Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Eyes Cold As Death ❯ Twenty-three ( Chapter 23 )

Eyes Cold As Death

Chapter Twenty-three --Gracious Luck

Dorothy's fingers ached and stiffened as she navigated desperately through the mainframe. She shouldn't be doing this, this should be Heero--he was so much better at hacking than she ever could be. But, he was out there, fighting, and she was in here…fighting. Yes, she was fighting, fighting in the only way she could. She was not a Gundam pilot--her only experience with mobile suits being the episode on Libra with the Zero System. It had been freeing in one way--frightening and stifling in another. In short, it was an experience that she was not anxious to try again. She would leave the Gundams to the Gundam pilots and find a new way of fighting.

So here she was, giving herself an early case of arthritis in a simulated game of attack and defense. Only her enemy was completely digitized, and it was not a game. It was a battle that was just as dangerous as the battle enacted outside the city limits--only not as deadly. Although, a part of her mind argued, playing Devil's Advocate, if she failed, the entire city would be laid to waste by the enemy, so yes, it was just as deadly.

She pulled out of a particularly well defended section, backtracking until she found herself back at the fork in the digital pathways. She had taken one fork, saving the other path for later--well, now was later, and she plunged ahead. She was aware that she was circling the mainframe, looking for any weakness that would allow her to penetrate into internal systems. She wanted that signal generator; she wanted it badly. Once the transmission had been taken care of, then she would shut down the power, and wreak havoc from there.

She stabbed inward, toward the heart of the mainframe. She traveled farther down this path than she had any of the others. She plunged ahead, looking, straining, and searching for any weakness. Her head started to ache, a pressure headache swirling up from the backs of her eyes. She knew that it would turn into a migraine before long. She had been staring at the computer screen, too intensely for too long. She would suffer, but perhaps it would be worth it.

She came across another firewall. It was a weak one, almost put there for aesthetic purposes rather than any tangible need. She was able to navigate quickly through it, and she suddenly stopped, almost afraid of what she was looking at. The entire transmitter was laid out before her, all of the locks had been opened, and all that was needed was for her to cause the chaos that she had been waiting for. It was surreal; one little door and she was there. Was it real? or was this some sort trick being played on her.

She had been slamming against firewall after firewall, unable to make a dent, and suddenly she was able to get where she wanted without any trouble? She blinked, unbelievingly.

It made sense in sort of a strange little way. Protect those systems that you feel to be important with an iron wall thousands of kilometers thick. Why bother protecting systems that were not essential or important. After all, she wasn't going to alter the signal--which was probably what those other firewalls had been protecting. She was going to demolish the signal, and what better place to destroy the signal than the systems that housed the transmitter?

She cracked her knuckles, the loud poppings echoing in the silent room. She positioned her fingers over the keyboard, taking a deep preparatory breath. She dove into the system control, destroying everything in her wake.

______________________________

Duo watched helplessly as Wing Zero was thrown backward into Sandrock from the force of his weapon's recoil. He watched as Sandrock wavered, stumbling as it was shoved a long distance, huge ruts of upturned soil like skidmarks on a deserted highway. He watched as both Gundams toppled over, crashing into the ground, dust billowing over the two tangled suits. Heero got up--Quatre did not.

Heero plunged back into the battle with a cry that clipped the audio feeds, the distortion grating Duo's nerves. Quatre remained face down in the dust, some sort of gas leaking into the sky, a small geyser fountaining from the fallen Gundam. Duo hollered into the Comm, trying to get some sort of response from Quatre. A blip on his radar screen tore him away from the Comm. His eyes flicked uneasily toward the screen for a better look. Nothing…nothing…nothing…

…oh shit.

Another wave of enemy dolls was clearing the horizon, penetrating the radar blanket. Duo's jaw fell open, a strangled sound pushing its way from his vocal cords. There were at least another several hundred dolls en route. His vision fuzzed, clearing slowly. He definitely had a major concussion, he thought, his mind not wanting to dwell on the approaching threat. What the fuck were any of them supposed to be able to do against another who knows how many?

He turned automatically, his mind returning to the battle that had not paused for him. There was carnage and wreckage all around. He was still fighting, but he did not remember the last few moments. He did not dwell on it, instead focusing his efforts into destroying the multitude of enemies around him.

He was fighting yet another losing battle. It seemed as though he only fought losing battles. They were always desperate and they always looked bad at the beginning, and always moved quickly to worse.

As he fought, he began to consciously register the observations he had been making since he had arrived at the battle. Something had been bothering him, and he felt reasonably sure that it had been bothering the others too. Those damned dolls were not acting like regular dolls. They were too damned organized, almost like the final battle of the one-year war. And yet, they were still different. They seemed like they were piloted by humans, but they were clearly dolls. Could it be that they were functioning on a similar system as the White Fang dolls, only with more controllers? Could their controllers be controlling a smaller group of dolls?

His experience with the Zero System was limited; based mostly off of indirect experimentation, observing the reactions and effects the system had on others. Namely, Quatre and Heero. He did have one short stint in the pilot seat of Wing Zero, and he had concluded that it was not an experience that he wished to reenact ever again. However, he did observe the effect the Zero System had in a battle situation between Heero continually fighting with Zero, and Quatre's campaign against White Fang with the help of the Zero System. He had watched as a desperate situation had been turned around for the better. His final experience with the Zero System had come with that final battle.

At first, the dolls had been organized, moving together as though they were placed with the care of a chess piece. They had moved like chess pieces as well, swooping, diving and attacking as though pre-ordained, as though the entire battle had been scripted in advance. He had been able to tell when Dorothy had been taken out of the equation because the dolls then lost their ordered movements, instead reverting back to their disorganized method of fighting whatever they had locked on to.

This battle was so similar that it was almost like deja-vu. However, there was one important difference that sent the entire scene into surrealism. That difference was in the almost human-like reactions of the dolls, suggesting that they were being controlled by individual people. Though that was most likely not the case, it certainly seemed plausible that there were people controlling the dolls through the Zero System, but they only had a handful of dolls to direct.

Duo heaved a sigh, moving his suit gracefully out of the way of an attack. Though this line of thought and reasoning was intriguing, it was hardly going to help him win this battle. There had to be something in his hypothesis that could help, but at the moment, he could think of nothing. So, he reapplied himself to the battle, hoping that the luck that had been so gracious in years past would not desert them.

He ignored the little voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that their so-called 'gracious' luck had already run out with the deaths of Trowa and Zechs.

______________________________

Heero knew that Quatre had gone down and had yet to rise. When Quatre had been directing them, giving them a strategy that had worked, his voice had been harsh and strained. And when Heero had gotten a brief glance at Quatre over the Comm, he had been too pale, like there wasn't any blood to circulate. Heero was worried, but his hands were tied, and until such a time appeared that he could stop to help his friend, he could do nothing but circle the fallen suit and keep stray shots and enemies away as he continued to fight.

But he was wearing out once again. The boost that he had received when Quatre and Duo had appeared had worn off, with a third wind coming briefly with the success of Quatre's plan. However, even that had worn off, and now he was reacting with sluggish movements. He had been grazed by several shots--shots that he should have been able to dodge easily. He glanced quickly around, taking a quick inventory of the status of his side. Noin was obviously in bad shape. Her suit was singed with the residue of successful shots, but she was still up and fighting with a fierceness that impressed him. It was probably revenge for Zechs, he knew they had been together for many years. Wufei was still going strong, having been lucky in joining the battle with minimal injuries, but it was obvious to Heero that Wufei's endurance was slowly wearing out. Duo, of course, was dodging all over the place, bouncing with the unending energy that he always carried with him. However, Heero could see that Duo's reaction times were, at best, erratic. The usually graceful dance of death that Duo performed in each battle was gone, in its place was a dizzying flutter of negligent movement. It was almost as if Duo wasn't paying attention to the battle. His attacks were ill timed and inaccurate. And Heero was concerned that Duo was becoming more dangerous to the allies then to the enemies.

It wasn't like Duo to not pay attention to a battle. Usually his focus was entirely on the fight before him, everything else becoming secondary. But, this time, it was as though his entire timing was off; like he didn't have full control over his limbs. Even his suit's movements were erratic, jerkily responding like a puppet on a string. Heero began to worry that Duo was injured, but he couldn't recall having seen him getting hit. Perhaps Duo had entered the battle already injured, like he had done, but he hadn't been anywhere near HQ when the bomb had gone off, so unless something had occurred at their apartment…

His thoughts trailed off as he spun his suit, narrowly avoiding a trio of well-aimed shots. He glanced at his sensor readings, his hope faltering as he took in the information glowing there. He had noticed the second wave of enemy dolls a long time ago, but he couldn't think of anything to do about it at the time. Now, watching as they chewed up the distance, he still couldn't think of anything. They were down by three pilots, for Quatre showed no signs of recovering, given the static silence to Duo's repeated inquiries.

Deathscythe took a direct hit from a missile; the explosion rocked the ground. Heero gritted his teeth, his despair beginning to choke him. He called out in a strained voice to Duo. Not Duo! Fuck, did everyone have to die today? Was this some sort of punishment for some distant and forgotten crime? The smoke and fire cleared, leaving a damaged Deathscythe venting a gas and swinging his scythe around in angry arcs. Duo's voice swore angrily over the Comm line, cursing anything and everything under the sun.

Duo was slow. He should have been able to avoid that shot. But he hadn't, much like Heero himself had been doing over the last few minutes. They were all tired and drained.

They would not be able to stand up against another wave of dolls with their depleted endurance. Heero had never wanted to consciously give up hope, but he could feel it draining away as he watched a seemingly unending supply of enemy suits steadily closing in on them while one by one, each of his comrades fell silently.

I will not fail.

I will survive.

I can survive.

Words that Quatre had whispered once before came back to him in a hazy memory, stitched together by nothing but fading hope.

I will not fall without a fight.

I will not fall without a fight.

______________________________

Dorothy felt sweat rolling down her face. She was so close; she could almost feel her destination. It was pulsating slowly, like a heartbeat. It was warm and salty. It was her victory she was feeling.

She had spouted off how much bullshit about victories and fighting and war in the past. She had never truly understood what she was saying…until today as she stood on the narrow precipice between victory and defeat.

At this point, it could go either way.

She stabbed a complex combination of keystrokes, gritting her teeth in anticipation. The digital world she had been encased in for hours suddenly crumbled around her. Code began breaking up, disintegrating into nothingness. The enemy's mainframe was transformed into nirvana. Nothing remained as the transmitter for the strange signal failed. Barriers she had fought to get through became transparent, shimmering in the digital darkness.

She wasn't quite sure what she had done, but it hadn't been pretty. She turned quickly to the desktop computer idling quietly beside her. She activated a search for the signal.

Nothing.

She made to return to her laptop, so she could back gracefully out of the enemy's mainframe, when the battle scene being displayed on the desktop caught her attention.

It was a desperate battle, she could discern that immediately. But, as she squinted, peering fixedly into the background, the battle was about to make a turn for the better.

______________________________

Heero turned his attention back to the sensors and the battle. He couldn't afford to dwell on the Preventers' endurance or, rather, the lack thereof. He needed to fight this never-ending battle and find some way to defeat the enemy. He cut down another doll, continuing his wide circle around Sandrock. He glanced at his controls, his mouth falling open as he did.

The approaching wave of enemy dolls had suddenly stopped. They had crashed into the ground; he could see the long gashes in the soil from where he sat in Wing Zero. He knew mobile dolls, and they had been too far away to acquire a lock, which only went to ram home how fast they had been travelling. Definitely an upgrade, his shocked mind presented him.

But, they had just fallen from the sky like stones dropped from space. Minus the fiery star trails, of course. But they had fallen!

He turned his attention back to the battle, noting instantaneously that something else had changed in that brief moment. The once organized and choreographed battle had suddenly become a lesson in anarchism. He watched stupidly as two enemy suits crashed into each other, sending debris raining down.

What the hell just happened?

He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he stopped contemplating the sudden change and threw himself back into the fight.