Crossover Fan Fiction / Gundam SEED Fan Fiction / Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Crossing Barriers ❯ Pirates, the CEO, Murder, Investigation, and Spirits ( Chapter 25 )

Crossing Barriers

 

Beta Reader: T'Amara

 

 

 

Chapter : 25

 

Disclaimer: I still do not own any part of Gundam Wing or Gundam Seed. They still belong to their respective creators and production companies. I do still own my own OC's and the plot though.

 

Ok, despite appearances, I am really not dead. A tad confused maybe but not dead. Sorry about the delay. Life handed me some lemons and learning to make lemonade took a bit. It didn't help to have Kira and Yuy decide to go south for the winter again either. Given my current track record, I'm making no promises on when chapter 26 will be up. I will try to make it faster than this one though. In the mean time, I hope you enjoy number 25.

 

@@@ @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@ @@@

 

If one was honest, the Hungry Hatchling really didn't deserve to be called a cruiser. As far as size went, it was actually smaller than most destroyers. But it was massively over-engined for the hull size and supported weaponry no real cruiser would be ashamed to have. It also boasted one of the most top-of-the-line sensor suites available. Which was damned important at the moment as the small ship slowly tumbled end over end through the Debris Belt.

 

Captain Terasawa sat still and upright in the bridge command chair, combat restraints locked into place just like all the rest of the bridge crew's were. The ship had no internal gravity units on and the angular momentum of the tumble assured that anyone not secured to their seat or hanging solidly onto a passageway guide strip was going to be bouncing off the bulkheads. At the moment, none of the external screens were in active display. The constant feeling of being pulled out of your seat was bad enough, they really didn't need anyone having a visually triggered nausea episode on the bridge.

 

“Feed coming in now from an Earth-based location.” Juri Pierson's cold voice suddenly spoke clearly from his place at the Comm station. “Source tracking underway. Destination tracking underway.”

 

“Carry on,” Terasawa replied evenly, very pleased to have picked the signals up this soon after launch.

 

“ZAFT patrol craft and mobile suits are now passing behind a very dense cluster of debris.” Mickey reported. “They are at twenty-three hundred klicks and continuing to move away from us.”

 

“Noted,” Ilene managed not to smile, they'd slipped right by the Coordinators! “Maintain monitoring of ZAFT until we are out of their sensor range.”

 

“Yes Ma'am!”

 

Unfortunately, even as the Debris Belt's rotation carried the base past the PLANTs, it brought the Hatchling toward an area quite likely to hold one of the Blue Cosmos bases. So they were going to be stuck in this annoying tumble for at least three days as they moved steadily past the site and any possible sensors there. Worse, by this time tomorrow, everyone was going to have to be wearing their evacuation suits and the ship was going to have to be depressurized. Tumbling along wouldn't do much good if Blue Cosmos scanned their way and registered the `wreck' still had air and internal heat after all.

 

The hard, lead-rich, deep-space worthy shells of their old-fashioned evac suits blocked all scans that would tell anyone checking if it was in use or not. A more modern suit displayed occupancy and the state of the occupant. Ilene had seen to it that her people had the older style for just this reason. This was not the first time they'd done this to recon a target.

 

She didn't envy the nine who'd volunteered to play `drifting dead' though. Not only were they going to be stuck in their suits for at least fifteen hours, they got to bounce off the bulkheads too. Everyone else was going to be strapped down at least, playing a crew dead at their posts. There would come a time when this kind of thing would be dangerous, when so much of the war wrack had been cleared that to find a ship of the dead would immediately draw a recovery team to it. But not yet. Today there were still far, far too many ships rolling along in the Debris Belt in just that condition.

 

“Captain,” Second Comm Kitajima was keeping sharp watch on the broadcast news channels. “Kusanagi has docked. Joule and the others are expected to disembark in about fifteen minutes. Archangel is reported to be fifty minutes out.”

 

She nodded in grim satisfaction. “Begin the multi-source recordings then.”

 

“Ma'am!”

 

Those would be reviewed many times for any and all clues they might hide regarding that odd gold light seen at the end of the battle. That light was the only thing about the fight that really worried her. Because if it wasn't some experimental drive system blowing up, then there was a very serious new weapon around somewhere. Given who survived, ZAFT owned it. And that was about as bad as it could get for anyone thinking to strike at the PLANTs. Unfortunately, she really didn't think they'd be careless enough to drop any real data. Still, even ZAFT's best made mistakes occasionally.

 

A quiet satisfaction filled her. They were going to get away clean here. ZAFT had been pulling their people back to the immediate area around the PLANTs ever since Joule and the others had been found alive. Their last rescue ships had left Endymion last night. The entire fleet sent to Mendel had escorted the Kusanagi back, the Alliance Nelsons staying with them until they reached the first of the PLANTs defense lines before they turned back for the Moon and their base there. Patrols had been sharply stepped up and their areas tightened but they too were not venturing as far out as usual. Indeed, that last one Juri was tracking was the only one still in sensor range. They were going to get the last of their people and all three ships away very soon now. By the time Archangel docked, their base would have rotated far enough past the PLANTs to be out of range of the main sensors. The shuttles would leave then. By mid-watch, the huge old shell would be far enough away to allow the ships to slip out behind its cover as well.

 

They continued on, largely silent, focusing on what their instruments told them about conditions around them and movements of the enemy. They watched the fairly brief press conference given by Clyne. Joule was the only speaker for the three survivors and he denied having any idea of what the gold light had been. The only bit of interesting data to come out of it was his remark that it had completely cleared a corridor through the tight-packed wreckage around the colony and that the corridor reached almost to the next colony. Whatever the source really was, if it wasn't a weapon yet, it was a sure bet there was already research underway to make it one.

 

The press conference three hours later given by the Archangel was interesting but offered nothing really new. Captain Ramius, Commander Waltfeld, and La Flaga did give the first-hand survivor descriptions expected though. Terasawa though it interesting that Zala was more conspicuous by his absence than his presence from that little show. Still, she did wonder just what the Archangel's people were up to. For each one made a point of noting just how much more damage the Vulture Fleet could have done than they actually did. They were still the `evil-bad' pirates right enough. But they weren't the evil-bad insane pirates that was the usual description of her people.

 

It bothered her. Her reputation was based on that impression of functional-but-murderously-crazy. The attack the three of them described was a lot more like a planned, military assault. And that was not a thought she wanted people to keep regarding her behavior. She set herself to ponder this, and how to most safely but sincerely, turn minds back to the old thought patterns.

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

Housekeeping was not Quatre's favorite among the chores rotation. He disliked the heavy, often obstinate, waste bin he had to tow around because it was the only one that fitted the facilities incinerator. He would almost rather get into a full-on Gundam battle than clean bathrooms. Especially one the ladies had been using. One stumbled on the most embarrassing things in their wastebaskets sometimes! Really, he fully understood why Wu Fei would occasionally come faltering back into the pilot's corridor, eyes more than a bit wild after completing his turn at this. He also understood why Duo would come back from the same chore snickering.

 

Of course, to be brutally honest about it, he was nearly as embarrassed when Relena or, worse yet, Dorothy cleaned the pilot's quarters. Thank Allah that Zechs had made it clear from the very start that everyone's bed was their own responsibility and no one was to touch someone else's without express permission! Even so, he knew the five of them made every effort to empty some wastebaskets before the contents could be seen by anyone else at all.

 

It hadn't been possible today of course. Not with all that had gone on starting so fast this morning. He'd barely been dressed when the entire colony had begun to shake around him, the uneven harmonics of multiple, out-of-tune engines making his head ache instantly. It hadn't stopped him from following everyone else to the control room though, or slowed him at breakfast while he helped Relena keep the conversation limited to the safest, and most innocuous, topics either of them could think of. Fortunately, it had faded before they got into the actual opening of negotiations with Commander Joule.

 

He really should have started this just as soon as they'd verified that the rescue ship, Kusanagi, had taken their visitors aboard. But there had been those fascinating inter-ship conversations to monitor as the ZAFT and Alliance ships had arrived. Joule hadn't been exaggerating the degree of distrust between Coordinators and Naturals at all. It had been so enlightening to eavesdrop on their interactions!

 

It was a relief to close Relena's door and slink back to the room he and Trowa shared. At least he already knew what was in the basket here. Being the organized soul he was, Quatre left the baskets for last though as he wiped down the bath and set one of the little automatic units they'd found here to vacuum the floor. Making the bed was a simple matter of tossing the sheets and blankets into enough order to more or less cover the thing. Zechs didn't really do room inspections and, in the interests of keeping everyone calm and agreeable while they were cooped up in this space, he limited his demands to keeping things clean enough not to smell up the place. Considering how Duo liked to make nests out of his bedding, that was quite wise of him. The last thing he did was grab the basket beside the bed and dump it into the despised incinerator waste bin.

 

Quatre Raberba Winner was a very multi-dimensional young man. One of those dimensions was being exceptionally well trained at avoiding leaving physical evidence of his presence lying around. The Gundam Pilots had had to function as infiltrators more than once, and an infiltrator whose genetics were known could be in significant trouble if the enemy programmed those into its guard facilities. For all his dislike of cleaning, he was much more thorough about it than his attitude would suggest. And while his standards were somewhat lower here where they really were complete unknowns, they hadn't actually slipped all that much. So while he didn't honestly count, the back of his mind did make note of a specific, unexpected, discrepancy between what it knew should have been there, and what fell into the bin.

 

He was almost four years away from the Eve Wars now, instead of fully registering the mismatch simply set up an unease in his mind. That unease was reinforced when he got far enough to empty Wu Fei's bedside basket. But it was when he completed the set in Duo and Heero's room that it finally got solid enough to bring him to a stop. Despite his distaste for touching the things, Quatre sifted carefully through the bin until he could account for every used condom in it. Unless he was very, very wrong, and he didn't think he was, the count was short by at least five.

 

He sat carefully on the edge of Duo's rumpled bed as he considered the neat line he'd made of the evidence from the bin. Oddly, he had no questions what had happened. Someone had gone to some fairly dangerous lengths to get some answers. He was quite sure he knew who as well. Kira Yamato didn't think like this but Commander Joule was a very different story. Joule was suspicion personified, much like Heero in that way actually although he didn't seem to have Yuy's outright security paranoia, and for all his likeable nature, Wing Elsman didn't actually cross his commander very often. Either of them could have done this during the brief break between breakfast and the onset of the negotiations. After all, all of their own people had stayed in the lounge at Zech's request while he went over what he was expecting from the meeting. Even Heero had stayed until the thing was actually underway.

 

A very loud crash jerked his attention away from the condoms. Someone had just thrown open a heavy door with far more force than it truly needed. Given where the sound had come from, Heero and Duo were finally back. And one or both were in very, very, bad moods. He swept the neat line into a large scrap of paper from the bin and carefully put them back in it. There were raised voices now, one of them Duo's. This might not be the time to tell the others about this. He towed the bin out of the room and left it beside the incinerator while he went to get a handle on what was going on.

 

“…don't fuckin' give a shit what you want Merquise!” Duo Maxwell's voice not only carried well, the tone told Quatre that whatever the Deathscythe pilot had found had pushed him very, very close to outright hysteria. And that meant it was also very, very bad. Because Duo did not get hysterical, period. He broke into a quick trot. Someone was going to have to shut Duo down until he could get control of himself and since Heero didn't seem to be doing it, that left the job in his hands.

 

He slowed markedly as he came to the last corner, unwilling to seem in any undue hurry. With Duo so upset, he needed to be as calm, and as ruthlessly controlled as he could. Nothing else would give him the leverage to bring the raging American under control. So while he was still moving quickly, he saw to it that the person who stepped around the corner was the CEO of Winner Enterprises, and not just `Quat'.

 

Duo was glaring up at Zechs, Shinigami visibly floating very close to the surface. This was worse than he'd expected. And it was the Lightening Count staring back down with dangerously narrowed eyes. That wouldn't help either. A swift glance showed him Yuy was locked down in Perfect Soldier mode, and also both upset and unwilling to back down. No, this was not good. It was made worse a second later when Relena and Dorothy appeared. Quatre had enough experience reading Heero Yuy to suddenly understand that whatever they'd found, it had made the other almost frightened for Relena. He had to get them out of this confrontation and make them explain what was wrong.

 

“Duo! Heero!” Quatre snapped before they'd really registered he was there, the tone in his voice denying any room for either argument or disobedience. “That's enough! I want everyone in the lounge, now. We will go over what you've found there.”

 

He turned cold eyes on Merquise as well. “Colonel, while they get whatever they've found set up to show us all, I would appreciate a moment of your time.”

 

Duo opened his mouth but Quatre beat him to it. “Now, Duo! Whatever you two have, it clearly needs to be discussed immediately. You have five minutes to get it ready. Yuy, make sure you have the big screen slaved to your computer. I will want to see what you have on those discs in your hand.”

 

When the three of them just stood there in mild shock, he gave them his very best CEO stare and added with a dangerous soft voice, “You have your orders.”

 

That worked. Heero grabbed Duo by the arm and headed for the lounge, the suddenly unresisting American in tow. The shouting had finally brought Mariemaia and Trowa as well, leaving only Noin steadfast at the boards. And it was Trowa who made sure they all followed the scowling Wing pilot, at a safe distance, as he whipped around the corner and was gone. The Arab let himself draw a soundless breath of relief when not even Mariemaia protested.

 

“Winner.” Zech's voice was cold but neutral.

 

He turned to the taller man, his own voice just as uncompromising. “It is not wise to let Shinigami take over, Colonel and you were about to have him in your face. Whatever has happened, Duo's control over the darker side of his nature, and he does have a quite nasty side, is paper thin right now. Do not push him. He isn't the best fighter among us, but when he loses it, he is the most ruthless and inventive. He also loses the ability to recognize when he should stop fighting as well. You've seen the aftermath of a Deathscythe strike, you should understand that.”

 

Merquise studied him for a long moment, as the Lightening Count slowly receded and Preventer Wind stepped forward, then just nodded sharply. “Yes, I have.”

 

Quatre nodded back, a more gracious gesture this time. “Before we join them, and I think we need to put the board on auto and have Noin join us as well, you need to know something.”

 

A single slightly raised eyebrow was the only response.

 

“Someone, and I suspect Commander Joule, saw to it that they took some genetic samples back to those PLANTs with them.”

 

“Excuse me, genetic samples?”

 

“We use condoms, Colonel. And some are missing from the trash today.” Quatre said it as flatly as he could, trying not to blush even if it was embarrassing as hell to say.

 

Zech's eyes narrowed to blue diamonds again. “Missing? You are sure?”

 

“Quite.”

 

“I, . . . . . ., see.”

 

“I should have expected it.” The smaller blond admitted. “No one in their right mind is going to be ready to accept the idea of travel across dimensions without some kind of proof. And these people seem to have a tremendous focus on their own genetics. It would make sense to have them grab such readily available samples to test to see if we really are aliens.”

 

“How did they even know such would be available in the first place?” Zechs asked quietly.

 

“Ah, that was Duo's idea,” Quatre admitted with a small shrug. “They picked the rooms directly behind the room Heero shares with Duo and mine and Trowa's. This place is well built but it isn't as soundproof as it might be. He thought if he warned them, it would save embarrassment all around.”

 

One pale eyebrow rose and a corner of the mouth quirked up slightly. “That actually makes considerable sense. I'm rather surprised it was Maxwell who came up with it.”

 

“He's significantly brighter than he wants anyone to know.” The Arab gave the other a sharp glance. “You might want to remember that going forward. And you might want to remember that Heero has broadened his horizons all out of expectation as well. They always were a formidable team and they've only gotten better with time and experience at life. Duo's sometimes a prankster too. Be very aware, when he gets as far off base as he is now, his pranks can turn dangerous. Do not enrage him if you can avoid it, Yuy will not try to stop him at the moment and he's the only one of us who really can deal with Shinigami in full cry.”

 

“He listens to you.”

 

Quatre shook his head. “No, you missed the real dynamic. Heero listened to me and hauled Duo off. Duo heard me, but he would not have left the argument on his own. We were lucky. He's still solid enough to know when to not fight with Heero. When he's calmer, then yes, Duo will usually follow my lead. But he is an independent soul at the best of times. Today, Colonel, is absolutely not the best of times.”

 

“Yes,” Merquise returned dryly. “I did notice that.”

 

Quatre gave the man a dark look. “Then I recommend that you keep it very much in mind. Because Duo isn't the only one of them pushing an edge. Heero is not at his most stable at the moment either. Something they found has seriously affected him. Whatever is up there, it is bad, very bad. You will need to keep your own control as solid as you can. Believe it or not, we have all gotten to the point where we do see you as the leader of this mess. If you slip, Duo will be over the edge and he may take Yuy with him. We need you to be a rock, Merquise. I suspect those two won't be the only ones who need an anchor before their presentation is over. You are the only candidate available for that. Noin is too much of a friend for it and Relena, well, lets just say Heero is far too aware of her as a girl for it.”

 

“I've noticed that,” Zechs agreed quietly. “Relena hasn't yet but then, Yuy hides his feelings very well. And Winner, I do appreciate the input.”

 

A small movement of a hand stopped Quatre as he was about to head for the lounge himself. Zechs had an odd expression on his face, as if he was trying to decide if he should speak or not. Curious, the Sandrock pilot waited for the other to make up his mind. He was a bit startled, when he met the older man's eyes, to realize that Merquise was more worried than he'd thought.

 

“Winner,” he began slowly, “did something seem off with Yuy to you?”

 

“He is almost as upset as Duo over whatever they've found,” Quatre agreed quietly.

 

“No,” the blond hair barely stirred as he returned the smallest of shakes. “It wasn't about that, or perhaps it would be better to say it wasn't focused on that.”

 

A tilt of the head and a silent question, one that Merquise interpreted quite accurately. “It was the way he kept watching Relena out of the corner of his eye, as though he was expecting some enemy to appear out of thin air and attack her.”

 

It was Quatre's turn to shake his head slightly. “No, I would say there is no immediate threat. Heero has locked down in Perfect Soldier mode but he isn't acting like he does when he's expecting imminent action. Whatever they found, it is a long term issue.”

 

Zechs' eyes narrowed instantly to slits of blue fire as he pounced on that wording. “A threat?”

 

Quatre shrugged, “The word choice is perhaps too strong at the moment. I would think it more a potential to become one if we aren't careful.”

 

He spoke to reassure the other; he absolutely did not need Zechs going off his own deep end right now too. This space was too small for sharing with the Lightening Count and Shinigami both in kill mode. Not to mention the problems they'd all have if they found themselves dealing with Yuy having an honestly serious attack of real paranoia right about now. And that didn't begin to address the issues he'd been having with Trowa for the last few weeks either! No, there was no room in this place for letting that kind of thing run. It would do Crimson Dawn's work for them.

 

“I see.” The narrowed eyes turned toward the lounge as though he could see through the walls. “Then we need to assess what they've found, right now.”

 

Quatre found himself almost trotting to keep up with Merquise's long strides. The man wasn't running by any means, but he was walking just about as swiftly as he could. Oddly, this was something of a relief. Because now he was sure that Zechs, if he did not outright approve, would at the very least not stand in the way, once this was over and they got the suspected implants out, when Heero turned to actually courting his sister. They would deal with what everyone else thought when they had to. It was enough for now to know the biggest potential obstacle wasn't one at all. He would have to save that for a good moment to tell Heero. Right now just wasn't the time.

 

Once again, Quatre cut his speed a few seconds before anyone else could see him in a hurry. His control of the team had always been based on making good decisions and projecting a solid confidence. Running at Zechs' heels would kind of ruin that impression. So he made sure he was walking when he stepped through the lounge door a few paces behind Merquise. Besides, he was fairly sure he wasn't going to like a lot of this. Why run to hear bad news?

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

Lars Bjork tossed the printout of the latest `suggestions' from the Blue Cosmos bitch onto the desk and glared at them. Just who did she think she was? And just where did she think she was going to get the firepower to back up her attitude? There wasn't enough of that left to Blue Cosmos to take out the five ships that had joined the Ice Dragon here on the dark side of the moon, let alone really make a strike at the PLANTs.

 

The vote would be tomorrow but he didn't have any worries. There really wasn't anyone else aboard to run against him. They had people who could do individual jobs aboard this ship but he was the only one with command experience and everyone knew it. This cabin would be his by right when that clock Dieter had loved so struck this hour again.

 

He snarled at the inoffensive wall in front of him, furious all over again at the loss of his friend and Captain. He'd make sure the whore who gave Dieter that sickness died if the Fever hadn't already done the job. He rather hoped it hadn't, he really, really needed to kill something right now and she'd do just fine as a tension reliever.

 

A knock at the cabin hatch dragged his mind from the pleasurable thoughts of just how he'd kill the slut and back to the ship he would soon lawfully command. “Come!”

 

The hatch opened and Rahm, the navigator, stepped thru. “Lars, got that stupid woman demanding answers. I've put her off about as long as I can. You got any ideas?”

 

The massive Swede snorted. “Lie to her.”

 

“Been doin' that.”

 

“No, I mean lie big to her,” Bjork grinned savagely. “We need to get every ship here we can, to build our own Fleet, one that owes nothing to deadwood left over from the Valentine Wars. We need time.”

 

“I got that already,” Rahm said patiently. “What I ain't got is any more ideas on how to buy it.”

 

“You think too small,” he waved a hand at the bottles in the rack beside the desk. “Help yourself, you've earned it.”

 

One quirked eyebrow told him the other man was interested but wary. He did help himself to the booze though. It wasn't often any of the crew got a chance at the quality stuff and none of them wasted the opportunities when they did drop by.

 

“What's thinkin' big look like to you then?” The slighter man asked as he poured himself a generous, but not unreasonable, quantity into one of the smaller of the late Captain Ruhde's brandy snifters. “You got a strange mind Lars, I don't always follow where it goes.”

 

“We need to stay put until the Call draws us enough ships and men,” Bjork told him, filling a much smaller glass with something even stronger than the brandy. “And we won't get the chance if we're running at Hannam's beck and call. So we need a solid reason to stay put.”

 

“I follow that. What reason? You know the slut's not going to listen to much.”

 

He shrugged. “We just tell her we have a new case of Jupiter Fever.”

 

Rahm's head snapped up. “You lost it? Everyone else will split for the far side of the Belt if you talk like that! Jupiter Fever isn't somethin' anybody is gonna hang around with!”

 

“We tell the five here what we're doing before we get hold of the bitch,” he said patiently, it wouldn't do to scare the wits out of his own crew. “And we let them warn each new ship as it comes in. They need to think of themselves as part of a new Fleet, so we trust them with this and keep our own long range comms down. Pretending to be in the Belt is all well and good but you know as well as I do that bouncing our signal out from here to our supposed `hideout' and back to Blue Cosmos is dangerous. Sooner or later, someone is going to intercept the wrong transmission and blow our cover. We need a reason to shut up and drop out of sight. This will buy us at least a month.”

 

Rahm opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, then closed it slowly as the possibilities began to suggest themselves to him. “Could work,” he agreed cautiously. “What are you really after? I've known you for what, fifteen years now, yes? I may not understand your mind but I've seen it in action long enough to see you got somethin' more in your head.”

 

Bjork leaned back in the comfort of the desk chair, glad for enough gravity to make real use of it as he picked his words with some care. “Have you given any thought to where we are going? To what the world will be like in a few years? To what our odds of success in that new environment will be?”

 

“Nope,” he answered shortly. “I don't fancy too much thinkin'. It makes a body nervous. I don't like lookin' more'en a couple jobs ahead. It gets depressin'. Cooped up on a small ship ain't no place to be lookin' for depressin' things.”

 

“You aren't going to make a Captain thinking like that,” Bjork told him bluntly. “A Captain has to look ahead or he and his ship end up dead.”

 

“I got no mind to try for the aft cabin. The job ain't worth it to me. That's your look-out.”

 

“Yes, yes it is. And I'm looking. I don't like what I see either.” Lars set the whiskey down and leveled ice blue eyes at his oldest surviving friend. “Blue Cosmos is a dead end. Oh, they'll hold on in some minor way down on the planet but they're finished as a real power for a good long while. They've been tarred with their association with LOGOS and all the death and destruction of two losing wars. The general population down there isn't with them any longer. And unless the Clyne bitch makes one whopper of a mistake, they aren't going to drift back to them. I do not expect that girl to make that mistake. Whatever one thinks of Coordinators, that one is one damn sharp one. And she's got good backup in the friendship she's building with her man's sister's nation too. Aube is the most militarily significant power on the planet at the moment and is likely to stay that way for at least the next ten years, perhaps longer. By that time, the world won't be so upset about Coordinators any more. They'll be used to the idea that the PLANTs are up there all right but that they're peaceful. Because Clyne will not attack. She'll defend, but she will not attack. She's no fool. She understands more about economics than any idol singer ever should. So she'll be a fair trader too. And given enough time with peace and honest trade, the failures of LOGOS and Blue Cosmos will only be magnified. Earth has too many dead, and too much damage from those stupid idiots who dropped Junius Seven. Earth's nations don't have the resources to rebuild their infrastructure and expand an aggressive military at the same time any more. So there will be peace. And peace will not be our friend.”

 

Rahm considered that, then nodded slowly, “I can see that. No wars mean what military everyone has can be turned against us.”

 

He looked up grimly. “We ain't strong enough and we ain't gonna get strong enough to take on the whole planet and the PLANTs. There just ain't enough of us.”

 

“So, you do see it,” Bjork nodded soberly. “Pirates historically have only flourished when there was a point of chaos they could use. In the wet-water days, that meant a lonely coast to haunt, a war to slip out into, or some governmental collapse that left a lawless land that could be exploited. With most of the earth nation's colonies gone now, we don't have the places to slip off to where we can rest and refit. The PLANTs will see to it that ZAFT stays strong enough to deal with any real effort we can make at hitting their resources and even if the North Atlantic rebuilds the L4 colonies, they won't leave them unprotected again. We have one and only one chance here. We must put together a strong enough fleet to cripple the PLANTs right now, when they aren't strong enough to recover from the assault, and one that can keep them crippled enough to give us the room we need. If we do that, we can dictate the terms we want to the resource starved nations down on the planet. But our window of opportunity won't last long. They are weak now, although they hide it well, but if we give them even six months to build up, they'll be too strong for us. If that happens, they'll hunt us down at their leisure. Make no mistake here Rahm, they will find us and they will destroy us. I don't plan to see that happen.”

 

The navigator took a long swig of brandy, then grinned evilly at him. “I like a Captain with my interests at heart.”

 

Lars grinned back, “then you'll love me.”

 

“Oh, I plan to, I surely do. Now, where do you think we need to start?”

 

“By getting rid of Yamato and the rest of FAITH.”

 

“Eh?” Rahm sat up sharply. “How? You saw what happened to everyone who went after the little sod!”

 

“No, we did not see,” Bjork corrected coldly. “We saw the final outcome. But we don't know how it really happened. We need to know more about that gold light. Because our plans may all depend on being able to contain whatever it really is. So that's where we will start, by getting back in touch with Blue Cosmos in about a month. We'll use them to find out for us. And we'll let them think they're calling the shots while we do it. But when we take out the PLANTs, we'll take them down too. I don't think we'd be at all happy if we left Hannam at our backs.”

 

“Got that right.”

 

Rahm had duties and didn't linger. But Lars had no doubts that at least the gist of what he wanted them to accomplish would be well spread throughout the ships. A leader had to offer his people something to shoot for after all. And control of space was such an attractive goal. He downed the last of his whisky with a smile and a toast to the little black gods who ruled this airless void. Oh yes, he would honor them. And they would grant him victory.

 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

 

Just one fitful fire burned barely illuminating even one of the eleven buildings of the `secret' base; all that was left of the bonfire the Iron Fist had been celebrating around. The uneven light let him count six bodies. There were sixty-two more scattered about the secluded post; including the two rabid animals who had guided him here. They'd been more dangerous than the Fist really, but fortunately, they'd also been considerably less intelligent. And the way they were dressed would point fingers in quite useful directions too so their deaths couldn't be considered wasteful.

 

Too bad about the women though, they'd been victims twice over unfortunately. But it simply wasn't possible to do any rescue work here. This site had to be silenced, completely and with clear malice aforethought evident for the rest of the Special Teams to find. Still, he was quite sure they would see the difference between the dead of Iron Fist and the unlucky women they'd been using as whores. The later were at least laid out with dignity and their bodies circumspectly covered. He'd been quite careful to make as sure as he could that none of the Fist would have any dignity at all in death.

 

He stood beside his transport and stripped off all his outer clothing. It was heavily blood splattered and the tread on the boots was distinctive. There would be another group, whose distinctive footwear, and the specifically uniformed bodies of his late guides, who would now be suspect in this slaughter no matter what excuses they came up with. Implicating them should impress more than just the Sun too. Alone in the night, he was not at all reluctant to admit to a rising ambition that he would not be able to acknowledge anywhere else. Moving quickly, he tied the whole bundle as small as he could before he attached the lead weights. It wouldn't do to have it found too soon. Never would be good actually.

 

The small canoe moved silently into the sluggish current as he poled it away from the shore. Once far out enough to let the current take over for a bit, he added the pole itself to the bundle and continued his trip with the more maneuverable paddle. One day in the water where he planned to drop the incriminating bundle and the acids that dripped from the refinery outlet pipe would erase all evidence that could trace back to him. He withdrew silently into the night, quite sure the Sun would be very pleased with his work.

 

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