finished speaking and immediately one of the group vanished back into the room and a only a few seconds later three women hurried up the hallway, ignoring himself and Frazier as they went by. The expressions on their faces were serious and he could almost hear the thoughts running through their minds. The male nurse spoke again with the addition of hand gestures indicating the room beside them, and then motioning down the hallway in the direction taken by the three nurses.

Simpson's attention was caught by Kurtz as he appeared from the room on the opposite side of the hall. The man stood still for a long moment, attention focused on the cluster of nursing staff and tracking the three retreating nurses. He spoke briefly to someone hidden in the room before crossing the hall to the surgical nurse, who dismissed the remaining orderlies and turned to him. Simpson could lip read enough to know that the nurse was informing Kurtz of the need for surgery and with a final nod the nurse was striding down the hall. He nodded briefly to Simpson in passing, but moved quickly and did not linger.

/Interesting./ He watched as four orderlies emerged from the ward, nodded in passing to Kurtz, and hurried after the other medical staff. / Broadham was hiding doctors in amongst the orderlies. Clever man that surgeon. It will earn him priority on the kill list. There is no way that he would need four orderlies in an operating theatre. He would, however require the assistance of at least one, maybe two doctors, one trained with anesthetics and perhaps two nurses of varying qualifications to assist the procedure. Four orderlies, three nurses and the one I know is a surgical nurse. Quite a team. Well, it will get them out of my hair while I work. I need to watch Broadham. He is no fool and he expects me to take him down. We understand each other I think, but I have to ask myself why he would expect that if he has no actual idea of what has taken place during his earlier stint in surgery?/

For some reason the name Merquise sprang to mind.

He snorted softly. Merquise always sprang to mind, but the man was not omnipotent. Not everything turned around the former Prince of Sanc and it was time he sorted out the emergency response team.

"Kurtz."

The man glanced up and nodded, moving to join him, his attention still on the retreating medical staff. Frazier stirred near him and he caught his tech's eye, flicking a glance to the door behind him. Frazier nodded subtly and returned to watching the hallway.

"Find what ex-military personnel you can as quickly as possible and gather them together. We have more killers running loose than has been taken down thus far. I need you to gather the surviving patients and the nursing staff caring for them into at least two secured locations and have them guarded around the clock. If the killers are all like that last one responsible for the butchery further down the hall, you should not have too much trouble knowing who you can trust. They'll be covered in blood. You will need three guards awake at all times, but allow the others to get some much needed sleep. Don't have the guard rotations too long. It's been a long night and we can't afford for anyone to fall asleep on the job."

Kurtz looked confused. "Killers? I thought …"

"Killers. The perpetrators of the mess you are involved in cleaning up." He sighed. /How did the dumb bastard get to be in command of the Emergency Response team?/ "Broadham and I have disposed of one, but not before he tried disemboweling a nurse and a few more patients. We have one survivor who will be headed for surgery and there are two mothers and infants to be included in the safe rooms. Your priority is to arrange a safe room and guards for them as fast as you can, allowing me to concentrate on hunting more of the bastards."

He dismissed the man by turning away and surveying the hall. The most notable change in the view was the two mattresses leaning against the wall near the first room from the main doors. Both mattresses were soaked in dried blood and a pile of what was probably bloodied bedding was stacked untidily to one side. Noting that stained mess he shook his head slightly. The Sleepers had been busy, but if he had his way he would remove every one of the bastards from the world of the living and hand them along to their maker for judgment.

No doubt he would be seeing them in hell.

Kurtz took the hint and moved off to round up his men, enabling him to move closer to Frazier and he took up position beside his tech, settling automatically into an 'at ease' stance and watching the flurry of activity centred around Kurtz. The man rounded up men from the two nearest rooms and issued instructions that Simpson was close enough to over hear. He was satisfied with Kurtz's orders to search the medical centre for two defensible rooms with water and toilet facilities, and a quick inventory of easily gathered food be made. Satisfied that his instructions were being carried out he turned his attention to Frazier, who had been waiting patiently for his Commander to brief him.

Sotto voiced Simpson once again flicked his gaze toward the door behind Frazier. "Any sound from in there?"

"No hint of anything untoward. The door has remained closed and there has been no sound of movement and no voices from within."

Which suggested, he admitted, that it was simply an empty room, or there might have been another entrance to the room …

/Or a bloody sleeper might have used the ceiling vent to get into the ventilation system./ He scowled at the door. /Damn, I should have thought of the ventilation system before I took off after my people. If it was a Sleeper in there then they could be anywhere by now. Or I could have just taken the bastard down in the nursery./

A quick glance at Kurtz who was standing in a doorway assured him that there were no problems and he returned to contemplating the closed door. What would be best to do? Ignore it … and potentially make a critical mistake by leaving a potential enemy at his back, or delay still longer in his hunt for Merquise? Some decisions really did not need thinking too hard about.

"We give these men a few minutes to get out of our way and then we will be tackling that room. I'll lead, you cover. After what I have found earlier we make this fast and hard, but try not to kill. I think I've taken down the last of the Sleepers working the medical centre, but with their mental state who can tell? They may have acquired a pack mentality. Besides, you never know, we might find Santa Claus and his elves working on Christmas goodies, or better yet we might find Merquise lurking in a closet. The bastard has to be somewhere and I'm getting fed up with this entire mess."

"Aye, Sir. Fast, hard and no fatalities."

Simpson nodded as a movement down the hallway caught his eye. Two men emerged from the first of the wards and took the mattress closest to the door. Lifting the unwieldy mattress between them they proceeded to shuffle down the hall toward Kurtz who noted them and stirred from where he had been standing and hurried forward, waving for them to stop.

"How many more of them are there?"

Frazier glanced back along the hallway before turning his attention to Kurtz, who had now reached the two men. "That might be the last of them in that room. I never managed an accurate head count when they arrived, but the numbers seem about right. If there is anymore in the room it would only be one. So, those two, Kurtz makes three, another two in the hallway … five and three already gone down the hallway with a mattress and bedding, that makes eight. At my first count I counted seven, nine on the second count and eight at the third before they all disappeared into that room. That was before Kurtz split them up into the individual wards."

Simpson nodded acknowledgement of the head count. Sometimes it simply was not possible to get an accurate head count and he himself had counted eight when he had previously stood in this hallway and watched the confusion of their arrival. The figures he had in his initial briefing concerning the team was that in all there were thirty five men and seventeen women registered as emergency response team members at the time of his departure from the hub of the Earth Sphere.

"What happened after I left?"

Frazier snorted softly. "Kurtz entered that first ward and bellowed like a wounded bull for someone to explain what had been happening. It must be a mess in there. One of the orderlies from another ward went in to explain I guess. After a couple of minutes he split the group. First the mattress and then every now and then some bloodied bedding would be thrown through the door. I believe they have decided that they have all of the disposable items out there now, if they came out to start with the mattress. They were split up into twos and threes into the next two rooms. There has been a bit of ward hopping, questions about what to do I'd guess. One of them was running around a little while ago after someone who could tell him where they were wanting the bodies."

"How many bodies?"

"Four have been taken through in the last few minutes. I believe someone said something about a freezer."

Simpson scowled. "Sick bastards. Fannon and Cambridge are dead. Butchered in their beds by the fucking Sleepers." He was only too aware of Frazier's growled response.

"Butchered in their sleep?"

He growled an acknowledgement as he watched Kurtz shepherding two men ahead of him and toward the ESUN agents. The last two men who had appeared lingered in the hallway once again picking up the unwieldy mattress, and began moving at a slower pace to follow. He nodded briefly to Kurtz as his group came abreast of his position and the man paused to glance behind him at the men trailing.

"Those two will clean up the hallway and then come through to join us. By that time we should have located a couple of rooms that will be suitable to secure. The soiled bedding will be stored in a room down the hall out of the way for now."

"Well enough. Get the secured rooms prepped as soon as possible and I'll catch up with you as soon as I work out a plan to quarter the base in the most efficient method possible. I'll need some of those combat trained personnel so have a list for me."

A brief nod responded and Kurtz strode off, herding his men before him. Simpson settled, watching as the mattress carriers came more slowly down the hallway, the unwieldy mattress slowing them down, but they moved at an adequate pace. The lead man turned his head to face him as they shuffled past and nodded and Simpson returned the nod and stepped a little to one side to be well out of arms reach should there be any deception. The men shuffled along past them and down the hallway and then they were gone around the curve.

Frazier stirred, fingering his automatic for a moment as he considered the empty hallway. For a minute they remained still and silent, concentrating on listening for any indication from the rooms down the hall that they were not now alone. When no sound disturbed the quiet of the hallway from either direction, Simpson drew his own weapon and stepped around Frazier and reached for the door knob. Frazier's fingers closed around the butt of the gun and it settled comfortably into his hand.

A look was exchanged between the two men, no words required and Frazier slipped around Simpson and into position at his back. A light touch on his Commanders shoulder let the man know he was ready and he felt Simpson tense. Taking a deeper breath Simpson moved, his fingers curling around the door knob.

Fast, hard and silent.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	148. Chapter 148 Chapter 147

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 147

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01:47 approx Sanc time 23:37

Barker

/Well now. Private concerns interested in seeing that justice is done? That statement is notable for how careful you have been to avoid naming those 'concerns'. I find that interesting and definitely worthy of note to the Preventers at a later time. Private security is it? If that should indeed be the case then no doubt you must be pulling one hell of a pay check./

Polnar was again looking toward Carter and the door, no doubt concerned that there might be ears to hear what he obviously did not wish to be generally known. The man gave every appearance of wanting to maintain secrecy. Barker knew that private companies would be more than interested in Mars and for varied reasons. At this time the Preventers had expected the big corporate mining concerns to begin assigning their personnel to Mars in order to judge the potential of the planet's projected trade capabilities. Portfolios detailing resources available and the projections for profit margins by exploiting those resources were sent to all companies involved in mining in space. Many of the larger companies tended to consider it accepted practice to dispatch representatives of their own on the quiet to confirm the potential for profit and expansion should they invest their share holders' money's in new mining concerns.

Mars was a young colony almost ready for open slather trading and the potential for profit would attract the bigger companies like bees to pollen. Une had not seemed to be concerned with the prospect of such corporate agents visiting Mars and their potential reactions to their discovery of the presence of Milliardo Peacecraft. The lack of directives regarding such scenarios was a fact that had disturbed Barker from the beginning of his tenure on Mars. While Une seemed unconcerned certain members of the ESUN government seemed to be all too attentive to possible reactions from the public to the news that the boogie man was alive and well, hence the current situation. It worried him, but the Preventer Chief had made no mention of her concern to him as her official representative on Mars and indeed his mission statement was remarkably blank on how to deal with corporate interference or protest to the presence of the Peacecraft on the planet.

/She has always struck me as a canny woman. Does she have plans for Him? Maybe. He is a Preventer and I have that from the Lady herself but still, I would have thought she would have detailed some course of action to be taken in the event there is trouble from private concerns. I don't know. I doubt I could ever keep up with that woman. She's not a fool but still … she was out on the timing of this idiocy and that just proves that she is not infallible. This speculation is getting me nowhere. I have to get my ass into gear and get on with the matters at hand. Namely determining how far I trust Polnar now that I know he is working for outside concerns?/

"I may have a means by which we can leave the room unseen."

Polnar turned back to him with a rueful grin and earned his undivided interest with that quietly spoken statement. With Frazier parked in front of that door he dared not set foot outside the room and he could not remain in the ward indefinitely.

"The problem is that movement is not likely to be exactly silent or fast and I would imagine that if that man out there is at the very least merely competent at his work, and being Blue Squad you can bet your ass he's more than competent, he should have taken a head count of the bodies that entered this room. If none of us exit the room within the next, say fifteen minutes or so, his curiosity has to be aroused."

/Point. A very valid point. The question is just how accurate a head count would he have been able to take? With the jumble of bodies that was gathered around the door and the fact that I'm not already dead they can't have noted everybody that entered. I would estimate with the milling around probably somewhere around seven to ten would be the count considering the crush we made getting in here. If they had spotted me then I don't think we would be standing here now contemplating the weather outside. Damn, I don't want us to split up, but I don't think there is much choice. I still want to keep an eye on Polnar./

"What's your out?" Carter stirred by the door, turning his attention from the empty hallway to the men with him. "The hallway's clear for the moment."

Polnar nodded briefly to acknowledge the assurance and in silence lifted a finger. For a moment Barker stared at him and then followed the line of that pointing digit and smirked.

"The ceiling vents would give us access to the ventilation system and from memory the ducts around here are a reasonable size. Movement should not be a problem, though silent movement is another matter entirely."

"Ah. Yes. Damnably noisy if we are not careful." Barker eyed the cover with narrowed eyes judging how much room there would be to climb into the vent and deciding that none of them would have a problem fitting. "The more of us in the ventilation shafts the more noise we would make. One on his own could be relatively silent but any more than that and we would have to be heard in every room we crossed."

There was potential for unrestricted movement for at least one of their number if they used the vents and considering the extensive network that serviced the sub base, he had to wonder just who he might run across while crawling through the ducts. An altercation in the restricted space would be far from pleasant should he meet someone he would have to class as unfriendly. Anyone crawling through the ventilation system would have to be considered an enemy unless they could do some very fast talking before a fight eventuated. However movement in the vents would not be totally silent so he would have some form of warning to prepare before he came face to face with potential trouble.

"From what the doctor said the room we want is only two access grills down from this one. It would have to be in a straight line and presumably there would be clear vision between here and there. In the event of trouble a light source could be used to provide a basic signal without the need to call out." Polnar bent to gather up a bloodied pillow and sailed the soiled piece of bedding out the door. At the look he received from Barker he shrugged and motioned to the door. "Well, we have to be seen to be doing something and we were assigned to clean the room."

Barker could not quite restrain the smirk. "Yeah, we were and that can be used to our advantage." He was thinking fast now, taking into account the instructions the emergency response team had been issued. "That might just be the best method to get you and Carter out of here. My face is known to every member of Blue Squad and that makes me the one to tackle the ventilation system. You two could take the mattress for disposal and given the current situation that should not be considered suspicious. It would put you in the hallway and give you the opportunity to pass close to Frazier and be free to act once you dump the mattress. If we time this right you should be able to get deeper into the base. Maybe even do a couple of runs, get him used to you moving around out there and if he should hear anything untoward from the room you might be close enough that you could take him down quickly and efficiently. If the situation came to that."

Carter glanced out into the hallway in time to see a nurse with a bundle of bloody bedding exit the room on the opposite side of the hallway. He held up a cautioning hand to still the conversation and motioned them to be silent.

"That might work from the looks of it."

He bent to scoop up a bloodied blanket and with a deeper breath stepped out into the hallway took two steps away from the door and tossed the bundled blanket down on the pillow Polnar had unceremoniously turfed out the door a few seconds before. He glanced up after kicking the bundle into a firmer and more compact pile, timing his movement to watch Frazier nod briefly to the nurse as she passed him. The ESUN agent took no further notice of her as she hurried on and Carter restrained a grin as he returned to the room.

"Okay, that should work. He nodded to her and let her go past. No questions, no inspection of what she was carrying. He just noted who it was and kept to his place by the door."

Barker considered that neglect a bonus. If the two men could gain free movement around the medical centre during the clean up then that was to be made full use of. It did, however, suggest that Frazier was going to be very difficult to coax to move away from that door. If he made any mistakes in the ventilation system then the man might well hear him and that would be the end of any chance they had of speaking to Merquise on the quiet.

"That will work for us. We have no idea how long Simpson is going to be distracted by Broadham, so we had best not delay any longer than necessary. Carter, keep a watch on the hallway and do your best to make it look like we are alive and active in here without attracting undue attention. Polnar get over here and give me a hand to get the vent cover off."

Carter promptly moved further into the room and proceeded to drag a bundle of soiled bedding over to his chosen position by the door and proceeded to strip the pillowcases from the pillows. At Barker's curious look he tossed a pillow case out the door with a cheeky grin and leaned against the wall.

/I definitely want that man as a Preventer and if I can I want to keep him under my command here on Mars. That is, I want him here if we still have a colony after this mess is sorted./

Polnar assisted Barker in lifting the bed and moving it as silently as possible to a position under the ceiling vent and together they climbed onto the framework and studied how the grill was secured. With a grunt Polnar began feeling his pockets and quickly produced a multi tool device from which he pried the required screwdriver head and set to unscrewing the cover. After a couple of seconds he grunted and shook his head in displeasure as he glared at the offending screw he had chosen to work on.

"Damn. For some reason they always screw these bloody things down tighter than they need to be."

Barker grunted leaning around the stretching man to keep an eye on the door and Carter who was watching them. He had decided what they would do to give them the best opportunity to take advantage of the current situation. He could not see them shifting the agent in the hallway quietly and for now he preferred stealth. They could always try the frontal approach if necessary but for now he wanted to be as unobtrusive as possible.

"When I get into the vent I want you to remain in this room for as long as possible. Give me a few minutes to see if the ventilation system does indeed lead to the treatment room. From the blueprints I saw of the base these things are a maze, but I agree with you that it should be a straight run. If the vents are straight forward I would think there would be only the one grill between here and the room that we want. I would think there would be a vent opening to the main treatment room itself. At worst, maybe a closet access, or the attached storage room. Hopefully I can attract Merquise's attention, your partner's at the least, without alerting Frazier to what is going on."

Carter tossed a pillow out of the door as he watched the two men struggle with the grill and winced as Polnar hissed as the screw resisted his efforts to shift it. With quiet cursing and perseverance the stubborn screw finally began to turn and Carter released the breath he had been holding. He had not realized that he was that tense. First one screw and then a second was removed and Carter's attention was pulled from checking the hallway was clear when Polnar began muttering about cross threaded screws.

"Fucking useless bastards couldn't find their way out of a paper bag let alone … Shit!"

Barker lunged forward almost losing his balance and falling from the bed frame, but he held his balance and managed to grip the tilting cover before it dragged the last screw out. His fingers closed tightly on the frame and he teetered on the edge of the bed frame until Polnar twisted and gripped his belt, steadying him.

"Thought it would be a tighter fit than that." Polnar muttered. "Sorry. Guess that explains the tightness of the screws."

Barker sighed softly as Polnar sidled around him carefully and began to coaxed the now twisted fourth screw from the cover. "Let's hope the one in the treatment room fits a little tighter. I'd hate for it to fall out at the wrong moment if I can get in to Merquise. Carter is the hallway still clear?"

"All quiet."

The final screw dropped into Polnar's waiting hand and from there into a pocket as he watched Barker set the grill to one side on the bed, lying it flat to avoid the possibility of it falling noisily from the bed and drawing unwanted attention. The Preventer then moved under the vent and after a moment made a carefully graded jump to earn a secured grip on the edge of the vent with strong hands. For a moment he hung from the edge and then with a soft grunt pulled himself steadily up until his head vanished into the vent. For a long few seconds he hung there, head turning slowly as he looked in both directions the vent ran and then dropped to the bed.

"Right gentlemen, it looks very much like we are in business. There's a dim light in the vent and I believe it is coming from the direction of the next room. I don't believe that I will need more than that light to guide me and it will enable me to keep my hands free."

He motioned to Polnar and both men stepped off the bed and manhandled it out from under the vent. Barker glanced up at the vent and then at Carter who signalled the all clear.

"Give me a hand up to get into the vent. Hang around in the room as long as you can while I make my way down to the room we think Merquise is in. If I can I'll get back to you with a plan based on what he can tell me, before you have no choice other than to leave the ward. You had best secure this vent in case anyone comes by to have a chat."

"Two screws should do it." Polnar agreed and positioned himself directly under the vent. "Carter can give me a hand to move the bed around when you're on the way. If you stand on my back you should have plenty of height to get into the vent."

Barker stepped back onto the bed. "If I can talk to Merquise even from the vent we may be able to arrange a little surprise for Simpson and his buddy. At the least I should learn what has happened in the interim. Wait here for me to get back to you, unless you have no choice other than to move on for any reason. If we do get separated try to remain in the area as close as you dare, but don't arouse suspicion. I'll see if I can find you."

The last thing he actually wanted to do was separate the group when they were so close to being able to do something decisive about the agents. One of the invaders, a wolf in sheep's clothing, albeit in combat fatigues, was just a few meters down the hallway and it went against the grain that he not take the man out. With a little bit of luck and a few minutes grace they might be able to take him down and be ready to face Simpson when he returned.

"Any message for your partner?" He hesitated, one foot resting on Polnar's broad back.

Polnar was bent over, hands braced against his thighs as he prepared to take Barker's weight and support him while he worked his way into the ventilation system. "Tell him to watch his back and I'll see him soon."

Polnar grunted as Barker stepped onto his back and the Preventer grasped the lip of the vent and pulled himself up. Working his upper body into the vent was easy, it was dragging his hips and legs through once he had to release his grip on the edge of the vent that tested him. He heard Polnar grunt and braced himself, stiffening his knees and Polnar began to straighten, giving him a boost and he was in, working his way clear of the gaping hole in the floor of the vent. The vent had looked roomy enough before, but he determined that it might have been roomier. In height he was barely able to get his knees under him and he decided a belly crawl might be more appropriate.

"Well, I won't be turning around in here." He sighed. "Roomy enough I suppose as ventilation systems go, but not that roomy."

"I'll put the grill back now in case we get visitors." Polnar's voice, though barely above a whisper echoed eerily in the vent and Barker winced. "Carter, give me a hand to shift the bed back so I can reach will you?"

Barker sighed and began to inched his way carefully forward, trusting the two men he left behind him to cover every trace of the operation. He tried moving on his knees and quickly lowered himself to his belly, certain that every scrape of his boots against the metal vent walls was going to be audible well in advance of his progress from the rooms ahead of his position. He was quick enough to lever himself back up to his hands and knees at the scrape of his belt buckle against the floor of the vent and cursed softly. There was not going to be sufficient room for him to get his belt off in the confined space and he could not chance that distinctive sound of metal against metal being noticed. He was going to have to crawl on hands and knees and be thankful that the height of the vent at least permitted that much freedom of movement. While he had the room he had to restrict himself to move slowly and carefully and in order to keep his noise down to an absolute minimum.

It seemed to take an impossibly long time for him to cover the distance between the ward he had started from to the next ward along the hallway, but the light grew steadily stronger though it was never more than a dim glow in the vent and then the grill was in front of his fingers and he could clearly hear the sounds of movement from within the room. From memory he determined that Kurtz, Palmer and Markos should be working in that room and he crept forward, lowering himself carefully to peer into the room from the vent.

/Damn. Can't see squat. The angle's all wrong. Just the foot of the bed and … That's better./

Preston Kurtz stepped into the restricted view unfolding a body bag and Barker winced at sight of the black plastic. Neither of the other two men were visible and no one was speaking, but if they were dealing with a body or two he could understand their sombre mood. Careful not to place any of his weight on the grill itself, he lifted himself to hands and knees and was just lifting one hand to move forward when Palmer's voice echoed in the vent.

"So what do you give for our chances of coming out of this mess alive?"

Barker paused and glanced back through the grill. Kurtz had turned his head and paused in opening the bag.

"Don't make the mistake of starting to look on the down side, Bryce. We know we have trouble, but we are not alone in dealing with it and keep your voice down. We don't want to attract any attention."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. What do you think about that trouble we left in the other ward? Barker looked far from happy."

"That is none of our concern at this time. Barker will handle that, but I doubt the man is one of Them. I'd say he would have had multiple opportunities to take down Barker and Carter if he was a killer working against us. My money would be on him being an agent for a mining consortium. Some of the big ones send in undercover men to check out every aspect of an operation before they commit themselves to investment."

/ That was my thought too./ Barker mused and looked forward trying to pick out the dim glow that would mark the location of the treatment room and hopefully an interview with Merquise. He could not afford to hang about here too long.

"I'd say he's more likely to be Mining Consortium Security." Markos commented. "He's not a pencil pusher or an accountant, and I know they employ ex military types since the wars ended. Only the smartest and best go into the Consortium's security services and if they heard a whisper of Peacecraft's presence here you can bet your boots they would send in their own men to investigate."

/Mining Consortium Security? Yes, now that has possibilities. I need a good look at his partner. Maybe they are Consortium./

"You know, I'd love to have a credit for everyone who actually knows that man is alive and on Mars. How anyone realistically expected to keep his survival quiet I don't know." Kurtz muttered. "With the traffic we get through here and the constant little chats the radio operators are known to have with passing ships com officers, it stands to reason that the news has to leak out. Tell someone it's a secret and you guarantee gossip."

/I'd wondered about that myself./

"Agreed and that being the case it would appear the information has to have leaked to sensible people who are not prone to panic." Markos responded. "Think about it. I can't believe the com officers would not share such news, even unconfirmed rumours of Merquise's survival with their First Officers. Any sensible First Officer would make a beeline for a chat with his Captain and any responsible Captain would pass the word along to his contact supervisor on the Board of Directors of what ever company he worked for. When you think about it that's quite a paper trail, don't you agree? There must be a hell of a lot of people who know Merquise is here."

Barker eased himself carefully over the grill. /Damn. They do have a point. I've wondered before how the news of his survival has been kept quiet and distance has a lot to do with it, no doubt. Earth is a bloody long way from Mars, but technology is shortening that distance all the time and with the colony just about ready to open up to general colonization there will be a lot more people passing through once trade begins. I would have thought there would be a lot more rumours making the rounds at the least. I'm the official representative of the Preventers in this area and I've not been notified of any such rumours sweeping the Earth Sphere. There's something wrong there. Hardly a day goes by that the press from one colony or another, or from somewhere on the Earth itself, does not print something about the former world sovereign having been seen alive. Suspected to be living incognito on L1, spotted on L4, a blurry photograph taken at a resort in the Mediterranean … While I was at Preventers in Sanc I dealt with at least two cases a week of people convinced they saw Kushrenada alive and well. Yet oddly enough there was no one who mentioned Peacecraft. I guess the bogey man was just too frightening to hoax about./

The voices of the men fell to echoing whispers as he made his way through the vent and he thought he heard something about the body being moved before he was too far from them to hear more. The light of the next opening seemed to get no closer to him and he found himself sweating with the exertion. He would have expected the vent to be flowing with cool ai,r but that seemed not to be the case and he was worried that there might be a developing fault with the sub base environmental systems. Those men so casually passing the time of day behind him had best find themselves in the computer room with all haste. They could not afford malfunctions or sabotage to add to their woes.

He paused to wipe the beading sweat from his brow and rubbed a hand over his eyes for good measure, hoping that the grill ahead of him might seem that little closer when he again looked. So close and soon he would answer his questions if the doctor had the right of the situation. What he needed was to find that Merquise was indeed in that room and ideally for the man not to be out for the count. An awake and aware Zechs Merquise primed and ready for action was what he needed. What he needed was a full briefing on the current situation and the means and opportunity to devise plans that would permit them to take out the agents intent on killing and sabotaging the Mars project. He needed to sort out the mess and get the base back to working order.

If the base dome had been sabotaged to the point it was not quickly repairable, then he had to arrange a means by which they could transfer people to the larger Alpha Dome. Killers running around loose was bad enough, but a malfunctioning environmental system was another matter entirely. Until they had the opportunity to run a total system check they really needed to transfer the terra formers and there was still the problem of those trapped outside the dubious safety of the base dome to be considered.

/Some of those poor bastards will have spent more than twenty four hours in an enviro suit by morning. God. They must be so bloody uncomfortable. No, uncomfortable is so inadequate a description for what they must be going through. Give me just a little longer, people. I'm doing the best that I can for you. I will have you in the dome and safe. I just hope the dome will not be the death of us all if they have sabotaged the systems. /

One more careful reaching stride, body hunched and trembling from the strain. His knees were protesting the hardness of the metal under them and the strain of keeping his feet elevated as he moved to reduce noise. That grill he had sought was suddenly directly under his head and he stifled the sigh as he slowly lowered himself to stretch out in the vent. Carefully, silently, he inched forward until he could stare down through the grill and into the treatment room.

/Shit. What a thrilling view. The foot of the bed and the floor in front of it. Wonderful./ He strained and angled himself as much as possible, trying to catch sight of anyone in the room, not daring to move more than the raised upper half of him for fear of making a noise and alerting potentially unwanted ears to his presence. /No sign or sound of anyone moving around. Was he right? The room seems empty./

He had the option of calling softly for Wind, but he was not inclined to draw attention to himself if Wind proved not to be present. In the time it had taken him to crawl from the first of the wards to this treatment room anything might have happened. Frazier or even Simpson might have entered the room, or moved on and if Merquise was mobile he might have made a run for it while the opportunity existed. Anything might have happened. He dared not call attention to himself until he was certain the room was either occupied by allies or proven to be empty. If he startled anyone occupying the room they might make some noise that could alert Frazier and bring him running. At this time, that was not a desirable outcome.

/Damn it. It's too quiet. If someone is in there for Christ's sake will you at least cough? Sneeze even. Give me some sign that the room is not empty./

Straining, listening and still nothing. No sound of movement, no faint rustle of clothing or bedding and certainly no voices to break the silence. He scrubbed at his jaw, uncertain what his next move should be, but the ventilation shaft around him was brightened by light from a second grill a few meters further along the shaft and he recalled that someone had said that there was a store room connected to the treatment room. That opened up possibilities to explain the silence.

/Maybe they decided to move into the store room. It would make sense. Anyone coming through the door to the treatment room might be set off guard to find it empty./

"I hate waiting. It seems like hours since they appeared. It's too quiet out there. No one seems too fussed about coming in here to investigate."

He froze at the sound of that quiet voice. It was not a voice that he recognized and he strained, trying to shift the angle of his vision and catch a glimpse of the speaker.

"Be thankful for it, Giles."

/Merquise! I'd know that voice anywhere. Thank God. Maybe now we can get this sorted./

There was a small, tinny rattling sound he identified as metal on metal. "Are you sure about this?" The man's voice sounded doubtful. "Are you sure it's going to work?"

/I presume that would have to be Polnar's partner. He seems to be getting on alright with Merquise, but then I very much doubt that Merquise knows what this Giles person is actually doing on Mars./

"No." Merquise's voice sounded tired and there was a worrying undertone Barker identified as pain.

/Doc must have been right. He's hurt./

"Damn. Zechs, I wish for once you would lie. At least it might make me feel better."

He resisted the urge to grin at the slightly annoyed tone of that voice and reflected that if it was him in the same situation he might have made a similar comment. The voices of both men were low, Merquise a husky rumble and Giles' tone a low tenor and though they were not whispering they were not speaking in the normal register. He felt reassured that both men were where he had been told they would be found. Now he could finally get this briefing underway and get those people into the dome.

"Why lie or bend the truth? We both know well enough how much shit we are in."

The deep voice was accompanied by the faint creak of the bed and the rustle of either clothing or bedding. Barker frowned at the hitch of breath that accompanied that movement.

"Are you alright?" He detected genuine concern from the speaker.

"Yes, fine considering what has happened. I just want this mess finished and Noin moved into the hospital."

There was the sound of movement and again the bed creaked. "Feel any more comfortable?" A low grunt was the only answer and the man sighed. "They can't have your kids. I don't think they would be here now doing what ever it is they are doing, if they did have the babies. They would be more likely to be going around killing indiscriminately if they had the kids."

"I know." His voice was little more than a whisper and there was a wealth of pain in that low rumble.

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"Tell that to the families of the dead."

Barker decided he had heard enough. The two men seemed to have a fair understanding of each other and he was reminded that time was marching on. Polnar and Carter would not be able to remain in that ward forever and he needed to confirm their course of action with Merquise and get back to them if at all possible. He pressed his face to the grill, trying to see any hint of movement.

"Wind?"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	149. Chapter 149 Chapter 148

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 148

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01:45 approx Sanc time 23:35

Giles

/I'm mad. Stark raving bloody loony. I have to be to sit here and calmly wait for Blue Squad to come through that door and for the shit to hit the fan. Well, maybe I'm not exactly calm, but I am waiting here and I'm fighting the damnable urge to hit something that is looking more and more likely to be the man I'm here to protect. Freaking dumb blonde. He knows as well as I do what is going to happen when Simpson arrives and decides to investigate this room. Simpson can't know that Zechs is in here, but he is suspicious about something … otherwise why put the guard on the door?/ His gaze flicked back to the man lying back against the pillows, eyes closed but body too tense to be sleeping. / How can he be so calm?/

He had managed to manhandle Zechs back to bed, though that exercise had been complicated somewhat by the blonde's insistence that he not be caught without the salve to his modesty of gaining some underwear at the very least. It seemed Merquise objected to the prospect of being taken into custody when in the nude. While he had to admit that it would not be his preferred option to be caught with his daks down, he personally thought it of secondary importance in their current situation. He had not thought that the prince of Sanc would have had modesty issues. Few soldiers did.

At the least they had gained some time if nothing else from this incident. While Simpson and his crony were within the medical centre they could not be hunting the base for others. Preventer Eagle and whoever he was bringing with him into the base, should have made the arranged rendezvous by this time.

Given the seriousness of their current situation Barker could only give them so much time to join him before devising and acting on some plan of his own. He doubted that he and Zechs were going to be of any use to Barker, so the Preventer should wait only so long and then devise a plan to hunt the bastards running loose in the base and not just Blue Squad, but the cold blooded murderers taking down the sick and helpless.

He scowled. /Sick and helpless./

His eyes flicked from the door to focus on the man sitting back against the pillows piled up against the bed head. He needed to stop thinking of Zechs as he would think about most other people he had worked with. While he admitted that Zechs might not be in the best physical condition now, he had to admit that he was not to be judged by the standards he would normally apply to his work mates. The man's body clearly showed that he was in peak physical condition, but it was more than physical condition you needed to take into consideration when thinking of Zechs Merquise. In this situation he was physically impaired by the injuries and exhaustion of the hunt, but he knew enough of the man not to allow the physical aspects of the situation to dictate the outcome.

/No more underestimating the man. He's dangerous. Bloody dangerous and I think that given his condition he would be more dangerous now than if he was fresh to the hunt./

In the time he had had with the man he had underestimated him on too many occasions. Each time he had thought Zechs was out of the picture he had been forced to reassess his parameters. Even given the injuries he carried and especially considering the emotional stress the man was under, Giles decided he really did not fancy the idea of taking him on. Zechs had already proven if you valued your hide you did not underestimate him.

There was also the frightening prospect that the man might be nearing crisis point and who knew what he might be capable of if he crossed that line?

Noin had destroyed the storage room and the control room of the Shuttle Control Tower when she had lost control.

/More than just gifted, I think, but … How could they have such capabilities … and exactly what are those capabilities? Raydon knows something and he did not inform me, his Gifted representative on this mission, of what Zechs is capable of. He just warned me to be wary and do the best that I could. How much does he know and what is he trying to keep secret?/

"Worried?" The deep voice was low, barely above a whisper and crystal blue eyes were suddenly open and centred unblinking on the door.

"Yes. I'd be a fool not to be worried in this situation. We are cornered in here with nowhere to go and we know Blue Squad is right outside that door. I'm a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them."

"Touchy, aren't we?"

Giles sighed. /God. He never deserved that. I'm tired and I want this over with./ "Sorry. Tired, I guess."

Zechs sighed softly. "It's okay. We both are tired and the truth is we don't know how long we have and that only aggravates already tense nerves. They'll come, but we don't know when and that requires patience be exercised." Blue eyes flicked to him and then back to the door. "We can make them come, if you would prefer to end this. Instead of waiting for them to come to us we can dictate the time as they have dictated the place."

/Shit. I have to try to keep you out of this. I can't deliberately expose you to confrontation if I can possibly avoid it. For the love of God, that's why I'm on Mars./

What was the best way to turn down that offer? Was the man serious? Knowing Zechs now as he did he was not so foolish to think that it was a casual offer. Zechs Merquise did not do casual.

"No. There is always the chance that something might come up and they may turn aside. Something may eventuate that they might consider to be of more importance than investigating this room. I still don't know what exactly makes him suspicious enough of the room to place a guard on the door."

Blue eyes rolled to centre on him. "My, look at that. A pig just flew by the nonexistent window." Zechs murmured.

/ He's … At a time like this he is cracking jokes?/ "Oh droll. Very droll." Giles could not restrain the grin, amazed yet again by the man who, time and again, defied the profile Giles had read prior to arriving on Mars. He silently added a sick sense of humour as an addendum to the profile and decided that he could rise to the occasion. "Did I see Santa in hot pursuit with his sleigh and eight tiny reindeer and making no ground on them?"

A smile curved the line of his lips and amusement twinkled to life in those arctic blue eyes. "So long as you can be catty, my friend, you are still breathing and while you are still breathing you can still fight."

/Oh yeah, you were an officer. You know just the right thing to say to distract me. You have a knack for reading your men, I think. Raydon has a treasure in you if he can convince you to work for the station alliance … although that's not the only thing he has planned if you are willing./ Giles snorted softly. "Yeah. You have a point. Let's not encourage them to come calling."

"Every minute Simpson is off haring after this surgeon you told me about, gives Barker and his team that much longer to infiltrate the base and make it down to the shuttle bay. When he makes it to the bay and does not find us there waiting for him, he will know that something has gone wrong and act accordingly."

His own gaze moved back to the door and he sighed softly. Every second they could win a delay was, in truth, to their overall benefit. Zechs had the opportunity to rest; Barker had the chance to work deeper into the base and then perhaps work toward a plan to take out Simpson and his people. If a distress call had been sent then there might be help on the way from any passing ship … and more than the registered traffic was out there. Yes, there were options and he should not want to end it as quickly as possible. Sometimes speed was not the best option.

"Yeah, well it certainly did manage to go wrong." He rubbed his hands over his face, taking the time to steady himself. He had to be calm and focused because he was all that stood between Merquise and capture. "I wonder if Chris has received an acknowledgement and perhaps even instruction from Station?" He rested his head back against the wall, tilting the chair precariously until he hooked a toe under the bed frame to steady his new position. "When we sort this shit out there is still the small matter of that war ship heading toward us to be dealt with."

"Ah ah. Naughty boy. You should know better, Giles. The Wellington is a patrol vessel, specifically a Raider hunter and therefore can not actually be classed as a war ship." Zechs grimaced at the distinction, knowing it for the hypocrisy it was. Whatever the ESUN decided to call that class of ship she was as fully equipped for war as the Alliance ships had been. "In these enlightened days of peace we have no further need of War Ships, remember."

Giles snorted and offered up a finger to show what he thought of that. "Right. I believe that about as much as I believe the rumour that Raydon wears a pink tutu to bed. Tell me, do your visions agree that there is no longer a need for such ships?"

Zechs winced, which was about the reaction Giles had expected, but he never offered anything by way of apology. Zechs had largely preferred to steer clear of the topic of visions and Gifts, but Giles knew only too well that the man needed to talk about his ability. From the onset of this friendship Zechs needed to become accustomed to the fact that not everyone was going to look at him as though he was an escapee from an institution for the incurably insane because of any talk of visions.

Zechs Merquise or Milliardo Peacecraft, whatever he wanted to call himself, needed to understand and accept that there were other people out there in the ESUN and beyond who were, like him, graced with the Gift in one or more varied forms. Zechs had to understand before they could help him that he was not alone and that he could count on other people to understand and to be there to help when he needed understanding the most.

The pale locks shook from side to side at the small negative shake of his head. The blue eyes deepened in colour, a reflection of the shift in his mood and his voice was low, a husky whisper when he spoke. "I don't think we should be talking about that just now."

/ No, I don't suppose you would fancy talking about it and not just now. You are not going to be an easy one to accept the help we can offer and I admit your case is a little …unusual compared to most. You are going to have to face it, though. Raydon will not allow it to drag you down into insanity and he can be a convincing bugger when he wants to be./

With a low sigh Giles allowed the chair to softly settle to four legs once more and turned his attention from the door to the man beside him. He supposed he could afford the time to start this now. Simpson might take an hour yet to get back to them … or more.

"I'd say that there is no better time than now. It's not as though we can go anywhere or do anything about it, now is there?" He eyed the small pile of items arrayed on the bed between them and shrugged. He'd work on the bandages in a few minutes. "Zechs, in what you can do you have to understand that you are not alone. There are others who share both your abilities and your reserve. Did you realize that Raydon is a clairvoyant? Like you he foresees future event. If he did not have that ability I would not be here now and you would be facing this alone."

"Raydon … He said something … odd, the last day I was on Station One. He said that I would return to the station and would not listen when I said that I would not return there. He was quietly adamant about that."

"Mmm, well most likely he had had a vision, major or minor I can't say, as I'm not privy to the Training Masters' files. There are various types and strengths to the ability you share in common, but his skills have been proven time and again. How do you think the Station ships and Raydon himself were there at the exact point in space to pick you up out of the Epyon at that particular time?"

He noted the flash of remembered pain that was usual if you mentioned the Epyon or the Libra, but on this occasion there was something else reflected in those blue eyes that worried him. It was something he could not quite put his finger on but it was disturbing none the less and he reconsidered continuing this, but there was no help for it. Once begun he could not stop, and he would take this opportunity to have Zechs as something of a captive audience. He could only hope that the man would actually listen to him.

"I'm not privy to the Training Masters' records on Raydon, so I can't tell you exactly how strong his talent is, or how much detail he sees when he has visions. From what I have been told by other clairvoyants some things are usually seen with more clarity and detail than others. Some of those Gifted that I've spoken to on the station during my training are only too willing to talk to another who shares the distinction of being one of the Gifted. We are something of an exclusive club there, but its such a relief to be amongst those who know that you are not a raving loony. You'll see when you come just how much of a relief it is. While my talent is far from that of clairvoyance, I do know that clairvoyant talents can vary quite drastically from each other. Some people have a sensitivity, an affinity, for elemental incidents. For example some people are especially sensitive to fire related events. They tend not to 'see' any visions unless fire is somehow involved. There are other triggers, of course and other sensitivities, such as water related Sensitives who, if they were on Earth, might be able to foretell severe flash flood damages caused by storms and such and who on a station might see floods resulting from faults in the systems of the stations. There are also some people who have some intensely personal triggers to their talent." He caught the frown steadily growing into a scowl but chose to ignore it. "One poor bastard only ever has visions in the heat of the moment."

Blue eyes blinked and he could almost see the words running back through the man's mind, checking that he had heard correctly.

"Pardon?" Zechs looked confused, deciding that he had definitely heard what he thought he had, but certainly did not understand the comment.

Giles had the grace to blush, but if he read the man's sense of humour correctly he would take this as a means to lighten the atmosphere a little. Of course, there was the chance that Zechs was that sensitive about his abilities that he would not likely see anything amusing at all concerning discussion of Gifts and abilities. It was a chance Giles decided he was willing to take.

"Ah, he … always gets his visions while he is having sex."

Blue eyes blinked and then widened as he realized what he had just heard and he looked to Giles with raised eyebrows.

He shrugged, resisting the urge to squirm under that gaze. "He has a very understanding partner."

Pale lashes curved over high cheek bones, hiding those intense eyes and the change in them from amusement to something Giles thought might be the reflection of a memory.

"Lucky man."

It was a whisper and there was something else in that quiet voice that sent a warning rippling through Giles. He eyed the blonde for a long moment, hesitating as he wondered if he dared to ask, then shivered as he considered if he dared not ask the question. The simple truth of the matter was that the Training Masters on Station One were going to want to know everything he could possibly learn about the blonde's past experiences with his Gift and the more that he could learn of those abilities the better it would be for them both when he faced the Trainers at their initial interview. Embarrassing as he knew it could be, Zechs was going to have to get used to the idea that while you were in training there was no aspect of your life that would remain untouched by those men and women Raydon would place in charge of him.

"Did you …" / Don't kill me. I have to ask./ "Did you ever experience a vision when you were … were … well …" /Damn, how to phrase this delicately?/ "Well, otherwise … occupied?"

The man seemed a statue on the bed, carved of the purest white marble. "Don't go there, Giles." His voice was a low rumble that was barely audible, but held the warning clearly enough.

/Damn, that was not my best effort at broaching a delicate subject. Do I dare continue?/

Did he dare not? He had to know everything he possibly could learn about the man's ability in case Zechs experienced crisis before they could reach the safety of someone with far more training than he had. There were some ships out there with staff members specifically trained to handle the needs of the Gifted and surely Raydon would have had one of those ships dispatched to Mars? It just remained to wait until the ship could be accessed.

"The Training Masters will go there." He chose to offer a quiet warning. "It may seem invasive, but for them to do the absolute best that they can for you … and it is in your best interests … they have to know every aspect of your life, even the more personal details. It is their job to dissect you, to study the individual parts that are you and then put you back together in one piece. One piece, I might add, that is infinitely easier to live with than the you they started with. At first you would not even realize that parts of you were missing and had been for some time, but the Training Masters find those missing parts. They also find those parts of you that you desperately want to hide from. They find what you can't hope to understand and show you how to understand it. They help you to find the You that you were meant to be. Nothing can be hidden from them if they are to help you and I freely admit that they can seem like cold hearted bastards at times and that you would give your eye teeth to shoot them but … Zechs, in the end you thank them for it. By the time they have put you back together into the whole being you were meant to be, you know that without their help you would never have been whole. You would not have been able to live with what you are and I know that you are having more and more difficulty with dealing with that aspect of yourself."

He was surprised the man had permitted him to ramble on with his attempt at an explanation … or was it a warning? He was uncertain which he had really intended, but he did know that he had spoken only the truth. He had had his own time with the Trainers and every Gifted individual allied to the stations could say that.

"I'm not sure that they could be of help to me." The deep voice was a low rumble and the blue eyes were clouded, thoughtful and finally those long pale lashes dropped to curve once more over high pale cheek bones and hide the pain. "I'm not sure that anyone can help me."

/That is far more than I thought I would get out of him at this stage. There is something in his voice that suggests … I don't think they will find him easy to deal with. He has a lot of baggage and I for one wouldn't want to go there. The Libra … the whole war thing would have to be investigated. Dissected. Especially if what he told me earlier is true. He did the whole thing based on visions. /

He sighed softly, thinking of his own time under the care of the Training Masters and the days when he would have given anything to be able to rend them limb from limb because of their infernal prying. Yet those days had been infinitely preferable to the days when he had existed alone with the terror of the ability he could not understand. The fear and horror … and Zechs had been through more than he could ever begin to comprehend. No, he did not envy the Trainers.

"I used to think that I was beyond help. That no one could ever understand me or what I endured … and I did endure life, not live it. Certainly I rarely lived a day I could say I actually enjoyed. It was … hard some days. Hard. Such an incredibly inadequate word to describe the hell I lived through. Some days were extremely difficult. I would wake up and face the start of yet another day and know that …"

He sighed and closed his eyes against the sight of the room, against the bland uniform furnishings that could have placed him anywhere in the ESUN. This room awoke too many memories of times spent in treatment rooms waiting attention for his injuries and the pain of his body had been only a minor reflection of the agony within his mind.

"I admit that I did not believe what I was told about Station One and when I found myself there … I wondered what the hell I wanted to go there for. There were some days after I began the training that I came frighteningly close to ending it. To killing myself just so that I could stop the strangeness and the headaches … God, the headaches were so bad. I can't begin to describe to you how bad the pain could get. But they were there, Zechs, all the time. They were there and they told me day after day that I was not alone, even when I was blinded by the pain. There would always be the sound of their voice, or the touch of a hand when I needed it the most. They were there for me and I was so grateful, even though half the time it was what they were doing to me that was causing the pain. Someone told me when I was a kid that if there was no pain then there was no gain. It was and is a philosophy they follow on the station I think. They don't intentionally hurt you, but it's an inevitable result of awakening and establishing control of the individual Gifts. I don't know of anyone amid the Gifted who did not go through the pain. They call it the 'Awakening'."

Zechs was watching him, blue eyes dark as he considered every word spoken and Giles hoped that by being so candid about the training techniques and their side effects that he was not scaring the blonde away from coming to the stations. If there was one thing he did know about this man, it was that Zechs Merquise was no coward and he had dealt with his own particular demons alone for a long time now. Giles suspected that for the promise of understanding and simple companionship honestly intended, that Zechs would endure much more than the pain he had known.

He wondered if the blonde had ever had anyone who would be with him without wanting something from him. Had he ever really had friends?

"As I said, you might hate the bastards for what they put you through, but that's only while they are actually doing it to you. Every day, every session gets harder and harder and you want to do nothing but run … Then you'll find that something inside of you will change. It is sudden sometimes, but mostly it is a gradual recognition of the changes taking place. That's the way it was for me, a gradual change I recognize as I look back, but at the time of the revelation it seemed so … miraculous. They'll bring you to an understanding of yourself that you could never have reached on your own. After it's finished … There is just something about that moment that changes everything, including how you look at the bastards who seemed to take a fiendish pleasure in torturing you. Suddenly you recognize them for what they are. You know them to be your friends. Your best friends. The best friends you have ever had and they are that because they understand you. They really have an understanding of you that no one else can claim and we need that, Zechs. We need to know that there is someone who understands why it is we do what we do. Why we are who we are. It's especially important to know that they understand how we came to reach this point in our lives. It's an incredible comfort, too, to know that they will always be there, waiting when we need them."

"They understand you?" His voice was a low rumble, barely above a whisper and there was an expression on his face that Giles could not name. He seemed unaware of their surroundings and Giles could only wonder what it was that he was seeing.

"Yes. They really do."

The blue eyes drifted open, the fine aristocratic face tilted up to the ceiling. "That's … No one has been able to understand. I've not found anyone who … I don't even understand, Giles. I don't understand how I do what it is that I do. I don't understand how I see what I see. I can't … I don't …" He was plainly struggling for words to express his thoughts and Giles suspected he thought he was failing miserably. Zechs had a long way to go before he understood. "If I don't understand what I can do, how I can do it and why I can do it … how can I expect others to?"

/God. Progress and a lot faster than I thought. The really bright ones don't usually see it so quickly; don't reach this point so soon being lost in the fear of it. Swamped by it. You are an exceptional man, Zechs Merquise./

Slowly, so as not to startle the man into possibly striking out and trying not to disturb the thoughts he needed Zechs to consider, he reached out to lightly lay a hand on the lightly bandaged wrist, careful not to put pressure on the burns. If Zechs could reach this point so quickly he did not want to undo the good their talk was having.

"That's just it, Zechs. That hopelessness that others can't understand, that sense of being alone is what we all go to the Training Masters feeling. We don't understand ourselves and what we do, so how can they possibly help us? Surely if we can't understand it, and it is we who are doing this impossible thing, then how can they offer to help? I've been there, I've asked those questions and I've cursed at them until I was blue in the face and I've screamed. How I've screamed, both in rage and in pain and they were there through it all. It doesn't work the way I thought it would. They know. They really do know and they actually can help. What you always need to remember when dealing with the Training Masters is that they have been there, where we walked and they have come through the darkness that is ignorance and fear; and they have come ahead of us into resolution and understanding within themselves. The Training Masters are Gifted themselves, Zechs. That is how they know. They are like us, they have the same type of abilities in common with other Gifted individuals and they have all been through the same hell to get where they are. They have been there and they want to bring you through it."

A delicate shudder trembled the strong body, felt through that lightest of touches, fingers to wrist. Zechs made no move to set his touch aside.

"Who are they?"

"When I was last on Station One there were seven Training Masters present. Four of them are clairvoyants of varying strengths and abilities. Some of them are telepaths and clairaudients and one a telekinetic. I believe that there are four assigned to Station Two and the Training centre there. Before I left for Mars I heard that they were looking for some of the Gifted to train as Training Masters to be assigned for Station Three personnel. I don't know where they came from before they began working at Station One, but I do know that two of the Masters were originally with Raydon when construction of Station One began. From what I overheard they had been with him for years."

"Do you know him well?" There was curiosity in the quiet question and his face was carefully neutral, giving nothing away of why he asked.

"Raydon?" At the brief nod to confirm the identity of his interest Giles sighed. "Not half as well as I hope to know him. He's unusual, don't you think? I don't know how much contact you had with him but … I've never met anyone quite like him before. He seems to have this ability to gain your trust without any apparent effort on his part and I've never known anyone to be able to do that before. I've never been a person to trust easily, but Raydon … He was different. I trusted him from the outset."

"I have known another like him." A whisper.

"You have? Who?"

When he spoke it was the faintest breath of a whisper and it held overtones of a longing that was in no way sexual, but was never the less heart felt. "Treize."

"Treize Kushrenada?" /Damn. I don't need you thinking about your past but … You need friends and maybe it is time to let you turn the subject away from Station and what awaits you there. You need friends and friends listen when you need to talk. I think I very much want to be friends with you, Zechs and I hope you don't back away from that contact. I heard about Kushrenada … Who didn't?... but I never really gave credence to half of what I heard. If the rumour mill is accurate then you knew him better than most. Were you lovers? I don't think it's safe to go there./ "I never met the man, but I have heard a great deal about him. I always put most of it down to hero worship and wondered how so many people could be so brainless. To hear them talk you would think that the sun shone just for him."

"I am sure that Treize could convince you that that was indeed the case, if he felt it was worth his time to bother." Zechs mused and a faint smile curved his lips before fading as a hint of a frown creased his brow. "He was very charismatic when he wished to be and now that I think about it I believe there were some odd similarities between Treize and Raydon. I think … I think it might have been something in the way they looked at you. Something in that look would convince you to act as they expected you to. I don't think it was a physical similarity but … there was something there that reminded me of Treize when I spoke with Raydon."

"You knew him well?" /Don't take that the wrong way. I'm not asking for any intimate details or anything, just trying to learn more about you. You knew the man and rumour had it that you knew him very well indeed./

"Since I was a child. Before Sanc fell he would come to the palace with his parents. His mother and my mother were very close friends, before mother became Queen of Sanc." The scowl deepened and he seemed to make a visible effort to lighten his mood, but the words were tinged with a darkness that hinted at a past he truly did not wish to remember. "After the massacre I eventually found my way to them and once I found them … Treize seemed to be there whenever I needed him. He always seemed to have the time to talk to me."

/Well … If you knew each other for that long why and how did you end up fighting against him in the war? I don't understand what could have set you against him. The sadness in your voice shows you didn't want it to end the way it did. I don't understand. What did your Sight reveal that made you turn around and fight him? I don't envy the Training Masters who have to deal with you and your memories of the war. I think running through a mine field blindfolded would be less hazardous./

Zechs sighed and eased his weight a little, pressing his back deeper into the pillows bolstering him. Blue eyes flicked to Giles and then back to the ceiling. "He was what you would call Gifted."

For a moment the words did not register and when they did Giles gasped and turned startled eyes to find Zechs was watching him and there was a quiet amusement reflected in his face. It appeared that Zechs had expected just such a reaction from him.

"Kushrenada was Gifted? How do you know?"

Zechs absently flicked an errant strand of long platinum blonde over his shoulder. "I grew up with him, just as he grew up with me. I lived in the same house as Treize from the time I turned seven, until I attended the military academy. I watched Treize with adoration and I knew him as few others had the opportunity to know him. He was Gifted and as I knew about his differences, so he knew about mine, although I … closed it out. After Sanc … The nightmares and the visions must have merged and I … closed it away. Treize had his own differences, his own demons to deal with, but where mine terrified me he seemed not to fear his at all."

/Kushrenada was Gifted? That might explain a few inconsistencies about the war but … there is something missing from this picture. What was he, a clairvoyant? No, he can't have been. Surely he would not … well, Zechs is certainly clairvoyant and he admits that he shaped the war to avoid something worse … What ever that might be. If not a clairvoyant … then what?/

Zechs sighed softly and watched him, clearly expecting more questions and indeed it looked as though he was inviting Giles to speculate. Hours ago this would have been unthinkable and Giles was strangely humbled by the willingness of the man to confide in him. It seemed that Zechs had been desperate for a friend for him to accept so readily a stranger.

/A stranger who is not so different from him, perhaps? A stranger who has the same oddities from the norm? Damn, you are a confusing sod, Zechs. The last thing you want from anyone is pity, but I'm finding it damnably hard not to pity you./

He sighed softly and met the blue eyes. "Some people cope better than others with being different. Some people can cope more easily than others with the differences that mark the boundaries and abilities of the individual Gifts and with how other people perceive them. So … what was he? A Telepath? An Empathic Telepath? A Suggestor? Is that how he could convince so many people, seemingly without effort, that he was worthy of their adoration? Was his ability similar to mine in that regard, only obviously of a much higher level to be able to affect so many?"

Zechs shook his head slightly, denying not the abilities, but the use for which they might be used. "Treize never thought of himself like that. I know that there was a mystique about him and I will admit that he worked hard to cultivate that mystique, but no … No, he did not have an ability that was akin to yours. He earned the mystique by his own merits, not through use of his Gift."

"What then?" /I can't believe you are being so candid about this. Jesus, you must have felt isolated. Alone. Worse than I felt for certain./

"Treize was …Unique. I've not met anyone who had his talents. He was in many ways reminiscent of a computer. You input data into a system and it would be sorted, evaluated and a plan would eventuate. Treize was like that. He would input every available piece of information and a plan detailing years of activity and each and every individual action required to bring about the end result that he determined to be the best option would be formulated." He shrugged. "I'm not explaining this very well and I know it's not easy to understand what I mean but … that was Treize. I know you don't understand what I mean and I don't understand it myself, anymore than I understand my own … ability."

Giles was almost certain that offered 'ability' was originally going to be 'curse'. If Zechs was starting to think of the talents they shared as abilities and not curses then he was not about to complain. If he was lucky he might even escape a lecture from the Training Masters for mishandling the blonde's condition if he could continue to get Zechs to re-evaluate his outlook on the benefits of being Gifted.

"I don't believe for an instant that I am wrong in my evaluation of the war. Treize planned what happened. Every part of it. It was a detailed plan, complex and in need of regular evaluation and adjustment, but that too was taken into account. It was pure Treize, a complex mix of circumstance and deliberate provocation, modified when required but always aimed true to his goal of attaining a lasting peace. What I do is … different. Entirely involuntary. What he did … was phenomenal to watch. He would physically be in the same room with you but at the same time he would not be there and there were some instances when I swear he would … glow. I dreamed, but Treize evaluated fact and crafted from it a grand design that was infinitely flexible, but irrevocable. He intended there be peace and you could not disrupt that design. I'm not making any sense, am I?"

He lightly touched the limp hand so close to his own, a soothing gesture. "Actually, you are. I think." He ignored the arched eyebrow. "I'm not sure but … I think I might have heard of something similar to what you suggest before and it was definitely mentioned in the context of a Gift. A Psi ability." He frowned, trying to remember what it was he had heard. A discussion between Training Masters he was sure, but the content eluded him. "I can't … No, I can't recall, but I think I can assure you that you are right. It was a Gift, even though I can't tell you how they labeled it. Look, I have to ask this. If you think Kushrenada planned it …"

"He did. He planned everything, right down to Yuy handing over the Epyon to me."

"I see … Well … What about after that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well … You acquired the machine, the Epyon. What about the events that followed your use of it? I mean, if Kushrenada planned everything as you suggest then why did he allow himself to die? Why would he have allowed himself to be in such a situation where all of his hard work would result in death? Surely if he planned so complex a set of circumstances as an entire war involving the Colonies and the Earth, then he could have worked something out that meant he would not die."

"I'm not sure I can explain this so you will understand but … Treize saw himself as a servant … as a man who had the ability and resources required to bring about improvement in the ESUN. He was a soldier and he was always destined to be a soldier, but that does not mean that he approved of needless death. He hated the old battles where Commanders would use other men as cannon fodder and he dreamed of a day that there would be no need for men to die because of the whims of others who were far from suited to command, or who had no respect for the individual. He wanted peace. He remembered the names of all those who died in the war he staged. He remembered all of them and not just those who fought for Oz. Alliance, rebel, White Fang … If their names were known, then he knew them. He had immense respect for life and he did not personally fear death. He … did not exactly welcome the prospect of his own death, but he knew it not to be a threat and I believe that he suspected that for the peace to eventuate he might have to die. It was a price that he was willing to pay if it brought about a lasting peace."

"Alright, I can accept that the man might not have been afraid to die but still … This ability strikes me as being a type of clairvoyance if he could arrange events as you say he did. If you take that one step further, then you have to admit that with that clairvoyant ability he should have been able to tweak the events to bring about a conclusion where he did not need to be in a position where he might face a fatal situation. Unless..."

"Unless?" Zechs prodded gently, looking interested.

"You may not want to hear it, but it is something all of us with the Gift must face. Sometimes it just gets too much and if you don't have a safety net you fall. Is it possible that he wanted to die? The suicide rate amongst the Gifted who do not receive help is high. Might he not have see this as his release?"

He shuddered, not a delicate tremble this time but a very visible shaking that was brought under control slowly. Giles suspected that Zechs had had his moments when ending the pain was very attractive indeed. He wondered briefly if the man had ever actually tired, but shied away from such thoughts. This was not the time.

"He was not suicidal, though I admit that there were some days that I did wonder about him. No, Treize was not suicidal. He was manipulative and ruthless to ensure that certain events unfolded in the direction he required them to progress his ambitions but he was not labouring under a death wish. He wanted something from life and he could not get it until there was peace."

Giles frowned. "What was it that he wanted?"

Zechs closed his eyes, but not quickly enough to hide the anguish that flickered there. "I don't know. He played his cards close to his chest and I don't understand what it was that he intended for himself, but he needed me to use the Epyon and I think that he was convinced that he needed to die to achieve it. I don't understand that though. What was it that his dying was supposed to achieve for him? What was this thing that drove him to such lengths to manipulate the entire human race into fighting amidst themselves like errant children and push me into using that bitch of a machine? Why did I have to use the Epyon, Giles? He made certain that it fell into my hands and that I would feel a need to use it and that resulted in the shape that is this world we now live in. Of what possible use to Treize could any of this be if he was dead?"

Giles leaned back in his chair and considered the closed door through which so much disaster was waiting to happen. Blue squad would be in soon and one way or another the long awaited showdown would unfold. This too was the result of that war and Zechs using the Epyon. Had Kushrenada's planning extended this far beyond his death?

/Too much. I feel I am on an out of control rollercoaster heading for disaster. This is not the time or place to consider this, but I can't ignore it. I've got the man talking and I never thought I stood a chance of that. I want to keep him talking, but Simpson will be here soon enough and how do I take him out? How do I get Zechs to open up like this again if Simpson barges in that door?/

He sighed softly, glancing at the quiet man who had returned to his contemplation of the ceiling and he watched a progression of emotions flicker within those blue eyes that frightened him. There was an expression on the cold marble of his face that was very cold indeed and also touched with a certain hope. Giles swallowed, afraid but determined to find out what the man was thinking.

"You are wondering if he is dead, aren't you?"

Zechs sighed and the blonde head nodded, just once. "Yes. Yes, I am beginning to wonder just what it was all for. If he was dead then what was it all for? He was a man who liked to see results. I am heartily sick of being used, Giles and Treize was the biggest user of all."

"The reports all agree that no man could survive that explosion."

"Heero Yuy survived the detonation of Wing. I survived the detonation of Libra."

"Point. You did not doubt that he was dead before. Why now? Why do you think he might not be dead?"

"Because I never really looked at it before. Because of something you said. Because it reminds me of things I have done and the truth of your words. You said that out of all the data he had assimilated, out of the scenarios he must have formulated, that he should have been able to evaluate an out for himself. I grew up with him, Giles. I know how cunning he was, how determined and how focused he could be. I don't understand the facets of his talent, his Gift, but I do know that it can not have been the same as what I experience. Where I see all of the changes possible … all of the ripples in the pond that can be changed by so much as a misplaced sneeze and become lost under the onslaught and am useless to everyone … he would not be so limited. Treize had the strength and the capability to make those ripples work for him. He would have had the strength to ignore them as wel,l if he judged them insignificant to his needs. He could be a cold bastard when it was required."

"You saw him die. I saw the footage, grainy as it was, taken from the file archive of that fight. There was little of the suit left."

"They found … a little of it and what they did find … might have been broken off from the main suit. Things that on reflection I think might have been more likely to have totally disintegrated if the damage was as bad as they said. I … Yes, I saw him die, but … I was too far away to see more than a brief flare in the darkness and to know that I had failed. That I had not changed what I so desperately wanted to change."

"What?" Giles leaned forward, drawing the blue eyes to him, noting again that odd dilation and feeling that sense of change. Under the grip of his fingers Zechs winced and the blue eyes blinked and the oddness was gone and he was just a man who had witnessed the death of a friend. Who had witnessed too much death and wanted to find peace within himself. "You tried to change …?"

"I tried … When Epyon drew the vision of his death from me … When I saw that … I didn't want it to happen. I … I tried to reach for a different fate. We had known each other for so long and the thought of going on without him being there … I was being selfish, something he never would have done, but he was the only family … He was the only family I had left, other than Relena. She was my sister and didn't know me, but he was my brother … We grew up together. He was there when I needed him, when no one else was and there had to be alternatives available. I tried to keep him alive. I missed something. I couldn't bear to lose another one who meant something to me. So many of them had died. That day … That moment … I don't know what it was that I missed. When I saw the flare in the darkness I presumed that I had failed. I knew I had to finish it and then it would be over, but Epyon lied. Treize was dead when he should be alive and I just wanted the whole thing finished! Then the visions left me but the darkness wasn't what I was hoping it would be."

/Shit. Oh shit. I can't have him doubting what he sees in visions but … What might that mean? What could it mean to the Earth Sphere if Kushrenada is alive? What could it mean to Station One?/

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	150. Chapter 150 Chapter 149

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 149

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01:50 approx Sanc time 23:40

Zechs

/ Did I fail? I thought … Did I fail to keep him alive? I was sure I failed but … Is it possible to change at least that isolated outcome without sending everything spiralling into disaster? I know I was supposed to have control over everything that was happening but … I … I could not … be sure … It was all so much. Too much. I thought … I thought I failed. I think … Treize planned his death. I am sure he planned to die but … He was only too capable of lying to me … and … and Epyon … Epyon lied to me. It seemed that everyone lied … We were all deceiving each other. I was … the biggest deception of all./

Epyon.

The machine that Treize had created with the ultimate intention of driving him insane. That cold calculating machine that talked to him in insidious whispers of how Treize intended he use it for Peace. Epyon, the demonic looking machine that housed within it something he had never experienced before. Something that was so different to the operating system of the Wing Zero, the only other system that he might even consider comparing it to. Too different to believe that they were ever intended for the same ends. There were similarities between the two systems, he could not deny that, but those similarities were few in the overall design.

The greatest difference he had found between the two was that Zero was honest about what it was while Epyon …

Epyon could lie.

Epyon had lied.

Epyon had an intent that was frightening.

Heero had been right about the machine's ability to lie. He had been right, but he could not have known, he had no concept of the true depths of deceit to be found locked within the system. Heero had failed to understood the intelligence that lurked beneath the facade of the machine. And it was an intelligence, a vast awareness that he had sensed all too quickly on donning the helmet and that intelligence, that echo of Treize had drawn him in, called to him and taken him into hell.

Epyon had many secrets and it was too like Treize. Manipulative. He understood what Heero meant when he said that he did not understand how Treize thought, but he doubted that Epyon had been able to open up to Heero. From what he had seen of the one dubbed the Perfect Soldier he doubted that at that time Heero entertained his imagination in such a manner that would key in the hidden abilities of the operating system. He doubted that Heero had been born with the horror that had marked him, that ability to see events in advance.

He could only wonder what the machine would have done had Winner and his space heart been exposed to it.

Surely there were others out there, somewhere, who were capable of using the monster as he had?

Not that he would wish it on them.

/Enough speculation over what can not be changed./

Such events were past and rehashing the old pain and uncertainty could be of no assistance in this current situation. It was enough to know that he had survived against all the odds … and against his own planning.

That bastard of a suit had lied to him about many things, not the least of which was the release he had sought and had been denied him. How many of the visions he had worked on, discussed with the machine and chosen pathways from, had been affected by the lies the system was capable of telling? Or had they been lies? Could the machine evade? Had it deceived him, refusing to follow a course of possible action to its conclusion … and thus lied to him, though at the time he would not recognize the deception ?

He had not always followed the course the machine determined to be the most appropriate.

He had balked on more than one occasion when using Epyon and something within him had been unable to follow the seemingly heartless demands. He had broken the connection between himself and Epyon on a number of occasions and not because of exhaustion or even temper. Disillusion … depression had been a problem.

/Depression. Then no more than now./

So many options, so many ways for mankind to kill themselves, to fight their brothers, to rape their sisters, to murder and pillage …

Something within him more than once had pulled him out of the sea of vision, unable to continue. That place within him recognized some limit, be it with the vision itself or with his ability to cope with the consequences. He was uncertain which it was. Even when he had been in tune with the operating system there had been instances when he had balked, withdrawing from the link through some external stimulation. Such an instance had been in the moment when death had come to the man who had been more than a brother to him and who had meant life to him and a promise that peace would come.

/Treize./

Treize had promised him that peace would come. That they would bring peace and after that … after that … Treize had died and he had protested that death, both when he had first noted the vision of it and later, when he had mourned the instant of that distant and so very brief flare of light that made the conclusion inevitable.

The flare of the explosion that had heralded his failure was a pain he would never live without. He had determined to see that man survive to witness the peace they had long talked about and he had watched that explosion with a sense of failure … of hopelessness. He had heard the softest whisper of that rich voice and even now he was uncertain if it had come over the radio or if he had heard it in the echoes of vision.

/The other side?/

He had failed to alter circumstances to ensure that Treize lived to see the peace they had planned and that had not been the first, or the last, of his failures. He had repeatedly failed to tweak circumstances to better conclusions as time had worn on and Epyon had faded to a nightmare and the visions had returned to haunt the darkness that should have been his death. His release.

/Lucrezia./

It had not just been in altering the death of the man so many, including himself, had revered. It had not just been that occasion that he went against Epyon's decision on which was the most advantageous route to take amid the sea of vision. Perhaps one of the most notable rebellions he had managed against the tyranny of the machines use of his ability, was that instance when everything had been otherworldly. He had been submerged within working vision, lost within a complex spiral of active vision and trying to find the clearest path, even as he had fought within the battle and he had come face to face with Lucrezia Noin.

He shuddered delicately at the very memory of it. At the demand of the intelligence that worked within the system that had confirmed the choicest path to result in the least destruction and death. He had been shocked out of vision by that demand. Epyon had demanded a price from him to complete the vision that he had been unable to pay. Something within him had protested, had refused, had reared from the ocean of possibilities, and by that rebellion more had died but … He had not killed her. He had been unable to strike her as had been demanded of him. Lost within visions or not as they had battled for peace he had been unable to pay so high a price.

/Is that why I could not love her as she willed? When I look at her … when she comes to me for loving, I see always the faces of those who died because I was a coward and could not kill her./

Epyon had fallen quiet then, leaving him to flounder if only for a few minutes, to fly eventually back toward the Libra after the battle's conclusion and cringe at the changes his rebellion would cast into the future he had sought to guide.

Those faces that condemned him.

Was this why everything now was going to hell in a hand basket?

Despite the projected consequences Epyon had drawn from him, he had been unable to kill the one woman who had been a friend to him.

/Friend?/

More than a friend. The word itself, friend, just did not describe everything that she had meant to him. Either then or now. Friend was so inadequate. He loved her. He loved her, but not in the way she demanded he love her and with Lucrezia it had always been all or nothing.

When she had stood in his path and he had known he would be unable to carry out the vision that he and Epyon combined had determined to be the best course to the peace, he had broken the link with the machine. Out of the sea of possibility he had determined four options that had near identical conclusions echoing throughout time and from which he could safely devise the one pathway to that Peace that would avoid the Generation Wars.

Epyon had demanded he chose the path that began with her death.

/I was a coward./

He had refused, though he was still uncertain why. He simply had been unable to take that step.

/You wanted her to die, you red bastard … but why? I could have brushed her aside, gotten around her, thrown her far enough out of the confrontation zone that she would not feature in the equation at all, but … You demanded that she die. That I kill her. Why? I broke your control at that point … I broke the stream of possibility and probability and came very close to destroying the chance to avoid the wars to come. It was so close and it was because something within me demanded I go against your evaluation of those possibilities. I could so easily have cast us directly into the Generation Wars. I did not kill her, I could not and I could feel … such anger within you. Such raging fury, but I think there was … resignation? Is that the right word for what I felt? I think I felt you resign yourself to my choice. I tried later to talk with you about it, to demand answers for why you chose her death as the better course, but I never did manage to get out of you why you intended she die./

He would never know the why of it.

Epyon was gone in the fires of Libra, though sometimes it seemed that there was an echo of a deep voice that seemed to come from the very bowels of the Earth. So deep and so profound it would echo through his dreams. The bowels of the Earth? Or should that be from the heights of the Heavens?

/Ah, no. God. I'm starting to think of it along the lines of a God. It had a big enough ego, I suppose but … I can't do this. I just want it all to stop. There was supposed to be peace after the Libra. There was supposed to be peace across the Earth Sphere and no descent into the wars that would take generation after generation of fragile human life into oblivion. For me … For me there was supposed to be Peace too. The peace of an ending to it all. An end to the memories, an end of the visions and instead there is this. Epyon lied. There is no ending to this horror. How can there be an end while I see these things? Awake or asleep it makes no difference. The visions come. Why? I am so tired of trying to see my way clear of this mess./

Was his only escape death? He had asked for such to end it and Epyon had lied, giving him over to this hell that killed those around him. His death would have ensured that these people, who had the misfortune to be on Mars with him, would have continued with their lives, all unknowing of the hell that followed Milliardo Peacecraft around. Should he die now?

He could not take that road. Such hope was the past and he must deal with living again.

For better or worse.

He must never forget that from the past and his failures there had also come hope.

From the horror of the Libra had birthed a future that had resulted in the sweet scented warmth of two small, warm bodies and for them, his hope, he would do the unthinkable. Such fragile and helpless things babies were. Such innocence deserved a chance at life. He would go on and he would endure whatever was demanded of him and he would carve out a future for them that did not include the slavery he had glimpsed in vision. Not even slavery that surrounded them with gilded halls.

Slavery in its many forms was still slavery.

/I hate this. I hate this waiting for the right moment for things to fall into place. I don't even know if I'm following the road to disaster or salvation. Just once I would love to dare to take a spontaneous decision, to do something without thinking it through to a conclusion that might follow hundreds of blood drenched years into the future. Just a few seconds of spontaneity would be heaven in which I could care only to scratch an itch and not have it rebound back on those around me./

If only.

What if.

They were words he had come to hate with a passion, for they defined his existence as no other words could. Particularly the 'What If'.

/What if I do this? What if I permit him to do that? What if the five hundred and seventy fifth ant born today gets stepped on by the child of a diplomat who is allergic to the bite of its brethren and whose father misses a meeting where he would have voted to grant relief funds to starving orphans of L2, because he attended her sick bed and one of the orphans died who should have grown up to be a scientist who would discover the cure for … God … If there is a God up there, can you not take away this horror? Can you not give me release? I'm a selfish bastard. I could make it so much better for so many people and here I sit screaming at the unfairness of it all. Wailing like a deprived child. I'm such a coward./

His fingers curled into fists, clenched tight and then forced slowly open. No man should have the curse that haunted him. Was it any wonder that he was not sane? He knew he was mentally warped, but he was what he was and there was nothing he could do to change the way of it.

He knew.

He had tried.

/ No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, people die. Do I sit on my ass and do nothing? I … can't. No matter how hard I try to make it better, even just a little better, someone always pays a price. A price that at worst results in death for them, or for their family. At best it seems to result in a disaster for someone who, at the catalyst moment in time, does not even know them … but will in some future time. Or know a descendent or … /

Just thinking about it was too much.

He sat there, watching that door, this man who seemed to be promising him some sort of hope. Some means of dealing with this horror he had to live with. Giles. Haydon Giles. Did he offer hope of salvation, or continuing despair? Did he dare to hope that there was help for him? The only help he wanted was …

"Can your Training Masters take away this thing … this Gift … that you consider so great a thing?"

He heard Giles suck in a breath and cursed his wayward tongue. He had not meant to voice that query, though now that it was spoken he desperately wanted an answer. In a moment of unthinking weakness he had voiced the question and even to his own hearing it sounded faintly suicidal. Desperate. Now the man would watch him like a hawk in fear of him deliberately doing something that would end the matter with his death.

Suicide administered by his own hand, or by throwing himself into a hopeless fight, was still suicide.

Giles could not know him well enough to know that that was not going to happen.

His moment of seeking suicide had ended when he had survived the Libra. No blaze of glory for him. Ever.

He had already decided that he must live.

For his children he would endure the unendurable. For his children he would give everything that lay within him to secure a future and he would even front these mysterious men and women Giles spoke of with such reverence and gratitude. He simply could not see how these Training Masters could assist him to live with the horror of it all, without resentment or humiliation on his part. He had sensed neither of these emotions in Giles when he had spoken of them prying into every facet of his life, but Giles did not hide the secrets that he did. Giles had not lived the life he had lived.

How could he expect anyone to understand what it was like? He would not wish it on anyone.

No one could understand what it was to feel, to see the ripples of event echoing throughout time. How could he describe what it was like to witness the repercussions of seeming innocuous events rebounding off of each other repeatedly and with each touch having more and more of an effect the further ahead you looked. Touch rebounded off of touch, which rebounded again and again and the patterns interlocked, changed, wove tighter and tighter weaves until everything was a seething mass of possibilities. Never ending, interlocking and in the long term, unavoidable. He hated the hopelessness of the visions and he wanted it to stop.

No man or woman should know so much of the future that they feared to draw a breath for terror of disturbing the ripples in a pond that was event echoing through time.

"They would not try to. That would be the last thing they would want to do, for any type of talent you might possibly conceive. Zechs, killing this vision of yours won't cure it. Trying to kill something that is so much a part of you would succeed only in warping who you were meant to be."

He had expected Giles to say something as meaningful as that. Meaningful? Did he not mean meaningless? Giles could not see how the interlocking ripples that frightened him and made him want to crawl into a dark safe place … which in itself would cast yet another series of ripple within the dark possibilities.

Endless.

The most intricate of Celtic Knots was childishly simple in comparison.

"Meant to be? You speak of fate, Giles. Fate?" He could not keep the bitterness from dripping from the word. "If you had seen half of what I have seen you would not mention fate."

That broad hand rested lightly on his shoulder fleetingly, as though he was well aware of how touch at this time was both craved and avoided. He wanted to be touched, comforted, but this was not the time … and this man, friend that he was proving to be, was not the one to offer that comfort. He did not know who the one was who could make him forget, even for an instant, all of the horror.

"Talk to them, Zechs. That is all that I can offer, but it's a genuine offer. You have to tell them everything. Everything." Gentle emphasis on that word. "Don't hold anything back of what you saw, or heard and felt. What you suspected … Everything that you can think of, no matter how inconsequential it seems, should be told to them. They will not ask for explanations, for why you did what you did. That is not what they will need to know to make a difference. To help you they need to know it all without edits or frills. No trying to avoid the issue, no embellishments, no evasions. Just the simple truth. All of it. I know its easy to say that and not so easy to tell … and I guess for you after what you have been through that it will be harder than I can possibly hope to imagine but … Zechs, if they are to help they need to know and even you can't deny that you need help."

"I don't want to remember. I want to forget it all ever happened. I think I need to forget, or I will go hopelessly insane." A whisper filled with the longing for the peace only lost innocence could bring. He could never again be innocent.

"Will forgetting make it go away?"

Why did he have to ask that question above all others? The one horrible question that damned him for an eternity of possibilities. That demanded he be an adult and face his mistakes, his terrors and his despair. Only children were innocents and he had not been a child since the day he had watched his parents killed and his country fall.

It had been a very long time since he had been innocent.

"No. Nothing but death will give me that kind of relief and I'm not ready to die."

Giles would not believe that, of course. Giles would think him one small step from ending his torture, not understanding that he understood such was not to be his release. It was too easy. He had too much to pay for to take the easy solution. No, he had to atone and in that atoning he must provide his children with the kind of freedom he had never known.

They should not be bound in chains of blood.

"You can be helped. It is possible to help you gain some control over the visions. You can be helped to understand what these visions are. With luck and no doubt a great deal of effort, it may be possible to develop some understanding of how they work and above all how to deal with the visions when they come and even make them work for you."

It would be so easy to descend into madly hysterical laughter, but there was danger beyond that door that he really did not wish to attract before he had no other option. At least the fear of discovery could serve to keep him sane. A bout of hysteria might be the final nudge to total insanity.

"They might teach me what I can do with it? I know what I can do with it, Giles. I know only too well. Look around you. This entire blood soaked mess is born of the Libra incident. This is what I can do with the visions, but even with the best of intentions you can be damned for an eternity of hell. Especially with the best intentions."

"Are you a religious man?"

Zechs closed his eyes against the sight of the room, not daring to look at the man whose eyes he could feel on him. He dared not look, fearing what he might see in those eyes.

This man knew more of him than those few people who could claim to have known him for years. Even Lucrezia did not know him as this man now did. He offered hope that there were others who would seek to understand. In their company he might not seem so alone, even though he knew they could not truly learn to control the vagaries of future options.

There was no force that could hold sway over that floodtide.

He knew that from experience.

"I was taught to believe but … That was so long ago, Giles. The world has changed. I have changed. I don't know what I am, or what I should be, or what I could be, might have been or will be one day. I see things that I don't know will happen, but must be accounted in the design else they change it and if they do present change are those changes for the best, or are they to be avoided at all costs. I have the seeing of these possibilities, but I have no Epyon. I have the Sight, but just enough to torment me with the knowledge that I might make a difference, never enough to know that if I effect change it is for the best and not for the worst possible event in the future that may see us gray haired or so much dust before it eventuates. I don't see possibilities that affect the here and now very well, Giles. What I see now and have seen in the past, are the possibilities that have effects not so much for this generation, but for the future generations. It may reflect for the better or worst in one hundred, two hundred; even a thousand years in the future. Provided I can evaluate information I can keep the chain of event working until I run out of links and the data to feed them. Epyon enabled me to run those links for hundreds of years and now I am … consigned to my own head. To what I alone can see. I hate that machine with a passion, but I miss it. It was an extension of what is within me." He sighed, pressing a hand to his eyes before allowing it to fall back to the bed. "That does not even begin to describe what it is that I see."

"Shit." A whisper, soft and infused with a kind of horrified awe. "That … is different to the clairvoyance I am accustomed to."

"I can't do that now. That projection of event spanning generations of mankind. I still have the dreams; see the possibilities, but never in the numbers or with the clarity that the Epyon system provided. With Epyon's …" He sought out the appropriate words but could not settle on how best to describe the bonding he had experienced with the machine. "I suppose it might be called a focus? With that link to the machine it was possible to keep a chain of events moving, growing, evolving. I don't have Epyon anymore. I can't see that far. Without it I … make mistakes."

"We all make mistakes." A sigh and a light touch to clenched fingers. "Can you explain to me exactly what it was? What the Epyon was?"

Blue eyes flashed with a pain that was at once deep and intensely private before closing against the sight of the world and against any accusation that might come. /I am such a coward./ "Can I tell you what Epyon was? I … I wouldn't even know where to begin. It was … like nothing else I have encountered … No. No, that is not entirely true."

His voice was low, steady and reassuring. There was no accusation there, no judgment. "Before I left Station One Raydon ensured that I was briefed on you. I wondered why, but I learned before I arrived on Mars that every agent sent out into the Earth Sphere who is Gifted receives the same briefing. He did not tell me that you were Gifted though I should have suspected such was the case, considering the pains he took to give me the briefing. I compared notes with my partner and between us we knew a reasonable amount of information about your career. Raydon saw to it that Chris was briefed on your past before he joined me. From what you have said I am guessing that you are referring to that other operating system that was used toward the end of the war. The Zero system. I presume it was something like Epyon?"

He dared to raise his head and study the man for a long moment before he could stand it no longer. No accusation in that look, no damning glare for lives lost in the past or this present. He was not used to having people look at him without accusation in their eyes. He turned his gaze back to the door, back to safe neutrality. Back to waiting for that featureless panel to burst open and then he would be face to face with men who would be accusing him. Face to face with men too much like himself.

Face to face with men who slaughtered his friends and thought nothing of destroying the only place he had had to call home for so long.

Men who were indeed like him. Killers.

"No. No, Epyon was not like Zero. Zero was a calculation device. Input data would be processed and determined valuations converted to options which would then be made available to the pilot. Zero was a tactical computation device geared to battle situations. One thing I am certain of is that Epyon was not that." He raised his hands to stare at them seeing the blood that no one else could see and let them return, lifeless to the bed. "No, not Zero. The nearest I think I could come to describing the Epyon system, would be to say that it was Treize on a grander scale."

Giles blinked, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

He dared to look but he met only confusion, not accusation. "I told you, Giles. Treize was what you call Gifted. He was in many ways comparable to a computer. He was meticulous with details, no information was ever considered inappropriate to be included in his planning. The complexities of the computations, the plans he would devise, would leave you breathless if you could hope to follow the convoluted turns. If you input sufficient data into him he would evaluate a solution to every problem presented to him. In some respects Epyon was like that. The interlocking possibilities were data stream probabilities and I was a part of the system. I was an important part of the system. When I used the Epyon system it was a merging of human consciousness … my own … with something that was not human, but was a …"

He searched desperately for some word to describe what it was he knew in his bones and was far from surprised when he could not find the words he needed. He just did not have the vocabulary. Could these Training Masters teach him an entirely new language?

"In some ways Epyon was a calculation device, but that does not in any way begin to describe what it actually was. What it could do. When I was a part of the merge with the system I could see a stream of projected event that was similar to what I now see, but it was so much more powerful, clearer and far more refined; more defined than I can hope to achieve now."

"Where did this stream of projected event come from?"

"From me."

He hated to even voice this much. It felt threatening, as though there were always ears to hear and then there would be accusing fingers and descent into insanity.

"Somehow Epyon could reach deep within me and draw it all from that place inside of me. I would be pushed down. It felt that I was literally being pushed down into the … possibilities. The visions. I would be there, conscious of it all and after the first few occasions I could even manage to manipulate some of the streams of possibilities. Epyon would guide me. He … It was teaching me. I would see it all, the good and the bad, the happy and the … There was always death. We are born only to die."

He shuddered and pulled himself back from the brink of threatening vision. He could feel it stirring within him once more, feel it creeping through his blood, thundering in his temples and he could not afford to permit it to overtake him.

"I would know that I had to choose a path for everyone to walk. Everyone. If I chose to turned my back, if I walked away and refused to choose … The cost was too high."

"Do you want to tell me about the Generation Wars? I believe that is what you called it."

He shuddered. He could so easily trust that quiet voice. Tell him the horror. Describe the destruction, the devastation … the death. He had never wanted to tell anyone before, but if he gave in to that urge to talk … There would be two haunted by the visions instead of one and he could not do that to a man he so desperately wanted to call friend.

"I think … I think we are safe from that. I hope."

"Because of Libra?"

"Because of the events that surrounded the Libra. That was the focus point. The fortress itself. The birth of the future for mankind was the battle that surrounded Libra. From that point the futures exploded into so many possibilities. It could have birthed so many things I can not begin to describe to you and I still don't know if what I saw, if what I chose, was the best solution."

Giles sighed and shifted in his seat. "That is twice I have asked you about the Generation Wars and twice you have avoided answering me. Yes, you have answered, but you answered me with an evasion. Zechs, you can't keep doing that. It will prey on you, haunting you until you go down into a screaming heap. You are only human and humans have to share. We are not and have never been solitary creatures. You will have to talk about it eventually, if only to give closure to the incident for you. I know I'm not the best person to talk to, but you are going to have to let it out and I think you will talk better to one of the Gifted. If not to me … and I am offering my ear.. then maybe you could find what you need in Raydon. He has a good ear and he does not mind it being bent. Or perhaps one of the Training Masters would be even better. It does not matter who, so long as it is someone. You have to share the load and lighten the burden on yourself. We who are Gifted don't leave one of our brothers or sisters crawling in the dirt because there is a weight on their backs no one man is capable of carrying. We share the load."

Did he know what it was he was offering? Could Giles ever understand the burden imposed on him by Epyon and his unending data streams?

"I don't know if I can share what I have seen. What I did and why I chose to do it. I've tried to bury it for years. I don't know if I can … unearth it." A whisper.

"The weight of it grows a little more with each passing year, doesn't it? I know, Zechs. I've been there. The burden gets heavier and heavier and eventually you have to break. It's inevitable. Sharing the load works."

A slow, deep breath, a sigh that seemed to carry overtones that he was sure Giles would have no difficulty in reading. Fear, unease and maybe, just possibly, if he was lucky the man might detect that hint of hope he could not quite squash. When was the last time he had found himself wanting to talk to anyone about the past? He had thought he had wanted to forget.

Now he was not so sure.

"I'm not sure I can find the words necessary to tell anyone what I have seen."

"There are only so many words in the English language and many ways to use them. We'll find the right words." Giles lightly touched the man's bandaged wrist, careful of the pressure he applied to the burn. Enough to reassure, not enough to offer pain. "If necessary we will even invent new words until we have just the right words needed. You are not alone. I can't stress that enough. When you are one of the Gifted you learn that you are not alone and that we will not leave you to face anything alone. We don't abandon our brothers. We give them a hand up and we stand there and hold them up until they can stand on their own two feet and thumb their nose at those who pulled them down. When you hit bottom, Zechs, there is only one way left to go."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	151. Chapter 151 Chapter 150

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 150

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01:55 approx Sanc time 23:45

Giles

"It may take some interesting grafting of the English language to formulate words that best describe what I saw … What I see. To give an accurate accounting of what the Epyon system could do, of what it could draw out of me would require … I have a reasonable education, but I don't have the right terms to describe the experience. Describing Epyon would be hard enough, but even more interesting bastardizations of the language would be needed to describe the projected outcomes I wanted to avoid at all costs."

The Generation Wars.

The words went unsaid but were understood by both men.

Giles grunted softly, an acknowledgement of the difficulties adequate description of the machine and the visions it incited would entail. He settled back in his chair, his attention focused on the door and for the moment permitted silence to fall over them. He had forced Zechs through a gamut of emotions and the man needed to rest. It was enough for the moment that the subject of the Training Masters had been broached, with the added bonus that Zechs had started talking about his abilities without much in the way of reservation. It was progress that he had not shut out the questions and even volunteered information.

The silence that fell over them was a comfortable one, in which each considered the revelations made and the emotional mine field crossed with giving voice to those memories of a time that had shaken reality. This man seated beside him knew far more about the truths of the One Year War than all but a handful of people now alive. He was one of a very select few who had been intimately knowledgeable of the workings of the mind and motives of Treize Kushrenada. That very personal knowledge of the man who had died the acknowledged World Sovereign, would need deeper examination in the fullness of time, but that would need to wait.

Giles was familiar with the common view of the war, the view of the little man who had watched all of the posturing and scheming with innocent ignorance from the sidelines. He was one of the common ordinary every day people who had watched with little understanding of the motives, means and political designs entailed in the war. He had not had even an indirect part to play in the Libra incident, as by the time that battle had taken place he was out of the military and in a veteran's hospital recovering from severe injuries and determined to show the doctors that they knew nothing.

/In the overall scheme of things I suppose what we have done today is not much progress, but it's a milestone regardless. A start has been made and that's one of the hard parts. He's set his feet on the path to understanding and accepting what it is that he can do rather than run from it. Asking the right questions and looking for the answers is one of the hardest steps for the Gifted to make. That and acknowledging they may not be mad. It's gotten him thinking about what he can do other than wallowing in denial and most importantly its started him considering the benefits of actually talking to someone who won't consider him a fruitcake. Everything I have said to him is true. He needs to talk. That's a shit load of baggage to carry around for anyone and he has to unload some of it before it's too late. If he doesn't start sharing soon … I'm surprised he's not already a raving loony./

Not that many people did not already consider Milliardo Peacecraft to be that raving loony. He himself had not suspected the depths that lurked within the man who was feared from one end of the ESUN to the other. Even supposedly dead his name was whispered when spoken at all, the fear he had generated in the masses had thus far ensured the peace endured, but how long could fear of a dead man endure?

It was stupid. Were there so few people who actually knew the man and not the legend?

There was a great deal more to this man that was hidden beneath the surface he projected. While he had been resident on Mars he had been unfailingly polite, quiet and he had never overstepped the boundaries of his confinement … Well, Giles amended, he had never been caught overstepping those boundaries. It was patently obvious now that Zechs had well and truly wandered astray from those designated areas assigned to him. Zechs had an extensive knowledge of the systems of the terra forming base and its buildings and he seemed to have possession of every security code used in the colony.

/I doubt that visions alone could provide him with the information he knows, but as to how he acquired some of it … Maybe I'm better off not knowing./

His eyes flicked up to the clock set on the wall and he growled softly in frustration. The second hand seemed to take forever to flick its course over those numbers and the minute hand seemed never to move. It was always the way when there were events of importance to be waited on. Creeping time.

Any minute now that door would slam open and they would find themselves facing the drawn weapons of Blue Squad. Would they come in firing? Certainly not if they suspected that Zechs was in the room, but it was pointedly obvious that they had no idea he was here. If they knew they certainly would not have left them this long to wait. They, Blue Squad and its controllers, wanted Milliardo Peacecraft alive, for what purpose he could not know but that did not matter. What was of importance to him was the assignment to protect the man, but that assignment was more than just a job. He had come to know and like the man and for that reason more than Raydon's instructions he was sitting here now, waiting for the door to open.

When it opened they could be in serious trouble. If Blue Squad had had enough of the situation and decided to come in guns blazing, they were dead men. The bed was placed directly opposite the door and anyone coming into the room firing would be certain to take out the blonde and himself in a hail of bullets. There would be no time to so much as duck, let alone throw themselves out of harm's way. No, if the squad came in shooting they were dead men.

Yet the plan called for them to be right where they were, sitting ducks in a carnival gallery; waiting. Did Zechs have a vision of it being safe to wait as they were, though he claimed not to know the outcome of this situation? He suspected not. The man was capable of running blind and had a good feel for the situation and Giles suspected he trusted Simpson to keep his head.

"I hate waiting. It seems like hours since they appeared and still they have not come in here."

He resisted the urge to tap his fingers in an impatient pattern against the bed. The tension was rising and becoming unbearable, which only caused him to have to resist the urge to reach out and pull out a length of that blonde mane in frustration. Zechs appeared to be more than content to sit there and admire the perfectly boring scenery.

/By now he must know every rivet in the steel walls intimately. God, I can just imagine the squalling hissing cat I'd face if I dared reach out and yank on that blonde mass. /

"Be thankful for it, Giles."

/ Well, shit. Why did he have to say that? I knew he was going to say something like that. Don't even know why I spoke truth be told. It's the tension getting to me. He's got far more patience than I have./ He closed his sight against the door and indulged in some measured, calming breaths. /I know the longer they delay and find something to do out there the better it is for us, but I was never one to take waiting for action well. My lack of patience is probably why I am where I am now./

He considered that thought for a moment and smothered the smirk. He dared not let Zechs see that expression or he might demand an explanation. One he did not wish to give.

/ Guess I have more patience than I think. Certainly Raydon trusted me enough to assign me this task on Mars and never took the job away from me and reassigned me when he learned that Zechs was here. He must have thought I was capable of handling any situation that might crop up and the man himself. I'm still surprised about that. All he did was modifying my instructions to include bodyguarding one Zechs Merquise from the side lines and sent me back up. Did his Gift show him this situation? No, surely not; which is strange. He'd never have stood still and permitted so many to die needlessly when he could take action. That's just the way he is. He backs the little man. If he didn't Station One would never have existed. /

Such speculation was getting him nowhere. He sighed and reached to lift the kidney dish set to one side of the bandaged hand, picking up one of the twisted pieces of metal and wincing as it knocked against the sides of the dish with a soft tinny sound.

"Are you sure about this?"

Merquise smirked and met his eyes, the blonde head shifting a little in a negative motion. "No."

"Damn. I wish for once you would lie."

There was no denying the evil glimmer in ice blue eyes that warned of a wicked sense of humour normally well hidden. Merquise was one who generally played his cards close to his chest and kept his emotions to himself. Understandable too, though it was damnably frustrating.

/Why does he have to sound so bloody cheerful about it? He looks almost smug and it's just warped to be amused by this idiocy. Still, when you see the things he has hinted at I suppose you have to find the odd little amusements in life. I just hope he's not thinking if Simpson takes him down today then he doesn't have to face what is to come with the Trainers … All those reminders of the past … Or … Damn. Not very charitable, Giles. Despite everything I don't think he's suicidal. It's just not in his nature./

"Why lie? Or bend the truth? We both know how much shit we are in." Zechs shifted, trying to pull himself up a little higher in the bed and pain flashed briefly in those arctic blue eyes.

/Damn and bloody hell. Neither of us are in any condition for this. My ribs are killing me and he should be flat on his back and sleeping. I know the Doc said his shoulder's not broken but … That was one nasty bloody bruise. His entire shoulder is black and you can't mistake the boot mark. As for what he wants to do … with that hand … I know it's the perfect camouflage but …/

His eyes flicked down to the assortment of items spread on the bed near the kidney dish. He would need to take appropriate measures and by rights he should already have acted. Zechs seemed not to be in a great hurry though. Or was he more suicidal than he supposed to delay now when that door could slam open and the confrontation would be on them.

There was a quick masking of the discomfort in his eyes, but it had been seen and Giles was reminded that he was going to be causing more pain in their preparations and that that was why they had delayed as long as they had. To give Zechs some small relief before they changed the bandage on his hand.

"Are you alright?"

He could at least try to make the man more comfortable. He rose and helped settle Zechs a little higher in the bed, plumping the pillows and angling them, hoping to make him a little more comfortable but knowing that there was little they could do just now. Any sound coming from this room could bring Blue Squad down on their necks.

/Okay, maybe he is thinking about avoiding the inevitable … but I honestly don't think he would just up and surrender himself, even if I have frightened shit out of him telling him about the Trainers. He seemed genuinely interested and he's made of stern stuff. I doubt he'd take fright from the idea of talking to people. Besides, he has those two kids to think about and there is Noin. Yes. Noin. If she's out for good, dead or reduced to a vegetable by the crisis incident, then he's all those kids have left. Smart enough to know it too./

"Fine considering. I just what this finished and Noin moved into the hospital."

He noted the tightness around the man's lips at the mention of Noin and Giles winced, wondering if perhaps Zechs might not be something of a telepath. It was most likely to be coincidence of course, but with the Gifted you could never quite know for certain. He would not discount the possibility of some telepathic ability lurking amid that extraordinary clairvoyant talent. Until they had Zechs on Station One and tested, his abilities defined and tagged, they would not know exactly what his capabilities were.

"They can't have your kids. They would not be here now if they did have the babies."

If he was thinking Noin then it was a pretty safe bet the twins were featuring in his thoughts as well. Time was both blessing and curse in their present situation and he wished it was all over, one way or the other, but he knew better than to wish for a swift resolution. Every minute, every seconds delay was in their favour.

/I can't give him much, but I think that is fairly safe to offer that much comfort. If he'll accept it from me. I honestly don't think they could have found the twins. If they did have them surely Simpson would be using them to get Zechs to walk docilely into their arms./

"I know."

Giles sighed softly and leaned back from Zechs, settling into his seat and his gaze found its way back to the clock and the agonizingly slow passage of the second hand. The clock literally was ticking. It would all come to a head when that door opened and he would be wishing they had more time.

/It's a relative thing, time. Never enough of it or way too much of it; depending on circumstances. Stupid trivial bloody thoughts. I'd better get to and begin the bandaging. We can't have much time left./

He honestly could not see the surgeon being able to manage getting Blue Squad out of the medical centre. He was honestly surprised that the man had even attempted as much as he had. Admittedly he was ex military and no shrinking violet but still, taking on Simpson was taking his life into his hands. He could not believe that anyone would play games with that man willingly.

"Wind?"

Conscious thought froze and his hand went automatically to the weapon concealed under the pillow and he blinked, staring with widened eyes.

/Shit!/

He was sitting beside the man and he had not registered the move, but suddenly his wrist was encircled by Zechs' hard grip. His fingertips were resting on the butt of the gun, but that strong grip steadied him and restrained him from pulling the gun. He froze, looking to the blonde, but the ice blue eyes were trained up over his shoulder … no, higher than that. Over his head.

"No. Friend." Zechs hissed, the softest of sounds and those blue eyes flicked to meet his for barely a second before returning to the ceiling. When he spoke his voice was raised but still low enough not to be heard from beyond the door. "Eagle?"

From the ventilation shaft there came the sound of a body shifting. A faint scrape of metal on metal. Giles did not recognize the voice, but thought it might be the voice from the radio. The acoustics here were far different from the radio in the shuttle.

"Yeah. Just thought I'd come and pass the time of day with you. Status?" The voice was low, barely audible, so the man was obviously aware of their situation.

"It's Barker." Zechs breathed.

He panted softly, trying to release the tension. He had not realized he had stood up and now lowered his frame back into his seat. It took a conscious effort for his fingers to release the cold metal of the weapon and only then, when his hand had relaxed it grip on the gun, did Zechs release his wrist. He clenched his fingers for a moment, calming his nerves and met the blue eyes, exchanging brief nods and slid the gun back under the pillow and out of sight. In control of himself he half turned in the chair, looking up and over his head.

He could just make out a part of a face pressed to the ventilation grill and he shuddered.

/Thank God Simpson has not thought of using the vents. If he got in there we would not have known he was coming and it would all be over. Damn. I must be slipping. I'm tired and making stupid mistakes./

It was small comfort that Zechs had seemed just as surprised as he. Why had they not considered the possibility of someone coming at them from that quarter? They had crawled through vents not so long ago themselves and found it a most effective means of movement. They were both tired. They needed to end this before exhaustion made the outcome of the situation inevitable.

"One body injured but active, one incapacitated. We have a plan, though with your presence now it might not be needed. Report."

/I can only hope it won't be necessary to place him at such risk. The first glimpse of Zechs and Simpson will be all over him like a rash. I know there's not much I am going to be able to do to stop him./

"Well, we're here, that about says it all. Had a little chat to a Doc a few minutes ago. He informed us of what has been happening in the interim. He said you were out of the equation. Unconscious and physically impaired. Not likely to be of any assistance in this business."

The man grunted; more a snort of disgust than anything and Giles caught the glint of amusement in blue eyes. Incapacitated? They did not know the man at all.

/More bloody dangerous now than if he was fresh. The body might have problems, but there is nothing wrong with the mind./

"From what was said they know about the killers running loose and that Simpson and his cronies are not to be trusted. I'm not so sure they understand just how dangerous Blue Squad are, but at least they are wary of them."

There was once again a shifting in the vent as though the man sought to improve his view and thinking about it Giles supposed he would have a restricted view of the ward.

"You would be Haydon Giles?"

/How the hell does he know me? Unless …/ Sudden hope was a warming beacon of flame in the chill. /Chris? Son of a bitch. You managed to wrangled your way into the action? Ah, God I hope so. If you are on the team … / "Yes. How did you know?"

"Chris Polnar says hello. He's working with me just now and keeping an eye on things down the hall. Wind, I've two men to back me up. Didn't dare bring more given the uncertainty of the situation. Polnar and Carter are in the first of the wards on this side of the hallway. Where do we go from here?"

/Ah. Well, if they are in there they know what has been happening in the medical centre and would understand why the medical staff are not such trusting souls. Probably know I had a chat to the surgeon too. This is good. We may be able to work out an alternative plan. I'd be delighted not to have to face Blue Squad at best, or face them with additional experienced fighters at worst./

Beside him Zechs stirred, an unconscious effort on his part to ease the ache in his shoulder. Craning his head to look up at the ventilation shaft was placing unwelcome strain on the injured muscles of his shoulder and arm. Giles scowled, glanced at the door and hoped that the situation would remain stable until they could work something out.

"We need to take out Simpson and Frazier with as little fuss as possible, but there are Sleeper agents still roaming the base and there may have been more than one active in the medical centre. For the moment it would be best to allow Simpson to do the hunting. At least until we are ready for him. Regarding the Sleepers, I would say from the evidence that the psyche conditioning has broken down. It may have been a triggered response, though I am more inclined to think it a result of long term exposure to the isolation of Mars and no access to remedial attention of the blocks. Regardless of the cause, what it amounts to is that at this time they are the larger threat and those agents still active need to be taken down."

"Very sick puppies from what I've seen." Barker grunted. "Do you have any idea how many there are?"

/Sick puppies? I wish it was as easy as dealing with sick puppies. These are rabid dogs./

"No, but their coordinator was Shanna McIntyre and she should have files somewhere that will tell us who they are. It is possible that not all of them have been activated, so we need to locate those records. We can't search for the files until after we have dealt with Simpson, unfortunate but necessary. Do you have any idea where he is at the moment?"

/They can hunt for the records, you can get some much needed rest and I'll keep my butt right here on this chair. I'm not having you running around as a possible target for any of those bastards who might escape attention. I need to talk to Chris. We need to work out a roster for guarding you and we need to get you out of here until help arrives./

"Not exactly, no. He went down the hallway, deeper into the medical centre with the surgeon to see about a couple of men they had located. I believe they found them in a storeroom or something. Possibly Blue Squad members. Simpson seemed very eager to see them."

Zechs looked positively feral. Giles watched him with widened eyes, noting the glint in his eye and the expression that was somewhere between concern and relief on the heels of that feral satisfaction.

"I can imagine how eager he was. I left them drugged in a maintenance cupboard. Were they alive, or had they been butchered too?"

/Eh? He's not told me a great deal of what he was up to before we met up in the dome. I wonder who else he's taken down and not as yet mentioned? Time enough later to ask questions./

"No idea. I think Broadham was relieved to have an excuse to get Simpson away from here. Probably hoping that we would figure out a way to take control of the situation before Simpson turns on the staff."

/You don't look too happy. Still I suppose you would want to know if the Sleepers had gotten to them. Nasty mess that would be and not your fault, but I've learned enough about you to know you would take the blame for their deaths./

"I have two with me, myself makes three, all able bodied. Giles makes four … What about Noin? Do you know where she is and if there is any chance of contacting her and garnering her help to take them down? She's more than capable in a fight."

"Noin is out of the equation."

Giles had to admire the man. In that quiet comment there was not a hint of his personal worry, nor did those blue eyes so much as flicker. He seemed to be all business, quiet, determined and to the point. Zechs had turned coldly professional and while Giles was relieved to see that shift, he found himself wanting to see the more human side to the man reflected in his gaze. He only hoped the visions would not return when they needed Zechs cool and controlled and focused on the action to hand.

"She's somewhere we can't get to her quickly?"

"No. Hurt."

/Don't you shut everything out except the need to kick Simpson's ass. I need to be able to read you and closing yourself off to human emotion is not going to allow me to see trouble before it hits. There is so much potential for disaster if you flip on us and only I am going to see it coming. Chris doesn't know you are one of the Gifted and he's not going to be aware of what he should be looking out for./

"Shit. Okay, we will have to manage with what we have. Simpson could be back at any time. I can't see him wasting more time than necessary, especially if his men are down for good."

/Jesus, Barker, if you could see the look in his eye you would not mention that possibility. Don't you dare lose control, Merquise. It's the emotions that will keep you grounded, but you can't let yourself wallow in the wrong emotions now. Think of Noin and think of your kids. Think hope for the future./

Zechs shuddered, a light tremble that seemed to release some of the tension and the hard icy glint in his eyes eased. Giles was uncertain if he should be relieved or not, but the man seemed lost in thought and then that blonde head shook in a decisive negative.

"We need to take out Simpson's crony first. If his Commander is still absent he should be easier to handle, especially if you have assistance in getting to him. He'll be dangerous, but easier to handle without Simpson stepping into the fight. Quick and quiet would be the best if at all possible. Do you have access to the hallway or are you restricted to the vents?"

It was hard to make out the expression on the man's face as the tight mesh of the grill hid too much detail for Giles to have a chance of reading his thoughts by observing facial expression. He did hear Barker shift in the vent above them, settling his weight more comfortably; or perhaps it was something else, an expression of uneasiness at the situation or doubt in his ability to accurately judge just how much free movement they were capable of.

/Not an easy situation to judge. Zechs has only the information Barker can give him to work from … and whatever visions might fit this scenario. I know that he has said he did not see this situation, but its possible he might have seen snatches of this or a similar situation that might be of use./

"My face is known to all of the members of Blue Squad. I was present in the Alpha Dome when they arrived, so there is no doubt they would know me at a glance. I have Polnar and Carter to back me up though. They have not aroused any suspicion from Blue Squad so I doubt their faces are known."

/No, Chris would not be known to the Security Force. Raydon is very careful to keep his agents low key./

"They both can use the hallway to get closer to Frazier. We came in with the Emergency Response Team and they were assigned by Simpson no less to clean up the aftermath of the Sleepers butchery. Using disposal of the bloody bedding as a cover they should be free to move around without arousing suspicion. That should get them close enough to Frazier to act, but I am restricted to the vents for now."

The man seemed to drag himself forward a little and pressed his cheek against the grill, one eye pressed to the small grids of metal. Giles could almost feel the weight of that gaze fall upon him, though he was sure he was not in plain sight of the Preventer.

"Well, that is unless the security firm you two work for are active in areas that would possibly necessitate Blue Squad being briefed on Polnar's face? I think he's been seen, but I can't be certain that he has been marked yet. If he had been recognized I'm certain we would have had Simpson breathing down our necks before now."

Giles blinked. /Security firm? What the f … Ah. I guess Chris has been using that silver tongue of his to keep his butt out of trouble. Okay, Barker must have twigged that Chris is not what his records say he is. I know the cover story well enough to keep us out of deep shit. Zechs knows the truth, but I'm not sure he would want Barker knowing who we really are./

He was relieved that Barker had given him a clue as to the cover story Chris was using to explain their skills and their presence on Mars. He had no doubt that Barker would be extremely unhappy to learn they were, in truth, Raider operatives. He felt the attention of the man in the bed shift to him and met the curious gaze. Zechs offered no comment, leaving him to answer Barker and provide confirmation of the deception.

"I don't know of any instance between the company we work for and the ESUN Security Agency that might necessitate either of our faces being noted. To be honest we have not been active within the hub of the ESUN to date and neither of us have been on assignment to Mars all that long. I doubt there will be a problem."

Barker grunted. "Good. He and Carter should not have a problem getting past the man or into a position where they can act against him."

Giles scowled, considering the reputation of the unit. They were almost legendary for their suspicious nature and success rate, as well as their seeming disregard for the niceties of life, like a conscience. Their past record suggested a 'shoot first and ask questions later' mentality.

Zechs was scowling and he could almost see the thoughts shifting in that pale head. Still, Barker could not be a fool if he was assigned to Mars and to watch Merquise. No one would assign an idiot to that duty.

/This is Blue Squad we are talking about and I'd not trust one of those bastards as far as I could kick him. They have a very nasty reputation for having eyes in the back of their heads./

"We need to take the man out, but I am loath to take any unnecessary risks." Zechs commented.

Barker stirred, shifting around within the vent and making sufficient noise that he drew their attention before he spoke. 'Wait a minute. I think Carter is trying to get my attention. I can't … quite … see … Damn. Not enough fucking room to … I think there's a flame waving in the vent and that means something is happening. Give me a couple of minutes to back up and I'll see what's going on."

Giles grunted softly, turning worried eyes to Zechs as the shadow of the man vanished from the grill. Zechs was scowling at the vent and then those intense blue eyes were focused on the door.

"Damn." Giles murmured. "Soon, huh?"

"I'd says so. Very soon now."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	152. Chapter 152 Chapter 151

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 151

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 01:58 approx Sanc time 23:48

Barker

/What I would not give to be able to see where I'm going. Damn, I wish there was somewhere I could turn around./

He backed carefully, trying to feel his way in the vent with feet encased within the soft soled shoes he'd worn within the protection of the enviro suit. On entering the Hydroponic Dome and shucking the suit there had been neither the time nor the opportunity to change into the heavy safety boots commonly worn within the colony, not that any of them were carrying the heavier boots. For that constraint of time and practicality he was thankful as should the opportunity have arisen to change to the heavier footwear it would have been impossible to feel his way through the vent with his feet in anything resembling silence.

If only he could actually feel through the rubber soles it would have made life much easier and to think that he had thought it annoyingly difficult to move silently when moving in a forward direction. Had there been twists and turns in the ventilation ducts he would probably have had less trouble as he seemed incapable of holding a direct course and his booted feet continually scraped along the walls despite his best efforts to hold a central position in the vents and back up in a straight line.

His knees were sure to give out before this day was through.

At least he had found Merquise reasonably unscathed and aware of his surroundings. He seemed to be well enough content with the attention he was receiving from this Haydon Giles too. Whatever the injuries he carried at least they did not require the constant attendance of a doctor and they had not seemed to hamper his ability to evaluate a situation.

/It could be worse, of course. The worst case scenario would have been that Simpson might have put in an appearance during my crawl and entered the room to find Merquise helpless. Of course, it would have been equally as bad to find that the Doc was right and Merquise was both physically damaged and unconscious./

He would have liked to have had the opportunity to actually look around in the examination room. His view had been more than restricted by the grillwork and he had not dared to suggest they remove the vent to allow him access. To attempt accessing the room physically to check out the layout would have been asking for trouble, he decided. The slightest noise could have brought trouble down on their heads, but it would have given him the opportunity to see just how bad Wind was.

/At least Merquise is conscious. I admit I was afraid he would be out of action totally, injured and unconscious as the Doc had said. He seems aware enough of the situation to be of use. It's telling though that he made no attempt to move from the bed … not even to the foot of the bed where we could have spoken face to face. I overheard enough to suggest the man is carrying potentially serious injuries. I wish the Doc had been a bit more specific. Damn, this bloody hurts!/

Cautiously he lowered himself to the floor of the vent and angled his body, craning his neck to permit himself some sort of view, if restricted, of the area behind him. He should be somewhere near the grill of the room between the treatment room and the ward where Carter and Polnar waited for him. The light seemed a little brighter and he determined to try to keep his feet to the sides of the vent so as not to kick the vent grate accessing the room where Kurtz and his team were working. Knowing his luck lately he would be likely to put his weight on the grill and make a grand, if rather painfull, entrance into the ward. It was not unreasonable to assume that Frazier might have moved into that room and his own team were trying to warn him that the man had moved position.

The possibilities for disaster seemed endless.

/This kind of situation really gets on my nerves. You don't know who is a friend and who is the enemy half the time and this scenario is really beginning to hurt. I'm getting too old for this shit./ He heaved himself to his knees once more. /Just get on with it, Barker. You can baby your body later, after its all over./

Who were friends and who were foes? An interesting question, he mused. It was ironic that agents for the ESUN were considered foes. Blue Squad was bad enough but the Sleeper Agents were overkill.

He winced. /Overkill? Poor choice of words, Barker old son. Very poor choice./

Cold blooded murder. That was the plain truth of the matter. These people had had their minds so modified that they were hardly human when triggered to act in the interests of their employer. He had to wonder at the brand of peace they enjoyed if those in charge controlled psychotic killers in the name of said peace.

/Are we any better off now than we were before? Fucked if I know anymore./

There were so many factions involved in the scenario. Preventers were up to their ears in the situation, of course, himself and the few agents assigned to Mars and he supposed he needed to count Merquise in their number. There were so few he could rely on. He had been instructed to take his lead from Merquise should the situation arise that they now found themselves in and he wondered that other precautions had not been taken. If Une had suspected that this type of encounter would take place why had she not taken steps to stop it?

Blue Squad, of course, were under orders from the ESUN Security Agency to plant their dirty great big feet in the middle of his patch of dusty red ground and interfere with the delightful monotony that had become his every day life. Conditions were hard enough on Mars without their oversized military boots stirring up the dust.

Then there was the Sleeper Agents. Now that was something that did disturb him. These psychopaths were not common agents. It took a lot of time and money to produce a psyche conditioned agent. They were supposed to be the best, but they were also expensive to create and to maintain the conditioning that permitted them to be buried so deeply within a close knit community and avoid arousing suspicion. Who had the financing and the necessary influence to create not one or two, but possibly upwards of a dozen such agents? Someone with a great deal of influence and access to shadowy dealings had been at work here.

There were also the private agents running around loose on Mars to be considered. Those persons employed primarily by big business concerns seeking the inside information on the potential of the colony for exploitation of its natural resources. Big business was just another side to politics. The two were wrapped firmly around each other in an oft times unholy alliance. Polnar and his mate, Giles, were just such examples of the manipulating digits of the business communities.

He could understand why those in charge of this mission to collect Merquise from Mars were not taking the chance of their participation in this matter being released to the general public. He could understand it, but never sanction such methods. Back on Earth heads would role and backsides would be covered if even a whisper of the real events happening now on Mars were known. It was possible that the death count for this idiocy would not stop with the slaughter of the Mars Colony personnel. If he and those working with him now succeeded in saving the terra formers he had to wonder how were they going to cover the terra formers who survived from the retribution of those influential persons who wished to remain anonymous?

/I don't even want to consider how big a mess this is. First thing's first, I suppose. We need to survive this killing ground to raise the alarm and … ah./

The change in the pattern of pressure against his knee warned him and he angled himself as carefully as possible to avoid placing his weight directly on the grill work for the ward now below him. While he doubted that Simpson had put in an appearance or that Frazier had shifted from his post, he needed to exercise all caution. He needed to remain unobserved if he was to be effective and while he did not believe any of the Emergency Response Team were Sleepers he could not afford to ignore the possibility they might unintentionally give his presence away to either Frazier or Simpson.

He simply could not afford to take unnecessary risks.

With greater care he edged his knees back and to the sides of the vent, feeling that he must be near to injuring himself permanently. His thighs burned with the effort to support his weight in the awkward position and he dared not make a revealing sound. Reversing blind was bad enough, but having to do it silently with his knees spread wider than his shoulders width was surely impossible. Every move he made seemed loud from the rustle of his clothing as his muscles flexed to the scrape and slide of his knees over the floor.

He was certain the entire base must hear the cacophony of sound, but the light grew steadily brighter around him as he backed over the vent access and he could hear sounds of movement and low voices coming from below. That was his only saving grace. If they were talking then their voices might cover some of the noise he could not avoid making.

The vent cover was there beneath his nose, his hands splayed to press against either side of the vent. The grill afforded him a view directly down, into the room which had, he realized, become conspicuously silent all of a sudden. He froze, his breath stilled and a sinking feeling filled his chest. He was afraid to breathe for fear it might confirm any noise they might have heard.

Had his presence been noted? Perchance might they think him a Sleeper and if so would they draw Frazier's attention to him rather than chance him killing again? He tried angling himself without moving his arms or legs from their awkward positions to gain a better view, but no amount of wriggling was going to do more than get himself discovered at worst, or give himself a sore neck at best … and his knees could not long take this pressure.

"I don't know what's going on. Stay here and I'll check out what all the fuss is … Shit." Kurtz's low voice whispered clearly through the vent. "Simpson's back. Not good."

Simpson? Barker froze, hardly daring to breathe. Kurtz had been whispering to whoever was in the room with him, so it was plain he was not eager to be overheard and that suggested the Blue Squad Commander and possibly others were close to the ward. Had the surgeon failed to keep Simpson's attention? Was Broadham out there with the Commander and could he expect any help from the surgeon should he bust into either of the wards or the examination room? How much help could he expect from that quarter? Broadham might be ex military but not too many others amid the nursing staff could make that claim. Simpson and Frazier would go through them in no time.

"Stay put. I'll be back."

Kurtz passed directly beneath the grill and Barker stared with widened eyes. All Kurtz needed to do was look up and he could not fail to see him … But why would he? The man's attention should be focused on whatever it was that was happening out in the hallway and Barker suspected that whatever was happening had something to do with his own men's attempt to attract his attention. He dared not shift position enough to check to see if that light still wavered in the distance.

/I'll wait a minute, I think. I would imagine Carter or Polnar would have been trying to catch my attention because they have realized Simpson is back and it is likely that our time just ran out. I'll see what Kurtz has to say before I move. That may give me a few minutes more in which to make plans./

It all depended on what Simpson's plans were, he knew. If the man just turned around and entered the treatment room he had no doubt that Merquise would be caught out helpless. There was no way he could be of help to the men in the room down the hall should Simpson take immediate action.

His knees had other demands on his attention and after debating a moment he eased himself back a little, clearing the vent grill of the bulk of his body and settled carefully to lie full length, mindful of the metal buckle on his belt. He smothered the groan of relief to shift his weight from his knees and for a few seconds wallowed in the sheer pleasure of a prone position.

Whoever was still in the room with Kurtz remained silent and chose to refrain from movement. He could not pinpoint a possible location, or even estimate how many men there might be, but from his previous crawl through he assumed there would be two men. More may have come during his absence or one may even have left the room, but that was of no great concern now. What did concern him was how long it was taking Kurtz to return. It seemed forever, though he was well aware it could not have been more than a minute or two before he again heard movement.

"Right then. It appears that we have a change in our instructions. You have two minutes to finish up in this room before we need to move. Don't worry about doing anything more in here; just try to clean up a bit. Simpson wants us to find two secured locations close together where we can assemble and keep the non combatants out of harm's way, while the sick bastards doing these killings are hunted down. Hurry it up. We can make use of the search to get further access into the medical centre and get on with the job of accessing the computers. I'll meet you outside in a couple of minutes."

Having heard enough he used the sounds of movement from within the room to cover his retreat. With a low grunt of effort Barker heaved himself to his hands and knees once again and started the slow backward slide once more. At least it had been worth the delay to know what was happening beyond his sight.

Now that he knew Simpson was back in the danger zone and Frazier had backup their period of grace was over. He also was assured that the emergency response team had not forgotten his instructions concerning computer access and they intended to carry them out. That was a mission he was beginning to suspect may be more urgent than they thought at the moment. He would have expected the vent to be rather cool with the flow of air, but thus far there was little in the way of air flow and it was hardly the refreshing cool breeze he had assumed it would be. They needed to get men to those computers and logged into the life support functions of the sub base with all possible speed.

/It would be wonderful to survive the Sleepers and Blue Squad only to go down to a base wide malfunction of the survival systems. No computer is ever hacker or virus safe, no matter the expenses, time and effort put into the system. There is always someone who can beat it./

Dismissing the need to investigate the potential disaster a corrupted computer system could wreak, he turned his attention to the laborious business at hand and raised the level of his shuffling crawl as much as he dared. He needed to check in with his team, receive any updates of information they had for him on the current situation and get back to Merquise, hopefully before Simpson decided he was clear to act.

/Who am I kidding? With the pace I am forced to crawl through these vents Simpson could be in and out of the treatment room before I get there. Still, I have little in the way of choice. I have to rely on Carter and Polnar to be my hands and eyes out there. One look at my ugly mug and Simpson will be all over us. Time is running out and I think it fairly safe to assume that Simpson is of a similar opinion. I doubt that much has gone the way that man anticipated today./

The Blue Squad Commander had probably expected a quick and painless mission and in truth it should have been straight forward. Where had it started to go wrong? One thing led to another and now murders were commonplace and no one knew who to trust. It should never have come down to this butchery.

Something gripped his ankle and a hissed warning stopped him from reflexively kicking back in reaction. The strong fingers squeezed his ankle and Polnar's voice was a low rumble and rough with his tension.

"Simpson's back from whatever he's been doing and whatever it is he wants done has set a hornet's nest buzzing amongst the medical staff. They are running around like chooks without heads and heading deeper into the centre."

He had thought it might be something like that. /There is only one reason for the medical staff to hurry that makes sense to me. They have found a survivor, or survivors, of the butchery who require attention./

He was both relieved and alarmed by the prospect. To know that there were those who had survived the charnel nightmare the medical centre had become was a relief. It proved that the Sleepers were not infallible and gave him hope of people coming out of this nightmare alive. The down side of the situation was that with the medical staff required in theatre the medical centre would once again be largely deserted in these areas.

Simpson was going to get his opportunity to act without witnesses.

It was unavoidable and bemoaning the turn of luck was of no assistance in dealing with the change in circumstances. He needed to adapt and react with quick efficiency and pray he made no mistakes. He really should not be surprised that Simpson had found a means by which to empty this section of the medical centre, indeed he should be thankful the man had found a survivor requiring medical attention. He was fairly certain that if the Commander had not found a means by which to remove the medical staff then he would have simply gone through them.

No, it was better this way. They might be able to keep the staff alive longer.

There was, however a question he wanted answered. "Broadham? Is the surgeon back too?"

Polnar's grip on his boot shifted; a subtle movement that led him to believe the man was far from happy with the current situation. Not that that was a surprise. He, after all, was far from amused by the entire affair.

"No. Just Simpson. He turned up a couple of minutes ago, though the medical staff were moving before he arrived. We are too far away from the agents or the medical personnel to overhear their conversation. I can't tell you what it is about."

/Has he tired of the surgeon interfering with his plans and at some point taken the opportunity to take him down?/ He shuddered at the thought.

How many doctors did they have alive in the Base Dome? There were two surgeons and three or four doctors now resident in the Alpha Dome, as it was projected that they would shift their focus from the Base Dome to the Alpha over the coming months. Eventually the Base Dome was slated to be dismantled and recycled into the construction of the Beta Dome, but that was scheduled for a year or more in the future. They still had to attract a viable colony population and make a success of the Mars Colony.

/It's not so far fetched to think it probable that he might have taken the opportunity to remove an obstacle such as Broadham when it arose. Ex military, use to command situations and looked to by the staff with respect … Yes, it's only too possible that he might have done the dirty deed. Or is it something else? He might still need Broadham. I know we don't have many qualified surgeons on Mars and if his men are injured … Yes, maybe he has a use for Broadham still. I'm inclined to believe that they have located survivors. The wounds any survivors might have taken from the type of butchery I suspect has taken place here, would require urgent and very skilled surgery./

Simpson would want the best medical attention for his own people that he could get. If the injured survivor or survivors happened to be ESUN personnel, particularly a Blue Squad member, then Broadham's backside was likely to be safe. For now.

/ The medical staff were moving before Simpson appeared, so I am inclined to believe word was sent ahead somehow and they are preparing the theatre for some emergency work. Damn. To function properly I need more accurate information, but there is no way of gaining that information without strolling out there and asking Simpson or one of the nursing staff the time of day. Given the information I have to work on my call would be that it is time to get these men out of this ward and into a position that can be useful. I don't think we have much time to accomplish that either./

He shifted his weight to warn Polnar of his intentions and backed carefully feeling the man's hand slide up his calf as he moved, first to his knee and press to guide his leg to the side of the vent, then to his thigh and rise to his hip as he backed over the grill access before falling away. He hung above the hole to find himself eyeball to eyeball with Polnar.

"Carter's watching by the door. We are safe enough for the moment."

For the moment but that was not likely to be a substantial amount of time. Simpson could act at any second and he needed to take every advantage he could while the man delayed. He reviewed quickly the memorized report on the Blue Squad Commander and his past history. This was a man who was careful and not prone to hasty decisions. From the report Barker knew him to be an excellent poker player. He needed to take into consideration the man's past record and he resisted the urge to grin. At this point in time that would be inappropriate. He could grin later if he guessed right.

"We need to give the medical staff a couple of minutes to get out of the area. I believe that is what Simpson is waiting for. We have a little time to make plans. I found Merquise and your partner is with him." There was that flash in the man's eyes. That momentary look that made him uneasy. It suggested secrets he was not privy to. "Merquise is awake and aware of what is happening, but he and your partner have no means of getting out of the room without running into Simpson and his sidekick."

"They can't get into the vent? It's just a matter of popping the vent cover." Polnar was looking over his shoulder in the general direction of the door and Carter, but he ended the query looking at Barker with a frown cut deeply across his brow.

"I'm not exactly certain what the nature of the problem is. If the grate and its connections are as add hock as this rooms was, they may simply be afraid the noise might alert Frazier to something going on. I can't see into the room properly, but I would think it is more likely to be that Merquise is incapable of getting into the vent. For the moment at least they are stuck in the examination room and any action to be taken will be up to us. We are going to have to be the ones to take Simpson and Frazier out."

Carter's voice, barely audible, responded to that comment and Barker decided he sounded distracted. "Oh, yay."

The sound placed the man in the general vicinity of the door and the Preventer decided he was probably looking out into the hallway to keep an eye on the situation.

"Instructions?" Carter's voice was firmer as though he had stepped closer to the vent, or had dared to believe that they were not likely to be overheard and disturbed by Simpson.

Polnar looked around, away from the vent and Barker saw him nod before he turned back for instructions. "Daniel's keeping the hallway under observation. No one is within hearing range of us as yet."

No more time for consideration. No more time for thought and prayers and speculation. Now he had to make use of his training to access the information he had and make the best of what was a bad situation.

"Allow as many people to get out of the immediate area as possible … medics, orderlies and the emergency response team as well. I doubt Simpson will make his move until the area is cleared of distractions. When things calm down and you can move without involving civilians in any confrontation we go with our previous plan. Use the mattress from the bed as your cover. It's big enough and unwieldy enough to warrant the two of you handling it. Use that to get past Frazier and try to keep it low key and innocent. You are the emergency response team obeying instruction after all."

Polnar nodded his understanding of the instruction. "Frazier has been quiet enough. Hopefully with Simpson around he will not be inclined to be picky about the clean up."

"I doubt that he will bother you. Should you happen to get the chance to talk to Kurtz without arousing suspicion, then do so and find out what you can about what the hell is going on. Above all try to be the last ones to leave the area and if you do make it past Frazier, dump the mattress as quickly as you can in an out of the way place and slip back a.s.a.p. I doubt Blue Squad will hang about in the hallway once Simpson makes up his mind what he's doing. While it's possible he may not be inclined to check the examination room I personally doubt he's the type to leave a question mark at his back. The man's too much the professional to make that kind of blunder. Come back into the area at an easy pace, nothing obviously hostile or suspicious, unless you see that they're in that room. I have a sneaky suspicion that if he should find Merquise we will all be lost. I have no doubt that the cover up is already underway and that we are all considered to be expendable."

"Will do." Polnar grunted. "What about you?"

"I am hoping to make it back to Merquise to warn him if Simpson gives me that grace. You may be on your own, as I doubt I can get the grill out of the vent quickly and I have little doubt Merquise is not capable of facing down Simpson at this time. I don't know how good your partner is in a brawl …?"

The implied question had Polnar grinning. "He's good, but I think it safe to say he's not in Simpson's league."

"I suspect few of us are. I can only try to get into the ward from the vent, but I am not hopeful of doing that in a short time. The least I can do is offer them some kind of warning that Simpson's close."

"Understood. Giles is handy in a fight, but I honestly doubt he's as good as Blue Squad but he has been known to surprise one on occasion."

From beyond Barker's sight came a snort of wry amusement. "If we fear for our hide enough we are all capable of incredible feats." Carter muttered.

Barker rubbed at his face with a shaking hand. "Then start fearing for your hide. I'm heading back to try to warn Merquise. Give it as long as you dare before you leave the room, but make an appearance before Simpson feels inclined to come looking for you. I suspect they may do a room by room if they think their head counts off."

With the jumble of bodies crowded between the two doors he really doubted that Simpson had a firm idea of the number of men who had been gathered there some time ago. It was likely to be their only advantage in this mess. He heaved himself up once again and with a nod moved over the gap in the vent, intent on getting as quickly as he could to that ward two rooms down the hallway.

"Watch your back." Polnar's parting comment was accompanied by a firm squeeze on his ankle. "We'll delay as long as we dare and if we can get to Kurtz for more info, we will."

"Well enough. Keep yourselves alive."

The vent looked to be endless, longer than he knew it to be. Any minute he knew that Simpson could go for that door. Any minute now and the man would have his prize and feel free to go on a killing rampage himself.

He could not afford for that to happen.

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2005


	153. Chapter 153 Chapter 152

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 152

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 02:03 approx Sanc time 23:57

Polnar

There was a full hand print on the tan walls, the rusty red of dry blood providing a very visible print. Next to it a pentagram was drawn with what he was certain had to be a bloodied finger. What could have been a child's drawing of a dog with an impressive array of fangs was sited lower on the wall and he could clearly make out the infinity symbol amongst the seemingly aimless, senseless blood splatter over the walls.

Carter locked his fingers over the foot of the bed and released them again and again in an absentminded repeating cycle. Fingers closed around the metal frame, locked and unfurled. Close, lock and unfurl. A continuous cycle; a loop. Once. Twice. A third time. How long had they been standing here looking at the walls and the bloody portraits of a lunatic's mayhem?

/How long is too long? If we delay too long we may have hell's own trouble. Simpson is back, there is no doubt of that and the medical staff must be just about ready to pull out, if they have not already left the area. How long would he wait before trying the door?/

Carter stirred, tilting his head back to stare up at the cover grill now replaced over the vent access. They could no longer hear Barker moving in the ventilation shaft so he must be well on his way back to warn Merquise and Giles. Or had he gone far? Time was distorted, unreal with the tension filling them all.

"I guess we'll have to think about moving." He leaned his back against the foot of the bed and cast his gaze once again across the blood smears painting the wall.

Sick bastards had butchered the patients and nursing staff and who could say how many of them there were running loose? At least he could be assured that his partner had not fallen victim to the homicidal agents on a rampage in the base. How many were dead in the dome above them? How many of the terra formers were dead in the sub base? Who was going to survive this nightmare and would they ever feel safe again?

/I sure as hell don't intend to go down easily./

Beside him Carter stirred, glancing toward the door and with a sigh pushed off from the bed frame. He was careful to keep back from the doorway, angling himself as best he could to see into the hall. Such careful placement offered limited vision, but it would give them an idea if anyone was moving around in their end of the medical centre. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin for a moment and shrugged turning to face Polnar.

"How long would you say is long enough? If I show my nose out there it will without doubt attract Simpson's attention and we don't want that just yet."

"Mmm. We have to move sometime and there is only so much time we can waste before his suspicions are aroused. Staying in here too long is as bad as lingering in the hallway. Can you see anything?"

Carter shook his head in the negative and after a moment inched closer to the doorway straining to hear any sounds. "I can't see anything useful, just empty hallway but …" He paused, obviously straining his hearing and nodded slightly. "Yes. I can hear movement. I think someone is talking, but there is definitely movement. No one's talking loud enough for me to make out what they are saying."

Polnar allowed his head to fall forward and he glared at his boots. How long was too long? Movement meant someone was still out there. Did they want to leave it until they were the last people in the hallway and be rather noticeable to Simpson, or would it be better to move out with a group of medical personnel? Maybe slip themselves in with a couple of the emergency response team. At the moment they had a couple of options available, but soon those options would disappear.

"Wonderful. It's all a matter of blind timing then. I'm tired and we can't afford stupid mistakes."

Carter shrugged. "I know what I would prefer to be doing now, but I'm sure everyone is in the same boat. We'll get through this and when we do we get to ask some questions and learn some answers."

"If we really want to know those answers …" Polnar muttered and at Carter's arched eyebrow he shrugged. "Do you really want it confirmed that the very government elected to safeguard our way of life considers us to be no more than insects to be squished so they can cover up their diarrhea?"

"Jesus, you have a way with words." Carter sighed. "It's bad no matter how you look at it. I'd prefer not to think about the fall out until it happens. There is enough shit to deal with without begging to crawl through the public sewer."

Both men stared gloomily at the door and could not stop their eyes going once again to the blood stained walls. Carter shuddered and turned his back to the room, staring resolutely out the door.

"Sick bastards. So what would you normally be doing now?"

"Snoring if I was sensible." Polnar likewise turned his back to the artwork and moved closer to the door, settling along side Carter. "If I was an idiot, which I have been describe as being on any number of occasions, I would be playing cards with the boys."

Carter snorted his amusement. "Me too."

"I'll be honest. I'd have been stupid and would be in the rec room playing cards."

Carter nodded, stretching slowly. "I'd probably be in the shuttle bay with the chief engineer, swigging that rot gut they make in the hydroponics after hours and losing my pay check. What do you think of Mars, anyway? Would it suit you as a permanent home?"

He had a home, though he could not tell this man about the stations. He had no desire to become planet bound and he was looking forward to returning to Station One when this mess was sorted. He'd ask if he could spend a year or two on the station before reassignment. If they had enough agents he might not have to leave again. There was nothing wrong with desk jobs. Still, he could not offer that information to Carter. He needed to come up with something else entirely to suit his supposed origins and employment. If he was fortunate Carter would settle for something superfluous.

"It's okay. Better than I thought it would be to be honest. It has the makings of a decent place to live. The Alpha Dome lacks for no amenities you can find in any of the colonies or on Earth. It's a pity about the snakes that visited, but if the powers that be let this incident drag the colony down then they would be making a mistake. A big mistake."

"Yeah. Mars could be a good place to live." Carter rubbed a thumb absently against the doorframe.

Polnar sighed. "Mars needs to be developed. This area of space needs a place like Mars to become a centre pole. A jump point. The hub of the Earth Sphere's just too far away. We need something closer than Earth when we work out here and the population of the mining colonies in the asteroid belt has trebled since the wars ended. All those repatriated soldiers with nowhere to go … they need somewhere and Earth's just not it. I didn't feel welcome last time I was there … or in the colonies. Mars doesn't have that history."

"Yeah. Yeah, soldiers are shunned there. Ungrateful bastards."

He was surprised Carter was so bitter, but it was not such an unusual reaction amid the discharged veterans. If it was not for Station One he would be one of the bitter men and women who had their personal sacrifices thrown in their faces by those who sprouted the virtues of peace and had no understanding of what and who had brought them their peace.

"It's a long way to Earth and the colonies from the Belt." Carter rubbed a hand absently over the stubble on his jaw, scratching at the dried sweat that annoyed him. "Mars is needed as the anchor and support base. It needs to be made into a new hub to service the asteroids and the big explorer ships heading for the outer system planets. It needs to become the industrial and mining centre for the solar system. The Earth's too pretty to bugger up now when we have a dead world to bring alive and no one to complain about the environment."

"It'll come. Space is vast and the solar system is a dust mote in the galaxy. I can't see mankind sticking to home territory for long. It's already started. They have to find something to do with the soldiers and they are picking the best to man the explorer ships, but even those big bitches are not enough to take them all. They will have to find the financing to make new colonies. There are not enough places for people as it is and the population is expected to boom in the next twenty years. What about you? When this is all over what will you do? Stay on here?"

"I don't know." Carter frowned. "I was happy enough here, but if they shut the place down because of this … I don't know where I'll go."

/Says a lot that neither of us has mentioned we may not survive to consider what we might do after this./ Polnar rubbed his palms against his thighs, longing for the security and safety he had come to associate with Station One. "Well, I think it a fair assumption that Barker might be inclined to offer you a place training as a Preventer. He'll be needing reliable staff out here."

"If there will be an out here to protect. I admit I'd be tempted to take it if he offered me the position. Still … This just proves that we can't even trust our own government. I have to ask myself if I really want to work for the bastards who are trying to kill us."

/I wonder just how deeply you believe it is the government behind this? Certain people in the government, yes and in very influential positions. The movers and shakers in this are possibly isolated to the highest echelons of the political circles on Earth and in the colonies, mixed with a liberal dash of big business would be my guess. If even a hint of this gets out there will be some back stabbing and ass covering going on. It would be enough to make your hair stand on end. /

Raydon would want to know as much as he could about the thoughts of the people involved in this idiocy. It was possible that Station One might pick up a boost in population out of this besides Merquise. Skilled additions to the population would be welcomed with open arms. Raydon was always on the lookout for talented people and that was one thing Mars had in abundance. It was interesting to hear Carter's views on the situation and see how they compared to his own.

"So you think it's political?"

Carter snorted. "Of course it is. With Milliardo Peacecraft involved how could it be anything but politically motivated? It's a pity though. I was surprised the first time I saw him. He hardly looks like the devil incarnate does he? I honestly don't think that he's as bad as he's been made out to be. There has to be more to the story and I'd say it's the most interesting parts that we are ignorant of. The Terror of Earth? Hardly seems like it. He's quiet, unassuming. He doesn't push himself on you or hang around where he's not wanted. I wish some of the others here would be as considerate."

Both fell silent at the sound of hurrying footsteps. There was an air of urgency about the low voices they could hear. Neither could quite make out the words, but it seemed that a large number of people were moving around out there.

"They always say it's the quiet ones you have to watch." Carter murmured.

Polnar grinned. "I know a few who are nice and quiet until they get a skin full and they come to life fast enough. I like a happy drunk, not a nasty bastard. With Merquise I guess it would be safe to say that if you stamped on his foot he'd swat you down to size pretty quick. Wish I could see him go toe to toe with Simpson if he was up to it. That would be a fight worth watching. I wonder exactly what's wrong with him?"

Carter shifted his gaze around the room at the bloody walls and shook his head. "Looking at this, I'd hate to think. If he tangled with one of those sick bastards …" He rubbed at the back of his neck trying to dispel the creeping sensation and glanced at his companion before inclined his head toward the door. "What do you think? About time?"

Polnar sighed and nodded, a short sharp tilt of his head. "I'm thinking we can't leave it too much longer. If we go out and kick the bedding around a little into a tighter pile and then latch onto the mattress, we can at least get an idea of who is left in the area. It will give us a few extra seconds at least. We can make the mattress look awkward to handle and take our time moving. Provided Simpson's not in a nasty mood that might buy us a bit of time."

"Yeah, why not? I'm fed up with waiting around in here and expecting the shit to hit the fan at any second. So … We go?"

/He's not the only one ready to pull his hair out waiting for something to happen. I need to check in with Giles and work out with him how to get Merquise out of harm's way and secured until we can get off this bloody planet. I wish the doc had told us exactly what's wrong with him, so I know what to plan for to keep him comfortable./

Time was passing and standing here counting the blood smears on the walls was not conducive to either his peace of mind or progressing the situation. With a low sigh he straightened his back, firmed his resolve and motioned to the door.

"Let's tackle that mattress." /I only hope we've allowed enough time for Barker to get back to Merquise and I sincerely hope we haven't waited too long. A lot of this plan has to be played by ear and I hate having next to no plan at all./

Squaring his shoulders he stepped out of the door and swept his gaze around the hallway aiming a kick in the general direction of the untidy pile of bloodied bedding Carter had thrown piece by piece from the room. He restrained the shudder on seeing Simpson standing with Frazier near the door to the examination room. The pair were watching a cluster of medical personnel approach and then pass them and neither of the agents seemed inclined to interfere with the group. Closer at hand he saw Preston Kurtz talking to a group of men at the next door down from Blue Squad's position on the opposite side of the hall.

/Promising. We may be able to get to Kurtz and find out from him exactly what is going on./

Carter moved past him and bent to make some effort at straightening the pile of blood soaked material and their eyes met. Both had had the opportunity to place the locations of everyone in the hallway and it was time to move themselves along. He hoped that the men Kurtz was speaking to would move out ahead of them, as he really wanted himself and Carter to be the last ones in the area. Had they moved too soon?

Carter shrugged slightly and he knew the man had shared his thoughts. There was no help for it however and to linger without an excuse was to invite attention, so when Carter straightened he walked to the near end of the mattress and Carter moved to take the far side, carefully arranging his grip so as to avoid the worst of the bloodstains. He gave himself time to watch as Kurtz stepped into the room across the hall and wished the man would get his team organized and moving. He needed them to be out of the area, though Simpson seemed not in the least disturbed by their presence and while that one was relaxed he supposed they had time.

/Barker wanted as few people in the danger zone as possible and I agree with him. No need to have civilians caught up in the line of fire needlessly. They may be able to use this opportunity, whatever it is, to get to those computers./

"Ready?" Carter queried.

"As ready as I'm likely to be given the circumstances. Shuffle along and make it look awkward. We'll see if we can't give Kurtz and his team enough time to leave ahead of us if at all possible."

They had shuffled only a few steps from where the mattress had been placed before Kurtz appeared from the room and paused in the doorway and looked around. His eyes rested on them for a moment and then he was striding down the hallway toward them and motioned to them to stop. Polnar was quick to stop, glad for the opportunity to keep as much distance between them and Simpson as possible while they found out what was happening.

Kurtz strode toward them and he looked serious, not in the least relaxed, though he had made an effort to be at least all business when Simpson could see his face. He nodded briefly to both men and motioned to them drawing them closer to him so that there was no chance Simpson or Frazier might overhear, provided they kept their voices down.

"I'm not sure exactly what's going on, but Simpson has ordered the team out of here. We are to search the medical centre and find two secured locations where we can keep the non combatants safe while they hunt for the killers. He intends us to gather the non-combatants when we decide on the designated zones; assign guards and wait it out."

Polnar's eyes flicked to Simpson and he tried to keep his features neutral. /Like hell he does. He's got more on his mind than hunting down Sleepers./

Carter grunted softly and he did not look exactly impressed by the instructions either. "What are you doing now?"

"Not much. Delaying as much as I can, hoping I can get the opportunity to have a word with Barker."

"No chance. He's otherwise occupied." Polnar inclined his head down the hallway to where one of the emergency response team had appeared in a doorway. "Get your men out of here as quickly as you can, without making it look suspicious. I think Simpson's only waiting to clear the field, which means there is likely going to be trouble very soon now and I doubt it will involve the Sleepers."

"Jesus. Merquise? Damn. What the hell is Barker up to?" He motioned back down the hallway from the direction he had just come, trying to give the impression he was issuing instructions.

"Not enough time to explain now. We can't talk here and time's marching on. Get your people out of the danger zone now while the opportunity exists. Don't forget to see if you can't access the computers and maybe find out who is still alive in here. Be sure to find those safe zones. We may still need them."

'I'm not exactly certain of what is going on, but I do know that Broadham's called his surgical team into action. Someone's hurt, but who it is and how badly I don't know."

Carter sucked on his lower lip for a moment and shifted the mattress in his hands. "I wonder what's been going on?"

Polnar shrugged, less concerned with events that happened out of his area of influence and more concerned with clearing the area for the long awaited confrontation to take place. The night had already lasted forever and he was tired. Tired people made mistakes and the longer this dragged out the more likely they were to make a stupid blunder.

"Get your men as far away from here as you can and get those techs of yours into the computer room. Until someone comes looking for you don't allow anyone to come back this way. Place a couple of your team on the main hallway as guards and don't automatically assume whoever turns up is either the victor or a friend. Is there anyone left in these rooms?"

He inclined his head to the hallway ahead of them and Kurtz shook his head.

"I sent the last of the medical team off to look for a room they would consider suitable for use as a safe zone if we have injured to be dealt with and to locate Broadham and see if he has any need of them. There is just my team here now."

"Then get them out. If you are asked, Carter and I will be clearing the hallway and then moving on to find you."

He knew it was a reasonable excuse for them delaying and returning to the hallway repeatedly. The bloodied bedding was a health hazard and certainly not pleasant on the eye.

"Reasonable." Kurtz nodded agreement. "I'll take the team out of here and see what we can do about computer access."

"Luck." Carter muttered.

"Watch your backs." Kurtz returned before turning and hurrying back up the hallway.

Neither of the men made a move to pick up the mattress and move until Kurtz had moved a good distance down the hallway and one of his team appeared from the room down the hallway to meet him. Kurtz shepherded his team member away from the door and toward the ESUN Commander.

"Simpson doesn't look bothered." Polnar caught Carter's eye and adjusted his grip on the mattress. "Looks okay."

"Good, but I want this over with. I don't think my nerves can take much more." Carter sighed and picked up his end of the mattress.

Polnar sucked in a warning breath as they took their first few steps and stumbled, covering his sudden anxiety with the awkwardness of the mattress. Ahead of them Simpson had motioned Kurtz to stop and the two were exchanging words.

/Ah, shit. Let them just be confirming orders./

Kurtz and Simpson were talking and he reduced their pace to a slow shuffle, visibly adjusting his grip to cover for their pace. The last member of the emergency response team was close to Kurtz and he looked far from happy to be there, but Simpson nodded and inclined his head and Kurtz, with a responding nod was striding awa,y taking the last few civilians involved with him. Polnar sucked in a deep breath and stumbled when Carter dropped his end, waiting for the man to lift the awkward piece again and watching Simpson warily. Through it all he was relieved to see that Simpson made no move to suggest he was growing impatient or alarmed.

/Looks good for us making it past him. The question now is will he do anything, or say something, as we come abreast of them?/

Shuffling more than walking, taking it as slow as they dared and allowing the mattress to tilt awkwardly every few steps they drew nearer the watching men and then they were there, beside them. Hardly daring to breathe he tried not to watch Simpson out of the corner of his eye and guessed that Carter would be feeling more confident as he would be capable of watching the two men, though he himself would be leaving his back exposed to the ESUN agents once they passed them. It was not a pleasant thought.

He almost hesitated when he caught the movement, but Simpson merely stepped to one side giving them that little bit extra room and taking himself out of any touching proximity, a brief nod and then they were past. Polnar dared to breathed again as they shuffle on and looked hopefully at Carter who now had his eyes glued on the men.

"They're just watching." A whisper. "Standing there watching."

/He's waiting then. Probably estimating how long he's got before we make a return trip for more stuff. He'd probably give it a minute or two to see if anyone else is going to turn up and then he'll make his decision about what to do. Damn, he's a patient bastard and that makes him hard to estimate. We had better get this mattress into a room a.s.a.p and give them a minute or two. Make them think they have the hallway to themselves. He'll most likely check the hallway to see that its clear around that curve ahead. /

Shuffling along at a measured pace and having to watch Carter's face for any change of expression that would hint they had trouble, meant the rising tension was steadily driving him mad. He would give anything for it all to be over and for the chance to enjoy the utter luxury of a long hot shower to wash away some of the filth plastered over him. He was sweating with the tension and that was making him feel dirtier than he knew he actually was. The dirt he felt himself to be covered in was largely psychological, but he could not forget the filth in the sewer even though he had been protected from it by the enviro suit. Yet he was feeling unclean, polluted and contaminated by the aura he felt all around him.

Evil. Darkness and evil.

/Fucking theatrical bastard./

Stupid to think that, but he could not help it. The blood from the room of horrors seemed to coat him and he was too aware of the Sleepers who had instigated that massacre. He was walking through not the halls of healing, but the halls of the dead and he needed to force himself to move calmly. The hands that gripped the mattress might not have belonged to him and he could hear footsteps surrounding him, growing nearer and then fading, only to grow nearer again.

He shuddered and forced control. He was a professional and this was hardly the time to lose his perspective.

/Surely we are around the bloody curve in the hall by now?/

His eyes asked the question, but Carter met his gaze and shook his head slightly. Not much but enough to signal that he could still see Simpson and Frazier and therefore they could in turn be seen. He bit back a curse, swallowed his unease and shuffled on, damning the necessity for this subterfuge. His nature was more in favour of a straight out confrontation not this slow creeping, but he was not such a fool as to spark the inevitable fight. They had no idea of Simpson's resources. He might have more of his squad in reserve in the medical centre, or nearby, who could materialize at a moment's notice.

/As if. Reserve forces would have to be standing right where we are aiming to be to take advantage of such an attack, or on the other side of the main doors. God. I'm starting to fall apart. It's been a bloody long day./

"Clear." Carter whispered and seemed to deflate with the release of tension.

/Thank you, God./ They were around the curve in the hallway and out of the immediate sight of Simpson and his man.

He lengthened his stride immediately adjusting his grip on the mattress to one of more comfort and Carter did the same, increasing his pace and looking around at the hallway behind him to pick a spot for them to use. There was a door a little further down the hall that offered them a room where they could rid themselves of the mattress and give them a minute or two's respite in which they could plan their next move.

"That room will do. We give it two minutes. A count of one hundred and twenty and then we head back."

Carter nodded his understanding and agreement, swiping a hand over his face to wipe the perspiration from his brow. Neither had any illusions about the tension in his partner, or about the course of action they must take. Once they got in that room, which was only a few strides away, there would be just two minutes before they made their return journey. Two minutes and they would know if Simpson was going to be content to sit and wait, or if they were finally due a confrontation with Blue Squad.

"Two minutes." Carter sighed. "Do you think that's too much time? Or not enough?"

/I don't know. I just don't know./

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	154. Chapter 154 Chapter 153

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 153

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time 02:09 Approximate Sanc time 23:59

Simpson

His fingers curled around the door knob and he caressed the metal lightly, sensitive fingers tingling to the sensation of cool metal to warm skin. There was something there. Something that had the medical staff on tenter hooks, but none of them had made a move to get Frazier away from the room during his absence.

His eyes flicked to the tech watching the hallway leading deeper into the medical unit. The man was relaxed, or as relaxed as the situation warranted which undoubtedly would see a lesser man run screaming down the hallway like a gibbering idiot. He flashed a quick glance at the hallway himself, satisfied it was deserted and his attention shifted back toward the entrance to the medical centre and to the doors between and he sighed.

By the independent headcount both he and Frazier had taken on the arrival of the Emergency Response Team, those four rooms should now be deserted. He was, of course, working on the assumption that all of the medical staff had left to perform their duties in preparing for the surgery, but did he dare turn his back on the rooms without making certain his field of operations was clear? Could he ignore the question mark now at his back to investigate the question mark that hung over this room?

He had good instincts and those instincts had thus far kept him alive in what was a rather colourful and traumatic career. He was a career soldier and he made his living by being one step ahead of everyone else. Did he really dare leave a possible enemy at his back?

With a low sigh he straightened, his hand falling to his side and he met Frazier's arched eyebrow with a low growl. He was not about to make what could be a stupid blunder. He planned on retiring in good health, not coughing out his life on some floor somewhere and he was determined that somewhere would not be on this frigid dusty ball of rock.

"We check the wards to make certain we are alone. I'll do a quick recon, you stay put and watch the door."

Frazier nodded brief acknowledgement of the instruction and resumed his former place, affording the best view of the hallway and its doors. With a glare at the door and silent curse for the necessity of being thorough Simpson moved at a quick pace to the nearest of the wards.

He was being honest with himself when he admitted that he was not expecting to find anyone in these wards, but he was not of a mind to be a dead idiot either. Fools had never entertained him for long and he was not willing to be labelled amid their number. There were just too many question marks over this mission for him to relax his guard now.

There were Sleepers running loose in the Base Dome above and he had enough evidence to know they had been loose in the medical centre. It was more than a possibility that there were more lurking in other areas of the sub base and he needed to ensure that he did not lose any more of his own people. Frazier was the only operative he had available to him capable of taking action and he needed to preserve that resource. He would not leave his man's back exposed any more than he would leave himself vulnerable.

He paused to one side of the opened door to listen for any hint of sound. Any suggestion that someone might be moving in the room and this caution was warranted, but only silence greeted him. A quick glance to Frazier who had his automatic in hand and was ready to back him up, though he would not leave his assigned post unless his Commander signalled he needed aid and Simpson slipped himself sideways through the door, presenting as small a target as possible.

He hissed softly as his gaze swept the room. Time was an element that he was only too aware of and he needed to be quick and efficient, but the bloodied walls of the ward were enough to give anyone pause. The emergency response team had made some headway in cleaning, but the room still resembled something out of a nightmare or a bad B grade horror flick. The blood smeared walls and floor of the room were the worst of course and the neatly piled blood soaked bedding with the mattress leaned against the wall lent nothing to the imagination.

Carnage.

The coppery stench of dried blood and death permeated the air and he wondered if he would ever be able to forget the smell. He was more than accustomed to the stench of blood and death, but there was something about it on this occasion that threatened to turn his stomach.

"Sick bastards." He grunted and moved to the toilet and shower facility, scanning the small cubicle quickly before he checked the locker.

The room was as he had expected it to be, empty and bloodied and he wondered briefly as he crossed the hall to the opposite ward if he was not needlessly complicating matters. The headcount, not just his own but Frazier's as well, had met the estimates they had made but erring on the side of caution was all to the good if it kept them alive.

0000000000000000000000000000

Frazier

He missed his computers.

That was the worst of this assignment, he decided, the need for him to abandon his beloved electronics and take part in more physical action than he was comfortable with. Simpson vanished into the ward in which the medical staff had seemed to cluster and he wondered if perhaps his head count had been off. While he was not one hundred percent certain about the Emergency Response teams numbers, he was certain of the head count he had taken for the medical personnel working around him.

He did not think his Commander was in error over the need to check on the rooms. He was not a combat specialist but a technician and computer's man. Electronics were his forte, not fighting hand to hand or getting himself involved in shootouts, though he was certainly capable of keeping his own hide intact. He had been assigned to Blue Squad as a part of upgrades by some insightful body who could see which way the political winds were blowing and what changes needed to be made to retain the squad as a functioning unit. While many of his squad mates were capable of taking rough and tumble to the extreme, he preferred to keep himself low key and out of direct action if at all possible. Give him some electronics to play with and he was content.

Some days were better than others and he did not need to ask himself a dozen times an hour what the hell he thought he was doing remaining with these men. He had been leery of the reputation of the squad on his assignment and many of the men had not impressed him. During that first year he considered some of them to be little more than rabid animals, but improvements had been made with the inclusion of Simpson into the squad. Even as a subordinate Simpson had had a code that had driven him to take action repeatedly against the excesses of their team mates and with his promotion to Commander the squad had seen some polishing and winnowing of the dross until the team was to Simpson's liking. There was no doubt in his mind that Simpson had been assigned to the squad to clean them up and make them an acceptable unit to the somewhat nicer sensibilities of the pacifist government.

At least under Simpson's watchful eyes Frazier no longer felt the need to grow eyes in the back of his head to keep his own hide safe from his team mates.

He flicked his gaze from that boringly empty hallway back to the area behind him just in time to see Simpson slide into the third ward. With a small nod he checked his watch and smiled. If you admired nothing else about the man you had to admire Simpson's efficiency. Three rooms in under two minutes. Not long now before he would be back and they could get on with this distasteful business.

000000000000000000000000000

Simpson

"Now what …?"

There was something odd here. This room above any of the others disturbed him. His eyes scanned over the room taking in the decorated walls and their bloody testament to the insanity of man and to the blood pools on the floor and the occasional boot print from a footstep that had passed through still damp blood. The room was almost a carbon copy of the other three wards, but what drew his attention was the fact that the bed had been moved.

The men assigned to clean up the room must have shifted the bed as it was away from its set station where all of the monitoring equipment could be applied to monitor the needs of a patient. He had expected to find the bed stripped down to the frame work as the bedding was piled outside the door and the men had walked the mattress past him not three minutes ago. What he had not expected to find was a bed moved almost to the middle of the ward.

He scowled at the bed as he eased around the walls of the room, careful not to brush his back against the bloodied walls. That was stupidity, some voice deep inside whispered. It was just blood and dried blood at that, but the room was oppressive and he had the sense that something vile lurked here still. A quick check of the locker and the toilet facility and he was once again looking at the displaced bed.

It bothered him.

/Why move it? There was no need … blood?/

He had expected to find blood in abundance and finding some on the bed was to be expected. What took him by surprise was that the blood was the clearly defined stamp of a boot sole. Someone had stood on the frame of the bed to … His eyes flashed up to the ceiling and he swore. Two screws held the grill in place, but there was the lightest smear of bloodied fingerprints at the rim of the vent.

/Shit!/

He was moving before conscious thought caught up with his body. Someone was in the vents and he had already had experience with Sleepers using the ventilation shafts to move around the medical centre undetected. Two men had come out of the ward casual as you please, even nodded to him as they passed and gone into the centre.

/Were they aware of this? Did they move the bed or was it moved before they entered the ward? A Sleeper could have moved the bed to gain access to the ventilation shaft long before they turned up on the scene but … /

He was out of the ward and on his way back to Frazier with the strong suspicion that somehow they had been circumvented in their control of the situation. He did not like the thought at all that someone had managed to get past Frazier and even now could be moving freely in the centre without their knowledge. Worse still it was possible that someone had managed to elude them and escaped the centre and was now free to wreck havoc in the sub base. One or more people unmonitored could mean disaster.

/Were those last two men involved in this or not? Did they help someone get past Frazier and if so why? Who?/

The door to a particular room sprang to mind, but he and Frazier had been standing before the door before the emergency response team arrived so how could they know anything was odd about the room? Of course the very fact that Frazier had not moved from his position there was noteworthy and could arouse the curiosity of people who dared to cross purposes with Blue Squad.

/Merquise? No, there is no way he was one of those men who came in through that door. Someone else? Barker is at the Alpha Dome so I doubt it's Preventer-related. Someone else who thinks they are good enough to take us down? Damn. Too may questions and I have no time to work it through. There is no more time left as far as I'm concerned. We have to get through that door and get on with this./

Frazier had tensed the moment he saw his Commander racing down the hallway and with a quick glance behind him he took a step toward Simpson who held up a hand to stay him from moving. Simpson did not want that door unguarded and he was confident the rooms around them were empty, but he had more reason now to think that the treatment room was of interest.

/Perhaps they are trying to get into the treatment room. Something in there that they don't want me to find … or someone? Is it … possible? Merquise? Broadham tried to turn my attention from the room earlier and succeeded well enough. He wouldn't go out on a limb for just anybody. Not too many of them would suspect our presence here would be for more than an official check on the man but … Would they try to cover for him? The only reason Blue Squad would have a reason to be on Mars is to check Peacecraft is still aware of his status as a prisoner. Has he been that close all this time?/

Breathing hard, not from exertion but anger, he moved past Frazier and took up position by the door. Pressing his ear to the surface he strained to hear the smallest sound, aware that the tech was watching him with concern. He could not blame Frazier for any of this if his suspicions were true. The man had done his job and he could ask no more of him than that. He was, however, going to enjoy tearing Broadbham into little bloody bits when he had Merquise secured … if he was behind this door, of course.

He glanced once at Frazier who cocked his head in silent query and himself glanced at both ends of the hallway. Still silent and deserted and he was not going to wait any longer. He fingered the gun in his hand and considered the layouts of the wards. It was possible that there would be a bed almost directly opposite the door and if Merquise was injured then he should be in it. Dare he holster the weapon? He wanted payback, but he had his orders and he needed the man alive. In the man's favour he suspected it was Merquise who had gone to so much trouble to keep his people healthy, which was more than a surprise but the evidence was there.

/He could have killed the women and those two men in the maintenance room. He didn't and it would have been easier to take them down permanently than simply render them unconscious./

It was Lucrezia Noin who rightfully incurred his wrath for killing his people and not Merquise, but he could not help wanting a piece of the blonde menace. He had heard too much of the prowess of the Oz pilot over the years to not want a showdown with the man if it was on offer and he had hoped it would come to that. A physical testing of who was the best was eagerly anticipated, but would he get it if something had happened and Merquise was injured? He snarled at the very thought of not getting the much anticipated fight.

If he had to he would have to take his temper out on dismembering the remaining Sleeper agents. No doubt it was one of those who might have done enough physical damage to warrant Merquise being hospitalized. Or was he simply hiding in there waiting for an opportunity to act? If so, why not use the vents? Or had he used the vents already and long escaped them?

Frazier shifted to the covering position and he tilted his head enough to meet the man's gaze. The tech would not have been his first choice for this, but he was the only resource Simpson had at this time and he was trained to preserve his hide in a fight. Any one of the other members of his team would have been better, but Simpson was a realist and that being the case he decided it was best to keep the man well informed. He didn't want a helpless Merquise shot by accident if the tech got rattled in there.

"The most likely scenario is that the room is empty, but I have found evidence of someone using the ventilation system. There is also the possibility that Merquise may be in there and we need him alive. We take no chances and we go in hard and fast."

"Sir."

The acknowledgement of the command was softly spoken but firmly voiced and the man's eyes showed him there was no hint of panic and that settled him. He had little in the way of concern that Frazier would fall short from his expectations when he set his hand to the door handle.

"If it is Merquise we need to take him down and if he is already injured that is to our advantage. He may be walking wounded and if he is I expect him to be trouble. His reputation suggests he might be more dangerous cornered and hurt than under normal circumstances."

Frazier nodded his understanding of the caution and centred his gaze on the door, his fingers gently caressing the butt of the automatic he held. The tech stood half a stride behind Simpson, not so close that he crowded his Commander and chanced fouling them both when they could least afford distractions but covering his back, tensed and ready.

Did he dare to fling the door open and charge through in the hard and fast action his gut instinct said was best, or should he take note of the more moderate voice that whispered the sneaky and slow silent entry would be more appropriate. Considering what he knew of the methods of the Sleepers and the possibility, slim though it was that Merquise might be involved, he was not about to presume he could somehow slip into the room. Someone would be watching and he was not going to try crawling though the bloody vents.

Enough was enough. Too much thinking about the possibilities was going to get someone hurt and it would not be himself or Frazier if he had his way.

He hated this assignment.

The metal of the knob was cold under his palm and his fingers twisted quickly. Taking a steadying breath, eyes narrowing and adrenaline pumping he pushed the door.

Seconds only to see the interior and take action. Everything happening fast, moving through the door and knowing Frazier was on his heels pumped and ready. A quick glimpse of a largish room neatly ordered and full of equipment ready to hand for the medical personnel. Side cabinets flanking the bed, monitoring equipment on one side and on the other the tall form half bent over the bed, wearing a white coat he automatically catalogued as a doctor and a wealth of the palest flowing blonde hair spread over the raised pillows.

Unmistakable trade mark locks of hair.

Reaction was instant. Hyper aware of the opportunity presented to gain the winning hand and get this unsavoury business dealt with once and for all. He was moving fast, determined to secure the situation before his luck deserted him and Merquise could react to his presence.

"Merquise!"

He snarled the name, almost spitting it as satisfaction welled within him. Everything was suddenly moving in slow motion around him and he was out striping Frazier in his single minded determination to get his hands on Merquise. He was vaguely aware of the sound of Frazier's voice, but he could not sort out the words shouted but something within him screamed Frazier would take care of the doctor and Merquise was all his.

He was more than halfway across the room before his mind registered the white coated man was dressing his targets wounds, just securing a bandage around the left hand and forearm of Marquise. The man's eyes were widening even as he turned toward him reaching for a kidney dish set on the bed beside his patient, but Simpson's attention was focused tightly on Merquise and his right hand which was moving impossibly fast in this slow motion world.

He would not give Merquise even a second to take decisive action against him. The man had too much of a reputation for pulling off the seemingly impossible for him to allow him even a second's respite.

That hand was moving fast for a scattering of objects on the blankets covering his lower body. Gleaming dark metal stars. Seemingly innocuous and startling was the hollow tube on the bed and it was this, not the stars to which the man's hand was reaching.

He snarled a denial. Merquise might be injured and some would presume down because of the injuries he might carry and he had noticed the heavy bandaging on the man's left shoulder, but he was not going to presume he was helpless. That right hand had a finger to the tube and sudden memory of the surgical nurse's comment on sedatives and darts crossed his mind.

Simpson threw himself forward as his brain finally made sense of what Frazier was screaming.

"On the floor! On the floor now!"

0000000000000000000000000000000000

Time: 02:10 approx Sanc time 00:01

Polnar

He shifted his shoulders against the incessant itch that seemed to want to drive him to distraction. He needed to concentrate and time this for best effect. If they could return to the hallway before Simpson and Frazier made their move they might be able to give Barker a few added minutes to reach Marquise and Giles and perhaps devise some plan of action. When Simpson went through that door everything would happen very quickly and he needed to be there, or close enough to have any chance whatsoever of featuring in the event.

The itch would not stop distracting him and it was an itch he had felt before, during the war. The itch that said he would very soon be seeing action that could be his last. Every trained soldier who had seen combat developed that itch if they wanted to stay alive. It was survival instinct and it served to remind them that they were alive and wanted to remain that way.

"I don't feel right about this." Polnar leaned his hands against the wall and glowered in the direction from which they had come.

"Bad feeling itch playing up too?"

Carter glared around the small room they had found, leaned his end of the mattress against the wall and moved to the door. After listening for a moment he peered out into the hallway and then ducked his head out quickly, scanned both ends of the hallway and ducked back into the room.

"No one around."

Polnar forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths. He needed to be cool calm and collected if he was going to come out of this alive. Going off half-cocked was dangerous, not only to his own well-being but to his partners as well and Carter had thus far been a good man to have at his back.

"I think it's about time we made a move."

Carter shrugged considering the door with quiet contemplation. He was a man who was willing to be led, but not at the expense of his life. He believed in considering the situation before he leapt off the deep end of the pier into unknown waters. That was one thing that worried him about joining Preventers if Barker should make the offer. He had worked well as a part of a team since coming to Mars, but there was too little known about Preventers to make the decision easy. He needed to ask questions before he agreed to anything and those questions had to wait on the outcome of this day's events.

Barker had pegged Polnar as something other than an ex-soldier caught up in the situation and he had been right; not that Carter himself had not been suspicious that Polnar was more than he appeared. The Preventer's handling of the situation had reassured him of the man's integrity and given him to believe that the Preventers might not be just another branch of the government that had presented them with the problem of Blue Squad and an unstable, unknown number of Sleeper agents to deal with.

Polnar was in no way his superior in this situationm but up until now he had been content to follow the man's lead as their intentions had coincided. The man had offered him an opinion, not instructed him that they were going back now and he appreciated the man's insight and acknowledgement of his independence at this time. Polnar wanted his opinion on the situation and their position and he was quite willing to give it.

"We've wasted enough time I would think and if they are still in the hallway we have the excuse of that bundle of bed clothes to deal with."

"Yeah. We might be able to buy Barker more time to get some sort of action plan worked out with Merquise."

"It's possible. I just hope if Simpson or Frazier did a quick recon it was just that-quick. If one of them noticed what we were up to in that room Barker and Merquise could be in trouble."

Polnar winced. "We never moved the bed back, did we?" At Carter's shrug he sighed and pushed himself off the wall. Done was done and they could do nothing about the oversight. "Come on. I need to see what is going on before I go stir crazy."

He like all others who made their way to Station One had been tested for any trace of psychic ability. The consensus was that he might have had a modicum of talent but it was not sufficient to demand training, but would he like to be trained to develop what they suspected might be there? No, thank you for the offer, he would not. What they suggested might be an underdeveloped Psi talent he simply called a soldier's instinct and was content to leave it at that.

A well developed sense of timing and the ability to know when to act, though not why he needed to act was the extent of his talents and as he had told the Training Master who tested him, any soldier who survived combat had that ability. Nothing psychic about it. While he knew his name was on the roll of potential psychics in pre break out he firmly believed he was not a member of the Gifted. If human survival instinct was a psionic ability then why was the world so ignorant of the benefits of the abilities of an awakened mind?

/Jesus, Polnar you stupid bastard, this is hardly the time or place for that./

He needed to focus on the needs of the situation and not on a conversation that had happened nearly two years ago. He was on Mars for a reason and that reason had surely been foreseen by Raydon, despite his earlier denial, else why would he be here and not on assignment closer into the hub of the Earth Sphere?

Raydon had personally chosen him to back up Haydon Giles and bodyguard the Prince of Sanc. The leader of Station One had chosen him, personally requested he consent to the assignment, stating in his opening comments that this was not a compulsory mission and he had the right to refuse the placement. That alone had piqued his interest and he admitted it had worried him a little. Raydon had gone so far as to apologize for the fact that he could not offer him much in the way of instructions considering the nature of the assignment before they had sat down to discuss the actual details. Certainly there had been no insights into the mission granted by the Gifted at the station with the ability to foresee future events and he admitted that worried him.

Usually agents sent from Station One had the benefit of their mission briefs being bolstered by pre known event. Visions from one or more of the Gifted on the stations or working in the ESUN would be included in the mission briefs as warnings of what agents might expect on assignment. That had been singularly lacking from his mission brief and he reflected that it was not the first time the Gifted had seemed blind to events involving Merquise. Was it possible that not one of their Gifted Seers, Raydon included, had received not even the most obscure warning that the Prince of Sanc was in trouble?

He nodded to Carter and peered out into the hallway ensuring that they were, at least for the moment, on their own. He did not wish to drag any of the medical staff into the altercation that was brewing. He and Carter would be enough for what was to happen, or it was all over and they did not need anymore dead than necessary. He had the nasty feeling that if they did not carry this off they would be dead and not caring about anything other than meeting their maker.

It seemed odd to him that the resources the Gifted represented to the stations had failed them. Warnings concerning Merquise and his activities were few and far between before the Libra incident and warnings of the outcome of that little altercation had become clouded and obscure after Merquise had left Oz. Something in that time period had seemed to block the Gifted of Station One, but something seen by someone must have caused a fuss because Raydon had taken off in one of their ships mid way through the war and arrived at the final battle just in time to pick up a severely injured Milliardo Peacecraft from the wreckage.

He remembered overhearing a conversation soon after his arrival on the station between two bridge officers. They had been speculating why Raydon would be so intent on securing Merquise for the stations and it had been soon after that he had learned that Raydon had more than the usual aspirations of acquiring skilled personnel for Station in Merquise. There had been a comment or two that Merquise had taken fright and bolted from the station, but Polnar had to ask himself what, after fronting the entire Earth Sphere and rubbing their noses in the gory brutality of war, could possibly send the man running?

There had been rumours of visions surrounding what had become known as the Barton Incursion and since Merquise had featured in that he assumed the man had left Station One to take a personal hand in defending the peace he had featured so strongly in crafting. He would have expected the Gifted to gain fair warning through their visionary abilities of where Merquise would end up after the Barton Incursion and being in the intelligence service of the Stations and often paired with the Gifted teams, he should have heard any rumours concerning the love of Raydons's life. The silence on Merquise's whereabouts had produced unease on the Station.

If the man was capable of the Libra incident what else was he capable of doing? That resounding silence on the subject had made him uneasy and when Raydon had asked him to bodyguard the newly located man he had been torn between abject curiosity and the impulse to run as far from Raydon and Merquise as he could possibly get.

Since stealing spaceships was frowned upon on Station he had sat down and listened to the man and now here he was, walking down a hallway with a perfect stranger to back him up and the Commander of the infamous Blue Squad ahead of him. Some days were just so perfect you could cry.

/One thing I have learned from my association with the Gifted is that you can not take the benefits of working with them for granted. It does not do to presume that they are always right, or that what they say they see is actually what they saw. I've been warned about the potential inaccuracies, not of the visions themselves but of the interpretation of the visions, often enough not to doubt the danger. We are only human and the Gifted are as human as everyone else and we all make mistakes. I think the current saying on Station One is to err is human, but to err badly is the prerogative of the Gifted./

Carter moved freely at his side, attentive to the slightest sound that could mean company approaching or trouble ahead of them. They were moving quickly and quietly toward where the hallway began its gentle curve that hid Simpson and Frazier from their sight and he hesitated a moment, debating on their best method to continue on. Should they keep up the jogging pace they had adopted and attract the attention of the men if they were still in front of the door to the emergency room, or would it be safer to slow to a walk and approach on a more casual basis? The picture of innocence might get them further than running and finding the men standing there quietly twiddling their collective thumbs.

/I hate ambiguous orders. It leaves too much to chance./

He wasn't sure what it was that alerted him, but he was aware suddenly that something had changed. He could not place his finger on what it was that alerted him to trouble, but suddenly a chill was racing up his spine and his feet seemed to have a will of their own. He was racing down the hallway even before the shout split the silence and doused his nerves in ice water.

"Merquise!"

Simpson's voice!

Carter's muttered 'Oh shit' was barely heard over the drumming of his racing feet and the thunder of his heart trying to escape the confinement of his ribcage.

"On the floor! On the floor now!"

Frazier's repeated shouts sent a chill through him. Giles. Giles was in that room and he had to get there as fast as was humanly possible and here he was stuck out in the hallway and the room seemed miles ahead of him.

"Shit. Shit! Shit!"

He was running and Carter was just behind him, but he was too far away and he had to get there. There was the door and it was open and time seemed to be odd around him, slow and an impossible invisible barrier was holding him back, so that he had to fight for each step closer to what lay beyond the door.

He was unaware that he began to draw away from his companion as panic lent additional speed to his flying feet and he was reaching for his knife before he was even at the door. Some part of him retained enough awareness of the area around him to note that the hallway was deserted and there was no additional danger to complicate matters. From within the emergency room there came an inarticulate shout followed by the crashing of furniture and as he came abreast of the door he heard with tinny clarity the sound of something small and metallic hitting the floor and bouncing.

He was going to be too late, he knew it, but there was nothing he could do. Surely only seconds must have passed since Simpson had acted and if he was fast enough and Simpson was distracted with Merquise, he would have a good chance of taking the Commander down. He needed to get to Simpson before he could recover from whatever he needed to do to take the men down in the room and that was going to be his one and only chance to affect the outcome.

Merquise was not alone in that room. Giles was in there and would do his best to defend the man, but there was not just Simpson in there. Frazier was shouting and Giles could not deal with two of them at once. Could he take down two of them? He would have to manage, or the Stations were going to lose two members of the Gifted Elite Security Force this day.

That would be guaranteed to piss off Raydon.

It was only seconds and he could run like the wind if he had to and by God, he had to now, or Raydon would lose valuable resources, not just a potential lover.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	155. Chapter 155 Chapter 154

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 154

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 02:06 approx Sanc time 23:57

Zechs

"You know, it seems I've been watching that clock forever and cursing the hands that just won't move around its face. Now I'm sitting here not wanting them to move at all. Funny that. I suppose I should be grateful that they don't seem to be galloping."

Zechs smiled absently, barely listening to Giles who had his attention fastened not on the clock but on the door. He knew his companion was dreading the moment it would open and they would front Simpson. Barker had gone to check on his men and they had each sat here in silence entertaining their own thoughts until finally Giles had spoken.

Zechs too was watching the door, though unlike Giles he was not counting the possible disasters that could come with Simpson's grand entrance. He had questions. but they were not the same questions Giles asked himself. He had seen so much, witnessed in visions the deaths of so many men and women over the last months but here and now he was faced with a total blank.

How many men in the next few minutes would die to add to the day's morbid tally?

That was the question that haunted him. Visions had given him warning of what would come and despite his efforts those deaths surrounded him now not in vision and possibility, but in bloody fact. They were dead and he had been unable to do anything to save them. Now when he needed as much information as he could to keep the man at his side alive, he knew absolutely nothing.

Whatever had happened out in the hall when he had taken out the Sleeper, some intangible and ill understood 'thing' had irrevocably changed circumstances. By taking down that man he had somehow wiped clean the visions of what should have been happening. What his visions had hinted at and once he had worked for as the lesser of evils was now gone, voided and this moment in time was as unknown to him as it was to Giles. He should know how this altercation would end, for better or for worse, he should know. If one or more of the men to be involved in this fight would die in the next few minutes, or if the confrontation would eventuate at all … he should have that knowledge … and he did not.

/I should know … I did know how things were … moving … shaping. I … Something has … changed. I interfered. What I saw … Will anything happen as I saw it now? Is the ship still coming to wipe them all out? I saved Giles out there and now … I remember the vision … I think … Parts of it at least. Giles going down …/ He shuddered delicately. /I could not allow it to happen. He's the first since Treize who has known the insanity that haunts me and has not looked at me as though I am a freak or a raving lunatic. Even Noin couldn't look at me as though I was sane but … He's the first who knows and has not wanted to use what I don't understand for their own purposes. He's … a … friend. My friend. I could not stand there and allow him to die./

There was still the possibility that Simpson might bypass the room entirely.

/As if. Were I in his place I would not leave an unknown element at my back and from what both Giles and Barker have told me he knows there is something about this room that has people on edge. He can't leave it unexplored. No Commander worth his salt would walk away./

"I should work on your bandages now." It was more of a question than a statement and showed how distracted Giles was.

Where would his thoughts be wandering now that the moment was almost upon them? Did Giles give thoughts to his family and friends? Did he think of his home? Did he wonder if Raydon would blame him for the events of the day?

No one was to blame for this chaos except him. He should have died with the fortress Libra and none of this would have happened. None of them would be dead now and they could have lived their lives on Mars free of the horrors of murder and mayhem.

"Zechs? Are you alright?"

/I need to face facts and get on with this before it is too late. Now would be best to do the bandaging, I suppose, while we can at least guarantee a minute or two. To delay now is to beg for trouble and we have enough of that already./

He sighed softly and with particular care not to jar his injured shoulder he rested his burned hand across his thigh, angling the palm up to face Giles. Wordless consent to begin. He stared at the bandaging for a moment and turned his eyes away from his arm to the door once again.

He wished that he could have some degree of confidence in the plans they had made. He knew only too well the limited resources they had available and while such had not bothered him before the simple truth of the matter was that before he had been guided by vision and had made allowances for event by placing caches around the base. The fact that he had no foreknowledge of this particular incident changed everything. If he had ever dreamed of this exact set of circumstances he had no conscious memory of it to help set the course to be followed for best results. In this instance he was just as blind to the outcome as anyone else on the base.

He did not like that ignorance.

Not when people would die because of it.

"Do it now." He did not need to say that they should already have taken this step and he was at fault for not pushing the action. They both knew that.

He had made these plans in the space of the last hour and to take this step seemed to be an admission that he had lost all control of the situation. With no memory of dreamed event to guide him to counter what he would consider undesirable outcomes leading from actual event, he should have taken the precaution immediately their position had been made clear to him. He should have ensured that the trap for Simpson was laid long before there was any possibility the man would burst through that door and find him lagging. He knew it was dangerous to deny the inevitability of the situation, but he had been hopeful up until this point that some revelation in the form of a memory might eventuate and he would find another solution. One that did not put Giles or himself at such risk.

Perhaps a vision … but no, such would have taken him entirely out of the chain of events to take place. The throbbing in his head suggested that there was something there, but he felt a great distance separated him from realizing the vision.

The hope that a memory or a vision might make a difference, like the delay itself, was foolish in the extreme.

His eyes rested on the bandage Giles set on the bed near his thigh and turned his gaze from the neat roll to the small pile of assorted items resting at his right thigh. The gundanium throwing stars, the few sedative darts left to him and the hollow tube he used to fire the darts.

They seemed a pathetic little pile. He did not want to take down Simpson using the stars. He could do it, he had no doubt of that. He could rip the man's throat open with just one of the sharpened gundanium missiles, but he did not want to do it. The man was only doing his job and he did not deserve to have his life bleed out of him because of the orders given by those far away bastards who never had blood staining their hands or flowing through their dreams.

No excuses now. No bemoaning the fact that he had not covered all possibilities.

He was not Epyon.

He was not God.

He did not know it all and he should not expect to have that omnipotence.

If he continued to rely on visions during the dark periods where he was no different from anyone else, innocent of the knowledge of future event, then he could, in his own stubborn ignorance of the facts, cause someone to be hurt or killed. Neither Giles nor any of the other Terra formers deserved that fate because he was being a stubborn ass and looking for what was denied him.

He only hoped he had not already delayed too long while praying for a memory to match the circumstances that surrounded them to guide him in the best course of action to be taken. How dare he bemoan the visions and the knowledge they granted him when he did not wish them to tear his world apart and ache for their guidance when he needed them the most and they deserted him. How dare he behave in such a manner? But there was some small comfort in the knowledge that such emotion did at least prove him to be human.

It was so very human to crave both the knowledge of foreseeing and the innocence of ignorance.

/Fool./

He watched in brooding silence as Giles began to unwrap the outer layer of bandaging the doctors had used to bind his burnt hand. He was thankful that he had been unconscious while they had been working on him and was blissfully ignorant of the extent of his burns. Giles had assured him his shoulder was not broken, but had not offered much in the way of comment on his hand and forearm.

"They slathered you in regen gel specific to burns and said it would heal quickly. You never said exactly what you did to get burned, but the doc said it looked like you had been too close to an electrical discharge of some kind and maybe a flash fire. They put a regen glove over the gel so I'll apply a couple of gauze pads over your palm and the back of your hand and re bandage it. That will give you a bit of padding to help protect the burns."

He glanced at the man who was all attention on rolling the bandage up as he unraveled its length and Giles met his gaze before shrugging. They both knew it would almost certainly come down to physical contact between himself and Simpson and in truth he was banking on that contact. Any sane person would be praying to take the man down from a distance and there was still the chance that he would be quick enough to use the blow gun to dart him. It was possible but not probable.

He would get only the one chance to dart him and he doubted Simpson would simply stand there and present an easy target. He would have a greater chance of getting a shuriken into him.

No. Much as it would simplify matters he would not deliberately go out to kill the man and using the throwing stars was a guarantee that he would be a dead man. You did not use those weapons to wound. As much as it risked serious injury for himself, he preferred to deal with this in close quarters and leave Frazier to Giles. Simpson would come through the door with his weapon drawn and expect to have instant control of the situation, but somehow he was going to have to sucker the Commander close enough to him that he could take him down with the least risk of damage to either of them.

"Zechs …"

"Don't. We try it this way. With you wearing that coat in this setting he will presume you are a doctor and underestimate you. We need to rely on that if things go wrong."

"Stubborn." Giles growled.

Giles did not like the plan and he knew it only too well. The man had voiced a great deal in the way of protest, but in the end the question of whether or not he had a better idea had silenced him. Where he might normally have taken on Simpson in a physical confrontation, pitting the strength of his arm and the speed of his reflexes against the Blue Squad Commander he had to face facts. The option no longer existed. He would not stand a chance in his current physical condition.

Every avenue of their situation had needed to be considered if only in the hope that it might trigger some memory of event glimpsed in vision, but such had not occurred. He remained blind to the outcome of the situation, blind to the potential aftermath and time had been against them from the beginning. Options had been considered, sifted through for faults, pulled apart in as much detail as the constraints of time permitted and when all was said and done he had chosen what he believed was the only chance they had to survive and take out Blue Squad without more deaths. Even if neither Giles nor he particularly liked that option and it was their limited resources that defined his final decision.

"Are you sure about … this?" Giles looked pointedly at the pathetic little cluster of items he had chosen spread on the bed near to his good hand.

"We've discussed it Giles. You couldn't come up with a better solution."

"Barker wasn't here then. We have back up now."

"And perhaps no time to take advantage of it. Do what you can to make the hand comfortable. It's going to hurt like hell if we grapple and I know that we will. Just bind it tighter than it was to give me some support."

The man was scowling as he placed the palm pad, smoothing it out to avoid the additional discomfort creases would offer him. There were no words of comfort he could offer to sooth Giles' sensibilities and there was no time for such anyway. He just wished the man would not consider the necessity of this as a personal failure. Giles had done everything he possibly could to keep him out of Simpson's control. Events had just been too much for them.

"Okay. Just thought I'd ask. Just be careful with those tranquilizer darts. If this shit should enter your bloodstream you could be in all sorts of trouble. The doc was adamant about the danger of the amount of chemicals in your system. An overdose in your condition could have serious repercussions."

The man was like a mother hen after her brood. It was rather a nice feeling to have someone watchful of his well being without wanting something from him, or being bound in terror that he might breathe at the wrong time. Lucrezia had seemed to live in fear that if he smiled it would be misconstrued as a threat to his jailors. Giles was a refreshing change.

"I know the risks."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's what worries me the most. There are no visions guiding you and you won't listen to reason."

He met the man's eyes and grinned, trying to exude confidence though he felt like screaming and gibbering like an idiot. In this situation he was the same as Giles, both of them head blind to the course of the future, but deep within him there was something that he listened to … a gut feeling that he was taking the right path out of the darkness and he had to go with that feeling.

/Does the future always have to come from clear visions? I'm tired of trying to see my way through the maze. Very tired of the whole thing but … I have to put my trust, my faith, in human instinct sometime. Is there no longer a place in the world for gut instinct?/

He could not always wait for vision to guide him and just look at the mess following vision had produced. Epyon and Libra had led to this and he was thinking more and more that he had failed miserably. If this murder of innocents was a better option …

Fleeting glimpse of shattered buildings, dark and silent and the stark bleached bones of those who had fallen … the wailing of a child alone and frightened and in pain …

No. Not now. Not here. He could not afford to remember and his head ached enough as it was without remembering the horror of those visions.

"I don't need visions to know the deep shit we are in and that chances have to be taken if we are to get out of the mire." He watched the careful wrapping of his hand and the care Giles took in the exact placing of the bandaging across his palm and the back of his hand. "A little firmer I think. I prefer to be safe than sorry."

"I don't dare put too much pressure on the burns. I still don't like the idea of you doing this. If Raydon was here he'd have my guts for garters for allowing you to step into the fight zone. Simpson is not going to be easy to deal with and you are in no fit condition to go a round with Frazier, let alone the Commander."

"Even Raydon would have to acknowledge that it was inevitable, Giles."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Barker

"… know the risks."

He paused, resting a moment at the whisper in the vent. If he could hear Merquise then he had to be close to the ward access and he could take a couple of seconds to catch his breath.

Perspiration poured from him soaking his uniform and doing nothing to cool his aching, over heated body. The vent seemed like an oven and what little breeze there was he found to be far from refreshing, but he could see the glow from the room just ahead. Somehow they would manage to take Simpson and Frazier down and confine them and then they could deal with those murderous bastards killing off the terra formers.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's what worries me the most. There are no visions guiding you and you won't listen to reason."

Without conscious thought his arms bent to lower him to the floor of the vent as his mind grappled with that curious statement . Visions? What were they talking about? Visions as in images floating in the air before the eyes belonging to a deluded mind? He was exhausted from the day's exertions and from lack of sleep, but the adrenaline was beginning to pump through him with every thud of his heart at their proximity to a showdown and perhaps that accounted for what he thought he had just heard.

"I don't need visions to know the deep shit we are in and that chances have to be taken if we are to get out of the mire."

Merquise had always confused him but he had found him to be largely very down to earth in his basic views. The man had always been withdrawn and quiet but there had never been any hint of anything … weird.

He winced at the thought. / Weird. Not a very nice word when applied to a fellow human being, but sometimes you had to struggle to find an appropriate word. / Somehow weird seemed to fit the conversation he was listening to.

"A little firmer I think. I prefer to be safe than sorry."

/Huh? I'm missing something obviously. That's what I get for coming in on a conversation half way through and jumping to conclusions./

He braced his hands against the floor of the vent and pushed himself back to his hands and knees position.

"I don't dare put too much pressure on the burns."

/Ah, Giles is checking his bandaging./

"I still don't like the idea of you doing this. If Raydon was here he'd have my guts for garters allowing you to step into the fight zone. Simpson is not going to be easy to deal with and you are in no fit condition to go a round with Frazier, let alone the Commander."

/Raydon?/

"Even Raydon would have to acknowledge that it was inevitable, Giles."

/Raydon?/ He sank back to lie on his belly, head cocked as he searched for any memory of the name and came up blank. /I don't understand. Who is Raydon and what is this talk of visions?/

"Knowing Raydon as I do he undoubtedly would have managed to come up with something equally as hair raising, but it would not have featured you taking the fall."

/That man does not sound happy. What the hell has Merquise planned?/

"Giles."

Barker caught the low rumble of warning in that deep voice and remained frozen in place, just short of the vent cover. A small voice was whispering incessantly in his ear that he should get his priorities right and get his backside moving. Time was moving on and it would not wait for him to finish eavesdropping on a conversation he had no right to listen in on in the first place. Maybe it was the Preventer training but he remained where he was, ears straining to catch the low voices certain somewhere deep within him that he was about to learn something interesting.

/Visions? Raydon? Merquise has always kept his own council since coming to Mars. How he learned what was going to happen and make so many preparations I don't kno …/ The thought trailed to a halt. /No. No way./

"I know, I know. You didn't make the decision lightly, but the fact remains that if I survive this shit I am going to have to face Raydon over it. If you get hurt any more than you already are … and there's that too. He's not going to like it that you were injured at all. You've not been graced with the joyful experience of being the focus for Raydon when he's in a snit. Let me tell you the man fairly chills my blood when he is 'displeased'."

Barker caught a hint of amusement in the man's voice, but overshadowing the humour was very real concern for Merquise and no small amount of respect for this Raydon character. There was no fear in Haydon Giles voice when he spoke and that told Barker, who had served under a wide variety of officers in his career, that this Raydon was a fair man.

"Treize was the same. He never needed to raise his voice when a look would do the job and if he had to do more than look at you to get the message across, you knew you were in the deepest shit possible."

There was unmistakable amusement in Merquise's low voice and hints of a familiarity with Treize Kushrenada that had Barker wondering about the rumours that had circulated in Alliance circles during the war. Just what had been the extent of the relationship between Kushrenada and Merquise? Surely not lovers. What could possibly have set estranged lovers at each other's throats during the war to warrant the Libra incident? Anyway, there was Noin and the children, nor was this the time for such speculation.

/A hell of a lot more went on in the war than I'll ever know./

"I wouldn't know a lot about Kushrenada, but I do know something about Raydon and I have to wonder what it is he's up to. He's never said anything to me when I've sent off a report, or on the few occasions I've managed to talk to him directly, but I honestly would have thought he might have witnessed something in one of his visions that would relate to this. Considering his past record it would be bloody strange to have totally missed some suggestion of this butchery. I'm pretty sure he never saw you on Mars in his visions from what was said after I reported your presence here, but I know only too well that visions are not infallible and sometimes you just don't get warning. Sometimes it's the interpretation that is at fault not the vision. I have known Raydon to be taken by surprise before but it's a rare thing, especially when you consider the pool of Gifted individuals we have on Station One. A large amount of those Gifted are clairvoyants of varying strengths and specialties and I would have thought there would have been enough of them for an incident to have occurred warning of this scenario."

/Raydon? Visions? Clairvoyants? Station One? What the hell is going on? I feel that I've escaped sanity to take refuge in an asylum./

"Visions, as you have said, are not infallible nor are the people who suffer them. I know the Gifted on Station One have accepted their abilities and that I'm a long way from being one of them, but Giles, it's not as great to see future event as you think it is. I think visions are overrated."

/Merquise … has … visions? Oh, no fucking way!/ He dropped his head into his hands, scrubbing his face against his rough palms and trying vainly to wake up from this disturbing dream.

"Handy though. You can't deny that.'

/Visions. Handy? Overrated? What the hell …? Can I wake up now?/

He rubbed at his eyes, wondering if this was all some weird dream and he would wake at any moment to find he had endured a particularly weird and vivid nightmare. No Blue Squad on Mars. No Sleepers killing off their population. No Merquise laying plans to save those outside the domes … No people locked out to face the freezing Martian night … Above all, no talk of visions. He could only hope that he would wake from the dream and find himself in his own bed and a new day dawning with comfortable dreary routine ahead of him.

/Lord, I'd give anything to find out it was all a dream./

"I've had my fill of visions."

The low words whispered through the vent and Barker felt chilled.

Merquise sounded tired. Incredibly weary and Barker knew it was not just physical exhaustion. There was something, some hint, a shift in his tone perhaps, in that quiet deep voice that suggested this man wanted an ending to more than the nightmare of what was happening around them. It was a subtle undertone but unmistakable once you had heard it and he had heard it often toward the end of the war and always from soldiers who had had their fill of the bloodshed and the horror that came with conflict. Those men then had been exhausted physically and emotionally and too many of them had been perched precariously on the edge of sanity.

/Maybe Giles has cause to doubt Merquise has a sound plan. I don't like the sound of this./

"You need the Training Masters, my friend. I've told you before that they can help and they will help you Zechs. They will be able to show you that you are not a raving lunatic. They will be able to introduce you to others who have something of the same skills. They will be able to introduce you to others who have suffered as you have from the ignorance and misunderstanding of those who have not awakened to how diverse the universe is . We just have to get you safely off Mars and into their care. Raydon must have responded by now to the alert we sent and he won't be sitting on his duff doing nothing about the situation. I'm certain he would have been able to contact a ship or three allied to Station in our vicinity and have directed them to contact us by now. All we need to do is survive long enough for them to reach us."

/What is this, the fucking Twilight Zone? I have no idea what they are talking about. If I'm not dreaming then I think I need to find out more. Polnar claimed he and his partner were private security but never said who he was working for. I think there is a little more to it than that. I can't recall any Preventer alerts issued for any references to a place called Station One, or an individual named Raydon. It's obvious Merquise knows the reference to both man and place. Station … Station … No one I know identifies a colony by calling them stations, though I believe when they were first experimenting with space habitats they were called space stations. Station One. Is that a true colony identification, or just a coded reference to one of the colony clusters? L1? Maybe. I think I need to get word of this to Preventer Earth and see what the brain trust makes of the information. I believe I have heard enough to warrant a search be initiated. /

"Alright, is that too tight?"

"No."

"Jesus, Zechs, don't curl your fingers so far! Oh stop looking at me like that."

"You worry too much." Merquise sighed and Barker heard the bed creak as he shifted his weight.

"Well if I don't, who will? Certainly not you when it comes to preserving your own hide. Just curl your fingers into a half fist for me … Okay, that should do for placement. Reasonably comfortable?"

"As comfortable as it is likely to get. Stop fussing."

"You have to keep some movement in that hand and while it is tight I don't think it will do any harm and it will not allow for shift. Let me get the cover off … Okay. Just be bloody careful not to stick yourself. How fast can you aim and fire that thing?"

/What the hell are they up to? Covers? Aim and fire what? Damn, what the hell do I think I'm doing? Simpson could barge in there at any time. I'd better give them warning before it's too late./

Levering himself back to his hands and knees he crawled forward, noting the grill was only a meter or so ahead of him. If not for the sweat clouding his vision he would have seen it before now and been reminded of his mission.

"Okay, I'll just secure the end of the bandage …"

Barker froze at the sound of a door slamming against the wall and even as he lunged forward he heard doom fall upon them all.

"Merquise!"

Simpson's low growl was unmistakable and satisfaction dripped in the identification of his ultimate prey on Mars.

"On the floor! On the floor now!"

Barker lunged forward to cover the last couple of feet and thrust his face hard to the grill, trying to make out detail on what was happening below. His body strained and trembled as he fought to restrain the instinctive demanded he punch out the grill and drop into the ward and do something to save the day. Instinct demanded he take action, but training and a healthy dose of common sense won out and stayed his hand. While he sucked air into suddenly labouring lungs and while his fingers scrambled for purchase on the grillwork, he did not lash out or shout in reaction to the fear in his gut and give away his position.

He still felt like a coward.

He was a Preventer and while there were innocents on Mars they had to come first on his priority list. If Merquise and Giles should go down now he might be the only one who was free and capable of taking action and making a difference between life and death for the terra formers still alive. He could not silence the insidious thought that demanded he place himself in reserve should Simpson, with Merquise safely secured, decide to emulate the Sleepers and start to take out the base personnel. The facts could not be denied. Simpson needed to clear the way for the Wellington and keep the news of the incident isolated to Mars and that necessitated the killing of potential witnesses.

All potential witnesses.

"God."

He hated himself for freezing and remaining in safety and for watching the events taking place and doing nothing to possibly help or hinder the operation. He could only press his face to the grill and watch that restricted view of the room he could see … and pray.

He caught a fleeting glimpse of the shadow of a large dark shape that had to be Simpson as he hurtled across the room, his shadow a brief flicker over that square patch he could see, but he had a better view of Frazier as he followed on the heels of his Commander. The tech paused directly under the grill, gun in hand but all Barker could think about was that low voiceless snarl that echoed in the vent he thought might belong to Simpson. The foot of the bed rocked to a massive blow, threatening to overturn the bed and he heard a grunt of startled pain from someone in the room.

There was a yell that he thought might be from Giles but he could make no sense of the words over the thundering of his heart and then there was a solid thud of bodies hitting the floor, the bed rocked back to settle to all four legs again and there was a clatter of metal on metal and a metallic ringing sound intermingled with swearing and cursing and a pained scream bitten off in a grunt.

"Got you, you bastard!" Simpson's satisfied voice chilled him to the bone.

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2005


	156. Chapter 156 Chapter 155

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 155

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 02:12 approx Sanc time 00:02

Giles

"You worry too much." Merquise sighed and with extreme care not to displace the equipment on the bed, eased himself a little higher before lying back against the pillows once more.

/I worry too much? God, give me strength. I'll do the man in before this is over. How the fuck can you be so calm and collected after all the shit we have had to deal with and now we finally face Simpson?/

He shook his head, mindful to watch what he was doing. He had no intention of taking himself out of the picture because he was careless and stuck himself on one of those tranquilizer darts any more than he intended Merquise stick himself with one. The only person he wanted to see injected by the little darts was that hulking bully of a Commander.

/Gah, will you listen to yourself you idiot? Simpson seems to comport himself in a more civilized manner than those Sleeper bastards. I'd prefer to see those murdering creeps strung up by their ankles and roasting over hot coals not enjoying an enforced forty winks./

"Well if I don't who will? Certainly not you when it comes to preserving your own hide. Just curl your fingers into a half fist for me …"

Bandaged fingers curled easily enough and he knew that Merquise would have sufficient freedom of movement to enable him to act without undue hindrance. In what was to come they would need every advantage they could get.

"Okay, that should do for placement. Reasonably comfortable?"

He ran his thumb over the layers of bandaging trying to feel for any folds that might place too much pressure on tender burns and possibly produce deeper wounds than already marked the man. He would not feel better about this idiocy until it was all over and by some miracle Merquise came from this free and with no more serious injuries than he already claimed. He knew he was thinking like a stylus stuck in a groove, perpetually on a loop but he could not help it. Until it was over and he knew the outcome he would rehash constantly the pros and cons of the situation.

"As comfortable as it is likely to get. Stop fussing."

/You don't fool me. You're good at covering it but I can tell. You are worried but determined not to show it and I know where that comes from too. You were an officer and it was not your place to give in to, or look your fear in the sight of your subordinates. Showing fear wasn't the way to inspire confidence in your men./

He continued to lightly run his fingertips over first the palm and then the back of the hand, seeking some fault in the bandaging and acknowledging finally that his work was as good as he was capable of producing. All he could do was hope it would hold up to the test ahead of them … if, that was, they could sucker Simpson into closing with Merquise.

"You have to keep some movement in that hand and while it is tight I don't think it will do any harm to the burns and it will not allow for shift. Let me get the cover off …"

With feigned casualness he carefully removed the plastic cover to the darts one at the time and even placed one of the darts inside the tube in readiness for those few seconds they would have to dart Simpson before he settled back a little and gave the man some respite from his close proximity. How long did they have? It had to be soon now. Minutes or seconds?

With a low sigh he eyed the small assortment of darts and shrugged. He was not exactly thrilled to have some of them uncapped and loose on the bed. In the heat of the confrontation it was possible that Merquise might end up sticking himself with one, but they had to be there, available for use if he needed to reload and there would be no time for uncapping more darts. The whole confrontation was going to be over in seconds, one way or the other and they did not have the luxury of asking Simpson to hold up a sec while they popped the cap on a dart.

/God. Listen to me./

He would worry himself into an early grave. His mother, in long ago days, had said that he had a habit of worrying over nothing. Not even she could say this was nothing, but he could not contain his fear that all was going to go to hell very quickly. Simpson would take one look at Merquise and pounce. The fight would have been one to watch if Merquise was up to it, but in his present condition it was no contest.

Yet they hoped to win. Simpson would not consider this fight fair and in normal circumstances neither would Zechs.

"Okay. Just be bloody careful not to stick yourself. How fast can you aim and fire that thing?"

He flicked a finger at the tube, watching as Zechs used his good hand to lightly run a finger over the surface. He resisted the urge to comment as Zechs checked the placement of the dart in the tube with a deft touch. He didn't know if Merquise believed the warning he had given him on the consequences should he receive even a mild dose of the sedative. The doctor had been quite explicit, but Zechs had been unconscious at the time and he could only hope Merquise had confidence in him. If the man thought he was losing his nerve he might take chances they could not afford.

Though Merquise said nothing in reply to his question, he did offer a small and somewhat sneaky looking grin that did nothing to soothe Giles nerves. He took the smile to mean that he could use it very quickly indeed, but being party to the plan that grin was no help at all. Simpson could shoot to wound or perform any one of a dozen actions that would end the hope of tranquilizing him from a distance and Merquise had no intention of killing if it was at all possible. Their hope did not lie with the shuriken or the dart in the tube and he was still uncertain why he had permitted Merquise to convince him that this was the best course of action open to them.

/Anyone would think he's the one with the Psi gift to 'suggest', not me. I'm a bloody fool to have agreed to this, but it's too late now. My only hope if it turns sour is for me to use my ability when things quiet down to earn my freedom and work to get him out of Simpson's influence. If they believe I'm a doctor it will be that much easier to convince them I am harmless./

He reached to take the bandaged hand again and with a small tug tighten the last wrapping and secure the loose end of the bandage with a clip. "Okay, I'll just secure the end of the bandage …"

The crash of the door striking the wall under the barrage of a heavily booted foot spun him from his task and there was no more time to bemoan everything coming to the showdown in this most unsuitable of places. Simpson was framed in the doorway and he almost glowed with satisfaction as his eyes lighted on Merquise.

"Merquise!"

Satisfaction fairly oozed from his voice and he bared his teeth in a feral grin that caused something deep inside Giles to clench in fear. That smile reminded him of a man who had been in his platoon in long ago days, who had ultimately coughed out his life on desert sands. The feral grin of a berserker who quickly lost all fear for himself and dived into conflict intent on causing as much mayhem as possible faced him from across the room.

"On the floor! On the floor now!"

Everyone around him was moving in slow motion. Movement was unreal and sound was distorted to the point where he could barely understand what the tech was shouting. Sound and vision seemed unreliable, as one minute Simpson was standing in the doorway and the next second he seemed to be halfway across the room with Frazier on his heels. There was no more time to think, only time to react.

He sincerely doubted that Zechs was going to have the time to raise the blowpipe to his mouth before Simpson would be on him. He was almost surprised to feel the cool metal of the kidney dish in his hand, but the coldness of the metal and the faint sound of the caltrops sliding within the dish reminded him of his part in this drama. He was to scatter the caltrops in the hope that Simpson or Frazier might step on one of them and be slowed down. Gundanium barbs should make an impression even on the heavy footwear the ESUN agents were sporting.

For an instant he glanced down, a reflex to ensure the caltrops were in the dish and as he did so he noted Zechs' fingertips just reaching the tube, but he was not the only one to notice that movement. Simpson's low growl was warning enough he knew about the darts and Giles feared that while the man had avoided shooting either of them thus far, that reserve was now gone.

Simpson was above all a survivalist. It was amazing just what you could do if you thought your life hung in the balance.

How the big man could move so far so fast was beyond him, but suddenly he was there, across the bed from them and in mid air, having taken a giant leap to reach them. His momentum was carrying him into Merquise with an irresistible force and his arms were closing around Zechs even as his body slammed into the Prince. The bed rocked to the impact and jumped sideways and slammed into Giles' legs, knocking him off balance and backwards against the chair he had been seated in just seconds before.

Too quick for him to react.

Everything was happening too fast.

Simpson had one arm wrapped around Marquise's shoulders and a meaty paw clasped firmly to his upper arm as his weight carried them both off the bed, which rocked dangerously and almost overturned from the force of his assault. Giles was suddenly fighting the chair moving behind him, off balance and with aching thighs from the impact of the bed and then the chair overturned with a metallic clatter, further upsetting his balance.

The Blue Squad Commander was grinning, a feral and not very pleasant expression as he exulted at his success at reaching his prey, his free hand latching securely around Marquise right wrist and forcing that hand up and away from any of the now flying items that had been thrown from their place on the bed. With that action, the securing by Simpson of Merquise's one usable hand, Giles experienced a sense of deep satisfaction and relief. Simpson had ignored the man's bandaged left hand, choosing to set him off balance and immobilize the hand capable of wielding a weapon, leaving Merquise with little option in the way of attack.

Then he was going down with them, caught under the two big men and hindered by the overturned chair he knew he was not going to get clear of them and he experienced an instant of panic. There was still Frazier waiting to be dealt with and he was going to be trapped and helpless.

As he felt himself falling he flailed uselessly for balance and the kidney dish shot out of his suddenly fumbling fingers and the caltrops sailed into the air. There was no time to even curse or hope that Frazier would be slowed by stepping on one of the metal barbs, but just before he hit the floor he caught a glimpse of a shape filling the doorway behind Frazier. He thrust out an arm behind him and managed to throw the chair out of the way and there was not even time to be relieved he was not going to be tangled with it and do more damage to himself. Then there was the stunning impact against the metal floor and he thought he was going to black out from the intense pain, as both big men landed across his legs just as he recognized the man hesitating in the doorway.

Despite the burning in his ribs, jarred mercilessly by the impact with the metal floor and the thrashing of the men struggling against each other pinning him to the floor, there was no hesitation in Giles. The tech was shouting something the pain drowned out and Frazier was striding forward with his gun drawn and clearly intent on securing the situation. Fighting against the urge to pass out and be blissfully unaware of the pain he was experiencing he fought for consciousness, determined to see this through. He was not inclined now to pass out and miss their victory, because with Polnar standing in the doorway he knew with a warm glow of satisfaction that they had won.

He struggled to lift his head from the floor and noted Simpson's victorious grin and the ruddy flush of his skin against the paleness fast creeping over the pale golden skin of the man he held in a vice like grip. Zechs had to be experiencing waves of agony from his shoulder as Simpson had made no effort to cushion their landing and Giles was fairly certain that Zechs had landed on his injured shoulder. His right hand was immobilized by Simpson's strong grip, but his left hand was free and was pressed to the Commanders shoulder and even as he watched Giles saw the satisfaction appear in crystal blue eyes that were hard and brittle with the fire of a warrior who knew victory was his.

"Got you, you bastard!"

Simpson's deep toned snarl freed him from the momentary stasis that had held him and time began to run normally once again. A smile, just as feral as Simpson's had been earlier, spread over his face and he felt the unique warmth of satisfaction that eased the pain from abused ribs and bruised hip and thighs. Victory must still be secured so that it could not be doubted. There was still much to do. He might be caught under the two men, a situation that neither he nor Zechs had considered in their plotting, but there was the bonus he had not dared entertain in their scenarios of this confrontation. He had not dared include his partner appearing on the scene to take down Frazier and grant them the full victory against Blue Squad.

00000000000000000000000000

Polnar

Lungs feeling that they would burst from the effort he came level with the door and then he was a step into the room and everything was surreal. Time seemed to stand still for precious seconds while he surveyed the scene. Simpson was on top of Merquise and blonde hair was flying wildly as the bed rocked to the impact of Simpson's body, threatening to send both men and the solid metal bed spilling over the floor. Simpson's bulk and speed had Merquise locked in his arms and as time began to move again he watched the force of the impact driving both men off the bed.

He watched with widening eyes as Giles stumbled, set off balance by the force of Simpson's charge and the bed was shifted sideways, rocking into him with a force that made him wince in sympathy. The man stepped back once, twice, trying to steady himself, but there was a chair near him and he stumbled into it, fighting it for a moment and then it overturned and impacted the floor, knocking hard into Giles' legs and almost taking him down. The impact did shake him enough that he lost the small kidney dish he had been holding and it went flying toward Frazier as he was knocked back further by the two big men tumbling from the bed.

/Shit!/

It was obvious that Giles was not going to manage to get out of the way in time to avoid going down under Merquise and Simpson. In front of him, striding across the room with gun drawn and shouting something that sounded like 'Freeze' was Frazier and he was intent on the tangle of bodies.

He could not reach Simpson before he took out Merquise by rendering him unconscious, which he surely would do to gain total control of the situation, but he could reach the tech who was intent on Giles, gun raised to threaten him, though Frazier seemed reluctant to fire. Though the tech was shouting at Giles to freeze and intent on securing him, he could see that Giles was not going to have a chance to obey the man's instructions, as he flailed helplessly under the two men and he only hoped the tech was clear headed enough to realize it.

Simpson's self satisfied snarl blended into the tech's shouted demand and mixed with the shout that came from his partner and it took him a precious moment to sort out the different voices and understand what it was Giles was bellowing at him.

"Got you, you bastard!" Simpson's snarl was full of satisfaction.

"Freeze!" The tech shouting a useless repeated demand and Polnar suspected Frazier was a little out of the zone, hyped to a hair trigger and trying not to make a fatal mistake with his Commander otherwise engaged. He also suspected that the tech had not seen much hand to hand action and doubted that he realized he had unexpected and unwanted company so close to him.

"Chris, get Frazier! Frazier!" His partner's urgent command finally resolved itself from meaningless noise into intelligible words.

Somewhere amidst the ruckus of overturning furniture, shouts and screams, in some remote corner of his awareness he registered the smallest of noises, a faint metallic sound as he launched himself at the tech's back. A small metallic tinkling that he ignored in the heat of the moment in favour of taking action against the distracted technician.

Simpson's voice, that low satisfied growl, filled him with a furious rage. Raydon had sent him here to stop just this kind of event from happening and he was not going to fail his Commander. Raydon had given him a home and a reason to live and he was damned if he was going to have the likes of Simpson threaten the security of the Stations.

Why Giles wanted him to tackle the tech and not take on the Commander while he was distracted he would figure out later. It had been trained into him and others like him who worked with the Gifted on a regular basis to trust their judgment. Usually such calls were well thought out and proved the difference between success and failure in a mission. If Giles considered Frazier to be the bigger risk here then he would trust the call, even though he thought Simpson to be the greater threat.

/If I go down to Simpson because of this decision I'll be pissed./

If it all fell apart then later, after he somehow managed to pull all of their collective asses out of the fire, he would have a few choice words to say to his partner, but for now he would trust in the skills of the Gifted.

His hands closed on the tech's shoulders and he felt the man stiffen in reaction, but it was too late. Frazier didn't stand a chance of avoiding him. He outweighed the tech and had no trouble using his greater weight to take the man down. Frazier could not have sensed his presence as he landed on the man's shoulders and swept his feet out from under him and Polnar drove the man down hard. They impacted on the metal floor and under him the tech stiffened and the air whooshed out of his lungs and he set himself to secure a decent grip, expecting Frazier to turn on him and retaliate. Knowing too well the reputation of Blue Squad he expected to find his hands full with a clawing spitting lion intent on tearing him apart.

The low gurgling sound the tech made startled him and the man's body jerked, then Frazier started to scream, a sound of abject agony and he began thrashing, each movement only drawing a louder and more ragged scream.

Everything shifted suddenly, became surreal. He could not understand the tech's reaction to being taken down. Frazier's gun had sailed clear of all the protagonists and at least he did not have to worry about Simpson getting his hands on the weapon, not that the man looked to be in a hurry to release Merquise. Frazier was jerking under him, his fingers grasping at air, opening and closing sporadically as he seemed to be trying to dig his way through the floor.

Had their impact broken his ribs? Did the tech have such a low pain tolerance?

Confused, he nevertheless grappled with the man who, strangely enough, seemed unconcerned with his presence and continued to thrash on the floor, screaming. He could see beads of perspiration breaking out on his face and forehead and there was a wild berserk look in his eyes. With Frazier ignoring him in favour of his hysterics Polnar spared a glance for the other participants in the drama, seeking some sign that either Giles or Merquise had somehow managed to contain, if not outright subdue, Simpson. At any second he fully expected to get the heavy boot of the Commander in his back and he raised his head to stare at the tangle of bodies near him.

Other than Frazier's screams the room seemed to have gone unnaturally quiet.

"Christ." Carter's low whistle was barely audible over the screams of the tech and he felt an immense sense of relief that the man had turned up. With Carter's arrival he would have help to take on Simpson. He would feel better if Barker also was present, but he and Carter would just have to manage.

"Get off him if you don't want Merquise's neck broken!" Simpson hissed.

Giles lay on the bottom of the tangle, his hips and legs caught under Merquise. The Lightning Count's long frame was stretched out on his back, head and shoulders on the floor with Simpson's full weight lying over him. The ESUN agent was snarling, his teeth bared in a feral grimace and his left arm was extended to full stretch, his fingers wrapped securely around the right wrist of Marquise and anchoring his hand and arm firmly to the floor. His full body weight was holding Merquise to Giles' thighs and legs, effectively anchoring both men under him.

From where he lay on the tech Polnar could clearly see the pressure of Simpson's grip forcing Marquise to keep that arm at full stretch and Simpson was lying almost nose to nose with the man, though the Commander's head was tilted now and his eyes were fastened on Frazier's screaming form. It was not a comfortable glare that centered on him, but he held his ground, seeking some sign from Giles that he might follow.

Merquise's left hand was pressed to Simpson's right shoulder, his fingers curled and locked onto the Commander's shoulder in what looked to be a powerful grip. On closer observation however, Polnar had to doubt that the man's grip was more than an inconvenience to Simpson, considering the heavy bandaging on that hand. Indeed the blonde did not seem to be even trying to push Simpson's weight from him and that did not bode well for keeping control of Simpson when the man rushed him.

What he found odd was that Merquise seemed preternaturally calm. He knew that some men fell to pieces in combat, while others engaged in fury and still others became cold and clear headed. He supposed that the legendary Lightning Count was one of those always cool, calm and collected officers he had been told were the most dangerous fighters on the battlefield.

From the heavy bandaging on his arm and the heavier strapping of his left shoulder, Merquise had seen more than his share of action this day. He was bathed in sweat and there was a tightness to his face and especially around his mouth and eyes that suggested he was in a great deal of pain. What was disconcerting was that the cold crystal blue eyes were focused on the glowering face of the man hanging inches over his own, but Merquise was smiling and it was not a pretty smile.

Simpson must have caught the look on his face because the Commander glanced quickly at the man under him and their eyes locked. Those fine lips drew back into a satisfied smile and Polnar noted the shudder that rippled through Simpson and the flicker in his eyes that suggested he suspected he did not have as complete control of the situation as he had assumed.

"I win." Marquise voice, a husky purr, positively oozed satisfaction.

Polnar watched as Simpson's face clouded with a moment's confusion and Giles heartfelt sigh of relief was audible in a momentary lull between Frazier's screams. Simpson seemed to falter, the long arm holding Merquise wrist to the floor trembled, as though to a sudden weakness and he tried to rise from the prone form. His knees slipped and his feet scrambled for purchase on the floor and his arms collapsed under him, dropping him onto Merquise once again.

"You bastard." A hiss and there was a growing slur to his words. "What … did … did … you …"

Marquise wrenched his arm up from the floor, shook off Simpson's suddenly weak fingers and patted the agent on the cheek. "Enjoy your nap."

Giles sat up slowly, easing himself in such a way that Polnar guessed he had taken at least some heavy bruising in the fall and from the way he wrapped an arm around his chest he wondered if he might not have broken a rib or two. Grunting, Giles ignored the wavering Simpson and reached to steady himself by taking a firm grip on the Commander's combat fatigues.

"Hey, Chris, how you doin'? You might want to get off of Frazier. I think he might have a serious problem."

Carter was moving past him, intending to deal with Simpson from the grim look on his face, but at Giles' warning he paused and turned to Polnar instead who eased off the moaning tech. The insane screaming had given way to low moans interspersed with sobs by now and he did not respond as Carter knelt beside him.

"Giles … Simpson?" He needed to be assured that the Commander was out of the action.

"Don't worry about him." There was a hitch in the man's voice that betrayed his pain, but he insisted on grinning as though he had not a care in the world. "He's out for a few hours at least. Frazier is the one who will need attention."

A loud thumping drew all eyes up to the grill in the ceiling and Barker's voice filled the room. "Get those two in restraints now and someone get the fucking vent cover off!"

Barker's voice only added to his lingering confusion … too much had happened too quickly for him to process and Polnar hesitated before sitting back from Frazier. The tech made no effort to move and moaned; his struggles now merely shudders. Just beyond arms reach of him Giles flashed him a pained smile and a thumbs up and Merquise dropped his head back to the floor, as though he could no longer hold his own weight. Simpson seemed to deflate and collapsed over Merquise and his breathing evened out rapidly.

/That was way too weird. What the hell happened?/

He had been in the room, he had witnessed it all and he still had no understanding of what had taken out both men. Simpson had gone down far too easily and he needed to understand what was happening. He scrubbed at his face for a moment, trying to sort out the impressions. The first thing he needed to do was assure himself that the Gifted member of their partnership was alright.

"Haydon? You okay?"

Carter reached out a steadying hand as he eased back from Frazier, the pilot reaching to press sensitive fingers to the man's pulse point. Across from him Giles wriggled himself into a position where he could reach Merquise and set a careful hand to his hip and above him he could just make out Barker's face pressed to the grill above them and Polnar wondered just how much of the room the Preventer could see.

"Carter! Polnar! One of you bastards … report!"

Carter flashed him a grin as he changed his grip on the tech, feeling for broken bones in his arms and legs. He motioned toward the grill above them with a negligent flip of his fingers and turned his attention to the task at hand.

"Commander Simpson appears to be unconscious and Frazier is injured." Polnar called up to Barker using the brief progress report to steady himself. "The situation is contained." /Though how the hell it became contained escapes me just now. How Frazier got in this condition is beyond me and I'm the one who took him down. I don't understand./

Giles managed to gain enough movement to place his fingers at Simpson's throat and read his pulse. "I think you had best send for a medic urgently for the tech. I believe Frazier may have fallen on a caltrop and if that is the case he will need surgery. How urgently depends on where he took it."

Polnar blinked and met Carter's gaze. The pilot was frowning and mouthed 'Caltrop?' to which Polnar could only shrug in confusion. He'd never heard of caltrops before. He changed his position to help Carter shift the tech.

Giles had managed to push ineffectually at Simpson before giving up with a sigh and inclined his head to better observe Merquise, who seemed to be engaged in some deeply measured breathing technique.

"You don't look so good."

"I think the bastard managed to dislocate my shoulder."

The husky rumble was almost lost in a shrill scream from Frazier as Carter and Polnar gently turned the tech to his back and both men gaped at the pool of blood that had been hidden by the tech's body. Frazier had his hands clutched to his belly and his fingers were red with blood and Polnar gently pried the man's hands from his blood stained abdomen.

"What the fuck are caltrops?" Carter demanded as he tore at the bloodied fatigues.

"Barbed and razor sharp chunks of metal, mostly used against cavalry troops and sometimes foot soldiers during the early old calendar wars. In this case the caltrops are made of Gundanium scrap." Giles looked up from Merquise and winced as Carter drew a knife from Frazier's belt and sliced open his shirt. "Shit. Nasty bloody things not intended … Well, its done. He's going to need surgery to remove it. Keep him as quiet and still as possible. I have no doubt that his insides are being sliced every time he moves."

"Gundanium?" Carter pulled apart the sliced shirt and the colour drained from him at sight of the jagged hole in the man's gut. "Shit. God, he's bleeding like a stuck pig!"

"I wouldn't try fishing for it if I was you. Leave that to the professionals." Giles leaned back, setting his hands to the floor behind him and bracing his arms to take his weight. "Get some medics in here. There are pads and bandages to help control the blood flow in the cupboard over there and a com over there on the wall, but that may not be working given the sabotage to the systems."

Polnar clambered to his feet and rummaging quickly through the indicated cupboard; chose some absorbent bandages and returned to Carter, handing him the supplies before trying the com. He snorted in disgust and shook his head.

"Com's down."

"Keep him as still as possible." Giles watched Carter apply the bandages, trying to clean up the wound enough to determine the extent of the damage. "Chris, could you possibly get these two off of me? They are not exactly light weight, you know, and mind where you put your feet. There are more of those caltrops around. I dropped the tray so I have no idea where they ended up. There may be some tranquilizer darts around too."

/Caltrops? Darts? I think I missed a lot and why didn't he mention the floor's a bloody mine field before now?/ "You said tranquilizers? Is that how you took Simpson out? You darted him before I got here?"

Giles snorted softly and reached to carefully grasp Merquise's left hand turning the heavily bandaged hand palm upwards and spread the limp fingers gently. Marquise stiffened and his lips thinned in reaction, but he made no protest.

"Actually Simpson did it himself when he closed to melee."

Polnar picked his way carefully across the floor, making certain that his footing was secure to kneel beside Giles and lean forward over Merquise and Simpson. He watched as Giles gently began to unravel the bandaging, unwrapping the thick layer and paused to indicate the tiny needle point of the dart protruding from the folds. He remembered the smile on Merquise's face as Simpson had landed on him and the Lightning Count's hand pressed firmly to the Commander's shoulder. It seemed that Merquise and Giles had been able to handle Blue Squad without much in the way of assistance.

"We need to get the dart out of the bandaging before someone gets jabbed by accident. There may still be enough of the drug as a residue to cause a problem and we can't afford to have Zechs be the one to get jabbed by mistake. He can't have any more medication for a while.'

Polnar arched an eyebrow in query and found himself subjected to scrutiny from ice blue eyes that watched him with an intensity he found disturbing. He noted Giles lightly touch the upper arm of the man and Merquise nodded briefly to him, but those eyes never left him and he had the uncomfortable impression it was only the presence of Giles that ensured his safety.

"Be nice, Zechs." Giles chuckled and continued to unravel the bandage. "Chris Polnar, His Royal Highness Prince Milliardo Peacecraft, more commonly known as Zechs Merquise. Zechs, this is my partner. You can trust him."

The intensity in those eyes seemed to increase for a moment and then ease. A soft grunt of what he assumed was acknowledgement of the introduction and the blonde head dropped to the floor.

"Pleasure. Get that bastard off me would you?" The low rumble of his voice was almost a surprise and the shudder as Giles moved his arm suggested that his earlier assessment of his injuries might have been accurate.

"Not good." Giles muttered. "I hope that shoulder's not dislocated."

Polnar glanced at Frazier as he moved around Simpson and grasped the big man by the belt. "I'll get Simpson out of the way and see if I can't find some of the medical staff. Frazier looks to be in a bad way."

"If somebody does not make a move to get this fucking grill out of my way …!" Barker's snarl from the vent drew all eyes upward.

"Eagle, they are a little busy just now." Merquise voice rumbled through the room.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	157. Chapter 157 Chapter 156

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 156

2nd March AC 198

Colony L1 - 0025 B La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B

Preventer Building

Time: 05:55 approx Sanc time 04:45

Trowa

He could feel Quatre behind him, that warm slender form that was so deceiving to look at. When most people met his soul mate they did not at first see the man he knew Quatre to be. Too many people saw only the young man of extraordinary good looks and a face that you would expect to find carved into a slab of marble. He had heard Quatre likened to an angel more than once and each time he heard it he had wanted to laugh in their misguided faces. His lover was far from angelic.

Few people knew the real Quatre and what he was capable of. All too many people, even those in influential positions who should have known better tended to underestimate the quiet voiced youth they saw and it was a misconception that Quatre saw the advantages of cultivating. It gave him an advantage in business negotiations and in personal relationships within his family and amid friends that was, in Trowa's opinion, decidedly one sided. There was a mind as sharp and as quick as a steel trap lurking under that oh so sweet butter wouldn't melt in his mouth exterior.

_"Because you need to." _ Quatre had said. His voice had been a whisper in the unreal dawn, but there had been no denying he recognized that voice.

He knew it too well.

He loved listening to it.

Yet he knew he was alone.

He was alone in the artificial dawn of a new day on the colony, standing in the doorway of a Preventer accommodation block with his assigned room at his back and nothing more… yet he could feel the warm hands resting on his back, caressing his chilling skin and bracing him as though Quatre actually stood there, within arms reach. He dared not turn around for fear he might find the man actually standing there, smiling at him and he would either fall into Quatre's arms and make passionate love to him for actually being there, or reality would crumble once again into the chaos of nightmare and he would find himself facing a flaming wall and bloodied burning lover smiling at him from crisping distorting flesh.

He did not know which event would frighten him the most.

/Quatre? Because I need to?/

The hallway was dimly lighted and the lights had not as yet automatically come up to simulate the daylight hours. Strain though he did he could hear no suggestive sound now. All that he could hear was his own still harsh breathing, which must be like a beacon to anyone listening for a hint that they were not alone. He was supposed to be a professional, yet here he stood in fear of a nightmare breathing harshly and making of himself a perfect target like any rank amateur.

"You must steady yourself. You need to find the fire."

He could not help the rippling shudder that travelled up his spine and the skin of his back grew goose bumps in response to that warm whisper. Quatre had to be standing just behind his right shoulder and his breath was warm on his skin and so close that he could almost smell that unique scent that was wholly Quatre.

He was alone.

He knew he was alone.

He would by far prefer to ignore the 'things that go bump in the night' and get on with the serious business of reality. Trying to second guess the all too often subtle difference between what was nightmare and what constituted reality left him shuddering with a chill that had nothing to do with the room temperature and everything to do with a healthy fear of the unknown.

It was one thing for him to know that Quatre was born with active Empathic tendencies. He had no difficulty helping Quatre keep control on those bad days when the world and its people encroached on his sanity and he needed a strong body and loving heart to lean on. It was entirely another matter for he himself to experience something akin to Quatre's greatest strength. What gave Quatre the advantage in the majority of encounters with fellow human beings seemed to manifest within him in the form of induced nightmares of fire and he could not see any possible use for such an ability.

Quatre seemed to have a broader view.

It was Quatre who was fascinated with the dreams that came to tear his nights apart. It was Quatre who insisted they talk about those dreams that all too often left him a shivering wreck, barely able to moan when he would insist on examining every facet of the horrors of burning, crisping, blackening flesh. It was Quatre who would investigate every report of a fire that would take place after an incident of nightmare, seeking the barest similarity to some element from his dream.

It disturbed him that his partner and lover, for whom he would do anything to ease the pain when his empathy encroached on every aspect of their life, would not leave the matter alone. Why did Quatre push for more and more detail when he simply wanted to forget? Quatre reminded him of a dog worrying a bone, intent on cracking the bone to get to the marrow within. He personally did not want to know that the dreams might be more than nightmares brought about by some vague memory of something that happened in his murky childhood.

With a low growl of fury at himself for lingering in an exposed position he slipped away from the door to his room out into the hall. While he insisted on calling the dreams nightmares it was not in him to ignore any threat to the other people in this building. He could worry at a dream and an absent lovers fascination when there was proven to be no danger. He did not think the dream was related to his decision to act as long ago he had learned that he must follow up on that itch that had grown between his shoulder blades and told him something was wrong. That itch, that instinct peculiar to professional soldiers had developed during the time he had spent with the mercenaries and he knew its meaning only too well.

Something was wrong.

Someone might die and it might well be him if he did not investigate.

It was not because of a nightmare that his feet glided over the carpet in careful silence. It was not because of the nightmare that he strained to hear the smallest sound that might mean he was not alone in this place. It was not because of the nightmare and for so long as he could tell himself that and make himself believe it he was safe. Exactly what it was that he was safe from he did not want to explore.

/ Because I need to? Why do I need to, Quatre?/

Even as he thought the question, perhaps to his absent lover or perhaps to himself, he could feel those phantom hands warm on him, resting against his back. A light and very welcome caress steadying him and there was the hint of that alluring scent so uniquely his lover and soul mate surround and tease him. Words were never necessary between them when the bonds that bound them transcended simple human understanding. When the bonds surrounded them in warm and loving comfort he would know everything that Quatre might say without a word needing to be spoken and Quatre would know his heart and mind as though it were his own. Such times enthralled them both and when it faded and the world became normal once more each would know what it had been like to be of one awareness and find the world to be lacking.

It was so much more intimate and satisfying than sex.

He sighed softly and withstood the shiver of loss as the feeling of closeness with his lover fell away. He knew what Quatre would say to him and he did not need to hear those words physically spoken. All of the discussions that disturbed him so much about these weird episodes of his were lodged in his memory for all time, much as he would wish to forget them. What need was there for them to waste this rare moment on rehashing the old disagreement between them, when it made far more sense to languish in the love they shared and to promise with his heart that he would take care. He knew Quatre's will and determination and he knew his own love for the innocents of humanity.

He might be able to stop the fireball.

If nightmare should be masquerading as reality.

He might be able to make a difference and keep people alive and he had seen enough death in his life.

It had happened before.

Quatre had shown him the proof.

His nightmares had been shown to become fact in the harsh light of a new day, with his lovers eyes gentle and sorrowful and yet oddly triumphant.

Might this be such a day?

The itch between his shoulder blades had progressed to something more. It invaded his mind and demanded action be taken. Something was very wrong and ignoring that sensation was not an option.

/It's quiet. Too quiet. Not a sound to suggest anything is wrong, but I'm sure I heard someone moving around out here and I'm certain I heard the door to the stairwell close./

What he had heard might have been an agent returning to base from assignment ahead of schedule and seeking some sleep and a chance to rest in an assigned room. It might have been as innocent as that, but there had been something about the sound of that door closing that suggested to him a heavier door than those used to close off the individual rooms. The doors to the stairwell were heavy fire doors and he was certain it had been a solid door. His 'something is so not right' itch was driving him to distraction and his gaze barely skimmed over the three doors between his room and the stairwell.

The itch said there was mischief and possibly mayhem afoot and before it became mayhem he needed to slip himself into the equation and perchance influence event. Memories of fireballs exploding before his stunned eyes and people screaming and running shoulder to shoulder with him, of the stink of smoke and burning flesh, of plastics melting and overheated metal surrounding him. So many memories of nightmare's flames.

Nightmare would not become reality if he could possibly avoid it.

Why was it always fire?

Why did it always have to be fire that haunted his sleep?

The door to the stairwell was not locked owing to its function as a fire escape, but despite this there were security precautions in effect. This was, after all, a Preventer base. The door was equipped with an alarm as a security precaution and there was a key pad so that in emergency situations such as an attack on the personnel it could be locked down and keyed to a specific code. Another feature of the security sensors served to register use ever time the door was opened and the keypad would enable him to access that record. Trowa was quick to slip up to the door and long dexterous fingers flew over the keys bringing up the display on the small screen and his suspicions were confirmed.

The door had been used in the last few minutes. He was not alone.

Flames danced before his eyes roaring and abusing his hearing and there was heat driving him back from the door…

With a low curse he forced the flames to subside and the heat vanished and the roaring became the thundering beat of his own heart.

/I don't have the time for this./

The resurgence of the dream though, especially the modification to it disturbed him. He had never before found himself walking the dream while awake. He had not found himself looking at the dream while awake and aware that he was awake. It was enough to make him hesitate and wonder if perchance he was still locked in nightmare, tossing and turning in bed…

No. Enough was enough. He was awake and aware and he would not lose himself to nightmare. There was no time for guesswork and supposition and make believe and he classified dreams in that category. There was no time to hesitate for the wrong reasons.

Time was probably of the essence, but he needed to opt for caution. Charging into a situation would likely get himself hurt if not killed and he had a blonde lover to return to when all of this was over. He had promised Quatre in that most intimate of moments when two minds became one that he would return to him. That he would take no unnecessary risks. That he would love him and loving him demanded that he stay alive.

His fingers skimmed over the keys pressing the keypad for the release of the door. Listening intently he detected the release of the lock and caught the heavy panel before it could swing wide. Holding the door open just enough to press his ear to the gap he listened for any suggestion that someone might be waiting for him on the other side.

Silence greeted him and he sighed softly. Of course it would not be so simple as to find his prey so quickly and easily.

Drawing a deep breath, fingers flexed around the hilt of a knife while the other hand steadied the door he flattened his back to the wall and checked the hallway before committing himself to going into the stairwell. The hallway was empty the doors to the individual quarters closed and the power to the lights was steadily increasing mimicking the brightening dawn. Time was against him in this endeavour and he needed to move soon.

Workers would be arriving now and over the next hour their numbers would amount to a veritable flood of humanity. Preventers was one of the largest employers in the ESUN and this was their headquarters in the L1 Colony cluster. The night staff at the complex was a skeleton staff consisting of some fifty to sixty individuals, unless an operation was in the planning. The members of the night staff would be replaced by some four hundred full time day staff, a large number of part time workers and an indeterminate number of civilians transient within the complex.

While the daylight hours raised the number of lives now at risk from what he was certain was an intruder he could not simply throw himself through the door. He needed to be careful or impatience and inattention to detail would place more risk on those lives than the few seconds it would take to check at each stage to chase down who ever it was who wandered the building. A few seconds was all he needed though his mind kept telling him that people might die because he delayed. He had learned long ago to ignore that inner voice. Coughing out his own life in a little used stairwell would do nothing for those others.

A few seconds only to acquire shoes and additional weapons. A final touch at the door to check the knives tucked within easy reach before he opened the door sufficiently wide enough to allow himself to slip into the dimly lighted space beyond. He closed the door carefully, all too aware that sound echoed extremely well in this confined space and that he wanted his presence to go unnoticed by the intruder. He needed to hear, not have himself be heard and marked as a threat.

With his back flattened against the door he paused, straining to hear the smallest sound, the faintest hint of movement in the stairwell. The prickles of sensation running up his spine insisted he was not alone, despite the silence that greeted his ears. Strain though he might he could hear nothing but the thundering of his heart. He hated this type of situation by far preferring more direct methods of stalking his prey.

If he had made a sound on entering the well or closing the door it was possible that whoever was in here with him had heard and was mirroring his caution. Perhaps their back was pressed to the concrete wall or to another fire door and they were straining to hear him move.

He trusted the instinct that said not to move, he was not alone more than he trusted the silence and so remained motionless, eyes flicking from the stairs leading up to the roof on his left and then to the stairs descending to his right. Which way? Up or down? How had the intruder entered the building? That he or she had come through the hallway and not climbed the stairs from the ground floor suggested he had managed to bypassed the security checkpoints and not entered from the main lobby. There had been no fire alarm sounded so the ground floor of the stairwell would be under security seal preventing access from that quarter.

His thoughts were dragged back to the matter at hand by the faintest of sounds. He flicked his eyes up at the whisper that was more a movement of air than a true sound. It confirmed not only an unauthorized presence within the stairwell, but also provided him with the direction he should take to pursue.

/Going up, hmm? Now what might you want on the roof?/

He ghosted toward the stairs, confident that the intruder was heading for the roof of the building. There was nothing on the levels above him other than more accommodation areas, a recreation lounge and gymnasium. He was two levels down from the roof and could not think of a thing his prey might want on those higher floors. The roof offered more potential for mayhem. He set a hand to the wall, hugging the inner side of the stairwell as a precaution in the event the intruder peered over the railing to attempt to catch a glimpse of anyone he, or she, might suspect of being where they least wanted them.

He set foot to the first step and froze, losing the whisper of movement he had been listening to and he dared not move lest the faintest echo give his presence away. Something high above him clunked. A metallic sound that suggested something fairly hefty and definitely metallic had been placed on the concrete steps. He scowled and he trembled with the effort of resisting the urge to sprint up those steps as fast as his legs could carry him. The unwanted mental image of a man wielding a rocket launcher standing before him sprang to mind and with it the resurgence of enveloping flames.

He shook the image from him and mentally snarled, not daring to growl aloud. He wanted to scrub at his face and somehow wipe away that mental image, but resisted that betraying movement. He would remain still until he could be assured he was not going to walk into a disaster. He had no time for entertaining return bouts of nightmare. There was only sufficient time to ensure nightmare did not become reality.

/A rocket launcher?/

Somehow he was certain that was what had been rested on the landing two floors above him. Most likely his prey was at the exit to the roof and was working on circumventing the lock and security protocols. That would not be the easiest of jobs, but if the man had penetrated this far he was either armed with a great deal of skill or with the security codes themselves. Questions were going to be asked and answers would need to be found as to how the man had entered the complex, let alone penetrated an accommodation building.

/Why would someone bring a rocket launcher into the accommodation wing of the headquarters? A rocket launcher suggests the target is not too far away, but not the block itself. If this wing was the target then I would have expected bombs would have been better laid in the most strategic locations designed to do the most damage in one effective strike. That would be efficient use of time and resources. If they know how to get in and to this point, then they should have a fair idea of how many agents are not in the complex./

Trowa tilted his head, peering up at the dimly lighted stairs, but he could see nothing nor had he expected to. The angle and the steepness of the stairs curving around the stairwell would defeat someone from seeing even to the next landing. By the time one achieved a position where by one could see the next landing and door, the one you stalked could see you as well.

/ To bring a rocket launcher… if that is what he is lugging around and I think it may be…/ Some lingering element of nightmare insisted this was his vision turned reality. / It feels right as much as I don't want to dwell on the nightmare… A rocket launcher would mean the target would have to be one of the high profile buildings surrounding the Preventer's complex… or another wing of the headquarters itself./

A scraping sound from above alerted him to movement and after a moment the quality of the light in the stairwell altered subtly. The roof access door had been opened and the scrape would mean the intruder was moving his equipment through the door as quickly as possible, possibly sliding the heavy rocket launcher across the concrete. A waft of air made its way past him as a soft thud marked the closing of the door above and he decided it was safe to move. As quickly and as silently as possible he set foot to the steps.

He could not afford to allow too much distance to come between them for fear he lost the man and found him again too late to stop what was to happen. For all the speed he now needed he could not afford to relax his vigilance on this approach to the roof access. He could not say with certainty that his target was alone. There might be more than the one intruder and a guard placed on the access door was to be expected in such a scenario, but if he was to be effective he would have to take some chances in this situation.

/What about his target? What is he after here? He's managed to gain the roof and is possibly armed with a rocket launcher. The exact type of rocket launcher does not matter at this point in time, so much as the weapon itself and what it implies. This wing of Preventer Headquarters is required for him to make the desired impact and he needs a distance weapon to reach his intended target. Now is that just for distance alone, or for overall effect?/

He knew that from the roof of the building you could clearly see two high rise office buildings, one to the east and the second to the south of the Preventer building. Both of these structures towered over the lower Preventer complex, but clearly he needed something the Preventer building could offer him that another vantage point could not. Either of these structures could be the intended target, especially considering that both housed government Offices and one housed private business concerns. One was the colonies Administration Hall of Records and if that should chance to be the target, then havoc could be created from wanton destruction.

Terrorists usually targeted something, be it a building or person with greater visual impact, but in a colony any building was important to its structural integrity. He would have expected a larger and higher profile target than the records department, but if some organization wanted to cause long lasting damage to the social stability of the colony then the records building was the ideal target. There were back up records stored in central vaults on Earth and in secured locations in the other colonies as a safety precaution, should a general failure take place on any colony and threaten the colonies stabilities and perhaps someone was particularly ruthless about intending to remove records they wished to be destroyed.

/That's possible. Everything from the original colony design to the office of the Registrar of Births, Deaths and Marriages is kept there. Then again they may just be in the mood for being bloody minded./

It was a great deal of trouble to go through just to ruin someone's day, he mused as he ghosted across the first of the landings, pausing only for a few seconds to listen for possible company before continuing on realizing the futility of the effort. The stairwell whispered continually to the sounds of his own movement and all he could do was hope that his target was solitary and at this time was busily engaged in setting himself up on the roof. If he had left a guard…

No time now for useless speculation. He was not going to come up off the stairs at a walking pace after all.

/The Haverston building is on the south facing side. Some of the biggest corporate offices are there. Many of the big boys in corporate trading and the mining consortiums have officers there, including a subsidiary of the Winner Corporation. Why target big business? Considering what Quatre has taught me about corporate espionage and one-up-man-ship that was a dumb question, but I suppose it has to be examined. Blowing up a rivals offices could be a warning any number of companies might consider if they felt the need was there. If they had been pissed off enough to emulate terrorist tactics and direct blame to another concern. If they could get away with it they would do it. I swear big business is worse than politics. Okay, there are the two most likely targets, either one of which could adversely effect the colony in a multiple of ways, but the question remains… Why use Preventer headquarters to launch the attacks? There are multiple and easier access points from the far side of both those buildings than accessing them through this particular building./

Meaning that there was a very specific location being targeted.

No the more thought he gave to the question the more he was certain that targeting either of the two buildings flanking the headquarters complex from the Preventer building itself just did not sit right. There was something off about that scenario for all it was possible, even probable one of the two was the intended target.

He had to remember that not only he and his fellow Gundam pilots were professionals who had supreme confidence in their own skills. If it was he who was hunting a specific target and he had sufficient confidence in himself and his abilities that he would go for the best possible view of said target, despite the difficulties inherent in reaching that vantage point he would walk into the lions den to accomplish his mission. In the past he had done so on numerous occasions when he had infiltrated Oz.

Something told him that this intruder was equally skilled and confident.

/I need to exercise every care. This infiltrator will be good. Very good./

The office buildings were not the only buildings visible from the roof of the Preventer complex. There were also two wings of Preventer headquarters itself that could be seen from the roof of the accommodation building and both of these structures were vital to Preventer operations within the L1 environment. One of the wings housed the main office section where Preventer staff catalogued, investigated and recorded anything that might become a fire that needed extinguishing. There were always agents in that building and he believed the L1 Supervisor had his office on the side facing the accommodations block.

High profile Preventers were always a target.

The building also housed an entire floor devoted to the accumulated records of every investigation handled by Preventers since the organization was founded. Personnel records, inactive pending investigations, cold case files and active investigations as well as records listing the resources available to the various departments of this sector, including undercover agents and informants identities were housed in the extensive library and vaults. That wing of the complex was a likely target for anyone who might have been, or was currently under investigation, but considering the size of the records section it would take more than a rocket launcher to be certain specific evidence was destroyed.

The exact location of the evidence would be required to make such an assault worth while. An incendiary device would have to have one hell of an explosive charge to do more than blow a hole in the reinforced walls of the vaults to be found there. The infiltrator would have to have the time and the opportunity to perform multiple shots to make any real impression in wiping out select records.

/ No, I think that is rather unlikely. All of the records are backed up and stored on Earth anyway, in the mother complex in Sanc. The building is reinforced against meteor strike and capable of being sealed in the event of a hull breach to protect the workers. That is a lot of plating the weapon would need to go through to take out records./

It was the opposite wing of the complex in his view that was the more likely target of a terrorists attack, considering the nature of the dreams that had haunted him. One thing had featured in that nightmare repeatedly, the same theme recurring and he had to consider it now as it implicated the intruders target.

If nightmare should be more than simple nightmare.

If Quatre had the right of it and these dreams that shook him to the core were not nightmares brought about by a past filled with death and destruction, then this entire episode had to revolve around the body he had found in the alley. That young man's body had to be the reason for this invasion of the building and for deaths as yet not occurring. His dreams had implicated that incident in the alley in the fires ravaging the building.

In dream… vision?... he had witnessed the man with a rocket launcher in hand and the words of that unknown had condemned him, because he had not walked away from the sounds in a grungy alley in an unsavory part of the colony. The murder had to be tied up in this if his dream was more than dream and Quatre was right. If. The horrible thing was Quatre was usually right and he knew it.

His actions had been implicated and what had he not walked away from other than interrupting that murder earlier in the night? It had to be the alley and the boy whose body on the slab had changed into Quatre in a frightening twist to the nightmare.

The building sited to the North of the accommodations block housed the Preventer forensic laboratories and the morgue. He scowled as he considered his scouting of this building before he had retired to gain what sleep he could. He might have been exhausted but even after all this time he could not bring himself to sleep without knowing all of the exits and entrances to the building he occupied should escape be required. It was a caution in earlier years that have seen him survive to this day and it was a caution that now would aid in his understanding of the situation. From the roof of this building a view was offered that was almost directly opposite the freezer storage and the two floors consisting of forensic laboratories.

/Shit./

He was suddenly certain of the target. Without doubt he knew what the intention of the intruder had to be. The forensic laboratories worked eight hour shifts in a three point rotation that ensured the department never shut down. There was always staff within the building working on evidence gathered by field agents.

His feet fairly flew up the steps and his gaze swept two steps ahead of him in a bid to find any possible trap that might have been placed to delay possible pursuers. In two strides he was across the landing and the door was under his hands, cool against over warm flesh and he swept a glance at the keypad that showed clear evidence of tampering and a green light indicating the lock was deactivated. With a low hissed curse he leaned gently on the locking bar and pushed opening the door sufficiently to press his ear to the gap and paused.

Listened.

Silence then, as his heart slowed and the thunder of its beating eased, he could make out the distant fading rumble that was a commuter shuttle train taking the early shift to work and would shortly return bringing home the night shift workers. Beyond that muted rumble of the train he could detect no sound that might suggest he had company watching this roof access. If the killer worked solo as he suspected, then he should be clear to exit with little fear of discovery.

/It does not take long to set up and fire a rocket launcher. If he came alone…If he didn't…Damn. I've seen no evidence to suggest he is not solo and that means he is confident in his own abilities. He's confident he will hit the target and it's not just a random terrorist act aimed at authority. He'd have to know the exact location of the right laboratory and that screams inside information. If this is what I think it is, then he is after the body and any forensic evidence we might have acquired in the interim. To my advantage he may need to do a bit of window counting to be assured of hitting the correct laboratory and take out any and all evidence gathered. That should allow me to stop him./

He could not rely on that though. Some of those labs were working on cases vital to the security of the ESUN and others were working on criminal investigations in conjunction with the local police authorities. Most of the work taking place there had nothing whatsoever to do with a nameless boy murdered in a back alley and no doubt the intruder had no care that his actions might cause a greater disaster down the track, if vital evidence was contaminated or outright destroyed. There was the Preventer lives at stake too and his determination to ensure no one died this dawning.

He eased the door open, peering quickly around at the roof that was visible from his position. The door faced east and he could see nothing suspicious, everything looked as it should be, but considering the clutter on the roof that said little. The air conditioning system that serviced the building was huge, an older design that blocked much of his view and afforded good cover to anyone who might be up to no good.

Or who was attempting to sneak up on such a body. Every coin had its opposite face.

The door would close automatically behind him once he stepped away from it and he wanted no noise to alert his prey to company. Propping the door open with his shoulder he slipped off his shoes and positioned both carefully against the door frame and slipped from the stairwell and rolled neatly behind the cover offered by the air conditioner. A quick glance allayed any lingering fears that the door might close and possibly alert his prey.

He gasped, barely managing to keep the sound low enough not to be heard a few feet from him. The icy remnants of the water lingering from the nightly deluge soaked through his clothing where ever he contacted the roof and silently cursing at the unexpected chill of the water he stretched himself out, ignoring the puddle where his knee rested. He had to ignore such trivialities and stick to the serious business of tracking.

/Wonderful. I think their new fangled cleaning system sucks./

The pitfalls of the new colony cleaning system were making themselves more and more obvious to him, nor was he the only one on the colony who was far from impressed by the system. There were protests from numerous organizations that using the precious commodity of water to clean the colony was wasteful in the extreme. Without water there was no life and in space water was a precious commodity indeed. Colonial health authorities were adamant the new systems were improving the colonist's environment and living conditions and that the improvement in sanitation for all was worth the use of a little water. With the discovery of the ice bearing asteroids the water flushing systems were now economically viable and the water was recycled with very little waste generated, reducing the amount of water required to be brought into the colonies.

None of which concerned him or bothered him in the overall scheme of things, with one exception. That exception was the impact the nightly deluge was about to have on his chances of approaching the intruder undiscovered. The rain had left lingering traces in the form of some reasonable sized puddles and he was going to need to watch his footing. Something as small and insignificant as a splash in a shallow puddle could give away his presence. Wherever he looked on the roof there were puddles just waiting for him.

/Well that certainly didn't feature in my dream./ With a slight shake of his head he considered the visible roof line and which route to take. /Office block or the forensic laboratories? If this proves to be about that boy then we need to reassess the situation. If he is a Romefeller experiment…Would they…? Yes. Yes I think they would be keen on destroying any evidence we might garner from a thorough examination of his body, but Romefeller being Romefeller I would have expected something a shade more subtle than this./

He had viewed the records of the past assault by Preventers on the Romefeller laboratories. The complex had had a self destruct mechanism but it was found to be inoperative. He really needed to take a closer look at that report and try to determine just what it was the scientists thought they were trying to create. Perfect soldiers? More Heero's? Something different? He might need to approach Lady Une over the case files and garner her permission for him to take part in the investigation, or at least establish a link between that investigation and the one he was sure was about to be commissioned on L1. If that boy had had a chip…

/ If this attack is linked to the Romefeller genetic laboratory and that boy proves to be one of theirs, then he is far more important than we assumed. Another gene laboratory complex? Or a stray who managed to elude both Preventers and Romefeller agents? They know we have others. That we managed to take some of them alive and that they are willing to talk to us. Why then go to so much trouble over this one dead boy? /

Or was his assumption just that? Was he far off base?

No time to consider it now. He slipped around the side of the machinery casing currently acting as his cover and after listening for a second or two he moved on, ghosting to the left and intending to peer around the machines bulk and check out that side of the roof.

He must be running out of time. A rocket launcher was too large an item to be smuggled easily into the complex so it must have been disguised. Most likely it was a particularly expensive model designed to be stripped down and assemble from pieces quickly. It did not take all that long to assemble a rocket launcher if you knew what you were doing and he had no doubt that his unseen target knew exactly what he was doing.

A click, the small sound of metal locking into metal snapped his head around and sped his steps across the roof and he ducked behind a vent. He had to be close. His eyes darted quickly around, seeking the source of the sound and his prey. This side of the roof afforded a perfect view of the forensic wing of Preventers and he shook his head slightly. He had to stop what was about to happen and not because it would destroy vital evidence. At this time he could not give a care for the cases that might be ruined, as all he cared about were the people working in blissful ignorance.

The dark form bent over a long and sinister shape now resting on the roof. There was no mistaking the lines of that weapon and a large open sports bag of a remarkably nondescript dark blue told Trowa clearly enough how the rocket launcher had been carried unseen. Assembly of the weapon was now completed and he knew his time was running out.

The dark shape leaning over the bag unfolded into that of a recognizable man who straightened and turned to peer over the roof railing to stare at the forensic labs and Trowa took the opportunity to work himself a little closer. He was surprised to hear the soft chuckle as the man straightened and raising a hand formed his fingers into a gun and 'shot' at the building.

"Bang." he chuckled. "No evidence of Washington permitted, I'm afraid."

/Washington?/ There was no time to consider the implications of the comment though. His time had run out.

He was too far away from his target surely to reach him, but he had to try. The man had the rocket launcher in hand and was settling himself, bracing the weapon against his shoulder and taking aim. There was no time left. He could not permit the killer to target the building and he had only seconds to stop the shot.

He needed to make the call now. He needed to decide how to tackle this man and whether or not to kill him. If he killed him he might well take out their only link to whatever the boy had been a part of. If he tried for a capture then the killer might succeed at taking out the evidence they had thus far collected and possibly himself as well. Should he call and distract the man and possibly gain them some time, or try to cross the distance in silence and bring him down before he could fire?

The rocket launcher was settled to the broad shoulder and he was straightening up, his attention focused on the building across the plaza and from the small motions Trowa knew he was picking his target. In seconds he would be ready to fire and people would at best be injured and at worst die.

Was this about that boy in the alley or was it something to do with another Preventer investigation entirely? Now his curiosity was piqued and he wanted to know more, but that would have to wait. He wanted to know why Preventers had to be murdered, but first he had to stop the murders from taking place.

/Who is Washington? Why do Preventers have to die for this Washington?/

No one would die today who wore the Preventer badge. No innocent civilians visiting the complex, no dignitaries present for meetings, no staff… Only one would die this day, because he had no choice but to kill before others were killed. Icy cold liquid enveloped his racing feet and the small sound of displaced water was like a thunderclap to his sensitized nerves. It seemed he was not the only one hypersensitive to the sounds or movements around him. The killer stiffened, spinning around with his weapon loaded and ready and swinging to face him…

No time for thought only action. He had made a promise to his soul mate and he intended to keep it. His hand closed around the hilt of the knife at his belt and his focus narrowed to the eyes of the man. Those dark brown eyes were widening with shock at his discovery and then narrowing with determination.

There was no question now about taking a prisoner to be interrogated at a later time. Now there was only kill or be killed.

The perfect balance of the bone handled knife was solid between his fingers, then the blade was in place. The man's throat was open and unprotected and his finger was tightening around the trigger of the weapon he held. No time to think, only throw.

Kathy would have been proud of him.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	158. Chapter 158 Chapter 157

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 157

2nd March AC 198

Rosemount Station

Isolation Suite

Time 06:46 time coincides with Sanc time

Treize

He could not afford to have any regrets. Regret did little more than undermine the efficiency of his performance. No, he could not entertain the luxury of regret, but he could permit himself to remember the good times, few though they had seemed and provided he did not wonder what might have been had he not chosen this path to walk he could enjoy those memories. From the earliest day he had determined to ensure the lives of those he loved and cared for were no longer considered to be toys and breeding stock by those who had earned his enmity, being young and having a good time had not been permitted to influence his thoughts.

They had created him and all that he was and they must deal with the consequences of their dynastic designs and genetic interference. He had determined on learning of Them to demonstrate what he thought of their methods and their ideals.

Their. They. Them.

Romefeller.

Those who were the true Romefeller; not that decrepit bunch of blowhards who professed to be The Romefeller. Those self important old nobles full of their jumped up superiority he had manipulated to bring about the opportunity for a future free from war and graced with a freedom his birthright and training would never grant him. They were not the Romefeller that mattered.

Two Romefeller, as if one were not bad enough.

One organization was the gathering of the rich and influential, predominately old aristocratic families of the European sector, with aspirations to greatness and who denied the equality of the general populace and their ability to govern themselves. They remembered too well the past days when the nobility ruled and all bowed before them. They were the public Romefeller, the organization the world recognised and blamed for much of the past trouble and yet were celebrated as being the instigators of the peace, the protectors of Relena Peacecraft.

Hypocrisy.

The second Romefeller who were in truth the first, the original incarnation of the modern organization and who were most ancient indeed. He had no doubt that they were the oldest organization in existence and that they had no compunction about killing if it should continue to guard their secrecy. These were the people behind the scenes of world event. The instigators of change and the assassins who brought about change if they did not approve the natural movement of the world order. They were the hidden ruler's, the people who determined the course the world should follow and manipulated, lied, cheated and killed to bring about their vision all from secrecy. Their chosen tools payed the price of their assassinations and lived the glory of their successes and cringed in terror awaiting their executioners hand should they fail the design.

This was the Romefeller he had discovered and feared and hated. And determined to take down.

This was the Shadow that hung over the world hiding for centuries and emerging from time to time to grasp the world by the throat and shake the life out of it… or into it. Civilizations rose and fell at the design of Romefeller, knowledge found might be lost at their command, advances slipped under the carpet and hidden if it did not suit their purpose.

If you looked hard enough you could find hints and suggestions of something shadowy and mysterious behind the greatest events in the history of the world of mankind. You might find the suggestion of something, but you would not put the pieces together to shape a whole picture unless you suspected the scope of the organization involved.

Ancient, powerful and with wealth that made the wealthiest of businessmen look like paupers in comparison, they worked from secrecy devising their plans and such plans were never isolated to a year or three in the making. These people planned on the grand scale. Their influence might go unfelt for centuries, yet behind the layers of history you would find a plan that spanned millennium. Only when an unexpected event transpired might you gain a glimpse of manipulating fingers as with deft touches, subtle as a breeze on a child's face, or devastating and destructive as a tornado they would correct the damage done to their design.

Their resources were staggering and he was certain he had not found even a half of their investments and much as he would have liked to ruin even a small portion of their financial resources, to do so would have brought the world to the brink of economic ruin. Their manipulating fingers dabbled in many pies and perhaps their greatest strength was that they believed they had the inalienable right to guide the lives of mankind along the course they set out.

They truly believed they had the right to play God with the lives of humanity.

It was because of this hidden Romefeller and what he had learned of them that he sat here now, staring out a false window at a starscape that was not what it seemed. There were no familiar constellations warped by distance and position for him to trace. Those shining pinpoints of light were not stars but chunks of rock travelling at astonishing speeds. The asteroids danced around Rosemount Station and were a most effective security screen. None of their vaunted technology on the station could have provided them with such security from discovery. No electronic security screen could be powered up to protect something so large from prying eyes. Even the great generators of the station could not provide them with sufficient power for that.

Stars that were not stars, as deceptive as the stars viewed from the Earth were deceptive, with their planets masquerading as stars. These false stars were wandering chunks of debris from a world never formed in the primal dawn of the solar system. A planet's worth of wealth in bite sized chunks for the taker. Explorers had been exploiting that wealth for the profit of those hub bound conglomerate executives for more than a hundred years now. There were more than mining explorations being carried on in space though. There were an increasing number of explorers seeking to go beyond even this great distance from Earth, who sought sites for habitats to be constructed to spread mankind further from the planet of its origins.

Space was getting rather busy, really. Crowded as more and more colonies were founded and grander designs were hatched. He was amused to think that if all of his plans devised from the moment of his insight into Romefeller and their aims was realized, then the ESUN's grandiose schemes would be shown for the childish fantasies they were. Why were they so keen on leaving the Earth for the icy chill and hostility of space? Why did so many of the people prefer the regulated artificial worlds of colonies and planetary habitats such as those being constructed on Mars and talked about for the moons of Saturn and eventually Jupiter? Why did so many people abandon that beauty that only a living breathing world could produce?

He preferred the solidity and security of a planet to a tiny floating speck of metal in space.

He sighed softly and rested his head on the back of the chair. He was tired but he could not rest. He had not rested well since he had woken in that life support capsule and after many months had finally understood that he was more than just raw flesh and nerves screaming in agony. Since the awakening of his mind he had known little natural rest. When the body was incapable of distraction, there was simply too much to think about.

His work was not physical but mental and tired as he was he slept perhaps only four hours out of twenty four.

/Dancing rocks. An ageless dance birthed in primal rage. Behind this dance we live and breathe and scheme of greater things./

The asteroids effectively hid them from the prying sensors that periodically swept the area. Space was vast but it was far from empty and humankind were moving more and more of its population and interests into space. Mining teams were steadily exploring the asteroid belt and in the last year were becoming more common in this area, but they were not the only neighbours the Rosemount residents needed to hide themselves from.

If the probability curve he had been working on was sound, and he had no cause to believe otherwise, then the station would need to be moved soon. He predicted there would be only a matter of months, perhaps as few as three, or as many as seven, before discovery would be imminent and now there was more to the mysterious fading contacts patrol crews had detected to be considered.

They had given him facts and figures and all the intelligence they had gathered on those registered ships supposed to be in the area of the asteroids and that information did not account for all of the contacts encountered in the region over the last year. Those unaccounted for contacts had been bothering him, but now he had a possible solution to the problem of who those ships belonged to and how they had eluded contact and clear identification.

The Raiders had been assumed to be largely independent individuals preying on the space lanes and around the fringes of the mining colonies who had formed a loose trading organization to dispose of their trophy cargos. It had disturbed him that they had shown an increasing level of sophistication and organization, but with the announcement of this Station Alliance there was a workable scenario to explain the discrepancies.

His cousin. Kristian Kushrenada. If it was in truth him and again the probability curve he had entered into his base equation suggested that it was indeed a blood relative. It seemed that the Kushrenada's produced change in their wake and this Kristian was no different. The address made to the ESUN had held interesting information just waiting to be picked out and added to his formulations. The man had revealed so much it could not be by accident but by design and he would have to work more to determine the course of events that other Kushrenada was instigating, lest it disturb his hard won opportunity to progress.

Sweepers.

They were the missing factor he had not considered in the mysterious contacts occurring in the asteroid belt. Sweepers and the secrets they guarded so jealously. Link Sleepers with a Kushrenada and a secret trio of space stations claiming independence, as well as those mysterious contacts and he progressed his evaluations substantially.

Intelligence suggested it was Sleeper technology that had given one of the Gundam's the ability to incorporate superior stealth technology. Marry the stealth abilities of the Deathscythe with the mysterious contacts in the asteroid belt and stations they had not discovered, but knew to be out there, and he had a complex picture demanding more of his time to evolve into resolution.

/We have our own stealth technology on our ships. Only the smaller ships can be shielded, but we have it and it enables us to patrol this area and keep the station a secret. Yet now I must ask if it is possible for one of our ships, under stealth, to be able to find one of these Station ships hidden by their own stealth mode?/

He was developing a headache and that was not conducive to accurate speculation and development of sound hypotheses and if he was not careful his doctors would take matters into their own hands again and sedate him. They complained he did not sleep enough and he complained he had not enough to occupy his mind. The problem was his eyes saw his study at home, on Earth and his brain told him it was deception. His senses were confused by the mixed input. They had copied his study as a healing aid, but they had not copied those other things that all together made up his impressions of home and would in truth relax him. He was well aware that he was becoming claustrophobic and on a space habitat that was a disaster waiting to happen.

He missed the simple things that he had enjoyed before he had become a prisoner to an isolation unit. The breeze on his face, ruffling through his hair, caressing him with the gentlest touch of a lover, or slapping him with the accusation and lament of the world for the lives of the sons and daughters of Earth he had sacrificed to the greater good. The sounds of birds surrounding him were more sweet and enjoyable than the finest of Operatic stars wondrous voice. He missed the calls of those tiny melodious voices calling to their mates, defined their territories and the flutter of their wings as they ghosted over the beds of roses in the garden at home. And Ah! The scent of roses…

He missed Earth. He missed home.

/There is no going back. No changing things. Treize Kushrenada is dead. For the grander design he must remain dead. He is needed here now on this artificial world suspended in space, enclosed by cold metal. This is home./

Earth is home. That inner whisper defied his logic.

He sighed softly. Home no longer.

Dead men had not the option to change their minds and return to past lives. Dead men had not the luxury of regret and should know better than to entertain useless time consuming memories that served no purpose other than to unsettle him further. Dead men should just accept that what was known and comfortable and loved was now lost and to look forward and fashion a new life.

It happened more frequently though. All too often these moments of melancholy would take him, but a curious side effect of these instances had stopped the doctors and psychologists from medicating him. It had been noted by those observing his recovery that these moments of melancholy and reflection triggered insights he required for his calculations to progress at accelerated speed.

They needed his calculations.

It was so wonderful to be wanted.

He shook his head slightly, disgusted with himself. He could deal with those melancholy moments, but they seemed to come more and more frequently and he supposed that was due to his continued confined status. Confinement, as he had discovered under the Romefeller restraint, produced only brooding and out of that enforced activity brilliance could emerge. So it had been before when he had been confined to a castle and old fools had presumed to control him.

/I need to gather my control. This will serve no useful purpose./ He had work to do, but he would have enjoyed a breeze caressing his skin. /In the near future I will no longer be forced to remain in this isolation. It will be better then./

It was time he pulled his errant thoughts back from the brink of insanity. Time he set old memories to rest. Time he left what was best forgotten and moved on to a new life. He had so much to do and he needed that work. He needed to distract and occupy his mind from the subtle differences in this study that told him he was not in truth at home. He needed to make this home, to devote his abilities to ensuring than the cost, payed in the life's blood of others, was not in vain and that the desired future remained on course. The future that he and others had given their life's blood to bring about.

Some had payed that ultimate price with full knowledge. Some had had only blind trust in him. Some had known nothing and become tools to be used, but not discarded in the aftermath though it might indeed seem so.

He forgot none who had contributed to this future. It was the least he could do to remember their sacrifice.

They alone had not been used. He too had been used and knew what it was to be manipulated even as he had manipulated others to bring about circumstances conducive to the desired conclusion.

/We all are hypocrites./

There were days when he doubted if they were any better than Romefeller. These people had come to him, talked to him of a desire for peace and new beginnings and told him of an account of history very different to that taught in schools across the ESUN. He had not been easy to persuade to their views. He took nothing for granted and investigated all that they had told him and in the end he had had to believe. They had convinced him of their version of history and they had asked for his help and seeing the abuses surrounding him wherever he looked, he had not refused them.

Those people.

He was one of those people now. A representative of Rosemount and working to bring about all that these people had stood for. They had convinced him to work with them and it was these people who had provided every resource imaginable to see that they had been there that fateful day to gather what was left of him and begin the painstaking work of putting him back together again.

He might have died. He would have died if not for them. He owed them. As they owed him. The scales of balance never quite evened out in his view, despite all that they had done for each other. They continued to heal him and he continued to run their probability calculations and determine the correct course of action and the appropriate timing to garner the best possible results. That was what worried him about this whole affair.

Were they any different?

Were they and indeed he any different from Romefeller? They used to be Romefeller and he, like their ancestors, were Romefeller experiments. They had their own grand design on what the future should be and that too was like Romefeller, but there was one thing that gave him hope. They did not play in the genetic laboratories as Romefeller had done. They did not manipulate the genes of the unborn to produce a tool for the grand design. They had a plan, a design and it required Romefeller be placed on notice that all that they had done was not going to be accepted by those they had manipulated and murdered and bred for their convenience.

/Am I any better than they? I like to think I am, but there is no denying the deaths I have brought about to bring us to this point of that design. While more deaths are not called for I am not fool enough to think that no one is going to die for us to go beyond this point. There will be more deaths and I can not write off those lives lost in the past, or those that might be lost in the future. I must ensure that their sacrifice was not, nor will be, in vain./

It had been a long road that he and others had walked to this point in time and space and they had reached a point that perhaps might equate to half its length travelled before they reached the end of their journey. A very long road indeed. They spoke of mid way points and defined destinations, but his calculations and evaluations and suppositions led him to believe they were in error. His thoughts suggested they had just set their first step upon this road and it stretched out ahead of them unmarked by human footsteps.

Pristine.

Waiting for them.

He had felt this before. This sense of expectation and worry and uncertainty.

0000000000000000000000

_Flashback_

/Must it truly be this way? Perhaps I have missed some element within the evaluation that might indicate we walk a false path? Can I trust them? Some small thing that I may have missed or misunderstood…? It need not have seemed important at the time, merely a minor matter and possibly at the time unrelated to the larger question … No. No, I know enough not to ignore any iota of information. Not even a single grain of sand on a beach can be forgotten to attain a clear directive. It is impossible to know every grain of sand individually, but it is not impossible to gain an overall view of the beach upon which sand rests. I have learned that everything has importance at some point in time and in the correct place and one must have patience and fortitude to await the outcome. To formulate a design that will produce the most desired result, the designer must take into account everything, especially the seemingly insignificant and the independent bodies that bend and sway to a whim./

Or to a subtle push at the right time.

Sunset.

A glorious explosion of colour across the western sky that in ancient days would have been looked upon by the soothsayers and magicians of feudal courts as heralding great events with the coming of the new day. Colours in which he saw the need to question all that he had influenced up to this point and rethink his intentions for the future. Colours in glorious vibrant displays of reds, gold and deepening blue streaked with orange and rose that reflected both his misgivings and his certainties. This mood of reflection, of fleeting doubt, was brought about only because events were to mature to a stage where he was to lose his direct sphere of influence for a length of time that made him uncomfortable.

He was to set the scene in the new day and leave matters to the hands, hearts and souls of other players in the grand design.

He had come so far, worked so hard, lived and breathed this plan… So why now did he hesitate? Why now did he stop and wonder if he had erred, or if all would go crashing down into ruin because he passed this burden to others and could not free himself of its weight, thus jeopardizing the later plans into which he must thrust his life and his trust. Would any of the other players in this grand design understand his reasoning? He doubted that there was more than the one individual in the entire Earth Sphere who could understand his fears.

One person.

The one who perhaps was the most innocent in this entire mess, though he would no doubt laugh at the notion he was innocent given all that he had done. He had already betrayed Him and not once, but many times and in many ways over the years. This man who had given him his trust and friendship and in years past had looked upon him with something horrifyingly like worship and adoration, would be the one he entrusted the future to.

It was because of Him that he had initially begun to have doubts and begin to question the beliefs and ways of Romefeller. They had been children together, closer than brothers, after the blood and horror had marked the innocence of his young friend. He had been marked, but never could his strength be destroyed. Milliardo had learned the horrors of the world and the injustice and the betrayal of friends… and still he retained the heart to make a difference. He would, of course, argue his own virtues should he ever be consulted.

In their younger days, when they had shared a home and had been brothers and friends. It seemed so long ago and yet it was not. It was but a few years ago; a handful of years had changed so much between them and after all the other misunderstandings and betrayals would come the greatest betrayal of all. So much greater than seemingly bending to Romefeller's will and ordering his friend to die for the glory of warped, power hungry old fools who refused to see more than days long gone to dust. He must now betray once again the young man who must share with him the burden of the future of humanity.

He had played with the lives of billions in this grand game of designing futures. He had steadily shaped the course of the future, delicately guided circumstances until they matched the design he knew was the only means by which the human race would have the prolonged peace that he desired so much. The peace that would give him freedom if it was won.

The peace HE desired.

Was he being selfish? It was not for his own gain that he desired peace come to the Earth Sphere, though indeed he did desire it. It was not just for him that he stood here on this tallest of towers and second guessed himself on the morals of the design and the costs to bring it to fruition. He was not even certain that in a situation such as this the usual standards and morals could be applied.

If he did this thing in the new day coming, then he was going to die.

Like everyone else he wanted to live, but there was one simple truth that he would never deny.

He could not ask others to die and himself side step the necessity.

If his calculations were in error, if he had made even one miniscule mistake, then he was going to die, but should his calculations be true there was that tiny chance that he might survive and with his survival might that most desired of doorways open. Freedom. If he survived then he might work, not for the entire human race crammed into this grubby little backwater of the galaxy, but for himself and for those others he had as yet to meet, but in whom he needed to trust if he was to survive.

Beneath the rule of Romefeller he, like all others on the Earth and in space, would be no better than a slave.

Kushrenada's were slaves to no man.

/Why after coming this far should I hesitate now?/

Was it because what was yet to come in this grand design was to be the hardest part of all to achieve? He would lose all but minor influence and place the entire scheme in jeopardy, or was is simply because it meant such huge changes ahead? But no. No, neither of those excuses was correct and he had had enough of pathetic excuses from people who sought to bring down the hope of the future, so why should he stand here and consider making them himself?

That was truly pathetic.

All of the scheming, all of the lying, all of the debasing and acting the sycophant he had needed to do; was for that change in the world and in the attitudes of the people to take place. He and those others who saw as he did the potential and possibilities of a lasting peace and the freedom it would grant them to forward their own ambitions, had worked tirelessly to bring about this sequence of events.

In all that was to come he must remember that he was not alone. They were out there watching him and continuing to work towards the same ends. With peace in place they might make giant strides into the future and the cost in human lives and friendships and families would not have been paid in vain. They who ran Rosemount and who had worked beside him and behind him in the shadows and his friends who had trusted him and whom he had betrayed had known from the start, just as he had known, that their work would neither be understood nor appreciated. They all would go down in history as demons, as dictators, as mass murderers, or their contribution would be lost in silence… and it was a price they deemed worthy of their sacrifice.

So few would ever understand. So few would ever see the scope of their endeavour.

/Peace. True lasting peace. So many have died for that elusive word so easily said and always steeped in blood. I sometimes think it does not and never will exist. So many men and women must give their lives for it to be complete. Death comes to us all, but what is it? What is death really? An ending or a beginning?/

For him it would be both an ending and a beginning.

If all went as it should and he had not erred. If he who was to come in the new day and carry forward the design all unknowing would perform as expected.

If the Epyon would tolerate him.

/So many questions and this only a minor, though important, part of the design. This is to be a test of the strength of the design I have woven and of my faith in its weaving. I need you to come to me and to take my gift away with you. I hope that in time you can forgive me for what I will be making you a part of. Though you are not here to hear it, I must voice my apologies to you for what I am about to do. I confess that I am uncertain of the effects the Epyon will have on you… For the nightmares it will undoubtedly give you and for whatever else it may subject you to… I am sorry. I will take upon my head the deaths of those who succumb at your hands while you are within its influence, but you are strong and single minded in your dedication to seeking peace and that should see you survive./

"I apologize, Heero Yuy for what must be done."

Sunset over Luxembourg was a beautiful sight and fading now in splendour. The first stars were becoming visible and the landscape was softening and blending into the darkness. There was little of the city visible from this estate, but standing on this highest of towers afforded a glimpse of the city.

The details of buildings were indistinct, but he did not need to see it clearly beneath the glorious golden glow that faded with each passing second. He had seen it so many times in all of its splendour in the broad light of day, in the harsh light of summer noon and in the glitter of its evening jewels… and in all of its filth. The splendour of it and the depravity. Two sides of the one coin.

What would his spirit look like if you could liken it to a coin? Perhaps a coin was not how he needed to measure himself. Perhaps he should think of the after world from the viewpoint of the ancient Egyptians. Weigh his intentions and heart on the scales of Thoth against the Feather and how pure then would his intentions be found to be?

/This is idiocy./

Yet he could not help but wonder what you would see if you measured his intentions and his heart in the casting of a coin?

/Purity of intention can be lost so easily. It happens to us all, but in this I am firm in my resolve to bring about the correct equation./

Was it dehumanizing him? Was he becoming a calculating machine? Was he human at all, or had he become something else? Something awful. Something to be shunned as inhuman and shameful? Or demonic.

/Romefeller./

He could spit the name if it was not so unseemly to do so. Even up here on the tallest tower he was watched, though those at the castle were in fact all his own men. Regardless of who it was who guarded him, he had a presence to maintain that reflected his position, his breeding and his command status. He could not and indeed would not insult them by being less than the epitome of control. These men who watched now were his own and had dedicated themselves to his cause, had made that cause their own and for them he would not fold.

For them. For the future.

For his friend who was to be betrayed and for the boy who unknowingly would be his tool to deliver damnation to Milliardo and salvation to humanity.

/I am sorry, my friend. I know how you seek to avoid the dreams… How as a child the dreams would bring you nothing but terror. Terror not from the memories that haunted you of the massacre past, though those memories were bad enough, but for the horror of seeing what was yet to come. It pains me more than you could know, more than I could convey to you, that I must force an awakening of what it was you struggled so hard to suppress. The truth is that I can no longer run this computation. The threads of equations, of possibilities, probabilities, supposition… All of the threads I have so painstakingly gathered together and woven into a fabric of great richness… They all converge around you./

One young man, barely grown to maturity, would carry the weight of that tapestry. One young man torn by the past, abused both physically and mentally by fate, must carry the weight of the future on his broad shoulders. One young man who on some days seemed a rock upon which the only stability could be found and who on other days seemed as shifting and deceptive emotionally as quicksand. A young man who had so recently been betrayed by the one he considered his friend.

It was a chance he knew had to be taken. Emotional fragility was projected at this time, when his friend was torn between the past and the future, the old and the new. The kingdom that had birthed Milliardo Peacedcraft and the harsh reality that had birthed Zechs Marquise. They were not, in truth, one man wearing two names and he knew he must chance the sanity of this man trying to determine who he was.

There was no other choice available to him.

Milliardo Peacecraft was needed, not Zechs Marquise. Milliardo Peacecraft the man, not the child who had run in horror from terrifying dreams that had become tragic reality and destroyed all he held dear. Milliardo Peacecraft who, if all of the designs of a secret organization had become flesh and blood, was the only one who could see beyond the veils that shrouded even his own enhanced vision and who should be able to craft from that chaos the eventual outline of a world and a society that bathed and prospered in peace.

/There is no time for Zechs Marquise to play at being Milliardo Peacecraft as he has been doing. I must awaken the child and all that he was and bring back the abilities from which he fled and for that necessity I apologise, my friend. You, like Yuy, are not here to hear me voice it, but I promise you Milliardo that if all goes well there will come a day when I will apologize to you in person. When it is done. When we both are dead and we meet on the other side./

He closed his eyes against the deep colour of the sunset. Almost gone now. Almost true night. How much time and effort and money had gone into this great deception? How many lives had been lost to bring them to this penultimate moment when the fate of man hung in the balance? It was there, waiting just beyond the darkness that blocked the vision from him. He could not cross that point with his calculations and evaluations and he had tried. Tried and failed to make that leap of perception. Such an ability was not bred into his blood and bones as it was bred into his friend, who as a child had been terrified by its early awakening and who had, in his terror, spent his life blocking it out.

"It will take only the one use of the Epyon to awaken you to your ability. Just one use and the system will ensnare you. I was not right for it and there was no true merging and no true evaluation possible. I saw enough… perhaps too much, but I knew from the start that I might need to pay the ultimate price. For you it will be different. It picked up enough from me and I from it, for me to know that it is you who can understand it and use it to the fullest extent. It will be you, but you will fear that merging and the sight it brings won't you? I can not blame you, for it terrified me. Do you have the strength that I believe you have? Do you have the strength to go beyond the fear and the un certainty and the darkness into what lies beyond? What would it be like, I wonder? What would it be like to see as you will see, to know the things that you will know? To have the potential to shape a civilization?"

He closed his eyes, pressed his palms over his eyelids and sighed. Did he have the right to force the issue and condemn one man to insanity? Did he have the right to not bring about the circumstances that could give mankind the opportunity to know true and lasting peace?

It could all fail.

It could come crumbling down into bloody ruin. If he had overlooked even the smallest detail in his calculations it could crumble into an unmitigated disaster and the world would tumble into ruin. Such chaos as to make all of the worst of history insignificant in comparison. He was casting more than his own life and the lives of his followers into the wind by choosing this course and forcing one man to carry the weight of so much. He was taking the lives of every man woman and child on the Earth and in the colonies into the sort of risk no one could be expected to take and be considered sane.

/Therefore I am not sane. Ah, well. Such must be for the greater good to eventuate. I have played with the lives of so many already that my soul is forever damned should I fail, but why is it that toying with Milliardo hurts the most? Will there be redemption for me in the future? Will there be redemption for the lives and the souls I have played with and will continue to manipulate in the future? I have toyed with Une and mercilessly with Milliardo. I have lied, cheated and cajoled, threatened and murdered to get what I needed out of people. I have driven Lady to the brink of insanity and now it is Milliardo's turn. No one will ever know that what eventuates does so not by his choice, but by my instigation. He will not have been asked to participate in this and even he will not understand that it is all done to my design. No one not already privy to my evaluation will understand why I do what I must./

They would think they understood, the leaders of the world they were about to shape, but they would be wrong. Psychologists no doubt would debate his sanity and that of his unsuspecting friend for a generation or more. A grand case of insanity that shaped the world and none of them would really understand what it had all been about.

There would be no one left to explain it. No records left behind for the survivors to find.

/I have no doubt that you will play your part in this deception and that you will exceed my greatest expectations and that is what truly frightens me. You have so much potential and you have the drive to take it to the extreme. Epyon may drive you to the edge and what should happen if it drives you too far and you leap over that edge? Will it be peace you choose, or something else? Something terrible that I sensed but could not see? Will you shrink from the price I believe must be payed to bring about a future where we can have a place that is accepting of us and what we have been made to be?/

Night greeted him when he opened his eyes. Velvet darkness, star pointed sky and the silver lights growing steadily clearer as the darkness deepened. Up there lay so many things. His possible death. The first step to his freedom be that the release of death or a new beginning in life. Freedom. They were colonizing the solar system and out there, in the far reaches of space there were new worlds to be explored, new opportunities to be welcomed for mankind to broaden his horizons. There lay escape from the blood of the past and the chance to find the peace of the future.

"The other side."

_End Flaashback_

0000000000000000000000000

Sapphire eyes opened slowly, taking in the moving pin points of light within the velvet darkness. Cold, cold space but filled with the promise of the future. He had been right to do what he had. He had been right. He must never doubt it, nor must he doubt that he could look upon Rosemount station as home. There was no going back. The past was past and the future lay before them, they merely needed to reach out and grasp it.

There was so much opportunity, so much potential to be found lying ahead of them. For him, for those who crewed the station and her attendant flotilla and for those they had yet to gather to them. All they needed to take the first great step into that future was to gather the last of their people and the time to do that was fast approaching. They needed to bring their lost souls home.

Not the least of those lost souls was the two who, according to stolen information, might be able to pilot this dream to its conclusion.

Two? No, though they were certain there were two with the ability his calculations suggested only one of the two would actually be able to initiate change over and give them the freedom they sought. Of the two with the needed potential Dorothy was the closest and he had no doubt that she would join them on Rosemount, but he also knew that she would not agree immediately to their designs.

Ah, no, not his Dorothy.

First she must extract every ounce of emotion out of those who surrounded her, who expected her cooperation without understanding that she was not one you could manipulate. They considered him to be a master manipulator, but they had no idea what they would be getting in Dorothy. She had grown up in Dermail's shadow and she had survived the halls of the modern Romefeller. She had passed through the war and survived the aftermath and then dealt with the true insanity of Romefeller. Had she been able to maintain her personal integrity? Though he would not know if she had survived this last trial intact and uniquely the Dorothy he knew until she arrived, he suspected that she had. She was indomitable and he looked forward to their meeting.

/She will be angry./

Perhaps angry was too tame a word for what would shake his cousin when they met face to face. He knew she had been abandoned on his 'death'. He knew that so many of those who had been needed in the past and who would be needed in the future, had been of necessity cast adrift to cope on their own when it had come down to the battle to shape their lives in the aftermath. The strong had survived and no doubt the weak had gone to their graves cursing his name. It could not be helped.

Dorothy was not one of the weak ones.

He dealt with their ghosts every day. He dealt with the memories of their names, their faces, their families whom they had left behind. He knew the names of all those who had followed him, or been caught up in the games he had needed to play to bring about this day so soon to be upon them. The deaths were not just in the past. He was not so much the fool that he did not expect there to be more deaths in the future. He would remember them too. Someone must for they deserved at least that much. To be remembered.

/It is time I approached Lady. Our future together is… uncertain. The evaluations I have made suggest…/

He did not wish to admit it, even to himself, that he may have wrought her too well. He had crafted her as he had needed too to bring about the peace. He had strengthened her to watch him die and accept that death… and move beyond it and maintain the peace. If he had wrought well, and he believed that he had, then he may have destroyed any chance of a future they might share together. He had wanted her to come with him into a new future where they could have that time denied them as man and woman. That most joyous of moments had hung on his uncertain survival and the belief that he was dead.

His survival had hinged on Milliardo and Milliardo had almost failed.

He shuddered at the thought.

After all of the hard work, after all of the lives that had been snuffed out or ruined, changed irrevocably in order to change the world… after it all was over and done with he could sit here and remember how it was, what had been done, what had succeeded and failed and see how close they had come to disaster. It had all hinged on the sanity and fortitude of a man, hardly more than a boy, who had been terrorized by the past and who had feared what had been bred into him by those who professed to be the Guides to humanity.

/Guides!/ He could feel his lip curl in disgust.

How could he have left the fate of the world, and his own life, in the hands of a young man who had sought to forever lock away the very thing that made him the unwilling and unforgiven saviour of their civilization? Mankind in space would continue to explore and colonize and reproduce in peace, because Milliardo Peacecraft had had the heart to see beyond his fear.

/Manipulated, cheated on, driven to insanity… All at my instigation. I would have come for you sooner, my friend, had I been able. I can act now and I know where you are. It can not be permitted to end now, when we are so close to the beginning./

A future free of war. A future for everyone where they did not need to face their brother across a loaded gun. Would anyone understand the cost to the individuals who had carried the weight? They could see the cost in shattered human lives everywhere they looked in the colonies and on earth, but no one could see what had become of him and he could not as yet see what had become of Milliardo. He had not been able to destroy all of the evidence of his manipulation and schemes, so it was possible that someone, some day, might stumble upon the truth. Could they break through the maze of deception and lies to reach the core?

/It is of no matter. Should someone eventually break through to the truth it will not be in my life time. I forced them into this with promises for a better world and a better future. Those who survived the war and the aftermath will know both and those who died… To you who believed and died I bid you be comforted by the knowledge your families will not know the horrors that made up your life./

He was tired. He was making no sense even to himself and yet there was no room for sleep. The urgency of the calculations was weighing upon him and he could not ignore it.

/Am I even human anymore?/

There was no time to wallow in such thoughts. He should know better and indeed he did, but sometimes he just needed to allow the negatives out to appreciate the positives. There was one negative that he prayed might become a positive.

His calculations had not shown him the Station Alliance. He had calculated for many events, for the rise and fall of organizations who sought to gain influence in the next hundred years or so. It would be four generations, he had calculated, before mankind would understand the strength of the peace and what it could lead them to. Four generations of humans who, with each successive generation's birth, would strengthen the framework of peace until it became as natural as breathing.

He had calculated the rise and fall of business empires, the effects of rebellions in each of the colony clusters and in seven areas of the Earth over the course of a hundred years and he had calculated that they would fail to disrupt the peace in any significant manner. In all of those calculations he had not found any hint of information that would have incited the equation that would reveal an independent body so far from the Earth Sphere. No hint of this Station Alliance and therefore no warning to Preventers to enable them to prepare to meet this new power.

It could mean disaster.

It could mean delay in their timetable.

He needed to input every piece of information they could find on this Station Alliance, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed. He needed to have profiles on the council who represented the stations people and determine their temper. He needed to learn from what walks of life the Stations drew their citizenry. He needed to learn how many were miners, how many would be generally unskilled labour, how many were specialists in their respective fields… how many might be displaced and dissatisfied soldiers.

Dare they ignore this so called Alliance and continue with their time table? Must this force a delay?

Did they need to bring down the Station Alliance, or could this sudden emergence prove to be a fortuitous development? Was its emergence something brought about within the echoing dreams of the man he had forced into the Epyon?

/How can I be sure what is safe to touch? I did not craft what surrounds us now. Milliardo crafted whatever world is forming beyond Rosemount. He chose the course they now tread and without speaking to him do I dare to interfere? I might well ruin some fundamental development that could bring the peace into ruin./

There was only one person he could think of besides Milliardo who might have the answers and that person was perhaps more dangerous to approach if he could be located than the former Prince of Sanc himself.

/Kristian Kushrenada. Cousin. No doubt as toyed with by Romefeller as any of us on Rosemount. As angry at Romefeller? Perhaps even as intent on bringing them down?/

Taking action could result in disaster… so too could inaction.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2005


	159. Chapter 159 Chapter 158

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 158

Preventer Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty

Date 2nd March AC 198

Time: 10:29 Bounty ship time Sanc time 07:14

Duo

There were a great many things in life he found distasteful and some of them he would go out of his way to avoid, but sometimes in his line of work distasteful duties were simply unavoidable. One of those not very pleasant things he sought to avoid and could not was what Sally Po described as a compulsory medical examination. Such a procedure was unavoidable in the current situation, but that did not mean he had to enjoy the visit to the ship's Medical Centre and the detailed and rather invasive procedure that had awaited him.

/I still have to have a meeting with the Captain and before then I wanted to check my email. I should have word from Heero on what is happening in Sanc. I have to admit this medical exam is taking a lot longer than I expected. Their medics are more than thorough, but I suppose they have to be considering the projected duration of this mission. I may be on a mission of my own but I am still accounted a part of the crew and receive no special treatment. No exemptions to the compulsory medical exam./

Duo rubbed absently at his naked thigh and considered his position on board ship. He would not be accounted a part of the crew by the general majority of the men and women onboard the Bounty. That did not bother him unduly, as he had always considered himself to be something of an outsider when away from the other gundam pilots or the Sweepers he had grown up with. If he was honest with himself his association with the Sweepers had been the best days of his life and he had found himself considering a return to their fold after his break up with Hilde. He was uncertain why he had not made the break from Preventers, but he had not completely discounted making such a move.

/It's psychological, I know, but I'm feeling rather cool just now. I wish she would get on with this so I can get out of here./

He had been escorted to the medical bay and found it blessedly set on half gravity and thereafter his escort had abandoned him to the tender mercies of the medical staff. A medic had motioned him to enter a room to one side of the reception area and curtly instructed him to strip to his underwear and wait. No preferential treatment here he had thought and for that he was pleased. It was easier to gain acceptance from the crew if he received the exact same treatment as everyone else.

/Heero may have some word on what is developing on Earth over this Station Alliance that has come out of nowhere. If the man wanted to cause a splash with his announcement he's no doubt succeeded. I personally view it as more a tidal wave than a splash./

The staff appeared to be all business and he was not the only person undergoing tests. There were new faces amid the long standing crew that had to be thoroughly assessed on their individual needs before being issued with the drugs that would stabilize and maintain their musculature and bone density during the long tour of duty the Bounty was slated for.

/First chance I get I will need to run the man's name through the Romefeller files I have on disk. I think I could pretty much guarantee to find a match there. Bet there will be some interesting shit on Kristian Kushrenada too. All I need is the time to get back to my cabin and start to process the information. I suppose it might be a day or two before I get the chance to establish a routine. I need to be seen around the ship to be accepted, but I need privacy to go through the case files and the Romefeller files./

The opportunity for some quiet reflection had been disrupted by the arrival of the Medical Officer and he had been more than surprised by her rank. Perhaps there was special treatment being issued after all and he would have to be careful about the crew's reaction, but he was sure that with the work being performed on a limited time schedule that every medical officer the ship had to its name was drafted for these assessments.

"You are a disgustingly healthy specimen, Mr. Maxwell."

He dragged his wandering attention back to the woman settling on a stool opposite him. Her computer pad was balanced on her knee and she fixed a piercing gaze on him.

Dr. Victoria Pearson, Chief Medical Officer for the Bounty had taken custody of his case file shortly after his arrival at the Medical Centre. He had been concerned with her identity as it would no doubt get around the small community that he was receiving special treatment, but there was nothing he could do about it except hope she attended to others this day. A small and petite woman she had a look about her that screamed no nonsense would be tolerated and she had made it plain from the first greeting exchanged that when she asked a question she wanted a straight answer.

She reminded him of Sally Po in her attitude and efficiency and he learned there was a shared history between the two. Victoria Pearson had worked with Sally in the past and was ex-Alliance and it was due to that familiarity with the Preventer Medical Officer that he was graced with the presence of the woman and not a lesser ranked medic. Sally Po had personally spoken to first the Captain and then the Medical Officer and requested that the Chief of Staff take on the position of Duo's personal physician for the duration of the flight.

"I expect that we shall keep you in that same condition for the duration of your time with us. Now for a few questions that I assure you I need to ask every person who sets foot on this ship for the length of the mission. These questions, while they will no doubt embarrass you, are not designed specifically for that purpose, but are meant to give me a guideline in the event there may be a problem present itself over time. You need to understand that on a ship with a long term voyage ahead of it there are few, if any, secrets of a personal nature between crew members. People gossip, it is only human nature."

Duo eyed her with trepidation. She had struck him as a pretty straight-forward individual and she seemed to be prevaricating. That rang alarm bells.

"As a general rule; and this ship is no exception to it, there are more men than women on long haul ships. As a result we, the executive staff and particularly the Chief Medical Officer, need to keep aware of all levels of interrelationships that form. With this in mind I am certain you see the necessity of asking these questions. Truthful responses to the questions are vital to the safety of the ships crew, so no shaving of the truth if you please."

Duo's eyes widened slightly. He had a fair idea where this conversation was headed. "Yeah? What sort of questions?"

"At this time I have a sample of your blood being run through the labs undergoing a full spectrum analysis for more than possible allergenic reactions to the acceptable drugs we have on board to stabilize your body in prolonged zero gravity. A part of the analysis is a compulsory assessment for every sexually transmitted disease currently known to man. It is standard procedure and not intended as a judgment of any past sexual activity you may have indulged in."

Duo scowled but shrugged and hoped he was not blushing. He could see where the doctor and her staff would need to know the health of their patients should a problem arise. It was likely that every crew member, not just the new members, would undergo that particular screening procedure when beginning their tour of duty. The last thing the Captain needed was a promiscuous crew member with a sexually transmitted disease flitting into beds and spreading their contamination around.

"Okay. So?"

If she was surprised by his acceptance she did not show it, merely glanced at her hand pad. "Are you heterosexual, bisexual or homosexual?"

He could see that her finger was poised over the hand pad and that his personal details were displayed. From where he sat he could see that a questionnaire was displayed in a sub screen window and was waiting to have the details filled in. Most of the form appeared to be completed, but there were a number of blank spaces still in evidence. As she had claimed, it appeared to be a procedure that was routinely performed.

"Bisexual." He was determined not to blush.

He was no stranger to this type of questionnaire, as he had already filled out something of this nature when he had joined Preventer and wondered why those records had not been transferred with his file on his assignment to the ship.

"I'm not objecting to the questions here Doc, but I am curious. Why are you asking? This should all be in my files."

Pearson grunted softly. Apparently she had expected at least some form of protest to be forthcoming. "The information should be in the file, I agree, but all I received was the bare necessities from Preventer Headquarters record department and by bare necessities I mean just that. Age, sex, blood type and a synapses of past treatment during your tenure with Preventers. No details. Most likely there has been a mix up or some dork brained imbecile decided that your classified status also included classifying your detailed medical records as top secret. When did you last have sex?"

"What?!" The deadpan delivery on the heels of her disgust at the inefficiency of the records department left him floundering.

She sighed. "I need to know for estimating incubation periods should there be any evidence of such diseases as HIV and any other little nasties that could potentially infect the crew through sex. When did you last have sex and was your partner male or female?"

Blushing furiously Duo suppressed a growl and looked anywhere but at the small woman who seemed to be totally unmoved by his squirming. Her finger even tapped impatiently on the edge of the hand pad.

"I don't know. Maybe six months ago, give or take a week or two and my partner was male." /God, can I crawl under the table now?/

"A one night stand or a more lasting relationship?" That infernal impersonal finger was flicking over the keypad quickly entering data.

Certain that his face must be flaming Duo dropped his gaze to his knees and was thankful he was wearing boxers, although she appeared cold enough not to be moved by an orgy being performed by the entire crew in front of her.

"I don't do one night stands, but the relationship didn't work out."

The finger flicked over the screens keypad. "Only the one sexual partner in the last twelve month period?"

"No. Two in the last year. I have a son. His mother and I parted company before I knew she was pregnant."

That produced a grunt and a flick through the records and the entering of more information before she returned to the questionnaire.

"No health problems with this woman that you know about?"

"No." /God, this is so embarrassing./

"And your relationship with the male? Was he healthy the last time you saw him? I don't mean the last time you had sex with him, I mean the last occasion that you recall seeing him. Are you aware if he had any sexual relations with anyone other than yourself during your relationship? Were there any indications of loss of weight, tiredness or possible infection visible?"

Jason Chalmers, Preventer agent, hunk and all around charmer had chased him for months. A confirmed homosexual and self-assured bastard he had gone to great lengths to win Duo's trust and after three months of pursuit had succeeded in getting into his bed. Duo had been more than satisfied with the relationship and to his knowledge the two-timing bastard was as healthy as a bull. The one thing he was thankful for was that the man had insisted on safe sex practices with him, not that he would have ever entertained the notion of going all the way with any partner without such precautions.

Though he had accepted the man's advances and was satisfied with the sex and the less personal side of their relationship, he had been uncertain if he had wanted the relationship to develop into something permanent. His uncertainty about in depth relationships after the failure of his life with Hilde had ensured he went into the relationship with a healthy dose of caution. That caution had resulted in him learning that Chalmers was keeping a lover on the side, a fact that Chalmers had admitted when Duo had confronted him about it.

Duo Maxwell might be a lot of things, not many of them pleasant and his psyche was filled with dark places that even he did not want to explore, but one thing he did know was that he was not a whore. He had learned that he did not like being treated as such and he did not like his affections to be trifled with. Chalmers had seemed to consider it no matter of concern that he shared himself with two men, he could satisfy both and was that not more fun? In short, Duo had discovered himself to be monogamous and he expected his lover to be the same.

/I don't have much luck with personal relationships. First Hilde and then Jason. Both failures. Don't know why I bother, really./

He had discovered that he liked company, he liked sex and he liked being warm at night, not just having a partner who enjoyed sex as much as he did. No, he had discovered that he wanted more than one night stands, or to be the bit on the side. He wanted to be appreciated the way he wanted to appreciate a soul mate which, as he knew only too well, was fantasy in its most fantastic form.

"Yeah, he looked okay. He always practiced safe sex."

"Good." The finger flicked over the keypad again. "You should be made aware of the possibility that you will be approached by one or more of the crew as we travel further out into the system. Considering your past I would appreciate it if you did not cause a fuss about it. You are young, extremely healthy, good looking and they will pick up on the signals you give off quickly. If you react to both sexes you'll get answering reactions from both sexes. The Captain expects there to be no trouble of a sexual nature on board and we keep a close observation on crew tensions. Mutual consent is expected and a refusal of advances is likewise to be respected by all involved parties. I frown on patching up people after lovers spats and excessively violent refusals."

He grunted a voiceless acknowledgement, too embarrassed to do or say more and watched her flick back through the records of the pad.

"Hmmm. There is no record here of you having a son and no listed next of kin. I presume these details are in the records as yet not sent to me?"

"I only found out a couple of days ago that I have a son. I was on L2 to see his mother and sort out some details, but I was interrupted. There should be an update to my records at Preventers as I have made Aidan my next of kin and beneficiary."

"Fair enough. For the records of this ship we will do that paperwork now. It won't take long for the details to be logged."

With a low sigh Duo answered her questions, placing Aidan as his legal next of kin in the ships medical log and following a moments thought he also named Quatre Winner as the contact should anything happen to him during the flight. He knew that Hilde wanted a new life and he didn't want to disrupt her chance at a fresh start and the gundam pilots all kept contact with each other. Quatre knew what was happening in his life better than anybody else.

The doctor settled back with her notepad after he okayed the information she had entered into the log and her fingers flicked over the keypad quickly.

"Are you usually the dominant or submissive partner in your sexual encounters … or do you prefer to swap?"

"Jesus Doc! Do you want to know what brand of lube was used too?" There was no way he could not be blushing after that and he wanted to run for the door and away from this prying woman and her notepad.

A blonde eyebrow arched and she tilted her head and simply looked. The silence stretched and he understood she was waiting for an answer to her question and would not be moved. Finally, with a low sigh marking his defeat Duo plucked at the end of his braid.

"I top, I don't bottom."

"Ever?" She appeared to be genuinely surprised and her eyes flicked to the long braid.

"What? Just because I'm short and slender and I like long hair doesn't make me effeminate." he growled.

Slender shoulders shrugged and that finger moved over the pad again. "Point. Okay, since you obviously are one who is easily embarrassed I think we can skip the remaining personal details. Most of these don't really apply to you as it is my understanding that you will be with us for only a part of the flight. Just be aware that we may need to take up this discussion again at some later point, depending on how you deal with personal relationships in confined social structures. I suggest you get used to the idea of talking to me about sex. I tend to have these discussions with everyone on board ship at some time during the mission. In the meantime, you can get dressed and I will check on the progress of the blood work. We should have a result on the type of drugs most suited to use on you in a few minutes."

"Fine." /Just go away and let me put my face out. I feel like I'm scorched to a cinder./

When finally left alone in the cubicle Duo groaned and pressed his flaming face into the examination table. He could not believe the questions she had asked. Did she run the ship's dating agency or what?

/Fuck, why do they have to know the ins and outs of a person's sex life? Shit, that was embarrassing./ He straightened slowly and reached for his trousers. /If she thinks I'm going to take up this conversation where she left it some time in the future she's got another thing coming. No way. There is no way I am talking to her about sex. Even Sally knew when to back off./

Pulling on his clothing quickly he was just stamping into his magnetic boots when the doctor entered. He glared at her balefully, not amused that she had not had the courtesy of knocking before entering, but the glare was ignored and she settled on a seat to one side of the examination table and he realized that she had not even now looked up from her notepad.

"Well, I find this fascinating. Did Dr. Po talk to you concerning your blood Mr. Maxwell?"

"Huh?"

"You did know that there are some unusual elements to your blood, Mr Maxwell?" Finally the doctor looked up from what he saw were his records and there was a gleam of speculation in her eyes he found rather uncomfortable to look at.

"Unusual?" Duo sat his rump on the table and watched her warily. "Unusual in what way?"

"Doctor Po never mentioned running tests on your blood? I'm surprised. Well, these results are suggestive that you have a very active immune system. That is good, I assure you. Nothing wrong with you, in fact I would like your permission to run some more tests. As you have a universal blood type and this rather interesting immune system, it might just be that in the event of an outbreak of illness amid the crew we may be able to use you as an effective base for a vaccine." At his hurried look toward the door the Doctor sighed. "No need to panic, Mr. Maxwell. The crew are all disgustingly healthy individuals and an outbreak of illness is about the last thing I would expect to happen."

"Then why bother running tests?"

"Because I like to be prepared for every eventuality and this is a long flight and I bore easily. Your immune system could keep me suitably entertained for the entire voyage and that thought alone is enough for me to bow down and worship you." The doctor had the grace to blush and he could not quite hide the grin in time. "I've not had the opportunity to view so healthy a blood sample very often and there are elements here that intrigue me." Her finger flicked and she was browsing his records once again. "You have L2 origins? Business district? Upper echelon?"

"Ghetto. I was a survivor of the last run of plagues." He glared at her, aware that she was fishing for information, but it was widely known that he had been a street rat in his younger days. Though those days were long behind him he was not ashamed of how he had survived.

"Hmm, well with your immune system I'm not surprised at your survival. I have ordered a full spectrum analysis be performed to test for traces of the diseases you were inoculated against as an infant and any possible natural immunities to …" she paused, watching the slow shake of the chestnut-haired head. "Mr. Maxwell, why are you shaking your head?"

"I'm from the slums of L2, Doc. You don't know what that means? It means I was never inoculated against anything. No vaccine was wasted on us. It wasn't until I was with the Sweepers that I really understood the importance of immunizations and they ran the tests you were just talking about. The Docs there were surprised just like you, but all that's included in my records."

"Which, I remind you, have not been forwarded to me, Mr. Maxwell. Very well, I accept that you have had these tests performed before when you were with the Sweepers. Do you mind if I amuse myself during this voyage by investigating your blood and its peculiarities, until such time as your full records reach us?"

Duo shrugged. "Please yourself. Like I said, it's been done before."

"Good. Thank you for that. Now I need to stress once again that after you are given the drugs you must take the prescribed dosage every second day without fail. You must also report every eight days to the Medical Centre for blood tests and to be assessed. We will need to monitor your body's reaction to the drugs being used to ensure that you are receiving the correct dosage. Everyone's body reacts uniquely to the drugs and we must ascertain the peculiarities of your system to give you effective protection from the effects of zero gravity."

"Yep. I know all that." He wanted out of the Medical Centre and a little free time to check his mail.

"Very well. I do caution you to monitor yourself and not to leave it up to the medical staff. You need to be careful with the medication as it may eventuate that the medication may initiate a growth period. Such rarely happens, but considering your age you are not clear of the growth phases by any means. That will add to the chances of the drugs initiating muscle and bone growth, not just maintaining a stable status quo. I recommend a good two hours per day in the ship's gym and not necessarily in the one session. Splitting the exercise period into two sessions would be more acceptable and have more of a beneficial effect to you. Have you been assigned onboard duties?"

"Not as far as I know. I'm here in transit on assignment and I have extensive research to do."

"Mmm. Research. Long periods of inactivity are not recommended, especially in the early phase of using the drugs. You will need to maintain a certain level of physical activity in addition to the formal workouts in the gym. We have a number of team sports on board and I seriously suggest that you investigate them and give consideration to joining a team. Not only will that benefit your physical performance, it will also provide you with social interaction with the crew. Physical activity and social interaction with as many of the crew as possible is required to aid in maintaining a stable psychological profile. Be aware that the medical staff will be closely monitoring you and every other individual on the ship, on the lookout for any indications of stress or psychological problems. If you feel at some stage that you are being watched it is no doubt because you are being observed, but the attention is for your well-being."

"Right. I'll remember that." Duo flashed a sunny smile to which the doctor snorted.

"I've seen it all before, Maxwell and I am not fooled."

"No doubt you have, Doc. I'm a Sweeper brat more than I'm an L2 street rat. I was with the Sweepers for a long time and I know the routine for long haul spaceflight. They are probably more strict about it than you are."

"You think so? You at least think you know the routine, I'll give you that, but we shall see in the long term just how much you know." It was the doctor's turn to grin. "Well now, let's see about taking another blood sample, shall we? We will also attend to your first injection of the drugs. I'll prescribe you a course of vitamins as well and you will take those as religiously as you will take the top up course of drugs for muscle and bone development."

"Yeah. Sure." Anything to get out of the Medical Centre and her devotion to that notepad.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	160. Chapter 160 Chapter 159

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 159

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 03:55

Sally

Within the inn the howl of the wind was muted and all too easily brought to mind wind-driven ice and snow and freezing cold. Had they remained with the cars and continued on she had no doubt they would all have perished in their attempt to reach the safe house. The cheerful crackle of the fire was a warming sound, it offered a sense of security and its heat was welcome for more than the warding against the chill. Sally needed the comfort of the dancing flames while she waited for the emotional storm to subside.

The body of the young woman trembled within her embrace and she could feel Relena's heart racing through that close contact. In her past experience she had witnessed the Vice Foreign Minister go to pieces on a number of occasions, usually in explosive temper tantrums that inevitably seemed to have something to do with her brother. Some days she wondered how the girl could be considered a pacifist, but she admitted temper tantrums were not common and had been fewer since Relena's eighteenth birthday. The girl was undeniably growing up and into a more stable maturity, but at the moment all Sally could think of was that she could not recall a previous instance in which Relena had gone to pieces as she did now.

The storm of weeping showed no sign of abating and patiently Sally watched the dancing flames of the fire, admitting to herself that this was not a display of anger on Relena's part. There was very little anger in this waterworks display and after the day's events she supposed Relena had every right to allow herself to vent. There had been so much stress building up that it eventually had to find an outlet, or the girl would be in serious psychological difficulty. In her personal view tears were preferable to a temper tantrum, though she had not expected the storm of weeping to last so long.

/I was afraid if I took the time for a shower she would have too long to think about the implications and it looks as though I was right, but I really needed the shower and she had to have some time and privacy to think. If she cries it all out now at least it will give us the chance to talk sense when she finishes./

There was no denying that they had a great deal of talking to do and while Relena sorted herself out emotionally she could use this time to make a decision or two. At some stage she was going to have to inform Relena of her investigations and the parallel investigations of others into the make up of the war and how circumstances had evolved into this peace they now enjoyed. Was this the right time to mention her findings to the girl … Girl?

No, it was time to make a few acknowledgements and the first of these was to admit that she could not consider Relena a girl any longer. The idealistic teenager had given way to a young woman who, through necessity, was growing up fast. She was very different to the naive teenager who was so certain she knew how the world needed to turn and how the human race needed to develop and what principles they all should share. Such grand ideals had been entertained and it was frightening that circumstances had led the girl into a position where she could actually have a hand in developing the shaping of the new world.

It could all have resulted in an unholy mess.

/I think I was too wrapped up in the events of the time to think. How the hell could I have been so stupid as to have had such faith in a child? A fifteen year old girl, not a seasoned politician with a power base who could fulfil promises … but there was Romefeller pulling the strings and if nothing else they knew how to manipulate people. Propaganda and its proper use is a powerful weapon. She would not have had such influence without the Romefeller machine behind her. Still, after what I learned today … was there ever any chance of not following her once contact was made? Did she … Can she influence me? I don't … know … Dare I mention this to my research colleagues?/

There was a great deal about the war that was hidden and few people had felt the need to chase down those details. Was Relena ready to learn the results of her investigations? She admitted that the larger picture was far from complete at this stage, but Sally was fairly certain, after consultation with others involved in similar research, that she knew what the final outcome of their investigations would be. The question she must answer soon was if Relena was ready to learn the details of not just the wars past, but to learn of this other 'group' she repeatedly found references to in the course of her investigations.

Perhaps the most disturbing thing to her about Relena was that the Vice Foreign Minister still insisted on going by the name Darlian. To honour her foster father, Relena said when questioned and Sally admitted to herself that that insistence did not bode well for Relena's accepting her summary of past world events. Her research led her to believe that if the peace was to be maintained it was Relena Peacecraft they would need in the political spotlight and not Relena Darlian.

/Does she have the sheer guts her brother showed to do the unpalatable and do it without flinching? He maintained discipline through the entire scenario and I have found no evidence that he so much as flinched during the White Fang phase./

She had to admire in hindsight the daring of his actions. Her research showed that he had taken each step carefully and planned meticulously each stage of the confrontation. There had been nothing insane about his actions. People called you insane if they could not understand you or your reasons. Ignorance made it easy to paint labels.

/Is she ready for my findings? Possibly not, but then I expect there are few in the government and fewer still amid the far reaches of the ESUN who will be ready to deal with what I have discovered, without decrying the research as drivel. Inaccurate, ill advised, unnecessary … Yes, they will have a great deal to say in the future. I don't know if anyone will actually see my findings in the next few years. It's a long term investigation and far from complete, but I am making certain that the evidence is clearly catalogued. People deserve to know the truth about this peace and the price that was really paid./

The events of the day, particularly the events of the night, were certainly going to add some colour to her evaluation. She now had an advantage over her fellow researchers as she doubted they would have similar strokes of luck in finding a source of information such as these simple country people could provide. Simple? Oh no, far from simple. The King's Archivist. A hidden storehouse of knowledge pertaining to the Peacecraft family, that undoubtedly could shed light on the workings of Milliardo Peacecraft's mind … or the old man and woman were more than loopy and Relena was in tears for no reason.

/Considering this new information and the strength of her reaction to it, I can't help worrying how she might deal with the larger picture. She has never reacted overly well to her brother, or matters pertaining to him and having been held to ransom to keep him alive will not help. I believe that there is a great deal more information we could learn from these people and when I consider the implications of what I already know and suspect about the involvement of the Peacecrafts in past events, I have no choice other than to give serious consideration to taking her into my confidence./

Evidence suggested that there was more than a minor link between the Peacecraft family and certain colonist factions over the last fifty years. If there should be information on this link within that private archive it could change, once again, the overall outlook of what she hoped was the War to end all Wars.

/I suppose I don't have to make the final decision about informing her of my findings this minute, but in the near future there will be no help for it. Relena will have to listen to what I have discovered and she is going to have to accept it as the truth with the evidence I have gathered. She won't like it, but she is practical and level-headed enough to admit that there is no doubt and see the implications. She and selected others in prominent positions will need warning of the trouble I suspect is coming, if my suspicions are confirmed about who is dabbling in matters best left alone. From the suggestions and insinuations I have discovered, if they suspect Relena is more than she appears to be, then they will not permit such potential to be beyond their control and we will need to have measures in place that offer some containment of the situation./

When the time came to reveal her research, she would be careful not to involve those others who aided and abetted her search for knowledge. Soon after she had first begun to indulge herself in her hobby of investigating the crucial events of the last score of years she had discovered other people with the same curiosity. Some of them had vested interests in uncovering the truth, while others were long standing history buffs determined to learn as much as possible while events were still fresh and people could give testimony without time clouding their recall. They came from a surprising variety of backgrounds, from politicians to housewives, business men to mechanics and expatriate soldiers of varying ranks, much like herself, who wanted a better understanding of why.

Why. Such a simple and complicated question.

What had initially been viewed as a hobby, something to take her mind off the long boring periods of inactivity endured in space in the early days of the Preventers, had become almost a passion. There were so many unexpected and unsuspected elements involved and interlaced throughout the entire mess that entranced her, demanding she spend more and more time to unravel the knot. It was like a complex Celtic knot, convoluted and taking sudden turns, switching back on itself, branching out unexpectedly into an intricate pattern.

It was too easy to miss an important detail and go off at tangents in pursuit of clearer information. Already she had erred on three occasions and only discussions with the other people involved in researching the wars had revealed that seemingly innocuous events had, in fact, been important to the decisions and directions taken by key individuals. It was surprising the type of event that could influence the shaping of a civilization.

The research group had needed to consult each other repeatedly and regularly compared notes, discussed suppositions, speculated and not until they were all certain of their findings would they consider themselves done. Her research had resulted in her making the acquaintance of some very interesting people in her pursuit of truth. She had had the distinct pleasure of meeting personally some of her fellow researchers and others she knew only by online or telephone conversations. Most she would never be able to met face to face, but they all shared a common bond of determination if for somewhat varied reasons.

Most of their discussions became long and convoluted affairs as they evaluated carefully gathered information and fitted it into the picture they considered to be a complex and many piece jigsaw puzzle. Combining their individual research had sped along their investigations and brought them closer to the truth behind the succession of wars. It was these discussions that had first given rise to the speculation that there might be one common denominator, linking near a hundred years of conflict, that had set the scene for the last war and then the threat of the Barton Incursion.

Enough members of their research circle had found references to a common denominator during independent research. They had all fallen across the first references and then, as a group they, combined their efforts and continued to discover little hints and clues that suggested the identity of the power behind the scenes.

Romefeller.

/Hard to believe but … it can't be coincidence that so many of us have found these suggestions. Repeatedly we find the evidence and I don't think it a mistake. I follow a promising lead and it runs a convoluted maze of misdirection and if it does not vanish completely, ultimately it ends up with rumours of what has to be Romefeller. Complex patterns of deception and manipulation… I'd not have thought half of this mess could be birthed from that bunch of decrepit old men. Yes, they were masters of propaganda and they had their fingers in so many pies it wasn't funny but … This just does not feel like them. It seems more subtle./

One hand absently smoothed honey blond hair and she inclined her head to rest her chin on the crown of Relena's head. Within the circle of her arms Relena had eased from deep wracking sobs to a quieter, but steady weeping and Sally was pleased enough with that process. Lord knew the young woman had had enough stress over the last few years and no outlet to help her cope. This unloading of tension was long overdue and she was more than willing to be a comforter. A little more time was needed and it gave her a chance to consider the puzzle.

It was now clear to her that Romefeller was something other than a bunch of old noble families puffed up with their own self importance and graced with too much money and not enough morals. It was the combined wealth and old world outlook of the Romefeller organization that had led to the last fifty years of tension between Earth and the Colonies and culminated in certain key assassinations that had an influence on the last war. Romefeller had had the money and connections to force themselves into world events. There had been other equally powerful organizations linking old world power from around the world to modern times, but somehow Romefeller was different. There was something there, something tantalising, suggestive and she had not as yet found the key to unlock it.

/ I'm missing some vital pieces that will allow this puzzle to make more sense and the infuriating thing is that I believe I know who can fill in a great many of those gap. Not all of them; one man can not know all that is missing from the picture, but he could make the overall design clearer for me. If I could just convince Zechs to open up to me./

She had tried discussing the matter with him following the Barton Incursion when he had been in her care, before he had departed for Mars. However so much had been happening in the aftermath that her attention had been divided between providing health care for him and her position as a Preventer and the responsibilities it entailed. There was also the small matter of his reaction to the disaster that had been Relena's reaction to his appearance.

/The stubborn bloody man just had to be difficult and refuse to tell me what I needed to know, although with everything that was going on around him I can't say that I blame him. His mistrust of the reaction of those around him was completely understandable considering the past and his part played in the war. It was obvious that no one trusted him. I wonder what it would have been like if they had? I know he attempted to contact the pilots and work with them before he joined White Fang and I know their reactions. Distrust is too kind a word. After due reflection, I think Treize Kushrenada might have been the only one to actually give him that trust during the war. They were thick as thieves from early days and I think they understood each other very well indeed. Even that business after Antarctica and Kushrenada's seeming betrayal smacks of a setup./

Her pursuit of information pertaining to the true events surrounding that incident during the war had led her to believe that Kushrenada had known that Zechs had acquired the Wing and was rebuilding it in secret, despite all orders to the contrary. Whispers suggested that the resulting battle had been staged to give Zechs a way out of Oz.

/Une doesn't understand, not even now I think. I'm not sure why she should be so unreasonable on a personal level where it comes to Zechs. I think she finds it a little too easy to blame him for Kushrenada's death, but I will admit she has been fair in protecting him, as much as she could in the lead up to this current situation. Even if her actions are only to keep the peace intact. I would have said that Noin trusted him except for Libra. They were tight during their academy years and she even guarded Relena for him during the war, but then something went wrong. I don't know what it was, but it resulted in that breach between them. I know she considers she betrayed him during the war, because she backed the Gundam Pilots and I don't know what he thinks about that time. The man plays his cards too close to his chest./

The first time she had broached the subject of Romefeller's participation in the war and his own part in it he had stared at her, looking at her as though he did not quite believe the question. It was a simple enough question. Would he talk to her about the war and his part in it? Simple, but it had produced a long silence from him and a strange look in those intense blue eyes.

_"Tell you … about the war?"_

The whisper had been followed by a closed look effectively shuttering the crystal blue eyes. A fleeting glimpse of pain and something else she could not identify at the time, but later suspected might have been terror, had quickly been sealed away and replaced by a carefully blank face.

"No. For your own protection, Sally Po, I will say nothing about the war. There are things about that time and about the people involved that are better left unknown. By everyone. Believe me; ignorance is safer for everyone concerned."

/He might not have been so wary around me if I had given him the night to rest. He may then have understood that I was not interrogating him for Preventers, but honestly curious on a personal level./

He had been exhausted. Hot, sweaty and dead on his feet in the aftermath of the battle against Barton's forces, he had also been dealing with the hurt from the runaway mouth and bitterness of the girl now held in her arms. He had refused her and watched her warily thereafter and she knew he had been waiting for her to broach the subject again. She had taken him to a safe house, given him time to shower, examined him and determined a decent meal and sleep was the extent of his needs. The next day she had tackled him again in a bid to learn the answers to questions she had not at the time known were as important as they now proved to be.

/Stubborn man./

Was it not sensible to know the reasoning of all sides in the conflict? Did others not have the right to know why so many of their sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, wives and husbands had died in the conflict? Did he not think it fair that others should be given the opportunity to understand his reasons for making the decisions he had that culminated in Libra?

She had tried to be understanding of his reluctance, even as she had felt the need to throttle some sense into him. If he would only agree to talk to her but no, he had refused to answer her questions and in the end he had pushed aside his meal and closeted himself in his room. No matter the cajolery she had employed, no matter the deceptive play on words she had tried, he had seen through her every attempt over the following days he was in her care and when he did respond verbally, it was a quietly whispered admonition that she really did not need to know.

For her own safety and for the safety of others.

For the safety of others. Every refusal had ended with those words and he had not attempted to explain or even hint at what it was he feared might befall her, or those unnamed others. In hindsight it was suggestive given the rumours she had uncovered concerning Romefeller and how different it might be to the public appearance it portrayed. Eventually only stony silence answered her attempts and then it was too late. He was gone, on his way to Mars and out of her influence.

What secrets had he taken with him into exile? She had little doubt that he had answers she wanted and while he was on Mars at least she knew where he was and that in time he might soften his stance. Zechs had taken his secrets with him to Mars and Noin had gone with him and Kushrenada was dead.

Not a very satisfying set of circumstances.

What secrets had Treize Kushrenada taken to his grave within the icy grip of space? He would have known far more than Zechs of the secrets surrounding Romefeller and the war. While there was hope of the Prince of Sanc eventually giving up those secrets the World Sovereign was very dead and his secrets with him. In an attempt to better understand the man she had approached Une and after some initial resistance she learned as much as she could of the man himself and his reasons.

Her assumption had been that Lady Une, being the man's aide, would know almost as much as Kushrenada himself, but to her surprise she had discovered the woman to be surprisingly ignorant of the answers she needed. Concerned about deception on the part of Une she had considered carefully and ultimately decided the Lady had not been subtly avoiding answering. The woman genuinely had gaps in her knowledge and the size of those gaps was rather alarming considering her professional and personal relationship with Kushrenada. It had led Sally to suspect Une's former mental instability had something to do with Kushrenada choosing to withhold vital information from her.

/Or perhaps it was something more? There is something disturbing about how little Une seems to know. Unnatural almost. I need time to consider the implications of what I learned tonight in relation to her apparent lack of knowledge. If the Peacecrafts were not the only family in the European nobility to have abilities …? Most of the nobility are all varying degrees of cousins, so it's possible I suppose, that the active psi gene could be in multiple bloodlines, which leads me to speculate that she may have been blocked. It is more probable that the difficulty in remembering is caused by that episode during the war when she was shot by Tsuberov. Medical amnesia as a side effect of that stress is more feasible than the other option./

There was Noin, of course, as a possible source of information. Her former Preventer partner had provided her with a little more insight into Zechs and his motives, though she had wallowed in her sense of betrayal. Sally had hoped to gain some insights from her into the ambitions and early plans of Treize Kushrenada. Noin had seemed to be surprisingly well informed, but disturbingly reluctant to reveal anything that might indicate a deeper meaning behind events.

Lucrezia had trained for a time under Kushrenada and while she had not been a combat pilot under his command, she had been trusted with the instruction and indoctrination of cadets. Sally had also noted that Noin seemed to have fairly free access to the man in his capacity as the leader of Oz, from what had been hinted at concerning certain events involving Relena and the assassination of the former Vice Foreign Minister. Yes, after due consideration it was clear that Lucrezia had a firmer grasp of Kushrenada's thinking than Une was left with, but neither Lucrezia nor Une had been so close to the man as one other person.

She was certain that it was Zechs who was her key.

He had been with Kushrenada from childhood according to her investigations and there were those recurring rumours of a closer intimacy between the two, which Sally was privately convinced were false. Everything she had learned of both men pointed in the exact opposite direction. They were consummate professionals, trained to excellence in the performance of their duties. Both men had their own personal agendas and a shared code of honour that would not permit anything to interfere with their visions.

There was that word again. Visions. In light of the new information it was more than suggestive.

Ideally she needed to confront Zechs with her new knowledge and see if he could deny her. The Lightning Count, fresh from battle and in the aftermath had refused her, but she had considerably more ammunition to use now. Would a few years make a difference to his reluctance to talk?

/I should have waited to approach him, I suppose, but at the time I thought as exhausted as he was he might just let something slip. I should have known better. He had as good a case of lock jaw exhausted as he did when he was rested and a fresher mind to know when he was being pumped for information. I suppose nothing would have changed in the interim, but while we live there is hope./

She suspected that as close as he had been to Kushrenada, there were secrets only he now knew that would be vital to understanding the motives of both men who had shaped the development of the ESUN as it was today. Her investigations led her to believe both had been considered to be imminently sensible in nature. Neither had the reputation of being dreamers or zealots and with the safeguards employed early signs of insanity would have been noted and led to their removal from within the ranks of the military.

Zechs was known to possess a coldly calculating nature during the war, but it had been a reputation that saw men scramble to serve under his command. He had not been a coldly calculating lunatic. All investigations revealed a young man set on a firm goal and while it was true in later days he had given the impression he had been pushed over the edge of sanity, she didn't believe it for an instant.

People whispered about insanity being a by product of the combat system Zero, but her association with the Gundam pilots refuted that claim. She was certain that Milliardo Peacecraft, aka Zechs Merquise, had been and was no more insane than she herself.

No small part of her certainty stemmed from her multiple opportunities after the war to talk to Noin. Information gleaned from social discussions on boring missions and on those nights when Noin had overindulged in alcohol and resulted in bemoaning the past and the man himself, had been squirreled away until time permitted a closer examination. That information, coupled with information from her days with the Alliance Intelligence service on the bright shining stars of the Oz Specials and her access to confidential medical information served to confuse her.

She was not afraid to admit that the more she learned the more confused she became by the man. Noin's information led her to believe that during the last few months of the war there had indeed been something very wrong with Zechs Merquise. What it had not convinced her of, was that the man had been insane.

It infuriated her that people who held the answers refused to talk.

Lucrezia Noin was one who knew secrets that could fill gaps in her knowledge and for one reason or another refused to divulge them. She had thought that after the supposed death of the man on Libra, Noin would want to talk about him and even go so far as to try to convince other people that he had not been insane. Yes, Noin had talked, but she had spoken to Sally of the every day occurrences in their relationship and skipped much of what Sally had actually needed to know.

What was now disturbing in hindsight was that through out those long months of that year, during all of their talks, there had been a recurring theme to Noin's comments and she had begun to wonder about the sanity of the woman she worked so closely with. Did she dare trust her back to a woman who obsessed about a dead man being alive?

_"He's not dead, Sally. I know he's not dead."_ _a small knowing smile and Lucrezia firmly ignored the 'here we go again' look directed at her. "He's out there, somewhere and I know he will be back."_

Obsessed. Noin had seemed haunted by not just love, but love bordering on obsession and that had been a very unhealthy attitude in her professional opinion. She had been concerned for her friend, both on a personal and professional level.

With the man dead-and who could possibly survive an explosion of that magnitude?- such devotion could lead to a dangerous mental instability. With the delicacy of their work as Preventers and her life and the lives of others working with them on the line, that obsessive attitude had come close to Sally making the decision of removing Noin from active service.

In those early days of the organization she had not been the Chief Medical Officer but a field agent. Her promotion to her current position had not occurred until just after the Barton Incursion and her handling of Zechs Merquise, but that was later. At the time she had felt it her duty to try to reason with the woman.

_"I know you want to believe that he survived the Libra, but Noin, you are going to have to face facts. No one could have survived an explosion like that, my friend. No one. He's only human. We are all only human and we die. He's dead, Noin. He's not going to be coming back."_

_"He's not dead. You can't kill him that easily. He is alive. He will come back when he's ready-when he has healed. You want to know about the war and his part in it, well when he comes back you can talk to him directly. You can ask him your questions and get your answers from him, not make do with ill informed rumours." There was fire in the blue-violet eyes, a firm resolve that was unshakable._

_"Noin. Don't you want someone to understand him? Don't you want people to know the truth? To know him as he was before Libra and the White Fang? Does he not deserve the chance to be known for the real man he was, rather than the monster they presume?"_

_"Monster? He was never a monster."_

Noin had watched from the shuttle view screen as the blue pearl that was Earth revolved majestically below them. The swirl of colour that was Europe and the pristine blue of the oceans, marked by feathery white of the clouds made for a beautiful picture. Europe was having a particularly fine day.

For an instant her eyes were unguarded and Sally glimpsed pain and a depth of anguish that had struck her to the core. The fear that perhaps her certainty in his return was misplaced, that the man she loved was indeed dead and the fear that she had not known him so well as she believed.

No doubt Lucrezia was reminding herself that in the final battle she had tried to trust again and if she had just held faith with him in earlier weeks she would not now have to live with the certain knowledge that she had betrayed him. Lucrezia was reminded time and time again that she had not trusted him and had thrown her lot in with those who had been his enemies. She had sighed softly with disgust and shook her head, closing her eyes against the sight of the jewel that was Earth.

"_Stupid. So stupid. The fool never wanted anyone to understand. He didn't care that they would not understand what it was he was doing, or why he was doing it. It was the same while he was with White Fang as it was during our days at Lake Victoria. Young and brilliant and seeing things others didn't see. Understanding things even before the instructors. He was brilliant. He never changed, Sally. He never had time to change his ways. He was only nineteen and a determined fool working for his own goals and not caring that those who backed him would turn their backs on him. It was always like that. A pacifist joining the military. A Prince of pacifists no less. A bit older and a whole lot wiser, but just the same. He knew what he was doing. Those fools down there have no concept of what it was all about. Ignorant jackasses the lot of them. The bastards don't want to know what he was all about. They only ever see what is under their noses and half the time they don't see that before they walk into the shit."_

Hope sprang eternal. Lucrezia had given her the opening she needed and she could go in for the kill. She would be able to lead Noin to talk to her about his plans, about his nature and find the reality under her lovesick delusions of the perfect man.

_"I want to know the truth. Help me to see and understand more than any of the others can. You knew him better than anyone else, so tell me about him and why he would think it necessary to threaten a world with destruction."_

She had seemed to deflate, becoming very still and her eyes had been hidden behind dark lashes and tightly closed lids. After a long moment she had shaken her head in an emphatic negative and the computer had buzzed an alert.

_"We have arrived in the sector. Anything on the scanner?"_

That was the most candid conversation she had shared with Noin about Zechs Merquise, the man and the nature of their relationship shared since their academy days. It was a most unsatisfactory situation. Noin would shake her head and claim not to want to cloud her judgement with her own views and thereafter imitate a most stubborn clam. She had not even succeeded in gaining an explanation of how she had discovered the truth about the child Zechs Merquise; that he was in truth Milliardo Peacecraft, surviving heir to the Peacecraft legacy.

/There was a great deal Noin did not elaborate on. All she really said was that he was alive, he was not dead and that he would return in a cycle that made me want to pull my hair out. I was prepared to pull the pin on Noin's career, citing psychological distress when the Barton incident began. I had made up my mind to have one more try at getting her to face reality and then I was going to file a report on her mental state for review./

She had come to believe that Lucrezia simply could not share the man with another person, not even to clear his name and that smacked dangerously of obsession. He seemed to have became her exclusive property, her fantasy and it was something Noin refused to discuss. Her refusal to believe him dead, ignoring all evidence to the contrary and her reluctance to speak of him, even to the woman she accounted her best friend, could no longer be ignored. She did her job and she did it well, but there was that question mark hanging over her abilities and her sanity that, as a medical professional, Sally had already ignored too long. On more than one occasion Sally had watched Noin walk down the street and stare hard at any man who had that statuesque height and the pale Nordic colouring.

Disturbing behaviour not to be ignored for the woman's own good. The report had been half written and she had determined to complete it and file it with Preventer Medical on her return from that fateful mission to space that had seen the beginning of their involvement in the Barton Incident.

/And after all of my worrying and pushing and cajolery, she turned out to be right. He was alive. Was it an unhealthy obsession on her part; guilt over her seeming betrayal of him that caused her to fixate on the idea of him surviving? Coincidence? Or something else? She repeatedly told me when we talked that she would know deep down inside if he was dead and that because of that link they shared she knew that somehow he had survived Libra./

Despite the magnitude of the explosions Zechs had survived, but Sally was painfully aware it would have been kinder to the man if he had not lived. His name was anathema throughout the Earth Sphere. He was viewed as the devil incarnate by people who had no understanding of the issues involved in the war. Nor did it help that too many people had used his name to cover their own involvement in the war and escape retribution and the government had played on the popular hysteria.

Caught up in the events as she had been, not understanding half of the implications in the war, she had still watched in something very close to disgust the government backed media hype that tarred him as an insane criminal. Relena made no move to rescue her brother's name. A fifteen year old teenager thrust into a position of importance no mature adult with half a brain would wish to fill, had been too wrapped up in her new position to bother with the people's view on the last Peacecraft male.

The accepted general consensus was that Milliardo Peacecraft was dead and the Peacecraft name with him. Relena had been quick to name herself Darlian and disassociate herself from the man labelled the Terror of Earth. There had also been the small matter of the flexing of her awakening hormones, resulting in her stalking of Heero Yuy to distract her from giving a damn about what people might think of her brother.

/She disowned him, refusing to acknowledge any reference to him being her brother and styled herself Darlian. Politically expedient I suppose, but bloody cold. She can be such a warm and caring person when it comes to other people, but it never extended to him and I am damned if I know why. Thank God she has grown up. I'm not sure how much more of teenage hormones I could cope with./

Which said little, as Mariemaia was fast growing up and if she had inherited her father's passions, she was going to be difficult to contain. Marie was a lovely child but one should never forget the family that had sheltered he, or her natural father's identity. Sally would not be alone in watching and guiding Mariemaia as she matured.

Une was there and her stabilized personality thankfully seemed more than happy to be mother to the precocious pre teen. There was also Relena to be considered, as she had taken an interest in the redhead and would probably have a great deal more understanding of the girl than either Sally or Une could generate. Dorothy too had shown some interest initially, though her attention of late seemed to have waned.

/Now what are you up to, Dorothy? It has been months since I heard anything from you. You have avoided speaking to me in anything other than mild pleasantries. She knew something. About Treize Kushrenada or about Milliardo? Possibly both. The girl can be frightening when it takes her fancy. She was on Libra and I have since learned that she actually knew Zechs as he grew up in the care of the Kushrenadas. I need to try talking to her again and maybe this time I'll get some of the answers I need./

Thinking of Relena brought her back to the reality of the young woman in her arms. The storm of weeping seemed to be quieting down and that was a good sign. She made no attempt to stop the flow of tears, knowing it was well past time Relena was allowed the luxury of a good solid release and tears were wonderful for that.

It was clear to Sally that Relena the spoiled little rich girl, who unequivocally thought she knew what was best, had survived her grand awakening. The fact that she was howling her eyes out boded well for the strength of her spirit. After this weeping was over she would emerge free of emotional baggage and emerge from the storm renewed and tempered by the ordeal.

Thinking that you knew what was best was not something isolated to this young woman… everyone suffered from the ailment. The difference in this case was that Relena was actually in a position to do something about her ideals.

/It's a frightening combination, an idealistic teenager and political clout all rolled into one package. It really is no wonder certain people in influential positions decided she had to be controlled and were not too fussy about the methods they employed to place her in restraints. On top of her popularity in the colonies and on Earth with the common people, there is now the possibility that she can actually influence how people think. Such an ability has frightening potential and I am delighted she is mature enough to realize it and is terrified of the potential for abuse./

They would need to be very careful to keep this information secret and known to a select few individuals, the first of whom would be Lady Une. She had no doubt that Une, in her capacity as Chief of Preventers, would need to know just how influential Relena could be. The woman would see both the dangers and the potential immediately. If they could groom the girl and have her confidence build while keeping her level-headed, the potential to do good with the ability was great.

First they would need to confirm that such a talent actually was Relena's to control.

/But the potential if she can indeed influence the thoughts of politicians who can be bloody minded just on principle. Not just politicians either, but the abuse such a talent could be put to is frightening. Her father … Her real father obviously used it, if the old man is to be believed. I wonder how much soul searching he did about influencing negotiations? Possibly a great deal. History records him as being a conscientious man, almost driven by the need to bring about peace. He dabbled in world politics, not just in the doings of his own people and that was his downfall. In trying to bring about peace the way he did, he drew attention to himself and Sanc. Hmmm. I wonder if its possible… If it became known to someone with influence in the right circles that he had a psychic ability that might be capable of changing people's thoughts… /

She was almost afraid to think it. The Alliance had wiped out Sanc's nobility, specifically targeting the Royal Family and the nobles with close blood ties to them. There were still some of the family left, of course, thanks to the King's foresight in spiriting away as many of the younger generation as was deemed safe at the time, but with the massacre of their elders how many of those young children now grown to adulthood knew their own family history? Such dangerous knowledge as the existence of this psi ability would have been passed through the verbal history of the families, not printed in records for just anyone to read.

/I need to do some careful research amid the surviving families of Sanc's nobility. A few of the older nobles survived being absent from Sanc at the time of the invasion, so I may be lucky enough to glean some information from them, but I need to exercise extreme care. For everyone's safety./

They could not afford for it to be known in political circles that one of their number could influence their decisions at will. It might even have been better if Relena had never learned of the possibility that she might hold this ability. From this display of tears it was probable that she had realised she was subconsciously using the ability in past conferences and debates and much of this weeping was a result of that realisation. It was an ability that could be used to great effect to bring about a strong and enduring peace… or it could all too easily bring the peace crashing down around them into bloody ruin.

"I'm sorry."

The bundle of weeping, trembling emotion resolved itself into a human being with that quiet whisper.

Sally allowed Relena to sit back and offered her a bundle of tissues she pulled from the box next to the bed. Crying was not something that looked good on most people and Relena was no exception, her eyes swollen and red, her cheeks were flushed a most unbecoming shade and her nose was running. The occasional shudder still trembled the slight frame, but Relena was never one to show weakness even to her friends. Already she was dragging herself together and putting on her public face.

That she had crumbled after all they had heard pleased Sally. It confirmed to her that there was still a young woman with a heart lurking in the battered politician, who had had too much of a taste of reality.

Discovering that she actually cared for her brother, the man who was the worlds worst nightmare must have been shocking enough, but to have him being used against her and then to drag newly born infants into it … Sally would just love a little time alone in a locked room with the tactician who had devised that piece of idiocy.

"I'm sorry. I … I don't want to be a freak, Sally. I can never be normal, can I?"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	161. Chapter 161 Chapter 160

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 160

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 04:05

Sally

/Well, that pretty much confirms what I was afraid of. She had way too much time to think about the down side of this and I need to get her out of that mentality quickly, but I have to be extremely careful how I handle this. I have to bring her around to feeling confident and positive, but for now I'll settle for neutral and willing to think about the positive side./

"I don't want to be a tool anymore. I'm very tired of being the public idol they exploit to further their own ends. I don't particularly want to be useful and I certainly do not feel like being a useful Freak. I want to be me, Sally. Just me."

/There's that word again. Freak. What a bastard of a word and it is going to take a lot of effort on my part to have her look at this from a different angle. Psi abilities do not have to separate her from everyone else and I have to get that message across and reinforced in her psyche. Did Zechs go through something like this? Agh, not now, Relena needs my undivided attention./

Sally sighed softly and patted Relena's shoulder gently, before slipping off the bed and making her way into the bathroom to run warm water and wet a washcloth. The need to act could cover her momentary hesitation in deciding how to tackle the delicate subject without allowing Relena to think that she was being abandoned. Taking a hand towel from the rack she stared at her reflection for a few seconds, wincing at the dark circles under her eyes and the frown, but the frown would not go away and there was nothing she could do about the bruising except get some sleep and she could not see that happening for a while.

Returning to the bed she handed over the washcloth and towel and waited in silence while Relena stared at the towel as though she had never seen one before. Finally with a low sigh she washed and dried her face and Sally retrieved the items from her and set about folding them neatly and setting them on the bedside unit. It was possible they might need them again soon.

"I'm sorry." Relena's whisper was accompanied by a sniff and rub at her still dripping nose with a tissue. "I'm sorry for being such a cry-baby."

"It's alright. You had cause. We all need a bloody good cry on occasion and if you have not had cause to indulge in one recently, then no one has. I know you think of yourself as being alone in this but you are not. I won't try to pretty up the picture because I doubt that there is a way of doing that and remain honest. Since the war ended it's not been easy for you and the road ahead may have just as many potholes to trip you up, but you need to remember that you are not alone."

Relena sniffed softly, absently twirling a lock of honey blonde hair around a finger trying to disguise the tremble in her hand. "It's worse than you know. It's not just… just ... I've been such an idiot, Sally. I let them … I allowed them to control me. I let them use me. I feel so useless."

Sally settled on the bed and drew her feet up from the cold floor and settled in a cross-legged position that was reasonably comfortable. Relena made no move to slip under the covers and settle down, or try to ignore the issue and that pleased Sally. It showed the young woman was willing to talk and did not just want to run away from the implications.

/I wonder if she has even touched on the implications of this ability she may have? If she has started to think about balancing the points for and against? Don't chicken out on me, girl. You've shown courage under fire before and I don't want you fading now. We have a lot to discuss and I want to at least touch on the main points before we get some sleep./

Sally was thankful that the fire was bringing the room temperature up to more comfortable levels. She would need to throw some more wood on the fire soon if they were to have a lengthy discussion, though she must be careful not to have the fire too high before they settled to sleep. Relena kept her gaze centred on the bedspread just in front of her legs and seemed fascinated by the material.

"I can not deny that we may have a few problems ahead that will need dealing with, but I think that if you give it some thought you will see that it's not so bad. No, don't look at me like that and then hide behind your hair. That will solve nothing and we need some decisive action. There is no avoiding the issue. You really need to think about this. Yes, you are young and there is a lot you need to learn for you to safely negotiate within the circles you move in, but giving it up will solve very little of the current problems. You have opportunities that are denied to most people your age and you are in a position where you can actually help others. I know that has been your dream for a long time now, it's what you are happiest doing. It's a good dream, Relena, and you have made a difference to a great many people already, both on the colonies and in the poorer areas of Earth. There have been mistakes made, I don't deny that, but we can't learn if we don't flub off occasionally. Everybody makes mistakes, it's a simple fact of life and it proves that we are human . It's all a matter of balance. Unpalatable as it seems you need to accept that there will always be unscrupulous people out there, who will use every advantage they can muster to further their own gain and they don't particularly care who they take down to accomplish their ideals. They are predators and they will hunt for the smallest hint of weakness or hesitation and exploit it."

Slender fingers brushed at her hair and she rolled her eyes at Sally before settling for a sigh. "Any weakness, huh? Well that explains why I'm in the mess I'm in. The amount of mistakes I've made … It seems that every time I turn the noose tightens a little more. In my position I can't afford to be weak can I? Sally, I'm so tired of jumping to their tune and I have to change things."

She was delighted to see the first spark of resistance that marked the return of the fire she was accustomed to seeing in the girl's eyes. Relena's very nature was resilient and Sally was confident that the Vice Foreign Minister would recover her lost confidence and stand tall once more. Lost? Merely misplaced, she was sure. Pacifist she might be, but Relena had proven before that she was a fighter where it counted the most and all she really needed was the knowledge that she was not going to be fighting alone. No one liked to fight a solitary battle and Sally was confident that there would be more people backing Relena in the days ahead than just the Preventer's Chief Medical Officer.

Relena needed to be made aware of the help she could look forward to and that together they would be able to claw back from the brink of disaster and turn the tables. Une would need to be informed and if they could build Relena's confidence enough to see her stick with politics, they could very well have a future World President that they could trust to maintain the peace. Such dreams were years away and before that point was reached they had a great deal of work to do and first thing on the agenda was to convince Relena that she did have a place in the grand halls of power.

"We are all entitle to weak moments. We have to have them or we would never know the gains we are capable of making - the personal strength we are capable of achieving. We need to see clearly what is around us, who is influencing us and what we have done or we would never have any true perspective on the affairs that surround us. Much as it would be nice to think otherwise, we can't always be strong, Relena. No one is infallible; we just like to think that we are. Think about a thin sheet of iron. If you place a thin flat piece of iron over a gap and then step out into the centre of the gap the metal will not support your weight and you find yourself falling into the chasm between, to land on you duff with a thud. Take that same sheet of iron and bend it at regular intervals, making it corrugated along its entire length and the same flimsy piece of metal that dumped you on your toosh will now bridge the gap and hold your weight when you need to cross. Life is all too often like that thin piece of metal."

The young woman wriggled her way out of her hunched position to sit with her back ramrod straight then slump a little. With a sigh Relena drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them while she stared into the fire. Sally could see that there was some heavy thinking going on and remained silent, allowing Relena to take her time and chew over what had been said. So much needed to be covered in this conversation and time was marching on.

Relena stirred, pressing her eyes into her knees and wrapping her arms around her calves and this time the sigh was stronger, not so shaky and despairing. She looked up to meet the intense pale blue eyes of the Preventer agent.

"I know what you are saying makes a whole lot of sense, Sally, and undoubtedly you are right … I have to harden myself to survive in the political environment but … but I can't do it. I don't want to write Milliardo and the babies off. I can't do that and still expect to sleep at night, but what can I do that will make a difference to the situation? It's so hopeless."

/That's my girl. I see signs of the fighter I knew during the war, only this time you have matured and are not the starry-eyed dreamer. We should be able to work with this to turn you into a first rate politician and keep that caring heart intact./

There was a brightness growing in the girls eyes that heartened her and belied Relena's morose mood of only a few minutes ago. She was just about done with being the weepy late teen and was fast heading toward the hard-eyed politician she was going to need to become for them to preserve the peace and further the human rights issues they needed introduced. This was a vital step on the road to that ultimate goal of true equality of living.

"To begin with you can stop thinking about any need to write them off. To be honest I doubt there is anything you can do that might affect what is happening out there, but in all of this there is something you should not forget. It's a very important factor you seem to be overlooking. Your brother. Anyone who thinks Milliardo Peacecraft is a fool and a pushover is headed for disaster. From what I have learned of him and what I saw of him during the Barton incident, I think it would be hard to surprise him and I don't think for an instant that he was not prepared for something to happen while he was on Mars. He's a smart man, Relena, and he's more than capable of looking after himself and those children … and he has Noin to help him. Together I think they will make a team that is very hard to defeat and they will be a match for anything the Council throws their way. That said you also need to realize that while you can't directly influence events on Mars, you should know that those who have instigated the affair also have a problem with directly influencing it."

The inquisitive tilt of Relena's head and a small frown showed that she was listening, though not clearly understanding Sally's reasoning.

"Distance, Relena. The sheer distance between Earth and Mars does not allow for a quick transmission of information. The instructions for this mission have to have been issued months ago and once the operation was underway those directly involved would be on their own. Neither you nor those politicians who instigated the situation now have the chance to input instructions to affect what is happening. It's not just you who has to sit back and wait. The only people who can affect what is happening out there are the people now on Mars and I don't think I need to enlarge on why I will be placing my money on your brother and Noin."

Relena nodded slowly, but her eyes were narrowed with thought and she idly traced a quilting line on the eiderdown with a delicate finger. "You are right of course, but I still feel that there should be something I can do to help them. There was a time when there undoubtedly was something I could have done, but I was too frightened to take any action and now the chance is gone. What I should have done was take the chance to speak to Lady Une when they first used him as leverage against me. I could have at least spoken to you and asked for some advice, but I never did either of those things, instead I buckled under the pressure like a stupid child faced with an adult's disapproval."

"Hindsight. It's a wonderful thing, but I've never found it to be exactly useful in most situations. We won't go into what should have been done, or why it was not expedient at the time. What we will do is acknowledge that what is important is the here and now. I believe the first thing we need to do is to catalogue our list of resources - our personal abilities and talents that we can lend to our cause and list who our friends are. We should never forget that we need friends, both in a personal relationship and in a business relationship. Our friends define our borders in many ways, because without them we will not advance. We can rely on friends and we can confide in them at all times and when we forget that we have them the world comes crashing down on us with the kind of weight that is crushing."

"I know that now. I'm sorry for making such a rotten mess of everything that now has to be cleaned up and all because I was too proud and stupid to ask for help. Looking back on what has happened I can see just how stupid it was for me to bow down to them. It made me want to scream, but it got easier and easier to just give in to them as they kept coming to me and demanding I give my consent to this bill and that I not back that proposal and I knew all the time that Brother would not be pleased that I compromised myself."

She had thrown out the first hint of what they needed to talk about in the way of personal abilities and was not surprised when Relena ignored the opening. It was not a surprise but she was disappointed by that avoidance, but there was still time for Relena to take the bait.

/Avoiding the issue won't help us make sense of the situation, but that's alright. We have time to deal with this first and then we can tackle the real subject we need to consider for this evening … Damn, this morning. What time is it anyway? We have to get some sleep, but I can't allow this opportunity to escape me. I can't allow her to continue to think about being classed as a Freak. Ah well, it's not as though we will be going anywhere today with that storm out there and sleeping in has its attractive side./

Sally glanced toward the curtained windows at a particularly violent rattling of the exterior shutters, but the old Inn had survived more than two hundred winters and she did not see that the building would fail them now. Relena was watching her and there was no mistaking the tension in her slender shoulders, or the small line between her brows that suggested to Sally she was aware she was avoiding an uncomfortable subject and was waiting to be pulled in the direction she most wanted to avoid. Perhaps she was even expecting Sally to agree that she was a fool?

"I can't say that I know your brother particularly well, but I do think that I know enough of him from his past military record and from observing him after the Barton incident, to know that he would not be disappointed to know that his sister had a heart."

"Big heart, no brain, huh?" she pushed an errant strand of honey blond hair behind her ear.

Sally snorted in an unlady like fashion and flicked a finger at the girl, making no effort to restrain her grin. "He'd not have left the care of the Earth Sphere to you if he thought that. I've been privy to a great deal of classified information in the last couple of years and I think I can say with confidence that your brother never did anything without meticulous planning. He intended you to become the People's Champion and you have not disappointed him. He knew exactly what he was doing then and I believe he knows what he is doing now. You need to believe it too."

Relena's head dropped to rest her chin on her knees and she stared at her bare toes, pushing them into the thick comforter and tracing the design. "He was insane, Sally. How great could his planning be if he was not … if he didn't …" she pressed her eyes against her knees before shaking her head. "If he was not in control of all of his facilities?"

/Hmmm. Now that's disappointing. I was hoping she had come to a better understanding of him by now. I thought she would have passed the point of considering him a nutcase. I suppose it can't be helped and there is still hope that she will understand in time. /

Relena sighed and shook her head in the silence, aware that she had disappointed the Preventer. She blushed and met Sally's bright eyes with a firm tilt of her head that suggested apology.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. Please forgive me. I'm a little out of sorts and …" she sighed, shaking her head again. "That's no excuse, I know. Sorry. I've had the chance and plenty of opportunity to think about the war and I've even done a little investigating of my own. I know I missed a lot and I think it was easier for me to ignore certain things that were glaringly obvious to other people. That is a fault I can't afford if I am to remain in politics. I have talked to Heero about … things. Things that happened between him and my brother and about what was said that I totally missed and Heero just seemed to understand so easily. I guess Milliardo might not have been so bad as he was made out to be."

Now that was a surprise and she wished that she had had the chance to listen in on the conversation. It would probably have been revealing and she would have liked to gain some insight into Heero Yuy.

"You've spoken to Heero about Milliardo?"

Long lashes curved over bright blue eyes that were still a little bloodshot from the storm of weeping. Her cheeks were flushed now with a becoming blush at mention of Heero and she ducked her head lower behind her knees, so that just her eyes peeked over.

"Yes. We've not had the chance to talk about the war as much as I would like to have, but we have touched on the subject … and Milliardo did feature in what we talked about. He…" she seemed a little surprised and her eyes clouded with a momentary confusion. "Heero has definite views on the incident with the Libra and what happened there."

/ Yes, I just bet he has his own opinion about what went down out there. He'd know more than anyone except Zechs what happened on the Libra. I need to have my own little chat with Mr. Yuy where we can not be disturbed. If I remember correctly it was Heero who first came out in defence of Zechs on MO II after the battle. With one thing or another he and I have never really had much of an opportunity to talk in depth and I'd love to hear his view on the sequence of events that took place. I have every confidence it would be an interesting and informative conversation and he could add a wealth of data to my research … If he is more willing that Zechs and Noin were to talk./

What Relena made of her silence she did not know, but the girl seemed undisturbed. She was looking more relaxed, if somewhat embarrassed and catching her eye produced a deepening blush and when she spoke it was with a greater confidence in evidence.

"It's rather embarrassing actually, I felt like such a fool at the time. It was before I was so effectively leashed - well before the Barton incident. As I recall I was in a snit and made some stupid comment about Milliardo being a raving loony and Heero … well, he … took exception." Her ears pinked and her cheeks flamed. "In no uncertain terms he told me I was a fool and not to judge where I clearly had no understanding of the facts. He said that not everyone was a brainless docile sheep that followed the leader without an original thought in their heads and that some people were smart enough to question the way things were and why they had always been that way. He … He told me to think back to the conversation we had with Milliardo on the Libra and that my brother had a great deal of courage and did not deserve to be insulted. He said that when I really understood what it was Milliardo said to us, I would make a better leader."

/Oh ho? What's this? It's the first I've heard about them having an interview with Zechs onboard the Libra. When the hell … Ah, Heero took off from Peacemillion in that captured transport to rescue her. It must have been then. I'll have to get Relena's side of the conversation and then make time to tackle Yuy. I think he may have a greater understanding of the situation than I initially assumed. He may have information that will fill in a gap or three in my scenario of events for that battle. I've had conversations with most of the pilots about that time, but Heero was separated from the main group and no one actually knows what went on between he and Zechs in that last fight./

Sally nodded slightly, encouraging the girl to continue hopeful that she might learn something new, but Relena remained stubbornly silent and dropped her head onto her knees once more. Sally resisted the urge to grind her teeth and swear. She was becoming tired of people making promising openings and then petering off into silence. It was so frustrating. Admittedly Relena had never been overly chatty about what had happened while she was on Libra, but to make this kind of comment and then just clam up was enough to make the Preventer consider stamping off in outrage.

"You and Heero spoke to Zechs on the Libra? It would have been an interesting meeting." A gentle nudge might get the girl talking again.

Relena sighed and nodded, but made no move to lift her head from her knees or to continue with the conversation. She gave every indication of wanting to avoid the subject and Sally watched her, trying to read her expression.

/ Is that … Shame?/ Sally mused. /I think she is ashamed of herself./

Shame might account for a major part in her reluctance to speak of the past. She had been notably reticent on discussing both the Libra and the time she had become the pawn of Romefeller and become Queen of the World. What a piece of idiocy that had been and just how had Romefeller managed to convince the world to accept her?

It would not have helped her confidence any that her mistakes and misreading of the threat led to the events now underway on Mars. As had already been mentioned they were only human and humans made mistakes. Sally wondered how long it would be before Relena not only acknowledged, but actually believed, there had really not been much of a choice in her decisions.

Yes there had been choices to be made, but as yet Relena knew nothing of the manipulating fingers of Treize Kushrenada and his masterwork. Sally was convinced that the entire world and the colonies of the Earth Sphere Alliance had been played expertly by that masterful touch and Kushrenada had reasons to act as he had that as yet escaped her understanding. Reason that she suspected had nothing to do with him wanting to become the World Sovereign simply because he could. For those with the knowledge of where to look and what to look for, there were indications to be found that he had planned the conflict that had taken place and culminated in the battle above the Earth against the Libra.

His influence could be noted shaping the various threads of event into a complex web of interaction from the time he had turned a tender seventeen years of age and first stepped into the international scene. He had been a genius, a natural manipulator with a frightening understanding of the political scene and a sense of honour that, while quaint, many would consider centuries out of date. Still a student at Lake Victoria Academy when he had begun to weave his web he had the connections and confidence to be a world shaker and he had been unafraid to do just that. They had barely scratched the surface in their search for understanding of the major manipulator and his intentions and she needed to fill in the gaps that hinted at a dark and dangerous truth. There were too few people in the ESUN who could give her the information they sought with Kushrenada himself dead.

It still amazed her that she could get so little information from Lady Une. If the gaps in her memory were caused by a medical condition then there might be hope for Une recovering her memory, but Sally knew she could not rely on that to answer her questions. Une's personality disorder might feature somewhere in the amnesia, but she was singularly unwilling to attempt to call back the infamous Colonel Une.

As Kushrenada's right hand woman, his aide and a highly ranked intelligence operative trusted with assignments so sensitive few could be trusted to handle them, she would have thought Une would be a wealth of information but there was always that brick wall she ran into. All of Sally's careful questioning, her gentle nudging and cautious prompting had resulted in very little information she had not already known. Une was adamant that Kushrenada's intention from the beginning was to bring about a peace that would cover what was now the entire ESUN and would last for more than a few paltry years.

/She was in love with Kushrenada and displays little tolerance for Zechs. That could be viewed as jealousy and I don't think that is an incorrect assumption to make. I've spoken with her about the rumours concerning their supposed relationship on a number of occasions and assured her she need not fear that there was anything of an intimate nature between them. I don't think she believes me though. She can be such a stubborn bitch once she makes up her mind and I suppose I should just be thankful she is not allowing her emotions and doubts to get in the way of what needs to be done about Mars. She has taken steps to deal with the situation … Ah./

Sally closed her eyes and willed herself not to swear aloud. She had been so blind and missed a vital juncture. People were going to die because of her inattention and she could not really blame Une. The woman was probably unaware of her actions. Lady Une, Preventer Earth was an honourable woman who cared for her agents and for the peace they preserved. Colonel Une, on the other hand, could be a ruthless cold-hearted bitch who did not particularly care about the price so long as the mission succeeded.

/Ah, you stupid lovesick grieving bitch. I should have realized sooner. Damn the woman. Damn her for being such a sly jealous bitch. If it comes back to bite her on the arse I hope I'm there to see it. Did Une realize what was going on? She took the barest minimum action to contain the situation on Mars and in doing so she has placed the lives of everyone at the Colony at risk. She should have … could have … taken steps earlier on Earth to stop this idiocy, before it was any more than an ill-conceived plan. Did she hope he would be killed? Am I seeing too much in this? Anne, if I learn you intended his death and placed Noin and those children at risk for petty jealousy, I will have a few words to say about your sanity in certain ears and I'll have you pulled from Preventers faster than you can swat a fly./

"Do you think I will ever have the chance to get to know my brother?"

Relena's voice dragged her back from the directions her wandering thoughts were taking and Sally was relieved for the distraction. There was a wistful look in those blue eyes and a visible hope that Sally might pander to her need for reassurance and a trace of what could be fear that it was too late for that kind of childish wishing.

Dare she pamper the girl? Did she need to soften the truth? Would it do more harm than good to shatter the last childish wish of what was hopefully to become a great world leader?

"We can certainly hope that you will have that chance, but I can't honestly say. It's a sorry truth, but people will do anything to keep him under control."

A middle line and she felt like a coward for taking it. The truth was that if he did not die on Mars and he should manage to elude the ESUN agents sent to gather him in, then he would probably execute another vanish trick. He had done it once before, after all and very successfully too. No sign of his continued existence had been detected following the Libra and they had scoured the colonies after finding no evidence of Epyon's destruction.

He had vanished until he had appeared with no fanfare and was most needed to hold Barton's forces until the Gundam Pilots arrived. For the first time they had fought together to make a difference, until the world acknowledged the lesson he had given and the people had shown their desire to stand for the peace they stood in danger of losing.

"Why?"

Sally blinked, confused. "Why?"

Relena threw back her head and scowled, tossing long strands of hair over her shoulders.

"Yes. Why, Sally? Why is it that people are so intent on controlling Milliardo? They had plenty of time to gather him in before and bring him to Earth to stand trial. Public sentiment being what it was at the time … and still is … they could have rushed through the trial and had him executed, or incarcerated for life. Not that I wanted it to happen, you understand, but does it not seem strange to you? Why go to all the trouble they have gone to to keep his survival secret and why allow him to leave Earth after the Barton business? It was the perfect opportunity for them to take him and I really think that despite Une hiding him the ESUN Security Agency could have found him. Why then did they happily allow me to send him to Mars and contain him there, squashing all rumours of his survival that filtered through. Why do they now decide to move him? There has to be more to it than the opening up of the Mars Colony."

That was a question that had bothered her for some time now and she was not happy with any of her projected scenarios. There was too much missing from data to form a viable set of scenarios that did not sound like something out a bad science fiction novel, but there was still this new information to be evaluated. If she stuck to the basic outline it seemed more feasible than the more involved scenarios that included what she knew of Kushrenada and his interaction with the former Lightning Count.

"Basic human nature, I suppose. Most sensible people have a healthy fear of a man who has demonstrated that he is willing to go to extremes to get a point across. He endangered the entire planet to make people see what they were doing … and in all honestly I'm not sure how many people actually learned the lesson he was trying to impart, or see that he was not the insane lunatic the popular press made him out to be. From what I have seen of him he is a very intense man whom you either love or hate, much like Kushrenada himself. Both of them were very intelligent but hard men who were not afraid to shape the world around them, but I think that both of them were men with hearts and a frightening ability to apply their intelligence to world shaping. Not necessarily a bad thing, just frightening to those who see only their own little pocket of existence is not so secure as they assumed."

"I don't understand that. I mean, it seems to me that Treize Kushrenada, who I think was as bad as Milliardo if not worse, is viewed with understanding and even kindness, but my brother is the instant villain."

"I think that if you had the opportunity to speak to him about that Milliardo would have a very simple comment."

Relena scowled and Sally could not resist the smile, or the sparkle in her eye.

"Mankind needed both a villain and a hero. Would it not be more shocking to mankind if the villain was the one whose very name was associated with peace and the hero was the one most often associated with war?"

"A hero? A villain? I always thought the gundam pilots were the heroes."

Sally shook her head slightly. "Look at it again, Relena. Think about what happened and don't apply the romance and mystique of the media to the story. Really start to see what was done and who did what in the events of AC 195. It's a bit of an eye opener when you do. The Gundam pilots were terrorists … yes, terrorists. If you ask them, as I have, they will admit what they were and so do I. I was an Alliance doctor in the Alliance Intelligence Service, but I saw too much and in the end turned around and made myself a rebel. A terrorist. I might add at this time that the majority of atrocities against human rights that I witnessed were done by the Alliance military, not Oz, but that is of no concern just now. When I became a rebel I did not lead, but was led by others higher in the chain with their own pet grievances that were not necessarily similar to my own. The point is I was led. The Gundam pilots didn't lead either. They were led by their controllers and as was later revealed, by the manipulating fingers of Dekim Barton and they were not the formal military arm of the Colonies. They were in fact rejected by the very colonies they were to protect and they were abandoned by their controllers fairly early in the war. They were manipulated, abused and abandoned, until finally they acted on their own. It was almost an accident that they came out of the war smelling of roses. The colony government has a lot to answer for in their refusal to make their standing clear, but that is not relevant to the here and now. What I find amazing is that the prime instigator of the entire mess was dubbed the hero and is applauded and his cohort was named the villain and is reviled. You would almost think there were no others involved in the mess according to the popular version of the war."

"Kushrenada? You think he was the prime instigator? I mean I know he was involved but … he could not control events in the colonies the way he could manipulate things on Earth."

"Could he not? Perhaps, but I think you underestimate the man. He did have himself made the World Sovereign before he went into space to die and become your classic tragic story book hero. The press loves it."

"He could not have known that he would die, Sally, though I admit anyone who took part in that battle stood a chance of dying. He released me from Romefeller and gave me back my identity and took from my head the crown I never wanted. I could only thank him for that. I did not find him to be so bad as I first thought. He was actually quite nice to me and I was a bit of a bitch the previous time we met."

"Relena, a master tactician accounts for every possible eventuality and that includes the need to die for the cause. I've been investigating the events of the war, its become something of a hobby, and I have had the opportunity to speak to others who are doing the same thing, though possibly not for the same reasons. We are all trying to find out what happened, when it happened and why it happened. In all of our investigations to date I have seen the same thing and that is the masterful touch of Treize Kushrenada. Since he turned seventeen his influence is unmistakable as he turned everything to the course he desired."

"But … why would he?"

"Anne insists he did it all for peace."

"For peace." Relena whispered. "Everything seems to be done for peace … I'm very tired of the claim being made that it was 'all for peace'. You have been investigating the war you say? What do your investigations tell you about Milliardo? What have you learned of my brother's part in the war?"

She was not surprised that the question had arisen and indeed it might be made to work for her in getting Relena onto the subject of these suddenly revealed and potentially so useful 'abilities'. Sally turned to eye the fire for a long moment, considering placing one or two logs on the flames, but decided there was no urgent need as yet. They needed to get some sleep tonight, but for the moment the room was warm enough and she wanted to keep the flow of conversation going.

"I think tonight I learned something that has a bearing on the information I had found previously and if so it would go a long way to explaining some things that had puzzled me. The Innkeeper has given me what might be the most vital piece of information I have to date discovered and I believe it will go a long way toward helping me unravel some of your brother's more confusing actions."

Relena paled noticeably. "Fairytales." she whispered and blushed at the hesitancy in her voice.

Pay dirt. Now she could pounce and start the ball rolling. While it was not much of an acknowledgement it was the blush that told her it was time to broach the subject.

"Really, Relena? Fairytales? Dancing around what may seem unpalatable can be dangerous and avoiding the subject will not help us deal with the problems of the past or the future. Sometimes it's best to approach things head on.'

Sally reached to hook a finger under the girls chin and tilt her head up until their eyes locked.

"Psi ability. Psychic ability has been known for centuries and that I am aware of a library documenting psi ability in one family line for generations has never before been found. It is an opportunity that would have the scientific world in raptures if it was known. We do not, at this time, particularly want it known but Relena, you can't look me in the eye and deny that what he said, at least about you, is not true, can you ?"

All colour bleached from her face and Sally wondered for a moment if she would faint. She should have known better than to even consider the thought as the young woman drew in a deep breath and steadied herself, the well practiced blank mask of the politician falling into place.

"I … We are not discussing me now, Sally, but my brother."

"I think we are not discussing one or the other of you, but both of you. The last of the pure-blooded Peacecrafts are my concern at this time. You and your brother and those two babies, who are up to their ears in trouble on Mars. All Peacecrafts. All direct line Peacecrafts. What the Innkeeper has said makes sense Relena, as much as you might wish it otherwise. Given what I know of the war from my investigations and adding that data to what I learned tonight, it makes a curious, fascinating and somewhat disturbing sense. If Treize Kushrenada knew about the Peacecraft's hereditary abilities, then given the tactical abilities the man possessed it makes sense that he would choose your brother to be the villain and you to take his place as the Guardian of the peace they crafted."

"How… how would he… I mean… How would he… could he know if Milliardo could… had the…" She was floundering and clamped her mouth shut, trying to gain some sense of solidity in the world that seemed to want to tilt crazily into the realm of science fiction and fantasy.

Sally smiled gently and reached to lightly brush her hair from her eyes. "How would he know that Milliardo Peacecraft was a clairvoyant? That is one question I am quite sure that I can answer. Where did Zechs grow up, Relena?"

Colour flooded into her face in a blush. "Yes. I see. With the Kushrenadas."

"Exactly. If Zechs did indeed have such an ability, don't you think it might have manifested itself at some time through his childhood and is it so much larger a step to take to suggest that it might have manifested in front of Treize at some point in time? The nobility of old Europe are tied by bloodlines that have crossed for centuries and are really rather a close knit community. There well may have been rumours within certain families with close ties to the Peacecrafts, that one or more abilities could be found in the Royal line of the House of Peacecraft. It's not so huge a leap when you consider those ties of blood that Treize might have known about the ability."

Relena scowled in the general direction of the fire and then glanced back to the agent. "Alright, I'll admit that is possible. Improbable, but possible. I still don't think that explains why he would use my brother to be the villain in this grand design you believe existed. Would it not make more sense to have Milliardo cast in the role of the handsome prince riding into battle to save the world and bring peace?"

Sally shrugged her shoulders slightly and grinned. "Would it have been so effective? All of this is theory, you understand and at this time we can't know it all, but we are still hunting for information. All that we now have suggests strongly that Treize and Zechs did not part company as thoroughly, as was first believed, after that incident in Antarctica. We actually have come to suspect that they planned the final battle together."

"I … don't want to believe that my brother was so … so cold-blooded … as to plan the deaths of so many people. He was … is … a Peacecraft."

Sally sighed softly and her smile was gentle. "I would make a wager with you that if we could access this sealed archive our host guards, that we would find stored there records that would reveal that the Peacecrafts were quite capable of shedding blood in the interests of peace, for the greater majority."

"Oh no, Sally, no." a whisper. "Father would never have approved."

Sally arched an eyebrow. "Oh? How would you know? To my certain knowledge you never knew your birth father. How are you able to know what he was capable of, or what he would have approved? Are you so certain that if he was not born with this suspected clairvoyant ability that he would not use it to the best effect? Do you think that he did not use this ability of Suggestion the Innkeeper claims he had to accomplish the same ends? Would that not, in its own way, be as bad if not worse than shedding a little blood to bring about a greater condition for peace on the strength of dreams or visions?"

"I … That …" She was bleached of colour and buried her face in her hands, pressing against her knees and her fingers locked in her hair. "Don't … Sally. Please."

"Sorry kiddo, but we can't always avoid what we don't want to hear. Eventually we have to hear it. Think about it Relena; think about why the Alliance attacked Sanc in the first place. Yes, it was the Alliance, not some poor well publicized scapegoat that did the deed. It was an Alliance operation from start to finish; I know because I've seen some of the sealed documentation on the operation. You might be interested to know that one of the higher officers involved in planning the mission was none other than that vaunted advocate of peace, General Noventa." She waved away the whispered protest and sighed. "Not important now, but the question of why the Alliance attacked Sanc in the first place is. There was something about Sanc that frightened them. Now what would it be about a pacifist nation that would frightened an organization the size of the Alliance and drive their leaders to such an abominable action?"

"I … don't know but … but … Peace should not be brought with blood!"

"No? How else will you pay the price and for everything we do in this life there is a price, Relena. How do you make people see the sometimes subtle difference between freedom and oppression? Don't look at me like that, think about it. You can have peace under an oppressor, a Dictator, just as well as you can enjoy it under a democracy. Peace in the absence of blood shed in mass conflict, but you can still have the population bound in chains. Peace is not just the absence of war and blood free fields. We have peace now and we need to make certain that we can keep it, but we also need to keep the fundamental rights of humanity from being oppressed to maintain that peace. Not so easy a thing to do, or those who feel themselves oppressed, no matter their reasons, feel that they must rebel and there we are right back into the war zone again. We will not always have a politician we approve of in the Presidential seat, one who honestly wishes to bring about peace, prosperity and fundamental freedoms to the people. We will not always have people we know personally and trust in the halls of power working to uphold the standard of living and the freedom as individuals we expect. We will not always be in a situation where we have any say at all in how the ESUN is run and you need to remember that as you look back on the many facets of war throughout history."

"I don't see why they attacked Sanc." a whisper and her eyes seemed to be twice their natural size in her pale face. "Sanc is just too small, too insignificant in the world order to make much of a difference."

"From little acorns do giant oaks grow and one tree that sheds fertile seed gives birth to a forest." Sally sighed. "Sanc was making a difference … or rather, King Stephan was making a difference. People were listening to him and it frightened those in control. I can't say exactly what sparked the invasion, but perhaps he moved too quickly. Perhaps he made a mistake when dealing with an Alliance representative. At this point in time I admit we may never know what it was that set the Alliance on the course it took, but I am relatively sure after tonight that what happened was a direct result of the Peacecraft Kings ability to make people 'see' the advantages of peace. If he should have erred in bringing this psychic ability to bear on the wrong person, then it is feasible to assume that someone panicked and events snowballed. The Alliance might well have attacked Sanc to remove what they considered to be the threat that the Royal Family represented."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	162. Chapter 162 Chapter 161

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 161

2nd March AC 198

Sanc New Port City

Time: 03:30, New Port City, Sanc

Wu Fei

Heat radiated from the timbers blackened and burned by the fire from the explosion. The inclement weather he had been considering as a curse for hours had been the saving grace for the rear of the house, though he doubted much of the original structure could be saved. Walking around the lower floor after holding innumerable briefing with agents, investigating forensic specialists and police representatives, he confirmed the impression he had had that there was considerably more damage than he had expected. It would in no way surprise him to learn the building would need to be demolished in the aftermath of the investigation.

The acrid stench of smoke and ash filled the air about him and there was still a faint smoky haze in the air and heat was still being generated from the debris. From somewhere nearby he could hear a rhythmic hiss, the sound of water dripping onto hot timber with a tssss that was beginning to annoy him. The stench more than the sight of the aftermath of his handiwork upset him and he longed to be far from this reminder of times better left behind him.

He had rarely stayed around to view the aftermath of his violence in the days of the war.

The voices of the fire crew engaged in the last stages of their cleanup impinged on his thoughts and he sighed as he walked through what he had privately considered to be a very nice and surprisingly welcoming home. He had had cause to visit the Lady at home on a number of occasions in the past and had found the house to be of a pleasing design and had welcomed the sense of acceptance it had seemed to generate. That feeling of welcome was gone now, replaced by a sense of accusation and betrayal. To think this house could know his betrayal and accuse or welcome him was idiocy, he knew, but he had felt comfortable here and he supposed a part of that awareness had to come from the owner, though he would never have considered the Lady's demeanour exactly welcoming.

He had, after all, killed Treize yet she had invited him to her home on more than one occasion, admittedly on business and once for a barbecue involving her top officers in a social bonding exercise that had not been too excruciatingly painful.

She had loved the World Sovereign and had opened her heart to his daughter and made a home for Mariemaia. He had had enough opportunities to observe interrelationships and determined that there was caring between the orphaned girl and her guardian and regretted the necessity of his action in destroying what had been a home, not merely a house. He supposed it was not surprising that the face Lady Une showed at Preventers in her position as Preventer Earth was very different to her every day at home persona. It was almost a frightening thought to consider Une might have a human face and he previously had not considered what the woman did with her life after leaving her office each day. In truth he did not understand her or the many facets of her personality, especially following the events of the night.

How did he equate the Une who had made a home for Mariemaia with the woman who had so coldly and calmly given him the instruction to destroy her house, knowing that there were people within the structure? Someone could have died at most, or sustained some serious injuries and the fact that there were only a few minor injuries out of this mess was more good fortune than planning. The exercise had been designed to turn the media and public attention away from the events on Mars and it reminded him frighteningly of the almost legendary calculation of Colonel Une.

/I must consider if there is any danger of her returning to the Colonel persona. She seemed imminently sensible and aware as she explained her reasons on the drive over here but … I will not be dragged down into ruin because she shifts personalities once more and the coldly logical and ruthless bitch emerges. To destroy her home …/

It was either lunacy or brilliance, but sometimes the dividing line between the two was fine and hard to determine. Had Une gone too far with this action and was he like a fly caught in amber, captive to the forces of time and exposure?

/It has, in the end, proven to be an unnecessary action in light of the developments of the night. It shall make a stir, the appearance of a Kushrenada into the political limelight once more. For the moment I must put my faith in her claim that it is possible this man is who he claims to be. For now I need to trust her judgement and work this assignment, but I must not fail to guard my own back. I have seen too much back-stabbing in political circles, both literal and figurative, to presume a Preventer investigator will be considered immune. It is more likely the Preventer identity will paint a larger target on my back. I will be watched and since Preventers will be investigating the appearance of this Station Alliance and in particular Kristian Kushrenada, I can expect to be cultivated as a possible information source. I wonder what Mariemaia would make of his claim to be a Kushrenada? Another relation appearing in her path who might have views on how and where she should live, or perhaps yet another cousin who is determined to deny her links to the bloodline./

The point was moot considering his assigned mission and none of his concern, as he had not been assigned to investigate the man's claims. He had matters of greater importance to occupy his attention and the night was far from over for him. He was to head the investigation into the bombing of this house and the Royal Palace and through out all of the paper work and the investigative work he was to ensure that his links to the matter went undiscovered. Should evidence come to light that might even dimly point the finger in his direction he had to be ready to smother it and lose it by bringing doubt to its validity, or provide a plausible explanation for any similarities. With the sophistication of forensic techniques he must be alert for the smallest hint of incriminating evidence.

It had already been a long and arduous day and he could see no rest for him in the hours to come. He listened for a moment to the movements within the house, marking the voices belonging to the fire fighters. His forensic investigation team were active gathering evidence and compiling preliminary reports he was expected to examine and summarize for Une before he could consider closing his eyes for some much needed sleep. His day had only just begun and he ached in every bone of his body with a weariness that sapped his mental strength. Surviving his walk in the blizzard had taken far more out of him, both physically and mentally, than he had first assumed.

"Agent Chang."

Enough useless musing had been done. It was time he turned his attention to the job he was assigned to do and focus his efforts on the investigation. Nothing must clue others into suspecting that he was not giving his best effort to discovering a nest of terrorists. He straightened his spine, drawing his shoulders back and winced at the sharp pain. Somewhere during his walk in the snow, when he had struggled through drifts and slipped and slid on ice, he had pulled a muscle or two and he determined to have it seen to at some later time.

Turning from the shattered remnants of the living room and the falling snow beyond, he nodded to the Fire Chief who entered from the foyer and surveyed the damage with a shake of his head. The man did not seem to acknowledge the inclement weather as being worth his concern, as he nodded in return greeting and motioned to the wreckage surrounding them with a heavily gloved hand.

"The department's arson investigators will liaison with Preventer forensics as usual." He was a man in his early fifties, cool and professional with confidence in his own abilities and more than thirty years experience with the Sanc Fire Department.

Chang nodded his agreement. "That is acceptable." He needed to keep as much as possible to the standard routines established since the formation of Preventers. "With the location of the threatened persons you may find yourself and your people stretched a little thin. I believe at least three other prospective targets are in New Port City at this time."

"Our reserve units are on standby in the event there should be more incidents and I understand there is a search underway for unwanted surprise parcels at the hotels in question. We have almost finished here and I will leave a couple of men to keep an eye on the place for the next few hours. With the weather conditions we have forecast for the night and the coming day I don't expect there to be any resurgence of flame, but stranger things have been known to happen."

"That is acceptable, Chief. I will alert my agents to their presence."

He had worked in conjunction with the New Port City Fire Department on numerous occasions in the past and had found that, unlike the Police Department, there was little in the way of resentment between Preventer Agents and the Fire Department to complicate ongoing investigations. He had learned, to his disgust, it seemed a common fault with Police Departments around the globe and within the colonies that their investigators and executives tended to feel threatened by the Preventers and resisted working in liaison with his colleagues.

His attention was focused on the Fire Chief though he was aware of the sounds of activity in the house that marked the locations of those assigned to take evidence for future examination. He noted a fire fighter poking about in the rubble near the foyer before moving off with a careful scrutiny of the overhead beams supporting the surviving sections of the house. He knew that if they detected any sign of strain in the support structure everyone within the building would be sent out of the house until the structure could be stabilized.

Had he targeted the house just a few feet to the west of the actual impact site he thought, he might have collapsed the majority of the building and any investigation would have been on hold until engineers examined the structure. It would have also killed the security contingent assigned to the house.

/That would have polluted the evidence nicely, but I am certain Mariemaia would not want to lose all of her possessions./

Not that it was to have any bearing on the case and he turned his attention back to the Chief. When the forensic investigation was concluded no doubt Une would arrange to have the child's personal effects removed and placed in storage until temporary accommodation could be arranged. With the child on her way to a safe house there was time enough to worry about that later and looters would not be able to access the house with the Preventer guard in place.

He wondered what Une thought of what her decision had done to her home. He had noted her more than once wandering through the wreckage looking at the debris while he had briefed the team she had assembled for him and while he could not say that she looked particularly disturbed, he acknowledged that it was not easy to read the woman. She played a mean game of poker and he supposed they were in a very high stakes game at the moment.

With the acquisition of Mariemaia this had become her home, not merely a place to stop and sleep so that one might continue working. While Une had made a life for herself centred around the Preventers initially, following the Barton Incident she had changed her life to take on responsibility for the daughter of the man she had loved and making a house into a home had become a priority. From what he had noted it had produced changes in her personality he had approved of.

/Until today, at least./

More than once he had found himself wondering if Mariemaia Kushrenada was in fact a Kushrenada, but he could not deny that the lady seemed in no doubt of her paternity and out of curiosity he had once attempted to view her genetic records. He admitted that while he had worked for Barton he had accepted what he had been told, but when he thought about those days he felt like cringing. Where had his head been? He had such trouble understanding himself and still wondered at his own actions.

His inquiry into the girl's parentage had begun out of curiosity following the lodgement of protests by members of the Kushrenada family against the child inheriting her father's wealth. The Kushrenada hereditary estates had passed to the nearest male relative and the new Duke had been one of those questioning the authenticity of the documents detailing the child's parentage. It was all too easy if you knew what you were doing to fake such documents, but he was under no false assumptions and knew Une firmly believed the documentation to be authentic.

Certainly she had access to resources that would provide her with the means to run private DNA tests on the girl, independent of other sources involved in the dispute. To that end he had no doubt Une could place her hands on authentic genetic material from Treize Kushrenada she could use to compare with the child's DNA and settle the matter of paternity to her satisfaction.

Une professed to be in love with Kushrenada, but he had to wonder considering the information he had been privy to as a Gundam Pilot if the two had actually been lovers. He was doubtful that their association had ever reached that point, despite her fondest dreams. From all that he knew of the man he was inclined to believe the relationship had never actually progressed to the point of intimacy.

Kushrenada had first and foremost been a military Commander and had rigidly adhered to the rules he expected others beneath his command to live by. In many aspects he led by example and primary amongst the regulations he had followed was a taboo on personal involvement between a commanding officer and his subordinates. Une had been his personal aide first and a woman second. While he had indisputably trusted her over others, Chang was inclined to believe that Kushrenada would not have crossed that line between professional and personal.

There was also the matter of Merquise to be considered whenever the man's name and personal relationships was to be discussed. The rumours had been there for anyone with ears to hear, that the two were not merely friends but lovers. It was said that Kushrenada rejecting Merquise had set Merquise into the spiral to insanity that had resulted in the Libra incident, but once again Chang came to the sticking point of military rank and the rules and regulations against personal involvement. Regardless of whether or not Kushrenada had been heterosexual, homosexual or bisexual, he would still have set that example and adhered to it.

/Why am I thinking of this anyway? I have a job to do and it has nothing to do with Kushrenada or how he liked his sex./

"I don't think the Lady will be living here for a good long time, Mr Chang." The Fire Chief shook his head and surveyed the room, casting a glance up at the second floor behind them.

"I concur. Is she still present?"

"I believe Lady Une has departed for the Palace, which is where I should be headed, so I will leave the investigation in your capable hands. Our investigators should be here within a few minutes. This storm will slow things down considerably and I suggest you keep a wary eye on the upper story of the house. Any indication there may be trouble from the wind, or a build up of snow and I need you to get everyone out. My team know what to look for, so be aware of the danger."

He offered an assurance that his team would be wary and the Chief made his farewells, leaving Wu Fei glaring at the driving snow and reflecting that it would not be too long before he was ready himself to head for the palace. Within the half hour he expected the cars would arrive to take him and his team of investigators to continue their work. By the time he arrived at the Palace he expected Une to have made her way back to Preventer Headquarters and be waiting for him to check in with her, which he could not see happening for at least the next three hours.

/I shall need to be careful not to stray from my usual investigative routine. It seems odd that before I even begin to work I know who did it and how it was done and I even know why … I think./ He scowled at the blizzard and shook his head.

/There is something about this entire mess that stinks to high heaven and I doubt anything good will come out of it. If Une has involved me in a mess that will place my head on the block, it will not only be me who takes the fall. I will take her down with me./

What good could come of this deception? Une planned more than he knew, he suspected. She had gained an excuse to have an elite agent poking around in political circles that previously had been barred to her investigations, though he suspected that had not stopped her. At the least he could be used by her to attract attention away from clandestine investigations she might have underway that had thus far escaped notice. It was a possibility that he would not discount and he could think of a dozen or more places he could better spend his efforts than playing decoy. He doubted that even Une would waste the resource that an elite agent represented.

/What is in it for me? I suppose I do get exposure to persons of influence and I had already determined that I will not spend my life as a Preventer agent, but I was not intending to enter political circles either. As for men of influence, well there is Winner and I am no stranger to Relena Darlian either. They have influence enough for whatever I might need when I determine where my future lies./

A flash of coppery bright hair teased his memory and he was thankful nobody was in his immediate vicinity to see the blush he could feel heating his face. Perhaps something of merit had come from the affair and it was far more pleasant than the prospect of tiptoeing around politicians. He would not have met such an intriguing creature if not for this assignment and perhaps he might be fortunate enough to meet her again. Perhaps he might make certain he would meet her again.

He had once intended to be a scholar …

/Distractions, no matter how pleasant, will not help me concentrate on keeping the identity of the terrorist secret. Can this deception be successfully executed given modern investigative techniques? Just who are these people I am supposed to place the blame on? I have had no time to examine the file Une had prepared, but knowing Kushrenada if this is a scheme he had devised I can bet it will be elaborate. Une has adapted this to her use and I need to speak with her in more detail, though knowing the woman she would be infuriating enough to smirk and tell me I am the investigating officer so investigate, or some such nonsense./

She had best not be involving him in a deception that would be to the detriment of the peace. He needed to find the time and peace to think things through and assure himself he was not, once again, making a mistake that would have wide reaching repercussions. He was under observation, as were all of those who had piloted the Gundams, by government sources and while Une was assured none were observing him whilst he played terrorist, he personally was not so certain. Regardless of the agreed upon conditions of his parole, he personally thought during his past assignments there had been instances where he had been observed.

To the best of his knowledge, at least in this instance, his part in this elaborate game Une had initiated was secure, a secret known to only one other person, but he had learned long ago to take nothing for granted. There always seemed to be eyes or ears where you least wished them to be. Certainly he had caught no hint of the usual tail since he had departed for the shuttle on that now debunked investigation he had been assigned to.

"Hey! What are you doing there?"

His head snapped around at the shout and the sudden sound of running footsteps and the bellowed instruction to halt or be fired upon. Preventer agents were running off into the blizzard and he cursed his position amid the debris that prevented him from immediately taking off in pursuit himself. His curiosity aroused he picked his way across the ruined lounge room toward the group of men and women now sheltering from the main force of the wind in the hallway leading to the kitchen.

His glance swept over them, noting who was absent and the presence of one of the firefighters before turning to the highest ranked Preventer in the group.

"What is happening?"

"Commander Chang." A brief nod from the forensic specialist in greeting and he inclined his head toward the raging blizzard. "Someone was going through the rubble, calm as you please."

The investigative teams knew each member personally and the security staff was likewise familiar with everyone admitted to the estate. The firefighters would have been marked and identified speedily as they worked and any strange face would draw interest. He wanted to know how a non Preventer managed to get as far as the house. His gaze flicked to the firefighter in the midst of the agents and he was quick to shake his head,

"Not one of ours."

/So how did they make it this far and what were they looking for? I blew up the bloody house so who is this?/

It was always possible that a looter had appeared, like the vultures they were, to pick over other peoples misfortune, but in his view it would have to be more than an opportunist to have made it through the security cordon around the estate and into the house. Opportunists generally did not have that kind of training which left him with the obvious conclusion that they must be dealing with a professional intent on some specific purpose. Who would have an interest in the bombing of the home of the Chief of Preventers?

"Are any of the security cameras in the house still operational? I want the tapes checked to see if the intruder can be picked up entering the house and check all of the grounds feed."

"The front cameras are dead, taken out in the blast, but I think the cameras on the west side were still working. I'm not certain about the east side of the house, though, but considering the backup system installed here I would think the rear cameras should still be working."

"Check them out and see if you can place a face to this person. I want to know how they made it past security to get this far."

He was not amused and he glowered as he stalked his way through the house and to a rear window overlooking what should have been the rear garden. He glared out into the darkness at the wind driven snow that proved to be all he could see in the encircling band of lights set up around the house. Pursued and pursuers were hidden by the blizzard and he could only wait.

/Did they manage to take something? Could it have been a souvenir hunter? No, it makes no sense. Opportunists surely would not have made it past security and the perimeter guard is on full alert, their numbers trebled since the attack. It is true that the storm would offer them some amount of cover, but the immediate exterior of the house is encircled by guards well within sight of each other. To get past that guard you would need to flash a Preventer approved ID./

This intrusion was going to annoy the hell out of him until he had an answer to the riddle. Someone had breached security and he did not believe they could have done so by simple good luck. It would have taken considerable skill to get past the guards, which screamed professional skills were used. Certainly that was one intrusion he would be following the investigation of very closely and perchance he might dare use it to add credibility to the deception that terrorists had struck against the Peace?

It might be a government agent of some skill assigned to investigate the matter in a clandestine manner independent of the Preventers, which was not so improbable, he reflected. It might have been an attempt to check that he was working, as he had been removed from another case and the watch dogs were checking on the validity of the assignment. Or a skilful freelance journalist, perhaps with past military training, who sought to gain a scoop? Or…

/There is another possibility. Could it be that one of the agents Kushrenada and Une originally lined up for this terrorist front during the war might be looking into the matter? To my knowledge she is using all information unmodified at this time, which means the groups name would be the same and an agent, recognizing it, might seek her out for instructions. Perhaps they seek a confirmation that the group is now activated?/

The more he thought about the possibility of undercover agents belonging to the intelligence and covert ops agencies established by the Specials, the more the idea appealed to him and worried him. A sleeper resident in Sanc, hearing the news broadcasts and recognizing the identity of the group from the announcement released to the media, might well come seeking Une as contact if such had been arranged in past years. If this was not supposition and instead fact, might he not need to fear a Sleeper activating without checking in for updated instructions?

/Wonderful. Ancestors, that is not a pleasant thought. I need to consult with Une over this and determine if there is a possibility of the original group activating, though she seemed confident they would not when she briefed me. It is something I cannot ignore. I must take nothing for granted in this and cover all bases and Une must ensure that the group knows not to interfere. Being the professional she is I do not doubt she has the means to contact her old agents. The last thing I want is to be chasing a group that actually does exist./

The more he thought on it the more he loathed the idea of this mission. He was going to find himself moving within the very halls that contained the people who insisted he was not trustworthy to live beyond surveillance. He would be rubbing shoulders with the politicians who had voted to have the pilots and certain key war time individuals monitored around the clock and now there was the potential that other players might enter what seem to him to be an already crowded game of deception and deceit..

/I would have more privacy if I lived in a goldfish bowl. I am not a trusting soul and I do not trust politicians who worry over the upcoming elections and I do not trust them to drop the surveillance when they say they will. I am tired of looking over my shoulder and seeing those tails wagging in the breeze. They are not even subtle./

What was annoying as hell was that he was stuck with an investigation that was superfluous to their needs. Une had triggered the terrorist assault specifically to take public attention away from the events happening at the Mars Colony and that had been well enough at the time. A rather ingenious solution, he had to admit even though he hated begin mixed up in the business, but to compound his distaste it had proven to be unnecessary. The sudden appearance of the Station Alliance had caught the media's attention and shifted the spotlight firmly away from Mars.

/It is too late to do anything about it now, of course. We are committed to continuing the play of terrorist faction until such time as one can believably remove the threat. That being the case it will be interesting to see what develops, as she has initiated a media circus over terrorists who don't exist and I must explain to the satisfaction of all parties that the threat is void. The appearance of this Station Alliance leaping out of the shadows cannot be ignored and they have far more substance than terrorists to upset the balance of power within the ESUN. The large business conglomerates and corporations involved with space resources will be well aware of the threat to their mining settlements within the asteroid belt and other business concerns. I do not wish to even contemplate the chaos that would ensue if the Alliance dares to claim the Belt as their territory. I do not wish to fight another war./

He was very tired of thinking about war. For too long had it ruled his life and he would not again see those days of fighting and dying return. Perhaps he should resign this very minute and return to the days when his dream had been to become a scholar. That might be nice, he mused and cringed from the very thought in the next breath. One could not go back. Something different then. Something far from the every day routine of a Preventer field agent and roughly a galaxy away from the possibility of returning.

/I enjoyed my days of study, but I am too jaded to return to philosophy at this time and while I have learned much, I can not see myself now as once I was. That was a childhood dream and I am no child now . If not a scholar, then what? A student certainly. Poetry? History … no, that is laced with war and I would have it far from me. Archaeology?/

Again that memory of the flash of copper bright hair and deep eyes that seem to draw him in.

/Could I study archaeology? One could study archaeology without focusing on war. Or perhaps palaeontology? Hmmm. I am not much of a poet and I have never been fond of history, though there is more to history than conflict. Archaeology would prove to be interesting./

Why Archaeology? Why did it now leap out at him and beckon? He needed to examine his motives and determine why he might suddenly consider the previously ignored field. It was not enough to make such a leap away from his current lifestyle because of a pretty face and soulful eyes that seemed to suck him down into the promise of something more, that he had only briefly played at in his marriage. No, that was the last reason he should consider taking such a step.

Engineering had always held an interest but it, like so many other things, brought to mind the days of war and working on his Gundam. Days he would sooner not remember and the same haunting memories would be sparked should he consider mechanics. Everything in one way or another seemed to turn him around and bring him face to face with war.

/Is war truly the only driving force within man?/

"Commander Chang?"

Dragging his mind back from useless speculation to the task at hand he half turned to face the security guard. The man seemed to freeze for an instant and snapped a crisp salute, causing him to wonder what he must have looked like to startle the man into so formal a stance. He had not thought his mood was particularly threatening and surely considering a career change would not produce a threat to anyone observing him.

'You have found the intruder?'

The swallow was clear and he knew they had lost their prey. "No, Sir. The intruder has escaped, but we have dog handlers out searching the grounds for any trace. We believe he is still on the grounds. Your car is here."

Had so much time passed while he was lost in thoughts of a new life? Deplorable, and Une should kick his ass, he would deserve it. "Very well, I want the security tapes forwarded to headquarters as soon as possible, along with a report on the means used to trespass on the grounds."

"Sir." The man nodded.

Chang moved through the lounge, ignoring the crunch of glass under his boots. "See to it there are no repeat instances, or you can explain it to Preventer Earth personally. I will be at the Palace for at least two hours and there after I expect to be at Headquarters."

"Yes Sir. The forensics team have finished and the unit is withdrawing to headquarters. The second unit report they have found a possible location for the strike against the palace."

/And about time too. It was not such a hard place to find, even in this weather./ "See that my driver is briefed on the location. I will attend that site before going on to the palace."

The sooner he put in an appearance at the site the better. In this wind he might lose a strand of hair or a twig might scratch him or snag fibers of his clothes that might contain DNA evidence, or a dozen other minor contaminations could occur that would explain a trace of him in that clearing in the woods. When they found the car he would need to do the same thing.

It was time to get back to business.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	163. Chapter 163 Chapter 162

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 162

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 04:15

Relena

In the silence the crackle of flame eating into the logs seemed loud and the muted howl of the storm sent shivers down her spine. The night seemed destined never to end and she could only wish the entire horrible day had been the worst nightmare she could possibly imagine. She could survive a nightmare unchanged, but this nightmare simply would not end and by the cold hard sensation in her gut, she knew it to be no dream.

There would be no comfort in waking up in her own bed, walking around her own room and knowing it had all been a dream. A frightening, thoroughly disagreeable dream.

_"If he should have erred in bringing this psychic ability to bare on the wrong person … feasible to assume that someone panicked …" _

Sally's words would haunt her to the day she died, if she could not find an explanation to cause her to believably refute the possibility her father had brought the wrath of a world government down on one small isolated country. Could it be true? She shied from the very idea, but her position often forced her to face the unpalatable and there was no escaping the question. It needed to be considered, faced with courage to find that weakness and refute it. Was it indeed possible the King of Sanc had pushed the wrong person and doomed so many because of some freakish talent that belonged in a science fiction novel?

/Did … did my father … make a mistake? Is it really possible he had some strange ability that could make people change their views and did he use it so indiscriminately? So carelessly? Foolishly. Could Sally be right?/

Foolishly? Who was she to judge the actions and wisdom of others, when she could all too easily recall instances in her recent past that had meant nothing to her at the time, other than a sense of accomplishment at a job being well done. She had managed to convince people of influence and far greater experience that she herself could claim, to help other people with little more than the clothes on their backs who ate out of garbage cans. There had been reluctance and a host of arguments against the investments she argued for and she had no recourse now but to wonder if she had convinced them on the merits of a carefully thought out argument exactingly delivered, or if she had forced them with her desire to help backed by the unconscious use of this … this … ability.

/No . No I can't do that. He did not either … he would not … knowingly … Maybe he didn't know he could do that? It's all supposition anyway and just coincidence that … that … Oh God, I wish she would stop looking at me like that./

The Preventer agent she trusted was watching her and those intense blue eyes never left her as the silence stretched between them and Relena shivered delicately. It was still a little chilly in the room, but the fire in the hearth made the temperature bearable and continued to warm the room as she hesitated. If she could just curl up in the bed and go to sleep and succeed at ignoring the world… but no.

Ignoring matters was not going to bring about resolution, and much as she might wish she was a coward and could run away from it all, she was not by nature one to run away. This unpalatable mess had to be faced and since it involved her bloodline she could not simply ignore it. If her family had brought ruin to Sanc she had a responsibility to ensure there would not only be no repeat, but that the ruins of people's lives be rebuilt in payment for the past.

Relena rubbed absently at a toe, her arms wrapped around her calves, hands worrying at her feet, tracing the line of a pink-painted toe nail. Her chin rested on her raised knees and she was thankful for the fall of her hair cascading across her face, to give her some meager shielding from those watching eyes.

/I do not want to think about this now, or ever, but it is the kind of thing that will never go away. It will always be there, waiting in the wings and until I deal with it, it will grow larger and darker, like some brooding demon. I could do something stupid if I don't explore the possibilities at least and learn all I can about the pitfalls. I could make the same mistake my father made … if he made a mistake at all, but putting it off will accomplish nothing. I might have done that if Sally had not been here and heard it all. I might have made the mistake of dismissing it and ignoring it and somewhere down the line I could cause a catastrophe like the fall of Sanc … It's all fairytales … it has to be. I can't make people change their minds just by willing it. I … can't. It's just not possible and he couldn't do it either. Her eyes are so damn blue! I can't ignore them. I can't ignore this./

She sighed softly and looked up at the woman who, by her very presence, was forcing her to deal with the unpalatable. Sally Po had always struck her as a strong and intelligent woman who had a firm grounding in reality. She would not have thought someone as realistic as Sally had proven herself to be in the past, would entertain fairytales so seriously, which gave her pause in simply dismissing the whole matter.

If by some weird cosmic jest she was this freak the elderly man had spoken of so casually, then why was Sally not running in terror of the freak before her and … and there was that time on L3 … and that incident at the conference in Luxembourg … and the debate in the council concerning the founding of the aid committee to L2, where they just seemed to want to do nothing but squabble …

/Oh God. I really don't want to deal with this./

Those blue eyes were still watching her and she had the uncomfortable feeling Sally Po guessed much of the thoughts passing through her mind. The woman was a medical professional and she was also formerly an intelligence agent for the Alliance military. Perhaps she had heard rumours about the fall of Sanc? Was that possible? As a former member of the Intelligence Agency Sally surely would have had some access to classified documentation, though Sanc had fallen many years before Sally was old enough to join the military.

"Do you know what you are implying? The repercussions if … if it was … Sally, you are saying … suggesting the entire invasion of Sanc; the massacre of hundreds of people and the displacement of thousands more … All of it was designed to kill the King?"

There, she had swallowed her terror and given the agent an opening. An opening she knew Sally would pounce on and whatever chance for peace there had been in her soul was gone. If her father had caused the destruction of Sanc, then was it now up to his children and specifically her, as she held a position of influence in which she could take measured action to rectify his mistakes.

How did you fix something of this nature though? How could she possibly give back all those lives lost, the property destroyed and the hopes and dreams lost in the terror of a night … a night she had brought back to haunt the people when she had surrendered to the Romefeller organization so many years later.

She was just as bad as her father had been if he had somehow caused that massacre … and then there was Milliardo and how he had turned on Earth … There were hints she could not ignore that he had had a plan then and out of it had come this peace, but she was still uncertain if that was an intentional part of his design, or merely accidental. Had it anything to do with this fairytale magic the old man spoke of, or was it yet again coincidence?

/I'm getting a headache. I want to go to sleep and forget about it all. Just forget./

Sally straightened on the bed and slender shoulders lifted in a shrug and the light in her piercing blue eyes grew more intense. "I am implying nothing, merely putting forward a

theory on the intentions behind the attack on Sanc. A possible explanation for the events taking place, and I do mean possible. There may be nothing in the theory, but it is only common sense for every avenue to be explored and in the light of this new information, we can not ignore this possibility."

"Possibility, implications, fairytales and common sense. It just … sounds so … so …" Relena sighed and shook her head, lapsing into brooding silence.

"I extrapolate hypotheses, examine the evidence from every conceivable angle and then file it away to be compared to data received at later times, until I have a picture that makes sense. That is what my research group does, Relena and no, I will not be sharing this particular tidbit of information with anyone. It is too dangerous to even contemplate doing such a thing, with the delicacy of the circumstances both past and present. I believe we need to consider the possibility the attack on Sanc was planned to enable a very complex assassination to take place."

She shuddered delicately. Being a high profile political figure came with risks she was only too aware of and the mere mention of the word assassination was enough to send shivers of dread through her.

"What is so complex about killing a man?"

"Not just a man, Relena, but a King and a people who believed in a dangerous ideal. Not just the King of a small back water country, but a potentially dangerous King who may have made some very dangerous enemies by the power of his glib tongue, which seemed able to convince die hard opponents of the virtues of peace and cooperation. Not just any King, but a man who was adored not only by his own people, but by a great many others. He was admired and looked up to by the people of the colonies and too many people on Earth to be ignored and his influence was steadily growing at the time of the attack. Stephan Peacecraft was an active participant in the movement for world wide peace and cooperation, and he had close ties to certain colony officials who were considered to be dangerous by certain leaders in the Earth Government of the time. Stephan was an active proponent for peace, outspoken in the latter part of his reign about the excesses of the Alliance and the conditions on some of the colonies."

"I know all that. I have learned a great deal since I became Vice Foreign Minister and I had to learn whose toes to avoid stepping on and who I could expect to back a policy designed to help and who would ignore it in favour of a policy that would help, but not overshadow the influence of others they considered to be more important. There is so much ass kissing in politics, Sally, sometimes it makes me sick."

A sound suspiciously like a giggle escaped the blond agent and Relena sighed, choosing to ignore the woman's amusement. Honestly did even Sally think that butter would not melt in her mouth? Some of the language she had been exposed to in the so called 'halls of power' would curl the woman's braids.

"Sorry." Sally waved a hand delicately at her. "I'm not used to hearing you talk like that."

"That is nothing compared to what I have to listen to almost daily. I've heard hardened soldiers with tamer vocabularies than most politicians. Why would the Alliance attack Sanc as they did? I mean, surely it would have been easier to simply hire someone, a professional assassin, to kill King Stephan much as someone did when they needed Heero Yuy removed from the field. A hired assassin as they used against others who wanted peace and went against the government and its ideals. You see it all throughout history after all. There have been political assassinations take place from the earliest days of recorded history and shocking as it is to say it, it was generally the accepted form of removing the opposition in some eras. Why go to all the expense and trouble of attacking an entire country if they only wanted to kill the King?"

"I would think the answer to that is obvious, because they were after more than the King. Let us add to the theory for a moment. Let us add a 'what if' and while what ifs can be dangerous, they also have their uses in theoretical hypothesis. Let us say for the moment someone discovered the King had this ability and take it one step further and presume, for the moment, they also discovered King Stephan was not a chance combination of genetics. Let us examine the repercussions of people in influential positions discovering the King who was giving them so much trouble, was potentially the product of many generations of a family who were born with special abilities. If they somehow discovered the existence of the psionic potential of the Peacecraft genetics, what do you think might happen?"

"I would not have expected them to take anything of the sort seriously."

"There are recorded instances of psychics with abilities that defied attempts to prove them to be fraudulent, Relena. I think the abilities are not so uncommon in the human race and there may actually be a genetic shift taking place that is awakening the psionic potential in homo sapiens. Like all genetic shifts this will not be obvious in the immediate future, but I believe it has been going on for quite a few generations now and I also think I am not the only one who is aware of the suspected natural shift in genetics."

"Who are you talking about?"

"We will discuss the theory of natural evolution and the possible means to enhance it a little later. For now we need to consider the reasons behind the fall of Sanc in light of this information which, for the moment, we are not considering to be the stuff of fairytales. Let us go back to our original subject of what might be considered feasible action should someone have discovered a family in influential positions, who could literally change the shape of the world as it was then known. When we are afraid we are capable of doing terrible things in the interests of survival and by survival I mean our own personal survival, not the survival of the human race."

Sally leaned back slightly and her eyes seemed to glow, boring into Relena with a clarity and intensity that frightened her. Sally Po had suddenly become something other than the friend she had always seemed.

"Consider the idea of discovering there are people out there who can make you think contrary to all of your dreams and ambitions, who could theoretically make you a lap dog instead of a bull dog. I think it not too surprising that some people with ego issues might have over reacted to this information. I imagine the first reaction which would have passed quickly would be to kill the King, as efficiently and quietly as it is possible to kill a reigning monarch, for fear others might learn of his abilities. I would imagine common sense would have prevailed enough that someone might have delayed and dug a little deeper and discovered it was not one man but a family, that might become their greatest threat. By this time I would expect the kill reflex might have given way to the 'perhaps we could use them to our own advantage' view. If they could control the family think of the advantages that would give them in their future dealings with local governments on Earth and in the colonies. Power only ever gives birth to the need for more power in this mentality and I would have expected some cautious overtures would have been made to the King."

Relena nodded slightly. Considering the people she associated with in her position as Vice Foreign Minister, she could easily imagine the latter observation. Politicians were forever seeking to extend their sphere of influence and increase their power base. Yes, she could understand the option Sally offered, even though she could not condone it.

/I can see so much more now and I have to wonder how on Earth I survive the war, considering how naive I was back then. I still am too naive to survive in political circles without help. I've been tolerated because I am useful … but useful how? Is there the chance that one or more of those who have created this mess I find myself in, has some idea of this … ability I might have?/

"If he received these overtures I would imagine it possible he might have panicked. The Peacecrafts would not want it known what abilities lay in the family, as they would be only too aware of the potential for abuse of those abilities. He would undoubtedly have turned down any overtures made and he might possibly have denied the existence of any special abilities in the bloodline. He may not have been as diplomatic as he might have been either, if the offers rattled him and refusal to cooperate would have been the tolling of the bell for the Peacecraft line so far as the Alliance leadership was concerned. It would have resulted in the 'If I can't control you I will remove you' syndrome. Removing a potential power source before the opposition discovered it and perchance took control of it, is a time-honored practice that can be found in just about every military faction the Earth has ever produced. Not just one man had to be eliminated, but many people who followed that man through ties of blood and belief. They would have been considered an unacceptable threat to the world order."

"You … have some very dark ideas, Sally." Relena shivered at the scenario offered and for all she wished she could deny it, it made a horrible sense. "To think that so many people could suffer for the thirst for more power by a few … It is something I would sooner not contemplate."

The older woman sighed softly and stared into the dancing flames, seeing in their depths the leaping devouring flames and death of other times and places. Dare she approach Relena with an additional theory? Dare she suggest the powers that initiated the massacre might have sought out the Peacecraft children, with the idea of rearing them to work their particular form of magic in later years suitably restrained and controlled? Horrible as it was to contemplate, the scenario was more than plausible considering the controlling interests at the time. Some days she was so disillusioned with the human race and this constant thirst for more power that seemed a too common affliction.

"Yes, I guess I do have some dark dreams, but I have seen more of the human condition than you. If there is one thing war shows you, it is the worst and the best of human nature and there is no escaping either lesson when you are a soldier who has seen active service. I suppose I have the advantage over you, in that I was in Alliance Intelligence and was not just a physician during the war. You could say that some of the scenario we just entertained was born of what I saw and heard during my tenure in the Intelligence service."

Relena waited as Sally stared into the flames and the younger woman could see the march of memories across her face and was certain some of those memories had been terrible. The woman sighed finally and glanced at her companion and shrugged, casting aside the memories and grimaced.

"I was a part of a taskforce assembled to monitor Oz and more specifically the Oz Specials. The two organizations were originally seen to be one group, but Oz was controlled directly by the Alliance Military since their founding. They were originally founded to be the Alliance's dirty tricks brigade, but after a time there was talk of a splinter group and a proposal was forwarded to the Alliance Command for the founding of a select group, an offshoot of the rank and file in Oz. Nothing much came of it for some years, until General Catalonia began grooming a bright young recruit and managed to push for an elite task force to be formed, initially from Oz personnel and to be given the designation of the Oz Specials."

Relena stirred, resting her chin on her raised knees. "General Catalonia? Would he have been any relation to Dorothy?"

"He was her father and was killed in a rebel uprising. He was ambushed and he and the few men with him didn't have much of a chance against the rebels. The Specials had their own command structure, though they still answered to the Alliance command and it was not until they came under the ultimate command of that bright young recruit that the Specials earned their laurels. He was named Treize Kushrenada and he took the candle flame General Catalonia and a few others had lit and crafted it into a torch that burned far brighter that the Alliance liked. It wasn't until General Catalonia was killed and Kushrenada orchestrated events to assume command, that the Specials became a wild fire that alarmed the Alliance command, but by the time they realised what was happening it was too late. Kushrenada was firm in his command of the Specials and Oz had undermined the Alliance and it was just a matter of time before Kushrenada took them down."

"Surely he was young to assume command of so large an organization?"

"Age was never a hindrance to Treize Kushrenada and the Specials were never great in number, merely very talented individuals. I think that man was born old. Before Oz took down the Alliance I was assigned to the research group, ostensibly to compare the training techniques of the various branches of the military over a fifty year period. I was a bright young doctor interested in human genetics, but caught up in the war and initially I was something of an idealistic idiot, like most young professionals. I was requested to pay particular attention to the Specials, as their trainees were glowing in comparison to the bulk of the general recruits and told to make it my business to look for any abnormalities that might be found in the training of their recruits. I believe the hope was that we might discover the Specials were using enhancement drugs that might be turned to the use of the Alliance. I was only a junior member of the research team and had no part in the planning, but I was smart enough and aware enough of how the wind was blowing, to kept my eyes and ears open and ensure my mouth stayed shut. Some of what I learned … it was things I glimpsed and suspected that caused me to begin asking myself if I was following the right course."

Relena absently ran a finger over her toes, watching the woman's profile and the transition of expression she found disturbing. While she had thought what she had gone through during the war was shattering she was beginning to think she had missed the worst. Yet how could anything be worse than the last great battle above the Earth, when Libra had threatened them all?

"What did you learn?"

"I wasn't sure then about the implications, but now … In light of what I now know to be fact, and more that I suspect ties into the past, I can be fairly certain what I dismissed then as being a tad far-fetched, might in fact be right on the money. In hindsight it may not be so outlandish as I thought. There were certain people in the upper ranks of the Alliance Command structure who displayed intensity in wanting to investigate those recruits in the Specials, who were from the old European noble families. There was particular interest being paid to investigating the statistical performances of Treize Kushrenada, Zechs Merquise, Lucrezia Noin and Anne Une. These were not the only ones targeted, as the Specials were riddled with old nobility from that sector of Earth, but these are the names you would recognize."

Relena nodded her understanding of the distinction made and the fact there were others who were watched besides her brother and those who had paid so pivotal a role in the war.

"I had to wonder at the time why the main focus seemed to be concentrated on this select group and it was not long before I realized … or at least part of the reason why. This select group had results throughout every stage of their training that stood out like a beacon amid the murky pile of statistics I had compiled covering the past four generations. After my original statistics were noted I was requested to go back one hundred years for comparisons, instead of the fifty year term I had originally been required to examine, hence the four generations I ended up compiling statistics on. The nobles who had enlisted in the various military, or quasi military organizations during that time period, consistently scored higher over almost every field of study."

Relena frowned, locking her fingers around her ankles and rocking slightly as she considered her companion. "I hear what you are saying Sally, but I admit I just don't understand the significance of it."

"That's my point, Relena. At the time I didn't realize the significance either. Let me ask you this. Would you not agree with the theory laid down over the centuries, that inbreeding will weaken bloodlines with each successive generation until sickness, disease and even mental instability rear from the thinned genetic pool, ultimately leading to the end of the dynasty?"

/Bloodlines? Inbreeding? I don't understand where Sally is going with this. What does it have to do with the Peacecrafts and the Alliance Military wanting a comparison with old families?/ "I … suppose."

"I take it you are not into the complexities involved in the breeding of horses, Relena? The European Sector nobility have entertained a select genetic pool for centuries. They have been interbreeding for generations, keeping their bloodlines undiluted to dangerous levels. For hundreds of years they have rarely introduced new bloodlines within their genetic pool and by all the laws of genetics I am familiar with, that should have been disastrous. Keeping a small genetic pool would bring out weaknesses in the genetics that would become stronger and stronger, magnified by each successive generation, spreading throughout the gene pool and widening the circle of contamination to introduce increasing physical weakness, birth defects and deformities and potential disease-related problems. Increasing mental instability has been put forward as being of a high probability should the inbreeding of select bloodlines continue unabated."

"Good breeding. Grandfather continually goes on about the benefits of good breeding." Relena scrunched up her nose in distaste. "Sometimes I think that is all he ever sees, the importance of good bloodlines and the political expediency of the day and not necessarily in that order."

"Perhaps Marquise Wayridge understands the significance of the bloodlines you come from as you do not? Relena, I may be wrong, but in light of this new information I do not believe I am. What I have come to suspect has happened is that somewhere in the past, someone has been manipulating the genetics of the old noble families. The European nobility are largely a closed society and that isolated family structure should have led to disaster on a genetic level that would be quite obvious to anyone who observed them. By this point in time, genetically speaking, you should be an insane sickly wisp of a girl. It has not happened. Why? Instead of being the runts of the world you have the noble families of Europe, including some of the most intelligent and physically strongest and fastest people in the Earth Sphere. Kushrenada, Merquise, Noin and Une were all right up at the top of the performance charts and their predecessors for the last four generations were also consistently the top performers. It was my job to compare military records, Oz records and the differences in the abilities of the nobles, as opposed to the more general gene pool, were outstanding. The results were so different that they could only be the result of some kind of genetic modification and manipulation."

Her headache was getting worse and she could not seem to make the leap of understanding Sally appeared to believe she should make. "But why bother? Why bother with such a comparison?"

"Why make such a comparison in the first place? The Oz Specials were changing under the new leadership of Treize Kushrenada when I was assigned to the study. Under the Alliance Command Oz had been something of a brutish faction, used almost exclusively for the dirty tricks needed to accomplish political goals. Under Kushrenada's control they were making a name for themselves, especially the Specials and that was very far from them being the tool they had been. It was noted after the founding of the Specials, that many of their recruits were from the nobility and it was beginning to look disturbingly as though the Specials might become something of a private elitist army. There were a number of reasons, all of them valid, put forward to justify the study, but as a physician in training I found it fascinating and I was not particularly fussed with the hierarchy's reasoning."

"Alright, I can accept that I suppose, but I don't see what was so special about them … Milliardo and the others I mean. Heero is about the strongest person I know and he has lightning fast reflexes, so what is the big deal with the others?"

"Your brother beat him." Sally murmured watching her closely.

/What? Milliardo … No, that's not right. She must be trying to get a rise out of me, but why?/ "What do you mean Milliardo beat him? Sally, I think you have that wrong. Heero beat Milliardo on the Libra; you know that, otherwise we would not be here now."

"Would we not?" Sally grinned and it was a feral stretching of her lips to bare her teeth. "I was not referring to the Libra and I suggest you approach Heero on that subject. You might find he has a different interpretation on what happened out there. I need to talk with him myself, but from the little we have exchanged and what the other pilots have revealed, I think more happened in that battle than we assume. What I was referring to was their first meeting, when your brother demonstrated it took more than strength to win. It took speed and above all, the ability to think quickly."

"I … When was that?"

The fire cracked and Sally barely managed to refrain from jumping at the sharp sound. Relena winced, the sound too reminiscent of a gunshot for her liking, but both settled quickly and Relena smothered a yawn in the sudden silence, fighting off the fatigue that demanded she stop thinking and give in to sleep. Perhaps that would relieve the pounding headache that threatened to explode her head.

"As a matter of fact you were a witness to a part of that altercation. I got the story from Heero while we were talking on MO II, in the aftermath of Libra. You would have been on the shuttle returning to Earth with Vice Foreign Minister Darlian, when Heero was entering the atmosphere for the first time. He was under instruction to keep his arrival secret and since he had the misfortune to enter the atmosphere in sight of the shuttle, he was going to shoot it down. The arrival of an Oz carrier forced him to change his plans. Your brother was in command of the carrier and Heero suddenly had more to worry about than a civilian shuttle."

"He … never told me." /Heero was going to shoot down a civilian shuttle? But … that is … was … would have been … murder./

Sally shrugged, dismissing the quiet comment. "It was war, Relena, and more, it was terrorism. Nothing pretty ever comes out of that. Heero in Wing found himself facing off against a Leo mobile suit. The Leo was outgunned and outclassed in every statistic by the Gundam, but it was the pilot of the Leo who escaped an express ride to the ocean floor and a tour of the continental shelf, and the Leo pilot who went for a more leisurely swim. Zechs was the pilot of the Leo." The Preventer grinned wickedly and winked. "You should ask Heero about it some time and listen to him gripe about that 'common grubby old Leo' that locked him up."

"Heero said that?" She could not help the small smile, but the knowledge was still there that Heero had thought nothing of shooting down a civilian craft. 'It was war' was not an excuse she could easily accept.

"Indeed, and I do not doubt he will admit to it. I think that was the beginning of the respect that grew between Heero and your brother. I think you could say Heero was peeved enough to find out who it was who took him down and it would have been easy enough for one of his skills to hack into computer records of the incident. Anyway, that is neither here nor there, is it? We were discussing genetics. Heero is strong and fast, but he's not the only one and I have reason to believe Heero was genetically modified prior to his birth. I am hoping that while he knew nothing of his origins during the war, he may have done some investigating since we achieved peace and he might be able to confirm my suspicions. There is a great deal I need to talk about with certain people, but I never seem to get the time to chase them up to ask my questions. It has had to wait on more important matters and genetic alterations can wait now too. It is getting late and we were discussing the Sanc Kingdom and the invasion that made you a Darlian and saw your brother come into the hands of the Kushrenadas."

"Could we not?" Hopeful. "I'm so tired Sally."

"Are you likely to sleep?"

Relena sighed softly and shook her head after a moment, her eyes closing against the sight of the doctor. "I would hope so, but I suppose not. I keep hearing him say those words. Over and over again he said it. I can still hear him saying it. Freak."

Sally lightly reached to tug at an errant dark golden curl that wanted to escape the mass of hair. "Freak? I'm sorry, but I never heard him say that."

"It's true though. It's true if you want to believe this 'magic' he was on about. If what he said was true, then you can't deny I'm not normal."

Sally flipped her hand negligently at the girl. "So just what is normal? I suspect you're perfectly normal for a daughter of the Peacecraft family, just as I believe your brother is perfectly normal for a son of the Peacecrafts. Normal, Relena, for your bloodline and I believe those two children on Mars are normal for your shared genetics and that is exactly why they are wanted by certain people in secured quarters, away from the prying eyes of the public."

There it was again, that allusion to something Sally considered obvious but she simply could not recognize. She was reputed to be a young woman of quick intelligence and sound insight, but she was ignorance personified in this discussion and Relena felt the gulf between her and Sally as a chasm. There was not so many years between them, but at the moment those years seemed an insurmountable distance.

"I don't understand what it is you are trying to say.'

Slender hands rubbed at her temples and Sally winced and Relena knew she was not the only one with a headache, which made her feel a little better. Sally slipped from the bed and indulged in a long and bone popping stretch, before flopping back onto the bed with a sigh.

"I am suggesting that for a number of generations now someone has been manipulating the genetic code of the old European Sector nobility. I suspect this has been done with the full permission of the families, to repair genetic damage caused through inbreeding and to enhance what is generally accepted as being the physical and mental norm. Exactly what they are trying to produce by these enhancements I do not know, but I believe there is sufficient evidence to confirm that something of this nature is going on in secret within the European sector."

"It is illegal. It has been for centuries, ever since Hitler and his madhouse of scientists first devised the technology."

"You raise an interesting point. Germany lies within the European sector. Perhaps the Allied Forces were not as thorough in their purge as they believed? The Innkeeper spoke of there being magic in the Peacecraft lineage for centuries and I am inclined to believe that magic is nothing more than a very active genetic trait toward Psi abilities. Psionics, Relena, not sorcery. We are only now beginning to explore the potential of the human mind and the abilities of the human brain and I suspect someone out there is a little ahead of the general field. I suspect the Alliance stumbled onto this and panicked when they could not gain the cooperation of the King."

/With Hitler and his ideal of a superior race as a past example of what could come out of the area, I don't doubt questions might have been raised. No, I can't make head or tail of this. I'm just too tired./ "I'm sorry, I feel so dumb, but I still don't understand why they attacked Sanc. Why not just assassinate the king?"

"Because he was surrounded by family who were no doubt as interesting to them as the King himself was. Because if they could not gain control of the family and the talents hidden within them, then no one else would be permitted to learn of their abilities, or use the family against them. Because there were too many cousins who might carry the select genetics to be controlled and if you can not control it, you must eliminate it."

"That … That is … horrible." She was cold, a bone deep chill settled within her and she doubted any fire could work it out of her bones.

"Unfortunately it is an entirely plausible scenario for what happened, given the leaders of the Alliance at the time of the massacre."

It was her turn to slide from the bed and she began to pace the room, her honey blonde hair tinted with red highlights by the flickering flames. She was aware of Sally watching her pacing and found herself at the shuttered window, pressing her face against the glass, the curtains scrunched in her hands and the chill of the blizzard penetrating the glass to send shivers through her. If she got any sleep this night she would entertain nightmares after this discussion. Suddenly it was making a horrible kind of sense and she wished she was still blessedly ignorant.

"You… think that all of this… Milliardo being hunted on Mars and the massacre before… All of it is linked and it is beginning again? Someone in the government has learned of the psychic ability reputed to be in the Peacecraft bloodline and they want to ensure this time they get us all… or manage to control us?"

"Yes. It is probably someone who knew why the Sanc kingdom was attacked, perhaps an aide now in a position of influence."

"You think they have been using Milliardo to control me, to muzzle me so that I could not do to them what Father may have done in the past?"

Sally winced, but she would not lie to the young woman who had turned, pressing her back to the wall and knotting the curtains in her hands, waiting for confirmation of her doom to fall.

"Perhaps. I think it would be more likely they saw the opportunity to use you against each other. Using each of you to control the actions of the other gives them time to prepare their own containment facility. It is even possible, if they suspect there is another faction involved in this manipulation, they may wish to establish a breeding program of their own. I am not the only one with access to the records that suggest the existence of someone manipulating the families and it is only sound reasoning to fight fire with fire. They are behind in the research, so why not make use of the opposition's playthings?"

"Sally! That is disgusting and … and … No, I don't want to believe such a base possibility exists. We are not talking about breeding stallions and mares, we are talking about living breathing people of intelligence, with minds and wills of their own."

"Which is exactly what these people involved in this may not want, at least without having established some means of control. The intelligence and certainly the morals of these people are open to debate as far as I am concerned, but fine, for the moment we will discount that possibility."

Relena shuddered. The very idea of breeding programs to produce tame psychics sent shudders through her, nor did it help that since her eighteenth birthday she had begun to receive gently worded suggestions that the son of this particular noble would make a fine husband for her, or the son of that particular noble she had been seen dancing with would not make a suitable escort, let alone consort.

/Oh God, its all so horrible./

Why was everyone obsessed with her taking a husband since she came officially of age? All this talk of there being someone controlling the bloodlines breeding was getting to her, making her see fears where there should be none. There was only one male she would consider for the role of consort and she already knew many people considered him to be most unsuitable for a pacifist princess to wed.

She had a great deal of work ahead of her before she was likely to convince Heero he was just right for her, not that she was exactly ready to take that step at this time. When she was ready she would need a strong consort and Heero would be the rock she could lean on. Strong and reliable… and he had been going to shoot down an unarmed civilian shuttle.

"Relena?"

"Umh. Sorry. I was thinking." Dropping the curtain from cramping fingers, she twirled a lock of hair around a finger as she considered the woman watching her. "What am I going to do? How can I go into a conference, a debate or a council session again and be assured of not influencing anyone?"

The Preventer agent sighed and waved a hand at the bed looking suddenly defeated. "Bed, Relena. Time for bed and maybe in the morning you should give some thought to whether or not you really want to ignore or crush this ability. It has already come in handy, don't you think, in dealing with politicians and representatives of companies who were reluctant to help where that help was most needed? From your reaction before and again now, I get the impression you realized you do have this potential and in the past you have used it. Was it so bad to use it to help those people who needed it?"

"But… surely you can understand… Sally, if I make other people think the way I want them to think … That is sick. It's rape. Mental rape. I'd be a despot. A dictator. No better than those bastards who ordered the murder of Sanc."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	164. Chapter 164 Chapter 163

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 163

Peacemission H65193P Sanc Registry

In transit

Time: 06:30 Sanc time coincides with Ship time

Howard

Howard tossed the report onto the desk and slowly stretched cramped limbs. Some days he was sure he was too old for this level of operations and he should consider retirement, but the idea of being idle terrified him. He had never been one to sit by while the world turned around him and the thought of giving up his active status within the Sweeper community to become an old man on the sidelines did not sit well with him.

/I never was one who could keep my nose on my own side of the fence./ He settled into the padded chair behind the desk with a soft groan.

He had to get his fingers dirty and one could not do that sitting on the sidelines. He could direct others in the play of life but non-participation was not a part of his nature, even though his bones were weakening and his hair was whitening. It was he who could control his own actions, not others, and looking on while others pulled and pushed at fate did not suit him. Idleness and ignorance was an uncomfortable coat for him to wear. Many times he had been told he had too big a nose and to keep it out of the affairs of others. Fault or not he was not inclined to ignore the world around him.

Lightly he stroked his nose and smirked. Such a nice pointy proboscis it was, just right for digging around and sniffing out the clandestine doings of men and women who should know better. Oh yes, a prominent proboscis was an advantage.

All in all, by every measure he knew to apply in judgment, he determined he had led a good life and was generally content with the personal stamp he had placed on the Sweepers. His sphere of influence had expanded and narrowed in cycles throughout his life, though he admitted his dabbling had on more than one occasion led to mistakes. Mistakes were after all a simple fact of life and unavoidable.

In some instances those mistakes had birthed disasters which had, sometimes years later, affected the very shape of the civilization of mankind as it now stood. It was not every man who could make such a claim and he was uncertain if he should make it with pride or humility … certainly not with despair. No, he could not despair of the part he had played in the shaping of the world he knew this day. The world could have been far worse had he ignored the part he could play in its development. Their civilization, like the planet itself, might have been brought to irreparable ruin.

/I can not say my life has been boring. It has been anything but and in hindsight I really don't know if I would have done anything differently… Well, perhaps that is not true. Still, someone would have come up with the designs for mobile suits. I was not the only one working on the project. I was just a part of one team experimenting with design specifications and my team succeeded first with a feasible design. Not that that is an excuse for the Pandora's box we opened./

No, he could not say with any degree of certainty he would do anything different with his life, should he ever receive the opportunity to relive it. For better or for worse the world turned, unmindful of the petty designs of mankind. If one did not wish to go insane from the mistakes of one's own past then one had to learn to accept one's role in that turning. For good or bad. It was all a part of the cycle.

It was simple truth to remember he was not the only one whose actions affected the course of world events. There were others who had had far more of an effect on the development of mankind than he littered throughout history. Most people didn't even know of his part in the development of mobile suits and that anonymity had served him in good stead thus far.

In basic language he was after all just a Sweeper, an ordinary man who from time to time had given a helping hand to others. He shook his head at his thoughts, disgusted with himself for the turn his thoughts were taking. It was happening repeatedly this day and he could not afford to indulge his sensitivities. He was avoiding certain important issues yet again and he really needed to get on with the business at hand. He did not understand why the melancholy mood took him down this road at this time, when he needed all of his wits about him.

He could not afford to make a mistake and have the Sweepers come under the scrutiny of the ESUN.

/Does it make me a coward to sit here and ignore my role in the past and its subsequent echoes? It's an echo I'm about to deal with after all. An echo from more than a few years ago, as that brat Raydon is involved after all. I should have clipped that one under the ears a few more times than I did./

A Kushrenada. After all this time he learned the bright young thing who had appeared out of nowhere one fateful day, turned out to be from that manipulating pack of political and military-minded…

/No, that's not fair to anyone, least of all Raydon. He's hiding his past, even now and after learning who he really is I don't think I want to know who it was he was running from. With the influence of the Kushrenada family then and now, I shudder to think what it was that saw the boy keep himself hidden for so long. /

Romefeller? He suspected there was far more to that organization than his own dealings with them in the past had suggested. Raydon had mentioned them, told him he had come to him because of their past mutual association, but he had left out the details that even now Howard was uncertain he wanted to know.

/Coward./ he chastised himself.

Nor was it just his involvement with Raydon that echoed down through the years to touch on this day. Those other five, who like he had worked on the design of mobile suits and had begun to fear what it was they released onto the world stage, were a part of his past. Dead now? He had not found a single indication to cause him to suspect even one of them might have survived. No guarantee. After all he had not suspected Zechs Merquise still breathed either.

/Are they dead? I was involved, I admit that, but the other five dabbled far more than I did in events and took their dabbling to extremes. Look where it got them. Did they only compound the events creating the Gundams? That's the problem with dabbling in world events, you never really know if you are helping or making matters worse. I had my part to play in how the game evolved and I am not clean of guilt. Far from clean. I will never be free from the shadow of my actions. I'll never be free of bloodied hands, but I can't permit myself to wallow in visions of blood and destruction. I'm too old now to worry about the past. It's the present and the future that concern me and anyway, things are better now than they were./

At least for the moment, though how long it would remain so was another matter.

The ESUN of today had been born from the mistakes of the past, when the Alliance had become more of a threat than the blessing its designers had intended it be. The road to hell was paved with good intentions and the founding generations could not foresee the natures of the subsequent generations who inherited the foundations set down. Seemingly perfect solutions over time developed flaws and those flaws generally degenerated into faults of world shattering proportions.

Every new leader to take power had their own ideas on how to achieve desired goals and in developing those ideas the basic framework eventually had to be altered. If not by the founders then by those who followed. Mistakes had been made that eventually led to senseless violence, needless killing and ultimately generations torn by oppression and war. It was a cycle that repeated endlessly and why should he think this current peace would see a different fate evolve over time? He was too much a realist to believe in that particular pipe dream.

He should not regret the price paid in human lives. Without those lives sacrificed the world would have no new chance to live in peace. History had proven all too often it took mass deaths to change the course of spiralling oppression and he honoured those who had sacrificed. He understood Kushrenada's desire to honour the memories and names of those who had died, and not just those who had fought for him but also against him. The man had been an advocate of history and knew all too well the costs incurred in breaking out of the cycle of oppression.

A high price had been paid and shamefully history showed how this peace would go. There would be a period where all seemed to be going well and then there would be a single mistake made. That mistake would lead to others compounding the problems birthed and events would progress inexorably into disaster. It would take time, it would not eventuate overnight, but it would come and he could not foresee how this new world order might avoid the eventual fate all its predecessors had experienced.

He did not want to see those mistakes repeated and the hope they had now turn into despair. Those who had died deserved more than for their lives to pay for a few paltry years of uneasy peace. If it should prove to be necessary he knew he would once again dabble in the affairs of those who stood at the highest echelons of their society. For better or worse he would not know, as he would long have shrugged off this mortal coil when the dust settled on the new world order. Eventually someone would get it right and mankind would know true peace. That lay with future generations and until then he, like others, would simply do the best they could.

/I'm not the only one who must be thinking about those days now. About their part in the events resulting in the peace we have. It's only a young peace and still being crafted. Baby steps and we cannot afford to stumble. Can we hold on to this peace?/

It worried him, the reaction to Raydon's opening gambit. He was afraid the man's timing was off and announcing the presence of the Station Alliance to the masses at this time would crash and burn the fledgling peace. So soon after the war, people would be wary and the government may feel threatened. What might decide the acceptance of the Alliance, or throw them all back into the chaos of war, would in all possibility not be human nature or reasoning. It might be the simple expedient of distance.

Mars was months away from Earth and the Asteroid belt was months away from Mars. The sheer distances involved and the expenses incurred in squabbling over territory and identity might keep everyone at the peace table. Raydon had never acted foolishly or rashly and had always thought out his actions with care and attention to detail. The timetable called for the revelation to be made in at least another six or seven years time. Why now? Surely it was not because of Zechs?

/He's a Kushrenada. None of them have been shown to be fools or idiots. What does he know that I don't?/

It was as big a surprise to him as to everyone else in the Earth Sphere to learn the man shared common blood with the former World Sovereign. He had not known Raydon's past, but that was of no concern to him, though undoubtedly others would not agree with him. Certainly the Sweeper Council would sit up and take notice and possibly perform world class gymnastics trying to determine how best to deal with him now the secret was out. The very name Kushrenada conjured images of grand schemes and grand schemes tended to lead to conflict.

That damnable cycle again.

While he did not expect Raydon to confide in him the extent of his plans, they would need to have words concerning the extent of his ambitions. What had changed? Why had he chosen to break the schedule he had explained they would be keeping, to introduce the Station Alliance to the ESUN and earn a peace treaty and recognition? Admittedly the ESUN had unknowingly thrown down a gauntlet to the Station Alliance. The ESUN had not known they would be implicating not a few scattered but efficient pirates, but a real power who by design more than by accident, was in a position to threaten the resources of the hub.

The Stations were secreted amid the asteroid belt and the belt was the source of the bulk of the ESUN's mining operations. With the Stations known it would not take anyone long to worry they might effectively restrict trade between the hub planet and its colonies and the mining sites amid the asteroids. A simple word from Raydon was all it would take to throw the ESUN into chaos. Those in power on Earth and in the Colonies would be only too aware of the danger and be intent on protecting their precious resources.

Raydon and his people in control of Stations Two and Three had assured him they did not intend to disrupt the status quo of power amid the Earth Sphere when they announced their presence. He thought they were dreamers to think their presence would be accepted without contention and he knew they could not forever remain undetected. With each new station coming on line the risks of detection escalated.

/Would any time be a good time to tell the ESUN they don't have exclusive rights to the treasure trove of a failed planet?/

Possibly not, he admitted. Greed worked its insidious way into the natures of even the most peaceful of men and women. Threaten to take away their life line and you would have a screaming and kicking animal intent on taking off your hand. It would be much the same in the government as people really began to consider the implications. Raydon had not confided his every thought to him and he could only wonder at the man's ambitions.

A perfect example of how much Raydon had not entrusted to their friendship was the little matter of Zechs Merquise. Raydon had obviously known for some time Zechs was not dead. The son of a bitch had known Howard had been wallowing in guilt for not paying enough attention to the boy… for failing him. They could have avoided the confrontation on Libra if he had paid enough attention to the former Oz Special. Hindsight. Marvelous thing, of course, but of no feasible use to him. Raydon had known and kept his mouth shut.

/He knew the boy was alive and he kept it secret, even knowing how I… It's in the past, but still I can't leave it alone. I'll want an accounting from him over the omission and I don't care if Merquise made him promise on his blood. I want to know what he thought he was doing keeping Zechs' survival a secret from me./

Zechs Merquise. Or was it Zechs now? Did he call himself Zechs or Milliardo Peacecraft? Was he well? How had he survived the explosion of the Libra? Had the explosion left him crippled physically or psychologically? Was he scarred? Was he beating himself up constantly with regrets? Was he thinking himself alone?

The questions were endless and he dragged his mind away from that spiral into distraction. There was too much to do to ask questions no one could answer.

/I think I saw enough of you to know you probably are thinking yourself to be alone and with good reason. Boy, where the hell in the Earth Sphere could you go where you would not be seen as the biggest danger to humanity that ever existed? When I first saw you … Damn. When I saw you for the first time I don't know what I expected. I never thought you could be hard enough to threaten humanities very existence. My mistake. My failure. I never really looked at you, did I? I never looked hard enough to see more than the Soldier who had been betrayed and cast adrift. I compounded that mistake by never really listening to what you were saying during our discussions. Did you know, or at least suspect, at that time what you would eventually do? Or was it something more … something to do with that beast Kushrenada created?/

For his own peace of mind he would like to think the later actions taken were the results of some insanity birthed of the mobile suit's operating system. He would like to think so, but being honest with himself was something he had promised himself many years in the past. He could too easily recall those intense blue eyes and the growing tension and quietness of the man as reports of the expansion of the Oz space forces had filtered in. There had been a wealth of genuine concern and something else. Something he could not quite put his finger on. A hint of knowledge Zechs had never shared with him.

What had intrigued Howard had not been that odd sense of separation from the crew by the young pilot. What had most affected him had been Merquise's curious reaction to his betrayal by his Commanding Officer. Kushrenada and Merquise were reportedly friends and had been since childhood. Considering their ties there had been a marked absence of hurt at the betrayal that had seen him paired up against impossible odds to die for the cause.

/ I often wondered … You never saw it as betrayal did you? Damn. I am still missing pieces of the puzzle and important pieces. I suspect a great deal, but I have no proof. Kushrenada was not betraying you, but giving you the opportunity to escape. If anyone would know the extent of your skills it would be him and he would know you could survive that battle. Survive to escape and then what?/

Seemingly impossible odds had been laid out before the young pilot and at the time he had been sure the intent was to kill Merquise. Later he learned Merquise and Kushrenada had known each other for years and would know the other's strengths and weaknesses with an intimacy only long association could grant. It was then, during the battle for the Libra, when he had been overcome by events and must react or die that he had begun to wonder.

Someone had to have been directing events. It was like a well thought-out play, the script far reaching and forcing the audience to watch with bated breath. The bulk of the mobile suits and all of the mobile dolls that had been in existence had been gathered together in one small isolated area of space. Such a gathering was unprecedented. From that battle everyone had emerged equal, their ability to wage war crippled and everyone willing to talk peace.

The five who had created the Gundams had died; at least he was sure they were dead. The Earth's defence forces were decimated, the forces in space equally as depleted and that abomination Libra had been destroyed. The confrontation had resulted in the very selective destruction of the weapons of war that could decimate both the colonies and the Earth.

Just how much of the Libra incident was opportunism leading to world shaking event and how much of it had been planned years in advance?

He had determined to learn more in the aftermath and to that end had begun his own investigation. Over time he had found others who, like him, had sought to learn the sequence of events. He was waiting for the latest round of evaluations to hit his desk and expand on his picture of events.

He could not dismiss the sense of responsibility he felt for much of the war. After all he had been a part of the team that invented mobile suit technology and the basics of Tallgeese had been his own pet design. He was responsible and he wanted to know it all. Or at least know as much as anyone would be able to know. Others out there in the Earth Sphere, would-be historians, were chasing every lead they could find to determine and understand the chaotic sequence of events.

The victors wrote history, but this time independent parties would have a hand in the writing for future generations. Perhaps it would help to keep the cycle of war and peace controlled.

His eyes wandered from the folder on his desk to the side table and the line of photographs he kept there. People would be surprised if they knew who he included in his rogues gallery. They were all there, frozen in time. Yuy and Chang, Barton and Winner, Noin and Sally Po. Relena and Une were later additions to his collection, but he felt they should be a part of the gallery as they all had had their part to play in the war.

One of the more recent additions he would never have thought would make its appearance there, but it had not been a choice he had made lightly. Treize Kushrenada's face somehow always seemed to be turned to him, those sapphire eyes always seemed to see into the depths of him and whisper to him. Take nothing for granted. Look deeper. Is it really so simple?

Yes, Kushrenada needed to be there and it was an odd coincidence that his picture was placed to the left of that other Kushrenada. Of course Raydon was in his gallery. Kristian Kushrenada, name now known and his eyes, so different from his cousin's, held that same power to make him question his own motives.

/Bloody Kushrenada's. Is there no escaping them?/

It was meant without malice. He could not hold it against them because they seemed to know so much that escaped the common man. They were singularly uncommon and one day he might understand what marked them as being so different. One day, but not today.

His eyes drifted slowly over the young faces and finally, as always, rested on the two frames in the centre of them all. They were always the last faces he looked at and always the ones that held his gaze the longest.

His boys. The two he felt ties to, though he could not satisfactorily explain why even to himself. They simply were his boys.

Duo, his sprite who named himself the God of Death and had a zest for life second to none and the paler, enigmatic man whom he had misunderstood and failed. He had not seen deeply enough into that one's character in time to avert events.

If it had been possible to avert events.

These two were the ones who drew him like magnets. The L2 street urchin, who had the guts and spirit to defy his birth and had become a Sweeper. He had kept his hand on Duo, though he had been careful to keep his interest unknown to the child, who had reminded him so much of himself in long ago years. He had not wanted to be just one amid many and Duo had had that same fire to succeed. It had been on Earth and as a Gundam Pilot they had finally met face to face, but close contact had only affirmed what he had felt before. The boy would always hold a special place in his heart.

Not a boy anymore but a young man. Given the life he had led Howard had to wonder if Duo had ever been a boy. An adult in a child's body seemed closer to the truth but for a time, during his stay amid the Sweepers, he had known something of what a normal childhood might have held for him. There had been worse upbringings and the boy had turned out to be a fine young man.

/Had he ever been a child? Probably not since the day he needed to fend for himself on the streets. I don't think he was much of a kid as a Sweeper brat either, but he found a whole new world. By then he was too old for his age./

His gaze flicked to the platinum-haired bombshell who had kept too much to himself and who felt too deeply. Child of pacifists, witness to massacre, soldier and despised from one end of the ESUN to the other as an insane lunatic.

He had had a lot of time to think on the past and to review every word they had exchanged. He had misread the boy and failed him, but in this instance hindsight might not be too late. It might yet allow him to let the young man know he was not alone and someone understood what had driven him to such extremes.

/I think I know, Zechs Merquise. I think I know why you took the action you did, but I have to ask myself if you ever really understood the cost?/

Sorrowfully, he suspected, Zechs had indeed known the cost to both himself and to the Earth Sphere. He suspected Zechs had been hoping in the final play, when he counted on the Gundams stopping Libra, he would die and be spared the aftermath of his actions. Not through cowardice, but out of a skewed sense of honour that so many had died and he did not deserve to live when they had paid the ultimate sacrifice. A hard choice, but he alone had not made it. Kushrenada was another in the same vein. Cut from the same cloth. Both intent on killing themselves and in their deaths, peace would be born.

/Bloody fools, the pair of you./

How could he have known from the moment he had witnessed the uneven battle over the ocean, he would be haunted by blue eyes and pale hair? Why? Somehow Zechs had struck him as always being alone and so used to that solitary condition that he accepted it as normal. Yet the boy was a team player, not a lone wolf. A trained soldier and exemplary officer, he had known the value of a team and how to use it to best effect.

Even when other members in that team had no idea they were being included in plans and schemes capable of shaking up an entire civilization and threatening the destruction of the planet itself.

When the cameras had picked out that disturbance and revealed a battle to him he had been helpless. The sight of the white behemoth from his past had shaken him to the core and he had not initially believed the evidence of his eyes. How could he have done anything other than investigate?

Tallgeese was supposed to be so much scrap metal and the rumours of a suit with that name being used by the Oz Specials had at first peeked his curiosity. He had initially dismissed his unease and marked it down as coincidence. Until he had witnessed the battle from afar and the camera had captured in the centre of its frame the lightning fast, gleaming white dream from his past.

The sheer pace and ferocity of the battle had taxed his ship's sensors to the limit. They actually had very little footage of the battle, but it was enough to confirm to him the identity of the suit. Much of the fight had taken place underwater, but there was no denying the truth. It was Tallgeese and that had made whatever was going down his business and he had determined to find out. How could he not have investigated?

It stood to reason he would be interested in whoever had been able to master the monster he had created. So many pilots had died trying to master his dream. There it was, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, kicking some major arse with state of the art military mobile suits dropping like flies around it. How could he not want to meet the man who had mastered his brain child?

It was a curious technique. He had never before witnessed a pilot make a massive machine like that dance in the air. Each deadly movement had looked so effortless. It had been a beautiful and inspiring sight and he had determined to learn who the pilot was and how he had acquired a suit that was supposed to be scrap metal and why he was battling in the middle of nowhere.

He could so clearly remember the beach. By the time he had brought the barge into the area the fight was long over, the air quiet and the sun close to setting. Tallgeese stretched out almost protectively over the unconscious pilot laid out on pale golden sands. The wealth of white gold hair, the sparkle of the lowering sun on the water and reflected on the suit's plates.

He had looked so young.

Sometimes he wondered why none of his crew had questioned his decision, but they had sprung into action at his word. Pilot and machine had been gathered up with all haste, as he was certain there would be others interested in the conflict and he wanted to be gone quickly. It was later, when they had Zechs safely on the barge he learned how close the young man had come to being just another statistic of the suit's killer record.

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_Flashback_

"Well, I have to admit I am impressed."

"Yeah? By what?" It took a lot to impress the Doc and he was curious.

Around them the medical bay of the barge surged under the rising sea. He knew they would have a storm by dawn, but such was common in these waters. By midday at the latest the weather would be its usual glorious tropical self, baking the ache out of old bones.

"By your ability to find trouble, even in the middle of the ocean. Where the hell did this one come from?" The callused hand lightly smoothed out a strand of shimmering hair.

"Flotsam, Arthur. Flotsam on a beach."

The medic snorted in amusement and turned his attention to the x-rays, holding the films in each hand up to the overhead light. His eyes followed the knotted line of ribs clearly showing the signs of having been broken and healed in the recent past.

"Well, I don't know who he is but its clear he's been through some pretty shitty treatment in the last few months. He's had some expert medical help, but that battle we witnessed has broken a couple of ribs. Old breaks have been stressed and some have given out under pressure, but all in all it's not as bad as it could have been."

"So is he going to make it?" He was relieved the doctor seemed unconcerned with his patient's health. He had known the man long enough to know he could be a tyrant when dealing with patients, but there was little concern evident.

"Yeah. Tough bastard." Again that touch to cascading pale hair. "Young, but the military seem to take 'em younger and younger every year. No doubt they are running out of cannon fodder."

He chose to ignore that. Arthur had lost two of his sons and a brother to the war. "How long do you think he will be unconscious?" He wanted to talk to the man. Ask him how he acquired Tallgeese and what she was like to fly.

"Give him a few hours. He's been through some pretty hefty g-forces and been knocked around, but physically he's sound. No more battles though until these new breaks have a chance to knit. He's mainly exhausted, I'd say, but the young are resilient and I'd venture a guess that this one's been trained to ignore weakness. There are limits beyond which the human body just shuts down. I'd say he hit his before any serious damage could be done." He waved the x-rays. "Eventually we all learn."

Howard studied the flowing cascade of white gold spilling over the pillows. Young indeed and there were darkening bruises on that pale golden chest to attest to the abuses suffered in the fight. His hands clenched on the gold epaulets of the red jacket draped around the back of the chair. He refused to look at the wide belt and the buckle that clearly stated the origins of the pilot.

"Only Oz Specials have that ornate style." The doctor murmured, watching the gnarled old fingers tighten on the gold braiding. "He's clearly Oz, so what are you going to do with him? There will be trouble for sure if the Kid shows up again while he's on board."

"I'll decide later." He had time to make his decisions and it was certainly not something he wanted to consider should Duo Maxwell find this officer on the barge.

The doctor arched an eyebrow but chose not to push at the present time. He was only too aware Howard seemed to have taken a personal interest in this pilot, which was a rarity in itself. Howard usually kept himself aloof from all but his personal crew, though he had dealt personally with the Gundam Pilots, particularly the braided wonder.

"What about the suit? What do you want done with that? The behemoth's bigger than Deathscythe and could probably give the kid a run for his money."

"Tallgeese is stowed below decks and I have a crew working on it." Tallgeese against the Deathscythe? Yes, that would be a fight worth watching, but he didn't want it to happen.

The physician looked surprised. "It's called Tallgeese? Weird name. You are repairing it? Going to pass it on to the rebellion?"

Howard frowned down at the young face. In this state he hardly looked a threat, but if this was who he thought it was … and how many officers did Oz have who looked like this, he knew he was playing with dynamite. This, the best Oz had produced, was capable of handling the Tallgeese. He had never thought to find anyone who could handle the prototype, let alone make it dance.

/I never thought I would see the suit again and I certainly never thought I would see it in the air and active. Zechs Merquise. That's who you are. The one they call Treize's boy. His lapdog. /

The crews he had working on Tallgeese had brought to him the shattered remains of what could only be the Oz ace's famous mask. There could be no mistaking it and it served only to increase his already raging curiosity. He had his feelers out discreetly trying to learn what was happening to result in Oz's ace fighting so many Alliance suits single-handed. There was no indication in the area of Oz back-up units and he had a very nasty suspicion about the battle. Had he and his crew witnessed a battle or an execution?

"No."

Until he had said it he had not been certain what he would do. Now the decision was made and he would stick to it. The Gundam project was already in trouble and he was not going to add to the mess. He liked the idea of the rebellion less with each passing day. It smacked of corruption and deception almost as much as the Alliance did and he had heard some disquieting rumours about Dekim Barton and the reasons behind his backing of the project.

Were they never to learn their lesson? He and those five whose meddling in the past had led to mobile suit warfare never meddled on a minor scale. They always acted with the best of intentions, but time and again it seemed to go wrong and people died.

He did not doubt they had good intentions, but he had to doubt the reasons of select persons disposed toward lurking in deep shadow. There were disturbing hints of ulterior motives and shadowy dealings holding as much corruption as the Alliance was renowned for. Only after their personal commitment had passed the point of no return did they usually discover they had been played and this instance was no different from the past.

For certified geniuses they were disgustingly naive.

The price was not just in the deaths that surrounded them. Look at the young pilots and you saw lives torn asunder, ruined and cobbled willy nilly together. The Sweeper brat he had watched from afar, once a street rat and now wasting his new life on fighting a war not his own. That poor child, the near automaton J had produced. God, he needed to kick J's arse over what he had done to that boy.

Who was this one? Zechs Merquise? What was his story? And there would be a story there he was sure. There once had to have been another name attached to this face and he would like to find out the path walked that led to the cockpit of an archaic prototype. He, the designer and creator of the suit had decided the machine was more monster that anything. He had thought it would never be flown in anything other than simulations and low level training flights.

Tallgeese killed her pilots. Every single pilot who had climbed aboard her and taken her beyond level two training simulations had died. This one survived and wielded the weapon in battle as though it had been crafted just for him.

His eyes flicked to the x-rays the doc was still studying and he stared at the knotted ribs. Old breaks. Not so old really, barely a few months but the evidence was there. Unmistakable. He had seen such x-rays before, but those x-rays had shown new breaks, jagged bone sliced into soft lung tissue and puncturing the hearts of the pilots. Five men, brilliant young men, had died in the past trying to master that suit. He had known them all. Every one of them, young men who were the best of the best and not one of them had lived beyond a few minutes after opening up the suit's potential beyond a stroll in the park.

This one had done it. Not without taking injury, but Merquise had succeeded where all others had failed and perhaps it was selfish of him, but he wanted the chance to know the man who tamed Tallgeese.

"You want him transferred into the brig?"

His eyes flicked to the doctor safely hidden by the dark shades he wore. Brig? Something was going on in Oz and this pilot might hold the key to finding out what it was. If they could use it and exploit it there was the chance they might shorten the conflict and actually gain peace.

"No." He might cooperate if he was not treated as a prisoner. He might in turn be curious about the man who designed his suit. Howard was willing to take a risk. "Have him settled in a cabin and have the door watched, but not locked. I'll be in to check on how he's doing later. If he wakes before I'm ready to see him, give instruction he's not to be interfered with but I am to be called. No one is to give him the impression he is a prisoner."

The Doctor considered him for a long moment, turning his gaze finally to the unconscious pilot. "What the fuck are you up to, Old Man?"

He smirked under the moustache and walked out of the medical bay offering no explanation. Time would tell. Time would tell if he was right to have respect for the young pilot.

_End Flashback_

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He sighed softly. His glasses rested on the desk and he rubbed at his aching eyes. It seemed so long ago. Everything had seemed initially to go well. He was sure he was earning the young man's trust and he had been aware there were things Zechs was not ready to tell him. That had been okay. They all needed time and he was willing to give it, but before he could get to really know him something had happened. Something had changed the young man he had liked and respected into the seemingly cold and unemotional …

No, that was wrong.

Unemotional? Very wrong indeed. There had been a wealth of emotion in those blue eyes as he had made that fateful speech to the people of the Earth Sphere.

Why had he not seen it when the boy had made the speech? Why had he heard only the words, not the sound of that voice and the emotion underlying every horrible word? Those eyes … Such intensity and he had missed it, caught up in the horror of finding him at the helm of the White Fang.

Reviewing tapes of that speech at a later time he had to admit there was nothing in those eyes that marked this man as being insane. What he had witnessed in playback after playback was not the insane ramblings of a despot. There was nothing demonic about the man so casually condemning a planet to death. His eyes had not hidden his emotions and teamed with the words it was not surprising everyone took him at face value and screamed of insanity.

War was insanity. It sent men into screaming oblivion. Death, destruction, maiming of those around you … too much of that would indeed give rise to insanity, but in this case… no.

Those blue eyes had hidden nothing of his determination, but when he looked beyond the surface and took time to really look at that all too handsome face he wondered he could have been so blind. What he had found beneath the seeming ice of impassivity was heartbreaking. There was no lack of emotion there, but instead too much. It had been overwhelming. So much emotion and none of it had been unreasoning anger or insanity.

There had been hurt. He could not deny there had been a great deal of hurt revealed and there had certainly been a raging torrent of anger. A forest fire of rage had been lurking in those blue depths and no small amount of determination. Trained psychologists on his staff had assessed the countenance of the man and determined his emotional state. Layered beneath a churning mass of emotion they had found what they interpreted to be resignation.

It was the expression of a man who knew what must be done. The expression of one who had the strength and courage to stand tall and not shrink from what was seen as duty. It was the expression of a man who knew the result of failure was something that could not be tolerated.

Those blue eyes and that marble like face had expressed the will not to fail.

/Nor did he. I saw that same look on Kushrenada's face in the tapes of the last few hours of the war. They were the perfect foil for each other and they played their parts well. They changed the face of the world and now we have peace. The chance at lasting peace brought at the cost of lives and innocence, but it has been paid for. Now we need to ensure the cost was not too high and not in vain and I believe I still have a apart to play in that./

His eyes ran over the faces on the table one more time. He knew where most of them were, but they had a habit of moving quickly and sometimes they surprised even him. Zechs on Mars was a surprise, but now that he knew he would take a hand in the matter. It would be a cold and lonely world and the boy needed to know he had more choices than a barren rock to find a place to lay his head. He would offer the boy a home.

/I'm going to make certain I come face to face with you again, Merquise, and when I do I'm going to kick your sorry ass for worrying me. I'll explain to you in words a one-year-old could understand how unhappy with you I was for taking off as you did and not returning to explain to me what the hell you thought you were doing. I'll make certain the bastard understands the hell he's put me through these last few years believing him dead./

His young people. Quite a rogue's gallery, in particular the chestnut-haired youth who held so much potential and the blonde who showed the world what it was to face the hopelessness of war. His young people. His young men. Neither had any idea how he looked on them as his, nor did he understand why he considered them to be his responsibility. It was of no concern that neither they nor he understood. It just was.

/I will shake the stuffing out of the bastard and tell him exactly what I think of him and make certain he knows he has a place within the Sweeper ranks./

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	165. Chapter 165 Chapter 164

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 164

2nd March AC 198

Colony L1 - 0025 B Lagrange point 1. Serial number 0025 B

Preventer Building

Time: 06:05 approx Sanc time 04:55

Trowa

_"When your life is on the line there is no time for thought, only action. When you are in 'the groove' time has no meaning and the world around you slows down. That is how you tell a professional, boy, by how fast he is when that moment comes. That is when you know if you have what it takes to survive. You should also remember, fast as you are, there is always someone who is faster . Always. In this line of work it's just a matter of time until you meet him."_

There was no time for thought only action. His arm flashed up and his eyes centred on his target, narrowing his focus, excluding all from his awareness other than the target and himself. Kill or be killed, there was no misunderstanding between them. His wrist snapped back and then forward in a smooth cast. He felt the knife leave his fingers, but saw only the burning eyes of the stranger. Remotely he was aware of the rocket launcher rising, but it was reflex only for the weapon to threaten him.

In the race between the knife and the high tech missile the truth could not be avoided. There would be no time for this man to fire if he intended to preserve his own life. Those cold, hard eyes told Trowa all he needed to know about the killer. The man was a professional. It was not going to be a quick confrontation.

The knife left his fingers and those cold eyes had already calculated the time, the distance and the chances of death. His target was moving, throwing himself to one side, aware the knife was aimed at his throat and there was no intention to wound and question. Professionals could recognize the intent easily enough and Trowa already knew it was kill or be killed. This particular Preventer was not of the ask questions first school.

He was not able to escape the weapon, though he was able to throw himself clear of the killing blow. Instead of taking the assassin in the throat the desperate lunge saw the knife imbed itself deep in his upper left shoulder. He released the rocket launcher and tucked and rolled in a smooth flowing movement designed to get himself closer to the oncoming younger man.

/I am in deep shit!/

Trowa recognized his danger immediately and threw himself over the rolling man and into a dive, aware he faced trouble with a capital T. Had the killer sought to avoid the oncoming knife he would have recognized a skilled adversary, but the man took the hit without so much as a grunt to acknowledge the wound. What was more alarming was the cold determination in those burning eyes and the immediate forward thrust to place himself in an advantageous position. There was no intent to avoid conflict, just determination to remove the obstacle to his mission with all speed.

The pain of the wound was inconsequential to the mission at hand and freed from the rocket launchers bulk he came back up to his feet and danced two neat quick steps away from the edge of the building and his discarded equipment. With a knife falling so easily into his hand he came on at Trowa, a slow grin stretching his thin lips.

/Professional knife man./

The thought rocked Trowa, but he refused to allow it to show and back flipped to give himself a few seconds respite from the silent killer. There was a semi automatic pistol tucked into the belt of his target, but the man had gone straight for the knife and was oncoming quickly, the blade held low and unerringly matching his every move. Trowa did not need to trace the angle of that point to know it was aimed in a straight line to his heart. This man was out for the kill.

/He wants no witnesses and he wants a silent kill./

He would not have discounted the chance to make that shot with the rocket launcher and complete his mission. There was no claxon alarm sounding to alert the Preventers to the drama being played out in the compound. Should he succeed in taking down Trowa silently and quickly there was little doubt he would fire on the adjacent building. Determined such a scenario would not play out, Trowa backed up as quickly as the killer advanced, knowing if he permitted the man to get close enough for melee he would chance losing.

He was outweighed by his assailant though not outreached, but should the shorter stockier man close on him his reach would be of little advantage should his guard be penetrated. Every move the killer made was flowing and precise, a dance of death and the mark of a man trained to perfection. Only good fortune and that horror of a dream had revealed his presence here and given Trowa the chance to save lives. It was a chance he was determined not to waste.

_"Know your target. Watch them. Never take your eyes off them and if you can, always watch their eyes. Don't for an instant think a professional will look at the point he intends to go for, for longer than a second. They are always aware they may be facing someone with just as much skill or more. Place yourself in their position and anticipate. Don't give clues away if you intend to survive."_

The killers lips drew back in a silent snarl as he realized the younger man would not make the mistake of closing with him. A feint and he slipped sideways a half a step to effectively close off Trowa's retreat, forcing him to back toward the edge of the building. The Preventer would be forced to decide between a swan dive into oblivion or fight in melee for his life. Trowa realized that the man wanted that knife to knife confrontation, and in anticipation of a death match the man's elbows shifted, the blade of the knife angling down a degree and his left hand raised.

Trowa bared his teeth in a silent snarl and considered his options. When and how had he lost the advantage here? One moment he was in charge of the situation and the next he was facing a knife fight to the death. This killer was not going to settle for incapacitation or frightening off the opposition. This was a killer bound and determined to complete his mission successfully and he looked to have every confidence in his abilities.

_"You have to think on your feet. You have to anticipate. You have to be aware of everything around you and how you can use it to your own advantage. Everything around you is a potential weapon, or has the potential to keep you alive a few seconds longer. You just need to recognize that potential."_

/You're not the only one capable of springing back from potential disaster. I'm not willing to lay down my life so you can kill others, you bastard. Quatre is waiting for me and I have every intention of heading home./

He danced, too aware of the edge of the building only a step or two behind him. The man was feinting and working himself into a position to force him to come into melee or take those fatal two steps and plunge over the edge. Heights did not bother him, and that was not his concern. There was enough room at the moment for him to avoid a close quarters confrontation for another precious few seconds while he figured out how to raise the alarm.

If he could raise the alarm it would not only alert Preventers but give the killer something to worry about. Time. If the man had only minutes to effect his kill he might make a mistake and in that second he would be doomed. Any advantage, no matter how minute, would be enough to tip the scales. Cathy had taught him the skill to throw knives with deadly accuracy, but she had not been a knife fighter. He had been taught how to knife fight in his mercenary days, but he was at best only competent when in melee with the blades and competent was far below the level of this killer. His stance and the confidence in his eyes screamed his level of expertise and Trowa was not going to be a fool and choose to melee with someone so above his skill.

/If I can gain some distance I might have the chance to throw the knife in my belt. He's bleeding and that means he will be slowly weakening. Time is a factor too and he has to

make the shot, or his mission fails. If I can attract some attention it will place more pressure on him./

_"Know what you need to do in the order you need to accomplish it. It's no use killing an enemy if the enemy succeeds in his mission before you kill him. Get your priorities right. Just surviving is not enough."_

The first order of business was clear enough. He had to get some much needed distance between the two of them and gain some room to move. He had been forced back little by little until there was less than a full stride to the edge and a plunge to the street below. Too close to the danger point and time was running out. The advantage lay with his assailant, but he had skills the killer did not know and could not anticipate. Heights had never bothered him and his circus trained dexterity would be the salvation of him.

/You might be a killer and you might be good at your job, but don't class me in your league. Everyone eventually meets someone who is better than they are, but that does not mean you will win. More than weapon skill and weight will account the victor in this./

Confident in his own abilities Trowa threw a quick glance about him, aware the killer would note it and unconcerned. He was a cornered animal, was he not? And therefore it would be expected he would make a desperate move. He noted the possibility of a quick escape if he rolled to the right and the killer tensed, aware the moment had come for him to act. The man was placed ready to take him whichever way he moved and Trowa took a half step back, his heel just touching the low wall screening the edge of the roof and he crouched a little to gain some spring, flicking his gaze once more to the right.

/Come at me and try to startle me into tipping over the edge./ The silent invitation was accompanied by a feral grin.

"I don't think so, little pest. No witnesses allowed."

/He can be talkative? That might give me an advantage. Come on, come at me./

It only proved his assessment the killer was a professional and not so easily fooled. There was no rush at him, but he did note the slight inclination of the man's body anticipating a move to the right. Though it was not what he had hoped for it would have to be enough. A degree more bend in his legs, the faintest shuffle of his left foot and turn of his right toe, the telltale flicker in the man's eyes and he had to take the chance. It was the best opportunity he would get.

Trowa projected the force of his desperation into his knees and sprang. The knifeman swayed, but caught himself from making a fatal extension to the right as Trowa leapt up and back, onto the lip of the low wall behind him. His toes touched the lip and focusing every ounce of skill learned in the circus his knees bent to absorb the force of the landing and he launched himself into a leap. Gaining height and distance over the head of the knifeman who seemed to be moving in slow motion, he spun in a tightly controlled form to avoid the slashing knife. He leapt to the left of the knifeman, clearing the danger by scant inches as his opponent was quick to recover, coming down into a roll to increase his hard won distance.

Rolling twice he flipped to his feet in a fluid motion and slid behind the welcome cover offered by the air conditioning unit. An inarticulate snarl sounded behind him and he resisted the urge to grin as he slipped over a pipe and caught his bare toes in the thick wire cage surrounding the motor unit of the massive air conditioner. He hastily hauled himself up the side of the unit, ignoring the pain in his toes and fingers in favour of taking the high ground. He was determined not to lose the ground he had gained by his daring.

/Better./ He pressed himself to the wire wall of the cage, taking a few seconds to regain his breath and steady his heartbeat. /Now where are you and what am I going to do about you? I need to attract some attention./

His assailant would not have remained in plain sight on the roof and exposed himself needlessly to danger. Nor would there be the chance to pull off a manoeuvre like this again. He would not be underestimated a second time and it was only the element of surprise which had given him this chance and he would not waste it. Warned now to the flexibility and daring of his opponent, those factors would be accounted for in their next confrontation and he might as well forget trying to pull off extreme actions. Something infinitely simpler would probably work better. His priorities needed sorting and he had only seconds of relative safety to decide on what he might best do to bring the standoff to a satisfactory conclusion.

/I need to raise the alarm. Get other people involved in this./

Easier thought than actually accomplished and he considered his options which, at the moment, seemed very limited. To attract the attention of his fellow Preventers he needed to make a noise or use some visual medium. He could not hope someone in the buildings flanking the accommodation block would chance to look out of a window and see something suspicious … such as someone clinging to the side of the air conditioner unit, or aiming a rocket launcher at a nearby building. If he had thought to pick up his mobile he might have gained sufficient time to call in a warning, but hindsight was never useful.

In the distance he could hear the rumble of a commuter train, but there was little else at this hour of the day so sound would travel fairly well. It was likely to be his best chance of attracting attention, however merely shouting was not likely to attract anyone, and if it did, they would walk unknowing into more trouble than they would expect. Something louder and indicative of danger would be required. He would have seconds in which to act and that discounted jumping up and down and shouting.

A quick survey of the roof area visible to him from his perch failed to reveal the killer and he scowled. He might have succeeded in escaping from the knifeman, but for how long? He dared not delay too long or the man might take the chance to make that delayed shot and carry out his mission. It was more likely he was now being hunted, but he could not give the advantage back to his enemy. Taking no action was doing exactly that and he could not afford to waste this chance.

_"A missed chance is of no accord in the scheme of things. A missed chance means failure. A missed chance means death to someone, be it on your side or innocents in the conflict. A missed chance means the enemy wins."_

Beneath his stretched out body the air conditioner vibrated and provided him with a host of possibilities for attracting attention. Briefly he considered damaging the unit, which would certainly be noted by the automatic monitoring sensors. He sighed and discounted the possibility. One man, a maintenance worker, would be sent to investigate and that man would walk into more than he would expect. The odds were the man would die and the bulk of the Preventers would remain ignorant of the danger.

/Well, I could always fire off the rocket launcher. That would attract attention./

He shook his head and sighed. Even if he could gain the weapon firing it within the sealed environment of the colony would cause more damage than he was personally willing to perpetrate. The sealed life support system of the colony was a finely balanced complexity of science. Firing the weapon would cause a fire, which could cause catastrophic failure in delicate life support systems, clogging the air scrubbers and putting toxins in the immediate area. Shooting off the rocket into the air would result only in hitting someone or something on the opposite curve of the wheel and might even perpetrate sufficient damage to cause a hull breach.

/Lovely. I don't think so./

Should he gain access to the weapon and shoot straight down at the ground he would avoid people and the building, only to guarantee breaching the colony's hull. Shooting horizontally was not an option as it would blow up one of the buildings flanking the Preventer complex. Every option would produce exactly what he was trying to avoid and all of the possible targets polluted the air. Certainly no help there. Colonies were just too delicately balanced to have this type of weapon loose within them.

/Come on. Think. There has to be something you can do./

His attention shifted to the area where he knew the rocket launcher would be lying on the ground, but he could not see it from this angle. He doubted the killer would be fool enough to go back for it without removing his opposition. He would wish to complete the mission and while it was only a matter of seconds to make the shot, he had to relocate his exact target. Making that shot with someone out for your blood was not the best scenario. The hitman was more likely to have gone to ground where he could keep a watch on his equipment and hoping Trowa would make a try for the weapon. He would be an easy target for the semi automatic if he tried that. The killer would have more than enough time to fire off the big weapon and take out his intended target and escape before other Preventers could react.

The clock was ticking and he was going to have to make a decision soon.

/Pitching it over the side of the building would be guaranteed to get some attention. Whoever found it would be alerted to trouble, but the landing might set the damn thing off. To have a hope of getting it I would have to be fast and I simply would not have time to disarm the weapon. If the trigger was jarred on impact … I hate this. /

Time was up. He had been too long in one place and it was time to move. He dropped from the unit, unwilling to alert his stalker by the rattling of the cage and slipped around the bulk of the unit. Pausing, he listened for any sound that might suggest the location of the man stalking him. Beyond the rhythm of the air conditioner he could hear only silence, even the train was silent marking its location as being within one of the stations. It would be a minute or two before it moved on and it was possible his target was laying low waiting for the train to move to cover any betraying movements he might make.

/I can't let this go on much longer./

With every passing minute more people would be entering the target building to begin their working day. He needed to stop the hit before this delay increased the death toll if the worst should happen. He would need to throw this killer a bone soon, or the man might just take the chance to reach his equipment. He would not try to get a shot in with the rocket launcher, but he would be inclined to grab his gear and make himself scarce, possibly even settle on a covered position to make the shot.

He heard the train begin to move and taking the chance delicately hauled himself up the side of the unit, taking advantage of a nest of pipes and ignoring the wire mesh for now. He needed to keep the noise as low as possible and the rattling of the wire as he moved was an advantage he was not willing to give away. He slipped his long legs over the top of the cage, balancing delicately on a narrow pipe to do so and transferred across to the top of the unit. He crouched low for a moment, gathering himself and considering his options before springing to his feet and in two quick strides placed all of his strength into a leap from the air conditioner to the elevator housing. He came down and flattened himself, eyes scanning for any indication his move had been noted and smirked at the view his change of position had given him.

His greater height and the wider angle afforded him a view of the rocket launcher lying where it had been abandoned and a little way beyond it the bag. It seemed to beckon to him, tempting him to come for it. If he could just pitch the weapon over the side of the building and be assured it would not detonate on impact through some warped sense of humour fate might be entertaining.

/Nope. Not even going to consider it. He's too much a professional for me to make even one mistake./

_"Know your resources. Know exactly what you have on you at all times, because you never know what may be of use. Don't discount anything as being useless because even dust bunnies have their uses. Equally as important is to know the resources of your enemy and never underestimate them. If you can find a use for something so can they."_

/So what are my resources? A knife, the clothes I'm wearing, my belt and my wits. There maybe a dust bunny or lint ball in my pockets, but nothing else. Charming. What does he have to call on? There is at least one knife and more likely two if not three. I know he has a semi automatic and there is the rocket launcher, though he does not have it at the moment. There may be more in his bag, but he has to expose his location to reach either of those last two. He's showing considerable patience in remaining hidden and other than that one outburst he's maintained his silence. Not the talkative type, or prone to try talking to provoke a confrontation. He won't give away his location easily./

His present position offered a commanding view of the bulk of the roof top, but there was a great deal of heavy machinery for the air conditioning and elevator system to offer adequate hiding places. The man could be crouched in any one of a dozen places, patiently waiting to glimpse his position and take him out with the gun. That automatic was a big advantage for the killer and even though he was a knife man Trowa knew there would be a bullet with his name on it, should he give the man a chance to target him.

_"Sometimes in a standoff you have to make the first move. There may be a dozen reasons for you to exercise patience and usually that is the better way, but there will eventually come a situation when waiting is not an option. Know when to recognize it and how to use it to your advantage. In other words, if you have to move, don't get bloody shot."_

The hit man appeared to be on no set time schedule as he was exercising every indication of infinite patience. Trowa presumed that meant he was not averse to taking out twice the number of Preventers this delay would expose to the original hit. There had been no indication as yet of the killer working his way toward the elevator shaft, or the stairs in a bid to leave the roof. It suggested he was intent on making the hit despite his discovery and Trowa's presence was considered to be a mere inconvenience.

/He can't be after an individual if he's not fussed about a time schedule. It has to be information he is out to destroy and that dream suggests it has something to do with that kid. Washington? I hope he has something on him I can use to trace him when I take him down./

This kind of patience was not common in a hit situation. Trowa had done his fair share of assassinations in his past and he knew there was usually a window of opportunity that needed to be exploited, but that generally applied to hits on people, not on information gathered from a dead body. Undoubtedly there would be an autopsy underway at this time and it would take a few hours to correlate all the data gained. He was not inclined to wait on the roof while information was gathered and hope the killer would decide to quietly get up and leave. It would be more likely the man, if he managed to escape, would take down the entire building to be assured of removing the information from computer systems and hardcopy files.

/I'm going to have to force the issue./

He was not keen on the idea of exposing himself to the killer, as the smallest mistake would end his chances of saving lives.

He stirred, rising to his knees and peered out over the roof. No sign of blood spots, though he had expected that. A professional would quickly tend to his wound to slow down blood loss and ensure he left no trail. No tracks from passing through water other than his own and he cursed silently as his foot slipped on the surface beneath him. Lowering himself carefully he edged across the elevator housing roof, trying to avoid slipping in the oily sludge pooled on the housing. He scowled at the perfect hand print and the imprints of his toes where he had been forced to crawl through the deposit before a slow smirk twisted his lips.

A cautious glance about him to ensure he had no company and he dipped a finger in the sludge. It would take a month or two of nightly deluges to remove years of built up grime and he chuckled softly as he smeared the residue between his fingers. Using his knife he sliced off the lower leg of his pants, curled in as tight a ball to present as small a target as possible. His long ago instructor from the mercenaries had been so right. Everything about you had the potential to be useful in one way or another. He needed just a few minutes to prepare and then all he would need to do would be to keep the man busy until help arrived.

The point of a knife was not the greatest nib to write with, but then he did not need to wax eloquent. Short and to the point was all he needed to be.

Assassin. Roof. Missile. Chameleon.

It was enough to alert Preventers to the danger that lurked and he would not be able to throw it far from the accommodations building, so there would be little doubt as to where it came from. Nor was it a large piece of material so he needed to be terse. He cut a spiralling strip of material from his other pants leg, long enough to act as a binding and looked around for something he could use to weight his message.

A silent curse on realising there was little to accommodate his needs and nothing on the elevator shaft housing itself. He was going to need to leave his safe perch to find a weight and just looking around told him clearly enough there was little that was not firmly anchored to the roof. He edged toward the rear of the housing hoping to find something there that might accommodate his need and nodded slightly.

/Perfect./

He was facing the housing for the stairwell and he could see the door still propped open by his shoes.

He considered his make shift message for a moment, pleased to note despite the crudity of the materials used, the message remained clear as it dried. The contaminants from the machinery housing looked to make a fair ink in this emergency and assured the message would not disappear or smudge beyond reading, he folded the note carefully and placed it and the binding into his pocket. Someone had to notice a rag tied bundle and investigate where they might ignore an empty shoe.

Glancing up and about him he drew a deep breath. Still no sight of the killer and no sound to suggest his location. The rocket launcher was still in place, as was the bag. He was being hunted. He could feel it and he had remained here too long. It would need to be a quick sprint for the shoe and then a quicker sprint for cover and the chance to prepare his message for flight.

/Here goes nothing./

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	166. Chapter 166 Chapter 165

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 165

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 03:30 approx Sanc time 01:20

Barker

/What a mess this day has turned out to be. The best thing about it is that I can at least say I'm still alive to gripe about it./

They were still hours away from the bitterly cold Martian dawn. Hours from when he would have to face the prospect of immediate action to save the lives of those people sheltering in the caves beyond the dome. Hours in which the situation could yet turn around in a bitter twist to favour the unknown number of Sleeper agents loose in the base. With so much yet to accomplish he could not afford to become complacent.

There had been copious quantities of blood on the floor from the injured soldier, testifying to the severity of his wound. The drying blood was being mopped up by an orderly who seemed altogether too pale for someone who dealt with regular exposure to blood.

/Shock. He may be used to blood but it's the whole day and night and the butchery taking place that is getting to everyone. We have to end this before we all go down into screaming hysterics./

Shock could do odd things to people and he was only too aware of the need to watch everyone for telltale signs of distress. They were a hardy crew, these terra formers, but there was only so much anyone could take. Shock would manifest in a multitude of ways and complications in dealing with people and none of it good given the seriousness of their situation. They could not afford to have too many of their active bodies go down into hysterics or into depression. Nor could they afford for anyone to start demanding answers he did not have.

Frazier was gone now, rushed off to surgery as speedily as they could arrange. His condition had been stabilized as best they could in the emergency room, but the tech was not looking good when Barker last saw him. The surgeon had been tight-lipped about his chances of survival even as he had worked on the man to stabilize his condition. He knew enough basic medical practice to know the tech had to be classed in a serious if not critical condition. The removal of a caltrop from the gut was not going to be an easy surgery and they had too many dead already.

Broadham's very vocal comments on seeing one of the caltrops, as demonstrated on request by Haydon Giles, would have soured milk and he had demanded to know where the vicious things had come from. The man had looked as though he could bend steel without effort so outraged was he. A surly and altogether wordless growl from Zechs had given Broadham pause and deciding discretion to be the better part of valour, he had taken Frazier off to surgery. Before he had departed the room however he had given instructions to an attending doctor and two orderlies to retrieve Noin from the shuttle bay.

/If Frazier makes it through surgery I doubt he'll be taking an active role in proceedings for weeks to come. It is more likely to be months before he is declared fit for duty. While I would not wish it on anyone it is one less person I need to worry about slipping a knife in my back./

Personally he was doubtful the tech would ever be considered fit for active duty again, but in his favour there were some very talented physicians on Mars. The designers of the project had insisted from the very beginning of the scientific outpost's formation on quality personnel. Only the best medical equipment and the most talented medical professionals who could handle the rough and ready lifestyle had been considered. It had been known the range of injuries sustainable during construction of the colony would be broad and immediate action to save lives would be required. Out here you could not just hop an ambulance shuttle and fly in a few hours to a better equipped medical facility.

In the fullness of time Mars would be made into a major medical centre to service this region of space, but realistically the planet was too far away from the asteroid belt to offer aid to any seriously injured personnel from the mining colonies. Mars was, however, months closer to the mines than Earth. Long term rehabilitation would be more comfortable on Mars than was currently available. Distance was proving to be the overriding factor in the expansion of man into space.

The orderly caught his eye and offered a strained smile and brief nod which he answered in kind. The man might be stressed but he was holding up and he was not the only one who needed time to process the events of the night and was denied that grace. Now was what his father had called the 'doing time' and later would come the 'wailing time'.

His gaze flicked over the other men gathered around the bed dominating the room. It was not so much the bed that dominated the area as the man lying in it. Merquise was propped up with pillows and looked to be on the verge of collapse, but had refused to rest while they had people locked out of the dome. It was not just the people locked out that kept him from taking the opportunity to rest. He was only too aware of that other danger, the Sleepers, and the unknown headcount that would inform them of how many they had yet to isolate and immobilize.

/We have no idea if we have taken out all of the Sleepers here and how many there may be in the Alpha Dome is anyone's guess. There could even be Sleepers in the group sheltering in the caves that were locked out and considered expendable by their controller. The truth is that anyone could be a Sleeper and until we find some kind of documentation we can't clear up the issue of identity. There is also the matter of those who are agents for private concerns, like Polnar and Giles. I'm not satisfied with the explanation Polnar gave me. There is something more to this, but I have no time to investigate further./

His opinion of the operations commander responsible for the upkeep of the Sleepers conditioning was extremely low. No doubt the distance between the Earth and Mars had some feature in the neglect which had resulted in the massacre on Mars and if this was intentional… He shuddered to think the massacre was a planned event. From the little he knew of such agents what had eventuated on Mars suggested the regular maintenance of the psyche conditioning had not been upheld.

What he had thus far witnessed of the slaughter in the dome above and in the sub base suggested the agents may have been written off as expendable years ago, though some of them had not been on Mars all that long. It confused him. The creation of a Sleeper required considerable financial resources be spent in the conditioning process and such agents were generally not considered expendable. Psyche conditioning had advanced considerably in the last decade, but still regular maintenance was required to maintain balanced psychological profiles. If that slaughter had not been caused by a breakdown in conditioning triggered by their orders to contain the situation, then some sick puppy on Earth had a lot of questions to answer.

/Without regular maintenance their conditioning might have broken down and they might have begun slaughtering the inhabitants of the domes in a homicidal mania at any time over the past few years. It would be easily enough explained back on Earth and written off as another lesson in colonization procedures. I don't know; something is not right about this. This butchery just smacks of something foul./

To the uninformed such butchery might be explained as psychological disturbance caused through the isolation and stress of prolonged exposure to space. In his view too much was written off as a side effect of the conditions which colony life and long-term space travel imposed on the human psyche. What had happened this day would need to be explained, as he doubted anyone could hope to cover up such a slaughter and keep it secret from the general population. Any passing ship calling into Mars would find the evidence …

/Well, shit. That means the Wellington will be targeting anyone unfortunate enough to be in the area for a few days, not just until they get Merquise out of here. They can't afford an inquiry to dig too deeply and that means no witnesses./

In the long term it all came, inevitably, back to politics. Politics was like the proverbial bad smell. You could not get rid of the stink and you could not escape it as it followed you relentlessly no matter where or how far you ran.

/I don't have time for this. One problem at a time and those bastards back on Earth have to move to the bottom of the list. I will need to implement Simpson's plan, I suppose. Most urgently we need to take down any remaining Sleepers who may be lurking in the sub base. They are a constant danger to our operations and we need a clear field to operate in. There are likely to be people who have decided the prolonged alert is some kind of drill and gone to bed. No communications with anyone in authority should have kept them alert and wary, but it's been a long time and I know I'd sleep if I had the opportunity. If I could find somewhere I considered to be safe./

"… need to have the twins brought here so we can keep them adequately guarded."

His attention returned to the men gathered around the bed and to the stormy-eyed blonde who glowered at Polnar in a very unfriendly manner. Zechs had been largely silent during the treatment of Frazier and the clean up in the aftermath, but the arctic glint in his eyes was enough to caution Barker to beware. Polnar seemed to ignore the silent warning, though Barker did not miss the glance he directed at his partner.

The man who had been introduced to him as Haydon Giles was seated on the bed and looked to be in no small amount of discomfort. The way he was hunched in on himself and had a hand pressed to his chest suggested he had taken some damage during the altercation, though he had made no move to have the medic examine him. Giles had gone down under the weight of the two big men and Barker suspected he had more than a mere bruise or two to show for that experience. Merquise was at least six foot two inches of solid muscle and Simpson was not far off matching him for size and weight. There was also clear indication of other injuries already having been treated from earlier in the night and Barker was waiting to hear what they had been up to while he had been locked out of the dome.

From the look of Merquise neither man had been idle since the dome had been entered by Blue Squad. There was still so much to do and no clear indication of how long they had to perform the miracles that might give these people a chance. He was doubtful Merquise would last until they could dare to relax.

The computer techs attached to the Emergency Response Team were working on accessing the main computers and regaining at least some measure of control over the base systems. He was not expecting it to be quick or easy to repair the damages done to the computers and he was not pleased to hear from Giles the computers in the shuttle tower were, in the man's own words, 'toasted'. Had the shuttle system computers been operational they might have been able to bypass the main system and run the base from the secondary support systems in the shuttle control tower.

There would now be no bypassing of the main systems and Zechs had informed him he could forget the idea of acquiring spare components from the shuttle tower. He had received a 'you really don't want to know' look when he had asked what had gone down in the tower and while he was curious the point was moot at the moment. They needed to clear the freight elevators of traps before they could access the base dome and use any of its facilities.

/Something went on up there, in that tower that they don't want to talk about and it worries me. Merquise is a battle veteran and so is this Giles if Polnar is to be believed. What would spook hardened veterans enough to cause them to avoid the issue as they have been? It's almost as though Merquise thinks I won't believe what happened. I want to get my backside up into the dome and begin work up there. There are people trapped in the buildings who need us and we need to work on the airlock systems to get those outside within the dome's protection./

Perhaps that was what he needed to do next? Should he take a couple of men skilled in the use of explosives and check out the freight elevators for lurking nasties? If they could clear the elevators then they could at least access the upper dome easily, even if they had to wear enviro suits to move around up there.

It was true the dome could be accessed through the water recycling system, but he wanted as few people as possible to be aware of that route for fear of the Sleepers using it. He had given instructions no one was to attempt to approach the elevators until they were checked out and cleared for use.

There was, unfortunately, the possibility of someone from the dome feeling adventurous and attempting to come down to the sub base using the freight system. He only hoped they would sit pat for a while longer, as they would have massive problems if they lost the freight system.

Too many areas of the dome needed his attention and he did not have enough trained hands to manage everything needing to be done. Delegation of the duties was great so long as you had the skilled personnel to meet the requirements of the task and anyone of those he had set a task to might yet turn around and bite him on the arse. Who could he trust? How many Sleepers were still active? Who of those working to set right the domes' life support systems might be surreptitiously sabotaging their efforts?

He could trust Daniel Carter, but he had sent him to meet with Ahmed Hawass in the shuttle bay after a brief conversation with Merquise. He was hoping Carter would get back to him soon with a report on the Chief's progress working with the computers there.

While it was too late to think about bringing the workers in to the dome at this time of night, he wanted the dome open to them as soon as conditions permitted them to be active on the surface of the planet. If they could not get to the airlocks and repair whatever damage Simpson and his cronies had performed, then the shuttle bay doors were the only means of entry left to them. There was also the lure of a working radio in the medical shuttle and he needed to check in with Mako and inquire after the progress being made at the Alpha Dome.

He wanted to check the remaining members of Simpson's team and the suspected Sleepers currently in confinement had not escaped custody and on the progress of getting a shuttle up and working.

/Suspected Sleepers. We have no proof of who is and who isn't, that's the trouble. Anyone of us could be a Sleeper biding his or her time, just waiting for the chance to blow us all to hell. They can't all have been placed here at the same time and they might have different triggers to activate their missions. There could be more than one group and there is no saying all of them have been psyche conditioned. I'd daresay only the psyche conditioned agents are going around slaughtering everyone they meet, which makes the sane ones that much more dangerous. Sane rational agents know how to blend in and give a helping hand. With this shit going down they would be sitting quietly waiting, making certain they don't become victims. Would I have a hope in hell of identifying one of the men supposedly helping us as a Sleeper? No. There is no way for me to tell./

This invasion of the dome by Sleeper agents could not have been set into place just because of Merquise's survival. Some of these people had been on Mars for years before Merquise had appeared here. That suggested the former Alliance had had plans for Mars which was to have significant importance in the future development of the ESUN.

He supposed that was reason enough for the Alliance intelligence agency to place one or two agents here long term. Past history had shown all too clearly new colonies, be they in space or on Earth, had a penchant for demanding independence from their parent country. With the expenditure in money and time that had gone into the project, none of the government agencies or business concerns involved in backing the colony would be keen to see an early push for independence.

Merquise's presence here would have ensured a security detail of some kind was sent to arrive over the course of a few shuttle flights scheduled at regular intervals. Preventers had expected that, but just how many of the personnel on those shuttles bound for Mars were there to keep Merquise quiet and how many of them had other instructions that had nothing to do with the Prince of Sanc?

"No. We leave them where they are for the moment," the low rumble of Merquise's husky voice drew him out of his thoughts and back to the moment.

Polnar was looking exasperated and Haydon Giles was rubbing at the bridge of his nose looking for all the world as though he wished to be excluded from the conversation taking place.

"I'm doubtful that is the wisest course to take considering the situation at the moment. We have no way of knowing if they are safe, Mr. Merquise. Be reasonable about this."

Ice could have formed in the air with the chill emanating from Merquise in response. His voice was quiet, but nevertheless carried easily to the watching Preventer agent. Barker was thankful he was not the recipient of that glare and debated the virtues of quietly leaving until the budding argument was settled.

"I am being reasonable. Where they are at present is safe and they will remain there. Moving them could expose them to unnecessary risk of discovery."

"You don't know that, Zechs. It could be just as dangerous where they are now and at least here we can offer them security."

Glancing around at the sound of the door closing Barker realized the orderly had finished his work and made good his escape. No doubt he did not want to be around with the notorious Milliardo Peacecraft chilling the atmosphere and Barker almost wished he could join the orderly in his escape. With the man's departure he was now alone with the other three men and he knew it was time they decided their next move. People could be dying while they delayed and that was not acceptable.

Haydon Giles had decided to venture into the argument and Barker noted Polnar seemed to be content to step back and wait on his partner's interaction with the man. Barker decided Polnar assumed Giles might have gained some appreciable influence with Zechs during the time they had spent together. Certainly if he was given a choice Barker would not be so casually perched on the bed near Merquise as Giles was. The man never so much as blinked under the arctic glare Merquise threw in his direction. Polnar seemed content enough to stand back and watch, but his eyes were constantly moving between the doors and around the room.

The Preventer had noted previously how Polnar had marked every person who entered the room the moment the door began to open. For all he had earlier been trying to reason with Merquise Polnar had not once taken his attention from the comings and goings of the medical team. In the aftermath of Simpson's downfall Polnar had been one of the men to remove Simpson to a ward away from this treatment room, but had not left the room after returning from that duty. Despite the assurance from Merquise the sedative would hold Simpson for hours, Barker had ordered the Commander be placed under guard by an orderly.

When Simpson had gone down under the influence of the sedative chaos had reared its ugly head for precious minutes. His bellowing for someone to open the vent had been ignored on the arrival of an orderly, who had focused on helping Carter trying to stop the techs bleeding. Merquise was out of the events as was Giles trapped beneath both men and snarling and cursing for release from the vent had gotten Barker nowhere.

Unwilling to distract Carter from saving a man's life and aware Merquise and Giles were out of the picture, he had determined it would be faster for him to crawl back to the first of the wards and kick in the screen to exit the air vent. By the time he had made his way to the treatment room there were people everywhere engaged in taking care of Frazier and restoring Zech to bed. Simpson had been removed from Giles, who had briefly spoken to someone Barker presumed was a doctor, as he had immediately turned to assist Broadham in his examination of the tech.

The first order of business had been to remove as many unnecessary bodies from the room as possible. A quick word to Polnar and the drafting of two orderlies had seen Simpson removed to his impromptu prison. Returning to the treatment room they had found a huddle of medical personnel over the tech and Broadham raving about barbaric weapons and how hard it was to put a man back together. The tirade had drawn an impressive snarl from Merquise and expedited the removal of the tech from the room and the knowledge Broadham obviously had a healthy respect for the Prince and his temper.

Giles had tossed the caltrop he had been holding onto a tray and while the medics fussed over placing Frazier onto a gurney, he had taken the opportunity to gather Carter and Polnar and joined Zechs and Giles for an impromptu debriefing and conference on what was best to do next.

Following due discussion they had decided Simpson had been on the right track and gathering in as many people as they could would lower the chances of the Sleepers taking out isolated pockets of residents. It would be harder for the renegade agents to wipe out groups of five or more people and almost impossible for them to do so quietly.

By this time members of the emergency response team had been gathered at the door and he had given them the go ahead to continue with Simpson's plan. Barker wanted the matter dealt with as speedily in the interests of preserving as many lives as possible. There had to be a limited number of Sleepers at work and they had already accounted for a number of them.

He had instructed Carter to make his way to the shuttle bay and inquire after the activities and progress of the Chief Engineer and also to do a quick survey of the shuttle facilities for damages. His next order of business had been to catch an orderly before he could disappear after his fellows and requested the blood be cleaned up before someone slipped and broke their leg. Knowing his luck, he would be the victim, and an ounce of prevention was better than a pound of cure as his grandmother used to say.

Deciding it was past time he stopped going over instructions already given and looking for faults in his own reasoning he moved to the bed. It was time to move events along and he nodded to Polnar who was quick to note his action. Coming to the foot of the bed he leaned his hands on the foot rail and determined to interfere. They did not have the time to argue after all.

"The mothers in the nursery ward can care for the …" Barker clamped his mouth shut at the shift of Merquise's attention from Giles to him self. /Shit!/

He had no trouble interpreting that look. Quite clearly it stated if he finished the sentence he was a dead man. Where Zechs could be infinitely reasonable about many things, the safety of his children seemed to be another matter entirely. Whether he would see reason after sensible discussion was another matter, but they could only try. Surely the children would be safer surrounded by adults all on the lookout for trouble. Not that he actually knew where Merquise had hidden them. He might be right about their present location being safer, but they needed to gather everyone into a central easy to protect location.

"Okay … maybe not."

He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose before he met the arctic glare with one of his own that was, admittedly, not quite so frosty. He doubted anyone could beat Merquise for chill factor.

"Look, Zechs, it would be safer for the twins to be in with a group of people. There would be less chance of them being vulnerable to an isolated agent and it's not just your kids we need to protect. There are others here too, newborns who have to have select care. Putting all of the babies in one place, under guard, is the safest option we have right now. Protecting the children would be easier to do if they were together in one place."

The blue eyes were just as cold and emotionless and there was no give in the man. Barker knew of his reputation and he wondered why the man could be so blind to his own children's needs and so attentive to the needs of the others on the colony. In this situation there was safety in numbers and should they need to shut down sections of the sub base to make their life support systems more secure for a longer period of time, then they had to have everyone in a central location.

"At least allow us to bring the children to this ward." Polnar spoke up. "You'd no doubt feel better if they were where you could see them and we could arrange satisfactory security."

"They are safe where they are." The low rumble clearly portrayed his growing displeasure with the subject.

"You can't know that and in this situation there is safety in numbers. It's only sensible to gather as many as possible and protect a smaller area." Polnar waved a hand in the general direction of the accommodation blocks. "It is possible there are people dying out there in their rooms while we argue the point. Any remaining Sleepers could be getting closer to your children as we speak; may have already found them. We need to ascertain their safety and keep them secure."

"They are safe where they are." His teeth were clenched and he subjected Polnar to a look that chilled Barker's blood. "If they are moved they could become targets before they reach the medical centre.

He had not thought Merquise could get colder and Barker wondered what was driving the man. There had to be something he knew that others did not for him to be so unreasonably stubborn about moving the children to assured safety. Deciding speculation could wait until all that could be done had been done and it became a waiting game, Barker stepped into the man's line of sight, drawing his attention away from Polnar. Bitchy mood aside they were wasting time and they needed to act, not argue amongst themselves.

"We need to make a move. It's unlikely the Sleepers would target a moving group and I will not be sending out retrieval teams in ones and twos."

Barker moved around the bed to place himself closer to Merquise, certain if he appealed to the man's training he could cut this argument short and move on.

"I will be sending out the Emergency Response team, less the computer techs, plus a couple of medics and Carter." he glanced at Polnar with an arched eyebrow, well aware the man did not work for him and claimed to be here to bodyguard Merquise. "Are you willing to go?"

"I'm willing to go with the team to find and bring the twins to safety." Polnar returned, meeting his partner's gaze and then focusing on Merquise, who was glowering at him. "I am supposed to guard His Highness from any threat, but as I see it that instruction would include ensuring the safety of his children. My employer was quite specific in his instructions concerning the family. His Highness has been safe enough with Giles to this point and I think him capable of keeping the prince secure until I get back."

They all pointedly ignored the growl at the 'His Highness', each of them knowing very well how Merquise saw the uselessness of the title this far from Sanc. From the day of his arrival on Mars he had tried to interact as one of the team, just a skilled individual working toward a secure future for the colony. He had never placed himself above any of the terra formers and despite the over protectiveness of Lucrezia Noin, he had managed to gain acceptance by his work mates.

Barker thought Polnar was gutsy to deliberately remind the man of the distinction which separated him from everyone else on the colony and in doing so remind him of why they were in the mess they were.

Haydon Giles stirred, one hand pressed to his ribs and there was underlying pain in his voice. "Zechs. If we need to move everyone out quickly we can't risk delaying to find the twins. Noin will be settled in the ICU in a contained critical care unit soon. The doc and some orderlies have already headed out to the shuttle to bring her in. If we have to move out of here that unit can be made portable in minutes, but having to run around the base looking for the twins could endanger not only the children, but everyone else as well. We have no other choice at the moment. We need to consolidate our position and prepare for any eventuality. It's only good sense. You can trust Chris to bring the twins to you safely. He won't allow any harm to come to them."

Ice blue eyes met the hazel gaze of the man who had partnered him for hours and something moved in that exchange that Barker did not recognize. Something was happening between the two men he felt instinctively was important, but he did not understand it, nor did he understand Merquise's quiet comment.

"I don't know him, Giles. I don't know him any more than I knew you."

Why should he think there was a subtle emphasis on the 'know' in that comment? Confused and no little concerned by the comment, a quick glance revealed Polnar had as little understanding of what was going on as he. The man looked bemused and meeting his gaze he shrugged to show he was as much in the dark.

Giles sighed softly and lowered his head. Barker saw his eyes were closed and the pain lines around his mouth and across his brow deepened. The man was in a lot of discomfort, but he was no quitter and after a moment he looked up and reached to take the Prince's face between his hands and meet the blue eyes with an intensity that was surprising.

"I know you don't know him, Zechs, but I do. I know him. I trust him with my life and it's not just me that trusts him. Raydon trusted him to come here and keep you safe and you know how good a judge of character Raydon is. Trust me and trust Raydon. Tell Chris where the twins are and allow him to bring the children here and I know you won't be disappointed you trusted him. Hey, us random elements have our uses, don't we? That's been proven."

/Random elements? What the hell is he talking about?/

For a long moment the stare held between the two, neither bending nor blinking and Barker stirred restlessly. It seemed the men had forgotten he and Polnar existed. They were wasting time they could not afford to lose, but there was something in the intensity between the two that froze him to the spot and kept his mouth shut. Beside him Polnar seemed to draw a deeper breath, as though he saw something that escaped Barker. The Preventer turned to Polnar to find the man focused on Giles with sharp intensity, and now he was certain he was missing a great deal.

/Alright, what is going on? This is something out of the ordinary …/ A thought tickled at the edge of his awareness and he hesitated, not daring to entertain such flights of fantasy in so serious a situation. /No. No way. I need time to consider this but… Didn't I overhear something about visions earlier? No, it can't be. Shit, there is not time to sort it out now./

"They are all I have left, Giles." It was a whisper, barely audible in the silence of the room.

"I know. I know what they mean to you, Zechs and Chris will keep them safe. Trust him. Trust me."

Pale lashes dropped to cover the intense blue of his eyes and the tension bled slowly out of the air. Barker felt he could breathe again and beside him Polnar looked between the two as though he was unsure of himself all of a sudden. It was disturbing to say the least, but he determined to get to the bottom of what he had missed. For the moment he had no choice other than to leave it and attend to more important concerns.

"Alright. I trust you and that means I have to trust him, but so help me, Giles, if anything happens to my children you can expect…"

Giles smiled and it was a gentle smile, one free of rebuke or concern for his own safety, as the blonde met his gaze. "Shh, I know. It's okay. Chris will keep them safe and bring them to you. All you have to do is tell him where they are so he can bring them. With us all together we can give these people the best protection we can."

After a moment Merquise nodded and the fight seemed to have gone out of him. Giles looked up then, releasing the man from his grip and turned to Barker.

"You can assemble the emergency response team, Preventer Eagle. Zechs will want his kids brought in as quickly as possible."

He felt Merquise shift in the bed and for once the man made no attempt to hide the exhaustion or the pain he was experiencing. Barker found it worried him Merquise was not trying to cover the condition that was excluding him from the action.

"Wind?"

"It's okay. I only need a moment. You should remain here in the medical centre and coordinate the operations. If you don't delegate in this situation it will take twice the time to sort this mess out."

"Can I have a word with you, Chris?" Giles pressed a hand to his ribs and met his partner's gaze.

Barker acknowledged Merquise's suggestion with a brief nod and glanced at Polnar as he stepped away from the bed. "Five minutes."

"I'll be ready." The man stepped back to allow him to pass.

As he reached the door he glanced back to find Polnar pinned by those merciless blue eyes that could so easily freeze your soul. Not envying the man the attention he slipped out the door and into the hallway where he paused, glancing around. He would need to gather the emergency response team and appoint a team leader to each group. He would assign one large group to separate into two or three smaller groups, to check every room in the accommodation sections and caution them not to lose sight of each other.

"Try to understand. He's Gifted, Chris. If not for the visions we would not have made it this far …"

The door latched shut, cutting off the soft flow of words and he spun, staring. Gifted? There was that word, again, 'visions' and all the mumbo jumbo they brought to mind disturbed him. He was missing something and he was going to need answers, but he knew if he opened the door even the slightest bit they would hear him and he was unlikely to hear anything else.

Five minutes he had told Polnar and he would need to get moving to coordinate the many tasks that needed to be done. He wanted to walk into that room and demand he be fully informed, but Une had made it plain Wind outranked him. Besides, there was more important concerns, but as soon as events quieted down he was going to want some answers.

/Something is fishy and I will learn what is going on. I can be patient when I have to be, but by God I will find out./

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	167. Chapter 167 Chapter 166

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 166

2nd March

Earth

Sanc

New Port City

Undisclosed location

Time: 5:50 Sanc time

Epsilon

_"While it is without doubt the Kushrenada boy is alive, it is also obvious he thinks himself beyond our reach, else why would he flaunt himself over the public airwaves? He was always too clever for his own good, that boy. Clever and independent."_

/You were in a mood tonight, Delta. There was something underlying your irritation with the reappearance of Kristian Kushrenada. Something I will need to pursue if I wish to preserve the sanctity of Romefeller and my own hide. You always were an ambitious bastard and history reveals how many of those who held your position within the Inner Circle had succeeded to my position. I am an avid fan of history, Delta and I will not become yet another victim of another's ambition. Is that not what you are hoping for? To replace me?/

She resisted the temptation to look out of the darkened windows of the limousine. It was sheer idiocy to be out in this storm, but when the voice of Alpha spoke, you listened and you obeyed else you never heard another sound again. Inclement weather was nothing in comparison to the Mistress of Romefeller's whims. The heater was set on its highest temperature, the fan was on full blast and the heavy coat she wore combined should have kept the chill at bay, but she was still cold.

/Something is going on, in the Inner Circle. Something I need to keep my attention focused on else my position be threatened. Do they think Alpha to be on her last legs? Will the old witch finally succumb? There will be massive changes when she steps down, or more likely in her case, dies. I doubt that one will ever relinquish her hold on the reigns of power while breath still warms her body./

_"Do any of you have any real idea how much time and effort went into the designing of the genetics of the W series gene set? It is not a mere base code these children carry around within them and to permit one of the successful ones to break away from our ranks sets us back generations if anything should happen to them."_

/You were rather vehement, my dear Beta. You are clearly under pressure and I begin to wonder if it is Alpha or Delta who is riding you over the W series. It is true the overall gene set has been successful and I believe it was only fifty odd failures before you successfully cemented the appropriate gene set to breed true. All in all that is a remarkable piece of gengineering./

She sighed, leaning her head back against the cushioned rest and closed her eyes to the darkened interior of the car. She was not about to reach the hotel in record time considering the exterior conditions. There was time enough to reflect on some of the points raised at the extraordinary meeting.

/Gengineering. Genetic engineering. Designer babies. Something the common world has fought over for centuries and what one generation decides the next changes. Will they never settle? Their prevaricating advances our aims, it is true and to keep our work unsuspected we must keep them fighting over the pros and cons of the subject. If they ever stopped fighting over moral issues, real and imagined, they might discover just how many of their number are the product of exactly what they squabble over. Children. They are just children and in their innocence they think they know so much./

_"I have been pushing for an investigation into the disappearance of this particular W series specimen since he eluded our trackers here on Earth twenty-two years ago. Have none of you realized that this series, as they mature, are all showing an inclination for independence and in some cases there is evidence of mental instability?"_

/Mental instability? Is it that, or is it something more? I have seen enough to know they are not insane, but I cannot deny they are fiercely independent and they certainly do not like being told what to do. Is that insanity? I don't think so. We take particular care to weed out the insane ones and destroy the faulty genetic code that breeds the weakness. At least over the last six generations there are less of those to deal with./

_"We need to establish physical and psychological control over each and every one of these children. Regardless of the age of the subject we need to direct their focus to the true needs of the Inner Circle; namely the continuance of our project to establish and maintain stable links with the Artifact."_

/The Artifact. I have to wonder how stable that device is after all this time. Perhaps it is losing touch with reality and that is why so many of our children rebel against us. Historical accounts claim we are linked by ancient ties to the Artifact, though they do not explain how this link was established. Certainly I have my doubts any such link exists. Too many of our psychics who have attempted to contact the device have perished beneath its power. They simply were not strong enough to endure the contact and our gene set is far superior to our primitive ancestors. Does the fault lie with us or with It? It is sentient, though not as we are, there is little doubt about that. Breeding as we have done to make contact with it easier to manage, I wonder if we have not damaged it… Or perhaps angered it? It is always possible the Artifact has deliberately led the breeding program astray. The next logical question is, of course, do we control our children … or does It?/

What she needed was something piping hot to warm her aging bones, something hot to fight the chill which was more than just physical. Comfort food would give her even a brief moment of distraction from the obligations of her position. In her duties she could never relax, never take anything at face value and never ever presume what was plainly spoken must be plainly understood. In her line of business things were never that easy.

To be so innocent within the true Romefeller was to tuck in a quilt and take a pillow with you to make your coffin more comfortable in the afterlife.

/Afterlife indeed. With what we do to further the human race there will be no afterlife for the likes of us. Our sins will come back to haunt us and knowing this still I continue on. The results are worth the cost./

_"It is my opinion that at this time it is more important to us to bring Romefeller back under a united front than it is to irritate the bloodlines by acquiring their children. We have all come to know the folly of stealing certain children away from their families and that is what we would need to do en masse to gather the W series to our bosom."_

Oh yes, she knew the folly of abducting the children. At the time of the incident she was privately against the idea of acquiring Kristian Kushrenada in such a fashion. Still, the public interest in the abduction had surprised them all and she was of the private opinion she alone was not the only one who had had their doubts as to the wisdom of the decision.

At that time, however, they were all wary of Alpha. They had been in awe of her. She had been the one to look up to, to emulate. She could do no wrong in the eyes of the younger office holders. At that time Delta, like Epsilon herself, had been junior to the then office holders and it was not their place to offer opinions. Gamma had been in training as a Successor and had even less interaction with the matter and Beta … Well, Beta was the assistant to the then Breeding Master, a genius genetic engineer who was full of his own pride at accomplishing what his elder and better could not. The successful implementation of the genetic W series.

/Oh, you were a genius but can you help us control your children? Something tells me not. Done is done and we must go on. /

_"We simply cannot afford the attention such disappearances would stir amid the law enforcement agencies of the world. Kristian Kushrenada was originally to be used as the guide to enable us to establish full control over our rebels and with the establishment of control we could better investigate just how suited to the Artifact the W series is."_

/He was supposed to be and probably is the key, but the fact remains he has eluded us for over twenty years. Smart boy. He would probably make an exemplary Inner Circle member with the appropriate training and maturity. His reappearance now disturbs me. He would not reveal himself unless he had assured himself of his own safety. He was never a fool, so what is he cooking up? Perhaps … No, he would never reveal himself after so successful a disappearing act, if he had found and allied with the rebellious upstarts who think they know more than we. They are going to have to be brought to heel and I can see Alpha demanding I find them on pain of replacement. If she thinks she can do better then let her. I agree with her, there is only one Romefeller and they can never replace us. We need that crystal back./

_"That boy's psionic abilities are without doubt not what they were projected to be. I shudder to think of the results of the development of his abilities beyond the safety of the laboratories here. Mental stability features strongly in the development of the abilities I believed were placed within the genetic selection of each one of these children. Have you forgotten the Peacecraft boy? Have you forgotten what he proved capable of doing?"_

/Delta was pushing the mental instability a little too much, I think. I doubt he even has a true understanding of the psychic abilities placed within the W series code. He's too touchy about Kristian escaping him so soon after gaining the position of Security Officer. He took it personally and you have to have a thick skin to be an Inner Circle representative. Ambition he has, but a thick enough skin to succeed? Only time will tell./

The Peacecraft boy. Yes, that one was proving to be quite a problem child. Of course it did not help that unsupervised he had been exposed to the experimental catalyst unit. How had Treize Kushrenada acquired the plans for that unit? Her investigations were continuing, but she had an uncomfortable feeling their greatest fault was they were simply underestimating the children of these last two generations.

/Is it possible we have tinkered with the genetics and perhaps sparked some wild card evolutionary leap? Are these children more advanced than we think? Have we come further than we planned without realizing it? The implications are staggering if the children are more advanced and not just incredibly independent and stubborn. I can't deny their intellectual genius, but it is not their intelligence that is worrying. It is their burgeoning psychic potential that concerns me. They could be so far in advance of our own minds talents we may have no hope of containing them to set limits. No doubt Alpha has already thought of this but… All this speculation is useless just now, but I will need to determine answers. There will come a time when my life may depend on those answers and I am not prepared to die as yet./

_"Kristian Kushrenada was a prototype. A prototype, people, with all the little quirks, good and bad the word implies. He had the correct combination of genes, in the exact placements of our experimental projections spliced to the K series base. He was a success."_

/Beta seemed to have no reserve in claiming the Kushrenada a success, despite the independence that saw him walk out on us. He may have been a genetic success, but that does not necessarily mean he has been a total success./

_"All the indicators project development, both physical and psionic, along the projected course and I believe he has likely developed that potential. That he did not display the exact potential when he was brought to the Inner Circle does not mean he was a failed experiment. It merely suggests to me that while some of his talents emerged phenomenally early in his lif, the talents we had projected he would develop may actually have developed in later adolescence."_

/Was that wishful thinking on your part, or a true belief he may have developed the talents you projected? He was talented, I do not deny that, but he showed talents other than those contained in the summary of his charts. One or two of those abilities seemed to be more than a hint of talent. I wonder how much did he deceive us? How much did he manage to hide from us before he bolted?/

_"It also might have been simply that he may have been much more efficient at hiding his developing potential than we expected. Do not forget for an instant that he is a Kushrenada and they tend to develop more talent later in their lives than most of our other bloodlines. He was certainly an intelligent child and quite capable of deception. On considering our past records I believe it may have been a mistake to acquire that one at so young an age. Tests will need to be devised and performed with great care to determine just what he can do when he is reacquired. It is my hope he may surprise us all with the development of his abilities."_

/At least he did not try to skim over the possibility of deception. It is true many of the Kushrenadas develop their greatest strengths in later maturity. That I will not deny and he is right, tests will need to be devised on Kristian's re acquirement. He has a lot of balls to imply it will be a simple matter to gather that one in. He will no doubt delight in pointing the finger at Delta when the first attempt fails and call his abilities to command into question. I will enjoy that. /

She had no doubt there would be failures in their bid to return their runaway to his rightful place. The boy, who now she supposed she had to consider a man, would be expecting them to come for him. No doubt his view of working for the Inner Circle had not changed. It would be interesting to see the methods he employed to retain his freedom.

_"For there to be advancement we must locate and acquire Kristian Kushrenada and on having secured him, we must prepare him to serve us to his full capability. He must be persuaded to cooperate before he may be trusted to bring us to the culmination of our purpose."_

/Alpha certainly understands the capabilities of a Kushrenada and the difficulties inherent in gaining his willing cooperation. She understands, but she seems to have little doubt he can be made to obey. Of that I am not so certain./

_"There is another who is vital to the furtherance of our ambitions that we must have secured, controlled and brought to the Inner Circle to begin his training and conditioning. Our future and that of humanity do not hinge solely on our having control of the Kushrenada but on the acquisition, training and deployment of multiple new generation talents."_

/Conditioning, training and obedience, three values Alpha seems to believe are vital to the success of the project. I suppose in a way she is right, but to expect it as a fact before they have even acquired him… them… Kushrenada and Peacecraft. What a pair they would make if they ever joined forces. We do not even have confirmation on the exact talents of either of them and she seems to take the projected talents as gospel. She is a canny old bugger and there are days I just can not understand her motivation at all. I sometimes wonder if her sole motivation is actually to secure clear contact with the Artifact. Sometimes there is a look in her eyes that suggests to me she has something else on her mind. Something I will not feel settled over until I discern her true actions./

_"We put a great deal of effort into mapping out his genetic print and the splicing of them to the K code. I will not have such a masterpiece of genetic engineering wasted to the petty games of those fools who think they run Romefeller. I take it Epsilon, that by mentioning the Earth Sphere government you were referring to the individuals on said government who chiefly concern us?"_

/As if I would be referring to anybody else. All Beta thinks about are his gene sequence codes and what they should produce and why they succeed or fail. What more should I expect from a genetic engineer? He can't wait to get his hands on the Peacecraft boy after losing him and thinking him dead so often. There never should have been a mistake such as the fall of Sanc. We lost so many vital bloodlines that day, though I have a sneaking suspicion the old man managed to get more than a few of the younger children out before it happened. If he did though, he has them well hidden. I can find no trace of them, though there are a couple of people the right age who may prove to be refugees from Sanc. I will need to acquire DNA evidence to prove, or disprove, their identity against our genetic records. Should they be survivors I have no doubt Beta will be my bosom friend for all of a week./

Age-clawed hands gripped the edge of the seat beneath her as the vehicle skidded and she refrained from cursing. It was idiocy to have answered Alpha's call in such conditions, but one simply did not ignore a directive from the Inner Circle's leader. Not that attending the summons would do her a great deal of good should she perished in an accident returning from said meeting.

/I should have waited until morning to inform her of the Mars debacle. If I had I would not be out here now. I think she would have waited even after Kristian made his announcement./

Visibility from what she could see through the tinted windows was practically zero. The car was equipped with all the latest global positioning units and the tyres were fitted with chains. Regardless of the safety features of the car there was still no guarantee they would make it back to the hotel and her activities for the night were far from over.

/How did we allow our errant children to stray so far from the fold? They have their own plans and some of them actually have brains and balls enough to carry out those plans. How many am I going to have to order killed to bring the others back into the fold? Most of them do not even know the Inner Circle exists as anything other than a legend. If they even know that much after the laxity in the education standards. My predecessor has a lot to answer for./

_"We need every single specimen of the K series genetics and it really does not need saying again just how important the W series genetics is to our future. Is it not enough through the power games they employed we have lost Treize Kushrenada? His K series genetics with the successful Psi genetic splice was to be the foundation for the next sequence. Splicing the W series genetics with the new projected modifications to his completed K subseries strands, would have produced the X sequence. Because of the interference of these fools who suppose themselves capable of ruling the Earth Sphere, we have lost a vital genetic base."_

/Is he right? Is he exaggerating? Will the death of one person be a mistake that will set us back so far? Treize Kushrenada was an odd one. Even my people had trouble reading him and trying to infiltrate his intelligence system was next to impossible, not that I have let that slip to the Inner Council. He seemed to know our every move and I never found anyone I could tag with certainty as working for him within our ranks. How did he do it?/

How had he beaten them repeatedly at their own game? How much of the true Romefeller had the son of the Kushrenada family learned? How much did he presume and how much was he aware of as fact? The man had been an enigma and even the psychologists they employed had scratched their collective heads on more than one occasion. His peculiar genius was beyond their understanding.

/I still have not quite figured out how he acquired the plans to the catalyst prototype. Of the three units we had been experimenting with he took only the unit we had the most success with and all of the blueprints and projections. I have had my people scanned and probed and there are still no clues as to who worked with him. It had to be an inside job, but I trust my people. None of them betrayed me./

Not knowingly, at any rate, she admitted. The Kushrenada's Psi talents were guessed at, not identified irrefutably at the time of his death. The Kushrenada family, as had been stated before, were often late bloomers and had a habit of surprising the Breeding Master. The talents developed were akin to the projected abilities, but often not quite what the technicians had assumed they would be.

Even Romefeller could not totally control the development of the Psi genetics. It was still not an exact science and there was always Mother Nature to be considered. She had a habit of teaching everyone they were not so superior to the natural order of selection as they presumed.

_"While my teams are working as quickly as they can, we have limited genetic material to work with that is required to base the X sequence. It may be another eight or more generations before we can replace what was lost with his death."_

/Eight generations? Near two hundred years is not a delay, it is a disaster. Is he exaggerating? No, I doubt he would dare stretch the facts to a full Inner Circle meeting. It was a tragedy when Kushrenada was killed and I wish I had taken him into protective custody when I had the opportunity, but it was an opportunity I missed. One I regret. Why must there continually be these set backs? Eight generations. Will the Artifact last that long?/

_"We know a great deal about genetics, but we do not know enough to detect and eradicate all of the flaws inherent in cloning an individual of the complexity and purity that was Treize Kushrenada. No, to produce a viable X sequence it must be the original genetic material used and you know that Kushrenadas do not mature for genetic manipulation until after their fortieth year. It is a natural delay in setting the maturity patterns that result from the longevity genetics that is a part of the base print for the K series gene line. This immature faction fighting going on within our ranks has and is interfering with the future of the organization. We have already lost one Kushrenada who was vital to the overall design we follow. Treize Kushrenada is irreplaceable and that setback can only be corrected with time. We have come very close to losing Kristian and how many times have we thought we had lost the Peacecraft boy? Something must be done about those incompetents before they set us back beyond our ability to recover."_

/I suppose he is right. They have interfered more and more with the grand design over the past four generations. Small little rebellions at first, from those on the outside of our Inner Sanctum. Perhaps the largest insult was the rebellion and theft of the crystal and vat from within our hallowed halls. Then the atrocity that befell Sanc. How dare they threaten such ancient bloodlines? All the effort of the past generations gone into keeping that bloodline alive and they stood back and allowed mere humans, a lesser species, to massacre them. Even the children. Idiots. Such incompetence I could never forgive. I suppose it is no tragedy they are about to get their comeuppance and I will not be shedding a tear for their deaths. I wonder how many executions it will take before someone takes notice?/

_"I know we must get back to the matter at hand, but this may have a bearing on any further decisions made concerning each and every mating in our blood pool. I can say with all confidence that within the next twenty years it will be possible to have complete breeding control over every successive generation within our breeding population. It has been confirmed the young Winner heir is a homosexual."_

/Sometimes I think even we go too far. To guarantee we have control over each generations gene set, we now will program their genetics so they will orient sexually only to another of the same sex? This is idiocy and it is a dangerous insanity. I think they go too far with this. It is all well and good to have control, but what if something goes wrong? What if we should lose the technology to manipulate the genetics and we close off what is a large and will be an important, section of the gene pool? If we should have trouble in the future with in vitro techniques and the artificial wombs, what then? If the worst should happen for whatever reason there will be no continuation of those bloodlines, even by natural breeding. It is dangerous./

Sometimes, she was sure the Breeding Masters lost all sense of humanity with their vaunted ability to play God with the genetics of the species. No one should be able to force a person to exclusively find attraction in the same sex. It went against her personal grain but again, one did not have personal preferences when one was an Inner Circle member. There was only Romefeller and the drive to continue the dream.

_"Do you have a name? Do you have an identity you can point a finger to and say this is the origin of the attack? The Illuminate? Phoenix? Someone else who dares to challenge us? Some lucky and infinitely stupid hacker, who is now running around with a target on his back?"_

Gamma had seemed to understand the severity of the implications surrounding the security breach. The Primary system failure was a disaster and proved, at least to Epsilon, they were becoming complacent. Treize Kushrenada acquiring the catalyst prototype was enough proof to convince her they needed to reevaluate their security years before and now this breach…

"I wish it were so simple," a low sigh. /Nothing so simple as Phoenix or the Illuminate. Those we could deal with and though there would be some blood, guts and gore it would not be a loss./

_"After due consideration and careful studying of the W series genetic charts and projected potential,l it is Milliardo Peacecraft whom I would expect to be the key to the Artifact. His genetic charts show clearly that if he indeed holds all of the abilities that were projected, then he more than meets the requirements needed to establish and maintain prolonged contact with the Artifact. It still remains to be seen if the boy has an active enough talent to establish such a bond. All of the clues are there in his coded sequences to be read, if you have the eye for it. It is my belief he could make the merge successfully. You must remember that he succeeded in merging with the Epyon system."_

/And that, my dear Alpha, is what worries me. He made the merge with whatever Kushrenada produced out of the catalyst unit. I have no doubt it was not the same catalyst unit he stole from us. He had it for years before he handed it over to the Peacecraft boy and in that time he would have developed his own modifications. Who would have thought at his age Treize could penetrate our security? Or the Peacecraft could use what ever he made of it?/

_"With the past record of these bumbling fools, we cannot afford to lose that boy and his children at this time to their incompetent planning. They are too valuable to us. Nor do I wish to chance losing the children's mother. Her genetics were to be considered for genetic advancement beyond the cross breeding with the Peacecraft."_

/I will need to extract from someone the exact arrangements made for the Peacecraft and his offspring. I need to know the rendezvous times, the location of their safe house and the identities of the carers for the children. Where would they deem it safe to seclude the Peacecraft? Any number of places might be considered suitable for the children at this stage of their development, but the father? No, they would want somewhere very safe to secure him./

It would be somewhere as secure as the inner sanctum of the Primary Romefeller location. Delta had initiated considerable upgrades of their facilities since Treize Kushrenada had somehow circumvented their security and removed the catalyst unit and the research pertaining to it. Time and again they considered themselves secure and then were rudely awakened. They were nothing if not inventive, their children and it was refreshing to see, though annoying to contain the abuses.

/How many will I need to kill to secure the three? What were their intentions toward Noin? I had no real intelligence on what they were intending to do at the time I made my initial report to Alpha. I will extract blood price in retribution should they kill that woman and they may well need to. An Amazon to be proud of. She will not allow them to take her children without a fight, or her man for that matter. As I recall there was something in her genetics that was manipulated … What was it Beta's predecessor told me? Something that made the bloodline fiercely protective of what they considered their own but … I will need to go back over my notes, I think. I am sure I would have made a note of something as important as that. Some psi function tried some time in the past. An experimental gene set suited to the genetics of that particular family. No, I can't quite… Later I will have to investigate, there simply is not enough time now./

The vehicle rolled to a stop and she glanced up. Had they arrived, or had the blizzard reached the point they were trapped? Dimly through the window and the driving snow she could discern the meager glow of lights, but it seemed too dull to be the blazing welcome of her hotel.

/Delta is an idiot. How are we expected to make headway when at every turn the Primary systems of Romefeller fail? Under his control there have been more breaches of security than at any other time. It is even worse when you consider there are none amid those training for office bearers I would consider of a potential to replace him. The Successors are far short of being adequate for training at the top level. It would probably have to be Gamma and the best of the Successors would need to take his place./

There was one person, of course, who she might consider as having potential, but that one was an infant and would not be ready to replace any of them until at least those who did replace them were ready for retirement. Such a long time in the future, but there was no help for it. Dorothy Catalonia was simply too young to enter into the elite ranks of the Order. There was a wealth of potential there to be explored and developed and groomed to reach its peak.

The youngest office holder to reach the Inner Circle had been Alpha herself at the disturbingly young age of eighty four. During that time her career had covered first the Security Officer's position and then the Intelligence department had fallen under her control. She had been the logical choice to replace the Head of the Council in due time and had ruled unchallenged now for more than a generation.

/A meteoric rise and looking over the Intelligence records of my predecessor I have to agree with him on the danger you represent to the Order's continued future. You assisted yourself in your career with some judicious pruning of the family tree. You are a viper, Alpha and I will remain alive by remembering it. None of us are irreplaceable, for all we consider no Successor ready to take our positions. There will always be someone to step in to the role./

A shadow crossed in front of the window, even as she felt the car tilt a little as her driver disembarked. Gathering her coat more tightly about her she was prepared when the door opened and thankful her driver positioned himself between her body and the valet who opened the door. The keys to the car would already have exchanged hands and instructions would have been given. All that remained was for her to exit the car and make the final preparations within the privacy of her suite. There were still some hours before she could rest.

_"It is indeed time those who think themselves to be above our ancient order and its directives should be brought to heel. We are too close to our final success for them to bring down the bloodlines with their petty schemes."_

/Yes, it is time they were brought to heel, Alpha but the problem is enforcing your directives. How many will I have to order be removed from positions of power and how many will I have to eliminate? If I move at the wrong time, or take out the wrong person first, I could start a bloodbath amidst their ranks. They have their own hierarchy and everyone wants to move up in the world. Knock out the wrong person and there may be a scramble for power and no one will realize we are responsible, or why someone died. It could lead to retribution killings with innocents paying the ultimate price. /

That, of course, was not Alpha's concern until such time as it happened and then it would be Alpha breathing down the neck of the Security division and the Intelligence service. She would be breathing fire, ranting they should have been capable of handling the matter discreetly and favourably for the Inner Circle and she would be right. Epsilon could only hope Delta kept quiet and allowed her to handle matters with far more discretion than he was capable of. She did not need his heavy handed-methods cluttering up her field of operations.

The problem was she was going to have to work with him, regardless of her feelings toward him and use his assassins to augment her own people.

_"You will arrange for a special operative to remove the irritation who dared to defy a Circle directive as an example to all of the others. You will make it obvious to all involved that it was a direct order of the Inner Circle the execution take place. Leave our seal for them to find."_

/I have to work hand in hand with the idiot, I have no other choice, but so help me, if he interferes with my operation we will find a new officer in the Inner Council. I will take a leaf out of Alpha's book and remove what annoys me./

Her driver offered her the best shelter with the use of his bulk to shield her and she made no objection to him invading her personal space. She trusted him, one of the very few she permitted within arm's reach of her should the situation demand it.

His solid bulk cut much of the force of the wind from her and his hand on her elbow steadied her as she slipped on the ice coating the steps. It was a rotten, miserable night to be forced to take action, but she had weathered worse in her past. She was not that old now she would permit weather to defeat her.

_"I admit that events may have progressed too far if our children are so willful as to ignore our commands. It is time to slap our children over the wrist and discipline them as they deserve. Should they still refuse to recall the ESUN Wellington from her mission and hand control of the operation over to your Intelligence Service, then you will continue to remove them, one by one, in order of their power structure until some bright young thing down the order of command understands the message. I want it understood that Milliardo Peacecraft and his children are under the direct protection of the Inner Council."_

It would be made plain if she had to spell it out in the blood of the very children they had fought so hard to bring into the world. Irony was it not, that those they had created were now to be destroyed by their hands? If only they had not turned from the Mother organization to further their own goals, so much could have been different.

/Our fault, as much as theirs for permitting them to drift so far from the tenants of our Society./

The night clerk was bustling toward them, key card in hand and bowing, mouthing niceties. A dismissive inclination of the head and thankfully the elevator doors closed, giving her peace. The elevator music she had ignored before now irritated her and caused her to grind her teeth in frustration. It was only another six floors before she could exit and in that time she needed to finalize her plans.

There would be no warm bed and the chance to rest her weary body until matters were well in hand and her old bones felt every day of the one hundred and ten years she had lived. If only she dared say to hell with it all and she would deal with it after she had slept, but such weakness was not permissible. She expected the best out of her people and she would give them her best in return. It was only fair.

Romefeller security personnel under Delta's training annoyed her. After providing a logical and carefully thought out argument to Alpha some years earlier, she had earned permission to keep herself secured by her own people. The very real undertone she might be likely to knife the imbecile no doubt had assisted in her independent security system, but she was not a fool. She knew how many of Alpha's people watched her and how many of Delta's agents were interfering in her daily schedules.

It was hardly the fault of the Security Agency if they were overseen by an incompetent she could not personally stand. Over the years she had taken a personal delight in thieving his better agents and making them a part of her Intelligence Service.

/If he did his job properly there would be no cause for me to freeze my bones in a northern blizzard. We are all fools. Are we not too old to be running around in blizzards in fancy dress, pretending we are the most important people on the Earth? Alpha delights in pulling strings and age has only made her penchant for dramatics worse. I shudder to think what she will be like in another twenty years./

Her driver now taking the position of her personal security guard stirred beside her, taking a half step forward. It was enough to send her gaze flicking up to the display of floors as the elevator carried her toward her room. They were about to arrive and she stepped back, allowing him to check the hallway before she would emerge.

He was a big man, in his prime and older than most would think him, the recipient of a healthy dose of longevity genetics. She trusted him and had taken a personal interest in his training as he grew from infancy. From his genetic charts she had chosen him before birth to be reared to become her protection. In some ways she considered him a son, so deeply had she kept her hand on his training, but she would, without hesitation, kill him should the need arise. Such was Romefeller.

He would think nothing of placing his body in front of an assassin's bullet to keep her secure. Of course she had noted every stupid thing he had been taught during his training. She had taken pains on his final assignment to her to break him of those very habits. Delta's techniques annoyed her and she had continued his training along her own ideal of the perfect security guard.

She had not a single doubt Delta would have a great deal to say if she ever permitted the fool near enough to note the changes. Of course Delta might suspect she had interfered, but he would not know for certain unless she permitted him to know. She believed in looking out for her own people, as best the needs of Romefeller permitted.

The elevator chimed, the horrid music fell silent and the doors whooshed open, giving her access to the hallway. Doors, gilt decorations and artistic offerings designed to please the discerning eye of the guests. Nothing more than she had expected, but she remained to one side of the doors until her guard determined it was safe for her to exit. There was always the possibility Delta was as fed up with her as she was with him.

The hotel was, as expected at this hour of the morning and with the current weather conditions gracing Sanc, deserted. Most sensible people would remain tucked up in their beds with no intention of getting out of that welcome warmth, unless dragged out by circumstance. Knowing the local conditions as she did, she doubted the storm would abate until well into the day, if then. It was possible it would last a day or two. If she was one of those sensible people she would be tucked up in bed too, but unfortunately that pleasure would have to wait.

Epsilon only wished she could have the luxury to laze the day away in the warmth of her bed and not necessarily alone. Perhaps the attentions of a delightful young male partner would do much to ease the ache of the cold from her bones. Age did not mean the urge to enjoy warm male flesh in an intimate embrace did not visit her regularly.

With the selective breeding that had gone into her make up and the longevity boost granted by the Artefact, even at this advanced age she was not an eyesore. It usually required only a small dose of drug to stir the male interest and she had enough experience to leave them drained and never sorry they had entertained her.

/That Peaceccraft boy is certainly a bit of eye candy I could teach a thing or two to. Very nice and if events transpire as I would wish, he might yet get an education at my hands. However I am not foolish enough to think it will be easy to gather him in. He has survived this long on his own merits and unless I miss my guess, those assigned to take him would not be having it entirely their own way on Mars. He survived the massacre of Sanc and he was only six and he survived the Libra later. No, this one is a survivor and he will not go down easily to whatever forces have been sent to collect him. I think I will enjoy standing on the side lines while Delta's people struggle along, displaying the incompetence which lost us Kristian Kushrenada and a dozen others since he took control./

Her guard bowed slightly to her, stepping out of the elevator before her and preceded her down the hallway. He was alert and she placed her trust in him, allowing herself to consider her options before she must face the matter of ordering the execution of her own people. From the infant created in the genetic laboratories this very moment, to the Peacecraft heir and the fools about to die at her instruction, they were all her people; her children.

How long would it take for Alpha to admit Delta was incapable of handling the Peacecraft? It would happen, of course, the man just did not strike her as being competent enough to handle someone like the boy.

It was a personal matter, this tension between her and Delta, but she would not allow it to rest. The personal insult was such that, though others might forget, she never would and she would take him down. Just as soon as he crossed that line again and hang Romefeller's needs. Sometimes personal satisfaction came first.

Of course Alpha was aware of every child they had lost since her inclusion into the Inner Circle and the circumstances preceding those losses. The cost to their genetic pool hidden within the halls of Romefeller, was putting the overall design at risk. Acquisitions were a problem as well, resulting in the occasional necessary kidnapping, though those were few and far between since the Kushrenada episode.

There was even a disturbing trend amid the families who knew of the true Romefeller, removing their children from the program. More than a few instances had occurred when those same families had ignored the directives of the Mother Chapter. There were also those who broke away over the last two centuries, choosing to believe Romefeller to be some mythological monster and now would pay the price in blood.

/I can't say I exactly blame them for breaking away, given the circumstances of the times, but I find it now is becoming a bore. I asked nicely for their cooperation and I do not enjoy being ignored, nor being told I am a figment of the imagination. I believe it is indeed time to tear down that hodge podge of moronic senile old fools, who purport to be Romefeller within the public eye. Too often they step into matters of no concern to them and create problems entirely too public for us to deal with and hope to remain unnoticed in the shadows. If we are forced to choose from these older generations who it will be to replace us, we are in serious trouble./

Ahead of her the security guard paused and she stopped, watching as he extended a hand toward the key pad of her door. She marked his hesitation and the way his fingers splayed, his palm resting above the keypad. A small frown appeared and her awareness of him through their bond allowed her to feel the extension of his talent.

The activation of the neural implant augmented his minor telepathic ability as he reached for the second implant. He could access the Intelligence Agency's computer network at a thought and find the records for her suite in seconds, no matter their location.

"One entry. Unauthorized by Intelligence. Access to the suite is being monitored. At this time, the intruder is waiting."

"Identity?" She had a fair idea who it would be waiting for her within, but it helped to confirm things if possible.

"Unconfirmed. No visual on scanner."

She was not surprised and nodded her permission for him to open the suite. "That would be our assassin. Enter."

At his small motion with his right hand she stepped back and to the right of the door frame. He would not open the door while she was an obvious target and as she moved he tapped out the coded sequence on the electronic lock. The first thing he had done upon arriving at this suite after their trip from the air terminal was to change the hotel security system to one he approved of.

She heard the click of the lock disengaging and his hand pushed the door open. He slipped into the room and she remained beside the door, waiting. The faint murmur of voices could be heard and she detected no hint of alarm from their shared bond. The door opened wider and he appeared, informing her he deemed it safe for her to enter. His bulk filled her vision as she stepped into the doorway and she remained behind him as she stepped into the room, the door closing and clicking to engage the lock behind her.

Prior to their parting from the Inner Sanctum Delta had assured her he would dispatch to her, for her use, the best of his assassins. This demonstration to their errant children of their elders' displeasure called for the best resources to be used.

Prior to her arrival at the hotel she had formulated a list of ten individuals, three of whom she expected would die before the message was understood. Someone, perhaps the fourth or fifth on the list, would display a modicum of intelligence and cooperate when given the choice. The kills would need to be carried out discreetly and curious as to the identity of the chosen assassin she stepped around the bulk of her guard.

He or she knelt, one knee raised and the dark clad form hunched over effectively disguising the gender. Slender in build and shrouded in the charcoal black of an assassin assigned to the Security Service, the killer presented an unassuming sight to her aged eyes. To her augmented sight he generated a chilling cold light within his aura that would make most people decidedly uncomfortable in his presence, though they would notice nothing unusual about him. Most people were not Epsilon of Romefeller and this aura was nothing to her. She could out chill this child if she could be bothered to entertain herself with such trivialities.

"Your designation?"

He would be a shadow no matter the hour of the day or the lighting available, shapeless, formless and utterly silent during his assignment. Unless he wished otherwise his presence would not be noted by his victim and he could make a death seem natural. For their purposes it would be required he or she make it blatantly obvious an execution had taken place. For her purposes she needed to leave an indelible message to those involved in the distasteful business could not mistake.

Unfortunately their need to advertise the nature of the kills would require the world of the normal law enforcement agencies becoming involved in the business. Not her preference, but unavoidable and there was a small saving grace. It just so happened that the first name on her execution list also appeared on another list made public earlier in the night.

If the body was found quickly enough the revealing piece of evidence might be removed before law enforcement agencies began to investigate. If the family of the victim was intelligent a second killing might be avoided and the authorities might never see the seal of the Inner Circle and ask awkward questions.

/It is convenient and I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It remains to be seen how intelligent our errant children are. I am sure they will not want Romefeller investigated because of their incompetence. We might feel inclined to further punish their disobedience./

She held no fear of the deadly presence of the assassin. He had been present for some time, she was sure and unsupervised though his presence had been known. On his departure the entire lock to the suite would be restored to hotel security and by noon at the latest she would be removed to a safe house. Her presence here would be wiped from the hotel records completing her vanishing act.

Those measures were already underway by her competent staff as routine procedure when she was exposed to questionable company and a new safe house would be established to shelter her. It was a pity she must expose herself once more to the elements, but it was necessary and she would neither drink nor eat until she was assured of safety.

Her security contingent was conspicuous by their apparent absence, with the exception of her personal bodyguard who still stood at her side, his cold eyes on the shadow before them. While it might look like they were alone she had a mind link connecting her to every one of the agents observing this play taking place. Their unease at this guest in her suite was palpable and she knew the assassin was aware of the hidden watchers.

He was Security, not Intelligence and there had been a healthy rivalry between the two departments since their founding millennium ago. She had done her part to actively cultivate that rivalry and distrust. She was careful to stress the need to cooperate for the greater good of Romefeller. If she needed clandestine assassinations within the Mother Core of the organization she would use Intelligence assassins, not Security. For this task Security was adequate.

"Mistress." One arm folded over the dark clad chest and the hooded head dipped lower. "River Styx, Night Stalker."

/ Perfect. At least Delta has not stinted on the quality of the assassin./

Her Security counterpart understood the seriousness of the situation they faced and had not sent her an inferior trainee to carry out the task. She was only too aware of the reputation of the one designated River Styx and the Night Stalker class was a Psi active gene set.

They were not as powerful as the K series gene set, who proved repeatedly to be both highly intelligent and imaginative and who rarely disappointed her expectations of them. Yes, the assassin knew his business and would be up to the task and report to her assigned agents after each kill for further instruction. Night Stalkers were the best Security had to offer.

He was, of course, a shadow in the brightly illuminated suite. Her security detail had set the light levels of the suite to ensure he was visible, no shadows to hide in. Of course that would be considered poor form and he would be well versed in the arts of diplomacy. She would be within her rights to have him slain as a possible security threat should he make use of natural cover. When dealing with the hierarchy of Romefeller, one minded one's manners as a matter of course.

He would not know her identity within the organization. They guarded their offices carefully, keeping their identity well hidden and to his knowledge she was working at the instruction of the Inner Circle, just as he was. The security surrounding her was enough to tell him she was highly placed, but there should be no true indication as to just how highly in the scheme of things.

His slender form was encased in the dark bodysuit from head to toe, the tight fitting hood forming a mask shielding his features. The charcoal colour and weave of the material seemed to absorb the light and gave his appearance a somewhat blurred and indistinct look. The degree of blur was evidence of a prototype defense screen developed by Delta's research department in recent times.

While the energy pack contained in the unit held its charge the screen would deflect any high energy weapons, such as the disturbing electroshock guns the public front of Romefeller had developed during the war years. The screen also deflected metal based weapons, particularly high velocity rounds and would slow down, if not stop, the strike of a metal blade. The introduction of the screen was one of the reasons she had taken to carrying on her person something so primitive as a flint knife.

It amused her to consider the consternation Delta would experience should he forget his place in the scheme of things and attempt to have her removed from her position. Should his agents circumvent her security detail they would find she was not so defenseless as he might think. Experience had taught her Delta tended to place too much faith in his new age technology, a failing she had not seen fit to mention in the interests of self preservation. No doubt he had his own specialist agents, much as she had her specialist core group and should they ever go head to head they had the potential to tear Romefeller apart. It was something neither of them wanted and thus they held their uneasy truce.

/The very best Delta has to offer. How fortunate he just happened to be within Sanc this night./

Considering the identity of the assassin she did not doubt her bodyguard had accessed their secured network and called for a report to be delivered to their next safe house. She wanted to know of the actions of the assassin in the recent past to explain his presence within Sanc. It would be interesting reading to learn exactly what Delta had been up to with this killer since his name had last crossed her desk

"You are to make the displeasure of the Inner Circle known to your target and you will do so in a manner sufficiently shocking to give others cause to reconsider the wisdom of refusing a Circle directive. The kill is not to be painless and you will leave a calling card."

She extended a thought to her companion who turned to face her and receive the sealed deck of cards. A brief nod and he moved forward to place the deck on the floor before the kneeling assassin. River Styx made no move to take the deck, remaining in his kneeling position while her bodyguard stopped midway between the killer and Epsilon.

"Your targets are Hearts. Begin at ten, leave the card at the site and ensure the sanitized subject is found within minutes of the kill. Should you receive no word from my agent, designated Phoenix for this operation, within a twenty-four hour period after the kill, you will move on to designated target nine. This procedure will continue unless Phoenix notifies you of a satisfactory outcome. You will thereafter be advised of your next assignment."

The kill list was passed to her bodyguard who knelt to place it resting atop the card deck at the assassin's feet. Not so much as a twitch stirred the dark form. His past record had impressed her and his current performance was no small indication of his nerve. Epsilon was pleased, but the final proof of his skill would be in the performance of his assignment.

"Your first designated kill will take place no later than midnight of this night. The target's daily itinerary is noted, though there may be changes owing to the weather conditions. You will compensate. Track the remaining targets as required and the individual kills will be accomplished within a forty-eight hour period of the previous kill, unless you are informed the contract is completed. Understood?"

"Mistress." The hood lowered briefly in acknowledgement.

"You will keep the kills surgically clean. No method will be permitted to produce so much as a single casualty other than the designated target. A surgical strike, neat, precise and untraceable by law enforcement investigators."

Again the hooded head dipped into a deeper bow and Epsilon smiled her satisfaction. If Delta was good for only one thing in this life, it was for training quality assassins. Once instruction was given River Styx would not deviate from the assignment. Delta's assassins were not as diverse as her people, of course, but they were acceptable and should she be satisfied with the performance of River Styx she might even see about a transfer to her Intelligence department. It would be interesting to see just how far she could extend his abilities with the proper training.

"Dismissed."

The card deck and list vanished beneath a sweep of a black gloved hand and he shifted to his feet in a fluid motion. He was grace personified, flowing to the side of the Security Commander and past him. As protocol required he passed half the rooms length from Epsilon herself and slipped out of the door without so much as a rustle of cloth to mark his passing. Before the door had closed behind him her bodyguard was studying a diagnostic unit.

"The air is clear of toxins. Central reports the car is waiting in the garage and a safe house has been prepared. Expected time of arrival in this weather is approximately twenty minutes."

Satisfied, Epsilon nodded. Her original time schedule for removing herself from the hotel had been moved forward from the moment the assassin was identified. No chances would be taken and she would touch nothing before leaving the suite. Her personal effects would be meticulously examined by her security service before being designated safe for her to touch.

Anything she might required in the way of clothing or personal toiletries would be replaced and waiting at the safe house. The hallway she must walk and the elevator she would ride in would be thoroughly checked as the assassin passed and where possible she would move by a different route entirely.

Where the assassins of Romefeller were concerned, you considered your living quarters compromised and maintained a safe distance until proven otherwise.

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2006

--

Author's Note

The last Romefeller Chapters were chapters 104 and 105 if you need to refresh your memory over any of the points raised in the chapter.


	168. Chapter 168 Chapter 167

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 167

Preventer Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty

Date 2nd March AC 198

Time: 11:41 Bounty Ship Time Sanc time 08:26

Duo

/She has to be the pushiest bloody woman I have ever had the dubious pleasure of meeting… and her embarrassing questions! God. What the hell does she have to know if I top or bottom for? Some things should just be private. Taboo subject, that sort of thing. How embarrassing do they have to get?/

He could have so easily crawled under the examination table and died. He must have been blushing fit to challenge a bonfire from the heat in his face and the Doc had sat there, calm as you please and waited for an answer. Was nothing sacred on this flight?

/What do they do, send out a list of names of those who do, those who don't, who only tops, who exclusively bottoms and those who do both? Do they have a mass pair up on Friday nights or something and an orgy? Crap. What's it matter if I don't bend over for anyone or not? Geez, I wish I'd skipped the appointment./

As if he could have avoided the appointment, he mused. On long haul flights there were no exceptions to the necessities of space flight. The examination was required to test for possible allergic reactions and setting the dosage of the subsequently prescribed drugs designed to maintain physical musculature and bone density. The lack of gravity in the short term had little effect on the human body, but longer term flight or resident living on zero gravity colonies, required medical interference.

Unless he wanted to be as weak as a kitten and have brittle bones on arrival in the Mars orbit he needed to take the drugs, as did every man and woman on the flight. Colonies introduced the most common drugs into their water supply, much as on Earth they still introduced fluoride into some water supplies to combat tooth decay. Ingesting drugs, be it through pills or something as basic as the water supply for the health of the population, was not open to debate when in a space environment.

/Not that I object to taking the drugs, of course, it's just that… Gah! I really need to get over this. I'm not a prude, after all, but I'm not an exhibitionist either. I prefer to keep sex firmly in the bedroom./

He really had to get over his snit at the personal nature of her questions and get on with what was important. Unless he found his name on a list of who topped he would have to grow up and stop acting like an embarrassed teenager. Enough of the crew already looked at him with a look he recognized and hated. He might need to make it plain on someone's body, painfully, that he was not a child playing in an adult world. No doubt the crew would have a resident bully boy who would find some excuse to test him when the officers were absent.

There were crewmembers drifting along the corridors as he made his way back to his assigned quarters. His escort was drifting along beside him and chattering on about the afternoon's agenda. Had Mr. Maxwell been notified he had a luncheon invitation with the Captain and the meal would take place in the Captain's cabin? His escort, Mr. Eager Beaver himself, would return in time to collect Mr. Maxwell and escort him to the appointment at so many hundred hours and please be ready.

He remembered to nod in the appropriate places, filing away the commentary for later examination so he did not miss anything important. When he gained the privacy and security of his cabin would be soon enough. He was beginning to wonder if the Captain might not be concerned he may have difficulties with the crew, since the executive officers were keeping such a close eye on him.

/Or does he not trust the reputation of the Gundam Pilots? That is more likely to be it, I suppose, but he seems level-headed enough, so he may not be the problem. It's the mixed crew I need to keep an eye on I think. Anyway, lunch with the Vaptain means I will have to do what checking I can in the little time I have. He'll want to know as much as possible about what is going on and to be honest I don't know a bloody thing./

His morning had been monopolized by the medical staff and that horrendous woman who headed the section. When had he had the opportunity to check with his sources on the doings of the ESUN? The Captain would just have to understand he was as much in the dark as anyone about this Station Alliance.

/ Well, I can send out a few queries to some contacts, but I would not expect to hear anything back from them for a day or two, maybe longer. What are the chances I would learn anything before him? He's the ship's Captain and I know his kind have their own information networks. It's pure survival to have an ear to the ground even out in the furthest reaches of the solar system. Coming back into the hub is always a delicate matter as you try to sort out who is in power. What changed and where during your absence and how it will affect you and your crew… I remember the Sweeper crews talking about the changes on the colonies before we docked. It would be the same for a Preventer ship on a long flight curve out system. The need to know who was now pulling your strings before you put your foot in a pile of shit… or in your mouth./

Another corridor and more crew, two giving him more than a casual once over. He would need to remember them and how one of the men looked at his escort with what he identified as speculation. He had noted that look too often before to mistake it and wondered if his escort was amenable to a liaison with another male. For him, personally, there was at this time no interest in either sex. It had been a while since he had had sex, but there had been too much happening in his life for him to miss that kind of contact. He did not do casual and he was open to approach, provided no one pushed the wrong buttons. His escort seemed nice enough, but he could be straight and it was his first voyage with the crew. They had that in common.

/Quit it, Maxwell, you have more important concerns at the moment than wondering which side of the coin his fancy falls on. I had best see about sending some messages off. I can at least tell the Captain I have my feelers out. I sure as hell won't be able to tell him anything he does not already know. Am I supposed to know more than him because I'm a Gundam Pilot? Hell. I'm not a fucking Gundam pilot anymore. I'm not. No one is. Yeah, I have connections not readily available to everyone, but half of those have dried up since the war ended. When you think about it, I'm just another not quite average individual who survived the war. I have been lucky enough to find some sense of stability in my life because I work for Preventers and that's just about it. One chapter in my life over with the end of the war and another began joining Preventer. We both work for the same organization and he outranks me and despite my checkered past, he should have better contacts than a grubby-nosed ex-terrorist./

Turn down the next corridor and a quick check of the number on the wall… yes, right where he thought he should be. He would be able to find his way around the ship and no longer require the escort within a day or two. They might not like it, but they would have to get used to the idea of him running loose. He was not going to be coddled, nor was he going to permit anyone to know exactly where he was and what he was doing at every minute of the day.

/Some days it seems so useless. So boring. The war is over, there are no more Gundams. I'm not a terrorist anymore but a respectable Preventer agent. I've still got people who look at me as though they expect me to explode in their face. Will it ever change? Will they forget and I become just another Joe Blow from down the block? Crap. I don't think I like where my thoughts are going. No more wars. No more killing and thinking nothing of the kill. Killing has become more personal. I look my victims in the eye now and there are not hundreds of nameless, faceless enemies. No need for Gundams./

He sighed softly as they turned the final corner into the corridor housing his room. There was one crew woman at a door three down from his room, who never even looked up as they arrived. Older than him and rather pretty he noted, but seemingly unconcerned with keeping an eye on her surroundings. That marked her as not having been in any of the services during the war. You could always tell the ex-service men and women. They always looked. They always checked.

/No Gundams. Miss you, Scythe./

He supposed he should have had more to say to the chatty young man assigned as his guide. He had largely ignored the flow of commentary, but he would remember it and replay it in private. He would probably have to apologise later for not paying attention and missing important details. He was not the best of company at the moment, there was too much for him to think on, which was a pity. The Ensign really was a rather attractive man and had a certain wide-eyed innocence that appealed to him.

/Relationships may be important on a long flight, but I don't even know how long I'm going to be on board. They may be dumping me on Mars and I might not see them again. Any relationship I develop has to be limited. I'm a sucker for wide-eyed innocence and if he was inclined to lean my way I could get to like him… maybe a lot. Anyway, he may like older men and I'm younger than he is. He might look all wide-eyed and innocent now, but he won't by the time the trip ends. It's not innocence that really turns me on anyway. /

If he showed interest he would have to be honest. The ensign might well be amenable to the idea, but there was the simple truth; it would not be a long term relationship. He was only a passenger and he had a mission to carry out. He also had a distinct dislike for flings and he honestly could not see there was much in the way of a possibility of him finding something more. He wanted permanent, not short term. The most he was likely to share with the ensign and anyone else on the Bounty, would be a platonic friendship.

Hilde had been more… he had been sure there was something there, but it had not worked out. It hurt. He'd not dealt with the whole Hilde and his son situation as yet. Now he was out system bound and it would possibly be a year or more before he found himself back on L2. He had not had the chance to get to know his son and it felt more and more like he was fated not to. Aidan was as much his as Hilde's and up until a few days ago he had not even known he existed.

Hilde had never been easy with how he would look at another male. She had had more acceptance for him admiring a passing female than she had had for him noticing another male. He had not often admired men in her presence, but sometimes there was no stopping that reaction to a tilt of a head or that momentary eye to eye contact. He had never looked at any of them with more than a momentary interest and his attention had always returned to Hilde. Once she noticed she accused him repeatedly of straying. No, their break up had not all been about his desire to continue the good fight.

/I never got the chance to really clear the air with her, or make arrangements about having access to Aidan. Damn. I have to wonder if she will be willing to allow me to see him when I get back./

"Mr. Maxwell, will there be anything else until the noon meal?"

Brought back to reality by his companion's voice he glanced at the Ensign and decided he was handsome in a fresh faced sort of way. Handsome, but not really his type. In men his tastes ran more towards dangerous; something a little out of the ordinary and that had nothing to do with looks and everything to do with aura. Innocent was not what ignited the flame in him. The ensign stood before his cabin door and was nodding to the crew woman as she walked past them, then turning his attention to Duo.

"Nah. I've got some work to do in my cabin, so you can go do what ever you need to do without me bothering you."

"No bother at all, Agent Maxwell. I've enjoyed being assigned as your escort."

He wasn't sure he liked the bright smile that accompanied that comment, but Duo nodded. "I'll see about settling in and getting down to business. Catch you around."

The young man flashed a beaming smile and seemed totally unaware of how Duo ran a careful eye over the lock and door. The single strand of hair was still in place above the average level of line of sight. By its presence Duo knew the door had not been opened and he waved a negligent hand at his companion before raising his hand to the door panel.

"I will return fifteen minutes before your lunch with the Captain, Sir."

"Yeah. Right, I'll be ready."

He waved in acknowledgement and pressed his hand to the keypad. He hesitated a moment, inclining his head to watch the Ensign stride away before pressing his palm to the panel. He would change the security features of the lock through the day to make it more difficult for anyone to access the room. He would add an alarm of course and make certain when he was absent from the suite he would be alerted to the presence of any intruders.

/I'm a paranoid bastard. At least the Captain's given me enough time to do some basic checking before I have to meet with him. I suppose the first thing I will need to check is if I have any word from Heero; he's sure to get in touch with me after that message hit the airwaves. The sudden appearance of this Station Alliance will impact directly on Relena and her office, so I can expect to hear a good deal of the reaction on Earth from that source./

Over the years Duo had developed a survival strategy when in questionable surroundings and he fell into the ingrained habits of more troublesome times. With the door safely locked behind him he was quick to assure himself the room was free of electronic surveillance, both audio and visual and yet again chastised himself for his paranoia. With his immediate security assured he assembled the components of his laptop.

He plugged the computer into the ship's power supply through a filter system he and Heero had designed together. The filter system provided security against power surges, but what was more important was the protection it granted from unauthorized access that might be gained through the electrical currents running into the system. Setting up the security device granted him reasonable security against his personal system being accessed through the medium of the power source. Double checking all of his connections and security features he finally connected to the ship's mainframe and initiated a security screen.

His first order of business was to pander to his paranoia and run a system check and while waiting he settled back. His arm ached from the first of the injected drugs designed to stabilize his bones and musculature and he wished he could have taken a pill. The doc had informed him, immediately after he had been injected, it was possible he might develop a rash within the first few hours. Unmoved by his glare she had assured him it was a perfectly normal reaction in approximately thirty percent of cases and the rash might last up to forty eight hours.

/I wish they made the pills in a high enough dosage to avoid the injection. I hate needles. They bring back memories I'd sooner forget./

He ran an experienced eye over the partial results of the scan and was pleasantly surprised by the security levels utilized by the Bounty's computer systems. His scan had been detected, assessed, approved and permitted to run as a security feature. He watched the computer log being updated and guessed the Captain might make a comment or two on his accessing of the mainframe.

/I'll check my email first. Heero is sure to drop me a line to inform me of what's going on and if I'm lucky I might have word from Chang or Quatre. Its possible Une may have sent me a message avoiding the Preventer channels too. I'm really not sure what she expects me to do on this mission. How am I supposed to be of help to Merquise when we are three months away from Mars? If I'm not here to help Merquise, then what the hell am I here for?/

The uncertainty surrounding his assignment gave him chills. He had no idea what his Commander was thinking assigning him to this ship. There was more going on than he knew, of course, that went without saying really, but he would have liked at least a clue as to what he was really supposed to be doing.

/Come on, Lady Une, you are a scary bitch at the best of times, but right now you are terrifying me. Just what is it you expect me to do and is it some personal game, or are you are up to something that will shake the ESUN again?/

A beep from the computer drew his attention and he sighed, settling back to attend to the business at hand.

/Well, whatever it is there is some serious shit going down and I'm going to find myself right in the midst of it, I think. Did she know about the Alliance? If I'm not out here for Zechs, then it has to be something big and the only big thing I really know about is the Stations appearing out of nowhere. /

Duo initiated an isolation screen and filter around his system, effectively cutting it off from the main computers of the ship, though he could still monitor the onboard activity. Opening his secured hard drive he accessed his email files.

"Okay then. What do you have to say to me, Mr. Yuy?"

Blue eyes known to reflect a violet tint in the intense heights of temper and the passions of lust widened at the log of entries. Duo huffed in something approaching indignation at the lack of anything he recognized as even possibly originating from his former partner. He had been certain there would be multiple entries from Heero detailing current activities underway responding to the appearance of the Station Alliance. At least there should have been some thoughts and possibly reports concerning the information gained from the Romefeller files.

"Nothing? No way, what the hell's going on? Has someone infiltrated our secured network and intercepted our communications?"

Alarmed by the possibility Duo was quick to initiate a security search of the many false trails and names they used to communicate without the governments hounds looking over their shoulders. While the program was running he typed a quick and safely neutral message as a test. The coding he inserted into the message was designed to initiate an automated response from their secured server hidden within the multitude of systems Preventers operated. He would know within minutes, considering the speed the ship was travelling at and the ever expanding distance between himself and Earth, if the server was operating.

Sending the message off he settled back from the desk and studied the list of mail. "If everything's okay why the hell would Heero not contact me? There is nothing here I recognize under any code name he has ever initiated for our mail loop. Something's wrong. He's always dropped me a line to warn me if he was going to be out of contact for any appreciable time. There is nothing here I recognize as being from Quatre either but… That one and possibly that… I'd say they were from Une, but neither is official Preventer mail."

The code he recognized as originating from Lady Une was one arranged between them for private communications. They had agreed it should be used if Une suspected their mail was monitored and she wanted to share more than the time of day. He knew Heero, Chang and Trowa had similar arrangements with the Chief of Preventer and suspected Quate too had private access to the Lady. Being under the ESUN Security Agency's scrutiny demanded sensitive communications be sent along a convoluted route to reach him and the communication had arrived barely an hour previously. Briefly he hoped she was not hanging on the other end awaiting a reply, or by now she would be somewhat peeved with him.

/Shit happens and in this business its pretty much guaranteed to be diarrhoea when it hits./

Beep.

A hint of violet tinted blue eyes as he glared at the mail return icon flashing in the corner of the screen. A quick flurry of fingers over the keyboard and he growled.

"It's cued? What the…"

Scowling now he typed an address and in seconds had brought up a satellite display of the northern European section of the Earth. For a long moment he stared at the screen and whistled softly when he failed to find a hint of the section of continent he was looking for, because of the heavy layer of cloud.

"Well, I guess that explains the cue. It must be quite a weather system to cause communications disruption despite the grunt Preventer equipment carries. Well, if satellite communications are down in that area of Europe I guess it explains the low key reaction at present to the appearance of the Station Alliance business. The storm pretty much covers most of Europe, not just Sanc's little bit, though I guess Sanc is copping the brunt of it."

Duo clicked on the storm tracking logo and for a few minutes watched the past track of the storm and then the projected track and duration the weather service estimated. Being colony bred he was still in awe of the massive weather systems that raged over the Earth and he could never get enough of watching satellite footage of storm systems.

"Awesome." He breathed. "I suppose if I can't get email into Sanc then Heero probably can't get one out to me. It does not seem to have stopped Une, though. So then, boss lady, what do you want from little ole me, hmm?"

Feeding the email into the decryption program he settled back to watch the replaying satellite feed of the storm until the program beeped at him. Forcing his eyes away from the tiny window of swirling cloud Duo read the message with narrowing eyes. He knew enough of Lady Une to know she must have secreted this communication amidst other more mundane communications with her agents. She would trust him to fly by the seat of his pants until they could exchange secure communications for detailed instructions, but he fervently wished he could have a decent talk to her about just what he was doing on the Bounty.

"What the hell does she mean Heero and Relena are unavailable for communications until further notice? Well, I guess the weather might have something to do with that. Nah, a little weather would not stop Yuy. He'll think of something to get in touch with me. 'Check Sweeper involvement with Station Alliance'. Well, I guess I should have seen that coming. Une knows I have ties to the Sweepers and Mr. Mysterious Kushrenada mentioned the Sweepers would be hosting the talks. I guess it won't be too hard to ask questions, but getting answers may be a little more difficult. 'Stand available for mission change'."

Duo snorted softly and stretched in his seat. He was not exactly pleased with the expectation he was deeply enough in with the Sweepers to learn what dealings they might have with the Station Alliance.

"Mission change. Yeah, can't say I'm surprised to find that included, but the rendezvous would have to be along a pretty tightly defined line for the Bounty to break course and attend. There are refueling stations, but they are few and far between and I would guess time more than fuel will be the killer here. Distance and the time it takes to cover it."

He sat back from the computer and contemplated the ceiling. Of all his contacts with the Sweepers the only one who might be in a position to be in the know, and who might just tell him something, would be Howard. His few friends his own age were not in sufficient positions of importance to supply him with much in the way of information. The older men and women he was on good terms with would know enough to keep their mouths shut, unless otherwise ordered to do so. It would be Howard if anyone would talk to him about any relations that might exist between the two groups.

Howard knew he was a Preventer and they had rarely spoken since he had joined the organization. He liked the old man and if he had not remained with Preventers he would have sought out Howard and asked if he would take him on as crew. There were some days he wondered what possessed him to remain with Preventers, but he knew the reason well enough. His reasons had cost him his relationship with Hilde and he could not hide from that truth.

Sticking with Preventers after the break up was what had held him together emotionally and allowed him to get over his anger with her. There was still anger, but it was now hurt more than anger and he did not understand why she had acted as she had. She was now a part of Preventers, the very thing she had accused him of doing to break them up now kept her and their son secure.

"I'll never understand women."

Perhaps he should reconsider his future? Preventers gave him a sense of worth, a place to know he could make a difference. He'd lost Hilde because of it, but his resolve had not wavered. Following the failure of his second relationship he had given thought to leaving the organization and finding something else. The Sweepers had crossed his mind as a possibility, but there had been that big case involving the emergence of a terrorist cell, which had proven to be substantially more than rumour and supposition.

/It wasn't the right time then for me to make the break and I can't see myself making it now. Not with an unknown organization out there rocking the boat. Maybe after this settles down. I could have a chat to Howard about it. Test the waters to see if I'd be welcome back into the ranks. I can't see myself settling on L2, Hilde doesn't want me there and I can respect that. I don't like it, but I suppose I can respect it. We have a lot to talk about and it all has to wait until I get back. /

He fought off a yawn and sighed, stretching slowly until his joints cracked. He needed sleep and not the kind of sleep he had received the night before. He needed deep sleep, undisturbed by the forces involved in heavy acceleration attempting to make scrap of him. Sleep undisturbed by weird-assed dreams about cliffs and long pale hair.

He shied away from the memory and rubbed his hands over his face. /I wonder where Howard is now? He's not the sort to stay down for long and he lost Peacemillion in the war. I wonder if he hopped another ship. Maybe he's even designing another to replace her? It would cost a fortune to rebuild a ship, but maybe he would consider refitting an existing vessel? /

He smiled at the memory of the day he had chanced upon Howard and Lady Une in the halls of the Sanc palace. It had been soon after their return to Earth following the destruction of Libra and Duo had yet to decide on his own future. The thin elderly Sweeper in his loud Hawaiian shirt and shorts was so much more than the Captain of a salvage barge.

The very existence of a ship of the Peacemillion's class had resulted in some pointed questions being asked. The vessel had been unregistered and totally unknown to military and civilian records at the time and Lady Une had been instructed by ESUN officials at the time to get some answers out of the old man.

"_Where did I get the Peacemillion? Where do they think, under a tree somewhere in the middle of a desert? Normally I don't swear around ladies, but I might make an exception if I'm to be pestered about the product of my retirement."_

_Une had been smiling, a genuine easy smile and it had widened as the old man had continued._

"_Yes, retirement. You tell those bureaucrats they are fortunate I don't send them a bill for my ship. I have to start from scratch scrounging enough equipment to make me a ship to replace her, so I can see something besides this ball of mud before I'm too old to enjoy it."_

"_Perhaps our erstwhile politicians would be more inclined to leave you in peace if you did bill them." Une smiled, walking at ease beside him. "I do believe they might lose it amid bureaucratic red tape, but I would love to see their faces when they received it."_

_Howard snorted, moustache twitching and he had nodded in passing to Duo. "She was a good ship and I'm none too happy I had to ram that fortress. That bitch of a thing should never have been built."_

"_I agree, but it was built and it did play a pivotal role in establishing peace. It was not the role its designers envisioned, but that happens all too often. We have the chance for peace now and we can't afford to waste the opportunity squabbling amongst ourselves." The Lady had stopped by a door and reached for the handle. "Don't forget to send the bill to the appropriate department and make certain it is in triplicate. It will make it just that little bit harder for them to mislay the paperwork." _

Duo chuckled softly as he considered the communications console. He missed his days as a Sweeper, before he had come to the attention of a certain old man who had sweet talked him into believing he could make a difference. Well, he had made a difference, but the world was not as he had thought it would be and he was certainly no better off for the changes. What might he be doing now if he had remained a Sweeper and continued his education? He had dreamed of one day captaining his own ship and amid the Sweepers that had been entirely possible.

Did he dare try to contact Howard at this point in time? He could attempt to establish contact without having to use the rerouted communications the government would be trying to set up with the loss of the Dakkar system. He would like to know who it was who took out the communications satellite and endangered the lives of the spacers. No doubt some bastard with too much money and influence and not enough brain had ordered it and Duo hoped he, she or it got their comeuppance eventually. That was just one part of this investigation he wanted answers to.

While the loss of the Dakkar system presented the ESUN with a communications problem, it was not much of an impediment to the Sweepers. The old communications array, decommissioned on the successful operation of the Dakkar system, had been speedily salvaged by Sweepers and just as speedily converted to their particular needs.

/I've got the frequencies he gave me before we parted in Sanc and Howie did say he'd like to hear from me./

His orders gave him authorization to command use of the communications console and to do so under a security seal if the situation warranted it. He could justify such use under seal in the interests of following the Captain's not so subtle hints of finding out what was going on. The ship's computer would register his use of the system and notify the monitoring Communications Officer, but the signal and contents would be protected. Any questions would be passed on to the Captain who would question him. He would use another of the toys he and Heero had devised to make certain the signal would not be decoded easily or quickly, if intercepted after being sent.

"Yeah, why not? Why the hell not? It will be good to talk to the old man again."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	169. Chapter 169 Chapter 168

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 168/

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 168/?? Peacemission

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 168

Peacemission H65193P Sanc Registry

In transit

Time: 08:40 Sanc time coincides with Ship time

Howard

It was inevitable the waiting would be extended and boring and blessedly interspersed with brief moments of activity. Some of those active times were somewhat frantic as they were dependent on set action within limited time frames. The one thing the vastness of space allowed for was adequate planning to cover as many scenarios as possible before the actual event took place. An imaginative mind could develop multiple scenarios and the required actions to ensure the desired result eventuated. It was, however, no proof against the far reaching interference of Murphy and his law.

Prepare as you might you could not guarantee you could imagine every feasible mistake or circumstance that might eventuate. In all of his long years, if he had learned anything, it was to be on the alert for the inevitable appearance of Mr. Murphy and to deal with his chaos calmly. The legendary giver of misfortune would inevitable stick his big Irish nose into matters that did not concern him. Murphy seemed ideally suited to wander randomly through space and bring his particular brand of random opportunity to simple and complicated scenarios alike.

Howard scowled at the nest of wires and circuit boards. Communications in space was vital to the survival of the human species. Lack of communications in the event of an emergency was invariably bad and of course, the fabled Irishman had to have a pet liking for fouling vital communications relays.

The short circuit in the communications boards had come within half an hour of their communications window with the ships he had enlisted to aid in delaying the Wellington. He knew what was wrong with the system, the diagnostics were clear enough, it was just a pain to actually reach the exact circuit board which had blown and replace it.

/Less than ten minutes and still no communications./

The Peacemission could, at this time, neither receive incoming communications nor send and he was due to issue instructions to his assistants. He had planned the complicated ballet required to delay the Wellington in the intermission since their last communication. It was Murphy's sense of humour that saw it all fall apart when he was due to send the revised coordinates.

/It is difficult at the best of times having to deal with the time lag making timing so vital a consideration when working out here. If I don't get the instructions sent in a few minutes our placements will be off and the delay to the Wellington, while it will still occur, will not be as effective./

Space was so vast and radio waves were so slow the time lag involved in communication was inevitably bad for his teeth. He had a penchant for grinding his teeth while waiting. Having hours in which to plan every foreseeable detail was good but the action itself had to take place at exact time frames for the optimum effect. There was also the small matter of his need to establish contact with Raydon and the Sweeper Council respectively to be considered. He would really have to do something to improve their communications.

/Perhaps I need to have a closer look at that proposed laser communications system. It's high time something was done about the old-fashioned methods of communication we use. There is no denying light travels faster than radio waves and a decent communication system could mean the difference between success and disaster./

The proposal had crossed his desk some months ago along with a request by the Sweeper Council for him to explore the possibilities and potential, as well as the viability of such a system. Why they wanted him to do the work he was not certain, as he had been more concerned with the completion of the Peacemission for her maiden run. The proposal had its good points, but there had been little in the way of actual technical aspects for him to consider. Did they expect him to take the scrappy plans and make it work? Was he the only mechanical genius they had access too?

/More likely they want to tie me up so they can keep a closer eye on my activities. Yes, the idea has merit and it could be feasible, but it needs a hell of a lot of work and it would be damnably expensive … but it would give the Sweeper ships a hell of an advantage. I might take the matter up with Raydon when we meet face to face. After I tell the bastard off for this little fiasco he has set in motion I might get his view and see about weaselling some funds out of him. Station will need a decent and reliable communications system. /

Around him the bridge of the Peacemission hummed with the mechanical music and the murmured comments of the crew added counter point to the rhythm. It was a music he could never hear enough of, the sounds of computers and flow of conversation backed by the throbbing pulse of the engines. He could feel more than hear the engines steady beat. It seemed for most of his life he had heard that song and it was a comfort. He had always felt uneasy when it was lacking.

His gaze flicked back to the clock counting down the seconds to their communications window. Seven minutes to optimum distance. He was needed on the bridge to give the order for the instruction package to be transmitted, a matter requiring a few seconds only and they were facing disaster before they even began. If they did not get the spread right the Wellington would be able to barge right on through at her current speed.

/We need to slow her down. Stopping her is too ambitious and doomed to failure, but slowing her … that is another matter entirely. My calculations are exact and we have only a few minutes to initiate the dump to allay suspicions. She will be in sensor range in another few hours and a few hours after that she will need to dump speed to attain safe orbit around Mars. We have to disrupt her course or slow her down to force her to calculate a new orbital path./

He was tired, exhausted, but though he had tried there was no sleep for him. He was too keyed with the uncertainty of the situation and the events happening on the red planet involving one of his boys. He had made arrangements that no doubt would upset Raydon, but he wanted the opportunity to have a few words with a certain individual and if Raydon had other ideas he could get his sorry butt across the millions of kilometers that separated them in days, not months.

He resisted the urge to smirk. Though there were times he found himself wondering if Raydon and his people on the stations were indeed miracle workers, he defied them to cross that type of distance and stop him from having his say. Besides, he wanted a full report on what had taken place on Mars and he needed to decide if he was to order his people out of harm's way, or engage in a very public song and dance about the raid. The survivors would need some form of protection from retribution as those involved sought to cover their backsides. There would be a fallout and somebody would have to be made the scapegoat.

/ Not my people. No Sweepers will be left exposed to their cover up. Raydon's action I can understand. It separates his people from the identity of Raiders, giving them a legitimacy they might have taken years to gain if they had been silent after the size and brutality of this raid. I think he's playing with fire moving the time frame up so far, but I can understand why he did it. /

"How is that repair coming?"

"Two minutes."

The technician's voice was a mumble, his head and shoulders partly obscured by the mess of wires and tools spread over the communication station. Two minutes would give him just enough time to confirm the locations of the ships to be involved in this operation. They should have sent confirmation of their locations and would be waiting for his response.

Age had taught him the value of patience, but it was still far from easy to stand on the bridge and give the air of casual nonchalance and infallible confidence one expected from the Captain of a ship. Cool, calm and collected. That was his reputation and he had spent a lifetime crafting it. He would not allow it to crumble now because of a faulty circuit board.

"Communications system reboot initiated."

He breathed a sigh of relief as the technician clambered to his feet and peered over the com officer's shoulder, watching the screens with his hands on his hips. It would take almost a full minute for the system to reboot and until then he could not be certain he was back on his projected track.

/None of this would be possible if the Wellington was in the usual space lanes. It's only because she is coming in from an oblique direction that I can work this to look like a natural difficulty, and not one instigated deliberately. If Raydon hadn't managed to pull his bully boys off the idea of attacking the Wellington we would all be in deep shit. The last thing I would have needed would be for them to turn up while I explained to the Wellington why she has to slow down. I hope no one else is off the space lanes./

"Green light on communication system. We are back on the air."

/Finally. Now to get this show on the road./

"Incoming communications." The com officer leaned over the screen, one hand pressed to the earpiece and made fine adjustments to the array.

The technician peered at the screen, reached to make an adjustment at an adjacent console and dropped to his knees to replace the spaghetti of wires in their respective appropriate positions.

"Captain, confirmation two of the three ships are approaching the designated dump points. The Sandringham and the White Knight have confirmed projected arrival times."

/Finally. Something to do other than worry./

"Time communications was received into com database?"

Howard turned to face the communication officer and resisted the urge to go over to him. With the technician and his nest of wiring obstructing the walkway it would be begging for a disaster to happen and he had had enough of entertaining Mr. Murphy.

"Sandringham communication received at 08:28 and White Knight received at 08:31. Incoming communications from the St George."

Howard sighed softly, pleased with the contact with the third of the ships close enough and having the means already on board, or near enough to hand, to assist in the operation. He knew the Captains of all three ships and knew them to be experienced and trustworthy. With their assistance they should gain the time they needed.

"Confirmation the St George will be at designated coordinates in seventeen minutes."

Given the delay involved in communications, by the time they received his next communication they would be in their designated places for optimum coverage. They would also have shaved up to a minute off the communication delays to two of the three ships and some thirty seconds from the third. It was not much of an armada with which to take on a ship of the class of the Wellington, but Howard had always preferred the use of brains to brawn.

His gaze flicked to the observation screen where a computer simulation of the current locations of the three ships was superimposing itself over his previous calculations. It was almost a perfect match and the remaining few minutes of real time involved in the communications would account for the slight anomaly.

/You had better be right about this boy, or I will have a hell of a job explaining my involvement to the Sweeper Council./

"Dispatch high speed communication package containing the optimum coordinates for the dumps. Notify the ships Captain's to eject flotsam in scatter fields for maximum effect. They are to proceed immediately to the second designated deployment site. I will contact them again with optimum effect formation in five hours."

"Aye." A flurry of fingers over the console. "Information package away. Formulating communication to ship Captain's now."

It was a novel solution and one he was rather proud of. The debris field he would be creating would be authentic by the time the Wellington arrived in the area and thick enough any Captain with a care for his ship and crew would slow the rate of speed and adjust course and speed to effect safe transit. With his careful placement the drift of the field would be marked by the Wellington and the presence of a ship of the Sweeper fleet would be unremarkable. This debris field would be drifting dangerously close to a space lane frequented by the mining transports.

"Sir."

He half turned and scowled at the young man stationed at the console to his right. He would have to have a few words with him in private about the deplorable habit of calling him sir. Unlike most other Captains he did not like to be reminded of the grey hairs crowning his head.

/God, that makes me feel old. / "What is it?"

"Drone Alpha has detected a deviation to the projected course of the Wellington. She has passed the projected stage one deceleration point. New course and speed estimate places a projected time of entry into Mars orbit in approximately twenty-eight hours, thirty-nine minutes and ten seconds."

/Damn./ He sighed and nodded. /Not really a surprise her Captain might try to shave off a few hours./ "She's riding the edge of the recommended deceleration curve?"

"Yes sir."

/Well, Mr. Murphy, you have not taken me by surprise. I expected this and I figured it into my calculations./

Howard studied the main screen and the overlying patterns of projected orbits, projected flight paths and debris drift and sighed. He had already sent the first sealed coded trajectories and ejection speeds for the debris to the ships. He would recalculate the second drop point to compensate and the adjustment would only be minor. He had the advantage of knowing exactly where the Wellington was bound for. He could project the perfect path.

"How long before the Wellington hits the scatter field at its current course and speed?"

A quick play of fingers over touch sensitive keys and the crewman glanced up. "Ten hours, fifteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds."

"Time enough." He was satisfied with that. It was within the projections he had so painstakingly calculated. "Alert me in nine hours unless her course and speed change drastically."

"Aye, sir."

He had sent out strategically placed drones to monitor the course and speed of the ESUN ship still out of sensor range of the Peacemission. Only the relay of drones allowed him to accurately keep track of the speeding behemoth and permitted him to carry out this deception. In five hours he would send the revised calculations to his cohorts and ensure there was a wonderfully large reminder of the war for the Wellington's Captain to negotiate.

In nine hours time he would send an alert in his capacity of a Sweeper Ship on a salvage run to the onrushing vessel to reduce speed and adjust her course to avoid the debris field. To hit the field at high velocity would be to chance rupturing the hull and damaging critical equipment. This plan was not intended to damage the ship or kill anyone and he was thankful the Captain's allied to Raydon who had responded were willing to play by his rules.

/A nice field of debris, an absolutely authentic leftover from the war and the destruction of Libra. I even calculated the speed and drift rate to reach this area in the time since the battle. All exactly as it should be. They will find unmistakable proof the debris is from the battle over Earth at the end of 195, should anyone think to investigate and take samples. The Wellington's Captain should howl loudly enough about the debris field not being included on the hazards charts. I suspect he may be very glad of an excuse for the delay and not push too hard into the field. I shall log the newly discovered hazard officially about an hour before the Wellington's sensors come in range. Can I help it if the Dakkar system is down and the alert won't be channelled to all appropriate departments in time for a general alert to circulate to all ships in the area? No, of course its not my fault, but by God I hope they find the asshole whose grand idea it was to take that array down and shoot him./

He returned his attention to the com officer and arched an eyebrow in query.

"Message to the Sandringham, the White Knight and the St George is away, Captain."

The St George would not reach her designated position for another two hours by his estimates and he would have any adjustments required for optimum placement ready to send to her at that time. Her cargo of debris had been picked up from the Sleeper's containment field furthest from Mars, but an oblique orbit had permitted her to beat the Wellington to the region and she would lay the last of the field. Unless there were any delays or disruptions, his calculations suggested the St George would lay the debris field and escape the Wellington's detectors by as little as thirty minutes.

/It is as well Sweepers are hoarders and we like to spread our salvage facilities at strategic orbits between Earth, Mars and the Asteroid Belt. It gives us handy access to any salvage material we might need. /

"Incoming communication from the Phoenix Bell. Captain Marshall requests status report on the operation."

"You may inform Captain Marshall the operation is underway. First deployment of the debris field will take place in thirty-seven minutes. Warn him to keep his ships clear of the area."

Marshall and three other Captains had contacted him following a directive from Raydon's people and he thanked whatever deity held sway over space the men were sensible and willing to listen to reason. The plan had been to mine an area of space and succour the Wellington into it with the hope they could damage her enough and stage a raid, making it look like a Raider foray. Howard had liked the general idea, though not the cost and come up with a variant which had met with the various Captains' approval.

/There is more than one way to mine an area and this way no one gets hurt and ships do not receive expensive damage. Hmm, I wonder how much I can wring out of the Department for Space Environmental Safety for removing this newly discovered hazard to the space lanes? Unfortunately the course of the debris field will drift right across the main space lane and even threaten Mars in a matter of weeks. I'll have to express my concern as to the urgency of the matter./

He was currently unhappy with that particular department, so he could not immediately chastise himself for spreading the debris field in the first place. He would send an alert to the closest of the Sweepers' actual salvage ships and ensure they gathered together to mark the threat to the space lanes. They would then begin the salvage operation before any innocent ships were threatened. The scout drones employed by all sensible ships Captain's would alert the mining freighters to the spreading debris before any ship made actual contact.

/I could have wished there was time and opportunity to affect some other solution, but when your options are limited you take the best that is available. It was the best solution and the odds are the bastard in charge of the Wellington will choose to chance blasting a path through the field. He's on a deadline and even blasting away with every armament on the ship will not clear everything out of his path. He will have no choice but to slow his speed and adjust his course. We should gain enough time for the problem on Mars to be resolved, one way or the other./

The trap was being placed and now he needed to cover the Sweepers' collective backside. They were the scavengers of the Earth Sphere. They made their living by removing dangerous obstructions to the shipping lanes and selling scrap metal. They had built their society and reputations on warning away those who might be endangered by debris floating in space and taking contract with the respective governments to remove such problems quickly, quietly and efficiently.

"Com, get me the Cargo Master."

He would need to arrange for sufficient warning beacons to keep the space lanes operating at optimum efficiency. It was a rare week they did not get at least five or six ships travelling through the area.

"What can I do you for Howard?"

"Jane, how many buoys do we have to begin laying out a hazard warning field?"

The woman's head dipped over a hidden console and her shoulders moved as she typed in the request on the unseen keyboard. "We have three hundred operational buoys available, but it will be far short of the required amount to adequately cover the projected expanse of the debris field."

"Not enough to cover the debris field, no, but it will be more than enough to stake the Sweepers' claim to the salvage. What ships do we have on the far side of the Mars orbit close enough to mark and claim the field?"

Again fingers flew over the screen and after a few seconds the answer came back. "We have two ships close, approximately three weeks past Mars on orbital flight paths for the Asteroid Belt."

Howard nodded and turned to his second in command. "John, contact those ships and turn them around. You will need to arrange a fuel carrier to rendezvous with them at some point. I want them to mark the far edge of the field, so get some computers working on the effect of the Martian gravitational well on the field. We will lose a fair mass of the field at Mars, but I want as much of the rest as humanly possible."

"Working on it."

"Navigation, plot projected course for the debris field for sectors four and six of the Martian orbital field. Determine the time for interception with the debris field in those sectors taking into account full burn and optimal course with the estimated fuel of those two ships."

"When do you want the first of the warning markers deployed?" The Cargo Master drew Howard's attention back to her.

"It will be in approximately nine hours, give or take a little. I'll come down in an hour to discuss the optimum use of our resources."

"Initial projections suggest the first of the ships could reach sector four in one hundred and sixty hours at full burn. Interception with sector six would be reached at two hundred and thirty-eight hours, fifteen minutes. Accuracy of projection given unknown factors such as fuel, is estimated to be fifty two percent."

"Good enough, Brian. Adjust estimates as John relays details from the ships when contacted. Estimated time to the debris field entering the main shipping lane on the far side of Mars?"

"Computers estimate initial contact with the shipping lane in sector five in approximately sixty-nine hours, thirty-seven minutes."

"Check on the registry and find out how many ships are within a week of that projection for crossing the debris field and how many are already within the area. The Dakkar system being down is going to make it difficult to contact them and warn them away."

Murmurs of agreement from his officers marked a renewed flurry of activity on the bridge and Howard sighed. It had been far easier to arrange the debris field than it would be to clean it up. At least Mars was not a living world like the Earth and there was far less of a population at risk from impacts. He wanted the colonists located and in safe zones before the debris began to fall.

/I wish they had not taken out the Dakkar system. Have they destroyed it, or just incapacitated it? Either way, its loss is going to endanger people's lives. /

He considered the problem for a moment before discarding unanswerable questions. He had enough trouble determining the best method of warning ships of the new hazards within the space lanes. Any captain worth his rank would have the drones out as long range sensors, so he doubted there was any real danger of a ship being taken by surprise, but in some areas the debris would be thick and some of the chunks were quite capable of seriously damaging a speeding freighter.

The lanes would not be dangerous for a great length of time, as once he could get enough Sweeper ships in the area they could gather the debris field in a matter of weeks. Gathering the required number of salvage capable vessels in the area would take more time than the actual salvage. They could concentrate their efforts on clearing the actual lane and gather the remainder up at leisure. It might well be that in transit ships would be required to break their journeys and lay over at Mars for a time. Refueling would take place in orbit and new windows would be set to speed their return to the Earth Sphere hub.

He found it difficult to contain the somewhat feral delight in thinking about the reaction on Earth to the fallout of this Martian operation.

/Someone is the ESUN Council is going to love this little crimp in their plans. It is going to cost time and a great deal of money to repair the damage done to Mars and to any ships caught up in the space lanes. A few resources being short in the hub might wake up a few people who seem not to have learned their lessons./

"Howard?" The com officer drew his attention. "Incoming communication from Preventer Patrol Cruiser Bounty. Registration E106."

Howard turned a thunderous scowl on the com officer who, as usual, was unfazed by his reaction. No Sweeper Captain liked interference and Preventers always interfered. It was not exactly the best moment to have to deal with a Preventer Captain. He needed his full attention on this present problem not on dealing with technicalities of law.

/Damn. It's probably relaying a message from Une demanding to know what I know about the Station Alliance and this meeting I am supposed to be arranging. Raydon, you are going to be doing some explaining, young man. She is hard enough to deal with at the best of times and this is not the best of times. /

He admitted he had been somewhat concerned he had not received a communication from her some hours ago. It had been a blessing, making his plans that much less complicated, but he supposed the peace just could not last. He was not particularly looking forward to a long distance call with the woman made all the more frustrating by the lag in communications.

/Something is going on back on Earth for her to have delayed this long in getting in touch with me. That woman would never wait to be contacted, so what is distracting her from annoying me? I have a feeling I should be worried./

It was hours since Raydon had made his announcement to the ESUN using the powerful transmitters of Station One. The Dakkar system being out of commission had not slowed down his actions and indeed, it enabled the station signal to be less likely to be traced. The days of hiding were numbered, though, and Howard was not looking forward to the ESUN discovering the bulk of Stations personnel were displaced and previously homeless soldiers. The ESUN would find them more than a handful if they intended to discuss their independence with armed ships. He only hoped the pacifists would prevail and common sense would rule.

"From?"

"Preventer Agent Reaper." The com officer grinned. "Duo sends his greetings and wants to talk off the record."

/Duo? What the hell is he doing on the Bounty? Last I had word he was in Sanc. He can't have gotten wind of what I'm up to. /

It would be good to see one of his boys after so long. He had to admit he missed the jovial gundam pilot and if he had the time he would try once again to interest Duo in returning to the Sweepers. He understood the young and restlessness was a part of being young, but if Duo ever tired of fighting the good fight there was a place for him.

"What class is the Bounty and where is she?"

"Registration records name her as a long haul Preventer Cruiser. She is slated for a tour of the Asteroid Belt for a patrol, pirate hunting and general survey of law and order, the usual thing. The expected tour of duty is a one year swing past. She is currently out system bound from Earth orbit." The com officer glanced up and waited for Howard's reaction.

Howard snorted. "A one year circuit? Now why the hell is the boy on board her if she is out system bound? I'll take the call in the rec room. What is the projected delay on communications?"

"He is using the high speed relay through the salvage system. The delay is expected to be no more than ten minutes and will fluctuate as the Bounty is increasing speed and our current heading is generally in system."

"Good enough. Send confirmation."

The delay would ensure he had time enough to think on the unexpected communication before he needed to speak with Duo. It would be good to speak to him again and learn how he had been doing over the last few months. They kept in loose communication but it could be anywhere from one to six months before they could speak to each other. They traded emails more regularly than they actually spoke. He was also curious about the mission the boy was on if he was on an outward bound cruiser and headed for the Asteroid Belt.

/Is he trying to infiltrate a Mining Colony? From a Preventer Cruiser? It would be more likely they would rendezvous with another ship before they reach the mining colony./

He glanced around his bridge to find everyone intent on their stations and the Second Officer watching him expectantly.

"John, you have the con. Call me if the Wellington alters her course or speed."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	170. Chapter 170 Chapter 169

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 169/

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 169/?? Colony L1 - 0025 B

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 169

2nd March AC 198

Colony L1 - 0025 B La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B

Preventer Building

Time: 06:12 approx Sanc time 05:02

Trowa

"_If you have to wait or review a situation under fire you need to make certain you are not in an exposed position. Always take the best cover available and always leave yourself a back door. If it is the best cover but does not have a back door through which you can escape, then it is not the best cover. Never presume your position is safe and never overstay your welcome. The more skilled you know your opponent to be the less time you remain in one place." _

Trowa eased himself to the edge of the elevator housing and peered cautiously about him. The voice whispering in his mind continued to offer cautions and advice. Leftover memories from his early days with the mercenaries had enabled him to survive to a time where he could look forward to something more than endless fighting and killing. He wanted this promising future he could not have foreseen being his to come to fruition. He wanted Quatre and a life beyond fighting to survive.

The mercenary, cold and efficient and always alone now desired more than the prospect of dying on the battlefield.

He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising and knew it a warning he had stayed too long in one place. He had seen enough of this killer to know he was a professional and he would be skilled in the art of the silent stalk. If he stayed in this position he would be trapped. He knew his own skill level and considered himself to be well above the average assassin, but he was not such a fool as to think himself the best of the best. The level of skill separating hunter and prey here this day was wide and favoured the hunter, not the prey.

He was definitely not the hunter.

/I can't stay here much longer. I don't dare give him that kind of advantage. I need to reach the stairwell without attracting his attention, but as soon as I move I will be a target. He is close, I can feel him, so the best I can do is give myself as much time to reach my goal as possible. The very best I could hope for is to maybe gain five seconds and keep ahead of his aim. To use the gun would be to attract attention, but there is no guarantee he does not have a silencer. If he does… Quatre, I so wish I was with you./

Wasting time again and handing the advantage to his opponent. Acting without thinking was a mistake but so was over thinking the issue and Quatre was not a part of this dilemma he found himself in. Quatre was a desired goal, a safe zone and to reach him he had to survive this encounter.

Time was against him and while he did not know if the hunter had a set time in which to accomplish his mission, the longer he kept the man occupied the better. He could get help, all he needed to do was succeed at reaching the stairwell and then get to safe cover. Alone he would have difficulty taking down this man but with skilled aid from his fellow Preventers his chances rose dramatically.

He slipped over the edge, keeping close to the elevator housing and into the shadows cast by the early morning lighting. In another few minutes he would lose the advantage of the shadows as the night screens were now being withdrawn and natural sunlight was beginning to flood the colony. The ultraviolet filters screening the colony would be the only barrier between the colonies inhabitants and the streaming ultraviolet radiation from the naked sun.

Constructing and maintaining the needs of the colony was too expensive for the designers not to make use of the natural light given off by the sun when it was available. In the early days the colonies had been sealed units illuminated within by man-made lighting set to emulate the various phases of the day and night. It had been something of a medical mystery as to why the citizens of the colony had begun to suffer from a wide variety of skin complaints and as time wore on diseases had become too common. Intensive investigation had revealed the bulk of the disorders had their root cause in the lack of natural sunlight.

To allay this problem designers and engineers had turned to the medical profession to determine what missing vital elements could be artificially introduced to the colonies. This had led to the introduction into the colonies water supply of a cocktail of drugs and supplements which had improved the overall health of the citizens. Improved but not eradicated the problems. The human body absorbed vital base elements from the filtered sunlight found on Earth. Eventually a screen system designed to cycle around the colonies had been devised and the wealthier colonies had been quick to procure its use.

The complex system of screens erected to orbit the colony and permanently face the sun shielded the colony from the harsh radiation, particularly high exposure to ultraviolet light. The screens acted in much the same manner as the Van Allen Belt surrounding the Earth and the varied layers of the atmosphere. The use of the screen system not only had produced a more natural day and night cycle, but filtered in helpful amounts of radiation the human body was more accustomed to in its natural environment and thus the health of the colonists had improved.

An added bonus to the colonies' administration was the substantial reduction in cost required to heat and light the massive orbital structures so many people were now calling home. The screens were programmed to move on a set rotation to give the colony a natural day and night, with the automated lighting controls maintaining a pre-set level of illumination dependant on the time of day. Because of the vital nature of the screens and the all important filters, the system was checked hourly in a never ending rotation to ensure the safety of the colonies.

In the last one hundred years the newer colonies had been designed with less of the original colonies safety shielding. The newer colonies were reliant on the radiation screens to maintain light and health in a complicated balancing act that saw the most powerful computers man had devised installed to maintain optimum performance. Trowa shuddered to think what the newer colonies like the L4 cluster and L5 would do if their systems should malfunction. Unscreened solar radiation would crisp the colonies' population in minutes.

With the morning rotation in effect the screens were now set on opening and admitting natural sunlight. As the light grew the buildings and fixtures on the roof were beginning to cast shadows. Until the screens were fully opened he would cast a long shadow and would need to adjust his course of action to try to reduce the telltale giveaway. It was a disadvantage both he and his hunter would share. While they could hide within the shadows cast by the roof fixtures and adjacent buildings, their own moving shadows were going to be obvious. His killer likewise would be wise to the light levels and was too much of a professional to make so obvious a mistake as to allow his shadow to reveal his location.

/The first one of us to make a mistake will be the one to die. /

He was not considering incapacitating the assassin. Interrogating such an individual would undoubtedly be a waste of time and taking him captive too dangerous an option given their circumstances. In this hunt it would be kill or be killed and he was not going to make the mistake of believing he could take the man down and expect him to answer questions. He strongly suspected if the killer thought he would be captured the man would ensure his own death.

This was a silent hunt to the death and taking prisoners on either side did not feature in the equation.

/I will not be the one who dies./

He had too much to live for and he was not of a mind to give up the life he envisioned stretching ahead of him in Quatre's embrace. Life was so much more fulfilling with a partner. For as long as he could remember he had been a mercenary fighting other people's wars and having no clear opinion of his own. That had changed after meeting the deceptively angelic looking Quatre Winner. Quatre had challenged him, made him review his own life and see what might be improved. Why did he have to fight for others and why did he not have a personal opinion on the affairs of the world?

Both good questions he had not thought to ask before.

Quatre had opened his eyes to the possibilities of leaving the fighting behind him and seeking more than another fight to prolong the cycle. They had met in war and known death and destruction and heartbreak. Quatre had understood it was all the life he knew and did not condemn him for it, but forgave him his past and offered him a future. He had thought to avoid it at first, believing the gulf between them to be too wide for them to bridge.

He did not think of Quatre as a war companion, though they had been. Even during the war there had been something more than the common bond he had found amid the mercenary companies he had been a part of. Something warm, vital and very much alive, and a long way from the expectation of death. Neither had spoken of the link but he knew they both had sensed it and savoured it and desired to make it more. It was not until after the end of the war, when Libra was so much floating debris and Quatre had recovered somewhat from his wound that they had dared to speak. Hesitantly at first, each afraid of rejection by the other and too tender emotionally to seek out more hurt.

In each other they had found something to give them a reason to go past the horrors of the war and welcome the peace. He was not about to give that up coughing out his life on a rooftop.

/Not that this is particularly peaceful. In an ideal world the war would have been the end of it and there would be no need for an organization like Preventers./

He sidled along the wall, his back pressed firmly to the welcome solidity of the small building. That was the one direction he could trust at this time. His eyes were never still, constantly moving, seeking some small indication of his hunter.

/Now, do I go left or right? From here left looks to be a little more open, but going right would involve climbing over the plumbing. That will slow me down if I don't want to end up flat on my face and possibly do in an ankle or worse. There is also the chance he could be lurking in there. It has good potential to surprise an unsuspecting target. /

He scrubbed a hand over his face, grinding his teeth in frustration. He dared not delay much longer. To take the left hand option would result in a shadow being cast and because it was open he would need to concentrate on speed, not stealth.

/I don't have time for this. /

He was prey and trying to avoid a catastrophe and to go to ground would be to prolong the agony. If he crawled in a hole he would only give the assassin the opportunity he needed to make his shot at the target building. People would die and that was what it was all about. People's lives. He needed to take risks and consider them acceptable risks to get the warning out to those who could help him. He would take risks, but not stupid risks that would serve only to get him killed.

A few quick steps were all it would take to cross relatively open ground and take the right hand course. A few quick steps and then weave his way through the maze of pipes servicing the building. Cover was a life saver but it was, in this case, the longest course. To take the left hand option, make that short run and grab the shoes then tumble into the pipes and relative safety.

He was hyper aware to every sound and to the movement of air caused by the distant exhaust fans that cooled the colony. Whether it was his imagination or not, something sent him moving before he was consciously aware of movement or sound. Long legs acted as springs, giving him a leaping start toward the stairwell and he was straining every fibre of his being to run, the decision made for him by instinct.

Psst. Psst.

/Fuck! He's got a silencer! /

Dodge, weave, jump... anything to make targeting him difficult but keep running. If he presented as difficult a target as possible the man was likely to give up on hitting him. It was more likely he would attempt to anticipate his location within a few seconds and to avoid that he had to be random in his weaving. It was what he had been instructed to do long ago should the designated target prove to be aware.

"_Anticipate where your target has to go, what he has to do to get there and make use of that information. If you know where he has to be you can work out how he is going to get there. Simple. Remember, goal, direction and patience. Wait patiently to take him down, never rush the shot."_

/ I'll outpsych you, you bastard. I have too much to live for to go down now. You know I'm heading for the stairs, that's obvious, but you must think I'll get the door open and escape down them. If you are thinking that, and there is no reason why you shouldn't be, then I have a chance here. I will need to somehow make you believe I'm going to try to get the door open and take the chance I can get a shoe out of the gap before you target me./

"_If you are being hunted and you have a set objective and your hunter knows what that objective is, what do you do? You do what you can with what you have, of course. You have your body, any weapons you might have and your brain. Of those three your brain is the most important. It is your defence and offence. It is your core, the key to your survival. Use it. You have one or more enemy soldiers tracking you, hard on your heels and you are near your objective. What do you do? There are too many of them for you to face down, or you are not in a position to face one very well armed opponent. Whichever it is the result is the same. You are in deep shit. If you are fast on your feet you use that speed to your advantage. Go in hard and try, at the last minute, to affect some sort of surprise. If at all possible you spring a last second distraction to turn the eye away from you in the exact moment you make your move. You do whatever presents itself to give you that vital last second in which to act and get away."_

Well, he was going in hot, that was for sure. He was hot and with a target painted on his back and a killer targeting him from secured cover and just waiting for him to get to the obvious point. Given his goal there literally was nowhere else to go if he intended to get off the roof. His limited field of operations was his greatest disadvantage and the assassin's best advantage.

/Keep on guessing, you bastard. Estimate where I will need to be to get that door open and go through it. I'll have to make my move soon. Another few steps…/

There had been no third shot.

Only two attempts to target him since he had started moving led him to believe the killer was intent on allowing him to reach the door. For a vital second he would be motionless and a prime target as he delayed to pull the door open. A second opportunity would be as he pulled back to open the door, both prime opportunities for a killing shot. The chance would exist for at most two seconds, but it would be enough for the expertise of the man hunting him.

For those two seconds fortune would reverse itself and he would gain advantage in the kill or be killed game. At the moment it appeared the hunter had the upper hand, but knowing what his unseen stalker was planning changed the equation. Only for those two seconds would he gain the advantage then the balance would shift back.

A touch more than two body lengths now separated him from the door and it was time to see just how good he was. He threw himself forward into a tumbling roll, straining for as much distance as he could manage. The killer should have seen that momentary tensing and expect him to go into the roll. If he read the man correctly he would be expected to come up out of the roll and reach to grasp the ajar door and fling it open. That would be when he would become the target.

He stayed down, twisting as he came out of the roll, reaching and fingers straining to grasp a shoe protruding from the gap. Cool leather kissed his fingertips, grasping and scrabbling as he felt his grip slide. Desperation drew a grimace from him, lips drawn back in a silent snarl. He had only one try at this and he had to get the shoe. Twisting, committed from the moment of the dive to the manoeuvre regardless if he grasped the shoe or missed.

/Yes! /

Fingers curled around the leather upper and hooked as he heard the psst and he heard the impact of the bullet perhaps no more than an inch above his head.

/Shit! /

He was fast to adjust. The killer had aimed high but had delayed, making certain of his shot and seeing the roll was designed to keep him low at the last second had dropped his aim. Not enough.

The success of his move went uncelebrated while he concentrated on keeping his fading advantage. He rolled sideways striving to get himself low enough to fit under the first of the pipes and place some kind of cover between them. He continued the roll until he came up against a second pipe, this one too low for him to fit beneath. Panting he employed every acrobatic trick he had learned to come up onto all fours and crawl over two of the low pipes, throw himself over a higher third and drop to the ground, rolling beneath a fifth and then around a junction.

/I only need a few seconds to get my parcel ready for sending. Give me that time, you bastard. Can't you make a mistake and give me a break? /

He dragged air into his lungs, panting and pulling his long legs close to him, trying to maximize his cover. He had taken the skin off his shoulders, back and sides in this mad scramble to gain secure ground and one elbow stung. There was no time to consider what other minor injuries he carried. What was important was he was still active and he had the shoe.

/You must take a few seconds at least to wonder what the hell I'm planning. You have to wonder what I wanted a shoe for. /

It would have been obvious when he had stayed low he was not intending to try for the stairs. The hunter had to be dreaming up options involving shoes, but hopefully he would not immediately think of the shoe as an aide to attract attention. Yes, he could throw the shoe over the building, but it would have to hit someone for it to be noticed and he doubted the killer was intending to give him time to write a message.

/You are too late to stop me from writing the message, but I have to be quick to get this done before he thinks I have succeeded in alerting them to what is going on up here. The shoe on its own would attract attention if I could get it to land close enough to a walkway, he has to know that. He will know someone will come to investigate and they will likely not come alone. Every additional body I have up here with me lessens his chances of completing his assignment. /

Now that he had the shoe and the means to deliver his warning, he needed to decide which side of the building would give him the best chance of attracting notice. There were two sides to be considered, both opening onto an open area where agents should be moving around as they arrived, exchanging greeting and discussing work to be done. Two possible areas where he would have a reasonable chance of finding someone who might be of help.

/The chances of someone being close enough are probably about equal for both sides, so maybe the question should be which side will he watch? The roof is too long and too wide for him to watch the full length of both sides of the roof. If I pick right I can get this message away and get back under cover before he can target me. With the message gone it is only a matter of time to keep him engaged and away from the stairs. /

Roof access was limited and there would be little option but to send investigators up the stairwell. It would be up to him to keep the killer occupied and thinking of other things than lying in wait to pick off the investigators as they came through the door.

/ Rather an amusing irony, really. I have to keep the entry clear so the rescue party can safely reach me to rescue me./

Quatre would be delighted he had not lost his sense of humour.

/If he spots me throwing the shoe over the side of the building he will know he has only a limited time to effect his mission. If he spots me moving and thinks he knows what I am about he may try to reach the rocket launcher and make the shot, completing his mission. Or he may continue to try to kill me. How likely would he be to try for the rocket launcher? He knows I'll still hunt him and he knows I can throw knives. He would at least suspect I would have one more, possibly two weapons. Knives have limited range and that would give him a set range to keep an eye on. He's still armed with the automatic and his own knives. If he sees or hears me coming he'll be ready for me./

Getting the shoe was the easy part of the operation.

Looking around he found a cleared area amid a nest of pipes that afforded better cover than his current position and after a careful survey of his surroundings he eased himself into the cleared centre. Crouching low to afford as small a target as possible and pressing him body back into the lingering patch of shadow in this sheltered spot. Much of the roof was now free of shadow and bright under the glaring eye of the sun. It was rather like being under a particularly brilliant spotlight and the bright area was widening as the screens were shifted.

Trying to regulate his breathing and steel himself for the run he was going to have to make, which ever side of the roof he chose to cast his dice to fate, he set the shoe down. Pulling out the bundle of material he separated the torn strip from the message and stuffed the ragged piece of material into the shoe. He looked about him carefully before ducking back down and wrapping the shoe and message securely with the shredded strip. Tucking and tying the strip carefully to allow for the least chance of the message falling out of the shoe mid air or on landing, he leaned back and listened intently for the slightest sign of pursuit.

Disturbing silence greeted him and he worried at his lower lip. He might be out there, watching for an opportunity, or he might have decided it was time to stop hunting and take the final step. Time was against them both and Trowa was not inclined to sit down and try to determine who time would best advantage.

/He may have decided he has sufficient time to make a try for his bag and make the shot. I can't take the chance and linger here./

How much time had passed since he had left his room, driven by nightmares and the assurance his lover would demand he investigate? It seemed like hours since he had left the safety of his assigned quarters, but it could only have been minutes. Minutes that seemed like a lifetime and would indeed result in a lifespan for someone this day. Either he or the killer he eluded would end their life up here today. Possibly others if he did not get this right.

/Not me, I have too much to live for. If I have my way, not those people coming in to work either. /

No more time to think, now he was required to move. A steadying breath and he oozed his way through the gap, expecting to hear the fateful psst of the silenced weapon. He might hear the sound of the shot before the bullet hit but then again, he might not. He crouched beside the knot work of pipes that had sheltered him and there was no sign or sound of his opponent.

/Left or right? If I make the wrong choice it is all over. /

He slipped around the pipes and through a small gap between a cage protecting delicate machinery and another pipe. Just beyond the cluster of pipes ahead of him he should have a clear view of the rocket launcher and the bag lying near it… Nothing. He was at just the wrong angle to garner a reassuring glimpse of the abandoned equipment. Brushing a hand over his bangs he considered the direction he needed to take and whether the killer had realised what he intended.

Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to move and he did not have to make the final decision for a few precious seconds. He might yet gain some hint of the hidden killer's location and manage to avoid the expected shot. Around this bundle of pipes and sidle along the low cage and over that pipe and…

Crunch time. There had been no sign of the killer. Neither sound nor a hint of movement to clue him in and he was not in a position to glimpse the rocket launcher either. He needed to make up his mind which way to go and a big factor in the choice was if he chose to go left he would lose any chance of glimpsing the weapon left on the roof. Straining for any hint of movement he heard the muted rumble of the commuter train fading into the distance but nothing more.

Eventually he was going to need to face this killer and delaying the confrontation only worked in the killer's favour, not his own. Before he faced the man he needed to deliver his warning and hope the recipients would understand. They needed to evacuate the building across the way and save people's lives.

/So be it. No more time to think./

He crouched, inclining toward the rear of the roof and eyed the distance he must run carefully. He could not afford to set a straight path to his goal and present an easy target. A ragged zigzagging path would be required and he must not make the fatal mistake of falling into a rhythm. If he kept moving in a random course he might throw off the shot he was almost sure would come his way.

Muscles flexed, tensed in preparation and he began his run by springing into a forward flip, came down neatly and thrust himself to the left. Two lightning fast steps, a somersault to the right and up again, running and zigzagging every two or three steps. In this run the ability to be totally random was life. Go right, switch back a step, two, and right again then into a somersault. Close enough now to extend into a leap to the rim of the building. There was only time enough for a searching glance to locate any likely groups of people and toss the bundle over the edge. He could entertain the vague hope the assassin had not noticed the bundle drop from his hand.

There was no time to delay to see if the small group of women he suspected might be office workers noticed the bundle as it landed. There was no time to watch the bundle fall either, just time to concentrate on putting all of his strength into a spring taking him off the low wall. He landed in a tumble and come up to his feet and dive over a pipe and behind the shelter of the cage and its machinery. Time only to scuttle like a bug looking for safety.

He had no idea if he had been targeted or not. His heartbeat was thundering, drowning out all sound and sensation. His only thought was he was back under cover and he had done his best to give others warning of the killer in their midst.

"_Once you have arranged a distraction, or sent a message, you have no time to think about what if. What becomes your first priority? You concentrate on staying alive. You can always kiss the ass of whoever comes to save your hide later, or skin the bastard because they got it wrong if you somehow come out alive on your own merit. You don't think about it. You move, you run, you hide, you fight for every breath you take and be bloody thankful you are still breathing while you do. Every second you are breathing means you are alive and surviving, that is what it's all about."_

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	171. Chapter 171 Chapter 170

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 170/

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 170/?? Stephansbourg Sanc

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 170

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 04:10

Quatre

Quatre shuddered. "That is … frightening."

It was a long silence that fell between them, filled with weighty innuendo, and Quatre found he did not wish to respond to Heero's question at all. He did not want to imply a negative nor a positive outlook on Heero's suppositions, as to answer in either was to make it all real. To make it real was to suggest it was worthy of speculation and it was too frightening a thing to be possible.

/It is beyond frightening./

Yet he could not forget Zero and how the system had affected him. He could not escape the memory even for a few minutes of the day how the system had interacted with him, surrounded his awareness, existed within him and breathed as he breathed. He would never forget the horrors of his past, of which Zero was a dark and blood-drenched part. Zero had been a part of him and had breached his defences, making his empathy, so long held under his hard-fought control, run rampant. Unchecked, his power had fed him the dreams, hopes, fears, nightmares, indifference, rage, hate, despair…

/No. I have been honest with myself after all this time and I will not slide backwards and deny it. Not so soon after acknowledging it. What happened was not Zero. It was me. I was insane and the Zero System, while it did not help my control, did not instigate my insanity. I was at fault. Zero did not exist as anything beyond blueprints and schematics on paper when I first lost myself in the rage. There . Done. I've said it to myself a second time and I'm still sane./

He did not wish to remember what it was like to go down into the bottomless well of emotion, to stop thinking and to be only feeling. His emotions had run rampant, fed by the darkness to be found in war and which existed in every person's mind and soul. War was darkness, a dark time when people knew all too little of love and peace and joy. War gave vent to greater and greater darkness and he had lost himself in grief and anger. The darkness continued to grow until something shattered it and gave a reminder and longing for gentler times back to the human race.

For himself that had come when Heero and Trowa had faced him and because of his insanity Trowa had been lost to him. Heero had beaten sense into him and forced him beyond the insanity.

For the Earth Sphere the catalyst point had come in the final war and the destruction of Libra.

He could not deny there might be something of truth in Heero's suppositions. No two people who used Zero would describe it in the same fashion and he knew Zero in a very different fashion from Heero. Yuy's understanding of the system was far different from his own. Of Epyon he had no shared experience.

/There was some kind of intelligence about Zero, but it was not exactly what I would call intelligence. More of an awareness, I suppose. As I knew it, compared to how Heero describes his experiences with the system, I would think I was more sensitive to it than Heero. Or more sensitive to certain aspects of it might be closer to the truth. Heero used both systems and he has admitted he had trouble using and understanding Epyon. Zero he claims to have had little difficulty with. He even grew to trust it./

With so little factual information to work on how was he to judge if the two systems were different? He had built the Zero system but he had not seen so much as a schematic of the Epyon system. He had experienced one interface between his own mind and a machine which he could work with to make formulations and suppositions, but he had no such experience with the comparable system and machine. How else could he determine with any degree of certainty any similarities which might have existed in the two interfaces?

He had had access to the Epyon suit and interface in the Sanc kingdom. However he had felt no desire to so much as touch the suit, let alone test it. Indeed he had not liked to stand near the behemoth in the hangar beneath the palace. Epyon had given him cold shudders and he had not liked Heero using the suit, though he had known the futility of voicing his concerns at that time. They had needed every weapon available to them at the time with invasion imminent. Heero, being Heero, would not have listened to any concerns.

/Even if I could have understood what it was that made me so uneasy around the suit … I did not like Epyon when I saw it and I could feel the suit disturbed Heero. I could feel his… not fear exactly… Unease is such an understatement and I am not certain it is an adequate description. When he first appeared in Sanc with Epyon I almost asked him to throw the suit away, it was… It was what? A word to describe what I was feeling… Dark? Can a mobile suit in and of itself be evil? The look of the suit gave me shudders, but the feel of it was worse. /

He had accredited some basic awareness similar to intelligence to Zero and the logical part of him he had always listened to before insisted he must credit Epyon with at least the same level of awareness. The computer operating system that was Zero had been incredibly complex and would more than meet the requirements of the times to be classified as an artificial intelligence system. Zero's intelligence had simply been focused on one thing, specialized into a fighting analytical system. Zero was designed to grant the user a greater chance of survival and victory by pre-determining all possible actions in a combat situation.

Given what he knew of Epyon the system had to be designed to do exactly the same thing. Zechs had been incredible when flying the monster, always steps ahead of Quatre himself and

his fellow pilots.

/Yet he did not win the war. Well. He was not seen to win the war. He should have taken us out easily in that series of battles before the final fight. Something seemed to always take him away at the penultimate moment. Hindsight is a wondrous thing. /

With the information to hand, he had to give both systems the status of AIs, if in very select specialized fields and he needed to determine a broader breakdown of those specialized abilities to accurately compare the two. He closed his eyes against the sight of the firelight reflecting off the overhead beams. Now for the part he really had wanted to avoid considering but must, in fairness to Heero, contemplate. He would not simply say it was not possible because it would make him feel better and be easier for all concerned. That would be easy but not honest.

/I have been dancing around these last few minutes putting off what can not be put off indefinitely. I have spent nearly three years in blessed ignorance, but ignoring the implications now would be stupid. Epyon is long gone, but understanding it would help Heero and give me a greater understanding of the events that led to the Libra. /

_"Might that not have been the purpose of the Epyon? To make such an ability strong enough to enable the user to see enough to make a difference?"_

Heero's questions rang loud and clear in his mind, forcing him to face the issue squarely. Forcing him to think of the implications such a system might have had if it had not been destroyed in the war. Forcing him to fear the possibility if such a system had been designed once it's like might yet return. The schematics of the system had to exist somewhere.

/The greatest point against the idea is that we don't know exactly what psychic ability is. If anyone should know about the advances in psychic investigation I should. I have been affected by psychic ability since birth and since I was old enough to understand my difference I have sought out information. I have wanted to know just what it is that makes me different, but I have found no one who can define it to my satisfaction. The best parapsychic investigators and scientists could not answer my questions because they did not know the answers. If that is the case, then how could someone create a system that augmented psychic ability?/

He had spent a considerable amount of money and even enlisted the aid of Sandrock's creator, to no avail. No one had been able to set down a definitive of what psychic talent was or how to train it. It all seemed pretty much hit or miss. Kushrenada was credited with creating the Epyon, but had he devised the operating system? Someone must have helped him and perhaps it was time he spent some of his money on tracking down those who had worked with Kushrenada. They might have some answers that made more sense.

/Wing Zero never made my skin crawl just by looking at it. Perhaps I was too far gone in my insanity to notice? No, that seems hardly likely. Zero seemed to augment my sensitivity, though I am sure it was accidental, not intended, and I am sure I would have noticed something of that sort. At the least I should have remembered it now I am somewhat saner. I don't remember Zero having that kind of effect on me on board Peacemillion when Heero was using it. Epyon did, though. Epyon made my skin creep. /

This gave credence to there being something different about Epyon other than the demonic appearance of the suit design. Might Epyon have been designed to work with a Psychic's natural abilities? Perhaps even specific fields of psychic ability?

/We are getting into the realm of science-fiction here. Still, a few hundred years ago the idea of colonies in space was nothing more than science-fiction. /

His assumption and that of every other person he knew who had had occasion to compare the suits, had been the two operating systems were of the one design and created by the same people. Those people had to have been the scientists who had died in the war. The same scientists who had designed the Gundams. The fact he had found the Zero's schematics on L4 in the secret bunker was prime evidence of the origins of the system. He believed there was one operating system designed and the schematics had somehow been acquired by Treize Kushrenada.

/Surely there could not be so terrifying a coincidence as two such AIs being created by two differing factions? There had to be common ground between the two systems, at least during their development phases./

"I am not sure frightening is the appropriate word."

Heero's voice startled him out of his speculations and he glanced across at the other bed. Heero's eyes were closed and Quatre suspected he was seeing once again that towering crimson demon in his mind's eye. Epyon still haunted Heero's dreams even after all this time, as Zero haunted Quatre's.

/Curious. My nightmare is Zero, but Heero's nightmare is not Wing Zero. He has told me before it is Epyon in his dreams. Epyon haunts him, which means he has to have genuinely feared the system. /

"You see, I have to give the old man's story some form of credence because I know some things he does not. I have information he does not, information that involves us, the Gundam pilots. The war was a game, Quatre, a very complex and bloody game and I believe it is still being played. Epyon was a part of that game. Zero was too. We all were."

Quatre scowled into the darkened recesses of the ceiling. His empathy could pick up the shadow of fear from Heero, a lingering remnant of past days. He had never felt this shadow when Heero spoke of Zero, but now that he thought on it he had always felt an emotional shadow when Epyon was mentioned, even in passing. Always there was a brief flash of deep uneasiness and momentary confusion. He might not have been able to name it fear then, but he could now.

"We cannot allow our imaginations to run rampant. We have to deal with this logically and determine the facts. In an evaluation there can be no room for supposition. There are always people out there who think they know best how the world should turn and that is why we have the Preventers."

He watched as Heero seemed to hunch in on himself and felt a brief tightening of his emotions. Heero was keeping himself under contro,l but he was showing strain. They were both tired and should be sleeping instead of lying here and contemplating past wars and schemes.

"To me psychic ability has always been a fact of life. I live with such ability every day. It is not a flight of fancy, or a means to milk money out of lonely old ladies missing their wealthy husbands. Psychic awareness is real and even after evaluating what I know of my own abilities I can't measure or define what I do, or what I sense. I can't put down on paper what it is so that others can look at a list of numbers and say 'Ah. Now I understand.' I know what I feel, not how to describe it to other people. I don't see how anyone could make a computer system to interact with such an unmeasurable ability. If I can't understand how it works, how can others? You have to understand something to convert it to cold hard figures on paper. I would think clairvoyance would be even harder to define for such purposes than empathy. Is it possible someone could construct a machine to augment something as intangible as seeing into the future? I honestly don't know, Heero, but I would think not."

Heero shook his head slowly from side to side against the pillow, eyes closed, though Quatre was uncertain what it was he did not wish to see. The reaction was probably symbolic of not wishing to be seen as losing his reasoning. He could almost feel Heero wondering if it was possible he was going insane after all this time. The emotions were all shadowy and somewhat vague, but he could feel them. He supposed it was only natural Heero would have those moments of doubt, but there was something else hidden within those confused emotions he did not understand. He read it as a certainty Heero was holding something back and he felt it was of importance.

"When I first used Epyon… I went insane. I must have gone insane, Quatre. There is no other explanation for what happened, for what I did. Epyon was so unlike Zero. Under Epyon's influence I… Everyone was the enemy. Wherever I looked I could see them. They would turn on me and I knew they would come for me, but before they could I struck out at them. I attacked and killed the very people I had been fighting with as allies only an hour before. I killed the enemy Quatre, but I killed people who had been my allies too. Because they would be the enemy."

Quatre stared at the dancing flames, his hands drawing the eiderdown tighter to his body. "Why?"

"I… why?"

"I understand why you would kill those who were attacking you. Romefeller's Oz was destroying the city and everything and everyone around you. I can understand you reacting to that, defending your life and the lives of others present. That is what we were trained to do. Why did you attack the men and women of the Treize Faction? They had been fighting with you to defend the city and Kushrenada's prison. Why do you think you turned on them?" Quatre lifted up slightly in the bed meeting Heero's eyes with a steady gaze. "You have said you had been working with them, fighting side by side with them. Why turn on them? Did one of them attack you mistaking Epyon as an enemy?"

"No. Epyon… I… Epyon made me believe they were a threat." Heero whispered into the darkness. "I saw them turn on me and on each other. Like rabid dogs on a corpse, I saw them rip apart the city and I saw them kill each other and slaughter the people running from them. I saw them do it. They never did anything of the sort, I know that, but I saw them do it over and over again. They were becoming the enemy and I was a weapon to destroy them before they could."

Quatre closed his eyes wearily and sank back down into the bed. He was tired, so very tired and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. His body ached in every muscle and bone and his mind seemed to be running around in circles. He was just too tired to think straight and surely Heero wanted to rest too? Why did they insist on lying here in the dark and rehashing the old wounds of the war? They were only torturing themselves over events long finished they could not change. There was no going back in time to change events to something less horrible, life just did not work that way. It was over.

Was it not?

/It should be over, but it's not. That is what is wrong. There is so much that happened to us during the war and we have not faced certain events head on and settled them within ourselves. It will not be over. It will never be over until we face our past and every rotten, painful decision we had to make. /

"Quatre?"

"Yes?"

"I think… I think Epyon…" Heero growled softly and Quatre felt a flash of frustration from the other young man. "Am I simply attempting to foist the blame for a decision I made onto a machine? Am I looking for a scapegoat that can't fight back so I don't have to blame myself anymore for what I did? Epyon can't argue back and make me face an unpalatable incident from my past. I've not run from my past, you know. I've had long sessions with psychologists and talked to them about everything I did during the war. Everything I did except any incident that happened to me while I used Epyon. I talked to them about Zero, but I never talked to even one of them about Epyon. I've not told anyone until now, until I told you."

It was there, undeniably there and undeniably it was fear he sensed. Buried deep within Heero was a hard core of fear and Quatre was uncomfortable with it. One did not associate Heero Yuy with the word, or idea, of fear and to so clearly feel his emotions now was a rude awakening. Emotions made of the Perfect Soldier nothing more than a human being. A frail, emotional human like any other human on the planet. Heero was no longer that emotionless near automaton, trained to excellence in killing. That Heero was gone now, the conditioned barriers crumbled and fear was only one of the emotions tumbling within him. It was not just fear Quatre had found within his friend's emotional vocabulary in the last day. Heero had come a long way to acknowledge the fear and the warmth and yearning Quatre associated with love.

/I don't think he even realizes it yet. Love. It's there and it is unmistakable. I'm pleased he has found himself, even if right now he is not enjoying human frailty. The fear is strong and the love is far weaker, but it is there. It makes him stronger./

"I had my share of sessions with psychologists and they dug deep into my psyche, but somehow I could not tell much about my time using Zero. I have told you far more than I told them. Sometimes we need more time before we face something so… personal… as Zero was to me. We need time and I think the right person to confide in and if those conditions are met there is no holding back. I've talked to Trowa and he understood why I couldn't talk about Zero to the psychologists the way I talked to him. The way I have talked to you. Maybe it was easier talking to each other because we know we will not condemn the other for what was felt and what was done. We went through hell during the war and came out the other side alive. I will be honest, Heero, I never expected to survive. I guess it stands to reason there would be areas of baggage we would not have shared with others."

"Am I trying to blame the machine for my own failings?"

/He is like a dog worrying at a bone. / Quatre sighed. "It was war, Heero. Not an excuse, I know, but it is the truth. It was war. Crazy things are done during wartime that makes no sense in the light of peace. Sometimes that is just the way it is."

In the other bed Heero sighed and rolled, turning his back to Quatre and facing the door. Quatre smiled at the gesture, recognizing it for what it was. The symbol of Heero's trust. They did not often turn their backs to a person and never to an enemy or a stranger.

"We are too tired for this, yes?"

"I think so. Everything just seems to be going in circles. We are sure to make more sense after we sleep."

"Yes, I suppose we will. We should sleep, but you should know there are things I need to tell you. Things that have a bearing on what we learned tonight and are important to the overall picture. Things that will shock you."

Quatre stared up at the ceiling and waited for more information he really did not want, but Heero was silent and the silence stretched out. It was an odd silence as he could feel the tension within Heero had not abated and he knew Heero was not asleep. Waiting, Quatre guessed, for him to make the offer to hear this important information, but they needed to sleep and he simply could not face any more.

"It takes a great deal to shock me, Heero. I'm pretty jaded despite my age. War, big business and taking an active role in politics do that to a person. We will talk after we have slept. To try to go beyond this point we must rest. I need to think about what you have told me of the Epyon as you experienced it. Will you trust me to talk to you again about Epyon? Will you give some more thought to what it was you sensed, what you might have felt during that time, so when we talk again your impressions may come a little easier to help me?"

"Yes," a whisper in the night.

"Good. I'm far from naïve and I know there is a great deal about the war and about Treize Kushrenada and even Zechs, that we don't know. I think we need to learn more about them on a personal level so we might gain some insight into their motivations. It should help us to better understand what happened. The Epyon and Zechs and Treize probably have no bearing at all on the current situation, but it will at least allow us to put our own ghosts to rest. Some of them at least."

Heero's breath caught, a small hiccup and a flare of emotion. Disbelief perhaps? Unease certainly.

"The hard drives stored in the boot of the car. There is information on the hard drives that will answer a lot of questions. While we are forced to shelter here it would be wise to begin the investigation into the information contained there."

Ah yes, the hard drives in the boot of the car, one of which contained information on his own conception. He shuddered delicately and it had nothing to do with the cold.

"You have not even told me where you got that information from. So many hard drives and it can not all be concerned with our individual pasts. It's too late now, we need to rest, but I have the feeling what is on those drives will only lead to more questions." Quatre whispered.

"Oh yes." Heero murmured. "A great many more questions will need to be asked before we can even begin to understand."

Quatre frowned in the silence that settled over the room. The crackle of the fire as it burned lower in the hearth and the howl of the blizzard outside were the only sounds. He listened intently to the storm and could pick out the occasional creak from the old inn buffeted by the wind, but it was a surprisingly comforting sound blended with the crackle of the fire.

/Something about those hard drives disturbs him. It has been there, underlying everything he has felt all evening. As far back as the time we were talking in the Palace. It is faint but it is there and it is not unlike fear, though nothing like the fear I sense when he mentions Epyon. The information I was genetically enhanced is on those hard drives and information about the other pilots' pasts. What else is there? Is there more about my family? More information on Heero? How much data might there be about the others? How exactly did he get his hands on this font of knowledge?/

For a long while Quatre lay in the dark and listened to the sounds of the night. The storm raging beyond the inn and the quiet footsteps pacing beyond the door marking one of their fellow Preventers on his rounds.

"Good night, Quatre."

He was very tired and whoever was walking up and down the hall had a quiet and measured stride. Each step was like a quiet beat and the longer he listened to it the more it lulled him.

"Good night, Heero."

0000000000000000000000000

**Flames. **

**The acrid stench of smoke and the roaring of flames.**

**Frantic running feet and the panicked shouts of those who fled before the flames.**

**Dancing flaring flames and hot dark and bitter smoke and shrill shouting of the women and the deeper voices of men. **

0000000000000000000000000000

He shuddered and rolled in the bed, blue eyes cracking open. The crackle of the fire pried his eyes open a little further and sleepily he sighed, recognizing the room. It was at once recognized as a safe zone and as being unfamiliar, but the roar of the storm wind reminded him of where he was and why there was no danger. Sleepily, without truly waking, he snuggled back down beneath the eiderdown.

There was no acrid smoke to set him coughing. The fire was contained within a hearth and was burning low, little more than glowing coals. The lingering scent of burning pine in the air and not the chocking bitter stench of burning flesh. No danger here.

000000000000000000000000

**Acrid burning stench of smoke and leaping dancing flame out of control. The promise of imminent and painful death.**

"**Quatre!" **

He knew the voice that summoned him. He knew the shape and form of the emotions reaching out for him. The hands reaching out to him, like the emotions reaching for him, were familiar. The caress of awareness and dawning unease mirrored his own. Within the deep voice calling to him was a promise of understanding and warmth no one else could offer and a wealth of fear for him.

Somewhere in the velvet darkness surrounding him, somewhere in this safe warm cocoon, Trowa called to him.

Within his cocoon of peace and safety there dawned a disturbing flicker of thought. There had been something about the loved voice calling his name that suggested panic.

A thread of concern birthed to fight the welcoming warmth of his safe nest. A hint of unease wavering to life and stirred to something more on the distant awareness of wind.

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He was startled from peaceful darkness. Something teased at his awareness, tweaked sluggish curiosity and blew on the embers of dawning unease.

He moaned in protest, reaching for the warmth and comfort. He sought to avoid the unease, to crawl back into the enfolding security of black oblivion. He could bury himself in the warmth and in dreams of the touch of his lover's hand. In the welcome press of warm lips to his own.

A spike of alarm flickered into existence within the unease and the desire to burrow into warm darkness lost ground to growing curiosity. There was something not right. Some 'thing' was wrong with the world beyond his secure cocoon of protection. Some 'thing' insisted on invading his safe zone. It was pulling at him, calling to him, begging him for attention.

/Trowa?/ Sleepy thought battling with the encroaching darkness and beckoning warmth of his cocoon. A thought directed at some intangible 'thing' that was familiar within the swirling darkness.

He tried to open his eyes, to respond, but he wondered if there was really any need to make such an effort. Beyond the darkness there was only the storm enclosing Sanc and the cold, cold air. The fire must be so much ash by now, cooling quickly in the storm's icy chill.

Through the gathering darkness was a resurgence of awareness. The growing awareness of distress; of unease growing apace with a racing heartbeat and a spike of horror. The impression of reaching out to him from a great distance, fighting the horror that was both familiar and unknown at once and a growing sense of denial. He could feel it, the fear he would not be there with comfort sorely needed and welcoming arms to protect against the horrors.

It was familiar. All too familiar.

/Dreaming again, Trow? Not tonight. Mm tired./

With the thought the descent began once more into welcoming warm darkness. Within the darkness there was the suggestion of a smile and the impression of warm arms closing protectively about him. The unmistakable musky scent of his lover filled his nostrils and he could taste him on his lips.

"Love you, Trow."

He breathed the whisper against warm lips snuggling into a welcoming embrace.

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"No!"

Spike of distress searing through the comforting darkness. Distress enfolding him in fear. The flavour of fear was familiar, as was the remembered scent of the fear of blood. Blood was familiar, fear was familiar. Unwelcome but familiar and he struggled against it.

So many kinds of fear. The flavour differed with each source. Sharp bite of fear and heat of flames with the acrid smoke filling his nostrils. Fear of blood and instinctive fear of death sharper and deeply ingrained into the human psyche. Above all the yearning responding to the fear of a solitary existence. Being alone, bereft of warmth and companionship found and meaning life itself to him. He had been alone, they had been alone and there was fear it would come again. He feared he must be deprived of the lover who made life itself worth living. Aching soul binding need for ease from the terrors he had lived with.

"No." A milder denial, with the rising awareness of wrongness in the emotional storm. His racing heartbeat began to steady.

Within darkness the easing of that heartbeat mirroring his own relaxed his dawning fear. He knew this. Even lingering sleep could not disguise it from him. He knew this fear and aching need and he had dealt with its like before. He could soothe the need; all he needed to do was reach out and calm his lover. Reach out with his own comforting warmth and love and bring Trowa back to awareness.

Trowa's dreams could be so consuming and if there was fire his lover would need all the reassurance his empathy could project. He had promised his lover he would always be there.

"Trowa. S'kay. Mmm here."

He needed to remind Trowa he was not alone, enfold him in his love. No matter where they were, no matter the distance that might separate them, he needed to know they were always together within their hearts and their souls were one. It was a bond he lived to feel and without it there would be nothing worth having.

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Unease emerged from darkness, a vague awareness of something being wrong. The darkness and warmth tugged at him to return to its embrace, to immerse himself within restful oblivion. There were stirrings of memory of smoke and flame and the more welcome remembrance of a lover's touch, of concern and need. He existed in the darkness, adrift in comfort and aware of threat and stirring to the need to act.

A sharp piercing blaze of light filled the darkness, the red gold of an explosion of flame. A resurgence of the acrid burning stench he was all too familiar with from the war, the stench of burning flesh. He shuddered within his cocoon at the rising roar that might be storm winds, or might be the thunder of a firestorm approaching. The roaring speared through his comfort zone, forcing his awareness, driving from him the need for oblivion.

He shuddered, tossing against the invasion of sensation overtaking him. Groggy with sleep, his surroundings became unreal. The darkness and safety were wrong; the fire's roar was a threat yet unreal, sleep fading before the onslaught. He shuddered, uncertainty forcing awareness and giving birth to questions.

Where was he? Who was he? Someone reaching out for him? Someone threatened. Someone needed him. Who called him? Who reached out for him and why did he have the sense of distance? There was danger, fire and it threatened them. Him.

/Trowa?/

It seemed so long ago since they were together. Trowa, his other half, his soul mate, who could kill impassively and draw out the pleasures of the flesh for hours and make him beg for completion. His other half was out there, somewhere beyond the darkness and calling for him.

"Trowa? Where are you?"

He sought to reach him through the darkness, seeking touch, the assurance of his voice and his hands. Trowa was there, somewhere in the darkness and he needed to reach him. To hold him.

"Quatre?"

The voice was soft, curious and far from alarmed. Sleepy almost. Familiar. He received the impression of confusion, wary alertness fading to the need to sleep.

Beyond the confusion he sensed was not his own, there was the underlying fear returning. The fear and the impression of haste and running. Somewhere beyond his hearing, though he felt it with every fibre of his being, was the sound of running feet. Footsteps running away from him one moment and toward him the next. People circling him and never seen, never touched only sensed.

"Trowa? Running… why? You are running? Where are you? Can't… Can't feel you…"

"You are dreaming, Quatre. Go to sleep. It's too damn early to get up."

The quiet voice in the darkness was a counterpoint to the urgency he sensed surrounding him. Mixed with the rising urgency a flash of resentment and the cottony feel of a mind befuddled by sleep.

Dreaming? Was he… He was dreaming? Well, of course he was dreaming. That made sense, but how odd. He was tired and the ache of his body told him it had been a long day and a day which had not wanted to end. He was overtired and reacting to shadows, jumping and twitching at nothing. Why should he think there was something wrong? Why should he smell smoke and burning flesh and hear the thunder of firestorm and the sounds of running feet and screaming? Why should he be disturbed by such a nightmare, when pure exhaustion should have ensured dreamless sleep? He was exhausted and he lay in warmth and comfort and knew here was safety.

Need.

He could feel a need reaching out to him. He tossed his head about seeking escape or to locate the source of the need. He was uncertain which he sought to do. The sensation grew stronger, begging him to reach out in turn and meet it. It was familiar and he sought to comply, to reach out with his love and sudden certainty it was Trowa seeking him. He fought against the muffling cotton of lingering sleep with his belief nothing could separate them.

Agitation. Clear and rising, flashing fear and distress. Calm, they were together in heart and soul and never ever apart. Calm with the touch of shared emotion, though their bodies might be apart. It was only physical distance separating them and distance meant nothing to the mind with love so deep as theirs. Reaching out to the one calling him he could almost feel the warmth of skin against his hands, feel the brush of hot flesh against his own.

Pain. Low level pain disturbing him and disrupting his concentration. A headache, a remote part of him identified. Well, what more did he expect? He was overtired and exhausted and of course he had to experience nightmares when finally his aching body and overtaxed mind had the chance to rest. It was just unfortunate the nightmares picked today to bother him.

He sought out the darkness, that balm to dismiss the headache and allow him to curl up within its gentle folds. He needed so desperately to sleep and he knew Trowa was far away. He wanted to dream of Trowa, but it should be the wondrous sensuous experience he remembered of their last night together. He had not had much sleep that night but, Trowa had shown him beyond any doubt he was loved.

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"**Fuck!"**

**Terror exploded into his dark safe cocoon. Shattering rolling waves of emotion bombarding his awareness and he cried out with the force of it. The world around him, the darkness was filled with it. The initial thunder of emotion was not lessened by the growing sense of uncertainty of it and the fear was filling with confusion. **

He was shaking, gasping for air, clawing at the air, tangling restricting cloth. He was in restraints, tied and hampered from reacting physically to go to Him. Where was He? What was wrong? What was happening?

**"Quatre. Where are you? I need you Quat."**

**He was gasping and choking for air and he could not breathe. There was a shadow in the darkness, a deeper darkness full of shadowy flickers. Was that a glimpse of a smiling face and a brilliant flash of flame and acrid stench of smoke robbing the air from his lungs?**

**"God. Quatre, I need you." Heartfelt longing exploded into his senses and the fear receded. "I miss you." **

"Trowa?" gasping against the smothering darkness.

No air. There was no air. The flame had robbed him of the air he needed to breathe.

"Quatre? Wake up! You are dreaming!"

A voice close to him. A familiar voice, though it was muffled in the smothering darkness. Trowa was near but it was not Trowa who called him. He struggled against the bonds containing him, desperate to break free. The muffled words were curse words, he was sure of that. Someone was swearing fit to kill somewhere in the darkness and it was not fair they had air enough to breathe and he must gasp for every little bit.

He screamed as the world tilted crazily in the darkness.

"I don't know how to reach you, Quatre! I don't know how to reach past whatever it is making you dream like this."

Confusion battered at him, filling the darkness in overpowering waves. He could not think for it filling his awareness, overflowing his senses, filling his entire being. Nothing made sense to him other than the awareness of confusion and growing fear within it.

Where was the light? Where was the light he must have to live and the air he needed to breathe? He was smothering in darkness and he was being pulled down into the horror of the nightmare once again.

Nightmare enveloping his senses, filling him with the smell and taste of flame and smoke. People were running around him, shadow shapes in the smoke filled darkness of the building and nothing was making sense. This was not real, he knew it was not real, it was only a dream and he could control his dreams. The first step to controlling his empathy was to establish control of his imagination. He needed a wall.

A wall, strong and high and it must be a dome over his head and surrounding him against which only the impressions he desired could enter. A domed enclosure would protect him, enfolding him in safety and silence…

The dome shattered above him and admitted the smoke and he huddled behind the ruined remnants of his barricade. On the other side of the wall the fire raged and the smoke took the air and people ran screaming before the flames. He could hear them running and screaming and he could hear the thundering roar of the fire approaching, though here on the far side of the wall he could see nothing and he was safe.

There was light suddenly invading the darkness, blazing brilliant light and a blast of bone aching cold air. With the light and the cold was a rise in the confusion that was too strong and too intense to come from one person. He twisted away from the confusion, but it was surrounding him in the ruined dome, the walls of his enclosure trapping the emotions where he could not escape them.

"Quatre! You are just tied up in the blanket! Wake up! It's just a dream."

He knew that voice and the uncertainty in it did not belong. That voice was more accustomed to certainty and competent decisive action. There were hints of anger and desperation swirling within the confusion. The anger should have been cold and calculating, with just a hint of manic lunacy, but always cold and calculation belonged within both voice and emotion. There was a name to go with the voice, but the emotion itself was strange and he could not remember the name for the life of him.

"You are dreaming."

Trowa was out there. Cold certainty enveloped him. Trowa was somewhere out there and he was struggling to deal with the confused aftermath of nightmare. No, that was not right. Nightmare? Trowa dreamed of fire and not all his dreams were nightmare memories of his past. Was this nightmare of that other thing?

He had helped Trowa through the dreams that were not nightmare before and at first he had not told his lover of his suspicions. It was only later, after meticulous investigations made without his lover's knowledge that he had been convinced he alone was not marked. Dreams of fire would haunt his lover and in the new day, sometimes only hours later, he would find evidence. Sometimes it would take days or weeks, but his investigations would always reveal details of actual event matching the details he managed to worm out of his reluctant lover. Dreams need not necessarily be memories of the past.

"Precognition." He whispered and it seemed his voice was hoarse, as though he had been screaming.

His voice felt tight and raw to him as it would if he had been screaming… or inhaling acrid smoke filled air.

"Quatre! It's Heero. It's Heero! Will you listen to me?"

Strong hands were gripping his shoulders and squeezing. He always knew Heero was strong but he had never before been subjected to this. Vice like fingers were digging into his shoulders and he was jerking in the darkness, being shaken repeatedly and with growing strength.

/Heero? /

If Heero was there and this was not just a part of his dream, why could he not see him? Why could he hear him and why did Heero's voice sound muffled for all he seemed to be shouting? Heero was touching him and gripping his shoulders in a grip that hurt and he was definitely being shaken, but he could not retaliate.

Why could he not fight back? Why could he not throw off the annoying source of his pain? He wanted to throw Heero across the room and he would! He struggled against the restraints forcing his arms into unyielding immobility and he was cold, freezing.

He did not like being shaken!

Resignation and unease swirled around him, breaching the shattered remnants of his dome. Not Heero. That anger was brighter, the confusion giving way to true anger and no little worry and concern. This wave of emotion was distant, but still strong. It seemed more real than the hands shaking him or the voice cursing him.

Resignation and longing passing and filling with a sense of curiosity. He knew the sensation of old and he knew it was imperative he answer. He could almost see his lover standing before him and almost hear his voice asking him why he had to do this thing. Why he needed to interfere and pursue the matter to a conclusion and in so doing acknowledge what had always been unpalatable to him.

He could hear the loved voice ask why and he knew there was no other response he could make. He must answer and then, Allah willing, the confusion would fall away from him and he could separate the threads binding him.

"Because you need to."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006

--

Notes:

Previous Quatre / Heero chapters are 139 and 142 dealing with the beginning sequence of the chapter.

This chapter links with the events of Trowa's nightmares.


	172. Chapter 172 Chapter 171

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 171/

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 171/?? Stephansbourg Sanc

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 171

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 04:40

Heero

On nights he should fall instantly asleep, when he permitted himself to relax, he would drift on the edge of oblivion or lay awake, too aware of the world surrounding him to take that longed for tumble. This, of course, had to be one of those nights. His head was throbbing with the kind of ache he had rarely felt since the end of the war. The pain was well known to him, the result of lack of sleep after stress combined with an awareness of action needing to be taken.

He had been drifting on the threshold of sleep for some time now. It was a resting mode he had been taught during days he would prefer to forget, a meditation-like state permitting him to rest body and mind and remain alert to the world surrounding him. Keyed trigger factors would rouse him and see him prepared for action in the blink of an eye, handy in wartime.

He needed to rest but the questions he needed answers to would give him no peace and body and mind were stretched to the limit and had triggered this state. He would emerge from it able to function if not truly rested and he would have to be content with that. If he did not gain adequate opportunity to sleep within a few days he would crash and crash dramatically.

For what seemed like hours, he had caught the restless movements of his roommate. He was prone to nightmares on occasion, leftover haunting images of the war. Now he had proof he was not the only one haunted by his past.

Quatre seemed to be getting worse in the last few minutes. At least the restless movements and soft gasps were not the screaming horrors that often brought him from his own bed. In recent months there had been an easing of the night horrors, enough to give him hope he might be recovering and could look forward to more settled sleep periods. There were nights still when his dreams brought him awake with the gun kept under his pillow in hand.

/I should not think about a relationship with Relena or anyone else until I learn how to manage those dreams. I'd shoot her before I woke up. I have to be sure she is safe. Safe from danger. Safe from me. /

For some reason he had not considered Quatre might have nightmares, which was stupid on his part. His own instances of unpleasant dreams stemmed from incidents during the war and Quatre had been a part of that war. Quatre Raberba Winner was one of the few survivors of the war who had perhaps more experiences to wake screaming over than he himself. Quatre had built Wing Zero after witnessing his father's betrayal and death and whilst using Zero had caused the destruction of so many lives. He had taken out entire colonies in cold clinical rage. His insanity of the time was not something one as conscience ridden as Quatre would ever forget.

/I suppose that could be used as a parallel between Winner and Peacecraft. I wonder just how sane Zechs was after witnessing the fall of Sanc the first time. He seemed stable enough until Relena surrendered it to Romefeller. Although I can't say with any certainty what I thought was accurate in hindsight. What I knew and accepted as accurate is hanging by a thread. I have to tell Quatre about Romefeller. About their breeding program and show him the files. He would have to understand more of it than I can. /

"Love you, Trow." The breathy whisper sighed on the end of a snap from the lowering fire.

Heero's eyes snapped open and a blush bloomed. Well, maybe all that moaning and shifting in bed was not the result of nightmare after all. Heero didn't know where to look and burrowed deeper under the eiderdown in an effort to block out the soft moan that came on the wings of the fire's crackle. It was one thing to think of Quatre having nightmares and another entirely to realize his friend was having an erotic dream about his boyfriend.

/I need to get a life. /

He pulled the eiderdown in close to him and sought out the place between wakefulness and sleep that offered his body rest. He was not going to get to sleep, much as he longed to fall into that dark welcome oblivion. His mind was too active and the best he could hope for was some meditation to take the edge off.

More tossing and turning in the darkness on the other side of the room. He tried not to think about what exactly Quatre would be dreaming about doing with Trowa. The sound of him moving in the bed was suggestive the pace of the dream was picking up and he only hoped Quatre would settle soon. Surely sex did not take so long?

A log shifted on the fire and the flame flared a little. Quatre moaned and Heero almost snarled, flinging back the eiderdown and gasping at the chill in the air. The fire was lower than he thought and the cold of the storm was greater than its weak flame could cover. Slipping out of bed Heero made his way to the fire and carefully laid a log on the coals, poking at the lingering fire to incite some activity.

Beyond the room he could hear the measured tread of a Preventer on his rounds and the sound was oddly comforting. He was a Preventer, the agent assigned to provide protection to the Vice Foreign Minister. He was not, of course, the only agent but he took her safety personally and he was going to need to make a decision at some time in the future.

"No!"

Heero sighed and rubbed at his aching eyes. There was nothing sexy about that gasp. He had those nightmares too. Quatre's dream of his boyfriend had deteriorated from a loving encounter into the realm of nightmare. Perhaps he saw Trowa walking away from him, abandoning him. He had similar dreams about Relena turning aside from his bumbling inept attempts to find something more with her. Perhaps Quatre relived the instance during the war when he thought he had killed his lover under the influence of the Zero System.

"No."

He glanced toward the bed. Quatre lay still and the whisper held a softer almost questioning inflection. As though he was asking for reassurance or a confirmation of something, perhaps a lover's secret. To put more wood on the fire at this time would be to snuff the struggling flame so Heero slipped silently back into bed, bundling himself up in the eiderdown once more.

/They know their climate./ He rubbed his cheek against the thick soft pillow and tucked himself down into the bed, sighing in appreciation of the comfort and warmth.

"Trowa. S'kay. Mmm here."

He tensed, expecting a renewal of the nightmare, but after a few minutes of silence he decided they were to be spared. For the moment Quatre seemed to be quieting, his restless movements settled and his breathing was calm and even. Hopeful he might once more return to some rest Heero settled himself within his warm cocoon and allowed his thoughts to drift as he controlled his breathing, lowering his heart rate in measured stages.

While Sanc was not the most hospitable of climates there was nothing lacking in good old-fashioned Sancian hospitality. Considering the hour with which they had descended upon the Inn the food, while simple, was good, the drink had been hot and welcome and the bed was a delight to an aching exhausted body.

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"Trowa? Where are you?"

The voice was an unwelcome intrusion into the darkness, driving him into awareness. He blinked rather stupidly at the ceiling beam overhead before memory returned. He was in a bedroom at the Couchman's Rest Inn and he was sharing the room with Quatre.

/Not again./ He was just too tired for this. /I was actually asleep. /

His head started to hammer at him to return to oblivion, but the blonde in the next bed was tossing from side to side and he could hear elevated breathing and soft gasps. Heero rubbed at his eyes, trying to force coherent thought through the lingering tendrils of sleep and beyond the throbbing headache. If there should be danger now he was in trouble.

"Quatre?" Perhaps a verbal nudge would take the edge off and gently nudge Quatre to mentally shift gears, sparing them both the nightmare.

He had hoped the young man would settle, his focus disturbed enough to remove him from the obviously disturbing dream. In the other bed Quatre shifted restlessly, his head turning on the pillow as though he was seeking something or someone. One hand briefly emerged from the eiderdown as though he was reaching out but slipped back under the cover.

"Trowa? Running… why?"

He moaned softly into the pillow, rubbing his forehead into the material in a futile effort to shift the throbbing in his head. How much sleep had he managed to get? Not much, his body told him and he was less likely to get any more if he could not quiet the blonde.

"You are running? Where are you? Can't… Can't feel you…"

He had to wonder if love was really worth sleepless nights. Or in this case, a night filled with nightmares about being abandoned by one's lover. Did he really want a relationship if he would spend his solitary nights worrying he would be left for the comfort of another's arms? With Relena as his lover there would be plenty of those.

/Scratch that. She would not take a lover to begin with. In her position that would be political suicide and she is also Princess of Sanc. There would need to be commitment. Does she want commitment? I don't know what I want, let alone what she wants./

More moaning and a hand appeared to grope as though to catch a hold of someone passing him. He gripped the eiderdown and growled softly. Nightmares. Maybe Trowa would somehow comfort Quatre when the nightmares came? Yes, that was probably what they did. They would be each other's support during the night and he knew Trowa had nightmares. He had been unfortunate enough to have heard some of Trowa's dreams when they were together after his self-destruction of the Wing Gundam.

Trowa had had some pretty nasty dreams as he recalled and they often had featured fire. He knew little of the young man's past, other than he had been a mercenary for much of his childhood before becoming involved in Operation Meteor. Something from his past must have triggered the fear of fire for it to feature so much in his unguarded moments.

Quatre probably was there to hold Trowa or talk him through the dreams and it went without saying Trowa would return the favour when it was Quatre's turn to dream. Winner was just as deadly in unguarded moments as any of his former compatriots, so if Heero approached him physically he would need to take the greatest of care. Perhaps it was not too late to attempt to talk Winner out of the nightmare and back into a neutral state. Maybe Quatre would listen to sense through the dream disturbing him.

/I really don't want to get out of this nice warm bed. /

He rubbed at his face, trying to wake himself up even though he only wanted to give in and curl up. He was not going to get rid of the headache if he could not get some sleep and he was not going to sleep while Quatre rocked around the bed and called out to his lover, who was somewhere in the vicinity of the moon to Heero's knowledge.

"You are dreaming, Quatre. Go to sleep. It's too damn early to get up."

"Trowa?"

A sleep-laden whisper and for an instant a piercing blue eye opened, but he could tell there was no intelligence in the look. Quatre seemed to still be asleep and he probably had not reacted to his voice at all, but to something in his dream.

"Tro…" He was tossing from side to side, his body shivering from the way the eiderdown was trembling. "Fire…"

Was he imagining this? He was sure he had not seen those lips move to shape the whisper and indeed he was not sure he actually heard a sound it was so quiet.

"Why?" The breath of a question and this time he did see the fine lips part slightly and shape the word. Only the stillness of the Inn and a momentary lull in the storm enabled him to catch the whisper.

Heero scowled, feeling sleep drifting further and further away from his reach with the continued disturbance. It was not fair. When he finally had the opportunity to rest he was lying here listening to the mutterings of someone else's nightmare. He did not want to know about fire and wonder what Trowa's link to the flames might be. He simply wanted to sleep,

"Running and… fire… everywhere."

/I've lived nightmares too often. I know what it's like. Sometimes you simply have to allow it to run the course. At least he's quiet. Probably does not even realize he is vocalising./

"Who is it?"

He half turned, noting the fire had burned down a little and he must have had somewhere near an hour's sleep for the small log he had placed on the flame to have burned so much. He did not want to get up, but he could not leave it alone.

In his past he had woken alone from too many nightmares not to know how this one was sure to develop. He scrubbed at his burning eyes, remembering himself killing Relena in so many ways, fast and slow, bloody and horrible. There were days he saw her death from hands other than his own, with himself standing in the background watching, helpless to prevent it. Some of the dreams had been so vivid he found it hard to look at her and not run screaming from the room. He was sure on those days she must see the death in his eyes and know it was her death he saw. It made no difference if she suspected it was her death at his hands or not, it was sometimes too much.

/I could not kill her through the war, so why do I dream of killing her so often now? I don't want to kill her. I don't need to kill her. I… I want to… love her./

He pried himself up in the bed, reaching to turn on the bedside light the better to see his friend, who had fallen quiet while he had entertained unpleasant memories of his own nightmares. Quatre was barely visible, having wormed his way down under the eiderdown. The snatches of whispered words and restless movements had eased and he seemed to have settled.

"Quatre?" He was careful not to call loud enough to wake the blonde should he have fallen into deeper sleep, but loud enough to gain some reaction from him if he still hovered on the edge between nightmare and waking.

It was amazing how acute your senses could become when in the throes of nightmare. Was that awareness peculiar to those who had fought in wars? Were soldiers the only ones who reacted so easily to the sound of voices and the suggestion of movement during nightmares? Were they the only ones to react violently, considering every small sound a threat?

If Quatre needed him and his touch, not just the sound of his voice, he was going to need to exercise all caution on approaching him. Quatre, like all of the other Gundam Pilots, would have hair trigger reflexes and his conscious mind would take a precious few seconds to catch up with his reflexes. For what seemed like an eternity he waited for Quatre to move, to groan or twitch in the nightmare and he remained still and silent.

/Good. He seems to have calmed down. /

Heero sighed and slithered down into his warm nest, drawing the eiderdown snugly to him. Maybe he could enjoy the chance to sleep after all.

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"Nyaggghhh!"

Heero bolted upright, his hand under the pillow and grasping the butt of his gun before his mind registered the action. There was the sound of a body thrashing and the metal was cool to his hand. His finger was on the trigger and the barrel of the gun aimed across the room at the bed and the body thrashing within its tangled bedding.

/What the hell am I doing? /

The sound of running feet and the rattle of the doorknob had the gun snapped around at the door and pressure on the trigger before the voice from the other side registered.

"Yuy? Mr. Winner? Is everything alright?"

"Fuck."

He scrubbed at his face even as he scrambled out of bed, tripping over the eiderdown in his haste to reach the door. He fumbled with the key wishing his head would cease its pounding and his heart did not feel the need to mirror that rapid throbbing. He still had the gun in hand he noted as he opened the door.

"It's alright. Nightmare. I'll deal with it."

The Preventer in the hallway barely opened his mouth when Quatre's moan filled the room and Heero nodded sharply and flicked the gun toward the doors down the hallway.

"I'll deal with it. Return to your post."

"Sir."

He was ex-Oz Specials forces Heero recalled and no doubt had his own instances of nightmare. A good man and one who had seemed not to have trouble working with the infamous Gundam Pilots. Closing the door and turning the key to seal them within the room again he pressed his back to the wall and glared across the bedroom.

Quatre was clawing at the air, thrashing about as if he fought some invisible enemy. He was whimpering, making inarticulate sounds and growling what might have been curses at his target. He seemed to be trying to reach something hovering in the air above him which only he could see.

"Trowa?" There was desperation in his voice and the name of his lover was the only clear word Heero could discern out of the assortment of sounds he was making.

This was going to be one of those days, he decided, looking longingly at his bed before he stalked over to stand between the two beds and placed his gun on the pillow. He was shaking, fighting the adrenaline surge in reaction to the rude awakening he had experienced. He might have shot Quatre or the on-duty Preventer agent before his mind caught up with his reflexes and if Quatre kept on like this he would wake the entire Inn.

All he wanted to do was get some sleep and here he was woken time and again by the nightmares that seemed even worse than those which haunted him. All Quatre seemed to be doing was calling out to Trowa, trying to reach him through the dream. If this was what having a love interest did to a person he would need to rethink his growing feelings for Relena.

The fire was burning lower and the room was chill. Ignoring Quatre for the moment he moved to poke at the coals and carefully place two of the smaller pieces of wood and hoped it would catch. He was not looking forward to freezing while he tried to deal with Quatre and just knowing the fire would be building heat would have to be enough for the moment. With the fire stoked as best he could, the door locked against intrusion and the Preventer guard aware he would be dealing with the matter, it was time to turn to the problem at hand.

He had a friend who obviously needed help.

"Alright then, Quatre. Let's see if we can't get you to wake up without smashing up the Inn."

He made his way to the side of the bed and knelt, careful to remain out of the reach of those flailing arms. In his present condition it was possible Quatre would not recognize his voice and would be likely to strike out without a second thought. He appeared to be deep into the dream or memory and Heero was not of a mind to take chances.

"Quatre?"

Nothing. No hint of reaction to suggest his voice might have penetrated the depths of his dream. The whimpering continued, unabated, as did the thrashing against the enfolding eiderdown. In fact it might even have gotten worse he mused as Quatre's fingers curled into claws and pummelled the air. Heero ran a hand through his sleep-mussed mop of hair and wondered if he dared touch the struggling man.

"Quatre!"

Did his struggles lessen for an instant? Heero was unsure, but the fingers had uncurled from their unnatural position and he could only take it to be a good sign.

"Trowa?"

There was something in Quatre's voice that disturbed Heero. He leaned a little closer, trying to get a better view of his friend. The side lights did not shed a great deal of illumination and Quatre was so wrapped up in the bedding it was difficult to see details.

"Quatre? Wake up! You are dreaming!"

A more vigorous bout of thrashing against the bedding resulted and the sounds he was making now suggested growing distress. It sounded to Heero like the blonde was having difficulty breathing, as though he was forcing air into his lungs and there were little choking sounds mixed with the whimpers.

He cursed at the continued thrashing that forced him to remain at bay, using some choice expletives he had overheard from soldiers during the war and refined in his own unique manner. Duo had once observed he could swear in as many as half a dozen languages and add his own unique flavour to the vocabulary.

Was he not getting through to Quatre at all? He could define no actual words coming from Quatre now, just sounds of distress. Inarticulate and each sound wrenched at something within him, a part of him he had never experienced before. He recognized it for all it was unfamiliar to him and he could not say he found the feeling of helplessness was one he welcomed.

"Neyagghhhh!

The scream set him back on his heels and he only hoped they had not awoken any of the guests. He was confident the Preventer Guards would not disturb him, knowing him to be trying to wake Quatre and since those on duty in the hall were ex-military he had no doubt they knew enough to give him room. He would have to try something desperate if he could not wake the man soon, or they would have the guests up and about and Relena needed sleep.

"I don't know how to reach you Quatre! I don't know how to reach past whatever it is making you dream like this."

He felt helpless, useless and it was not a good feeling to experience. This was beyond his expertise and things outside of his field of knowledge frightened him. He had a broad comfort zone, but emotions were still new to him and nightmares were intensely private things. He did not like others knowing about his night horrors and suspected Quatre would be one to keep nightmares private.

This situation frightened him and how many people would laugh at the idea of the Perfect Soldier being frightened? There were so few people in the ESUN who knew him for what he truly was. So few could look through the thin veneer at the persona beneath. He had been terrified during the war. Terrified of so many situations beyond his experience, as only a fifteen-year-old could be thrown into a situation that made adults cringe. That was why he and the others had been chosen to be Pilots, he was sure. Because they considered themselves to be always right and invincible and did not know enough to be truly afraid.

Well, he had been afraid, terrified, but he had not known enough to run. He had been conditioned by people who had no heart for the individual and who saw only their plan and a means to achieve it. The conditioning given to him since he had been a child had been sufficient to get him past the fear by the simple expedient called necessity. He had been reconditioned when their training had failed and he would do anything to see himself spared a return to that training.

Beneath the onslaught of everyday life away from the necessities of war and thanks to sparkling blue eyes, the conditioning was slowly breaking down. He was not sorry to see it break and even under its influence he would be at a loss as to how to deal with this situation.

What was he to do? How could he help?

"Fire…" the whisper ended in a choking cough.

A word he recognized, a whisper hoarse with fear and, he suspected, helplessness. It was hard for him to recognize the emotion. Quatre was tying himself up into a bigger knot with the bedding and that restriction seemed to be panicking him.

"Wall… Build… wall."

He was having difficulty breathing. The panting was growing worse, more obvious and there were little gasps and choking sounds and Quatre's hand began to flail about before him, as though he was trying to push something away from him. He had managed to lock one hand in the tangle of quilt and sheet and that distressed him more, inciting a new round of tossing and turning.

Heero snarled softly. He did not want to touch Quatre while he was like this, but if he could not get through to him any other way he was going to have to hit him. That would set him off worse than ever, though the screaming would likely stop in favour of unthinking killing rage. Most of the Earth Sphere thought of Quatre as a business man who dabbled in politics and was brilliant for his age. He knew Quatre the warrior better than he knew Winner the businessman. If he woke up Quatre the killer and did not contain him quickly enough, people could get hurt.

"Wall… No!... Rebuild the walls…"

Gasping and choking whispers amidst whimpering inarticulate sounds of distress.

"Quatre! You are just tied up in the blanket! Wake up! It's jut a dream."

What was he to do? He did not want to instigate an incident where civilians might get hurt. Quatre would accept being injured if it was necessary to contain him from hurting others, but Heero was reluctant to take that step. Quatre seemed not to have heard his entreaties and was still thrashing around in the bed, whimpering and calling out wordless sounds of distress. At least at this moment his cries were somewhat subdued.

Exactly what was it he was dreaming about? He had been calling out to Trowa and there were recurring cries of 'fire' and he had been urging someone to run, or commenting on someone running.

/Fire? Trowa and fire? Running? /

He could only hope it was not Quatre in the nightmare who had set the fire. He recalled only too vividly one instance of nightmare when he dreamed he had locked Relena in a room at St Gabriel's Institute and set fire to the building. His own maniacal laughter had woken him, but that had been during the war and he had accounted her a threat to his mission. He still shuddered at the memory of her screams as the building had collapsed in the inferno.

He had never consciously wanted to kill her. Not really. He had thought he needed to kill her to stop her interference at first, she had after all known too much. Something deep down inside of him had always stayed his hand. Something he had not understood then and did not claim to understand now.

Why would Quatre dream of Trowa and fire? He had thought their relationship to be more than stable and they were happy together. He was sure he must have misunderstood, misinterpreted the snippets of the nightmare he had been able to glean.

"You are dreaming." He tried to project assurance at his partner, the firm conviction he was sure was needed to penetrate the nightmare.

His efforts hardly seemed to reassure Quatre as the panting grew more pronounced and his cries grew quieter, though no less intense or articulate. Quatre seemed to be failing, coughing more and his words came in strangled whispers. His trapped hand was still now, though his free hand flailed randomly and his eyes were open though unseeing of the room about them.

"What do I do?" he whispered and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to think of anything his past experience would offer in the way of assistance.

They all suffered from nightmares from time to time and they had all learned to deal with their own experiences, but to deal with another's… This seemed somehow to be worse than any nightmare he had experienced and he had the distinct impression he was missing something important. Something that might make sense of the whole thing.

"Precognition." Quatre gasped, his voice raw. It came out more as a strangled whisper and he began to cough in hacking rasping distress.

Heero recoiled.

/Precognition?! What the hell? / He could only stare as the coughing fit wound down. /He sounds hoarse and while I know it's because of the nightmare, it almost sounds like he is coughing out smoke. I don't think I've ever had a dream that realistic before./

Quatre had renewed his thrashing against his restraints and managed to work his trapped hand free. He was working himself up into a frenzy and Heero feared he would do himself injury if he could not be contained. The quilt and sheet enfolding him was actually protecting both Quatre and himself from injury, even as it worked him up into greater and greater distress.

/Do I try to work him out of the restraints without setting him off into a worse frenzy, or do I try to tangle him more to keep some control of him? Either way I have to get dangerously close to him./

Perhaps one more try to get him to listen before he had to place himself close enough to make physical retaliation a real danger.

"Quatre! It's Heero. It's Heero! Will you listen to me?"

A particularly violent bout of thrashing served to almost wrap the sheet around Quatre's neck and Heero sighed, ducking his head away from the sight. He had never had such violent nightmares as this. There was no help for it, he had to interfere and he could only hope Quatre would prove not to be so violent as Trowa would have been, or he himself. Perhaps if he took advantage of the bedding and used it to further entrap his friend it would contain the violent reprisal he was sure would be forthcoming.

Quatre was strong, but he was not as strong as Heero knew himself to be and that was to his advantage. If he could contain Quatre and force him awake using his strength to shake the stuffing out of the man; he was sure Quatre would forgive the rough handling. Anyone would have to thank him for waking them from such a nightmare.

/Well, here goes. If he gets loose I'll have no choice other than to call in the other agents to help me contain him and then someone will get hurt. Quatre would not want that. /

Turning to his own bed he grasped the eiderdown and with a deep breath threw it over the thrashing body and threw himself after it. He wrapped the eiderdown as best he could, using the more violent movements to tuck it beneath Quatre's struggling form. He expected Quatre to shout or scream but no sound except gasping and choking emerged from beneath the blanket and he scrambled to uncover his friends face afraid he might be suffocating.

He spread himself over the heaving body, using his own weight to his advantage and straddling the struggling man. He gripped Quatre's shoulders and used his legs to give him greater purchase on the body as he hooked his fingers into the broad shoulders. What surprised him was the chill emanating from the struggling man. With the violence of his movements and the eiderdown enfolding him he had expected Quatre to be hot, at the very least warm.

/He feels so cold./

Heero decided it was as well he had used the eiderdown as it would serve not only as a restraint, but to warm him against the seeming unnatural chill.

/Why does he feel so cold? I know it's cold but this just seems wrong . His eyes… opening. Quatre? You can't see me, can you? Damn, what is going on?/

Unseeing blue eyes stared up at him and the shaking was growing worse, testing his strength to restrain. The teeth of the other man were clenched tight together and an inarticulate growl came from deep in his chest.

"Quatre?" He hissed the name and placed in it all the force he could muster, demanding he pay attention and wake.

There was not even a flicker in those blue eyes, no hint of recognition in either eyes or growl. He was growing desperate and though it was probably a bad idea he began to shake Quatre. There was no doubt a dozen or more psychological reasons against shaking a man in this condition, but Heero was dealing with something he had no knowledge of. He was becoming desperate and had only his own dreams to go on. Dreams so bad he would have given anything for someone to shake the hell out of him and bring him back to reality.

"Will you wake up!" he hissed, aware if he shouted as he wished to he would wake the entire Inn with the force of his voice.

He needed to do this quietly and there was no other options open to him. If he knocked the man unconscious he might trap him in this nightmare and that would be unforgivable. He shook Quatre with growing violence, aware he was losing his own control and it was fear making him so violent.

"It's Heero. Wake up!"

Shaking and shaking and desperation was giving way to panic. He must not panic. He must retain control and he sucked in deep steadying breaths, easing the force of his grip, aware Quatre would have bruises to remember this night by. Was it his imagination Quatre's struggles were easing? His breathing seemed to be more even, the rasp in his throat certainly was less.

"Because you need to."

/What?/

There was something recognizable dawning in the eyes gazing up at him. While he thought he still was not recognized he suspected there was a hint of something very like desperation. Was he witnessing growing desperation? The emotion in those eyes grew stronger as he watched and he could feel a sense of urgency growing apace.

Something needed to break…

"You must steady yourself."

Quatre's voice came in a husky whisper, raw from his shouts and screams but it was no longer filled with rage or desperation. It was sensible, full of reason and held an outpouring of assurance so unlike the earlier stages of the nightmare. It was the voice he equated with Quatre Winner.

"You need to find the fire."

"Quatre?" Heero stopped shaking him, though he retained his hold and a firm grip on his shoulders.

The body restrained under his was quiet now, stretched out over the bed and panting softly. There was no hint of fight in Quatre and the eyes blinking up at him surrounded by pale golden lashes were sane. Those lashes closed over bright blue eyes in a slow blink. Once. Twice. He was tense and alert, but offering no violence and was willing to wait.

Blue eyes looked up at him with unmistakable recognition and he knew with certainty for the first time since he had woken to the scream that Quatre could see him. The nightmare was over and sanity prevailed.

"Heero." A whisper, husky and more of a croak. Very unlike the smooth tones he was familiar with.

"You don't make a habit of having nightmares, do you?"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006

Previous Heero/Quatre chapters directly related to this chapter: 139, 142, 170


	173. Chapter 173 Chapter 172

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 172

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 03:50 approx Sanc time 01:40

Polnar

"… need to have the twins brought here so we can keep them adequately guarded."

Intense, chilling blue eyes.

/I always thought Raydon had a baleful stare, but I think he could improve with lessons from this one. /

Merquise could chill the blood in your veins if he lifted the intensity of that glare just a little. The aura the man generated was one of barely retrained threat and he was not the only one to feel it, though at the moment the full force of Merquise's animosity was focused on him.

He had been aware of Barker's attention returning time and again to focus on him and what he sensed from the man suggested speculation. Up to this point Barker had said nothing to him as he stood beside the bed and watched the proceedings with careful attention, though his eyes flickered constantly between his partner and Merquise.

Through the aftermath of the confrontation Barker had watched and supervised and stood back when appropriate as the injured technician was treated. When the tech had finally been deemed stable enough to be removed to surgery and Simpson was tucked safely away, he had felt the Preventer's attention shift to pay more attention to their quiet conversation.

At this time the room was occupied by himself, Giles and Merquise, with Barker and an orderly, who was engaged in cleaning up the copious amounts of blood the tech had bled all over the floor. The sheer volume of blood led him to wonder if the tech had any chance of surviving the surgery to come. He knew liquid could be deceiving as to exactly how much was spilled onto a horizontal surface once it spread, but he suspected the tech had indeed bled substantially. Blood seemed to be everywhere and it did not help someone had walked through it and tracked bloody prints all over the floor.

He had seen far too much blood this day to make it easy to ignore the sight.

Polnar was not certain he wanted to know the thoughts flitting through the Preventer's mind. The flicker of the man's eyes between himself and Giles suggested Barker was speculating and those thoughts did not necessarily bode well for either he or his partner. He would be a fool not to suspect the Preventer agent had done his own thinking on who they might be working for. He and Giles were treading a fine line and thus far he had not had the opportunity to brief Giles on the course of his day.

If it looked as though the man wanted to bring things to a head then Polnar knew he might need to resort to Giles and to his Gift to garner them some breathing space. Making such use of his partner's Gift was not an option he wished to pursue at this stage, as Giles was a resource he might well need at a later time and in a far more serious situation. He needed to preserve that resource for a situation where there was no other viable option.

He needed to give some thought to working on his 'gift of the gab'. At one stage during his childhood his mother had complained about how he could talk the hind legs off a donkey. Age and experience had lessened his tendency to run away at the mouth, but he suspected a glib tongue when dealing with Barker might be an asset. He needed to rethink his mother's 'silence is a blessing' rule.

His attention shifted back to the two men on the bed, his partner and the man he was supposed to bodyguard. Gaining details of the confrontation that had taken place in the room seemed to be particularly difficult as both men seemed to prefer to hunch over their hurts and ignore the world around them. It was a view that was very unlike Giles in his opinion.

When questioned on the details of the sedative used to bring Simpson down, both Giles and Merquise had offered little information beyond insisting it would be hours before the Blue Squad Commander would be active. Despite the assurance Polnar found himself as reluctant as Barker proved to be to take any chances with handling the man.

He had silently but wholeheartedly approved the appointment of a guard being placed on the Commander, though he was more than doubtful of the abilities of the orderly currently filling that position. He doubted the man would be able to do more than squeak as Simpson took him down if he woke early. That was, of course, if Simpson gave the orderly the time to get the squeak out.

/I'm a pessimistic bastard./

While Barker had concerned himself with sorting out the mess and restraining Simpson, he had taken the opportunity to greet his partner. Giles had barely nodded and offered an introduction to Merquise then lapsed into silence, nursing his ribs. Left to carry the weight of the conversation, Polnar had tried out a few pleasantries which, given the situation, had Merquise looking at him as though he had grown a second head. A period of silence had seemed not to bother either of the men and he had, in the end, made what to him was an eminently suitable suggestion given the circumstances.

With the bulk of the clean up complete and Frazier taken care of he had settled to more serious concerns and suggested to Merquise they locate and move his children into the Medical Centre. Through it all Giles had been largely silent and it was obvious he was hurting and not inclined to bother the medical staff while they were occupied with Frazier. On hearing his suggestion concerning the children Giles had winced and Polnar had found out why when he was pinned by those icy blue eyes and the simple refusal it implied, followed by stubborn silence.

He was becoming more than a little frustrated with Merquise and his objections to what was, to him, the most obvious course of action to be taken. He had stated the simple logistics of the situation and the actions required to meet the circumstances they found themselves in. For his trouble he met only the cold blue glare.

It made sense to locate the children Blue Squad had been hunting and bring them to the safety of the Medical Centre where they could be guarded against the lunatics killing off the base personnel. It was eminently sensible and logical and his every effort to stress the simplicity had been met with silence. He supposed he should expect that silence from Merquise but Giles' silence was, in its way, even more disturbing. Giles was his partner and knew how he worked and trusted him to formulate the best strategy given their situation.

Zechs Merquise refusal to see sense was a matter that frankly confused him. Merquise had been a Specials Officer. He had not been a part of the common Oz forces employed by the Alliance to perform their dirty deeds, but a part of the elite group referred to commonly as the Oz Specials.

His reputation was not that of a fool or a particularly obstinate man who was unwilling to take action orchestrated by others, if the planning was sound. Merquise was no stranger to formulating sound strategic advantage himself, but for some reason he refused to give up the location of his children. Whether he had a valid reason for that refusal, or he was engaged in simple bloody-mindedness Chris was not to know.

Polnar had gone over his strategy repeatedly in the last few minutes, checking to see if he had missed something that would cause Merquise to baulk. Strategically, it was only sensible to gather as many of the base strays who survived to this point together in one place. Finding a location they could adequately protect from the hunters was not merely an option. In this situation it was a necessity.

The base survivors needed security and while they were all tough individuals they were not soldiers used to bloodshed. They were in need of security and the youngsters, like the twins, needed the protection of people around them. While Merquise and his children were his prime responsibility he felt a need to protect as many people as possible and he was not of a mind to ignore anyone's safety now he had found the Prince of Sanc. Stubborn resistance from Merquise was placing needless delays on the rescue mission.

With his reputation as a Commander from the war he would have thought Merquise would be the first to recognize their needs and be willing to act.

"No. We leave them where they are for the moment." Merquise's voice was husky and firm, with no hint of compromise and those blue eyes glared at him from the bed and that dishevelled mass of silver white hair.

/God. The man is being such an ass about this. What is wrong with him? He was a commander of men and a strategist, not a spoiled ballerina. We have only so many competent hands to sort this mess out and if he thinks those kids will be safe until he is capable of going after them himself…/ He ran a hand through his hair, trying to maintain control of his exasperation. /It's obvious he's not capable of getting out of this bed for hours, if not days. How the hell has Giles dealt with him all this time if he has been this obstinate? I should be out there getting those kids to safety, not arguing with the spoiled brat who fathered them. The top brass were always denouncing the Specials as arrogant noble-born brats. I guess they may have been right. /

To give himself the time to swallow the urge to snarl back at the obstinate fool Polnar glowered at the orderly who looked as though he would puke any minute. The man was decidedly unhappy about being here and Polnar could sympathise with him. He was not too happy about being here either. There were things he could be doing and he forced himself to remember his own Commander's face.

He was on Mars at Raydon's behest and the man had told him in plain language not to underestimate Merquise and to be assured the man had a reason for ever action he took. Raydon had warned him too few people could understand the Prince of Sanc and so dismissed him and in the same breath had motioned to the far distant Earth.

"They underestimated both Milliardo Peacecraft and Treize Kushrenada. Those two together were capable of setting the stage to change the course of civilization's future. You never ever underestimate men capable of orchestrating such events, so do not make the mistake of dismissing any concerns Merquise might express."

He did not profess to understand what had happened during the course of the war and he was smart enough to understand he did not know enough of the details to accurately or fairly judge the actions of others. What he did know was that Raydon was hard to impress and he was, without doubt, impressed by Merquise. His instructions were to keep the irritating blonde safe and Polnar trusted his Commander enough to do just that.

A quick glance around the room showed Barker standing just out of the mess of blood steadily disappearing under the sweep of the mop. Giles still sat hunched over his own ribs at the side of the bed, looking as though he wished he was elsewhere and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It was the gesture Polnar recognized as one Giles used when he was at the end of his endurance. His entire attitude suggested to his partner he would prefer to curl up in a corner and ignore the world. It was something he had rarely seen, but always when Giles had extensively used his talent.

/Is that how he has controlled Merquise to this point? By continuously using his Gift?/

"I'm doubtful that is the wisest course to take considering the situation at the moment. We have no way of knowing if they are safe, Mr. Merquise. Be reasonable about this. "

If he had thought Merquise was a touch frosty before, he was positively glacial now. There seemed to be a marked temperature drop in the room. If he could have he would have taken back the comment, but he was never one to wish himself into a box and the world to go away. He was not earning Brownie points from Merquise, but he was not trying to either and this entire attitude of the Prince was ridiculous. They had too much to do and could not afford to sit here and pander to his needs.

"I am being reasonable. Where they are at present is safe and they will remain there. Moving them could expose them to unnecessary risk of discovery."

From the corner of his eye he marked the orderly looking about him and edging toward the door. Not that he could blame the man, there was definitely the promise of violence in the air.

"You don't know that, Zechs. It could be just as dangerous where they are now and at least here we can offer them security." Giles stirred, lifting his head and meeting the frigid glare of the blonde unflinchingly.

Polnar almost physically stepped back to give the man room, but caught himself before he had moved appreciably. He had noticed the minute wiggle of slender fingers directed at him, the coded request he step back from the argument for the moment. A series of coded movements and words had been formulated for use between gifted agents and those more normal agents who worked with them, designed to keep the knowledge of psychic abilities a secret. Though that wiggle of the fingers might be noticed by others, no one other than an agent versed in the Gifted of the Stations would understand exactly what it implied. Giles wanted to handle this and he was only too willing to have that chilling glare focused elsewhere for a time.

/Well, I'm more that willing to allow someone else to take the chill. Yep, there goes the glare, full arctic blast that it is and not so much as a flinch from Haydon. I suppose he's been subjected to it for so long spending as much of the day with Merquise as he has that he is used to it. Cold, so very cold. I wonder just what they had to deal with under the dome and how much of the slaughter up there they witnessed. I saw enough of the upper dome to last me a long while and they have to have been running around in the thick of it for hours./

He flicked a glance toward the door in time to note the orderly's departure and absently scanned the room, noticing the clean floor. Not a trace of the tech's blood remained to remind them of the incident. He did not think himself wrong in supposing his partner and Merquise had devised a means to handle the situation without causing serious physical harm to either of the ESUN agents. Sometimes, despite the best of plans, things went wrong.

/Lucky bastard. I wish I could take a walk out that door about now. Anywhere would seem warmer than in this room. Come on Haydon, we need to get on with this. We can't afford to waste any more time./

Barker stirred, looking from the closing door to the bed and if the situation had not been so serious Polnar might have chuckled. It was good he was not the only one aware of the chill emanating from the blonde. Barker looked to want to be as far from here as he did. The only one who looked to be in the least bit comfortable in Merquise's powerful presence was Haydon Giles. He seemed undisturbed by the man and continued to nurse his ribs, ignoring the chilling glare as Barker took his life in his hands. He moved to stand at the foot of the bed and his fingers curled around the foot rail supporting his weight as he leaned forward slightly.

"The mother's in the nursery ward can care for the …"

Merquise's attention shifted.

/Wow! I thought I'd been given some dirty looks! Man, if looks could kill Barker would be pushing up daisies now. Speared through the heart by an icicle./

Barker faltered under the glare, his mouth snapping shut in automatic reaction. Polnar supposed Merquise had perfected the look during his days in the Specials and wondered if it would have an effect on Raydon. It would be one hell of a courtship if the man was this temperamental.

/I presume he would have needed something that powerful to keep the lower ranks in line. Considering his age and his rank during the war, he would have needed something to keep the older men in their appropriate places. That look would surely do it and certainly would not earn him any friends./

"Okay … maybe not." Barker twitched, as though he was about to take a step back and caught himself at the last possible second.

/This is getting a little past a joke. What the fuck does Raydon see in him? It's not like Raydon to see the face and not the man behind it. Merquise is supposed to be a goddamned professional and he's acting like a spoiled child. He's nothing like the man I expected who terrified an entire species into thinking about their mortality./

Barker rubbed at the bridge of his nose and seemed to draw a steadying breath before meeting those frosty orbs. The Preventer was as tired as the rest of them and not one to beat around the bush.

"Look, Zechs, it would be safer for the twins to be in with a group of people. There would be less chance of them being vulnerable to an isolated agent and it's not just your kids we need to protect. There are others here too, newborns who have to have select care. Putting all of the babies in one place, under guard, is the safest option we have right now. Protecting the children would be easier to do if they were together in one place."

/All hail the voice of reason and a professional and somewhat chilly delivery. Nice try, Barker but you'll have to do better than that to out chill the Ice Prince. Damn bloody fool. I'd like to see how well Raydon would deal with him. I think he's pigheaded enough to even have the boss man pulling out his hair./

Stony silence accompanied by a frosty glare. Nothing new there, but time was marching on and they had to sort out the mess. Giles seemed to be deflating, his attempt to step into the conversation having gone down into flaming ruin when Barker had entered the argument.

/Well, if we can't appeal to the Specials Officer let's see if we can't appeal to the parent./

He half expected the man to snarl his head off if not reach out and snap his neck for his trouble, but Giles looked to be hunching in on himself again. He needed to have a medic check out his partner who still had not received attention following the confrontation. The man was pale and in obvious pain and looked to be on the verge of tears, a look he had never seen on his partner's face before.

"At least allow us to bring the children to this ward. You'd no doubt feel better if they were where you could see them and we could arrange satisfactory security." He could be imminently sensible and he hoped Merquise would recognise and take the compromise.

"They are safe where they are." Merquise was clearly not going to give much ground. And his voice almost sounded like the warning growl of a big cat. They were clearly pushing him into ground he had no intention of crossing.

"You can't know that and in this situation there is safety in numbers. It's only sensible to gather as many as possible and protect a smaller area." Polnar found it increasingly difficult to resist the urge to reach out and tug at that cascade of white blonde silk and force the man to see reason.

He waved a hand in the general direction of the accommodation blocks instead, suspecting if he had the audacity to touch, let alone tug, that flowing hair he would find himself clawed to bits in the blink of an eye.

"It is possible there are people dying out there in their rooms while we argue the point. Any remaining Sleepers could be getting closer to your children as we speak; may have already found them. We need to ascertain their safety and keep them secure." There, perfectly reasonable and logical and only the honest truth. Any parent would be certain to rise to the occasion and ensure the security of their children in the shortest possible time.

It appeared Merquise was not any parent.

"They are safe where they are." Merquise grated the words past clenched, perfect whiter than white teeth and speared Polnar with a look that raised his hackles and threatened to turn his bowels to water. "If they are moved they could become targets before they reach the medical centre."

/Okay, I know when to shut up./

"We need to make a move. It's unlikely the Sleepers would target a moving group and I will not be sending out retrieval teams in ones and twos." Barker moved around the bed, drawing Zechs's attention and stopping beside Polnar. "I will be sending out the Emergency Response team, less the computer techs, plus a couple of medics and Carter."

The Preventer ignored the glare and turned his attention from Zechs, who despite the glare seemed to be considering Barker's plan. Polnar thought he might even have detected a glint of approval in Merquise eye before he realised Barker was looking at him with a definite question in his eyes. The Preventer appeared to have been considering a course of action before he had entered the conversation and not merely admiring the sweep of the mop across the floor.

"Are you willing to go?"

/Ah, so that's it. You are wondering where I stand now I have found Merquise, given you know I am here to bodyguard him. You are wondering how far I am willing to follow your instructions considering I'm not under your command. I'll have to somehow manage a few minutes alone with Haydon to make certain we get our stories straight. I think Barker will be too busy to question him for the moment though and I need to know how much, if anything, Merquise knows of our presence here./

"I'm willing to go with the team to find and bring the twins to safety." He noted Giles watching him and was uncertain as to the exact emotion he saw flicker in the man's eyes.

Haydon Giles had always been a quiet man and inclined to prefer to stand back and consider carefully the pros and cons of a situation before taking action. Together they made a reasonable team and Raydon certainly had been pleased with their performance on those few instances they had been brought together during their training. Since he had been dispatched to Mars to partner Giles he had had no difficulty working with the man in the field.

He hoped Giles could come up with an idea on how to gain the cooperation of Merquise, who had resorted to glowering at him again. Beside him Barker shifted, drawing Merquise's attention back to him and for that he was thankful. They were all exhausted and far from their best, but they needed to get on with each other and cooperate. If he and Barker could not make Merquise see reason his last hope was Giles, who seemed none too interested in taking up that position.

"I am supposed to guard His Highness from any threat, but as I see it that instruction would include ensuring the safety of his children. My employer was quite specific in his instructions concerning the family. His Highness has been safe enough with Giles to this point and I think him capable of keeping the prince secure until I get back."

The guttural growl from Merquise at the reminder of his title by birth was ignored by Giles and Barker and he forced himself not to flinch. It appeared Milliardo Peacecraft was somewhat sensitive to reminders of his past, but the man had to see reason. If he was reminded of his birth he might wake from his delusions and get his arse into gear, something that could not happen speedily enough to suit Polnar. They were all in this mess because Milliardo Peacecraft was on the colony and the sooner he acknowledged the fact and knuckled down to reality the better.

/Maybe it will wake him up, being reminded of who he is. He has to see reason and pandering to him is wasting time. I don't understand why he is being such a shit about what are the undeniable necessities of the situation./

He watched as Giles moved, pressing a hand to his ribs and grimaced. He could not mistake the flash of pain in hazel eyes, or underlying the tone of his voice as he raised his head, capturing Zechs's attention with that simple movement. Merquise seemed well enough aware of his presence to respond to Giles before he had even spoken.

"Zechs. If we need to move everyone out quickly we can't risk delaying to find the twins. Noin will be settled in the ICU in a contained critical care unit soon."

/Noin. Damn, I need to remember her too./

"The doc and some orderlies have already headed out to the shuttle to bring her in."

/They have been living together for quite a while. How badly she might be injured might help me handle him./

"If we have to move out of here that unit can be made portable in minutes, but having to run around the base looking for the twins could endanger not only the children, but everyone else as well."

/A critical care unit does not bode well for her, or for getting him away from the base. He may not be inclined to leave her and I sure as hell can't take her with us. /

"We have no other choice at the moment. We need to consolidate our position and prepare for any eventuality. It's only good sense. You can trust Chris to bring the twins to you safely. He won't allow any harm to come to them."

There was something besides ice glinting in blue eyes focused now on his partner to the exclusion of everyone else in the room. He had the distinct impression Zechs had forgotten he and Barker existed.

"I don't know him, Giles. I don't know him any more than I knew you."

He almost missed the soft words spoken in that husky rasping voice. Almost missed the quiet emphasis placed on the word 'know'. _"I don't know him, Giles."_

/What?/

Barker appeared to have overheard the comment as well and was looking at him as though he expected him to know what it was the two men exchanged in the rather cryptic comment. Completely at a loss himself he could only shrug, no more capable of understanding than the Preventer.

His attention shifted as Giles moved, flicking back to watch in amazement as his partner, clearly in a great deal of discomfort, reached out to cup the Princes face in his hands and lock his hazel eyes with blue. The arctic glare was gone now, replace by something he found almost impossible to believe. If he did not know how impossible it was, he could almost describe that look as 'lost little boy'.

"I know you don't know him, Zechs, but I do. I know him. I trust him with my life and it's not just me that trusts him. Raydon trusted him to come here and keep you safe and you know how good a judge of character Raydon is. Trust me and trust Raydon. Tell Chris where the twins are and allow him to bring the children here and I know you won't be disappointed you trusted him. Hey, us random elements have our uses, don't we? That's been proven."

All he could do was suck in a deeper breath and not dare to move. He knew the intensity in those hazel eyes and the stillness that came over his partner. He was the only one on Mars who would recognize what was happening and he dared not so much as twitch for fear Barker might suspect something odd was occurring. He might even disturb the moment of rapport with Merquise and disrupt the link and that he dared not do.

Haydon did not often use his Gift, but the intensity of his look, the set of his shoulders and the quiet tone of voice Polnar had witnessed before. While he had not forgotten he had Giles's gift to draw on, he would not have chosen this time to use it. That was Giles' choice though and if he could make Merquise see reason Polnar was not about to complain.

"They are all I have left, Giles." There was something about that whisper, a vulnerability after the arctic chill and force of his temper that was all the more shocking to behold.

Polnar did not dare move, though Barker was watching with narrowed eyes and undoubtedly sensed something was happening. There was no way the man could suspect what exactly was occurring and he probably would not believe it if they told him of the Gifted.

"I know. I know what they mean to you, Zechs and Chris will keep them safe. Trust him."

Giles thumbs shifted to sweep a light caress across cheeks that looked flushed. A fine film of perspiration beaded Merquise's brow and there was a faint but noticeable tremble in the long fingers which slowly clenched into fists resting against the sheets.

"Trust me."

Accompanying the almost whisper and a repeated smoothing of thumbs over high cheekbones, a reassuring movement, pale lashes dropped to cover anguished blue eyes. The tension and temper bled slowly out of Merquise as they watched and Polnar was left watching the two with his certainty of what was taking place shaken.

What had happened was far different to all other instances when he had witnessed Giles work. Something he could not place his finger on was telling him this was different and he wanted more than ever to have the chance to speak with his partner in private.

/I'm not sure what's going on. Did Giles use his gift or not? He must have to bring about this change in Merquise, but it looked different. Off somehow. /

"Alright. I trust you and that means I have to trust him but so help me, Giles, if anything happens to my children you can expect …"

His partner was smiling and it was a soft smile with no hint of rebuke for the implied threat he had silenced. Giles did not display any concern for his safety and he was sitting in the danger zone, right within the killing circle should Merquise choose to strike. The Lightning Count had looked so unstable moments ago and now he opened intense blue eyes full of sanity and the promise he made was no idle threat.

"Shh, I know. It's okay."

/Okay, he's still antsy but nowhere near as bad as he was. That's a relief. I don't think either of them really registers Barker or I are in the room. Damn, that was weird. What the hell is going on?/

"Chris will keep them safe and bring them to you. All you have to do is tell him where they are so he can bring them. With us all together we can give these people the best protection we can."

Their eyes held for long seconds, the promise of retribution in Merquise's was unmistakable and the assurance in his partner's that all would be as he promised. Barker was statue still beside him and Polnar could only wonder what the Preventer was making of this confrontation. He certainly did not understand it and he knew about the Gifted and in particular Giles' Gift of persuasion. Barker knew nothing of the Gifted of the Stations and must surely think everyone insane.

/It is no weirder than any of the other shit that has gone down today, I suppose. /

"You can assemble the emergency response team, Preventer Eagle. Zechs will want his kids brought in as quickly as possible."

Giles released Merquise who suddenly looked drained, not merely tired but somehow drained of vitality. He shifted a little in the bed, easing obviously painful wounds and rested back against the pillows, making no effort to hide the pain or his exhaustion. That sign of weakness was worrying enough and Barker looked far from happy with it.

"Wind?"

The Preventer Agent looked more than a little concerned. He no doubt knew the reputation of the man just as well if not better than Polnar did. After hearing the stories of the man they called the Lightning Count during his tenure in Oz, or the stories of the Leader of White Fang, one did not associate him with terms suggesting weakness. The man's reputation just did not include him giving in to any amount of pain.

"It's okay. I only need a moment."

Merquise seemed to gather himself together, but there was still that drawn and exhausted look. He seemed to consider the door for a long moment and Polnar suspected he was considering the worth of attempting to go on this rescue himself. It was easy to see when he dismissed the notion of moving. Blue eyes flickered up and stony dispassionate professionalism was once more in evidence.

"You should remain here in the medical centre and coordinate the operations. If you don't delegate in this situation it will take twice the time to sort this mess out."

/Welcome back, Lightning Count./ He caught himself relaxing at the return to what he expected from a man with Merquise's history. /I agree Barker should remain in the Medical Centre at this time, but I hope he does not take the opportunity to tackle Haydon while I'm gone. Still, Giles has proven himself more than capable of looking after himself and he does have his Gift to fall back on. He should be able to handle Barker./

"Can I have a word with you, Chris?" Giles leaned back from Merquise and pressed a hand to his ribs.

He seemed more relaxed though still in pain and his off hand rested on one of Merquise's hands in a light touch. Giles fingers curled around the man's wrist and Polnar tensed as he realized Giles was actually reading the man's pulse.

/Why do I have the feeling I am missing something important here? Just what is wrong with Merquise anyway? He's been knocked around a bit; you can see that, but the way Giles is acting… It's something more. /

Barker stepped away from the bed and gave no appearance of having noticed the actions of Giles. Polnar found himself hoping Barker would not notice and waited in tense silence as the Preventer acknowledged with a terse nod the suggestion he remain in the Medical Centre.

He realised after a few precious seconds the man was looking at him and waiting for him to move. Making up his mind he stepped away, leaving the doorway clear to the Preventer's gaze in a clear indication of his intention to remain a time longer. If the man had the poor grace to object he would just have to tell him to get a life.

"Five minutes." Barker inclined his head a degree, apparently willing to cooperate if it would get events moving at long last.

Relieved he nodded ready acceptance. He did not need long, but he did need a few minutes. "I'll be ready."

Barker moved past him and Polnar found himself holding his breath until he saw the door swinging closed behind the man and then dared to breathe a soft sigh of relief. He would need to get Giles away from the bed for a couple of minutes and assure himself Giles was confident he could continue to control Merquise. It would not do to have the man gather enough strength to take off and commence running around the base when they needed to be assured he was safely contained. They had no idea how many Sleepers were still active in the sub base.

He started, aware suddenly of the chilling blue eyes focused yet again on him. He could not stop himself from looking up and by that action sealing his fate. He was caught like a fly in amber, stuck beneath the searing chill and waiting for the killing blow to fall. Captured with no hope of escape until his captor chose to release him or until he died and his partner's quiet voice further chilled his blood.

Haydon was watching him though he could not take his eyes from Merquise's compelling orbs. He could feel something in his partner's voice, something that sent a shudder rippling through him and he was suddenly afraid.

Giles voice held an undertone of warning, cautioning him to beware… or to be aware.

"Try to understand. He's Gifted, Chris."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006


	174. Chapter 174 Chapter 173

Alternative Directions: Options: Mars

Alternative Directions: Options: Mars

Chapter 173

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 03:59 approx Sanc time 01:50

Polnar

"Try to understand. He's Gifted, Chris."

Haydon's voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it carried and in the tone was a clear caution. Of all the things his partner might have said nothing was more guaranteed to make him sit up and take notice.

/Gifted? Merquise?! Raydon never so much as intimated Merquise might be one of the Gifted when he offered me this assignment. Christ, it would explain why Raydon's gone to so much trouble to keep him safe once he was located. Gifted… But how? In which field does his talent lie and how might it help or hinder us to get him out of here? /

He generally considered himself to be a practical sort and while it was the last thing he had expected to be told he was not inclined to dwell over the implications. Raydon seemed to have more than one reason for wanting Merquise on Station One and his job was to ensure the man arrived hale and healthy.

"If not for the visions we would not have made it this far with the amount of Sleepers running loose in the base." Giles was watching him intently, and he could see his partner was practically willing him to say the right thing. "They are out of control, Chris and it has been all we can do, even with the aid of his visions, to keep one step ahead of the game."

/Visions? A clairvoyant, then. Clairvoyants are always in demand, but untrained he would generally be erratic in his episodes of Sight and probably inaccurate in his readings of what he does see. It obviously has a bearing on his reaction to me wanting to go for the twins, so what did he see and how has he interpreted it, I wonder? Damn, this is not a good time to find out he's not just an overly protective father and may actually have a reason for being stubborn. I don't have long and nowhere near enough time to satisfy myself of the interpretation of the vision witnessed. Seeing something and getting the interpretation wrong can cause a real balls up./

Haydon shifting on the bed reminded him of where they were and his gaze moved to the door remembering it had only been a few seconds since Barker had left the room. He did not particularly relish the thought of having to explain to the Preventer Agent about the seriousness he was giving to talk of visions. He certainly was not intending to explain about the Stations and the Gifted individuals who resided there, a welcomed and rather pampered part of the community.

He had more than enough things to think about without imagining the look on Barker's face and knowing he was being considered for a one way trip to the loony bin.

A light touch to his arm snapped his attention back to the bed. Merquise was resting back against the pillows, blue eyes dark and brooding and Giles had leaned across the blonde to grasp his arm and bring his attention back. His partner's eyes begged caution, flicking to Merquise briefly before returning to him and he could read the warning well enough. Giles wanted the man to remain quiet and was asking his help in keeping him controlled.

/That's worrying. Giles trained under the Training Masters and with the other Gifted on Station. I know he also took advanced lessons with a few of the Masters and from what was said at the time it made me wonder if they were not considering training him to become a Training Master eventually. I don't think they have one with exactly his talent at the moment. He clearly doesn't want me to pull on Merquise's leash. Is it the man's physical condition worrying him or is it something else? Something more ominous to do with his Gift?/

He considered the big man for a long moment, taking stock of the visible physical injuries, the heavy bandaging around his shoulder and chest, the bruises and scrapes visible and deemed not worthy of bandages. Taken into consideration with his partner's obvious physical difficulties the pair had not been idle.

His partner's discomfort and the way he hunched over suggested Giles needed medical attention and he wondered if, in that confrontation with Simpson, Merquise had sustained further injuries. Neither man had had a medic do more than ask if they were alright and they would have waved off that offer of assistance in favour of the more seriously injured ESUN agent. There was something in Merquise's stance he recognized, something about the slump of the broad shoulders and the way his head was now inclined to permit that wild cascade of hair to hide his face. It was the look of the man more than his partner's warning that convinced him he needed to tread a careful line.

He recalled Merquise saying something about a dislocated shoulder, but that was not what gave him pause. The medic would have picked up on such an injury immediately. Having once had a dislocated shoulder himself he knew there was no braving the pain without giving away the absolute agony to anyone watching. Merquise did not betray that kind of pain and while he looked uncomfortable there was something else that disturbed Polnar.

The incline of the blonde head and the hiding behind long bangs, the almost felt desire to crawl into a dark safe place where no one could notice him… That stance Polnar knew. He had witnessed it amid the Gifted in the past and most frequently he had witnessed it amid the newly-recognized individuals who came to Station One and were informed they were not as they had previously thought, insane. He could not mistake the distinctive slump and tendency to want to escape notice.

Merquise was reacting in the classic fashion of an individual who was waiting to be laughed at or stared at and fully expecting a FREAK sign to be hung over his head.

/Shit. How the hell do we make him comfortable with something he's not experienced before from the look of him? Scratch that, he's tense as a drum and ready to lash out, so he's waiting for me to look at him as though he's a nutcase and ready to be locked away. After witnessing what he did to Simpson in this condition, I don't want him lashing out at me and Giles obviously wants him calm. God, I hate having to watch the new Gifted on Station work through that reaction. Giles will have to handle him, though. He's got more experience and understanding of the Gifted than I do and he's not up to physically running loose in the base and neither is Merquise. Okay, I'll do the leg work, that's not a problem, but I'd better set him at ease before I go. I don't know how much Giles has told him about the Gifted, or if he knew anything about them when he was previously on Station One. Shit, there's a lot of stuff I don't know and Raydon is going to have to listen to me gripe about it when we make it back/

His partner's fingers squeezed his wrist once again in silent warning and Giles eyes were serious, flicking from the silent blonde to Polnar and back to Zechs. Giles was waiting to know if he had gotten the message across to him to be careful how he reacted in Merquise's presence and probably praying he did not blow it. His partner looked close to collapse and did not need additional aggravation or tension to add to his load.

Polnar was only too aware there was no rest for any of them as yet.

"After the last few hours I can confirm to the Training Masters Zechs has a clairvoyant ability. He may also be one of the rarer multi-talented Gifted, but that can be explored at a later date, when we have more time and opportunity to pursue the exact nature of his Gift. It's his visions pertaining to the current predicament that are of concern to us now. It's a bit of a grey area, but there is reason to be cautious as you go for the twins."

Giles released his partner and focused his attention on the big man in the bed. He was hunched over slightly, clearly uncomfortable and trying his best to ignore his condition in favour of smoothing this meeting between his charge and his partner.

"Zechs, Chris has worked with the Gifted before. On Station One he was trained to work in conjunction with us in a number of capacities. He'll listen if and when you need him to." Giles met Polnar's gaze and shrugged slightly, a bare lifting of his shoulders. "When we reach Station One we will need to see him directly to the Training Masters care."

Polnar's attention was mainly focused on Merquise who, he knew, would be expecting him to pull away or more probably expected him to go so far as to laugh in his face. Merquise would be inclined to avoid looking at him as he would most likely be expecting the classic 'Freak' look he had witnessed before from what were supposed to be old and dear friends. Some people simply could not accept there were other ways to look at the world surrounding them.

To be certain he could not think of this man as just another member of the Gifted. Of all of the outcomes possible as a result of this mission to Mars he might have expected, learning that Milliardo Peacecraft, Zechs Merquise, was a Gifted was not one of them. It instantly brought a number of questions to mind that had nothing to do with the current situation, but begged to be asked and answered concerning the past.

He could almost hear the thoughts of his partner urging him to say something; something reassuring and very far from laughing at the absurdity of this talk of visions. The disbelief and expectation to be assured the discussion was a joke was a reaction all too common, but never to be found amongst those who had spent an appreciable length of time on Station and associated with the Gifted.

/He would be expecting me to react in one of three ways. Either a, laugh the whole thing off as a poorly timed joke or b, ignore what has just been revealed as the polite way of refusing to deal with it or c, make a joking comment or two to try to set him at ease. A setup for later ignoring the whole matter or proving to him he is a nutcase and needs psychiatric help. None of those reactions exactly fits with the situation we are currently in. Past experience working with the Gifted leads me to believe they appreciate honest reactions. No false levity, no ignoring the issue, no arguing about the absurdity of the paranormal. Well, fine, I can do that. I don't have a problem working with the Gifted and I've had enough training to partner them on missions for Station and appreciate what a difference to a mission they can make. He's a man of action, a professional soldier before he came here, so let's start from there. Soldiers don't like to be laughed at or taken for fools./

Giles was looking at him again and he supposed he had been silent too long. He could feel the faint constricting of his partner's fingers encircling his wrist and the warning inherent in the grip. Giles, if not Merquise, would explode from the tension if he did not give some indication of how he was accepting this. He was not certain he had read Giles one hundred percent accurate. The warning might be centred round some other aspect of the situation, but he was not inclined to ignore any warning, no matter how ambiguous. He would proceed with his eyes open and his every sense on alert.

"Okay. That can help get our arses out of this mess intact." /Let us see how he reacts to acceptance from a stranger and give him a bit of incentive to speak up./ He glanced from Giles to Zechs. "In light of the advantage clairvoyance gives us, any recommendations?"

He could not mistake the startled surprise that lifted the man's head and revealed what he could only describe as pained disbelief in the blue eyes. He suspected he might have gotten less of a reaction if he had hauled off and slapped the man in the face with his full strength. It was clear enough Zechs Merquise had not expected him to believe Giles and not only accept but ask if he had any recommendations in light of possible visions.

/I've seen enough since going to Station One to know the Universe is a far bigger place than most suppose. Once you see the Gifted work and experience how their abilities can affect the world around you for the better, you learn to open your mind./

The Training Masters had briefed him on how not to deal with the Gifted when he had been chosen to work in the intelligence department of Station One, as well as how to work with them to best effect. Nervous laughter all too easily changed into fear and horror or disgust and either reaction led to violence. If you were considered to be good enough to work with the Gifted off Station, you were more thoroughly briefed on the reactions to psychics by the masses and the possible reaction of the psychic in turn to how they were viewed by the uninformed or misinformed.

He was almost certain he understood why Giles had been handling Zechs so carefully through this meeting. First and foremost, for a man in his position was the need to remember only the Gifted really understood each other. He was on the outside looking in and he had been trained to do so carefully so as not to bruise oft times fragile psyches stressed and strained from abuse over the years. He did not need to handle Merquise, that need he would leave to Giles who knew the most about the Gifted and how to handle them. Giles would monitor Merquise and his initial reaction to being introduced to the new order that made Station One so special and his personal reactions must be positive and relatively neutral. Giles would handle any reaction from Merquise and all he was required to do was be attentive and positive in attitude.

/A clairvoyant talent is always welcome on any of the stations. I wonder what his range and affinity is sensitive to? If he is one of the more specific visionaries, of course. He might be a lesser general talent, though the way Giles is handling him I think he might have a stronger talent. Once he meets others with similar abilities he will understand he is not alone and he is not a freak. I've no doubt Merquise would find the Station very quickly would become home./

Giles had stated previously they owed their survival to reacting to instances of vision Zechs had experienced. The Training Masters would want to know every nuance of information possible on those visions. He would need to pay close attention to try to unravel whatever Merquise might have seen to aid in bringing the children safely back to the medical centre. It would be a good opportunity for him to gage the clarity and potency of the talent. It was not beyond the realms of possibility he might find himself working on a team in the future that included the Prince of Sanc.

/I have to wonder though, what the hell the man was doing a few years ago. If this talent is not something new what the hell was a clairvoyant trying to do threatening to destroy the Earth? Shit. I can't ask him that, not now at least. Something tells me neither Merquise nor Giles would appreciate the question and we don't have the time anyway. I'll think about asking him when we are safely on a ship and Station-bound./

He noted his partner's hand move to rest on Zechs's arm and the reassuring squeeze of strong fingers. It was a calming touch and from the look of the man, the former Lightning Count needed it.

"We have a few problems with visions being used to assist in this case, Chris. Previously, the visions Zechs has experienced have been rather… well, they have been somewhat traumatic to say the least. We don't have the time to go into details now, as Barker will be back before we could even get started into the vagaries of vision. Zechs has an unusual aspect of the talent we are more familiar with."

Polnar considered his partner with an arched eyebrow. /An unusual aspect of clairvoyance? Interesting. If Giles is hesitant to even describe it then I would think Merquise's Gift has to be something more than just unusual. Time is a problem and I don't have enough of it as usual./

Merquise was watching him now with a shuttered look, having gotten over his initial surprise. The man had a disquieting stare and Polnar wondered how Giles had apparently forged a trust between them in the short time they had known each other.

"What do I need to know to bring them safely here?"

"That's the problem." Giles sighed and inclined his head toward the far side of the room. "Zechs, try to get some rest and I'll fill in Chris on as much as I can. Where are the kids?"

"You are sure about him?"

"Yes. I'm sure. If anyone can get the kids safely to you it will be Chris."

A slow, deep breath and Polnar could see the internal struggle taking place. It was a struggle to move past Merquise's own reluctance to allow others to take control. He had witnessed it before in the Gifted, especially in the clairvoyants, who seemed to have a harder time of admitting others were capable of acting on advice. Capable of carrying out missions affected by their vision.

"There is nothing you can tell me that may affect the outcome of my searching for the children? No warning at all?" He would do what he could to give the man a reason to trust him, but in the end the decision was up to Merquise.

"There have been plenty of warnings in vision experienced over the last months. Pretty much everything Zechs has envisioned has happened as he expected it to. The problem we are now facing is something he did not see in vision. Us."

/Us? How can we be a problem?/ He frowned, glancing between the two men and noting the tension in both step up a notch.

Merquise was once more looking down at his hands, his face covered by hair, a convenient shield behind which he could hide.

"How do you mean, us? We are a problem how?"

"I see differing aspects of the one situation, with results stemming from repercussion of actions taken during the event. In short, I see multiple versions of the one event."

He had not expected Zechs to elaborate on any aspect of his talent. It was more usual for the newly recognized Gifted to tend toward avoiding discussing their abilities with anyone, including the Training Masters, for often months on end. Painstaking work was usually required to get them to take the first steps along the road to exploring their gifts. Merquise had never struck him as an open or trusting soul and given the past he could not blame the man for that distance. For someone with his past and given present circumstances, for him to begin talking about his Gift to a perfect stranger took more than a little courage.

"You see one event but different versions of that event?"

He almost expected the man to flinch away from him, but Merquise did not so much as twitch at his question.

"I see the one event, but I see versions of that event dependent on the actions taken during the event by everyone involved." Blue eyes flashed briefly up to Giles, an unconscious seeking for reassurance given the delicacy of the subject.

/He's definitely forged a bond with Giles. That's good, though the Training Masters usually prefer the bond to be partnered with a talent of the same sphere./

Giles nodded briefly, an encouraging and approving action. Polnar was well aware Merquise was within his rights to withhold any information on his psychic talent. They were fortunate Merquise was a soldier and had been a commander of men. He would understand the need for accurate intelligence to assist in the mission and he was equating that military background into their current situation.

"So you see more than one version of the event? You see two or three different versions?"

Giles flashed him a look that clearly said not to push but it was too late, he had already asked the question and Merquise was considering him from under those conveniently long bangs.

"If you walk through a door into a room full of four men and trip over your own feet this is one event. If you walk through a door and trip over your own feet and knock a vase from the table into a second man, that is the same event. If when you trip one of those men reaches out to steady you; that is another. If a third man reaches to steady you and knocks the vase his interaction changes the event yet again. If one man reaches for you from the left and another from the right and a third laughs and distracts both men and you fall over your own feet and knock the vase over, that is yet another, three variants, in truth. Personal interaction changes the outcome. The possible ways each man might react alter the outcome. One man might react in three or four different ways to a given circumstance, each way must be calculated and evaluated and noted. With five men in the room the possibilities are enormous for how the scenario might be best handled. That is what I see."

/Huh?/ He could only blink at the man in puzzled surprise. He simply did not have time to examine all the possibilities Zechs suggested.

Giles sighed and shrugged. "It is going to take some exploration before we fully understand the implications."

"I admit I have not heard of that particular way of looking at visions before and to say it puts a new light on clairvoyance is a bit of an understatement. The Training Masters are going to love working with you. They are always on the lookout for unique talents they have not encountered before and yours is obviously a variant on what is the accepted form of clairvoyance. Or should I say 'has been' the accepted form? They'll need to know as much as you can tell them about it to best effect a program that will benefit you."

Giles flashed a grin at his partner that let him know he had said exactly the right thing before he turned his attention to Zechs.

"You see? I told you Chris has worked with the Gifted before and he is neither afraid of us, nor looks down on us as nutcases. He has received training to partner various types of talent in the field and we who are Gifted and have worked with him have learned to trust him. Zechs, you can trust him to find your children and bring them safely here."

Pulled back to the necessity of the moment Polnar straightened his shoulders and inclined his head to Merquise. "I may not be one of the Gifted, but I know my job. I can't tell if there will be trouble or not, but I promise you on my life, I will bring the twins back to the Medical Centre."

"It may come to that."

The deep rumble seemed to vibrate through the air, sending a shiver up Polnar's spine.

"It was made clear to me when I accepted this mission there might be a price to be paid by accepting it. It's what I do for Station and in particular, for Raydon. I'll do everything in my power to keep the children safe."

"Accommodation section C, level three."

Blue eyes were suddenly shuttered and suggested to him Merquise was no longer entirely with them in the room. It was eerie and it was something he had witnessed before when working with the Gifted.

"Section C, level three, room forty three. Section C, level four, room twelve."

Polnar nodded briefly, committing the references to memory. He knew the accommodation sections and he would have no trouble finding the designated locations.

"Section C, level three, room forty three and level four, room twelve."

Merquise seemed to deflate, leaning heavily against the pillows at his back and Giles stirred, gently squeezing his biceps.

"Rest while I explain what I can to Chris before Barker arrives."

Intense blue eyes flickered up to glower at Giles with accusation in their depths and his partner shook his head at the look, dismissing the unspoken commentary.

"You know I have to brief him and you have done what you can for the moment. It's time you rested and gathered strength for what is yet to come. Trust me to brief him in the little time we have left."

The assurance did nothing to lower the level of intensity of the glare, but Merquise remained silent as Giles took his partner's arm and guided him to the far side of the examination room. They were no more than a half dozen strides from the bed and if Giles had something to say he did not want Merquise to hear he would have to be careful.

/ Now what have you got to say to me that is so urgent? You are not fooling him one bit, Haydon. He seems to be reading you fairly accurately and he's only known you for a few hours. I know his reputation as a commander and how his men followed him with complete dedication. He needed to understand them to be that type of commander and he seems to have you pegged. There's trust there but something else. He's wary too, of course, all this talk of the Gifted has to have him on edge. You don't just accept suddenly having a talent and there being a whole community out there accepting others like you. I have to wonder if you have used your gift on him to gain his cooperation./

Giles rested his back to the door and leaned heavily against its cool surface. He was hunched over again and he had not moved easily, every movement a testament to a hard day and harder night.

/Interesting position you have chosen there. No one is going to be getting in here without us knowing they are there./

"Chris, we have a few problems with the mission."

The whisper was faint and he had to listen hard to hear him. Clearly there was something Giles did not want Merquise made aware of and Polnar felt his insides clench, waiting to hear the worst.

"Problem number one being we were not informed Zechs Merquise is one of the Gifted." He returned, keeping his voice low.

Giles waved his concern aside with a lift of his hand. "I don't know if Raydon actually knows about Zechs being Gifted. You can be sure I will be taking the matter up with him when we get back, if we get back. That is not of concern now, as we have more urgent matters to deal with. He's told me bits and pieces of the various futures he has seen relating to what is happening here now and they are not at all pretty. We have a shit load of trouble coming our way. When you get back I'll go into that more, but for now you need to be aware he is on the edge."

Polnar arched an eyebrow and shrugged slightly, a bare twitch of his broad shoulders. "I can see he is strung out, Haydon, you don't have to warn me about that. It's pretty obvious."

Giles snorted softly, his gaze returned to the blonde and then flicked back to his partner. "You have no idea. It's more than being on edge, Chris. We may have real trouble brewing with him and it has nothing to do with the shit going down here. He's into breakout and he's been pushing himself for hours. He's about ready to go into overdrive and we can't afford for him to lose it now. It is imperative I keep him calm and contained in a controlled environment for as long as possible. We can't allow him to go into a vision sequence again. He knows it would be dangerous, but he has no idea of the full consequences. I don't have any idea just how bad it could be if he loses control and we have already had some very nasty experiences with his talent. We have to try to contain matters to keep his talent as low key as possible."

Breakout. For want of a better word the Gifted had been calling the awakening of full potential breakout, describing it as anything from liberating to shattering their very sensibilities. No one came from it unchanged and everyone described it in a different fashion, even those who shared the same type of talent. It appeared to be an extremely personal and far from painless experience according to those who had spoken to him of their individual experiences. Generally the pain was interpreted as physical, though in truth it was anything but, though some Gifted did physically injure themselves during the process, more in protest or shock than as a result of the actual process. For that reason no Gifted on Station was unmonitored during the awakening period.

"Damn."

He knew enough to know some talents were more dangerous during awakening than others though to his mind the kinetic talents were the most dangerous. Giles had told him once not to be stupid when he had made a comment to that effect. _"You can dodge what you see coming at you."_ Giles considered the telepaths and related talents the most dangerous in the awakening process.

"I would have thought he'd be over that hurdle if he has been having visions."

Giles shook his head and rested his head back against the door with a dull thump. "Zechs has been experiencing visions for some years, but I think we are dealing with some other aspect of talent awakening. It is probably a result of that bloody operating system he was exposed to during the war, the Epyon. There was something more than odd about the suit and I think the Training Masters will need to investigate the design and intentions behind the suit's construction, but we don't have the time to speculate on Epyon now. He's walking the tightrope and I can't afford to have him upset any more than he is now."

"I'll get the kids and bring them. That should relieve some of the tension from him and if you can get him to rest, even sleep, that should help."

"I don't have the time to explain everything you need to know, but you should at least be made aware that Noin is one of the Gifted."

He stared at his partner in blank-faced surprise and glanced over his shoulder at the blonde who appeared to have drifted off to sleep. "Lucrezia Noin is a Gifted? For the love of… Haydon, what else is there I should know?"

He was not fooled for an instant. Short of knocking the man unconscious there was no way Merquise would relax enough to sleep until the base had been secured and some sort of order restored. Even finding and bringing the twins to the Medical Centre would not relax the soldier in Merquise enough to give the man respite. Zechs Merquise was too much the professional to leave an operation halfway through.

"Noin is one of the Gifted and the source of a massive part of the problem with him. While he's teetering on the edge of crisis Noin has already lost it. I'm not sure what happened up in the dome, but whatever it was it pushed her from latent potential to absolute crisis and just about killed her in the process. She's a kinetic talent, there is no doubt about the source of her talent, but I've never seen the kind of damage before done to the shuttle control room. She lost the plot big time and it is highly possible she may have burned herself out. For everyone's safety I have to try to keep her sedated and I am going to have to have a word with the doctors here if it looks as though they will attempt to wake her. I can't say with any degree of certainty if she is burned out or will recover with her mind and Gift intact. What I do know is she needs the Training Masters and the facilities on Station One to have a chance of recovering. That is, of course, if she survives the recovery process from the shock gun."

"Lucrezia Noin on Station One? We have to take her with us to Station One?" He stared at his partner in disbelief, not even game to work the logistics of such a move. "We were scraping to make the escape plan workable to get Merquise off the damn planet and now you tell me we have to take a possibly volatile kinetic talent with us?"

"Oh she's volatile, alright. She is also comatose to my knowledge and we have to ensure she stays that way, until we can make arrangements to contain her should she wake with her talent out of control."

Polnar blinked at his partner who simply watched him and waited. Raydon was going to be in for a rather unpleasant surprise, he mused. The man had definite intentions toward Merquise of a personal nature and he was not going to be thrilled to have Noin interfering with his courtship of the Prince of Sanc. All of that was in the future, of course and dependent on their safely departing Mars.

"How the hell do you expect us to get a comatose patient out of here? Especially if she is in as sensitive a condition as you say."

Giles shrugged eloquently, his eyes serious as he watched his partner. It might have seemed amusing in any other situation, but he knew there was nothing funny about this situation. Chris Polnar had not witnessed the havoc unleashed in the Shuttle Control Tower and when he had occasion to view the destruction he would better understand the seriousness of the situation. They simply dared not leave the woman on Mars for the safety of the colony.

"Merquise, Noin and the twins all have to be escorted to Station One. Given their parentage I would say there is more than a good chance the twins are Gifted and their talents will manifest when they are older. It would be easier for them if they grow up in a society that acknowledges and accepts the psychically talented. We need to get them all out of here and into protective custody as soon as possible. Raydon will undoubtedly be sending us backup and we have proven before we can be inventive when the need presents itself."

"I like your confidence." He ran a hand through his hair absently, hating the feel of the dried sweat plastering the hair to his skull. "How the hell could things go so wrong, Haydon?"

"We'll manage, Chris. We have to. Barker should return and be ready to send the team at any time, so we need to be quick. From what I have learned from him thus far, Merquise's talent is very different to any other clairvoyant I've had occasion to speak to. Different and damnably accurate. He's had months to work through the consequences of actions taken, but in a way we have voided all of his projections and calculations. In not a single one of his visions have we, you and I, featured. That absence has already proven advantageous to a number of instances that took place up in the dome, but it could also be to the detriment of something he had worked a solution to. You cannot predict the actions of a person if that person was overlooked or elsewhere."

"Yeah. It would be a little difficult."

"We are, in effect, random elements. My presence up in the dome once I joined up with him changed encounters in the dome to our advantage."

"Can you be sure about that? I mean, if the situation was not foreseen…" At the look in his partner's eyes Polnar snapped his mouth shut. "Sorry."

"It's confusing, I know but yes, we can be certain in this instance my presence was a benefit. In one of his visions he went down and because I was there I managed to provide sufficient distraction to change the outcome. In this instance we can only hope you going with this team specifically to retrieve the twins will also be an advantage. When we were talking earlier he said you were not featured in any of his visions, so watch your back. He can't warn you about getting shot or, as would most probably be the case, knifed in the back, if he has not seen you. These killers could be the person standing behind you. We can't really trust anyone other than ourselves."

He really wanted to be back in his rooms on Station One, safe and secure and not trapped on a barren rock with homicidal lunatics running loose, killing everyone in sight. Wishful thinking was not going to be producing results and he was too much a professional to be seduced by indulging in such useless luxuries. The here and now was all he could afford to be concerned with.

"Okay. I'll locate the twins and when I return with them and get them settled in, you and I are going to have to talk. Will you be okay to stand guard? You have looked better, my friend."

"I've certainly felt better too, but we have no other options."

"You need those ribs checked out Giles."

"When you return will be soon enough. I won't be leaving this room until you do. I'll keep him occupied and try to get him to sleep, but I have my doubts any of us will be sleeping for hours yet."

Polnar watched him shuffle back to the bed, noting every careful step and every flinch accompanying each movement. His partner, like too many of the Gifted, was a stubborn body at the best of times and right now Polnar found himself wishing Raydon could have justified the cost of keeping a half dozen agents on Mars instead of just two.

Who did he trust on Mars? It was not a difficult question to answer. Himself and the man who looked as though a deep breath would send him to the floor in choking agony.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2006

Previous related chapters 165 & 172


	175. Chapter 175 Chapter 174

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 174

2nd March AC 198

Colony L1 - 0025 B La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B

Preventer Building

Time : 06:20 approx Sanc time 05:10

Trowa

In all honesty he was surprised he was still alive.

He was hale and healthy against all the odds and he was making a difference. At least he liked to believe he was making a difference, in a positive aspect, to the lives of people he knew and to that of people he did not know. This desire to make a positive difference was relatively new. At one time in his life he had indiscriminately killed men and women; mothers, sisters and daughters, husbands, brothers and sons. He had never overly concerned himself with the lives of those who fell before him, neither in his days as a mercenary nor during his time as a Gundam Pilot.

"_Keep it impersonal, boy. Never allow killing to become personal. Never take on a job if it is going to bother you people will be dying at your hand. When it does bother you, and it eventually will, it will be time to get out before the ghosts begin to haunt your dreams at night. Ghosts turn up when they are thirsty for your company and you weaken and let them in. They make your hand tremble when you can least afford for it to shake. They make your reflexes slow, not by much, but just enough to leave you marked by a knife or catching bullets. Ghosts herald the end, one way or the other. If you can keep the distinction of distance through a job and not have it bother you when you are done, you will make a fine mercenary. You'll survive."_

He could feel the presence of ghosts this day. He could feel ghosts from the past watching him, calling to him. Waiting for him. Some of the ghosts had been waiting for a long time and he had thought he had escaped them. Those he had killed and once walked and fought beside as comrades, would be forever waiting for their chance to weaken him.

He should have known better than to think, even for an instant, he could escape the past.

Given his past employment and the fate of others in the mercenary band, he should have run out of luck during the war. He should have died during the chaos of the One Year War as just another one of the numberless, faceless and all too meaningless lives Dekim Barton had intended be sacrificed as cannon fodder. Operation Meteor was Barton's master plan to place himself at the highest point of society.

The power behind the throne.

Barton would have ensured everyone loved the red-haired waif he claimed as his granddaughter and whom he had intended become the Queen of the World. His political machinations had not given him the kind of power he had desired and he had determined to take his plans to the extreme. While the people would hail Mariemaia as Queen he would be the true power, she his mouthpiece, nothing more.

Wipe out the Alliance, cripple the Earth and take over the colonies at leisure. Barton had tried twice to accomplish this goal and no doubt, had he survived, he would have tried again.

He should have died during the war, as a nameless, faceless mercenary, one of many amid the Barton ranks, but circumstances had shifted. Fortuitous circumstance alone had dictated the lengthening of his life. He had been in the right place at the right time to take advantage of murder and gain for himself both a new name and a new life. He had no longer been the nameless mercenary mechanic but was suddenly a Gundam Pilot wearing a murdered man's name. He sometimes wondered if the scientist who had shot Trowa Barton had ever been found out and punished for the crime.

A justifiable death many would say, but shooting a man in the back was not honourable combat. It was not even assassination. It was cold-blooded murder, even if the victim had been a loud-mouthed, hard-nosed bastard who was out to kill anyone who stood in the way of the plan to form a world order dependent on a dynasty.

He could have died at any time during his mercenary days, long before the group had been nearly wiped out and he had needed to find gainful employment in the ranks of Barton's little enterprise. Idealism had never been something he had entertained seriously, until after he had acquired the magnificent Gundam he had been working on and practically salivating over.

He had felt something he had not previously felt before when he had looked upon Heavyarms for the first time. Suddenly and inexplicably he had thirsted for the great machine, aching to experience its power for himself. He had envied and hated the real Trowa Barton the knowledge it was his. He had even fleetingly fantasized killing the man himself and stealing the machine, until cold hard reality in the form of a pay check had brought him to his senses.

Death had never bothered him, either the thought of his own death or the deaths of others.

It was the idea of murder that did not sit well with him. The questionable morality of killing someone did not bothered him so much as the means used to end a life. If anything, he had always been practical about life and death and the means to kill cleanly on instruction. He could poison or drug an individual without blinking if he was hired to do so and in combat he could kill without reservation. The people he had slain in the past had not been known to him on a personal level and he had been hired specifically for the task. Even those few who once had fought at his side and whom he had been required to kill in a different location and time, he had considered anything but personal. What other people would see as murder he had viewed as gainful employment.

Many would not understand the distinctions he placed on the times and means of a kill.

The thought of cold-blooded murder disturbed him. Should someone stand in his way it would not be a knife in the back that removed his opposition. It would not be a draft of poison or a shot from a distance, safe and anonymous. Spur of the moment opportunity or sudden, intense anger or fear, while he could understand them, were not the times to kill in his view. Particularly not during peace time. Removing war from the equation made killing something else. A clean fight between two evenly matched individuals and not to the death appealed to him more than striking from ambush or premeditated murderous intent.

The existence of war, or its non-existence, denoted murder for him as it did for the few others who had lived as he had.

It did not bother him that people would claim he had double standards.

Even Quatre could not understand his concept of the standards of killing. Of those he called friends he suspected Heero alone would understand his views.

He should have died before he hooked up with Dekim Barton's faction, when he had run with the mercenaries who had been the only family he could remember. He should have died during the war piloting Heavyarms, and he knew the scientists had not expected any of the five who piloted their creations to survive. The pilots had been a means to an end, nothing more. He had somehow come from the war in one piece and it had given him a better reason to live than he had ever had before.

Trowa Barton was a dead man.

Though it had not been by his hand, Barton had died. He had witnessed the murder of the man. A single shot in the back by a frightened and angry man and he had become Trowa Barton, the pilot of Heavyarms. The machine had never been intended for him, but had been built for the real Trowa who had had a family and a personal reason to fight. He had not known Barton particularly well though they did have a passing acquaintance, enough that Trowa had shown him a photograph of his sister and her young daughter. Mariemaia Barton, the girl who was the same Mariemaia Khushrenada who had, years later, threatened the hard won peace of the Earth Sphere.

He was a man who had no name, who had a past better left forgotten and who lived with another man's name.

He was not particularly proud of his past, but neither was he ashamed of having survived. Survival was the ultimate goal of the species, after all. The strong survived and the weak died, that was the law of nature. There would be no survivor's guilt for him. He had learned early death came to everyone, old and young, male and female, healthy and crippled. Death was never concerned with your skin colour, your wealth or your station in life. It did not even care about your religion. Death had no care if you were good, bad or indifferent to the world surrounding you. When it was time, you died and there was no avoiding it.

Death was a great leveller and supremely neutral.

His past experience with life and death had taught him you did not sit in one spot and wait for the Grim Reaper to tap you on the shoulder and take you for that final walk. He was not religious, though he knew Quatre was and his religion was causing him a great deal of pain. The conflict between the scripture Quatre had been taught to believe in and the physical desires of his body, was something they were going to need to deal with. He was uncertain exactly how to broach the subject with his lover, but he was going to need to find the right words. His religion meant a great deal to Quatre and it was not something they could ignore indefinitely.

"_You don't believe in God, boy? That's fine, each to his own, but I do. Always respect that in a man. Religion is important to them, even if not to you. With me I want to believe there is something more after this life, something better and not just a blank nothingness. Not that I suppose I would be aware of what was not there, but you never know until it's too late. Every man has to find his own way to understanding what lies beyond death. I'll give you this word of advice and it will be a long time before we talk about religion again. My old nanna taught me this lesson when I was younger than you and it's a lesson everyone needs to learn. God helps those who help themselves. You know what that means do you? Don't rely on God to get you out of shit you put yourself in. Do everything you possibly can to pull your own arse out of the fiery pit and maybe God might be feeling inclined to give you a helping hand."_

He could do with a little divine intervention about now.

The rooftop was bright with morning sunlight. The wavering, diminishing shadows of the air conditioning unit and the elevator block stretched out over the length of the roof in an assortment of odd shapes. He stared at the shadows, needing to determine what amongst the dark areas might be the shadow of the roof structures, and what might be a hint of the location of his hunter. He needed to keep his own shadow concealed amid the larger shadows and not offer up any hint of his location to his opponent.

He was running out of time.

The clock was ticking down to his discovery and he had yet to decide where he might find the best cover to conceal himself. Hiding from the hunter, while required, was not going to solve the overall dilemma facing him. He needed to stop the assassin from gaining a satisfactory position and the time necessary to open fire on the headquarters building. For him to be assured of stopping any chance of such an assault from succeeding, he needed to be on the far side of the air conditioning unit.

He needed a location on the far side of the roof, where he could maintain a view of the only satisfactory position to effectively destroy the laboratory he was certain was the killer's mark. If his opponent managed to get into position and make that shot people would die, and pending investigations in other cases would lose vital information that might put terrorists behind bars.

His heart was steadying, his breathing evening out and the thunder in his ears fading. His own heartbeat had been drowning out all other sound, and he could not afford to miss any nuance of sound or movement that might give him a vital second's warning.

/Until I can find a suitable location to hold my ground, I suppose the best thing to do would be to keep moving. Certainly I can't remain here. If I do settle in one spot he will come for me and there are limited positions where satisfactory cover is available. If I can keep moving and keep him following me, effectively stalking me, I should not have to take the chance on closing with him. If he gets the opportunity to go for the rocket launcher I will have no other option than to go for him. I can't afford to be pinned, though. Anywhere I stop to rest I need to be assured of more than one exit./

How long would it be before someone else took some form of action to resolve the situation? He had glimpsed a small group of women and tossed the shoe, but he had no idea if they had actually noticed the shoe land, or if they had ignored it. Perhaps they had noticed but thought the message to be a joke? He did not even know how close to them the shoe had landed and if he had gotten it wrong, it might have landed in one of the low bushes near the path. So many things could go wrong.

He might still be on his own with no backup on the way.

/I'm thinking in circles. Wasting time. Not good. I have to rely on them noticing the message and acting on it. They must at least give it credence enough to check it out. It would surely require no longer than ten minutes for them to do something constructive about the situation./

Ten minutes of dancing around the rooftop plumbing playing tag-me-if-you-can with a killer. There were better things to do first thing in the morning.

Psst. Clang.

/Shit!/

A forward diving roll, no time to think just flatten at the last moment instead of coming up to his feet. Flatten, go down and scramble madly, slithering under some pipes. No delaying to think, just react and keep it random, give the man nothing to predict to make the next shot luckier than the last.

If he wanted to survive, and he did, he needed to stop the bastard from so accurately predicting his movements. Scramble over a pipe quickly and up to shinny up a downpipe and thrust forward into the advantage of lingering shadow, above normal eye lines. He needed time to draw breath and dared not even look about him for sign of his pursuer.

Clinging to the pipe, trusting his precarious perch to keep him above the eye line of his hunter, daring to give himself a moment to rest. A small breathing space in which to check himself over to see if he had taken any injury. No bullet wounds, just an assortment of cuts, scrapes and bruises to add to his already impressive collection. He would be sore if he survived to see this bastard go down.

He was alive and therefore he still had a chance.

/Where was the bastard hiding to take that shot?/

If he could work out the position of the man he would gain a possible location to start his own stalk. The killer was too much the professional to linger long in one place, but if he could find a starting point, he could track him. The killer had that advantage over him at the moment and was very effectively hunting him. An advantage that saw him on the run, unable to act beyond protecting his life.

If he could mark a definite location then perhaps he might be able to project two or three progressive locations and come up on the last position by a circuitous route. If he could do that he might just luck out and plant a knife in the assassin's back. Une would prefer the bastard alive for questioning, but if he had learned anything about Preventer Earth, it was that she was practical. She preferred live agents over dead prisoners if the situation warranted a kill. Une was too practical to worry about an unnamed corpse if he could get lucky, which was fortunate for him as he was of the view it was better to have a live Trowa at the end of the day.

/There are so many answers we need from this killer. Where did he come from and why is he set on blowing the laboratories into so much ash, are just the tip of the iceberg. Who the hell is he and who trained him?/

Clinging to this pipe was not progressing his survival any. He had more to do than hang around looking for suspicious shadows. Any second now the bastard should finish checking two of three positions he was sure the man would have marked as possible hiding places. It was what he wanted to try to do, but at the moment he was the prey, not the hunter and that had to change.

/Why blow the labs? Is this something to do with the John Doe I found in the alley and if so, what is so special about the kid to warrant a professional hit on the laboratory doing the autopsy? Presumably this is to destroy the body and any evidence that might be found to lead us to his killers. Or to where the kid came from./

This entire mess had to be centred on a Preventer case, but was he correct in his assumption it was centred on the boy? It could have been any one of half a dozen high profile cases the labs were processing evidence for. It was only his nightmare which made him connect the hit with the boy in the alley and if there was any substance to his dream…

He shuddered.

Quatre was forever telling him it was a mistake to disregard the substance of his dreams. According to his lover he should be paying attention to the dreams and making use of them. He had tried to dismiss the disturbing nightmares that haunted him when Quatre had first begun to ask questions. He had ignored them as nothing more than nightmares. After all, he had been having the dreams for as long as he could remember, but his lover would not be denied. Since their association Quatre had shown him repeated instances of similarities between his dreams and real life events, and some of those events even he could not refute echoed his nightmares.

/It is bloody annoying he is right so often. What do I make of this? Do I follow the dream and presume it is the boy and the chance to destroy something vital in the way of evidence? Or do I look for some other explanation? I suppose in the course of the investigation I could cover both options, but it will take time I may not have. Psychologists claim dreams are the actions of the subconscious and reflect the doubts and insecurities in a person's life. I've not given serious consideration to anyone other than Quatre who suggested dreams may be more./

Fire had featured all too often in his dreams and it had led him here to the roof and possibly to his death.

He had witnessed too many deaths in his past and no doubt with his current lifestyle he would see more in the future. Hopefully this killer would be the next to die by his hand and himself not fall victim to the Grim Reaper. His entire life had been filled with death, and it seemed in near equal measure, fire had been a part of his days and nights. There had been hatred involved in the killings and cold-blooded disinterest too, the professional distance mercenaries needed to survive. He had been taught to kill by the best, and it was only recently he had had more to look forward to than ceaseless killing until he himself was killed.

War did that to a person, shortened their perspective until everything was black and white, kill or be killed.

War also opened the way to experience rebirth.

Respectability was not something he had known until after the One Year War. Life as a mercenary did not prepare you for the difference having a proper home and a relationship with an individual who saw you, not as a killer, but as a lover. With the end of the war had come a stint in the circus and his first real attempts to forge a relationship with Quatre. They had made mistakes and almost lost each other, but they had persevered and become stronger for the strife. They now had their own business empire in the making, a secure and promising future together.

The nameless mercenary was dead and he could not say he was sorry to see those days behind him.

Life with Quatre as his focus was very different to the life he had grown to know. Different and infinitely preferable. One of the greatest components of their relationship was the trust and honesty with which they viewed each other. It was amazing how much comfort trust could provide. In the mercenary life there had had to be trust between their fellows, but it was a very different kind of trust from what he shared with his blonde lover. Trust, that in hindsight, had been disturbingly easy to set aside when the order to kill had come and he found himself in opposition to his former team mates.

He had, after all this time of blood, guts and war found more to look forward to than simply surviving to the next mission. He was not about to lose this promising future with the one he considered his soul mate, because he was trapped on the roof with a killer as proficient as himself.

Green eyes glinted with a slowly smouldering fire. He could not deny the skill of the one who hunted him. The man was a professional and a very talented professional at that. Some people, despite the amount of training you could give them, could not rise above a certain level. Natural aptitude, some would call it, but he was not so certain. This man had to be the best he had ever seen and he had worked with some exemplary killers in his day. It was far more comfortable to have these natural assassins on your side than to suddenly become their target.

Good as the killer was, he must not lose sight of the most important element in this hunt. They were both human.

Humans were not infallible no matter how good they were. If the man was perfect the building across the way would be in flames now and people would be dead and dying. Trowa Barton would certainly be dead and he was very much alive.

This man could be beaten.

People need not die because of him and he would keep the killer away from the weapon waiting on the far side of the roof. He alone would know the truth, that they owed their lives this day to a dream.

He would not tell anyone other than Quatre the truth of the situation. It disturbed him, but he needed to give credence to a dream as it had caused him to wake in time to delay the killer. It would be all thanks to the dream if he could stop the killer, but only Quatre would understand and he had no desire to be shunted into a mental institution.

He should have confidence in his abilities, that was what Quatre was constantly telling him, but he had doubts. Huge doubts. Always there was the knowledge that by interfering he might have made matters worse.

By delaying the assassin from making the shot when he initially set out to, the building he was targeting would be near filled to its usual daily complement of workers. Trowa was only too aware if he failed to contain the situation now, more people would die and be injured than would have been endangered had he not taken a hand in the matter. He was not certain how to deal with the possibility he had made a colossal blunder, other than to make certain he did not fail.

He had gone up against opponents who had greater skills before and survived to walk away and tell the tale. This need be no different.

He might get hurt beyond the scrapes and bruises he had earned and he might die, though he would do everything in his power to avoid such a fate. He was not enamoured of the idea of coughing out his life on an L1 colony, when he could be on Earth snuggled with his lover. They had a business to coax into a comfortable lifestyle for them to share and a long lifetime together in which to enjoy it. Another two or three years was all it would take for them to set themselves up the way they whispered about in the dark of night, free from Quatre's familial ties and financially secure.

They could even leave Preventers behind them and become ordinary citizens of the ESUN.

The financial security he worked for was not for himself, but for his lover. He was more than familiar with living hard and rough and with barely any finances to see himself through hard times. He was accustomed to such a lifestyle, but he was not willing to have Quatre face such a future. Much as his lover argued the point he was only too aware it was because of him that Quatre was facing off against his family.

The loss of Winner Enterprises and the ire of the Winner clan would not have fallen on Quatre were it not for the fact he had a male lover. Quatre vehemently denied he cared about losing the assets of the Winner resources, but he cared. They had found something wonderful in each other and Quatre was willing to lose everything to keep it, but he, the boy who had no name and who called himself Trowa, was not willing to see his lover lose everything.

For the love of Quatre, he needed to be certain the blonde could live in some reasonable comfort.

It would take them a number of lifetimes to acquire comparable resources to the Winner Empire, but that was not what he wanted for them. He just needed to be assured his lover could be comfortable in a lifestyle not too dissimilar to the one that had reared him. Comfort and familiarity was all he sought to emulate and he would do everything in his power to love Quatre enough to make up for the loss of his family.

They would not have the kind of income Quatre enjoyed as CEO of the Winner Corporation, but they would be financially secure for the remainder of their lives. He had explained his reasoning to Quatre and insisted they have that security and had gained the cooperation and understanding of his partner before they had firmed their relationship into what it was today. Quatre had initially argued, claiming it was not necessary and money meant nothing to him, but in the end he had agreed.

"_But why, Trowa? Having money is not what will make us happy. Being happy has nothing to do with being a CE,O or being wealthy in general. I love you, not the money. You are what is important to me."_

It was true his lover had lived rough during the war, though not for any length of time and in all honesty Quatre's idea of rough had been his idea of comfortable, not that he would ever tell his lover the difference in their definitions of the word. With his privileged background Quatre did not understand what it was to have nothing and Trowa was determined to ensure such would remain the case.

He had been hanging from the pipes too long.

Now that he had a chance to draw a steadying breath he could rationalize his actions in the past few minutes. His conscious mind had been near to panic in its efforts to get his body out of harm's way and now his mind was catching up. If the killer was looking low, at roof level, in a bid to glimpse bare feet, his current position was not going to assist the hunt. Such a precarious perch would not do for an extended period and the pipes might not support his weight for any great length of time anyway.

Shifting his grip carefully he eased around the pipe, his bare toes seeking for the horizontal pipe on the far side and he could only hope it would take his weight. He dared remain here for seconds, not trusting the thin pipe, but not wishing to drop down to the roof as yet. There was little in the way of support he might shift to and not give away his position and the shadows were in retreat, threatening to expose him with each passing second.

Where to go next? How long had he been avoiding the hunter, running for his life? How long before he could reasonably expect help to come?

He could not afford to present a silhouette for the killer to target, nor could he afford to cast a shadow and reveal his location. He certainly could not hang about in the pipes all day and there was the urgent question of how long he dare delay checking on the killer's equipment. The abandoned gear left at the optimum point for the shot would need to be checked, though he was doubtful the killer was inclined to bolt for the spot and chance a hurried shot. This man was too careful for that and intent on hunting him down.

Why had he not thought to pick up his mobile phone, or his Preventer radio before he had investigated the validity of a dream?

/Don't start that, you idiot there is no time for that sort of recrimination. Move before he targets you. Keep him busy, keep him moving. They will come./

To reach the next point of reasonable cover afforded by his surroundings would mean he needed to go around the pipe he clung to and expose himself for a fraction of a second. A dangerous manoeuvre as the killer had already proven he could take advantage of fractional seconds. How many more times could he be fortunate enough to have the killer miss? If the assassin had a reasonable idea of his present location then that fraction of a second of exposure might be his last. This would be a critical move on his part. In the next five seconds he might find himself wounded, at best, or dead, at worst. Hanging around here was gaining him nothing but aching fingers and straining muscles.

/Running is no good. I have to have a plan and doing nothing more productive than running from him from cover to cover will serve only to get me shot. There has to be something more constructive I can do./

He worked cramping fingers carefully, shifting his grip to gain himself a few more seconds before he had to move. Anything to relieve the growing distress of clinging to this perch. Just a few more seconds to give himself time to think, to assess his reactions to this point and come up with a plan.

A few more seconds to allow the killer to gain a more advantageous position.

Time worked both ways.

/I need to stop running from him and turn the focus to acting against him. Can I sucker him into a position advantageous to me? Can I somehow work him into a position where I can get a stab at taking him down with a knife? I need to control where and how far I run, pick my cover carefully and at least three moves in advance./

It would not be easy to shift the action from being the hunted to becoming the hunter. The killer had managed it when Trowa had underestimated him at their first encounter and since then Trowa had been running and that had to change. He was singularly tired of being the prey. He had blown his chance at taking the killer down, though he had managed to stop the shot, but how long could this stand off last? How long had he fled from the man now? Surely it could be no more than fifteen or twenty minutes, perhaps a good deal less.

Time ran strangely when your life was on the line.

"_If you are on a job and it turns sour you have a number of options. If you are running your options are limited and you have to make up your mind just what you intend to come out of the day. Do you want to end up in a body bag or at the bar swilling the local horse piss that passes for liquor? Live or die, that is what you have to decide and you have to decide it fast. Once you decide which it will be don't hang about, act on it . If you are running and you have armed men after you and your cover is crap, well, likely you'll get the body bag, despite your personal preference. Not much you can do about it . If your pursuers are inclined to take prisoners then consider a stint in a cell a lesser price to pay. When you bust out you can always pay back the bastards at the end of a knife blade. If they don't take prisoners then you make bloody sure you make your last breaths count. About the best thing I can tell you from personal experience is to never give up. Not until you feel that hot bullet with your name on it impact, or the cold steel from a knife slice into you. Even then you see how many of the bastards you can take down with you."_

Time to move.

A slithering move, sliding to drop a little in height and then the careful easing of more of his weight onto the smaller pipe, working his way around the larger. He dared not pause and listen for any hint of movement, reaching out to grasp the next small horizontal pipe. No time for hesitation, just hope the pipe could take his weight and swing himself over the gap.

With a cacophony of sound the pipe ripped away from its bedding, and in the one instant he lost both his hand hold and his footing. His circus training was useless in the maze of pipes, though it ensured he did not get hung up. He sprawled on the roof top, exposed and stunned for a precious few seconds before he was scrambling for any cover at all.

Hunkered down in a shadowed gap, enclosed with nowhere to go when the expected shot was made, he could only hold his breath. His heart thundered in his chest and drowned out all sound, but there was no burning sensation followed by excruciating pain. There was no bullet impacting on him and ending his struggle.

He blinked as the seconds passed, his eyes searching the pipes and shadows for the faintest hint of shape or form that might be the killer. Anything that might suggest the silenced gun was aimed in his direction. The man had to have, at the very least, heard him even had he not been in a position to make the killing shot. He already knew the killer was not wasteful and would hold a shot if he deemed it advantageous to wait.

Silence.

No bullet with his name on it, no psst to say the shot had been made and no clang to say it missed. No cold hard steel blade in the heart to see him drop silently and bleed out his life trapped in this nook in the pipes.

He had to have used up his luck for the next twenty years.

/Damn. Where is he?/

There had to be some hint of the man in the area. This was simply too good an opportunity for the hunter to miss. His position had to be marked and the only access point to him was directly in front of him. The bastard was probably holed up across from him and waiting for him to get tired of huddling in this sorry excuse for cover. He could not remain in this position indefinitely and the hunter must be watching him, savouring the moment of the kill to come.

/You have to be there, but where? I have no other options but to go straight out the front and low, maybe a roll to the left will buy me a second or two. Going right would give me little in the way of cover and probably present a better opportunity for him to get a clean shot in. Looking at this mess of pipes and angles where would I place myself to take best advantage of the opportunity?/

He was confused and at a disadvantage as there was no adequate cover he could see to disguise the killer directly in front of him. Nothing seemed large or solid enough to obscure someone of the size of his hunter. He had seen the man, been close to him and knew him to be nearly as tall as he and certainly heavier in build. His more slender form was easier to hide, even if he did have a height advantage, but where amid all that hodge podge of cover could he secret himself to make an ambush shot?

He could not.

By some strange quirk he had actually picked a spot where he could not be accessed from any appreciable distance. The angles and the knot work of pipes interfered with a killing shot and the hunter wanted a clean kill.

/He must be off to one side or…/

The air in his lungs seemed to solidify and he could not breathe. He gaped, gasping for air as the cold certainty took him. He had been duped, played expertly and he had fallen for it. The killer had decided hunting him was a waste of time and he was nothing more than a nuisance. He had been played, carefully hunted away from the danger point and his opponent had deemed him to be in a position to permit him to initiate the final act.

/He's gone for the rocket launcher. The bastard has gone to take the shot! If I don't stop him he'll blow the labs. How far ahead of me is he? How long has he had to get back?/

Running fingers along his jaw with narrowed eyes he glared at the cross work of pipes before him. It looked like a jungle, impenetrable. Crossing this would slow him down, forcing him to take a circuitous route, giving the killer added seconds to make the shot. If his assumption was correct he would have a clear run right up to the edge of the available cover.

The killer would not be concerned with taking him down while he was in the protective cover of the pipes and buildings. The man would be waiting for him, knowing he would come and attempt to stop the shot being made. All the advantages belonged to the unknown man who was beginning to make him feel like a rank amateur.

"Fool."

He was a fool for falling for the very deliberate hunt. He should have realized the man was keeping him on the run, forcing him further and further away from the weapon left on the roof. There was no time to consider how stupid he had been, recriminations would come later when he had the time to call himself all the foul names he had learned in his colourful career.

He had no means of taking his opponent down from a distance. He would have to leave the pipes and close the distance between them to have a fair chance of throwing the knife and hitting his target before the man could dodge. While he had to close to knife range the killer had the silenced gun and had no such constraints.

/If I don't appear he'll take the opportunity to take out the labs and make the shot. If I do appear then he'll target me and take me out before taking the shot. How much longer before I can dare to hope for some help up here? Fuck it, how long does it take to arrange for someone to get their arse into gear?/

Heart in his throat he rolled from cover, bounced to his feet and thrust himself forward, waiting for the psst of the silenced gun and to cough his life out far from his lover.

Nothing.

No shot; neither the cold hard bark or short sharp psst of the silencer. No knife thrown from closer quarters either, no pain in his back to mark either an incapacitating wound or a killing blow.

/Does he suspect I have managed to get word out and call for help? Did he see me drop the shoe over the side? If he didn't he may not be so quick to take a hurried shot. He might decide to take me down first and that is about the best I can hope for just now./

It was, after all, what he would do if their situation was reversed. He would take the time to remove the nuisance factor and make certain the business he was here to perform was completed. If he was employed to take out evidence of a crime he would have needed to ensure he caused sufficient damage in the optimum place to destroy all trace of his target.

/An amateur would chance a hurried shot, willing to take the chance, but this man is no amateur. I can't afford to make any more mistakes. I need to distract him, work my way close enough to pose a threat and maybe get close enough to him as he comes after me to make a throw with the knife count. I'll only have the one chance./

There was, of course, the possibility the man might have more than one round for the rocket launcher, a second charge in the bag perhaps. He might only need an approximation of Trowa's location to make a shot that would take down his opponent in a blazing jumble of pipes and building material. It would then be a simple matter to reload and in a matter of seconds a second shot would be ready to destroy his intended target. It was a showy and rather messy option, but if there was more than one charge for the rocket launcher it was a very real possibility.

/It's a chance I'll have to take. There is no time to prevaricate. The rounds for the launcher I saw are small enough he might have had a second in the bag. He's a professional and he would have known the need to be in and out quickly and quietly and lugging around an armoury is not conducive to either speed or silence. One should have been sufficient, so would he carry around excess baggage? He would need to ditch the rocket launcher during his escape and would he want extra weight weighing him down? Throwing aside the launcher is not exactly the same as throwing away a live missile, no matter how small it may be. Ah, I am tired and I want to crawl into a dark hole and forget the world exists! Damn, no, I want Quatre to hold me./

His bare feet reminded him of the need to move with care and pay more attention to his surroundings. He needed to reach his optimum position and wool gathering would not help his cause. Going by what he had witnessed to date and his certain knowledge the man was a professional and not prone to making mistakes, he was fairly sure there would be only the one charge for the rocket launcher. One missile not to be wasted on him.

He refused to give credence to the dream where he saw that missile coming directly at him. No, he would not believe the killer would waste the ammunition. He would be working his way back to the spot and settling down to take the shot at the building. A part of his attention would be tuned for the sound of pursuit and he would have his gun close to hand, but he would not waste the explosive charge on a single annoying human.

He would take the chance he was correct and distract the killer and hope.

The mad dash slowed to a controlled near silent run. He was careful not to make unnecessary noise and to place his feet with care to avoid another tumble. He needed to be quick, or the man would have sufficient time to line up the shot before dealing with him. Precious seconds were ticking away and he knew himself to be more than capable of making such a precise shot in only a few seconds. He had given his opponent a head start and he needed to make up time.

He was forced to pause to look for a way through a tangle of pipes and frowned, cocking his head at the sound of a high-pitched whine. Confusion held him for all of five seconds while he sought to identify the sound and he swore, throwing caution to the wind and scrambling over pipes in a bid to present himself as a target.

He had heard that signature whine before. Laser targeting devices were generally silent and deadly because of their silence, but one system boasted a signature whine. It was a new piece of hardware and he had been briefed on the targeting system a year before, when they were first perfected. Preventer Earth had considered them a danger and wanted her agents to have first hand knowledge should they ever come across the devices in the field. The computer-controlled laser guidance system would enable the missile to which it was attached to hit a pre-determined target with pin point accuracy.

All you needed to do was enter in the coordinates and press the trigger.

/The bloody missile will even go around corners!/

He had underestimated his foe once again and because of that people were going to die. All the man had to do was attach the guidance system to the missile, activate the device and shoot. Even if he was facing in the opposite direction the missile would hit the intended target. The system came complete with a high tech cross between a radar and sonar system that integrated with the computer and ensured the missile avoided obstacles in its path, until it reached the designated coordinates.

/He hadn't finished assembling the device when I made my move. He was sighting in to get the exact coordinates of the target when I disturbed him./

He had given the killer too long a head start.

A professional assassin made contingency plans for every feasible scenario that might occur and he had come equipped with the computer targeting system. The man had no intention from the beginning of missing his target.

Trowa's heart pounded in his chest as he leaped a pipe and threw himself against the cage surrounding the air conditioning unit. The noise of his collision and his scrambling to get over the cage and onto the unit to take seconds from his run was horrendous, even given the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. He could save maybe five or six seconds by going over the top rather than around the unit and he leaped over the far side of the cage, gracefully grasping a leading pipe and swinging himself around and down and threw himself into a roll as he broke from cover.

No need to present too easy a target and it was worth hoping such a sudden entrance would distract the killer.

He entertained a fleeting thought as he broke from cover that the killer might be using the device to sucker him in, but it did not slow him down. He came up running and stared in horror, trying to pump his legs faster, to cover more ground with each stride, to reach the hit man before it was too late.

He stared in horror at the man who stood at the edge of the roof, one foot resting on the low retaining wall crowning the edge of the roof. The man was waiting for him, head turned to watch him and for an instant their eyes met and he knew he was too late.

"Nice try."

He never heard the words, though he did read the man's lips. He heard the unmistakable sound of the launch as his fingers closed over the hilt of the knife, but it was too late to throw it. In slow motion he watched as the device discharged the rocket and it had barely cleared the muzzle before the weapon was in mid air, discarded as so much excess baggage. The killer had not even attempted to aim, merely held it clear of the roof and in the general direction of the building across the way and pulled the trigger.

He was seconds too late.

The killer already had his gun in hand to dispose of the one witness to his crime.

What he did not understand, and what froze him to the spot, was why the killer's head exploded into bloody crimson gore.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2007

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Previous Trowa Chapter P197 164 and p 163 156 p 216

169 Chapter 145 for dream sequence


	176. Chapter 176 Chapter 175

Alternative Directions: Options 175/

Alternative Directions: Options 175/?? Bounty

Chapter 175

Preventer Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty

Date: 2nd March AC 198

Time: 11:44 Bounty Ship Time Sanc time 08:29

Duo

He could imagine the old man's manic grin on hearing from his com officer there was a message for him from the lunatic sweeper brat. It would be good to hear from Howard even if it was in a long-handed, not exactly real time method. At least he would be able to see a friend's face and hear his voice. Just the thought of it made him feel less isolated and alone on this ship of strangers.

Decision made, Duo's fingers flew over the com board to one side of his computer keyboard. He had a great deal to do this first day onboard the Bounty and there was the lunch with the Captain to be considered. He was to attend the meal with or without further information concerning the current situation and he knew the Captain would be making his own enquiries. At this point in time he would certainly be attending lunch without further information on the Station Alliance and the events taking place on distant Mars.

/I suppose we could all be panicking over nothing. It does not make much of a difference what is happening on Mars anyway. No one is close enough to be of assistance. They are on their own dealing with whatever may eventuate. Even the ESUN's bully boys have to wait a day or two to receive backup. Given the Lightning Count's reputation during the war, I'd say it would be all over bar the shouting by then. Damned if I would want to be in Merquise's shoes, though. If I think being on the Bounty is feeling isolated, what the hell must he feel like stuck way out there, with the ESUN wanting his arse?/

He supposed Merquise was probably better off than he in his present situation. At least the man had Noin for back up, although what help she would be if the colony turned on them he did not want to think about. As he recalled Lucrezia Noin could handle herself in a sticky situation and if Merquise was involved she was likely to be rabid in his defence. She had, after all, turned to him even during the Libra incident. He had to admit she was either a lovesick idiot, or she knew the man a whole lot better than anyone else.

/It is possible, I suppose, for the colony workers to turn on them. If the delegation dispatched to pick him up gave the colonists an ultimatum to cooperate or be held accountable … I don't know the man enough to judge his reaction, but I guess to preserve their own hides they might step aside and allow the ESUN to take him. They would be confident, but given how Noin reacted to Merquise during the war, even when they were on opposing sides, I would not like to be in front of her. I'm pretty sure blood would flow if they did./

His fingers flew over the consol, preparing the required security level for the communications he intended to send. Howard might not want anyone to know where he was, so he would need to use a broadband beam, fairly high-powered signal, given he had no idea how far it would need to travel. He needed to lessen the chance of anyone other than a Sweeper equipped with the required codes and Howard's personal coded designation, opening the message.

He was not particularly enamoured of the idea of travelling so far from what he considered his home to deal with a matter he could not, in any real likelihood, have any influence over. It was certainly an adventure to travel so far into the solar system, but there was now a small, rather nice smelling bundle of humanity to tie him to the hub of the ESUN. What was he doing heading out into the darkness of space for what could very well be a year, or possibly longer? He should be on L2 getting to know his son, not pandering to the whims of a woman who knew full well he could not directly affect the situation he was assigned to investigate. It was, however, his duty to go where sent and look into the matter of his assignment.

/Duty. It's why Hilde and I broke up, my sense of needing to do more to keep the peace. I became a Preventer to feel I was taking an active part in the shaping of the ESUN. Stopping trouble from disrupting the peace is a big part of that, but some days I wonder if it is really worth the effort. In this case, this Station Alliance is as big a threat as the trouble over Merquise. Both problems have the potential to cause disruption to the peace on a grand scale./

Preventers constantly stretched their resources to contain trouble spots from flaring up into violence that could easily escalate into open fighting. It was expected repeats of such hot spots would ease as time wore on and the novelty of peace caught on. The new generations would not recall what war was, how it bled families dry of their children, parents and friends. In that ideal peace would become the norm, not the exception. It was quite a vision to entertain, families, entire generations, who did not know the heartache of war.

If Merquise did nothing else with his life at least the most hated man in the ESUN had succeeded in shaking common sense into the masses. Milliardo Peacecraft had ensured everyone, both on and off the Earth, understood they needed to be aware of the activities, and particularly the politics, around them. The common masses needed to keep actively pushing to maintain the peace and remind their elected representatives why they had been elected in the first place. It would take time, but he was confident it would come.

Of course there had to be those who sought more for themselves.

It had ever been the way with people who had the drive and determination to stand on top of the dung heap. Duo understood that side of human nature well enough. There was a difference between ambition and greed. The streets of L2 had been an education even a child would not soon forget. He thought of himself as a Sweeper brat now, not an L2 street kid, but he was not of a mind to forget his beginnings. From street trash, as once he had been called, to Sweeper brat and Gundam Pilot and now to Preventer Agent. He had seen enough of the clawing to reach that high point above others to recognize it and keep a wary eye open. It was to maintain a measure of control over such ambitious people that Preventers had been founded.

It was simply human nature, more particularly human greed, which saw some heads resting uneasy with the current situation. Someone always wanted what the other man had and determined to take it or do better. If everyone could be content with the power they had, and not grasp for more, there would be no need for him to be heading out into the boondocks of space. Uneasy heads in high places had determined they did not like the direction of developments taking place. They had decided to adjust the parameters to favour themselves over others equally as determined to maintain control.

Power struggles in high places had led to this situation and to so many others like it and that was why there was a need for Preventers. The situation with Merquise was delicate; his name alone was a time bomb whenever uttered in the hub of the Earth Sphere. If it should become generally known the man was alive … he shuddered to think what might happen and grudgingly admitted there might be cause for concern. He did not know the man to judge him.

Merquise might have no intention of leading anything other than a quiet life. It was the people's reaction to the man that was of chief concern and Duo, while he could understand the Council's concern, had to wonder if Merquise ever intended to show his face to the general public. Whatever his intentions might have been, the decision had been made to contain him.

/I wonder if there is more to this than I know? Do I actually know anything, or am I just supposing? Ah, whichever there is nothing I can really do to make a difference./

Then, of course, there was the mysterious Station Alliance and their questionable intentions. Where could this Alliance be based and on what colony did Preventers need to seek them out? The Earth Sphere did not need another power struggle to control the hub and could they really believe what had been said by this Kristian Kushrenada?

"Great speech, but what does the man really want?"

To keep abreast of all the movers and shakers of the Earth Sphere was the business of Preventers. To keep the peace he had fought and bled for was his reason for joining the organization. He was paid to put out fires of every size and intensity, from smouldering coals to raging firestorms. It was why he had fought and bled over the last few years, working under a Commander who once had been an enemy he would cheerfully have butchered if he could have reached her.

/Damn, will you listen to yourself, Maxwell? You sound so bitter one minute and eager for a fight the next and all over the same thing. Maybe Hilde was right. Maybe I am nothing more than an action junkie. Do I do this to feel the adrenaline surge … Hell no. It's more than that. Enough thinking already./

He checked his preparations, being certain to include the best of the security features available to him. He was never certain what Howard might be up to, but he did not feel inclined to upset the old man by breaking into something he would rather not became public knowledge. Heero kept Howard abreast of the security features they used and he had no doubt the old man would be capable of deciphering his message.

Staring into the camera he drew a deep breath, shrugged and reached to press the record key.

"Preventer Agent Reaper, Duo Maxwell on board Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty, destination Asteroid Belt. Message is for Howard. Message reads: Hey, old man, how about a chat between two old friends? I could do with an off the record gossip."

Duo deactivated the record function and leaned back from the consul to indulge in a slow stretch as he contemplated the message. He could have been a little more forthcoming, he reflected, but he had no idea what Howard was doing, or who might be with him at the time he received it. It was better to err on the side of caution than to leap over a bush and learn there was a cliff edge on the far side. Deciding to allow the content to stand and make no modifications he punched in the send command and rubbed at his eyes.

A few seconds later the computer informed him his message had been transmitted. He was almost surprised the com officer had not contacted him, but no doubt the officer had contacted the Captain, or would in the next few minutes.

He was tired and he doubted he would wake during the acceleration periods scheduled for later in the day. He needed sleep and to think, but such an opportunity was hours away and it was always possible in that time new orders might be received. He would simply have to watch and wait on events.

The message was away and it was now a waiting game. He had little doubt he would get to talk with the old man and he was looking forward to it. It had been too long since he had spoken to Howard, beyond swapping emails once or twice a week. He always found such communications stilted and preferred to be able to see the face of the person he was talking to. Faces told you so much about the words being spoken to you, if you learned to read the unconscious muscle movements. You could tell who was lying, who was telling the truth and who was evading the issue.

It was more than wanting to see the man's face to gain an insight into what he was thinking though. He had genuinely missed Howard and he did not want to lose his ties to the Sweepers, or to the man himself.

/It's been a long time, longer than I intended. I'm a Preventer field agent and I guess I got wrapped up in my work. He would have been neck deep in getting the Peacemission ready to fly. I wonder what she is like?/

He had received some tantalizing references to Howard acquiring another ship in recent days, but had not had the opportunity to pursue the matter. Knowing Howard if the vessel was reclaimed as a part of a salvage operation the revamped ship would bare little resemblance to its former appearance. He doubted the Sweepers would have had the time to construct a new vessel along the lines of the Peacemillion, though he did admit it was not impossible. He had learned early in his association with the Sweepers you discounted them at your own peril.

Howard had not been pleased to have lost the Peacemillion and just once in Duo's hearing, shortly following the destruction of the Libra, he had mentioned building a second ship. Duo presumed if he did construct another vessel from scratch it would be of the same design as Peacemillion. He would have liked to spend time fully exploring Peacemillion but she, like the Libra, was so much scrap metal floating in space.

If Howard did construct a sister ship he wanted to spend some time on her and really get to know the beauty. He would, in actual fact, like to participate in the designing and construction of such a ship. He might have enjoyed helping Howard to modify a salvaged vessel and spending time with the Sweepers. One day he would retire from Preventers and he needed to keep his contact with the Sweepers open. At the present time he could not think of a better place to retire.

/I would enjoy the opportunity to sit down with Howard and chew the fat; find out what he has been up to since he left Earth. Talk about this ship of his and what she can do. Unless he had a second ship of Peacemillion's design already under construction, he must have adapted a salvaged ship. Maybe he even salvaged Peacemillion? No, I doubt there was much salvageable about her, not after that big bang. A pity, she was something alright. She could have been a grand lady given half the chance./

He needed to reconsider his options for a career in light of the son he had so recently discovered. Enlisting in the Preventer Service had been a good career choice for someone of his background, but he could not see himself as a hunter of terrorists for life. Already he was beginning to think of retirement from active service in the field and he was uncertain being a desk jockey at headquarters, or at a branch on one of the colonies, was what he was looking for. Would becoming a Sweeper again give him greater access to the boy?

/I doubt it. Hilde is a Preventer now, but her view of me does not seem to have changed much. I'm damned if I think I was that bad as a partner, but maybe it was all just a 'woman thing' that would drive me to distraction trying to figure out. Whatever I choose to do when I retire from Preventers, I am going to have to discuss it with Hilde. I want to be a part of Aidan's life. Now I know about him she is not going to keep him from me./

Hiding her pregnancy from him hurt and he supposed in time he would learn to live with it. Live with it, yes, but he doubted he would ever understand her reasoning. He seemed to have nothing but trouble understanding the few females who had attracted his attention, be it as work mates or on a more intimate level. Not that he had had a particularly exemplary record with associating with the male of the species either.

/I had the hots for Yuy there for a while, not that I would ever admit it to anyone. That was just being young and full of wild hormones, not to mention a bad case of 'I am probably going to be dead today' talking. It was a private thing anyway. I never let on to him, or anyone else, I thought he was anything other than a partner, and later a friend. The guy is so obviously straight it was not a problem knowing it was definitely a case of look but don't touch. Funny as hell watching him struggle to cope with Relena's slightest look in his direction. I'm not sure that relationship will go anywhere though, much as they might want it to. They are worlds apart and I doubt it will be roses all the way./

His eyes flicked to the clock and he sighed. Still a couple of minutes before he could expect any kind of response from the Sweepers. That was the problem with communications in space. In the gaps between contacts you had an awful lot of time on your hands to think. The longer he needed to wait for a response the further away Howard was from the Bounty. By now the message would have been transmitted out past the furthest of the colonies in the L5 cluster. He could only hope Howard was not as far away as the Asteroid belt, or even deeper in space.

He had already missed out on so much of his son's short life. He was not certain what to think about the not exactly welcoming reaction to his presence Hilde had displayed. He could see she would have been happy if he had never learned of the boy and that knowledge hurt. He should have been there to experience everything, to bond with his son and give him everything he himself had not had as a child.

/Yeah, right. I missed the early morning screaming sessions for food, the dirty backsides and projectile vomiting. Maybe Hilde did me a favour without meaning to./ He glowered at the keyboard in front of him and snorted softly. /I don't understand what I did that was so wrong./

Had she ever intended to tell him he was a father? If it had not been for Heero taking a hand in the proceedings would he know he had a son? Preventer Earth had known about Aidan and she had said nothing. Thinking back over their conversations over the past year and more he could recall nothing in particular that might have been a veiled reference to Hilde needing him. Certainly there was nothing he might bend and twist like a pretzel to make into a comment that should have alerted him he might be a father.

/Not exactly fair, I suppose. She did ask me a couple of times if I had spoken to Hilde./ He considered the ceiling and its array of uninteresting rivets and frowned. /I never thought about that before. Why would Une mention Hilde at all considering she knew we had split and it was not a particularly amicable break-up? We were not the worst of enemies, but Hilde had plainly not wanted anything to do with me. I thought she would contact me when she had cooled off. Maybe Une was hoping I would take the hint and contact her and Hilde would come clean with me?/

It was a possibility and he had come to know Une well enough over the last few years to know she was not the emotionless automaton many of the Preventers considered her. She was certainly not the fruitcake she had been during the war; otherwise he would not be wearing the uniform he was.

If Une had been subtly hinting at him to establish contact with his ex-girlfriend it was too late to worry about it now. All thanks to Heero he knew about Aidan and Une had given him the opportunity to go to L2 and make some sort of understanding with Hilde. While the time spent there had been short, at least he had held his son and Hilde had not thrown him out. Maybe there was hope there?

/I don't know what to make of Hilde. One thing I do know is she's not the girl I knew during the war. She was a fighter then, but she seemed to … I don't know exactly what to call it. I know people change and nothing stays the same. It's not smart to think things should stay static, let alone people. We all change as we grow older, but I thought I knew her better. I really must have pissed her off for her to keep news of the baby to herself./

It was a depressing thought and one he wished would not keep revolving through his mind like a returning bad odour. His eyes flicked to the hands of the clock and the second hand moving smoothly around the clock face. How much longer before Howard would get back to him and thinking of Howard gave birth to a manic grin.

/ Hey, Howie is going to be surprised to find out I'm a father./

He flicked his gaze to the digital clock on the consol in front of him and sighed. He was disgusted to see it agreed with the larger analogue clock on the wall. Waiting for long range communications was a royal pain in the butt. If he had more time he would submerge himself in the Romefeller files on his hidden disks while he waited.

He could be learning more about the organization he had dismissed as an old boys' club, a judgement that might impact on his personal world. He had underestimated the old boys and it was a mistake he was afraid he might pay for. He personally knew people included in those files and he suspected Romefeller had a greater hand in the war than he had initially assumed. Just how much did the five scientists who had constructed the Gundams actually know about the 'enemy'?

He was afraid they may have misinterpreted the identity of the enemy they needed to fear.

There was so much he needed to know and he suspected many of the answers, and a great many more questions, lay in those hidden files. If he only had more time. He could not avoid the lunch with the Captain and he had not, as yet, been on the Bounty for a day. One did not refuse an invitation to eat with the Captain, but he might have sufficient time to exchange one or two message sequences with Howard. The exact quota of messages they could trade would depend on the current location of Howard in relation to the Bounty.

He was presuming the old man would be onboard the Peacemission as he had mentioned in an email he would soon be shaking down the ship, though details had not been exchanged. He might also be on any one of the Sweeper ships in the considerable fleet, though his money was on the Peacemission. It was a feeling, nothing more substantial than that, but he had a strong sense he was right.

At any time the Sweeper council could demand a Captain present himself before them; even one of their own was not exempt from such a summons. Howard could have been anywhere within the Earth Sphere and Duo considered his ignorance of that location his own failing.

He had been neglecting his ties to the Sweeper organization.

Using the codes and broadband sweep he had set up he hoped to contact the ship the old man was onboard, no matter where he might be. The message was coded with the personal code Howard used, which no other Sweeper would interfere with. It was a security feature employed by all of the Sweepers and it was an unwritten law you did not interfere with a Captain's code. Only the Sweeper Council would dare to attempt a capture and break into such a personal communication, and only then if there was questions over a captain's loyalty to the group. To his knowledge Howard was in good standing with the Council, not that they would quickly or easily break the encryption code he had used.

/I suppose those paranoid bastards in the ESUN might try to intercept the message./ He smirked. /I wish them luck breaking into it though. Hell, for all I know Howard could be a couple of thousand k's off the port bow and we could share a real time chat. Not that that is likely, given the time elapsed since I sent the message. I'm pretty sure he was taking the Peacemission out for a shake down cruise, but he could be anywhere from on an approach vector to Venus, to somewhere between Mars and the Asteroid Belt for all I know./

Their last exchange of email had been short and pretty basic and had taken place a couple of weeks before he had left Earth. Howard's message had been bounced through a number of encrypted Sweeper relays, so he was unsure of the location it had originated from. How are you doing … survived another mission … how's the guys … Generally they kept mission details he could share for their rare face to face chats. The last time he had actually been in the same room with Howard had been approaching eleven months ago, give or take a week or so.

Nearly a year. He had not realized it had been so long and in all that time he had taken no leave time offered in which he could hop a Sweeper ship and find the old man for a few weeks of well deserved rest.

/Time flies. / He scowled at the digital clock. /When you don't watch the damn clock, of course. I hadn't realized how long it has been since we had the chance to really talk. It must be a good six months since we talked over a communicator. Man, this is not good. I have become so wrapped in my work that I'm losing touch with people. I can't lose touch with the Sweepers, they are pretty much the closest thing to a family I've had since the Maxwell Church . Hell, be honest Maxwell, they are closer to a family than you ever had. No Solo, yeah, I admit that but … Damn, I need my arse kicked for letting things go. First Hilde and now this t's not good enough. Maybe Hilde had a better idea of how it would wrap me up than I did./

He tapped an impatient beat, long fingers lightly rapping against the consol and considered the time elapsed since he had sent the greeting and request. Eighteen minutes since he had sent the message and given Howard had never expressed an interest in frying his backside, he doubted he would test the ship by flying in system toward the sun. His best assumption was the Peacemission, if that was Howard's current location, was cruising somewhere in the vicinity of the Mars orbit, though not necessarily within months of the planet itself.

No one ever said in his hearing Howard was required to follow ESUN flight regulations. That he knew of Howard was pretty much a law unto himself, even amid the Sweepers, where he was viewed as something of a visionary and certainly a genius. If you had genius people forgave your eccentricities. He would not know exactly where Howard was until he was contacted by whatever ship Howard was using. The safest assumption he could make was that they were headed out system and off the main shipping lanes, if he was shaking down a new or revamped ship like the Peacemission.

Given Howard was never one to stay within regulation shipping lanes and prescribed formulae for such activities, there was also the possibility he might be intending to shakedown the ship where he was practically guaranteed not to be disturbed. He recalled one conversation where Howard had expressed an interest in going off the ecliptic, exploring space around the Earth but away from the ecliptic orbit of the planets.

/That would be cool. Dangerous but cool, not that danger ever bothered Howard. He would have considered every feasible scenario before taking such a step; and then a few really weird and whacked out options too, knowing him. If he ever does it I hope he asks me to come along./

What would his life have been like if he had been born a Sweeper, as Howard had been? Becoming an explorer had potential and the Sweepers had been the first to venture to the far side of the Asteroid Belt. Now the ESUN was pushing to colonize Mars itself and had sent explorer ships to Jupiter and Saturn. A lonely existence, to be a space explorer, but you would see sights and encounter situations no one else would have experienced. No unnecessary chances were taken on those ships and it took a special breed of spacer to survive in that isolation for years at a time. The monotony would be the worst, seeing the same faces day after day and hearing the same voices, doing the same things.

Duo shook himself and brought his thoughts back to the present. Becoming an explorer would not keep him near Aidan so he could wipe that scenario from his retirement options.

/I'm not ready to retire, anyway. I wonder if Howard is near Mars? If he was close enough to take some sort of action that might influence events would he do it?/ Duo wiped suddenly sweating palms against his trousers. /I wonder if he might feel inclined to take some form of action if I mentioned what we suspect is going down there?/

Not that he really knew what was happening on Mars, of course. He was not even certain what Une intended by assigning him to this ship. He was months away from the planet and the trouble now visiting the colony. What he did know with certainty was that Merquise was on Mars, Une had confirmed that, and there was trouble on the planet. Trouble along the lines of Merquise and the ESUN Council of Representatives. He might be months away from Mars, but Preventers had a presence on the planet which was yet another reason for him not being out-system bound.

"Howard is sure to ask what I'm doing on the Bounty, so what the heck do I tell him when I don't really know myself? I don't know how he would react to knowing where Zechs is either."

He personally had never met the man in question. All the contact he had ever had with Zechs Merquise was a few brief words over a communicator during the Barton Incursion. Beyond that brief moment he had no idea what to make of the former Prince of Sanc and his roller coaster life.

Picking at the end of his braid Duo snorted softly. /Can you actually be a former prince? I mean, once you are born a prince I would think that would pretty much be that. You are a prince. You could claim all sorts of things, including turning your back on your birthright but … He sure as hell hasn't turned his back. As far as I can see everything he did was a reaction to events in and around Sanc./

It was something he had not considered before, but he decided he would have the time to consider the war and the reasons behind the individuals who had played starring roles. His reasons he knew well enough and he knew something of his fellow Gundam Pilots reasonings. What he had not previously concerned himself with was the reasons for the other players being involved. Much of what he had been told since the war did not make sense to him.

The beep of the communications consol distracted him and he grinned, focusing his attention on the consol and reaching to activate the receive key. He recognized the speaker as an old acquaintance from the time during the war, when he had been onboard Peacemillion. No surprise there as Howard tended to retain the same crew about him in something like an inner circle of people he trusted above all others. An affable grin lightened the man's hook-nosed face as he looked into the camera's pick up.

The decrypting program was making short work of the encoded transmission, the delay only seconds before the initial frozen picture jerked and the message replayed. He was feeling decidedly honoured as they had sent him a vid message and not merely a voice or text confirmation of his communications. It warmed him to know he was still considered a part of the Sweeper community and his message was not treated as an official communication with a Preventer.

"Peacemission. Registry H65193P acknowledging communication from Bounty E106. Good morning Duo, what time zone are you running? Long time no see and just what the hell are you doing on a long haul Preventer Cruiser, eh? Decided you need to rough it in the mining colonies? Message from the Old Man reads: Peacemission is outward system bound and off the space lanes. What can I do for you? Further transmission will be transferred directly to the Captain's Ready Room. Peacemission, out."

He had hoped for a message from the old man himself, but that had probably been too hopeful on his part. No doubt Howard was busy and if they were on the Peacemission's shake down cruise there was likely to be a great deal keeping Howard occupied. At least he had been assured his next communication with the Peacemission would go directly to Howard and he could be fairly assured no one but Howard would receive his message.

He settled himself deeper into the chair and composed himself. He needed to decide on the best method for sharing as much information as he dared without being too chatty, and taking up precious time, but still keep the personal touch. He hated this means of communicating. His fingers automatically set up the record program and the security protocols he desired in place and then there was nothing more for him to use to delay the inevitable.

"Bounty, registry E106. Hey, how are things going, Howie? I feel I should apologize for not getting in touch with you more regularly on a face to face basis. Until I had this chance I hadn't realized just how hectic things have been lately. I'm hopping a ride on the Bounty on a mission I really don't understand, but I'm hoping to receive more detailed instructions soon. I'm guessing you saw the announcement by the Station Alliance and this Kristian Kushrenada. The Captain has asked me to ask around to see if any of my contacts has heard of either the man himself, or this Station Alliance. I've already told him I don't know anything about either, and I know full well he's the one who is going to have a better chance of getting some answers. Maybe you could ask around for me, huh? I'm having lunch with the Captain in around half an hour or so. Maybe I can delay it a bit longer if I'm lucky, but I was taught you don't keep the Captain of a ship waiting. I wonder where I learned that from, eh?"

He ran a hand through his bangs and shrugged, grinning into the camera pick up. Howard could probably read him like a book and would pick up on his unease with the subject, but there was nothing he could do about that. The simple truth was he was feeling unsure about himself and uneasy being on this ship of strangers. He was tired and he probably looked worse than he thought he did, something else Howard would pick up on. He wanted to say more, but did he dare?

"Anyway, I'm looking forward to hearing from you. We have so got to get back together. I miss … Well, I have to … Looking forward to hearing from you, Howard. Bounty out."

His fingers hit send before he really knew what he was doing and he moaned softly, burying his face in his hands. That had been so pathetic!

/Gah, that was awful! He'll wonder what the hell is wrong with me. At least he will know its not official business./

He had not hinted at there being a problem on Mars. Nothing had been said in Peacemission's communication that the ship was in the vicinity of Mars. It was the time listed for the message being recorded and dispatched which put it somewhere in the vicinity of the planet's orbit.

/If Howard has not gone off the ecliptic, that is. They could be days or weeks, even months away from the planet. They could be chasing the planet or waiting for it to come to them. Either way it could take weeks to reach Mars./

It was not Sweeper business.

That was what held him back from mentioning the problem, but he was watching his fingers moving over the keys setting up a secure message. What was he thinking of doing? It was not Sweeper business. It had nothing to do with the ship on her maiden shakedown. It was nothing to do with them … but he knew Howard had actually liked Merquise. His hand hovered over the record button and he ground his teeth and glared at the poised finger.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing sitting there ready to pounce, hmm? It's none of your concern to take matters into your own hand. That is official Preventer business and it has nothing to do with the Sweepers."

His hand was shaking and he felt as though a force pressed on him, forcing that finger closer and closer to the contact switch, activating the camera.

/What am I doing?/

Pressing the switch.

"Bounty … Howard, I'm not sure I'm supposed to mention … Well, I am sure I'm not supposed to talk about it actually, but you … Well, I know you had a high regard for the man before he went off the rails. It's all hush-hush and everything and I only recently learned it but …"

The words wanted out, but it was hard. Everything he said was breaking a confidence and it was certainly Preventer business. He was sure of his security and Howard was not likely to tell him anything about the Station Alliance if he knew anything, if he did not give a little information in the first place. Maybe if he told Howard about Merquise he might reciprocate.

Did he really believe that drivel? Did he want to answer that question? Why did he feel as though he must reveal the trouble on Mars? Why did he have to be the one Une assigned to this miserable mission?

"I'm supposed to be heading to Mars, but I'm not sure if that is going to be changed in light of the Station Alliance coming on the scene. You must have picked up the distress message from Mars, as well as Kushreneda's announcement. If you are in any position to respond to that distress alert you should … Well … Howard, Merquise is on Mars and in the middle of that mess. I don't know what you will want to do about it, or if you even care, or are near enough to try if you wanted to, but … Well … God … The ESUN couldn't leave it alone. He's there if you do want to do something."

His finger was on the send key and then his face was buried in his hands and he moaned.

"That was awful. Bloody awful. A load of codswallop. I could have had something better to say than that. I could at least have phrased it better or something. I've never had trouble with words before and I've been told to shut up so many times it's not funny. I'm not even sure what exactly I asked him to do."

He pushed to his feet, found himself floating free in the cabin and cursed softly. While they were not in total freefall at present the extremely light gravity would emphasize his movements. He would need to take care and remember the laws of physics. Getting violent with his frustration would serve only to plaster him to the ceiling.

/I'm tired. I never had nearly enough sleep and I had those weird dreams. I've got the Captain waiting on me, expecting me to tell him something he doesn't know. What I really want to do is bury myself in the Romefeller files if I have to be stuck on this damn ship for months on end./

He really did not want to be on this ship and could not understand why Lady Une had chosen him for the mission. Exactly what was the mission? Questions he could not expect to answer at the present time and that only added to his frustration.

Scrubbing his face with his hands he heaved a heavy sigh and leaned forward to plant his hands against the consol. With a carefully controlled push he floated to the ceiling. Midway he twisted himself, turning carefully to rest his back against the cool metal of the ceiling and extend his arms out to either side to grip his fingers into the riveted seam of the metal plates. Hanging suspended over the floor of the cabin he closed his eyes and resigned himself to waiting.

He had time to kill and he could only hope Howard would not take too long to consider what he was going to reply.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2007


	177. Chapter 177 Chapter 176

Alternative Directions: Options: Colony L1-0025B

Alternative Directions: Options: Colony L1-0025B

Chapter 176

2nd March AC 198

Colony L1 - 0025 B La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B

Preventer Building

Time: 06:27 approx Sanc time 05:17

Trowa

Time stood still.

He stood in a world frozen, in a bloody and silent tableau.

His heart seemed suspended mid-beat as he stared at the inexplicable.

Before his wide eyes he saw the rocket launcher raised, its payload pointed in the general direction of the main office building and the laboratories housed on the mid-level floors. The assassin was looking his way, paying no further attention to the direction of his target or the flight of the missile. Those long fingers, competent fingers, the hands of a killer, were frozen on the trigger, uncurling in slow motion as he watched. The missile was airborne, on its way to maim, kill and destroy.

One truth was undeniable in the horror of the moment.

Despite his best efforts the assassin's mission was a success.

People were going to die.

There was nothing he could do to stop the missile from hitting its intended target. There was no miracle he could perform to stay its flight. He was going to be forced to watch every fraction of the interminable seconds of its flight and know he had failed.

Despite his horror at failure there was another cold, hard reality that shook him to the core of his being.

Nothing of what he saw in this timeless agony of despair explained the spray of blood, brains and bone fragments that marked an unexpected death.

Those broad hands, the fingers so confident on the trigger a moment before, now spasmed, jerking with the shock of sudden death. What might have been the beginning twitch of a hand reaching for the gun tucked into his waistband, was abruptly aborted. He was staring into the cold, hard eyes of a seasoned veteran and he saw there no recognition of death, or even surprise. In that icy gaze he saw a final lingering moment of judgement, the assassin's contemplation of how best to take down his hunter and then the blankness of death took all thought, all life.

So suddenly. So inexplicably.

It was over.

He did not understand.

Sound broke the tableau.

The thundering, rumbling roar of the explosion as the missile impacted. Sound shattered the unnatural silence and broke him from the stasis holding him. Trowa crouched low instinctively, in a bid to avoid debris, rolling backwards towards cover. The impact of the blast added impetus to the kinetic force of whatever had killed the assassin and thrust his still standing body forward, away from the drop to the courtyard between the buildings, to sprawl on the roof in bloody ruin.

The toppling body had not impacted the roof before Trowa had given up on the idea of gaining cover and instead curled himself into as small a ball as possible, hands and arms folded over his head as the shockwave rolled over him. It was poor protection, but it was the best he could do given the situation and he flinched as debris began to rain down on him. If nothing else the explosion had shocked him into thinking again, forcing him to function on more than adrenaline.

/I failed. After all that… I failed./

It was all he could think of as the world ripped apart about him.

He had failed.

The initial thunder of the explosion faded to be replaced by the roar of flames and the fainter, horribly real screams of people caught in the inferno. It was only seconds before the wail of sirens joined the cacophony of sound. The emergency alert sirens, normally used only when there was a danger of a breach in the colonies protections, shrilled louder than the screams. The harsh wailing drowning out the sounds of people dying, and around him there was the never ending clatter and thump of debris continuing to fall.

He grunted as something slammed into his side and he curled tighter, shaking his head beneath the protection of his arms and daring to peek between his elbows. Looking at the chaos surrounding him only served to reinforce the truth, forcing him to acknowledge the nightmare was over. He was alive and the killer was dead.

/I'm alive. I'm really alive./

It was shocking that the thought surprised him as it did. He wondered when exactly in this brief time on the roof he had convinced himself he was going to die. Somewhere in the hunt his subconscious must have determined he would not see another day, else why was it so shocking now to realize he still breathed?

"Quatre." He whispered, pressing his forehead into his arms. "Did I really give up on seeing you again?"

He did not want to answer his own question. Not at this time and certainly not in this place. He had come close to dying and he did not want to die. Once it would not have bothered him, the thought of dying. This day he had been given yet another chance at life, as inexplicably as those other chances had come his way. Why was he still alive? It was not just here and now he had come to ask the question. How many times had he cheated death to walk away from a situation that should have left him a bleeding and shattered corpse?

How much longer could he continue to deny the Reaper?

/I have so much to live for now, more than I have ever had. I am still running around chancing my life and the life I could have with him. Why? Why am I still doing this?/

He was a fool. He had to be to chance losing Quatre and his warmth and light to the cold, dark finality of death. The inevitability of death no one could deny, but in the past he had made a habit of thumbing his nose at the apparition and how much longer could his luck last?

Death was, after all, patient. It came to everyone eventually.

/I am getting too old for this shit./

He shuddered as debris rained down on him; something larger and heavier struck his shoulder, smaller impacts reminding him of the reality of his situation. At least he had survived to lie here and tell himself he was too old at the ripe old age of eighteen… or was he nineteen? Hell, he could be over twenty for all he knew of his actual age. He did not even know how old he was and he was contemplating his death, uncertain exactly how many times the Reaper had passed him by.

"But I am alive. I survived." He whispered, reassuring himself of the reality of it. His voice assuring him he did indeed draw breath. "Though I don't understand how."

The man who had hunted him so ruthlessly was dead. Time to get past it and move on.

A sense of time was returning to him and he wondered how long the entire business had taken. Certainly not as long as it had seemed to him. He had been in enough action situations to understand how the flow of time was disrupted when you scrambled to save your life, or the lives of others. For him this day had been a mixture of success and failure. He was alive, yes, that was a success, but others would die — were dying even now.

He had not stopped the shot, though somehow the killer had been stopped.

"He's dead, but how? What the hell just happened?"

He chanced to peek through his arms again, staring at the body lying not so far from him and the spreading pool of blood surrounding what had been a head. Light debris from the explosion still drifted in the air, falling to strike both the corpse and himself, but the larger, heavier piece seemed to have settled. He waited a few more seconds, waiting for the stunning impact that never came and finally uncurled.

He ached in every muscle and bone of his body. He winced at the pull of abused muscles and swiped at the debris covering him, swearing softly as he stared at the jagged length of razor sharp metal lying inches from him. If that had hit him he doubted he would have survived, considering it was imbedded in the roof with the force of its impact.

"I've been lucky."

He flinched at the thought. If he were religious he would say there were an entire bevy of angels nursing multiple wounds and congratulating themselves on successfully keeping him alive. If he were religious.

Groaning, he forced himself up to his knees, taking stock of the damage done. His examination of his injuries was quick and efficient, drilled into him from his earliest childhood. Multiple cuts and abrasions, bruising and definitely pulled, possibly torn muscles, but nothing life-threatening. He had been very fortunate indeed and he would have to consider taking up religion just to say a heartfelt thank you.

Shaking himself free of the debris he wiped at the dust and ash covering his face and looked about him.

The thick black column of smoke and debris rising into the atmosphere had him worried and he clambered to his feet. Staggering he steadied himself and made his way carefully to the edge of the roof, peering over the side. Near him the assassin lay in a pool of blood, a pipe ripped from the target building by the explosion lodged in what remained of his head and he avoided looking at what might have been his own fate. That jagged piece of metal imbedded in the roof where he had lain was enough for him to deal with just now.

Smoke billowed from the gaping wound in the side of the building and the air was filled with falling ash and papers, the lighter ejectum from the exploding offices. The roar of the fire was a deep rumble beneath the shrilling of the sirens, enhanced by the distinctive wail of the shield alarm. He spared a glance above to watch as the lighting began to shift, signalling the impact screens were rolling smoothly into place. Within seconds the colony would be enveloped in a protective cocoon designed to keep precious oxygen from escaping into space and depressurizing the colony in the event of a hull breach.

/Not a hull breach, we are lucky there, but it will mess up the life support systems for a while./

He was aware he was in shock, but it appeared there was little he could do at the moment. It was not so much the explosion or surviving the debris fall in the aftermath, but the abrupt end to his personal nightmare that shook him. He was going to need to function and to do that he needed to put aside his very natural reaction of disbelief, until he could debrief and have a session with a psychologist. Following the nightmare on the roof he was not about to argue with the need to chat with a shrink. This morning would feed his nightmares for a long time.

/I need Quatre./

Much as he needed his lover there was no help for it. Quatre was a long way from him and there was no way they were going to be able to talk for hours, perhaps even days. Maybe if he was lucky, when he fell into a bed, he might dream of his lover and know he was loved.

/Fool. Get on with business./

With no hull breach to threaten to suck them all into the airless chill of space, and no hunter looking to spill his blood all over the roof, he had no excuse not to pull himself together. The headquarters building had been hit and he needed to help in the other building, trying to save lives his failure had endangered. It was not an ideal world, he knew that, but he should have been able to take the assassin down.

/I was told a long time ago to remember there is always someone in the world better than you. Someone stronger or faster or more intelligent… or simply with better luck. Well, I guess he was right. The assassin sure as hell was better than me. He out psyched me, he had me on the run from the instant he laid eyes on me. I need to train harder… or give this life up for good./

Movement on the roof of the adjacent building snapped his head around and he automatically reached for a weapon he did not have. The instinctive reflex was quashed as quickly as it had come and he stared through the billows of smoke and falling debris as the figure climbed slowly to its feet.

He did not recognize the man in the Preventer jacket who slung the sniper rifle over his shoulder, tucking his arm neatly through the strap in the one motion. Every line of the man screamed cool confidence, even as he wiped absently at a stream of darkness Trowa decided was blood running down his cheek. A couple of swats at his uniform to dislodge the dust and ash and the sniper glanced up, surveying the scene around him before looking over the gap. Despite the distance involved eyes locked with eyes and something profound passed between them.

Trowa sighed softly, finally understanding what had taken out the assassin. He silently congratulated whoever it was in charge at this early hour, who had made the decision to dispatch the sniper to the roof, and commiserated with the man. The shot had come that fraction of a second too late. The Preventer sharpshooter, without a doubt, was doing exactly what Trowa was doing: berating himself for not bringing the assassin down before the missile could be launched.

He would need to meet with this man and share a drink with him. He knew, though they had never met, they would greet each other as old friends and there would remain a bond between them until the day they died. A bond of blood. Blood shed and blood saved.

With the rifle slung over his shoulder and secure the sniper swiped again at his cheek, glancing at his hand before looking up. A casually raised hand acknowledged Trowa's presence and he turned his head and nodded to someone out of Trowa's immediate line of sight. He had a ponytail, Trowa noted absently, a blond fall of hair turning grey in the ash falling over the roof. After a moment the sniper turned back to Trowa and raised a hand in farewell, turning toward the stair access, his job done. Trowa watched him limp away and sighed softly.

/I'm alive, Quatre. I'm alive./

When would he get over being alive?

Easing back from the edge of the building he turned his attention to the courtyard below. The evacuation of the main building was well underway, the courtyard filling with people and it was an orderly evacuation. It seemed there were people everywhere and he could only hope not so many had died. Someone had obviously found his warning, cryptic as it had been. There had been no time for detailed descriptions of the events about to take place, but it had not mattered. They were Preventers and they were well trained and they had responded immediately.

/The sniper was a stroke of genius./

He had done what he could to get word out of the killer in their midst and action had been taken. What more could he ask? He supposed it was human nature that caused him to berate himself for his failure and even having the sniper on the roof opposite had not stopped the shot from being taken.

/It's always the same, after the fact. I sit like an idiot and feel I could have done more. I should have done more. I did my best, didn't I?/

Forcing the moment of self doubt down he turned from the evacuation in progress to the body on the roof. Now the initial danger was over and he had had a few minutes to gather himself, he wanted answers. This assassin had to come from somewhere and he had to work for someone and Trowa was determined to get to the bottom of this business. He could imagine Lady Une when she was informed of the fiasco. He wanted answers to the questions that would be coming hard and fast from Preventer Earth.

The killer was without a doubt a professional and professionals did not make stupid mistakes. No one, however, was infallible. There was always the slender chance there might be something on the body, or amongst his equipment, that might provide them with some clue to his origins. If not his origins then perhaps the identity of who had hired the killer, or why he had been hired, to target this building above all on the colony.

He had his own ideas, birthed of the nightmare that might be more than a nightmare, of why the killer had struck. He was not going to be able to offer prophetic dreams and visions as evidence to explain his knowledge of the attack. He would have to rely on fact, not dream, to pin down this assault on a Preventer building.

The chances were at best slim this killer had made a mistake they could use to identify him or his employer. Slim, but slim was better than nonexistent and he refused to consider there was no hope of identifying the man. Their best chance at learning who and why would be the forensic teams locating evidence to work with.

Particles peculiar to certain sections of the colony or colonies, perhaps even to Earth. Perhaps some small trace of genetic evidence might be of use to them. Pollen residue might assist them in pinning a location, perhaps he might have stepped in something they might be able to trace. It would be hours before they came up with a place to start, but that would give himself time to clean himself up before he took a hand in the investigation. In the meantime he could do a cursory examination of the body.

He could remember the man as he first saw him. Real life, not a vision, not a nightmare but the flesh and blood man. A dark form bent over the unmistakable lines of the weapon, the sports bag to one side of him. There might be a clue to be found in that bag, though it might take a thorough forensic examination to find it. The dark form unfolding, weapon in hand, straightening to look over the roof. One arm raised, fingers pointed at the building across the way and a hand forming the shape of a gun.

"_Bang."_

The bastard had laughed, a low deep chuckle, as he had put an imaginary round into the building. Trowa scowled as he stared at the corpse. What was it he had said? Something… a name? Taking a deep steadying breath Trowa concentrated, seeing in his minds eye the dark shape rising, turning to the building, that 'gun' fashioned of his fingers and the laugh. Nothing particularly sinister about it or remarkable, but something had been said at the time he had wanted to remember…

"_No evidence of Washington permitted, I'm afraid."_

Yes, that was it. 'No evidence of Washington permitted.' That was what he had needed to remember.

/Washington, he said. Washington… but who, or what, is Washington? It is a clue, though, and something more substantial than sprouting off about a nightmare. I can give them Washington to work with. I heard it on the roof, not in the dream. It is not much, but it is a start./

The bang of the door to the stairwell slamming against the wall alerted him to the arrival of the assault team. He was careful not to move in the event one or more of them had itchy fingers in light of the explosion. A report should have gone through from the sniper on the other roof, informing them the assassin was down and Trowa was active. He was not inclined to chance a miscommunication and remained still until he was assured the team knew his identity.

"Agent Chameleon?"

"Start a search of the roof. He may have dropped something of use to us."

He ignored the team, bending over the body and focusing on the man's jacket. He would not look at the mess that had been a head, not because he was squeamish, but because it was not likely to be enlightening. It was not as though the man would have any information tattooed on what was left of his head. Trowa had seen enough bloody gore not to be phased by the sight, but he did note someone gagged and then there was the sound of retching.

"Make sure he does not puke on any evidence, would you?"

"Jesus."

The whisper might have been in reaction to the sight of the body, or to his apparent indifference to the gory scene. He was not fussed with either option and began patting down the jacket pockets in search of dust bunnies and lint balls they might find interesting. As he had suspected, he found nothing he might use to identify the corpse, not even travel papers and certainly not a passport.

/It is possible he might be a native of L1 and the weaponry could have been acquired on the local black market. That will be a forensic puzzle, I suppose./

He flipped open the jacket which he marked as a standard off the rack purchase. No designer suits for this killer, everything generic and pretty much untraceable. More evidence of his skill in his trade. Unremarkable equated to being easily forgettable to the common masses. A person could blend quite well with the right clothing and this man had worn nothing flashy that might be remarked on.

"Sir?"

Glancing up and around he noted the team leader standing closest to him, watching his every move and eyeing him warily. He had a reputation. All of the former Gundam Pilots who worked for Preventers were known. This particular individual he recognized from earlier days as a colony resistance fighter he had met somewhere he could not immediately recall. The man was one of the better agents on L1 and seemed to have no problem working with those who had worked for Oz or the Alliance. He was the sort Preventers needed to be fair with suspects in these post war years. Too many still saw past alliances as being of importance.

"Jonas." He nodded in greeting, noting the other five members of the team were spreading out and all still had their weapons at the ready. "He was alone on the roof, but it may pay to get the other buildings checked out in case he had backup."

The man frowned and looked warily about him as Trowa returned to his investigation of the corpse and Trowa soon heard him broadcasting to HQ for the entire complex to be searched. Personally he doubted there was another intruder, but Trowa was not of a mind to go through another altercation. He had done enough today and he desperately wanted a shower.

"You need to see a medic."

He snorted softly and dug into a hip pocket of the man's trousers, coming up with a small key which he held up to the light, turning it slowly in a bid to catch any identifying marks.

"Locker key?" He murmured, noting the similarity to two lockers he maintained on two different colonies.

Jonas knelt beside him and offered an evidence bag which Trowa slipped the key into. "Could be a train depot locker, or even a shuttle port locker. They're pretty generic in design. I've got one for the shuttle port similar to this. Anything else?"

He was quick and efficient and in the end, disappointed. Other than the key he found nothing and sat back on his heels, staring around him at the debris strewn roof. He would have to wait until forensic teams worked the roof and that was going to take time. More time than he had, but he would need to see what he could do.

"I don't suppose I could trouble you for some shoes, could I?"

Jonas snorted. "Brewster! Bring Chameleon a pair of boots! Size…?" He glanced at Trowa.

"Thirteens."

"Size thirteen shoes and don't forget the socks." Jonas straightened and toed aside a piece of scorched metal. "Damn, it's going to take them days to clean this mess up."

Trowa sighed and picked at small slivers of glass dusting his feet. He was careful not to drive any of the debris into his flesh, picking carefully at the sole of his left foot.

"Can you fill me in on what has been happening?"

Jonas straightened to watch his team work. "All I know is I received a call to say we had a sniper on the roof and you were up here playing 'tag me if you can' with him. I was ordered to get my team up here a.s.a.p. Got a call two flights down, just after the explosion, to say Hawkeye had taken him down and to watch our exit in case there was a second intruder."

"I owe him a beer."

The Commander snorted softly. "He'll no doubt enjoy that. I wonder what this was all about? A terrorist trying to make a name for himself? I've heard some scuttlebutt lately in the less affluent areas of the colony that disturbs me."

"I don't think he was a terrorist looking to make a name for a cell. It is more likely to be someone wanted evidence destroyed. From what I saw, I am fairly certain he was specifically targeting the lab floors, not the general offices."

Jonas eyed the plume of black smoke rising into the air and shook his head slightly. "Lovely. It could be a crime lord making sure we can't nail his arse, I suppose. Damn."

"Any reports on how bad it is down there?"

Jonas tapped his earpiece and winced. "General hullabaloo at the moment, but I doubt the damage would be as serious as it might have been. I did hear over the air they were turning the sprinklers on just before the big bang. Hopefully they can contain the fire and the alert to evacuate the building came before the explosion."

He did not need to say it had been only seconds before the missile strike. Trowa followed his gaze up toward the far side of the colony, following the dark cloud billowing into the air. Jonas shook his head slowly and sighed, glancing down at Trowa with a noticeable frown.

"That is going to clog up the filters if they can't extinguish it quick smart. Look, if you are going to keep twisting around like that I'm going to have to pull that bit of metal without you having the benefit of a painkiller."

Trowa arched an eyebrow in query and a broad square-tipped finger ran across his back, just under his left shoulder.

"I don't think its deep and it's not exactly big, but it is a little on the jagged side. I'd really prefer a medic did the deed."

Well, he could not realistically expect to survive the debris fall without any injuries, could he? Curiously, now that it was pointed out to him, he could feel the sliver of metal in his back as a sharp niggling pain that had been just a part of a general impression of discomfort.

"It will keep until I can get off the roof." He murmured. "Not hurting at all."

Jonus grunted, one hand rising to rest against the earpiece he wore. "Forensics is on the way up." He reported. "I don't know where Sherry got a team from on such short notice, but they should be here soon."

"Maybe they got the floor evacuated before the explosion. It is early."

If the general evacuation had been ordered as soon as the warning had been received it was possible, though he doubted it was probable, the impact point might have been abandoned. He could hope they had taken the warning and ordered a general evacuation immediately.

The chances of anyone from the forensic department having the foresight to grab their field equipment on the way out were slight, but it was a valid possibility. It was not his concern at the moment and he was beginning to feel the effects of his morning.

He hurt and he was tired and he still had a medic to see and a debriefing to sit through. It was going to be a long day, but until he got some shoes he was not going to be able to reach the stairs. While he was forced to remain on the roof he might as well make use of the time.

"It's not much but it is a clue, and something tells me we are going to need every clue we can find." He had the Commander's attention immediately. "When I first reached the roof I heard him say the name 'Washington'."

"Washington?" Jonas stared at the corpse for a long moment and sighed, scratching at his jaw. "Christ, that could be anything. A person, a town, a company… anything."

/My thoughts exactly. It is better than nothing, but it is not much. Still cases have been solved from worse starts than this one. There is the name and the key. They might lead us to a solution./

"He must have been good."

He glanced at the team leader who was again eyeing the corpse, noting the quality of the clothing and peering at the shattered head, trying to differentiate features from the bloody ruin. Trowa could only agree the killer had been good and his level of skill in itself might lead them to another source of information. He had to have received that degree of training somewhere. If they could find a military record to put a name to the face, it might give them something to work with.

"Ex-military? Possibly a military assassin."

"That would suggest OZ." Jonas murmured, glancing at Trowa. "Preventer Earth would just love that. Given the recent past it might have been a terrorist attack if he was ex-OZ."

Again the grunt, non-committal and unwilling to be tied down to one idea. He had his own thoughts on the killer, thoughts he could not share without being considered a nutcase. The government watch dogs would be all over him like a rash if word got out…

"Damn." Trowa scowled and worried at a sliver of glass. "Jonas, any sign of my watchdog? They are usually sniffing around if I am not working a case requiring I go undercover."

"I'll put the word out to have them located if they are in the area. Do you want them detained?"

He would love to say yes and in this situation he could justify the action. It was not, however, likely to be worth the effort and it would piss off the ESUN Security Agency. Unless he could find some viable evidence to suggest it was one of his watchdogs, or their agency who had instigated the assault, it was best to step with extreme care.

"No. I just want to know if they saw or heard anything that might help; if they had taken up their watch rotation on me."

"I thought you were working a case."

"Running errands for Preventer Earth may not be viewed as working a case by the watchdog's kennel. They have their own unique definition of working."

Jonas snorted. "Stupid arrangement if you ask me. Why single out you Gundam Pilots for observation and keep specialist units and black ops units unobserved? Warped sensibilities."

He was not inclined to argue with such an astute observation. It was something he had struggled to understand for the past few years and he doubted he ever would. Without the Gundams themselves what could the five pilots do that would threaten the Earth Sphere?

/We were not the leaders, just the soldiers. I suppose I should be mollified Lady Une is under observation, as are certain other key figures that were in Oz. It's odd though, some of the names on the Watchdogs list make no sense at all. What do they fear from us?/

Not here and not now. Those questions had remained unanswered for years and all he wanted now was to shower and enjoy a strong, hot cup of coffee. Something to eat would be appreciated too. Once he had seen to basic physical needs he could give some attention to reconciling the nightmare with reality.

The piece of metal imbedded in his back pulled as he carefully stood, making certain his bare feet did not step on glass or metal fragments. Thus far he had been spared major injury and he was not inclined to suffer more through simple inattention on his part. He added a visit to the medic to his must do list and stared at the abandoned rocket launcher near the body.

He still had to reconcile himself to the unmistakable truth of the nightmare that had woken him. To be certain the reality of the morning had not unfolded exactly as it appeared in his dream. He was more than simply thankful for that small mercy. Quatre had spoken of symbols in dreams and suggested that by simply being warned one could change the outcome.

Weird as it was he had dreamed of this assault on the headquarters building before the assault had happened. Not long in advance of the incident, but it had been in time to permit him to interfere with the events. Whether he had made a difference to the overall outcome or not he was unsure.

Despite his best efforts the missile had hit. The building was in flames, but he had managed to get a warning to those in charge. There was the chance, due to that warning, not so many people might sustain injuries… or he might have ultimately doubled the list of wounded and dead.

He might never know for certain if he had helped or hindered.

He would need to deal with his uncertainty in time, but he could not deny the truth underlying the entire incident. Quatre had been right. Unmistakably there was more to these dreams than merely nightmares spawned of echoes of his past.

/I'm alive, Quatre./

He would need to contact his significant other at the first possible convenience. There was also the matter of the trip to L2 slated for later this morning. He would need to delay his departure from L1, as he needed to file a report and be debriefed over this incident, and he did want to have that chat to a shrink he had promised himself. He would not for an instant consider informing the doctor of his dreams, but to awkward questions he could explain his actions away as instinct.

Examples of finely honed survival instincts were documented and logged in so many medical journals it was not funny. Ex-soldiers from frontline troops and special ops units were documented throughout the history of psychology. Their ability to react to seeming innocent incidents in their immediate surroundings entertained many a psychiatrist. The development of a sixth sense for something being wrong would not be questioned in Preventer, where almost everyone was a seasoned veteran from the wars. He could state in the report he had heard something that had alerted him to something being out of the ordinary; something he could not consciously put a name to.

/How far do I need to go in my report though? Do I mention the kid in the alley?/

It was the dream alone that aroused his suspicions of the assassin attacking the headquarters building being linked to the body of the young man in the alley. A very young man, little more than a boy, slain in a back alley on the colony by assailants unknown. A boy who had whispered to him 'Romefeller' with his dying breath.

A boy he suspected might be a genetically modified individual.

/Someone might well try this to cover up illicit genetic modification./

"Something wrong?"

He glanced thoughtfully at Jonas before he looked again to the body. "I was wondering about the chances of this being a coincidence."

"A coincidence with what?"

He reached to finger the collar of the shirt, trying to avoid touching the blood soaked material any more than he had to. Generic clothing, all new and off the racks found at any department store in the mid-level merchant district of the colony. No insignia in evidence to denote an organization, legal or otherwise, and no standard identification documents. He was fairly sure there would be no tattoos or identifying marks that might be traced to a name.

His fingers probed at the blood smeared neck, seeking some indication of what he was sure the boy would have claimed as his only distinction from the other bodies found in back alley ways after dark. He was certain a computer chip would have been found on the boy. A chip that would have irrefutably identified him as being related to the group of modified children the raid on Earth had uncovered months ago.

Banned genetic enhancement experimentation.

Romefeller was still playing God.

This killer who had seemed so very good, so infallible at his task that despite everything he had tried the shot had been made and vital evidence had been destroyed. Surely he had been too good to be natural?

Was that a lump beneath his fingers, just there, behind the ear? If it was, was it a lump from a small computer chip that would link all three incidents together?

Who could he trust with this information? Who did he dare trust if there were other laboratories producing genetically modified individuals? How many had been 'born' and for what purpose might they be being trained?

/I suppose it is wild and far fetched… but it is certainly not impossible./

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2007


	178. Chapter 178 Chapter 177

Alternative Directions: Options 177/

Alternative Directions: Options 177/?? Peacemission

Chapter 177

2nd March AC 198

Peacemission H65193P Sanc Registry

Date: 2nd March AC 198

Time: 8:40 Ship time is as for Sanc

Howard

"Peacemission. Registry H65193P acknowledging communication from Bounty E106. Good morning Duo, what time zone are you running? Long time no see and just what the hell are you doing on a long haul Preventer Cruiser, eh? Decided you need to rough it in the mining colonies? Message from the Old Man reads : Peacemission is outward system bound and off the space lanes. What can I do for you? Further transmission will be transferred directly to the Captain's Ready Room. Peacemission, out."

Gnarled but dextrous fingers flicked over the series of controls on his desk and Howard leaned back in his oversized chair, closing his eyes against the sight of the cabin ceiling. The message his com officer had dispatched to the distant Bounty was acceptable and couched in the language he normally used. It gave away nothing of the reason for their presence, yet held a personal touch offered only from Sweeper to Sweeper.

Normally a communication between Sweeper and Preventer, or any civil authority, would be handled far less casually than this communiqué had been. His com officers were well aware of what style of message to send, depending on who he was replying to. Duo might serve with the Preventers at this time, but he had been a Sweeper brat and Howard fondly hoped he would become one again.

He would look forward to receiving the next communication from Duo, which should be forthcoming sometime within the next ten minutes. It had been entirely too long since they had shared a conversation and caught up with the activities of the other.

Duo undoubtedly would have enjoyed taking part in the shakedown cruise of the Peacemission.

/What the hell possesses you to stay with the Preventers, boy? There's a place for you here when you are ready, and I personally hope that won't be much longer. You survived the war and you've been a Preventer long enough for you to start working the adrenaline out of your system./

He had seen too many of the men and women who had fought in the war struggle to come to an understanding within themselves. They needed to cope with surviving, living where others around them had died. They needed to learn to find their centre and accept they had a place within the peace. Young or old, it was the same amongst those who had fought for the peace and were veterans of war. All too often it was the youngest soldiers, trained from childhood to fight, who had the greatest difficulty in adapting. While Duo had been spared the conditioning of such soldiers he had been young, and he had been at the hub of the conflict through the worst of the war.

/Not enough is being done for the poor bastards to help them adapt and find a place for themselves that fits comfortably. It's not easy on the government to find places for those soldiers displaced by the peace, and Preventers and the Security Agency can take only so many. Raydon's fairly raking them in if he feels they will fit into the Station environment, but there were a lot of soldiers. A lot of homeless, friendless poor bastards looking for something more./

It would occur to someone in the current pacifist regime eventually, that the homeless would seek more, and if someone offered them a place they might very quickly earn the loyalty of the lost. Some enterprising individual intent on gaining position and prestige would begin to draw the displaced to them and establish their own private little army.

/Not so different from what Raydon is doing, though he seems to be taking them in in small compliments and seeing them settled, counselled and trained to fit in. It would be a good place for them to start again, the Stations. I just hope he can control events and convince the ESUN Council they are not out to start conflict. I've seen enough lives ruined as it is./

Involuntarily his eyes found the cluster of photographs of those he considered his family. Every single one of them had had their lives affected by war. Each life held personal tragedy that had shaped and moulded them into what they were. It was the same for every person on Earth and in the colonies. War affected every aspect of life and some inevitably suffered more than others.

He was tired. He had put in a long night and he still had a long day ahead of him. Despite his efforts of the day thus far, and the plans he had laid, he felt there was more he should be doing.

At least the coffee was good.

Not that anyone onboard a ship of his would dare serve him anything other than decent freshly ground coffee. A man could put up with a lot of things in life but he personally could not put up with instant coffee. It was one of the few rules he enforced with a vengeance. Sludge was not his style, nor was a watered down excuse tasting like dishwater. It had to be the real thing, prepared fresh and brewed to perfection.

/This is pathetic./

He rested the sunglasses on the desk and rubbed his eyes, hating the gritty feel. Dry eyes were a problem in space for him and he fumbled in a drawer for the drops, treating his eyes quickly and donning the glasses again. He had enough distractions without painful eyes. A thin wisp of steam rose near his elbow and he cradled the mug in shaking fingers.

He was getting old. All-nighter stints had not used to bother him. Thank God for good coffee.

The light gravity the Peacemission maintained when in flight was sufficient to keep liquids in cups and small items and equipment heavy enough not to float around a cabin if left unattended for any length of time. While most long-haul ships fluctuated their gravity capacity for days, or even weeks at a time on zero-g, he had made modifications that permitted light gravity at all stages of flight. For a fraction of the cost in fuel his crews could have a real sense of up and down and less physical stress. The light gravity was enough to be comfortable to the human body, but unfortunately it was not sufficient to make it feasible to stop taking the drugs.

He glared at the small inoffensive white pill lying on the desk beside the steaming mug. Zero and near-zero gravity was kind to his aging bones, but in the long term it was damaging. He knew the cost of being a stubborn idiot and not taking the pills, but that did not mean he had to like it. His aversion to drugs stemmed from his youth and watching the abuse such substances could be put to. He had been a wild bastard in his younger years, full of his ideas and certain he knew it all.

/Thank God we grow up eventually./

He had come so close to ruining the world, and he could never deny his part in the chaos years. It was taking so long to fix his mistakes and he would never be able to fix them all. He would never be able to replace the lives lost to the evolved machines of the prototype he had crafted. It was he who had crafted the prototype mobile suit design that had evolved into the suits of today. Tallgeese had been his baby, his brainchild and all other suits had stemmed from its design.

He owed humankind a debt he could never repay. The opening payments had not even been his own. He owed the young men and women who had come after him and given back to the Earth Sphere what his engineering skills had taken away.

Peace.

It was reprehensible that others should have been abused by the product of his imagination and total lack of foresight. He was just thankful he could take part in the drama to bring about the return of peace.

/Old fool. What are you doing sitting here sipping coffee and glaring at a pill when you should be doing something constructive?/

But he was doing something constructive. Idle as he was at present he was taking action against a serious breach of human rights. He had initiated a dangerous game of deception with the ESUN, one that could pull the Sweepers into dirty political waters and threaten their independence. It was a game he had not started lightly, but he could not ignore what was happening on Mars, and he alone of the Sweepers had not made the decision. The Captains of two other Sweeper vessels approaching Mars had a role to play in what would be happening, and there were also the ships out there laying the debris field. They had all agreed to this ruse, though for differing reasons.

Once begun it would be impossible to stop. They all needed to carry on to the end… whatever that might be. Lives hung in the balance and he dared not believe those lives would be spared simply because they were unfortunate enough to have been on Mars at this time. He needed every advantage to bring some basic human decency to the dead and to the betrayed.

Howard mouthed the pill, washing it down with coffee and refusing to think what the ships medic would have to say. They had had the argument before, and undoubtedly would have it again, but not today. He had better things to do today than entertain that masochist who refused to see that taking pills with coffee had not hurt him.

/What does it matter if the packet says 'to be taken with water'? There is plenty of water in coffee and I've not turned green with purple spots yet./

Spread out over his desk, well clear of the precious coffee, were the latest round of calculations for the debris field. He was supposed to be working on fine tuning the timing for the second scheduled release to add to the debris. He needed to calculate the spread of the flotsam and have a reasonably sound grasp on the chaos which would ensue from the three fields converging into one. There would be collisions, it was unavoidable, but most of the pieces would be too small to be a potential threat. It was the larger pieces he needed to project a possible course for.

The extent of the debris field and its density should be sufficient to slow down the Wellington's pace, but he needed to avoid complications that might give their game away. Should some astute officer on the Wellington perform a detailed scan, and he would shoot his own people if they did not perform such a scan in the course of their duties, he would need a creditable explanation for any anomaly that might be detected.

/Not that such a field would not have collisions between fragments, even after being in space for this supposed length of time. Comparing it to the Asteroid Belt you would get a fair idea of the chaos factor that applies in such a body. This one has the momentum of a fairly hefty explosion and there is the effect of a nearing planet's gravity well to be considered. It should be enough to allay any suspicions./

He was tired and before he faced the Captain of the Wellington he would need to acquire a few hours of sleep. To pull this ruse off he would need to be sharp to handle the man once the Wellington was near enough to detect the debris field and the hovering presence of the Peacemission. His opposite number was probably not going to be a happy individual, if he was a decent sort, given the nature of his mission. If he had a conscience the man might be easier to handle and more inclined to welcome an unforeseen delay.

His eyes rested on the restless hands of the clock, glaring at the second hand as it made its relentless way about the clock face. If he could get some sleep the task ahead was sure not to seem so daunting. He could not have left this matter alone once it had been brought to his attention and he really must remember to clip Raydon under the ears for not informing him sooner Merquise was alive.

/Though he might well no longer be amongst the living. There could be a lot of dead on Mars already and we have no way of knowing for sure if we are doing this and it already is too late. There may be no one left alive to save./

It was a depressing thought.

The chime announcing an incoming communication pulled him from his revere and he settled back in his seat as he read the notation from the com officer on duty. Yes, it was from the Bounty and he reminded himself he needed to arrange an up close and personal meeting with Duo at the first available opportunity. This was Preventer business. Why else would Duo be on the Bounty, a specialist long haul ship? A ship slated for a routine patrol to the Asteroid Belt did not take agents for vacation cruises. Either Duo was hopping a ride on the ship to catch a ride with another vessel to take him to his destination, or he was on the Bounty for the course of her patrol.

/I need to see if I can't arrange a meeting with him. Float the idea past him of rejoining the Sweepers. We need some fresh young blood with good ideas and the boy was a more than passing fair mechanic. He'd make a decent design engineer with a bit of training and at worst he could crew on one of the trade ships. I'd prefer him on Peacemission, of course, but I need to sound him out before any proposals are floated./

Reaching forward he toggled the message to play and settled back, his face immediately acquiring a scowl.

/What the hell have you been doing to yourself, boy?/

"Bounty, registry E106. Hey, how are things going, Howie? I feel I should apologize for not getting in touch with you more regularly on a face to face basis. Until I had this chance I hadn't realized just how hectic things have been lately. I'm hopping a ride on the Bounty on a mission I really don't understand, but I'm hoping to receive more detailed instructions soon. I'm guessing you saw the announcement by the Station Alliance and this Kristian Kushrenada. The Captain asked me to ask around to see if any of my contacts has heard of either the man himself, or this Station Alliance. I've already told him I don't know anything about either, and I know full well he's the one who is going to have a better chance of getting some answers. Maybe you could ask around for me, huh? I'm having lunch with the Captain in around half an hour or so. Maybe I can delay it a bit longer if I'm lucky, but I was taught you don't keep the Captain of a ship waiting. I wonder where I learned that from, eh? Anyway, I'm looking forward to hearing from you. We have so got to get back together. I miss … Well, I have to … Looking forward to hearing from you, Howard. Bounty out."

/That's right, Duo, you never keep the Captain of a ship waiting. Glad to see the appropriate protocols have stayed with you./

A great deal had not been said. That was the impression he got from the message. Something in the stance of the young man; in the tension in his face and in the tone of his voice. He had been uncomfortable and uncertain what to say. Preventer business, no doubt, giving him problems. How much could he reveal without jeopardizing his oath to the organization that maintained the peace?

Duo took his bound word seriously.

He had looked more than passing uncomfortable as he had grinned sheepishly into the camera. Howard stared at the frozen frame, noting the smudges beneath the bright eyes. He looked like he had crammed a full twenty-four hours into a six-hour day and still had much to do. Howard knew exactly how Duo felt and eased forward in his seat to stare at that tired face.

"You've been keeping long hours, boy, and you are not looking happy at all. Something is worrying you and I don't think it has anything to do with Raydon and his bunch of loons on the stations."

What was he to reply to this? The Captain of the Bounty was fishing for all the information he could get and it was exactly what Howard himself would do. Making full use of every resource at his disposal to acquire information was only sensible for any Captain worth his salt. He would need to be careful how he replied, as he was uncertain if he wanted anyone to know he did, indeed, know Kristian Kushrenada.

/Although it is not exactly by that name I know the man. Still, they are one and the same and he is an odd sort, not that I can exactly tell Duo that./

Considering the young face that looked prematurely aged, Howard turned to the computer, inputting the coordinates the message had originated from and pulling up a map of the space lanes. In seconds he had a tiny blinking light in the vicinity of the orbit of Earth on screen, with the call code for the Bounty displayed above it.

/Well, you are well out of the frame to have any effect on what is happening on Mars. It would take you months to reach Mars from there. I suppose my original supposition still stands. It's the Asteroid Belt. Or you will be hopping another vehicle in a rendezvous to take you to wherever it is you are going./

To be of assistance on Mars, from an Earth launch, the Bounty would have had to launch eleven weeks prior to her actual departure. It was sheer good fortune Howard was in a position to help the situation and that was not to aid the people on Mars directly, but to delay the Wellington from slamming the final nail into their collective coffins.

/Not Mars, but maybe the mining colonies in the Belt. No doubt Raydon's people are well aware of the schedule of the ship./

He pulled up from the computer all the information he could find on the Bounty and glowered at the long loop of her projected trajectory. The course of the ship would take them in a wide loop to the Asteroid Belt's major hub of mining colonies, before returning to Earth in a little more than a year's time. He could hope to learn more of Duo's mission in future communications, and he had already decided he wanted to speak more with the younger man.

"It's been too long. I still have to sort out this summit meeting between the Stations and the ESUN." He checked on the departure of the Bounty and shook his head slightly. "It is a bit of a coincidence, but the ship left orbit on a scheduled run before Raydon made his announcement. Still, it might be possible to divert the ship to act as security for the conference. I could have my face to face with Duo if he was a part of the crew and I do have to arrange security acceptable to both parties. A contingent from Station and a contingent from the ESUN working with my Sweepers… That might work."

He would have a few choice words to say to Raydon when they met face to face, and no doubt the man would have just the right answers to placate him. The cheeky bugger had always known exactly what to say to get his arse out of the fire. It was a skill he had developed over the years to an art form.

/Not unlike Duo./ He had to chuckle at the thought. /I think they would like each other if they ever chanced to meet. Maybe I could arrange it./

The one good thing about space travel was you generally had a long time to plan. Work shifts were inevitably boring and there was only so much you could do to entertain yourself in your leisure hours. It generally led to a great deal of thinking about your life and the lives of others you interacted with. It allowed you to see your past mistakes from a number of differing viewpoints and cast new light onto the actions of others.

His eyes slid invariably back to the picture of the pale blond who had put his fist to the jugular of the Earth.

/Space travel gives you time to think and to look at things from new angles. I've been doing a lot of that in the last couple of years. Why didn't you come to me, you idiot? Why didn't you talk to me?/

Because he wanted to involve as few of the people who had befriended him as possible on what he intended to be the losing side. The answer had been unavoidable once he had sat down and given the matter serious consideration. The heat of the moment had cooled and there was plenty of time to think and investigate the course of events that had taken place. The end of the war had not been so straightforward as the general population considered it.

/The bad man shakes his stick at the good people and the hero shoves said stick down the bad man's throat. Bad man dies. Good people celebrate and continue on with life as usual./ Howard closed his eyes and sighed. /Nothing is ever that simple, but somehow you made it work./

How much did he reveal to Duo? How much of what was happening out here, in his immediate vicinity, did he reveal to the boy he wanted to return to the fold of the Sweepers? Duo the Preventer might be a problem and he wanted to deal with the Duo he knew. He was fairly sure the young man would not spill the beans on anything he was told in strictest confidence, but over a long distance communication you could never be one hundred percent certain there were not eavesdroppers.

Even with Yuy's inventiveness when it came to security, there was always the chance of someone intercepting communications and decoding it. He'd seen enough of Raydon's wonder boys on the Stations to know how secure even Sweeper communications might not be.

He could not come right out and say he knew a great deal about both the Station Alliance and the man who headed said alliance. He could not betray that confidence at the present time, though he could, and would, consider bringing Duo into his confidence. Maxwell understood the dividing line between discreet discussions and what might be passed on to others.

/At this time I have no real need to mention the Preventer Cruiser to Raydon or his people. I have no doubt they already are aware she has left Earth orbit and is on her way to the Asteroid Belt. I might just be able to juggle events to bring Duo to the conference though. The coordinates Raydon's people gave me for the conference to take place are not that far from the orbital position of Mars in another fourteen weeks./

His gaze dropped to the projected trajectory of the Bounty's patrol and he nodded slowly. The position of the planet and the projected trajectory would bring the ship and planet into relatively close proximity. Factoring in the coordinates sent to him from Raydon's people only widened his grin.

/Yes, that has potential. The projection is enough that while they are not in the exact same space, they would be close enough to feasibly be of use. I might just be able to do something with that. I'd need to check on the relative positions of other Preventer and ESUN Security Agency ships due in the area about that time. Looking at this estimate I think the Bounty might just be the best suited to run a patrol in the area at the time of the conference. Given this trajectory, with a refueling stop scheduled in, she should be able to arrive a week, maybe as much as two weeks, prior to the conference. I'm sure I can find something to occupy her time while the delegates arrive./

It was even possible the cruiser's course and mission would be altered by order of the Preventers once the coordinates were sent through to Earth. He might not need to juggle events to have the cruiser diverted from her assigned mission. The dignitaries from Earth and the Colonies would insist on regular patrols through the area in advance of their arrival. Such trusting souls they were, he mused. He could not imagine for an instant they would leave security to the Sweepers, and he would need to be on his guard to catch any instances which might escalate into unwelcome difficulties.

Raydon would bring his own security service and no doubt he would have ships scouting the area and tracking the comings and goings of all vessels in the vicinity. The ESUN Security Agency would be unlikely to leave the matter up to Preventers and with the Sweepers managing the area that could mean rather a lot of ships and multiple opportunities for misunderstandings.

/Not much changes, even with the peace in effect. Some days I have to wonder if we learned anything at all from the past; and especially from Libra. It must break his heart, after all he sacrificed to bring into effect peace, to know it is so fragile and delicate a thing./

Still, it was only sensible for all parties to gain knowledge of the area. Even a location in the middle of nowhere, literally, needed to be secure. With the faction fighting he had watched develop over the last year on Earth he would not be taking security lightly. Before he dispatched the conference coordinates to Earth he would initiate a scan to determine the number and types of ships that might make it to the conference zone, given the time scale involved. He was not inclined to like surprises at the parties he hosted.

/It would be good to have a face to face with Duo and find out if he is amenable to the idea of joining the Peacemission's crew. He'd be a handy sort to have onboard on a cruise beyond the Belt. I've always wanted to go as far as Saturn and maybe a little jaunt to Jupiter would be interesting. I need to check out the potential for a Sweeper colony or two in the mid-zone and outer system before the ESUN get their grubby paws into the area and claim it./

He could not deny the wisdom in Raydon moving to secure boundaries for the Station Alliance before the ESUN moved out beyond the hub in force. Indisputably someone, at some time, and positioned high in the government, would be greedy enough to want the entire solar system beneath the control of Earth. It was human nature to want more than one had. To want more than one actually needed. Space was vast and there was plenty of room for expansion.

The construction of new colonies was a tried and true practise. After almost two hundred years of refinements they knew how to make a colony safe and stable, both structurally and economically. On planets such as Mars and on the moons of the outer planets, domed cities could be constructed. There was room for expansion of the human race for hundreds of years, but he had never been an idiot and he knew what would inevitably happen. Borders and boundaries would be established and people, for various reasons, would test them. Repeatedly.

The establishment of accepted boundaries and borders was, thankfully, in the future and he had other matters requiring his attention. He could leave such contemplations for when there was a quiet period when they could resume Peacemission's shake down cruise and the solitude of space granted him think time.

He needed to reply to Duo's message and then he was going to attend to his own personal needs. Sleep was not only a good idea, it was becoming imperative. He was becoming addle-headed and that simply would not do. After he had gained a few hours of sleep he could attend to the calculations for the debris field which, at the moment, looked like a lot of random numbers some computer had sprouted out of a nightmare. The calculations refused to make any sense and he knew when not to push.

He would need to be well rested and psychologically balanced when he established communications with the Captain of the Wellington, and somehow manage to keep a straight face and speak civilly to the man. He knew what the Wellington's mission entailed and he could not afford to give away that knowledge. In the contact to come he must maintain all the civilities and mannerism of a ship's Captain passing the time of day with another ship's Captain. From polite trivialities they could then move on to his warning of the danger ahead and hope the man would welcome a delay.

/I hope he's a decent sort who does not want anything to do with the mission as we assume it to be. A rescue mission is one thing, but a mission to cover up a massacre is another thing entirely. I can sprout bullshit with the best of them, but I don't have to like it./

His gaze wandered back to the picture of the long-haired pale blonde and he sighed. He had actually liked the boy and had not understood what the youngster was doing, or why he would do it. Temporary insanity, he had thought, underestimating the man as so many others had. The quick solution: call him a nut case and consider the matter neatly closed. So easy and so entirely wrong.

Rubbing his fingers against the bridge of his nose he wished he liked drugs more. He had a foul headache and if it continued to grow exponentially he would need to take painkillers to have any hope of sleeping.

/I'll make you a promise, boy . I'll not let them simply waltz in and wreck whatever new life you have managed to build for yourself and confine you in a cage . I'll somehow see you get out from under their influence and have the chance to start again. Whether that start is with the Sweepers, or with Raydon's Stations, it does not matter. I'll give you options and then I'll back your decision to the hilt. This continued silence from Mars is worrying. We should have had something over the standard relay bands, or a pure signal sourced from Mars by now, but there has been nothing. If the silence continues I will have no other option than to believe whatever Raydon hoped his agents could accomplish has failed. There simply may not have been sufficient warning for anyone to act and it is all over bar the shouting./

Or Merquise was pig headed enough not to cooperate with Raydon's people and they were resisting each other as much as the ESUN.

The communications chime jolted him from his thoughts, alerting him to a second incoming message and he frowned. He had not been expecting any calls for a number of hours. The com officer knew to filter his calls and he had established a call rota with his allied Captains. He was not expecting word from Raydon, who would undoubtedly have enough to do without bothering him needlessly. Flicking his fingers over the required sensor pads he called up the data on the call and his eyebrows lifted at the call signature.

"The Bounty?"

His fingers flew over the keys and the screen broke into a field of static, which cleared to display a particularly sheepish and worried looking Duo Maxwell. There had only been a few minutes between the dispatch of the individual communications, but in this second missive Duo looked even worse than he had before. Not since the final days of the war, when Milliardo Peacecraft had waged a war of attrition on the Gundam Pilots with his Mobile Dolls to exhaust them, had he seen Duo look so bad.

"You look like death warmed over, boy. What's been going on, I wonder?"

A touch of a finger to the appropriate controls and the frozen picture jerked and broke into static then steadied. With motion the tired blue-violet eyes softened a little and the tension in him seemed to ease.

"Bounty … Howard, I'm not sure I'm supposed to mention … Well, I am sure I'm not supposed to talk about it actually, but you … "

He was tightening up, Howard noted, the wide shoulders hunching in and he was almost certain out of the screen shot Duo would have been twisting the end of that braid.

"Well, I know you had a high regard for the man before he went off the rails. It's all hush-hush and everything and I only recently learned it but …"

To Howard it looked like the words were being dragged out of him. Duo was far from comfortable with what he was saying and Howard caught his breath in expectation, knowing something had pushed Duo over his own established boundary. Whatever was going on so far from the Peacemission seemed to have disturbed Duo enough to cause him to break confidentiality. Given how the boy's morals were engineered by his past, it had to be a serious conflict between his oath to Preventers and his personal moral integrity.

"I'm supposed to be heading to Mars, but I'm not sure if that is going to be changed in light of the Station Alliance coming on the scene. You must have picked up the distress message from Mars, as well as Kushreneda's announcement. If you are in any position to respond to that distress alert you should … Well … Howard, Merquise is on Mars and in the middle of that mess. I don't know what you will want to do about it, or if you even care, or are near enough to try if you wanted to, but … Well … God … The ESUN couldn't leave it alone. He's there if you do want to do something."

The last rush of words was almost a jumbled garble of pain. Duo seemed to both age dramatically and regress to the look of a small child who had let slip a secret. It had cost him to say that much and stomp all over his oath as a Preventer to keep his missions secret.

Howard scowled, watching as Duo hesitated, his hands trembling before he shrugged. He looked like he had just betrayed his best friend, but he had made the decision and he had spoken his warning, all unknowing of what Howard's feelings for Merquise might have been. He might just have told a man who could kill dispassionately where to find his worst enemy.

Howard certainly had the resources to effect such a coldly efficient demise for anyone who crossed his clearly defined line, and in the past he had taken such action. It was rare, but it had happened and on more than one occasion. Both of those instances had involved the idiocy of his wild youth and the single-minded determination of a secret society to bring him to heel.

On the screen Duo reached forward in a jerking motion and the screen froze. Howard settled back in his seat and studied the pained young face which looked years older than his actual age. Clearly Duo was uncertain if he had taken the appropriate action given the situation. The boy had known Merquise had spent time with him and that he had been more than a little disappointed in the man for his actions. They had not spoken about his feelings for Merquise or his actions and, in truth, there had been no reason for them to discuss the man. That would need to change though, in time.

The abrupt end to the message suggested Duo had sent it quickly, before he could change his mind, and no doubt trusted to Heero's security to keep the communiqué secret. He would need to speak to the boy about such blind faith in his acquaintances' abilities. Neither of the former Gundam Pilots knew about Station and the specialists working there. True, Yuy was good, but there was always someone out there who was better. One always had to remember that. It might take a little time to break the encryption, but to the hackers of higher skill such a challenge would be welcomed.

/You told me Merquise is on Mars./

He leaned back in his seat, pushing his glasses higher up his nose and considered the ceiling in thoughtful silence. If the indiscretion should be discovered Maxwell would be in serious breach of contract. It was a jailable offence, might even be considered treasonable, given who it concerned. Merquise was considered a threat to the entire ESUN after all. Duo had just given away his location and practically begged for interference to be run. If others ever learned of this Duo's head would roll.

/You actually told me Merquise was there. You took a chance giving me this, Duo and I have to wonder why you did it. If I had not already known of his location I would be blessing you now./

If the ESUN Security Agency ever learned of the incident the results would not be a slap across the wrist. As one of the Gundam Pilots, Duo was watched at all hours of the day and night. They were not trusted but used to maintain the status quo, and those in power were afraid they might turn and bite the hand they had placed in control. To truly be free of the watch dogs Duo and the other pilots would have to leave the Earth Sphere.

The only place they could go would be to set up an independent colony themselves, beyond the hub cluster… or go to the Station Alliance. Even as Sweepers there would be the risk of agents interfering in their lives. Sweepers visited colonies and he could not see any of those young men isolating themselves on Sweeper ships just to escape the eagle eye of the Security Agency.

A quick glance up at the clock and he pursed his lips. He had limited time if he was to hope to get a response back to the boy before Duo's dinner engagement with the Bounty's Captain. The question still remained, how much he dared to tell Duo in return for this information. How much did he hint at without compromising what was soon to unfold? Any information concerning Station might be misunderstood in light of the unknown nature of the organization the ESUN suspected they were facing.

/I'll have to be careful what I tell you, not because I don't trust you, but because I don't know who might see the message. You are pretty sure of your security, or you would not have named Merquise, but knowing what I do I have to make allowances for unwelcome eyes and ears. If it ever gets back to the government officials involved in this mess, your arse would not be worth the price of the toilet paper it takes to wipe it./

How much about what was happening on Mars did Duo know? If he was in transit to Mars now, there was no way he could affect the outcome of the current incident. That simple truth suggested he had not been briefed on what would be taking place on Mars, beyond the general information Merquise was on the planet. He was a bright young man and could figure out the general idiocy involved, but it would be supposition, not fact.

/To my knowledge you have never met Merquise face to face, so why would you take this risk? I don't have enough pieces of the puzzle to understand your take on the situation./

The current events on Mars would be long over before the Bounty was in a position to have any influence on them. What, then, was the mission that brought Duo out into this sector of space? If he was bound for Mars, and he had said his mission was to Mars specifically, why was he headed there? It could be considered lunacy to think it could involve the confrontation now taking place. Something else then, but what?

Something Lady Une was cooking up.

/I wonder…/ He stared at the photograph of the woman, brows lowering. /What are you up to, Anne? You can be a scheming manipulative bitch when you want to be, but you are watched, the same as the Pilots are being watched. You've sent Duo out into space on a mission… Ah. I wonder if that…. Perhaps. You might have been a very clever girl indeed, Lady, and if my suspicions are correct, Duo should be thanking you for this assignment./

He had too little time to make an accurate assessment and time was against him for more than merely assessing Duo's assignment. He dared not delay any longer in sending a reply back to the Bounty. As it stood it was entirely possible Duo would miss his reply and already be at dinner with the Captain. He would need to suggest another time, one mutual to both, where they could have a conversation with little fear of disruption. Given the distance involved it would be a long conversation and it would not be exactly easy to keep continuity.

He needed to allocate sufficient rest time for them both to be capable of clear thought. This long distance conversation would need to be managed carefully, given he had a busy night ahead of him and he could not delay the laying of the debris field to talk to Duo. Nor could he delay his conversation and dealings with the Captain of the Wellington. He would have to work around both of those events and not be distracted from performing at his best.

Howard drew a deep breath, holding it for all of thirty seconds before exhaling slowly. He needed to work out the Bounty's course and fuel requirements and see if he could not, in the very near future, arrange for the ship to be included in the security arrangements for the conference. He doubted Lady Une would object. She was, if nothing else, practical. If he could manage it, and on occasion even he considered himself to be a miracle worker, he needed to have Duo assigned to the security contingent to meet with the Sweepers. They could have a proper face to face chat and he could be assured of privacy.

/All going well with this Mars incident, by the time Duo gets into this area Merquise will be settled safely away from the danger zone. I will need to consult with Raydon and I will need a convincing presentation to bring him onside. He won't be too happy I want words with Merquise before he tries to spirit him off to Station One, but he will allow it. He will allow it, or I'll rake his arse over the coals for him./

Taking a second steadying breath Howard reached out to activate the recording sequence and settled back in his chair. He was careful to keep himself composed. Anyone might be witness to this message and he would take no chances. He would just have to hope Duo could read him better than most.

"Nice to see you again, Maxwell. Enjoy your dinner with the Captain of the Bounty and be certain to remember your manners. Thank you for the information and I'll ask around amongst my contacts for information on this Kristian Kushrena. It was much appreciated and I will see what I can do. Get some sleep. You look like you need it worse than I do. Give me a few hours to do some sniffing around and I'll send you whatever I can come up with. It may take a bit of time given the wandering habits of my friends since the war ended. I'm expecting you to look a little more human when next I see your face on my screens. I will endeavour to come up with a date and time, maybe even exact coordinates for this meeting the Sweepers have been volunteered for. You may well learn this information before I do, given your line of work, but I will try. It's been a busy morning on Peacemission and I have an even busier day ahead tidying up someone else's mess. Be advised there is a debris field drifting over the shipping lanes on the approach vector to Mars for Earth-bound shipping. We are currently engaged in mapping the extent of the field and from the information we have available to us, it is projected it may take up to four weeks to clean up. That is a guestimate and our data is not complete. The encroaching gravity field of Mars will not help matters. Give my compliments to your Captain and request he extend a warning to outgoing shipping. We will be laying warning beacons in the coming hours. Get some rest and leave it with me. I'll send you a message as soon as I learn something."

Flicking the deactivate key he considered the message and sighed. He was not particularly pleased with its contents, but he was tired and he could not reveal what he knew. There should be enough there to make Duo aware of his approximate location and the boy was not an idiot. He should be able to work out a relative area for the Peacemission and know Howard enough to know he would look into the matter of the mess on Mars.

The mess he had mentioned in the message would hopefully be taken as a referral to the debris field by any clandestine listeners, and indeed it was, though it also referred to the Mars incident. Duo might, or might not, figure out that oblique reference. Being the bright boy he was, Howard could hope Duo would understand the reference and read between the lines, and hopefully rest a little easier.

/It will just have to do, I suppose. Raydon has requested I wait a day or so before dispatching the coordinates of the meeting and the date allocated to the Earth Sphere government. That should give me sufficient time to deal with the Wellington and hopefully have a chat with Raydon before I send a message to Duo again. Raydon has to travel further to make the rendezvous, but given the bureaucracy of the ESUN it will take them longer to depart from Earth. It will require travel time of approximately eighty-four days, depending on what ships they use, for the ESUN delegation to reach the rendezvous. Knowing Raydon he'll make certain he is here before then, but probably hang back and wait. He will be wary of revealing how much in the way of dealings he has with the Sweepers./

Deciding he had to make a decision or he would never get to bed, he reached to the keyboard and contacted the Com Officer, dispatching to the com terminal his recorded message.

"Add an extra layer to the encrypting I used on this recording and get it off to the Bounty immediately. I will be standing down for a few hours sleep. Call me if the sun explodes, but not before."

"Acknowledged." The man grinned, his fingers dancing over his keys. "Encryption complete. Transmission to the Bounty underway."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2007


	179. Chapter 179 Chapter 178

Alternative Directions: Options 178/

Alternative Directions: Options 178/?? Mars

Chapter 178

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 04:10 approx Sanc time 02:01

Polnar

Should he survive, when the horrors of the day were done and the situation was finally brought to a resolution, he had little doubt he would have nightmares for years after. He had never considered himself to be exactly politically naïve but, given the sheer logistics of this operation, he could not help wondering about the ambitions of those who touted peace. Proven to be not so worldly as he had assumed by this turn of events, Polnar leaned against the wall and wondered just how much of what he thought he knew about the past war was accurate.

/So much for believing better days are ahead. No more wars. I was never fool enough to believe there would be no more killing, but if the Council of Representatives as a whole are behind this operation, how the hell do they expect to keep it quiet? Slaughtering the scientists and workers on Mars is not a great way to keep the peace./

What frightened him the most was it was not the horror of the slaughter he had witnessed which shocked him to the core. He had been a soldier and he had seen death before. He had killed and had others try to kill him. He had witnessed the massacre of civilians caught up in fighting and he had determined to ensure there was a better future for himself and any family he might have in the future. That was why he had gone to Station One when the offer had been made, to seek a future.

A fresh start. A new life. A chance to find something better.

On Station One he had found something to dream about, something that had not involved carnage. He would need to have a few sessions with the Station's psychologists at the completion of this mission. He had quieted his nightmares before under their care and he would need their help once again.

What disturbed him most about this turn in his assigned mission was not the blood, guts and gore now happening, but a pair of icy blue eyes that had seen too much. Without doubt Milliardo Peacecraft would feature in his nightmares, not as the boogieman who had threatened to destroy a world, but as an innocent who had seen too much and somehow survived.

It was frightening to think of the Terror of Earth as a much abused innocent.

/Shit. I really need to see the shrinks./

He was beginning to worry about his own sanity if he considered Milliardo Peacecraft innocent.

He would see those blue eyes in his dreams and wonder what was going on in that too blonde head. Just thinking about the man he had come to know whilst living on Mars, pointed to something being very wrong during the war that had changed civilization as they had known it. The victor in any war wrote history, he knew that and he had lived the war, been a part of it. A minor part to be certain, but he had not been a mindless automaton and had tried to follow the evolution of political events. He had even had the audacity to think he had a reasonable understanding of what he was fighting for.

He was not sure of anything anymore. He had thought he had known who was right and who was wrong, and had first begun to doubt his knowledge when he had joined the crew of Station One. A new perspective had been gifted to him by those men and women who seemed not to point a finger at any one side and say 'these people were to blame'. He had been surprised, but willing to learn an objective viewpoint and he had learned to trust. It was not an easy thing to do, to trust perfect strangers who held your life in their hands.

Milliardo Peacecraft was an enigma. The man was not the sort who trusted easily and without doubt he was one who preferred to act himself. In his past as Zechs Merquise he had been a commander of men and knew when to trust those beneath his command, when to carry out orders without flinching and when to question those orders. Merquise had been an elite soldier, the best of the best, and never a fool. He had certainly been closer to those who pulled the worlds strings than he himself had been. Who was he, Polnar mused, to judge another who was closer to the core of events and who chose to act on what he knew that others did not?

There were historians and strategists on Station One who wondered what had occurred to set the war to the point where the very planet was endangered. He suspected they might reassess their findings on learning Milliardo Peacecraft was one of the Gifted.

A Clairvoyant talent who thrust himself into a position to destroy a planet was not someone you ignored. What you had to do was ask why. Why he would make such an event happen and ensure it happened by taking a personal part in the play of events.

/Well, I sure as hell would be asking why he did what he did if he's a Clairvoyant. I wonder what Raydon and the Gifted were up to while Merquise was setting himself up to slap the Earth's population in the face, and make them sit up and take notice. I'd want to know the full story./

It was not a simple matter to trust the man who had such a fearsome reputation, but his partner certainly seemed to place a great deal of trust in Peacecraft. It would not be just because the man was a fellow Gifted. Giles did not trust that easily. Nor did he for that matter, but Polnar could not deny there was trust between the two and he had learned to trust his partner. That Peacecraft gave his trust at all was astonishing.

/They say everyone must trust someone at some time in their life, but he knows nothing about the Stations. Well, I guess he has been there before, and I haven't been privy to any of his time there but… I don't know what he learned of the Stations while he was there, or why he left as he did. He seems to be getting along with Giles. I wonder what shit they had to deal with in the interim? You don't get to trust a stranger without good cause and to look at them you would think they were old friends. That's what I would expect of survivors of a particularly nasty mission. Neither is healthy at the moment and I'll have to see they get some attention while I am away. Giles is looking a little green around the gills and Peacecraft is no better./

The man was carefully writing numbers in a series of neat rows on a notepad, his long fingers trembling with the effort to control the pen. That slow and careful control said how the man was suffering. As a Commander he would be determined to let no weakness show and while the letters were clear the effort he was putting into making them was considerable.

Polnar's attention slipped to Giles who was seated at the side of the bed, hunched forward a little, arms tucked close to his chest as he hugged himself. His breathing was shallow and carefully controlled as he watched the slow crawl of the pen across the paper.

"These codes will open every lock on the base." The deep voice drew his attention back to the blonde who was still writing. "The lower set is the codes the ESUN mission was to overwrite into the computers, the middle set are the Preventer codes and the upper set are the control codes as set by the base security office. Which set are valid for which locks you will need to determine, as I don't know which set of codes have been set in the interim. I would appreciate it if you did not make it obvious to any observers that you have them."

/I'd sure as hell like to have you on a mission if you can pick codes like these out of the air. It's a bit worrying that you are not certain which codes are valid at the present time. Giles said we made your visions uncertain, and I'm not sure if that is a good or bad thing. I don't know enough to judge./

He leaned forward slightly to watch as the pen trailed slowly over the paper when the blonde head inclined and the pen slipped from suddenly relaxed fingers. With a sigh Peacecraft flicked the paper with a fingernail, signalling he was done.

"I'll try the maintenance codes before I reveal I have another set and I'll be as discreet as possible if I have to use these."

When he tore the page from the pad Marquise signalled he wanted it back again and on a fresh sheet began to write with the same laborious determination. "I told the nurses not to give the children to anyone but me. At the time that was how I 'saw' events unfold, but that has all changed. Hopefully they will not panic and they will trust you."

He knew the five minutes designated by Barker would be an approximation, but he also knew the man would not be a laggard in arranging the rescue mission and his time was running out. Barker would be back with company any minute now and he wanted to get on himself. Waiting for action grated on his nerves. Giles had given him as much information as he could, given their limited time, and it was certainly not the information he had expected. He was not particularly rapt in the briefing, but it was better to know the difficulties to come than to be surprised at a critical point. He only hoped Giles could manage Peacecraft if he started to get twitchy.

/There are some days when it pays not to get out of bed. I think even the most die hard optimist would agree this is one of those days./

He could hear approaching footsteps from out in the hallway, drawing nearer to the treatment room. That most likely heralded the end of his period of grace and he was going to have to move, but he did not wish to rush Peacecraft, who was having difficulty making the pen follow the line he wanted. The man cursed softly and stubbornly worked at finishing what he was writing.

Polnar admitted what he really wanted to do was sleep. He had been awake and active approaching twenty-four hours now and there was no chance he might take even a few hours to rest. He had already put in an exhausting day's labour with the Terra Forming team, before learning someone was intent on killing him and his workmates. From there the day had simply gone downhill in an avalanche of chaos. Certainly his performance level had to be suffering for the exhaustion he was experiencing, but there would be no opportunity to rest for hours. Nor was he alone in his physical state, everyone was exhausted, including those trying to kill them.

They were all in the same condition, aching in body and soul. The disappointment he personally experienced in the peace process had to be felt by the others, who struggled to survive as he did. It was a massive failure in the much vaunted Peace Process touted by the ESUN government, that the fledgling colony on Mars should suffer this butchery.

Even if it was not a general Council of Representatives action and was limited to the actions of only a few of the members, the fiasco on Mars was a symptom of rot developing in the Assembly. After the recent history of the planet there should have been measures in place to effectively make this response to a perceived threat impossible to achieve. The Peace process touted the responsibility and necessity to talk and avoid physical conflicts.

War was supposed to be a thing of the past, but it was war that had come to Mars.

/I suppose you could just name it cold-blooded murder and be done with it. Where are the checks and countermeasures supposedly in place to keep the peace? I hate to think what will happen when the presence of Station One is announced. We could find ourselves in the middle of another war./

He watched as trembling fingers hesitated over the page and caught the low murmur of voices beyond the room. Barker would want him any minute now and he wanted to get this done, but he was not going to rush the man when he was clearly trying his best to make his message look as naturally written as possible. The nurses had to believe he was there to pick up the twins with Peacecraft's blessing and the man had not written it under duress.

/Raydon must have suspected something was up else Giles and I would not be here now. It's not just his psychic abilities. His intelligence network must have alerted him to something going on in the Council of Representatives. Every political body has factions and they are usually allied for or against each other. While they can be subtle, I doubt they would have been able to slip this kind of planning unnoticed past our agents. Raydon's a Clairvoyant and while he's good he's far from infallible and he knows it. He has intelligence agents to back up the advantages of the Psychics of the Station. How did the Psychics and the mundane Intelligence operatives all miss the planning for an operation this big?/

Peacecraft was simply too noticeable and his presence on Mars could not easily be ignored. Clearly there were more people than certain members of the government were comfortable with who knew of his presence. Even killing the terra formers would not keep the knowledge of his presence on Mars quiet. Big business concerns had their own agents, and no doubt, every company with an interest in the opening up of the Mars colony knew the man had survived the Libra. Giles had been quick enough to notify Raydon and other agents would do likewise for their employers.

It had to be obvious the secret was no secret at all, so why go to these extremes to remove the man from the planet?

Just what Raydon wanted from Merquise intrigued Polnar. Knowing the man as he did, he could not believe Raydon's interest was purely personal, though Raydon had made it clear enough in the past he was interested in the banished Prince of Sanc. One did not use the resources of the Station merely to acquire a lover. Raydon was too responsible to be that shallow and given what he now knew of the Prince being a Clairvoyant and, in Giles opinion an important one, he could better understand the outlay of resources. Raydon would expect a return to benefit the Stations and how Peacecraft would react to that would be interesting.

/Did Raydon know before Peacecraft left Station One he was one of the Gifted? Damn, that has interesting possibilities if he did./

"It's the best I can do."

The quiet voice drew his attention back to the man in the bed. Peacecraft had dropped the pen and his hands lay limp, one lightly bandaged, the wrapping loose and needing attention. From the hallway he could hear Barker's voice and he was quick to take the note, folding it and placing it in a pocket safely.

"I can be persuasive when I have to be and we really don't have time to hang around and haggle. I'll bring the twins safely to you. The sooner we get everyone to safe ground the better."

Giles nodded slightly and Peacecraft simply watched him, the weight of his glare enough to know the man did not like the situation, but knew he had to trust someone. The Commander in him would be fighting the father, trust the men assigned the task, or trust no one but himself to keep his children safe. It had to be hard to sit in that bed and leave his children's fate in another's hands.

Polnar nodded briefly, a mute farewell to both men and made his way to the door, pausing to watch as Barker shepherded a group of men down the hallway. He had no trouble recognizing members of the Emergency Response Team and one of the group he recognized as a doctor from an earlier encounter in the hallway. He was gratified medical personnel were to be included in the search for survivors. Who knew what they would find as they searched the base. They had no idea how far into the base the Sleeper agents had penetrated in their sweep to wipe out the witnesses to their mission.

/Almost time to go then./

He took the opportunity to settle himself, scrubbing at his face with faintly trembling hands. There would be no time to acknowledge his exhaustion once they moved out. For perhaps thirty seconds he could admit to himself how tired he was.

It would be good to return to Station One and he refused to consider the possibility there would be no return. He was not going to cough out his life on Mars because of some obnoxious, Earth-based politician, who insisted on meddling in the affairs of a man who was already dead. Too many people had died to bring about this peace and Peacecraft simply wanted to be left alone. Truth be told, the man was Zechs Merquise, retired soldier turned terra former and not Prince Milliardo Peacecraft, who had once determined to teach the human race to fear itself.

A glance over his shoulder showed Giles settling back in his seat, arms wrapped around himself, hugging his ribs. Peacecraft was watching his partner, a frown creasing his brow and Polnar heard the deep voice rumble a low comment, though he could not catch the exact words. Giles shook his head in response, murmured something and sighed, motioning toward the door.

/Probably asking Giles if he really does trust me again. I can't blame the man for being wary, even sceptical. If anyone has a reason to distrust people it has to be Peacecraft. I don't know if I could trust anyone if I was in his place. He doesn't look so good and I'm not sure what it is that is keeping him together, but I hope it continues to hold. We are a long way from sorting this mess out and he holds knowledge that has to be a help in dealing with what is yet to come./

He could only hope their alert of trouble had been received on Station One, and there was some form of assistance close enough to Mars to make a difference to the outcome of this neverending day. To his certain knowledge Raydon kept at least one ship within a three day flight window of the planet, on a constantly shifting rotation. Feasibly it was possible there were up to four ships within twelve days of the planet, perhaps as many as two within four days' flight. This stand by rotation was one of the measures Raydon had set in place on learning of the Prince's presence on Mars. It was a rather expensive example of the lengths Raydon was willing to go to, to extend the resources of the Stations to the fugitive who could lay claim to being the most hated man in the ESUN.

/Raydon could not have initiated that rota system without the backing of the Station Council. It is expensive to tie up so many of the Stations ships in keeping a guard on this planet, and that means they have to know a lot more about Peacecraft than I do. I hate 'need to know' situations. When I really 'need to know' no one is ever bloody around to tell me./

"Polnar." Barker nodded to him in greeting and motioned to the group of men, signalling him to join the cluster.

Glancing back he noted Giles and Peacecraft were watching them through the doorway and he nodded briefly before letting the door swing closed, sealing them away from the action to come. Neither man was in fit condition to participate in this operation and they simply had to trust him. As he had to trust Barker to make certain no harm came to them in his absence. He needed to locate the twins and return to the Medical Centre with all speed.

"Right, Gentlemen. The mission is simple enough, find survivors and bring them to the Medical Centre as a designated safe zone. By the time you return with them I hope to have the designated safe area fully prepped and a decent coffee brewing in the pot. The mission will be carried out in group clusters to speed the search along. Mr. Polnar," Barker motioned to Polnar where he stood. "is in charge of locating the missing children and returning them to the safe zone and to a nursery we will be preparing. Carter, would you mind partnering him?"

He was not adverse to the partnership and it would lessen the danger of him running into trouble he could not handle. He had found Carter to be trustworthy and no slouch when it came to taking his share of the action. Carter would make a good Preventer, if he chose to pursue that course as a career, and Polnar glanced at the man who grinned back, before inclining his head in a quick nod to Barker.

"Good. We have no idea how many of these people have turned killer, but we take no chances with anyone's safety. I want you to work in clusters of three or greater. You will never be out of your partner's sight and yes, I know that is going to lengthen the search and rescue, but in this situation we have no choice. It is a precaution that has to be taken, so don't give your team leaders any guff. I want no more deaths, is that understood? We need to get those people who are alive into a secured area as quickly as possible and as safely as possible. Yes, you can send them back to the Medical Centre and remain on the hunt yourself, but if you do so you will not permit them to leave your presence unless they travel in groups of five or greater. Is that understood? In this situation there is safety only in numbers and you need to remember that. Questions?"

Polnar glanced around at the group, noting new faces amid those he was familiar with. For an operation of this size, given the ground they were going to need to search, they were actually a small group. There was a shortage of able bodies to call on and they needed to make do with what, and who, they had.

/We just have to pray we don't have any Sleepers in the group./

"Well enough." Barker nodded into the silence. "Kurtz will be in charge of the operation to find survivors and bring them here. Direct questions to him while you are together and remember, never be alone on this mission. Be quick but be thorough, I don't intend to leave anyone out there for the butchery to continue. Be loud if you have to; make certain no one is sleeping heavily enough not to hear you. On your way."

Barker intended they check every suite in the accommodation sectors and Polnar could not argue with his logic. Personally he found it astonishing to think anyone might feel safe enough following an alert to simply go to bed and sleep. There had been no all clear issued to counter the initial alert and there had been the explosion that had drawn out the Emergency Response Team. Surely, despite the hours that had passed since the alert had been issued, no one would have relaxed their guard.

/Enough people are dead, but it is not strangers doing the killing. I guess they trust each other too much./

Polnar stepped back as Kurtz motioned to the group to head for the doors and fell in at the rear of the group. Carter delayed as the group passed before taking a place at the rear at Polnar's nod. Chris took the opportunity to avoid the crush to catch Barker's attention and motioned toward the examination room door.

"They really need a medic in there."

The Preventer nodded, eyes flicking to the door briefly before centring on the agent. "I'll take care of it."

Polnar returned the nod, knowing he would need to content himself with that, at least for the moment. Barker was a professional who knew his duties and he would see the men received the required medical attention. Carter sidled up to him and he knew he needed to focus his attention on the task at hand.

"So, where are we to find the kids?" Carter queried as they started toward the door to the main base.

"Section C." Polnar returned, glancing behind him to see Barker turning to an approaching orderly. "Do you have any objections to splitting from the main group and heading for the twins immediately?"

"Not a one." Carter returned, himself watching Barker as the orderly stopped and began to speak. "I don't particularly envy him staying around to coordinate everything, but someone has to do it and he does have the experience. Given Barker's orders I suppose we really need to pick a third body to accompany us. He was serious about the three-man teams."

He grunted softly, turning back to the matter at hand. Barker certainly did not look too happy with whatever the orderly was reporting and Polnar was keen to get this job done and return to his partner.

"I would personally prefer it to be just the two of us, a quick in and out, but I suppose you are right. We'll need to pick someone who can be quick and light on his feet. Someone with fighting experience would help, just in case we run into trouble. How well do you know these men?"

Carter shrugged and inclined his head as Preston Kurtz dropped back from the group. Kurtz nodded briefly in greeting and matched their pace, not seeming to mind in the least they were a little behind the main group.

"I will be picking up additional members of the ER team from the cafeteria before we enter the accommodations sectors to begin the sweep. Would you two gentlemen prefer to pick one of the present team and go ahead to your location? Barker said you would be after Merquise's twins and not a part of the general gather."

"That would be best." Polnar nodded. "Which of your team would you suggest be our best option?"

Kurtz glanced at the group coming up to the doors and after a moment of consideration made his decision. "Mighty Joe Lee? I've found him to be pretty stable. He generally knows when to shut up and he's quick on his feet. It would probably be best to get him away from certain members of the team still in the cafeteria and if he's with you I don't have to worry about sniping comments getting out of hand."

Polnar wondered why there might be sniping comments and if Mighty Joe Lee would be their best choice if Kurtz did not what him on his team.

"Can he handle himself in a fight?" Carter queried.

"As well as most of the team, which is not to say any of us are up to more than a dirty street fight. I think at one stage he was practicing Martial Arts, but that was before he came to Mars. He takes direction well and does not have a tendency to go off and do his own thing when your back is turned."

"He'll do." Polnar decided, knowing their choices were limited and wanting to move as quickly as possible. "He wasn't adverse to Peacecraft when we first met your team. Since we are after his kids I want to be assured I don't have to worry about anyone holding the kids to blame for the past."

Kurtz dismissed the notion of Mighty Joe holding a grudge for the war with a grunt. "Mighty Joe has always been fair and he's said, on more than one occasion, there was a lot more to the shit that went down a few years ago than was let on." He shook his head and sighed. "I guess after this I have to admit he might have been right."

Carter shrugged broad shoulders and refrained from commenting, willing for the moment to hold his peace. He personally had no problem with Merquise, though he knew there were more than a few people at the base who did not trust the man, even after so long on Mars. Polnar simply refrained from commenting; to him it was patently obvious they did not have time to hold a forum on the war and who was at fault.

They had far more important things to think about.

Kurtz strode forward, returning to the main group gathering in the hallway outside the doors. After a moment Mighty Joe Lee fell back from the group and stood to one side, waiting for the two men to join him. He watched them approach and his face broke into an affable grin and he nodded in greeting to the men he was to partner.

"Kurtz says I'm to follow along with you."

"Carter, Polnar." Polnar reaffirmed the introductions which had taken place what seemed like hours ago, unwilling to waste time on needless pleasantries. "We split from the group when they head to the cafeteria. Hang back a bit until they are on their way. Our mission is best accomplished away from the main group. We will be moving fast to specific locations and we don't need delays."

"Understood."

Mighty Joe fell into step beside Polnar, more than willing to follow the other men's lead. He had seen enough in the Medical Centre of the aftermath of massacre to know what they might be facing in the accommodations sectors. People he had known and trusted had indiscriminately slaughtered their workmates, and he was not planning on become yet another of their victims. He would be keeping a wary eye on his partners, both to guard their backs and to guard his own.

Polnar motioned first Mighty Joe and then Carter out the door on the heels of the lead group. He delayed long enough to glance over his shoulder to see Barker still engaged in conversation with the orderly and then turned his attention to the matter at hand. From here on there would be no more looking back, no more time to indulge in such luxuries as worrying over his partner and his charge. He had a mission to accomplish and that would take all of his attention to complete successfully.

His partner was keeping time with an individual who was teetering on the edge. If finding and bringing the children to Peacecraft would contain him to safe parameters, then Polnar wanted the task done speedily and efficiently. Giles had warned him Milliardo Peacecraft was a Psychic on the edge and he knew enough to know he should tread carefully around such an individual. Only he and Giles knew of the time bomb in their midst and could keep the man contained, though what might happen to anyone other than Peacecraft himself if he lost control, Polnar did not know. Giles had implied the fallout might not be just personal.

He was going to need to make a personal trip to the Shuttle Control Tower and see what had spooked Giles about Lucrezia Noin.

Carter was watching him as the door swung closed behind them and with a steadying breath he focused on the task at hand. For a moment he watched the group heading toward the kitchen door and the cafeteria beyond. Mighty Joe leaned against the wall to one side and waited, watching as the team he was familiar with moved further and further away from him. Polnar wondered if the man might be having misgivings, perhaps wondering if the men he was now partnered with were more than they seemed. No doubt considering his fate should they chance to be Sleepers.

That was the trouble with this situation; you simply did not know who you could trust.

"Right, gentlemen, let's go."

He motioned to the doors almost opposite their present position, and with a final glance at the other team to see if anyone was paying attention to them, he led the way to the door. In that larger group there were three heads turned to watch them and he was careful to mark their faces. If they were simply curious, well enough, but if it chanced to be more sinister he would know who to watch.

Mighty Joe reached the entrance into the accommodations sector first and reached out to trip the mechanism, frowning as the door refused to open. Arching an eyebrow he turned to Polnar and stepped to one side, Carter falling into position easily on the opposite side of Polnar, flanking their team leader as he came abreast of the door.

"Maintenance codes like before?" Carter queried.

"They should work." Polnar murmured, his fingers flying over the keypad.

For an instant he thought the code would not work. It seemed an inordinately long time before there was a low beep and the bar turned green. The click of the magnetic seal releasing came as a relief and he watched as Carter reached to manually crank the airlock door open.

Each of the accommodations sectors on the base were sealed with an airlock as a safety precaution. The smaller units were functional, though barely roomy enough for four personnel at a time to use. Beyond the lock they would find the stairwell leading down into Section C. It would have been the explosion that had sealed the airlock, Polnar decided, not the earlier alert. In the event of an explosion, or seismic activity, the automated computer system would have initiated a safety lock down of the living quarters.

He had expected to find the airlocks sealed given the situation, and if the maintenance code had not released the lock he would have needed to call on one of the sets of codes he was not supposed to be privy to. Peacecraft had trusted him with the list, which could spell life or death to the people on the base, and he was well aware of what might happen if the wrong people chanced to get their hands on that list.

/I would dearly love to know how he acquired the override codes, but I am not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He doesn't know me and he does not have to trust me, he could easily have justified withholding the codes and have left me to flounder if the computers chance to go down. If that virus spreads we could be in all sorts of shit, locked within the sealed sections of the base. He must trust Giles an awful lot to go this far./

He eyed the small airlock warily before motioning his partners into the room and following them in. It was not exactly a tight squeeze as the locks were designed to fit four adults, but none of them were exactly bean pole thin. Nor did it help that none of them were graced with a desirable body odour at the present time.

Stepping last into the lock he sealed the door behind him and motioned to Carter, who was closest to the locking panel, to activate the cycle, only too eager to get out of the lock and on with the job.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2007


	180. Chapter 180 Chapter 179

Alternative Directions: Options 179/

Alternative Directions: Options 179/?? Sanc

Chapter 179

2nd March AC 198

Sanc en route to Palace

Time: 05:39

Wu Fei

When all was said and done, given his recent past activities, he was extremely fortunate events had worked out so well in his favour. The weather conditions were extreme, atrocious was an apt description, and deteriorating rapidly to the point he thought only Preventers would be mad enough to be out and about. Within a few hours Sanc would awaken to a working day and weather-hardened as they were, the people would continue on as though the blizzard was merely a minor inconvenience.

There were sub ground level tunnels and public transport linking the major city centre with outlying suburbs. Most city workers would have little difficulty in reaching their work places safely, provided they could reach the subsystem entrances. In weather such as this there would be no school and working parents would be desperately trying to reach baby-sitters, or place their offspring in day care facilities. Sanc, at least New Port City, would not permit a mere blizzard to stop it from functioning.

There would be those who would shun the public tunnel system and use their private vehicles. Privately he considered them to be idiots, as they would undoubtedly cause traffic snarl ups from one end of the city to the other. Minor accidents caused by ice and poor visibility would clog the arterial routes of the road system. With the severity of the icy snap he could expect the above ground rail system servicing the main business district to be closed for much of the morning, this due to a build up of ice on the tracks. It was the old sub ground transit system, nursed for centuries with careful and meticulous maintenance, even by the Alliance Governor, which would permit the city to remain active. It would, of course, be packed like a tin of sardines and be stretched to the limit, but it would be sufficient to see commerce and business function.

/If they can get communications lines out of Sanc working./ He thought wryly. /The last time we had a major blizzard here the telephone and vidphone communications network were woeful. The vidcom system was out for a week and the cloud cover was so thick the satellite signals penetrated it only sporadically./

He had been told every decade or so the weather would produce a blizzard so bad even the hardy Sancian population decided to remain at their homes and ignore the world beyond their heaters. Lifting a jaundiced eyebrow at the whiteout Wu Fei decided this well could be that one in a decade storm where only those who were utterly insane, or Preventers, would venture out.

/Or someone with serious criminal intent./

He had never known a storm yet to stop a determined criminal from performing nefarious deeds. At some point though, even Preventers were going to have to bow to the weather and surely that point must be fast approaching. It was not likely to be so bad in the more sheltered city, he knew. Here in the exposed countryside there were no tall buildings to break the wind and offer respite. Not that New Port City had particularly tall buildings, but they were sturdily build and broad in design, wonderful for blocking the wind. Many buildings were of a traditional design, with high sloping roof lines so the snow could not lie thickly and crush the building beneath its weight. Buildings here were reinforced against accumulated snow, even the hotels were lower in height and broader in design, some being built partially beneath the surface to take advantage of the all weather transport system.

He had given up trying to brush the hair from his face. The wind blew it immediately back, and he was certain his nose had to be frozen. Heavy gloves did little to give his fingers respite and he ached in joints that had never before bothered him.

His greatest stroke of fortune had been the discovery of his burned out vehicle by a Preventer team. The discovery saved him a partial thaw by returning to a heated building and then having to leave the welcome heat to expose himself to the elements once again. He wanted to get all of the exterior work out of the way and then thaw himself, perhaps even grab a few hours' sleep. He had been only a few minutes away from the wreck of the vehicle when the last call from headquarters had come over the radio, hissing a crackling static almost making it illegible.

It was worrying that he could not now raise the headquarters or any of the agents at Lady Une's home.

There was a faint hissing and crackling of static almost drowned by the roaring of the wind. It might mean the conditions were improving, though he personally could not see any improvement. He was doubtful Preventer Headquarters had actually received the call he had been trying to send, informing them of his present location, though he had managed to contact the agents babysitting the wreck of the car. That contact had been so faint he presumed only his close proximity to the area had permitted him to pick up on the agent's response.

Lights other than his own vehicles headlights illuminated the snow and he crept off the side of the road, pulling over to the car barely visible as he peered through the windshield. Nothing moved as he brought his vehicle to a stop and he peered through the driving snow, waiting before turning the ignition off. He wanted to enjoy as much heat as he could before he had to leave the car and he almost groaned as the other vehicle's door opened. A head popped out of the door, looking back toward the lights of his car and he inched the car closer, unwilling to expose himself to the elements any more than necessary.

It was hard to tell if this was where he had abandoned the car or not. For all he knew this vehicle on the side of the road could be a stranded motorist. He supposed he would have to check, though he was loathe to leave the car.

As he crept closer he peered at the dark mass that suggested the tree line and one particular area that seemed a little darker. This, he assumed, if he was in the right place, would be where he had set the car ablaze and damaged the surrounding trees. Needing to make his presence here official and noted on record, he hugged his coat tightly about him and decided to leave the engine running and headlights on as he exited the car. He was hopeful the heater would keep the temperature a little above zero for his return. Given the temperature outside the car it would be positively tropical upon his returned and there was a Preventer agent present to watch the vehicle.

He was met by the brave soul who had ventured out of the other vehicle as he rolled to a stop.

"Agent Chang?" At his nod the man hunched his shoulders against the wind. "Agent Lynx."

It was impossible to tell what the agent looked like. The man had a fur cap pulled down low on his head and a scarf wound around his face and tucked into a heavy overcoat. A heavily gloved hand reached to shake his hand quickly and then motioned toward the howling trees.

"The car is back there. It's pretty much burned out, nothing much left to see at all."

/Good, just the way I wanted it./

Motioning for the agent to lead the way he shuffled after the dark shape, hoping the man did not get too far ahead of him or he would lose him in the driving snow and darkness. The light from the cars' headlights did not seem to penetrate too far, and he was not inclined to lose the agent or sight of the vehicles if he could help it.

"The car is still hot, cooling fast of course, but it burned well. Someone did not want us learning much from it." The man's shout barely reached him.

"Forensics might find something." He shouted in return, knowing if they did much talking he would soon be hoarse and suffer a sore throat for days.

"If the storm leaves anything for them to work with." The man slipped and Chang was quick to step forward and steady him before he measured his length in the snow, almost dropping his torch in the process.

For an instant both men tethered on the edge of tumbling but they held their footing and trudged on, trying to ignore the increasing wind and the howling trees. Wu Fei was sure there was more wind now than when he had abandoned the car. It was not going to be so hard to believe, should forensics find anything to indicate his presence here, that it was a result of the storm. A stray hair blown from him to settle in the burned out wreck and char, a little at least from the residual heat, would not be impossible.

He poked his head into the foul smelling wreck and looked around the vehicle, barely noticing the residual heat. The burned materials used in upholstering the seats raised a stench even the storm could not eradicate and he pulled his head back quickly, coughing at the fumes and wafting a hand in front of his face. He walked slowly and carefully around the vehicle, pacing the area thoroughly while the agent who had led him here shifted from one foot to the other trying to retain some body heat.

/The poor bastard is probably cursing me for being thorough./

He decided finally to call it quits, there was nothing here he could do now. He had marked his presence and there was nothing at all to see. This was a forensic site, though he doubted they would find much given the fire and the blizzard, but forensic units were the backbone of the police forces in this day and age. What others could overlook so easily they would not. He could only hope he had done enough to cover himself.

Stumbling back to the waiting cars with the agent he bundled himself into their car, settling on the rear seat and breathing a sigh of relief at the warmer air.

"It's not much, is it?"

Wu Fei shook his head slightly, glancing at the radio as it spluttered and crackled and leaned forward as he began to make out faint words. The agent in the driver's seat fiddled delicately with the dial and the words became a little clearer. He listened to the broken, static filled report that came in and despite their best efforts to improve the signal he doubted they caught more than one in five or six words. It was alright, though, he knew what it was about. They had found the site from which he had fired off the missile and were asking for information on the arrival of a forensic unit. Headquarters had more powerful equipment but he was uncertain they would be able to receive more than a garbled odd word or two.

"You have put in a call for a forensic unit?"

"Yes, Sir. We received word before the reception got this bad that they would be sending out a unit. They should be here any time now."

"If they can get through." Wu Fei remarked softly, listening as the wind howled and the car shuddered to its force. "I will attend the radio call on my way to the palace to report to Commander Une. They will have marked their approximate location, they should not be too difficult to find."

"Any idea how long we are expected to wait out here? No offence, Agent Chang, but its bloody cold and the car will eventually run out of fuel."

A valid fear, he knew. The agents would be safe enough while they had heat, but should the motor die they would not last long in these conditions.

"I will see about a replacement team. Stay in the car, but if no one comes and the fuel gage is at a quarter of a tank I would advise you to return to headquarters. In fact, I am ordering you to return, if no one has appeared by then."

"Thank you, Sir."

Before he departed their car he tried his mobile phone, but the screen showed no signal and he slipped it back into his pocket. He had a feeling the transmitters were iced over, perhaps even blown down and in the past it had taken more than a week for Sanc to restore coverage to the service. He could only hope it would not be as bad as that.

With words of encouragement, expected for one of his rank to his subordinates, he returned to his own vehicle and after trying his radio gave up the attempt in disgust. Even the global positioning system was breaking up and he snorted in disgust as he flicked a finger at the screen. Pulling back onto the road he sighed and headed for the area of the palace grounds where other agents would be weathering the storm, guarding the evidence of an act of terrorism.

He was fairly confident the car he had used in that act of terrorism would not be used against him. It had burned extremely well and added to that the howling winds and the snow fall quickly filling up the cooling wreck, and his noted presence at the scene, he doubted forensics could get much out of the debris to point a finger at him.

/Une had better know what she is doing./

He would not take the fall for her. He would not cover her backside if everything went to hell in a hand basket. There was only so far he would be prepared to go and he had little doubt she would understand where the dividing line existed. He was a Preventer, not a terrorist now, and he had been following orders. That there was no record of those orders he did not doubt and she would have covered her back using every imaginable means, but she would also protect those who worked for her. He had learned something of her since he had begun working for Preventers and he understood she had undergone changes since the war.

Everyone had undergone changes since the war. He did not know of one person who remained untouched by it. Everyone had gone crazy there for a time and he was no exception. He had probably not been exactly sane to begin with, but the destruction of his home had sent him over the edge, bent on revenge.

/Justice./ A voice whispered to him.

Never revenge, always justice. He could not avenge the destruction of his home, as those who had caused it had been the very ones he had called his family and friends, his teachers. At the time he had done what they had intended him to do. Strike back and act, not think too heavily on the why. He had been used too often, and he did not like the idea of being used again.

Turning the heater to full blast and the fan to high, he longed for an assignment on a tropical sun drenched beach. He doubted he would ever feel warm again and the stupid heater had to be broken, it made next to no impression on the cars interior. It would be wonderful to be assigned a cushy beach surveillance, but he would settle for anything that offered a quiet, boring and blessedly warm assignment.

Visibility was atrocious and he was forced to creep along the road, peering into the whiteout and searching for any sign that might indicate the verge and he had come too far to the left or right. If there was a middle to this highway he was probably in it, he could see no line to mark the lanes and no oncoming headlights. Ice and snow was all that glinted in the lights. The vehicle had been fitted with chains before he had taken receipt of it at Une's residence. He was thankful for that initiative of the mechanics department of Headquarters, as it gave him less chance of having an accident on the ice encrusted roads. Of course, not being on the roads would be better still.

It was only the presence of an agent standing on the side of the roadway with flares that permitted him to find the location. There was no denying the snow and wind had increased since his previous visit here and he could recognize nothing of the location. In a copse of trees to the side of the road a second agent was feeding a reasonable sized bonfire set up in the shelter of a rock outcrop. The agents were clearly rotating their positions to share the benefits of the meagre heat. Their car stood at the edge of the forest, dark and abandoned, though not far from the beckoning bonfire.

"Agent Chang?" At his nod as he climbed out of his car the voice issuing from somewhere in the oversized fur coat spoke again. "Brian Peters, Agent Centaur, Sir. Paul Cummings, Agent Wolf is over by the fire."

"Would it not be warmer in the car?"

"Less than half a tank of fuel, Sir. Given the conditions we were worried about returning to Headquarters so we found shelter and made a fire."

They were all worried about being stuck out in a blizzard, he reflected and realized he had not checked the fuel gage in his own vehicle. He would have to do that and be careful not to strand himself.

"Well enough. The cars don't seem to be holding much heat, I will admit that."

He stamped over to the burning fire and crowded under the rock outcrop with the other two men. It was a blessed relief to be out of the wind and he sighed softly as he enjoyed a breath of air he did not have to fight for. It was also surprisingly warm, and it seemed the two men knew what they were doing when they started this fire.

"What do you have?"

"There is not much to see, Sir, and the wind is wiping it clean fast." Agent Wolf tossed a couple of old limbs onto the flame and watched the flames anxiously, obviously afraid of snuffing out the fire.

"Have forensics turned up?"

"Not as yet. From what we have gathered from radio transmissions, which are practically indecipherable with interference from the storm, I believe the forensic unit is still at the palace. There was mention of sending for a second team from Headquarters, but we lost the signal before we could make out exactly what they were saying."

Wu Fei rubbed at his frozen nose, worrying for a moment about frostbite and pneumonia as a direct effect of this stupidity.

"Radio communications are sketchy at best and the roads are near impassable. Is it far into the forest?"

"Not… really." The man hesitated, casting a look at the driving snow. "The footprints were practically gone when we were there and it is snowing harder now. Not as windy as in the open, of course, but still not the best conditions for preserving a crime scene."

"I will look while there is something left to see."

"It's not going to be pleasant." Agent Wolf muttered, rising slowly from where he had been crouched near the fire.

Wu Fei barked a short, hard laugh. "Nothing about this day has been pleasant. While I am here I may as well see what I may see and get it over with."

Wolf slipped around his partner. "I'll take you. We had to blaze a trail to make certain we could find the site again. Once we get into the trees it all looks pretty much the same."

"I'll keep the fire going. Maybe forensics will turn up while you are gone." Agent Centaur moved closer to the heat and his fur coat began to steam.

Glaring at the fire and wishing he did not have to leave its life giving warmth Wu Fei motioned his guide ahead of him. "Lead on!" He waved a hand toward the tree line and shouted to be heard as they stepped out from under the rocks.

Snow shoes might have helped he decided, as he ploughed his way along in the wake of the bigger man. They slid and stumbled every few steps and caught each other, sometimes going down onto their knees before they could catch their balance. The snow drifts were up to the bigger man's knees in places, even in the trees and Wu Fei cursed as he ploughed through thigh deep drifts. He would have thought the trees would have cut the wind more than they did.

He struggled from one snowdrift to another, thankful for the assisting hand pulling at him after he skidded on hidden ice and landed like a sack of potatoes on his backside in the middle of a particularly deep drift. Sitting as he was the snow come up to his shoulders and he could feel the cold increasing as it began to soak through his heavy coat. He shuddered as the chill wetness seeping through, and knew he could not long remain out in these conditions.

Not even for Preventer would he kill himself in a blizzard. It was time to go back.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded impatiently to the man leaning over him and motioned at the trees surrounding them, wishing they offered more shelter than they did. He could not tell if any of them were marked, not that he had been told how the agents had marked them.

"How much further?"

The head wrapped in an oversized scarf shook slowly from side to side and the man bent close, pushing his mouth close to Wu Fei's ear to make certain he was heard. "To be honest, I'm not sure. I think we might have been turned around!"

Wonderful, lost in a snow storm. Just the perfect cap to a perfect day.

/Damn. Well, given the conditions and I can not recognize anything, it is possible we have passed through the area… No, we have not escaped the tree line. I was at the tree line. Ancestors, I want to go home and cuddle my heater. Why did that woman have to pick on me? I need to be able to say we may have passed through the site and that could explain any DNA evidence that might be found at a later time. If I could glimpse the palace lights I could be fairly certain I am in the correct area./

"Keep looking!" He bellowed and coughed, choking on a mouthful of snow blown at him by the gale. "This is getting worse! I need to see the site and then we can get back!"

"I'll be glad of the fire!"

The man had a right to protest and call him all the names under the sun for not turning back, but he was a Preventer and Chang suspected he was one of the ex-soldiers, used to swallowing disagreeable orders and simply getting on with the job. Preventer was full of them, old soldiers, though they might be in their early twenties. Veterans of the war who knew their duty, and would not permit something as simple as a bit of snow and wind to deter them.

Wu Fei dragged his soggy collar tighter about his neck and shuffled along in the wake of the larger man. He was not too proud of using the agent as a means of shelter or a snow plough. He was nothing if not practical. Agent Wolf would out weigh him by at least a factor of three and therefore was less likely to be blown over and he was considerably wider and there fore made an ideal snow plough and windbreak.

It seemed to him they were stumbling around in circles and the agent was not always in the ideal position to provide him with some protection. His teeth were chattering so madly he feared he might chew on his tongue, not that he was likely to feel the pain. Everything seemed numb and he knew, despite his best intentions, they could not remain out here any longer.

He had a responsibility to the Agent ahead of him and he had a mission to complete. Protocol be damned, he was not going to become a statistic of the storm which undoubtedly would claim a victim or two before it passed. His decision made he cursed softly at the necessity of not knowing he had marked his presence at the incident site, but he was not inclined to freeze to death. As it was he probably would come down with a choking cold, if he was lucky, pneumonia at worst. It was as well Preventer had an excellent health care scheme, because he was assuredly going to need it.

Stumbling forward he sought to reach out for the agent walking ahead of him, cursing he had lagged a little further behind than he realized. With a strangled cry he was thrown from his feet by a fierce gust of wind and grunted as he collided with the trunk of a tree. For a moment he lay against the swaying tree trunk, feeling the solid tree tremble in the wind. Even these old trees were shaking to the force of nature and he could hear, above the sound of the wind, the occasional crack of a breaking branch and the constant creaking of trees under stress. Dazed and uncertain if he had lost his guide, he struggled to regain his feet and was thankful when gloved hands grasped him and the wind's force lessened as a body shielded him.

"I think we might have passed the site! I can't be sure where we are!"

He had a sudden piercing fear they would be lost in the woods, dying of exposure, buried beneath the falling snow, or a victim of a breaking branch or tree toppling over. He wanted desperately to find shelter, to stand in the middle of a roaring fire and roast himself. He could not take this cold much longer.

"What about this trail you blazed?"

"I can't find any marked trees!"

Cursing silently Wu Fei struggled to his feet and peered about him. It was a total white out and he could barely see the tree that stood only a few feet from the trunk he leaned against. His breath seemed to freeze in his lungs and his feet felt like ice and he had already come close to frost bite once today. Shaking his head he nudged his guide.

"We get out of here! Try to find a marked tree and get us back to the road. I'm pulling you all out of here until the storm is over!"

He should have done it before now, but duty was a driving force integral to his very being. It was duty that saw him make this decision now; duty to his men. No one should be out in this.

Gloved fingers caught his hand and moved it to the wide belt of the oversized fur coat. "Hook your fingers in! Don't lose contact with me! We can't separate in this!"

He nodded, fisting his hand into the belt of the agents coat and stumbled along after him as they staggered from tree to tree. The big man ran his fingers over every trunk, seeking the blazon cut into the trunk to mark their way. Wu Fei was gasping for breath when the agent towing him paused, leaning close to a tree trunk and then they were movin, and it seemed to him they were moving with purpose now.

/He must have found the trail. I did not think the storm would be this bad. Une had best not quibble about me pulling the teams out of this. I do not want a trail of dead agents slain by the weather./

He had noted nothing on the trunk, but he had not known what he was looking for either and Wolf had been checking more than the side of the tree facing them. He had to put his trust in the man whose accent suggested he might be a native of Sanc. Certainly his coat was not Preventer standard issue and seemed far more sensible to these conditions.

At the present time he was not concerned with the site and contaminating it with evidence of his presence. With conditions so bad it was doubtful forensics would find any evidence anyway. It would be entirely believable he and Wolf must have passed through the crime scene in the storm and not realized it, given the conditions. Now he was concerned only with evacuating this team. He would have to send messages to the team babysitting the burned out wreck, ordering their withdrawal to shelter and to not bother waiting until their fuel tank hit the quarter mark.

In a contest between man and Mother Nature, nature invariable won.

/It may compromise the investigation but I do not care. People will not die because of this asshole of a mission./

It had been too long a day and active a night and he was flagging when they stumbled through the trees and he felt hands steady him. He was dragged toward the welcome light and blessed warmth of a fire, and his instinctive resistance to that pull of unknown hands faded. He thrust his gloved hands toward the flames and growled when he felt little difference in the temperature. Someone tugged his gloves off and thrust his hands closer to the flames, rubbing his fingers briskly.

"Pull out! Get to the palace and take shelter until conditions improve!" He shouted at the dark shape trying to rub his numbed hands to life.

"Preventer Earth sent us to pull everyone back to shelter a little while ago!" The voice was not that of Agent Centaur and Wu Fei looked about him, realizing there were more bodies than had previously been present. "We were only waiting for you to return before we left! There are clothes and thermal underwear in the car, compliments of the Lady!"

"Then get moving!"

He would be well practised in changing his clothing in cramped quarters by the time this day was done. He did not care about the discomfort provided he could be dry and relatively warm once again, and he was thankful for her foresight in sending clothing.

He stumbled toward his car, the strong arms steadying him and he noted his previous guide being led toward a van by other agents.

"Preventer Earth is at the palace until the storm eases and snow ploughs clear the roads. She was advised to recall her agents before people start dying!"

He slipped and both he and his guide slid across the slick ground, the hidden ice carrying them through the snow drift until they were brought up by a hidden boulder. He grunted at the bruising force of the collision and panted against the shock of the impact.

"Damn, this is getting past a joke."

He personally though it had long ago left the status of joke, but he remained silent as he struggled to his feet. His helper struggled to rise and together they crab stepped to the waiting vehicle, where the agent opened the rear door for him before sliding into the front of the car and taking up position behind the wheel.

"I'm to drive you to the palace." The engine started and a burst of static filled the vehicle before the agent, with a shake of his head, turned off the useless radio. "The transmission towers are icing over and I think we have lost at least one."

It was a relief to be out of the wind. In the relative silence he groaned softly and panted, resting his head on the seat back and simply relishing the moment. He felt bruised and battered, no less abused than instances in the war had left him.

"Preventer Earth will be waiting for you at the palace."

"Well enough." He whispered, his voice harsh from the abuse of shouting above the howling wind for so long.

At least on this occasion he was not required to change his clothing in the presence of a woman. He rubbed his hands vigorously together, seeking to warm his fingers and regain some feeling. Looking about him he found neatly folded towels and a bundle of warm clothing on the seat beside him. He fingered the heavy woollen jumper for a moment and glanced at his driver, who was shifting the car into gear and peering through the windscreen at the tail lights of the van pulling out ahead of them.

"Where did the clothes come from?"

"I believe all clothing was arranged by the palace staff. At least the clothes are warm and relatively waterproof. These people know their climate."

The clothing proved to be a little too large for his slender frame, but he was not inclined to quibble. The clothes were dry and blessedly warm, and for the second time in less than eight hours he was climbing over a seat back to take up the front passenger seat of a car in fresh clothing. His hands were beginning to thaw and his feet were throbbing which vaguely worried him, but he would be sure to see a physician. He ached from a myriad of bruises and scrapes that would need checking, though he was fairly sure he had not seriously damaged himself. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball of misery and sleep.

"It could be a while before we reach the palace given the conditions. Radio communications are sketchy at best, and the telephone and vidphone network is down. I heard a report they have lost two translator towers through the mountains and the tower on the cliff above New Port City is reported to be out of commission. I don't think it's collapsed, but I was told it could be at least two days before services are restored to the city itself."

"Wonderful," he sighed softly. "How far are we from the palace?"

"Not all that far, but it will take time because of conditions. An hour, maybe a little more."

"Wake me when we get there." He was bone aching tired and even a nap would be well received.

The agent motioned to the rear seat. "There is a blanket back there. If you are going to sleep use it. It will help keep you warm, especially your feet. Try to prop them near the heater outlet."

It was only sensible after the exposure he had endured to the elements to keep himself as warm as possible, but it seemed such an effort to reach into the back seat and find the blanket. Now that he had the opportunity and had made the decision to get some sleep, all his body wanted to do was give in. As his fingers closed on the woollen cloth and he sat forward in his seat his innate caution stirred. The danger of sleeping, even safely within the car, now bothered him.

It was not the storm but the company he now kept that roused his wariness. Sleep was all he wanted to do, but he did not know this man who drove him toward the palace. The instinct that had seen him survive the war and a dozen serious encounters that might have killed him in his career as a Preventer, now screamed caution. He had not asked for identification and none had been offered. He did not know this man personally and his face was not even vaguely familiar.

Even as he settled himself in the seat and propped his feet near the heater outlet, he found himself watching the driver with a critical eye. With the reviving benefit of the heater, warm dry clothing and a woollen blanket his head was clearing and though he wanted to sleep he found himself alert. Settling back in his seat Wu Fei clipped on the seat belt and covered himself with the blanket, tucking his hands beneath the warm wool.

He would pretend to sleep but keep alert and watch until he was safely at the palace… or until his trust was betrayed and he saw what his new companion actually intended. Beneath the protection of the blanket his fingers closed around the hilt of the concealed knife he carried. He would be prepared if there was a need.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2007


	181. Chapter 181 Chapter 180

Alternative Directions: Options 180/

Alternative Directions: Options 180/?? Mars

Chapter 180

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 4:15 Approximate Sanc Time 02:06

Noin

Within the warmth of her protection she shivered.

Awareness of self was awareness of existence. Her awareness had come slowly, almost gently. There was no blazing epiphany to terrify or startle her from her protection; there was simply a pleasant flush of warmth. With the warmth an awareness of the absence of light and the realization of being; the awakening of consciousness.

She.

She who floated within the cocoon considered the absence of light and the comfort of warmth, and the dawning sense of self.

She wondered.

Who was she?

What was she?

She?

It was a clear designation but was it accurate?

There was a sense of rightness about the idea of She as opposed to… He?

The distinction and recognition of the concept of He as opposed to She required her consideration. It was a distraction from the tremor of awareness which suggested there was something wrong.

There was something beyond the darkness enfolding her. Some 'thing' lurking beyond the warmth of her sanctuary. She sensed it when it moved, a sensation more than sound, a vibration against her cocoon.

She and not he?

He was wrong and she was right. She was she, not he because… because…

Because 'she' simply was right. It fit.

"You."

You? She was you?

No, that seemed hardly right. She was the appropriate designation. She was not 'you'. You was a designation used for another person, not for oneself.

'You' was someone else, someone other.

She was I. I was she. Or me. She was me.

Something within her consciousness jarred at the discord.

It was wrong, this whisper of sound that invaded her sanctum and disrupted her peace. It was wrong and it forced her to think, to birth the idea of threat.

It was an unwelcome demand for her attention.

To be nestled within this dark warmth and protection was to be safe. Beyond this sanctuary lay… What?

Here was good. Safe.

Why would there, beyond here, be more? Or less. Why would there, should there, be something beyond this cocoon?

"You."

The whisper forced a shift in her awareness, demanded she stir herself from her comfort.

It was uncomfortable to do more than languish within her cocoon. It was uncomfortable to think of something other than soaking in the warmth and security. Here was awareness, peace, safety, protection.

To acknowledge the whisper of discord, the single defining word designating 'other', was to acknowledge there should be more in her existence.

Her security receded, her warmth chilled and her discomfort gained a name, a designation.

Unease.

"You."

There it was again, a disembodied whisper of sound penetrating her security, disturbing her with his demand for recognition..

It was male. He.

The realization surprised her and her warm safe darkness changed, a subtle variation flushed through her awareness. Darkness flushed through with…

"You."

Red?

"Your fault."

Red within the black, dark and deep; a rusted crimson splash like stale blood seeping into the comforting darkness.

Fault?

Accusation.

He accused her. Of what?

It was growing cooler within her shelter, though it was not entirely unpleasant as yet, merely disturbing. The darkness was not so deep about her, but it was disturbing purely because it was change.

Instinctively she knew change was dangerous.

Change disturbed her peace and drew her from her rest, and might demand she notice more than the warmth to be found within the darkness.

"You."

"Your fault."

Beyond her cocoon there was movement. With the movement subtle undertones of red within the darkness surrounding her deepened. As the red grew, threatening dominance, the darkness thinned and the warmth that comforted her receded.

Something was out there, beyond her security. It whispered and moved and it was…

Malevolent.

Danger.

She was no stranger to the concept of danger and the realization of the level of threat afforded by movement, further frayed the enfolding darkness into a tattered, rippling greyness shot through with deep red.

Why was her safe world tearing apart around her? What was the threat lurking beyond her protecting walls? She needed to draw the comforting darkness about her and seek safety within its calming embrace. She needed to rest within the arms of Morpheus.

Morpheus. To rest within his arms, to be surrounded by sweet darkness, warm and safe. To sleep.

Her cocoon of safety was sleep.

Sleep had been her salvation before, restful oblivion rendering dark and disturbing thoughts distant and unimportant. Why did it come and go, rippling in and out of her awareness like the restless tides of the ocean?

Tides? Ocean?

The rocky shores of Sanc, the thunder of storm driven waves and the cry of gulls.

Memories.

Memories, not dreams or even daydreams. Memories stirring and with them the darkness frayed a little more; lighter grey growing stronger, rippling about her.

"_How do you feel, to be back in Sanc?"_

_Crunch of a pebbled beach beneath booted feet and the restless surging of waves, water lapping inches from her feet. The sea was rising with the darkening of the heavens, a storm brewing to lash the coastline during the night. Not even the scent of brine could cover the unique scent of him._

"_It does not seem real, Noin."_

"_I know it has long been your dream to free your homeland. I would have thought it would feel wonderful."_

"_What I feel is… emptiness. Sanc may now be free, but it is not the Sanc I recall. There may never be a return to what was lost. Too much has changed."_

Memories, not daydreams and not dreams. Memories of a time long gone when she was free to walk a pebbled beach and feel the wind in her hair. To turn her face into the wind and allow it to captivate her with a promise of freedom. t permitted her to dream about long summer days on the pebbled shore, children laughing about her feet, his pale hair streaming in the wind.

That was daydream.

"It was you."

"Your fault."

Ripple of awareness stirring the grey, giving rise to a sound she did not quite recognize. It was familiar, a regular thumping, low and more felt than heard. Almost a vibration and with each pulse the ripple of change within her shredding cocoon grew more defined. Ripples of lighter grey interspersed with darker red.

Fault? Her fault?

Fault implied blame. Blame implied something she did not think she was ready to face.

"It was you."

Why had her world turned from dark secure comfort to tattered grey? Where had the ruddy glow bleeding through her awareness come from? The blood trail was stronger, darker and deeper. Swirling, around and around, like the petals of a flower unfolding to drive away her security.

That which might have been a dark coloured rose, became something dark and pulsing and throbbed like a living, breathing 'thing' from some dark nightmare.

Like blood.

Red like blood bleeding through her awareness.

The rhythmic pulsing beat was a heartbeat; a heart pumping a bloody river into her world.

She lay in a river of warm flowing blood.

Panic thrust her up and out, driving her from the crimson bed in which she lay.

"What happened to me?"

"Why is there so much blood?"

"Where is everyone?"

Voices surrounding her. Not her own questions, not her voice. Whispering, husky broken voices surrounding her.

"What happened to me?"

Someone was moving near her. There was no mistaking the restless shuffle of footsteps.

"What happened to me?"

"Why is it so dark?"

She dared not open her eyes to look. There was something very wrong and to open her eyes and see was to acknowledge it existed. She was afraid she did not want it to exist.

Whatever it was.

"What happened to me?"

She wanted to hold her hands to her ears and close out the husky broken voice. She did not want to hear it. She did not need to hear it.

"Bitch. You brought this on us and you refuse to see your handiwork?"

They were all around her, they had to be. Not just one but many. She did not need to see whatever was out there. It was not real.

"What more could one expect from an arrogant Oz sycophant?"

Fear receded before her rising anger. Sycophant? Bitch? Who was casting aspirations against her? She did not need to stand here and take such insults from inferior lackeys. Just who did they think they were to dismiss her as a sycophant? Live in her shoes, see the world as she had seen it, pay the price she had payed and perhaps then they might have cause to call her bitch, but sycophant? Never. She had her own mind, her own ideas and the will to attain.

Eyes snapped open.

The pulsing ruddy red glow was not blood as she had thought, but the steady pulsing of the emergency lights of the dome arching high above her head. Wide-eyed she looked above her at the gantry, watching the rhythmic pulse of the red lights, recognizing where she was.

Base Dome.

She had woken from her nightmare to find herself standing beneath the base dome. She must have been sleepwalking, something she had not done since she was a very young child. It was disturbing enough, but given the rising stress lately she supposed it was hardly a surprise that she should entertain nightmares.

/Why are the emergency alert lights on?/

"What happened to me?"

There is was again, that broken voice, asking the question she did not want to answer-but should that not be a part of the nightmare?

There was movement near her, the shuffle of feet and rustle of fabric. The whisper was husky, the voice scratchy, as though long unused and it came from behind her.

Sudden fear of being seen at less than her best was dismissed as irrelevant. She had been a Specials Officer and, though appearance was important, should circumstances require it, running naked through the base would be overlooked. Specials Officers were expected to meet every situation with personal pride and an aplomb that would put all others at least three ranks beneath her own. Dignity would be maintained if one stood naked in a crowded marketplace and simply refused to acknowledge one's lack of clothing.

Long gone, her days as a Specials Officer, but the ramrod stiff back still remained to her and pride alone could clothe her.

She would be wearing the sweats she customarily wore to bed, unless she had managed to interest her bed partner in night time games. Then let them see the sweat of passion well spent on her and grovel in jealousy. They all wanted him, envied her place at his side and in his bed. Glancing down to be certain of her dignity, she was more than surprised to discover herself clad in the uniform of a Sanc Imperial Guard.

"What the…?"

"What happened to me?"

Irritation sparked into sudden unreasoning anger and she turned, sharp words dying on the tip of her tongue and becoming a horrified gurgle.

"Help me." Husky whisper.

"Please." Lost sounding, vague as though he did not know where he was or what he asked. A harsh croak.

"I don't understand," broken whisper, her voice thick and pained. "Why?"

She was not alone beneath the dome.

They shuffled about her, looking lost and confused. She had seen enough battle to have more than a passing acquaintance with death, but this… this was different. This was surreal.

This was frightening.

Blood stained the front of her work blouse, dripping in a continuous stream from the wound above her left breast. She shuffled past, a slow stumbling shuffle, sightless eyes staring unseeing.

"What happened to me?"

No one could have survived such a wound, yet the woman shuffled closer and the husky whisper she had found so annoying moments ago came again.

"What happened to me?"

Annoying had graduated to horrifying.

"Oh...my...God."

Her eyes were blue but there was nothing bright and alive about them; they were filmed over, almost opaque and shadowed. Her eyes were hauntingly empty. This shuffling woman surely could not see. Her skin, once warm and lightly tanned, was sallow and her lips barely moved as she whispered and they were blue. Blood dripped as she shuffled forward, a trail of bloody footprints in her wake.

Gagging, certain she would be sick, she stumbled to one side and watched this sick parody of a woman she vaguely recognized shamble past. The mussed dark haired head did not turn to her, or acknowledge her in any way and the corpse shuffled on.

She was dead. She had to be dead. No one could survive such a wound. She was dead but she was walking, whispering again and again in her horrible husky voice. Endlessly asking what had happened to her.

Stumbling backward in horror she turned, intending to run. She had seen death before, but never like this. This was surreal, otherworldly. It was not possible for the dead to be walking and talking to her.

She was still trapped in nightmare.

A broad back blocked her path, a bald head and broad shoulders in the jumpsuit favoured by the male population. She recognized him. Peter Mardal, mechanical engineer assigned to work with the maintenance unit modifying converters.

Relieved she reached out and grasped his shoulder, turning him to face her. "Peter, what the hell…"

The shriek died before it was voiced. She was no screaming, weak-kneed female, but this was almost enough to freak her out. Almost.

She stumbled back, wishing she could immerse her hands in hot soapy water and scrub away the blood. Backing away from the man with the blood stained chest, a wide gash in his throat and a moaning gurgle his attempt at speech. It set her hackles up . He was trying to talk, shuffling, moaning and gurgling on his own blood.

Reaction set in and she was running, fleeing from the horror of a world gone wrong.

What was happening? What had she woken to?

They were dead.

It was horrible, unreal, the stuff of nightmares.

A waking nightmare.

A nightmare.

Yes.

She was in her bed and it was all just a nightmare. She would wake and find herself in bed… next to him. She would wake up and the first thing she would do was wake him and he would understand her distress and make gentle love to her. He would love her and drive the horror of the dream from her.

As she had done for him, countless times.

It was just a nightmare.

She had not been troubled by nightmares of the war since she had taken herself to his bed. His solid warmth was enough to keep the horrors at bay. She saw life when he was close, not death; not the past but the future.

Why was she trapped in nightmare if he was there, beside her, warm and alive and deliciously sexy?

There were more of them. Stumbling shapes in the bloody light. There seemed to be so many of them. Wherever she looked there was someone shuffling, stumbling on dead feet.

"You!"

There was nothing eerie about that parade ground bellow.

"Oz bitch."

A sibilant hiss of rage and she spun, seeking who called her. Looking for the ones who were angry with her.

"It was you!"

They had not been standing there beneath the dome when she had run from the dead, she was sure of that, though they had been near to disturb her sanctuary and bring her into this horror.

She staggered to a stop, backing slowly. He was a big man and his dark eyes were very much alive. Fire glared at her with a profound hatred.

No one had ever looked at her like this. Not even during the war had she confronted this level of hatred.

"It was your fault we came to this."

Turning she saw her second accuser. They both wore combat fatigues and they moved as though they knew what they were doing. He was glaring at her, dark eyes filled with the same unholy fire.

Their eyes were not dead. Not lost.

Their eyes burned.

"You are to blame for this!" Venom dripped from his every word.

"It was you." He stalked closer, he hunter to she who was the prey.

She backed to the side, placing both men within her vision, unwilling to turn her back to either. Edging slowly away from them, angling herself to keep them within her sight at all times.

These two were dangerous. She needed to remember her training, or they would take her down.

It was surreal, the bloody light of the dome and the walking dead surrounding her. She could see the smouldering remnants of what had once been the elevator block, belching poisonous fumes into the air. Beyond the elevator block she could see the Shuttle Control Tower which seemed oddly twisted, and everywhere there were shuffling half seen shapes in the gloom.

She was surrounded by the dead.

Was everyone dead?

Everyone?

Was he dead?

Her terror receded beneath a surge of anger. She snarled at them, a wordless sound of warning to keep their distance. If they dared come closer she would kill them again.

The realization of her thoughts stopped her, freezing her to the spot. Kill them… again?

She had… killed…

Taking to her heels seemed so attractive. She needed distance between herself and the dead. She needed a safe place to do some serious thinking. They wore combat fatigues and they were familiar, though she was certain she did not know them. She had killed sparingly in the war, training her pilots to survive…

No, no that was wrong.

Through the war, yes, she had been an Instructor and had taught her students to survive, but this was the Base Dome on Mars. The war had never come so far as Mars.

These men were soldiers and their fatigues were not those of Alliance Soldiers. Similar, yes, but not Alliance. Their faces even had a certain familiarity to her. She must have encountered them at one time.

They were soldiers and thus it would not be advisable to turn her back on them and take to her heels. Such stupidity could get her killed.

Might she wake up now? She had identified a threat and the dead still walked. Why? Why could she not wake up?

She dared to edge away. She knew the layout of the dome and knew there was not much in the way of cover. Edge away, watch them, and spare quick glances about her to determine if others were in her immediate vicinity, this was only a stop gap measure. There had to be more she could do.

Don't look at the gaping wounds.

Why did so many people have wounds in their throat?

These soldiers were unlike the woman and the engineer. Those two had been so obviously dead, their staring unseeing eyes left no doubt of their condition. These two, the soldiers, were likewise dead, though she could see no visible wounds to explain their condition. On an instinctive level she knew they were dead, but they were on fire with… hate.

They hated her. These soldiers hated her, but the other two had seemed so lost. Lost and confused. Why should two be lost and two be stalking her, waiting for an opportunity to bring her down?

/What the hell is happening?/

They were not following her, she realized, pausing to glance between the two men. They had been stalking her mere seconds ago, but now they held back, allowing her to move away from them. She had been edging toward Hydroponics Dome Three and they had been stalking her, keeping pace with her. Glaring death at her.

She had to be missing something.

There were others closer now. Shuffling shapes in the bloody light. A few stood motionless, seeming to stare into the bloody light and always they had those unseeing dead eyes. There were so many of them. Wherever she looked there were the dead and there seemed a prevalence of knife wounds amidst the slaughtered.

She could not truly be in the Base Dome. This location had to be a convenient subconscious projection, something familiar to give her a sense of bearing, but why would her subconscious choose here? Why the Base Dome? Why not the Victoria Base where there were so many dead whom she had failed during the war?

Did the dead walk in Victoria Base too? She could understand if they did.

Why could she not wake? It was beyond words, this horror she felt to turn around again and again and see the walking dead surrounding her. The scent of blood permeated the air and the sounds of their shuffling punctuated their moans and questions. They sought answers she did not have and all she wanted to do was wake up.

"You." Accusation dripped from the word.

In sudden terror the soldiers had circled her and managed to get behind her, she spun. No, not the soldiers, but a security guard she recognized. He had been assigned to the Central Control Tower. He was bloody ruin, his body riddled with gunshot wounds, blood covering him from head to toe. His eyes were that same cloudy, unseeing but staring gaze, but unlike the others she knew he could see her. She could feel the focus of his dead eyes and there was anger there, though not the raging hatred the soldiers directed at her.

"You slut. You brought them here."

Why was everyone blaming her? What was she supposed to have done to be blamed for so many deaths?

How dare he call her a slut!

Rage sparked, submerging her fear and she sneered, hands raised to defend herself. He stood glaring with his dead eyes, his many wounds glistening with fresh blood and his hands clenched into fists.

"You brought them here to kill us! You brought them!"

From somewhere closer to the hydroponics dome a wail arose, high pitched, haunting and despairing. A single word, made into a song of such hopelessness and despair it drowned her anger beneath its weight.

"Why?"

The dead wanted to know why the massacre.

She wanted to know why too. Why could she hear the dead? Why could she see the dead? Why could she not awaken from this bad B grade horror movie?

What did they want with her? What did they want from her?

/This has to be a nightmare./

She could not answer their questions. She had no more idea of what was happening than they, but she knew the dead would not accept her plea of ignorance.

"You are to blame." He took a step closer, one single step in which he loomed large before her. "You brought this down on us."

She wanted to refute his accusation, to deny the blame lay with her for the massacre that had taken place beneath the Base Dome. She wanted to ask him questions, to ask someone questions, but all they did was accuse her and hate her.

She wanted to ask who had come to kill so bloodily and indiscriminately. She wanted to know if he was dead. What of her babies? Why would no one talk to her, relieve her fears?

Her voice would not work. No words, no sound would come despite the ache in her to gain answers. Without a voice she could not ask questions, and she could not learn the answers they sought from her.

His eyes, dead eyes, followed her; accused her. Reviled her.

She backed away, careful steps to one side of him, unwilling to turn her back to him. He watched her, unmoving, only his eyes tracked her and accused her. He made no move to follow her, but even so she felt the demand she acknowledge her guilt.

"I did nothing."

Where the words came from to deny him she did not understand. They slipped from her but left a bitter acrid taste in her mouth, and she ran toward the hydroponics dome rising to one side of her. The dead shuffled forward between her and the protection of the dome, cutting her off from what she hoped to make her protection. In mounting fear she turned aside, angling toward the Main Control Tower. She had taken all of three long strides before terror ripped through her.

There was a change beneath the Base Dome.

She could feel it; a menacing sensation crawled up her spine, teasing her with fear as it focused on her. It was there, somewhere near and it recognized her.

Deepening anger permeated the dome. A profound rage that trembled in the air surrounding her, freezing her feet to the spot.

It was somewhere near. It was focused on her and it wanted blood.

Her blood.

Not simply rage, but a pure unadulterated hatred.

It was ice and it was fire. It grew stronger the longer she stood staring about her. It grew to suffuse the air, the ground, and the very clothes on her back.

"It was you, bitch."

She threw herself to one side, away from the expected blow which did not come, but he was standing close, glaring his hatred. His eyes burned fire into hers, but it was not from him the hatred emanated.

There was hate in him, but his hate was insignificant in comparison to this building fury. Hatred, anger, pure venom and a thirst to rend her limb from limb.

His rage was different, very real and more focused than it had been, but now there was a desperation there had not been minutes before.

"I have family! I have a wife and son who need me and you killed me!"

His scream was almost a wail and she took a cautious step away from him. She was unwilling to confront him with this other more volatile focus on her. He blamed her for his death and somewhere deep inside of her, she had the uneasy feeling his accusation was valid.

There was no use denying she felt a certain familiarity when she looked at this man. Whether it was his voice, or something about his appearance, she was uncertain, but she knew she knew him. She had at least seen him somewhere in the recent past, perhaps spoken to him, but where and when?

He did not wear the uniform of the Alliance and he was certainly not a Specials Officer, nor was he of a lower Oz rank. Combat fatigues were not the uniform assigned to the security service on Mars, and everything about him screamed career soldier.

"I may not have a family I was forced to leave behind, but I had a life… friends. You took that away from me."

The second soldier.

She dove sideways, rolling back to her feet with them safely within her field of vision. They were fire-eyed and radiating murderous rage, their hatred and loathing of her unmistakable and she sidled backwards, intent on getting away from them. She needed more distance.

Could she fight what was already dead? There was a greater threat coming, though she could not place a name to it. It was there, radiating hatred and the desire to kill messily. It radiated blood lust and it was not these men, but they menaced her too and how did one fight the dead?

"Running? You never ran away before. You leaped in to kill quickly enough before."

The soldier claiming a family stalked forward, poised for melee, intent on her. "I will teach you what it was you deprived me of. They were everything to me!"

She would learn soon enough if she could take down the dead. If they could attack her, do her physical harm, then surely she could attack them.

"No! She is mine. She must pay and I will make her pay."

/Oh goody. They intend to fight over the right to rend me limb from limb?/

Was it possible to reason with the angry dead?

She wanted to talk to them. She needed to speak to them, to learn what was happening. The secret of this nightmare lay with the dead, but how did one get the dead to surrender information? Those dead she had spoken with did not seem inclined to pass the time of day, let alone inform her of the rules of engagement in this warped version of reality.

They were edging closer, moving apart, attempting to circle her and she could not permit it. She must keep them in her line of sight, or they would take her down.

"I was obeying orders!" The first snarled at her, slinking further to one side, forcing her to dance backward to keep them both in her sight.

"We were obeying orders." He growled, stepping and speaking slower than his fellow soldier, his fists clenched, eyes burning.

"Recon. Look the place over, check out the layout. No direct contact. Do not engage. Recon only."

She knew that face, if not his voice, though it too was familiar. Who he was and when they had met would not come to her, but she knew that recognition was closer now.

"We had orders and like good soldiers we obeyed them. Look. Learn the lay of the land. Place people and faces. Do not engage."

A queasy sensation in the pit of her stomach, the sense of recognition stronger now. With it the feeling she had somehow been at fault.

"No contact. Recon. Do not engage. Did you give us time to acknowledge your presence? We had no time to breathe, only die."

"Murderous bitch. You never gave us a chance."

They were moving further apart, flanking her and forcing her further and further back, but how far back could she go? There were other dead wandering around and what if they too attacked her? What if that other lurking, ravening 'thing' that was pure hate fell upon her while they kept her distracted.

"You moved in for the kill without thinking."

"You murdered us."

"Oz Specials Officer. A disgrace to the uniform, to attack without provocation. Didn't the vaunted Specials pride themselves on their nobility of action?"

No. No, this was not right. They were wrong. It was all wrong.

She had murdered no one!

"Murderer."

From somewhere behind her a chorus of voices rose in a ragged chant. Murderer. Murderer. They damned her, condemned her, gave her no opportunity to defend herself. Ragged, rasping, dead voices whispering endless accusations.

"Did you give us a chance?"

"Specials bitch. Full of your own righteousness. The always superior Specials."

"Murderer. Murderer."

"Fucking Nobles of Oz. Always thought they were better than anyone else."

"Murderer. Murderer."

"All praise the murdering bitch who even betrayed the tenets of the Specials."

"Murderer. Murderer."

They were closer. When had she stopped moving? Why had she stopped moving? Her feet did not want to work and she needed to run. They were too close.

"Murderer. Murderer." Moaning haunting whispers filling the dome, feeding that ravening hatred separate to her accusers. Goading it to new heights of rage. "Murderer."

"Order of the Zodiac." Full of hate and spite and a bloody wad of spittle landed at her feet.

"A bunch of killers, the same as everyone else. Blue-blood killers, but killers nonetheless."

"Murderer. Murderer."

"Kill and move on, forget about the dead. They are of no further consequence. They are just dead."

"Won't work, Specials bitch. Merquise's whore. T he dead don't forget." A sibilant hiss.

They were wrong. They were wrong and death had warped them, taken their human understanding and replaced it with a cold emptiness. They could not understand the living. They saw things only from their warped and twisted perspective, and she had to remember that and not permit them to out psyche her.

She had never committed murder in all of her years as a Specials Officer. She had honoured the Specials oaths and killed only in battle and in defence of innocence.

She had killed, yes, she would not deny it.

She had killed for the peace, for the future. She had killed to defend the innocent. She had killed to bring about a better world for everyone.

She had not murdered.

"Afraid?"

"You should be."

She wanted to scream at them to leave her alone, to shut up. No sound; again her voice would not work. She could not speak; she was voiceless and defenceless against the accusing dead.

"Do you not know us, even now?"

"Have you not recognized your own handiwork?"

"Murderer. Murderer."

"Do you know who we were?"

"We were following orders."

"Murderer. Murderer. Murderer." Over and over again, rasping dead voices, condemning her, blaming her. Punishing her.

"Did you think of anyone other than yourself?"

"Do you ever bother to think of anyone but yourself?"

Circling her again, step by slow step. Forcing her body to move backwards, though each stumbling step was harder than anything she could ever remember doing. If she could keep them in sight she might retain the upper hand. She needed to block out the accusations, find a solid shelter for her back and then she could face them.

She would have to face them before that other vibrant hatred descended over her.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2007


	182. Chapter 182 Chapter 181

Alternative Directions: Options: Mars

Alternative Directions: Options: Mars

Chapter 181

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 4:25 Approximate Sanc Time 02:16

Noin

"Murderer."

They were all around her, shuffling closer, dead eyes staring, calling her names; accusing her.

She needed to gain distance from them; put distance between them so she might think and not fear for her life while she considered her situation.

"Why?"

"Murderer."

She needed to put something solid at her back. With something solid behind her she need only guard three sides, not a great improvement on her present situation, but an improvement none-the-less.

"What did I do that deserved this?"

The closest building which might serve her purpose was Hydroponics Dome Three, and to reach that she must expose herself to more of them; running the gauntlet before she could reach its relative safety. The dead were between her and it in ever increasing numbers and she had to wonder how many had died this day.

Behind her and to the left lay the Main Control Tower, a little further away than the Hydroponics Dome, but there were not so many zombies between her and it. They were her choices and she would need to decide. The dead were uncomfortably close and if she did not move soon they would hem her in from all sides.

"Murderer."

"Am I dead? I can't be dead."

Bolting and making a direct run for either the Tower or the Dome would not be wise. She would need to work her way carefully through them, watching them. They had cut her off once and she would not permit it again. If she aimed for the Tower she could lock herself within it and lock the dead outside. The Shuttle Control Tower might be a possibility too. It was a little further from her current position, but three options were always better than two.

"Why?"

She must be certain none of the dead could come at her from behind. Hydroponics Dome Three was the closest, though she was facing the wrong way and would need to run in an arc. Instinct screamed run, but something cautioned against it. If she bolted she knew they would have her.

These two in combat fatigues were too alert. They moved normally, not the shuffling, lost stumble so many of the other dead used. They would have her, be on her before she could fend them off.

How did one kill the dead?

/Am I dead?/

The towers might be her better choice. If she ran in an arc and slipped through the ever closing knot about her, she would be almost half way between the two towers. If the dead moved to close her off from the Main Control tower she could fall back to the Shuttle Control Tower and still gain shelter and time.

"Did you give no thought to us having lives?"

If only they would shut up and stop asking her the same questions over and over again. They were all speaking, all whispering, all of them.

"What will my son's life be like because you killed me?"

She never wondered if they had family. You did not do that if you were a soldier.

"Specials only think of themselves."

To consider your opponent as a person was to make yourself vulnerable. They had been taught to not see the enemy as human, though they must acknowledge it was a fellow human they fought against. It was contrary, but it was what Specials had been taught.

"Murdered."

"Murderer."

Put that safe distance between you and your opponent and you would be more likely to survive. Remember always a combat situation was kill or be killed.

Those had been her instructions.

"Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue?"

A quick dash was all it would take and she had had enough of them stalking her; playing with her.

Her body was heavy and weighed her down. Her feet refused to lift from the ground. The harder she tried to run the more solidly she found herself planted to the concrete.

They circled her, grinning like death itself, but they did not come for her.

She almost sobbed.

Her feet remained planted to the ground and she could not run. The Hydroponics Dome and the towers were there, within easy running distance, but she could not move.

"What did you think? Did you assume there would be no accounting?"

"We all have an accounting. Sooner or later. All of us dead."

"I'm not dead!"

She was a Specials Officer and she was no one's toy. She felt like bursting into tears, defying them and denying them. She was not dead. There was too much for her to do to be dead.

They were playing with her, these two. One shifted forward, smirking and she wanted to move back from him, just slide a foot slowly backward and shift away from him. They were trying to work her into the open, encircling her and pushing her into the wide open space.

Those who had been work colleagues were shuffling aimlessly, mumbling and looking lost. Some were beginning to display emotion, or what she assumed was emotion. On some it looked like confusion leading toward anger. The lost ones who had no understanding at all simply shuffled in circles. Those more aware seemed to be gravitating toward her.

"What is it like to be dead? Personally I am not impressed by it. I was not ready to die."

"Neither was I, but I'm dead. We all are dead."

"Thanks to you."

They were playing with her.

Something shifted.

Cold, hard. Evil, her mind named it, even as her common sense claimed that to be stupid. Evil and good were not defined by something you could not see and touch, that flickered on and off like a light switch. But it was out there.

Something… hard.

Something… thirsting.

Her head snapped back to find one of the soldiers had ventured closer, grinning; malevolent.

"It would be better for you to surrender to us. We would be kinder."

The bloody light in the dome flickered, darkening.

Her foot moved. Tentatively she took a slow step backwards, away from him and there was no resistance. Hope surged and she leapt forward, intending to run… and her feet remained on the concrete.

The malevolent 'thing' seemed stronger. Wherever she looked the despair and confusion of the dead seemed to be growing. They were slowing too, barely moving. Some already had come to a stop.

She could not run. Whatever this place was she could not run from it. It was a trap, she understood that, but she could not name the trap. It had something to do with the growing cold, and the lights were definitely dimming.

The soldiers who walked slow circles around her were as affected as the other dead. The constant whispering was dying, silence rising, and with it fear.

What would make the dead afraid?

No one whispered 'murderer' to her now. No one spoke in their emotionless whispers. It was all quiet and they were still, as though they listened to the cold darkness slowly filling the dome.

What ever it was that stalked her, the dead feared it. It was something that belonged in the dark and burning places best left unmentioned. It belonged away from the light and the living. Evil was a word that sprang to mind and she could not dismiss it, though she had never before considered the concepts of good and evil as physical forms.

Somehow this was physical.

Even the dead feared it.

"It is our right."

The soldier to her left whispered, but his words sounded more like an appeal to her than a demand.

He feared it. She could tell. He and his companion were wary. They had a certain respect for it, but they feared it.

It was not just her who sensed the growing darkness, the oncoming malevolence. The dead knew it was there.

That did not make her one of them. She was not dead. She was not.

The soldiers looked hesitant, the fire in their eyes dimming. They did not move, though whether they could not, or chose not to, she did not know. If she had a choice she would be running as fast as her legs would carry her. Anywhere, any direction, so long as it was away from the oncoming 'thing'.

"You took our future." He who claimed to have family moaned.

"You killed me. I had the right to live."

"We had the right."

They looked confused and the confidence was less in their stance and a note of unease was betrayed in their voices. They edged toward her and there was no threat in their action. Looking about her she saw the dead were moving again, though this time not as they had been before, hunting her. This time they seemed drawn to her, each one shivering as though in a chill. Each one whispering, moaning in distress; coming toward her as though they expected her to protect them.

That was idiocy.

Their distress chilled her. There were no whispers of murderer now. No questions or accusations. The whispers were moans of fear.

"We are dead. Damned. All of us." The soldier with family pressed hands to his eyes. "What will they do without me?"

"They will go on. We all do what we have to do." She whispered, looking hesitantly around at the gathering dead.

"You did not have to kill. You are no better than them."

"They are bad enough, a horror, evil."

Them?

"They are insane and you set them loose."

Them?

What 'them'? She had progressed from being named murderer, to being accused of setting something loose. Something evil.

"Lu?"

"This is the Base Dome? It looks… strange."

"Why…? Blood? Why am I covered in blood?"

The dead seemed more aware. The nearer they drew to her the more coherent they became. The more fearful.

"What happened? Are we… dead?"

"What happened to me?" Forlorn wail in the growing gloom.

"I don't understand."

"Why do I have blood on me?" She stumbled, hands held out before her, dead eyes pleading for answers.

"Am I dead?"

"Why can I not wipe off the blood?"

As if she had answers. She had no idea what was happening and why were they looking to her as though she knew?

"I do not want to be dead."

The ruddy glow was dimming, darkening.

The dead were all around her.

It was a strange darkness. Not really blackness, more a change in the quality of the light. The bloody glow was more pronounced, deeper, colouring everything.

She could see them moving, see and hear their shuffling steps and she knew they were all coming to her.

They were coming directly to her, drawn like moths to a flame.

There was no where to run. Even could she convince her feet to move.

"We have the right of retribution!" The shouted appeal originated from the dead soldier to her left.

She glared at him only to find his attention was not on her, but directed over his shoulder. At what, or whom, she could not see, so dim was the light.

"Is it not enough it ended badly? Must we have no recourse to revenge?"

/What ended badly?/ The thought startled her. "What is going on? I have to wake up."

"Fool. You think this is a dream?" He glowered at her, spitting a wad of blood at her. "You think this a nightmare?"

"No nightmare." His companion whispered, staring off into the darkness. "This is real. This is all there is. This accursed nowhere… and Them."

"I don't understand. What ended badly? What is this place? Why are you here? Why am I here?"

They laughed. Low and bitter, and of all the dead shuffling toward her, only they found anything amusing about her question. At the end, they seemed almost to be crying.

"What ended badly? We did. We ended badly because of you."

Not real. It could not be real. It had to be a nightmare. If they were real then she was… no, she would not think it. She would not acknowledge it.

"Is this not a nightmare?" A nightmare, nothing more.

"You are dead."

"We all are dead."

"Even Them. Even Her."

She did not understand. She was not deeply religious, nor was she an atheist. No, there might well be something after death, but it surely was not this cold dark representation of the Base Dome. She had spoken to soldiers who had had near death experiences, and some had been described to her. They were nothing like this.

"I am not dead. This is a nightmare."

Presences moving about her, shuffling. She flinched; almost certain hands were reaching for her, though she could not see anyone close enough to touch. A rising murmur threatened to send her screaming at them all to be silent, to give her a chance to think.

"My son has no father because of you."

"Why would I be dead? I was planting flowers."

"I want to live."

"I was watering plants. How can I die from that?"

"I want to live."

"I am not dead!"

"I can not be dead!"

"No. No! This is all wrong."

"I can not die here. I have family… I must return to my family."

"I am not dead. I am alive."

"You are dead. We all are dead."

A wail rent the air, a lament from the dead, by the dead, for the dead.

None of it made sense.

She must be dreaming. A nightmare and a bad one at that, but nothing more than a dream.

"You might wish." A sibilant hiss from deep within the gathering gloom.

The light was darker now, the colour of old blood. Darker, more menacing.

"No dream, Miss high and mighty Specials. No dream for you to escape our retribution." The voice came from somewhere amid the dead.

It was low, vile and poisonous.

The shuffling of the dead stilled. The air seemed to ache with the silence. Fear was becoming a tangible thing. Even the two soldiers were silent, waiting.

"I am alive. This is a dream. Nothing more than a nightmare the like of which I have had a hundred times in the past."

Not exactly the truth, she admitted, but only to herself. She had had nightmares before, but nothing quite like this one. It did not matter though, she was not going to allow anyone to play her for a fool. Not even in a dream.

"It's time to pay the Piper." Whispering rasp from somewhere to her left.

"Everyone has to pay the Piper. Eventually." Sing song whisper, female and was that a shape, flitting between the dead?

"It is time you understand what you have done. To us. To them."

Though there was no movement from the dead, and none spoke, still she could recall their wails and questions too vividly. They were lost, perhaps more lost than she and something needed to be done. She needed desperately to wake from this horror, to get past it and weep for the dead. She would probably weep for the living as well.

"I have done nothing!"

"You have killed us!

Old blood darkness surrounded her, obscuring her vision. A charnel house reek became stronger, growing in the gloom; the scent of old blood and death.

Blood and hate. The earmarks of war.

She had fought in the war to end all wars. She had played her part in the horror to ensure there would be no more wars to rend families apart. Her part in that play could not have brought her to this.

"Who did not fight in the war?" Someone amid the darkness scoffed at her.

Had she spoken her thoughts aloud? Could the dead now read her very thoughts?

"We fought too. We bled."

"Did you? Did you bleed?"

"We survived the war." The soldier pressed a hand to his face. "We fought the war for a better future and you killed us."

"You alone did not survive the war." His partner stared at her, not now with accusation, but with an honest question. "What did you fight for?"

"Peace." She had fought to bring about peace.

That was what the war was all about, teaching everyone the horrors of war and removing the weapons of mass destruction that they might know peace.

She had thought she had lost everything that meant anything to her in that war to end all wars. He had come back, with the rise of war once more he had come back, to see how well the lessons he had sought to teach had been learned.

He? He who?

"Everyone fought for peace. Everyone and no one." The words escaped her before her thoughts could catch up with her mouth.

"Why were we fighting if everyone wanted peace?"

"God the dead are pathetic." The voice was laced with wry amusement, dark and wretched. A sibilant hiss in a females tones. There was something seductive in the amused drawl. Something seductive… and terrible.

"Take not the Lord's name in vain! Blasphemer!" Someone in the field of silent dead stirred; someone who trembled and just for an instant Noin thought she saw movement beyond them.

"Will you pass on already, you righteous berk? You know you are dead now, so get the hell out of our way."

"You are nothing to us; pass on to whatever hell awaits you."

Hell?

Did they honestly expect there to be a Heaven and Hell?

Nightmare. It had to be a nightmare and it was getting progressively worse, progressively weirder. In honesty, it had progressed to the weird stage when it could be nothing other than nightmare, and she would surely wake from it any second.

"We all fought for peace, we all fought to live." A mutter from somewhere amid the gathered dead.

"Here they come, the moralists; the religious idiots and the just plain stupid." The snide comment was accompanied by a derisive chuckle.

There were other amused sniggers, snide; terrible in their honest amusement. That dark malevolence was not one entity, but many. She was sure of it.

"Stupid bitch. Look at you. Lucrezia Noin. Stupid, self righteous, sanctimonious bitch. It is your fault I am here, listening to this drivel." One of the soldiers, but he made no move to approach her nor to leave her vicinity. "They are here because of you! They are drawn to you."

The gathering darkness surged. She flinched, trying not to cower before it. Something wholly malevolent was near. The whispers amid the dead fell silent as it grew more defined. The silence was more terrible than their wailing and moaning had been.

"She is coming."

"She has cause to hate you. More cause than we, I suppose, though you killed us just as you killed her."

His voice come from further away than she expected and the gloom grew thick about her, hiding the dead from her sight, though it offered no comfort she herself might be hidden.

"She is insane."

"It would appear we are to be robbed of our vengeance."

"No satisfaction, even in death."

Whispers in the darkness. She could barely see her hand before her face now and the light was more black than red, but there was that reddish element to it that so disturbed her. She had never seen a light like it. Or darkness, she mused.

"Who will care for those we leave behind?"

"I was not ready to die."

"I left things undone."

"I am not dead." She firmly stated her denial, more to herself than to any who might listen.

"We all are. All of us. Dead."

"Blood stained hands. We have blood on our hands, all of us. Our own, if not others."

"You sound so… bitter." Did she sound as bitter as he?

"Of course I am bitter. Look what I have lost."

"Who would not be bitter? Do your job and see your reward."

"Recon. We were looking, placing people and faces. Why should we not be bitter to have died as we did? We were not there to fight!"

"No contact, the Commander said. Look only."

She stared into the darkness, but there was only the red gloom. She could not see them or feel them, only hear them.

"Recon. Non hostile base. Keep away from Marquise and you. Yes, I am bitter."

"You had no cause to kill us."

She scowled into the gloom. "I do not kill innocents!"

"We were doing our job and did not attack. You attacked."

"You would not know innocence if you fell over it." He scoffed.

"We should know. You fell over us." Wry amusement coloured the whisper.

"This is a dream and I will wake up now."

The darkness grew, the red deepening, and it seemed she floated in blood. She could breathe, she could feel warm liquid against her flesh; she could smell that unique copper scent of blood. It was all around her, but she could breathe.

Fear. She must not allow the darkness to enfold her. There was an urgency awakening within her to awake from the dream. An awareness of danger growing stronger.

"Bitch!"

About her the blood rippled. All became still, the soldiers who had been close seemed distant now, fading into the blood that stained her world.

They were afraid. They feared what was coming and fled before it. What made the dead fear?

"Bitch! I know you are there!"

Something terrible, unholy. Evil.

"I can feel you."

Something insane.

"She is coming." His voice; he who had family. "Time to go. No retribution, no revenge. Nothing."

Flutter of movement somewhere in the liquid darkness. Her senses strained to hear movement, to hear whispers, to detect anything…They were leaving her.

Leaving her alone in this blood with the insanity drawing near. They were leaving her to deal with it.

"I want my turn at her."

If she could feel her lip no doubt it would be curling in disgust. That harsh whispered snarl had reminded her of something dirty, oily and smelly.

"Insane. That is what they are. Insane." The soldiers whisper, fading.

"Who is?" She knew there would be no answer and if there was, it would be unsatisfactory.

The darkness enfolded her. Silence from the barrier surrounding her. It was warm, liquid and almost peaceful. It could be beautiful to lie here, floating in warm blood, if not for the discord approaching.

She could feel it coming closer.

"Who is coming? Who is insane? They? Who are they?"

Nothing. No voices now. No whispers of the dead. No moaning. No soldiers who at least spoke to her with intelligence. She was alone.

"I can see you. Can you see me?"

Not quiet alone.

"Noin." Low throaty chuckle. "Lucrezia Noin. I have been waiting for you."

She sensed movement near her and recoiled, but nothing touched her. It was there though, she knew it. Hate flavoured the very darkness. A cold, vicious all consuming hatred.

She would wake up now.

"I will rend you limb from limb."

She would wake now!

"I will skin you alive, tearing strips of flesh from your bones."

Now!

Closer. It was coming closer. Just out of her sight. Just out of her reach.

"Have you nothing to say to me?"

She tried to resist the shaking. She would show no fear. She was better than that, to be spooked by a lack of light and a few muttered threats. She was better than that.

"I don't even know who you are!"

"Ah, but you do. Oh yes, you do."

There was something… about the voice…

"I am coming for you. I see you. I see you trembling with fear. You will know what fear is when I have finished with you."

Something about the voice… She was insane.

"I will have my revenge."

She.

"I want you to hurt. I want you to hurt the way I hurt. I want you to be humiliated the way you humiliated me."

She wanted blood. More, she wanted pain and to assert her superiority.

"Noin the Bitch. Noin the Slut. Noin the Fool."

From somewhere in the darkness, further away than the insane ramblings of whatever, who ever, stalked her, there was something else. Something low, rhythmic. An odd beeping sound, repeating again and again. She was certain it had not been there before, but it was there now and it was monotonous. It was distracting her from the threat.

You are dead, Noin. What does it feel like to be dead?"

Dead? She thought she had answered that already.

"I am not dead."

"Oh, but you are. You are dead and you are mine."

Was that noise fading? The beeping. Was that the low hum of a machine?

"Dead, Noin. Dead. Dead. Dead."

"I am alive!"

She was heartily fed up with listening to the rambling. It was torture of a most annoying sort to be circled by this insane entity that was so familiar, yet she could not name.

"You failed and now you are dead and I shall get to play. I'll make certain your death is, indeed, hell."

"Go to hell yourself."

Where was that humming coming from? She hated mysteries, and the disembodied sounds were far more intriguing than the annoying woman who snipped at her with useless words.

Woman?

"It was all because of you. The deaths. The reason They came. All because of you."

"Don't be stupid." She denied responsibility, denied the accusation.

Pain lanced into her, for an instant clawed fingers; nails dripping with blood, raked through her arm and maniacal laughter rent the bloody darkness.

"I have not, and never will be, stupid, Noin. I thought we knew each other better than that. We used to tell each other confidences after all. You never knew I was lying, did you?"

Bloodied hands pushed through the darkness to hover, disembodied before her. A clawed fingernail delicately ran down her nose and deftly avoided the swipe of her hand.

"You don't remember? Ah, pity. I suppose it does not matter. I will enjoy torturing you whether you remember why you are in pain or not. You deserve it for what you did."

"I don't… I… am alive."

"You are dead."

The beeping was gone. The hum of the machine was gone. Her certainty of life was faltering.

The hands with their claw like nails danced around her, catching in her hair, pulling gently, once, twice… a third pull, designed purely to inflict pain, sudden, sharp and vicious.

"Dead, Noin. Dead like me. You can not escape me now. You can only kill me once."

Fear clawed at her gut. For a timeless moment she did not understand why she feared. It was not the pain; it was not the darkness, or the viciousness emanating from the darkness. It was the voice.

She knew that voice.

"No one does that to me and gets away with it. No one."

She knew the voice. The hands dripping with blood she recognized, the nails with their blood red polish, darker than the blood dripping from them. She knew those hands.

"Especially not you, bitch."

"I beat you before. I can beat you a hundred times."

"Dead, Noin. Remember?"

"I am alive!"

"How can the living defeat the dead, hmmm? If you are alive how can you hurt the dead?"

No. That was not right… was it? No, she was… alive.

Why did she dream of the dead?

Somewhere in the bloody darkness there was a sound she must find. A sound she must find and cling to. It was her life line, her surety of escaping the nightmare. How could she have failed to understand and let it go? She had to find it again.

"I will take great delight in clawing you apart. I will drag you down to hell, piece by piece. We can take a thousand years to do it, you know. It will be wonderful, just you and me."

No. No there would be no defeat. She would not permit herself to weaken and fall into the trap.

"I am alive."

"Dead, Noin."

"I. Am. Alive." She spaced each word carefully, putting in all the conviction she could into each word.

She would thumb her nose at the bitch yet again, proving who was the stronger; who was the better. She was alive. There would be no defeat.

She would survive this battle as she had survived before. This terror had a name and she was not about to lose to a fear she had already conquered. Somewhere, some when, some how, she had escaped and in the escaping she had killed.

"I defeated you."

"You killed me. Don't you remember? You killed me, I don't understand how, but you killed me. I'm dead and so are you. We can play forever, Noin. We can play as many times as I like and you will die and die and die!" Her insane laughter shattered the stillness of the darkness, sending ripples of light through out the bloody gloom.

There had already been an accounting. She remembered… didn't she? A tower. A room… fear and anger.

The certainty she was going to die.

"Oh, you will die. In a thousand wonderful ways, you will die."

She had won once. The second time? There had been a second time. Hadn't there?

"I won't let you get away from me this time. I don't care you killed me. I don't understand how you killed me, but I will not allow it again. This is your hell. Your own personal hell. After I'm finished playing with your body I will let you rest. For a while. While you rest I will drag Him down into hell, and you can watch as I take him."

Something chillingly cold slithered down her spine. A cold, terrible dread. It was followed by a rising surge of anger. Him. Oh yes, she remembered. Him

"Zechs."

"Again and again I will make him scream in pain and in pleasure. I will show you how to make a man such as him a slave to your every need. His pleasure will make you scream more than his pain."

Zechs.

The name swam into her awareness and with it a came a cold stabbing terror. "Zechs."

"He'll be mine. I will make him mine in front of you. I'll make him scream for you. Just to show you how a real woman pleasures a man. It is a lesson I look forward to."

Zechs. There was no way she would leave him to this bitch.

She had to go back. It was not over.

"You are dead, Noin. When will you remember that?"

She would face an eternity in hell if she had to for her past sins, but she could not leave matters unfinished.

"Why do you insist on struggling? You are dead. Don't you understand? DEAD!"

"I am alive! ALIVE!"

She could feel claws reaching out toward her, but that was alright. She understood now. She could hear it, the life saving beep and rhythm of the machine. It was there, beyond the dark bloody world that was her personal nightmare.

She was alive.

She WAS alive.

She had no time to linger here, when there was so much yet to be done.

"Rot in Hell, Shanna. Alone."

00000000000000000000000000000

2nd March AC 198

Mars Colony

Base Dome

Emergency Medical Shuttle

Time: 04:56 approx Sanc time 02:47

The shrill screaming of the alarms gave way to the beep they had worked hard to achieve.

Shaking hands raked unsteadily through tousled dark hair and he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyeing the monitors even as he dared to hope. One minute and the rhythm remained stable. The spark of hope strengthened. Waiting. He ran a careful eye over the monitors, adjusted a medication control and glanced at the clock.

Two minutes and still the readings remained steady.

He shifted his feet and winced at the rustle of paper underfoot. The entire team dispatched to locate and bring this woman to the Medical Centre were treading on reams of paper. The deck of the shuttle was covered in page after page of medical readout, issued in response to crisis after crisis with the patient.

He would need to copy the record of the computers treatment of the woman, as he was not intending to gather up this litter covering the deck. For now, he could get one of his assistants to download the record while they prepared the survival unit for transfer to the Medical Centre. When Noin was installed in the Intensive Care Unit it would take a team of doctors to evaluate the results of the data.

Three minutes and still stable.

"Sir?"

He hesitated, eyeing the readouts and wondering if the simple act of releasing the deck clamps would be enough to kill her. She should already have been dead. Likely a human physician would have given up and allowed her to go, but the computer had repeatedly resuscitated her, stabilizing her time and again.

He did not understand what it was he had done in the last few minutes that had saved her. From the few readouts he had read since arriving in the shuttle, she had died and been resuscitated continually by the computer. Somehow she kept responding to the medication and stabilized.

"I want the full medical record downloaded while we prepare her for transfer to the Medical Centre. Prepare to unclamp the module. I'm not sure how much longer she can last."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2007


	183. Chapter 183 Chapter 182

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter for me

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter for me.

Alternative Directions: Options Chapter 182

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 05:05

Heero

The snap of the fire broke the tableau. Quatre blinked and looked about him, at the rustic beams overhead, the old fashioned furniture and the young man pinning him to the bed. For an awful moment Heero thought he would fight again, and he dared not relax his grip. For a timeless moment the pair stayed frozen, one holding the other down, eyeballing each other.

Quatre blinked a second time, a deep breath causing Heero to tense, expecting a renewal of the struggle.

"Can you let me up, please?"

It was not what he had expected. The very sane sounding whisper came in a husky voice, deeper than Heero was used to hearing from the blonde. The wide eyes looked up at him, calmly observing him with intelligent interest. This was more the Quatre Heero knew and recognized. His voice was low and even, infinitely reasonable. After a moment, in which Heero stared deeply at the face turned up to him, he released his grip on slender shoulders and slid off the bed.

"Thank you."

Always polite, that too was the Quatre he knew. Drawing a deep breath Heero decided the crisis was past, and he was left with the uncertainty of what to do next. After hesitating for a moment, during which Quatre remained in the bed, still and silent, he turned to the fire, deciding it would be best to encourage the flames and increase the warmth in the room. He was cold, even after the exertion of restraining Quatre, and he did not see that he needed to freeze his butt any longer than necessary.

He had no idea how long it would take Quatre to pull himself together, but he was going to wait in comfort, and decide how best to garner an explanation for the weird goings on of the night. He was desperately tired, but with the adrenaline still in his system it would be some time before he would be able to settle down to sleep. If he managed to get any further sleep.

The room was quiet except for the snap of the fire as it caught on the new wood. He was careful how he prodded the flames into life, unwilling to smother the welcome heat. His feet felt numb, and he was not inclined to develop frostbite because he could not encourage a fire properly and was too restless to crawl under warm covers and sleep the sleep of the exhausted.

/What do I say? What do I do? I will have to say something./

He was not at the best of times the talkative sort and he knew he was lacking in the social graces by the standards of polite society. What he wanted to do was shake the stuffing out of his friend, and demand to know what the hell had happened. How well such action would be received he could guess. Quatre was, despite the deceptive innocence of him, a Gundam Pilot. He had lost nothing of his reflexes from the war, and liked his personal space.

"I'm sorry."

The quiet apology startled him and he glanced over his shoulder. Quatre still lay in the rumpled bed, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper. He did not seem to have moved beneath the mound of bedding, and after a moment Heero grunted a wordless, neutral 'Hnn'. It seemed safest, though he was uncertain what else he might have said and Quatre seemed disinclined to get up, or offer anymore than that soft apology.

What was he apologizing for anyway? Having a nightmare? They all had those, some worse than others, most centred on the war. What this one had been Heero dared not even hazard a guess. It was certainly not what he had expected from the blonde and he wondered how often Trowa's nights were disturbed.

/Sensible as always. Why leave the bed and freeze? It's warm there and he has the bedding as a shield against the world./

He tossed another piece of wood onto the flames and rubbed a hand across his jaw. He was uncertain what the etiquette was in regard to talking about nightmares with a friend. Especially nightmares strongly featuring said friend's lover. Should he ask what had happened, or should he leave it alone? Did one ask for details, or did one ignore it ever happened? Ignoring such a disruption seemed stupid, and he was damnably curious. Even by Gundam Pilot standards, this nightmare seemed particularly bad.

He wanted to ask. He wanted to know what had happened; wanted to understand, but he had never been certain about the grey area of taboo subjects one constantly fell over. There were certain topics one did not discuss, even with close friends, and he thought Quatre considered him to be a friend. This dream, which seemed oddly more than a dream, might well be one of those taboos.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that."

He sighed. Something in the tone of his voice suggested Quatre wanted to talk, but was labouring under the same uncertainty as tied his tongue. He suspected neither of them knew how to begin and that was not good. Quatre had always seemed to know exactly what to say, and when to say it. The blonde had always been eloquent; and gifted in the social graces.

He had no idea where to start or what to ask. Should he find something to say, something that was safely neutral, or perhaps provocative and try to jump start a dialogue? This silence was becoming trying on his nerves.

"What was it?"

How inadequate. How thoroughly inept. 'What was it?' A nightmare, that was what it was and they were never fun. He winced and pushed a lock of hair from his eyes. He could surely have found something better than that to say, but that was all that presented itself at the tip of his tongue. It was all that came to mind; 'What was it?' the only coherent thought in his head.

"I think- I think it may have been-"

Oddly, Quatre seemed not to think it so stupid and obvious a question. He seemed to fumble over the words, uncertain what to say, though he had been given the opening. If Quatre was unable to speak he was more than simply shaken up by the nightmare. Heero had never known the blonde to be speechless. He could surely count the number of times Quatre had been speechless on the fingers of one hand, and have fingers left over.

"I think Trowa was dreaming."

"What?" The word was startled out of him by the sheer unexpectedness of the statement.

Of everything Heero could possibly imagine Quatre might have said that was, perhaps, the most shocking, because it was not on his list of possibilities. What he had expected he did not exactly know, though now he thought on it he perhaps had expected Quatre to attempt to dismiss it as a nightmare. Common enough, but no, that was not what he had done.

What he certainly had not expected was for Quatre to point the finger of blame at Trowa.

"Excuse me? Trowa?"

It was so unlike Quatre to blame another when he seemed to blame himself for every wrong in the ESUN.

Bedding rustled as Quatre shifted, but he made no effort to leave the bed, merely rearranged the bedding. Heero had the uncomfortable feeling Quatre was hiding from him, and he would not permit that to go on much longer. There were limits to how long he would converse with a pile of bedding.

"I think Trowa was dreaming." Quatre reiterated. "He - I - Well - Trowa sometimes dreams of fire, and there was certainly enough of that in the dream to cause me to believe it was one of his incidents. I think it was him, because I don't dream of fire the way he does. When I do I see a colony exploding and I can feel Zero surrounding me. Those dreams are warped memories of my time under the influence of Zero, when I was insane with grief. I have had such dreams often enough to have no difficulty recognizing them, and this was not one of those nightmares. It felt different."

That was certainly not what he had expected and, if anything, it was worse. A shared dream? He did not understand, and because of that he did not know how to respond. He had hoped once Quatre opened up a little and started talking, he could grasp the familiar in whatever was said, and run with it.

What did he say now to the idea of Quatre dreaming Trowa's dream? He could not very well tell his friend he did not understand. It should be apparent he had no idea what Quatre was talking about, and if he did not say something soon he never would. Quatre was likely to drop off to sleep while he was waiting for something intelligent to say.

Perhaps he should engage his mouth and let it run; something half way intelligent might emerge. Hopefully something more intelligent that telling his friend he was a candidate for the asylum and to go back to sleep and let others sleep as well.

"Why would you- Scratch that. This makes no sense. How would you know what he dreamed if he was dreaming? I mean, how would you know if Trowa dreamt of fire and, if he did, what of it? He was a Mercenary; of course he would have nightmares about fire. We all do, from time to time; have nightmares about the past. He's in the L1 cluster on an investigation, not down the hall from us."

Nothing seemed to be coming out just the way he actually meant it to. Quatre was not going to understand what he was trying to say. He had to sort his own confusion out and not outright blame Quatre for his sleepless night. He knew his friend was not exactly normal, not that any of them were what was termed normal, but with Trowa on L1 how could Quatre say he was empathizing with Trowa? At least, that was what he thought Quatre was trying to say.

"I mean, Trowa is in the L1 cluster, it's not like he's across the hall, or downstairs for your empathy to pick up on."

Now it really sounded as though he accused Quatre of lying. This simply was not working.

"Trowa dreams- of flame-"

Quatre stirred, the bedding rustling then heaving as he struggled to extricate himself from the tangle. Wrapped as he was in his own bedding plus Heero's; it took him a few minutes to escape, wrap Heero's eiderdown about him and pad to the fire. Pausing at the edge of the mat he seemed to be waiting for Heero to object to his presence, and when he was ignored he curled up on the mat, staring into the flames.

"I'm sorry. I'm not explaining this very well."

Neither of them was, Heero mused, as he sat back from the fire, giving it time to grow, hugging his knees to his chest as he considered the blonde.

"When Trowa dreams of fire, something burns." Quatre whispered, looking as though he hoped Heero would understand the ambiguous comment, when he seemed to barely understand it himself. "I think we need to talk plainly about a few things, Heero."

"Hnn."

Quatre glared, blue eyes hardening at the reflexive grunt and Heero reminded himself he was supposed to be getting over the use of the generic, wordless 'safe' word. Before he could apologize though, Quatre sighed and the hard glint in his eyes softened.

"For some time now I have suspected Trowa of being a clairvoyant with an affinity for fire. I think that makes him an elemental catalyst clairvoyant, someone who is able to sense future events, specifically involving fire. When Trowa dreams of fire it is never anything small or innocuous, like sitting beside a fire. It takes a big event, usually involving the loss of life, to make him dream."

Heero blinked, sitting back on his heels as he watched his companion's profile, marking the small scowl which drew his face into a taunt mask of concentration. He seemed to be struggling to find words to express his thoughts and Heero was suddenly unsure Quatre was aware of who he was talking to. He did not know what to say to the quiet words suggesting Trowa was anything but normal.

The thought of what constituted normal and abnormal stopped him cold. Quatre was an empath; everyone in their select circle knew that. He had recently discovered he was a genetically engineered individual, intended for space exploration, and now Quatre was suggesting Trowa was a psychic. He was not sure what to say, which seemed not to be a problem as Quatre appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. Turning his side to the fire he relished the growing warmth and waited, certain Quatre would come back to himself soon enough and continue his explanation.

"We have been together now for a few years and I've noticed the signs. I have tried to convince him that he is not just having nightmares, but he's stubborn. He will not admit the dreams are something more than nightmares; something more substantial. He's not used to having someone care, I think. He's not had an easy life."

Heero snorted softly. When all was said and done, few of the former Gundam Pilots had had easy lives. Quatre's had been the most normal, with Wu Fei running a close second, at least until their mid teens. Trowa had been a mercenary for as long as he could remember, and Duo had been a street kid turned Sweeper. As for himself- well, there was nothing normal about his childhood. At least he had emerged from it sane.

/But am I sane? There are days I have to wonder what sanity is and this night seems to belong in the plainly insane category. Maybe this is a nightmare and I am the one dreaming? Damn, this is not good./

Quatre sighed and closed his eyes, opening up the eiderdown to let in the warmth of the fire, even as he pulled the blanket tighter about his shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I know I am not explaining this well, but I am trying. You know I am an Empath. It seems when it comes to someone I love I have a remarkably long range for picking up on their emotional state. I can always feel Trowa during highly charged, emotional moments."

"A remarkably long range?" Heero snorted and scratched at his unruly mop of hair. "I guess that would have to be considered something of an understatement if you can feel Trowa from here. He's not even on the planet."

"I don't know how this ability works, Heero! Well, I know a little, I guess, but not a great deal of what I really want to know." Quatre ducked his head, shuffling his butt a little closer to the fire, tucking the eiderdown over his toes. "Psychic theory is something of a grey area in science. It appears to be largely unexplored and poorly documented. Most of what is documented is hearsay, with few really creditable accounts. I have tried to focus on the information I feel could be more accurate than most, but there is really nothing much that adequately covers what I need to know. Psychic ability is not something you can see, or tangibly touch. Science likes to measure things and you can't really measure Psychic ability. If science can not quantify something along strict linear guidelines, then it simply is not recognized as existing."

Heero sighed. He was not really looking for a lecture at this god forsaken hour of the morning. What he wanted was to go back to bed and get some sleep. He ached in body and mind and the thought of blissful oblivion was far more appealing than being lectured on what science credited as existing and what it did not.

It was simply not fair that he knew retiring to bed now would leave him lying awake, staring at the shadows playing on the ceiling.

"Sorry." Quatre's quiet whisper was barely heard above the snap of the fire.

He shrugged, a hand sweeping at his unruly hair. "It's okay. I'm not likely to get to sleep immediately, and neither would you. We have to talk about something while we wait, but please, no lectures."

"I'm sorry about the whole thing, and I'll try to keep technical science out of it," Quatre murmured.

"So tell me about Trowa." Heero turned a little, relishing the warmth on cold skin, wishing the fire to burn hotter, faster. "Tell me about these dreams, just skip the science until I'm rested enough to deal with it."

Quatre produced a quivering smile and sighed, hugging the eiderdown closer. "Why don't you get the other quilt? You make me cold just looking at you."

Well that was a wonderful idea, Heero decided. Why was he sitting here, slowly rotating himself like a roast on a spit, when there was a perfectly good eiderdown gong to waste on the bed? It was a matter of a few seconds to scoop up the feathery mass and scoot close to the fire, settling, wrapped in its warm embrace. Quatre smiled before heaving a sigh and inching closer to him, as though he did not want to be alone and the width of the mat constituted a greater gap than it was.

"I'm not really sure where it would be best to start, but- I learned during the war that Trowa had nightmares, but then I was having my own too and thought nothing of it at the time. It was not until after we became lovers that I realized there might be something more to Trowa's dreams. There were some dreams that seemed like really shocking ones, when he would be gasping and coughing and choking, sometimes for hours after he woke up. It was as though he could still see and smell the smoke and ash. The worst of the nightmares always featured fire. At first he would not talk to me about them, but I heard enough during the dreams to know what they were about. Sometimes there would be explosions involved, but always there was fire."

Heero nodded, snuggling himself deeper into his quickly warming cocoon, tucking his feet in close to him and resting his head on his knees, arms wrapped about his legs.

"You asked him about them?"

"Not at first, no. I thought it was nightmares, that he was reliving memories of the war and when he was a Mercenary. I had my share of post war dreams, and it seemed only natural he would too."

Heero could only agree with that, he had his share of horror dreams reflecting the past. Particularly about the little girl and her dog, that memory regularly haunted his dreams.

"Then one night I found him huddling under a set of stairs. He was still asleep, but he was crying and calling out to his mother, coughing and gasping as though he could not breathe well. I thought it just another nightmare, a particularly bad one, and one that would shed a little light on his past. At least, that is what I thought until I caught a news cast later that same day. There had been a fire in the inner city and there was a little girl's body found. She was huddled under a set of stairs in the burned out building. The smoke had killed her before the fire and the report made me wonder. Later that day it came over a news cast that the fire was a suspected arson and Trowa was with me, watching the news. He was alright, until they played the footage. I'm not sure what it was about the footage he reacted to, but he went as white as a sheet and practically ran out of the room."

Quatre sighed softly and scrubbed at his face, staring into the flames. Heero watched him, noting how drawn and tired he looked and the haunted expression in his eyes. Quatre needed to sleep as much as he, but neither of them was ready to settle.

"What did he say?"

"He refused to talk about it at the time. It was months later I finally got him to talk, and even then he never said much. He was reluctant, but admitted he recognized the building, though he said only that he had been there at some time. He was not sure when, only that he recognized it. He thought it might have been during the war."

"That is fair enough."

"Yes, except-" Quatre hesitated. "I think he had never physically been there, Heero. What I read from him was not deception exactly, but- It was enough that I did not believe it was as simple as that. I think he had dreamt of the building and the fire, of being that little girl who died under the stairs. From the time of the dream I would estimate he had the dream a good four hours before it happened."

"You took notice of the time?" At Quatre's look Heero sighed, understanding that much should have been obvious. "Why?"

"It is something I do, alright? I can't really explain why, but at the time I can remember looking at the clock."

Heero shrugged. "Fine. I suppose it made sense at the time and that you should remember it. I gather it was not the only incident?"

"No. I started watching him when he was dreaming, and after a time I could see a pattern taking shape. Most of his dreams were just that, dreams. I learned the 'feel' of the dreams and I could tell what was nightmare from the war by the way he would 'feel' as he reacted to the dream. I think the best way to describe that is I- echoed- his emotions while he dreamt. I echoed the good dreams as well as the bad; sometimes I am not very good at divorcing myself from peoples' emotions."

Heero thought that was meant to be an apology, though exactly what Quatre was apologizing to him for he did not know. He continued to watch his companion, trying to understand what he was being told and not to think Quatre was heading toward being a guest at a sanatorium.

"Trowa does not dream every night, at least not dreams you could class as nightmares." A blush rode the blonde's cheeks and he did not look at Heero. "He does not always dream of fire and explosions, and those he does dream of do not always translate to an event I can tag as reflecting a dream. It's just sometimes, you know? Sometimes I can 'feel' that the nightmare is different, they reflect differently to my empathy and I can tag them as precognitive incidents. These instances rarely reflect a domestic size fire. Usually the scale is much larger, involving a reasonable number of people or property damage."

"You've not said anything about this before."

Quatre sighed softly, rubbing his cheek against the fabric draped across his knees.

"No, I am still trying to determine a pattern- or any possible patterns. I don't know yet what triggers the incidents beyond fire, but I would think there would be something else that influences the incident. With so little information out there I can consider being accurate, I decided I needed to document the incidents and investigate them myself."

"Trowa lets you?"

The fire cracked in a minor explosion of sparks that drifted up the chimney and Quatre straightened his spine, staring into the dancing flames.

"He does not like to talk about it and trying to get information out of him is far from easy, but I am getting better at worming the details out of him. Some days I think it's easier to get blood out of a stone than to get Trowa to talk about his dreams. He has always denied there is anything prophetic about them, calling them nightmares and that is it, leave it alone, Quatre." The blonde smirked. "When I get particularly persistent he tries to turn my attention to other, more pleasant, things. I usually let him and then go right back to pestering him for details."

Heero groaned. "Too much information, Winner."

Quatre chuckled. "I have managed to garner some details out of him for the latest dreams he has had over the last year or so. I have taken the incidents back a year before that, though he can not tell me as much detail about them as I would wish. But it is enough for me to trace events by scouring the newspapers and city records where large fires have taken place. Using this method I have been able to tag at least three incidents I feel, with what I would judge as a ninety percent accuracy, relate to his episodes."

"Three fires in two years? That is not much."

"In regards to precognition that is a reasonable average, given what little information I have to draw on. Because I am working in the dark, I don't want it widely known Trowa might be a clairvoyant, I have to be careful and keep within strict guidelines. I think there are actually five incidences he has linked to, but two have a seventy percent match to the criteria I set down."

"I don't know anything about this clairvoyant talent you speak of, except it is supposed to be the province of tea leaf readers."

Quatre sighed. "That is what happens when science is unable to accurately measure something and writes it off as questionable. I am learning. From my observations of Trowa's incidents, the fires can happen anywhere from an hour to a month or two after his dream."

He really did not understand what Quatre wanted from him. The blonde was too intelligent to be gullible, he had too many resources at his disposal to be easily fooled, and as a strategist he was exemplary. Heero could not simply dismiss his concerns.

"Does Trowa agree with you, that what he dreams are not nightmares for the war?"

For a moment Quatre listened to the storm battering the Inn, and the quiet pacing beyond the door of a Preventer doing his rounds. They were not alone in the Inn, at any instant they might be called to action and all he wanted to do was sleep. No, he wanted to talk, to really talk with someone about this psychic ability he had and which Trowa might share, though his talent differed. He wanted to talk to someone who could offer- something. Understanding; or at the least, a sympathetic ear.

"Not at first, he would not listen to my idea, but I persevered and I've been able to show him evidence of those fires I have tracked down and determined are linked with his dreams. Those fires I feel are the most possible matches I have investigated privately, so I can demonstrate I have not twisted the details. I have discussed the three I feel are definitely fires he dreamed of, and the two I think are possible, but he can be so stubborn sometimes. After tonight- After tonight I am hopeful he will not fight me on this much longer. Something will happen, I don't know where or when, but it will be in the space of the next two months, I think, and I will be looking out for likely fires. If I could convince him to pay better attention to the dreams and to dissecting the details, it is feasible we could stop some of these fires from happening. If we knew in advance how they start and where."

"But if you knew where and how, and even why- would that not change the circumstances and disprove, at the least place doubt that the fire would happen in the first place?" Heero sighed, rubbing at his temples. "I'm sorry. I'm not at my brightest at the moment."

Quatre smiled. "No, you are right, Heero. I know how confusing it is to deal with the paradox of clairvoyance. If you change circumstances so the fire does not occur, then where is the evidence it would have occurred in the first place? That is why Science hates all things psychic. Trowa dreams of fire and I don't know of one incident where someone has not died in those dreams, and I know it would help him deal with the nightmares if he could use the dreams to stop people suffering. Death by fire is- horrific."

Heero arched an eyebrow and Quatre sighed softly. "I am an empath, Heero. Do you have any idea how many men and women I killed during the war? How many children? I blew up colonies."

Heero hesitated, wanting to reach out to the blonde but deciding against it. There seemed to be a wall between them, one he had not placed there and he waited, watching as the firelight played over the strained features. It was a few minutes before Quatre stirred.

"I'm sorry. It is something I have to deal with from time to time. With clairvoyance when events are altered there is no proof anything would have happened if we had stood back and allowed events to take place. Clairvoyance is not a clear cut skill, anymore than empathy is without a cost. Clairvoyance is a two edged sword, but I believe it is real, as real as the empathy I have. If you follow the dream and determine to change the event to avoid certain consequences, then you open yourself up to the fruitcake category. You can not prove what would have happened if you did not take action. It is enough to drive you insane thinking about the what if."

Heero scowled, turning his head to glower into the fire, suddenly unwilling to watch Quatre. He could hear the old man's voice from earlier in the morning, soon after their arrival at the Inn. He could hear him talking about the Peacecraft family and the psychic gifts, the 'magic' the family were marked by.

"You stand by your assessment about Trowa?"

"Yes. I believe I am correct, he is a Clairvoyant."

He nodded slowly. "So when you were riveted to what the old man was saying earlier- about the Peacecraft family- His comment Zechs would be- is- a Clairvoyant- "

Quatre sighed. Heero had brought them to delicate ground. Quatre was not sure he wanted to go there, but it was a reflection of what Trowa had endured. If he credited Trowa's ability, how could he deny the ability of another?

"Yes."

"If he was born like that, able to- what; see the future? If he could do that, why would he have done what he did? Why Libra?"

Quatre flinched. There it was, the question he did not want to ask. The question he did not want to face. He had been trying to avoid thinking about that since the old Innkeeper had mentioned the Peacecraft 'magic'. Given his experiences with Trowa he could not dismiss the possibility of psychic abilities in others.

"We do not have actual proof of any ability he might possess." Quatre opted to be cautious, not denying the possibility, but not stating categorically the Peacecraft heir might have been influenced somehow by such a talent.

For a time both stared moodily into the fire, each waiting for the other to speak, neither wanting to be the first to comment. Each was hoping the other would change the subject from the uncomfortable possibility Milliardo Peacecraft was not just another madman. The silence was becoming uncomfortable and Heero sighed heavily into it.

"He was always an odd one." Heero rubbed at his jaw, considering the man he had known, perhaps best described as his best enemy.

He really knew nothing about Milliardo Peacecraft, or Zechs Marquise. He knew the man's military record, some few facts and plenty of supposition on the childhood of the Prince who had become Zechs Marquise. What he knew about the man was barely enough to fill a thimble.

Quatre deflated a little into his warm cocoon. He had hoped Heero would find some other subject, but that was the coward's way out and if he wanted to learn about psychic phenomena, he had to face what might prove to be an uncomfortable truth.

"Yes, he was." Drawing a deeper breath he calmed himself, fending off Heero's emotions reflecting his discomfort with the subject.

"If he did possess that sort of ability, Clairvoyance- If he could see the future, what would have possessed him to do what he did? Why would he take part in the war under Oz and then compound the mistake by joining White Fang?"

Quatre shuddered, feeling the clawing unease in Heero. Heero was aware he was making Quatre uncomfortable; he knew enough about the other's empathy to know he should try to contain his emotions. Visibly looking unemotional was not the problem, not when you were dealing with Quatre's sensitivities.

The former pilot of Wing Zero had an idea he was not ready to face, but that was alright. He was fairly sure Quatre would have thought of it by now and was probably just as unwilling to voice it as he.

How long could they play around the uncomfortable possibility? Avoiding voicing it would not make it go away. It was stupid.

"He might not have cared, wanting just to end it all." Quatre murmured.

It seemed Quatre did not want to be the one to float the idea. If they did not talk about something else they would simply play around with nothing; and neither of them would get any sleep. Something weighed on him, and he had the uncomfortable feeling if he did not talk about it there would be no sleep. It would just sit there, hovering in his head, annoying the hell out of him. Some things had to be faced. Some things had to be said.

Heero passed a shaking hand over his eyes. "Or he might have wanted to change something more terrible."

It was out and already Heero could feel an easing of pressure. It was a relief to actually say it, to acknowledge the thought and bring it out into the open.

"I- Yes. I suppose that is possible," Quatre whispered.

Heero rested his chin on his raised knees, staring into the dancing flames, seeing another time and another place, a small room and against the familiar backdrop of the Earth, the white hair and piercing blue eyes of the leader of the White Fang.

"He asked me to join him, when we were on Libra." He heard Quatre's sharply drawn breath. "I always wondered about that. About why he would think to ask me. I suppose it was coincidence, but I thought there was something different about him. Different- He was, you know, different to what he was when we had fought before. Something very different to the last time I saw him, when I gave him the Epyon and took Zero."

Quatre's blue eyes hardened, flashing to Heero with a considering gleam in them. "Epyon."

Not many things visibly affected the Perfect Soldier, but he shivered lightly at the name. It was a name that caused a deep chill within him, a name he preferred to avoid, as he preferred to avoid all thought of the evil machine. Why had he brought the subject up? He preferred not to think about it, but it was he who had raised the spectre.

"Epyon lied. I told him that once, near the end. I told him Epyon lied. He chose a future Epyon showed him, and it was a terrible future. Something terrible. I did not understand what he thought he could do at the time."

"What did Epyon show you, Heero?" Quatre was inclining toward Heero, looking intent, purposeful.

His reservation seemed to have faded, and he focused solely on his companion. Heero could feel his eyes, even though he refused to turn to look at the blonde. The flames were dancing, crimson and gold. Crimson, like the hull of the monster.

"Heero! Snap out of it." Quatre's voice snapped him back from the visions of glowing eyes and demonic splendour.

Blue eyes met lighter blue. "What? What did-?" He drew a shuddering breath. "I hate talking about that suit."

"Never the less, we will talk about it." Quatre would not be denied. "Tell me about Epyon."

"It- was different. Really different. When I gave the suit to Zechs I told him I did not understand how Kushrenada thought."

Quatre arched an eyebrow, his back straightening. He looked confused and Heero could understand that. He was confused too.

"Why would not understanding how Treize Kushrenada thought affect the way you flew Epyon?"

Heero rubbed his chin against his knees, hugging his lower legs, fingers locked tight about his ankles. It hurt, but the pain was welcome.

"It was so different to Zero." He did not understand why he was whispering, but Quatre seemed to hear him well enough. "It was full of lies; full of pictures of people and places I had never seen. It showed me terrible things. Things that were impossible and it wanted something from me. It wanted- It- I could not do it. I could not do what it wanted."

Quatre recognized the symptoms. It was like those interviews when he was attempting to get information out of Trowa on one of his 'incidents', and he chose to give Heero a few minutes to gather his thoughts.

He could feel Heero wanted to talk, needed to talk, and he had the uncomfortable feeling they were on the verge of learning something important. When his empathy detected the restlessness growing, he knew Heero needed to be encouraged to speak. Subconsciously he was being driven to air something he had held onto for a long time.

"What did it, the Epyon, want you to do?"

"I saw Treize and people I did not know. I saw her, Relena but she was only a ghost. I saw- I saw war and I knew everyone was my enemy. Everyone was going to kill until they were killed. Everyone was the enemy and- and HE was there."

"Who is HE?" Quatre questioned softly, his voice falling into a low murmur, coaxing, seeking details. The voice he used to sooth Trowa and gather information when Trowa was fresh from a dream state.

"Zechs- and Milliardo- they were both there. Kushrenada kept appearing and He, They, both Zechs and Milliardo were there. One of them- One- "

Quatre waited, watching. He could feel a tightness in Heero, pregnant, building to bursting point, but should he prod? He could feel Heero resisting it, wanting to avoid whatever was demanding release. After a long silence, hoping Heero would do himself a favour and volunteer the information, Quatre decided if he wanted the information he was going to have to go after it.

"One of who? Who was it you are thinking about?"

"Kushrenada- Marquise- and Peacecraft. One of them. It had to be one of them."

"One of them was going to have to do what?"

Heero closed his eyes, burying his head in the eiderdown. He shuddered, the cold feel of the machine seemed to surround him and he hated it. It was foreign, frightening, so unlike anything else he had ever experienced.

"Choose." Heero whispered. "Die."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2008


	184. Chapter 184 Chapter 183

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 183

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 05:45

Quatre

Quatre was not certain he had heard correctly. The fire crackled and flared, sparks shooting up the chimney and he drew the eiderdown tighter about him. Heero looked to be lost in another world entirely and he was uncertain his friend even realized where they were.

He could feel something in Heero he equated to a feeling of distance; separating Heero from him even though they sat in the same room, not two feet from each other. Regardless of the sense of separation, he could feel other things from Heero; things that worried him.

"Kushrenada or Merquise… had to die? Why?"

Heero did not look at him, his eyes fastened unrelentingly on the flames. His gaze was so intense Quatre doubted he saw the flames at all and thought it doubtful Heero even realized he was sitting in the bedroom of an Inn, locked in by snow. He could feel a heaviness emanating from his friend, a weight pressing and Quatre wished he could reach out and comfort Heero.

His empathy, having gifted him with the awareness of the weight compressing Heero's stoic shoulders into a hunch, also told him this was not the right time to offer comfort. He was sure Heero was deliberately reaching for those memories, seeking to better understand them; determined that after so long he must finally understand what had taken place years ago.

/Troubling as they seem to be, I think it would have been wiser for him to have sought out understanding of these memories soon after the war. I wonder if he even realizes I am here?/

What did he do? To speak, to attempt to get Heero to talk to him before he was ready, might be to distract him from discerning details of that long ago day which might lend some clarity to what had happened. There was so much to speak of; that was the problem. Finding the words to speak of things no one in their right minds would wish to contemplate was not going to be easy. He just had to hope it would be possible.

"I went to Luxembourg."

Heero's quiet words were barely audible above the crackle of the flames and Quatre strained to hear what he had to say. Something about that day was disturbing his friend and he had known during that turbulent time he had not known what to say or do to comfort his friend. Now, years later, he could hope he could offer comfort; or at the least, some insight into past events.

"I went to Luxembourg and I think I went there to… I think I was going there to kill him… or die myself. I thought… I thought if I killed Kushrenada I could end the war."

Heero pressed his face into his knees and shivered, and not with the cold pervading the room. What he sensed from his friend was a deeper cold; the cold of memory from a time best forgotten but impossible to forget.

"Killing him would not have ended it and I understand that now, but then…"

He was emanating so much tension, Quatre was surprised he did not hear the snap of bones, so tightly was Heero drawn in on himself. He was not much better, but Heero seemed to tighten up more with each passing second and surely something must break.

"I though he was the root of all evil; the driving force behind everything that was wrong with the colonies."

"You were not the only one who thought that. And other things I now have to wonder about. We were taught what others believed and made to believe it was what we believed, what we wanted. We were young and naïve. They spoke so grandly of making the Colonies better places to live; that it was Earth holding us back. It was always the fault of Earth when something went wrong."

Quate ran a hand lightly over his eyes, shadowing his gaze as his memory was shadowed by darker days. Bringing light into those dark memories was not possible; they were still too raw, too fresh. It would take him many more years before he could deal calmly with that time.

"My father said open conflict was not the way; there were other ways to deal with imagined and real slights. I did not listen to him and even now, after what we have lived through, after the way he died… I do not believe I was wrong in my assessment of the situation. I believe there comes a time when talking serves no useful purpose and it come's down to having to fight for what we want. Some people are meant to defend what we have, while others take the diplomatic route and work toward the same goal. We need to take a firm stand somewhere in our lives and not give way at every turn. Always backing down means we make no headway. It leaves you open to being walked over and the colonies were prone to backing down and avoiding important issues. Look what they did when we became hunted. They never made their position clear, but waited to see which way the wind blew. In the past there has been too much of that."

"If you do not stand up to school yard bullies you can expect to have no end to the beatings and domination?" Heero's eyes were once again trained on the flames, his frown deeper, darker.

Quatre was surprised he spoke and proved he was listening. He had half expected Heero to remain stoically silent and focused on his thoughts.

"Yes. There comes a time when we reach a point where we must acknowledge that more than talking is required and we must take that final step and fight for what we want. Though I will admit some times we do not exactly understand what it is we want. There is a difference between what we want and what we need."

"I was retrained so many times." Heero raised his head, bright blue eyes trained on the rafters overhead. "I was weak. I kept making mistakes. Time and time again I was a disappointment. Dr. J was angry so often and I thought he was angry with me; because I kept failing."

He was not certain what it was he was sensing from Heero as he spoke of the old scientist. Quatre had his own ambiguous emotions when it came to the Doctor who had overseen the construction of Sandrock; he could not say if he blessed him or cursed him. One question Quatre could not and never would be able to answer, was what state the ESUN would be in now had none of them taken part in the war.

What changes would have been wrought had Oz remained in control under Romefeller's rule? Would Kushrenada have succeeded in wresting control away from Romefeller and if so what would the ESUN have been like beneath his sway? The Alliance would have fallen to Oz, he did not doubt that for a second, but what if Kushrenada had retained control? What if there had been no split in Oz, no faction fighting to see Kushrenada in confinement?

What if. A dangerous and usually unfulfilling game. It was never a satisfying exercise to play with the What If's of life.

/Enough. What might have been and what is now are far from each other. Neither scenario factors in to the now. Whether it would have been for better or worse, it simply is what it now is. There is no need to pursue the past and ignore the future because it is inconvenient to see what has not changed, despite the sacrifices made to reach this point./

What he needed to concern himself with was why he was sitting here, in a country Inn in the back hills of Sanc, before a roaring log fire and cut off from the rest of the world? He was locked here by a force no man could control; the force of nature and perhaps by the hand of Allah. A long time ago he had determined that nothing happened by accident. There was always the hand of Allah to be found guiding them, though one usually failed to feel His touch. It was usually much later one wondered and realized what forces had moved one to act.

/It's freezing outside. I've been linked and sharing my lover's nightmares, which I am certain are not nightmares but premonitions. I've kept Heero awake when from the look of him he is on the point of collapse, and given his fortitude, that is saying a great deal. We have been told, by the old man who bares a striking resemblance to the Father Chistmas of a bygone era, that Milliardo Peacecraft is a White King. Basically a user of magic. Primitive does not begin to describe the superstitions of Sanc's mountain folk. You could swear they still exist in the Dark Ages, despite the advances in science and technology they embrace in the city. I guess the country folk are very different to their city cousins./

Hardly fair, he corrected himself. The old man had acknowledged readily enough Sally's more modern explanation of the use of Psychic abilities. Personally he could not discount the idea of Psychics, being one himself and knowing what Trowa endured from these dreams he experienced. No, he could not discount the possibility Milliardo Peacecraft might have a similar gift. The question was, did he use these visions, if visions he entertained, for good or for ill? That was not so easily determined.

"Epyon was not the Zero system"

Heero was watching him, he realized; eyes dark with emotion and a curious expression on his face. Quatre could not quite describe the expression, but he was certain he did not like it.

"It had to be the same system. The chances of two operating systems being developed so closely together and not being the same, or variations of the same system, are astronomical. Given the technology of the day the odds of chance are against the two systems being unrelated. My guess would be Kushrenada had to have stolen the plans for the Zero system and made his own modifications to it."

Heero sighed and subjected Quatre to a penetrating stare. "Are you sure you have that order correct, Quatre?"

"Pardon?"

"Why does it have to be Kushrenada who had to steal the plans for the Zero system? It takes months to build a mobile suit as complex as the Gundams, and Epyon was basically a Gundam, merely not of the same design as ours. He must have had the operating system ready to install before or soon after construction was begun; you know how complex a job it is to fine tune such a system and machine. Given what we know of what it takes to build a Gundam, why do we automatically think Kushrenada stole Zero? It could as easily have been the Scientists who stole the Epyon AI system's design. The differences between the two systems could have been they did not understand what was behind its design and modified it to something they could understand. They created an analytical combat system. Is that not as feasible as thinking Kushrenada was the thief?"

"I…" Quatre snapped his jaw shut and considered.

Treize Kushrenada had to have had the sort of backing, separate from Romefeller, to have constructed a machine as complex as the Epyon. His back up had to be as extensive as any of the scientists who were backed by the Barton Foundation. He had the distinct impression Romefeller had not known of the development of the Epyon and perhaps not the later versions of the Tallgeese series either. Billions of credits were involved when one spoke of mobile suit design and the development of artificial intelligence units.

Kushrenada had enjoyed the backing of the Romefeller organization for years and Quatre knew they were the first to create the viable mobile suit designs. His information sources suggested the scientists who had constructed the Gundams had originally worked for Romefeller and there had been nothing in the designs he had found on the computer on L4 that came close to what he knew of Epyon.

Why could Heero not be right?

"I suppose that is possible."

But if that was right, if it was Kushrenada who had developed his system and suit first, then why had Romefeller not used that design? They must not have had knowledge of the suit, or the operating system, which begged the question, who had backed the development of the Epyon?

"Do you think your Doctor and his project team believed in psychic abilities?"

Heero's voice dragged him out of the mire he found himself stepping through. He was, he knew, going to need to consider that question. It might have an unhealthy impact on the ESUN if there was another group out there developing advanced mobile suits. It took a precious few seconds for him to register the question he was asked and another few seconds to consider how best to answer.

"Ahm, no, not really. Well… No."

"You don't sound too sure."

Heero had such compelling eyes. They bored into you, forcing you to concentrate on what you were being asked and demanding you focus. Giving in to the need of the moment, Quatre filed away the question of Kushrenada's financing for later consideration. They had to get some sleep this day and he was so tired he physically ached.

"Well, it was known when I was younger that I had… That I was prone to...well, feelings… about things… about people. I can't say for sure what he thought, Heero. It was not something we talked about as a general rule; with anyone who was not immediate family."

Heero nodded slowly, blue eyes still intense. "J never mentioned psychic abilities in my hearing. We probably will never know if any of the scientists knew anything about Psychic talents. J was a scientist, he dealt in science fact, not speculation and he was brilliant at what he did. In all honesty I can't see him entertaining such a fanciful notion as psionic ability. If you can not measure it, if you could not prove it existed to exacting scientific standards, then I doubt he would have acknowledged it could feasibly exist."

"One of those," Quatre murmured. "Too may people are like that. They look at you as though you are insane and belong in a hospital for the mentally infirm. That is one of the reasons the family do not mention psionics to anyone not of the family."

"The point is moot. The Scientists are dead, after all. I had more than one occasion to study the design of the schematics for my Wing. I was required to memorize every line of it so I could work repairs at need. I was also required to have an understanding of the AI unit they were installing in Wing. There was nothing that I saw in Dr J's computer files that resembled the Zero system. You found the design for the complete Zero system filed with the design specifications for Wing Zero?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. It was just after my father died and I was… not quite sane at the time." It was a period in his past that gave him nightmares; the memories lingering and coming alive in his dreams. "I knew where the Doctor's bunker was and how to access the computer files. I do not know when I decided to go, but I found myself there and was not surprised when my old codes worked, giving me access to the installation. What surprises me now and did not at the time, was that I had access to previously sealed files and found the schematics for the Wing Zero and its dual operating systems. It is a little vague." He blushed. "I do not have exactly clear memories of that time, but I built what I found on the computer."

Heero's eyes gleamed. "The dual operating systems; that always intrigued me. Why did they decide to have the two operating systems in the one suit? Zero was more than capable of handling the suit."

Quatre rubbed absently at his jaw, recalling that shadowed hazy time when he had not been in his right mind. It was not until the shock of thinking he had killed Trowa that the world around him had come crashing into horrible clarity.

"The ALICE system was the unit designed to handle the normal operational functions of the suit. The Zero system was the combat analytical unit, a system dedicated to combat calculations."

"I have a vague memory of Dr J talking to someone by vid link. I was waking from an intense training session that required I be injected with…" Heero shivered and shook his head slightly, dismissing the thought.

He did not want to go there, into the darkness again. He had no desire to remember the trials of his past and the demands placed on him. He had been too young to understand what they had been doing to him, what they had been making him into.

"He was arguing with someone over the merits of using a system they had not fully investigated. I recall him saying they needed more time to understand the complexities of the design."

"Zero was incredibly complex." Quatre murmured. "I had not intended to use the Zero system. I was intending to use the Alice System instead, but I ran a test on the combat systems and I… I can't exactly remember what happened. I don't think I turned the Zero system off again… Not until I… killed Trowa."

He did not want to remember that horror. Allah, the pain he had felt through his empathy, the Zero system had fed him all of Trowa's pain as the explosion had ripped his suit apart around him. It had been enough to force him out of the synaptic links with the system which had dominated him.

/Zero fed me information, somehow amplifying my ability to feel others emotions and I reacted accordingly. Everyone was tense, expecting war, expecting to be attacked, seeing a threat everywhere. Zero reacted to my insecurities and instability and everyone and everything around me became a threat to me. It was a never ending cycle of feeding negative after negative into me. It was my decision to destroy everything I saw as a threat and Zero showed me how to remove it. I fed off of my own insecurities./

"I think Dr J at was afraid of the Zero system."

Heero's voice forced him to focus on something other than the memories of that horror he would never be free of.

"He considered Zero unstable, I think. I remember him saying he would not install it until he was sure of its function. I vaguely recall myself thinking I was the weak link, that whatever the new system was, I was not considered good enough to use it. I think it was more than just me being inferior to the task, I think he was not certain the system was capable of efficiently running the basic functions of a suit. I'm not sure what that suggests about the system."

"The ALICE system was designed to run the standard non combat functions of the Wing Zero." Quatre stirred from his warm cocoon to take a turn at poking at the fire and threw another log on. "The two systems were designed to work in conjunction with and to compliment each other."

"I wish I could remember all of that conversation. J seemed disturbed after the call ended. I was expecting at least another two hours of tests, but he sent me to bed and said nothing about the test results. As I left I remember looking back, afraid he would change his mind and order me back to work, but he was turning back to the video unit. I think he intended to contact someone else. He was frowning and that claw was clicking, a fast, irritated rhythm. He only ever did that when he was upset about something he saw as a personal threat."

"The schematics for the Wing Zero were complete. The robotic exoskeleton was far more advanced than were the design specs for my Sandrock. I found listings for all of the parts required to construct Wing Zero stored in the bunker. It was intended to be built, an additional Gundam to be called on to fight the war. I have to wonder if it was intended I pilot the suit, since it was stored on L4, but if I was the intended pilot, surely something would have been said?"

"Perhaps Dr. J's reservations made a difference. It may have been experimental and deemed unsuitable for the purpose."

"I never knew my Doctor to be picky about weapons to deal with the Alliance and Oz. The final date on the Zero system files and the schematics for modifications was November AC194."

"When was the file originally logged into the computer?" Heero queried.

"November AC 194."

"There must have been earlier versions of the design. From prototype to the final schematics."

"The file was dated AC 194. November."

"You saw no earlier files? No earlier versions, not even a discussion…"

"No." Quatre scowled, cutting Heero off cleanly. "No, I never found any other references to the Zero System in any of the files stored on the computer. There was only the one file containing the schematics for the suit and the two operating systems, with a brief note designating ALICE as the base operating system and ZERO as the combat AI. As I recall there were reference numbers, but when I tried to retrieve them all I could get was 'file deleted' messages."

He suspected, now in the cold light of sanity, that the Doctor may have been captured in the act of deleting related files from the system. He would not suggest it though; Heero was smart enough to have come to the same conclusion. The bunker had not been discovered so something must have stopped the Doctor from deleting the Zero folder. Perhaps he had simply run out of time? Yet surely he would have deleted that particular folder before other, less volatile references?

"We may never know, but I think it likely they were still examining the system; modifying it to suit their purpose. It is possible, if the design was originally stolen from Kushrenada or who ever designed it, they were trying to understand it. If it was based on Epyon. They may have determined to build their own version, one they could understand; the Zero system. A system based purely on mathematics and sound science."

"If it was based on Epyon. If it was not designed by the scientists from the start. If it was in any way, shape or form related to Epyon."

Heero sighed. "Yes. I think it might be coincidence, that two systems were designed at two different locations, from purely independent bodies. But I think we will never know for sure."

In the following silence the fire spat and crackled as it caught on the new log. Quatre rubbed at his face, confused and aching in his heart to know what was happening out in space. Trowa was alone with the dream and he knew how his lover refused to acknowledge the prophetic elements of some of his nightmares. Worrying about Trowa would do him no good. However, there was not even the means available to contact him. Until the storm lifted they had no means of communicating beyond the sounds of their own voices.

"Heero, you used both of the systems, the Epyon and the Zero. With that knowledge, tell me, what were the differences you most noticed between the two?"

Heero looked like he wanted to pull his hair out by the roots, his fingers interlocked tightly together to stop such an action.

"They were… vast. I… I don't know how to explain it. It's not just in how they calculated combat sequences, so much as… Zero I understood. It was… ah… logical? I think that might explain best what I felt from the system. I knew where I was with Zero. The system showed me who my enemies were, who I should fight to stay alive. How I should fight them to avoid a variety of options from happening, resulting either in my death or in the death and destruction of someone, or something, I wanted to protect. I would ask it who my enemy was and it would show me. It showed me what would happen in the combat leading from events leading up to the point I activated the system. I had no problem following the logic of the deductions."

Quatre brushed blonde hair from his eyes, looking thoughtful. "That is not how I experienced the Zero system. How did you deal with the Epyon?"

Heero seemed to be struggling with whatever it was he wanted to say. Quatre watched the struggle on his face, the battle to decide what best to say, feeling his uncertainty, his confusion; his determination. Heero knew only too well for him to accurately assess the situation he needed facts, not supposition and it intrigued Quatre how much difficulty Heero was experiencing in how best to describe what he had felt from the system.

"Epyon… lied." The words were dragged out of him and he looked relieved to finally voice them.

Quatre could feel the relief in Heero, the release of some of the tension. He was sure Heeo had thought he would not be able to say those simple words.

"Epyon lied." He repeated.

The implications were mind boggling. If Heero had any idea of the implications he was suggesting, it was no wonder he had fought to get the words out. It suggested something about Epyon that was indeed very different to Zero. Artificial Intelligence systems were not designed to lie.

"How exactly did Epyon lie?"

"Well… It… "

The struggle now was more a reaching for words to describe the flood of emotion Quatre sensed surfacing. Heero wanted to talk. He wanted the words out, his confusion and suspicions to be aired and shared with another who could understand the oddities to be found in the system. Quatre had experienced Zero; it was a link between them few others could claim. All of the pilots at one stage or another had experienced Zero, but only three of them had flown it for an extended period of time. Quatre himself, Heero and Zechs Merquise.

"Zero showed who the enemy was."

"Epyon, Heero. Forget Zero and tell me what you experienced when you piloted Epyon. I need to know what you experienced in that suit."

"It showed… It… Everyone… every face it showed, every person it showed me… Everyone was my enemy. People I had met, people I had never met. They were the enemy." The words were coming faster now. "I knew the faces; the people it showed me were not my enemies. I knew it, Quatre. I had been fighting alongside some of those faces not an hour before and it showed them to me as my enemies. A multitude of faces, nameless faces who would kill me; they would be my enemy. I knew it was wrong, but it filled my mind and I could think of nothing but how the world was filled with people who were my enemy."

Quatre drew his knees up tight to him, locking his arms around his legs and rubbed his face into his knees. His fingers where they gripped his ankles were trembling. He rubbed his forehead into his knees, drawing them up close to him, gripping his ankles tightly enough that they hurt.

"Everyone was your enemy, even your friends." Quatre squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

"Yes. It lied."

"No, Heero. Epyon did not lie." His breath was warm on his knees and he wanted to sink into the floor, run away; escape the cold harsh reality surrounding him. "I think Epyon was trying to communicate with you, not to show you your enemies to kill, but to show you a basic fundamental of life."

Scowling, Heero shook his head, unable to understand where Quatre's thoughts had taken him. "I don't understand. What fundamental of life? Epyon lied. It played games with my head. Everyone was my enemy; everyone had to die because they were the enemy, they stood between me and…I don't know what they separated me from, but they were my enemy. I knew they were not, but they… were."

Stiffening his back, Quatre straightened, lifting his head and capturing Heero's eyes with his own. He was very sure of himself, though he was not quite certain how he had arrived at the conclusion he had. It was just… right. He was sure he was certain he understood and it led to some frightening conclusions and even more frightening questions. Answers and questions he was not eager to pursue at this time.

"We all have the potential to be a friend or an enemy. The decisions we make every day affect how people react around us. We choose what happens to us and by making those decisions which, at the time they are made, seem to have nothing to do with anyone else. It's deceptive. Everything we do affects the world around us. It has to have some level of impact on other people or places."

It was not going to be easy to find the right words, or the right way to say them. He knew what he was feeling; what he was trying to get across to Heero, but he was uncertain if he could make it as clear to his friend.

"I suppose you could describe it as having the same effect as if you threw a stone into a still pond. Throw a stone into the water and you get ripples reaching out into the pond, moving further and wider until they all blend in together at the outer edges of the pond. All of those ripples, every single one of them, was brought into existence by the one action of throwing the stone into the water. If you threw that stone in the pond and waited a few seconds then threw a second stone into the water, what would happen?"

Heero sniffed and rolled his eyes, but he was listening and he answered quickly enough. "More ripples."

"Yes, but you would not be able to get the stone into the exact same place as the first stone landed. The ripples it created would intersect and warp the preceding ripples from the first stone. The second stone would have changed the pattern of ripples that cross the pond and the more stones you threw into the pond, the more ripple effects you would have and the greater the changes you would effect to the original ripples."

Heero ran a hand through his uruly hair, looking annoyed. He plainly did not follow where Quatre was trying to lead. "So?"

"So, because of the multiple ripple effects everything gets confused, mixed together."

"I understand that, but what does it mean, Quatre?"

He really was not explaining this well. He could not blame Heero for misunderstanding when he was not certain exactly what he was trying to describe. The fault lay with him, with what he was trying to say and he was having more difficulty containing his empathy. Heero was honestly confused, not merely bull headed and unwilling to understand.

"If I understand correctly what you have said, then I have to determine Epyon was indeed a different operating system to Zero. It is possible Epyon might have been designed and constructed for some specific person. Someone who had the ability to read and understand the effect of so many ripples in our fictional pond. Who could, theoretically, devise a path through the ripple effect. Someone who could design and follow a path to a clear resolution."

Silence fell between them, each considering the implications of Quatre's assessment as the fire ate merrily at the wood and the room slowly warmed. They were tired, aching physically and mentally. Beyond the Inn the wind howled and the old building seemed a shield against the encroachment of the world.

"I would hazard the suggestion there were similarities between the two systems. It would explain why my empathy was magnified and increased my grief and anger at my father's death. It is possible, if Zero was a modification of the Epyon's design, or a product of an earlier design specification of a prototype Epyon system; I think it possible it was a design intended to work specifically with a Psi mind."

"I think Epyon was designed for Zechs, " Heero whispered and slowly straightened, inclining his head to look intently at Quatre. "What did you just say?"

He had not been listening? Allah! Did he need to go over the whole thing again?

"If Zero was an off shoot of a system that led ultimately to what became the Epyon system, then Zero was probably sensitive to the workings of someone who had psychic potential. That would explain why I went crazy on the overload of emotion I sensed from the colonies, not that I was not crazy before that point, but I really lost it when I got near the colonies after activating the Zero function.."

Heero straightened, dropping the eiderdown around his waist and waving a hand negligently in the air. "No, what was it you called that psychic mind?"

Quatre blinked and tried to recall exactly what it was he had said. "Ahm… Psi?"

"Yes. Yes, that is it." Heero's eyes were bright, almost feverish. "That has to be it."

Quatre could pick up his mounting excitement; feel the rush of a jumble of emotions pushing aside his confusion.

"That has to be what, Heero?"

"Would you spell that p-s-i?"

Quatre resisted the urge to scream. He was being swamped by the intensity and excitement in Heero and he was too tired to barrier. It was dangerous, this amount of emotion when he was so tired.

"Yes. P.s.i. It is just an abbreviation of the word Psychic, which means 'a person apparently sensitive to things beyond the natural range of perception', or alternately, 'affecting or influenced by the human mind' and even 'outside the sphere of physical sciences'."

Heero nodded, his thoughts racing and suddenly he was not so tired. A puzzle piece fitted the jigsaw and he motioned toward the wall of the room and the howling wind beyond the Inn.

"It has to do with the Romefeller records Duo found and I told you about. The ones that contained the information on the Pilots of the Gundams were not the only ones we have access to. Both Treize Kushrenada and Zechs Merquise, aka Milliardo Peacecraft, have files in those records. Duo showed me, but we have not had time to break through the security coding the system files. From what I glimpsed, the security protocols will give my hacking skills a good, solid work out to break into the bulk of the records. There has not been enough time as yet to investigate, but both of their files contained the letters p-s-i in the code grouping heading their files."

"So… It probably denotes Psychic ability," Quatre whispered. "If that is so… We really need to get into those files. We need to know what Romefeller may have if they are trying again to rise in the world order."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2008

00000000000000000000

Authors Note

Please be advised this is the final pre posted chapter of Alternatives. The fic is still a work in progress and the next chapter is currently with my beta. I am hoping to have the chapter back soon, but the posting frequency will be somewhere in the vicinity of 3 to 8 weeks per chapter, depending on my work load with real life and my beta's day to day load. Ideally one chapter every 4 weeks is what I aim for, but it does not always work out that way. I do hope you continue to read Alternatives and I will post new chapters up as soon as they are returned to me.


	185. Chapter 185 Chapter 184

Alternative Directions: Options

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 184

Preventer Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty

Date 2nd March AC 198

Time: 12:53 Bounty Ship Time Peacemission time 09:38

Duo

It would take a while for him to become accustomed to the everyday living conditions on the ship. Right now there was a modicum of gravity maintained onboard, though it was barely sufficient to keep him from feeling that his innards were free floating about. He was fortunate in that space sickness had never particularly bothered him, but the initial queasiness upon entering a full zero-gravity field would be a nuisance for an hour or two.

Until the health requirements of each individual on the Bounty had been evaluated the ship would maintain this minimum level of gravity. He would have a day or three before full zero-g was initiated and if he was lucky he might even manage to get a decent night's sleep in before then. Unfortunately the gravity would be maintained at this low level in the bulk of the ship. Only the medical bay and adjacent sections would maintain a heavier gravity load, being at the core of the spin required to produce gravity. If he wanted to feel up from down he would have to lurk in the Medical Centre and he was not inclined to brave a meeting with the horrendous woman they called the Chief Medical Officer unless he had to.

Low gravity and. Duo acknowledged, this was next to no gravity was all well and good, but it curtailed certain pleasurable activities he was not particularly happy to live without. One such activity it ruled out was the simple pleasure of enjoying a shower and that was the one thing he now felt the need for. He wanted to stand beneath free flowing water; steaming hot, just off scalding and with enough force to act as a massage to ease aching muscles.

It would be wonderful to allow a hot shower to soothe his physical aches and pains. High acceleration burns, such as were required to thrust the Bounty onto her course in time to catch the orbit of Mars at a set time and date, were never pleasant. He would be feeling the effects of the acceleration for days after the ship was settled to its course and speed.

To his knowledge the ship's schedule called for the acceleration burns to take place during the rostered night phases of the ship. It was the time of day the least number of crew were active and many of the old hands onboard would not even stir when the burns initiated. Duo did not doubt he would be feeling the effects in his bones and muscles for most of the first week onboard.

The Sweeper Family Ships maintained ship board gravity at all times and his only other space encounters were in the shuttles that flitted between the Colonies and Earth. Before now he had never sustained high acceleration procedures.

Duo glared at the wipe in his hand and sighed, inclining his head back and rolled it slowly around, feeling the pull on tight muscles. He would need to work out a little at some time to try to ease the aches and pains with somatic stretch exercises and possibly a little yoga. He would start off slowly until he grew accustomed to the gravity, so as not to embarrass himself by bouncing off the walls and ceilings.

"You are a pretty poor excuse for a shower, but I guess you are the best I am going to do."

Preventers Space Division provided their spacer crews with refresher wipes for hygiene use in their cabins. The ship's bathrooms, where showers could be taken, were sectioned within the Medical Centre, where the gravity was maintained at a level where water could run and not float free in amusing globules. The Ensign had informed him everyone was expected to log in with the Medical Centre once a week for a full shower routine. He would look forward to his turn and the utter luxury of being able to wash his hair, but for day to day cleanliness the cabin wipes were deemed sufficient.

Lotions were impregnated within the fine fabric to clean, freshen and also moisturize the body. The early spacers had discovered their skin had a tendency to dry out with prolonged space flight and the long term use of conditioned air systems. The power needs to run a ship the size of the Bounty were carefully monitored and additional power to run humidifiers balanced to meet the needs of the crew had been considered exorbitant; a waste of money and fuel. Dehumidifiers, however, were required and gathered the moisture from perspiration and the crew's breath from the air, siphoning it into the water recycling plant. With cost effectiveness in mind the powers that be had decided medicated moisturizers in synthetic towelets could be used to cleanse the body and keep people smelling and feeling clean.

The wipes were a reusable synthetic material which, after use, were to be disposed of down a recycling chute. The used material would be gathered, laundered, fumigated and laundered again, then reimpregnated with cleaning and moisturizing solutions. Every seven days wipes would be reissued to the personal cabins, washrooms and dining hall of the ship. There were varying degrees of chemicals used in the wipes; the day to day cabin wipes were more aimed to refresh a man after a long day. Heavy duty cleaning wipes with a heavier emphasis on cleaning chemicals were sent to sections of the ship where the crew were required to get their hands heavily soiled, such as the engineering and medical sections.

As efficiently clean as they might get the human body, Duo decided they were a poor second to the steaming hot shower his body craved. When he had looked at his reflection in the mirror placed inside the locker where he stored his gear, he had had a bad case of the horrors. He looked like death warmed over and he hated to think what Howard must think on receiving his transmissions.

/Damn, I look like shit warmed over and trod in./

He flicked a glance at the clock on the bulkhead and shrugged. He was already what he considered to be late for lunch with the Captain, but he had been informed he would be escorted to the Officers Mess. His escort had not as yet arrived, so he could not be considered tardy if there was a problem delaying the Ensign. Given the situation as it stood, he could well imagine the Captain might have a few matters to attend to that would put a delay on their lunch.

It gave him hope he might yet hear from Howard before he was required to leave the cabin.

Slowly unbuttoning his shirt he realized he had another problem. He was bound to the Bounty for at least three months and his clothing was severely limited. He would need to learn the laundering arrangements as he had only two sets of spare clothing with him.

/Domestic problems in space can be such a bitch. One on, one in the wash and one spare. The bare necessities. Okay for jetting around the colonies where I could always buy something new if I needed it, but here … /

Perhaps he might be able to impose on the Captain to issue him a uniform to assist in his limited wardrobe choice? Space was at a premium on board the ship, but four sets of clothes was by far better than three and a uniform might help him to blend in better with the crew. He was not a particularly rabid follower of fashion, so long as it looked reasonable and felt good against his skin and he was comfortable wearing it, he had never particularly bothered about his clothes. One thing that required he might need at least one additional change of clothes was the necessity that one did not wear crumpled clothes to lunch with the Captain.

Stripping off his shirt and leaving it floating in the air beside him, he ran a wipe over his chest, surprised it felt as good as it did. A little cool against his skin, but the cabin was warm enough and it left behind a sensation he found refreshing. For about five seconds his skin felt damp, but then the air dried the slick stripe. With a pleased grunt he applied the wipe to his face and almost moaned with the pleasure.

Maybe he would not miss being able to shower as much as he had assumed.

After the acceleration burns and indignities heaped upon him in the Medical Centre earlier in the day, he was feeling particularly dirty. Much of it was psychological, he knew that, but the fact remained he felt grungy and wanted to be clean. The wipes would accomplish that and leave him feeling considerably better than he had expected to feel. The greatest problem he would be encountering when it came to personal cleanliness would his hair.

No doubt even in the shower when he was logged in for his one shower a week, washing his mane would involve some interesting gymnastics. He might need to be inventive and there was sure to be a limitation to the amount of water that could be used, but he would manage. Necessity, after all, was the mother of invention.

Pressing his face into a clean wipe he let the soiled one float within arms reach, the material being far too light to be affected by the negligible pull of the gravity in his quarters. He had noted the gravity had been becoming progressively lighter during the last thirty minutes and he presumed the Captain was saving as much energy as he could by taking the force down to absolute minimum.

Given the events currently taking place in the Earth Sphere it was possible the Bounty might need to alter course, should they received modified orders from Headquarters. He was only too aware how thinly Preventer ships were spread in the outer areas of the ESUN. If it should be decided Preventers was to take part in the security arrangements for the dealings with the so called Station Alliance, then their choice of ships to send to the meeting was limited.

The Bounty was heading out system and therefore might be one of the few ships in a position to reach an appointed location in time to run security measures. To him it was too soon for anyone to make such a call, however a smart Captain would reserve as much fuel as possible to allow for any alterations in course, though as far as Duo could see it was far too soon for anyone to be able to make that decision.

/The Chief Medical Officer might not be too happy with him, but there is still a noticeable gravity. Captain Tracey does not strike me as an indecisive man and I think he would take care of his crew. He would probably have consulted with the Demon Medic to see just how light he might set the gravity./

He would not be the only new individual onboard the ship for this tour of duty. Without looking at the service records of the crew he knew there would have been replacement crewmembers. Some of them were sure to be first timers serving on a long-haul patrol. Their physical bodies would have to settle to the prescribed drugs before the MO would permit full zero-gravity to be used in the bulk of the ship. Unlike him those crew would probably have had preliminary medical testing done for tolerance levels with the chemicals used in the production of the drugs.

/It's a complicated business getting a human body to thrive in space. Our bodies were designed for the pull of gravity and putting us in zero-g is a very unnatural environment./

Glancing once more at the clock Duo decided to throw caution to the wind and stripped himself down, breathing a sigh of relief to be free of the clothes he had been wearing. He felt dirty, grungy and though he knew his clothing was clean he needed a wash and a change of clothes to feel comfortable and feel alert enough to deal with a curious Captain.

Four wash towels floated around him by the time he had wiped himself down and he was almost purring by the time he washed his last toe. Buck naked he stretched, reaching his fingers out to buffer himself before he bounced off the ceiling and pushed off gently, taking himself back to the floor. Rummaging in his duffelbag he produced a set of clothes and took his time putting them on, concerning himself with clothing his lower half first.

Should the errant Ensign arrive while he was dressing, at least he would have his privates covered. He was feeling more alert for the refreshing wash and ready to face a few more hours without sleep.

/Guess they might know what they are talking about when it comes to these things./

Checking himself in the mirror he decided his braid was neat enough to serve. Pulling apart the braid and re-plaiting it would take time and he doubted he had enough. The Ensign was sure to arrive any minute now. Pulling on a fresh shirt he tucked it into his trousers as his eyes wandered back to the communications consol.

Howard should long ago have received his messages and he could only wonder how the old man had reacted to the news Merquise was alive. He would probably have required a few minutes to get his thoughts together before replying.

Duo was uncertain exactly how Howard stood when it came to Merquise. The old man had seemed shocked when he had watched the message from Milliardo Peacecraft, the leader of the White Fang, as he declared war on the Earth. Everyone on the Peacemillion had been shocked, but Howard in particular had looked wounded.

/I wonder just how friendly he was with Zechs? Friendly enough to let Zechs use Peacemillion as a base for Tallgeese and later the Wing Zero. I wonder what he will do? If he is in anywhere near a position where he might do something to influence the outcome on Mars? Knowing Howard 'off the space lanes' could mean anything./

Buttoning his shirt he decided he did not need a tie, such things were for use with uniforms and he had no uniform to be worn on the ship… at least not yet. He had a tie, but he was darned if he was going to dig it out of his duffle; he was sure he had packed it, but he was not expecting to find himself on a deep space ship when he had packed. He had packed for leave, to get to know his son and what cause did he have for a Preventer uniform?

If he wanted to fit in on the Bounty and blend with the crew there was no help for it, he was going to need to acquire a uniform. A ship's jumpsuit at the very least, if not something more akin to the Officers' fatigues. If the need arose for a bit of discreet exploration he could tuck his braid down the back of a uniform shirt, or coveralls and he could probably pass unnoticed amid the crew. The secret of passing unseen was to look as though you belonged and he was very good at blending in, despite the rope of hair that had become his signature trademark.

There were ways to disguise even his hair and most people never really looked at you anyway; not unless there was something out of the ordinary that transformed that initial uncaring glance into a demand for attention. If he wanted to be noticed, the braid came in damn handy. If he wanted to go unseen, then he tucked it away and acted casual if others about him were acting casual. The biggest secret to passing by unremarked was to reflect the mood of the people in your immediate vicinity. Do that and people tended to ignore you. He had learned the secret of invisibility a long time ago and it had gotten him out of some very sticky situations in the past.

He was very aware of his current situation. Though he had not as yet scanned the personnel records for the Bounty, he was pretty sure what he would find. The crew would predominately be Alliance and Oz, with a sprinkling of White Fang members. With a mix like that so few years after a major confrontation there would be tensions and sometimes those tensions would become volatile and boil over. Likely someone would get hurt and the Officers would be on them quicker than a starving flea would be on the first dog to walk past.

The agitators would find themselves facing a disciplinary tribunal in short order, as discipline must be maintained on board a ship. Such altercations would be rare amid the regular crewmembers who served the Bounty, but with new faces in the mix there would be the odd bout of contention. There would be people who had yet to learn to leave their past behind them and get on with those who had previously been considered the enemy.

Who might consider him an enemy amid those factions? If there were any Oz Specials on board he might be in serious trouble. They would have the training to be considered dangerous. Alliance too would look twice at a Gundam pilot, given he had been as free blowing Alliance bases to hell as he had been attacking the Oz forces. Regular Oz was just plain nasty, the Alliance's canon fodder before Khushrenada had splintered the group and formed the Specials. He would be sure to find these factions on board the Bounty and know they would be attentive to every action he made.

He would really need to mark any of the ex-service men or women who had Special Forces training.

White Fang might not be so rabid, though he had had no trouble blowing them away when it was required. He had not left a particularly amicable impression on the White Fang members who had approached him on the colonies. No, come to think of it, there was probably not a single individual on the ship who would have no reason not to pick a fight with him if the situation permitted.

/Not good./

A cold shiver travelled slowly down his spine and he moved his shoulders uneasily, trying in vain to shift it.

He was not sure what it was that made him so wary. He had shared locker rooms and showers with men who, only four years ago, had been his enemies. This should be no different. These men were Preventers, they had been picked and trained because their psyche profiles suggested they could get past the war and get on with the job. But his 'something is not right' itch was active and cold hard experience had taught him to listen to it or die.

The Captain did not set his hackles up, nor had any of the officers he had met thus far, but that did not matter. There was something, or someone, on this ship which worried some subconscious part of him. The same part that had seen him survive the war when he had expected to die. He had listened to it then and lived to tell the tale, he was not about to ignore it because this was supposed to be a ship of people who worked for the same organization and they were, therefore, trustworthy.

He was not that naïve.

/I don't want to die./

The thought took him by surprise and he leaned against the dinky miniature wash stand, his hands fisted around one of the moisture towels, three of them floating around him and his shirt undone. His cheek was pressed to the blessedly cold mirror affixed to the wall and he did not want to look at himself. Not yet.

Not until he figured out where that thought had come from.

What was the matter with him? What had set him off on such a morbid and dangerous train of thought? He had gotten over his 'everybody wants to kill me' paranoia within a year of the war ending. He was a Preventer agent, one of the good guys, not a shade of grey some people wanted to kill and others wanted to laud as a saviour. Why now? Why, within a day of arriving on the Bounty, did his paranoia of 'everyone is out to get me' rear its ugly head again?

/Not so good. I will have to watch myself just as much as I watch everyone else./

He did not need to succumb to his personal paranoia and the solitude of space could bring out the worst in a person. The worst thoughts, the worst dreams, the worst fears. He would have to be careful to maintain a program of interaction and activity, make friends with the crew, play games with them; share his entertainment with them.

/Find the ones who want me dead faster that way./

Blue eyes widened and darkened to violet and he cursed softly. Now that was just plain spooky. He was going to get himself into trouble thinking that way, after all, he had no real cause to think anyone was out to get him. So what if almost everyone on the ship, at some time in the past, had been an enemy? They were all on the same side now. They were all Preventers, all the good guys.

But he had killed a lot of people as Shinnigami, pilot of Deathscythe. He had faced up to that truth a long time ago and he had had his sessions with psychiatrists. He knew what he had done, he knew it was war and he knew he had been a terrorist. But it was not he who was the problem. He had killed and there were people with long memories who did not look on the Gundam Pilots as saviours.

/Damn, not good. So not good./

If he allowed himself to backslide and entertain such thoughts the path could only lead to destruction, his own destruction, and someone would be sure to die.

What he needed was to entertain himself with something constructive. Given he would have no specific duties tied to the running of the ship his best option would be to begin to chase down the information contained in the Romefeller files. Finding out as much as he could about the organization and what they were up to, could keep him occupied for a good many hours and to learn it all it could take years. What he could do was begin his hunt for information with the files on the people he knew. One had to start somewhere, after all, and it was as good a place to start as any.

It was just a pain in the proverbial butt he could not do it now.

He doubted he would gain much of an opportunity to concentrate on the data stored on those discs for the remainder of the day. He could only hope the ship would settle into a routine quickly and he could quickly work out a schedule to keep his days full, entertaining and busy enough not to entertain his paranoia.

His head snapped around at a chime and he grinned at the communications consol, snagging the floating towelets and stuffing them unceremoniously down the disposal chute, which took the place of a drain in a normal sink. Slapping the wash stand close he bounced across the gap to the com station, almost overshot the console and had to dig his fingers into the edge of the unit to save himself from slamming his gut into the unit and rebounding. With a muttered curse he hit the receive button and peered at the screen expectantly.

/Howard. Good./

He grinned with real pleasure at the prospect of seeing the old man again, even if it was only a recorded message and set up the relay to decode the transmission. He was careful to set a security seal on the transmission to avoid anyone from tapping into the message and pulled himself into his seat to wait for the call to decode.

His content was momentary, as no sooner had he settled than the door chime sounded, alerting him to the arrival of a visitor.

/Well damn, suddenly everyone wants me./

He abandoned the console, opening the door without activating the voice lock to determine who was calling. He was not going to permit himself to become a slave to his paranoia and he was pretty sure it would be his escort. He had refrained from setting the voice coded lock, preferring to leave it deactivated for the moment. He was willing to be paranoid enough to need to answer the door manually and not have someone enter his cabin while his back was turned.

He pressed his thumb to the pad beside the door and found himself staring at a young, fresh faced Ensign with a wide grin that reflected an open and honest personality. Eagerness shone out of this stranger and an innocence Duo had found rare in anyone over the age of six years of age. L2 was where children grew up quickly.

"Ensign Peter Kerr, Sir. The Captain extends his apologies for the delay but if you are ready, he is now free to attend lunch."

That was another thing which would take him time to become accustomed to. The penchant on board ship for people to call him Sir would drive him to distraction.

What was he to do? He could not leave the young man standing outside the door, but he needed to hear Howard's message. If he left the Ensign outside it would raise eyebrows at the least and the man reminded him of an overeager puppy ready to please. He had always been a sucker for puppy dog eyes and given the opportunity he had the feeling Ensign Peter Kerr could produce a set of wide, hurt eyes that would have him close to snivelling.

He had the feeling he would need to watch the crew for more than those who would be out to kill him.

"Just a minute. Come in and close the door."

He returned to the console, very much aware of the eyes following him and the fact his new dog had ears. Telling himself in no uncertain terms to stop that, he checked on the progress of the decoding and seeing it done he motioned the Ensign over toward his bunk.

He would have to trust there would be nothing of a sensitive nature in the message Howard had sent. The old man would have been careful, uncertain if Duo would be in a situation where he could read the message in private. The old man was pretty canny and he would most likely have to do some serious analysing before he could understand the full implications of whatever the message contained. He really needed to take this call before he saw Captain Tracey and turned the volume down and leaned closer to the screen.

His fingers danced over the keyboard and the darkened screen became a field of static, clearing to reveal that wrinkled old face Duo had wanted to see. The bright blue eyes that so belied the age of the old man sparkled as he winked and then vanished behind dark sunglasses. Some things never changed and the loud Hawaiian shirt was bright red with massive yellow flowers, just as bright and garish as usual.

He supposed he might faint from shock if he should ever chance to see Howard in anything other than such casual attire. It had come as an enormous shock to see Howard dressed in an impeccably tailored suit for the receptions they had attended after the war. Of course Howard had been quick to escape such formalities when the opportunity presented itself.

He could not deny it was good to see the old man again. He had not realized how much he had missed Howard until he was faced with that pointy goatee and those darker than dark glasses and heinously loud shirt. He had to wonder if Howard still sported the board shorts while in space or if he had opted for trousers. For all of his years Howard still looked spry and alert and Duo cautioned himself once again. It did not do to underestimate Howard. His eccentricities hid a razor sharp mind and he had a genius for mechanical design and engineering that few in the Earth Sphere could contest.

The screen was frozen on Howard's face, a small smirk marking his good mood, but not disguising the heavier lines age brought. He thought Howard looked tired and he wondered what the old man had been up to.

/Probably up all night working on the ship, fine turning her to perfection and forgetting about such mundane things as sleep./

From the wide grin he figured Howard must be as pleased to see him as he was to see the old man. Just seeing him brought to mind the freedom of the Sweepers and reminded him of the chains that bound him. He was an agent for Preventer, one of their best, but he was also wearing the chains shackled to him by the government who feared the skills of a professional terrorist, even as they made use of those skills.

His days as a Sweeper were the best days in his memories.

"It's good to see you again, old man," he whispered. "I'm only just beginning to realise how good, I think. Okay, what do you have to say? My time is limited, so I had best cut to the chase. Let's see if you can't give me something to give to the Captain."

He was only too aware of the man standing behind him. His every sense screamed at him of the man's presence and just what they were screaming came as something of a surprise. Yes, he could not deny Kerr was a good looking young man, tallish, though not too tall, slender and being a Preventer he would be firmly muscled in all the right places.

/Damn, where did that come from? The last thing I need is a stirring libido. I've felt no interest in anyone, male or female for months now. It has to be that bloody Chief Medic messing around with my mind. All that talk about sex…/ He shivered. /Business, Maxwell, get on with business./

"Nice to see you again, Maxwell. Enjoy your dinner with the Captain of the Bounty and be certain to remember your manners. Thank you for the information and I'll ask around amongst my contacts for information on this Kristian Khushrenada. It was much appreciated and I will see what I can do. Get some sleep. You look like you need it worse than I do. Give me a few hours to do some sniffing around and I'll send you whatever I can come up with. It may take a bit of time given the wandering habits of my friends since the war ended. I'm expecting you to look a little more human when next I see your face on my screens. I will endeavour to come up with a date and time, maybe even exact coordinates for this meeting the Sweepers have been volunteered for. You may well learn this information before I do, given your line of work, but I will try. It's been a busy morning on Peacemission and I have an even busier day ahead tidying up someone else's mess. Be advised there is a debris field drifting over the shipping lanes on the approach vector to Mars for Earth-bound shipping. We are currently engaged in mapping the extent of the field and from the information we have available to us, it is projected it may take up to four weeks to clean up. That is a guestimate and our data is not complete. The encroaching gravity field of Mars will not help matters. Give my compliments to your Captain and request he extend a warning to outgoing shipping. We will be laying warning beacons in the coming hours. Get some rest and leave it with me. I'll send you a message as soon as I learn something."

The screen froze and Duo straightened slowly, considering the message. He would need a little time to gather all of the implications, but what stood out was a surprise and one the Captain would not be too pleased to hear about.

"A debris field?" He murmured. "What the hell?"

There had to be a code in there somewhere and he needed to puzzle it out. If it was a code, and it had to be given his paranoia, what would telling the Captain of the Bounty about it do? The opening 'Thank you for the information' could be a reference to his second missive, the warning about Merquise being on Mars, though it could just as easily refer to the matter with the so called Station Alliance. 'I'll see what I can do' could refer to more than one matter.

"Mr. Maxwell? The Captain is waiting, Sir."

The voice snapped him out of his speculation and he spun, flashing a quick grin at the Ensign.

"Ah, sorry. Yes, the Captain is waiting. After you."

The Ensign blushed and motioned toward Duo, remaining where he was beside the bunk and sleeping bag arrangement. "Excuse me Sir, but don't you think you need to finish getting dressed?"

"Eh?" Glancing down at himself it was Duo's turn to blush.

His shirt hung open, the back tucked into his trousers and the front unbuttoned. He had to be blushing, mortified with the gaff. It was not done to so casually present oneself at the Captain's table. Sighing he plastered a grin on his face and spun back to the console, locking down the unit before he straightened and casually buttoned his shirt, casting a quick look over himself to ensure he was decent. He certainly did not want to appear before the Captain with his fly open.

He was careful to secure the console and the door, initiating his own security measures after following the Ensign out. Unobtrusively he slipped a damp hair over the door seal and promised himself he would see about more secure arrangements. It was not much of a security measure, but for now it was all he had the time for, especially as he had a witness. He would make certain no one but he could access the lock when he returned and he was confident that for today at least, no one would interfere with his possessions. The crew had too much to do getting the Bounty secured and on her way to worry about him.

For now.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2008


	186. Chapter 186 Chapter 185

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 185/

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 185/?? Sanc

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

/... / thoughts

"... " speech

/... / text

... flashback

... Vision

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 185

2nd March AC 198

New Port City, Sanc

Palace

Time: 06:45

Lady Une

She was pleased to learn on her arrival at the palace that the damage to the building was not as extensive as the damage caused to her own home. It was also a relief to ascertain for herself that, while there had been some minor injuries sustained, no one had been seriously injured and there had been no loss of life. The surgical strike, especially given the weather conditions proved, to her mind, that she had chosen wisely in the selection of her agent.

Even as she examined the extent of the damage and spoke to the shaken survivors, she admired her agent's skill. It appeared that no one had seen anything. The strike had come out of the night and there was no information her investigators could garner from these people which might lead them in directions she definitely did not wish examined. She could only hope Chang had managed to cover his tracks well enough from forensic examination, though the storm would help considerably there.

When she had selected her agent she had chosen carefully and wisely. As the head of Preventers she had access to the best the world had to offer. Oz, Alliance, White Fang, Treize Faction… she had representatives of all factions in the war, even Dekim Barton's Treize faction loyalists had had members who signed up with Preventers following his abortive attempt at world domination. And, of course, there were the Gundam Pilots.

Of them all she felt the only person who was suited to this task, who had the best skills to carry it off successfully, was the Gundam Pilot who had killed the one man she had loved with a fierce and obsessive devotion. It was more than his skills at terrorism which had seen her turn to him and request his aid in deceiving the world.

The biggest factor influencing her choice of agent was that Chang Wu Fei was done with needless killing.

She had no doubt at all the young man would target her if something went wrong with the mission. The operation was a risk she had felt needed to be taken, despite the weather which would surely be more hindrance than help to the task. Immediate action had been required if she had hoped to salvage something from the mess happening on Mars. Had Chang killed someone during the execution of the mission she could expect to face his wrath, and not merely in the form of a rant. The young man was done with terrorism and he was not inclined to be used and abused as once he was.

She had no illusions at all when it came to the Gundam Pilots who worked for her. She had come to know their personal histories, the training they had endured to pilot the mammoth machines and the horrors of their childhoods they had survived. Chang and Winner alone had led privileged lives, though neither had found those lives to be particularly enjoyable. Children never appreciated what they had until it was gone. Certainly none of them had led easy lives and none, with the possible exception of Winner, had expected to come from the war alive.

The one she had chosen of those available to her was Chang Wu Fei, scion of an ancient bloodline and survivor of a destroyed colony. She had chosen him because he had a strict code of honour which he followed rigidly. She knew she was pushing him to the very edge of the borders defining his code and she knew she could push him no further.

Thankfully there should be no further need of incidents involving mass destruction.

With the attack on her home and this glancing hit on the palace, the need for terrorist assaults would not be so great during the investigation of the incident. The background scene had been set and they could devise a natural death for the terrorist cell responsible for the attacks. They could arrange a few minor incidents; foiled attempts at assassinations against those people on the supposed death list. Carefully managed, this entire incident could die a natural death in the space of a month. The politicians would go back to their back scratching and posturing, and everyone could get on with the job of maintaining the peace.

/He will arrive soon./

She had recalled her agents, ordering those who were within and in the immediately vicinity of New Port City, to return to Headquarters and those nearer the Palace to reach the protection it offered as speedily as possible. No one in higher authority had best say a word about her issuing the recall or she would be seriously temped to revert to her Colonel Une persona.

Those days were long behind her.

It was a long time since she had projected the hard nosed woman who served Mr. Treize willingly, even to the point of murder.

Assassination by any name was still murder and she knew it only too well, but it was a price that had had to be paid for plans and schemes to evolve to fruition. She had no doubt the one who had planned his own death did not regret his actions, unafraid to pay the same price he had demanded from others.

To her unending pain she knew he had intended to die. The signs were there from the very beginning, but she had been too blinded by her obsession to see them. Even had she understood his ultimate intention she knew she would not have been able to change his mind. He who had planned so well, and had the courage of his convictions, would expect no less than understanding and acceptance from her.

She had loved him and she still loved him. Treize Khushrenada. His Excellency who had become, for a brief time, the World Sovereign. He was the War Lord who defended the Earth and her innocent citizens from the machinations of a mad man and his followers.

That was the popular vision of His Excellency. That was what the people saw. That was what they had been intended to see.

Innocents who knew nothing.

/It is what was intended the people see. All of it fabrication. All of it designed so painstakingly. All of it a lie./

There were reports of sightings of him on colonies and in remote areas of the Earth every year. Sightings of a man who could only be His Excellency. Sightings she investigated with little hope in her heart and always her doubt was proven justified. If he lived, she had no doubt, he would contact her.

/He would call me. He would somehow let me know he lived. Would he not?/

She did not wish to answer her own question for fear she might find she did not, in fact, believe that he would come to her. It would make sense for him to come to her as she was in a position to help him if he willed to remain invisible to the people.

Certainly the knowledge of his survival would throw the new world order into confusion if he was proven to be alive. To have His Excellency Treize Khushrenada be known to be alive would destabilize the very peace he had fought for. No, he would not wish his presence to be known and therefore he would not permit himself to be glimpsed by just anyone.

Not that she was just anyone, but she was watched by those who considered themselves to be better than she. For all she was Preventer Earth they watched her, waiting, slavering at her heels, ready to drag her down at the first faltering step, the first suggestion of weakness. There was so little trust to be found, though she thought it might be improving. The observation of certain individuals who had, during the war been key figures, was something she found infuriating. It was curbing the skills and effectiveness of them all, but it was something they would need to live with.

How long for she was afraid to think.

The simple truth was that it was too soon after the fighting for trust.

/What would you think of what has become of your peace, Mr. Treize? I have no doubt you would know what to do about them. You would know what to do about the sly, sneaky little toads working their way back into power. What was it all for if Romefeller's old boys club is reforming? I can see it happening and short of killing off key individuals before they consolidate their standing, I can't think of how to control them and not be targeted./

It was a dilemma she would need to devote some attention to. Relena was still her best hope to maintain the peace, though the girl would not appreciate the suggestion she maintain her position. It was unfortunate what had happened, that they had managed to latch onto the Peacecraft Princess and twist the knife, but that was the way it was with the cold, hard old school of politics.

Romefeller played a very dirty game of politics and the Peacecrafts had forever been embroiled in Romefeller's plans.

As matters stood, deplorable as it was, there was little she could do at present to turn events around. The girl needed to grow up and face the hard reality of political life.

But there was, in some small way, hope.

Not of extricating Marquise from whatever sordid, dirty little plot was taking place now, but hope of salvaging his sister to keep the peace.

By inserting Chang Wu Fei into their hallowed halls as an agent openly assigned to investigate the death threats, she hoped to distract them from their focus on Relena. He was a former Gundam Pilot and as such they feared him. They had him watched, proof of their fear and he had his honour code, her safety net. Though they might attempt to turn him, to make use of him, with his particular code of honour they would have very little chance of influencing him.

He had no love for Romefeller and there were some days when she found herself wondering if he had investigated the power play behind the war. If he had then he kept far better control of his temper than she had assumed him capable of. He was volatile, a justice freak, according to Maxwell and surely his honour code would have him at least demanding a formal investigation be instigated.

Yet if he had, surely he would have targeted Romefeller as revenge for the destruction of his colony?

While it had been the Elders of his own clan who had detonated his home colony, the reasons behind their decision lay with the machinations of Romefeller. Personally, she had been surprised when the colony had been destroyed. It had been her thought the Elders would submit to the occupation forces and resume their clandestine activities after a few years. That would have made more sense than destroying the space habitat.

Traditionally the Chinese were great absorbers. They had been conquered repeatedly over the course of history, but in as little as two generations they had absorbed and educated the invaders, civilizing the barbarians until one could not tell the invader from their own. She had expected something similar, but no, they had, for some inexplicable reason, pushed the button.

What, besides the means to construct a Gundam, had they been trying to hide?

/I doubt Chang would have known what they were hiding, not that it matters now. For all he was a Gundam Pilot and supposedly the heir of the clan, he was not, I have determined, particularly well informed of their plans. Those plans he was privy to he did not particularly approve of. Still, old men like to hold on to their power and rarely share sensitive details with the impatient hot blood of youth./

Her eyes tracked to the clock and she sighed, rubbing her palms together in an absent gesture, listening to the howling wind and soaking in the heat of the fire. It was approaching seven in the morning and there was not a hint of dawn creeping through the blizzard. The wind was rising, as she had been warned.

It was Pagan who had advised her to recall her agents and rest them for the next four to six hours. It would take that long for conditions to begin to ease, he assured her. He knew his country's climate better than she and he assured her the conditions would improve, though not before they deteriorated to dangerous levels. He assured her that as quickly as they deteriorated, they would improve and by mid to late afternoon her people could be working once more.

"Only those people who are in vital positions and have access to the subway, will be making any effort to attend work this morning, Ma'am."

She had to trust him, particularly as she had been notified on arrival at the palace that three of her agents were on their way to hospital, after their vehicle ran off the road and into a power pole in the heart of the city. Radio communications were sketchy and broken with interference and the cell phones were next to useless. Her people in country areas were at even greater risk, especially those who were working foot patrols seeking some form of evidence she knew they would not find.

Chang was too careful to leave incriminating evidence in his wake. She expected he would take great pains to arrange for his presence to be required at every place the 'terrorist' might have been active. Any stray hairs or skin fragments could be explained away given the weather conditions and his presence on the investigation team.

Still, weather not withstanding, it was high time the man made an appearance. She had expected him to arrive at the palace by now and come storming through the door, intent on demanding answers from her.

Not that she could blame him for wanting answers, but she knew little more now than she had known when she had left him at what remained of her home. With communications as bad as they were she was having difficulty contacting her people. The storm was so violent it even interfered with satellite communications and in this day and age that was something she had not expected to occur. All the wonders of modern technology failed beneath the grandeur of Mother Nature.

A brief tap on the door drew her attention and she smoothed a hand down her slacks, thankful she had changed before braving the wild weather. To her summons Pagan stepped into the room, bowing formally.

"Forgive the interruption, Ma'am. I have been informed Mr. Chang and his team have arrived. Their vehicles became stuck in snow banks and they were forced to hike the last two kilometres. Shall I direct the young gentleman to you?"

"Immediately, if you would, please. Thank you."

"I shall have something hot prepared and served to assist in thawing the gentleman out, Ma'am. I have taken the liberty of having rooms prepared for the team, and I shall have clothing laid out in their rooms as soon as I may estimate their sizes."

She knew Relena relied heavily on the old man and she could see why. He was, to say the least, efficient.

"Thank you for looking after my people, Pagan. I honestly don't know what I would do without you."

The old man bowed and she was not sure if that moustache of his lifted into a faint smile or not. "Word has been received that the car transporting Mrs. Darlian was unable to reach its destination. Before contact was lost the agent said they were taking shelter at a hotel until the storm eases."

She was not surprised, but it raised the question of whether or not Relena's party had managed to escape the storm. There were entirely too many of her people out in this weather.

"Thank you."

He withdrew, closing the door silently behind him, leaving her once more with the roaring log fire, the antique furniture and too many unanswered questions.

Settling into an overstuffed chair set close beside the hearth, she produced a notebook and pen and settled back to write the list she would need to give her agent. She would need to send him into the lion's den, but, and she smiled, a dragon was far superior to lions, even when the lions hunted in packs.

Her dragon would singe a few whiskers before he was done, of that she had no doubt.

Politics wearied her, but it was a necessary part of being Preventer Earth. It was her job to be abreast of the various factions in the governments of Earth and the Colonies. She needed to brief her agents of the way the political wind blew when it impacted on them.

To her disgust the elections now being held around the planet were placing people in the Council of Representatives she knew from the war. People who were politically astute, had their own agenda's and who were not in the least shy about forcing their way to the top, should their schemes prove inadequate.

She knew they would be discrete at first. It would not do to move into government so soon after backing the losing team and expect to do what one wanted without fear of reprisal. They were smarter than that and would move slowly and in measured stages, but over the course of the next three to six years they would be gathering power to themselves.

She would need to keep a careful eye on the development of the party factions as they began to settle into a sense of confidence. Placing Chang in their midst would give them pause. They would wonder what she, who held Chang's leash, was up to, wondering exactly what she was investigating. It was a foregone conclusion they would not trust her enough to believe she would investigate only this publicized threat to their lives.

They were not the most trusting of souls, Romefeller sycophants. And at one time she had been Romefeller.

And to think, in less than twenty four hours it had proven to be unnecessary. She had begun this deception to turn public attention from the fiasco on Mars, and the appearance of this Station Alliance would have very neatly done the trick. Still, she had not known of the Station Alliance at the time she had initiated her response and she could still make it work for them, not against them.

/I will need to investigate the reactions of the members of the House of Representatives to the proposed conference. If we are to meet the Station Alliance on equal terms, it will mean Relena will be required to take part in the Earth Sphere delegation. If they intend she not attend, then they must assign her to a new position and appoint someone else as Vice Foreign Minister. Now, would they be inclined to do that to maintain their strangle hold on her? She is after all, useful to them in that position. It is possible they may have no choice but to permit her to take part./

The delegation to attend the conference in space would need to be chosen with uncommon speed, given the time constraints hinted at. A meeting at a specific location in space required exact planning to have the principles arrive at the designated time and place. She could not plan to meet the security requirements of the conference until she knew the location of the proposed meeting. To learn more she needed to contact the Sweepers, who seemed not to be in a hurry to offer up the information.

It made her wonder if the Sweepers were caught as unprepared as everyone else over the appearance of the Station Alliance.

/Howard would be my best bet to gain some useful information. If I can get the jump on Romefeller and on the House of Representatives, then I might be able to do something with Relena's precarious position. If Zechs was not being used against her, it would be a great deal easier to pull a few teeth. There would be less of a chance my involvement would be suspected in the operation, but given they know that I know they are blackmailing her, they will be expecting me to act./ Rubbing at her temples she sighed and closed her eyes, seeking some relief from the incessant throbbing of a headache. /Ah, Mr. Treize, you revelled in politics, but I hate it!/

A light tap on the door caused her to look up from her half completed list. She was about to call out permission for her visitor to enter when the door opened and Chang Wu Fei entered the room. Her eyes widening, Lady Une set aside her pad and pen and rose, motioning imperiously at the fire, not that Chang needed any urging.

With shuffling steps the soaking wet young man stumbled closer to the fire. He was followed into the room by Pagan who was carrying a large tray containing teapots, cups and a selection of steaming hot food.

Chang was literally steaming as he neared the hearth, the ice and snow coating his shoulders and hair beginning to melt in the heat of the roaring flames. Une knelt and threw some more logs on the blaze as Pagan set the tray on the sideboard and moved to Wu Fei, and in short order divested him of his coat, instructing him to remove his shoes and socks with the promise dry footwear would be arriving shortly.

Chang had difficulty in bending and it appeared impossible for him to remove his boot. Une imperiously motioned to the over stuffed chair in which she had previously been seated. A stuttered protest he would ruin the upholstery was summarily dismissed and Une pushed him into the chair, bending to work on removing his shoes and peel the socks from his feet. Pagan, she noted, was speaking to someone at the door and she paid him no mind as she worked, aware the young man was beginning to shiver violently.

"Re...reporting… as… as instructed." Chang's teeth were chattering so violently she was surprised he did not bite his tongue.

"You will be heading off for a hot shower and few hours sleep," Une tartly commented, "just as soon as you get some of that hot stew into you."

Pagan returned as she peeled the last sock from his feet and Une sat back, allowing the old man to wrap a woollen blanket about the smaller man's shoulders. Slippers were dropped beside the chair and Pagan offered a towel to Lady Une, taking the second towel and beginning to vigorously rub the dark head. Just as vigorously Une worked on Chang's feet, examining them carefully to determine their state before subjecting them to an energetic and warming rubbing.

"I don't know how he managed it, but there appears to be no sign of frostbite," Une murmured.

"Fortunate," Pagan murmured. "Please finish drying your hair, Mr. Chang and I will prepare your tea."

Une watched as Wu Fei buried his face in the towel and shivered, slowly working the towel through his hair, as though he had no energy left to do even that much.

"Did you have a flu shot, Chang?"

Shaking too much to reply verbally, Wu Fei managed a discernable nod, fighting the chills which seemed to be growing more, not less, violent.

"My… mmmmmen…"

"Are being cared for," Pagan assured him, offering him a tea cup. "This is a herbal concoction we use locally. You will find it a little astringent, I think, but it has a restorative effect we have relied on for many generations. I have a room prepared for you. As soon as you have eaten and are comfortable I shall show you there to rest."

"Mmmii.. Missionnn."

"Hang the mission, Chang, you are not killing yourself, " Une snapped. "I will have a list of names for you after you have rested and the weather improves enough for you to survive going outside. I am reliably informed by Pagan that will not be for another five hours or so. I doubt anyone in New Port City will be stupid enough to venture out in this until it eases, that goes especially for politicians, who are notorious for liking warm backsides and there is no local election to tempt them out."

"Hot," Chang whispered, voice hoarse, sipping the steaming hot tea. "Good."

"You should have four or five hours in which to recoup." Une straightened, folding the towel and placing it on the side table before slipping the slippers onto his feet. "If I have any need of you before then I will have you rousted out."

She had little doubt, after his night's activities, he would sleep like the dead when he reached his bed. It would be a dire emergency indeed before she would force him out of bed. In fact, she would take the opportunity the inclement weather provided to take a rest herself.

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2008


	187. Chapter 187 Chapter 186

Alternative Directions: Options

_Italics_ Flashback

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 186

2nd March AC 198

Aphrodite ISA-R 0143A ISA Independent Station Alliance / R 0143A Station Registry Identification

Time: 16:50 time as for Station One Approx Mars time 09:22 / Approx Sanc time 07:17

Raydon

"Master Raydon. It is time for you to wake, sir."

Within the warm cocoon there was the dawning of discontent. There had been warmth, an enfolding gentle darkness that had welcomed. He was not ready to give up that oblivion and sought to burrow deep within the silken folds.

"Sir, you have ten minutes in which to prepare yourself before your meal arrives."

Oblivion would have been perfect, an absence of all things in which to luxuriate, but such, it appeared, was not to be. There was disturbance, annoying in its insistence he pay it heed. The voice was impossible to ignore, encroaching on his awareness, demanding he give some sign of wakefulness.

No.

He could be stubborn too.

"I would suggest you take the opportunity to enjoy a shower, sir."

He was asleep. He was not awake and it was an annoying dream which wove through his mind, much as the glimpse of shimmering moon silvered hair would wind through his fingers. Mmmm, now that was far more pleasurable than paying heed to an annoyance.

"Sir."

He knew that voice. He knew the tone and the temper behind it. He recognized the calm patience and the understanding undertones, and he recognized the reluctance in the voice highlighted with connotations of determination.

/Maurice?/

"Sir."

Maurice. How annoying.

The confirmation of identity was no comfort. He was bone aching weary and was he not permitted sleep? Maurice had proven himself to be indispensible over time and handled much he considered too trivial to disturb his employer. Sleep was a precious commodity to one who was in demand at all hours of the day and night, and Maurice knew not to disturb him when he entertained this blonde beauty in his bed.

His fingers closed gently on silken strands and he rumbled his annoyance at being disturbed. He wanted to sleep himself out and if Maurice did not go away he would wake his magnificent Prince; and not even Maurice would escape his wrath for that sacrilege.

No, that was wrong. There was something wrong, but to put his finger on it he would need to trouble himself and was it so important he need stir himself to wakefulness?

Did he dare not, if he would keep his lover safe?

Maurice alone would chance his temper by disturbing him unless the station was falling down around their ears. Everyone else was too lily livered to dare his temper on first awakening. They would have Maurice do the dirty deed because they considered him to have something of a charmed life to have survived the notorious temper for so long.

"Master Raydon. It is time you woke up, sir. I am afraid I have delayed disturbing you as long as I dare."

The pale silk and warmth of the body nestled against his own drifted from his awareness and he grasped at the trailing wisps of dream… or vision, a small voice whispered. There was something there, something he had no wish to abandon; something he sought to hold above all else and he knew, even as he grasped for it, that it would-must- elude him.

"Master Raydon."

Gone. Temper flared as the last chance to grasp that elusive presence faded beneath the demand for his attention. He hissed at the continued disturbance, cursing the source of it to an eternity of discontent and forced his eyes open. He wanted to gut….

Where the hell was he?

Metal surrounded him. Metal barely an arm's reach above his head, metal just in front of his nose and whatever he lay on had to be a hard slab of unforgiving steel. The sheet and blanket covering him was far from the quality of those he used and there was a vibration as he touched the cool wall beside him.

A rhythmic pulsing.

This was not his quarters on Station One. This was a ship, a standard bunk on a ship and how the hell had he fitted his long frame into such a small bed? He would be stiff for hours if he did not take time out in the gym to limber up, or at least do some cursory stretches to ease some of the kinks once he stood up.

"Well, some progress I see. The eyes are open, though I have seen far more intelligence in them after a three day bender, if you do not mind me making the observation, sir. Do you recall where you are?"

"Fuck you, Maurice."

"How eloquent. However, any indication of progress has to be taken as positive advancement. Do you know where you are, sir?"

Did he know where he was? Of course he did… not. He hadn't a clue as to where this generic wall and lump of steel commonly referred to as a bunk could be. Frowning he levered himself up, peering around the small cabin, careful not to whack his head on the bulkhead.

He was, without doubt, on a space ship and that slab of metal above him would be the base of a sealed cupboard unit used for storage. The thought sparked recognition and an avalanche of memories. Rubbing his face he scratched a path through stubble with his fingernails and indulged in a wide yawn.

"I'm awake and on the…"

What had the ship been called?

"Goddess or something, wasn't it?" The name eluded him.

Damn, that was annoying. He felt like he was struggling through a thick fog.

"Close. You are on the Aphrodite, sir, newly designated flagship of the Station fleet. Your meal will be along in a few minutes, but you have five minutes in which to take a shower."

Aphrodite? Memory rushed back and he wanted desperately to roll over and bury himself in blessed oblivion.

Five minutes? Probably half of that would be actual water time. Water was a precious commodity on a ship and he should be thankful he was allocated any at all.

"What time is it and why are there no clocks in here?"

"Sir is feeling better, I see." Maurice smirked. "I am loathe to permit a clock to be placed in your bedchamber, sir. You would feel the press of time more heavily if I permitted it, and sir needs all the rest he can get. There is a clock in the drawing room and its hands are enough of a jailer that I will not permit another in the suite."

Did he really want to know the time? No, he did not, but that was beside the point. He actually needed to know how long he had slept and what had happened in the interim.

"I will have a change of clothing laid out for you by the time you finish your toilet, sir."

Always the efficient bastard. Maurice would have everything set to an exact time scale and the man would somehow badger him into keeping that schedule. He had tried to disrupt Maurice's so carefully worked schedules in the past and rarely succeeded. To add insult to injury the man took his every attempt in stride. It had become a personal contest between them, one he thoroughly enjoyed as it was a harmless contest with no bystanders in the firing line.

An innocent contest, unlike this new game where the Stations would be playing for their very survival, and for a future for those who once had nothing to look forward to. It was not going to be easy, placing the Stations on an even level with the ESUN, but he owed it to his people to succeed and it was not going to be an impossible game to win.

Unlike the dreams he once had entertained for a quieter lifestyle where he could live in relative obscurity, safe and with the warmth of one he loved at his side.

He had been dreaming such a dream, living it in the reality of vision, but not true vision. He could not recall in vivid detail the dream and that alone told him it was a fleeting possibility and he would be denied its perfection.

Already the memory was too fuzzy for him to grasp more than the impression of silken strands threading through his fingers. It was a dream he wanted to remember, even as he knew it could not become reality, but it receded further from him the more he tried to capture it.

"Sir."

It was so rare that he could actually capture his Prince in a dream.

"I'm getting up. Give me a minute, will you?"

He could feel the man hesitate but Maurice turned and left him to his thoughts. What he must think, Raydon did not dare to consider, but he had learned a long time ago not to underestimate Maurice. The man had to be Gifted but had his own ways and no wish to change, and Raydon could respect his will.

Alone, he swung his feet to the floor, noting the gravity was set low but was sufficient to keep light weight items in place. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at his feet, wishing the events of the previous day away. Wishing he still had time to arrange his personal life in a more satisfactory configuration. But there was no time for that.

"Useless. A waste of time and effort."

Bemoaning the loss of what he had not earned would not do. Others relied on him to give them the future he had promised to gain their assistance in building the stations and he could not let them down. Much as he wished to wail in despair he knew the futility of it. Moving on would be best, and moving on gracefully would be kinder to himself in the long run than wallowing in self pity.

There was certainly enough for him to do to take his attention away from his own fate. While he could he would listen to the dictates of the incomparable Maurice, whose job it was to see him presentable and on time to his appointments; and alert enough to actually be of use.

/Ah, damn. I'm supposed to be mad at him. Well, not so much mad as annoyed for bulling his way onto the ship. I'm not supposed to have a need for him anymore and I sure as hell used to look after myself. He's spoilt me./

He had no memory of falling into bed. He certainly did not recall stripping off his clothing and he scratched absently at a naked thigh. There was a robe hanging from the rack from which the sleeping bag he would use as a bed in zero-g hung and he rubbed at his chin thoughtfully as he padded into the cubicle laughingly referred to as a bathroom. A shower was first on his list of priorities before he ran out of time and then he could annoy the hell out of Maurice by wearing the robe to breakfast and not the clothing that would be laid out for him by the time he was finished.

He had to admit the cabin suite was rather luxurious for a ship of the Aphrodite's class and he needed to remember that. He had been given the best cabin on board in deference to the title of President of the Station Alliance, and he was fortunate to have something that could be considered a private bathroom. Soon enough they would be using the treated cloths to maintain standards of cleanliness and for the luxury of a shower he would not look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Maurice!"

"Sir?"

"Has there been word from the Peacemission or Control Centre regarding the Wellington situation; and tell me the time, you bastard!"

"I believe the matter of the Wellington approaching the orbit of Mars has been taken over by Master Howard, sir. The Captain has left a briefing for you on the position of the Peacemission at last contact and the actions of Howard and the Captain's working with him. I believe the matter is looking promising for a confrontation free resolution."

Stepping under the hot spray Raydon entertained a grin of relief. The old man was eccentric but you could always rely on Howard in a pinch.

"Good. If anyone can pull of diverting a ship such as the Wellington it would be that canny old man. I'll read the report while I eat. Any word from our men on Mars?"

"There has been no further communication with Mars, sir and the Dakkar system is still inoperable."

That lack of communication was worrying him. He had hoped to have heard something by now, but it did not necessarily bode ill toward events taking place there. He had provided his agents with a completely independent means of communicating with off world contacts and their silence was likely to be caused by the necessity to act. It had both good and bad connotations.

The unit was not exactly the highest powered available as they had needed to keep it relatively compact and easily disguised, but it had sufficient grunt to contact the ships he kept on a roster near Mars orbit. Those ships were on alert to receive any communications and relay it to him for evaluation and instructions. Space was vast and one had to learn the value of patience when one worked and lived free of a planet's immediate gravity well. Some days the boredom could drive a man into a bout of the space crazies and one must remember never to lose sight of the value of patience.

Too many mistakes were made that way; forgetting to be patient, acting hastily or with ill considered responses. People died because of it.

"Mr. Hendericks left a message stating he wishes a word with you at your earliest convenience. I enquired if the matter was urgent and he assured me it is not, but he would like a word with you some time today."

"With emphasis on the today?"

"Yes, sir."

No help for it then and certainly there would be no avoiding the contact. If the Training Master assigned to the Aphrodite for the journey wanted a word with him, he would have to see how early he could fit the man in. One did not make a Training Master wait any longer than necessary; not even when one was the President of the Station Alliance.

"Have you any possible slots free for him to be slipped in?"

He wanted to stand under the spray and luxuriate in the hot water but his time limit must be nearly done and he grabbed for the shampoo. The last thing he wanted was to have shampoo in his hair when the water ran out.

"There are three points in your schedule which are possible windows of opportunity."

"Then don't allow me to forget."

"Indeed not, sir. Your meal has arrived."

"I'll be there in a minute."

He was hungry and he would not deprive himself of precious time to eat and fortify himself for the endless activity the situation would require of him. It was wonderful to feel clean and refreshed after being woken before his body determined it had rested sufficiently. He had had enough rest to function without impeding the activities that would be demanded of him…and that infuriating nuisance had avoided telling him the time again. Just how did he manage to do that?

It would be interesting to watch Maurice engage in a battle of wills with Milliardo. In fact, he wondered if he could start a betting pool on it? He had no doubt over time Maurice would win the war, but he had enough confidence in Milliardo to know the man would win more than one or two battles. When one was President one had to take what amusement and diversions one could get.

/What are you doing on Mars, Milliardo? Why did you go there of all places?/

He had known the Prince must test the boundaries of his freedom and he had expected it, but what had taken the man to Mars? Had it been by his choice that distant and desolate planet had been chosen? Had Milliardo had any choice in the matter at all? There was so much he needed to learn and regardless of what was happening now, he would learn what had happened in the wake of the Barton Incursion.

/You are alive. The bonding between us is strong enough for me to know if you live or die, and I am uncertain if I will be able to release that link when you are ready to leave me. I will have to, but it will hurt as much to let it go as it would to keep it./

Someone had told him once, a long time ago, that if you loved something enough you could let it go. Indeed, you had to let it go. If it was meant to be, if you were loved in return, it would return to you.

What was he to do? It was not a bond he had asked for, or ever tried to manipulate. The tie that bound them was something that was natural between them and what became of it depended on their personal choice, but as to whether or not he could let it go? To be honest he did not know if that was even possible.

Neither he nor Milliardo had had anything to do with the creation of the bond after all.

It was simply there. At first sight of the man in the mangled wreckage he had felt it ensnare him.

/I wonder if those bastards who bred us knew it would be possible for a binding link to form? Did they know, did they tie us deliberately? How could they though, I am so much older than my Prince. It seems impossible, but… Just how much do Romefeller know and understand the quirks of the children they create in their test tubes?/

Did the Gene Masters know enough to set such a binding tie between two who were conceived so far apart?

He rinsed the last of the shampoo from his hair, spared all of two seconds to consider the conditioner and flipped the cap of the bottle; it might be his last opportunity to have a decent hair wash

_"We are the true Romefeller and we are not to be denied. In anything. You will learn child, that we stand at the core of the world. We oversee the development of the human species and we take care to protect our investment from destroying itself. You are a part of us, Young Christian, and you are within our protection. It is your task; your payment to Romefeller for your very existence, to grow strong and wise in the use of your abilities and to use them for the furtherance of Romefeller. It is why you have the talents that will develop as you mature, for the furtherance of the Design. You are an integral part in our master plan for the development for the future of the human race." _

Smug bastards. Smug, self-centred, overbearing bastards.

When those words had been spoken to him he had been a child, and a young child at that. A child torn from his family, exiled from the world, lost amid a world of smirking adults who spoke of things he did not understand but instinctively distrusted. He had never forgotten though, either the words spoken or the fact his world had been destroyed by their machinations. Young as he was he had not been an idiot and he had enough of a sense of danger to know to bide his time, to be patient and survive.

Khushrenada's were very good at surviving.

Romefeller and the Inner Circle had taken his family from him and it was only later he had learned of their deaths; yet another point against those who professed to be his true family and to know what was best for him. He had fought them, in his own way, and they had been content with his small rebellions, believing they held the upper hand. He had cultivated patience and his hatred of them and learned what they had to teach him, intending to use it against them in the fullness of time.

Incur a Khushrenada's enmity and he would never forget, nor was he likely to forgive.

That his chance would come to escape them he had never doubted. He had kept his humanity alive, hiding his determination and independence away deep inside himself, where their tamed conditioned tools could not find the real Christian Khushrenada. He had waited for them to relax their guard and for his chance to come.

He had known there would come a day when he would escape their control. He had not doubted it. Bide his time, survive, learn and when the opportunity came, take it. Grasp it with both hands and ride it to freedom. Nor had he been in error. He had escaped them and in his success had become something other than another slave to Romefeller.

Free to be an independent thinker after so many years. He had prepared for his escape and for a future where he would always be on the run from those who had held him captive and given him the skills to defy them. Gaining freedom had not been a guarantee of remaining free and he had determined to join forces with like minded individuals who could open up a future not only for himself, but for others like him.

Others who had dreamed as he had dreamed and who managed to escape the clawed clutches of Romefeller.

Others like Milliardo.

They were the children of Romefeller.

They needed to find each other and support each other against the hunters who would forever dog their footsteps. Being a child of Romefeller need not mean a life of servitude and obedience to The Inner Circle who considered all others beneath them.

During his captivity he had learned of those who had defied them and escaped and he had marked those tales for future reference. Just knowing there were others bred of Romefeller's design; who had earned their freedom to live in the free world, not in the hot house Romefeller maintained to keep control of individuality, had been enough.

There was, somewhere, others who had escaped and taken with them something very precious to Romefeller. That theft had shaken the Inner Circle as nothing else ever had and they had been unable to hide it from him. He determined to find them when he escaped, to hunt them down for his own purposes and join with them. No matter how changed, how diluted their genes had become after leaving Romefeller's sphere of control, they were all his cousins, to varying degrees, and he dreamed of finding them.

He rinsed quickly and thoroughly and turned the water off, leaning back against the warmed metal of the cubicle.

It was a dream, nothing more than a dream, but certain of his dreams came true. It was alright if this one did not, and it was alright because he was capable of providing others who escaped with a sanctuary from Romefeller. Others would come in time, as some had already come to him and stayed. The one he wanted to stay would not; he could not now give that one the attention he deserved, but in his dreams at least he might feel the warm flesh against his own, savour the rich scent of him, and feel the intensity and vibrancy of the heart beating beneath his hands.

His Prince.

His cursed Prince.

The one who had had his word shattered, his family butchered, his life thrown to chance because of the games Romefeller played.

How had his cousins, who had inherited all that once had been his, managed to hide the very noticeable child from Romefeller? It was a question he must ask his cousin if he ever chanced to meet him.

He was alive, of that Raydon was sure.

Treize Khushrenada was alive and would once again meet Milliardo Peacecraft face to face.

Because of this Station One would not, could not, hold the Prince.

He could not hold Milliardo as he longed to.

So many of those earlier dreams had been superseded by other visions. His promise to himself of days of freedom restored had come to be, though no restoration of his family Romefeller had destroyed was possible. He had had other dreams of a prophetic nature, glimpses of the future both good and bad. Beneath Romefeller's harsh tuition he had learned he was capable of manipulating events to bring about the desired conditions for vision to become reality.

That was what he was doing now, speeding toward a rendezvous that would see Station One and her sister Stations independent recognized states. The ESUN must sign a treaty and he must feature in the delegation and devote himself to the furtherance of the Stations. The price for their independent success was a personal one for him and one he must smile as he paid. His preferred dream was lost to him by the machinations of the ESUN acting against the one he would take as his lover and soul mate. There was no other option than for him to face that disagreeable fate with the same courage as he had faced his captivity in the distant past.

Perhaps the wheel of fate would turn again, in the fullness of time, and he might once again earn the right to draw the Prince to him. Perhaps.

That rare glimpse of Milliardo in his dreams… so rare to actually see his Prince in vision. Milliardo was an enigma, different even to the other Romefeller children, different to him; but closer to him than to others Romefeller had bred.

/I am not looking forward to this summit, but I will have convinced myself of the necessity by the time we reach the rendezvous. I know it will not be, Milliardo and I, but that does not mean I can not admire the scenery when he comes, or ensure while I have him within my influence that he will be protected. The vision was not complete after all. I seem always to be woken before the sequences play out whenever Milliardo features in vision. Waking vision or asleep it matters not, something happens to disturb the flow. I can feel the shadow hanging over him, the uncertainty./

It was something he had never understood, this shadow which obscured the Prince from not only his own vision, but from all the other clairvoyants at Station as well. Not even the Training Masters had come up with convincing arguments to explain why it was so hard to capture vision featuring Milliardo. The best they had come up with was that it was possibly some warped effect of Romefeller's genetic manipulation.

Milliardo's obscurity in vision made it damnably hard to control events for the best possible outcome. The battle at Libra was a clear indication of how difficult it would be to control events surrounding his Prince. With his record of visionary experiences it was glaringly obvious, this lack of sequences which featured Milliardo Peacecraft. No clairvoyant at Station One had had a clear vision of what would happen in the battle for the Earth.

The visions of the Libra had been disjointed at best, scrambled, brief glimpses of something of importance occurring. A battle taking place there, yes, that had been clear enough, but something else had happened at Libra. Something important; something no one could guess at and even now the Training Masters and strategists could not settle on events.

They had approximated the time of the conflict from those glimpses within vision. Christmas trees and decorations in the background of visions of people running, military machines moving… these glimpses had given them a time frame to work to and they had come to Earth largely unknowing of why.

He had pushed his analysts and his psychics, and himself, as hard as he dared; driven by that demanding additional sense Romefeller had bred into him. It had demanded he be there, hidden, watchful as Libra fell. Waiting.

The presence of Station One ships in the area had gone unnoticed. No one knew they had witnessed the conflict and acted in a significant moment. None of the colony or Earth forces knew they had been present to locate the wreckage of that red behemoth and taken on board the key player in the drama.

Hind sight and careful examination of the events had shown them they had been there specifically to rescue the man who would be hated for teaching a fundamental lesson to humanity.

One of the men, he corrected himself.

There was, after all, his cousin to consider. Treize Khushrenada.

It would not do to underestimate the manipulating fingers and exemplary planning of a Khushranada. He needed to consider that worthy in events to come. The man who was given his birth title because Romefeller had taken his world away to serve their needs, was not one he could afford to discount in his calculations to preserve the independence of the Stations.

He needed to consider the part cousin Treize had played in the war itself, and why the man would manipulate events so precisely to achieve his goal and then play dead. Where had he been all this time? What had he been planning then and now? It was not feasible that a Khushrenada would resist the temptation of dipping his fine long fingers into a political cesspool. They could not help themselves; it was like bees to nectar. They just had to play and he was no more immune than Treize would be.

Just look at his activities now.

Milliardo had not offered much in the way of information concerning the events leading up to the war. Initially he had been incapable of answering questions and after he recovered from his injuries he had chosen not to respond. Raydon knew there had been a firm friendship between the two men, indeed his cousin's family had reared the Prince and they would have been more than friends. More likely brothers would be closer to the truth.

Such education as would have been given to a Khushrenada son would have been given to the Peacecraft heir. They would not have had an easy childhood, no Khushrenada did, but it would have served to bring the two to a greater understanding of each other.

Brothers… or something more?

/This is far from being an appropriate time for a bout of jealousy, you stubborn bastard. Food, imbecile. Feed the body and maybe the brain will engage a little better, or the Stations are in deep shit./

Busy as the day would be he knew he was going to find himself constantly drifting back to this train of thought. There was a reason for it. There always was a reason for this annoying contemplation. There was something he was missing, something that stemmed from long ago, from his time within the hidden halls of Romefeller. It reflected directly onto this time and he needed to recall it. He needed to make the connection and understand.

Was it some shadowed vision on a deep level of his consciousness he had not realized now disturbing his peace of mind? Or perhaps a conversation as a child overheard and not understood?

Perhaps

He grasped the towel, rubbing himself dry quickly and efficiently before entering the bedroom and reaching for the robe. Scowling at the absence of silken cloth from where it should be his gaze slipped to the bed and the clothing folded neatly there.

A suit for God's sake.

"Bloody Maurice!"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2008


	188. Chapter 188 Chapter 187

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 187/

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 187/?? Bounty

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

Thoughts /…/

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Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 187

Preventer Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty

Date 2nd March AC 198

Time: 13:08 Bounty Ship Time Peacemission time 09:53

Duo

It was disturbing that as he followed the Ensign through the halls of the Bounty en route to lunch with the Captain, Duo found his thoughts drifting to how well the uniform fitted the slightly older man.

The Ensign walked a little ahead of him, just out of his personal space which resulted in Duo having a fine view of his broad back, military posture and tight derrière. The Ensign cut a fine figure, the clothing being well tailored to fit his frame and carefully pressed. The pride he had in his position was reflected in how he wore the uniform, and the care taken with his personal grooming suggested he was brought up to be conscious of how others saw him.

The young man was aware of the power of appearance and was endeavouring to look the part of his role. He was certainly officer material and watching him and the way he walked, Duo determined the man had ambitions. He intended to further his career, meaning while he was on duty he would be all duty and carry out every instruction to the letter speedily and efficiently.

Duo knew the type and he admitted he liked that type.

Officers attracted him.

Maybe it was the power they generated, or perhaps it was simply their awareness of the responsibilities that lay inherent with their position. Whatever it was he always found himself looking twice at an officer and often he found his body informed him some officers were more exceptional than others.

Not that he had been fool enough to dally with members of the Preventer hierarchy. He had always been conscious of the requirements of command and so had been careful not to have a personal relationship, which included a sexual relationship, with any officer who outranked him or were of a lesser rank. He was also careful not to have dalliances with the people he immediately worked with.

His one affair with a Preventer agent who had equal rank to his own at the time of their involvement, had been an unmitigated disaster.

He had been surprised to find himself attracted to officers in the first place. Careful observation of his reactions to individuals had led him to discover he favoured those who were aware of the requisites of propriety and responsibility, as engendered by their positions over the rank and file, and who did not abuse that position.

Those who had attracted his notice had proven to be young, within five or six years of his own age and none more than one year his junior, were reasonably good looking and their gender did not particularly worry him. Male as well as female equally drew his notice.

/Damn, what the hell do I think I am doing?/

He forced his attention away from the shape and flex of the Ensign's backside as he walked and turned his gaze to the corridor around him and the approaching door. The meal, initially slated to take place in the Officers mess, had been changed to now take place in the Captain's cabin. Just what did he have to tell this man? Little enough, but somehow he had to twist it to make it sound more than it was. He needed more time to ascertain anything more interesting than the colour of Howard's shirt.

/Well, what I have will just have to do. I'm no psychic to glean information out of thin air and I won't stoop to lying. Tracy seems an okay sort of guy, he'll just have to understand my resources are limited to the time I have had to extend feelers out./

Ensign Kerr stopped before the cabin door, glanced over his shoulder to ensure Duo was present, and properly presentable, Duo mused, and rapped his knuckles smartly against the door. The keypad at the side of the door flashed green and the Ensign pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Agent Reaper, Sir."

"Show him in, Ensign."

Kerr stepped back outside the door and to one side, inclining his head formally as he cleared the doorway. He gave no hint of being aware of the attention Duo had been giving him on their transit through the ship and for that Duo was thankful, but he wondered if, after Kerr's shift, he would relax enough to perhaps spend some social time with Duo?

/Damn! I haven't looked at anyone seriously for months and suddenly I'm checking everything out with legs and a butt? Damn that bloody quack! What has she stirred up?/

"Thank you, Ensign." Duo murmured as he strode past the taller man. "Captain Tracey."

Duo was aware of the smart salute Kerr snapped out before he leaned forward to close the door and he knew the young man would turn smartly on his heels and march off down the hallway. Kerr was the sort who would assume there were eyes on him and he would not be caught slacking.

Though a little larger than his own quarters, Duo was gratified to see the Captain's cabin was remarkably similar to his own. Rank had its privileges, but luxurious cabins on long haul ships were not one of them, at least not amid the Preventer fleet. He presumed there would be a little extra room for hidden storage, but the amenities would be the same for everyone onboard.

"I apologize for the delay in our luncheon arrangements, Mr. Maxwell. We had a few incidents which required my attention."

Tracey's hand was warm and dry, calloused as Duo's own bore calluses. It was the hand of a man who had known hard, physical labour and who had, in his recent past, flown a mobile suit. His uniform jacket was thrown across his bunk and the computer consol at one side of the room was littered with papers and discs.

"I'm sure the departure for a patrol has its difficulties, Captain," Duo returned.

He admitted to himself his surprise to see he would be eating alone with the Captain. The small table was pulled from the wall and set for two with a stool at each place setting. It looked like the seats had emerged from the floor plates and Duo determined he needed to do a little more exploring of his own cabin. To one side a two tier trolley sat, bearing covered dishes and what looked to be a silver service, and Duo could not mistake the aroma of real, freshly ground coffee.

"However efficient we are, it seems there are always a few wrinkles which need to be ironed out. Due to the lateness of the hour and the duties of my officers, we shall be eating alone. Please, have a seat."

Duo settled onto the indicated chair and watched as the Captain moved to wheel the trolley closer to the table before taking the seat opposite him.

"I think we are capable of serving ourselves and to be honest, it is best that few know what we shall be discussing."

Uncertain as to the exact protocol to be followed in this meal with the Captain, normally they would be served, Duo merely nodded and tried to look cool, calm and collected. He was out of his comfort zone, but he was not about to reveal how uncomfortable he was.

Captain Tracey lifted a lid and surveyed the selection of vegetables revealed. "I suggest you enjoy a decent fresh meal while you can. Soon enough we will be down to frozen rations heated in a microwave for special occasions and travel packs and tubes on a daily basis."

Duo could not help the smirk. "They say it is very good for the figure."

Tracey snorted softly. "It does wonders for food appreciation when you can get the real thing. Take what you please, Duo, there is no need to stand on ceremony at the moment."

"I have taken the opportunity to send word to a contact amid the Sweepers who might be able to learn something about the Station Alliance. He may even be able to find out some information on Kristian Khushrenada if we are lucky, though I will not hold my breath on that. It will likely take some time."

"Soon enough it will seem like we have an infinite amount of that on our hands," Tracey sighed, spooning carrots, broccoli and crumbed, deep fried mushrooms onto his plate. "I am hopeful your contacts might be of help to us. Preventers should have heard whispers of this Station Alliance if it is, as this man suggests, advanced sufficiently to take the step of declaring independence from the ESUN."

"I can't honestly say that I have heard rumours of anything which might be a new colony, or even a smaller space station. The only Khushrenada I hear rumours about are the continual whispers that Treize Khushrenada survived the war and is hiding out in some backwater alley. As if that man would hang out in an alley." Duo rolled his eyes, reaching for a domed lid and lifting it to release the heady aroma of roasted meat into the cabin.

"In the past I have spent a few months chasing rumours of him lurking in mining stations on our patrols. If the man was alive I very much doubt he would be anywhere but in the thick of political intrigue, and firmly at the forefront of the world."

"I have to admit when he revealed his name during his speech I didn't think Kristian Khushrenada looked anything like Treize at all." Duo inhaled deeply the heady aroma of roasted beef and his mouth began to water. He really was hungry. "But then, it's not like I knew either of them."

"I have been attempting to locate information on him which, at the moment, seems to consist primarily of supposition. I hope to receive more accurate data in the next few hours and perhaps your contacts might be of help. The last confirmed information I received on a Kristian Khushrenada was a newspaper report on the disappearance of a child many years ago. It was a very high profile case involving kidnapping, so I am hoping the records of the police investigation on Earth might offer us some information that might be of use."

Duo deposited a healthy amount of meat on his plate, doused it with the gravy and considered the selection of vegetables. It did not matter what the food was, with a notable few exceptions, he enjoyed eating it.

"Before I left my cabin I received a reply from my contact in the Sweepers. He acknowledged the message, but he also requested I inform you there is a debris field crossing the path of Earth traffic outward bound toward Mars and the Asteroid Belt. He requests you pass on the warning to all shipping."

The Captain paused in lifting the serving platter laden with meat to make dishing himself a serving easier and eyed Duo for a long moment.

"A debris field? Did he give you any details?"

A serving of meat found its way onto the Captain's plate, dwarfing Duo's and making him reconsider what he had thought was almost a piggish serving. With the Captain so free with the meat, Duo snagged another piece onto his plate. He would take the Captain's advice and example and enjoy the meal while he could.

"No. The message was brief, warning that the Sweepers will be laying alert beacons in the next few hours. They are still tracking the debris field, determining the extent of the area affected. I got the impression it is sizable; Sweepers don't lay warning beacons if it is a quick clean up. He guestimates the clean up could take as long as four weeks."

"You have the coordinates?"

Anything cluttering the space lanes was dangerous and a debris field could be responsible for crippling, or destroying, the many ships that plied the space lanes. With the recent pick up in mining in the Asteroid Belt, and the influx of wealth from it, joy riders were becoming more common in the deeper reaches of settled space.

"I have coordinates attached to the message, but I daresay they would not be the full extent of the field. Those will be forthcoming, as soon as they have determined the full size and density of the affected area."

"If you will pass on the coordinates, interim as they are, I will have a message despatched on a general frequency to all outward bound shipping, warning of the hazard with the assurance detailed coordinates will be forthcoming as soon as possible."

Duo nodded, piling his plate equally as well as the Captain's own. He would work it off in the gym the first chance he got, he promised himself, and meals of this size and quality would be few and far between in the coming months.

Captain Tracey lifted the lid on a third platter and smiled at the roast potatoes and parsnips available for his selection. "Do you know how close to Mars this friend of yours is?"

"I am not certain exactly how close the ship would be to the planet itself, but I believe they can't be any more than a week or two away."

Howard had not informed Duo of how close the Peacemission was to Mars, but Duo could hope they were in close enough proximity to offer some aid to the people trapped on the planet. He was not at all fooled by the talk of raiders and he suspected the cover up would leave alive only those who worked for the perpetrators. It would not be pretty what was happening on Mars, especially if Zechs took exception and Duo did not doubt the former Lightning Count would do exactly that. If he was only half as good as his reputation suggested, there would be more than a mess to be cleaned up.

"I am unsure as to the Sweepers exact location, or how many of them there are. Frequently the Sweepers travel in pairs and sometimes as many as five ships could congregate for up to a week or more. They use their proximity to each other for social interaction between the crews; to swap information and entertainments. The Sweepers are constantly on the move. Howard's message was brief. He has asked for a few hours to contact acquaintances and determine what information he can get. He will get back to me as soon as he can with what he has learned."

Captain Tracey considered the meal before him and inclined his head to Duo. "Fair enough. You have accomplished more than I expected given the time I gave you. I have sent requests to a number of sources and hope to hear something by tomorrow morning, ship's time. As soon as you can, give me the coordinates you were sent and I will contact the com and have a general alert sent out. The weather difficulties they are experiencing in the European sector of the Earth just now are making communications difficult with headquarters. We will largely need to follow the basic mission brief until updates and revisions are forthcoming from headquarters."

"If I can have access to your terminal I can retrieve the coordinates now."

The Captain negligently waved a hand in the direction of his consol. "By all means, help yourself. The terminal is active, merely in sleep mode."

Duo was quick to access his shipboard account and with a care for security concerns accessed his email, lifting the coordinates attached to Howard's message and quickly sealing his account. He returned to the table, motioning to the screen where the coordinates were displayed and settled in his seat to tuck into his meal which, he noticed, the Captain had been doing while he worked.

"Enjoy your meal while I alert the com."

Duo nodded as the Captain moved to the terminal and focused his attention on savouring his meal. For food on a long haul spacecraft this was a princely meal and there was sufficient gravity to keep the food on the plates where it belonged. He could hear the Captain speaking to his officers in the background and giving the coordinates.

The quality of this meal gave him hope for future dietary requirements being met with something besides unappetising ration tubes and high protein bars. This close into the hub of the Earth Sphere he supposed it was not surprising they had decent fresh food; it was readily available from Earth directly or the colonies. No doubt as the Bounty moved deeper into space and further from civilization the fresh and frozen stores would dwindle and they would find themselves more often eating nutritional, but totally unappetising, cardboard flavoured rations. He could not say he was looking forward to it.

Captain Tracey returned to the table and settled into his seat. "The warning will be passed along to all shipping heading out of the central hub in the general direction of the Martian orbit. It is really only those who are within the last month or so of their flights approaching, or on a flyby course with Mars, who will have their flight vectors affected by the field. I expect the mess will be long cleared away by the time we reach Mars."

Duo paused, his fork raised, gravy dripping back to the plate as he caught an undertone in the Captain's voice. He stared at the man for a long moment, noting the faint twitch of his lips and the deepened frown line.

"What?"

With an eyebrow arched the Captain paused in assembling a healthy fork full of meat and vegetables. "Is there a problem, Mr. Maxwell?"

Duo closed his mouth, lowering the fork to his plate and tilted his head slightly, studying the older man. "I'm missing something, aren't I?"

"Are you?" Tracey smirked. "There is much to be said for the power of coincidence, Mr. Maxwell."

His eyes flicked to the computer terminal, drawing Duo's instant attention and the former pilot of Deathscythe abandoned his meal to study the detailed trajectory projection depicted on the screen. It seemed the Captain had been doing more than notifying his crew of a flight hazard. Revealed for Duo to see was the orbital position of Mars at the present time, the area in red detailed the known area of the debris field and all known shipping in the area of it.

"Ah." Duo murmured.

"Problem, Mr. Maxwell?" The Captain was clearly amused.

Duo snickered softly, returning to the table and stuffed his mouth full of vegetables and roast beef. After chewing and thoroughly enjoying the mouthful, he swallowed and met the Captain's gaze.

"Well, that might depend."

"On?"

Duo could not help the curl of his lip which gave away his feelings on the situation. "Captain Tracey, what do you know about the Captain of the Wellington?"

"At the present time, Mr. Maxwell, I know very little about him, but I suspect very soon I will know a great deal more about his character and his dedication to duty; as opposed to his dedication to his ship and his crew."

Duo nodded slowly. "I will be very interested in learning more of the man myself."

The Captain enjoyed a few mouthfuls of his meal and finally looked up at Duo who was making great inroads into his own plate.

"Is it not amazing how so often the best laid plans can go astray by the smallest unforeseen event?"

"Not that a debris field that will take up to four weeks to clean up can be considered exactly small," Duo returned, "but yes, it is amazing what can go wrong with a mission directive."

His eyes flicked back to the chart displayed and the white arcs denoting the course of the planet and the trajectory of the notation which equated to the ESUN Wellington. A large field of red separated the planet from that incongruous looking number on the screen. For a fleeting instant he found himself wondering about that coincidence, but it was far too farfetched to think anyone's hand was involved in this. Sometimes circumstances simply worked for you.

"It is fortunate for certain people the flight vector of the Wellington intersects with the debris field," Tracey murmured.

"I assume her Captain would not be inclined to take unnecessary chances with the welfare of his ship or his crew?" Duo mused, the inflection of his tone making his musing a more a question.

"I certainly would not take the chance of entering a debris field. An uncharted field could contain anything from micro sized debris, to something sufficiently large to do real damage to a ship; even a ship the size of the Wellington. The exact danger involved would be calculated on the contents of the debris field and be determined by the source of the field, its velocity and the spread of the detritus. I would be considerate of my ship and her crew and, at the very least, slow down to reduce the impact of anything large enough to do me damage."

Duo nodded. "Let us hope the Wellington's Captain is as thoughtful as you, Captain Tracey."

Tracey glanced at the computer terminal as a red light began to blink. With a sigh the man set aside his knife and fork and rose.

"We have some hours ahead of us before we will know the mettle of the Wellington's Captain. I would imagine there would be one or more people on Earth who would be more than unhappy to learn of the debris field."

Duo considered his plate and could not restrain his smile from growing wider the more he thought of the problems the debris field could cause for the mission in operation at this time on Mars. This kind of difficulty no mission strategist could factor in to their scenarios. The odds of something like this interfering with a mission were astronomical, but it was happening out there, in the vastness of space. The Wellington was not going to have as clear or speedy a run to Mars as was detailed in her mission portfolio and it would hopefully gain the terra formers some time to deal with whatever horrors were befalling them.

"I would imagine someone on Earth would be unhappy to hear of the discovery of the hazard."

The Captain smiled as his fingers ran over the consol. "Have you ever noticed how some unexpected news can brighten your day?"

"Yeah. Some days things just go right, you know?"

"And some days you have to take the good with the bad." Tracey frowned at the screen which no longer showed the projected flight trajectory of the Wellington.

"Something wrong, Captain?"

Tracey had straightened, resting a hand on his hip and resting his weight on the hand spread on the consol. The underlying amusement in his voice had faded and was replaced by a more serious tone.

"News from an acquaintance of mine on L1, Mr. Maxwell. It seems a couple of hours ago someone fired a rocket into the headquarters complex of the Preventer Station on colony L1-0025 B."

Duo's fork hit the plate with a ringing sound, drawing the Captain's attention.

"Something wrong, Mr. Maxwell?"

"Trowa… I… have a friend on L1-0025 B. A Preventer."

Captain Tracey glanced at the message on the screen and sighed softly. "There are a number of deaths and serious injuries, but no names have been given. Hopefully your friend was not at the headquarters at the time of the explosion."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2008


	189. Chapter 189 Chapter 188

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

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Alternative Directions: Options: Mars

Chapter 188

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 04:20 [approx Sanc time 02:11]

Polnar

The sound of the locks shunting into place reverberated through the airlock and the three men waited in tense silence, eyeing each other warily.

It was no good, Polnar decided, they had to do something about the issue of trust, or apparent lack thereof, or they would never succeed in their mission, and for him failure was not an option. He had the lives of not only the infants on his conscience, but also the life of his partner.

Giles had remained behind because of injuries and had been in no fit condition for this mission, therefore what happened in the next hour rested firmly on his shoulders. He could have done with his partner's backup, confident in his abilities, but Giles had another and potentially far more important job to do than shadow him through the base.

He had to contain Marquise.

He could not forget the warnings from Marquise or Haydon Giles before he left the Medical Centre. Marquise had admonished him to watch his back and his partner had claimed Marquise was Gifted. Anyone who worked for the Stations knew you took any warning issued by a member of the Gifted to heart. Certainly from all appearances Giles had faith in the man's talent.

It still astounded him to think that Marquise was proven to be one of the Psychically Gifted that were so valued on the Stations, but he could not doubt what he had been told by his partner. Though he himself had not witnessed an incident involving the Prince's talents, he could not doubt Haydon's skills or the knowledge he had been taught at Station One. To his knowledge he and Giles were the only people on Mars, other than Marquise himself, who knew anything of the talents of the Psionically Gifted.

He was still a little pissy with their august leader for keeping secrets. Raydon should have warned them about Marquise's talents and he could not believe the man did not know Milliardo Peacecraft / Zechs Marquise was a psychic. Raydon was a Clairvoyant talent, gifted with the ability to see the future and he had sent them to Mars for a reason. He had to have known the prince was psychic, however, he supposed, this was neither the time nor the place for him to become distracted. Lives hung in the balance and he was not inclined to cough out his own life in the Martian dust because he erred and permitted himself to become distracted by what had to be considered petty issues in light of the importance of his current occupation.

"Kurtz told us you knew how to handle yourself in a fight." He turned to the shorter man leaning against the wall; the new body in the team. "How well? Do you have a particular style? Martial arts experience? Close quarters melee or distance ability?"

The lock gave one final decisive clunk and the door opened slowly, providing them with a view of the short hallway. Mighty Joe Lee inclined his head to Polnar as he stepped out of the airlock and looked about him, pressing his back to the solid metal wall. Not that Polnar could blame him, they had been warned repeatedly to watch their backs. Unless they had been born in the same hospital and grown up together, how could you trust each other in these circumstances? Even then, unless you had spent every waking hour of every day in each others company, how could you be sure the other was not a sleeper agent?

Issues of trust were going to be the death of them.

"While not at the peak of my fighting skills I think I can say I can handle myself in a fight. I do have Martial Arts training and I'm not too bad a shot with a gun either. I can also throw a knife if I have to."

While the list of his skills was welcome it raised issues with Polnar. Many of the bodies he had examined in the dome above had been taken down by knives. To know he had a knife man in the group was not exactly reassuring, though he suspected Mighty Joe Lee had not been up to the surface of the base. It was the idea of him being able to take them down in silence given so many had died similar deaths already that worried him.

How good he was, or not, was open to debate and they would not know unless they should run into trouble and the man needed to hold off his attacker until Carter and he had fought their own battles. He was pleased that Lee looked calm enough; a trace wary, which was good, and certainly expectant without looking as though he was likely to panic at a sneeze. He did not give the appearance of being terrified out of his mind and if he held stable through any situation they might encounter, so much the better. Kurtz might not have steered them wrong with his choice of Mighty Joe, but only time would tell.

He was more than a little curious over why they had inherited Might Joe Lee. Preston Kurtz had alluded to there being a problem with integrating him into the Emergency Response Team, and since Mighty Joe was originally a member of that team his now not being welcome within its folds worried Polnar. He suspected that the man was being ostracised due to his apparent acceptance of all things Marquise.

It was unfortunate that the political hot potato known as Zechs Marquise affected interaction with others even so far from the hub of the ESUN. That distance, the signs of segregation, had been in evidence before the events now tearing the terra forming team apart, though most on the base had appeared to have at least some tolerance of the man. There were a few people on Mars who might call themselves friends with the former Lightning Count, and with this blatant display of how the government considered him to be a persona non grata, fewer still would stand up and claim even that much.

No doubt many of them now fervently wished Marquise had never come to Mars and spared them the terrors they now endured.

//It is entirely possible that the Stations might have similar problems when he is brought to Station One. He's anathema within the ESUN and his reputation has to cause a ripple even amidst the outcasts staffing the station. I guess Raydon would have thought about that already, and there is the matter of his being one of the Gifted. They might not want that widely known amongst the staff though.//

None of this was vital to his current situation and the serious business of surviving to see another day, and Polnar dragged his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

Mighty Joe looked calm enough, wary certainly, expectant too, but not terrified out of his mind. That earned the man a bonus point in Polnar's esteem and he could only hope the man would remain stable if they ran into trouble. They had inherited him and yes, they had needed another body, but Kurtz had made it clear there was a problem; he had just not explained what that problem was.

//He did not seem to get on so well with one of the techs earlier, but they are no longer in the group heading for the mess hall. They have been assigned the task of getting the computers up and running, a feat I don't envy them having to do, but vital to our getting out of this mess alive. He definitely had problems with one of them, though the other appeared to agree with him on a number of matters pertaining to Marquise. It might have been a personality clash, I suppose, but I think it may have been a little more serious than that. I'd like to know more, but there is no time now to interview him. We are just going to have to hope he is good enough to do the job, or at least survive until we can get to him if we encounter difficulties. I have a job to do and I can't afford to delay any longer than we have already.//

He would simply have to take the man's word for what skills he possessed and there would certainly be no time to coddle him if they did run into trouble. A nice straight run through the accommodations sector would be best, no interruptions, no encounters.

Dare he hope fortune favoured the foolish?

"Fair enough, just watch your back. I am hoping to get there and return without any problems, but if you see anything you consider suspicious you need to speak up. Be aware that given what has been going down here, we can't afford to trust anyone we might come across. If we encounter people as we move through the sections we tell them to get their butts into the Medical Centre and we continue on our way. Keep an eye out behind us, not just ahead of us. We can not afford to have unwanted hangers on delaying or hampering us should we need to take action. Nor can we afford to delay while we convince them to follow our instructions and go to the Medical Centre. We are here for one thing and one thing only; retrieving those kids. I should probably warn you now that I'll take down anyone who does not do as I expect them to do, and I will not be apologizing later."

Carter inclined his head in silent acknowledgement, fully understanding the severity of their situation and he had to settle for Mighty Joe Lee hesitating for the briefest of moments before nodding his own acceptance of the warning. Harsh as it was the simple truth was that they did not know who they could trust. Anyone they met could knife them in the back at any time and he would not ask first and shoot later.

Later might be too late.

"Got it," Mighty Joe nodded and he did not look as though he wanted to run in the opposite direction.

"We go in fast and focused. We find the kids and their nurses and we get them the hell out of here and to the safety of the Medical Centre. That is our one priority."

Again the pair acknowledged him, accepting his role as leader and he knew it was the best they could do at the moment. Only time would tell if they could work successfully together and, equally importantly, if they could trust each other.

"Where to?" Carter queried, straightening from his casual lean against the wall.

Decision time.

Only he knew where the twins could be found and he needed to decide if he trusted these men enough to reveal the locations of both children. Getting Marquise to trust him with this knowledge had been like pulling teeth with his bare hands and that piercing blue glare had promised him all sorts of horrendous retribution if something happened to the children.

If he revealed too much to these men and one of them should prove to be an agent with less than friendly intentions, then he and the other man in his company would be considered expendable. At a convenient moment they would be taken down into bloody ruin and the children would fall into the hands of the very people he was trying to save them from.

And if he survived the attempt on his life he would not survive Marquise. He had no doubt the man would rend him limb from limb when he learned of it.

However, to not inform the men of their destination would be to clearly demonstrate his distrust and would do nothing for a working team relationship if they were both exactly what and who they claimed to be. He could be damned if he did trust them and equally damned if he did not.

The nearest of the children was on Level 3 of the complex, in room 43, and the second child was located on Level 4, in room 12. He needed to decide if he would go directly to the lower level, locate the nurse and infant and then head up a level for the other child.

If he chose the nearer option, locating the child on Level 3, then he would be exposing the infant to potentially greater danger whilst running the hallways than existed if the child remained in the relative safety of the nurse's quarters. If he chose to go to Level 3 then, while he was convincing the nurse of the authenticity of the note from Marquise, the shit could be hitting the fan down on level 4.

Or vice versa.

The one thing he dared not do was to split up his group. They needed to remain together as there was safety in numbers and he really did not know if he could trust both of these men. There was a considerable distance between room 48 on Level 3 and Level 4's room 12.

He could delay only so long in making the decision. It was not necessary he decide at this very moment, he had until they reached the third level before he could no longer prevaricate. There was not time now for a further delay while he made up his mind, so long as he decided which approach was better by the time he reached the level. There was only the one way down from their present location after all.

He had the uncomfortable feeling there was something coming; a show down, he assumed. He was a paranoid bastard at the best of times, but in this situation he had cause to be wary. He wanted, needed, to get the children safely tucked away with their father before whatever was going to happen, happened.

"Stairwell. We head down from here."

He could gain a few minutes at least, by just giving them a general direction at this time. He could use the time to decide which child to acquire first and maybe judge something of Mighty Joe's skill level in the process. Hopefully he and Carter both might gain a little confidence from the way the man moved.

With a direction given, Carter headed immediately for the blast door a few paces ahead, knowing time was of the essence. He took the direction at face value and moved; the picture of a man with a mission and not inclined to waste time without good reason. It was one of the reasons he would do well as a Preventer. Reaching the door he read the readout on the keypad and nodded, satisfied, before turning to Polnar.

"Looks like we have atmosphere, folks. There is no indication in these readings to suggest any damage beyond the door and the blast door is still in lockdown."

Polnar joined him, Mighty Joe following close behind. Polnar spared one glance at the airlock behind them, knowing the other team would soon be assembled and a group would follow them into this section. It would not be long before the airlock would go into a cycle once again and he wanted his team long gone before then.

For Mighty Joe's part he was willing to follow in the wake of these men. He had no intention of lingering at the airlock, or of rejoining the Emergency Response Team. He was only too aware his views on Zechs Marquise were shared by only a few at the base. There were some people on the terra forming team that he could cheerfully beat the living daylights out of, but that kind of behaviour was not considered constructive by the base psychologist. All it would do, other than grant him a fleeting moment of satisfaction and a little stress relief, would be to earn him psyche sessions and a one way ticket off the planet.

He was not that keen to return to the hub colonies and he sure as hell was not intending to go out to the asteroid belt and the mining stations there.

The two men in his company, Polnar and Carter, were notably more intelligent than many of his co workers in his view. Besides, he was not of a mind to become the hunted again; it was far more sensible to become a hunter than remain the prey. He trusted Marquise as few on the base did and he was sure if anyone survived this mess it would be because they listened when that man spoke.

Carter stepped to one side as Polnar reached him, standing back to permit the team leader to work the controls. He certainly had no codes to deactivate the station lock down, and to date Polnar's maintenance codes had held them in good stead. He did not want to think about the crimp in their plans it would mean if the man could not open this door. Short of breaking into the air vents he doubted they would be able to enter the accommodations sector without leaving the dome to access the emergency airlock. He knew that was useless as those locked out of the dome had tried every means available to them to enter.

Polnar ran an eye over the lock and said a silent prayer. He could not help holding his breath as he punched in the maintenance code he had been given when working in this section earlier in the week. His work with the maintenance crew took him to every part of the terra forming base and he was hopeful those codes would still stand them in good stead.

Marquise had given him a set of codes that no one except the Base Commander was supposed to know, but if he did not have to use them he would not have to worry about anyone asking him awkward questions. His fingers ran quickly over the key pad and for a moment he thought the lock would not disengage, drawing in a deep breath, unwilling to reach into his pocket for the slip of paper he had been given. If he could just feel it he would feel more secure, but he was team leader now and he could not afford to show uncertainty.

There was the chance that Carter, who had been with him from the beginning of their clandestine entry to the dome, might ask why he was suddenly reading numbers from a piece of paper when he had been using memorized codes all day. His fingers twitched involuntarily at the thought and he forced himself to glare at the keypad instead. After what seemed an inordinately long period of time the bar above the keypad turned green and the blast door rumbled slowly into the wall socket.

He noted he was not the only one to breathe a sigh of relief. Carter let out a hefty sigh and they exchanged grins before he indicated to Carter to head on down the hallway and for Mighty Joe to follow him.

The hallway was bathed in dusky shadows, the emergency lights casting a ruddy radiance over the walls and floor. It was gloomy and it did not offer him as much visibility as he had hoped for, certainly it was a lot less than the light levels in the main part of the base. The designers had obviously considered it of less importance to give survivors of a natural disaster good light as opposed to securing them heat, water and energy to remain alive until help could reach them.

Bathed by the dark ruby glow they trotted along the hallway and past the first of the doors marking the individual living quarters of the terra forming team. As he jogged past he fought down a flash of guilt for not rousting out any of the inhabitants who might be in the rooms. The majority of these accommodations would be empty, their usual occupants now bedded down in a cold cave on the Martian surface, or lying dead in the dome above.

Not the most cheerful thought to entertain.

He pushed the thought out of his mind; his concern had to be for the children, nothing more. Wrong as it felt, and he did not deny it disturbed him, he would have to leave the team following them down to this sector the task of determining if the rooms were empty or inhabited. That was what they were arranging in the mess hall after all.

Ahead of him, Mighty Joe Lee hesitated, staring at the door before looking back at him. It made him feel like a right bastard, but he was going to enforce the mission they were on. He was annoyed with himself and annoyed with Mighty Joe, squashing a flash of irritation; the man was only thinking the same thing he had been.

"Should we…?"

"No. We have our own mission to complete. The others will be along to deal with this."

Carter offered no argument, moving at a smart trot past the next door. There was no suggestion of hesitation in his step, no turning of his attention from what he was doing. He was point man for this part of the operation and would be trusting Ponar to watch Lee and ensure he did not get a knife in his back.

Mighty Joe quickened his pace a little and with a nod took off after Carter, falling quickly into a steady, distance eating jog roughly a metre behind him. No further comment was made on trying any of the doors in the sector. Satisfied, Polnar lengthened his pace a little to fall into place a metre behind Mighty Joe Lee.

The accommodations sector was built following a natural fault in the Martian terrain and while the walls, ceiling and floor were all metal lined, little had been done to keep the section square and compact. If the rock fissure had turned, then the early designers had followed that turn, not concerned with straightening their hallways. He supposed it made a pleasant change from the square straight lines of pre fabricated buildings, of which there were a great deal on Mars.

It led to lengthy gaps between doors, each door marking a point where a natural fault had made excavation easier and so a room or multiple rooms had been constructed. This accommodations section sprawled more than any of the other sections whose designers had been more traditional and had seemed unafraid of the gratuitous use of explosives.

To be a part of the working community on Mars you had to be fit. It was an unforgiving planet, cold, wind sculpted rock and dusty sand, and with an atmosphere singularly unfriendly to the human species. On coming to Mars you learned quickly that you needed to be fit and strong if you were to remain.

Polnar heartily approved of the demanding pace Carter set. A distance eating, efficient jog designed to move them quickly through the hallways without the need to stop periodically to rest. None of them were breathing heavily as they came to the junction where he could not longer prevaricate about their direction.

Each level of the accommodations sections were designed with two flights of stairs linking the respective levels with each other. Level 1 had two flights of stairs leading to level 2, the respective flights of stairs were set relatively close together, though the angle of descent and the depth to which they descended varied, depending on the run of the natural fault line followed. What he needed to decide was which of these two flights of stairs would be more efficient to further their task.

Upon reaching Level 2 they would be required to make another run to reach the only flight of stairs that would take them down to Level 3 and continued on down to Level 4. In the accommodations sector this was the only flight of steps to directly link two levels without requiring the user leave the stairwell and move to another deeper in the complex.

As he jogged along behind Mighty Joe, Polnar considered the layouts of the various levels and the optimum flight of stairs to shorten their time in the halls. Speed was of the essence, both ally and enemy. By the time they reached the landing for Level 3 he had to have decided whether to fetch the child on Level 4 before going for the child on Level 3 and the amount of risk involved to the children and to his team.

He did not even have the option of leaving one of his companions on Level 3 while he descended to Level 4. It simply was not safe to leave a single man without back up. Either the one left behind could become the victim of a Sleeper, caught unawares or taken down from a distance, or he might be the Sleeper and could follow them until they reached their goal and then strike from a carefully chosen ambush.

Put simply, he did not know if he could trust Mighty Joe Lee.

If he did leave the man on the level to guard the child, and he proved to be a sleeper agent, then he could, while they sought the other twin, locate and kill the nurse and take the child. Or kill both of them at leisure.

It was a risk he simply was not willing to take.

Marquise had entrusted him with the information on where to find the twins and he was not about to make what had to be a stupid move. If he should happen to survive the mistake he would likely not survive Marquise's retribution for the loss of his children. It certainly would not be pretty and he would probably experience less pain by letting himself out onto the Martian surface and opening his space suit to the atmosphere.

How much control over the man Giles actually had, Polnar was not willing to push. Both of the men had looked like death warmed over and he could only hope Barker had seen to getting them medical attention, but short of Marquise being tranquilized and strapped down he did not doubt the man would kill him.

He paid little heed to the numbers painted on the walls beside the doors as he raced the length of the main hallway. This was not one of the two levels which interested him and he had clear vision ahead and behind him. He was not thrilled to leave the rooms unchecked, by far preferring to know he had no enemies lurking in supposedly empty rooms, but they were pushed for time. There simply was no time to check each room and the only time they paused was when Carter peered around intersecting hallways to ensure they were clear to move on.

He felt he had a gun to his back, that any one of the doors now behind him might open at any time and some lurking Sleeper would have a clear shot at them running. The bastard would likely be able to pick the point at which he would have the optimum opportunity to pick off all three of them. The disturbing thought made his feet want to move faster and it was hard to run when you were looking over your shoulder.

"Which stairs?" Carter's query came as they rounded a bend in the hallway and the first junction leading to the first flight of stairs down to Level 2 appeared ahead of them.

In his considered opinion there was little, if any, choice between the two. The children's safety came before any other concerns.

"We take the left up ahead."

This was not the vital decision about the stairs, though. This was just the descent to level two and he knew which flights down he would take, just not which level he would stop at. It was a big area they had to cover and while they fetched one twin the other could be in serious trouble. The thought would not stop revolving around in his head. He always came back to it.

//Jesus, some days I wish I had stayed in bed. Marquise will kill me if I make the wrong choice, but I have to get both kids and one has to come before the other.//

It was not far to the intersection leading to the stairs and he hardly had time to gain speed before they were racing up the final hallway, past the only two rooms to be found on this hallway and then they were there, the blast doors closed ahead of them and the red bar denoting lockdown in progress glowing in the dim lighting.

Carter and Mighty Joe stepped to the side, waiting for him to join them and work the controls. As his fingers flew over the keypad all he could think about were the seconds being wasted as he punched in the code and waited for the system to shunt commands around, resulting in the blast doors being released.

Of course that was another worry too. He was leaving the blast doors open behind them and should the locked blast doors have deterred a Sleeper then he was giving them free admittance to the accommodations floors by not delaying to reinitiate the lock down.

//It will send me around the twist worrying about the implications of what I do or don't do. I can't take the time to shut the doors behind us, and it would only take more time to unlock the bastards on the way back.//

Impatient with the delay, and not a little afraid the code would not work, he resisted the urge to tap his foot. It seemed to take minutes where logic demanded it was seconds, before the door began to withdraw. As soon as the gap was sufficient for him to squeeze his bulk through he was through the gap, checking the stairway was clear and praying no one had taken the time to set traps.

//I can't afford to make a blunder that will kill us. Nothing for it but to take the time to check for obvious traps."

Recalled to his senses by first Carter and then Mighty Joe joining him he grinned, staring at the wall a little ahead of him. Just before the stairs a fire extinguisher hung and he hefted it off the wall, moving to the head of the stairs and setting it on the floor in front of him. He heard a quiet snicker from Carter as he let the cylinder roll forward, going so far as to give it a kick to start it on it's way down the stairs.

With a great deal of clanging and banging the cylinder descended ahead of them and neither of his companions passed a comment. He would have preferred quick and silent for their passage through the sector, but one could not have everything and time was of the essence. Carter already knew the risks they were taking and Mighty Joe would very quickly learn what to expect if he wanted to survive.

//Noisy as hell but effective enough for what we need. It's not as though anyone would not hear us running past the rooms. It is speed that is the key to the success of this mission and I can't afford to delay any more than is necessary. Some risks have to be taken, but I am damned if I'm going to take chances when it comes to the stairs.//

Carter moved up beside him to peer over the railing as the banging and clanging stopped, echoing a little but petering out quickly. Polnar frowned, he had expected the noisy descent to have lasted somewhat longer, but he did not slow his pace by much as he set foot to the stairs and Carter was quickly at his side again, peering around a turn in the stairwell.

"It's gotten hung up. We'll need to give it another nudge."

He grunted softly and, sure enough, a little lower down the spiralling stairs the cylinder was lodged against the banister railing, the hose having detached and the nozzle acted like a grappling hook to stop the cylinder's descent. Polnar was quick to disentangle the cylinder and give it another nudge to complete its descent down the stairs.

No traps eventuated and the men came off the stairs without incident. The locking bar on the blast doors to Level 2 revealed the doors were in lockdown and he resisted the urge to sigh. It was a matter of a few seconds to enter the code and an eternal wait of a few more seconds before they could move on. He took the opportunity to take a few deep breaths and check on the condition of his companions. They looked to be in reasonable condition, breathing heavier than normal, but neither looked to be winded, nor did they suggest they take a breather.

Knowing he could ask for no better, Polnar pushed off the wall as the door rolled back and peered down the hallway, noting the steady glow of the emergency lighting and the darker opening to the right, just at the edge of decent vision.

It was time to decide. Just along that interconnecting hallway was the next flight of stairs leading down to Levels 3 and 4. He could not longer prevaricate, but he did not need to reveal the exact location of the children. He could still play it safe.

"Take the next right turn, gentlemen, and head down to Level 4."

He had made the decision and he would have to live with whatever eventuated. He could not be in both places at once and they would go for the twin on the lowest level of the accommodations sector. All going well it would be only a few minutes after he reached the first twin to return and reach the second child.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2008

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I do apologize for the length of time it has taken me to get this chapter out. Real life can bite hard sometimes, but Friends is now being worked on and The Agency will be started as soon as I finish with Friends. I hope you enjoy.

Karina


	190. Chapter 190 Chapter 189

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 189/??? Colony L1 - 0025 B

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

_Italics_ - flashback

Alternative Directions: Options

2nd March AC 198

Colony L1 - 0025 B [La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B ]

Preventer Building

Time : 06:57 [approx Sanc time 05:47]

Trowa

Why were medical centres always white?

It was a question he had had cause to ponder on innumerable occasions when, in the course of his duties, he had accrued injuries which required treatment from someone who had more than a rudimentary skill in stitching a person back together. It had not always been a decent medical clinic though; on occasion it was a rough and ready combat tent full of sweaty men, dirt and enough germs to make a doctor cringe.

He had survived the crude and rough and ready and now enjoyed a white painted, supposedly germ free medical clinic, courtesy of Preventers funding. At least the why of the standard white gave him something to consider while he was poked, prodded and stabbed.

The prick of the needle entering into his back produced a flinch he could not quite control. It was not the pain, that was negligible amidst the aches and pains his sojourn on the roof had left him with. It was not the pain but the fact that he hated needles and was quite convinced on most occasions that the needle hurt worse than the ailment being treated. In his view the only good thing about this particular needle was that, in a very short time, he would no longer feel the pain in his back.

Although the numbness that came with the local anaesthetic would be as distracting as the pain.

The medic, a tall thin man with thinning hair and a disturbingly cheerful look on his face, moved past him to discard the used syringe in a kidney dish for later disposal. It would not take long for the local anaesthetic to work, numbing the area around the piece of metal imbedded in his back and then Trowa could look forward to getting his butt out of the clinic and back to work.

"You are fortunate, Mr. Barton. It could have been much worse."

As if he did not already know that. He didn't need the medic reminding him just how lucky he was to be alive. He could, and possibly should, have been a corpse imitating a pin cushion whilst decorating the roof of the building. He should have been dead and not safely ensconced in the infirmary receiving attention to his myriad of minor ailments.

Medics could be such ghouls. Given half the chance the man would begin reading him a list of his injuries and Trowa knew them all. He could feel them, he did not need to be told about them by a medic who, like all other medics, would be disturbingly cheerful and make light of the gravity of his wounds… unless, of course, one happened to be bleeding one's life out at the time. They were serious enough then, gentle handed and quick to act.

The soldiers best friend.

He had decided within thirty seconds of arriving in the infirmary that this medic was a ghoul. The man seemed to like inflicting an inordinate amount of pain on his patient during the initial examination. Ex combat medic, Trowa decided, not one of those city trained interns who did not know what it was to stitch a wound under less than hygienic conditions; jab a man with a needle full of antibiotics, slap a bandage on the wound and send him back to the fighting without blinking.

Of course it was not the man who attended to his wounds that was the problem, but the situation and the fact that Trowa saw the entire mess as a failure on his part. He had failed to stop the hit from taking place, gotten himself wounded in the process and, instead of pursuing the matter further, he needed to waste time by getting his wounds attended to.

There was sure to be someone else who had taken damage from the explosion and subsequent fall of debris that this medic could be prodding. He was taking the medic away from someone who might be more seriously injured and it was not as though he had not operated under the handicap of greater wounds than those he carried now.

As soon as a pair of boots had arrived on the roof, Jonas had given him a hand donning them, slapping his hands away when he would have taken them and bent down to put them on. Admonishing him he had a piece of metal sticking out of his back, Jonas had bent to fit the boots to his feet and sent him off to the infirmary to have it removed.

They did not like it when they were targeted and this assault on Preventer headquarters itself had every agent on high alert. They would be all over the complex like a rash, examining every nook and cranny for anything which might remotely offer them some clue as to the identity of the hit man. They needed to know who he was, where he had come from, who employed him; and above all, why. Was he after a particular person or, as Trowa privately suspected, the labs and morgue?

He could not dismiss from his mind that young boy dying in the alley. There was something there, he was sure of it, that would lead him to deep, dark and very dirty secrets.

He still had a debriefing to attend with the designated L1 Commander. He needed to sort out his impressions and get the sequence of events in order for his oral presentation. He was going to need to commit it to a written report, but that would have to wait until his hurts were tended and he had spoken to the Commander, and, if he was lucky, he managed to get a little shuteye.

He needed to sort out how to phrase matters so that it would not sound outlandishly like a dream had led to his waking up and hunting a hunter. The Commander was ex military who had seen action, as most of them were, and would understand a soldier's instinct that something was wrong, that was not too much of a problem, but other things were not so straight forward. He would need to put forward his own suppositions and not have it sound like something out of a science fiction novel. The dream suggested a link between the assassin and the dead boy, but he could not say that; he could not include it in his report.

What he wanted to do was dive into the investigation, get it done and then get his backside Earthside and seek his lover's embrace. Had Quatre felt anything of his emotions from this distance? Surely they were too far apart for that peculiar talent of his lover's to disturb him?

//As if. He will know something happened and I will need to get word to him that I am alright.//

There was so much he needed to do, and he was stuck in the infirmary with a doctor who seemed to be taking his time about treating his injuries. Grousing about it would likely result in the man taking an even longer time. He had learned to read medics over the years, some could not get you treated fast enough and out the door, some took their sweet time and nattered on about nothing and others were slow and methodical and blessedly silent. This man appeared to be the latter, thorough in his work, strict in his discipline and no nonsense. If he so much as twitched toward the door before he was dismissed Trowa knew he could have a fight on his hands and the bastard was armed with an entire infirmary full of needles.

No, it would not be worth the hassle, not even for something to do.

He needed to ascertain how far the investigation had progressed in the time it had taken him to reach the infirmary and receive treatment. Jonas was a good man, thorough and not prone to rushing things. He would supervise and keep his investigators on their toes. He had given Jonas the name Washington to puzzle over, explaining he had heard the hit man mention the name on initially arriving on the roof. After his boots had arrived, just before he had departed the roof, he had suggested Jonas have the medical examiner check the corpse for computer chip implants.

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_"Implants?" Jonas arched an eyebrow as he turned to Trowa. "Why implants?"_

_He was uncertain as to how much was safe to say. Not all Preventers had been informed of the case a few months previously, where they had come across a hidden laboratory and Romefeller's genetically altered experiments. It was a delicate subject and he needed to be discrete, or chance having Lady Une reverting to her Colonel persona._

_"It could be related to another case on Earth I investigated a few months ago. There was a body found here yesterday which was slated for autopsy this morning. It is possible the victim of the alley killing may have been associated with that other case. If it is, certain people would not want the body investigated. It's a tenuous link, I know, but there's a possibility the two incidents are related and I can't ignore it. Let's just say that I would be happy if the results of the autopsy come back negative."_

_Jonas whistled softly. "Big implication, huh?"_

_"Very big." _

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He did not want to face questioning from anyone on the colony on the seeming leap he had made in associating a rocket launcher toting hit man intent on destroying a building, with the boy in a back alley. He certainly could not reveal his suspicions all hinged on a dream, but he was not inclined to dismiss the dream. Not any more.

Quatre would be delighted.

He could not afford to dismiss any possible links to the genetic laboratories Preventers had raided on Earth. If there were more of them on the colonies… Une would not be happy.

"You should be nicely numb now."

Now that his attention was drawn back to his aches and pains, he noted the greatest source of pain was lacking in intensity. The medic was behind him again, a kidney dish of instruments resting on the bed beside Trowa. He could feel the man was doing something, probing and pulling, but he could not feel any discomfort. No pain was a blessed relief, but the medic could have at least offered him something which might have eased the other myriad of aches and pains his abused body suffered.

He resisted the urge to rub his bare feet together for something to do. He'd look too much like a little boy waiting to be chastised for getting hurt if he did. He and his fellow Gundam Pilots were all well aware of how young they were, as opposed to the vast majority of ex service men and women manning Preventers. To be sure there were others who were young, particularly those who had been training with the Oz Specials. The Specials had taken them in when they were barely teenagers, young and impressionable and turned out young and competent soldiers. Amidst their ranks there had been more than the odd exceptional soldier.

It was one of the reasons why the Doctors had targeted Khushrenada's Oz Specials, Trowa suspected.

Une made use of her younger agents in a myriad of ways, particularly in the undercover operations targeting those cases involving University aged students and drug related crimes. The police forces of the world lacked the young agents Preventers had snapped up under Une's guiding hand. Requests for undercover Preventers on major operations where they needed to gather critical evidence in hard to access areas older agents simply could not enter without arousing suspicion were not uncommon.

Trowa had done his share of undercover stings in combined operations since joining Preventers. Of course the instances were limited per agent, Une was careful not to overuse her younger agents and allow their faces to become known. For all the woman had a hard reputation, and she had seemed almost insane during the war, she did take care of her people.

He was sitting on the padded table the physician insisted on calling a bed, wearing nothing but a pair of regulation boxers, which he hated, with a blanket draped loosely about him for warmth. The lack of clothing permitted the medic free access to his injuries and on his arrival he had been stripped and the medic had washed him down carefully as he had noted each injury requiring his attention.

His boots had been stripped from him first and his feet checked and bathed in disinfectant, a few slivers of glass, metal and wood fragments were removed and his feet had been lightly bandaged, just enough to keep dirt from the wounds. To be honest he had been surprised just how many splinters and fragments he had picked up in his feet. He had not felt any of the minor wounds after all. His scraped thigh and numerous bruises and cuts had been cleaned and treated to the point where they hurt worse than they had before he had arrived at the infirmary. All in all, he was more than eager to make good his escape.

He glanced to the side at the clang below his elbow and studied the jagged piece of metal lying in a kidney dish. He supposed he had been a lot luckier than he had first thought. The piece was longer and more viciously jagged than he had assumed it would be, and could have done considerably more damage to him than it had. Had he been hit by it anywhere along his spine it might have severed his spinal cord, and should it have side swiped his neck it might have torn out his jugular.

He really wished Quatre was here where he could see him, touch him. There was a lot to be said for a cuddle from Quatre Winner, it was quite therapeutic.

He fought down the shudder and bit his lip, staring at the offending shrapnel as a second piece, a sliver of metal, was added to the dish.

The larger piece was a good five inches long, all its edges jagged and killing sharp, and with numerous edges warped enough to deserve the description of being barbed. He was thankful he was numb, given he could feel the medic was still probing at the wound and he was sure there was liquid, hot and thick, sliding down his back.

Blood, he knew.

"Much still in there?"

"Just a few smaller pieces you could well do without, Mr. Barton."

The medic sounded distracted and Trowa could feel him probing and working at something in his back. A quick swab of cloth took care of the trickle of blood he could feel and he closed his eyes, forcing himself not to think of what the man was doing. He knew what was being done, after all; he'd dug metal out of a mercenary's back in the past.

Clang.

Smaller pieces? Trowa sighed softly, that one looked to be nearly half an inch long. At least the third and fourth pieces to clatter into the dish in relatively quick succession were nothing more than slivers.

"That looks much better. I'll just do a bit of cleaning up and disinfect the wound before I begin stitching. I would appreciate you not being overly energetic until after the stitches have had a chance of doing their job. I'll prescribe a course of antibiotics as well, pick up the pills before you leave the infirmary; the dispensary is open. Now you are sure you had a tetanus shot last year?"

"I'm up to date on all of my inoculations."

Une made certain of that and had Sally Po keep an eye on their medical records to ensure not the smallest detail was missed. The woman would be quick to jump on his medical records when the computers flagged he had required treatment.

A grunt was all the answer he felt inclined to make as the medic busied himself at the wound and Trowa closed his eyes, wishing he could afford the time to sleep. He was, however, afraid to. If he slept the nightmares might return. There was no Quatre to hold him while he gathered the courage to sleep here. He was alone, there was no one he could trust the way he could trust his former comrades.

He was not ready to think about the dreams that might haunt him if he dared to relax enough to sleep. What he needed was distraction. Debriefing would do it, much as he was not looking forward to the inevitable dancing around he would need to do when he faced the head of operations. He could get some food into him, that was safe enough and he certainly was hungry, and he could make a start on his own investigation.

If he was lucky he might be able to gain a few hours of distraction before his body demanded he get rest. The adrenaline surge was gone now and he felt the pain and discomfort of his wounds, but he was not ready to collapse from exhaustion and that might be the only thing that kept the dreams at bay.

"Agent Chameleon."

Well, this was a first. An agent went to the Head of Operations and debriefed, the Head of Operations did not attend the agent, unless they were on their death bed. He was not planning on dying in the next few years, so why was he graced with the man's presence?

The L1 Commander nodded briefly to the medic who was suturing Trowa's back and studied the young agent. The Commander looked tired, Trowa decided, and he wondered what disaster had happened, or what information the investigators had discovered to warrant this appearance. The man pinched the bridge of his nose, appearing to gather his thoughts as he watched the medic work before sighing and straightening his spine.

"I know you were intending to leave this morning, but I have to request you delay your departure, at least for a few hours."

Trowa had expected to delay his departure from L1; it stood to reason he would probably be forced to delay up to a full day or more, depending on whether or not he was assigned to investigate the incident.

"I was intending to debrief as soon as I was finished here."

The man inclined his head in acknowledgement and waved his hand negligently. "I know that is the normal protocol in a case such as this, however, matters have become a little more complicated."

That sounded anything but good. Trowa straightened his spine, ignored the medic's admonishment to keep still, and braced for the storm. "What's the problem?"

The man shrugged slightly and looked hard at Trowa. "Your watch dog has been found."

Ah. The stance of the man made the question unnecessary, but Trowa could not avoid it. It had to be asked, the dead deserved that much, even if when living the man had been an intrusion in his life. A symbol of the governments distrust.

Still, Trowa could have screamed in frustration. Dead the man would probably prove to be more of a nuisance than he had been alive.

"Dead?"

"Very. A precise single strike through the back of the neck with the proverbial sharp instrument, a knife most likely. The weapon has not as yet been located, though I am of a mind to think one of the hit man's weapons will match the wound."

"Damn."

It was all he could think to say for the moment. The ESUN Security Agency would want a full investigation into the death and he could not blame them. It was a simple baby sitting job turned horribly wrong, and they would want someone to blame. Trowa, given his past activities, would naturally fall under suspicion, meaning another delay in returning to Earth and Quatre.

"Indeed. I will need to notify the Security Agency, but I wanted to speak to you first. How many agents are usually assigned to tail you?"

The suture needle clanged into the kidney dish, the sharp sound startling Trowa into a flinch and the medic reached for antibiotic powder to dust over the wound. He was a veteran, accustomed to the pecking order and protocols of command situations, and gave no visible indication of listening to the dialogue. He attended to his business as though Agent Griffin was not present, and no word spoken here would be passed on to other unauthorized ears.

"There are three agents I have tagged."

There might have been more, certainly in the early days after the war there had been more, but with his good behaviour their numbers had lessened until he was graced with only the three shadows. There were two teams of three assigned to him, the teams alternating and spelling the other team. At first he had resented their intrusion into his life and he had enjoyed running them to their limits, simply to prove to them he knew who they were. He had grown up a little since the war ended and, other than note their presence, he now left them alone.

"Three. Do you know if they work on a roster system?"

"Usually, yes. I had retired for the night, so their routine would mean two agents would rest while the third observed the building."

It would have been so incredibly easy to slip away without his tail noticing, but he could not be fussed. He was not up to anything which required he tweak the nose of the ESUN, so why bother to make the effort?

"Then thankfully we are not likely to run across any further bodies we need to explain to the powers that be. We will need to learn the location of their digs and inform them of their associate's demise. No doubt they have protocol's which will be required to be attended to."

Prime amongst said protocols would be to round up one Trowa Barton and make him sing, Trowa mused. That was sure to delay what needed to be done, but did he dare avoid their interrogation? He would have to think about it, but he could at least offer some assistance in finding them, if they were not already on their way, given the explosion that had taken place. The media was all over the site, trying to get interviews and interesting footage, causing the investigators problems they did not need.

"Check the mid range hotels available within a four block radius of the complex. They work to a budget, but they don't favour the seedier side of things. They should not be too hard to find, given how public this incident has been."

"Thank you. I was under the impression that when pursuing your duties as a Preventer you were unobserved by the watch dogs."

Trowa snorted and inclined his head. Yes, he was usually cut loose from their observations when assigned to a mission, in the interests of safety for the other Preventers involved on a case and the case itself.

"I should be, yes, but it would appear delivering messages for Preventer Earth is not considered worthy of mission status. Have there been any instructions received from Preventer Earth?"

"Communications with the Sanc headquarters is almost non existent at this time. There is a storm shutting down much of the European sector's communications grid and it is expected to continue throughout the day. The weather pictures of the Earth right now are rather spectacular. Just about the last place on the Earth I would like to be at the present time is Sanc and the surrounding countries."

"No communications with Sanc Headquarters at all?"

"Communications is sketchy, but we do get moments when the storm weakens enough to allow for satellite communications to take place. Accelerated, coded and pre recorded is best, to have a chance of being received before the storm clouds thicken enough to cut communications again. I'm afraid a live conversation is pretty much impossible at the moment. There is no certainty how long we will have even that much communication, given reports are coming in of equipment failure due to the extreme cold. There are whispers of it being the 'storm of the century'. Southern Sweden has reported the structural collapse of a school and major highways are closed, isolating entire communities in the Northern European sector."

That was unfortunate, Trowa mused. If the Security Agents took offence at the death of one of their own they might get a little tetchy with him, and he would not have the security of a quick call to Lady Une to have them reminded of their place. Not that he had anything to do with the death, nor could he have likely done anything to spare the man. Trowa suspected he was dead long before Trowa suspected there was an intruder in the complex.

"Until I hear otherwise from Preventer Earth, I will follow my mission brief and the ongoing brief relating to that earlier case I mentioned. We have a standing brief to investigate any hint of further activities by those responsible for the case."

Trowa tested the movement in his shoulder as the medic prepared a dressing, pleased he appeared to have almost a full range of movement.

"I believe I requested you restrain yourself from exercising that shoulder."

Trowa stifled a sigh. When he departed the infirmary he would test his shoulder properly, but for now he would humour the medic. As the man applied the dressing Trowa glanced at the smirking Commander.

"We found a key on the hit man. Any luck tracing it yet?"

"I would imagine it will lead to the shuttle port. It looks like one of the port locker keys to me; one of the public lockers would be my guess, but I have a trace running. It could be another hour before we get any results as we have to beg cooperation with the local constabulary for laboratory and computer time. The explosion took down our mainframe and it will be hours before we get access restored."

It was time to ask 'that' question, the one he had been trying to avoid. How badly had he failed? How many people would pay the price for his failure? How many new faces would he see in his nightmares; how many new victims did he attribute to his killers hands?

"Were there many casualties?"

He wanted the man to say there were no fatalities and only minor cuts or bruises. He wanted the man to shrug and say no one had been hurt at all, but he was not such a fool to entertain the thought. The missile, small as it had been, had had quite a payload and there had been volatile chemicals in the labs and morgue. Trowa was sure the missile's payload would have been chosen to have the maximum effect on its environment, accentuating the chaos and destruction, ensuring the evidence, whatever or whoever that might have been, was destroyed.

"We were fortunate, thanks to your timely warning. With the exception of your watch dog, whom I suspect died as the hit man was accessing the complex, there have been no fatalities. There are a number of serious injuries, nothing life threatening, I am assured by the hospitals handling the triage, and there are a host of minor cuts, scrapes and abrasions. So far we have fifteen employees unaccounted for." Griffin shifted his weight, straightening from his slouch against the door frame. "I'll need a written report from you as soon as you can manage it."

"You'll have it. You will need to use the local constabulary's facilities for everything?"

"Unfortunately. Until the forensics units finishes going through the damaged sections we can't start the clean up. I'm hoping to get at least one of the labs to a usable condition within a week. Thankfully the hierarchy of the local Police Force are not being difficult about this. They don't like their colony being shot up and so far they have not cast the blame for this at us, though I don't suppose that will last. I can look forward to a difficult few months ahead while we rebuild; and relocating services in the interim is not something I am looking forward to."

He knew it would not be much of an assist, but it was something to offer the man in furthering the investigation. He just needed to be careful of what he said and how he said it. He needed to tread a fine line, and Une would have his head if he came out and mentioned the possible link to a past case that involved Romefeller and genetic manipulation.

The medic moved past him, rummaged through a cupboard and produced a fat roll of gauze bandage and a clip to secure it, before returning to his patient and positioning Trowa's arm to allow him to wrap the wound comfortably.

"From where I was standing it looked as though he was aiming specifically for the floors that were hit. I suspect he hit exactly what he intended to."

Griffin nodded. "It would not surprise me. We have a number of particularly sensitive cases which would rely heavily on forensic data. Much of that information will be ruined, but hopefully we can salvage something from the chaos. At least some of the data will be on the main frame on Earth and we can access it when we have this mess sorted out. The sprinkler system reduced much of the damage the fire would have caused, but water damage can be worse than fire."

The medic broke the protective cover on an adhesive bandage, a field dressing, Trow noted, and set it beside the kidney dish, adding a bottle of gel to the pile. Trowa watched the small pile of equipment absently and then focused on the bottle, glancing at the medic warily.

"Regen gel?"

"I've applied a bio pad to the wound and the stitches are of the self dissolving variety. A good squirt of regen gel over the bio pad will assist the healing. I'm well aware you field agents treat wounds of this nature as minor inconveniences, Barton. At least this way I know the wound will have a good start toward healing when you take off on yet another mission. If you are out of my jurisdiction in a week's time, and I know you will be, you will get yourself to the nearest Preventer medical facility and get the bio pad replaced. Two weeks should have the muscle suitably regenerated and the wound sealed, but do no push your limits for the next three days, is that understood?"

"Sure, Doc."

Trowa was caught by surprise when he had to stifle a yawn. Suddenly he was bone aching tired and all he wanted to do was find a quiet and safe place to sleep. It was a result of the aftermath of high adrenaline use he knew, and it was unfortunate it was so soon after the action and the memory of the nightmares was too fresh for him to indulge his body's need to sleep.

"You look like you could do with a few hours sleep," Agent Griffon commented, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of voices before turning back to Trowa. "I'm sorry, but I need a report from you before then."

The medic snorted and applied the gel carefully over the bio pad which Trowa had initially mistaken for a dressing before applying the field dressing over the now blue pad.

"The man should be in a hospital bed for a night, not gallivanting around the compound giving reports."

"Needs must, Doc." Griffon grinned.

"I was going to get something to eat from the cafeteria and then report for debriefing," Trowa offered, wincing as the medic repositioned his arm as he began to wind the gauze bandage around his shoulder and waist in a complicated twist designed to stop the bandage from riding up with movement.

"I could do with something to eat; never did get to eat breakfast," Griffon sighed. "I'll order something to be brought up from the cafeteria. I have a temporary office set up in the hostel block, so you won't have to go far when you do get the chance to sleep. I'll meet you there as soon as you are done here and you can debrief. I understand you heard the perp mention a name?"

"Yes, when I first found him on the roof. He did not know I was present and I am certain he said the name 'Washington'."

"Washington? Well, I will see about finding the rest of your watchdogs and notifying their keepers about the loss of their man. I have to admit I am somewhat surprised the other two agents have not, as yet, put in an appearance. It is not as though this has not been all over the news and that explosion would have been heard…"

Griffon's pager chose that moment to buzz and the man reached for the phone set on the wall near the door. He punched in his code and listened for a moment, seeming to deflate in on himself and Trowa could not miss his unhappy expression.

"Show them to my field office and I will be right down."

Hanging up the receiver he half turned to meet Trowa's steady gaze and the medic's curious look. "How long can you keep Barton in here without lying about the treatment?"

"How long do you need?"

"Thirty minutes should do it."

"We can play a round of Crib," the medic grinned.

"I should learn to keep my big mouth shut." Griffon shrugged. "I have two unhappy Security Agency watch dogs disrupting the operation. When you finish here get something to eat and I'll find you. Do what you need to to stay clear of those two assholes who are disrupting my people. Given the uncertainty of the situation I am officially placing you under active mission status and packing them off to Earth at the first opportunity."

Trowa could have kissed the man. Quatre would have forgiven him one earnest kiss of gratitude. With him officially on active mission status the ESUN Security Agency had no option but to back off while he actively worked an investigation. The only downside to the decision was that Trowa could see his chances of returning to Earth deteriorating rapidly.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2009


	191. Chapter 191 Chapter 190

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 190/??? Stephansbourg, Sanc

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 190

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 06:15

Quatre

It seemed surreal, the sound of the howling wind, the creaking of the old building and the crackling of the fire. They might have taken a step backwards in time, to long ago days where there had been no electricity and houses were lighted by fires, candles and oil lamps. Here, in days long gone, the weather dictated the pace of life; the do's and don'ts of the day and survival itself was measured by the warmth of your clothing, your stocks of wood and your store of non-perishable foodstuffs.

This was the day and age of space travel, where people lived their entire lives in space, never setting foot on a planet's surface. They were colony bred yet here they were, secluded in a place where there was no electricity, a prerequisite for survival on a colony, and caught in the grip of a blizzard, their only source of heating the flames gradually dying in the hearth. The veneer of modern civilization was revealed to be thin indeed, and listening to the storm and the silence within the building they seemed ages apart from the rest of mankind.

Unleashed nature had a way of reminding mankind how small in stature he truly was.

"Romefeller."

Heero grated his teeth on the name. He had no love for the organization, whatever face it might show to the world on any given day. He knew Romefeller to be many things and they showed only the best, what he considered to be a false facade, to the world in these post war years. He had thought Romefeller to be gone, disbanded, nothing more than a soon to be forgotten remnant of a bygone era.

Duo had opened his eyes.

"What does it take to bury Romefeller? How do we escape, once and for all, from their influence? They seem to be at the root of everything happening in the world. They are like a persistent disease."

He knew it had to be an exaggeration, no single organization of mere humans could have that kind of influence in this day and age, but Romefeller seemed to tower over him, threatening, tainting the very air he breathed with its unique stench.

Quatre's response came as a wordless grunt, his attention focused on the dancing flames of the fire and the lingering tendrils of memories of a time when insanity had ruled him. A time when millions had died who had no greater crime than to have their understandably wretched emotions impinge on his empathy. The war had worried them, caused them to fear for life and limb, for loved ones involved in the fighting and they wondered when it would end; how it would end.

For them, those wretched thousands who had been cursed with being in his immediate vicinity when under the influence of the Zero system, simply being human and thinking and feeling had meant a sentence of death. Death at his hands; dying in flaming destruction amidst the cold vacuum of space.

He was many thousands of times a murderer and there was not a day that went by that he did not remember it. He should have been locked up in a windowless cell and the key thrown away. He should have been spaced for his crimes, doomed to float in the endless cold of space along with the bodies of his many victims…

Shuddering Quatre pulled himself together. He had to go beyond the memory of their deaths, beyond the flares of pain and terror and disbelief he had lived as they had died; as he had killed them. As he had felt their living breathing emotions, so had he felt their agonized distraught deaths, all beneath the influence of Zero, already insane with the death of his father and feeding on their overwhelming emotions.

He needed to see his psychiatrist again if this kept up and he could not drag himself out of the mire. The sharing of Trowa's nightmare had awoken it all within him, along with his fear that he could so easily have killed Trowa back then, in Zero. If he let the lingering remnants of that horror fill him then it could happen, he knew. He could kill Trowa all over again.

But he had not killed him, not yet. Not then and not now; and not in the future. He would not. He had to have one beautiful thing to cling to in life; and his love for Trowa was that beautiful thing. It would keep him sane and able to make some small restitution for the deaths he had caused. On that long ago day it was the thought he had killed Trowa who had, even then, held something special deep within him he had not recognized, that had broken the control of the system over him.

He had blamed Zero and he knew Zero was nothing more than a lifeless, analytical computer system. Now Heero was suggesting Zero was the product of stolen plans and other peoples dreams and was, perhaps, the inferior and warped design of men who had not understood as much of the mysteries of the universe as they had professed to think. The scientists had not given much credence to the powers of the mind beyond the intellectual capacity to operate a mammoth machine and kill where needed and, he suspected, to keep one's mouth shut and do what one was told.

Now Heero raised the spectre of Romefeller.

How much influence, if any, had Romefeller had in the development of the Epyon system? Was the Epyon system the forerunner of Zero? Questions he did not particularly want to pursue in search of the answers, but that was the coward's way and Quatre Winner might have been many things, but a coward was not one of them.

He could not doubt that Romefeller was more than they had assumed them to be at the culmination of the war. He had seen enough evidence since the end of the war to convince him they had underestimated the organization and dismissed it falsely as an old boy's society, an outdated assortment of feudal families with too much money and a thirst for influence. He had run across aspects of the organization in his business dealings and it had given rise to the ringing of more than a few alarm bells.

Treize Khushrenada had certainly been a part of Romefeller, yet it had been his own contemporaries within the organization who had arrested and imprisoned him. It had not just been the older generation who had turned on their brilliant young general when he had brought them the victory they sought. Certainly it had been the older representatives at the heart of the split in Romefeller. Khushrenada had been arrested and imprisoned, Oz had split and the Romefeller Oz had gone about their own bout of conquest.

Why was a question he had never found a satisfactory answer too. Why, when they had already ousted the Alliance under the command of Khushrenada? Heero was suggesting something particularly shadowy and potentially sinister, and it was suggestively grandiose enough to lead him to suspect Romefeller's intent. Would the people who had schemed and instigated war to rule a planet and a civilization branching out into space consider anything less than a grand scheme of conquest?

He had learned that conquest could come about in more forms than inciting rebellions. Might the war of three years past be only a staging post on their road to conquest? Was he reading too much into it?

Relena had been drawn into the mess, used to further the control Romefeller exerted in the world; used to gain them position and prestige, and what had set her free of their manipulating fingers? Her brother holding the world to ransom and Khushrenada breaking out of his prison had broken Romefeller's hold on the young girl, all of which had happened after Epyon entered the equation.

Quatre did not consider himself to be jumping at shadows or cowardly for admitting to himself that he was afraid of the implications.

He was tired, his head hurt and his heart ached. He wanted to curl up with his lover in a huge bed and pull the blankets over his head and forget that the world, with all of its intrigue and backstabbing factions, existed. That was what he wanted to do, hide from it all, but those voices, the voices of his dead, screamed in his subconscious and their anguish and terror at death approaching them, swift as it had been, was imprinted in his memory. He could not forget. He could not ignore the potential for disaster. He owed the dead, owed the living, for what he had done and now, forewarned of possible trouble, he could not step aside.

What needed to be done? One thing stood out clearly to him, not an easy thing to accomplish but surely it was possible if they put their heads down and worked hard. They needed to face Romefeller again and this time they had to make a big enough impression to bury the group for all time.

They. He being a part of the group, Heero he knew would be in on the investigation and potentially Trowa and Duo and Wu Fei too. They who had been the Gundam pilots had vision enough to see a potential danger and they would not be alone in this battle. He had resources and, he supposed, Preventers would be a part of the investigation. He could not see Une allowing anyone to disrupt Treize Khushrenada's peace, and they would need the resources of such a large organization, though the investigation would need to be carried out with care. Romefeller were, after all, a part of the politics of the Earth Sphere and it was politicians who held the purse strings of Preventers.

"We need to determine what it might be exactly that Romefeller are aiming to achieve and what means they have at their disposal to accomplish those goals. What you are suggesting… With what we have already found out about Romefeller…" He did not want to acknowledge it but what else could he do?

"They are genetically altering the human species," Heero whispered.

Quatre shuddered. It was a horrible thought but, knowing what he did, he could not deny it. He himself was one of the modifications, if what they had learned thus far of Romefeller's agenda was accurate. There was the potential for his DNA structure to have been adjusted in ways he could not begin to fathom. Without doubt he was an empath, a psi active individual, and he knew Romefeller had had a hand in his conception.

"If they are breeding for psychic ability it would be a long, painfully slow and rather haphazard means of gaining extraordinarily gifted individuals. It would have to take generations of lives, Heero, even with modern techniques, and they would not have any real idea of what they were doing; what they might get from their manipulations of the human gene Nome."

"How long have Romefeller existed, Quatre? Genetic sciences have been around for a few hundred years and there had been a map of the human genetic blue print since the late 20th Century. There has been a ban on manipulating the genetics of humans since the atrocities under Hitler, but how long would such a ban have actually stopped people from looking into how to modify genetics over and beyond acceptable medical research? "

Quatre scowled, resisting the urge to moan. He really did not want to think about the implications, but he had to acknowledge that Heero had a point. Just how long had Romefeller existed? Hitler and his atrocities had birthed within the old European sector and Romefeller was a conglomerate of old European bloodlines; the surviving aristocracy and royalty of a bygone era. History recorded the horrors of that time and the ban had been in effect and adhered to since the latter half of the twentieth century, old calendar. Multiple checks and balances had been put in place to ensure there were no repeats and it had taken generations for the effects of those experiments to fade from the politics of the day.

Now that was something he needed to remember and factor into his thinking. The politics of the day. There were always people who thought they knew better than others; always those who were determined to find a better way and that the mistakes of others could be used to greater effect by those who surely knew better.

"My genetics were manipulated; I was actually a prototype for space exploration. My use was not, in the end, what I was designed for."

Heero stirred, pulling his eiderdown more firmly around his feet, resting his chin on his knees and glowering into the fire. His emotions were still a maelstrom, but there was now a developing order as he gained control of himself that was not so distressing to the empath. It was becoming easier to sit near Heero and, despite his exhaustion Quatre was finding it easier to barrier his mind.

"What do they want, Quatre? What is it they want from manipulating the genes of an individual? Is it only a select few experiments, or is this only the forerunner to something larger, something more frightening? Do they intend to hold the Earth Sphere to ransom? Do they intend to hold dominion over everyone?"

How was he meant to answer such a question as that, with all of the implications it implied? At the present time, Quatre decided, they could speculate but they needed to keep an open mind. They were both exhausted and when they rested they would need to go back over the ground they had already covered and they would see the glaring holes in their suppositions and they would see them for what they were; the warped reasoning of overtired minds.

"Is it really that simple?" Heero murmured, blue eyes narrowing against a flare in the fire. "I would expect complexity from Romefeller; layers that would need peeling back to get to the core of their true intentions. They are much more, I think, than I gave them credit for being."

Quatre rubbed at an aching muscle in his neck, thinking longingly of the bed and acknowledging that, as tired as he was, he would not sleep if he gave in now. He needed a little longer before he surrendered to the exhaustion pulling at him. If he gave it a little longer, kept his mind occupied for a longer time, then he would escape the nightmares; the memory of what he had shared with Trowa. He was not willing to give in to sleep; when he did he wanted it to be restful.

"I think it fairly safe to say that nothing is simple when it comes to Romefeller. Romefeller means politics. The old European families have lived and breathed politics for generations and they are masters at playing the game."

"When you think you have broken the back of the organization; that they are finished… and in a mere three years they are back in the political limelight. Three years, Quatre. It has only taken three years and they are back, winning seats in the House of Representatives and gaining influence everywhere."

"They say a year is a long time in politics," Quatre breathed. "It makes one realize they are more than an old boy's club and so much more than an antiquated cluster of old families clinging to old fashioned ideas of power and prestige." Quatre rubbed at his chin, his fingernails grating on a fine growth of bristles. "In our future dealings it will pay for us not to underestimate Romefeller. We have before, and as you say, it has not taken them long to rise from the ashes. Relena's grandfather headed a faction who gave her political power, but it did not last long and he has not lost prestige in the interim. He is a political survivor and we can not afford to think he is the only one with the cunning to survive. There is only one thing I am sure of and that is that we can not afford to get it wrong this time."

"Relena's grandfather, Marquis Wayridge, is Romefeller through and through." Heero murmured, eyes darkening as he recalled his last meeting with the old man. "He made it quite plain he has no intentions of losing his position in the Council. He expects Relena to listen to him and do as he 'suggests' and beneath his guiding influence she will rise to the top. The very top."

"There was faction fighting occurring within Romefeller and it saw them fall during the war, but we can not rely on the resurgence of such infighting to help should they gain a high political standing a second time. If we are glimpsing something within Romefeller that has the potential to dominate everyone on Earth, and in space, then I don't think we can avoid taking a hand in the matter. We will somehow have to find the means to go up against them and still maintain the peace. We can't afford another war. No one can. What you have said suggests we may be seeing the first gambit by another faction of Romefeller rising to political prominence. Perhaps it is a faction that has been lying low for some time. It may be that they have been hiding from those who were at the forefront of the last war and now feel it is safe to act."

"We are 'supposing' and 'assuming' a great deal."

Quatre sighed softly. "Yes, we are."

The fire crackled in the hearth as they considered if they really wished to go down this road. Their lives had been much simpler since the wars ended and they were each content with the pleasures to be found in peacetime, though those pleasures varied from individual to individual. One thing each had in common was the wish not to fight once more.

There were no Gundams now, no Leo's, Aries or Taurus. The few mobile suits that remained in existence were construction suits, modified to build where once they had existed to destroy. Neither young man wished to see the return of the days of kill or be killed, of the strong ruling the weak with blood as the price paid for dominance.

"Une."

Quatre's grin was feral. "After working so closely with Treize Khushrenada, Preventer Earth would be well aware of the dangers Romefeller would represent to the peace. Or perhaps I should rephrase that. She would be aware of the multiple factions within the organization which might have an interest in manipulating the current political climate for their own gain."

Heero grunted softly. "She did not know about the geneticists; there was no doubting her reaction…She was horrified at what that operation revealed a few months ago. There is a standing order out for all Preventers to report anything which might indicate another laboratory complex exists."

"I wonder if Treize Khushrenada knew what was happening in Romefeller? Did he know about the genetic laboratories? The Romefeller politicians now gaining power in the House of Representatives, and throughout Old Europe, are standing on a platform of peace. However, like other politicians, they have their own ideas of how best to maintain the peace, and how to promote growth and development throughout the Earth Sphere."

Heero snorted, rubbing his cheek against his knees. "Every man in the street has ideas of how to do that, not just politicians."

"But the man in the street can not be bothered to push himself forward and place himself in a position whereby he can do something about his ideas," Quatre returned. "That is the difference between the man in the street and a politician, Heero. The get up and go and the drive to actually act and influence events around one; that is where the course of history is set."

"I don't want to fight another war," Heero whispered. "I'm tired, Quatre. I'm tired of fighting to make sure some idiot with grand designs does not disrupt what we fought for. I'm tired of expecting, and waiting, for someone to make a move that I have to deal with to keep the peace. I'm tired of wondering if it was all worth while."

"Attaining peace is one thing, maintaining it is entirely different. It is harder and requires more effort. It is a never ending cycle we can not afford to slacken from." Quatre sighed. "WE are not the men in the street who bitch and whine about the state of the world, and loudly decry that someone should do something about it. WE act, as best we can, when we see someone doing something that will have a detrimental effect on the peace; something that might disrupt what we have gained. Too few people are willing to act and those who do have strong feelings for what they think the world should be."

"And not everyone agrees with how they see the greater picture at the end of the day."

Quatre nodded, cheek pillowed against his knees, eyes closed. Everyone had their own idea of peace and how best to keep it. Everyone thought that their way was right and rarely did two people agree on exactly the same thing at exactly the same time. It led to a diverse world, but a world that could easily fall into ruin if a few people did not dedicate themselves to working for some form of status quo.

It was the status quo, that point of balance, which was the peace after all.

"History speaks of so much of what is the human condition, to those who are willing to listen. We keep making the same moves; making the same mistakes. Over and over again, generation after generation we tend to do the same things; but I think there is enough evidence to show that slowly, we are learning. This peace we are enjoying now has the potential to last; to really give mankind an opportunity to see what could be, if we band together and work for the greater good. If we can agree on the greater good. There will be minor skirmishes, there has to be, but that is why Preventers is there, to make sure those flash points don't become forest fires. Looking at historical references I have to wonder if we do not need those incidents of altercation simply to produce advancement. We need to learn to advance without aggression, finding another trigger for the creativity of mankind."

"I'm not a student of history or a philosopher, Quatre, I'm a soldier. I fight when I am instructed to."

Heero's dead pan delivery drew a sigh from Quatre. He was well aware of the limitations Heero saw in himself, but he needed to get across to Heero that he really was no different from any other human being where it mattered most.

"Heero, why do you fight?"

"In the war, to bring peace. Now it is to uphold the peace we have."

"Why do you think it was that Treize Khushrenada and Zechs Marquise fought in the war?"

"To dominate the Earth and Colony's." Heero sighed, dropping his head to his knees, pressing his eyes into his knees before straightening his spine, though he remained with his head bowed.

He knew what was coming; it had been in his thoughts for some time now. He was a little older and a little wiser than he had been when he was fifteen.

"They would not have considered what they did as dominating anyone, merely opposing those who had dominated the Earth Sphere for so long."

Heero sighed into his knees, stirring to lift his head sufficiently to rest his chin on his knees and consider the fire. It was, as Quatre had said, all in a person's individual view and whether or not they determined to impose their view on others.

"I get the message, Quatre. Why we do something is all in your viewpoint."

"And it is the victor of these conflicts who writes history in their own favour. That is the way it has always been," Quatre murmured. "If you emerge from an altercation standing on top of the pile of bodies, you can generally write what you want to about the loser. It tends to be only a few mangy old scholars who care to examine the historical facts and that tends to happen generally in a generation or three from the actual confrontation. I'll wager you anything you want to bet that Khushrenada was a history buff. He would have known his history inside and out, back to front."

"Probably," Heero sighed. "I don't think I will take you up on the bet."

"He would have studied history avidly, because we can learn so much from the past. I've talked to a great many people since the war, trying to understand," Trying to atone, he silently added, "and I believe that he was working for peace, in his own way, and following a design he grafted carefully after studying the past and the political structure of the time. What he decided on was not what the Doctors who backed us wanted, if they had any real idea of exactly what the man was aiming for. But regardless of that I have to ask myself, was it wrong? Was he wrong? Was what Treize Khushrenada wanted for the world any worse than what we wanted; what They wanted?"

Heero glowered into the fire, frowning as he considered Quatre's direction. He was tired and he really had no wish to have this discussion now. He wanted to close his eyes and think of nothing, not what a dead man had wanted to shape the world into being. At one point they had been discussing Romefeller and the potential there to create a breed of humans with psychic talents. How had they gotten on to the aims and ideals of a man who had shaken the world and stepped into history as some sort of saviour when he had been viewed at one stage as a villain?

Quatre really needed to shut up and go to sleep.

"It was not Treize Khushrenada who devised Operation Meteor, and you know how sane Dekim Barton proved to be. It was not Treize Khushrenada and Romefeller, but the Barton Foundation who financed the development and construction of the Gundams. Why? Why did the Barton foundation finance a world wrecking project? Trowa told me that the original Trowa Barton told him Operation Meteor was devised so that the Barton Family could rule."

"Hnnn."

"Did you know that at one time Dekim Barton was a member of Romefeller?" Quatre pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his eyes open. "He was right in with Duke Dermail's faction about twenty five years ago. I have often wondered if it all did not come about because of something that happened in those days, when the two men were supposedly the best of friends."

His limbs felt heavy and his eyes kept closing, but his mind, treacherous thing that it was, kept running around in circles, in a spiral that worked deeper and deeper into the past, seeking something there that would lead to the present and potentially into the future. He ached to sleep, his body ached to rest, and he knew he must be muddling facts and figures he was so tired, but how could he relax and find restful sleep when his thoughts simply would not keep still?

Heero was hunched over, his head resting on raised knees, the eiderdown tucked tightly around him. Quatre could not see his friends face, turned as it was toward the fire and angled away from him. A fold of the eiderdown had slipped over the hunched shoulders and was drooping down over Heero's head, effectively screening the little of his face that was visible.

It was really good of Heero to tolerate him as he recovered from his experience in sharing his lover's premonition, and that was exactly what it was he was sure. A premonition, not simply a nightmare. In these circumstances he needed the company of someone who was not known for being an avalanche of emotion. His empathy, run ragged by the events of the day and night, was luxuriating in what he could best describe as being a quiet well of strength in Heero.

His friend had settled, or simply buried his confusion and distress, his stress and his questions beneath his exhaustion and was allowing that need for peace to envelope him. What Quatre was sensing from Heero now was a deep well of controlled power and a growing relaxation he was sure he should recognize; perhaps some relaxation technique Wu Fei had taught him, though Heero certainly had had his own methods of focusing before Wu Fei had made his presence felt in their lives. He was aware, on some level of consciousness, that he should recognize what it was Heero was doing, the method that led to the quieting of thoughts and emotions, but his thinking was becoming fuzzy and with that fuzziness he had hopes he neared that state where he could sleep.

Just a little longer.

"Barton's family had been members of the Romefeller for upwards of four hundred years. They were a family of merchants who made good and married into a noble family in Germany. As Trowa understood it, the Barton's had the money and the other family had the name and standing in elite circles that were very desirable at the time, so the marriage suited both sides. It was a deal, a political arrangement between the two families and advantageous to them both; though knowing the old aristocracy you can be sure some of them would throw up their less than sterling bloodlines to the Barton's periodically."

"Hnnn."

"As I understand it they were on the losing side of a factional dispute within Romefeller some fifty years ago." Quatre stifled a yawn. "They split from the central organization soon after and left Earth for the colonies, determined to build their own power base and show Romefeller what real power was."

Heero shifted slightly, rolling his head to rest his forehead against his knees with a wordless grunt of what Quatre took to be acknowledgement. The fire burned lower in the grate and he wondered if he should not throw more wood on the fire, but that would necessitate effort and he was actually quite warm at the moment.

"They kept their fingers… uhhhmmm… sorry… kept their hands on the political pulse of the time and certainly kept an association with a number of Romefeller families. I have to wonder just how many different factions there are in Romefeller, and if they have factions within factions. The old European families were hot beds of intrigue and I wonder how much of that remains to this day? They seem most critical of their own organization and I suppose it is possibly that which has protected the Earth Sphere from them for so long. They fight so much amongst themselves that they are less of a threat than they might be to the political structure of the Earth Sphere. If they ever stopped infighting I think the freedom of the World Nations would be at much more serious risk."

Quatre's eyelids drooped, opened and then drooped again, closing against the flickering light as he soaked in the very pleasant heat. Heero, he suspected, was as comfortable as he and seemed to be absorbed in his own inner thoughts. Certainly the turmoil in Heero had subsided and maybe he was just too tired to think of anything any more.

Quatre sighed softly. He was tired. Finally it seemed as though his thoughts were slowing down and he could feel sleep drawing near. Soon he could rest and he was fairly sure he would escape the nightmares which were the usual aftermath he could expect from an incident as vivid as his lover's premonition. It was really nice of Heero to let him rattle on until he ground to a halt.

"It worries me though, this talk about Psi. Especially the thought that someone might have discovered the genetics to manipulate and produce psi in an individual. If… uhhmmph… sorry. I guess I'm getting tired. If it was possible to breed for select psi talents and you could be assured the psychic was your ally… Heero that is a frightening scenario. If you could gain some talented psychics who really knew their stuff, then it would be a huge advantage in the game of politics."

"Hmm?"

"I can.. uughhhmm… can, and have done so… ahm… What were we talking about?"

Quatre blinked in the firelight. Had he dropped off? No, he was still awake and he had thought of something important… hadn't he? What had they been talking about? Oh yes, Psi advantage and politics. Romefeller.

"I've used my empathy to my own advantage in meetings and business dealings with others. Being able to sense what another person is feeling gives you insight into what they might be thinking. A politician could use that to advantage." After a moment he realized his companion had not commented. "Heero? You awake?"

"Hnn."

"Good. My… empathy enables me to… to… ahm… The fire's dying down. Should I put more wood on it?"

Blue eyes drooped to close once again and Quatre rubbed his cheek against his knees. The wind was a constant sound, strangely soothing where before it had disturbed him.

"Heero?"

"Hnn?"

"Are you awake?"

"Hnn."

Quatre curled in on himself slowly. "That's good."

"Mmmm"

"It's late… actually I guess it's early. We need to talk...about this psi business and… uuhhhmmmm… what it could mean to the Earth Sphere."

"Hnn"

The fire crackled and snapped. He listened to the sounds in the night, picking out the even breathing of his friend from the sounds of the fire and the constant wind and smiled into his knees. Shifting position seemed to take an inordinate amount of time and a great expenditure of energy, but he managed to curl up before the fire, tucking the eiderdown close. He rested his head on his hands, pressing his back close to the warmth that was Heero ensconced in his own bundle of bedding.

"It's okay. It can wait… until later."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2009


	192. Chapter 192 Chapter 191

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 191/??? New Port City, Sanc

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 191

2nd March

Earth

Sanc

New Port City

Harrison Estate

Time: 15:50 [Sanc time]

River Styx

It was not permissible for him to acknowledge the weather beyond factoring it's vagaries into his mission parameters in order that it might have a negligible effect. It was permissible for him to determine, and acknowledge, the difficulties inclement weather would offer only for him to ascertain solutions and to derive maximum benefits. This was one of the most basic fundamentals of his early training.

Such days were long in his past, but his trainers had ensured their teachings were second nature to him. His purpose in existing was simple, to serve to the best of his abilities, not to question. It was his place to ensure his instructions, whatever the details of such instruction might entail, was carried out to the letter. Much effort and great expense had gone into the crafting of him and in ensuring he knew his place in the scheme of things, and understanding the responsibilities entrusted to him.

He was a finely crafted, extremely expensive tool.

He was proud of his success, in being alive to continue in service.

He was the tool of the Inner Circle, privileged to serve as few others ever could. The nature of his service was bound in the requirements of total obedience to their furtherance. To fail, to injure or kill one person other than his designated target, would be viewed as the failure it was and he would deserve the fate allocated for failure, as meted out by ancient charter.

His was an ancient and venerable position within Romefeller. His existence was shrouded in shadows, unknown to most of those who were a part of the organization; known only to his few trainers and to the Inner Circle. He was neither judge nor jury. It was not his place to be more than the instrument of their execution. His sole existence was to remove from life those persons designated by the Council to be unworthy; or a danger to the continuation of the design.

He could trust in the Council; in those who wore the title and ultimate honour of Inner Circle. He could trust them to know who needed to die to enhance and further the design.

His part to play in the specifications of bringing perfection to the world was small, but it was vital to the overall success of the Romefeller mission.

His work entailed target specific execution and he prided himself on being the best of the best, a goal he was still seeking to attain. He was not without his own ambition, or the means to attain the pinnacle of his profession, and one day he would stand at that apex and be the tool of the one he saw as superior.

Hidden beneath the lenses of the night vision spectacles, his eyes narrowed and his silent glide through the tunnel halted. Ahead was the branch of tunnels which would take him to the closest point these forgotten systems could bring him to his target. He had considered his marks daily routine, and the effects the weather would have on those routines, and determined the best possible point to make contact and the kill.

To reach that point, unseen and unheard, required he access the computer archive of the Sanc History Museum. His presence there would go undetected; he was adept in covering his tracks. Likewise, his presence within the sealed vault containing historical archives on the old city and manors of the region also would be unknown. He knew what it was he needed and where to find the details, and the map that had held the information was now removed from both the archive and the computer stored index.

What was no longer present could not be missed.

Having studied the sewer and rainwater systems he had determined the old disused system, abandoned more than a century ago, would provide him with unseen access to the grounds of his target's safe zone. He had committed every turn of every intersecting tunnel in the system to memory, charting out four different routes that would gain him access inside the boundaries of the estate, and with varying degrees of proximity to the main house. Not only would these long abandoned tunnels be his entry into the estate undetected, they would also be his exit.

According to his instructions no one was to see, or hear him, at his work. No one was to be injured or slain other than his designated mark, and it was not to be a quick, or easy, kill. This execution was to be an abject lesson, and as the requirements were so explicit, the kill itself would be fraught with opportunities for him to be discovered.

He would need to time the event to perfection to remain undetected.

He was given this assignment because he was the best of the best the Security division could claim, and he could be invisible in the midst of a crowd. Success in this assignment might advance his private ambition to leave the Security Service, and result in his feet being set firmly beneath the umbrella of the Intelligence division. He had long ago determined his best prospects for survival within the organization lay beneath the auspices of Epsilon, not Delta.

He was an elite, a Inner Council assassin, bred and trained to kill unseen and unheard. To advance to his current position one was required to be intelligent as well as gifted, and to be graced with good survival instincts. He was not a fool. He was only too aware of the faction fighting rife within the organization and not even the august Inner Circle was immune to game playing within their ranks. During the course of his rising career he had come to know the best of the best of those who held office within the Circle. He had determined to work for that worthy, and to do so required he become the best to earn her attention.

Epsilon and her Intelligence network would be the place for him to best be of service to Romefeller.

_"Your targets are Hearts. Begin at ten, leave the card at the site and ensure the sanitized subject is found within minutes of the kill."_

Such instructions for the immediate discovery of the body were rare. Over the course of a year he might be required to kill no more than a dozen times. Generally a designated kill was required to be silent and secretive, the body to be removed quietly and efficiently; the subject never to be found, a name on a missing persons list, nothing more. Being required to make the results of this kill public before the body cooled was an indication the Inner Circle desired to deliver a clear message to more than one person.

To those this message was intended for, it would be clear they should act upon the Council's directive expediently. He would possibly be required to kill at least once more before he could expect notification he need no longer pursue another on his death list. It usually only required two kills before the cancellation came through on a selective kill list.

He scanned the sewer with care, mindful there might be security cameras at intersections and boundary lines for the outlying estates. One of the few things the former Alliance Governor had been praised for was the construction of a new sewer system servicing New Port City and the surrounding estates. This latest edition of sewer gifted him with the choice of three separate systems to choose from to best service his need.

He had reviewed the layouts of all three systems, two of which were still in use and in a number of areas which shared common access or outlet points. It was only the original archaic system that was totally isolated and, presumably, forgotten by the inhabitants of the city. He had not detected so much as a scuff mark on the slimy floor, or hand smear on a wall, to indicate even the local underground guilds might use the tunnel system for their less than legal affairs.

Though it was doubtful the system was known, it was not impossible that some astute Security Officer had discovered the system of drains and opted to place cameras and detectors in strategic locations. He was not, after all, the only person who was efficient at his job, and he had not survived to this point without taking precautions and factoring in slim to minute chances. Sometimes things were not as one assumed, and he intended to remain alive long enough to attain his goal.

If all went well he would encounter no difficulty in making his way onto the estate, or in exiting the property after he completed his assignment. The only snag in his choice of these tunnels might be if one or more had collapsed over the course of the years, however, that seemed unlikely after having come this far unobstructed. The old brick and concrete system appeared to have been solidly constructed and had weathered the years well.

His escape would be through another pathway differing from his entry to the estate. He intended to make it as difficult as possible to have his course followed, and he was feeling more confident he would encounter no difficulty with the tunnels on his departure which, of necessity, must be with the maximum speed he could generate. Ideally he could expect it might take upwards of two or three days for the police to determine the means of entry for the Senator's killer to the estate. Ideally, however, was not something one with any modicum of intelligence should rely on. He was not about to linger and chance someone being more efficient than they should be.

Certainly the longer it took to discover the tunnels the better it would be for his outlook. It would add to his mystique amidst the ranks of the Romefeller assassins if he could completely baffle the investigators.

Ascertaining the area was clear of security devices was accomplished with a minimum of delay and he moved on. Down this left hand tunnel and a little further ahead and he would locate a ladder which, after scanning for detection devices, would take him up and into the grounds at the rear of the stable complex, at the closest point of the four potential outlets to the house.

_"Your first designated kill will take place no later than midnight of this night. The target's daily itinerary is noted though there may be changes owing to the weather conditions. You will compensate_.

There had, of course, been changes. With the weather being as extreme as it was, there had been forced cancellations of a number of events the Senator was listed to attend in an official capacity. Expecting this he had hacked into the Senator's home network and determined the day's revised schedule. It had not taken long to determine his best point of confrontation; the most convenient place to make the kill and arrange for his targets prompt discovery, would be at the man's home estate.

It was always good to take advantage of people being more relaxed and inattentive when in what they considered to be their safe zone. Given he knew this Senator to be a Romefeller initiate, Styx had surmised the man would be more than a little paranoid about his security… they all were, after all. It was, therefore, a foregone conclusion that his home would be no easy target to infiltrate.

He was, however, no simple assassin.

He searched for, but could find no indication that the sewer system was known to the Senator's Security Agency. Admittedly they had a good secure network, it had taken him longer to hack into than he had expected, but he had still had sufficient time to determine his means of entry given their logged security details for the estate.

The extreme cold, teamed with the fierce wind, would make it more difficult for the canines the Security Agency patrolled the grounds with to scent him. Not that it was likely they would on a calm night, given the special suit he wore did not permitted much in the way of personal scent to escape its envelope. It was a versatile piece of equipment, designed in the laboratories of the Romefeller research institute run by the Inner Circle. It was a vital part of his overall kit, and one he kept in prime condition.

Literally, his life depended on its functions.

He paused behind the stables, crouching in deep shadow to survey the ground, ensuring he disguised his arrival point as best he could. The outlet was in the deep shadow cast by the stable complex, and it had taken no small amount of strength to lift the hatch against the build up of dirt and debris of long disuse. To further disguise it after recovering the outlet he moved equipment a few inches which, all going well, would not be noticed by the stable staff at all. It was just a few inches from where they had placed it after all.

His night vision spectacles permitted him good vision of the grounds surrounding him. One of the functions they were capable of was receiving data from a select cluster of sensors placed in various points on his suit. These sensors were designed to detect the invisible to the naked eye laser trips protecting the grounds, making it easy for him to avoid the silent alarms.

There was no one in the stable to mind the restless movement of the breeding stallion which might, or might not, have been a result of the animal sensing him as he moved along the rear of the building. The howl of the wind and the arctic chill would work in his favour to keep the guards indoors and thinking no one in their right mind would brave the elements to disturb the night.

The heavy cloud cover threatening to dump more snow provided him with ample shadow with which to blend. It might have been no later than four in the afternoon, but it was as dark as night beneath the heavy sky. He found himself hoping the snow might hold off until he had made the climb, the most dangerous part of his entry into the house.

He marked the placement of the security cameras, checking them with his mental map of the estate's defences, and noted two laser trips out of place by as much as a metre. He avoided them with ease, silently complimenting the Security Agency for the discrepancy in their plans; it no doubt was a deliberate ploy in the event anyone should access their blueprints.

It was something one of Romefeller could appreciate; an extra precaution that could mean life or death.

He worked his way through the traps with care, always checking against his map and never presuming. He had not reached this point in his career by entertaining assumptions. Reaching the house was an accomplishment, though he was disgruntled the snow had not held off as long as he had hoped. It would make the climb more precarious, but not beyond his capabilities, therefore it was to be ignored as an inconvenience, nothing more.

Pausing briefly he carefully pulled on a set of gloves over the skin tight gloves which had protected him to this point from the cold. These gloves would aid him in scaling the side of the building, and from his shadowed alcove at the side of the house he surveyed the garden and the pool of golden light streaming from a room a little further down the wall.

It appeared that either the Senator, or one of his household, was occupying the sitting room. He was not concerned it might be the Senator, he was patient and he could afford to wait for the man to come to his chosen killing ground. He had picked his ground with care, determining it for the best effect possible, and the resources at his disposal to accomplish the spectacle of a kill his instructions required he perform. What better place than the man's most cherished inner sanctum?

He smoothed the material with care, avoiding the palms by using his thighs to assist in adjusting the gloves to a comfortable fit. He could not remove the skin tight gloves he wore, given he needed the heat to keep his hands supple enough to facilitate the climb, but a delay of a few seconds to ensure these climbing gloves were properly fitted could not be avoided. His life would depend on them in just a few minutes.

The gloves were a special design, conceived and constructed exclusively in the Inner Circle's research laboratories. High tech materials for fit and grip, with a myriad of tiny spikes on the palms and pads of the fingers, to assisted him to maintain a grip on a variety of almost smooth vertical surfaces. The spikes were finer than a hair, of high tensile neo-titanium, with microscopic barbs to aid in finding any pitting in a surface and barely a millimetre in length. They assisted him in finding a safe grip, strengthening that grip and distributing his weight as evenly as possible.

The toes and soles of his shoes were treated with a nonslip resin, as were the outer pads secured to his knees. The climbing aids were all the assistance he would require to scale the side of the house to gain entry. He had chosen this point to climb the house as it was perpetually in shadow; the design of the building threw this particular point of the grand architecture into what he considered to be an unacceptable security risk, perfect for what he needed.

He was fortunate the Senator had a penchant for elaborate architecture and natural stone as a building medium. The gloves worked best in the small pits to be found in stone, and the sandstone the house was built from was one of the best surfaces he could have wished for. Of course, he had other tricks he would have used had he chosen a different venue and he entertained many talents he could wield for best effect.

_"You will keep the kills surgically clean. No method will be permitted to produce so much as a single casualty other than the designated target. A surgical strike, neat, precise and untraceable by law enforcement investigators."_

Her instruction would present no problem to his unique skills. Romefeller had equipped him well for his work, and he could not only pass unseen in most situations, but could also detect the proximity of other persons to his location. Pressing to the side of the building he took a series of deeply measured breaths and extended his perceptions, seeking the tell tale pressures on his consciousness that would betray the presence of a living mind.

Beyond the wall, in the house itself, passing directly by the wall where he waited, was a presence. Though distinguishing actual thoughts was beyond his meagre capabilities, he could sense something of the mood of an individual and what he sensed from this person drew a smirk. He had found many people during the course of the day who were agitated at the general disruption to their normal daily routine the blizzard provided.

Within the limited range of his abilities he could detect only the one presence and set himself to the stone. Drawing a deep breath he pressed his hands to the wall, flexing his muscles gently until he felt the gloves almost adhere to the surface. Many tiny spikes firmed his hold on the stone and he set his left foot, his resin coated footwear finding firm purchase at the mortared junction between stones. His fingers flexed, testing his grip one more time before he pushed himself up and began the climb.

He had four levels of the building to climb before he would reach his point of entry to the house, and the wind threatened to pluck him from his precarious perch with each reach upward. Staying close to the stone was vital to his success, offering him the protection of the least wind resistance and the most shelter, not only from the cold and wind, but from detection as well.

His thermal suit was specially crafted to enable him to survive in arctic conditions for hours and he had no fear of the cold itself. Romefeller provided their assassins with the most advanced technologies to assist their assigned tasks. One was not expected to perform the impossible without adequate equipment, and some of their gear was exclusive, unknown to other military and quasi military agencies. Thermal suits that were sleek and close fitted to the body and highly flexible, were the least of their arsenal, but offered him some degree of comfort in the present conditions.

He paused on reaching the second story, adhering a piton to the stone work and reaching up until he could rest a foot against the piton. The adhesive was quick setting and would enable him to pause and relieve some of the pressure on his hands as he did so. He focused his talent once more, seeking beyond the barrier of the stone, reaching to detect any person near to his position.

A bare arms length from his present perch a window overlooked the grounds, and he needed to be certain he need not fear anyone chancing to look through at the wrong moment. He was close to his goal and he would not take needless chances with the success of his mission hinging on something so trivial as someone checking on the state of the weather.

He did not react when a light came on further down the building. It was far enough from his dip in architecture that anyone looking out would miss him. That window was too far away for anyone to penetrate the darkness and snow shrouded position of his chosen path. One would have to lean out of the window to the point of falling out of the building and shine a spot light directly into the indent in the wall to have any chance of detecting him.

Anyone who sought to open a window and stick their head out and do exactly that deserved what they would get.

Ah, but no. He was to be a shadow, unseen and unsuspected.

There was only one person to die here this day; his instruction was quite specific about that. He did not intend to disappoint the Lady Epsilon.

He was getting ahead of himself, and that would not do. He did not know in all certainty that the woman who had given him his assignment was, in fact, a part of the select Inner Circle. She might have been a highly placed aide. While the Council members ensured their identities were secret, even within the top ranks of the organization, there were some things that were more difficult to hide than others. It was vital to his survival to be observant, and therefore he made it is his business to be observant at all times.

There were little mannerisms in her speech and movements which he had observed on the few occasions he had cause to be in the presence of the masked and robed Inner Circle. She was Inner Circle, he was certain of that. Unmistakably one of the five and he would never reveal his knowledge of who she was, not even to her.

Such would be a death sentence.

His goal was to advance further within the organization, and to advance he needed to leave the Security Division behind him and enter the Intelligence Office.

Epsilon was his goal and he must impress.

He would perhaps have only this one opportunity to attract her notice. He must succeed with the mission to the letter of her instruction for her to notice him in the manner in which he desired to be noticed. It was Delta who held control over him, and he had worked beneath Delta's direction without complaint, and to the best of his abilities, but Delta was not Epsilon.

Those who worked in the shadows for Romefeller had the eyes, ears and intelligence to see which way the wind blew.

For him to have any future beyond Delta's in-competencies, he needed to be picked up by another department. Of course the Inner Circle were not incompetent, perish the thought. Simply thinking such a thing could get him in serious trouble, nor was he inclined to betray his dissatisfaction with his controller. He was not a fool, and he knew how independence of thought would be viewed by the robed and masked elites.

He was an elite in his field and he valued excellence. For him, true excellence was to be found working beneath the terrible eye of the old woman he had met in the hotel room.

Reach, set hand. Reach, set foot. Press knee into wall and rise. Again and again. Pause to seek for the proximity of any persons near his position and resume. Ignore the wind picking up the higher he climbed, hug close to the stone, and ensure the micro spikes set to counteract the snow…

He slipped over the roof line and curled himself into the shelter of the stone parapet.

The ornate roofline would advantage him, affording him additional cover in which to hide. There were sensors set on the roof, heat detectors and cameras. He adjusted the controls of the suit to set his camouflage suit to generate a temperature which would virtually render him invisible to heat detectors given the weather conditions. With the temperature setting carefully set to match the ambient air temperature, he would need to practically stand on top of a sensor for it to register anything resembling a human form. Within the suit he remained warm and the shielding of the thermal device provided him with a cold shield exterior.

They thought of everything, those laboratory technicians. Were he not so well suited to being a killer at call, he might have entertained the notion of becoming one of the technicians and inventors who placed Romefeller at the forefront of cutting edge technology. Not that the world of big business knew it, of course.

The roof was slick and he took care not to slip in the ice and snow. His entry point to the house was an attic window which opened onto the roof itself. There was security, which he took his time in breaching, providing an uninterrupted feed to the security station. He did not need some observant guard picking up on some small anomaly.

He slipped within the cavernous space, ensured he was alone and reinstated the security system to live feed. That done he wiped down his suit with a chamois, removing accumulated moisture with quick and efficient movements. It would not do to leave wet footprints to offer clues as to there being a breach in security. The entire house would be searched soon enough to track down an assassin and he must leave nothing to be traced that might assist the investigation.

He adjusted the setting of his headset, the unit looking much like a set of sunglasses; the electronics a neatly packed set of micronics in the frames. He could wear these efficient aids to breaking and entering in the middle of a crowded street in broad daylight, and no one would pick them for a high tech piece of equipment that should have been in military hands.

On silent feet he wove a path through the boxes, trunks and cloth draped furniture stored in the attic. He kept his step light; he must be soft footed and cause no disturbance in the rooms below to attract unwanted attention. He could not permit so much as the ghost of movement in a light suspended from a ceiling to mark his passage, and there must certainly be no sound to attract an alert ear.

The house itself was silent and the wind beyond the building filled that silence with a howling wail that would cover any mistake he might make… not that he would err. One did not reach his level of expertise and make such stupid mistakes.

The forecast offered him hope the blizzard would not close in again, but continue to lessen after perhaps one brief last hoorah, lasting upwards of two to three hours before dying a final death to become nothing more than a snow fall and far lighter wind. He needed the snow and wind to cover his tracks when he departed, but should he need to wait longer than he surmised, he had another option for his escape.

All going well his tracks in and out of the estate would be covered before the law enforcement agency's of the city could do much more than scratch their collective heads.

He could expect the police to be called initially on the discovery of the body. Their attending of the scene would be followed by a call to Preventers, given the identity of the victim. Within two hours of the discovery of the Senator's body he could expect Preventers to be on scene and he needed to be long gone before then. They had some skilled people working within their ranks and advanced technology to call on. If anyone might find a trace of him, it would be Preventers.

It would not happen, he would cover his tracks too well, but they would, regardless, hunt for a killer.

He threaded his way carefully from floor to floor, using the memorized floor plan as a guide. He needed to descend to the first floor where the Senator's private study was to be found. This was the place he had determined would be his killing ground.

The inner sanctum of the victim. Supposedly the most secure place in the house.

The kill must, of necessity, be a statement to those with the eyes to see, and the ears to hear the warning offered by this death. He did not know why this particular man was his target; it was not required he know to perform his task. He did not know what actions the Senator had taken to draw the wrath of Romefeller's Inner Circle, and he did not want to know.

It was his task to obey, nothing more. In that this case entailed a silent kill that was to be quickly discovered and, given by specific instruction he was to make the kill less than pleasant for the Senator, he had chosen to come to the man's inner sanctum. It would meet every requirement that was stipulated for the kill.

Abject lessons were rarely painless.

Abject lessons initiated by Romefeller were guaranteed to be excruciating.

Footsteps.

He surveyed his position with care, aware of the growing danger the deeper into the house he travelled. The extension of his talent revealed the room behind the door closest to him was vacant, and he slipped inside. Using his talent for sensing the emotions of others he tracked those now walking along the hallway where moments ago he had stood in plain sight. Assured he was undetected and that the hallway was now clear, he slipped out of the room and continued on his way.

One more floor to descend and he would be within striking distance of the study. Each foot fall was placed with care, his ears strained to detect any hint of a presence and he maintained his mental outreach, seeking the presence of people. The first floor of the building was well illuminated in comparison to the upper levels, and he slipped from shadow to shadow carefully, silent and deadly.

He must kill one only and therefore no one must suspect death walked abroad this night.

A final hallway, pausing near the head of the stairs from the ground floor and he slipped to the door of the study two doors down. He extended his straining ability to ensure the study was unoccupied and took five precious seconds to defeat the lock. A simple code thankfully, and he slipped inside the study, noting the sound of voices, one that was the target, coming from the lower floor.

He reset the lock, taking the time to survey the room.

He might not have much time, his victim might well be on his way to the study to attend to some work. Given his need to make use of the inclement weather to assist in covering his departure from the house, he was hopeful the Senator would indeed be inclined to come to him with all speed.

If the Senator should come with company he would need to be patient, bide his time and wait.

One kill only, the designated target, was permitted.

If he must wait he would require a safe hiding place, and the architecture of the room was uniquely suited to accommodate an assassin who must remain unseen. The design also lent itself to thoughts of the spectacle to come.

He took particular notice of the high ceiling crowned with an elaborate display of gothic style arches. Given the placement of the pendant lighting and the lamps, that arched ceiling would provide adequate shadow when the lights were switched on. For an assassin there would be an abundance of opportunity to find a safe location to await the perfect moment.

He might even get the opportunity to make a few necessary accommodations in preparation for the kill. He was all for saving time and effort by advance preparation.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2009


	193. Chapter 193 Chapter 192

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 192/??? New Port City, Sanc

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

//... // thoughts

"... " speech

~/... /~ text

*... * flashback

** ...** Vision

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 192

2nd March AC 198

New Port City, Sanc

Palace

Time: 14:30

Wu Fei

Some things in life were seriously underrated, usually the simple things. Things taken for granted as every day occurrence. Mundane, routine things.

A hot shower was one of the most under appreciated pleasures the human body could ever experience, of that Wu Fei had no doubt. The simple pleasure to be found in taking a hot shower; the hot water rolling in a free flowing cascade over chilled aching flesh, for example. Of course the water had not been hot, merely lukewarm, but to his chilled frame it had been blissfully hot and chased some of the cold from him.

The true pleasure though, had been the warmth and utter luxury of a bed.

Admittedly, he had been exhausted to the point that a plank of wood would have been comfortable to his failing body, but it had not been a plank he had found waiting for him in his assigned quarters. It was a wide bed with a firm, well padded mattress and a blessedly thick eiderdown in which to snuggle up under.

He did not want to move, not ever again, and he could ignore a full bladder.

Naked from the shower, dried by soft thick towels that he had taken directly from a warming rail, he had thought only of the one thing remaining to make his life complete. Falling into that wonderful bed and allowing himself to fall deeper into exhausted sleep. It had been the highlight of a most disagreeable day.

Waking in the warmth and comfort the bed generated was almost a decadent contentment.

He pulled the eiderdown tighter about his shoulders and rubbed his cheek into the pillow. He was so warm he could purr like a contented cat, and there was no one to witness his weakness; no one to see that Chang Wu Fei could be weak enough to snuggle.

One dark eye peered out from an untidy nest of black hair. The room was dark, heavy curtains closed over the windows and insulating the room from the chill of the outside world. Though he could see nothing of the weather beyond the palace, he could hear the continued wail of the wind. Listening intently for a few minutes, unable to contemplate the idea of moving at the moment, he determined the wind might not be so fierce as earlier in the day.

He would request a tropical assignment from Une for the inconvenience of this assignment and blissfully bake himself in heat at the first opportunity.

Did he need to get up? Aching bladder aside, did he need to get out of bed and face the trials of the day?

It was a question he needed to face and it was with no conscious thought that he found his hand grasping the eiderdown more firmly and his body shifted deeper into the nest he had made for himself.

No, his body at least was not enamoured of the idea of leaving the warmth of his bed. To leave that warmth would be to acknowledge the idea of going out, yet again, into the frigid conditions and working at perpetrating a lie. Why should he leap out of bed to advance a lie; a deception?

He was the lead investigator on a crack investigative team looking into the terrorist activities of a newly emerging group bent on forcing their will on the free people of the ESUN.

He hunched in on himself.

It was all a lie.

Smoke and mirrors designed to distract from another deception. Was everything in life deception? Was this what he had fought for? What his clan had died for? For him to perpetrate a lie?

There was no terrorist organization. There was no person involved in terrorism in this case for him to investigate; it was nothing more than an elaborate sham. A hoax designed by Lady Une to distract the press and the people from something happening in the vastness of space, on another planet.

It was fake.

He was part of this lie and he did not like it.

By nature he was honest, not a liar, and he did not approve of this elaborate deception. It was not as though he owed anything to Marquise, who undoubtedly had brought about mayhem and death to innocents on that distant planet. The man was a curse upon humanity; wherever he went he brought mayhem and chaos.

Did Chang Wu Fei wish to be a part of this cover up? No, he did not. Why then should he abandon the warmth of this nest which separated him from the harsh reality of life?

No, he did not want to abandon his warmth and face a world full of lies. He had been taught it was dishonourable to lie and to deceive others; and to lie to so many…

To the entire world?!

For what?

Because a woman who had been crazy in the past said it was for the best?

He was crazy himself to have agreed to this farce.

He was not even certain it would do any good to follow this elaborate scheme to its conclusion. She had been Treize Khushrenada's assistant; his assassin. Her hands were far from clean, and her sanity had to be brought back into question by this deception.

Could he trust her? Could he really place his trust in her and her decisions when he had no real understanding of exactly what they were doing and, more importantly, why it was necessary?

Dare he trust Lady Anne Une? Given her past did he dare to trust his life to her? Why was she acting as she was? There had appeared to be no love between Marquise and Une, so why should she bother with such an elaborate charade?

It was entirely possible she might turn on him and expose him as the 'terrorist' responsible for the destruction of her home and the attack on the palace. It was possible she could betray him, setting him up as the scapegoat. It would serve to get the ESUN off her own back and have him targeted and running from them.

'

He would not go quietly if she did.

He would be certain to take her down with him. Publically, messily and thoroughly. One did not bring the name of Chang into disrepute and expect to avoid the consequences.

So, did he dare continue with this deception?

It was not necessary the farce continue in light of the appearance of this so named Station Alliance. He had chanced to observe a news report before falling into an exhausted sleep. The news on all stations would be full of the appearance of this new faction headed by a supposed Khushrenada.

Had any of the political commentators yet floated the idea of the Station Alliance being responsible for the terrorist activities now taking place within Sanc's borders? Someone was sure to make such a supposition, and they would be sure not to keep the idea to themselves. It would not be long before the media would be slavering over the idea.

Who would bother wondering what was occurring on Mars when there was the potential for a hostile space bound organization opposing the ESUN?

And they would be innocent!

What would Une do about that if it happened?

The fears of another Operation Meteor would rise, the politicians would begin to circle, testing the waters, forming little clusters of alliances with differing dynamics; none of them so peacefully inclined as they currently were. Politicians with ambitions would be looking to rise higher in the world order. Given some of the newly elected members were from factions in power during the war, it would come as no surprise to him when they began to talk of building weapons to defend the Earth and the colonies from this unknown alliance.

An Alliance who had nothing to do with the terrorist attack on the Sanc Palace, or on the home of Preventer Earth.

He would have to prove their innocence or chance starting the wars all over again. War, surely, Une would not chance recurring?

Where did they come from? What were their intentions? Just who were these people who professed to be an Alliance?

They could be a few people in an obscure room with no followers and delusions of grandeur… or they could indeed head an organization of thousands, as they had suggested, who might be capable of fielding an army.

Was their leader really a Khushrenada?

That was possibly the most important question of many to be answered. Treize Khushrenada had made quite the impression as the World Sovereign defending the planet from White Fang. The very name Khushrenada held power. A power Dekim Barton had already sought to use.

Power this Christian Khushrenada might well seek to take advantage of.

Was it coincidence his name was Khushrenada, or was it by design? Was he nothing more than a figurehead, or did he actually hold power? Was he a tame sheep held in place by sheep dogs, or was he a wolf prowling after the sheep?

//We are spread too far apart.//

We. The Gundam Pilots.

Not that they had mobile suits any more, but they had fought together in the past, and he strangely could not think of fighting a war that might shake the world they knew without them to defend his back.

//Maxwell and Barton are in space. Winner and Yuy are somewhere out in this blizzard, Ancestors knows where exactly. They might be stuck in a snow drift, frozen to death for all I know.//

A fate he would not wish on anyone. Exposed to the elements as he had been, he knew just how cold and lonely a death it would have been.

He clutched the eiderdown tightly to him, half rolling to draw it tighter to his body, a psychological reaching for warmth. He was making himself cold just by thinking about the weather and being trapped in its icy grasp. He ran a bare foot over his calf muscle testing to make certain he could feel all of his toes before trading foot and calf to be sure he had a full ten to the count.

It was stupid, of course. If he had suffered frostbite and lost a toe or three he would have woken in a hospital, not in what was recognizably a room in the palace. A room he had used before. He would have been assigned a room in the quarters that housed security personnel, where there was always room for any additional personnel assigned to cater to the degree of security required on a daily basis for Relena's activities.

He really needed to relieve himself… and he was well aware that he was awake.

He was not going to get back to sleep. His mind was beginning to run at a mile a minute, and if he was to function at all he would need to control his thoughts, and the best way to acquire that control was to employ a little meditation. Meditation would require he shift his sorry arse out of his nice warm nest and if he did that…

The day would begin again, filled with working on a lie perpetrated because it pleased Preventer Earth to deceive the entire ESUN.

He could not work to his efficient best knowing it was a farce. He would make a mistake and give away his knowledge of the incidents. Someone would be certain to notice, ask questions, dig until they revealed the deception.

It would serve no one if he panicked. Such would only reveal all to the world, and he would have to continue with the charade. To control what was known and surmised and believed by others, he would have to continue and perpetrate the lie.

But he would take her down with him if she betrayed his part in the deception.

He could not feel less like taking part in the investigation, but he was committed.

With a disgruntled snarl Wu Fei flung the eiderdown from him and swung his feet to the floor. The carpet reassured him of what he already knew; that he had ten toes, five to each foot and they were just as they should be.

At least the price of deceit did not involve the loss of his feet.

Small compensation to the weight on his honour.

He began his day by relieving his screaming bladder and retreating into the shower. The water was near to scalding and he luxuriated in the heat before moderating the temperature a little and washing his hair. He took the time to inspect every part of his body, seeking any indication he might have sustained an injury during his terrorist activities, particularly during his stumbling around in the snow.

There were a few bruises, courtesy of his sojourn in the woods seeking the place where the 'terrorist' had fired on the palace. He had a witness who could explain those bruises though, so he was not concerned. Insane as it had been insisting he be shown the possible attack site, it had served to place him in the area legitimately if the boffins in forensics should chance to come up with DNA evidence which would point squarely to him.

He sported a dark and furious looking bruise on one leg and wondered when he had achieved that, but it would not hamper his activities. Considering the bruise on his shin he suddenly remembered bright hair and flashing eyes and caught sight of his blush in the mirror.

That simply would not do. He could not afford to be distracted by a pretty face when his freedom was reliant on his keeping alert. He was supposed to be the consummate professional, he heard his co workers comment on it often enough and he would not permit himself to fall the way of too many before him. Becoming involved on a personal level was a distraction he could not afford in his line of work.

He thought he might even be able to convince himself of that, and anyway, the chances of him seeing that particular woman again were practically nonexistent. He certainly would not pursue her, and it was in his power to do more than simply look for her in order to initiate another meeting. With his access to the Preventers records department he could find out every detail there was to know about her and…

What did he think he was doing, following this line of thought?

He was not a stalker and he would not turn into one.

That was what taking note of a pretty face, and a prettier set of eyes, did to a man.

It made him stupid.

Finding a change of clothing hanging in the wardrobe and underwear in a drawer, Wu Fei dressed, trying every distraction he could think of to stop his thoughts from wandering back to forbidden territory. He was a Preventer Agent, a professional and he had other things to concern himself with.

Like Lady Une.

Yes, Une. He distinctly recalled the woman saying she would fully brief him when he awoke. Well, he was awake, he was dressed and he needed distracting, so why was he still in the bedroom? He was not lurking, he was not avoiding the necessities of the moment and look, he was striding purposefully down the hallway and turning the corner and…

"Mr. Chang. Lady Une is in the Green Room, if you are ready to return to your duties."

Damn! How did the old man succeed in sneaking up on him? He was a Gundam Pilot, for the love of the Ancestors! He was a trained fighter, taught to notice everything about him in the interests of survival, so why had he not noticed the old man lurking in the hallway?

Had he jumped? He sincerely hoped not. That would not do. It was not turning out to be a good...afternoon? What time was it anyway? How long had he slept? He had not thought to look at the clock in his room, too focused as he was on getting about his business.

"Pagan. What time is it?"

"Approaching three o'clock, sir. If you would kindly make your way to the Green Room, I shall have some food sent in for you."

"Thank you, that would be appreciated. Has there been any word on Yuy and Winner?"

The old man looked concerned as he shook his head. "No, sir, there has been no communications between Miss Relena's party and palace security."

He scowled, not liking that silence, but communications was sketchy because of the interference of the storm. Until repairs could be made on the transmission towers what more did he expect? He was sure he recalled someone saying something about they had lost one of the communications towers above the city.

"Has the storm finished?"

Stupid question, he could hear the wind howling beyond the walls of the building, even in this internal corridor, but perhaps the snow had stopped falling and the emergency services might be able to clear the roads making travel easier.

"It has eased somewhat, sir. The snow ploughs are operating and repair crews are working on the telephone lines and the communications tower."

"You know the weather in this area, Pagan. Is the storm over, or is this only a lull?"

It was best to gather what intelligence one could from the locals and Pagan had been born and reared in Sanc. Wu Fei was hoping the answer would be yes and he could look forward to warm, dry feet for a change.

"The worst, I believe, is over, sir. We may get a little more snow yet, but the wind has abated somewhat and conditions are much improved. By morning I expect the weather will be clear, though moving around the country will be hindered by the extent of the damage done. I believe a number of modern buildings have taken considerable damage from the elements, though from what I have heard, no one was injured."

"Thank you."

He nodded in farewell and strode off, keeping his back stiff and straight, feeling the eyes on him. The efficient old man was likely to have the food arrive before he himself arrived, and he could not say such would not please him. He was rather hungry.

And perhaps it was not Pagan watching him but someone else, but he would not turn around to look. In the palace someone was always watching and listening. It was just the way things were in the halls of power. Walls had both eyes to see and ears to hear, and one needed to recall where one was at all times. He hoped Lady Une had secured the Green Room against listeners, as it would not do to have eavesdroppers aware of the identity and nature of the terrorist threat now threatening the ESUN.

"Afternoon, Chang. Have a seat."

Oh, that old man was indeed efficient. A maid bobbed a curtsey to Lady Une and slipped out of the room leaving behind her a tray heavily laden with covered dishes, including a tea service for two.

"Ma'am."

A delicate hand wafted in the air in roughly the direction of the tray. "Eat. I'll be sending you out in the weather shortly and you could do with a little fortification before you are exposed to the elements once again."

Oh joy. Another attempt to prune his feet by the measure of his toes.

If she had rested there was little sign of it, though to be certain she did not look as though she was dead on her feet. In the past Une had displayed a tendency to not require rest as much as her agents; she was at headquarters at all hours of the day and night. She was efficient, imaginative and down right stubborn when pursuing an investigation and she demanded no less of her agents than she demanded of herself.

He found beneath the cover a large bowl of steaming meat and vegetables in a rich gravy, with warm crusty bread as an accompaniment. It was hearty fair, designed by people who knew the climate and how to fortify the body against it. He was not about to go against the wisdom of the people who had lived in this extreme climate successfully for generations. Besides, his first taste informed him it was delicious.

"There have been a number of developments, not the least of which is a number of calls from people whose names are on the death list."

Her gaze caught and held his and he noted the way her eyes moved pointedly to a wall. It was likely they had listeners then and that meant the extent of the information he would receive, would, of necessity, be edited, which annoyed him as he wanted answers.

He did not like working in the dark, but that seemed to be all he did recently. He needed to get the woman in a secured location and find out exactly what was happening. No information, or misinformation, could land him with the blame firmly on his back and he would not have it.

"I have received a number of objections to the new security procedures in effect in light of the new threat. The most vocal of the objections coming from Senator Harrison. He is of the opinion his privately employed security detail is more than sufficient to deal with any perceivable threat from upstart terrorists. In short, he has refused a Preventer protection detail."

"It is surely his right… and his funeral."

Une arched an eyebrow and smothered the smirk, her lips giving a betraying twitch. Wu Fei decided she did not particularly care what the august Senator Harrison wanted and she would be only too pleased to see matters his way, however, she had a job to do and she must be seen to be doing it. Une would be bloody minded enough to insist the Senator lived with added security provided by Preventers and it was her head on the block should anything happen to the man.

Not that anything would, given there were no actual terrorists.

There would be no order for the terrorists to strike again so quickly. Demands had been made, a threat delivered on, and now there would be a pause for the authorities to consider matters and then negotiations would be entered into once more. No, there was no immediate threat as one must follow the natural procedure of these things.

For now it was the time of the investigator and any self respecting terrorist would lie low and plot their next move.

"On your way back into the city I want you to call by the Senator's estate and have a word with him. If he still will not see the benefits of agreeing to include Preventers in his security detail, request he forward his objections, in writing, to the ESUN Security Agency. I will not have Preventers called into doubt because one bull headed politician thinks he knows best."

"There has been word of the Princesses party?"

Une looked unhappy for a moment and shook her head, stretching her neck in an effort to relax stiffened muscles. "No, Mr. Chang, unfortunately there has not been word, but that is hardly surprising considering the weather conditions. If the weather continues to ease and the repair crews are efficient, I expect to have reasonable communications restored by tomorrow morning."

"And this… Station Alliance? What has been decided there?"

Surely she could slip him some information without alerting any listeners to their deception?

"Not a great deal, however, I think it would be understood by the government that there must be some attempt made at negotiating with these people. Before one can deal effectively with someone, one must know what it is they want and it would be an advantage to know where they operate from. I can not see the government making rash or hasty decisions. If there has been word from the Sweepers as to the location of this meeting, it has not filtered down to me at this time. Communications due to the storm might be at fault for that… or it might be that there has been no word as yet. There could not have been a worse time for the storm to have hit and locked us down."

Wu Fei nodded, that was the truth. The storm was causing all kinds of problems and it seemed that a good portion of the ESUN Council of Representatives was present in New Port City at this time. He doubted any decisions would be made in haste and a special sitting of the Council would undoubtedly be called to discuss the issue.

Finishing the last of his meal and settling back with a content sigh, Wu Fei admitted to himself that he could not feel less like braving the storm again, but he had a job to do and he would do it, to the best of his considerable abilities. And he still wanted answers.

Wu Fei caught the Lady's eye with a burning look and Une smiled, pouring tea with all the delicacy and poise of a Victorian Lady in her parlour.

"I will be making my way to headquarters as soon as the roads are cleared. I believe the roads have been ploughed in the area of Senator Harrison's estate, so when you have finished your meal I suggest you attend to that matter first. I will shortly be departing for the city where I have a few meetings to attend and a briefing for the Council to conduct. I will want to see you as soon as you return to headquarters and for God's sake, Chang, return with either the idiot's signature on a piece of paper saying he does not want our protection, or the news that he's done a moonlight flit out of the country and spared me the headache of dealing with the Security Agency."

Chang smirked. "I believe the Senator does not like Preventers."

Une glared at no one in particular, staring into the fire. "He does not, and why that is I will never understand. It is not as though we had much in the way of dealings in the past, and nothing too notable there that I recall. Finish your tea, see Harrison and I will meet you back at headquarters."

"Yes, Ma'am. On my way through New Port City I shall call by your house to ascertain how it weathered the storm, and to check on how the forensic units have fared."

"Good. Give my best regards to the Senator and assure him Preventers is on the case and we will hunt down the terrorists. Do stress that it would be expedient for him to accept our protection. If he insists on refusing then request he forward his objections, if he has not already done so, to the Security Agency as a matter of record. Make sure you stress he makes his refusal a matter of record. The man is an outspoken opponent of Preventers and I have no intention of giving his cronies ammunition in their fight to pull our budget. Hopefully by the time we meet at headquarters I will have some sort of decision from the Council about this Alliance and have their input on the terrorist activities."

The tea was hot and sweet, much sweeter than was his preference, but somehow it seemed to fortify him against the conditions which were, he discovered, not quite as improved as he had hoped.

He could not say he was thrilled with the driving conditions. A car had been waiting for him at the palace steps, fuelled and ready to go, along with the instructions on how to reach the Harrison Estate, given only certain roads had been cleared.

He settled behind the wheel, pulling away from the palace after ensuring the heater was on high and the fan was blasting hot air into the car. He pulled over just before the palace gates to consider the crudely drawn map and driving instructions, shaking his head at the roundabout route he would be required to drive. By the time he reached the estate he supposed it was not beyond the realms of possibility that a faster and easier route to navigate might have been cleared.

Not to worry, it was not as though there was actually anything for him to investigate after all. Glaring at the snowfall and the wind driving it into the windscreen, he lifted the receiver of the car radio and punched in a call to the Senator's security number. Not that he was actually expecting the call to go through and, indeed, it did not.

With a profound sigh Wu Fei consigned himself to a useless drive and concentrated on the road. This new snowfall, while thick, was not the blinding whiteout that had forced the investigations teams to seek shelter or perish. Still, it was no pleasant drive and he was forced to emulate a snails pace.

//This is idiocy.//

No more idiocy, he decided, than it had been for his Elders to detonate the colony and remove from his options the choice of ever going home. That was why he was a Preventer after all, because he had no where else to go. People like Harrison did not like Preventers, did not like the fact it was primarily made up of soldiers who had no where else to go… their families wiped out in the war or, for some reason real or imagined, they felt themselves disowned by their kin.

If there was some other place for him, some place where he could find at least some measure of understanding and acceptance, he might well consider vanishing into the crowd one day and seeking it out.

Shaking his head at the thought he returned his drifting thoughts to what lay ahead. Deciding he really should make at least another attempt to announce his imminent arrival, it would look good on the logs after all, he dialled the estate number again and, to his surprise, his call was answered.

Announcing his identity and his intentions drew an odd moments silence and then the request he hold the line. It was not a long wait before the radio crackled to life again.

"Harrison. I'm busy, what to you want?"

So the Senator was busy and in no reasonable frame of mind, Wu Fei reflected. Lovely. Just what he needed to compliment his already noteworthy day.

"Senator Harison, my name is Chang Wu Fei, Preventer Dragon. I have been requested by Preventer Earth to discuss with you new security measures given the recent… disturbances."

"I have security, Chang. I don't need more."

"Never the less, Senator, I am required by my Commander to call on you."

Was that teeth grinding?

"Fine, call, but I'm not taking a Preventer security detail and I'm going to protest about Preventer harassment to the Council."

Charming. It appeared the Senator had no one from the general public to impress in his immediate vicinity. He was far from his public persona of a genial and soft spoken man.

"That is your prerogative Senator, I am merely following my Commander's instructions. I should be arriving at the estate in approximately thirty minutes."

A disgruntled snort followed by the breaking of the connection was his only response and Wu Fei sighed. What a charming person.

//I only hope he does send the protest to the Council. At least then it will officially be logged that he is not interested in having Preventers guard his arse, not that I would wish to be the agents chosen for such a task.//

He, like many of his fellow field agents, knew the Senator wanted the Preventers disbanded, calling them useless and a wasteful doubling up of tax payer credits. Senator Harrison was an advocate of the ESUN Security Agency, the rival organization to Preventers and he wanted the Preventer's budget injected into the Security Agency.

Wu Fei could see that the Security Agency was backed by too many politicians who had served during the war. There were too many political advocates at the present time who had military connections for Une's peace of mind, not, of course, that Preventers did not have a few. There was something about the set up of the Security Agency which annoyed Wu Fei and worried him.

Or perhaps it was simply because their agents were the ones dogging his footsteps when he was not working a case?

He had too much time to think and distract himself from the task of keeping the car on the road. At this rate his thirty minute estimate would be out by more than a few minutes, and that would be just one more thing for the Senator to complain about.

Massive wrought iron gates loomed out of the darkness ahead and he pulled carefully into the driveway. Winding down the window and letting all of his lovely hot air escape in the process, he pushed the call button on the gates, thankful the enquiry as to his identity came quickly.

"Preventer Dragon, Chang Wu Fei to see the Senator. I am expected."

He passed his identity card through the scanner and watched it flash from green to red. While the gates swung open before him a toneless voice instructed him to drive to the front of the house and he would be met at the doors.

//Now for a very unpleasant, and hopefully equally short, interview with the Senator.//

He parked the car as close to the steps of the house as he feasibly could, pulling his coat firmly around him as he carefully climbed the steps. He hoped someone would salt the steps by the time he was ready to depart as they were laden with snow and slick with ice. Thankfully he did not perform a comic arse plant for the Senator's amusement and someone must have been watching because the door swung open as he approached within three steps of it.

"Agent Dragon? I am Jonothan Maraket, the Senator's personal secretary." The door closed behind him, shutting out the cold and reducing the wail of the wind to a dull roar. "I have been instructed to escort you to his study on your arrival."

His coat was taken by an efficient butler and he wiped his boots carefully on a mat provided for just that purpose as he surveyed the highly polished floor. He need not track snow and slush all over the servant's clean floor, after all, it was not the Senator who had to clean them.

The secretary, a man in his early thirties with close cropped blonde hair, a penchant for expensive designer suits and who was no doubt a political hopeful serving his apprenticeship with the Senator, led him across the wide foyer to the central sweeping staircase. The dark red carpet under foot muffled their footsteps and the secretary led the way up to the first floor in silence, pausing before a heavy oak door with an electronic keypad set to one side and a heavy brass doorknob.

The Senator liked the old and employed new gadgetry without a qualm, Wu Fei noted. That lock was state of the art and would take even Duo a few minutes to defeat.

Maraket reached to the intercom on the keypad with a brief and very bland smile at the Preventer. "Preventer Agent Dragon to see you, Senator."

Wu Fei waited, watching, noted when the secretary frowned and reached a second time to the intercom. He was not surprised the Senator did not reply immediately, he would not feel at all put out to make a Preventer wait, though the secretary was clearly disturbed.

"Senator Harrison? The Preventer agent you were expecting has arrived."

Silence.

Wu Fei felt a prickling at the back of his neck, instinct kicking in and setting him to turning sharply. Every sense sprang to life and warned him that something was very wrong. Dark eyes moved over the length of the hallway behind him… nothing… moved on to the other side and that too was empty.

Nothing untoward, no shadows moving, no fleeting glimpse of someone watching… But there was something wrong.

"Open the door," he instructed.

Maraket started, glaring at him. "I can't do that without the Senator's…"

A glare colder than the ice forming on the outside steps effectively silenced him and following a pregnant silence the secretary punched in a key code, the lock beeped and they heard a click as the lock disengaged.

"This is highly…"

Wu Fei motioned imperiously to him to open the door and Maraket huffed, reaching to knock, rapping his knuckles sharply against the wood and earning only silence. With a growl Wu Fei stepped around him, reaching for the brass doorknob, twisting and pushed the door open wide in one quick movement.

"You can't do… Oh my God!"

Vaguely he was aware of the secretary stumbling out of the room and hearing him throw up.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2009


	194. Chapter 194 Chapter 193

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 193/??? Mars

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

Alternative Directions: Options: Mars

Chapter 193

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 04:35 [approx Sanc time 02:26]

Polnar

He told himself repeatedly that circumventing Levels 2 and 3 to make their way directly to level 4 was the smart thing to do. He did not have the luxury of time to entertain the game of second guessing his own decisions. That game led to hesitation and hesitation inevitably led to disaster. Delay of any kind was not the way to make up ground and affect a speedy resolution to the mission.

He did not particularly want to think as the effort seemed to take energy away from his feet, and he was certain each step was a microsecond slower. It was stupid, he understood that at some deep level of his psyche, but he could feel Marquise breathing down his neck. It was as though the man hovered at his back with a hand was poised just a fraction of a millimetre off his skin. Any second now he would feel that hand between his shoulder blades, pushing him, urging him on to greater speed.

Was it possible for the man to be riding his back? Invisible, somehow lurking on the psychic plain; pushing him, reminding him with his lurking presence that speed was of the essence?

It was insane but, whacked as it sounded, he could not discount the possibility. Experience had shown him that with the Gifted anything was possible, but that did not change the fact that he could not run faster. It was simply impossible for him to get his feet to move faster; impossible to drag more air into labouring lungs to feed his body the necessary oxygen to move more quickly.

If there was a Sleeper lurking in their vicinity he would either have the worlds easiest kill as they shot towards him, or the killer would be left wondering what the hell the triple blur was that zoomed past.

They had to be setting some sort of land speed record.

The need for speed beat at him, but he had to be careful. It was not just the possibility of a killer lurking nearby to take them down that was of concern, though it was surely a viable possibility. They had to have enough energy for their return run to the Medical Centre, not that they would be able to maintain this degree of speed with two women and the infants in their midst. Once they acquired the first child and nurse their chances of speed being a factor in their safe return ended. They needed to be as fast as humanly possible now, while they were unencumbered.

They were all tired, on the edge, riding the adrenaline surge and when that adrenaline ran out they would all be in for a fall. But it would not be over, even then. Once they returned the children to their father it would not be over. They would still be in danger; still need to be on the lookout for killers disguised as friends.

Would the nightmare ever end?

And why the hell did the accommodations blocks in this crappy arsed base have to be so fardling big?!

The lighting was not helping any either; the garish alarm lights gave the hallway the appearance of being bathed in blood. He was tired of the illusion of blood emulated by the lights all over the base; tired of it, but he could not escape it. None of them could. Blood red coloured everything, reminding him of the men and women he had known, who lay dead in the dome above them. So many people were already dead; friends and acquaintances… too many of them dead, and it was not over.

It was far from over.

If they did not regain control of the dome, then those who lingered outside the dome would die. There was so much to do and no time in which to do it. There was no hope of drawing a breath and taking a break. No hope this was all just a nightmare and he would wake from it, trembling and frightened, but knowing it had not been real.

Jesus, he was sure someone was on his arse, looming over him… reaching out to him…

//Get a grip! Can't fall apart now. Can't afford to fall apart.//

This had to be done and he was the team leader. It was his job to get this mission accomplished as speedily as possible and get everyone safely back to the Medical Centre. The letter, a small folded piece of paper that rested in his pocket, along with the piece holding the security codes, seemed to burn, warning him of the rising danger. Reminding him, by generating heat he could feel through his clothing, that he must not lose them.

God, Marquise had given him a time bomb!

He could not afford for anyone to realize he had a set of master codes to the base. That information, the codes, was information Marquise certainly was not supposed to possess; in fact no single person at the terra forming base was supposed to have the complete set of codes. But he had them… he and Marquise. They could not afford for anyone to discover that innocuous little scrap of paper and question how the codes had been attained… why it was that Marquise of all people, the prisoner confined to the base, had the codes that would have permitted him to walk away at any time.

He could not help but wonder how long Marquise had known these codes? No, maybe it was better, safer, not to ask that particular question. If he pondered it he might get some idea of how long Marquise had known everything on Mars would go to hell in a hand basket. Of course if he knew that he would demand to know why the arsehole had done nothing to fix the problem before it started.

Maybe one day he would ask… but not now.

No one needed to know he had the master codes and that was the way he had to keep it. The other bomb he held was the note to the nurses caring for the children. Anyone who had that note, if the nurses believed and heeded Marquises' message, could get their hands on the twins. He had to ensure no one but he held that piece of paper. Everything would be alright if he could just get his butt down to level 4, then back up to level 3 and finally, blessedly, out of the accommodations sector and deliver the kids to their father.

He had not realized, in his blissful ignorance, just how many flights of stairs there actually were in the accommodation sectors. When you did not have to run up and down them at break neck speed one step just blended into another and you didn't notice how many there were. Elevators made far more sense; they were easier on the body, but then you had less chance of surviving if caught in an elevator in a precarious hunt or be hunted scenario. No, the stairs were far safer in this instance; at least you had a chance to see where you were going with stairs and what might be coming at you.

There would be a set of stairs, a deep set leading down a level, just ahead. He would need something to roll down them to make certain no traps had been set for the unwary. Fire extinguishers were good for that and there should be fire extinguishers placed at regular intervals, including near the access points to each level for safety reasons. If they all grabbed an extinguisher… no, that would be too much weight and would slow them down… but it would mean they could just toss two or three down the stairs and stand back in case of an explosion.

God, what a delightful thought. They could have a ten second break while gravity did its thing. No, this was too much, it would not do. He had to start thinking instead of reacting.

There came a time where you had to draw a line between reacting and planning and this was it.

They were only human and they would pass out if they did not stop and take a much needed breather. It was his responsibility to keep the group active and alert, and that meant calling a halt to this all out run.

Somewhere behind them the other teams would be moving through the first complex of rooms and he wanted to avoid contact with them. They needed to stay well ahead of the search teams on this downward leg, and on the return trip he wanted to just zip through them, though his preference would be to avoid them entirely. That would be harder though, and he did not plan to stop and exchange chatter on the décor of the suites. He would have to keep his group moving no matter what.

"Hold up… at the stairs… down… to level 4."

The panted instruction went unacknowledged by his companions, and he could only hope they had been able to make out his words. He was not sure if they could understand him through their joint heaving breaths and the pounding of running feet. He had experienced a stitch in his side a while ago that had passed the point of pain. He had refused to stop, working through the pain like any good sprinter performing a marathon, he could drop dead later; there had to be a reason why he wasn't lying dead from exhaustion on the floor minutes ago. Some time soon he would realize what that reason was.

Oh yes. Of course. Marquise would raise him from the dead so he could kill him again, slowly, if he dared to die. It just didn't bear thinking about.

"Christ Almighty, Polnar… tell me… tell me we… we don't have to set this pace… climbing the bloody stairs… coming… coming back." Carter panted, going down to his knees as they reached the blast door.

He made it to the wall and collapsed, his legs refusing to support his weight any longer, his back sliding down the blessedly cold metal of the wall, gasping air into tortured lungs and somehow he managed a snort. It was all the acknowledgement he could muster for the comment. At the rate they were going the babies would have to carry their rescuers to safe ground. Mighty Joe Lee was on hands and knees, peering back along the corridor at the way they had come, and his chest was bellowing, his sides heaving with the effort to breathe.

No, it was too much. They could not keep up this pace. They had already pushed their luck too far and for too long with their breakneck pace, but he had chosen speed over checking every room in case they had company they did not want. Now, with the home stretch before them, they had to slow the pace down, gain control of themselves and pick their way with care. It was time to maintain a smart, but sustainable, pace to ensure they made the return. The nurses certainly would not be able to maintain this kind of pace with infants to attend.

Room 12 on level 4, that was his destination. It was in the second section of rooms carved out of the natural Martian Rock and lined with metal sheeting to ensure an airtight seal in the event of a natural disaster impacting on the life support systems of the base. That was relatively close to this stairwell beyond the blast doors and airlock. From here it would take only a few minutes to collect the baby and nurse, and then they could be on their way back to the stairwell. Once they returned to level 3, it was only a short distance to reach room 48 and then it would be a straight run back to the Medical Centre.

Easy, if nerve wracking, and all he really needed to do was keep anyone from joining their group, or following closely behind them and move smartly to their final destination.

Groaning as he hauled himself to his feet he fumbled with the extinguisher mounted on the wall and passed it to Carter, before taking advantage of the water fountain standing near the blast door. Oh yes, a drink was what they all needed and why had he failed to notice this god send before now? He half filled a paper cup and took a mouthful, swirling the deliciously cold liquid around his mouth before swallowing it. He knew better than to drink until he sated his thirst, that would bring about disaster. Setting the cup to the side he poured a half cup each for his companions, handing them around and he was pleased neither Carter nor Lee guzzled the liquid, each of them taking the time needed to avoid stomach cramps and vomiting.

"Ready?"

He wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest his aching body, but the sense of urgency was pounding at him and he would not allow himself, or his team, any longer than was absolutely necessary. At their responding nods he worked the controls for the blast doors, daring to believe that he would not need the codes he had been given. This was the last of the major doors, the last airlock in the complex. Once they processed this airlock and released the doors for the lower level they could reach the stairs and he could relax and forget he had the codes. Once he was sure he would not need them he could relax a little, knowing he need not come up with an explanation for having in his possession an impossible set of numbers.

—————————————

Medical Centre

Zechs

Inactivity was driving him steadily insane, punishing him with his inability to control the situation. He alone knew the horror that might yet befall the terra formers. He alone had witnessed it. Haydon Giles might have heard his words, but he had not witnessed with his eyes the carnage that might come with a ship emblazoned with the ESUN logo.

In the light of harsh reality though, he had to ask himself if he could do anything to change the outcome. It was a question he had to face given the vision of the Wellington was only new; something recently added to the horrors of his nightmares. Really he needed the Epyon to process the multitude of possibilities he had glimpsed in the past months. The vision of the ship had to have been somewhere amidst the myriad of visions, and fragments of vision, he had witnessed before; he might have had more notice to plan a counter if he could simply catalogue and process the sequences of events to their eventual conclusions.

That was what Epyon had permitted him to do, catalogue, dissect and examine in the minutest detail, the twists and turns of possibility.

Epyon would have been an aide, but in truth the entire mess was the fault of the machine. If the AI had not interfered, if it had permitted him to perish in the final cataclysmic explosion of the Libra, then none of this would have happened. He knew these events would not have been a possibility, because this scenario came about only because he still drew breath. He had planned for his own demise, to remove the contamination of himself from the time lines… and after all that heartache, after bastardizing himself and his family name, the Epyon had taken independent action.

It was Treize, of course. The meddling, manipulating fingers of the man he had called both brother and friend could be found at the root of the AI's actions. Some latent command from its creator would have factored into the mechanics of the decisions taken. Certainly something had caused the machine to cast his projections to the winds of space and dump him, and these people, in the mess they now endured.

Had Epyon not interfered he would not have survived. He would not, therefore, have come to Mars and Noin with him. They would not have produced the twins, who would forever be cursed with their father's blood. Noin would not be dying or dead now. These people would be working to shape a viable settlement on this barren rock of a dead world, and they would not be dying at the hands of pre-programmed assassins from the very government that was supposed to protect them.

And he was helpless to do more than he had.

It was not a feeling he liked, now or in the past, and it had driven him always to try to do something. It had driven him to activate the Epyon, to trigger the visions deliberately and go after a way to ensure peace for his sister and her children's world.

The Wellington was out there, drawing closer to Mars with each passing second. He was certain of it, though it was not a vision he had been able to pursue. He knew it was a threat, and because it was a threat he could not affect by pre planning, he was afraid. Afraid that here everyone would die, despite their very best attempts to stay alive. Already too high a cost in human life had been paid and, if they could not pull things together soon, more people would die.

The terra formers caught outside had to be saved, and for that to happen they had to get the dome open. They had to bring them inside and get them out of those suits and into the sealed environment of the domes, be it this one or the Beta dome, it did not matter which. So long as it was good, healthy breathable air and heat that awaited them, it simply did not matter which dome became their salvation.

And he so desperately wanted to know his babies were safe.

He needed to get out of the bed and go after his children; bring them to safety and be assured no one would take them to a fate of captivity and mind numbing programming. Cursed by the simple fact he was their father, they would be forever the tools of men who played dangerous games. They were Peacecrafts, and Peacecrafts were doomed to be used and abused generation after generation. It was too much responsibility, with too high a price to be paid, and it might have ended with him. It might have, as he had planned, but it had not.

Relena's children might have been safe. The archives hidden in Sanc had shown him the curse of world shaking event seemed to follow the direct line males. The men, with a couple of notable exceptions, seemed to be the one's doomed to be key players in world politics and in the private deadly games of those who lived in the shadows. Treize had known who those shadowed individuals were; what they were. He was sure Treize had known and the man had refused to answer his questions when ever he had asked.

References in the Peacecraft archives hidden in Sanc had ultimately led him to that course of enquiry, and Treize had masterfully steered him to another track of conversation. Time and again it was the same. Treize went to great lengths to distract him, confused him, confound him and lead him in the direction that ultimately led him to the cockpit of Epyon.

He needed to make certain his children were safe. Safe and protected from the harsh reality that was the Peacecraft bloodline. His hope, and he did have a hope of ensuring them some kind of life free of manipulation, lay not on Earth but in the darkness of space. If he could just convince Raydon to take in the twins, to give them a new identity, a chance to live beyond the reach of the shadows and the families who were deep into the ruthless games steeped in political ambition.

Raydon and Station One might be the salvation of his twins… if he could get them safely there. If he could convince Raydon to take them in. If he could convince Noin to leave them there.

He needed to get out of the bed and get into the heart of the complex and collect his twins. If he could get them safely into the medical centre he could charge Giles and Polnar with delivering them to Raydon. He would have no qualms about handing himself over to the ESUN, provided he knew the twins were safely on Station One and beneath the protection of Raydon. If he was already a prisoner of the ESUN he did not doubt the man, who both fascinated him and terrified him, would take the children in.

He ached. Body and mind screamed at him to rest, to collapse into a boneless heap and just sleep… or die. He wanted nothing more than to allow the darkness that hovered just at the edge of his perceptions to take him, but he could not. There was no release while his twins were endangered. The children were not here where he could see them; they were not protected, and damn the bastards who told him he could not go for them. Who could he trust? He could not really trust anyone but himself… and perhaps he could not even trust himself.

"Stop that."

The quiet admonishment startled him from his introspection. Giles sat on the side of the bed, hunched over the arm wrapped protectively around his ribs, and the man was glaring at him with tired resignation.

"Stop what?"

"Stop being an absolute arsehole and blaming yourself for every wrong ever committed to and by man. Stop thinking about going after the kids yourself. It just ain't going to happen, believe me. I'd knock you out before I'd allow you out of the room and, given your present condition, I could do it too."

Perhaps, perhaps not, but did he really want to find out? Giles had been there, at his back throughout the night, and as much as he could he thought he might be able to trust him. He had been thinking of giving the twins to him to take to safety…

"You probably could."

But to trust someone he really did not know…and just what did he know about the man for certain? He knew only what Giles had told him. He did not even have the small comfort of having that face familiar to him through vision. Giles, and Polnar too, were unknown elements in his visions turned reality, and it terrified him, the reliance he had had to place on them.

"I think I could just about manage it before I passed out beside you. Do you have any faith in Raydon at all? Think about it, because if you do, then you need to show it. Chris and I are here by his express instruction, so he trusted us to handle whatever might come up. Can't you trust in his confidence in us?"

There it was again, the assumption he was on close terms with the Pirate King. "You know I don't actually know the man all that well."

Giles snorted and winced at the protest from his ribs. "Do any of us? I don't think anyone person really does know him. The man's an enigma, but then what else can you think of someone who lives by acting on his dreams? The only other man I know who does that is sitting beside me in this very bed. So tell me, Zechs, do you trust yourself and your visions? If you do, then trust his."

Zechs winced, resting his head back against the pillows and eased his weight a little. If Giles knew how much he distrusted his own abilities after everything that had gone so horribly wrong… Everything hurt; every bone and muscle, sinew and tendon. Moving to ease one source of pain only served to aggravate another injury. He was no stranger to pain though, and while he chose to acknowledge its existence, he also chose not to dwell on it; there were other, more important, matters demanding his attention.

"How much do you know about Raydon?" He glanced at his companion, eyes narrowed, determined to get some answers. "You have met him; that much is obvious."

"If you are one of the Gifted on Station One, then you will inevitably meet Raydon. He takes a personal interest in all of us, ensuring we are comfortable, physically and mentally, with our training. He does not personally train us, but he monitors our instruction and keeps in contact with our trainers. While I was training he met with me at least once a week, depending on my training schedules, and any concerns I had he dealt with. If any of the Gifted had problems, he did his best to sort them out expediently."

Ah, so Giles knew little of the man himself. He had hoped for more information on Raydon's origins, but he could see that was not going to be forthcoming and assist him in making up his mind about trusting the man with his most precious possessions. He would likely have to make that choice on what he himself knew of the man, which was not much. Raydon had not wanted to talk about himself in the short time they had kept company.

"So you do not know him well."

"I know him about as well as anyone on the station, except for the trainers themselves. They seem to have known him for years; at least that is the impression I received. I can tell you that he is by far the most talented Clairvoyant talent on the station, though he's not the only one. He has a wicked sense of humour and his temper you really don't want to get on the wrong side of. He's not quick to anger, but when he snaps you don't want to be the cause of his ire."

"Do you feel you know the man well enough to surmise what his actions would be, should the message we dispatched reach him?"

They had to remember there was no guarantee the message they had sent would have been received by the Station. If it had not and there was no aid on the way… then what? What the hell would they do? Yet another thing more they had to make plans for that might, or not, happen.

Giles straightened slowly, mindful of the sharp pain in his ribs for his effort and, after a long drawn out moment in which he appeared to be seriously considering the question, he shook his head slowly. It was a big ask of a man who already had confessed he did not know the other man well.

"I… can only hope the message, basic as it was, reached the Station. If it did…"

Zechs watched his companion, wondering yet again why he had such trouble seeing the effects, the repercussions and flow on effects, of the actions of these two men. It had been the same with Raydon when they had been together; he could see very little in his brief interludes of what he now suspected were visions stirred by his overstressed mind. He had thought himself head blind then, finally free of the visions, merely haunted by his nightmares. The man had appeared out of nowhere in time to pluck him from the wreckage of Epyon and forced him to remain amongst the land of the living.

He would have died, as he should have, as he had planned, had Raydon and his ships not arrived when they had. Had Epyon not lied to him and, even as the future he had worked so hard for been birthed, altered what he had worked to set in motion… Had Epyon lied to him? That darkness he had seen, avoided, sought to investigate as the various futures had been revealed… Was that darkness not the darkness of death as he had assumed, but the appearance of the gentleman rogue and his Station One cohorts?

Where in all the possible futures did they now stand? What effect did this chain of events have on the path he had sought to chart through the chaos?

Surely Epyon had not destroyed it all just to keep him alive?

He had chosen the one path that had promised peace and the least loss of life over a course of centuries, pushing out to the extent of the period his vision could reach… but in none of those visions, not in a single one, had Raydon and the Station's featured. To be certain there had been grey areas; places and times into which he had experienced limited and, in one or two places, no vision; were these the places that had featured Raydon?

If so, why was it he could not see the man's face?

After all that work, after all those lost lives paying a blood price for peace, could he still guarantee, even to himself, that he had chosen the right course? Had he destroyed so much to birth a peace that would last and, in truth, created nothing? Was it all going to go down into smoking ruin, snowballing from this butchery on Mars, because he could not stretch this cursed ability far enough, or wide enough, to see clearly?

"If the message reached Station One and Raydon then… he would take action to aid the colony. As speedily as he could manage it."

"Do you honestly think so? Do you think you know him well enough to believe he would place the security of the Stations at risk?"

Giles hesitated and after a moment lowered his head into a small, barely perceptible nod. When he glanced at Zechs a subtle smile was tugging at his lips and he looked confident enough to be convincing.

"While he never said he had a vision, he did say he had a 'feeling' that something might be going to happen on, or in the vicinity of, Mars. He's not one to sit idle. Why else did he assign me here if he did not intend to take some form of action if, and when, the shit hit the fan? He dispatched me to investigate, and when I found you here I sent word back. His response was to send Chris. Let me assure you that Raydon does not assign Chris to babysitting duty. If he sent Chris of all the available Gifted here, then he was worried about trouble erupting, and he would have made contingency plans."

Zechs sighed softly and shook his head, eyes closed. "He should not risk the lives of those on the Station with so little information to hand… but he will. Because of his… ability… to see something of the future. He places such trust in his 'sight'?"

"Yes. Yes, he does. Not only in his Sight but in the Sight of others. You would be of benefit to the Stations, Zechs, and Raydon knows it. He must have known your talent was not too dissimilar to his own. He would come for you for that reason alone, but I think I know him well enough to know that he would not approve of what has been done here. He would come to stop a massacre, even were you not involved."

"Giles, there would be no massacre to stop were I not here."

It was the plain and simple truth, but no doubt no other person would see it quite in the same light as he. How could they, when they could not 'see' as he did.

Giles snorted. "I suppose I have to acknowledge there is some truth in that, but Raydon would not abandon anyone who needed help. He is a strange man really; made strange by the talents he is graced with. One thing we all learn is that no two of us have the same abilities. We have similarities in what we do, in the abilities themselves, but how we use them, how we interpret them; that sets each of us apart and marks us as unique. We number in our ranks telepaths, clairvoyants, clairaudients, kinetics… Our skills are a mixed bag, but they were enough to make us all outcasts. Some of us have more than one talent, some have a greater depth and others greater sensitivity. We are a group of individuals, with individual idiosyncrasies peculiar to ourselves. Radon brought us together and he makes use of those abilities, and our differences, as much as he makes use of his own skills. I've learned a lot since going to the Station."

Zechs sighed softly and his eyes drifted back to the clock. How much longer would it be? How much longer would it take for Polnar to reach his children and bring them to the Medical Centre? He needed a distraction, something to keep his mind off the time. He needed to plan for every contingency he could imagine; and he could unfortunately imagine a wealth of possibilities. A hand lightly touched his bandaged wrist and Giles met his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"Don't clock watch. It only makes the time go slower."

A valid point, but he could not just lie here either. The waiting, the uncertainty of success or failure, was guaranteed to stretch him to the point of breaking.

"Knowing as much as you do of Raydon and I presume to some extent, his methods, what do you think he would be inclined to do on receiving the message?"

Giles hesitated, frowning as he rubbed absently at the pain in his chest. "I… don't rightly know. I'm not in a command position at the station, but… It is possible he might have a ship somewhere near Mars. He has ships scattered all over, but the area is so vast…It is possible there could be a ship a few hours away from Mars orbit, or it could take days or weeks for one to reach us. I'm not up on flight schedules and I hardly am privy to the workings of the Station. You were a Commander. While to my knowledge Raydon has never been in the military, he certainly knows how to command, and he has strategists aplenty on Station One. What would you do if you had the resources Raydon has available to him and you received a cryptic message out of nowhere, claiming there was massacre and mayhem afoot on Mars?"

Raydon was not military but he had trained military personnel in staff positions on the Stations. It was not just the rank and file at his disposal, but ranking officers including military strategists, who had chosen to sign up with the Station's when they had found no place for themselves in the current world order that was the ESUN.

To be honest Zechs could not understand the mentality of the pacifists. They had made no provision before disbanding the military of the varied factions surviving the war, and that failing would surely bite the pacifists spreading backsides as they sat and congratulated each other on a job well done. If someone did not see the way the wind was blowing, and act decisively, it was likely his hope for peace, all the sacrifices made, would be for naught.

"Normally… but there is nothing normal about this situation is there?" Nothing normal, simply the designs of selfish men who determined things would be done their way. "I would send in a scout, briefing them to approach the situation with extreme caution; and with instructions to ascertain exactly what is happening before revealing their presence. However, what we have to remember is that what you call the Gift must have an effect on any decisions made at any point in the proceedings. If Raydon trusts such abilities as thoroughly as you claim, and his advisers share that trust, then, if he should 'see' something… if he should send in someone who is Gifted and they could detect something no one else does… and if their report is taken seriously, or are themselves in a command position… There are so many possibilities, depending on the skills and the type of ability that might be involved that would affect the outcome…"

"Jesus, Zechs! You do see everything in multiple possibilities, don't you? How you function is beyond me." Giles was staring at him, wide eyed and looking as though he had a bad taste in his mouth.

"The logistics and variables for a situation the like of this attack on the terra formers is a nightmare. Working to unravel the knot of possibility adds a multiplication factor somewhere in the six digit range. I… Giles, since the Epyon… since Libra… I can't NOT think in potential variables and probabilities. I don't see one action in anything that happens around me any more. It is more than a little disconcerting, but when I was head blind… that was terrifying."

Giles sighed softly. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it would have been more than a little unsettling if you were used to seeing… well… everything. And I guess we can't really make a snap decision on what Raydon's initial, or long term, response might be to this situation. Not to worry, we'll manage and we will survive, and we will be out of here and on our way to Station One as expediently as a solution presents itself. I have learned through experience to have faith in Raydon and in his abilities; and in the abilities of the other Gifted."

"So who is this Raydon, who the hell are the Gifted, and what the fuck message are you talking about being sent? And while we are at it, you can tell me just what and where this Station One is."

Zech's stifled a moan. Barker stood in the doorway, brow furrowed and glaring daggers at them.

Wonderful.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2009


	195. Chapter 195 Chapter 194

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 194/???

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

Alternative Directions: Options: New Port City, Sanc

"WARNING: This chapter contains GRAPHIC descriptions of a VIOLENT NAUTRE. Many references to BLOOD and GORE so please be aware when reading as some scenes may upset or disturb some readers."

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Chapter 194

2nd March AC 198

New Port City, Sanc

Palace

Time: 17:15

Wu Fei

The luxury of vomiting on the sidelines was, regrettably, not a viable option for him at this time. Such uncomfortable and unprofessional activities would need to wait, though for how long he could fight down the gag reflex he was uncertain. This was not by any measure of standards an ordinary murder, and would require his full attention.

He needed to focus his mind on professional matters in a bid to quiet his roiling belly. He was, after all, no raw recruit nor new to the sight of death. He was a seasoned professional and now above all times he needed to act the part, but ancestors!, he surely wanted to throw up his breakfast and crawl into a safe and hopefully very dark corner.

Somewhere nearby a killer lurked. Not just a killer either, but one who killed in… horrifying ways.

This had been torture.

He turned on his heel, staring first to the left of the doorway, toward the staircase leading to the ground floor, and then to the right, along the landing with its many doors. In light of the discovery of the Senator's body he was now sure he had not been mistaken as they had approached the study. When he had neared the door he had thought he could feel someone watching him; someone who was no casual observer. Now he knew that feeling had been neither his imagination nor one of the security staff resenting his arrival and potential interference in the security arrangements.

It was a warning, gifted by instinct birthed of his turbulent and violent past.

Someone had been watching him.

Someone malevolent.

Someone who had had reason to glare; to wish ill to the Senator. To kill.

He had sensed another hunter, one who could kill coldly and methodically.

He had a growing suspicion his arrival may have interrupted the killer at work and had, therefore, brought relief to the victim by speeding along his death.

How long might the Senator have survived if he had not been assigned by Une to speak to the man over his refusal to accept Preventer protection?

At the time he had thought the watcher might have been someone on the Senator's security contingent; one of the team who was resentful Preventers might push into their territory, but now… He was of a mind to give that baleful glare the killer's identity, and if it was the killer then it was to his personal advantage, as the hunter.

There had been insufficient time for the killer, now his prey, to escape from the house. He had a chance of apprehending the lunatic if he moved decisively and garnered the cooperation of the security staff.

The Senator was dead; there was no shadow of doubt about that. The kill had been grisly. Grotesque. The method employed was unusual to say the least, and exactingly perpetrated. This was something one would have expected to find on a battle scene from the Dark Ages, or earlier, in a crueller and far bloodier world; from a time when punishment, even a death sentence, was prolonged, agonising and an abject lesson to the living.

The Senator had not died easily, nor had he died quickly.

What should he do in this situation? He was not officially the investigator; the decision might yet be made to hand this matter over to the civil authorities, to the police or even to the ESUN's Security Agency. Given the current uncertainty over jurisdiction, should he begin a detailed investigation of the crime scene? He should, regardless of who eventually was given jurisdiction over the murder, begin a search of the house in hopes of running the killer to ground.

Might it be possible for a personal enemy of the Senator to have jumped at the chance to exact revenge for some real or imagined slight when the Senator's name chanced to appear on the execution list Une had generated? It was a disturbing thought and he glanced back into the study, frowning.

Personal? A personal motivation behind the crime, perhaps birthed of some extreme political or personal difference of opinion? Powerful men attracted powerful enemies and no one said one's enemy had to be sane and civil.

Ancestors! Might this birth a rash of such killings if those in positions of advantage sought to oust their opposition? Would that made up list of victims, a fictional death list for an equally fictional rebel faction, see a rash of deaths as private concerns employed the cover to their own advantage?

Was this simply a coincidence? It had to be a grisly and macabre coincidence.

But the method of the kill was so unlike the terrorist activities to date. Surely no one would think this kind of killing was random or perpetrated by a terrorist band? Terrorists hit hard and fast. This was… different.

There were many possibilities to be considered and he had no time to entertain himself thinking them up. The clock was ticking and he was wasting precious time, time better used to hunt the killer to ground. How long had he wasted already standing in the doorway, weak stomached and sweating as he stared at the still bleeding corpse?

"When you have finished making a mess, get your arse out of here and alert security. Have the house and grounds locked down. I do not want it possible for anything larger than a rat to leave the grounds. Put a call in to Police Headquarters and report the incident." Wu Fei glanced over his shoulder at the shuddering aide. "You will begin that to do list now, before the killer has the opportunity to elude us."

Maraket was dry heaving, Wu Fei noted absently, his head pressed to the wall and his back pointedly to the study door. Not that Wu Fei could blame him; this was not, after all, your common, every day murder. This kill was… an execution?

It did have the flavour of an execution, he decided, adding up the obvious details. Still, it was a particularly gruesome manner of execution. It was a method of killing designed to exact a high degree of suffering before the final killing blow was applied, to release the soul trapped in a body pushed to the limit of endurance. If the victim was not simply left to bleed out in agony.

Swallowing down the bile that insisted on threatening to rise, Wu Fei entered the study, careful of where he placed his feet. His dark eyes searched for something which might suggest a reason behind the kill, and perhaps something to indicate the killer's identity. He edged closer to the corpse, his feet notably reluctant to move him closer and dip into that spreading pool of crimson. His mind kept gibbering at him to get the hell out of this house of horrors.

Chang Wu Fei was no stranger to sudden death, but this was… different. It was not the sudden explosiveness of an explosion, or the sudden, final impact of a bullet to end a life. This was nothing so… clean.

A quick demise was a clean demise that was what his instructors had taught him. Quick, efficient and go for maximum effect with the least risk.

There was a morbidly creative flair to the process employed in this kill. The more he looked the more certain he became that someone had wanted the Senator to know he was being killed for a very particular reason, in a very particular manner. The victim had been required to suffer through many levels of agony… but how had the victim been silenced? Even with the gruesome step of sewing the man's lips together, the kill could not have been affected in total silence.

"Maraket?! Is this room soundproofed?"

He was well aware that he might not receive an answer, given he had not heard the sounds of the man dry retching for the last minute or so. It was possible the private secretary had taken himself off to follow instructions, or it was equally possible he was clinging to the wall, unable to do more than stare in horror and gibber to himself like an idiot.

Or… paranoia equated to survival in his business.

His scowl deepened as the seconds ticked away and he glanced behind him every few seconds, not inclined to leave his back open with a maniac running loose. Another step closer, another moment of ruthlessly grinding down on the urge to vomit and there was the growing itch developing along his spine that had him turning to the door yet again.

Eyes.

He was sure there were eyes somewhere near.

Running steps warned him of others approaching and the sensation of eyes being focused on him faded with the sound of those footfalls. He was more certain than ever that the killer was nearby and they could contain him to the grounds, or to the house itself. The weather outside was atrocious, and with the snow on the ground there would be tracks if the killer left the shelter of the house.

Maraket and another man, big, solidly built and dressed in a plain black uniform appeared in the doorway. Wu Fei watched the stranger intently, judging the mettle of the man by his initial reactions to the crime scene. On first sight he at least did not throw up and become a gibbering wreck. He stood in the doorway, staring for long seconds; it was certainly not what one would expect to find at a murder scene, before he swallowed hard, but that was the only concession the stranger made to the grim sight of the kill.

"Is this room soundproofed?" Wu Fei repeated his query now that there were ears to hear him.

"The Senator complained about constant disturbances by the household activity. Yes, it is soundproofed." The big man shifted his attention from the body to Wu Fei and inclined his head. "Simon Burke, Security Chief for the household."

"Preventer Agent Dragon."

A brief nod of acknowledgement and the man's eyes flicked back to the body. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly, trying to come to terms with the unusual manner of the murder. Wu Fei knew exactly how he felt.

"That's… not what I… expected… when Jon called me."

Wu Fei glanced up at the body suspended over the desk, blood slowly dripping to the desk and fought down yet another surge of his rebellious stomach. He was a Preventer agent, a professional, and he would not give in to the urge to heave the contents of his stomach all over the carpet. He would not!

"No. No, it is not listed as a common means to commit murder. I should think it might not even be in any manual printed after the Dark Ages."

He was trying to lighten the atmosphere? This had rattled him more than he had assumed if he was trying to emulate Maxwell's glib attitude.

The constant methodical drip of blood was steadily getting to him. There could not have been much of the precious liquid left within the Senator's body, he suspected, but the gore over the desk was far from dry. It dripped from the desk to the sodden carpet with rhythmic, soggy splats that he was sure he would hear in his sleep for weeks.

"I don't… Jesus! We increased the level of security around the grounds when it was announced the Senator was on the death list. I… I just don't understand how access was gained to the grounds, let alone how anyone could access the house unobserved to do… this. I'll pull up the CCTV footage and have it examined. Every inch of the grounds is covered by cameras and the security station is never unmonitored. If we can spot how he got in…"

It might give them a chance to stop him from eluding their hunt. Yes, the man was a professional, good at what he did and he was fast moving past the shock and beginning to think again. Wu Fei decided the man had to be either ex military services or perhaps ex metropolitan police.

"Assemble a team and have the house searched, top to bottom and warn them to exercise all caution during the search. Who ever perpetrated this crime will not hesitate to take down another man, and I would think any future kills would be quick and silent."

"A call has been made notifying the police; however, I am assuming this will be listed as a Preventer case?"

Wu Fei dragged his eyes away from the corpse with an effort. It was incredibly difficult to take his eyes off the body, the unusual nature of the kill, while horrifying, was never the less fascinating for its oddity. It was a morbid curiosity; one he had not thought himself cursed with that kept his eyes going back to study every facet of the scene. He wanted to throw up, but something within him was fascinated with just looking.

Ghouls, he had called bystanders to crime in the past. Ghouls, but here he was, staring when he should be working and he needed to attend to more than just… looking. He edged closer to the desk, mindful of where he placed his feet, only too conscious of the amount of blood soaking through the carpet.

"Given that Preventers are handling the matter of the death list I'll call my Commander and report this incident." He was thankful that, although his voice sounded husky to him, he never the less sounded calm and in control of himself. "I expect she will claim jurisdiction over this murder."

The smell was beginning to get to him, but he could well and truly understand why the Senator would release his bowels in terror at what was being done to him. And no one's intestines spilling out of their body would smell good.

He had to get some fresh air… soon. Holding his breath for the duration of the inspection of the scene was simply not an option, and shallow breathing was not working, but he needed to have a look at the scene properly. He needed to thoroughly examine the crime scene and then he could cater to a steadily rebelling body. He might be pushing his limits, but he need not make an additional stinking mess for the household staff to clean up.

"Where is the nearest bathroom to this study?"

Maraket looked confused for a moment, hesitating and glancing at the Security Chief, who seemed to be as fascinated with the scene as Wu Fei himself, before indicating a direction over his shoulder.

"Three doors down."

"Good. I would appreciate it if you would see no one uses it. I will need to… refresh myself… after I finish here."

The Security agent, if not the aide, would understand what that meant. He would hold out as long as he possibly could, in the interests of investigating the crime, and then he would make a run for the bathroom and throw up his breakfast. Unlike Markaet he had a personal objection to vomiting in hallways.

A single nod in response, the man was no fool and he turned toward the door. "I'll supervise the search of the house and grounds and start scanning the CCTV footage."

"See that no one enters the room." He did not need to say it; it was a foregone conclusion that he would want the scene undisturbed, but it delayed the inevitable for a few paltry seconds.

Maraket departed with the Security Chief and Wu Fei sidled up to the desk, careful to keep far enough back that he did not stand in the pooling blood and spilled entrails. It was… gross.

There had to be a word to describe the macabre means of death employed. He was inclined to believe the Senator was not meant to die quickly or cleanly. The combined components of the scene struck him as being carefully thought out, prepared and specifically arranged for maximum shock value, both to the victim and to the observer.

The Senator was strung up by his wrists, the ropes tied to beams in the gothic arched ceiling. He was spreadeagled, arms wide apart, ropes taunt to hold him in place and his arms were red with blood; so much blood that it suggested his wrists had been slashed. His legs were spread wide, ropes circling his ankles, the ends tied off to the desk legs. And he was naked.

Slashing the writs might possibly have been the final killing blow, Wu Fei mused. Another sign the kill was quite deliberately aimed at making the man suffer. It could have been done to bleed the man out quickly, weakened as he would have been by the other wounds, but given the nature of the torture, it would have been done last. How long might he have lasted if his wrists had not been slit?

Looking about the study he could see no signs of a struggle in the room. Other than the gore spilling over the desk everything was neat and tidy.

This torture had taken time to perform. It had taken time to subdue the man then to strip him. It required time to string him up over the desk and tie him securely against his struggles, and he would have struggled as he became aware of what was being done to him; and it had taken time to eviscerate him.

There had to have been some manner of drug used in subduing the Senator. The man would not have simply stood there and permitted himself to be stripped naked and strung up for butchery to be performed on him. He was a big man, bull necked and not prone to suffer fools. He would have fought if he had had warning of what was about to happen. Some manner of short term drug had to have been administered to enable the ground work to be completed before the kill.

The drug would need to be fast acting and equally quick to dissipate, because Wu Fei was certain the Senator was conscious during the kill itself. His arrival at the manor had been announced only a little over thirty minutes ago, certainly less than forty five minutes, meaning the entire murder had had to be committed speedily if the intent was to make the Senator suffer during the procedure. The look on the man's face was such that there could be no doubt he knew what was being done to him.

It was… horrible. Abominable, inhumane, but it had been done and for purposes of investigation Wu Fei needed to determine everything there was to know. Anything, no matter how small, might hold a clue. The victim demanded justice and his family needed an explanation as to why their loved one had met such a terrible fate.

A single, long incision had been made in his abdomen and his intestines had spilled from his body. They were now wrapped around the desk a few times before being left to spill over the desk with other organs that might simply have fallen after his intestines had spilled. Or they too might have been removed for gory effect. The medical examiner might be able to tell.

Stepping back from the desk Wu Fei peered up at the ties holding the man. Thin cords, strong and light weight, wrapped around the wrists and… His thumbs had been sliced off, cut cleanly from the Senator's hands. He would have to find them… or rather the forensics team would need to find them.

Taken as a trophy?

Wu Fei was not inclined to play in the guts and gore if he could avoid it, and forensics would have his guts for garters if he messed up their crime scene. Swallowing back the rising bile, knowing he could not long keep this up before he had to lose his breakfast, he cast a quick eye over the desk.

What ever paperwork the Senator had been working on lay under the bloody pile that was the man's guts. That would have to be worked out later, after the scene was properly processed; the scene photographed and all evidence duly catalogued.

There was a picture frame set to one side of the desk that drew Wu Fei's attention and he arched an eyebrow at the oddity of the picture. Within the plain frame rested what he thought might be a Tarot card. Careful not to touch anything on the desk or step in the blood pool, he leaned as far forward as he could to better observe the picture. No, it was not a Tarot card… or if it was then the artist had made some subtle errors with the traditional depiction of the card.

It looked remarkably like the card designated The Fool in the classic Rider-Waite deck. The classic representation of the card showed a young man depicted in a fancy medieval costume, dancing nonchalantly at the edge of a precipice with a dog running at his heels, but this card was different. In this representation of the card, if it was related to the Tarot deck at all, the figure of the fool was gagged; the smile on his face a warped caricature, stitch marks sewing the lips together. Another oddity was that the dog did not run about the figures feet, but was crushed under the foot of the man.

Wu Fei straightened slowly, frowning. There had to be a message in that card, either for the victim or someone else who was somehow involved. The card was not behind the glass in the frame, merely propped up against the picture and he was almost certain it had been placed there by the killer. A calling card, but who had it been meant for? He doubted it was intended as a warning or message for the Senator.

Might there be more of these gruesome kills in the future?

Wu Fei glanced up, along the length of the tortured body and repressed a shudder. The Senator's mouth was stitched closed, though there was plenty of evidence he had been screaming enough to tear some of the stitches out with his final screams…

It was too much.

Wu Fei spun on his heel and made short time in getting into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as he bolted for the toilet bowl. He would deal with his physical reaction and then he would call Une.

She would not be amused.

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Preventer Headquarters

New Port City, Sanc

Time: 17:45

Une

She had known, before she had left the palace, that there would be a mess waiting to be dealt with, and on reaching her office she had learned she had not been mistaken. In fact what awaited her in her blessedly warm air conditioned office was worse than the assumptions she had entertained in transit to the office.

It appeared the entire ESUN had gone to hell in a hand basket and landed in her inbox.

Regardless of the surprises each day in her position could bring it was required that she deal with her usual workload, and the events of the previous day could not be considered merely an emergency. Not when one considered the influx of paperwork which greeted her. Anyone would think Libra had been resurrected and fired another crater in the planet.

It appeared that everyone wanted a piece of Preventers over the attacks in the city and at the palace. She was Preventer Earth and the backlash from the day's events fell on her head.

As a certain agent with a glib tongue would say, 'Sucked to be her.'

Did she not realize Preventers was funded with the specific intent of stopping these types of terrorist incidents before they happened? Just how many of the messages were word perfect reproductions of that one? The pile for that particular message was getting notably higher than the rest.

How dare she not be aware of the terrorist cell, were not Preventers paid enough to know all? Well, now that they mentioned it, a little bit of extra money in the kitty might not go astray; she would have to suggest that to the esteemed Councilman the next time she saw him.

Was she so utterly incompetent that she was incapable of running her division successfully? This from the man under investigation by his own department for incompetence. Charming.

The more she had read the more the words ran into each other. Message after message couched in half a dozen different formats from every department in the government; and a few would be Councillor's attempting to be noticed. Different sources, sometimes word perfect, sometimes couched in flowery legalese… The result of which was the birth of that idiotic notion of something happening to distract her from the chore of reading and responding to them all.

And then, of course, that 'something' she had wished for to distract her had happened.

God she could be stupid sometimes. She should know better than to flirt with such thoughts. Trouble invariably found its way to her desk; that was part and parcel of who and what she was. It was the price she paid to ensure Mr. Treize had not died in vain.

If his death had no reason… if the peace should crumble…

Une pressed her head into her hands, her fingers gripping long brown strands of hair and she drew in a deep breath. Patience, she needed patience. She could understand what the problem was and it just required a little patience on her part while they recovered from their respective panic attacks. They were running scared, thinking their precious and oh so comfortably cushy positions might be threatened. Of course they would be demanding answers and she had known it was not going to be a good day.

And then Chang had called her.

The result of her ill thought out flirtation with a desire to be distracted left her feeling decidedly unwell.

In light of Chang's call, the bothersome tiresome day had progressed in a single bound into being revealed to be an absolutely rotten day. There were days when she entertained thoughts of stepping down as Preventer Earth and handing the mess to someone else; but who could she trust to maintain the peace 'he' had died to achieve? Today was heading to be one of those days.

No, this was her mess to clean up, purely and simply because she could trust herself to do the job properly.

Of course, according to every politician who could reach a working vid unit, it was her fault. It was the fault of Preventers and revealed the organization to be grossly incompetent and therefore, by default, it was 'her' fault.

It amazed her how not one single politician who hounded her as the day progressed had pointed a finger at the ESUN Security Agency. Not one of them had accused that Agency of falling down on the job. Did none of them care to see that if Preventers should know about a terrorist group, then the ESUN Security Agency should have known about it too? But of course no one had mentioned that.

How many times had she had the Security Agency rubbed in her face? How many times had she been told Preventers day was done; that they needed to be disbanded because the Security Agency was far better equipped and manned to service the needs of the ESUN? Preventers was treated like the rich man's poor cousin.

But no one mentioned it now.

It was so much more fun for them all to point the finger at Preventer and lay the blame there, and when the smoke all settled they would go back to spouting the virtues of their pet Agency.

How right they were, though they did not know it, to blame her for this mess. It was her fault, she had instigated the whole terrorist incident, but the Station Alliance was another matter. There had not been one bloody whisper on the streets about the so called Station Alliance. Who ever they were they seemed more than capable of guarding their secrets, and now there was this newest complication.

She had known there must be fallout. She had not made the decision lightly to resurrect the terrorist cell Mr. Treize had set up and, in the end, had not called in to duty. Unknowing of the imminent appearance of the Station Alliance it had been the perfect controllable distraction to the fiasco happening on Mars.

Amidst the shouting from the politicians she had received two quietly voiced calls from cell members requesting confirmation they were to activate. She had expected contact from them, for them to seek confirmation and she had requested they stand ready should she require their services. Her warning they not react to any provocation from any source other than herself would keep them from acting. They were loyal to Mr. Treize and therefore loyal to her.

Her controllable counter to the media storm about Mars now had such potential for disaster. Resurrecting the cell, generating the false death list, destroying her own home and putting a sizeable dent in the palace… it had all been for nothing. The appearance of the man who claimed to be a Khushrenda and his Station Alliance had been enough of a distraction to turn the media's attention from Mars.

Hindsight was a marvellous thing, but she was not a clairvoyant.

Throughout every government building on the planet politicians were scheduling meetings and demanding her attendance. She was supposed to be in four different places at once and the demand would only grow. Did no one in the government have a brain? Could they not think time zones? And there was also the small matter of a blizzard closing down half of Europe.

It was a mess.

And now this. This impossible complication adding yet another degree to the headache she already endured.

What was she to do about the murder...no, it was nothing so simple as a murder. What had happened in that mansion on the outskirts of New Port City was nothing as simple as murder. It was an execution. Someone had executed an ESUN Senator.

It would be a fine point of jurisdictional politics to see who actually investigated the death, but for the moment Preventers would lay claim to it. She had a top agent at the scene and he could handle matters until such time as the powers that be decided who would run the investigation. She would need to notify certain people and sit back while the squabbling took place.

But for the moment she had no time to wallow in the misery of it all.

Une sat back and smoothed her hair into place, glancing at the vid screen. Chang looked decidedly pale, no easy feat given his natural colouring, but the crime scene would not have made for pleasant viewing. He looked tense, lips pressed together as he waited for her to realize the implications and give her instructions.

He was in the security room of the Senator's mansion, which meant there were likely to be other people in there with him. Whatever she said she had to guard her every word lest someone suspect the terrorists were not quite what they were reported to be. She needed to convey a message to Chang, to assure him that the kill was no part of the scheme she had cooked up and dragged him into.

"I'll get a forensic team out to you as quickly as possible. The roads are improving so it should be no more than half an hour or so. For the moment you are to treat this death as being related to the terrorist cell. The method of the kill certainly does not ring true, given the actions of the group to date. However, the Senator was on the death list and we can not discount the possibility someone in the group has a sense of the macabre. Do not put yourself at risk, Chang. Whoever perpetrated the crime is one sick son of a bitch and I don't want my people falling victim to him. Is that understood?"

Hopefully he would understand by her subtle distinctions that she had nothing to do with the kill and it was not part of the plan to distract the media. Chang Wu Fei was bright enough to catch her meaning and she could not afford to have him doubting her. They were treading a fine enough line as it was.

"Understood, Commander. The area has been sealed and House Security is searching the grounds and house for any indications of the intruder. I doubt the killer could have left the grounds given the… fresh… condition of the body. He is likely to still be in the house; on the grounds at the very least."

Chang sounded more than a little raw in the throat and it took a lot to disturb a Gundam Pilot. He had briefed her as to what he had found in the study and the spoken descriptions were graphic enough without having actually witnessed it. He had cause to be feeling somewhat ill and she was not eager to see the scene for herself. Une ignored the betraying tremble in her hand as she ran the fingers through her hair. She hoped Chang would not notice, or that he would have the grace not to mention it.

Much as she would prefer not to think about it, the question begged asking. Did this have anything to do with her death list?

What might she have started? It could not have been a member of the sleeper cell; they were never trained to kill like this. Mr. Treize would never order such a kill; never such a cold blooded barbaric execution. The team had been hand picked for mental stability and trained to be quick and silent; efficient. Get in, get the job done and get out. No, she was sure none of them had performed this chilling act.

"Any thoughts?"

It was too soon, of course, but Chang had proven repeatedly he was perceptive and he had good instincts. He flicked his eyes to something out of the camera's pickup and inclined his head slightly, turning his attention back to his Commander quickly. As she had suspected, he was not alone in the room, she had been wise to guard her tongue.

"It… may have been a personal matter. The method of the kill…" He paled notably and Une wondered if he was about to vanish from the screen and make for a convenient bathroom, but he rallied, firming up his stance and hardening his jaw. "It was a very precisely executed kill. The method was very particularly planned and carried out, and there is that calling card left on the desk. I have yet to check with the Senator's assistant, but I will be surprised if he saw it before. I will take a photograph of it on my cell phone and forward it to you. It is… unusual."

So Chang was suspicious it was a personal matter and had nothing to do with the death list. That was a relief, but what the hell had the man been involved in that, if it had turned bad, necessitated he be killed in such a fashion? It was not simply murder. From Chang's description this was an execution containing what was potentially a message to select other individuals. He led her to believe the card was important; if it was unique there would undoubtedly be certain people out there who would recognize it and its significance. Taken together, the morbid kill and the silent message suggested conspiracy behind some very select doors.

This was a death that could lead to a shake up in the House of Representatives and potentially to the highest echelons of the government.

This was one case she would not protest being handed over to a Federal investigation team, even to the Security Agency. She would like it taken from Preventer hands, they had enough politicians breathing down Preventer necks now; but her curiosity was aroused. She wanted to know why the man had been killed and if it had been coincidence it occurred with the release of the death list.

What had the Senator been involved in that led to his grisly end and what might it mean for the peace of the ESUN? Was all of their hard work; was 'his' death to be for nothing?

"I'll send that team along. Have the security team move in groups, no less than two to a group, and none of the staff are to leave set designated safe areas until the house has been thoroughly searched. Guard your back and keep in touch with me."

This was becoming personal. She had included that man's name on the death list and until she could be certain it was merely a coincidence she would look for answers. There was already so much to contend with, but this was not something she could leave to others. She would need to begin the necessary notifications and watch closely to see who reacted.

Stabbing at the intercom Une stretched slowly, tilting her head back and working on the aching muscles. "Get me forensics. Have the com lines through to Brussels been restored?"

With half of Europe under the storm, communications were sketchy. It was more than just Sanc who needed to work on services being restored. Much of the modern world relied on communications and when Mother Nature stepped in they might as well be back in medieval times.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2009


	196. Chapter 196 Chapter 195

So very sorry for the delay in getting this chapter ready to post.

Karina

* * *

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 195/???

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

//... // thoughts

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 195

2nd March AC 198

Wellington ESUN 3051C

Time: 06:25 [Approx Mars time = 14:08 // Rosemount / Sanc / Peacemission time = 11:58 // Bounty time: 16:13 // Aphrodite : 21:20]

Captain Edward Sampson

Once, not so long ago, sleeping had been no problem for him.

Two tones, high pitched and low, merging together into a sound that was hard to ignore.

How long had he lain awake thinking when he was desperate to do anything but think? Trying to blank his mind served only to remind him of what it was he was trying to forget. He would find himself coming around full circle to dwell on the mission he wished someone else had been assigned.

High and low tone, blasting through his cabin yet again. Impossible to ignore.

That would not stop him from trying.

The tone had been designed for just that reason; to impinge on the awareness of the human brain and demand attention. It could drag a man out of the soundest sleep and listening to it for any length of time caused one's teeth to grate… which his were doing now. How long had he managed to ignore it?

Annoying sound. Annoying bastards on the bridge, surely they could handle anything that came up without demanding he stir himself?

The last thing he wanted to do was acknowledge the summons but, he knew only too well, he was not going to get any sleep regardless of the persistent calls. He had retired from the bridge practically on Doctors orders, so long had he been awake. If he had taken the offered sedative they might have dealt with the problem themselves and left him to pretend the world did not exist… for some small time.

If he could just stop angsting over his orders…

He was a military man. A career soldier. He had made a life for himself in the military as an Alliance Officer and he had survived the war. He had joined the ESUN Security Agency, Space Division, after the war and he had enjoyed his work. Admittedly there had been missions before that tested the bounds of his morality, pushed at his sanity and made him wonder why he was still in the military… but this… This was different.

Damned bloody sirens. If he did not answer the call shortly they would pipe the tones through the entire ship on the off chance he had left his cabin and then there would be no hiding the fact the Captain was recalled to the bridge. He did not want to acknowledge the call but that would be a mistake, of course,

There could be some unforeseen danger to the ship and her crew, and he had responsibilities he could not ignore. Perhaps the com had picked up a distress call in the vicinity? It could be one of a hundred reasons they recalled him to the bridge.

He was surprised they had not already put over a general alert, ship wide, summoning him. The coded alarm blasting through his speakers for… was it the fifth time? Must have been, he mused, and it had all of the delicacy of a sledge hammer kissing the finest crystal.

Finding a secure place to hide from the unsavoury business he was expected to oversee was no easy thing…and sleep, it appeared, was definitely not an option.

If he was lucky the Doc would be on the bridge or encountered enroute to the bridge, take one look at him and sedate him for a week; and then it would be too late to murder a bunch of scientists whose only fault was to be on Mars.

He slapped his hand out to the side, seeking the cut off switch for the com, an attempt to silence the hideous sound blasting from his speakers yet again. His hand missed, encountering only empty air… there was something odd about that, but he felt too exhausted to chase the thought to a satisfactory conclusion.

It was that sadistic bastard he called his second with his finger on the alert button. Usually a competent officer, and just as disturbed by their orders as he, but the man had not displayed any obvious lack of sleep to date; but then he was not the one who commanded the mission and on whose order civilians would be massacred.

Once upon a time he had enjoyed his work.

Once upon a time he had been proud of his career.

A man could not rest his weary body when his mind wandered in restless circles, a ceaseless, voiceless, protest to the abuse of common decency he was expected to oversee.

They had to be hours yet from the major deceleration point, where they would initiate the speed dump in a breaking manoeuvre and effect the final course change enabling them, over the course of a few hours, to slip into Mars orbit. Why then would the bridge be calling him now?

This was the final stage of flight where a ships Captain would have any chance to rest until the conclusion of the mission and they were taking the express route to Mars, leaving their deceleration to practically the last minute. Any mistakes on his part could see them either overshoot the planet or plough into its surface.

His scheduled appearance on the bridge would begin hours of work until the final breaking sequence tilted them that minute amount required to slot them neatly into a high geosynchronous orbit over the domes on Mars. Then there would be no time to think of what he was expected to do, no time to regret it… just kill and see the objective of the mission was secured.

Had they received updated orders from Earth instructing them to scrap the mission? Sudden hope was squashed in a surge of despair.

Not likely.

No, they could not be so lucky. And with the Dakkar system down…

Well, it was not actually offline, was it? At least not to the Wellington and to those agents currently on Mars, who would soon be assisting in the slaughter of the terra formers. Nor was it inaccessible to his superiors who commanded him to commit an atrocity at the behest of politicians.

How many hours had it been since the Sleepers had begun their mass slaughter? Given the Dakkar system was offline to commercial traffic they had obviously begun the take over of the Martian domes and would be busily engaged in selectively killing off the hierarchy of the bases there.

According to the mission outline he had reviewed, they should have isolated and contained Milliardo Peacecraft first. Once secured, if it had proven necessary, they would have begun to take out the com personnel and the base Commander and his second.

If it had proven necessary.

So many things could have gone wrong and if they had bungled the taking of the man and the children into custody…

If? Shit no. Unfortunately that 'if' was pretty much a certainty that the shit had hit the fan.

The distress call had been the signal that something had gone wrong, it had activated hours earlier than he had expected to receive it. Sounding so soon, with the Wellington so far out from Mars, there was no doubt in his mind that they would be required to eliminate the base personnel.

Was he still, against all common sense, hoping that it was still 'if' something had gone wrong?

More fool him. Such a fool to still cling to the illusion he might be spared the necessity of butchering so many people. What might it have been that went so wrong? Well, that one was a relatively easy question to answer. The 'something' had to be Milliardo bloody Peacecraft. The Specials Golden Boy and, given her war record, his woman was probably up to her eyeballs in it too.

Not that he could blame them. If he was in their predicament he doubted he would have gone quietly. Regardless of exactly what had transpired on Mars it was, with the arrival of his ship, now his problem to resolve.

According to his mission brief he was to affect the wholesale slaughter of the men and women working to make a new place for mankind to live, effectively eliminating all witnesses to an atrocity ordered by the very people who they had elected and charged with taking the responsibility for their safety.

God, what the hell had he signed up for? Not this!

He had not signed up with the ESUN Security Force to spend his days slaughtering hapless civilians, whose only fault was to be on Mars at this time. The wrong time.

The ESUN was supposed to represent a new beginning for everyone. It was supposedly the birth of a new age. A society that could grow without the heavy hand of military intervention.

Had anything changed?

More bloody fool him for thinking the promises made three years ago would mean anything. Three years later and he was the heavy hand of the fat arsed politicians who wanted the world to develop their way.

For the good of all?

Jesus, he had to stop thinking!

The high pitched tone made his teeth grate and with a groan he swung again at the com controls beside his bed… only to hit bare metal wall and ram himself across the small cabin space and into the far wall.

Well damn, he must have fallen asleep at his work station and not actually made it to his hammock. He had actually slept?

He must have to be floating above the desk. That was the problem with zero g, there simply was no up, down or sideways as far as the human body was concerned. With a grunt he reached down, caught the edge of the desk and hauled himself back to his seat, taking particular care to hook his feet into the cleats beneath the desk to anchor himself; scrubbing at his face before reaching to activate the com.

"This had better be good."

"Captain, you are required on the bridge," No relief was revealed in that voice at his call in, but he could hear definite undertones of anxiety. "We have received a number of alert transmissions from a Sweeper ship regarding a debris field obstructing our projected flight path, and I think we are now receiving an echo of the extent of the field from our long range remotes."

A debris field? Out here?

"I'll be there in a few minutes, Number One. Captain out."

"Bridge out."

At least that put an end to the Banshee wail of the alert in his cabin.

A debris field? Now what might that entail?

Possibly the worst case scenario might be for a potential meteor swarm to hazard their course. It was possible mining operators in the Asteroid belt had, at some time, disturbed a cluster of asteroids, sending them hurtling free of the Belt to cause a hazard for space traffic as they entered the inner planetary space lanes. Admittedly the Wellington was a little off the normal space lanes, but the Sweeper alert would have been issued to warn traffic in the commonly used transport lanes.

A coil of rebellion stirred, quickly squashed, but he could not forget the errant thought. If they chanced to have a decently sized obstruction between the Wellington and the still distant but nearing planet, then it might be possible for him to legitimately delay their arrival in Mars orbit.

There was potential for him to delay and pray someone in the chain of command above him would develop a conscience and rescind his orders… or at least change the mission briefing to something a little more acceptable to his conscience. If he could delay their arrival…

But who knew what chaos ran rampant on Mars? No, better not to think of what might await them there.

He would be reprimanded, of course, if he managed to delay their ETA, but he was the Captain of the Wellington and he was personally responsible for the lives of over a thousand men and women on the ship. He was not here to endanger those lives from so much garbage floating around at exorbitant speeds in their immediate vicinity; no matter what the nature of the obstruction field was standing between the Wellington and Mars, especially not for the bloody task that awaited them on the planet.

He was, undoubtedly, damned whatever he did.

He had not considered himself to be a bad soldier, but scrabbling for excuses not to obey his orders would make him a bad soldier; and as God was his witness, he was reluctant to obey these orders.

Wholesale slaughter of innocents was not something that sat well with him and, despite what his orders stated, you could not tell him that a bunch of scientists and engineers were a threat to the security of the ESUN. Marquise, on the other hand, yes, him you had to consider a threat. But to hold one man securely did he need to kill hundreds?

Give him a good clean fight any day. Give him a situation where there was an equal chance of him dying at the hands of his opponent as there was of him killing and yes, he was up for the fight. It was fair. A fight between trained soldiers was one thing, but to stand over a group of civilians and cold bloodedly hunt them down, slaughtering them as they ran…

He should have retired after the war. He should have resigned his commission and not signed up with the ESUN Security Agency. He was fifty three years old and he felt ninety three with the weight of this mission bowing him down. He would retire, turn his back on the mission and tell the world what their vaunted peace leaders were intending… if he did not know full well they would have assassins waiting in the wings to silence him.

Was there any way out?

He and his men were not the notorious Blue Squad, and how long would his crew remain silent? How long before someone's guilty conscience got the better of them and they talked? How long would it be before they started dying to ensure they remained silent? For this mission to have been ordered did not give him hope that those who ordered it had consciences that would permit them to leave his crew out of the cover up.

There would be a contingency plan attached to the mission… a sub folder somewhere attached to the mission outline on someone's desk… that adjunct to the initial mission briefing would require every man and woman on the Wellington be killed, or terrorized into silence.

It would be a lot easier for them to ensure the Wellington had an accident following the safe delivery of their passengers.

Paranoid? Hell yes.

With reason?

Given the introduction of certain names into the House of Representatives over the past few months with the new round of elections…and their past political standings…

Yes.

No, much as he hated to think it, he doubted that immediate retirement and promises of silence would save any of them.

They would have to silence him and the crew; somehow guarantee that no one would talk about the truth behind the Raiders attack on Mars. Amongst a crew numbering in excess of one thousand persons, there had to be at least one with a conscience who could not live with the memory of what they were expected to do.

So what was he to do, not only for his crew but himself too?

Good question and one that lacked an immediate and glowingly brilliant answer.

There was also the surprise appearance of a Station Alliance to be considered.

To do the best he could by his crew he could not afford to ignore the appearance of anyone who might be operating in the immediate vicinity of Mars. If they had even one ship in the area something, some at the time seemingly insignificant 'thing', might be noticed that could rebound back onto the ESUN.

If the Station Alliance should prove to be a real power, and was not simply some jumped up wreck of a ship floating somewhere in space whose crew suffered from delusions of grandeur, then he could not just order the destruction of a vessel from a foreign power.

He was no politician, but he had no difficulty in imagining the fun and games taking place behind closed doors on Earth with the appearance of a potential threat emerging in space. Every man and his dog would want to know where this Station Alliance had come from, and why there had been no rumours circulating as to their existence.

Station Alliance indeed!

Some cobbled together cluster of old mining sites? A ship or two of dissenters trying to break away from the ESUN? Not that he could blame them, given his orders at the moment. Hell, maybe it was a dissident group, or maybe it was the Sweepers finally making a move to distance themselves from the secular authority of the Earth and Colony's.

And there was yet another problem to compound his already long list.

The Wellington was supposed to be under a radio blackout; her course was unknown to anyone but his immediate command structure… and the bridge crew had received word from a Sweeper ship about a debris field?

//Someone please tell me it was a general alert the comms picked up, and not an actual ship to ship communication that would mean I have to kill the ship to keep the mission a god awful secret!//

He groaned as he ran his hands through his unruly hair. Everything was going pair shaped fast.

He had a very specific set of orders for what he had to do if another ship neared Mars orbit while the operation was underway. While they were supposed to be under radio blackout, unless there chanced to be actual mechanical difficulty, no ship in space could afford to be without communications open and scanning all frequencies.

Space was vast and far from safe. Raiders and debris of all sorts were dangerous enough threats to contend with. Any ship encountering such difficulties was by law required to send out alerts in the area of actual effect, as well as to the civil authorities. Earth and the Colonies were a long way from Mars orbit and space jockey's, no matter who they worked for, looked out for each other. The ships near you could be your only hope of survival should something go wrong.

The alert on the debris field should simply be a Sweeper ship alerting all traffic in the general area of a hazard, but that placed a Sweeper ship in the Wellington's immediate vicinity. He would need to check on the identity of the ship and determine her exact location… and just how easy it would be to silence her.

Not liking himself much he hefted himself out of his seat, unclipping his boots with a practised twist and entered his bathroom. For a long moment he stared at his reflection in the mirror and wondered who the old man was who looked back at him.

Had his hair really turned that grey? His eyes appeared sunken into darkly shadowed sockets under frowning, too bushy eyebrows. By the time the mission ended would he retain any of his original colour?

This mission was aging him and he had not been so preoccupied that he had not noticed the Doc watching him with concern.

With a grunt he applied sanitary wipes to his face and upper body until he thought he could consider himself to be human and not sweaty, smelly old dog. He could not afford to delay long, he had already dallied longer than he should have, but it was an effort to move and comb his unruly hair into some semblance of order.

He looked at least a decade or more older than he was, but there was no time to dwell on that.

He had too much to do to save what he could, who he could, from this situation. He had not been eating well, the thought of food sickened him with the weight of so many deaths sitting on his conscience… and he hadn't ordered the slaughter to begin yet.

He needed to keep himself together until it was finished, convince the Doc he was capable of command or he would be replaced; would his second have the guts to think of going against orders?

Think? How about get past the thinking and actually do something about it?

//You bloody old coward. You know the right thing to do.//

He had always followed orders… even the ones he had silently questioned. He had been a good soldier and obeyed his mission briefings. Was that having the guts to obey… or was it being a coward and not facing up to doing the right thing?

//Enough, you son of a bitch! Enough.//

Being as presentable as he could make himself he straightened his ships overall, brushed a hand over the Captain's insignia and strode out of his cabin. The door slid into the wall cavity behind him, locking and he inclined his head to the crewmen walking past, grasping a handle of the slip line and allowed the mechanics to pull him along the hallway toward the central well of the ship.

He would have liked to retire and try to live with himself. Try to make something of the life left to him if he happened to survive what was to come.

//Fool. They won't let you live; they can't afford to. And that means everyone on this ship has to be silenced.//

The first thing he would need to do was to ensure the ship was checked over with a fine toothed comb after they docked and were serviced next. Particularly the engines. If someone wanted to take the ship out quickly, so quickly that no one could send out an emergency signal, then the engines were the logical point of attack. It would only require a small incendiary device placed in exactly the right place to produce a spectacular, and brief, explosion to mark the passing of over a thousand men and women.

In the vastness of space anything could go wrong.

Such a grand excuse for so many lives to be snuffed out so quickly… and so quietly.

The explosion would, in one action, guarantee the silencing of a terrible secret that could spell the ruin of a government. It would be the easiest method, though far from the only means by which to buy silence. It would only be another version, an extension, of what they were intending for him to do to silence the terra formers.

Just another slaughter.

Would tragedies like this have to keep on happening? Would the slaughter ever end? How many other people, over time, had died to effectively silence those who held secrets that could topple the powerful?

The Wellington looked nothing like a Raider. She was a shark cruising the ocean of space. Unmistakably a hunter. She was no ramshackle piece of junk that could be mistaken for any other ship coursing the space lanes, and anyone who saw her disgorge attack ships whilst in Mars orbit, and stood witness to the destruction that would ensue, would have to die.

Including the people who actually did the dirty deed.

The remote controlled drones that gave the ships plying the space lanes such good range on sensors, might witness the operation while the mother ship was still beyond the range of the Wellington's own sensors. Their own drones would need to have their sensor arrays set to maximum to detect any anomaly which might indicate a witness existed to their operation.

Perhaps, if he thought in purely military terms, he might get through this mission? It was, after all, a sanctioned mission. His instructions were very specific and the chain of command placed the task at his feet with much back slapping and praising of his military career and promises for advancement.

He was not likely to get a new set of orders cancelling the mission.

He could not be so lucky.

The crew of his ship would be safe until they had succeeded in delivering the children and Milliardo Peacecraft to their designated destination. Until that duty was accomplished he need not fear for the safety of the ship. The danger would come when the Wellington was serviced preparatory to going out into space again. That was when it would be easiest to slip something nasty, and dynamically volatile, onboard.

He would need to have the ship searched and have any new transfer crew watched… and a few of his current crew who aroused his suspicions too. Just how many of his present crew were plants? Did he dare give his trust to anyone?

He would have to brace up and make up his mind if he was going to sit back and allow another slaughter… God! Had he decided he was going to kill everyone on Mars and then rescue his own crew? Could he kill those people and expect to be blameless of their deaths? Pass the buck off on to… who?

If they killed those people… did they not deserve to die themselves?

What other options did he have? Turn around and vanish with the latest ship in the ESUN fleet? Become a Raider himself?

Jesus!

Where did that thought come from?

What would it involve to steal the Wellington, over a thousand crew members and do… what?

Raiding outlying colonies and mining sites was what had killed his sister.

The bastards had come out of nowhere and slaughter had ensued, just so the Raiders could secure provisions for their ships. Appear, kill and pillage… and vanish into the great, dark expanse of space to repeat the slaughter when the need took them.

No. No, he could not become a Raider himself.

He had a personal reason to be hunting the bastards down, and he was not about to become one himself!

He was distracted from his thoughts by the necessity of executing a complex series of gymnastic movements required to negotiate the fluctuating gravity of the central well running through the length of the ship. Any spacer knew if you were careless and lost concentration here, you might find yourself smashing into walls and the superstructure of the ship as you negotiated its length. Off the top of his head he could name a half dozen men who had been killed because they had lost concentration in the Well.

He was far from the only user at this time of the day, and one needed to watch all directions at once. You might not be the one who became an out of control obstacle, but you well might be a victim of their trajectory. It was all too easy to lose one's bearings and panic in the fluctuating gravity fields of a military spacer. He did not particularly fancy being taken out in passing by a low flying midshipman.

His exit loomed ahead and he reached for a strut, hefted himself at right angles to it and pushed. His feet oriented to the new floor as the gravity caught him and the door at the end of the short hallway opened as he neared it; the sensors detecting the Captain's keypass embedded in his rank insignia.

The chatter of the computers seemed loud in the abnormal silence he found as he stepped onto the bridge. His crew, he noted, were all intent on the main display screen, staring up at the multitude of flickering light specs. Traces of contact which, in turn, held him immobile.

//What the… ?//

"Captain on the bridge!"

Those crew members who were not engaged in work vital to the smooth running of the ship snapped to attention, springing to their feet in a display he ordinarily would have appreciated. Not today. Today it seemed… superfluous. Like children playing adult games. They were children playing a very adult game and he was afraid, like children, they were going to become distracted and the repercussions would be… deadly.

He absently waved a sloppy salute, never taking his eyes from the screen; his presence sending everyone back to their duties in a sudden flurry of activity. Catching a hand on a consol he pushed himself toward the bridge position currently occupied by his Number One, taking advantage of the low level of gravity on the bridge to avoid taking the steps down to the lower level. His feet settled on the floor and he took the final two steps to front the forward sensor display.

The contacts kept flickering on the screen, more and more of them as they registered on the distant drone's sensors, and then were lost with their drift. It seemed to him that more remained visible than vanished.

"What the hell is it?"

"Sir. An automated message was received a few hours ago from a Sweeper ship which gave us our first hint this… obstruction… was in the area. The alert message includes the warning they have not charted the extent of the field and that this is no small, isolated pocket of debris. They advise they will update the warning with further details as they determine the size, component types and overall structure of the obstruction."

No small field; well that was obvious. He could see how big an area it covered; and why had a debris field of this size not been detected before?

"You have an estimate for how badly this will interpose itself on our projected course for entering into Mars Orbit?" He glanced at his second expectantly.

"The estimated course direction and speed indicates the field is drifting towards Mars, and that at least the outer edge will be drawn in by the Martian gravity field. We think the bulk of the field should miss the planet. Initial readings from our outer long range drones suggest the field is… quite extensive… and will necessitate us rethinking our course and proposed orbital flight path."

//Damn! Where the hell did all of this come from?//

The readings he was observing suggested the field consisted mainly of small metallic and plastic objects. The sensors' readings further suggested some objects were as small as half an inch in size, whilst other objects were as large as a man.

"Suggested explanations, or even an educated guess, as to exactly what it is and how it got out here?"

Commander Edwin Darish, his First Officer, looked far from comfortable and he could not blame him. They were on a top priority mission, under radio silence and ahead of them stretched death by a billion paper cuts.

"We have no information on a source of origin, or its drift at the present time, Captain, beyond the fact it is squarely between us and Mars."

Hardly surprising, but with the expanse of the field ahead of them they could not stay in the dark for long. They would need all the information they could get, and quickly, for him to make his decision.

"What is the name of the ship that registered the debris field?"

"Com?" The First Officer glanced over his shoulder to the communications station.

"The alert was logged by a ship identifying itself as the Peacemission, Captain. Peacemission, H65193P, a Sweeper vessel registered out of Sanc, Sir. I've checked the data banks and she is so new the paint has yet to dry. She is listed as being on her shake down cruise."

Peacemission? That sounded… familiar… Where had he heard something like that before?

And Sanc registered? Few space ships could claim registration from that tiny country which boasted being the home of the Vice Foreign Minister who had once been Queen of the World…

Wait a minute. Peacemission? No… Peacemillion! Peacemillion was the name of the ship that had been involved in the destruction of the Space Fortress Libra during the war three years ago. She had had Sweeper registration, and had not been registered on Earth as this Peacemission appeared to be.

A sister ship?

Peacemillion had been destroyed along with the Libra when the fortress had been detonated. What would the chances be for it to be a mere coincidence that the names of the two ships were so similar?

"I want the Peacemission found and I want to talk to her Captain."

"Sir?"

Yes, well he could understand the Commander looking so shocked. They were meant to be exercising radio silence, but the fat arsed politicians on Earth had no concept of the dangers that haunted space, and his own superiors would understand why he would break radio silence given the substantial obstruction laid out on the computer screen.

"Ship safety first, Commander. Set the long range remote drones to scan the field and see if they can identify any debris or find a pathway through it. I want the Peacemission found; she has to be charting the size and depth of this debris field, so she would not be too far away. Have the probes dispersed to trace the edge between us and Mars; I want an idea of how deep the field is. I want to know if it will be possible for us to set shields and plough through the middle of it. Alternately, navigation, I want you to chart alternate courses given estimated size and density fields to bring us into an orbit around Mars; update details as new information becomes available."

"We could… use the guns to clear a path."

"I will take all suggestions on board for consideration, Commander. This is something no one expected to find."

Was it a Godsend? Was this their out? Dare he think they might use this to stand down from the mission? Did he want it to be possible for them to continue on their present course? He certainly was not looking forward to arriving at Mars and what they had to do when they arrived there. If this was an unpassable barrier between himself and the planet, what would he do? He would need to viably dismiss every possible course of action to reach the planet and thereby cover his own arse.

Not that it would do much good, not if there was a bullet with his name on it waiting in the wings to take him down. Someone would want to cover up even a failed mission, and at least in that scenario the bulk of the crew would be safe. Thus far only a half dozen officers on the ship knew why they were heading for Mars.

The infiltration unit on Mars had to have already made their move, and muffed it otherwise the Dakkar system would not have broadcast that message of a Raider attack. That message, coming so early, was the signal that things had not gone quietly and there was opposition which they could deal with in only one possible way.

"Has our liaison on Mars contacted us in the last four hours?"

Captain and Commander looked to the Com Officer who was busy at her boards. "No contact has been received in the last four hours, Captain."

Shit. Not that he expected there to be any contact. Still…

"Has there been any contact of any sort from the Martian surface?"

"Negative, Sir."

That left him nicely in the dark. What was he supposed to do if something had gone wrong? How was he to know what would face him on Mars if no one contacted them from the planet? Something must have happened if no further contact coded or otherwise, had come out of Mars.

Could he have a hope in hell of bluffing his way out of the situation? Might it be possible to give the impression he was here in response to the Raiders and was present to actually help the terra formers?

What if, somehow, Marquise had managed to take down the operatives dispatched to Mars? It might be possible; the man had a certain reputation and you did not get that sort of reputation without there being a history to back it up. The Specials were not simply Mobile Suit pilots, despite what the general population had assumed.

On Mars had things gone to hell? If, somehow, Marquise had learned something of the plans made for him and his family…?

Christ almighty!

Not a good thought.

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2009

* * *

Notes:

ESUN 3051C Wellington.

Doctor Sampson = Chief Medical Officer / ESUN 3051C Wellington.

Raider One = ESUN 3051C Wellington.

Osprey Leader = ESUN 3051C Wellington.

Jackal = ESUN 3051C Wellington.

Captain Sampson = ESUN 3051C Wellington.

Commander Edwin Darish = ESUN 3051C Wellington First Officer.


	197. Chapter 197 Chapter 196

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 196/???

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

//... // thoughts

"... " speech

~/... /~ text

*... * flashback

** ...** Vision

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 196

2nd March AC 198

Colony L1 - 0025 B [La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B ]

Preventer Building

Time: 07:15 [approx Sanc time 06:14]

Trowa

Trowa decided he would be grateful to get his weight off his feet. Now that his feet had been attended to, the splinters removed and dirt cleaned out of his assorted wounds and light bandaging applied to keep the wounds clean, his feet insisted on hurting like hell. On the walk over from the cafeteria he had come to the conclusion that injuries to the feet had to be the most painful wounds one could sustain.

It was as well he had no set time to be anywhere and could trundle along at his own pace, because he seriously doubted he could manage more than a shuffle at present. The medic who had attended to his wounds had given him a pair of soft moccasins with the admonishment not to wear his combat boots for the next few days and he was only to happy to wear the soft shoes.

At his back he could hear the shouts of the fire fighters calling to one another and the voices of the investigators dealing with the still burning building. He had heard enough to gather the general consensus was that the damage was not enough to take down the entire building. A quick word to the Fire Chief as he had passed by informed him the main fire was extinguished; the attending crews were now checking the building thoroughly to ensure no smouldering rubble incited a further blaze.

Engineers and architects would be called in to check the structural integrity of the building before it could be used again, but Trowa doubted enough damage had been done to warrant the building being demolished. Certainly the mid and upper levels would need serious reconstruction, but the lower third of the structure might just pass inspection for continued use.

All in all after consulting with the Fire Chief, he decided it could have been much worse. He had not failed as dismally as he had thought, though he was still far from content with his performance.

He needed to debrief, officially, not that he was particularly looking forward to it, but he had to enter into the official record why he had acted as he had. He needed to justify his actions and make a severely edited version of actual events sound like the facts.

That was going to be quite a trick, he knew. Getting his story straight and sticking to it without anyone suspecting there was more to the events of the night than he had stated was easy enough to decide to do, not so easy to actually accomplish. Most of what was in his report was fact, but there were some things he just could not include.

It was the dreams he wanted to keep under wraps. No one would understand… could understand. No one who had not themselves experienced similar events.

The dreams he was plagued with and the link he found only in the dream between the assassin and the young man whose body had been brought in earlier in the day. That information came from a… damn, it was still so incredibly hard to admit it, even to himself. He was going to have to get over that reaction and act as though noting was untoward about his activities.

Information garnered through… visions… there, he had thought the word. Visions. It was a little easier the second time.

//Visions. I have… visions. Real visions of fire. Or what might become fire if I interfere and …. and if I do interfere… how would I ever know what is real? Would it have happened as it had in my dream? Or would it… What if it was just a nightmare and I… make mistakes. How do I know what is real and what is not? //

He did not like where his thoughts were taking him. Quatre was different too, but Quatre was… well… Quatre. It did not seem odd for Quatre to be different, to have what he called a Space Heart and what scientists would term empathic talent beyond the norm. Could such a thing be measured, he mused? But he did not want to go there.

He felt enough of a freak as it was.

//Bad word. Bad, bad description. Quatre would have my guts for garters if he knew I was thinking like that.//

But he was feeling it. He was feeling like a universe separated him from everyone else and he knew enough to know that was bad. He had to deal with it somehow. Stop thinking of Quatre as being unique and special and himself as being a freak. If Quatre found those thoughts in his head… well no, Quatre said he could not read thoughts, just emotions. There were some days though when Quatre seemed to know every thought in a person's head; other days when he would lock himself in a room and try to shut out the world because it encroached into his every thought and emotion.

Was he going to be like that?

"You look like you have seen better days, Chameleon. Good job!"

Bringing his wandering thoughts back to the matter at hand he inclined his head, slowing his shuffle even more as he entered the building. He wanted to sleep but that could wait; he was still afraid of what sleep might bring. He was aiming not for his bed but for the temporary office set up in the building and now being used by Griffon, the L1 Head of Operations.

He had been given directions on leaving the cafeteria and had been informed he would need to check in at the security desk. There would be a period when security would pretty much rule the roost, when their personnel had the right to detain anyone for at least a forty eight hour period in which an investigation into their business in the Preventer enclosure would be carried out.

A cluster of people at the security desk drew a sigh from him. He was not looking forward to waiting in line, his feet ached something fierce, but to reach the desk and clear his presence before he entered the elevators would be far better than getting tossed into the brig by an over enthusiastic guard.

//I suppose it will give me some time to review the report. I don't think I missed anything but… Can I be sure?//

He had done some serious thinking over breakfast, taking his time with his meal as he sorted through his impressions. He had separated what had definitely happened in the real physical world and marked the clues that had come from his… vision. He was getting better at thinking that word. Careful wording of his report would, hopefully, see it slip through inspection when he handed it in.

His fingers curled tighter on the report in question and he dismissed the flicker of guilt that he would be lying at a debriefing.

//Well, it's not exactly going to be a lie.// he admonished himself. //I'm merely making the events more… erm… everyday. Everyday believable.//

Yes, everyday was a reasonable description for what he was doing in toning down the incident. It would be considered, at best, a flight of fantasy if he claimed he had dreamed the whole thing and acted from said dream during the entire incident on the roof. He would find himself in a straight-jacket in no time. For the incident to be very much a mundane… no, that was not the right word. It had been far from mundane after all.

It was far better it appeared so ordinary than for there to be a science fiction style explanation when dealing with investigators. Tell them what they wanted to hear, not something they would not believe unless they experienced it themselves.

//Not that I have believed it in all of the years it has been happening to me.//

The security personnel on the main desk were eyeing everyone who walked in the door as though they would like to strip search them, he noticed. Not that he could blame them, but as it was he must look like a refugee from a hospital in his scrubs and bandages and copious quantities of bruising.

Shuffling up to the desk and pausing behind a young woman arguing with the older woman beside her he sighed and determined to endure the pain in his feet for as long as he had to. It was something of a surprise when one of the guards to the side of the desk inclined his head to Trowa and motioned him to one side. Curious, Trowa shuffled forward, moving to meet the man a little way from the gathered agents.

"Griffon left word you would have no id on you, given you were in the Medical Centre. He arranged this for you."

He could get to like the man, Trowa decided, certainly the efficiency of the operations head. He accepted the lanyard with a Preventer identification coded pass suspended from it, slipping the loop over his head and feeling the key pass slap against his chest. Glancing at the card code he arched an eyebrow and looked questioningly at the guard.

"All existing pass cards are being replaced given the incident. Everyone is to be checked through security to receive their new pass. Your pass was one of the first Griffon ordered to be processed, so you are clear to enter the building and any areas your pass is coded for."

He did not envy security the day ahead of them if they were to process all agents and employees, and issue the new passes. Bed might be a better place to spend the day after all, but first he wanted to hand in the report and get the lie he had to tell on record.

"Thanks. Is Griffon in his office?"

"Yes and he said you might be wanting a word with him. I'll call up that you are on your way. Level 2, room 45."

"Thanks."

"Chameleon."

Trowa paused, turning back to the guard. "Yes?"

"Thanks for taking the son of a bitch down."

"I didn't. I only delayed him."

He would not take credit for a kill that was not his own. He had not been the one to take the shot that took down the assassin.

"We'd have had a lot more people dead and injured if you hadn't managed to get word out and kept the asshole busy. Thanks."

Nodding slightly Trowa shuffled toward the elevators and hoped he would not have to stand still for long waiting for one. He felt uncomfortable with the praise, but dismissed it. Done was done, and said was said. He had bigger fish to fry and his feet were really beginning to hurt and he would appreciate the chance to get his weight off of them. Hopefully Griffon would not make him stand through the debriefing.

Thankfully an elevator arrived and disgorged a group of agents as he arrived and he was quick to step inside, but it appeared the cluster at the security desk would ensure he had little competition and indeed the doors closed, sealing him in companion free. The second floor was quiet as he exited the elevator and shuffled his way along the hall, looking for the room that had been converted to a field office.

He could hope the man would take any discomfort that might betray him during the interview as a result of his wounds. He would certainly do his best to give than impression, not that it was usually his way to acknowledge pain. If it helped gloss over the facts on this occasion then he was quite willing to admit he was in pain.

Anything to distract unwanted questions.

"Chameleon. You look like death warmed over."

Griffon lounged against the door frame and motioned him into the office, ducking in ahead of him to sit behind the large desk and motioning Trowa to the chair facing him as he shuffled into the room.

"I have felt better." Trowa shuffled across the floor, eyeing the chair with relief. "I think feet have to be the worst when it comes to injuries."

"I'll take your word for it. I am pleased to inform you that your watchdogs have seen reason and have returned to their hotel to contact their superiors. Sit before you fall down."

"I brought you my report." Trowa lowered himself carefully into the chair, only too grateful to get his weight from his feet and could not quite suppress the sigh of relief.

Of course now that he was seated the pure pain became an annoying throbbing. That, he decided, was not an improvement.

He stretched carefully, mindful of the pain in his back and the stiffening of abused muscles. He doubted he could point to any one single part of his body that did not ache to some degree as a result of his experience. He wanted to rest, though he did not want to sleep, and handing in his report would delay the inevitable moment when he had no other option open to him. He hoped Griffon might be persuaded to tell him something of the investigation after he was debriefed and that would distract him further.

He leaned forward to deposit the folder on the desk and then, careful to keep his back from contacting the backrest of the chair, he settled, finding a position where no single ache pained him more than any other.

"My report."

Griffon inclined his head in acknowledgement and pulled the folder closer to hand. "You will be pleased to know that, following due consultation with the ESUN agents, lovingly referred to by everyone as your Watch Dogs, you are now officially listed as being on active assignment."

Trowa grinned at Griffon's expression, watching as the man flipped the folder open, trying not to tense up in expectation. If Griffon noticed he could only hope the man thought it a result of the pain.

"They are reporting to their head office on Earth, or will be, as soon as the weather clears. The storm system over Europe is proving to be a monumental pain in the arse. Communications within the affected area are negligible at this time. We are not the only one's having to deal with the problem. I believe there are a number of government meetings cancelled because of the conditions."

Trowa wished to communicate with the Earth too, though for personal reasons. Contacting Quatre, and taking comfort from that contact, would simply have to wait. He would need to keep himself occupied until he could establish communications with his lover and then….

Well, it was not that he did not already know what his lover would say, but knowing it and actually hearing the words from Quatre were far from the same thing. And he needed to hear that quiet voice, feel those arms and their confident strength enfold him…

He was pathetic since he had found what it was to love.

He was still independent, still his own man; but he ached for the voice and the touch of that one individual who meant something special to him. His other half. His soul mate. There lay comfort and security and it was denied to him.

"The unfortunate death of your watchdog will no doubt see the ESUN Security Agency demanding a joint investigation in conjunction with Preventer. However, given the storm front on Earth, we at least have the grace of a few hours before they can contact their superiors and muscle in on the investigation. They are not authorised to interfere in our investigations on their own recognizance."

"When is the storm forecast to abate enough to re-establish communications?"

"The latest forecasts suggest it will be mid afternoon, or thereabouts, before there is expected to be any significant improvement in European weather conditions. The reports we have managed to get out of the area suggest the effects are wide spread and communications may be a little spotty at best for some days after the storm subsides. I am hopeful that, with the size and quality of the communications array in Sanc, we should be able to communicate with Headquarters before nightfall. At the last report we heard out of the European sector something like six communications towers have been confirmed damaged or destroyed by the weather across the affected area."

Griffon slid a computer disc from its pocket in the folder, checking the writing on the disc and shuffled through the few papers. Trowa waited, wanting to lean back and knowing that casual pose was far beyond him to pull off at the moment. He had to keep reminding himself it was okay to look uncomfortable, his wounds were the perfect excuse.

"I was not expecting this so soon, to be honest." Griffon flicked a finger at the corner of the folder.

"I worked on it while I was eating and events were still fresh in my mind. It helped take my mind off my feet."

Griffon snorted softly, amused at the bland tone of Trowa's delivery. "Fair enough. There is coffee if you want it."

Trowa noted the machine on a credenza set to one side of the room and debated with himself for all of three seconds if it was going to be worth the pain. Deciding it was, he rose to make himself a drink whilst Griffon fed the disk into the computer and loaded the file. He shuffled toward the credenza, careful how he moved and felt the weight of Griffon's eyes on him. Not wishing to be put on medical leave for an indeterminate period of time, he stiffened his spine and smoothed his gait.

He fervently hoped his tired mind had not led him to slip up on anything a detailed examination of the report would uncover. Griffon passed no comment on his physical condition and turned his attention back to the computer and to reading the report, leaving Trowa to see to the making of his coffee.

He had been careful how he skirted around the why of his presence on the roof, simply stating he had awoken and thought he had heard something in the hallway. It was straightforward and should Griffon question him it would be time to pull out the ambiguous soldier's instinct.

"You can't name what it was that woke you?"

"No. No, I've thought about it, I know there must have been some sound made, something out of place with the sounds that should have been there, but I really can't say what it was. Maybe it was just that sense of something feeling wrong…. You know what I mean? You were in the armed forces…?"

Griffon grunted softly, a brief nod and his attention appeared to be focused on the report. Trowa finished with his coffee and proceeded to shuffle back to his seat, glancing up when the communicator on Griffon's wrist band chimed an alert. The man absently tapped his earpiece, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Griffon. Report."

The problem with the wireless devices was that one had no chance of overhearing both sides of a conversation. Trowa tried not to look interested as the silence stretched from seconds to a minute.

"Very well. Get a team to the shuttle port and clear the building whilst they are in transit. Have the lockers checked thoroughly for booby traps and no one is to attempt to open it until the area is cleared. Griffon out."

The Head of Operations thrust himself up from his seat as he tapped off the com and strode over to the credenza where he busied himself making coffee. Sipping the brew while he waited, Trowa found himself pleasantly surprised by the taste. It appeared Griffon had a discerning palate and he, or someone on his staff, had gone to some trouble to acquire good quality beans.

Griffon was ex armed forces, Trowa had seen his file, and the man would be inclined to accept his 'something is not right itch' as an explanation, as would Une herself. Preventer Earth had proven she had a good understanding of her ex soldiers and their reactions in the past. Griffon and Une were the only two individuals Trowa needed to convince of the facts as written in the report. A grunt of acceptance was what he was hoping for and he could only pray that should the ESUN Security Agency join the investigation and access his report, that their operatives were ex soldiers and would not question it further.

"The key is for a locker in the shuttle port terminal, as I suspected. Given the nature of the assassin, I think it only expedient we take every precaution against unpleasant surprises taking place when the locker is opened."

Griffon's voice drew Trowa's thoughts back to the moment and he nodded, agreeing with the assessment. The man was a professional and having gone up against him one on one, Trowa was not inclined to underestimate his skills.

"He was good. Very good." Trowa murmured.

"I have no doubt of that," Griffon settled back into his seat and returned his attention to the computer screen. "To have infiltrated the compound and to get as far as he did before you sussed something was wrong… and to go up against you. I've watched you work out and I know your record."

Not thinking Trowa stretched and winced at the uncomfortable pull across his back, taking a little more care as he settled further into the chair, holding his back away from the back rest, unwilling to needlessly aggravate the wound. He knew Griffon had noticed, but there was nothing he could do about it now. It needed to be known he felt the wounds, but he did not want to be taken off the active duty listing.

He would have liked to go out to the shuttle port and assist in the opening of the locker, but one glance at the man behind the desk, and noticing the medical report on the near corner of the desk, dissuaded him from going so far as to suggest it. He was not particularly fond of fighting lost causes.

After a few minutes Griffon shifted in his seat, worked stiffness out of one shoulder and leaned back in his chair, studying Trowa with a slight frown.

"You heard him say Washington… but there was nothing else he said to suggest who this Washington might be, or what connection they might have to the hit?"

Good, Griffon appeared to have left the why of his going to investigate for the moment. Trowa relaxed a little, more confident now.

"That's right. I'm certain he said 'Bang. No evidence of Washington permitted, I'm afraid.' I am sure that was his exact wording."

" 'No evidence of Washington permitted'," Griffon leaned back into his seat, frowning up at the ceiling. "I've had a preliminary report from the unit investigating the contents of the assassin's bag. They have found nothing as yet to suggest a place of origin, but given the key is for a shuttle port locker, I dare to suspect he is from off colony. The team investigating the locker will get the details of time of hiring from the computers, and if we are lucky we might be able to isolate a shuttle arrival at that time."

Trowa nodded, he was in complete agreement with that assessment. The colonies had existed long enough for there to be distinct linguistic shift to designate each colonial 'region'. What little he had heard from the assassin suggested the man was not native to L1. If he had arrived from a shuttle and hired the locker from the automatic computer station, the entry might give them a rough time of arrival.

Of course, the locker might have been hired at any time prior to his arrival by a contact. He might have arrived a few hours, or days, before and not hired the locker immediately. There was a wealth of possibilities to be considered. It could be a dead end.

"He had quite a collection of weapons at his disposal and we are attempting to trace those weapons. All serial numbers and identifying features had been removed, of course, but we might find something under intensive microscopic examination. The knives were obviously custom made, suggesting there should be some record somewhere in the ESUN that would match their make, design and individual characteristics."

"It is possible he may have crafted them himself. Professional knife men who are passionate about their skill have been known to do so."

Griffon sighed and inclined his head in agreement. With the dead man being a professional there would be precious few leads that would actually lead anywhere.

"It's more than possible, I would say. They are a very fine piece of work, each one the product of a Master Craftsman." Griffon sipped his coffee and leaned forward, reaching out to hit a succession of keys on the keyboard of his computer and studied the screen. "Beautiful workmanship. It's not much for us to go on, but most legitimate makers would stamp their mark on the goods, and there are a few marks on a couple of the knives we are following up. No luck as yet, though it is early days and these searches take time. By law a weapons maker has to keep a complete catalogue of their merchandise, including their special orders. If we can match the style, the weight, any distinguishing features created in the making of the weapons, then we might get somewhere."

"They could have come from some backyard workshop and be unregistered."

"Which they most likely are," Griffon agreed. "and if he did forge them himself that trail will be so cold you could skate on it. We might get something from the metal analysis though. At this point in time, anything would help."

Quality craftsmanship one would expect from a professional knifeman. One had to have trust in one's equipment and that meant you either made your kit yourself, or you had to have implicit trust in the person who made it for you. Trowa had learned that fact early in his association with mercenaries. Everything about the assassin screamed professional, and that in turn spoke of money and power behind his employment.

If he worked for those who had engineered the genetic laboratories… Trowa doubted they would find anything to point a finger at any single specific individual by the time they finished this investigation. He was almost certain the body in the alley and the assassin were linked, and there was the name Washington to be linked with the pair. Whoever Washington was, he must be pretty confident of escaping attention.

He wished he could sit back and rest the ache developing along his spine, but his back would not allow for that. He could not even affect a comfortable slouch as it pulled at his stitches. Being uncomfortable annoyed him and made him restless.

" 'No evidence of Washington permitted.' "

Griffon's soft voice drew Trowa from his distraction with his discomfort and he arched an eyebrow, curious.

"It bothers me for some reason." The soft explanation was accompanied by the steady drumming of fingers on the desk top.

The one visible emerald eye narrowed and Trowa shook his head slightly. "Why?"

"I'm not sure. Can you place any accent?"

His memory was good, but was it that good? Trowa's frown deepened as he tried to remember the scene. He had barely heard the man's words let alone taken notice of how he said them. An accent? Had there been an accent he could specifically tag to one colony, or one country of the Earth? Rubbing his sweating palms into the surgical scrubs he wore in place of his ruined trousers, Trowa was forced to shake his head.

"No. No, I can't place an accent. I barely could make out what he said as it was. I was concentrating more on the rocket launcher he had in his hands at the time."

Griffon inclined his head. "It was a thought. If you remember anything about his accent later, just report it and we will see how it affects any information we uncover in the interim."

The chime of the wrist communicator sounded through the room again and Griffon raised a hand to his earpiece. "Griffon. Report."

Trowa inched forward on his seat, wishing he was out at the terminal building and taking part in the operation. It annoyed him to have to sit on the sidelines, but he knew there was no help for it. Patience had been drilled into him during his mercenary days and he forced down the irritation and waited.

"Report back as soon as you have the locker clear." Griffon tapped his headset and glanced at Trowa. "They have cleared the area around the locker and the bomb squad have found what looks to be an incendiary device. They are working on it now."

A tap on the open door and Trowa turned in his seat, ignoring the twinge in his back, to see a Preventer agent with a desk com unit in hand. The logo on the badge he wore revealed him to be a com tech.

"We have basic com function restored, Commander."

Griffon signalled the tech in and in silence the pair watched as the man installed the device with quick and efficient economy.

"Within the hour we should have the com system restored throughout the complex, sir. It's pretty basic at the moment but it works. It will probably take three to four days to effect full repairs to the main system."

Griffon acknowledged the man with a nod and sighed when the tech departed. "They knew where to hit us. The explosion took out one of the main relays for our communications systems. Using these field units is a little limiting, speed wise, but at least it allows for us to keep in touch."

The field com sounded and Griffon was quick to activate the device. "Griffon, report."

Trowa stood carefully, unable to remain seated any longer and taking up Griffon's cup and his own he headed for the credenza. He needed to be doing something and if that was something as simple as acting as coffee boy, then so be it.

"Dispatch the bag unopened to HQ. It is to be taken immediately to the stand by laboratory. Griffon, out."

Green eyes flicked to Griffon and narrowed slightly. They had the locker open then. Good. He would be interested to see what it contained.

"The incendiary was disarmed and the bag found in the locker has been scanned for booby traps and declared safe. It is now in transit. I take it you would like to be here when it is opened?"

"Yes."

"Well enough, you bled to earn the right. We'll finish the coffee and head down to the lab. A basic field investigative laboratory has been set up on the first floor. For detailed forensics we have to send it through to Police headquarters, but we can have a look at what we have before we send it through."

End

Karina Robertson 2010


	198. Chapter 198 Chapter 197

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 197/??? Mars

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

Alternative Directions: Options: Mars

Chapter 197

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 04:55 [approx Sanc time 02:46] [Time has been adjusted]

Polnar

Had he at some time entertained the thought that it would be easy to get the children to their father? He had, he knew he had. More fool he! His estimation had taken into account a certain amount of time to reach the children, hustle their nurses into action and make their way back to the medical centre. He had even allowed for the extra time required to make the return with the nurses and children slowing their pace to what would seem like a painful crawl. All in all an easy mission provided they did not run afoul of the agent's intent on killing everyone in sight.

Grab the nurses and children, hustle them to the Medical Centre, display them to Marquise so he would quiet down and rest, then tuck the children safely away with the other youngsters on the base. A little time consuming, but over all an easy snatch and grab style mission.

Right! Just went to show how blindly ignorant he was to the harsh realities of life. He had had no real concept of what it took to move a baby from point A to point B… or so it appeared.

The woman was a fiend.

To begin with it had not been an easy feat to convince her to open the door to them, even after he had slipped the note Marquise had written through the tiniest of cracks she had condescended to open to permit him to prove Marquise had sent them. After he had finally convinced her of the validity of their claims the woman had dug in her heels and refused to leave her quarters without a few 'necessities'.

How much time had they wasted?

The clock was ticking and how much equipment did that scrawny, pale haired little piece of life need? They had already delayed too long, much longer than he had allowed for, and still she was packing odds and ends into a bag.

"Look, we really don't have time for this. All the equipment you will need to care for the infant is in the Medical Centre. We have to move as we still have to collect the other child."

The glare he was subjected to was worthy of Raydon at his best. She would have a demon's temper, he guessed and she was not accustomed to being hurried along by low life mecha pilots.

"Do you have children, Mr. Polnar? No? I am not at all surprised, so it would behove you to listen to one who knows about them and stop delaying me with your constant pestering to be gone. When it comes to infants one does not do anything 'by the seat of one's pants'! I require certain items with us in the event something should go wrong and we are forced to delay for any appreciable length of time. Should such an event occur I will need to attend to the child's needs. These needs are not like adults, you know, and they can not fend for themselves."

He refused to look at Carter who was snickering even as he hung out of the door to question Mighty Joe if the hallway was still clear. They were wasting precious time but he supposed the woman had a point… although if they could get on their way there was less chance of them being waylaid and forced into a delay they certainly could do without.

"I know Marquise put in the note that time was of the essence…"

"If you will shut up I will get done much faster than if I have to stand here arguing with you! Men! Where do you think this equipment came from? We practically stripped the nursery of spare equipment when we initially took the children! Now be so kind as to make yourself useful and tie this for me. A firm knot, if you please, we can't afford for it to work loose."

He looked at the material dubiously as she turned her back to him but did as instructed, tying the lower two ends around her waist firmly. She stood silently and patiently for him and ignored his grumble about the awkwardness of trying to tie the thick folds of material in a decent knot. When done the nurse, Sharnice, picked up the infant, cradled him to her breast with one hand and flipped the remaining material over the child and up around her neck.

"Now tie this off securely and it will enable me to carry him and still handle the gear, leaving you and these other gentlemen free to keep us safe."

Polnar blinked, studied the arrangement and silently admitted that maybe the woman knew what she was talking about. He gathered the ends, careful not to catch her hair in the knot and trying not to strangle her before he moved around to inspect the result. The infant was nowhere to be seen, hidden beneath the white material of a ripped up sheet.

"Will he be able to breathe in there?"

Sharnice herself was considering the arrangement and was not happy. A few modifications were in order before she would consider it safe. Shaking her head slightly she motioning to the bed in front of her where the infant had been lying with an assortment of items she had been packing.

"Get the scissors and cut out a section here… down along here… and over to here. I will thank you not to cut him or me in the process. I think… maybe if we take out two smaller sections here and here, where his legs are. That should put him in a firm carrying position, secure and unable to move without much need of me supporting him as we move."

The impromptu baby harness took a precious few minutes to cut to the woman's satisfaction, but finally she deemed it serviceable and the infant appeared happy enough, snuggled up to her breast and snuffling softly. He was recently fed, Sharnice informed Polnar and happy enough for the moment. A few last minute items were tossed into the well stuffed carry bag and the nurse deemed them ready to depart.

Polnar could not have been happier to get them on their way, hustling the nurse along as quickly as he dared, as quickly as she would permit given the child she carried and the delicacy of his position. The nurse moved well enough to satisfy him, her free hand raised to cradle the infant's head and give him extra support as they hurried through the hallways.

Carter moved out acting as point some two metres ahead whilst Mighty Joe Lee positioned himself at their rear, allowing a touch more than a metre between the nurse and himself. Having someone he did not know at his back was not Polnar's preferred option, but he was not willing to allow either of the men near enough to the nurse to possibly snatch the baby.

They needed to spread themselves out a little in the interests of the child's safety and he would simply have to keep glancing behind him to check on how near the other man was and to make sure no weapon was pointed in their direction.

—————————————

Time: 04:57 [approx Sanc time 02:48]

What he wanted to do was swear, long, loud and profusely and not explain any of the truth concerning the origins of Giles and Polnar to a snarling Prevetners agent. Barker had looked royally pissed and demanded answers to his questions, but they had been graced with a few minutes respite when the man had been distracted by shouts from the hallway. With a glare he had assured them he would be back and he would want answers.

They had a few minutes in which to pool their suggestions and come up with a plausible explanation, something that would be believable and not too out there. To Giles' horror Zechs informed him, in no uncertain terms, to let him do the bulk of the talking.

"Look, I can try influencing him using my talent. I'm what they term a Suggestor after all, I can 'encourage' him to believe what we say. It could make life a whole lot easier than telling him Raydon's the King of a Raider faction and we are his henchmen. We come up with a plausible explanation and I'll 'lean' on him a little."

The offer was made but Zechs was no fool and he had long been trained to command men. He knew how to read the people who worked with him and he had not missed the tell tale signs that told him Giles was in as much pain, and was just as exhausted, as he. He knew Barker's background, something of the man himself, and after weighing up the possibilities decided it would be better not to try influencing the man and fail, potentially alerting Barker to their attempt. While it would prove the existence of a psychic talent, unless the man was a total block head and Une did not employ the ignorant minded, it would also be guaranteed to piss the man off when they needed his cooperation.

Setting Barker against them was the very last thing Zechs needed. He was exhausted, his talent was constantly pushing at him, nibbling around the edges of his resolve not to give in to it even though he knew he had to resist. He had learned something of his ability over the years since Epyon had opened the floodgates in his mind, and he knew how dangerous it could be to resist that summons. Its call was growing more insistent, demanding his attention, but he had the distinct impression Haydon Giles was petrified he would use his ability.

Zechs was worried. He knew enough of the man who had survived the night with him to know he did not scare easily. Other than to say he should not again use his 'Gift', as he insisted on calling the curse, Giles had been suspiciously quiet on the subject. Quiet vocally that was, but the man's eyes spoke volumes when he thought he was not being watched and Zechs could not miss the tension in him.

Haydon Giles was, quite frankly, afraid he would use his ability.

Why?

It disturbed Zechs that he was getting to rely on those glimpses of possible futures. Giles' behaviour, more than anything he actually said, had convinced him it would be a mistake to give in to the growing urge and dip into the multitude of options that would come from this confrontation with Barker.

Not might come, but 'would' come; whether he looked at the possibilities or not. Like it or not, like everyone else on Mars he was going to have to negotiate his way through the events head blind to the potential for good or ill in the immediate future. What came from it would have an effect on the future beyond this immediate time when survival was all one cared-dared-to think about…surviving was what was important.

That was what he had been trying to do for months now, simply keep these people alive. Everything he had managed to prepare since the dreams had begun again would have to stand them in good stead, because he would not again be dipping into the future soon. There were his twins who would need him to be considered; if not he to care for them then he must find someone he could trust to take them.

Zechs drew a soft, sharp breath.

When had he decided that?

But he had to be a realist, despite the fantasy of his situation and acknowledge there was no help for it. If he failed here the best he could do for the children would be to request Giles see them safely to Raydon. On the Stations they might have a chance at a decent future, free from the bloody method of politics some still employed within the Earth Sphere… free from being blamed for their father's sins.

The pressure on his mind surged and he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to dismiss those thoughts. He would fail miserably to contain himself to the here and now if he continued to think along that line. Anything to do with his children was pretty much guaranteed to send him into a round of vision. The best he could do was survive for now.

He had worked blind for years before exposure to the Epyon stirred this curse into awakening, and now he shuddered at the thought of not knowing how and where to guide future events. It was rather ironic really. He cursed the ability as much as he blessed the knowledge it gave him, but even should his head not be aching fit to burst there would be no time to sort through the myriad of possibility to shape one solid outcome...or even a few possible choices.

The ability was a blessing when things worked as he foresaw they would and a curse when people insisted on going their own way. When they did that it usually equated to them taking the most difficult course that far from guaranteed the rosiest of options for the future.

Noin and this debacle on Mars was a case in point.

Why could she not have listened to him? He had tried to explain, tried hard to get her to understand, but she had not understood at all.

Was he so incredibly inept and pathetic at explaining what it was he could do? If she had believed him, if she had just done as he had asked, none of this would have been necessary. Was he simply incapable of explaining how he saw the world and everyone and every living thing in it, and the multi levels of interaction that made up their lives?

The world? How parochial. No, not just the world, not just the Earth. What he saw affected not just the planet but the colonies that orbited Earth, the space stations hidden in the asteroid belt, Mars and the mining colonies and the explorer ships… that light in the darkness of space…

No.

No, better not to go there…. not yet. There had been only that one glimpse of a faint light in the darkness before vision swerved, bypassing that option. Darkness haunted that offshoot, a darkness he could not penetrate and he had assumed it to be his death. It was the darkness that Epyon had chosen when he could not choose a fate for himself to come from the course he had followed leading from the confrontation on board the Libra.

No, not true… at least, not entirely.

Epyon had shown him the darkness, the dark shrouded option that caused so much fear within him, suggesting it was a future path leading to... something. He had assumed the darkness to be death, but the Epyon had implied otherwise and therefore he had feared it, wanting an ending. The machine intelligence, he had decided, confused issues of life and death and had not understood what he sought, choosing for him and where, at the time he had welcomed the thought of that ending, it had actually thrust him into a beginning.

Of something…

He had not died.

Something lay within the shadow that might, at some point, impact on events he had never managed to see clearly. Might? No, not might, but 'must' since Epyon had thrust him down that shadowed path at the very end. When it came to that point, and he had the feeling it was near and coming closer with every action taken on Mars, he would follow it and hopefully gain an understanding of why Epyon had chosen that course at the last moment.

Provided, of course, Haydon Giles was not around to glare him into submission. Well, it was really more of a guarded look, than a glare at the moment. It was the kind of look that spoke volumes about hiding vital knowledge it was better not to pursue if one was not ready for it. Giles knew something he did not, something important. Something dangerous, that was what that look meant.

In simple words, 'don't do it', 'don't go there'.

Giles knew nothing of the Libra or the multitude of shadowy offshoots of possibility that might, or not, be a factor depending on other factors which might, or not, spark a ripple that might, or not….

Enough! Enough.

Giles had some training under people who professed to know something of the psychic aspect… dare he call it a science? He knew more than Zechs at any rate and from his reactions as the night had progressed Zechs was convinced Giles was afraid he would access his abilities again. He would give the man the benefit of the doubt and assume Giles had good cause to fear there was a potentially serious problem with his… ability.

He really could not think of this curse as a Gift.

"Let me lead the talking. No use of psi unless there is no choice."

He would drive himself insane if he didn't shift his attention away from the idiocy of possibility to the harshness of reality.

And reality strode through the door in the form of Barker closing the door firmly behind him and moving to stand at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. The expression on his face could only be described as carefully blank; a sign the man would hear them out. His record spoke of a fair but hard man, practical; one who had no qualms about rolling up his sleeves and getting the job done.

The man would undoubtedly go into this conversation intending to hear them out, but Zechs wondered how long it would be before he had to interrupt, and at what point in the conversation Barker would call him a fool for believing in fairytales.

But he was not actually intending to tell Barker the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. A little evasion in just the right place, a touch of misdirection before they hit a sticky point, a little dancing around in circles… With luck they might yet get away without revealing too much of value that would later endanger the safety of the Stations.

Now here he was, marching through the door, having dealt with whatever problem had required sorting. He looked, to Zechs' relief, somewhat calmer, perhaps calm enough to actually listen.

"Alright, it's time we talked. I have everybody working to my satisfaction and the clock is ticking." Barker flicked his gaze between the two injured men, eyes narrowed. "There will be a medic in here in fifteen minutes to check you over, and I have the feeling you don't want any more people to hear what you have to say than is absolutely necessary. I suggest one of you start explaining."

Fifteen minutes? He could work with that, try to drag things out and hopefully they could get away without revealing anything that would have Une's ears flapping, and politicians hell bent on searching the asteroid belt.

"What do you want to know?"

He would see what Barker considered to be the greatest priority and start from there. Let Barker ask the questions and they might be fortunate enough to steer him away from the more delicate subjects. Zechs lightly touched Giles' hand, a reminder to hold his peace, and focused his attention on Barker.

"Who is Raydon?"

Straight to the point and a major question, as he had expected. He might just be able to weasel their way out of going too in depth into just who, and what, Raydon was. Zechs set his mind on forgetting the existence of Raiders and rebel space stations and brought to mind the legitimate equivalent.

With a glib tongue and a judicious use of imagination he should be able to convert those Raiders who had joined the Stations into something entirely different. Treize had instructed him a long time ago in how to hedge the truth, to stand in a room of Romefeller elites and smile and simper and talk for hours on end, saying absolutely nothing of worth. Treize had also taught him how to disguise in commonality the extraordinarily dangerous.

"Raydon is nobody. He does not exist. Raydon is a code name for the individual who employs my… bodyguard." Zechs quirked an eyebrow at Giles and grinned. "Regardless of the fact I did not think I needed one."

Giles shrugged broad shoulders, winced at the pain that resulted and sighed. "Sucks to be wrong, eh?"

Barker's gaze flicked between the two, judging their interaction with careful neutrality, sizing them up. "So who is this person who employs you?"

"We receive our instruction over a transceiver, no visuals." Giles rubbed at his shoulder, meeting Barker's gaze and catching on to how Zechs was hoping to avoid telling the truth. "Such a unit is less bulky, easier to carry around unobtrusively and requires less power to run."

"Given my past there are an unfortunate amount of people who concern themselves with my activities. More than one group has determined I be observed… for reasons of public safety." Zechs shifted uncomfortably in the bed, wincing at the assorted aches and pains. "There are a number of people on Mars employed as agents with instructions to keep an eye on me. They range from private concerns to Preventers, and the ESUN Council of Representatives."

Barker's eyes narrowed and he speared Giles with a cold glare. "So which one is it?"

Every man and his dog wanted to know what the Terror of Earth was up to in his carefully monitored prison. Barker had to know that for the truth it was, he did his own reporting back to Preventer Earth. Zechs had been only too aware of the eyes observing him and he had gone to great pains to avoid giving any of his watchdogs an eye full of his activities. Only his unique sensibilities had permitted him to know what he knew, and to find the exact right moment when he could act on what he needed to go unobserved. It had taken time to assemble those caches of equipment he had hidden and access the base computer systems. It was all done to benefit him in his attempt to help lead them out of this hell hole.

"I have no idea," Giles sighed. "I work for a private security firm and Mars was my assignment. I go where I am sent and do what I am employed to do."

"Which is?"

"To make sure he stays alive."

Barker's eyes narrowed and he considered the men carefully; clearly unhappy with the answer but what he had been told was entirely plausible.

"So where is Station One and exactly what is it?"

Zechs tilted his head slightly, forestalling Giles from commenting with that action. He wanted to answer that one, giving Giles the lead to stay out of it and plead ignorance if at all possible.

"The information on Station One is classified, but given our situation at the moment… and the matter of trust…" Zechs carefully measured the weighty pause. "Station One is an experimental space station."

Barker frowned, considering the obviously careful wording. "You mean a colony?"

"No. I mean it is a space station. It is not a colony in that it has no hollowed interior containing a number of select, controlled habitat spheres or quarters. Station One is purely and simply, a functional space habitat designed specifically for the survival in space of a working crew. It is a working habitat, designed with no attempt to fabricate Earth's conditions."

Barker considered that information carefully before shaking his head slightly. "That's a very fine line of distinction between the two."

Giles looked interested, watching him with as much interest as Barker, and Zechs was hopeful he would not slip up and reveal his close links with the station. He had Barker's interest and he was hoping to keep it until the medics arrived and save them from further questioning.

"Some might think so, but consider this. Can you move a colony from its La Grange point? The stresses involved in the move would rip a colony apart, or potentially plunge it into the Earth or the Moon. A space station has its own means of propulsion and is specifically constructed to move under its own power, enabling it to be moved through the asteroid belt to any area to be investigated and mined. It provides every need its workers might require, from comfortable living quarters to mining facilities, without the need to construct such facilities every time a new resource asteroid is chosen for mining. If the experiment works, full processing and refining of the ores recovered could take place in space, and processed materials instead of the raw mined ore will be sent back to the Earth Sphere."

Zechs knew of a few such briefings sitting on the desks of influential people in the ESUN. Treize had had his own flirtation with constructing space stations, and he was not concerned Barker could call him out on this subject.

"So who is experimenting with this space station?"

"That information is classified at this time and certain people with their hands in some very big pies, flavoured with a healthy dose of political spice and big business filling, would be unhappy you know this much." Zechs dismissed the question out of hand.

Barker was not happy about that! Zechs noted Giles watching the man's reaction and, afraid he might try to 'lean' on Barker with his talent, he shifted in the bed drawing Giles eye and faintly shook his head. Now was not the time to try what he had to consider their last resort.

"Alright, classified information. I'll accept that for the moment. What about this message you were talking about?"

Good. For the moment Barker was accepting the explanation on Station One, even the possibility Giles had his fingers in that pie as well as guarding Zechs. He was willing to move on. To be honest the story Zechs had spun him was pretty much the truth; he had simply not enlarged on who it was who was constructing such an expensive habitat, or exactly where it was being constructed.

The important thing was that it was entirely plausible.

"We managed to send a brief alert message on a one way signal and unfortunately on a select band. If Raydon's people are listening, and they should be, we may have help on the way out to us. Before you ask, no, we can't change the frequency on the device, it is a fixed unit and we would have to pull it apart to even try. I would have to go back up into the dome to locate the device before we could do that much, and there is no guarantee anyone would be listening to any other band we tried. Even the one we used we can not guarantee."

"But a signal has gone out?"

"The ability to send a message on the unit was severely limited so it was a general alarm. Help needed and watch your back if you come." Zechs rolled his head, stretching a muscle in his neck and wincing for the effort. "We did the best with what we had at the time."

Barker was clearly not overly happy, but there was really nothing that could be done about it. The techs they now had access to, who should be working at regaining control of the base computers, might be able to do something more with the device but Zechs did not feel the need to offer it up to them. They would, hopefully, soon have the bases communications systems back up and running, if they could nail this virus infesting the computers. That was the more important thing to do, eradicate the virus. If it should infect their environmental controls and life support…

No, the techs were needed to work on that little problem, not trying to fiddle frequencies in a device that was never meant to be a full blown communications device.

"Alright, I'll go with that for the moment. What are these 'Gifted' of which, given what I over heard, you appear to be one?"

So much for the slender hope he might be distracted to other matters and away from that particular subject matter. Zechs sighed and dropped his head back against the pillow for a moment, eyes closed and taking the time to take a measured breath. This was so not good. It had the potential to blow up in their faces and break apart the working relationship they now tentatively enjoyed.

"I warn you, it reads like a Science Fiction novel." Giles muttered, glaring at Barker, filled with his own memories of the disbelief he had endured before he had become one of the Gifted.

"This whole fucked up situation reads like a Sci-Fi novel!" Barker glared back. "I'm stuck in the middle of it, just like you."

After a moment of mutual glaring Giles snorted softly, shrugging and met the man's eyes with stubborn neutrality. There were rare occasions when people actually asked intelligent questions after they learned this for the first time.

" 'Gifted' is a quaint terminology for psychically aware individuals who are employed by the security firm I work for."

The silence stretched. Zechs could almost see the wheels turning in Barker's mind and he only hoped Barker had not overheard much of his previous conversation with Giles. Too many awkward questions could be asked and this was certainly not the time for it.

"And you are one?" Barker turned his attention to the blonde, face carefully neutral.

"It would appear to be the reason Giles was assigned to be my bodyguard. I have been extended an invitation to join others with varying talents and degrees of talent... Gifts, as they prefer to call it."

Again that long stretch of silence when Barker considered them each in turn, turning over what he had been told, sorting out what next to ask. He was not one to ask questions that would gain him little in the way of information.

"This has something to do Libra and the Epyon, doesn't it?"

Zechs fought the urge to react down to a minute flinch he had no doubt Barker would catch. He needed to be cool and calm and not give himself away. Barker had obviously heard more than he had hoped, and he had to wonder just what he and Giles had talked about before Barker had come through the door. Had they mentioned the Raiders? Had they mentioned Raydon being on Station One?

He didn't think so, but it was possible that they had. He had to play the cards he had already dealt and hope for the best. At worst he could turn Giles loose with his questionable talent and try to influence Barker who was tired too. That exhaustion would do something to even out the odds of success, but he still did not want to try. The idea of controlling what another man thought was abhorrent to him.

Barker knew he did not like speaking of that time on the Libra. He did not know why and this would certainly not tell him why, but it was still sailing close to information he did not want Preventers to have.

"Epyon. Yes."

He breathed the name of the machine, not meeting anyone's eyes, not caring to see what he might find there. Some subjects he was just not ready to talk about and all things Epyon were in that category.

Barker grunted softly, eyes narrowed as he watched the two. Haydon Giles was watching Marquise with open concern and both of them looked far from well. Glancing at his watch he decided the medics would be arriving any minute and he wanted to gather as much information as he could.

Their discomfort with the subject was simply an inconvenience and they would need to get over it. Now or later he would have answers.

"I've heard a few things about that machine that make me wonder. I have learned that very little in the war was what it appeared to be…"

A sharp knock on the door interrupted him and it opened for a medic to shuffle quickly into the room, a male nurse on his heels. The men paused in the doorway, looked between the three and then exchanged glances.

"Is this a bad time?"

The atmosphere was intense, Zechs supposed, something to be expected given their discussion, but hopefully Barker would back off and they might get something done about the pain they were both in.

"No." Barker spun on his heel and motioned the two into the room. "Perfect timing. I have a couple of things to do and we will take this up later, gentlemen. I'll leave you in the medic's capable hands for now."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2010


	199. Chapter 199 Chapter 198

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 198/? Rosemount

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 198

2nd March AC 198

Rosemount Station, Asteroid belt

Isolation Suite

Time 14:32 [time is as for Sanc ]

Treize

He was heartily tired of the continual abuse to his dignity.

There was a time, admittedly, when he had had not a thought for dignity. It had really been a time where there had been no conscious thought at all. Nothing had existed for him but the awareness of pain. Every breath was a breath filled with a thousand slivers of molten metal drawn through already burned lungs. Every breath was exhaled through burned nostrils and sucked into screaming lungs through a tube inserted in a raw, burned pharynx.

In that time he had had no thoughts of dignity or pride. During that time of nightmare there had only been pain. It had been his entire-his only-existence for an eternity.

There was no concept of time passing, merely of pain in all its burning, cleansing glory. In essence, it had been his rebirth.

He should have died. It had been the greater percentage chance that he would not survive the battle that would cleanse so much and give rebirth, allowing their civilisation the chance to break from the past and move forward, free at last from the perpetual cycle.

Or so he, and others willing to sacrifice as he had, had dreamt.

He should have died, and would have, had They not been there, waiting for him. Waiting, watching, understanding as most others could not, what it was they were intent on achieving. They had understood, they had waited, they had aided and abetted the grand design… and they had gathered him in when his part in the play was done.

They. Rosemount.

Still, it had been a close thing. He had almost died, despite their prompt action. He had known the risks, that he might not survive the destruction of the Tallgeese II and that if he did, he might not survive the aftermath as they healed him… if his injuries, however bad they might have been, could be healed.

It had been a risk but a risk he was willing to take, and it had drawn positive results.

He was alive, though he should have died, and he was continuing to heal. Their genetic sciences used to base their healing techniques were well advanced on those available to the rest of humanity. If not for their skills with genetic regeneration and grafting techniques he would be quite dead and have no interest in the future… his own or Rosemount's.

Still, alive or not, thankful to them for his rescue and healing or not– and he was appreciative of their efforts- he was also heartily weary of their total disregard for his dignity and pride.

After three years he was no longer a slab of burned flesh and bone. He was no longer the screaming mindless mess of healing flesh he had become during the second year of his supposed death. In this third year, heading now toward the magical fourth year since the wars, he was very much aware of who he was, what he was, and the need to claim back his identity.

He was not a patient with no name, no intelligence and no sense of self. He was not merely a number or a piece of flesh to be healed. He was a living breathing human being. Sentient. Well aware of the eyes that monitored his every movement every minute of every day. Machines monitored his vital statistics and humans watched his physical and mental gymnastics as the thought processes had stirred from mindless pain to intelligent thought.

He was watched, evaluated, his medications adjusted; the very air he breathed was modified to assist his healing. He was well aware of the 'taste' of the air he breathed and the medications included in it, to be absorbed by his skin and drawn into his lungs as he breathed. He was in a sealed, carefully controlled series of rooms. He ate a carefully prescribed diet designed to give his body energy, the exact amount of calories required to permit him to heal and adjust to the modifications the periodic gene treatments produced.

He felt like an experiment.

But…

This experiment had reached the stage that it wanted to spread its wings and fly, not continue to crawl on stunted legs in the caterpillar stage of existence. They appeared to think of him as still being an invalid and that had to change.

It was true that he had next to no immune system at the present time. That complex function of his physiology was the hardest to heal of his bodily functions, but it was steadily improving. He would be able to leave these sealed quarters and he understood he needed patience, or risk undoing the progress made to date.

Physically there was more to heal but there was nothing wrong with his mind and he was bored, stretching himself more than they said was good for him. The recovery had been stressful, yes, he admitted that, and he endured his psyche sessions with the ships psychological team twice a week. Even they had to admit he was no raving madman or had any closet suicidal tendencies.

With the exception of his weakened immune system he was as healthy as any other person on board Rosemount; potentially healthier than most, given the adjustments made to his genetics during his incapacitation.

And he had spent all morning, yet again, under their microscope as they evaluated his progress.

He was heartily tired of being poked and prodded, of being bled by mosquito bite fine needles as they took their required samples for testing. He was tired of suffering the indignity of a swathe of saliva, urine and faeces tests for detailed evaluation. The day had largely been taken up with the medical droid filling his room, running test after test on his physical recovery… and he was hungry.

It was mid afternoon and he had not eaten or drunk anything other than water and their indigestible liquids required to assist them in their medical scans and samples. In general, he was of the opinion he had been pulled, punched and kicked, then squeezed through a set of very small rollers over red hot coals.

In short, he was not amused.

Had he complained that he was bored with the monotony of routine?

Why yes, more fool him, he had, but this barrage of tests had best bear the desired fruits or he would be something other than bored and hungry while they looked over their preliminary results. They could at least have the decency to send someone in wearing an envirosuit to protect his immune system yet give him a human element to the barrage of tests.

He was fed up with mechanicals as his only physical companion. What he craved was human company. Real honest to God human company. Warm flesh, sweaty smell, bad breath… the whole human physical deal, not the robotic medical apparatus intent on bleeding him dry and sticking him with needles and probes in every orifice the human body claimed for the amusement of others.

My, my, he was out of sorts. A touch tetchy to be certain. They no doubt would measure that too, somehow.

Overall the discomfort and the abuse to his dignity would be worth it should the general consensus, once the tests were evaluated, fall in his favour. If they determined he now had sufficient strength to progress to the next stage of his rehabilitation and integration with Rosemount…

That was his goal, to move on.

For too long his life had consisted of pain. All consuming fire initially, then progressing all too slowly to tolerable, permitting thought processes to once again begin. Then thinking, and no small amount of stubborn fortitude, permitted him to ignore the pain until it became too great to ignore… and his carefully structured and ordered thoughts would fall apart into confusion and inaccuracy.

That too had improved to this point in time where he could manage the pain and considered it to be little more than a persistent nuisance. He wanted more than what they gave him to do.

The problem was that his greatest talent lay in thinking. It was what he excelled at. Strategic planning covering long periods of time was his forte. The more data he acquired the more complex and accurate his predictions were proven to be. They had understood the benefits of his analytical talent early, before they had first approached him, and he had incorporated the Rosemount variable into the details of the plan he formulated to open the eyes of humanity to their greatest weakness.

His attention now focused on the needs of Rosemount and the requirements needed to complete the complex, massive project that was Rosemount itself.

He enjoyed thinking. The purity to be found in the thought process appealed to him, and he found its intricacies enthralling as a general rule. Pure thought appealed to him, but even he needed something more.

It was entertaining enough thinking and providing them with exactly what they wanted of him, the means by which to secure their freedom from the reaching fingers of the hidden power of Romefeller. He knew more than they suspected, he was sure, and he would no doubt find it even more informative and interesting as he gleaned more of the information they kept secret from him.

He was making steady progress breaking into their secure systems. He knew they were aware of his activities within their computer systems, though he was also quite sure they did not know just how extensive his infiltration of their operating system was. Still, deep as he had penetrated, he was quite aware that he had barely scratched the surface.

Once his physical pain had reduced to the level that he had been capable of entertaining coherent thought, he had considered the existence of Rosemount, their stated ideal, their possible hidden agendas and the needs of those he cared about. Daily he added to his information and revised his calculations, all in the interests of knowing he was not being played for a fool and he could provide a haven for the few who, like he, were different and needed sanctuary.

He found the work intriguing and informative… and inspiring.

One thing he was sure of was that he had not erred in throwing his lot in with these people who had dared to approach him and seduce him to join their efforts to enhance the future. It had been their future they sought to enhance, offering him a place within Rosemount in return for his services. He had listened, he had gone through their material and he had made his own plans, incorporating their ideal into the plans he had refused to abandon.

His future, their future, the future of his friends and the future of human civilisation. They were all inexorably interlinked and to gain his support he had required them to wait out the outcome of his grand design.

Teaching the human race a lesson that could not be ignored, at great cost to those of like vision with the guts and heart to go the full distance. They had been so few and so many of them were dead, paying the price as he had been willing to do. He owed it to the few who had survived to give them a better future… if they chose to step into his design once more.

As always he would not order those who followed him. He would offer; he would give them the information they needed and then step back, accepting whatever it was they chose to do once they had all the facts. Then, when they made their decision, if they chose to follow him, he would do his utmost to give them all that he had offered.

Rosemount's future was fast approaching.

He found it entertaining, if exhausting, to run the evaluations, the projections for success or failure. Daily corrections were required upon the acquisition of new or refined data. It was enthralling stuff.

Pure thinking was, in all honesty, where he was happiest, though he missed the freedom to be found in flying a mobile suit. He needed physical activity and something different to the pure thought aimed to move Rosemount, else his thinking would stagnate and sour and he would not, could not, advance their designs.

Thanks to the advanced healing capabilities of Rosemount Station he had been assured he might, once again, enjoy the freedom of flying. Rosemount's surgeons, with their skills steeped in genetic technology, had even managed to repair the damage done to his leg from the explosion years ago that periodically pained him and consigned him to a desk. Not that he had not planned to claim that particular desk job as his own; he had just not expected the constraints of an injury to be felt for life.

That was, perhaps, the best thing to have come from his alliance with Rosemount. They claimed exemplary medical facilities and they had spared no expense to repair him, physically and mentally. Those facilities would be available to all who joined them.

Thought of the pain that had speared through his leg brought Leia to mind. He had met her during that time of purely physical pain-which was little more than a shadow of what he had endured after the explosion of his Tallgeese II- and he could not say he regretted the time he had spent with her, brief as it had been. He did have a regret from that time, that she had not informed him she was pregnant or, later, the birth of their daughter. No doubt her manipulative father had ensured there had been no further communications between them when he had returned to Earth and his duty.

Would he have done the honourable thing and married her? Would he have factored her and their child into his design for bringing peace to mankind? If he had known… He had not even considered factoring her into the equations he had been formulating, but had he known…?

Well, looking back was nice but it would not give him any answers in that regard. She was long dead and he, on Earth, was dead too. He might have been able to love her… maybe? The fire and passion had cooled as the need to return had grown with his health and she had not contacted him after his return… nor had he thought to contact her.

But it had not been exactly casual…

He had liked Leia, genuinely liked her, something he could not say for her father. Dekim Barton. If the man were not already dead Treize knew he would take the greatest delight in formulating a means of killing in which that man would suffer a thousand deaths before he shrugged off the mortal coil.

He tried not to hold grudges, to stay above that base level too many of his fellow man wallowed in, but Barton made it very hard indeed not to indulge in a little honest hate. At least the surge of honest disgust and loathing reassured him he was human, not some biological calculation device created by Romefeller's hidden geneticists.

He squashed the surge of irritation at the thought. Romefeller and their complex games with humanity. They felt they had the right to play with mankind and shape him to their ideal. Was there a single human left on Earth, and in the colonies, who had not been touched by their infernal breeding regime?

He had his own thoughts, his own ideals. He had feelings, emotions that tore through him, much as the weather affected the planet with a gentle summer breeze; or the raging destruction of a hurricane. He felt every success and failure of his designs, the deaths of those who worked for those designs and the hope that it was all for something. The hurricane within was never still, though sometimes it eased only to rise again and beat mercilessly at him.

Failure was not an option, not if those he cared about, and those who had earned his respect, were to be given a fresh start.

His genetics might have been on some chart in a Romefeller laboratory before his conception, but he was entirely his own man. He could only do the best he could to bring low the hidden organisation and, if not totally destroy them, at least set them back on their heels and whimpering.

He could, already, see the beginnings of what he had hoped for. The results of the war were creeping into the day to day activities of the citizens of the Earth Sphere, and it gave him hope that humanity could pull itself out of the primal sludge. One thing he knew for certain was that they, humanity, were not alone in this universe and that one day their neighbours would come knocking. For that day humanity had to be standing firmly on two feet, not crawling like infants or doddering on a cane like an old man.

After all, he smiled, they had already come.

"Treize. Are you with us?"

Ah, his attention snapped back to the moment. Perhaps the initial results of their plethora of tests were in and he might learn if he could entertain himself with something other than his own thoughts… and his own company. Pulling on the gloves, his primary means of communication, he turned his attention to the vidscreen mounted on the robot squatting before his desk. His surgeon, or rather, the head of the team of surgeons who had given him back a healthy body, waited for his attention.

_I am here and hopeful you have reached some conclusions in the time since your testing concluded._

"There are still some results we require time to study, but the general consensus is that your physical abilities have reached a critical stage. We have carefully considered the results and a number of options available to us, and decided to upgrade the level of your physical activity. We will formulate a program designed to increase your stamina and physical strength. The first part of this upgrade will be the increase of gravity in your suite. Initially we will bring you up to one sixth of Earth standard gravity and see how well you cope. We will begin advanced procedures in enhancing your physical responses to sensation, muting the nerves which have tested to be at standard and above so that they do not continue to advance beyond acceptable sensitivity levels."

Meaning his fingers would soon no longer pain him to write his responses. That would be an advantage he would not bemoan. It would be good to touch something and not have pain flair in his fingertips.

"We will, additionally, be introducing a strict program to supervise the recovery of your voice. Tests suggest the vocal cords are healed sufficiently to permit us to formulate a routine to get you talking again, so voice therapy will also be included and closely monitored."

Ah, so he would, once again, have the wonderful connotations available to him to be found only in the use of the human voice. One could not express oneself adequately using the medium of the written word. He had always found the response to the spoken word to be more pure, more immediate and more impressionable. So, a voice would once again be his and he would be able to touch things… touch? Reduce and control the sensitivity of his nerves…? His fingers fairly flew over the touch pad, the script flowing fast to his direction.

_I shall once more be graced with clothing? Ah. Wonderful. One's modesty might, once again, mean something to more than oneself. _

The elderly woman on the screen grinned at him, bright and wicked. "Such a disappointment to those of us who have been enjoying the scenery, my dear. Be assured, I promise I shall have you stripped naked every Friday night for a full physical."

_Wonderful! I can not wait, my dear lady._

There, the written words just could not carry over the disdain he wished to drip from each word. It was next to impossible to convey sarcasm, or any other emotion for that matter. He would not include the descriptive in brackets either, that would simply be uncouth, but that was alright, the time was coming when he would be able to strip the hide from one who displeased him with a few quietly spoken words, or drip honey to charm those he addressed. Voice played such an important role in who and what he was… or who he had been.

"If you two are quite finished…?"

The irritated voice came from off screen 'behind' the woman Treize rather liked, and he knew the sour natured doctor who was brilliant in his field but was hardly a sterling advertisement for the niceties to be engaged in conversation between individuals. The man would be scowling fiercely at them, a no nonsense individual who always had something more important to do… or so he would have one believe.

"Sod off, Harold, there's a dear.' She did not even look over her shoulder but winked at Treize instead, "I don't find many handsome young bucks who will flirt with me at my age and you are not interrupting before we really get going. Now Treize, I know you would love to leave the suite, but unfortunately your immunity count is still quite low."

_Dangerously so? _

"Yes, dangerously low, but there is improvement. We have another batch of genetic soup brewing for you, so it will only be a few weeks before we can boost your system again. I expect there to be an improvement after that infusion, however it is doubtful the improvement will be sufficient for you to be self reliant. More boosters will be required in the near future. The progress marked to date leads me to be quite hopeful your immune system will make a full recovery."

_Ah, and one was hopeful one could take a walk on more than a treadmill._

He had not, in all honestly, expected to be able to leave the suite any time soon. He was quite aware of the realities of his situation, and that they were willing to giving him even one sixth of Earth's gravity was enough of a testament to his progress. He had to have patience and this was just another indication of how far he had come in his recovery. Trying to rush his body was not necessary and would do more harm than good.

To be honest, at this point in time, there was nowhere for him to go.

Rosemount Station was his entire world and at this time that world was limited to the three rooms of his suite. He had no doubt at all that he would, one day, walk out of the door and be free to roam the station. He would come face to face with her citizens and he would become a part of her crew, physically interacting with the individuals instead of a select few.

One day. It simply was not this day.

"Now, it has been proposed that you might benefit physically from being integrated with a crystal segment. To that end we incorporated preliminary testing for compatibility. Our reading of the test results suggest you should be able to cope with the symbiotic relationship the segment initiates with the host. Now I need to stress this, Treize. You need to understand that not everyone is compatible. We can attempt to establish the ideal conditions for the symbiotic synapses to begin, but certain safeguards are required to be set in place before we make the attempt. If you are not ready for the crystal I want to be able to separate you from the segment without delay."

_You expect there to be difficulties?_

"There have been instances of some people not reacting overly well to the initial links being established. Their test results suggested they were compatible but… it is not always a success and whilst no one has ever been killed, it can be rather a violent reaction, much like a severe reaction to an exposed allergy. We do not know why, certainly we have not found, to date, a reason for the link to be painful, but it has been known to happen. Certainly there is usually a reaction, be it some discomfort or a sensation which some people equate to pain, but really there is nothing in the data or the process itself that should induce a physically painful reaction. It is hypothesised that the likely explanation is that it is a psychological reaction. A responsive reaction to the recipient expecting the process to hurt and, therefore, it hurts, just as they expected."

Well, it was not as though he did not know how to deal with pain. To him pain had become something that was to be endured. It would, eventually, pass.

_Have there been reactions to the links being set other than pain?_

"There have been instances where recipients have collapsed into an unconscious state for anywhere from an hour to a week. On recovery they have been unable to tell us anything which might explain why they collapsed. Indeed, most are not aware they have had a physical reaction at all. They have insisted they were enthralled by the contact and merely did not notice anything else. To them at most only a few minutes appeared to have passed."

One forked eyebrow arched magnificently and the surgeon on the screen smiled at him.

"Yes, it rather raised my eyebrow the first time I witnessed it. The subjects generally had no memory of a break in their perceptions; they insist only seconds or minutes passed. Whilst the integration took place they reported no pain, only a moment of discomfort. As I said, the pain reaction is most likely to be the result of a psychological reaction to what the recipient has convinced themselves they should feel. Given this, you need to consider your perceptions on the entire symbiotic relationship integrating you with a segment of the crystal will result in. You need to determine your thoughts before we consider undergoing the procedure. To this end I will have all the data I have on the integration process forwarded to your terminal. I suggest you study it and give it thought before we arrange the procedure and, given your particular health needs, we will need to use the medical robot as our contact with you throughout the procedure. Not even for the integration can we afford to have you exposed to possible contamination with your immune system so low."

_I understand. I will read through your information package carefully._

"Good. I have been informed that you have been looking forward to initiating contact with the Crystal, but such things must, of necessity, take place in small steps. I want you to read through the information I forward to you, gain a through grounding in what the procedure actually entails, as well as read through the documented possible reactions thus far displayed to the integration."

_My dear lady, I have never entered into anything without first undergoing extensive research. I assure you, this will be no different. _

"I find your reputation suggests to me that you will have quite an interesting reaction to the symbiosis and you and I will talk later. We will need to discuss the procedures when you have had the opportunity to review the files. However, that is for later and I have further test evaluations to study. I have, to date, noted no difficulties which might necessitate a delay of the merge. Romefeller's files list you as a KPsi series, and your parents as K series. Much as we of Rosemount find it disagreeable to breed for specific traits as our parent body does, it is a factor that can only be considered to be a bonus for your merging with a fragment. For now, I suggest you rest and read the information sent through to you. I will contact you in a few hours and we will discuss the matter of the merge. I have just been informed that your gravity will be increased at 1800 hours. For that I will be monitoring your reactions."

_Understood, Madam. _

"And tonight we will also begin the round of injections which will steady your nerves' sensitivity. I suggest you rest whilst you can."

He sighed softly as the screen blanked and watched as the robot turned on its axis, upper third turning first, followed by the middle segment and finally the lower third engaged its drive system, reversing the machine, though now, Treize mused, he supposed the machine was going forward from its perspective. The airlock door opened and the robot entered the space, shutting down as the door closed and it was only the matter of a few seconds before he heard the decontamination showers activate.

With a mental sigh he closed his eyes for a long moment and calmed himself. Progress.

At long last, progress.

He could have done without the reminder of Romefeller and their dynastic breeding program, but he had been aware of the facts of his birth for years. He was the product of a long line of genetic experiments and nothing could change that. He was, physically, what he was made to be, but whilst they might have fashioned his physical form, his mind, and the will that drove it, was entirely his own.

//KPsi. K. Key series genetics. Genetically coded to accept specific selected spliced genes by which to produce a new generation. My parents were both Key generations and Romefeller determined I would be a Key generation capable of passing on to any issue I might have the Psi enhancement genetic codex.//

Any issue he might have had? Well, they would have made certain he had children, one way or the other… if he had waited for them to make their move.

Slipping his hands carefully from the gloves Treize rose from his desk and pushed off from the floor, floating into what he thought of as his bedroom, though as yet there was no real bed for him to enjoy. He had a little time before he gained some additional gravity and he settled himself to float, closing his eyes and enjoying the lack of sensation he found in zero gravity. It annoyed him most days, but for now, for this brief time, it might give him the time to think.

He had learned much from his discussions with the Rosemount representatives while he was still a very young man on Earth. From them he had learned why he was capable of doing what he did…why he enjoyed a particularly healthy body and a mind that was uncommonly active and capable of advanced perceptions… and he had learned why he was so uneasy in certain company.

He had never come totally under Romefeller's thumb, not that those decrepit old men and women who ruled the public face had been the true Romefeller. They were, however, a gateway for that more secret organisation to insert its manipulative fingers into enquiring young minds and, once they grasp a firm hold, they would never let go. Not that Romefeller was their only outlet to manipulate the future of mankind.

Those old men, the supposed leaders of the Romefeller Foundation, deceived themselves with their own sense of self importance. They thought they ruled, that it was their divine right to rule, and a matter of destiny for them to guide humanity to the parameters they set.

He had, after meeting with Rosemount's representatives, made it his business to hold a number of seemingly innocuous discussions with Dermail. The Duke had scoffed at the notion of there being such a thing as the Inner Circle. Fairytales, he had laughed, left over legends from an unenlightened time. Dermail had determined to make his mark on history, secure in his belief that he had the right to rule.

Too many of the Romefeller patriarchs, and matriarchs too, had discounted the influence of the Inner Circle. It troubled Treize, not that he could do more about what was to come other than what he had already. There was a fall coming, he could feel it. He had projected it to take place within the next three year period and his recent calculations only strengthened his conviction.

The Inner Circle, the Council of Romefeller, they who were the true Romefeller, would decide enough was enough. He saw the evidence of it throughout history, repeating itself again and again. The Inner Circle would bring down the established order, bringing chaos and destruction and then rebuild from the ashes, shaping the world to their designs.

The Romefeller the world knew would undergo a shake up that might, literally, shake the world in its wake. The political landscape of the Earth Sphere would certainly change, and not all of it subtly. Before that time came he wanted certain people safely removed from the influence of the Earth Sphere.

Rosemount's command structure now knew where Zechs was to be found, and they needed him brought to Rosemount as expediently as possible. Only on Rosemount would his friend be freed from Romefeller's machinations and Rosemount needed Zechs.

The unique nature of the enhanced genetics contained within his friend would have Romefeller pursue him the length and breadth of the Earth Sphere. He would be a much desired commodity and Romefeller would, once they put their hands on him, never let him go. While he had been thought to be dead Zechs had been safe enough, but now, with practically the entire ESUN aware of his existence… Who on the Council of Representatives, Romefeller allied or not, would not know the Terror of Earth still breathed?

Even Mars could not keep him safe and free from politics.

Rosemount could.

Treize tilted his head back, stretching tight neck muscles, careful not to send himself floating toward one of the walls… or floor, or ceiling for that matter. Zero gravity had its prickly points.

//Zechs is rather unique, though only Romefeller, of those on Earth, know how unique he is. But he is not the only one with a selective combination of genes, and I have to wonder about this cousin I did not know survived. What selection of genetics did they use for him? Or perhaps he was not one they artificially engineered? Might he have a gene sequence as unique as Milliardo's? As my own? What had they intended for him? I must check the station's Romefeller files and see if there is an entry for my cousin; compare them to my own and perhaps to Milliardo's. I am KPsi. Milliardo is W series with KPsi sequencing. There had to be a generation or two of selective sequencing before they introduced the W series sequencing.//

Something shifted.

A train of thought shifted alignment and he allowed it, eyes closed, concentrating on the divergent path, adding possibilities, projecting more variables… It was why Rosemount had sought him out, this ability to hypothesise, to follow seemingly random thoughts to definitive conclusions.

Rosemount's clairvoyants had not found Milliardo. In three years they had found no trace of him and it seemed feasible that somehow Romefeller had bred some kind of resistance within his gene sequences which might, hypothetically, disrupt clairvoyant talent. There had been no indication, from what he had been told, of this supposedly dead cousin still being alive. No incidents of clairvoyant talent picking up the appearance of the Station Alliance to which he was affiliated. There had been no indication of this trouble on Mars, where Milliardo was resident.

Was it possible that something in their genetics, some mutual variable or planned design, might protect them from the eyes of those who could look through time. Milliardo was listed W series and was it that select genetic sequence that gave him that questionable protection from being located by those with the precognitive talent to call on? Might Kristian Khushrenada likewise be equipped to keep his activities unobserved?

//Resistance to clairvoyance? Is it really possible?//

But he had not known Rosemount to be lax and there was Romefeller's failure as well to be considered in evidence.

Unfortunately he did not know enough about the psi sciences and psionic abilities themselves to understand how, or what, could block the 'sight' of one who could catch glimpses of the future. He knew that Milliardo's abilities were somewhat out of the ordinary, else he would not have been able to work with Epyon as well as he had.

Milliardo was the one he suspected would give Rosemount freedom, but was it possible for Kristian Khushrenada to be a W series too? An earlier model, so to speak?

A deeper breath was carefully drawn, expanding his lungs as much as he could before being exhaled slowly and carefully. Room for thought, he decided. It never paid to dismiss theories too early and Treize had no doubt Milliardo, Zechs if his friend preferred, had worked with the unique nature of the Epyon operating system to craft a future that they all now lived.

It would not have been easy, he knew that from personal experience. He had merged with Epyon, but he had been unable to go the full distance. His own abilities differed too much from what Epyon had been designed for for Epyon to work with easily. The machine and its operating system were both unique, far from most operating systems to be found throughout the Earth Sphere.

Quite unique.

Full lips curved into a knowing smile and Treize resisted the flinch as, despite himself, he laughed. A warped sound, rasping from a throat that had done nothing but scream for nearly two years. Did they think him a total idiot?

Did they at least suspect he knew what powered the mind merge capabilities of the Epyon? There was a reason he was confident he would have little difficulty, if any, in merging with the fragment of the Crystal. Though the contact would not be physically direct, he was certain he had touched his mind, his awareness, to the like before. In fact, on a number of occasions.

Epyon had to have contained at least one crystal fragment.

Was he right to suppose it… or was he wrong? He would know soon enough.

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2010


	200. Chapter 200 Chapter 199

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 199/? Peacemission

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me. I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you.

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

/... / thoughts

"... " speech

~/... /~ text

*... * flashback

** ...** Vision

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 199

2nd March AC 198

Peacemission H65193P Sanc Registry

Date: 2nd March AC 198

Time: 13:50 [Ship time is as for Sanc]

Howard

There was a lot to be said for a decent bit of shut eye to give an old man a boost when the shit was hovering mid air just off the blades of a working fan. At any second contact between excrement and fan blades would be made and he was never keen on being in close proximity to explosive predicaments, but sometimes that was just how things were. There was nothing much he could do about it, not if he wanted to avoid watching renewed conflict tear apart the hard won peace.

He had found himself prominently placed to witness and take part in events that shook civilisation all too often; necessary due payment on his part, given his foolish youth. He owed it to everyone caught up in the aftermath of his youthful follies to witness, and to act, if and when circumstances permitted. He would pay this price until his death released him and hope, in the doing, to even the balance sheet… and find peace.

He had a great many mistakes and no small ocean of blood to atone for.

The Wellington was merely a few hours from the outer edges of the debris field and, from the readouts on her speed and position, she was beginning mandatory deceleration procedures preparatory to entering the designated lane for entering Mars orbit. According to the readings she was carrying far too much speed at present to safely traverse the debris field, and Howard was beginning to wonder if he had underestimated the Captain of the ship.

"Military design advance drone detected, Howard."

Ah, that much at least. He had wondered how long it would be before the Wellington located them. Unless her Captain was a fool he would have every drone unit the Wellington possessed in advance of the ship looking for a way through the debris field and for the Sweeper ship that had sent out the alert. If the Peacemission's own drones had detected the military units then it was pretty much a certainty the Wellington would know where they were, and contact them, within a few minutes.

"Smile nicely for the cameras, people. We are supposed to be charting the field, ladies and gentlemen, I suggest you take a ranging scan. I want it noted we are attending to business. Full spectrum analysis of the debris field and be sure to catch the drone in a sweep. Let them see we are doing exactly what we should be doing."

He needed to slow that ship down. In order to make some kind of difference he had put two of his fellow Sweeper ships at risk, and he intended to keep the Wellington well clear of them. The Dark Side and her escort, the Miss Conception, were not to be placed at any more risk than they had to be, and Howard had little doubt his choice of actions would be called before a Sweeper tribunal.

That was a Family Ship out there and he was sending it into a risky situation. That was NOT done. Not generally, and it was done now because he had convinced her Captain it was the humanitarian thing to do, to protect those people on Mars. He would be called to face a tribunal and answer to his critics, of which he did not lack, and he was confident he would survive it, but it would not help his standing with the Council of Sweepers. Not that he particularly cared how his standing with them stood… he had been out of favour with the Council many times in the past and survived.

But he had not, previously, put a Family Ship at risk.

He could not say how desperate certain people back on Earth were, or how the Captain of the Wellington stood with his orders. There was always the chance he was wrong and the blood drying on his hands would run fresh again. There was that chance and he would have more deaths, more heartache, more lives ruined to atone for.

"Time remaining to the radio check in with the Miss Conception and Dark Side?" He inclined his head to the Com Officer, never taking his eyes off the display readout for the Wellington's position.

"Check in listed for nine minutes and seven seconds."

It would be tight to see who contacted him first, the Sweeper ships or the Wellington's Captain.

"The Wellington's speed?"

"The Wellington is decreasing her speed, but indications are the reduction is only in accordance with the orbital path lane's requirements. She is still running hot to enter the debris field." His helm officer never lifted his head from the control board in front of him.

"Time to contact with the debris field?"

"At her current rate of speed for her course… Sixty nine minutes, twenty three seconds."

He had to get that ship to slow down. There was no way she would pass unscathed through the debris field and he did not fancy her chances, even if the Captain chose to go in with all guns blazing. There was simply too much debris for them to pass unscathed and it was possible micro meteors would be of more concern than the bigger pieces. The smaller the object the harder it was to pick up and target and if it chanced to hit a vulnerable part of the ship… No, he had to get the Captain to slow her down at the very least.

"Incoming communication from the ESUN Wellington, Howard." The com officer glanced over her shoulder. "Standard military demand for identification."

It was a start and as opening gambits went it was better than the Wellington's Captain opening fire on them… not that they had any reason to… yet.

"Then respond with our official registration and tag on a note asking… politely… what the hell they are doing charging into an uncharted debris field at that speed."

That should get their attention he mused. Given their current position they would not have detected any trace of any other Sweeper in the area, certainly not the Dark Side or Miss Conception. Those ships had to be approaching their positions and in doing so they were now in close enough proximity to Mars and the oncoming debris field that they could not easily be withdrawn should the Wellington go in with all guns blazing.

"What is the delay time on the communications?"

"Com registers the delay time as… two minutes and ten seconds."

Almost real time communications, that was a bonus. They were creeping ever closer to Mars, and ever closer to each other, and communications had to improve with each passing second. It would get a little crowded, in truth, between the Sweeper ships and the Wellington, not to mention all that debris. So many witnesses in this situation, with so much distance between them was good, it would keep the military honest. There were, after all, only so many ships they could blow away without it becoming very public very quickly and the ships were not in close enough proximity at this time for the Wellington to have a hope in hell of achieving a quiet massacre.

While Marquise's survival was known to what Howard expected would be a great many people in influential positions, the general public believed Milliardo Peacecraft dead. That was the way the government would want it to stay and some people were more circumspect about how they went about achieving that goal than others. The secret was all well and good, and undoubtedly there were some members of the government who would think the cost of destroying ships justifiable, particularly if one could pass the blame on to Raiders.

But in this instance, thankfully, there were getting to be too many witnesses in the vicinity of Mars for the cover up to be viable.

That was the heart of his plan, not the debris field, but the amount of witnesses already in the vicinity. The debris field was to slow down the ships arrival, but the witnesses were the deterrent for massacre before it happened.

The Wellington's Captain, if he was an astute judge of a situation involving political ramifications, would be only too conscious of the results of tweaking the wrong noses. The Sweepers were an integral part of trade in the ESUN and one always had to watch out for the smooth running of one's trade. Trade between the Earth and the colonies would be crippled if the Sweepers withdrew for any appreciable length of time.

If the Captain of this so called Raider hunter would just have a conscience, then this massacre could be stopped before it began. Painlessly, bloodlessly… and Howard might get to sleep that little bit easier.

/Though I rather think events on the planet have gotten well out of hand./

Marquise would not take what was happening sitting down and certainly that firebrand who was infatuated with him would bite, and hard, on the hands trying to pull their strings.

Two minutes and ten seconds for a message to pass between the Wellington and the Peacemission. On a reducing count admittedly, but it would be shaving fractions of a second for a while yet. How long would it take for the Captain to consider his reply and then to have it formatted and dispatched? It was sure to be a basic message, probably rather blunt and to the point. Something along the lines of 'What the hell is this pile of shit in front of me and how long will it take you to clear it?'

/Well, perhaps a little more flowery than that. If he has a good Com Officer it will even be polite./

However the message was presented the Captain was surely not going to be happy with the answer, but the truth was, while it had taken only a few hours to create this delightful mess, it would take months to clean it up. Certainly it would take far longer to clean up than the Wellington had allocated time to complete its mission.

/And the clean up bill will be astronomical. I'll give them a good price, considering I made the mess in the first place, but those bastards incited this situation and they never compensated me adequately for the Peacemillion. Tight fisted bastards would have been in all sorts of shit if I hadn't shoved her down the Libra's arse and they were not at all interested in reimbursing me in full. Still, I will give them a discount. Maybe just a little one./

If, that was, he succeeded in getting out of this with no one the wiser to his part in the inundating debris now beginning to choke the space lanes.

Did he feel the least bit guilty for making this mess and charging the ESUN for clean up costs? No… well, yes… but no. And it was not really for their tight fiscal policy either, though that did factor in to the equation. Yes, he did make the mess but it was an action, an inhumane action, by the ruling body for the Earth Sphere that had necessitated his decision to take this action. Had they not made the decisions leading to this situation then he would not have acted as he had, so no, he was not inclined to beat himself up over charging the ESUN the cost of the clean up.

Additional funds in the Sweeper coffers might keep the politicians from building another ship that could too easily be used as a war ship.

The trend out of engineering mobile suits and into the construction of space ships with heavy armour and bristling with weapons had not gone unnoticed. So many ships with a certain amount of fire-power needed to be constructed, yes, there were dangers out in space that had to be pursued and dealt with. There were real Raiders who decimated mining colonies and pirated goods and services and they needed to be stopped. He did not refute that, but he had witnessed enough in his life to know how easily the patrol ships were growing in size and weapons power.

The Wellington was only the first of ten such ships now under construction and Howard, through his many contacts, knew there were plans for a new series of ships. Ships that were bigger, stronger, faster… more heavily armed and armoured. Where did it stop?

At this point he could see how the future was shaping up. It would be the mobile suit wars all over again only this time the weapons would be larger, the fire-power more deadly, and more people would be killed if it was not controlled. The pacifist faction in the ESUN Council of Representatives was naïve, too untried to spot the currents moving so slowly beneath the surface. Three years was a lifetime in politics and there was a new round of elections coming up and Howard could see the pacifists would lose a few more people. Within six years he could see conflict brewing if something was not done to contain the rot.

And sometimes those who professed to be pacifists were anything but.

"Incoming communication from the Wellington."

His eyes flicked to the clock, noting the time it had taken. "Audio or video?"

"Audio, Howard."

"Lets hear it then."

"Peacemission, H65193P from ESUN 3051C Wellington. Captain Samson extends his greetings and requests information on the course, density, speed and source of the debris field."

Howard arched an eyebrow, musing that the Captain appeared to be the polite sort. The Captain 'requests', not demands, he mused. He knew enough of com officers to know a good one would take the measure of his or her Captain and couch all communications in the verbal style of that Captain. So when in a good mood Sampson would be the polite sort and that might make him easier to deal with.

He would extend every courtesy to the man and hope he would respond accordingly.

"Dispatch 'packet three' with the following message… and be sure to pretty it up for the polite Captain of the Wellington, Com. Message is as follows… Captain Sampson, be advised the extent of the debris field is unknown at this time and the source of the field is as yet unconfirmed. The suspected origin is near Earth orbit, debris from the battle with Libra. And do stress the 'suspected', Com. Advise the Wellington reduce speed and await further information."

Packet three contained the relevant information on the debris field, incomplete data at this time but sufficient to make it clear to the reader that the field was extensive and contained some larger pieces. If the man had a care for his ship and her crew then Howard expected to see the Wellington reduce her speed significantly in the next few minutes. It would not take long for the Captain to look over the information, combine it with the data his own crew would had gathered since entering drone range, and make his decision.

"Message has been dispatched to the Wellington."

Howard glanced at the clock again and grunted softly. It all came down to timing. He dared do nothing else other than give the man time to crunch the numbers. Very shortly now there would be another component in the making of the coffin for this mission to massacre the terra formers.

He knew enough about military protocol to know the ships Com Officer would be monitoring all radio frequencies and with the kind of equipment the Wellington could boast she would pick up on the soon to be incoming message from the Dark Side. The Sweeper ships would be monitoring the situation, watching and evaluating proceedings. There would shortly be an incoming communication from either the Dark Side or the Miss Conception and the Wellington would hear it.

He had earlier designated the radio frequencies and degree of security the ships were to use while the Wellington was in the vicinity. He couldn't make it too easy for them, of course, but he would not make it exactly hard either. After all, he wanted them to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Incoming message from the Dark Side. Video content."

Ah. Showtime.

"On main screen."

"Howard, the trajectory of the debris field is forcing us to get closer to Mars than we would like. I've discussed the latest scan results with Bryce and we are in agreement it would be of benefit to both of us to enter an orbital trajectory for the far side of the planet. The scans from here suggest we have some big pieces of garbage heading our way. Additional to the danger to the Dark Side and the Miss Conception the latest projections for the pull of the planet's gravity suggest the terra forming stations on the planet will be within the fallout zone. We are aware of the alert that was issued regarding Mars at this time, but our drones detect no ships are in orbit over the Domes. We believe the danger is past; although to date our hails to the Terra Forming Base have not been answered. There will not be sufficient time to send a shuttle down to the bases before the first wave of the debris field comes through, so we will take up geosynchronous orbit over the terra forming domes and use our guns to take down as much of the big stuff as we can. We estimate that most of the debris should burn up in the atmosphere, but the bigger pieces are questionable at best. We should be able to decrease the size of the pieces, if not outright destroy them, reducing the danger of the domes being penetrated. As soon as a reasonable gap in the debris field can be detected I'll risk sending a shuttle down to the planet to check on the situation; if we have not heard from them in the meantime with an all clear and report of the situation. Our expected E.T.A into geosynchronous orbit is two hours and seven minutes. I'm forwarding the results of the survey of this flank of the debris field for you to correlate to your flanks information. Dark Side out."

And nicely done, Howard mused. He nodded his head slowly, considering the message critically. It all sounded pleasingly plausible and that was what they had to do to make this mission a success. Making it all plausible was their key. The question now was what would the Wellington's Captain decide to do?

For forms sake, as a courtesy between one Captain and another, he needed to contact the Wellington and advise her of the latest development. If the man was a decent sort he would slow the ship given the new evidence of the extent and content of the debris field.

—

2nd March AC 198

Wellington ESUN 3051C

Time: 08:30

Sampson

"… Captain Sampson, be advised that at this time the full extent of the debris field is unknown. Preliminary investigations suggest the source of origin of the field may be near Earth orbit; namely debris from the battle with the Space Fortress Libra. I suggest at this time the Wellington reduce speed and await further information as it becomes available. Information packet included contains the known data on the field to date. Peacemission out."

Carefully neutral expression, do not so much as twitch to suggest a reaction to the missive.

While he could not say he was exactly a happy man he could not, in all honesty, allow himself to express reaction to the contents of the Peacemission's communiqué. Somehow, out of nowhere, a miracle had been gifted to him. A miracle had given him the perfect out to save his crew and his suffering conscience.

He was not a religious man, nor was he the superstitious sort, nor was he prone to ignoring a gift horse when one was presented to him at a lean time.

The packet that had been encoded into the message was now being decoded, running through the computers and just now beginning to be displayed on the main screen as information they could readily interpret. His navigation and engineering Commanders were focused on that wealth of numbers and letters, lines and flickering blobs of light, studying the data to confirm or refute the debris field presented an unreasonable danger to the ship.

Any obstacle that presented itself as an unacceptable risk to the safety of his ship and crew would be acceptable cause for him to back away from the mission. If they would just confirm it; if they came back to him with the verdict that field could and would damage the ship, and potentially endanger the lives of his crew, then and only then would he have a viable reason to abandon the mission.

Only then did he need not trouble his crew with the barbarity of their orders. He resisted the shaking deep within him that threatened to rise up and make his hands tremble. He was the Captain, the man who held responsibility for the lives and well being of his crew, and he could not be seen to falter in the face of adversity.

What God who lurked out here in the dark of space had been watching over them and decided to take a hand? He was not really a religious man, but regardless he had been praying for a miracle. Not believing for a second that he might get one, but he had prayed for it, regardless.

Here it was, the perfect miracle.

"Captain, the Peacemission is receiving an encoded communication from another ship."

Turning his attention from the data streaming across the screen he approached the com officer. "Helm, do we have any additional ships within range of the drones?"

"Negative Captain, nothing registers large enough to be a ship on any of the drone's sensors."

Glancing once more up at the streaming data Sampson sucked on his lower lip unconsciously, considering the new information.

"You can decode it, Com?"

"Working on it, Captain. It's a short pulse transmission… intensely packed, high speed communications. Our own equipment could do no better. Computers are accessing the data stream now."

He waited in silence, leaning his hip against the console as he looked between the flickering lights on the communications board to the huge screen displaying information of their obstructed flight trajectory. It took time for the mechanics, both human and machinery, to chew over the information and he was normally patient with the elapsed time required for decoding such data, but this was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a normal day.

The com officer's fingers flew efficiently over the keys, refining the data, adjusting minute details until she leaned back in her seat, glancing up at him.

"Transmission decoded, Sir. It's embedded video stream with an inserted data package."

"Show me the video."

"Aye, Sir."

Deft fingers flew over the keys and a small screen to the right of the woman flickered to life and he leaned forward slightly, focusing on the screen. He was an older man, not unhandsome… distinguished, Sampson supposed, and he looked worried.

"Howard, the trajectory of the debris field is forcing us to get closer to Mars than we would like. I've discussed the latest scan results with Bryce and we are in agreement it would be of benefit to both of us to enter an orbital trajectory for the far side of the planet. The scans from here suggest we have some big pieces of garbage heading our way. Additional to the danger to the Dark Side and the Miss Conception, the latest projections for the pull of the planet's gravity suggest the terra forming stations on the planet will be within the fallout zone. We are aware of the alert that was issued regarding Mars at this time, but our drones detect no ships are in orbit over the Domes. We believe the danger is past; although to date our hails to the Terra Forming Base have not been answered. There will not be sufficient time to send a shuttle down to the bases before the first wave of the debris field comes through, so we will take up geosynchronous orbit over the terra forming domes and use our guns to take down as much of the big stuff as we can. We estimate that most of the debris should burn up in the atmosphere, but the bigger pieces are questionable at best. We should be able to decrease the size of the pieces, if not outright destroy them, reducing the danger of the domes being penetrated. As soon as a reasonable gap in the debris field can be detected I'll risk sending a shuttle down to the planet to check on the situation; if we have not heard from them in the meantime with an all clear and report of the situation. Our expected E.T.A into geosynchronous orbit is two hours and seven minutes. I'm forwarding the results of the survey of this flank of the debris field for you to correlate to your flanks information. Dark Side out."

The sounds of the working bridge seemed loud to him as he considered the frozen image on the screen. He fought to keep his hands and voice steady, to remain the consummate professional in the sight of his crew.

"Get me information on the Dark Side and the Miss Conception."

There were ships just two hours from Mars orbit? Two hours! On the far side of the planet, so not within range of even the most outer of the Wellington's drones as yet. Two hours… there was no way, even with a miracle of the kind he certainly did NOT want, that he could get the Wellington into Mars orbit to head off those ships.

The mission, to all intent and purpose, was now dead. Not even the politicians back on Earth who were backing the mission would be able to deny the Wellington was not at fault for failing to comply with the mission parameters.

There was a God. There really was a God… and he must not shake, sag with relief or, unthinkably, burst into tears of relief.

There was a God. He would bow to the evidence and become a believer in a higher Being of benevolent nature.

By the book. No time yet to collapse and be relieved. He had to make certain of the facts first. He could not afford not to do it all by the book.

"Decode the data package and pass it on to Navigation and Engineering."

"Aye, Sir."

All the hours of sleeplessness he had endured since being assigned the mission. All the hours, the days he had lived with the fear of what he had been ordered to do. All of the heartache, the soul searching… Could he do it? Could he massacre thousands to cover up an operation doomed to failure before it had begun?

They would have failed, he was sure. Marquise, Peacecraft, what ever you wanted to call the man, he had not earned his reputation for no reason. And Noin, she was no slouch from her record. The fact the alarm had gone out on Raiders attacking Mars could not be denied and was the proof of his fears.

It was… over.

He felt numb inside. The relief was simply too great for him to process and he fought to keep himself steady, not moving from where he leaned against the computer console. He just needed to make certain those few officers who knew the details of the mission were aware of the impossibility of completing it. By the book until it could not be doubted by anyone on board and then…

He would call in those officers and apprise them of the situation and when he could think straight again he would further advise them to give thought to their new situation. But he had time to work out the complexities of that. The crew should be safe in their ignorance and there were only half a dozen or so officers on the ship who might be considered a danger to those who had instigated the mission.

There would be time enough for them to decide how best to preserve their individual hides.

He wanted a stiff whisky desperately, but not now. He would permit himself to indulge in just one dram when the situation allowed. Just one, to celebrate that he need not lose human decency and become something he had despised during the war. A tool that obeyed without question, that gave no thought to right or wrong, just obeyed orders and perpetrated atrocities. That was what he had been in danger of becoming.

He had a bottle, twenty years old of Scotland's finest in his cabin. He had been saving it for a special occasion and this… this miracle warranted that designation. He could celebrate the successful termination of a mission before he needed to open it to drown his sorrows over abject butchery.

Would he, in the end, have given in to the pressures of his position and obeyed those instructions? Would he have abandoned all sense of decency and humanity?

He could only hope not.

"Captain! Incoming message from the Peacemission. Video content."

Jerked out of his thoughts he straightened his spine, glancing down at the officer.

"On the main screen, com."

In deference to the information scrolling across the main screen the com officer split the screen display, allowing the Navigation and Engineering Officers to continue their evaluation of the data. The thin face with its heavy sunglasses and pointed goatee that filled the remaining half of the screen was instantly memorable. Sampson could see in the deep craggy lines of this old man's face that he had lived a full life and, whatever his age might be, he was sharp of whit.

"Name's Howard and I Captain the Peacemission. I'm forwarding you the latest information on the debris field. Given the information it contains I suggest you change your course, Wellington, and reduce your speed. The gravity field of Mars is beginning to have an effect, displacing and dispersing the debris and causing collisions amongst the larger fragments. It's becoming harder to chart the largest pieces' course and speed, and their effects on the general make up of the field. As it approaches Mars we expect the effects to be magnified. There are two Sweeper registered ships in the path of the field making for the far side of Mars. They will attempt to destroy, at the least deflect, the larger pieces of debris in an effort to preserve the Mars Terra Forming Station. We are aware of the mayday call sent from Mars, but the ships have detected no space ships in orbit around the planet. We are assuming the Raiders have left ahead of the field. There is insufficient time for the ships to despatch a shuttle to either of the two domes to determine the condition of the station. A shuttle will be dispatched when conditions improve enough to safely descend to the planet. Peacemission H65193P, out."

Well then, the Captain of the Peacemission had put in an appearance. A curious old bird, one who had lived an interesting life from the ingrained lines marking his face. The glasses hid the eyes but he was fairly sure of what he would find there if he could see beneath the glasses. The fiery gaze of a bird of prey that would make little mistake in sizing up its prey.

Howard? It would pay to find out what he could of the man, that would give him a better idea of what he faced in the immediate future, but for now…

"What can you tell me, Mr. Darish?"

His First Officer had been consulting with the Engineering Chief and Navigations Officer, pouring over the readouts, evaluating the data. The man stiffened and following a final moment's consultation, Darish straightened and snapped a smart salute to his Captain. The hand dropped from the salute to sweep over the navigation computer.

"The data appears to be accurate with our own findings at this time, Captain. The Wellington is likely to sustain considerable damage given prolonged exposure to the debris field."

"Considerable damage, Mr. Darish? Would there be danger to the integrity of the hull and the ships ability to sustain the crew's life support requirements?"

Now that was putting his officer on the spot but he had to be certain. He could not leave it to doubt, too many people knew he was not en armoured of the mission's parameters.

With ships only two hours out from Mars orbit the Wellington might as well be dead in the water, the mission was dead there alone. But idiot politicians needed things spelt out four ways to Sunday before they understood they could not have their way.

"Heavy damage is likely to be sustained and there is a sixty percent probability the Wellington might sustain a direct hit to the engines, which could impede full function and leave us exposed to further damage."

So be it.

Justification.

But wait, just a few seconds more. Try to look stoic, the cameras don't miss a thing and they will be pouring over the video record before they clear us of blame for a failed mission. Just a few seconds, evaluate the pros and cons…

"Bring the propulsion engines down to idle. Stop us one thousand kilometres from the defined designated edge of the debris field and stand alert for stray refuse. I want all the information your people can give me on that debris field. Extend every effort to identifying the source of the field beyond doubt. I want to know where it came from and what its primary makeup is. If it is from the battle three years ago there may be unexploded ordinance to contend with. Com, relay a message to the Peacemission. Thanks for the information and request updates regularly."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2010


	201. Chapter 201 Chapter 200

First up, my apologies for it taking so long to get the Alternatives chapter sorted out. Hopefully I can manage the next one a little more speedily. For those of you reading The Agency, I offer my apologies as to it being delayed because of the length of time it has taken me to work on Alternatives.

I do hope you enjoy the chapter.

Karina

-0000000000000000000000-

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 200/?

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

/... / thoughts

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 200

2nd March AC 198

Colony L1-0025 B [La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B ]

Shuttle PS 330AT

Time: 15:30 [approx Sanc time 14: 29]

Trowa

He would have felt better if he could have slept for a few more hours. Another hour, or better another three, would have wiped away the lingering exhaustion and placed him in a better frame of mind for what lay ahead. At least the sleep he had managed to garner had been blessedly free of the echoes and horrors of nightmare. He had feared giving in to the need to sleep, much as his body had been desperate for it, worried it would prove his downfall and be a mistake he would awaken from screaming.

That would have been embarrassing, to put it mildly.

The Preventers single persons quarters was overrun with bevies of scrambling operations teams, harried office staff and excessive quantities of security personnel installing additional security measures. Due to the need to designate, find, and set up accommodations for the officers and internal departments deprived of their usual stamping ground; their usual accommodation no longer serviceable due to the explosion. It would have been just wonderful if he had awoken screaming his head off.

That would have attracted unwanted attention to him. He almost laughed at how much of an understatement 'unwanted' was. He was not inclined to explain to anyone, least of all office workers who had no concept of the after effects of high adrenaline action, why he was screaming his head off about fire, bodies in alleys and Christ only knew what else.

Somewhere in that panicked moment between waking and sleep there was sure to be a glimpse of long gone Gundams, long dead people and… No, best not to dwell.

Pressing a hand that seemed too cold for his temperature controlled environment to his eyes in hopes of blotting out the sight of the cabin, he rested his head back against the seat rest and considered trying to get comfortable enough to gain just a little more sleep in transit. Now that he was on the shuttle in time for departure there was really no need to remain alert.

He had some free time in which he could indulge himself as he saw fit and resting seemed like it should be right up on the top of his list of priorities. His body ached worse than ever, the chance to lie down and sleep earlier having given already sore muscles the chance to stiffen to the point where waking brought him to the realisation of just how much his abused body did not want to move.

Even the prospect of a steaming hot shower and languishing beneath the pounding, massaging hot jets was barred to him, and he would have given anything to have enjoyed such a shower before he had settled to sleep. It might have helped ease the pain and loosen up his muscles, but the regen gel and the dressings covering the more serious of his wounds were not waterproof. For the next few days at least, perhaps for as long as a week, he would need to content himself with a thorough wash down of the parts of his anatomy he could comfortably reach.

It would have been much more fun having a hand wash down if Quatre had been the one doing the scrubbing for him. Just another reason why he was unhappy with the events of the past 24 hours.

Perhaps, if Quatre could find the time, he might join him?

/Who am I kidding? There's shit hitting the fan there no less than it is here. Even Quatre can't stop the wind from blowing./

It was as well he healed relatively quickly and the regen gel on his back would speed along the healing of his wound. He had the distinct feeling he would not have a long time in which to indulge sore muscles and scraped skin, and he could only hope his feet would recover quickly. He just hoped whatever he could feel coming had nothing to do with fire.

He had had enough of fire haunting his dreams.

"Chameleon."

Well, there would be plenty of time for him to rest once they launched. It would take them upwards of five hours to reach the L2 cluster and his destination.

He lowered his hand, opening his eyes and inclining his head just enough to enable him to observe the agent crouched in the doorway to the cockpit. The man was watching him with an expressionless face, well aware of what had occurred during the early hours of the morning and why he was the one piloting the shuttle and not Trowa.

Truth be told, Trowa would have preferred to pilot the machine himself, but he was a realist. Why put himself through that trial when there were others who were more than capable of doing the job for him and, therefore, allow himself to rest while he could? The investigation to come would require all of his attention and resting on the flight to the L2 cluster made a great deal of sense. Besides, Griffon had been adamant he rest while he could and his medical report had still been on prominent display on the man's desk at their last meeting.

Trowa prided himself on being smart enough to know when not to rock the boat.

"We will be launching for the L2 cluster in ten minutes. Griffon sent a message to say he will forward additional information during transit, as it becomes available."

"Understood."

The agent inclined his head and retreated back into the cockpit, leaving Trowa to his own devices. Once the shuttle was in transit he would open the mission file and review the available data. All he could do was hope he could find something he had not recognised as being of importance on the first, second or third read through of the report. He knew precisely the information contained in the written report and what data was on the disc… and it was not enough.

It would fall to the investigation team to fill in the copious quantities of gaps in the data and make sense out of chaos.

They lacked so much information and what they did know was seemingly insignificant and full of dead ends, but it was all they had to go on and all he could do was hope Griffon and his team could come up with something else to help. If this was all they could glean from the evidence awaiting detailed forensic examination then the investigation would go nowhere fast.

To him, and he knew he was prejudice, the whole thing stank of Romefeller.

The kind of expertise required to leave so little in the way of viable evidence and clues spoke of a frightening efficiency. It was very professional in its simplicity. Simple. Neat. Thorough. The more thought he put into the matter the more it seemed to him there was a link between the young man murdered in the alley and the assassin who had blown apart the building in which that young man's body awaited detailed examination.

All he needed to convince himself to speak his suspicions as to the cause behind the incidents was the confirmation of a single computer chip to be found within the body of the assassin or the murder victim. Just one of them would be proof enough for him, but if they found a chip in both… If both of them proved to be chipped… The body of the young man, whilst being damaged in the explosion and resulting fire, had not been destroyed beyond use.

Why would Romefeller be hunting their own? Had Preventers lost such a perfect opportunity to gain inside information on what Romefeller was doing manipulating the genetic make up of the human race? Had they come so close and unknowingly lost their link?

Was Romefeller all about genetically modifying the human species to craft the perfect soldier and if so… was there another plan afoot to gain control of the Earth Sphere?

There were no Gundams this time around and who was the enemy anyway? He had no proof, he could not point a finger at any individual and say 'You'. Who the hell were they supposed to fight?

He was afraid he would, in the coming days, learn there was more to what he had assumed Romefeller to be than he had ever thought. It was too easy to underestimate a person let alone an entire organisation that existed largely in the shadows. What he did know was that there was more to Romefeller than the very public group of politicians the world knew.

Ignorance could be bliss, but it was a dangerous thing. Ignorance and innocence. While the bulk of the ESUN could enjoy the luxury of indulging in both conditions, Preventers could not. There was no choice, Preventers had to know. It was their job to stand between the people and those who sought to dominate their society. It was Preventer's job to protect the peace and you could protect nothing if you knew precisely nothing.

Glancing at the slowly but relentlessly moving hands of the clock set above the cockpit door, he sighed softly. The assassin's body was due for a detailed autopsy in another thirty minutes. Griffon's medical team had had to wait for the use of the colony's Medical Examiner's facilities and the Preventer's Chief had not been happy with the delay.

With each passing minute the trail they sought to piece together grew progressively colder. With each hold up dealing with bureaucracy and petty bitching from other organisations Preventer needed assistance from… it must reach a point where they would be unable to continue the investigation effectively if, indeed, Romefeller were involved in the incident.

If the trail grew too cold.

How many Romefeller operatives or affiliates had been involved in the delays that had occurred in Griffon gaining access to the facilities they needed to further their work? There was sure to be one or two Romefeller minions across the board, causing just enough trouble, just enough delays, to allow them to bury any links they might have needed to hide from scrutiny.

/Shit./

He was becoming a paranoid bastard! It was, in effect, only a few hours after the disaster and the law enforcement agencies of the colony had their own cases that could not simply be summarily dismissed to make room for Preventers to use their facilities. Everything else did not stop for the convenience of Preventers at the drop of a hat. There didn't have to be anything sinister involved in the delay other than overbooked facilities and overworked people.

The men and women in charge of the genetic laboratories discovered on Earth had proven efficient at covering their trail. The Preventers team investigating the accidental discovery had learned their opponent's efficiency the hard way. There had been very little information gleaned in that investigation, just enough to ensure that Une put out warnings to all of her branch heads and to certain agents working directly under her control to be on the look out for any possible links.

Une would be after every iota of information they could gather on this incident if he could prove a link between the boy in the alley and the explosion of their branch on the colony mere hours later. He was sure the link was there, but he needed to keep in mind the possibility that there might not be an actual link… and he could not tell her he had dreamed the link.

The woman could be open minded if she chose, but that open minded? He doubted it. No, he needed physical, tangible evidence.

Scrubbing his hands over his face he stifled a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was going around in circles again, wearing himself out over his inability to fess up to what had happened. But there was only one person he would admit that to and Quatre was not present.

He was not inclined to get himself included on the medical sections 'to be psych tested' sheet.

His destination was the L2 cluster, not Earth. While it was not his ideal choice of destination, what little in the way of clues they had gathered pointed directly to the cluster. Specifically to two colonies, L2-0397 and L2-0013.

The contents of the bag stashed at the shuttle port had provided them with little information that was, at this time, productive to the investigation. They needed forensic examinations and testing to be performed to help them understand what they had found, and what they could not see initially. But there were a few things they could work on whilst waiting for the forensic unit to find them the hidden clues.

In an envelope in the base of the bag they had found a ticket in the name of Harold Arness for a shuttle flight which had been due to depart the colony within forty five minutes of the explosion at Preventer Headquarters. Trowa had no doubt that had been the intended departure of the assassin had he made it to the shuttle port. He could have waited out the chaos that would have delayed the flights of all shuttles departing from the colony… he would have had sufficient time to return to the shuttle port following the hit, even with the delay Trowa's interference had caused he would have made the check in in time.

They had also found a ticket stub for a flight that had arrived at the colony from L2-0013 a little before midnight of the night of the attack, thereby clearly indicating the L2 colony cluster to be of interest to their investigation.

The name on the ticket purchased on L2-0013 had been different but subsequent investigation had proven the passenger's identity. Griffon had called their L2 offices and ordered the security footage for the flight from L2-0013 be forwarded to him for examination. Whilst they had been waiting they had checked the footage for the flights arrival on L1-0025. When the L2 footage had arrived they had confirmed the identity of the passenger they had been interested in as their assassin in disguise.

The bag had contained three sets of identity papers and disguises to match the appearance of the provided false papers. Simple disguises in the guise of hair pieces, make up and contact lenses to change eye colour.

Handling the false identity papers, Trowa had been forced to wonder if the documents were, indeed, forgeries. Someone as resourceful as Romefeller's administration could easily acquire legitimate documentation for their operatives without resorting to expensive forgeries in dark and nameless corners of the colonies. The papers were very well crafted indeed and a false identity was much more believable if the papers were legitimately produced and approved government issue.

Romefeller had their fingers in the right places to manipulate such a subterfuge.

Then there was the disguises themselves. Two sets of trousers, boots and shirts that were hopelessly generic, off the rack purchases freshly laundered in one case, the second set of clothing worn though not dirty or shabby. That set of clothing matched the set of clothes worn by their man as he arrived on the colony.

Folded in the worn shirt they had found a small optical case, custom designed to store three sets of contact lenses. There was some small hope that they might find some record of the manufacturer on at least one of the sets of contact lenses. Trowa decided he would not hold his breath but he would never the less hope for some small break in the investigation arising from it. The green and blue sets were designed simply to change the wearer's eye colour to facilitate a disguise, but the third set of lenses… Trowa was hopeful they might be able to track down the maker of those specialist lenses.

The lenses were a complex piece of optical engineering involving nano technology that was not available in most laboratories. The rarity of the tech was their greatest hope of finding the source, and so rare was the tech that Trowa, at first, had not believed he was seeing 'those' lenses. It had taken a demonstration to get Griffon to believe him and to convince himself that he was actually handling the rare items.

The lenses were clear, as one would expect for a prescription set of contact lenses, but it was only when worn did one begin to understand the significance of the lenses and the tech involved in crafting them. This was technology rigidly controlled and were it not for his rather colourful past he might not have realised the significance of the find. The sensor chip in the base of the optical containers had given him the key and he had connected the dots and not wanted to believe his own supposition.

No one, not even Griffon had believed him when he had initially floated the idea. They had not wanted to believe it, particularly Griffon who had more than an inkling as to how rare these items were and what the significance of the find meant. A simple test had proven the point though and they, including himself, had to believe.

He had donned the clear lenses, attaching the micro ship behind his ear to activate nanotech and make the connection to the circuitry embedded in the lenses. He had hardly dared to breathe when before his eyes, and only to his eyes of the three other men in the room at the time, the grid had materialised. He had known then he was not mistaken and it was a simple matter to get Griffon to meet his eyes and for the lenses to 'read' the optic pattern of the man. Trowa had then used the optic recording to open sealed files of the man's computer, deceiving the optical scanner on the machine that the authorised user was requesting access.

The lenses could scan, 'read' and duplicate the unique configuration of something as complex as the human eye. The wearer of the lenses would be passed through any security feature that relied on optical scanning. To Trowa it was another indication they were dealing with Romefeller and, if not that organisation that had featured so strongly in the past war, then with another organisation equally as powerful and perhaps more dangerous given its unknown designation.

It would be another three, perhaps four hours before he would receive the results of the post mortem on the assassin he had failed to take down.

He would review the contents of the bag in detail, trying to find anything, no matter how small it might be, that he had perhaps missed initially and which might lead to a clue. It did not matter if he read the list a dozen times, it had to be done and it would give him something to do on the flight to L2.

The ticket stub from L2-0013 and the unused ticket to L2–0397. Those tickets were leading him to the L2 cluster and there might be more to learn once forensics were finished with their painstaking examination. There had been a checklist, a computer printout, generic type set, neatly ticked off in black ink and containing every weapon they had found in the assassin's possession. To go with that list there had been a variety of antistatic bags used for the storage and safe transport of weapons containing microchips and electronic circuit boards generally classed as 'delicate'.

The three sets of identity papers were possibly, or not, forged. The optic case with the three sets of contact lenses and control chip folded neatly amidst the generic clothing. A small, unmarked metal key that, curiously, was found to be magnetically charged was found in the very base of the bag. He was curious about the key, but he would have to wait on Griffon's team and hope they could find a match amidst the thousands of keys contained in their data base. Was there a reason the key was magnetically charged, or was it just an accidental charging acquired somewhere in transit? Had the key passed through a strong enough magnetic field to pick up the charge and, if so, where? Was it significant or not?

There was an assortment of credit chips, the kind that were generally given as gifts and were useable at specific department stores, which had possibly paid for the generic clothing found in the bag. A blank com device still in its packaging, indicating the pre paid system so popular in the poorer colonies was yet to be activated. They could try to track down the place of purchase but it was possible they might not learn much. If purchased on L2 the records of the purchase might never be found, given book keeping on some of the L2 colonies was notorious for its inaccuracies-if any records were kept at all. There was no receipt, of course, but the serial numbers might provide them with something useable.

Personally he would not hold his breath on even a quarter of their clues leading them to a resolution.

/The ticket stub indicated he came in on the shuttle from L2-0013, and the security footage confirms that. It's a surprise, really. That colony is a decrepit piece of trash that has been condemned for the last thirty years. Condemned, but it hasn't been evacuated of its citizens as yet, though it is long overdue to be sent into the moon./

And was that, in itself, a clue? Was it possible Romefeller were using the old colony for their clandestine work? L2-0013 was pretty much a forgotten colony, though it still boasted a limited shuttle service. Trowa had performed a quick preliminary check on the status of the colony and learned its listed reason for the delay in scrapping the colony was the continued outbreak of the past wars and dissension between Earth and the Colonies.

The records stated the colony was condemned as unsafe and had been slated for demolition, the first stage of which was to deport and relocate its citizens. The second stage was to strip from the colony any recyclables and finally the third stage would be to set the colony on a course to impact on the dark side of the moon. His checks on the status of that listing revealed the colony had been listed for demolition for more than twenty years and a series of reprieves had kept it in service to present day.

Delays with the demolition process due to protests from citizens objecting to being relocated, errors in paperwork, interference from the war effort… all worked to see the condemned colony in use to the present day. He supposed it was not really surprising or overly suspicious. During the war who had had time to consider wrecking a colony when there were other more important matters to attend to? And of course the citizens might have objected to being forcibly relocated and worked actively to stop the demolition and their deportation. Court challenges might have gone on for years.

/Not surprising, I suppose. Not exactly suspicious. But I wonder if that should not have been my first destination?/

Where had the assassin come from? L2-0013? Or had that been merely a stop over? A contact point, perhaps? It would require his attention at some time and if L2-0397 proved to be a dead end, as well it could, then he would move on.

Griffon had decided his point of investigation should initially be the unused ticket to L2-0397. The assassin would have been going there for a reason, whether it was to go to ground in the slums or to move on to another job, or use the colony as a stepping stone on another leg of his escape plan… well, that remained to be seen. He would investigate as best he could and, if the trail appeared to be cold, then he was to make his way to L2-0013 and see what he could find under whatever rocks he might find there to turn over.

The shuttles engines were rising in power, a subtle vibration making itself known. It would not be long now before they left the colony and he gripped the folder a little tighter as it slipped in response to the vibration.

/There has to be something in the bag that will lead me to the source./

The requisition form listed the weapons for the hit, all neatly listed in alphabetical order, all neatly ticked off, ammunition included. Just the names and specific type of the required weapons, nothing more. No details on the weapons origins for Preventer to follow; that would have made life too easy… and been too careless for a professional hit.

/And this was a professional hit./

The forensics unit assigned to the case would work on every individual item found in the bag, from the dust bunny caught in the lining to the clothing brought from some nameless store. Just a partial fingerprint might be enough to lead them somewhere. Perhaps a hair or eyelash fallen into the bag unnoticed would be enough for them to work their miracles.

He could hope, but he would not hold his breath. These people were good enough to make very few mistakes. The assassin had damn near killed him and had got the shot off to succeed at his assigned task despite Trowa's best efforts… and he had put in his best effort in trying to stop the man. There was no reason to believe those who backed up their killer, who provided him with the means to be so effective, would be less professional than the killer himself.

There had been a few letters and numbers scrawled messily across the back of the ticket to L2 0397. The arrangement of numbers and letters had the potential to be a code, and if it proved to be so, then it would hopefully be broken by the agents in decryption Griffon had tossed that bone to. Hopefully they would come up with something.

LA 226 L9 LI3 DS

Just one more thing for him to puzzle over while he waited to arrive on L2-0397.

At one point in his investigation he should visit the stores for which the credit chips had been issued on the colony. Griffon already had agents working on that, but he might try his own hand. It might help to get a feel for the areas frequented, if not for the man himself. Trowa had, after all, the best idea of the assassin's psych set. He was the one who had tested himself against the man and that insight into the assassin and his reactions might give him an advantage; but he would not hold his breath on it proving materially productive.

Someone else, on the set up or back up crew, might have done the purchasing.

/Too many variables. That is the problem with the lack of material evidence we have to follow./

All in all, there was not much to go on, though the list of possibilities at first might appear to be hopeful. It was only when one sat down and considered the available information that one realised just how lacking they were in tangible evidence. These people did not leave them much to go on.

/But we have leads and being defeatist early on in the investigation will serve no purpose. I'm tired, irritable and I ache. That does not lend itself to clear thinking./

To be honest, other than the possible code there was not much. Their biggest hope might be the contact lenses, though given how rare they were the organisation that acquired them would be sure to cover their tracks. But the intricacies involved in manufacturing the lenses to scan another person's eye print and project it for a scanner to perceive was their best bet. There might be something to be gleaned from the shuttle terminals, he certainly would not be holding his breath on that though. There might be a name to be gleaned for the purchase of the credit chips, but he highly doubted that would produce results-any names would be sure to be false.

/L2-00013. That is the odd point in the list of possible links that might lead us to something useful. It could well hold the key. Heading to 00397 might have just been to catch a shuttle to another destination, its one of the busiest shuttle ports in the ESUN and it would be easier to pass unnoticed there. No assassin worth his salt would make it easy to chase him down and there is nothing like a big terminal full of generic clothing, or a busy shuttle port with decrepit old freighters coming and going all the time in which to lose oneself./

The possibility of fingerprints or DNA samples from the bag had to be held in hope. All it would take was an eyelash, a piece of hair, flakes of skin… something from a human body. For the next few hours he was going to be incapable of any action other than keeping off his feet… blessed delight!... and reading over the report yet again. Some quality sleep would help matters along nicely.

His beaten up body was happy enough with the prospect of a lack of physical exertion. Resting would allow the regen gel to work without him pulling at his wounds, that would make the medics happy, and he would have to get his back checked before he made the trip to L2-0013. The sooner he could get this matter dealt with the sooner he could get his backside Earthside and renew his relationship with his lover… who would not like to see a raw wound and would only worry if he did.

Oh yes, Quatre was infinitely more pleasurable to dwell on than hunting assassins, Romefeller and illicit genetic laboratories.

/And Washington?/

Yes, Washington was something he would need to give some thought to. Just who was Washington and what was his significance to the assassin and the entire mess?

Perhaps the name of the genetic laboratory he was convinced was out there, somewhere in the colonies? A person or a place, perhaps even a ship. It held significance to the assassin and therefore it held significance to the investigation.

He tilted his head back as the vibration gained power, listening to the rising whine of the engines. On the panel above the cockpit door the warning light flashed amber and from reflex Trowa checked his seatbelt, ensuring the restraint was secure and tucked the folder behind his back until they were clear of the colony. Final clearances would now be exchanged between flight control and the pilot of the shuttle.

He should leave a message for Quatre explaining he would be delayed returning to Earth once they were underway. There was no hurry as communications were still sketchy with northern Europe. The storm had been devastating from the reports he had managed to catch and the clean up would take weeks. He only hoped Preventer could repair their communications relays with all speed.

He was sure he would have news for Une regarding genetic laboratories and Romefeller. Another few hours before he heard the report from the autopsy. Then he would know for sure.

/It would be nice if Quatre was free. I could do with some company./

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2010


	202. Chapter 202 Chapter 201

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 201/? Aphrodite

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 201

2nd March AC 198

Aphrodite

Time: 17:50 [time as for Station One / Approx Mars time = 10:22 / Approx Sanc time = 08:17]

Raydon

He was already becoming accustomed to the low rumble of the engines and the vibration felt through the deck plating. Within a matter of a few hours the powerful engines driving the ship through the vacuum of space were reduced in his consciousness to the level of white noise; a constant that was associated with 'safe' and 'normal'. By the next day he would barely register the engine's presence in his conscious awareness, though should the beat and timbre of the mechanics change for any reason he, like every other person on board, would instantly be alert to it.

Prior to his departure from Station One there had been no visions, no warning of trouble or danger during the flight to their fated rendezvous with history. He had faith in his people's abilities and he knew there should be no trouble, but in space, a most hostile environment, one could never be assured that something would not go wrong. All too often minor occurrences could be overlooked and in the long term could prove to be life threatening. He was never one to play fast and loose with his life or the lives of those who relied on him.

There was still a few minutes before the next delegation of officers and officials arrived to force his descent into discussions of the politics through which they must traverse. He was only too aware of the need to be alert to the vagaries of the political game and to keep his attention focused on the tasks at hand. So many people relied on the successful outcome of these discussions and he could not fail them. Important as it was in this quiet interlude, he could not keep his thoughts from wandering to the events taking place on distant planets.

Mars was bad enough; people were undoubtedly dying on the Red Planet. People he was unable to help who might have been spared had he forewarning of the disaster. Mars was bad, but what idiocy was being plotted out on Earth to further compound the situation?

Romefeller had always been a factional organisation. The figurative left hand fought a constant battle against the right hand. In Romefeller there were always sub plots in the offing; personal agendas and plots that were far from domestically oriented. Often one could discount the players who plotted to gain position and prestige for their kith and kin, but not always. Not always was it so easy. There were the grander schemes, schemes that caught up unrelated plotters and swept them along in the current. Plots that were supremely dangerous to life, limb and country; plots involving politics and/or business deals designed to shift the balance of power on a local scale.

Those were dangerous enough to be caught up in, but periodically there were the truly grand schemes. The grand designs that affected not merely the local areas of one or two countries, but the world as a whole and the colonies that orbited it. These grand designs were orchestrated and backed by the greater Romefeller organisation. The inner core of noble bloodlines of ancient breeding and dreamers of glorious schemes that intended to rule their fellow man in the glorious light of day. Lurking in the shadows was all very well for these schemers, until success brought them out of their shadowy shelters to show their faces to the conquered so that they might stand above them.

They were bad enough, but they were not the greatest danger.

It was the hidden Romefeller, the true heart of the organisation, that which had become legend even to most of the Romefeller families. It was that hidden core which was the greatest danger and which paradoxically, had many times in the past proven to be the greatest asset to mankind's survival. They who were as much a blessing as they were a curse, a blight on the future aspirations of true freedom

The hidden Inner Circle, the true Romefeller. These were the ones who schemed and plotted on the grandest of scales. Where others plotted to place themselves in power, this Inner Circle planned not for the one generation in their design but for two, five, ten generations… and longer. It was they who throughout history had ruled from the shadows.

It was always the one's who lurked in shadows that one needed to watch. Those who walked openly in the light of day were easily seen, easily monitored, most easily countered. Those who walked in the deepest darkness, who crept through shadow and used the night and ignorance to their advantage… They were the real danger one might suspect but never see, never be able to prove existed in the public eye.

They, Romefeller, the Inner Circle, were moving again.

It would not have been at the behest of the Inner Circle that the current peace was threatened by disruption. Even they knew mankind had to rest from war. No, it would not have been the Inner Circle hunting Milliardo and going so far as to order wholesale slaughter on Mars. To be certain they were capable of perpetrating such a massacre, and had done worse in the past without a moments regret for lost lives. But this time… This time it was not them.

The Inner Circle were precise, exact. They did everything with a purpose to relentlessly follow a grand design, and they were meticulous in their planning. Ruthless, yes, but reckless… No. And never sloppy in their execution.

They would never have made the mistakes that had marked this endeavour to snare the Prince of Sanc.

Had the massacre been at the behest of the Inner Circle who, undoubtedly, dearly desired to get their hands on the Peacecraft, then Milliardo would have been quietly and efficiently whisked from Mars without the need for military destroyers and wholesale slaughter. It would have been quick, surgically clean, and no one would have been the wiser. He had learned to have a great deal of respect for both the complexities and simplicities of the Inner Circle's machinations. If the capture and detainment of Milliardo was one of their operations the most glaring mistake would never have been considered.

The Dakkar system would not have been disabled and thousands of lives would not have been placed at risk because of it. Romefeller's Inner Circle did not make those kinds of errors, but they were certainly not above using the mistakes of others to their best advantage.

It would be a golden opportunity for them.

/Odds on by now they know where Milliardo is and exactly what is happening. With that knowledge they will have moved fast to secure him for their own purpose. In this fiasco the sheer distance involved is Milliardo's greatest safety./

They would be taking a hand in the mess and would milk the mistakes of others for every advantage they could wring from the situation. Not just one of their runaway children had resurfaced. Two thought to be dead and both proven to be hale and healthy. They wanted that blonde, Raydon knew. The Inner Circle wanted Milliardo as badly as they wanted him now that they knew he still lived and breathed and was intending to take a part on the very public stage. They would want Milliardo more than they wanted him because the blonde could be made to disappear far more easily than a President of the very public Station Alliance.

The whole thing could turn ugly very quickly.

There had been no warnings, no visions of catastrophic disaster from his Gifted co-workers on Station One. He had set his clairvoyants the task to be alert for any ripple effects, even the smallest ripple, which might be pertinent to the future of the Stations. He had included in his brief an alert for anything even remotely related to Mars, including an additional alert for the Princess of Sanc and the future meeting he was now en route to. It was all a tightly woven and complex knot and one event, no matter how small or innocent seeming, could be catastrophic.

He had taken the time to check through the forwarded reports prior to the first round of discussions so recently concluded and, thus far, nothing that concerned him greatly had been forwarded. The instances contained in the reports from three of his people, his best clairvoyants besides his own talent, had all shown themselves to be minor, low key events with few repercussions. Noting major had triggered his own talent either and he had learned long ago to have faith in his peculiar 'gift'.

But this was Romefeller they were dealing with. He could not afford to forget that for an instant. They could be glaringly obvious in their machinations, but they could do subtle too. They could start a single, finer than silk thread that would weave delicately into a complex tapestry that could take a dozen generations to produce a visible result. None of the psychics on Station One could see that far into the future to be of any possible help to them now. Nor could he.

Of course the events taking place on Mars were a major disaster and his people were coming up blank. There had been no hint of the trouble before its advent. That omission, the absence of warning for what was a large event, was more than worrying. There had to be a reason for that omission and, uncomfortably, it brought to mind his earlier musings of why none of his psychics, not even himself, could get a firm fix on Milliardo and his future thread of fate.

Fate. Horrible word. Horrible, deceptive word. Fate implied that they had no choice in how they lived their lives. He had already proven he could, and would, thumb his nose at what had been considered to be his fate.

Milliardo was like a blank spot in the grand design of the tapestry that was the future of mankind. Everyone, no matter how small they might think they were had a thread running through the tapestry that was the development of the human race and the civilisation they fashioned. Anyone, no matter how prominent their birth or how humble, affected the ebb and flow of the race. A clairvoyant, if he was sensitive enough, might see that influence and trace it and gain some foresight of a telling event.

Milliardo was different. He was much like a void into which anyone and anything in near proximity to him was inexorably sucked into becoming, in turn, unreadable.

The closest analogy that he could come up with was, frighteningly, a Black Hole. Anything that hit the event horizon of a Black Hole would be inexorably sucked in and through it, becoming a singularity within its yawning depths.

He had been informed on countless occasions by his companion Gifted that he was hard to read on the psychic plain. Milliardo, however, was more 'Black Hole' like than himself who, while he was hard to read was far less a mystery than Milliardo to the psychic eye.

Why should they have this 'blindness' in common and why should Milliardo be so much more 'invisible' than he? He was uncomfortably certain it had everything to do with Romefeller and its genetic manipulations. They both bore unique genetic markers. They were both of the same genetic series though years apart in genetic refinement, but still...

Well, there was room for doubt, he supposed, but it was definitely worth investigation. Was it possible for even Romefeller to create a genetic imprint, a complete gene set that was impossible for a psychic to predict events in their life? One who, impossibly, could shield the future threads of those in close proximity to him; none of the clairvoyants could read any future glimpse of Polnar or Giles. It was as though they did not exist and even using a personal article steeped in each man's individual 'emanations', none of the team could produce a result.

It was, if a single word had to be used to describe the possibility, frightening.

/Ah… Surely not possible. A gene set that is impossible to predict? Impossible to 'see' along a projected timeline. Impossible? If it was possible…/ The implications, given Raydon had some knowledge of the schemes of Romefeller in the past, was staggering. /What would they want it for? Why would you want someone, or an entire family line if it proved to be a passable gene, who could hide from your own 'eye'? Romefeller uses psychics. Why would they block their own vision? Perhaps… Protection? Protection against the abilities they themselves breed into their 'children'?/

That idea might well be plausible and would require additional consideration. To this day, even after all the years on the run from Romefeller, he was trying to determine what exactly it was Romefeller were so painstakingly breeding for. They were so meticulous about their bloodlines and since the days of direct genetic engineering they had plotted and planned the genetics of their families up to three generations in advance, subtly altering the desired gene sets until they attained exactly what they sought. Why?

There had been a lot of fuss over the artefact. He could not forget to include that in his consideration of the reasons that drove the organisation. There had been whispering in dark corners. Whispers that reflected fear. Fear that had made his time there worse as it had seemed, somehow, to be something to do with him.

'It' was dying.

It. Whatever 'It' really was.

Was it possible for a hulking great lump of crystal to actually be alive?

They had said it was alive, sentient, intelligent… important. During the days when he had been under their control, hidden away from the world and his family, they had spoken as though it was a living, thinking being, but… One thing he had sensed, whether its origin had been the crystal or from those who governed his life at that time, was that they really did not know what 'it' was.

What was so important about that particular piece of crystal to them that they obsessed the way they did over it's fate? There was, taking the thought further, the question of whether it was the crystal, or was it something else that they pursued and the crystal was merely a stepping stone. A way-point to something different, more important still and far beyond his understanding… and apparently well beyond his imagination even now?

He had thought he could claim a healthy and rather broad imagination, but for the life of him he could not come up with anything he could reasonably term 'credible' when it came to the crystal. He could think up quite a few outlandish scenarios, but to place the words credible, reasonable and possible…? No, those words did not apply to the vast majority of possibilities. The crystal and its possible uses required research and he had neither the means nor the time to so entertain himself.

Its internal light had noticeably dimmed during his years beneath the Inner Circle's control. He had been taken to 'familiarise' himself with the crystal often in those days. Two or three times a week after his first three years. The glow, somewhere between deep amber and golden, had dimmed during those years and the more light that faded from its matrix like structure the more his supervisors had obsessed with 'making him ready'. Before it was too late.

Was it now too late? It had been a long time since he had walked those hidden hallways. Had the crystal, whatever it had actually been, succumbed to time and decay? Was it dead-if it had ever actually been alive?

What exactly, he often found himself wondering, defined life? What defined intelligence?

/I think therefore I am?/

Pinching the bridge of his nose he stifled a sigh. So much for a few minutes to rest and gather his thoughts for the next session. There was simply no time to pursue that thought. Not at the moment. He needed more time and considerably more sleep before he delved into that mystery with serious intent to find resolution. In the present situation there was too much happening for him to spare the time and resources to pursue the thought. He could only hope that somewhere in the future, tragedy would not strike. The neglect of those questions now might prove, in the longer term, to be a rather large and serious mistake.

Given the events taking shape around him in the here and now, there was nothing he could do about it.

He was not gifted with super human abilities. He was not omnipotent. He could only deal with two or three crisis' at a time and have a reasonable hope of retaining control of the situation.

The Aphrodite was en route to a rendezvous that would, if they were successful, force progress on the ESUN and on the Station Alliance. This voyage was not, in the long term, about Milliardo Peacecraft and those who pursued him, but about the thousands of people who lived beyond the control of the ESUN who purported to have a sufficiently long arm to demand their loyalty and allegiance. It was not even about those poor souls who had died, and would die, on Mars because of the play of politics and personal gain.

How much territory did those who currently held the power in the ESUN want? Space was vast and there were more than sufficient resources for everyone to share and entertain prosperity and a bright future.

No, it was not about Milliardo, but it was about the future. The ESUN's future, the Station Alliance's future, the future's of those who even now were seeking beyond the Asteroid Belt, reaching out to Jupiter and Saturn and beyond.

They had to start somewhere and this was it. He had chosen to place his trust in Howard for more than merely solving the dilemma of what to do with an oncoming ESUN patrol vessel with instruction to incite massacre. He had requested the old Sweeper announce the location of the rendezvous within the next two days, leaving the exact release time up to the old man. It would take longer for the Station Alliance's representatives to reach the chosen coordinates than it would a delegation from the Earth's government. Each additional hour the Aphrodite travelled between now and the release of that information brought them that little bit closer to their meeting with destiny, and gave the Station's themselves a stronger degree of protection by hiding their locations.

The chance of the individual Station's locations being detected was miniscule and further reduced with each hour they travelled. The locations of the Stations would have to become public knowledge. It was inevitable as the whole meeting was about recognition and trade. To survive the Stations would need to trade; people, produce, goods and services. That was what surviving in the depths of space was all about, but for now obscurity amidst the debris of a failed planet was their greatest safety should events take a turn for the worst.

It gave him hope of wholly successful negotiations given there had been no warning of disaster from the psychics without whom the stations would not exist as they did. Station One and the other Stations in the alliance were havens for the outcasts of the ESUN and no one wished to lose what they had so painstakingly built. That, from the moment they had aired the broadcast, had to be his priority.

He would have loved nothing more than to order the Aphrodite onto a corrected course that would put them on line for a rendezvous with Mars but, space being the vast field it was, such would be a waste of time and resources. By the time the Aphrodite would arrived in Mars orbit the crisis would be months over. If there was one thing space had in vast quantities it was distance.

He needed to place his trust in the men who worked for him and the plans, sketchy at best as they were, he had made. If those plans came to fruition then Milliardo would be long gone from Mars before they could have been close enough to sight the red planet. The amusing curiosity about the vastness of space was that by travelling away from Mars now he would actually meet the Prince of Sanc sooner rather than later.

He winced at a resounding clang from the door, catching himself hunching in an effort to get away from the interruption when all he wanted to do was rest and think. There was nothing subtle about that knock announcing the next round of meetings, but a quick look up revealed it was not the ship's officers or his newly appointed Cabinet officials who disturbed him. The tall, stick thin man with the neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard inclined his head, settling his lanky frame down in a chair across from Raydon with a profound sigh.

"We need to talk."

An understatement, there was a hell of a lot for them to talk about, but there was a time and a place for such discussions and this was neither of those prerequisites. He did not need to say it, Hendricks knew it as well as he did, but the man was one of the few who could get him to listen and change his mind.

Given all that must be prepared for their meeting with the ESUN representatives in a few months time, for matters pertaining to the Gifted he knew they needed to pick the time and place for such discussions as best they could… and he had the horrible feeling the Training Master had determined that now was 'it'. Hendricks would have issued instructions they were not to be disturbed and his reputation alone would have warned everyone if they interrupted the meeting they might wish they had never been born.

So much for Maurice scheduling the meeting at an 'appropriate' time.

"I have given instruction for a light meal and energy drink to be delivered to you in thirty minutes. That should give us sufficient time to have a little talk. You will eat and drink even if you do so in the middle of the next round of discussions now slated to begin in twenty eight minutes. How Maurice puts up with you I do not know. The man is a saint."

Well he knew that! Disturbing as the thought was he was only too aware that he would be lost without the man. He would not admit to it though. Initially he had thought to regain his independent habits on this trip until the man had bulled his way onboard and calmly resumed his position as his… well… Gentleman's Gentleman, he supposed best described what Maurice was to him. That was how Maurice described himself, and who was he to argue? He could not deny that everything in his personal vicinity functioned smoother when the man was around.

"Time is wasting, Kristian."

"Has there been word from Haydon Giles… or 'of' him?"

The dark, greying hair was cut close to his skull and the beard was neat and closely trimmed to his strong jaw. His eyes were like onyx chips, slightly slanted denoting Asian ancestry somewhere in his pedigree. As always his fingernails were immaculately manicured, spotlessly clean and those strong fingers were settled on the table before him, relaxed, never betraying his thoughts or emotions through unnecessary movement.

"None of the Seer's or the Clairvoyants have had an alert, though that is hardly surprising if the man is with Peacecraft. Polnar too is untagged at this time. All that the team assigned to this case report at present is a general sense of unease. What of your own perceptions?"

He leaned back a little from the table, pressing his back into the reassuring solidity of the well cushioned seat. Shaking his head he dared to close his eyes and focus his perceptions… But there it was, that unmistakable 'impression' of a receding darkness, a gravity well seeking to suck him in… and, as he had every other time he had encountered it, he fled from it.

"Nothing."

"There can be little doubt, given the past attempts and what I just shared of your perceptions. It's the Peacecrafts influence."

He wished he did not agree with the assessment but he did. How could he not given his recent thoughts? It had always been like this when it came to anything involving Milliardo. Even the disaster at Libra had been 'sensed' as little more than an awareness of unease; of something straining, about to happen. Something that would generate change throughout the tapestry weave every Seer and Clairvoyant of any significant ability had sensed in the past. Not one of the registered talents at the stations or resident within the ESUN's sphere of influence could tag the actual event.

"We don't 'know' that, it has not been investigated, but it does appear likely there is something about Milliardo that… blanks or blocks… clairvoyance."

Hendricks shifted slightly in his seat, settling deeper, getting comfortable. The dark eyes were bright, observing him, his unique 'abilities' focused on Raydon as only a Training Master could.

"Have you heard the old fairytales and legends that speak of people who shape the world through the course of their natural lives with every decision they make?"

Raydon arched an expressive eyebrow, not attempting to hide his surprise at the comment. "Fated heroes? Oh please." He dismissed the notion with the wave of a hand. "Old wives tales and fairytales are not what we need."

"No? Perhaps it is exactly what we need. In this business of psychic development we can not afford to dismiss any information, even if it appears to be a flight of fancy or a fairytale. Without investigation how are we to know? The facts are undeniable as they stand. Milliardo Peacecraft has been involved in world shaping events on more than one occasion… and he has survived. Those instances where he was personally involved remained shielded from our psychics with the ability to 'see' and 'read' future event."

"I know. It is… uncommon."

"You amongst others tagged his 'gift' as being that of a clairvoyant when he was on Station One, I believe?"

"Yes."

"In your opinion is his talent 'clairvoyant' as your own clairvoyant ability presents, or did it present as another variant? We have mentioned the possibility of these variants before, but I believe it is time to go deeper and be less 'general' about designations."

He wanted to say Milliardo was talented in the same narrow designation as his own rare psychic talent manifested, but it would be a lie. He would not lie to a Training Master. To do so could invite disaster from mismanagement of a talent and he wanted to be painstakingly careful of the Prince.

When Milliardo had been incapacitated during their flight to Station One, following the Libra incident, he had discussed with Hendricks and the other training masters what he knew of the man. When Milliardo had been resident and healing on Station One, the Training Masters and he had had lengthy discussions of how best to handle the training of what they had all sensed was a dangerous and dynamic talent.

The man's sheer presence had caused a ripple effect with each and every Seer on the station, and even the most minute clairvoyant talent had reacted to him. In this disturbing event all clairvoyant activity, always an ongoing occurrence on the station, had ceased. Even keeping the man in shielded quarters had had little effect and only as he had departed, travelling further and further away from Station One had the abilities of the others emerged, no longer subjugated beneath the stronger, unknown talent that had come into their midst.

To call it disturbing simply did not describe the effect on those with Gifts. They had all felt the disturbance, the nullifying effect… and to the best of their limited testing Milliardo had actually NOT been in a working mode, his talent appearing to be blocked and barricaded by what ever had happened on Libra. His condition physically had been bad enough, but mentally… the man had been a bomb waiting to be triggered and all they could do at the time was to handle him with the greatest of care.

Had he reached a crisis point on Mars? Had he lost all control?

Following Libra, Milliardo had been without the use of his psychic ability. He had described a darkness claiming there was nothing in that darkness for him to work with, to 'see'. At the time Raydon had not exactly understood, nor did he now, and the Training Masters were equally uncertain of how to interpret the description. Milliardo had not been lying, he had described how he had felt, his relief that he could no longer 'do' what he had done. That he would be free of it.

Raydon and the Training Masters had been more inclined to think it the results of a stressed ability shutting down in the interests of self preservation. Raydon was inclined to think it might have had something to do with the Operating System for the Epyon mobile suit. Milliardo had talked of it in his sleep, restless, both seeking to find it and seeking to escape from it on a nightly basis.

But this speculation would get him no where with Hendricks sitting across from him waiting in silence, allowing him to gather his thoughts and impressions. Patience was personified in a Training Master, in Raydon's vaunted opinion.

"I would judge it to be another variant and it is possible there might be a second talent within his ability. Potentially not as strong, but certainly not a minor talent in comparison to that of others at Station One."

"We thought as much. We have studied the information our agents have gathered on Zechs Marquise, both in his formative years and as the Oz officer. It has not been easy to get our hands on all of the classified material and we are still attempting to gain access to the Romefeller data base. It would be interesting to read Romefeller's files on him, both as a genetic possibility and after the manipulation and inception of the embryo."

"Romefeller do not lightly give up information and they instigated the formation of the Oz Specials within the Order of the Zodiac. I would not have thought it would have been easy to access his files, particularly as I would have expected Treize Khushrenada to have in place tight security against such a breach."

"And we all know it is 'next to' impossible to hack into the Inner Circle's database, but it is not 'impossible'. Merely difficult. What we have learned to date suggests that a part of his talent may be to specifically 'block' another psychic's ability to read him on a personal level. How does he 'feel' when you reach out to him?"

So they, the Training Masters, working independently to him had come up with the same idea? He was not so far off base then. How was this to work? Bringing Milliardo to Station One would interfere with all other psychics if their past attempt was any indication. Of course if he had grown past the after effects of Libra…

"His genetic make-up would be far more specialised than my own was designed to be. They would have had a number of years in which to refine the make up of his genes, making him considerably more 'advanced' than my own genes. I was gone from Romefeller long before Milliardo was born and I can not recall ever seeing a file that might have been a map of what they wished for in one to succeed my generation of similar genetic coding. I never saw my own file, though I did see the code they applied to me."

"At present I am less interested in the Inner Circles files than I am in knowing how this young man 'feels' when touched by your perceptions. Forget the genetic gospel according to Romefeller and provide me with the information I actually asked for."

"I don't… I can't actually…"

Frustration closed his mouth for him, his every attempt seemed so inadequate to provide substance to his thought and after a moment a soft sigh broke the silence. How did he describe what it was he felt when he reached out with the intent to contact Milliardo Peacecraft? Where did he even begin to describe what it was like? But he had survived enough of these interviews with the Trainers in the past to know it could be a hard struggle ahead of him. Saying what they actually wanted to hear from you was all too often as comfortable as getting teeth pulled. What he thought they were asking was rarely what they really wanted to hear from him. His inadequacy in understanding the actual question being asked was the trouble. Sometimes language simply was not up to the complexities of the psychic world.

The best he could do would be to talk and think until he came out with what they wanted to hear to further their data and find resolution.

"How does he 'feel'? I… It's like… like being faced with a…" Again that brief moment of feeling as though he was being sucked into a yawning black chasm filled his awareness. "Like… looking…falling… into a… hole."

He waited, watching as Hendricks pressed his palms together, bringing them to rest with his fingertips beneath his chin. His dark eyes were centred squarely on the younger man's face, eyes narrowing as he considered every nuance of expression he had noted in Raydon's voice and body language.

"A hole? Falling into a hole. Curious that you should express it so. How is it a hole? Is it a bona fide hole or perhaps a precipice, the edge of a cliff, perhaps?"

"It's… dark." Inadequate, it was not simply dark but an absence of light on a grand scale. "Like… a void? A… It's like… like a 'not there' kind of feeling. Falling… toward… a point, a place. Confined by… unseen but 'felt' walls. A 'hole' fits better than a cliff."

" 'Not there?' A hole. And yet some 'thing' must be there for you to get a reading. For you to have the sensation of falling there must be something to provide you with that impression."

Raydon ran a hand through his hair well aware of the contradictions involved in attempting to describe what he felt when he sought out the one he would dearly have loved to make his lover. He could not help the vagaries though, was pushed for words to describe what it was he sensed when he reached out for the Prince. It was, indeed, a 'there' but 'not there' feeling.

"I know but… sometimes it feels like… like there is…" The words were all wrong.

What was it he had thought earlier? What was it he had likened that feeling to? Something that was there and yet not there, that you fell into and if you ventured too far, too deep, there would be no escaping it. The single most terrifying event in the universe best described the feeling.

"A Black Hole." The words fell from his lips in a whisper. "It's like… how you see a graphic representation of a Black Hole. You can match the graphic with the theory of what is a Black Hole; of being sucked closer and closer to it until you are at the edge of the event horizon."

It was coming easier now, describing what he had felt in his past contacts, and Hendricks was watching him, waiting, not urging him to better define his description. Giving him time to understand what he sought to explain or simply to put together words that might offer some insight if no actual explanation.

"It is like how you expect a Black Hole to work. You are irresistibly drawn to it, attracted by the gravitational field until you can not escape it. You reach the edge and despite how you struggle you are sucked in, only with Milliardo… It's different but similar. When it is Milliardo I don't ever… reach… him. But that's not really accurate either. Perhaps a veil might explain that? A force shield existing between us that I can't penetrate; but I know he is there, somewhere. Just out of the reach of my hand. He's there, on the other side.'

No, he had failed to adequately describe what it was like, but Hendricks was nodding slowly, seemingly to somehow understand. Perhaps he had managed sufficiently well to give the Training Master some idea of what it was he experienced?

"In our absence I requested my colleagues on Station One to question the other clairvoyants. I find it particularly meaningful that their descriptions of what they feel as they reach out to touch him are much as yours are, which I find at least consistent. It offers us the potential for understanding with more investigation."

The others, individuals gifted in manners similar to his ability had described basically the Black Hole theory that he had chosen? He felt the dull muted throbbing at his temples and wished the budding headache gone. He did not have time for it.

"There are a number of questions we must ask ourselves before we can begin to understand the unique phenomena that surrounds Peacecraft. Without having worked with the man to any level, given his condition when last he was on Station One, we are at a decided disadvantage. We can, however, amuse ourselves with hypothesising."

"Such as?" He was to be let off so easily? How close had his description been to the attempts of others to describe the impossible?

Hendricks inclined his head to one side, dark eyes narrowing with thought. The man might have been sitting alone, lost in his own thoughts, but Raydon knew the Training Masters, particularly this one, were always aware of everything around them.

"He has rather a unique history. To begin with there is the ramifications of a protracted bloodline beneath the auspice of Romefeller and their penchant for genetic meddling. Initial selective breeding later enhanced by modified genetic enhancement. These things all factor into the finished equation, but for the moment let us ignore the man's genes and give some thought to his occupation as a young adult. Perhaps the greatest unknown factor in his psychological make up is the effect of the Epyon Operating System. It is an unknown system reportedly requiring direct communication between a human brain and an artificial intelligence. We are having a singularly difficult time finding any material on the design and development of the system."

"Treize had much to do with its construction."

Hendricks inclined his head, acknowledging Raydon's input. "It is annoying that we know so little of the Epyon. The suit was manufactured by the Order of the Zodiac, however our information suggests its construction was undertaken without the knowledge of the Federation or Romefeller. The mobile suit was designed by Treize Khushrenada and that is all the information we have found. We have good cause to believe that your cousin knew of the psychic ability of the Peacecraft line, Milliardo Peacecraft in particular. I believe it a foregone conclusion that your cousin had some form of psychic talent himself. We can not see Romefeller's Breeding Master not modifying a Khushrenada's genetic code. Perhaps he also was a clairvoyant variant?"

"It is possible."

He could not say, one way or the other, just what Romefeller might have written into his cousin's genetics. Had they continued working for what ever purpose they had designed him to fulfil, or had they, after his defection, shifted their focus and sought something else from his cousin?

"It is feasible to assume we may never know what Romefeller had intended for him. The man died and took his secrets with him to the grave. Without an understanding of the effects of the O.S. on a functioning 'psychic enhanced' human brain we can only speculate on possible after effects. It may have had something similar to a narcotic effect from which the human brain might suffer withdrawal symptoms. This could be the 'darkness' the Peacecraft spoke of whilst he was on Station One. Prolonged contact with the system may have subtly altered the man's brain structure, or chemistry, in a myriad of possible ways. Or it might be that the suit and its OS. could have had nothing to do with the events that took place and how he reacted to them."

Should he mention his belief that his cousin was alive? He had no evidence and he could not say that he had had any visions featuring the man, but… eh? Narcotic effects? It was possible. What exactly had Hendricks said? He reconstructed the man's words from his memory, piecing the bits together that he remembered and hoping the Training Master would think him preoccupied with considering Milliardo and the Epyon instead of recovering from exploring a tangent. For now, until he had proof, he would not mention his cousin.

"I would think it is more likely to be a repercussion from something the Inner Circle was working on rather than a mobile suit and experimental Operations System. Something new they were designing. Something, perhaps, that they had not quite perfected."

"Yes. That too is a viable notion. We need to begin listing possibilities, no matter how outlandish one might initially appear at first. Everything will need to be listed, categorised, documented and thoroughly investigated on multiple levels before we can dare to presume we have an idea of where this young man might take our understanding of the psychic capabilities of the human race. When he is safely placed in protective custody we can begin to strike the possibilities from the list and better help the man come to terms with his ability."

"Has there been any luck in understanding what we did learn of his talent when he was at Station One?"

"Perhaps there has been some small progress, but again the question rears its head of outside influence. Namely the operating system he was exposed to. The readings that were taken whilst he was recovering on Station One were, to say the least, off the scale. If that OS could interact directly with the nerve centre in the brain that governs a psychics abilities, then I have to wonder what it was your cousin knew that we do not. We have no idea how, let alone the technology, to directly stimulate the core of a psychic's talent at the cellular level of the brain, without condemning the subject to insanity or a vegetative state."

"Milliardo often wondered if he was sane," Raydon sighed.

Hendricks snorted, waving a hand to emphasise his words. "He was quite sane and I have little doubt that he still is. The man did not strike me as a blithering idiot or a psychotic on a rampage. No, Kristian, Milliardo Peacecraft was quite aware of everything around him, even though he could not 'see' at the time he was on station. I find myself looking forward to having a lengthy discussion with the man himself, and particularly, when this is all over, with Haydon Giles."

"Haydon? Why?"

"Giles is a rather clever man. He has exemplary sensitivity and he would place himself instinctively as close to Peacecraft as is humanly possible given the circumstances. He would have observed a great deal during their interaction and his feedback will be vital to understanding how best we can help. He might just be the key to unlocking and controlling Peacecraft's abilities."

Haydon Giles was not a fool, never had been, though he had been haunted by his talent before coming to Station One; like so many other psychics who found a future on the stations. His intelligence and ability to react quickly and correctly was why he had chosen the man to go to Mars initially and modified his instructions to guard the Prince when they had learned of his presence. Hendricks was correct, Giles would have noticed far more of Milliardo's talent than he might realise, but that was what the Training Masters were for, to draw out what you did not realise you knew or could do. Raydon inclined his head slightly, accepting the Training Master's reasoning.

"At this juncture there is nothing more we can do concerning the development of the incident now happening on Mars. All we can do is have faith in the measures we have already instigated. Until we hear from Mars we have no idea what has actually happened there. Howard is playing his own game and I trust him to keep the casualties down to a minimum. We can only hope the measures he has taken work."

Hendricks inclined his head, agreeing with the simple truth. There was nothing more they could do to affect events taking place on Mars.

"Given the potential for an unstable psychic on Mars, namely Peacecraft, I have instructed a ship equipped with a Psi training unit and experienced restraint staff be redirected to Mars. I have been advised the course corrections have been calculated and the ship is now in transit. Any further course adjustments will be calculated when we have further feedback from the planet."

Raydon met the dark eyes. "How far from Mars is it at this time?"

"Near to three weeks, I believe, but it is the closest vessel we have with facilities capable of containing a high talent psi if he is near to crisis."

Three weeks. It would not arrive until long after the crisis now taking place would be finished, but it was closer than the Aphrodite and any other ship capable of dealing with an unstable psychic. Not that an unstable clairvoyant was as dangerous to a ship as a kinetic on a rampage would have been. They had that blessing at least.

"Milliardo is not one to panic needlessly. I doubt that man has panicked since he was a child and witnessed Sanc burn around him."

Hendricks dismissed the comment with a small shake of his head. "You above all should know Crisis has nothing to do with something as simple or mundane as mere panic. I have reviewed the files of the personnel staffing the psi containment unit on the ship and they are skilled at their work. We can hope the facilities will not be needed. If Libra and the Epyon did not break him then this business on Mars should not, but there is always the possibility. We can only do the best we can."

/And wish that we could do more./

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2011


	203. Chapter 203 Chapter 202

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 202/? Stephensbourg

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Genre: Adventure

Rating: Definitely PG in Australia, at the moment, but probably safer to say R for later chapters. Not sure about international ratings.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me. I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you.

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

/... / thoughts

"... " speech

~/... /~ text

*... * flashback

** ...** Vision

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 202

2nd March AC 198

Sanc

Stephansbourg

The Coachman's Rest

Time: 14:15

Sally

Without a doubt it was the most wonderful bed she had ever had the pleasure of sleeping in. Snuggled deep, cocooned between the luxurious warmth of the eiderdown and the over stuffed mattress… and medical journals claimed such wonderfully soft things were bad for the back? What more could anyone ask for given a blizzard raged beyond the solid walls of the Inn?

She had slept like the dead, or so it seemed to her. She felt rested but too comfortable to move. Quite content to snuggle and soak in the unaccustomed comfort that was so different from her ultra modern apartment's central heating and Queen sized ensemble with its orthopaedic approved mattress. Really there was no comparison; this rustic old fashioned bed beat hers hands down.

It seemed to be too much of an effort to make herself concentrate on more than the luxury of the moment, but much as she loved revelling in this comfort she really needed to remember her place; who and what she was. She was Sally Po, Preventer Agent, Chief Medical Officer for the Preventer Organisation and, at this particular time, head of the detachment that had spirited Relena Darlian safely out of New Port City. And to compound her difficulties she had Mariemaia Khushrenada in her custody and there really was no time to laze away the day simply because of a comfortable bed.

She could not have slept long otherwise the guards she had left on post would have been in to roust her out for her turn standing sentry over their charges. Beyond the Inn she could hear the roar of the wind; it appeared not to have dropped at all which was another indication that she had not over slept her watch.

Friendly as the people who ran this establishment appeared to be, nothing could change the fact that they were not 'known' to her. They had not been vetted by security and there was additional complications given there were an unknown number of guests also resident in the inn. She had no idea of identities or if any of the guests might hold political views that might be cause for concern, particularly where the young Mariemaia was concerned. It was only the unexpected turn in the weather that had forced their presence at the inn at this time, and there was nothing to stop subversive elements from being caught in a snow storm either.

She should at some point venture out of her haven and take up her duty-but there was time for a few more minutes of luxuriating in rare comfort. Just a few brief minutes surely would do no harm? She was to be woken to stand her watch and to be honest she could not feel less like moving. Just a few minutes to enjoy the unaccustomed luxury of snuggling was preferable to finding out if the air outside of her cocoon was anywhere near what she would term 'tolerable'.

She had an idea of what would await her when she stirred herself and she was not particularly looking forward to it. She might have been feeling unaccountably lazy, but just because a blizzard had the poor grace to trap them in a country Inn it did not mean there was not work to be done. Riding herd on the Princess of Sanc, and particularly on the daughter of Treize Khushrenada, came with a select set of responsibilities she would rather not shoulder, but circumstances being what they were it had fallen to her to carry the responsibility.

If the satellite reception was still pathetic there would be no means by which she could have even a cursory security check performed on those now at the Inn. There was a Santa Clause look-a-like and an unknown number of guests and Mrs. Clause to be vetted, somehow, and potential assassins could be hot on their trail. Still, if said assassins were on the hunt for them she hoped their collective arses were frozen until the thaw hit and spring warmed the lands.

If one could only be so lucky!

Blowing an errant lock of hair out of her eyes Sally moaned softly. She was a Preventer and one had one's duty to cater to and, whilst she was not alone in that duty, she was still ostensibly the Commanding Officer of the detail assigned to their protection. She really had to stir herself. Relena might still be asleep, Sally could not say that she had heard any movement out of the other occupant of the room, but Mariemaia was a youngster who she had learned from experience was never idle for long.

Blizzards were not her favourite weather phenomena at the best of time, and this was far from being the best of times.

Sally by far preferred a long golden beach, a baking hot sun and a long laze by the ocean. Why could they not have been somewhere where her biggest problem would be getting a suntan? When she braved the air beyond her cocoon she would likely discover the meaning of the word 'cold'. Banked as she recalled the fire to be the night before, it would not have burned through the night, but then the agents had not come to call her... and that was beginning to concern her.

How long had she slept? Might there have been trouble? No, she certainly would have been roused by trouble and Heero and Quatre were light sleepers and they would certainly have woken her if there was any hint of trouble.

It was still dark… but that was no real indication of time considering she had the eiderdown firmly over her head and her eyes were more closed than open. She would have to get around to doing something about that, but acknowledging that thought with action, namely movement, would mean she could no longer ignore the world. It was rare she had the opportunity to laze the morning away and she could not have slept for more than a few hours.

What time was it anyway? Listening carefully, even going so far as to raise the eiderdown a little from her ear, she could just make out the measured stride of one of the agents on guard. She could tell the stride of a Preventer on guard patrol, rather like a London Bobby could recognise the stride of another beat cop. They were trained to walk at a set pace and with a measured stride that was regulated, designed to cover a prescribed distance without appreciable strain. Every Preventer agent assigned on a regular stint of patrolling as security for the rich and famous was taught that measured cadence.

His stride was easy, unhurried. Casual. For there to be that 'casual' feel to the man's pace there could have been no trouble in the Inn throughout the time she had been sleeping. She felt well refreshed, rested, uncommonly so, which suggested she should stir herself to see what the actual time was. Marie was sure to be the first awake and active and it would not do for her to try to slip past the guards and face the Inn's patrons unsupported.

/Well, it's unlikely I'll get any more sleep. They'll be in to roust me out soon enough./ She was sorely tempted to try, just for a few more minutes, just until they came to wake her, but if four hours had passed she needed to relive the guard so that they could rest and she could see to preparations for their days travel.

If she just wiggled a little, pushed up a touch…

"Shit!"

The expletive was forced out of her in a hushed hiss as chill air invaded her warmth and sufficient light seeped in to her nest to enable her to see the clock face of her wrist watch. She froze, staring at the miniature hands of the clock, watching the second hand inexorably ticking away the time until somehow the spell was broken and she closed her eyes and grasped the eiderdown, pulling it tightly about her.

That had to be a mistake.

If she kept her eyes shut for a few precious seconds and looked again then she would see the time… the real time. There was no way she could have slept for almost ten solid hours! It simply was not possible! She had been tired, exhausted actually, from long shifts and little sleep between, but she had never slept more than a six hour period at one time since she had become an intern; and that was more years in the past than she cared to admit.

Certainly since she had become a Preventer she had rarely found the opportunity for six hours of uninterrupted sleep. And when she did manage to sleep for such an extended period she never slept restfully. There were the nightmares that always ripped apart whatever she might have been dreaming about. She could only ever recall the nightmares.

Taking a deep breath to prepare herself she dared the Arctic chill invading her warm nest. Peering at the revealed clock face served only to inform her that a full minute had passed and, yes, she had not been mistaken. Approximately ten hours had passed since she had settled down to rest.

The room was quiet; she could hear the wind howling beyond the inn. Was that a little less fierce than it had been in the early hours of the morning? Or stronger? A rustling…?

Blue eyes flashed to the other bed, forcing her to strain upwards to see over the bulk of the eiderdown. "Relena?"

"Mmph?"

Well, small grace that it was, at least she was not the only one still in bed! Taking a deep breath Sally steeled herself to push her head above the warmth of the eiderdown, peering through mussed locks of unruly blonde hair to survey the room. It was dim, there was little light coming through the curtains but it was enough to suggest daylight dimmed by the blizzard. In the bed across from her Relena was nothing more than a bump in the eiderdown, not a single strand of blonde hair escaped her own personal cocoon to be seen.

/Smart girl. Why stir if you did not have to?/ But if the time really was nearing mid afternoon they had no choice but to stir, like it or not.

"Relena?"

A twitch of the eiderdown responded followed by the notable lump wriggling... working deeper and… rolling over?

Sally snorted softly, wishing she could have the luxury of doing that. How long had the girl lain awake worrying over what could not be cured? Cured? The blonde physician shook her head slightly, knowing making it sound like a disease or sickness would not change the facts. What they had been discussing with the Innkeeper was no sickness.

They had talked of what they had learned from the Innkeeper before settling to bed, but Sally was well aware they needed to do a great deal more in the way of talking before Relena could become settled to the idea. The potential use for what was, as yet, an unconfirmed psychic talent was staggering. What the young woman might consider initially to be a curse, or in the same unwanted category as a disease, had the potential to be the greatest asset Preventer might ever have in maintaining peace throughout the ESUN.

If a little influencing of a person's moods or thoughts could maintain calm and cool heads during 'discussions' which all too often turned fiery, well, so much the better in Sally's view. One did not have to make people think as you wished them to think, merely help to moderate extremes of emotion; particularly if they could ease frustration. As a medical practitioner Sally was all too aware of the difficulties frustration caused in everyday life. Teamed with making decisions that could affect the lives of billions of people...

The girl had the potential to make a difference if she could be coaxed into using the suspected ability that was a part of her lineage for the good of all.

Was it real? Had that entire conversation with the Santa look alike been nothing but a dream? But she could not deny that the Inn was real, and the bed was gloriously real. The air was freezing cold, cold enough that she was extremely reluctant to get her sorry bones out of bed, but she was not going to hide here all day. Her body screamed at her that her cocoon was comfortable, warm and desired, so why the hell leave it?

Not a good enough excuse for her to abandon her duty. She was a professional and she had a duty to perform to her charges, her employers and to her team... and why the hell had they not woken her up to take a guard stint? Ten hours? She should have been woken after four so that they could rotate the guard, but they had not come.

She needed to check on Mariemaia who surely would be up and active by now. Sally had spent enough nights at Une's house to know that Mariemaia was not one to laze about all day. She was inquisitive, demanding in that she did not like to be idle, and insatiable with her will to learn. The girl had shown herself to be fascinated by the old man and the inn and how long could Sally expect her to remain a detainee in the room she had been assigned?

Mariemaia would not linger any longer than she needed to and would expect to be treated like an adult and given reasons and a briefing on expected results for any action that might be taken that directly, or indirectly, could affect her. She was too adult for her years, but she was still a child and children lost patience eventually. Mariemaia would be no different in the long term.

Blue eyes turned back to the bed across from her and Sally considered the lump beneath the eiderdown. In deference to the information learned from the old man and his wife and how upsetting it had been to Relena, Sally decided to leave the young woman for the moment and, bundling herself into her eiderdown, she rolled herself out of the bed and into action.

"God!"

Dancing her way to the bathroom in a series of leaps and bounds interspersed with some fancy footwork; her bare feet protested every step on the highly polished floor and threatened her with frostbite once she left the luxury of the mat at her bedside. It was as well she had not roused the girl, Sally grumbled to herself, Relena would probably have split her sides laughing at her antics.

While rustic in appearance, and undoubtedly it was a few hundred years old, and situated out in the country, The Coachman's Rest laid claim to modern conveniences that included, hopefully, hot water even in the teeth of a blizzard. The Santa look-a-like had mentioned something about a generator she recalled… yes! Miraculously-or through some miracle of modern engineering-the pipes were not frozen and it took only a few seconds before a hot stream of water lent steam to warm the atmosphere of the bathroom.

Sally tossed aside the eiderdown, teeth chattering almost instantly, and she scrambled to place a towel where she could easily reach it. It would not do to waste the precious hot water; other people would be glad of it besides herself, and she could bundle herself in the eiderdown once again after she thawed herself out... And she would use the bathmat to slide-walk herself back into the bedroom instead of freezing her feet again.

Live and learn, she mused. No need to freeze herself or her feet because she had not brought her clothes, not even a pair of slippers into the bathroom with her.

It was a decidedly warmer and comfortable Sally Po who deemed herself prepared to exit the room and face the world some twenty minutes later. She was comfortably bundled in an oversized jumper with her Preventer jacket tossed over her shoulders and Preventer issue pants and boots closing out all drafts to her extremities. If the Preventer jacket would have fit over the hand knitted oversized jumper she had found in the wardrobe then she would have worn that too. The bulky knitwear seemed well able to defend her against the cold... and there was another there for Relena when she dug the girl out of bed.

It appeared their hosts provided adequate clothing to suit the weather for the comfort of their guests.

Her appearance was instantly noted by the red eyed Preventer pacing the length of the hallway and he changed his course instantly to approach her and greet her with a nod.

"Ma'am. All's quiet. The guests are downstairs and Miss Mariemaia has not left her room. The Innkeeper has set the fire for Ms. Khushrenada but it was felt we should await your instruction before allowing fraternisation with the guests."

"I'll speak to the Innkeeper before I decide what to do. And I will see to Marie shortly. Heero and Quatre?"

"Have not put in an appearance thus far. There was a… disturbance… in their room last night. When we checked Yuy said he would attend to it."

A disturbance? One that Heero chose to respond to alone...? That could mean only one thing.

/Quatre had a nightmare? I'm surprised, he seemed to be the best adjusted of the pilots, but then we all have our nightmares stemming from the war./

She certainly had her share of sleepless nights and she supposed Quatre, well adjusted as he generally appeared to be, had cause enough to relive old horrors from the war following the events of the night. Whilst Heero was not the most sympathetic or emotive pilot in the group, he no doubt had his instances of nightmares and could understand something of Quatre's situation.

Heero had come a long way since the war.

The heavy tread of boots on the stairs drew her attention to the end of the hall and to the shadow dancing there. After a moment, his arms laden with wood, the Innkeeper stomped into view, an oversized version of her own knitted jumper giving testimony as to the origin of the one she wore. Sally suspected the old man's wife was the knitter of the inn's particular fashion statement.

"I'll check on them shortly. Why did you not wake me to stand my watch?"

The agent's bloodshot eyes blinked at her myopically for a moment before he sighed, glancing around the hallway to check all was well.

"With respect, Ma'am, we will head down to bed as soon as you give us the all clear, and we will be ready to stand the night watch."

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "I asked you why I was not woken to stand my watch."

"We tried, Ma'am. Without disturbing the Princess…" he shrugged. "When you are ready to take over we will have something to eat and go to bed."

"That will put our departure unacceptably late." Sally hissed quietly, not pleased with the circumstances which stranded them or with the news she had not responded to their call.

If they had indeed tried to roust her out and she had slept heavily enough to not hear them; at best one of them might have put his head around the door and hissed at her for fear of waking the Princess.

"With respect, Ma'am," She was quickly becoming heartily fed up with that form of address, "I am afraid we are going to be going nowhere today."

Her hardening gaze was clear warning of what she thought of that statement, but then the Innkeeper was close, smiling jovially as he joined them. She could not help noticing that his armload of wood was dry and his clothing showed no sign of him having been out of the inn and exposed to the elements.

"While the storm has eased somewhat, I am afraid the weather is far from safe for you to travel abroad today. It will be necessary to dig out your vehicle; the garage is almost completely buried in snow, and until a snow plough can reach us the roads will be impassable. I assure you we are well prepared for every eventuality the weather can throw at us, and we have everything we need to make you comfortable as you wait. We learned long ago to lay on supplies to last the length of the winter and a little more besides. You will be quite comfortable. We are receiving intermittent transmission via radio and television, though the reception is poor at best. Our other guests have retired to the lounge where they are endeavouring to entertain themselves with a card game. Would you prefer the young ladies eat in their rooms, or come down to the dining room?"

They were going to be snowed in for another day? At least another day. That Sally did not like, but anyone in pursuit of them would also have the same difficulty... If they had not made it to the Inn ahead of them. She wanted to wrap both of her young charges up in cottonwool and hide them from the world, but that would not be possible and both of them would have much to say about the idea of secluding themselves in their rooms.

And she was not fool enough to brave the high country of Sanc in a blizzard.

"I will see which they prefer. Do you have a room for these men?"

The second Preventer agent came around the far corner of the hallway where the two wings joined and ran south from their current position, his tread measured despite the exhausted slump to his shoulders. These men needed down time and Sally could not believe she had slept through their attempts to wake her. Had they decided on their own they would stand the watch, not expecting her to have slept so long?

But that was her trying to relieve herself of the blame of sleeping so long, and such excuses was unbecoming of a Preventer officer. She had a responsibility to her people to accept the blame where it was her failure.

"This load of wood is to heat the room I am preparing for them, and a meal is now being prepared. A hearty breakfast should be ready for them, and yourself, in fifteen minutes."

"I will speak to Marie and stir Relena along and send word to you on their preferences. Thank you for your hospitality."

"We are here to serve, Madam. It is an honour to host the Princess and her entourage."

Lord, he reminded her of the stereotypical Santa Claus! It was uncanny just how like the legendary man, elf or Saint, depending on your view of the legends surrounding the individual who, in the dim and distant past, had given birth to the legend, he was. The man and his wife could make a creditable Saint Nick and Mrs. Claus at any children's function and have them believing in the fairytale in the blink of an eye. It was almost eerie... and he really did have a twinkle in his blue eyes.

Stifling a shiver Sally nodded to the three men and made her way to Mariemaia's room, knocked briefly and slipped into the room. The girl was bundled up in a pair of jeans and an oversized jumper Sally knew could not have belonged to her. Like the one she wore it was hand knitted in a complex pattern of cabling and against its cream colour her hair looked almost too brightly red to be natural.

"Good morning, Marie."

A flashing grin responded and Mariemaia set aside the book she had been reading. "Good afternoon, Sally. I expected you to be awake hours ago."

And so she should have been, but for the moment there were more important matters to be attended to. "How long have you been awake?"

"A good three hours I would think. It was just too comfortable lying in this bed so I stayed there for an hour or so before I let anyone know I was awake. It's a wonderful old place, isn't it Sally? It's almost magical."

The eminently sensible and too grown up for her own good Mariemaia Khushrenada thought the Inn was magical? What was the world coming to? Not good, not good at all, but Sally was relieved she had calmed down from the upset of the previous day. How many girls her age who had witnessed destruction and run from danger as she had, could be so totally 'normal' a few hours later? This girl was made of stern stuff and Sally lamented that Mariemaia had never had a childhood.

"Will we be leaving and continuing on to a safe house today?"

Was she hopeful they would continue on their way… or would not continue? There was something in the girl's voice that suggested to Sally that Marie was hoping they would not be continuing. It must seem like a grand adventure to the young girl, despite the seriousness of the situation, and Mariemaia was entirely too old mentally to think as a child of her age would. You could not forget just whose daughter Mariemaia was, or that at the tender age of six she had been the figurative head of a coup d'état. This was no normal nine year old.

One had to think of her as an adult and approach her as an adult, or very quickly you could find yourself wrapped around her little finger... and not in a cute 'little girl' fashion.

"It is doubtful we will continue on until at least tomorrow morning. Communications with New Port City are sketchy at best, and I have yet to contact Une. The roads are still blocked and it would appear that we have to dig out the garage to move our vehicles before we do anything. Our host assures me we are welcome and we will not lack for anything and be comfortable while we wait."

Big blue eyes shone. Yes, Marie was pleased they would not be moving on immediately. "Do I have to hide in my bedroom all day?"

There was a calculating glint to the child's eyes that was anything but childlike. If she said yes Sally knew there might, or not, be an argument but there would certainly be some level of resentment which could lead to any manner of rebellion at some time.

At this point in time Sally had no idea how many guests there were resident in the inn, or how many employees the inn might have. They had no idea how these people might view the events that took place in the past and who, if any of them, might hold ill will toward the young figurehead who had threatened the ESUN's peace.

Mariemaia might not be happy about being kept to her room, but she would obey should the order be given; and take every opportunity that presented itself to let dark looks and weighty silence convey her displeasure.

"Possibly not, but you can remain in the room long enough to give us some time to find out how many people are here and judge the risk factor. I suggest you eat in here until we can determine your safety and I do not want you on your own with anyone when, if, I give you the go ahead to leave the room."

A glowing smile rewarded Sally for her fairness and she knew, for the moment at least, that she would not have to deal with a Khushrenada who was bored and looking for amusement. Give her a normal nine year old girl any day, temper tantrums and all, over the more sophisticated amusements this girl found to entertain herself when she was bored and resentful.

"I will send word to the kitchen that you will be eating up here for the moment and I will work on waking up Miss Relena. I will get back to you as soon as I can with a risk assessment."

"I have a good book, thanks to the Innkeeper. Don't forget to eat yourself, Sally. If you lose much more weight you will be as skinny as Aunt Anne."

She was an adult, a professional medical practitioner and Preventer agent and she would not bite to the jibe. She was above that and she was certainly not thin, merely slender. Of course she had been eating at irregular hours, that was part and parcel of being a Preventer agent and… Damn! No, she was not going to fall for that.

A look, stern, no nonsense and she escaped out the door with nothing more than a cheeky grin from the girl. As Mariemaia grew she would be dangerous. It remained to be seen in the future if careful education could make Mariemaia useful to maintaining the peace the ESUN currently enjoyed. If they could get her to work hand in hand with them... The girl had so much potential.

"Notify our host Miss Mariemaia will be eating in her room, please. Have they stirred yet?" Sally flicked a finger toward the door of the former Gundam pilot's room.

"No, Ma'am. Not a sound out of there for hours."

That did not bode well, Sally mused. How long had it taken Heero to deal with Quatre? So long as they had not killed each other, and they would have made enough noise to wake the dead if they had come to blows, then she was content, at least for the moment.

"I'll see to them shortly."

She wanted a private word with the pilots and really she needed to check on Heero's leg. She should have checked the injury before they settled, but everyone had been eager to get to bed, even the young men, and she was well aware they were trained field operatives with a passable medical knowledge of the basics. Quatre would have done a basic assessment of Heero's status and if he was concerned, late night or not, he would have called for her. She had to trust in their training and common sense, but that was not to say she would ignore the injury and leave it to them.

She would get to the former pilots but it would be best to deal with Relena first. She could stir the girl out of bed and get her to use her natural charm to ingrate herself to their guests, under guard of course. Until she could get Heero and Quatre active the agents already dead on their feet would have to watch Relena, but Sally was confident it would not be for long. Relena would need time to wake up properly and get herself ready to face the day, and during that time Sally could stir the pilots.

Rousting out war veterans would necessitate care, particularly if those two chanced to still be asleep by the time she got to them. After a night such as they had had compounded by a bout of nightmares they would be, at best, twitchy. She would need to maintain her distance initially, until she was certain they were awake. She had no intention of getting close to a lethal weapon on first waking. Soldiers, not just former Gundam pilots, all needed their space first thing.

Decision made and orders passed on to her subordinates Sally marched herself smartly back into the bedroom she had shared with the Vice Foreign Minister.

"Relena! I have a job for you."

Standing at the side of the bed, hands on her hips Sally watched as the bedding stirred. There was the chance, a very real chance Sally admitted, that the girl had spent the night tossing and turning after the more than interesting conversation they had had with the Kruger's. Had the girl spent the night unable to settle and sleep as restfully as she needed because of what she had learned of the history of her bloodline? Or was she simply as enchanted by a decent nights sleep in this place as Mariemaia and Sally herself?

"Relena. Time to get up."

"Hmmmpnph."

Charming.

Utterly indecipherable. A protest? A greeting? It might have been anything and Sally could not resist smiling. The palace staff no doubt had a set routine when it came to rousting out the princess after a long nights worth of socialising in the name of the ESUN and its continued peace. Sally had never been a delicate wallflower and was prone to more practical pursuits than catering to the whims of the rich and famous. She entertained a philosophy of direct action.

Slender fingers reached to delicately grasp a good hold on the eiderdown. "Relena. Time to wake up."

Rolling over was, at present, tantamount to a declaration of war as far as Sally was concerned. So was burrowing deeper under the eiderdown! Smirking, the Preventer Agent braced herself and gave an almighty yank and the eiderdown vanished over her shoulders, leaving the girl curled tightly in the foetal position and gaping like a fish at the sudden advent of frigid air.

"Sally! Give… g-g-give that b-back!"

"Ah, we are awake are we? Good," Sally practically purred. "You know where the bathroom is I believe. Up and at 'em, Miss. The day is more than half over and you will never sleep tonight if you don't get up now."

She made no comment on the very visible tear tracks trailing over flushed cheeks, or the suspiciously moist nature of the young woman's blue eyes. Lying in bed thinking about it, was she? Well, Sally would not allow that. It was time to give Relena something else to think about and ground her in reality, and Mariemaia and the needs of the moment was the perfect distraction.

"I have Marie awake and restless in the next room and I need you to be your charming self with the guests at this fine establishment. I will need your opinion on whether or not you believe it is safe to allow Mariemaia to associate with other people while we are here."

Huddling in on herself and with her teeth chattering from the cold, Relena's glare turned to blank faced astonishment.

"You want me to decide if it's safe for Marie to go out in public? Me? How am I supposed to determine the threat level from these people? I'm not an agent, Sally. I'm a politician!"

"You will not be alone. I value your opinion as a people person. You are not easily deceived and you have a natural ability to judge people that is supplemented by experience over the last few years. You are people oriented, Relena and I need that now when we are short handed. I will be with you as soon as I attend to a few other matters, including trying to contact headquarters for any updates on the situation. Take your time in the shower, I'll be a little while, and we can eat together while you engage the other guests in conversation and I check out the best options for security protocols."

"I am freezing here, Sally!"

"A steaming hot shower does wonders for that."

Hooking the eiderdown over the far post of the bed she had slept in Sally grinned at Relena and marched herself out the door. The girl would have no other choice than to get up with the eiderdown that far away from her reach. Sometimes one had to be cruel to be kind and Sally did not mind being cursed at if it got the girl's mind off what worried her for a while.

"I'll be ready in half an hour or so. Take your time."

Was that cussing in a delicate whisper she heard as the door closed? Snickering softly to herself Sally inclined her head to the Preventer agent stationed nearest to the Princesses door and made her way down the hallway to the door that separated her from the Gundam pilots.

Two sharp raps on the door should stir them she decided.

She was not inclined to walk in on the young men. First of all it was impolite to simply waltz in, and it was not done for a female, that she was a Doctor was beside the point-they were not her patients, to enter the room of two males unannounced. There was also the little matter of her valuing her life.

You did not surprise an elite soldier and expect to walk away unscarred. She personally liked breathing.

Frowning Sally eyed the door fully having expected at least a verbal enquiry by now, if not a young man staring at her through a crack in the door... or more likely Yuy and the barrel of his gun glaring at her while she could see in those Arctic baby blues the debate raging on whether or not to pull the trigger.

They would sleep light, on alert even as they rested, though neither had been informed they would be expected to stand watch. Quatre was Mr. Personality and she needed him. She could trust him to entertain, evaluate and assess the guest's resident at the Inn at this time. The Winner was, potentially, the most 'people person' she was ever likely to meet and his presence was an asset in their present circumstances.

Sally repeated the knock, a little louder this time and waited, leaning her ear close to the door to catch any response.

Yuy would be the perfect deterrent to anyone getting up close and personal with the Princess once Relena's presence was known. There was always someone who wanted to get too close, who would not take the warning implied by the presence of security, who just had to push themselves forward. One look from Yuy's Arctic blue eyes and Sally had little doubt Relena would be safe and enjoy some breathing space. Between Yuy, Winner and herself, both Mariemaia and Relena would be safe enough for the day and she could only hope they could escape the Coachman's Rest the next day.

Was that...a response? Uncertain what it was she had heard Sally hesitated. It had been low, not a voice, she was sure, but something else. Discretion being the better part of valour the doctor decided the solution was to knock a third time; harder. Just to be sure.

Yes, definitely a response, though it sounded more like a groan than anything cognisant. Certainly it had not sounded like words more like a... well, not exactly a groan, somewhere between a groan and maybe a curse? Lips pursed Sally considered the door and what might lie beyond it.

If it had been Trowa and Quatre in there she would have thought twice about entering the room after hearing that particular type of sound, it might have been construed as being 'suggestive' of certain adult activities, but it was Heero in there, not Trowa. Quatre was well and truly enamoured of Trowa and Heero was, according to Mariemaia, developing feelings for Relena.

Now that, she reminded herself, was something she could not leave alone. She would have to investigate and report to Une if there were any grounds for concern that the two might be getting a little closer than they needed to be. They were worlds apart in birth and training, and they had to see how the world would view their relationship. The general consensus was sure to be that any relationship the two might consider would be doomed to failure, be it from incompatible lifestyle or the weight of public opinion and pressure.

It would not be considered fair by Relena but the girl was a seasoned politician by now and would be sensible enough to see how the wind would blow. The real question would be if she could control her hormones and not make mistakes that would ruin her reputation and usefulness in the public arena.

But that was for later, and right now there was a definite moan coming from beyond the door. There was no way those two would be doing anything... inappropriate. Not Quatre with Heero.

Feeling as though she was taking her life in her hands Sally tried the door and found it to be securely locked. Snorting softly the Doctor hammered on the door.

"Open the door, will you?"

That was definitely a groan followed by a thud and a brief spate of exceedingly colourful metaphors. Sally snickered as the door shuddered, the sounds of the lock and latch rattling suggesting they were resisting efforts to unlock and open.

"Language!" Sally laughed, "I can speak Japanese you know!"

She almost expected Yuy to rip the door from its hinges and if it had not been so well made Heero very well might have, but suddenly the door was thrust open and a very bleary eyed Heero Yuy glared at her.

"What?"

"And a fine good morning it is too, if you like being stuck in a blizzard. You do realise the time, don't you?"

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2011

So sorry it has taken so long to get this chapter out and chapters of the other fics. Working on F&E now and then will be starting to plot out the next Agency fic. Again, sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoy.

Karina


	204. Chapter 204 Chapter 203 Mars

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 203/?

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

/... / thoughts

"... " speech

~/... /~ text

*... * flashback

** ...** Vision

Alternative Directions: Options: Mars

Chapter 203

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time: 5:40 [Approximate Sanc Time 03:31]

Barker

Despite the fact that he was alive (definitely a good thing) and capable of thinking, feeling, hurting and, in general, bitching, he could not say that it was proving to be a good day. What had started out yesterday to be an ordinary everyday working day had gone to hell in a hand basket and now, despite a new day having dawned, the crisis was far from over.

But he was alive and he was healthy, more so than too many others on Mars at this time, if somewhat tired. Tired? Shit no, he was exhausted, but there was no time to rest, no time to think of personal needs, no time to permit himself to relax even for a few sparse minutes. He was not the only one who was alive and he had a responsibility to see that those people who had survived the betrayal and wholesale slaughter remained alive.

And then there were aggravating men he respected who seemed to take the bull by the horns and presume he was a simple minded idiot who would believe whatever drivel they told him.

Now that was aggravating with a capital A.

How much of a fool did they take him for?

No, no it was more than aggravating, it was infuriating.

The bastards could have returned his respect, but no. Respect was not what he had gotten when he had gone seeking answers. Was it really too much to expect for them to come out with something plausible, something that explained the shit piling up around them and threatening to bury them in an avalanche of putrification?

Corruption in high places he could understand, but those people who worked on the front lines were generally straight with each other. They protected each others backs against attack, sticking together to survive. A bit of respect from men in the same circumstance would have been nice, but noooo. No, they had to sit there and tell him…

Well, in a warped manner, if he squinted a bit, it might sound vaguely reasonable, he grudgingly admitted, but regardless of how reasonable they had succeeded in making their explanation sound it was still reasonable sounding bunkum!

Crap. Shit. Manure smelt honestly earthy compared to the stuff they had tried to feed him… and they had to know he would not swallow it so why waste time and breath?

They were not fools, Marquise in particular.

He knew far more about Zechs Marquise than he did about Haydon Giles, but that was beside the point. Both had struck him as being particularly intelligent men and generally, intelligent men did not expect such a load of science fiction to be believable. Intelligent men knew that to make the outlandish believable you had to offer up a generous serving of truth mixed with copious amounts of fabrication.

/It's the only way to make idiocy sound plausible. You mix in a certain amount of truth to make such outlandish drivel sound not only plausible, but reasonable, and reasonable is the key to being believed./

It was going to be something of a hassle, certainly an unneeded distraction at this critical time, to work his way through the information they had given him to get at the truth it contained. Haydon Giles was largely an unknown factor, but given the reputation of the Lightening Count he could be certain there would be a lot of convoluted twists, turns and squeezing of the facts through fine graded filters involved.

Barker scrubbed his hands across his face, wishing he could bellow his frustration to the world at large, but that was something he had to account as a luxury and, therefore, a needless waste of precious time. There might be no time for that but the question remained; how the fuck was he supposed to trust someone with the reputation that man possessed?

Marquise certainly knew it was a valid question, he knew it, and Haydon Giles had to know it too. No matter if every word Marquise spoke at any given time, in any given situation, was the Gospel truth, he would be distrusted.

It was not going to be easy to dig amidst the dross to find a single seed of truth and there might well be a veritable garden of truths buried in amidst the weeds he had heard earlier. But still, in a situation as serious as this, when so many lives had been lost and so many still hung in the balance, he had to ask if Marquise would play such word games?

It was not as though the man was a politician where every word was carefully twisted to appeal to a listener, not that what Marquise had told him could be termed as appealing to anyone other than a hardened sci fi buff, of which he categorically was not. He was into crime and criminal investigation, not robots, intergalactic travel or ray guns.

He kept coming back to the same thing. The man was not a fool and had to know how outlandish his information had sounded and yet he had said it. Even stressed it.

Psychics was it?

/Damnably shitty fall back from a crappy fifth rate sci fi novel./ So he was to shrug and nod and believe they were super heroes now? /Ah, shit. Why can't things ever go easily where that bastard is concerned?/

He was left with no other option other than to try to extract fact from fiction. It was, undeniably, the truth that there were agents from just about every big business consortium and political faction that powered the economy of the ESUN now resident on Mars. With the construction and nearing completion of the Beta Dome, interest in the exploration and development of Mars had risen.

It would take hundreds of years to terra form the planet, but the construction of domed habitats made the colonisation of another planet a real time viable interest. The self contained habitats made accessing the planet's raw resources reachable, more affordable than mining in the asteroid belt and therefore attractive to share holders. Money that had been hard to come by for the project had finally begun to flow a little easier. While the surface of the planet was hostile to the human condition, and would remain so for generations, it was less of an obstacle to overcome than the difficulties to be found in mining the asteroid belt.

The mining consortiums would no longer need to construct the mega expensive habitats that were all too often breached by debris in the asteroid belt. The exorbitant funding requirements for a space mining enterprise were estimated to be halved if Mars was the mining site.

The Beta Dome would become the home base for most of the big mining consortiums and smaller mining communities would develop and grow over time, thus aiding in spreading out the population and opening up the planet. Mars would flourish. The first of the refineries was already planned, the design specifications approved and its location chosen close to the first of the mining sites identified as being rich enough to warrant the initial expenditure involved. The foundations for the portable mining habitat and the refinery were being marked out by the survey and research team who had been fortunate enough to be absent from the domes during this macabre killing spree.

Those few men and women were fortunate to have been assigned the tour and thereby have missed the blood bath and were not due to return for another few days. It would all be over by their return date, but he could wish they would return early and he could access their communications equipment.

/I can't even recall them with our communications down. The bastards knew exactly where and how to isolate us; to make us vulnerable./

Or were there, perchance, Sleeper agents mixed in with the survey crew? Was there another massacre happening on Mars, unwitnessed as this was meant to be? That crew, from memory, had a couple of ex soldiers in their number, but most were technicians and grunt labourers. Would they, the survivors of the attacks on the domes population, have stood a chance if not for Marquise being somehow prepared for this event?

/Damn. That just makes what he said sound more plausible./

Perhaps the exploration team out on the planet's surface might have become concerned with the long radio silence of the domes? If so, it was not beyond the realm of possibility that they might make the decision to return early.

/I don't know whether to hope for it or not./

The vastness that was space was the greatest challenge to be overcome when the unexpected happened. It was not just on Mars that the danger lay, but out in the space lanes too that mechanical malfunction, or human error, could land you in shit deep enough to reach your armpits. Space was so big, so empty and their ships were so slow and so few. Be you a new colonist or a long term spacer, if there was trouble of any sort you were most likely to have to deal with it on your own. Adapt or die.

The tech's fingers flew across the keyboard so fast that he could not follow the symbols and script flashing across the screen in response. In their favour Mars claimed some of the best computer techs in the ESUN and he had to put his trust in the people he had.

Not so easy to do when the man sitting before him with his head bent in concentration over the console could be one of the bastards aiming to slaughter the lot of them. It was all a matter of trust. They would flounder and fail without it, but he sure as hell was not going to allow anyone to stand behind him.

Any number of the survivors could still have their own agenda, and yet to stand a chance of surviving they had to trust each other. It was imperative that they relied on each other.

He was going to have to go back in that room down the hall and have another attempt to garner some truth out of those men. The medics were taking their time looking them over, but the delay gave him some small amount of time to consider what his next move should be. He did not want to consider Marquise and his henchmen might be slaughtering the medics, or vice versa, but it was, he supposed, a very real possibility given the uncertainty of their situation. And in the aftermath the survivors could claim to have been set upon by the other parties…

/Christ, I'm a paranoid bastard./

But not without reason, he mused, after the hell they had thus far endured. It was a life changing experience, going through a massacre and coming out the other side alive; alive but certainly not unaffected. He could not help but wonder if he would ever really trust another person again. Certainly it would not come easily, not even for those who worked with him for years given the Sleepers and how long some of them had lived and worked on Mars; always provided he lived to see this mission done, of course.

Yes, trust or the lack of it, would be an issue that would haunt him for the remainder of his days, however long that might prove to be.

What did surprise him was that Marquise gave every appearance of trusting Haydon Giles who, he was sure, the man had never met before this hellish night. Why? Marquise, given his unique situation, would not trust lightly so why would Marquise trust a man he did not know?

Too many questions sounding all too similar, with too many aspects affecting his needed course of action.

He was tired, he wanted, needed, to sleep but there was no time and the sheer volume of questions buzzing around in his head would not have allowed him to rest anyway. There was just too much to think on to allow him to give himself over to relaxing to a level where sleep would do him any good.

Fact, and it was a fact too, despite whispers to the contrary; Marquise was not a fool. Zechs Marquise was well aware of how everyone watched him, wondered about him, thought of him… well, how most people thought of him at least. Haydon Giles seemed to be awfully comfortable with the man dubbed the Terror of Earth. They seemed rather chummy actually and that in itself was worrying.

In his capacity as the Preventer representative on Mars he had reviewed the records of every person who had come to Mars, be they a member of the common workforce, administration, planning and tactical, scientist or what ever. He had viewed their records, even the files of those who crewed the supply ships that brought supplies and personnel. He had given those records more than a cursory glance, mindful of Marquise and what he might be planning to escape the confinement on the planet, or of others planning to eliminate the man. There was nothing in Haydon Giles' record that suggested there was any links to Marquise in the past.

Of course in hindsight there was so much in so many of the Mars personnel records that had been covered up it was not funny. He had not pegged this Giles, or Chris Polnar, as being suspect when he had reviewed their records on their arrival, and he had made private notes on everyone he suspected as working for consortiums and other agencies. The two men had worked their jobs, put no foot out of turn and avoided his notice, and it was not only them who had succeeded in slipping in under the radar.

Just how many people on Mars answered to someone in a higher authority from Earth or the colonies and had a suspect agenda?

He had missed too many of them, given the massacre taking place. Just who was it hidden behind convoluted paper trails and subterfuge that he could point a gun at and gain some personal satisfaction for their betrayal? Who was it who was behind the bastards murdering everyone?

That was speculation for another time and place. Right now he needed… needed…

/Coffee./

He desperately needed a good strong brew of coffee and, thankfully, they were making progress with arrangements to the point someone had made coffee in the doctors lounge. He could smell it pervading the hallways and rooms of the medical centre and that might just give him the needed lift to keep going.

Space stations, psychics and insane assassins running loose butchering everyone they came across… anything could be dealt with calmly and methodically if he could just get a decent cup of coffee.

"Well?"

The tech rubbed at his eyes, no doubt just as tired as he, but the man made no complaint nor did he look up from his work. They all understood the time constraints and the dangers they yet faced.

"The virus is buried deep, but we will get it out of the system. We just need more time."

In other words, piss off and leave him to his work. He could respect that. Barker grunted and stomped to the door.

"I'll have someone send you coffee shortly."

"That would be appreciated."

At least it wasn't a short tempered grunt. He was not the only one who could appreciate a decent brew of coffee, and at the present time he did not particularly care if it tasted like burnt dishwater, just so long as it was coffee. Barker strode down the hallway, watchful and listening, unwilling to leave himself exposed. Now was not the time to be careless.

No one was in the hallway at present, but he could hear the low murmur of voices from the room ahead and someone was moving around in the room opposite him; he could hear the sounds of someone cleaning up. There was, unfortunately, a great deal of cleaning up to be done. They had searched the medical centre and found no one suspicious, as in no one who had not been on his team or on the medical staff whilst the butchery had been underway, but that was not to say none of them were above suspicion.

Anyone could be a killer biding their time. Anyone.

You could, in this situation, only trust yourself. You knew 'you' could be trusted but you dared not trust anyone else, not even the one you thought your best friend. He would not have suspected anyone at the base to be capable of this wholesale slaughter, not even Marquise if half the wildest rumours about him could be believed.

He paused at the door to the lounge, looking over his shoulder as the doors leading into the medical section were thrust open and a sealed life support capsule was pushed through. Two attendants, medical orderlies, were almost running, their hands locked on the sides of the unit as they guided it.

"Intensive care bay three. I sent ahead to have it readied so wheel it straight into position."

The man striding along behind the attendants pushing the capsule ahead of them looked harried, reams of paper clutched in his hands and arms. His head was lowered to allow him to study the readout in one hand whilst the sheets of paper kept cascading out of his clutches every few seconds, no matter how he gathered them together.

"Doc?"

The capsule came abreast of him and the attendants did not so much as hesitate, moving quickly past him, but he looked down into the almost blue face of the woman who had seemed to be so full of life and fire. There was nothing fiery about Lucrezia Noin now. He glimpsed minor cuts and bruises on her face, arms and shoulders though she had been cleaned up, and there were bandages and dressings aplenty hiding the more serious damage. The capsule emitted an assortment of rhythmic beeps that told him she was at least alive, though he would have said otherwise without that tell tale sound.

"Barker." The doctor trailing behind the capsule nodded in greeting. "She's alive… just. Other than that, I can't really say anything. Her injuries appear to be largely superficial and I can't find a head wound that would account for her current condition. Keep moving, you two, I want her in ICU before she goes into cardiac arrest again."

Barker arched an eyebrow, looking up as the orderlies passed him to meet the physician's gaze. "Again?"

The man stared for a long moment at the reams of paper clutched in his arms. "You don't want to know how many times the shuttle's emergency medical program has revived her."

Barker blanched, knowing that the next time might be the last with a human to make the decision, not an automated medical program. The doctor nodded in passing and strode after the retreating capsule leaving Barker to watch after the tight cluster of people hurrying down the length of the hallway, wondering if Marquise had any idea how bad the woman's condition was. But if he and Giles had placed Noin in the life support capsule, as they had claimed, then it was answer enough.

"Shit."

Coffee. He needed coffee before another crisis could present itself and leave him on the verge of becoming the gibbering village idiot. The teams searching through the accommodation blocks for survivors would be returning soon and he dreaded to think what they might report. He had seen enough death in the last few hours to last him a life time. All he wanted was for the crisis to be over, but when that would happen…

"Coffee. Now."

The doctor's lounge was deserted, which did not come as a surprise to him. There was a great deal that had to be done and not a great many people surviving to do it. Like him they would come in one's or two's and pour coffee and take it with them to continue their assigned tasks.

The second of the two coffee makers was almost empty, a clear indication of others taking a few minutes to get some liquid stimulant, and he took the time to make a new pot. By the time it was brewed and ready there would be someone ready to enjoy it.

Dropping a new filter into place he pinched the bridge of his nose, considering his agenda. He would have to let Marquise know they had retrieved Noin from the shuttle bay, and he would arrange for the doctor to report on her condition when he had time enough to settle the woman into intensive care. He had time before he would need to do that duty, the medics were not finished with the two men as yet and he had a little time to fortify himself for the next round of questioning.

/For the next round of twisted half truths and blatant lies. Christ, this is not the time for deception and game playing./

He kept thinking it, telling himself they knew he was not a fool, and they would know that he knew how the game was played. He was well aware Zechs Marquise had had one of the best teachers at how to warp deception and lies in with facts to sound plausible. Treize Khushrenada had not risen to where he had stood during the war at so young an age without a frightening amount of natural talent, and Khushrenada had not suffered fools to be close to him.

/So, maybe as much as five to ten percent of the garbage he fed me I could possibly trust. The question is, which bits of that 'explanation' are they?/

Scoops of coffee into the machine… extra strong? Maybe an extra scoop, they all needed as much of a lift as possible and no one would be sleeping for a good few hours yet.

Khushrenada would have taught his henchman how to handle sticky situations, how to deceive and worm his way unscathed out of many varied situations, but he doubted the man would have expected Marquise to resort to science fiction. Which gave him cause enough to pause and reconsider his instant dismissal of what he had been told. Marquise was far from being a fool, and he was trained by the best. The Order of the Zodiac, under Treize Khushrenada, had not turned out science fiction addicts with little grasp on reality.

/For him to outright lie about it… It makes no sense./

He turned from the coffee machine to the first unit and poured himself a foam cup full of rich, black liquid, frowning thoughtfully as he spooned four teaspoons of sugar into the brew. Strong and sweet to give an energy boost, that was what he needed.

Of course there was the theory bandying about the ESUN that Marquise was a certified nut case, how else did you explain him trying to blow holes in the planet? But on meeting the man and over subsequent exposure, Barker had found him to be anything but insane. Incredibly insightful, in fact. Nothing he had said or done on Mars gave the impression he was mentally unstable, and he certainly did not have anything to say about the Libra incident. Surely if he were insane he would boast and scream his reasoning for all to hear?

Mug in hand Barker shook his head, admitting he did not understand the man and left the doctors lounge, turning toward the examination room. He had not taken three steps before the door opened and the medics stepped out, closing the door behind them.

/Perfect timing./

They looked relaxed enough and though there was a small amount of blood on their clothes it did not look enough to suggest there had been a massacre in his absence. Marquise would not have gone down without a fight and he already knew Haydon Giles was capable of holding his own, even injured. No massacre in the examination room then, good. At last, something had gone right.

"You have a report for me?"

They turned towards him, nodding amicably enough. One placed a hand to his lower back and arched a little, relieving cramped muscles and the other stifled a yawn. Yes, they were as tired as he and, like everyone else, they would not comment on it.

"Haydon Giles has three fractured ribs, multiple bruising, cuts and abrasions, and he has strained damage to the ligaments in his left shoulder. We have treated him as best we can, strapping his shoulder and given him painkillers. He informs us he treated himself with a broad spectrum antibiotic earlier, so we will leave it at that for the moment. He should get some sleep, but then we all could do with a few hours and none of us are likely to get it."

That was true enough, he mused. "Marquise?"

The medic shrugged slightly, a bare lift of his shoulders as he eyed the foam cup in Barker's hand with an almost predatory glint. "He's on the edge, physically, and with someone in his condition normally I would sedate him, but unfortunately that will not be possible. I am unable to give him even a painkiller at the present time, and he's already been given a dose of broad spectrum antibiotics. Other than check his bandaging and keeping him as quiet as possible at the present time, there is little we can do for him."

"Why no pain management?"

"From what we have been told by Giles and Marquise himself, he's had too much medication in too short a period of time to safely have more meds administered. His body needs time to recover from the chemical cocktail already in his system. I understand why he pushed himself so far and took the stimulants and painkillers, but one can only take so much before your body reacts adversely. It simply is not worth the risk to give him more. I'd hit the man over the head if I though being unconscious for a few hours would do him some good."

The man being hyped on meds might well explain to some degree the sci fi story he had been fed, but Marquise had seemed lucid enough. Barker sipped the coffee, considering the door to the examination room for a long moment.

"Is he fit enough to get out of the bed?"

"No. Not that he would not try getting up given half a chance, but that one is going no where for a while. Not until he gets some quality rest. The chemical cocktail has to burn its way out of his system, and when it begins to do that he will crash and burn fast. Best to keep him in bed for when that happens."

"And when will that be?"

"Any time now. The man has an iron will, I have to admire him for that, but it will do him no good. I would estimate he will be down inside of thirty minutes or so. He will not be able to resist it any longer than that. I honestly don't know what is keeping him as alert as he is, all the signs indicate he should be coming down now, but he is only human and we all have limits."

On a positive note Marquise could at least be contained, and he would need to get to the man soon to try to garner additional information out of him before he did collapse. The medics were right about one thing, they all had limits beyond which they could not go. The human body had its own defence mechanisms and pushing too far would trigger them. Not even a man of Marquise's calibre could avoid them.

"Injuries?"

"He's strapped and bandaged and that's the best we can do for him for the moment. He's going to be sore with the amount of skin he's lost, he's practically peeled himself raw in a number of places, and he has mild burns to his arms, hands and back. They look like electrical burns. Flash burns, probably. He has strained muscles in both legs and lower back and shoulders, and there are a four cracked ribs but thankfully no actual fractures. One shoulder is heavily bruised and there is a fantastic boot print patterned in dark purple to explain how he acquired it. In general terms, nothing is life threatening, and provided he is kept relatively quiet the pain should be manageable for a few hours."

Any comment Barker might have made was silenced at the screaming wail of an infant. He half turned, looking down the length of the hallway as the doors to the medical centre swung open and Polnar, with his companions holding the doors open, was ushering in two nurses.

"I believe Marquise might have been waiting to see that," he murmured.

Each of the nurses had an infant tied to their chest by a jury rigged harness and their arms were laden with bags which Mighty Joe Lee was quick to take from them now they were safely in the medical centre.

The medic snorted softly. "You are probably right."

Karina Robertson 2011


	205. Chapter 205 Chapter 204 Bounty

Hi there

So, so very sorry for the extremely long delay. Hope you forgive me. I am hoping life will settle down for a bit and I can get additional writing time to make up some lost ground.

Hope you enjoy.

Karina

00-0000-00

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 204/?

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Genre: Adventure

Pairings: eventual 6x2, past 2xH, 2+H, 6x9, 1+R others as they crop up

Warnings: It will be 6x2, even though it does not start out that way. After all, Zechs and Duo never met in Gundam Wing and only spoke briefly over a com line in Endless Waltz. I've tried to keep them in character as I saw them in the series. A bit of language creeping in under stressful conditions.

Spoilers: Gundam Wing Series and Endless Waltz

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me. I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you.

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

/... / thoughts

"... " speech

~/... /~ text

*... * flashback

** ...** Vision

Alternative Directions: Options: Bounty

Chapter 204

Preventer Patrol Cruiser E106 Bounty

Date 2nd March AC 198

Time: 18:55 Bounty Ship Time [14:35 Peacemission & Sanc time / Wellington time 13:47 / L1-0025 B 16:50]

Duo

/I hate waiting. I hate not knowing what the fuck is going down when I know something big is shitting all over my peaceful reality./

Blink.

Khaki painted metal. Rivets in offset pairs rising up the seam in the wall…

Blink

He would not look. He refused to look. There was no need for him to look.

/I hate people shitting on me and there never seems to be a lack of assholes willing to do the shitting. I fought a war already and I don't want to fight another one. I should not have to fight another!/ He closed his eyes, blocking out the bare metal wall with its khaki colour and never ending supply of rivets. /I'm tired of hurting. Tired of bleeding./

He would not look. He had better self control than that, he knew it. He could and would find other things to occupy his time whilst he waited… it was easy enough to find something to do.

Blink.

/What the fuck am I doing? Why am I heading out into space when I have… When I… Ah, God, life loves to shit on me. Are you enjoying your cosmic jest up there, Almighty One? Are you laughing like shit at me?/

He did not want to be here, staring at the bulkhead, forcing himself not to look at 'that'.

He had a son. He had just learned that he had a son; that he had helped make a precious, innocent life. He had just met the child… and he was heading out into the solar system, away from that little bundle of humanity that would not exist if not for him.

Blue eyes drifted up to the clock…

18:57

/Damn./

All of two minutes had passed since the last time he had weakened and glanced at the clock. Just two measly, miserable, boring minutes. Surely there was a malfunction? Yes, there had to be a malfunction. The stupid clock had to have a technical glitch, a gremlin. It was convenient to ignore the fact that every clock on the ship ran from the ship's central processing system that was the heart and brain of the vessel. Every clock on board would read exactly the same time.

Just two minutes had passed. He buried his head in his hands and dropped his head to the desk with a solid 'thunk'.

/Ah, crud! I'm going to drive myself crazy waiting around./

Half of his life, it seemed, involved waiting.

Blink.

18:58

/Shit./ He squeezed his eyes closed, refusing to look at the clock.

He really had to stop flicking glances up at the digital timepiece. Every two damned minutes… and even less this last time. His eyes inexorably found the glowing red digital numbers and for what? He knew what the time was without looking at the damnably boring, exactly precise, digital figures, and the excruciatingly painful metered blinking of the dots marking the second count between the pairs of numbers.

Clenching his fists he sucked in a slow breath, holding it at its peak until his lungs felt like they would burst. This was not good enough. He had to get a handle on himself; get himself under control or he would be of no use to anyone. This was getting out of hand and he knew he had more patience than this.

18:59

"Shit."

He was an 'action' man; a 'doer and shaker' of the world, not a sit and wait kind of guy.

His quiet sigh was the only sound to disturb the confines of the cabin. The room was well insulated against whatever noises might happen in the hallway beyond the door or from the adjacent cabins. The deep throbbing of the engines was not 'heard' so much as 'felt' as a vibration through the plate decking and that sound/vibration was something he was so familiar with that he did not notice it after the first few minutes.

Every ship ever designed and constructed had its own unique 'signature' to the 'sound' and 'feel' of the massive engines that drove them through the wide reaches of space. It had never taken him long to develop a feel for the unique signature of an engine, and pick up on any variation in the sound subconsciously. When you lived on a ship and your life depended on the smooth function of the ships mechanics, you learned to react at the first hint of trouble.

Any variation in that rhythmic beat was a danger signal until proven otherwise.

Not that he expected there to be trouble on this particular ship. It was a Preventer's long haul cruiser, just about brand spanking new, and Preventer had the best crews, the best training and the best mechanics money could buy. The crews were trained and psyche tested to take the long haul flights. The ships Officers of these long range patrol vessels were specially trained to observe and react to both the ship and their crew and they were strict about enforcing crew requirements. The Medical Centre watched the health of every person on board, physical and mental, with the attention of a hawk watching its next meal.

He was no stranger to ships, though he had not previously hopped a ride on the long haul vessels that left the central hub of the ESUN far behind them. He had spent time on a Sweeper ship and though they had not left the Hub he had stayed on the ship for months, but that was, in all honesty, not the same. What was a few paltry months on a Sweeper ship in comparison to this long range patrol ship?

Once the Bounty left the Hub they would be on their own out there for at least a year, more potentially, depending on what happened during the course of the patrol mission. Distance would isolate them and if anything disastrous happened they would be required to deal with it on their own merit. It would be unlikely they could expect any help to be close enough to come to their assistance in short order.

Why was he heading out into the back of beyond, into the depths and darkness of the solar system, when he had a son to watch grow and teach? Surely Hilde would not expect him to back off after learning he had a child? When he returned…

She knew how he liked kids. She knew how he hated being alone.

/Okay, so maybe she does not want to get back together. I can understand that. I'm not particularly inclined to hook back up with her, but I would like to know my boy. Aidan. Yeah, I'd like to watch him grow./

Was that not why he had fought the war? Well, maybe it had not been his reason at the time, but now, with some maturing under his belt, he had a different perspective.

To watch a child that was his grow and develop in a peaceful time, as he had never had the chance to do as a child…? Oh yes, he wanted that.

19: 05

"Shit!"

He closed his eyes. He had looked at the clock again… but it was, at least, a bit better this time around. More than the horrid time dragging two minutes had passed.

He would need to find amusements on this trip and quickly. He never had liked being idle. He would need to start before they left the Hub. There would be social clubs on the ship of course. They would have a vast library of movies, novels and games to distract the crew. He would find out about the social clubs, hobby groups, and anything else that might be on offer to distract him from the boredom he knew was the most dangerous thing he was likely to face on this trip.

His eyes moved over the walls of his room, picking out every rivet flanking every join in every sheet of metal and, as expected, he felt the first stirrings of despair at the size of this - his allocated, personal space. This oversized cubicle, this glorified closet was his cabin, his hideaway from the crew when company grated on his nerves; but as much as it would become a sanctuary it would also be his prison.

It was to be expected that he would run the gamut of emotions at his change in circumstances, and it should not worry him. Not at this stage of the trip. Bounty was a big ship with a large crew. There would be new faces, new people to meet on a regular, if not daily basis, if he went looking. No, it had to be 'when' he went looking. He would not be permitted to close himself off and hide away from the rest of the crew. His activities and interaction with the crew would be closely monitored and he could not afford to allow himself to become paranoid about Big Brother always watching him.

In this situation there had to be a Big Brother, and the surveillance really was for his own good.

He generally was not one to experience the restrictions or dangers inherent in claustrophobia, certainly not after so recently arriving on what was really a rather large ship. Certainly she was not huge, but she was not small either and he would have to utilise every inch of her to broaden his world for the next few… months? A year? More?

/God I hope not!/

It was just that there had been no real warning before this mission had arisen. He had not had the chance to prepare, to psyche himself up to face the reduced world he would be expected to deal with.

/It would not be so bad if I just knew how long I would be on this tub./

19:07

He glared at the wall, inches below the offensive sight. He did not look at the clock!

He was a professional, an experienced agent. He was not a school kid with his eyes glued to a clock waiting for the doom of a test, or some other triviality, to brutalise his innocent life. Close his eyes, draw deep breaths, quiet his mind and… relax. It was doing him no good sitting here and dwelling on what lay ahead of him, imagining the deep darkness, the sheer emptiness of space. Dwelling on everything he did not know about this mission was serving only to hype him up and ignite his admittedly 'occasionally' volatile temper.

He was strung out with waiting and not knowing. Knowing things were happening out there in the ESUN that he was somehow involved in and yet could not influence; knowing that he just had to sit on his hands and wait.

Because it was all he 'could' do.

19:08

Damn! Damn, damn and just… just…

"Fuck." Instead of a curse with force behind it, it came out as a rather pathetic whimper.

Less than a minute had passed. Maybe a bare minute.

Sixty seconds could be an eternity filled with the worst kind of agony imaginable.

What was happening out there?

He needed to find his focus, to settle himself down and get over the vast emptiness he saw opening up before him. It would not be empty. He would fill the days, the Medical Staff would make certain of that! So get over it and move on. Stop clock watching because sitting here waiting and watching that boringly inanimate digital clock was steadily, and speedily, sending him insane…

And he was obsessing on the stupid clock again!

He wanted to leave his cabin and explore the confines of his metal world, but at present that was not possible. They were coming up toward a burn period. If they were to remain with the planned schedule for this patrol then that burn would take place in approximately thirty minutes.

It was not worth leaving his cabin to begin exploring the ship, or to attempt to make social overtures with his crew-mates. At the present time most of the crew would be performing their vital duties in keeping the Bounty flying through space smoothly and safely. A shift change was due to take place after the burn and it was doubtful there would be any social interaction taking place until the second day of the mission. The periods when he would get to know the men and women who made up the crew would focus on when the ship was into a scheduled long flight session. He had a vague memory of there being something like a week after the initial burns took place before another course correction and burn might be required.

Sometime in the next fifteen minutes or so he could expect the first of the general alerts to sound and the Executive Officer would place the crew on pre burn alert. At that point personnel who were not required for the actual acceleration operation would be required to make their way speedily to their cabins, lock their gear down and strap themselves down. Then it would be a waiting game for everyone on the ship other than the flight and engineering crews.

He had already locked down his cabin for something to do, and now he was left looking at the clock.

19:10

Blink

Waiting.

Twiddling his thumbs.

Blink.

Staring at the walls.

"This sucks."

What was happening on Mars? It was sure to be bloody. But Marquise was no fool and Duo doubted he would be taken unawares. And what was happening out there, not so far from the red planet, between the Peacemission and the Wellington?

Had something unthinkable happened?

If something happened to the Peacemission and her crew…. It would be his fault.

Peacemission was a Sweeper ship, thankfully not a Family Ship with the lives of families on the line. He should not have involved the Sweepers. Technically he was not a Sweeper and Howard… Well, Howard was respected amidst the Sweeper organisation, but it was none of his affair to step between a private citizen and the ESUN government.

Marquise was a private citizen when it came down to it. A dead man to boot. Dead men tell no tales and should be allowed to remain dead, but this one… this one seemed incapable of vanishing. Intentionally or not on his part he haunted the ESUN.

Howard would not leave him wondering any longer than absolutely necessary. He was sure of that. Howard knew why he had called… well, not really, but he would understand. He knew that Howard had liked Marquise, that they had been together on Peacemillion before Marquise had become White Fang. Howard would not have been happy to know after the fact what was happening on Mars, and knowing he had been close enough to do something at the time.

Howard was never one to prevaricate while injustice occurred around him. It had led the man invariably into troubled waters in the past and the old man had told him once that it would inevitably lead him astray again in the future. He was just that sort of individual and Duo had nothing but admiration for him.

"Call me, damn it."

He pressed his face into his arms, head down on the console and after a moment found he was very gently, rhythmically, bumping his head against the desk. The movement was mirroring his heartbeat, taking comfort in the steady pulse.

"Fuck this."

He refrained from glancing at the clock as he dug out his laptop and ran the connections to the console. He waited patiently for the system to load and for the multiple layers of protection to buffer him from any unauthorised prying by unknown bodies. He had to do 'something' or he would go berserk and they had not been in space long enough for even the greenest of space travellers to lose the plot.

Loading his email he was disappointed to find there was nothing from Earth. A quick check of the ships communication systems revealed that much of Europe was still under cloud, though to his eyes it looked like the great disc of cloud had thinned considerably and certainly it had shrunk.

/Well then, I guess it should not be too long before they get their act together. Guess it could have caused quite a bit of damage./

A flashing alert on the weather page drew his attention and he clicked on it, settling back to watch video footage from a news channel that had managed to get a signal through the storm conditions. It was not footage of Sanc, but it did give him enough of an idea to know how bad it could have been in that geographically small but none-the-less important country.

"Damn! I am glad I was not there for the ride."

For all the years he had been on Earth the periodically wild extremes the weather was capable of reaching still made him more than a little uneasy. Twice he had been caught on a mission for Preventer in atrocious weather; whether it was called a hurricane, a cyclone or a typhoon it made no difference to him. Once experienced he had had an even healthier respect for the weather a planet could produce.

There were no destructive winds and no flooding on a colony. No tornadoes, no ice storms, no sand storms.

An alert for incoming mail drew his eye and he grinned, closing down the window where the announcer was talking about heavy snows and destructive winds and pictures showed the destruction the storm had left in its wake. A click of a key and he grinned.

"Trowa, my man! What are you up to?"

~/ Hey. Wondering if you have been able to get into contact with dirt-side? I'm on my way to L2 and was hoping to at least chat with Q. No luck. If you get through tell him I'm thinking of him. Got a strange one to chase. That raid may not be an isolated case. T. /~

Duo sat back from the screen and sucked in a breath. There was no way… was there? Could it be that somehow Trowa had found something that might be related to the raid that had resulted in him learning about the Romefeller genetic laboratories pertaining to the information on the hard drives? And L2. He had said he was on his way to L2.

But 'that raid' might have been any one of… oh, five or so missions they had been a part of over the last twelve months.

The Captain had earlier informed him that there had been an incident on L-10025 B and he had wondered at the time if Trowa might know something about it. He had wondered if Trowa might not have been on the colony at the time of the incident, but Trowa moved around a lot, both with the circus and on Preventer business. One could never be quite sure where he might be. Duo had thought he might be on his way back to Earth, but if he was en route to L2…

Trowa knew about the raid on the Romefeller laboratories and knew what they had found. He would know about the standing order for those involved in the raid to report and pursue any and all leads pertaining to the matter. If he was headed for L2, which of the colonies in the cluster was he aiming for?

"Nah. The odds of it being L2-0397 would have to be… well, not so good."

But he had learned a long time ago, when he had called the streets his home, that coincidence happened with frightening regularity. He could not afford to jump to conclusions though, and really, this matter Trowa was dealing with had nothing to do with him, no matter his destination. He would need to be patient, keep an attentive ear open and stop dwelling on the emptiness of space looming large ahead of him.

Trowa's message had reminded him of the hard drive containing data he had yet to explore which might, or not, have something to do with the laboratories. Well, he knew it must have something to do with THAT laboratory, that was where he had acquitted the data in the first place, but… He had found information on the Gundam pilots and on certain Oz personnel and therefore he had an interest in anything to do with more of the laboratories they might locate.

He was dead certain there was secrets that might prove world shaking, if they could just unearth them. But Preventers had taught him that people in high places wanted facts, not supposition or speculation. Facts had to be gathered, obscure clues and links had to be investigated. Links might or not exist to some of the 'better' families heading the ESUN, but until he could prove irrevocably that there were viable links between the data on the hard drives and the horrors of the laboratories, he would have to be careful of what he said.

To discuss such matters he would not be happy unless he was standing beside Trowa and he could be assured there were no listeners to eavesdrop on their conversation. The Bounty would give him the time to dig into the drives and he could start that hunt with the new day.

What the hell had he been sitting here hyping himself up for over being bored?

"Later tonight, if I come out of the burn period able to move."

The unpleasantness of the acceleration would be felt for hours after the actual event, and it was best if one could sleep it off, but he might not be tired enough to do that initially.

ALL HANDS. ATTENTION ALLHANDS. INITIATE STAGE ONE PREPERATION FOR PROLONGUED ACCELERATION PERIOD. REPEAT. ALL HANDS INITIATE STAGE ONE PREPERATION FOR PROLONGUED ACCELERATION PERIOD.

/Damn./

Their timing just sucked.

19:18

Just when he found something interesting he was required to abandon the matter. Life was an unfair bitch at times, but he would have plenty of time to think things through. The first thing he needed to do was reply to Trowa. His friend was on Preventer business and as such he would not be at liberty to discuss the case, but that did not mean they could not exchange some information in a not quite straight forward manner.

They complained too often that he had no respect for the rules but they were wrong. Duo had a great deal of respect for the rules and regulations and for why they had been drawn up in the first place. He knew them and he knew when to test them, when to stretch them and when to break them. At the moment, given the circumstances, he could do a little honest testing without breaking or stretching them more than a modicum.

~/Hey T

If you find yourself stopping over on L2-0397 at any time call in and see Hilde. She has a precious package I'd like you to see. Best surprise present I've ever had. Luck with your chase. If I can help in any way let me know. About to get the long legs on and hurt for a bit. Definitely need to catch up with you.

D /~

Dare he include anything else? No, best not. He did include the call sign for the Bounty, letting Trowa know where he was if not what he was doing. As the Bounty accelerated out of the hub communications would become protracted, drawing out as the lag set it, but that could be dealt with. It would do him good to receive 'video mail' from home.

At any hour of the day or night he might hear from Howard. His hope it would be before the Bounty entered the long period of acceleration had come to nothing, but that was just something he would have to deal with. It would give him something to look forward to after the burn period was done and his body stopped protesting the abuse.

ATTENTION ALL HANDS. NON ESSENTIAL PERSONNEL ARE TO STRAP DOWN FOR IMMINENT ACCELERATION. BURN WILL COMMENCE IN TWO MINUTES. REPEAT. ALL NON ESSENTIAL PERSONNEL ARE TO STRAP DOWN AND SECURE FOR IMMINENT ACCELERATION. BURN WILL COMMENCE IN TWO MINUTES.

Duo winced and slipped the laptop safely into its cradle, locking the draw carefully and glancing around quickly to make certain nothing was loose. Satisfied, he hauled himself to the bunk and laboriously secured the straps, taking care to ensure there would be no uneven pressure to bruise or stress his musculature.

Resting back against the pillow held to the bunk by strips of Velcro he settled himself down and began to regulate his breathing.

ATTENTION ALL HANDS. ACCELERATION BURN COMMENCING IN THIRTY SECONDS. PERIOD OF ACCELERATION WILL BE FOUR HOURS AND FIFTEEN MINUTES.

He could feel the vibration in the engines rising and was careful not to breathe out and lose his lungful of oxygen as the interplanetary engines roared into life, kicking the Bounty viciously into a higher speed. By the time the burn was finished the Hub would lie well behind them and a vast void would lie ahead until they reached Mars and the aftermath of whatever was happening there now.

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2012


	206. Chapter 206 Chapter 205

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 205/? Mars

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

/... / thoughts

"... " speech

~/... /~ text

*... * flashback

** ...** Vision

Alternative Directions: Options: Mars

Chapter 205

Mars Colony

Base Dome

2nd March AC 198

Time 7:45 [approximate Sanc time 05:36]

Barker

All he wanted to do, and he was ready to apply the word 'desperately' to the need, was to put his head down and rest. To experience the utter relief of closing his eyes and allowing the relaxing, dark wash of sleep to overtake him. It would be wonderful, even if it proved to be only for a few precious minutes. At this point in time there was no chance of that happening, and he lamented the loss to himself with every throb of his unhappy body and mind.

He could lay claim to a thundering headache, echoing resoundingly with every beat of his heart. His mouth and throat felt as dry and smooth as sandpaper, and he could, unfortunately, lay claim to a bladder feeling the effects of drinking entirely too much coffee. But at this point in time all of those petty discomforts were secondary to the hard facts governing their lives.

They had people out on the surface of Mars. People sheltering in caves through the chill Martian night, who would be running low on vital supplies. People running out of air and the power packs required to keep their suits warm enough to allow them to survive the bitter night temperatures. The sun was rising out there, beyond the safety of the Base Dome, though he could not see it stuck here in the Medical Centre as he was. To the human body the days here were only marginally warmer than the nights, and those people out there were vulnerable, exposed.

They were dead and did not know it.

He had not managed to unlock the dome.

They were dead, though at this time most, if not all, remained alive.

At any time now that the sun was rising, the survivors of the night would begin the harsh trek across the rocky, dusty landscape to reach the Base Dome. As soon as the outside temperature warmed sufficiently to reduce the excessive heating load on the suits' power packs, the suit mechanics could redistribute power to be shared amidst other life saving functions, for the forced walk. Absorbing and evaporating body sweat and the moisture in human breath, heating the suit to tolerable levels, regulating the mechanics of feeding oxygen into the helmet and powering the onboard computer systems that allowed the user to operate on the inhospitable Martian surface… it all took power. The power units held limited charge, and there were not enough units to continually change expended charges on the trek to the dome. If the user was to reach the dome at all they would need to maintain a set, rigidly adhered to pace.

Hurrying to reach the safety of the dome would serve only to exhaust the power units long before reaching safety, the onboard systems being needlessly stressed; likewise moving too slowly would see the units exhausted. There were newbies out there in that group who might easily make the mistake of not listening to more experienced veterans. Panic could make normally reasonable, rational people a danger to themselves and others and, on Mars, to panic was to die.

How many of them would they lose? When this was all over bar the shouting, how many would they have lost? There would be some casualties, he was resigned to that simple truth, but somehow they had to save as many as they possibly could.

God, he was tired.

Exhausted.

He did not want to think; it physically hurt to think. Thinking made his head hurt, his head hurting reminded him of every ache in every muscle his body sported. If he dared to pop a few pills to drown the thumping pain in chemical relief… but no. No, he could not afford to do that. He had already taken more than he should have and he needed to trust his own judgement. He could not afford to worry if a cocktail of chemicals was scrambling his thinking.

There was too much to do. He should have returned to the examination room to beard Marquise and his henchmen on that incredible load of tripe they had tried to feed him. Between seeing to the settling of the groups of survivors arriving from the accommodations blocks, overseeing the operations to try to regain control of the Base Dome's computer systems, and trying to figure a means by which they could get the Dome open safely… he was stretched thin.

Too thin.

The people who came to Mars were good at what they did; no one here was simply a cast off from society running away. You did not found a colony with outcasts who had no concept of what was required, physically, mentally or skills based. His people were good, damnably good, but they were up against people who were equally as good, if not better. The computer techs were running into firewall after firewall trying to batter down the invader's defences. The virus was proving to be not only insidiously invasive, but tough to eradicate. It was the work of a demented genius in his opinion, and he could admire that, but he cursed the bastard who had designed it to know every layer of hell.

In his opinion dropping the deviant asshole into the heart of a burning star was too good for whoever designed this particular bug.

/Locking the prick in a survival capsule without a suit and uploading the virus might be worth a shot. Let the bastard sweat a bit, and then I could shoot the capsule off on a long flight trajectory to the sun. It would be interesting to learn which would get the prick first; the virus crapping out the capsule's mechanics or the heat of the sun cooking the bastard into a crispy critter?/

Uhn, how juvenile of him.

He really had no time for this, and it was not in the least bit satisfying even thinking about punishment really. The truth was, there was no one to punish, at least not until after an enquiry found out who was responsible, and that took all of the pleasure out of thinking up potential scenarios. Fact: The program had been written by an unknown and, if he was honest with himself, he knew full well they might never trace the creator.

Why did he sit here, in the doctor's lounge, sipping yet another sludge pot of coffee that would eat his guts away and kill his liver, whilst trying to 'not' think about yet another trip to the latrine that his bladder was screaming at him to make?

"Barker? You okay?"

He dragged his shoulders out of the slump, plastered on what had to be a sickly attempt at a smile that could well frighten off the man, and turned to face the doctor.

"Fine. Status report?"

"Fine? It's the word of the day, apparently. You look like shit warmed over, but then I guess we all do. All of the kids are accounted for and fine physically. The mothers, whilst well aware of our situation and understandably worried, are also fine. No one has reported any injuries from the forced evacuation to the Medical Centre. Marquise is sleeping… I think. He's either sleeping or he was ignoring me when I took his vitals a few minutes ago. Giles is alternating between dozing, growling at Marquise to rest, if he so much as twitches, and looking like he's about to fall off the chair at any minute from pain and exhaustion."

Well, he supposed this was all good. At least he did not need to concern himself with the Sleepers having attacked those in the accommodations blocks. There might yet be stragglers to come in, but a headcount suggested they had everyone thought to be in the blocks.

"Can't you order the idiot to go and enjoy the benefits of bed rest?"

Hunched shoulders in the not so clean white coat shrugged. "I value my life too much." The coffee pot clinked against the rim of the mug, and the doctor downed a healthy gulp of the hot, black brew. "God, that's foul! Can't anyone make a decent coffee around here? Giles looks like death warmed over, and Polnar's leaning against the wall beside the door looking ready to gut anyone who gets too close to either Giles or Marquise. I think its only the wall that is holding the man up. They're both dancing attendance on Marquise and looking at each other like he might break in half… or explode at the slightest twitch. And he is twitching, I might add."

The mug paused in transit to his lips and Barker glanced at the man, his frown deepening if such a thing was possible. His forehead already felt like he was carrying around the grand canyon.

"Twitching? Marquise's injuries are that bad?"

"Not as far as I know, but then I'm only the doctor. What do I know? No one wants to listen to my opinion when it suits them not to, and it was made quite clear that my presence was not required. I was not initially permitted to touch the man, and it took a hissing war over the top of him before I managed to take his vitals. It felt like I had a knife hovering at my spine through the entire ordeal. I decided before I go back to take the next set of observations, that I will fortify myself with something a bit stronger than coffee… but having drunk this sludge I have to wonder if anything could be stronger." He lifted the mug in a silent salute and took another reviving sip.

Barker sighed, closing his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. They were all wrung out, existing on the edge of their nerves, exhausted and ready to snap at the slightest comment, no matter how innocent it might be. It was not good, but he could not see matters improving any until they had those who were locked out of the base safely inside.

"I'll talk to them. I have enough to do without anyone acting up needlessly. I'd give anything to get my ass in a bed, and when they have the chance to take rest and they refuse to take it…Stupid."

"Agreed."

His coffee was finished anyway and if he tried for another mug he would probably throw up. God, it was vile, an evil brew. Who ever had brewed it should be shot at dawn. He could feel the doctor's eyes on him as he left the lounge and, just for a moment, a shiver raced up his spine and he entertained the notion that he might be shot, or knifed in the back. But paranoia was a trap he tried not to fall into. That particular doctor had had other opportunities in the last few hours to take him down and had seemed uninterested in doing so.

They were all paranoid, those who knew what was happening, who had witnessed what had happened in the dome above. They were only human and when aroused, one's survival instinct was not to be ignored. Without those instincts the human race would never have survived against larger, stronger, faster and more vicious predators in the dim and distant past. Paranoia was good to a certain extent, but if not controlled it could be a death sentence in situations such as this.

Another fundamental truth; not everyone was the enemy and the human race survived best in a cooperative group.

He paused at the door to the examination room housing Marquise and his entourage during his confinement. He fought off the urge to yawn, resting his head on the door for a long moment, simply resting, trying not to move, hoping the headache would ease and it would be easier to think. It seemed he'd spent an inordinate amount of time listening and hovering in doorways in the past few hours, and he could not deny that he had overheard some interesting conversations. From a computer tech's inventively colourful metaphors concerning the breeding of the inventor of the virus they were trying to circumvent, to the unbridled fantasies about psychics and visions. Oh yes, most informative.

The door shifted as he leaned against it and he immediately tightened his sagging spine.

"… he alright? Why is he twitching like that?" He paused, tilting his head slightly to find the door was ajar; the catch had not caught properly and his momentary weakness had been enough to nudge it. Polnar's voice and he sounded tired. "Maybe you should have allowed the doc to have a proper look at him?"

Not just tired, he realised, Polnar sounded genuinely concerned. Barker remained still, careful not to push any further on the door, one hand resting flat against the surface, ready to push the door open. What flights of fantasy might he overhear this time? Polnar and his partner might well let something slip that could be of use to him in tracking down their employer.

"I'm not really sure. It could be the result of some of the drugs he took beginning to work out of his system and he is reacting to the withdrawal."

"Just how hyped up was he?"

"Nothing hallucinogenic. Just pain killers to get him through the worst of what we had to go through to get here. Did you know the man's claustrophobic? An effect of the war, apparently. Claustrophobic and he just up and crawls through disused air ducts that were way too narrow for someone of his bulk. Hell, in some places I thought I'd get stuck, and I'm nowhere near the size he is. I nearly stripped the skin off him pulling him through one of the vents. In places he quite literally is raw meat."

Barker frowned, setting his feet shoulder width apart, listening closely for every word. Marquise was claustrophobic? That was news to him. There was nothing said on the man's medical records.

"I don't doubt getting here was not easy. It wasn't exactly easy getting into the base for us. We may have to use that method to get others in, but it would take too long to get a large group of people in the way I came. I doubt their survival systems would last long enough to make it halfway through the sewers. It's a mess. So what's he like to work with?"

"Bloody brilliant." It was hardly more than a sigh that went a long way to revealing the speaker's exhaustion, and Barker heard Giles shift in his seat. "He's naturally intuitive. He can read a situation and has the solution on hand in seconds, if not before it eventuates. He's definitely a clairvoyant talent, but his Gift seems to have some odd… quirks."

There it was again, that bullshitting fantasy… but they did not know he was listening in on their conversation, so why keep up that theme? It was just… No, it was not possible.

"Quirks?"

"Well, I don't quite know how else to describe it. By rights, Chris, if I understand how his Gift works, he should be a raving loony. I sure as hell would be. It's not what I was taught was the usual, the normal clairvoyance. It goes way beyond that. Raydon's like that too, in that he's a rarer variant, but Marquise… He's far from the 'standards' set out by the Training Masters. He definitely has a number of unusual aspects to his talent and I honestly can't see them sorting those quirks out in short order."

Barker blinked, resisting the urge to bang his head against the door and gritted his teeth. Training Masters, normal clairvoyance, standard sets, unusual aspects… fantasy. Science fiction.

"That's not telling me much, Hayden."

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry, but he's a puzzle it will take the boss-man and the Trainers years to puzzle out. I'm not kidding, the man is anything but 'normal' by any scale of measurement. He's exceptional. I'm only hoping that this twitching is actually caused by drug withdrawal and not through another bout of vision. He can't take much more, Chris. It's getting dangerous. He has to be kept quiet or he'll lose it, and I'm not equipped, mentally or physically, to take on someone of his scope if they trip over that step into crisis. I don't have the training to handle a high end Talent in crisis."

There was an uncomfortable silence and Barker shared in it, scowling down at his shoes, wondering what would happen if he believed this drivel and Marquise did slip into this 'crisis'. The uncomfortable question there was, given the man's past actions, what would result from the loss of control?

"Are you exaggerating… at all?"

"No."

Damn, that did not sound good. Giles sounded dead serious. Barker shook his head slightly, far from pleased.

"Well, you had better pray he's not going to lose it."

"Oh, I have been, ever since we had that delightful little episode when he almost fried himself electrocuting Sleepers in one of the garden domes. The bloody man takes risks that scare the shit out of me. A serious word of warning, Chris; and I am dead serious, my friend. If Marquise ever puts a second tie in his hair, just take to your heels and run as far and as fast as you bloody can. You might survive the fall out if you do."

Eh? Barker eyed the door quizzically, wondering if he had heard right. There had been fear in the man's voice, unmistakable warning. From the silence he could just about guess Polnar's reaction was as stunned as his own.

"Ah… You should get some sleep, Hayden. Take up the offer of a bed whilst you can."

Barker resisted the urge to nod his agreement to that. He only wished someone would march up to him and tell him to get his arse to bed and he could rest his aching body. But no such luck. He was in charge of this situation and there would be no resting until they had everyone safely home in the dome. Then he might be able to afford some down time, act in an advisory capacity perhaps, but stay off his feet and rest both body and mind.

"Can't. I don't dare. Until I am certain Marquise is clear of entering Crisis, I don't dare allow myself to rest."

There was emphasis on that word, Barker noted. Crisis. The man sounded his fear, and despite his belief… hope… that it was all a fantasy, an ominous shiver coursed up the length of his own spine. Just what was it? What was this 'crisis' that concerned Hayden Giles so much? And just how much of this fantasy… Well, did they really not know they had an unseen listener? Were they talking for his benefit, or did they really not know he was there?

He had to ask himself if they would keep up this façade if they did not know he was listening? Not good. He was beginning to doubt his convictions of the definition of fantasy in this case.

"Well, if you took up that offer of a bed and Marquise remained asleep, Barker might let you off a return bout of questions."

Someone was moving around in there, a shifting of weight more than footsteps.

"He's already been gone longer than I expected, but he'll be back soon enough. It shouldn't take all that much longer to get the survivors settled. I'd love to rest, believe me, but I just don't dare… and…" Barker could hear the hesitation in his voice, sense the fear in the hitch of his breath."I don't think Zechs is actually asleep."

"He's not?" The rustle of clothing, a few steps as the man moved and a lengthening pause. "He looks to be pretty much out of it to me. Except for the twitching."

"I could wish, but I've been monitoring his pulse and the movement of his eyes behind the eyelids. In a way I guess he might be asleep, but I don't think its real sleep. Or maybe its not 'just' sleep is the better way to say it."

Barker caught the deeper breath from Polnar, the length of the pause then, "I thought you said earlier it would not be a good thing if he had another incident?"

He thought… he really thought the man was psychic and was having an… erm, for want of a better word, vision?

"I'm monitoring his pulse and so far it's steady… and he may just be dreaming. That might be all there is to it, but then I don't know if he ever 'just' dreams. He's not like other clairvoyants I've spoken to, remember? The fact of the matter is, at the present time he is a lot more relaxed since the twins were brought in. That's good, a relief in a big way, and he does need sleep, so I'm loathe to interfere unnecessarily. I told you, Chris, I'm not trained for this, but I'm the best we have, so we have to go with my best guess assessment of the situation. He's well aware of our situation, and he knows how far he can push himself. I'd say he learned that lesson during the war, though I'd say he tried pushing the envelope whilst he had the use of Epyon. But he does not have the machine now and he's well aware of how human he is. I just have to make sure he does not push so far that he exceeds a reasonable limit in response to circumstances worsening."

Barker pinched the bridge of his nose, wanting desperately to sit down and have a good long think. He did not know enough, he was lacking vital information on what Marquise had been doing in the intervening years following the Barton Incident. The war was years over, they were on Mars and just what the hell did Epyon have to do with this situation?

"Christ, don't wish any more complications on us, Hayden. We have to get those people in the caves to safety and, short of trying to get them in through the sewers, which I know might save a few but by no means many, I don't have a single bloody idea on how to do it."

Barker could only agree with that plea. Matters were complicated enough without anything else further exacerbating the big picture… but he was wasting time. Maybe he could get one or the other of these men to let something slip, some vital piece of information whist Marquise was sleeping? What did he expect to learn from them though? He'd had enough of this fantasy, but if they did not know he was listening in then… No, no, no.

He had always prided himself on being a realist yet being flexible enough to deal with any situation that might arise. He was not about to dig in his heels now and refuse to admit that he did not know everything. He was as ignorant as the next man, more ignorant than some and less ignorant than others. One should always have an open mind and never disbelieve simply because it was inconvenient.

But he did like this thing called 'evidence', and what evidence did he really have to say yay or nay to the existence of psychics?

Life threw curve balls all the time. It was a simple fact of life that you learned to deal or you enjoyed a black eye.

Drawing a deeper breath, filling his lungs and steadying himself, Barker stepped back, rocked forward from heels to toes three times and took a wide stride forward. His hand hit the door with a decent amount of force, sending it opening wide ahead of him, as though he had marched up to the door instead of lurking and listening, and he strode through the doorway to find himself staring down the barrel of a cocked gun.

Shit. Nice. Just lovely. At least Polnar had control of his reflexes and didn't just shoot him.

"Put that away. We have too much work to do to take pot shots at each other; and I don't particularly feel like getting shot today."

The man inclined his head slightly and glared. Wonderful.

"Right then. None of us have time to waste fart-assing around. I've got people out on the surface of this bitch of a planet who will be heading our way any minute now, if they are not already on the move. By the time they get here I need to have the base open to receive them." He strode to the foot of the bed, ignoring the slow lowering of the weapon and gave a general glare somewhere between the two men on either side of the bed and over the top of Marquise, so that no one was his exact focus. "Marquise pulled off a particularly neat solution to get them into the caves overnight, which was all well and good then. Now we have to get them safely here. I've got techs working on the computer systems and swearing up a storm, and people working on the radios who hope to make a breakthrough any minute now, for at least ongoing localised transmissions. Its progress of a sort and I need to pick every brain I have access to, to get a viable idea on how to save those people. So give. Talk to me."

Hayden Giles blinked, non pulsed, then looked from Barker to Polnar, who looked just as lost, and back again. After a moment he blinked again, hesitating before he opened his mouth.

"Give? Give what?"

Good, that put them on the back foot and would hopefully distract them from thinking about his arrival. He flashed the man a look, noting the pain lines at the corners of his eyes, the haggard, drawn look of general exhaustion. If he looked half as bad as that… but no, best not to think it.

"Give of your time and effort, and particularly of your imaginations, to get the job done… Or get your sorry ass into a bed and go to bloody sleep and get out of my hair."

He dropped his gaze and… Marquise was… twitching… All over. From his fingers to the toes and long legs beneath the sheet from the movement of the material, and all parts in between, he assumed. Contrary to the movements suggesting distress of some kind, the man's face appeared to be relaxed, and beneath his eyelids his eyes moved. Small, jerky movements that normally Barker would assume meant the man was dreaming; and not exactly a restful dream he would have thought.

He supposed it was alright to frown at Marquise, given both of the conscious men were watching him and would have noted where he was looking. But that was not to say he had to ask… at least not immediately. He did have priorities, after all.

"Polnar, any ideas? I'm open to just about any suggestion that has an ounce of practicality giving it any substance."

"A couple, but how feasible they are is another matter. There's the way we came in, but I doubt many, if any, would have sufficient resources to survive the trek. Another option would be the freight elevators up to the dome. We could clear those for use and use them to bring the survivors down into the base en mass. But that's for later. It's really the opening of the airlocks that is the real problem here. Given the elevators are trapped, I am concerned they may have not simply locked the airlocks computer systems. If they have trapped the airlocks, as well…? We'll have to do a physical inspection and that too will take time to determine."

Barker grunted softly, acknowledging the truth of that speculation. Everything, every action they took, was going to take time. Time they did not have.

"They have everything trapped," Giles commented stretching cautiously and wincing from the protest of various aches and pains. "The cautious bastards didn't overlook anything, believe me. I had time to have a quick look around before I met up with Marquise, and we saw enough in getting down here to know they would not overlook anything."

"I'm well aware of their expertise; possibly more aware than anyone here of their skill base. Their squad had a nasty reputation during the war, and what they did not rig up after they arrived, I venture to guess the advance force would have taken care of. And they are familiar enough with the systems to have crippled us quite effectively without killing us off one by one. I suppose the first thing we need to deal with are those traps on the freight elevators."

He considered both men, assessing their physical condition and discounting Giles from taking any active role in future proceedings. Still, just because he was physically incapable of assisting at present did not mean he was out of the picture.

"I need to know how much experience you had in the Forces, gentlemen. Specifically, I need to know how much, if any, handling of explosives either of you have? This insertion team liked bombs, and they had the reputation for liking the more exotic varieties. I doubt they used the easy to defuse kind here. Fill my resources bucket with useful goodies so I can get together a bomb disposal team."

Both men exchanged looks, but neither spoke and he almost snarled; almost but not quite. Polnar appeared to be giving his partner the once over, assessing him physically as Barker himself had just done. They were professionals, he had to remember, and they would know enough to assess their own limitations.

"Unfortunately, most of our Powder Monkeys are out in that work team. Those who are not are out with the survey team, but some of us have to have some useful experience we can draw on. There are people up in the dome itself we need to bring down to where it is safer, and I am hopeful some of them will have useful skills and fertile imaginations in a crisis. I need a think tank I can rely on in absentia, once the radios are up and working. Giles, you are not going to be exactly spry for a while, so you will be remaining here, but if you have the know-how, then I need to know."

He did not want to say that he needed to know how many people were alive in the upper base, and how many had been killed by the Sleeper group. He was almost afraid to find out, but there were, hopefully, survivors who might have the necessary skills to favour them in this situation.

"I need to know everyone's skills to best utilise our resources, so I'm circulating a list people are to fill in according to their skills, but word of mouth here will do for now. The list will eventually make its way here, but we are running out of time. Having said that more times than I am comfortable with, the fact remains it is true. Do either of you have any suggestions for how we can get those people inside the dome before they run out of air and power, excluding the use of the airlocks in the event we can't disengage the locks? It's not my preferred option to relocate the bombs from the elevators, or elsewhere, to blow an airlock. That would kill the use of the airlocks and potentially decompress the dome itself, but to be honest the techs are struggling to get on top of this virus." Barker stretched slowly, painfully, trying to ignore his body's warnings that the need to rest was growing more urgent.

Marquise stirred, startling them all as blue eyes snapped open and stared into the distance, seemingly not seeing anyone in the room. Barker twitched, almost moving to touch the man, but for some reason the twitch was all the action his body seemed capable of. For a long moment those ice blue eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling, then they closed and the man grunted softly, shuddering and after a moment Barker realised the twitching had ceased. Marquise eased himself a little higher in the bed, leaning heavily into the pillows supporting him and Giles winced as he leaned close to assist the man.

"Take it slowly," Giles admonished him.

The blue eyes were on him, centred on him specifically. Marquise had not even looked at Giles or Polnar, and his face looked pale, almost bloodless.

"Blow the Dome over the shuttle port, low, on the far side from the parent Dome. It will need to be large enough to fit the mobile suits into the shuttle bay. The suit pilots can use an unloading platform to convey groups safely down into the shuttle bay. That can be rigged up whilst we wait for them to reach the Dome and no time will be wasted."

Barker opened his mouth to comment about the absurdity and dangers of blowing enviro domes, but after a moment of charged silence closed it again. He was loathe to punch a hole in any of the domes, but the shuttle bay was an isolated habitat, joined to the Base Dome, yes, but totally self sufficient for systems support. Punching a hole there would not affect the Base Dome, and the airlock was relatively large and still usable, from what he had heard. They could shift a decent amount of people directly through to the sub level relatively quickly.

"That might just work," he murmured.

Marquise grunted softly, staring up at the ceiling again, and there was something in those blue eyes that sent a shiver up Barker's spine. That was happening too often for his liking in Marquise's presence; it brought back memories of the war when his life had hung in the balance. This man was beyond dangerous.

"Direct them to get two suits on the recharge system immediately they enter the shuttle bay. It will be easy enough to adapt the power supply to feed the suits' energy units; that can be done whilst they are in transit too, and they will be available for use when the other suits run out of power to complete the transfer. We need to get everyone inside the sub base, not into the Base Dome. You'll need to get those explosive charges off the equipment lift to get those survivors in the Base Dome down here."

"I know it would be best to have everyone together if it is possible, but they're safe enough up there. We can concentrate on prepping the shuttle dome for…" Polnar trailed off as he felt the weight of those eyes now looking at him. He seemed as uncomfortable with Marquise's focus being on him as Barker had been. "They are safe… aren't they?"

Giles lightly touched the broad shoulder, drawing that intense stare to him. "What is it? Something has changed?"

"Everyone needs to be underground before the sky falls."

Barker blinked. Too much. Way too much. He spun on his heel, striding toward the door.

"Christ! I'm gonna go piss."

t.b.c.

Karina Robertson 2012


	207. Chapter 207

Title: Alternative Directions: Options 206/?

Series: Gundam Wing

Author: Karina

Rating: Definitely PG in Australia, at the moment, but probably safer to say R for later chapters. Not sure about international ratings.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me. I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you.

Many thanks to ShenLong Deb for betaing this chapter.

/... / thoughts

"... " speech

~/... /~ text

*... * flashback

** ...** Vision

Alternative Directions: Options

Chapter 206

2nd March AC 198

Time: Shuttle PS 330AT [18:15 (shuttle time is as for departure point, Colony L1 - 0025 B) / 17:14 Sanc]

Trowa

Napping had never been difficult for him. He had learned early in his life to take the opportunity to rest wherever, and whenever, it presented. The life of a mercenary required that any quiet time be taken advantage of, before any potential storms might break. Of course, it helped that he was sore and tired from the events of the night and early morning. Despite the dull throbbing of his feet, and constant ache of his other hurts, he was well able to enjoy the opportunity to doze that the shuttle flight to the L2 cluster presented.

But it was just that, dozing. It was not a deep and restful sleep. His mind too restless to settle for that, constantly circling around the plethora of facts and the wealth of supposition. The assassin, the hit man, whatever they wanted to call him, had been good. Better than good. The man had succeeded in his designated mission despite Trowa's absolute best efforts to stop him. He had done everything he could think of to stop that man from accomplishing his mission, yet despite his every effort, it had simply not been enough.

It seemed a long time since he had last failed a mission, be it self appointed or not.

It was no official order, no assigned mission, but that was totally beside the point. It was what one did, reacting to the circumstances as they presented, and he could not help but look on it as an undeniable failure on his part. When all was said and done, an encounter out of the blue or not, he had failed in his goal. He had not even succeeded in taking the man down after the hit had been successfully initiated; it had to be a sniper who accomplished that feat.

He had an uncomfortable feeling that the assassin would have been more than capable of taking him out after successfully firing off that rocket. The man was just... too much for him to handle and it... shamed him. It was not something he wanted to recognise, but to survive one had to face the unpalatable truth on occasion, and Trowa prided himself on being a survivor. One had to acknowledge one's own weaknesses.

He had been unable to contain the assassin, he had been unable to take the man down. If it had gone on much longer he had no doubt it would have been him dead on that roof, and the assassin would have been the one to walk away. The only saving grace in his view was that he had managed to successfully issue a warning and delayed the hit long enough for others could act.

He had to be content with that.

He did not need to sit here and fret about unsuccessfully adding a mark to his kill count. That list was high enough without adding more to the tally, present sense of failure or not. Time to get over it.

With an effort he brought his mind away from his own shortcomings and turned to the aftermath of the incident, the ongoing investigation. Washington was a problem, of course. The name presumably of a person, or a place. Just the name, nothing more known. The origins of the hit man was another question with potentially too many answers and little in the way of means to whittle supposition down to fact. The assassin, and perhaps more importantly, his employer and/or controllers.

The possibility he was a chipped product of secret Romefeller laboratories was still the highest option on his list of questions and possible solutions and, presumably, that was going to be the easiest question to answer. If the answer came in the affirmative, then Une would want to know more and, since he was one of the few field agents in Preventer authorised to know about the genetic laboratories, it would fall to him to investigate. He did not need to speak to her to receive her official sanction to know what her orders would be.

Washington, the questionable origins of the hit man, and some obscure coordinates they had no reference points for were his primary clues for this case. Any relation between the youth who had died in that alley and the hit man would need to wait, like so many other things. He needed to exercise patience and wait on other people, even if it did tend to grate a bit on his nerves. He liked simple solutions, not that he was graced with many opportunities for that working with Preventer.

That note consisting of letters and number, possibly coordinates with their break up. Further investigation there would be required to determine if that was indeed what they were and then one needed to determine 'where' they were. If coordinates, did they relate to Earth, perhaps Mars, or a colony? Some point in seemingly empty space...? Hell, they could even be for the moon for all he knew.

Or they could simply be a random set of numbers, something to delay any investigation in the event something went wrong with the hit. Or perhaps the password to... some place, or potentially an archive of information...

He groaned. /Thinking too much on unknown variables. Unproductive./

It was perfectly plausible for it to be a code, of a high degree of difficulty. The actual coordinates, should they indeed indicate a meeting place, might not be those that glared at him from a pristine piece of paper that he had the annoying urge to shred. It was unlikely the co ordinates for a rendezvous would be written neatly and clearly for anyone to see without some method being utilised to disguise the actual meaning.

One thing he did know without a shred of doubt, was that these people were professionals, and that seemed a stupidly amateurish mistake to make. Something so simple and straightforward in plain sight? Doubtful. It was likely to be a designated area for some obscure place in the middle of nowhere. There was a high probability that it was a potentially coded jumble of numbers they might badly misinterpret and send themselves off the space lanes into innumerable delays and misunderstandings.

The more he thought on it the more he convinced he became that it was an encoded message or a deliberate attempt to look like map co ordinates. Well, they actually would be coordinates, but designed to send any interloper on a long chase to nowhere.

Too many variables and he was over thinking things for the little information that they had thus far.

He, they, knew too little at present, but Preventer had pulled through in the past with less information to work from and a decent dollop of luck. He could only hope it would be so again.

If he was right, there would be an encoded computer chip surgically implanted in the assassin. The man was, he was sure, the product of genetic experimentation on a human being. If those suppositions were indeed fact, then it was possible some clue might be derived from the information they were sifting through from the earlier raid on the laboratory on Earth. There were encrypted files lifted from computers from that raid that Preventer was still working on.

It might be possible the cryptic code on that scrap of paper could lead to a breakthrough in relation to those files on Earth. Anything was possible, right? Or perhaps something they had already found on Earth might offer a clue to deciphering either the code, or offer some reference point to a particular map reference. Perhaps the location of another genetic laboratory?

Green eyes flicked to the digital display flashing above the cockpit door. Time dragged when one was having fun, he mused, closing his eyes immediately after and wishing he could advance the march of that relentless force mankind never would truly understand. Time. Man could measure it, in his own fashion, see the results of it surrounding him, but man could never actually master it, merely segment it. There, a whole five seconds had marched past.

Trowa snorted softly. /How productive./

With a heavy sigh he drew himself up and stretched his shoulders carefully, mindful of the pulling of his wounds. He was not keen on another round of poking, prodding and 'mending' when he reached L2 because he had pushed his body too far too soon. Stretching his long legs out into the aisle he savoured the luxury of having the entire cabin to himself; he rather enjoyed the rare moment to indulge a comfortable slob.

But a few minutes of slouching in the seat, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the ache in his wounds and watching the digital clock flash was as much as he could take. He was bored to tears... and he needed to pee. And, ah!, the joys of peeing in zero G never failed to thrill him. But he really did need to empty his bladder and sprawling here grumbling to himself about such petty inconveniences was going to serve no purpose. At least he didn't need to empty his bowels. Now THAT was a joy in zero G.

"Hnn."

He really was bored if he had fallen to rehashing inconveniences he had become accustomed to years in the past, but he released his seatbelt and pushed himself out of his seat, heading for the aft of the craft. First the necessaries needed to be gotten out of the way, and then to prepare a coffee. Out one end and in the other made perfect sense to him.

He settled once more into his seat a few minutes later with a sealed cup in hand, sucking on the mouthpiece and hissing at the heat. Damned instant shit, that was all you could ever get on a shuttle. Using his tongue he nudged the lip plug into place and set the cup in the custom designed grip beside his seat, reaching for his laptop. He might as well get some use out of the time remaining.

They had learned so little in their investigation of the genetic laboratory on Earth, and there was no guarantee that any of the coded files now in their possession might give them more information. But it never hurt to hope. He would need access to whatever information they discovered to assist him, if the assassin proved to be the product of Romefeller tinkering. He could not really see Une objecting to that request, not if she wanted to sort that mess out.

He retrieved the cup after initiating his laptop's boot sequence and lightly gripped the lip plug with his teeth, easing it aside and sucking in a mouthful of coffee. Watching the machine complete its boot up he jammed the lip plug back into place when a chime and blinking envelope informed him he had email, and he set the mug in its cradle, leaning forward slightly to click on the envelope. Duo. He grinned, forgetting for a moment that he had hoped it might be the autopsy results. It was always good to hear from a friend.

~/Hey T

If you find yourself stopping over on L2-0397 at any time, call in and see Hilde. She has a precious package I'd like you to see. Best surprise present I've ever had. Luck with your chase. If I can help in any way let me know. About to get the long legs on and hurt for a bit. Definitely need to catch up with you.

D /~

He glanced at the time stamp and with a quick mental conversion estimated Duo must have been under acceleration for a good three hours plus. Close to three and a half hours, he surmised, wincing at the thought. Long haul spaceflight required massive acceleration bursts to cut down travel time, and he did not envy his friend the claustrophobia of having an invisible giant sit on him, particularly on his chest, restricting just how much air one could suck in at any given moment and equally making it hard to exhale. No, it was not something he cared to do.

Duo had a surprise for him on L2-0397? Something he had left with Hilde?

/Interesting./

Curiosity aroused he determined to make the time to visit with the woman. It was not as though he would not be going to the colony, after all. Nice coincidence that, he could mix a little pleasure into his work day. The breakup between the two had hardly surprised him. He had found in the past that personal relationships in their kind of work could be more of a hindrance than a help... until he had met Quatre, of course. There were always exceptions to the rule. Whilst Hilde had been ex military, she had not become a Preventer agent in the aftermath of the war. She had wanted out of everything to do with fighting and intrigue, and Duo had not been ready to settle down and play happy families. He was the perfect Preventer elite agent, and the long hours and level of commitment required by their work was not designed for personal relationships to thrive, let alone develop.

Duo was married to his work, then and now. About the only one who had not realised it had been Hilde, but it was not his place to comment on his friend's success or failure with personal relationships, past or present.

He would reply to Duo soon, wishing him the best for his hunt. Whatever was going on out there he had the feeling his friend was going to have to stay alert. The attack on Mars was all over the news in the colony, and speculation was rife over this Khushrenada who had suddenly leapt onto the scene. Khushrenada's, he knew, were born already schooled in politics and reared at their mothers breast on manipulation and strategy.

The last thing they, as Preventers, needed was the rise of a new rebellion out in the middle of nowhere.

The grab for territory so far from Earth really did not surprise him. What did surprise him though, was the surprising lack of rumours before this sudden announcement. There had been whispers in dark corners, of course, he had kept his ear to the ground intending to know what was going on in dark and secret places, hoping to quash trouble before it began. That was what Preventers did, after all. But there had been surprisingly little scuttlebutt about a grab for what would no doubt amounted to the bulk of the asteroid belt.

No clandestine purchase of ex war merchandise, no increase in scrap from the yards handling the disassembly of mobile suits and weapons. No whispers of recruiting the disaffected soldiers who found little in the way of aid and employment. It had been... normal, really, for want of a better word. You always had talk, but this talk had not had any meat behind it, but now... Well, done was done and now they had to deal with the situation.

The conglomerates and corporations that mined the asteroid belt were not going to sit quietly for a group claiming territorial possession of their favourite hunting grounds. A new power out there in what had been considered to be 'free space' would demand its own tariffs and taxes, and the Earth Sphere government would demand its own payments in turn. The price of resources would skyrocket and private business coffers would diminish as costs escalated. No one would be happy who needed those resources for their own ventures.

/Duo will find himself mixed up in that./

Une would want her best on the spot before it escalated into full scale confrontation, and Duo was already heading out into the deeper solar system. Trowa could see the Bounty being diverted, her mission reshaped. The constant raids by pirates had been top priority, that and, more recently, what was happening on Mars. But the circumstances happening on Mars would be over long before Duo even left the Earth Sphere's hub. Hell, it was most likely already over. Pirates raided and then skipped out, leaving chaos in their wake.

In and out fast.

Why Une had sent Duo to Mars... It was so clear that there was nothing he could do about what was happening there. Even the clean up would be long over before he reached the planet. Had Une had wind of the emergence of this so called new power out in the Asteroid Belt? Why else had she packed off someone of Duo's versatility and skill base?

The chime and flashing of the envelope icon on his screen alerted him to the arrival of another email. Clicking to close the message from Duo, determining that he would reply to his friend after reading the reports on the autopsy, he frowned as he stared at the index of his inbox. The email alert indicated that the email was in the secure inbox, one serviced by Heero Yuy regularly. Anyone trying to access it would spark a round of security features that could leave the hacker with a fried computer... and a please explain down the barrel of a Preventer issue gun held in the hands of Yuy himself.

He had expected a Preventer email in his Preventer account, not... this.

On this secure server he expected to find emails from only a select few individuals, namely four specific individuals. What he did not expect to find was an email listed as 'Unknown006'. Sucking in a slow breath through clenched teeth Trowa initiated a security scan and trace, sipping on his coffee in deep thought as he waited for the results. Computer hacking was not his forte, but Heero devised this system they were using and it had a few features not to be found in other operating systems.

A chime alerted him to a result and he glanced down at the popup... Negative in the way of bugs implanted in the message and... Oh lovely, a relay loop for the origin of the email. He chewed on his lower lip for a long moment before he clicked to open the email. He would learn no more if he did not.

"What the...?"

~/ Looking for the General? LA 226 ** *** ** /~

"Fuck."

The connotations could not be mistaken given the events of the past day. It was a surprise, to put it bluntly, to find those Times New Roman scripted words. Just four words and his attention was secured. Whilst he was no history buff, he was still well versed in history, particularly military history. He had lived and breathed it during his training in the mercenary camp where it was expected he learn not only how to stay alive in battle, but how to plot and plan one successfully.

Given recent events there was a more than an excellent chance the 'General' referred to would be General George Washington. Washington, rearing its head yet again and this time with more questions than he cared to consider attached.

But that could not possibly... be... Unknown006. He wanted to find out just how much the mystery sender knew. It might be co incidence, but he was not a great believer in that. Washington, any clue to that...

And LA 226. That was recognisably the code, or a part of it, they had found on that scrap of paper, and if he took note of the spacing of the stars... The other missing letters and numbers would fit.

Trowa sat back in his seat and glared at the screen, not even acknowledging the stab of pain as his back pressed to the seat. What was he supposed to do now? It could mean anything but...

/How the fuck did someone find out about this email address?/

Someone was stalking him? Was someone, other than his government stalkers, watching events play out and, for some reason unknown to him at the present time, had made the decision to contact him? No. No, that was wrong somehow. It did not fit nearly neatly enough, but what else could it be? He was confused, and he was probably over thinking things, but what facts there were was undeniable. This was some contact with someone who knew something. A link existed somewhere to what had happened on the colony to the sender of this email.

It was not something he could simply let go, and he would have to warn the others that their secure server was not as secure as they had assumed.

/Damn, Heero will be pissed about that!/

Taking a deeper breath he hit reply, staring at the screen for a long moment before deciding how to respond. The starred instead of numbered and lettered spaces in the email suggested to him it was an invitation for him to fill in the missing letters, so...

~/ L9 LI3 DS Who are you? /~

He hesitated before he hit send, considering the safety of the system and how many other people might be monitoring what they had assumed to be a secure server. He needed to know who they were and where they worked from. Smirking he attached one of Heero's 'special' features to the email, determined to find out what he could of the sender; hoping any information he could find might improve Heero's mood when he found out. The 'bloodhound' he attached would lurk in the coding, and he could track the email to its destination.

Settling back in his seat, this time minding his injured back, he watched as the server acknowledged the email had been sent. Pulling the laptop a little closer and adjusting the service tray it was resting on for easier access, he pulled up another window, initiating the trace program. Worst case scenario was that it could take hours, he knew, to run what was sure to be a convoluted course and arrive at a destination.

Who was it? Where were they operating from? What organisation were they a part of? How did they know about the secret secure email server? Hero had designed it from its initial theory session when they had discussed exactly what they wanted it to do, and they had not discussed it in a public place. How did they, whoever 'they' were, know HIS personal address used only on that particular server? How were they involved? They were all paranoid bastards and never used their, or anyone else's, information on the net or in other forms of communication.

His eyes were focused on the tracer, watching the collection of binary numbers, 0 and 1 en mass, cycling over the screen... And he sat bolt upright as it all simply vanished. It seemed as though time had stopped as he stared at the black screen and the pop up that informed him the trace had been lost due to an unknown error actually managed to drop his jaw.

Perhaps ten seconds later the computer announced a newly arrived email, sender 'Unknown006'. He was almost afraid to open it.

~/ A word of warning, 03. If you go, there will be no turning back. /~

/Shit, shit, shit! How are they...? There was no real time, not nearly enough time, for the email to get anywhere and be read, let alone replied to!/

He scrubbed at his face, pressing both hands to his eyes, trying to ignore the flourishing headache and the rasp of bandages. It was like something out of the twilight zone.

Rational thought, rational thinking. He could not, must not, panic where there was no real need to. So it was weird shit, but he supposed Heero was more than capable of performing such feats with a computer. They were just good with electronics that was all. Very good with electronic and had a powerful enough machine... Not important though.

Think calmly and rationally and target the most obvious clue.

03.

That was the important thing. That was the obvious stand out in the email. 03. That was the designation given to him and his Gundam during the war. A designation assigned by Oz. Someone who was ex Order of the Zodiac, or Romefeller. It had to be. That narrowed down the field from unknown amidst billions of people, to a more manageable set of numbers at least. One item of information he did not have before.

/If I go, there will be no turning back? Do they mean that literally? Or figuratively? Until the investigation is done there will be no returning to... To where? From where? Is it on a colony somewhere? Sounds... remote? No, not quite right./

He contemplated the screen as he chewed the though over. No turning back. It sounded ominous. Almost... Fatal. As though he would never return alive, to the life he had known. To Quatre. He shoved the thought away from him, unwilling to contemplate it. Idiocy. That was all that was, his longing to return to Earth and see his lover.

Which showed that the warning actually worried him. It had a decidedly permanent feel to it, but he was not, and never had been, one to shirk his responsibilities. He had never walked away from a challenge. Lives could hang in the balance and he was no slouch when dealing with undercover work, infiltration, investigation and a straight on fire fight. He could handle himself. He could handle himself. He...

No matter how many times he repeated that though, now there was doubt. There was the assassin and his inability to bring the man down. Was there the potential to run into more like him?

He wanted to go back to Earth, to be with Quatre, but... There was his duty to Preventer. With the level of social unrest at the moment, with the appearance of first the youth and then the assassin... And the appearance of a supposed Khushrenada as a new player in the politics between Earth, the Colonies and the Asteroid Belt... Did he dare not move forward and investigate this link? Quatre knew how seriously he took his work, and how delicate a balancing act it was to maintain the peace. How hard it was to maintain the peace they had fought for.

It was, at least, peace.

And he would definitely return as soon as possible to his lover. A single deep breath and his fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard.

~/ Who are you? Where do I find Washington? /~

It would be useless, he was sure of that, but he tried again, attaching a hound to the script message and sent it on its way. How long had it taken last time? All of maybe a minute for him to receive that second email? So fast, impossibly fast. How long this time? He found himself counting the seconds in a whisper, needing to hear the sound of his voice. The shuttle seemed too quiet, too isolate, too much the target. Just him and the pilot, and the thin shell of metal grounded by the muted rumble of well maintained engines. Travelling at a relative snails pace in the middle of the space lane between L1 and L2... at the mercy...

You have mail. Unknown006

He sucked in a breath. Thirty three seconds. The trace was dead, as he had expected. He would go through what information both unsuccessful traces had sent back before he had lost them later, hoping to garner some general idea of what was happening. He clicked on the envelope and stared at the screen.

~/ Think about it, 03. Be sure. Be very sure. Are you curious enough to move forward from here? Determined enough? To learn about Washington you need to understand. If you chase this thread nothing will ever be the same again. Nothing. Decisions will be made that you can not envision, and the resulting consequences can not be changed. Understand that you will have regrets. Whether there will be a reward... That is for you to decide if it was all worth it... If you see the end. Take thirty minutes to think about it and think carefully. /~

t.b.c

Karina Robertson 2013


End file.
