Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Palace of Justice ❯ 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Author: Lethanon

Archive: www.lethanon.net

Fandom: Gundam Wing

Pairings: 3x5, 1x2,

Warnings: Angst, Continuation, Preventers

 

The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. - Martin Luther King

 

1.

 

He received a phone call. Innocent in its benign nature, certainly not the fault of the phone, nor either party on either end. Just a call; a delicate ring rattling through a small speaker that woke him from a doze he had been enjoying. He has the option not to answer, as do we all, but how often do you let it ring? How often do you answer? Do you know that when you don't, they just call back later? He knew that; Trowa knew. So when it came, that phone call, it was received. Answered. Acknowledged.

 

“Trowa? Oh for crying out loud if you're going to pick it up at least fucking say hello.”

 

A wry turn of lips, Trowa smirked against the mouthpiece and waited. Some people were far too entertaining; it really was not his fault. They should learn to have patience, or the lions just might eat them…when they woke up.

 

“Wanker. Look. I need some advice on a job. I've got three days and I cannot stuff up, for any reason. So. Reckon you can swing by and gimme a hand?”

 

Trowa let his hair fall further over his face, as if he could hide the fact he was thinking about it; as if the silence were not evidence enough. Were he not thinking about it, Duo would be listening to the wondrous dial tone of his phone right now. It wasn't something Trowa particularly wanted to do. Duo's idea of swing by apparently included seven hours on a shuttle and a bit of colony hopping, but then if he was asking he must know that, which made Trowa wonder just what he was asking. Duo was far from the point of needing advice. It was vaguely interesting, and it beat sitting by the elephants and cleaning out their toes. The ringmaster had apparently decided he didn't like muddy elephant prints on the mat. He'd decided stranger things, in their time together, so Trowa had not argued. Nor had anyone else, sadly.

 

“I'll see you when I get there.”

 

“You don't say, fuck Tro talk about stating the obvious, don't you ever think…”

 

Trowa wondered if Duo liked the sound of the dial tone. It seemed okay to Trowa, but maybe it wasn't Duo's sort of thing. Duo's sort of thing rarely was anyone else's, which was something Trowa actually liked about the world. When it came to Duo Maxwell, the whole two people never being exactly the same was blessed relief.

 

He packed light because he never packed heavy. Packing heavy was a death wish, whether it was war or not. Especially not. Preventers were called anytime anywhere and while Trowa was not a Preventer in any technical sense, he still got the calls, every now and then, and if Duo was asking him for help he wasn't stupid enough to think his call would not come sooner rather than later. So he packed only the bare essentials; toothbrush, paste, a change of clothes, comb and his wallet. It all fit nicely in one old sailor sack pack and he was out the door, keys in his pocket in under five minutes.

 

He had to pay for a cab, which was really rather annoying, but paying for a cab meant he wouldn't have to pay the fees for putting his car in the airport car park indefinitely. He'd never been stupid enough to fall for that trick himself, but Duo had, and Heero had been too amused by the entire affair to go get it for him. So he came back seven months later to the tune of a few thousand dollars, and Heero's grin. Duo still swears it was worth it. Trowa just thinks he's insane. Insanely broke, even.

 

He hadn't bothered to look at the schedule, because all he had to do was flash his badge at the desk and he was being lead to a Preventers flight where the mission crew were expected back in just under a half hour. Trowa had heard about it from Quatre, in his last call. He had been called away from Enterprises to help on some recon, since a few business tycoons were involved and not been happy about it. Late night bitch sessions were, apparently, one of Trowa's many specialities.

 

He sat quietly, in the rear of the small shuttle, pondering just how bitch sessions became his field. It had to be Quatre's doing, of that he was sure. Prior to meeting him he'd done little more than sit and mope. Somehow moping turned into listening to others moaning and then at some point he'd started moaning back, even if it was reluctantly. He still didn't like giving away information, and bitch sessions were specifically about doing just that. Still, you often got as much as you gave.

 

The pilot wasn't someone Trowa knew, but he found himself gravitating in that direction. It was a subtle thing at first; a slight feeling of annoyance that had him shifting seats time and again until he was in the front row. Then he was standing by the cabin door and he shrugged, and knocked, because if he was already there he way as well go in.

 

He was filling in the charts ready for filing when they got back. He just nodded at Trowa and didn't say anything, so Trowa interpreted it as an invitation and sat down, in the co-pilots seat. He really didn't like that, at all, and frowned darkly at the controls. He supposed it showed on his face, how else would the pilot have known?

 

“Want to swap seats?”

 

Blinking, Trowa just nodded slowly and shifted around the cockpit until they were swapped. He felt much more comfortable with the lead stick between his legs, thank you very much. Honestly. Gundam Pilot to co-pilot on random Preventers shuttle? Hell no.

 

“Headed to Headquarters?”

 

No, I'm taking a joyride through space in a Preventers shuttle because I'm bored and felt like it. Trowa stared at the man, blinked and nodded. Sometimes, he figured, it paid to be polite.

 

“You can fly?”

 

No, he preferred to sit in the pilots seat because it had been a fantasy of his since he was an itty bitty toddler and now it was all coming true and he was leaping for joy, wasn't it obvious? Again, Trowa simply blinked and nodded. The pilot nodded too, as if Trowa had acknowledged something important.

 

“My co-pilot is sick and can't get back here on time. If they can't delay the flight, I'll co-pilot for you…if you can show me your license? I'll write it all in now.”

 

Trowa raised a brow, but reached into his pocket and dug out…his phone. The guy blinked and shook his head, but Trowa simply flipped it open and dialled, waiting for it to pick up. He turned around so the other man could see the little video screen and then barely refrained a smirk as it came to life.

 

“Barton, I'm busy.”

 

“Really, I never would have guessed.”

 

It was fun, sharing glaring matches over the phone with Yuy, but they really didn't have time. Well, Trowa did, but he doubted Heero was sitting on a jet waiting for people to arrive. Especially since that was his desk at headquarters he was sitting at. He looked pissed, actually.

 

“Barton…” And he was damn near growling. Fascinating, really.

 

“This man wants to know if I can fly?” Trowa looked over his shoulder at the pilot, only to find him wide-eyed, staring at the little screen as if it just might kill him. Yuy glared out of the little screen.

 

“Kyle…pilot 03. 03, Kyle. I'm fucking busy.”

 

The line went dead and Trowa actually found himself staring at it. Even Yuy had mellowed to a point where he generally played along and had some fun with the idiots who only recognised him as a Gundam pilot, but he had actually hung up! Just like the old days, which was not a comforting thought at all, really.

 

Kyle was actually shaking, staring at Trowa as if he had suddenly grown another head. Trowa was still staring at his phone, just a moment longer before he closed it and put it back in his jacket pocket, turning to study Kyle a little more carefully.

 

“My licenses are, as I'm sure you know, kept at Preventers Headquarters. But I'm sure they won't mind me flying a shuttle…you have a little piece of paper I think that says its okay?”

 

Kyle really had that nodding thing down. Trowa smiled a little and would have said something more, but was distracted by a loud clatter of footsteps storming up the stairs and into the plane. The voices were rushed, commanding, medics and soldiers combining and Trowa could only stare at the blood soaked figure on a stretcher, another with a bandaged arm, one with a leg in a splint. Others milling about, stowing gear, strapping everything down. It was organised chaos, familiar and daunting in its familiarity. Then another voice broke through the others and Trowa found himself staring at the open doorway to the cockpit as a familiar blonde head appeared, mouth open and ready to snap orders.

 

Their eyes met and Trowa had only a second to think that wow he really did look pissed before Quatre was bellowing.

 

“Why are you just sitting there staring? Hands on the fucking stick, get us the fuck out of here!”

 

Ah yes, furious Quatre. He must have lost a man today. But then, it was a mystery to Trowa why Quatre was on the mission at all. Recon was a the mission. Was it? Trowa decided it would be better to ask questions later and fired up the engines. It was a good thing they didn't have to turn out onto the runway; it was already there, ready to go.

 

Not bothering to make any sort of retort, since he rather valued his body and knew Quatre wouldn't feel the same way about it if he was offended right now, Trowa started up the engines and headed out. The co-pilot smartly kept his mouth shut and kept filling in the paperwork. They could always alter the time a little; Une would never know the difference.

 

Three hours into the flight, the co-pilot handed him their status report and Trowa barely glanced at it, not bothering to say a word. No stops, straight through to headquarters was what he had been after all along, so he wasn't about to protest the small change in plans. The co-pilot patted him on the shoulder then went out to check on their cargo. Trowa waited, a faint smile turning up the corners of his lips. It was several minutes, but sure enough Quatre eased himself into the co-pilot's chair and picked up their updated chart, checking it.

 

“I'm sorry I swore at you.”

 

“I'm not. You seemed to enjoy it.” Trowa smirked a little, looking over at him and giving him a once over, but Quatre seemed uninjured save for a few dark bruises blotching otherwise flawless skin.

 

“Enjoying it was…the last thing on my mind.” Quatre leant back in his seat and stared at the roof. Trowa wondered if they had ever considered sun roofs in space shuttles. “It wasn't meant to be like that.”

 

Most people, Trowa supposed, would say `like what', but most people didn't already know what `like what' meant. Instead, he reached over and snatched up Quatre's hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb comfortingly. Again it took a few, slow minutes but Quatre spun the chair to face Trowa's and slumped forward, into Trowa's lap. There were no tears, only weariness and, it seemed to Trowa, a little fear. It was never a comforting thing to discover a Gundam Pilot had found yet another thing that made him fear.

 

“Duo has called me in to assist,” Trowa noted, by way of conversation, just in case Quatre needed a hand on where to start. It was odd, to have Quatre so quiet at his side and himself trying to start the conversation. It didn't make Trowa feel any more comfortable with the situation, whatever the hell that was.

 

“Duo's smarter than I was then.” There was something in Quatre's eyes; a haunted look that sent a shiver down Trowa's spine. How long since that something that faded? How long since it had returned? Trowa wondered if he was always the last to know such things. If he was always going to be last. Just once, he thought he wouldn't mind being first to someone.

 

The shuttle beeped as it passed one of the Preventers beacons for the autopilot, but Trowa didn't let it engage, preferring to have control over anything and everything he could. It wasn't that he liked being in control, rather he liked there being order to things. He was a pilot and a pilot should fly; that was order, and so he flew, when he could get away with it.

 

“You know, it's not out of the ordinary to start the day with Maxwell swearing at me. But there was Maxwell, then Yuy and now you. Should I expect a call from Wufei sometime soon?”

 

Quatre stiffened, but it was a quick thing, his body relaxing again immediately.

 

“I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it. I lost three men on a surveillance of a satellite that slipped out of orbit.”

 

Trowa blinked. A what? How the hell did a satellite slip out of orbit these days? And how did you lose three men doing that? Not that Trowa was questioning Quartre's abilities, he was just a little dumbfounded. It wasn't exactly what he would consider a normal reconnaissance detail.

 

“…How?”

 

“The satellite had no damage. We went over it with a fine tooth comb and found nothing. We were about to leave when one of my men radioed in about a strange box on the hull. We did an external scan and found a small attachment on the underside of the station, attached to the panel opposite the main control grid. We suspected sabotage, and called it in.”

 

Still didn't explain how he lost three men making a phone call. Trowa frowned, thinking about satellites nearby. It really didn't make sense.

 

“Those satellites are all observation decks.” There was, rather literally, nothing on them.

 

“We know. We called it in and while we were waiting for word back from Control the little box blew up. Damn thing must have had some kind of nuclear trigger. Everyone on the station was killed instantly, and our ship was caught in the blast radius.”

Okay so that would probably be enough to kill a few people. Lucky anyone survived at all really.

 

“So…someone randomly blew up a surveillance satellite?” That made absolutely no sense. Stupidest vandalism yet.

 

“We don't know. We salvaged the data from the ship, and came to get this flight as soon as we could. Heero seems to think it's important, and Duo has already been briefed on a mission that apparently is related, though I can't see how. I'm glad he called you in.”

 

It was as close as anyone would come to saying that he was off the shelf, and this was going to be an extended vacation from ordinary life. He had been bored anyway. A little excitement never did any harm. A few satellites blowing up here and there, the chance to watch Maxwell get killed…Trowa smirked, threading his fingers through Quatres's hair and massaging his scalp as he flew, one handed. He upped the speed, wondering just how many speeding tickets he could clock up for Preventers in one flight. He recalled Duo mentioning something about nineteen…

 

*

 

Trowa landed the shuttle at Preventers headquarters in a daze. He watched Quatre get his crew out from his place in the pilot's seat, staring in disbelief. The entire old building…hell, half the old city, was gone. It looked as though someone had erased what had been there, and replaced it with a futuristic paradise. The Earth Sphere symbol hung in 3D glory over their heads, floating in the sky like a giant balloon near the high strip of the state of the art shuttle launcher. And the Preventers was a vast expanse of gardens and ancient styled buildings lacquered in gem coloured foils, plated in gold and sparkling in the sun filtering in through the vague drifts of clouds lingering.

 

Preventers had changed since he was there last. The whole of Earth had apparently changed; moved into a new era that matched the technological advances made. Without having to pay for an endless war, they finally had the economy to rebuild everything that had been destroyed and replace the old with the new. The makeover was truly exceptional.

 

Trowa left the shuttle in a daze, met outside by the man dressed in a smart suit styled somewhere between eastern and western cultures, his long blond hair pinned back in a tail at the back of his head as he indicated for Trowa to follow. There was no argument. Trowa just followed at a sedate pace, taking it all in. As they wandered through a large archway, a wide garden visible on the other side, he took in the symbols carved into the thick blue enamel lacquer. There were words, in a strong bold font; the words of great leaders, of advocates for peace from decades long past. There were symbols from all around the world, each one lit by the sun and seeming to glow or shadowed by stone and standing out pitch among the bright colour.

 

The garden was filled with the soft trickling of water under their feet, visible through the clear path they walked across and there was an odd, discomforting sort of symbolism to walking on water. Trowa made fast work of it, not feeling as calmed as he had a feeling one was supposed to. He felt relieved when he at last reached the other side and was led inside, away from the too bright colours of garden and stone.

 

The inside was just as extravagant. Hallways of marble, and along the walls mirrors interspersed between the portraits of men and women, little plaques under their images with names and dates and Trowa felt nervous to see they were the dead from numerous wars. On every wall in every hallway. A litany to the dead, beautiful and sorrowful and terrifying. Trowa wondered how many of them he had put on those walls.

 

A large set of heavy looking doors opened and the man with the blonde hair, without a word, pointed a hand in that direction, and promptly left. Trowa stood a moment longer, staring at the doors. Heavy, black and emblazoned with the Preventers symbol. He took a deep, unsettled breath, and went in.

 

A huge mahogany table stretched the length of the room, down its heart. Along the walls were massive monitors that shoed various photographs, reports, blue prints…countless protected pieces of information pertaining to a mission. Trowa recognised it immediately for what it was, and seconds later deduced whose mission as Duo came appeared from under the table, a scowl on his face, clutching a pile of muddled papers that he tossed on the table in seeming disgust. He looked up, eyes wide, and the scowl transformed quickly into a wide grin, feet already moving as he bolted around and Trowa braced himself. Seconds later arms wrapped tight around his shoulders and he gave in for a moment to the warmth of the old camaraderie.

 

“Fuck, its good to see you! Would you look at this mess? How the hell am I supposed to make an honest to god plan that takes everything into account when everything doesn't even fit in a room this big?”

 

A dilemma, certainly. Trowa smirked a little, patting Duo on the shoulder. It was a challenge certainly, but it was one that already piqued his interest, and obviously had a damn good hold of Duo's interest already.

 

“Duo…when did we get a new city?” Because really, that had to be the first answer he got.

 

Duo blinked and shook his head, as if incredulous that Trowa might not know.

 

“They've been rebuilding for about a year now. They're really fast; employed half the people on the planet, I swear. Everyone wants to help out. A lot of people get off their real jobs and come help out construction crews for free. I think they're just bored. But whatever, they do an unreal job so I guess its all good. Preventers was one of the first things rebuilt. Earth Sphere wanted to show a united front with the Shuttle Port, Preventers and the ES Headquarters all in one huge complex, so now we get these nice flashy state of the art boardrooms for offices.”

 

“This is your office?” Trowa snorted, and then blanked all expression from his face when Duo made an affirmative noise, wandering back down the length of the table to where folders were spread in an untidy heap across the middle section. Trowa wasn't sure he ever wanted to work for Preventers again if they were going to make him work in a room like this, but he dutifully followed Duo and leant on the edge of the table, scanning the various folders and documents.

 

“Quatre lost three men.”

 

“Aw, shit. Betcha he swore a blue streak…”

 

Trowa just nodded and waited while Duo flipped through various pages of things and finally dragged out a photo, handing it to Trowa.

 

A symbol, engraved on the dark airlock of…something. The photo was a close up and only showed the door and the airtight seal around its edge. And the symbol engraved on it. What appeared to be the detached tip of a pyramid, with rays of sunlight pouring off it. A piece of the old symbol of the Illuminati; Trowa recognised it immediately. Only it was overlaid with a sword through its centre and the third eye was no longer open. Trowa looked to Duo, confused.

 

Duo went to a table against the wall, where a laptop was plugged in and Trowa was about to make a snide remark about Yuy rubbing off on him when the entire wall changed pictures and there, spread out across the length of the room was a massive black box, floating in space. Trowa slowly lifted a hand and folded his hair behind his ear, out of his face, staring at it with two wide eyes.

 

“It's estimated to be twenty miles long and twelve wide. At least seven deep. Every time we send anything near it, our satellites or ships are destroyed and it disappears. It takes months to find again. It's currently somewhere on the far side of Saturn.”

 

Trowa took a step closer, looking carefully at the grainy front of the image. He held the photo up and sure enough, there on the front of the floating box was the insignia he held in his hand. Rather the photo was cropped from this larger picture. He could see the edge of a planet in the background of the larger shot and vaguely recognised Venus.

 

“What is it?”

 

“It's a colony. Fully contained and self sufficient, completely sealed and carrying technological advancements we can't even imagine. I'm serious Tro. The damn thing vanishes. Poof, gone, as if it never was.”

 

Trowa walked closer and reached out, fingers trailing across the cool screen, as if he could touch it. Whatever it was, it was enticing, and beautiful, and he wanted in. There was a knowing look on Duo's face when Trowa looked his way again.

 

“We've never seen anything on it open, but this hatch alone at the front measures three miles circumference. Not sure how the hell that works, maybe it was just the door to the arc when they were building it, I dunno. There are countless grooves along the underside of it, here…” He fished out a ream of photos and started spreading them over the table, pointing out the deeper groves and speculating which might open.

 

“They look like bay doors.” Thousands of them. Duo just nodded.

 

“Are they armed?” What else would they need that many bay doors for?

 

“We don't know. That's the problem. All attempts to communicate with it have failed, and while we've never been able to prove it, it's rather obvious that it's armed in some way, because our ships and satellites keep blowing up.”

 

“Like the satellite Quatre was on,” Trowa murmured, tracing the undercarriage of the image.

 

“It blew up? Was wondering how he lost three men…”

 

Made two of them. Trowa just nodded, knowing they were both in the same wavelength. He sat more comfortably, crawling up onto the table to sit cross legged on it, laying the photos out in front of himself. He doubted it was how Une wanted to see the tables put to use, but Trowa didn't care. He was comfortable and excited for the first time in years.

 

“How do we know its self sufficient?”

 

“We don't for sure. But we've never seen it open.” Duo dragged out the reports on the few recorded sightings. It didn't mean much. In the months they took to locate it again, the floating monstrosity could dock anywhere in the solar system and fill up with anything and everything it required. Only, how did it do that without anyone seeing or reporting it? Okay, maybe it really was self sufficient.

 

“Does it carry life?”

 

“It's estimated to carry a million people.” Duo dumped a life form scan report in front of him and Trowa picked it up, scanning over it. To all intents and purposes, it looked normal.

 

“Is it…”

 

“Man made? Everything on it can be found in this solar system, for the right price. Everything we can see at any rate, which granted…ain't much. Life signs are human as best we can tell too.”

 

It was incredible. An impossibility. There was no possible means for anyone to have built it without a single soul catching on. And then to populate it. And Maintain it. And hide it. Trowa couldn't fathom the detail to the planning that the entire project must have entailed.

 

“The symbol is Illuminati in origin, but it's not theirs. What is it?”

 

“No one knows. We've checked every available registry and asked every expert alive and no one has ever seen it.”

 

No leads there. Trowa shook his head in wonder.

 

“Thanks for calling me.”

 

“You kidding? How the fuck do you think I am getting in there, alone? Heero's giving me bruises holding on at night! When Heero fucking Yuy is scared shitless you're going to die, you fucking phone a friend man.”

 

Trowa laughed at that, a low chuckle that was part amused by the way Duo observed the world, and part delight that his friends were apparently still together and making it work.

 

“He swore at me earlier too…”

 

“Heero?” Duo seemed startled. Trowa supposed it was a little out of character, or it had been. Now he thought he understood why Heero had been so busy.

 

“Mmm…Seems the day for it.”

 

“Yeah,” Duo grinned. “Least I started it!” He grabbed another pile of reports; schematics this time and Trowa flicked over them dutifully, taking in the details, while Duo sat staring at the wall, enthralled. Trowa couldn't blame him. This was the mission of a lifetime. The discovery of a lifetime. He still couldn't understand how no one had seen it. How had Preventers even managed to track it down? Why only Preventers?

 

“It's a trap.”

 

“Of course.” Duo just grinned. “But for who?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

Neither of them answered, which was enough of an answer.

 

“Wanna see the menu?”

Trowa just smiled and let his hair fall back into place.