Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ A Small Piece of Heaven ❯ Part 1 ( Chapter 1 )
A Small Piece of Heaven - Part 1
The chauffeur, clad in a dark blue suit, held open the door as Treize Khushrenada climbed out of his limousine. The ex-colonel thanked the man with a curt nod.
"This might take a while, Owen. Why don't you go grab a cup of coffee or something to eat? I'll page you when I'm ready to leave."
"Thank you, Sir," the man replied with a slight bow, then he slipped back behind the wheel of the large black car and drove off.
As Treize entered the two-story S.A.U. building the officer behind the reception counter looked up from the computer pad he was reading.
"How can I help you, Sir?"
"I would like to speak to Captain Kurama," the ginger-blond man explained.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but the captain is a rather busy man, he only takes visitors on appointment," the clerk informed him.
The ex-colonel smiled politely. "Just tell him that Duke Khushrenada is here to see him, Lieutenant. Perhaps he will just make an exception."
The man shrugged. "I can give it a try, Sir. But…" leaving the end of the sentence hanging in the air he pushed a couple of buttons on the intercom system. "Captain Kurama. I have here a gentleman who wants to talk to you. He says his name is Khushrenada. I know you are busy, Sir, and I've tried to explain that to him but… "
"Treize?! " Rasid's tenor came back over the speaker. "Lieutenant, show him to my office."
The Lieutenant blinked in surprise. "Yes, Sir." As he rose from his chair he turned toward the visitor and added. "If you would follow me, Sir?"
The man led Treize down the hall to the Captain's office.
"Colonel," The tall Arab rose from his chair behind the desk to greet the duke. "What a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect to see you here."
"And you really ought to stop calling me that, Captain. I retired more than a year ago," Treize answered with a smile.
The two men had met during the war, Treize being a Colonel in the federal army, Rasid a member of the underground resistance. Although they were fighting on different sides they had developed a great deal of respect for each other. From the outside it seemed like they were as different as night and day, yet the fact that they both lived by the same ideals of honor and justice, had let to the two of them becoming friends even before the war was over.
"Old habits die hard I suppose." The captain shrugged. "Please, have a seat. Can I get your something? A cup of coffee or… No, I'm afraid coffee is all I have to offer."
"Thanks, but I'm fine. I really don't want to take too much of your time either. When I heard of your promotion and transfer to this district I just thought I'd come by and congratulate you in person."
"Thank you…I guess," Rasid replied, making a sour face.
"This doesn't sound very enthusiastic," Treize laughed. "I take it this job is not what you expected?"
"To tell the truth it's not the job that bothers me, it's the conditions I found when I got here."
"Is it that bad?"
"Bad doesn't even begin to describe it." The tall, bearded man sighed. "I knew that my predecessor, Captain Kluge, had been relieved of his duties after one too many complaints. But nobody warned me how bad things really were. It's only been 3 days since I got here but I'm already ready to fire half of my staff. But enough of that, I have a hard time believing that you came all this way only to congratulate me. Why are you really here? I didn't know you owned slaves."
"I don't," Treize replied. "Not anymore that is." His family had kept slaves for as long as he could remember. In the blue-blooded society he had grown up in owning slaves was as much a symbol of status and wealth as possessing a large estate and elegant cars. After the death of his parents Treize had freed all of their slaves, more or less a gesture of appreciation for years of loyal services.
"I'm only helping out an acquaintance. She is thinking about purchasing another house servant or two and I promised I would accompany her to the auction this weekend," Treize explained. With a slight smirk he added. "So I thought, perhaps if I twist your arm a little you would let me have a look at what's going to be on the auction block."
"Not much arm twisting necessary for that," Rasid told him. Every slave he could sell was one less worry for him.
The S.A.U. was a law enforcement unit that dealt with crimes involving slaves - crimes committed by slaves as well as crimes committed against them. They also picked up a large number of runaways and slaves that for one reason or another were given up by their owners. Those abandoned or occasionally confiscated slaves became the property and responsibility of the government and were usually sold at a public auction.
Rasid picked up a small computer pad from the desk and handed it to the ex-colonel.
"We have about two dozen men and women in holding at the moment, but I'm afraid I can't really tell you much about any of them," he told the ginger-blond man. "I haven't even found the time to read though most of the files yet. But if you have the time you can read them yourself…"
The ginger-blond man nodded taking the pad. "Thanks."
***
Rasid had gone back to working on his computer, while Treize was reading through the files, when suddenly shouting and scuffling noises, coming from somewhere outside the office, grabbed their attention.
The captain jumped to his feet and was at the door with a few large strides, the ex-colonel only a step behind him.
"What in the world is going…" Rasid swallowed the rest of the sentence, realizing that the situation was rather self-explaining.
At the far end of the lobby, near the elevators, a young man, maybe eighteen or nineteen years at the most, was holding a warden at knifepoint. About half a dozen officers in bluish-gray S.A.U. uniforms surrounded him, their weapons trained on the young slave, waiting for him to let his guard down.
The duke let his gaze roam over the young man. He was tall, with long hair that reached almost all the way to his lower back. Crystal-blue eyes were almost hidden beneath frisky platinum-blond bangs. Around his neck he wore a thin gold colored collar. His lean body was clad in a loose pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt of the same color. The words Governmental Property were printed in bold letters onto the shirt.
How ironic, Treize thought, wondering for a moment if the words referred to the clothes or the person wearing them.
"You are not going anywhere," one of the officers, a commander from what Treize could tell, called out. "So, do yourself a favor and give up or…"
The young man snorted. "Or what? You're going to kill me?" he asked in a mixture of sarcasm and bitterness, pressing the knife a little harder against the hostage's throat. "Do you really think that's going to scare me?"
Treize knew the commander wasn't bluffing. The young man was cornered and there was no way they would let him walk out of the building with his hostage. It seemed the blond knew that as well. His blue eyes darted about as if looking for a way to escape. There was a mixture of fear, defiance and determination in those eyes. The ex-colonel had seen the same expression in the eyes of soldiers on the battlefield. The blond was desperate and he wasn't going to give up without a fight. He would probably end up hurting his hostage and chances were that he'd get himself killed in the process.
I'll be damned if I will just stand by and let it happen, Treize thought, as he stepped next to Captain Kurama.
"Everybody back off, now!" he demanded with the demeanor of somebody who was used to giving orders and expecting them to be followed.
"Do as he says!" Rasid added, as his men hesitated. The tall Arab knew his friend well enough to believe that the man knew what he was doing. Treize's sometimes overly polite, aristocratic style was something a lot of people confused with weakness. Those people usually ended up underestimating the man. But Rasid knew there was nothing soft or weak about Treize.
The duke noticed with satisfaction that the young man's attention had shifted to him. He put on what he hoped to be a reassuring smile as he cautiously stepped toward the blond.
"My name is Treize Khushrenada. What's yours?"
The young slave gave him a suspicious look, hesitating for a moment before he answered.
"Milliardo."
"Okay, Milliardo, why don't you tell…" Treize took another step and the blond suddenly stiffened, holding his knife so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"Don't come any closer," he warned.
"That's fine," the ex-colonel replied calmly, raising his hand in a pacifying gesture. "Just stay calm. No reason to get upset. I won't come any closer if you don't want me too."
He quickly gazed at the warden. The man looked like he was about to faint. Not much help to be expected from him.
The blond watched him suspiciously.
"Milliardo, do you really want to hurt this man? I don't think you do? So, why don't you just drop your weapon?"
The young man didn't answer. His eyes flickered nervously between the officers and the ginger-blond man.
He is scared, Treize thought.
"Listen, Milliardo!" he spoke softly. "Nobody is going to hurt you. I give you my word that if you put down the knife and release your hostage you will not be harmed in any way."
The blond swallowed convulsively and licked his dry lips. But when those fingers holding the knife slowly started to relax Treize knew that he was about to win this battle.
"It's okay. You can trust me," he assured the young man once more.
Ever so slowly the knife was lowered and the duke breathed a quiet sigh of relief, giving the blond slave a short, but encouraging nod. Unfortunately the warden decided at just that moment to become a hero. He rammed his elbow into the blond's stomach and at them same time tried to wrench himself free. Milliardo grunted in surprised and anger but didn't let go of his hostage. He pressed his weapon onto the man's throat hard enough to draw blood.
The duke, swearing silently at the man's foolishness, reacted swiftly. Before the blond knew what was happening Treize's fist connected with his chin and threw him off balance. Something hit his wrist hard, making him drop the knife with a yelp. His right arm was twisted behind his back.
"Go down on your knees!" the ex-colonel ordered sharply, putting a little pressure onto the slave's arm.
Milliardo had no choice but to comply if he didn't wanted to dislocate his shoulder. In a matter of seconds two officers were next to him, slapping a pair of solid handcuffs on his wrists, while two others checked on the warden. Luckily the man wasn't seriously hurt. The knife had barely cut his skin.
Rasid picked up the weapon from the ground and turned toward his men.
"Take him down to the holding cells, and then, Commander Phillips, I would like an explanation on how it was possible for the boy to get his hands a weapon like this. And it better be a damn good explanation."
"Yes, Sir." Phillips answered, before pulling Milliardo to his feet and pushed him roughly forward.
Treize straightened his suit with a few sharp tucks and watched as the officers prodded the young slave to one of the elevators. Just before the doors closed the young man raised his head and for an instant their eyes locked.
The duke felt a sudden wave of sympathy wash over him at the look of utter resignation in those beautiful blue eyes.
***
"That was pretty impressive," Rasid said as he and Treize walked back into the captain's office. "If you should ever decide to work again I think I could use somebody like you."
"Too much stress and not enough pay," Treize answered with a humorless smile. "I'm just glad that we could resolve this without anybody getting seriously hurt."
"So am I," the captain agreed.
"What's going to happen to that young man?" the ginger-blond ex-colonel asked as he settled down in one of the leather office chairs.
He couldn't get that look in those beautiful and haunting eyes out of his mind. There was nothing left of the determination and defiance he had seen earlier, only hopelessness.
"I don't know yet," Rasid answered with a sigh. "I'll have to determine that after I get all the facts. Most likely he will have to go through re-training."
"Could I take another look at that auction file?" the ginger-blond man asked; picking the computer pad up as the captain nodded his consent.
"Hmmm," Treize said after a moment.
"What is it?"
"I can't seem to find that young man - Milliardo was his name, wasn't it - in this file."
"He should be. As far as I know there have been no new arrivals over the past three weeks so everybody in holding right now should be processed and ready for auctioning " Rasid frowned as he pushed a button on the intercom.
"Lieutenant Raltar, why isn't Milliardo's information in the auction file?"
"He hasn't been put up for the auction, Sir." His aid's voice came back through the speaker.
"Why not?" Rasid wanted to know. "He has been here long enough, hasn't he?"
"Seven or eight weeks." Raltar confirmed. "He was picked up some time in August. I don't remember the exact date. His owner didn't want take him back."
The tall Arab nodded to himself, knowing that this wasn't uncommon. When the authorities picked up a slave the owner was billed for any expenses. When the bill got too high most masters gave up ownership.
"Then why isn't he on the auction list?" Rasid repeated his question.
"The Captain let us keep the kid around…for entertainment… if you know what I mean." The man answered with a suggestive tone in his voice.
Rasid closed his eyes, feeling nearly sick to his stomach, and somehow managed to remain calm.
Yes, I know what you mean, he thought grimily, I can't believe that Klug not only let something like this go on but also permitted it. Perhaps I need to fire and replace the entire staff.
"I might be interested in purchasing that young man." Treize declared suddenly.
Rasid stared at him, surprised. "Are you sure about that? You saw him out there, Treize. I don't think he should be sold to anybody at this time. He is dangerous."
"I will take the risk. I know you have a lot more experience than I have in this and your concern is noted, Rasid, but I can't agree with you. I think Milliardo is just desperate but not really dangerous. Maybe all it would take is to get him out of here. First let me talk to him and read his file."
The captain looked at the duke for a long moment, then shrugged. He had stopped a long time ago trying to figure out what was going on in his friend's mind.
He pushed the intercom button once again as he rose from his chair.
"Lieutenant, I'm going down to the holding area. When I get back I want to find Milliardo's file on my desk."
***
Commander Phillips shoved Milliardo into the cell with a hard push. With his hands cuffed behind his back the young man could to little to break his fall. Before he was able to scramble back onto his feet Phillips was next to him kicking him into the side, hard. Milliardo pushed himself up on his knees, panting at the effort. The commander grabbed a handful of pale-blond hair, forcing the young slave to look at him as he crouched down next to him.
"What you did today was a was a very, very foolish thing, Milliardo." He whispered almost softly, close to the blond's ear. "Now the Captain is angry with me for not watching you closely enough. And when the Captain gets angry I get angry, you see. Sometimes I think you are deliberately trying to irritate me."
"I wasn't trying to…"
Before Milliardo even could finish the sentence Phillips slapped him, first forehand then backhand, hard enough to split his lip.
"I didn't I ask you a question, did I? You still haven't learned that you aren't to open your mouth unless you are told to? Why do you keep doing this? Do you think I enjoy punishing you?" The man shook his head in mock regret. "But of course I'll have to punish you for this, you know that, don't you?"
The blond swallowed convulsively, a small trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. Phillips let go of his hair and straightened up, turning to his two fellow officers who had entered the cell with him.
"I think I'll need your assistance. Let's make sure he learns his lesson well so that he won't repeat his mistakes later on."
Milliardo's stomach clenched as all three men reached for their shock-rods. He closed his eyes, braced himself for the pain and prayed that he would loose consciousness soon.
__________________________________________________________________ ________________________
T.B.C.
Author's Note:
It has been quite a while since I updated this fic and almost 2 years since I started writing it. Since then my writing style has changed (to the better I hope) and my English has improved. So I decided to re-work all the existing chapters before adding a new one. The story line itself is not changing. I'm just adding more details, especially in the first few chapters.
Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome :-)