Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Family Ties ❯ chapter 94 ( Chapter 94 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

“Family Ties”

January 2007 ShenLong

Chapter 94

[Somewhere in Space]

“Shuttle leader to all shuttles, do you copy?”

“Shuttle leader, this is shuttle four, I copy.”

“Shuttle two, copy.”

“Shuttle five reading loud and clear.”

”Shuttle three here.”

“Shuttle eight copy.”

“Shuttle seven has you coming through just fine.”

The airwaves were silent for a moment.

“Shuttle six? Repeat, shuttle six, do you copy?”

“Shuttle... ix... hav...difficulty... breaki...p...”

“Shuttle six, this is shuttle leader. Adjust frequency until you can copy.”

“Ro... W..ill... tr...”

“Shuttle six, leader will continue to transmit. Keep adjusting frequency and check in at end of transmission. All shuttles, approach to target landing areas should be coming up on computers in the next hour. All shuttles confirm with leader once you have your coordinates.”

Six replies in the affirmative were received. “Shuttle six, did you copy any of the transmission?”

“Still... hav... prob... Wi.. con... inue...”

“Roger that, shuttle six. Will keep this frequency open and assist you in any way.”

The captain of the shuttle turned to the officer monitoring the airwaves. “Keep the frequency open and help them all you can to sort out the problem. I'll be in my cabin going over the final details of Barton's plan. Contact me as soon as we have the coordinates for landing.”

“Yes sir.” The officer turned back to the communications console, the captain leaving seconds later.

* * *

[Satellite XRB 23 Surface]

“Surely there can't be many more of them,” Quatre stated as Sandrock cut another suit in half and received a blow to the back for its trouble.

“Scanners suggest roughly fifty or sixty suits still out there,” came Zechs' reply down the comm unit.

“Is that all?” came Trowa's sarcastic reply as he struggled to fight off yet another suit with only the use of the knife.

“Barton, start to retreat towards the shuttle, Winner and I can handle most of these remaining suits. Wind, cover him as best you can.” Wufei spun Shenlong around and sliced the trident neatly down through the leg of another suit, the upward swing removed the arm of yet another that had tried to get in behind him.

Too weary and beat up to argue, Trowa simply agreed. "I'll make my way back now.”

“Come in from the port side,” Zechs stated and sent off a blast from the beam rifle. “Take that, asshole.” The suit dropped like a stone.

The red Gundam slowly but steadily made its way back to the open ramp of the shuttle, Trowa still forced to defend himself against another four suits that could see his retreat and did their best to stop him. A beam from one of their rifles cut through the hydraulics on Heavyarms' left arm, the large appendage swinging uselessly by the mecha's side.

With gritted teeth, Zechs did his best to cover the Gundam, the beam rifles firing off in a never ending volley, the shuttle body taking a few hits itself.

“Come on, Sandrock,” Quatre muttered, “We need to finish this and get to Trowa.” The blonde was worried about his partner; those last few attempts of Trowa's at defending himself were getting weaker and clumsier. The shotels blazed again, each arcing independent of the other as Quatre cut a path through the oncoming suits.

The dragon arm and trident continued to move about the form of the green Gundam as Wufei put all he had into finishing off the last of the Orions as quickly as he could. He ached from head to toe, his shoulders hurt from being wrenched around in his harness, his left knee had taken a whack and so had his head. He longed for a hot cup of green tea and to close his eyes and sleep for a week.

Unfortunately he wasn't about to get either for quite some time yet.

“Why can't you all just line up so I can take you out like a set of skittles?” he mumbled and whirled around, the arm of the Gundam blocking the strike before slicing the trident through the center of the Orion.

Sandrock and Shenlong continued their deadly dance above the satellite surface, doing their best to cover Trowa's retreat and decimate as many of their opposition in the shortest time they could. The shuttle also added to the fire power, but Zechs was getting tired too.

“Approaching ramp now,” Trowa stated over the intercom.

“Acknowledged,” replied Zechs as he struck another suit. The shuttle lurched as another beam found the skin. “Come on, girl, hold together for a little longer,” he muttered.

“Am entering hold,” came Trowa's voice.

“Roger. Barton, I can't close the ramp and depressurize right now. I need all of the shuttle's power for the beam rifles. Will you be okay to wait until the battle is over?”

The Gundam's foot rested upon the ramp as Trowa hit the comm again. “No problem, Zechs. I think I'm gonna need a hand to get out of the cockpit anyway.”

“Copy that. Will let you know when I can close up.”

“Thanks, Zechs.” Trowa managed to walk the mecha up the ramp and into the belly of the shuttle. Carefully he maneuvered the red Gundam to its place, bringing it to a halt and starting the powering down sequence when a scream came down the comm unit.

“Trowa! Zechs! Look out, there's a suit trying to get into the hold of the shuttle,” Quatre yelled.

Quatre had taken a second to make sure his lover was safely in the hold when he spotted the Orion that had somehow managed to get through their defenses and was now attempting to get into the hold after Trowa.

“Fuck! There's nothing I can do from here,” cried Zechs.

“I'll take care of it,” Trowa replied and checked the scanners. He noted where the Orion was trying to get in and brought all Heavyarms' systems back on line. The beam rifle of the Orion was raised and ready, Trowa knowing he couldn't let that shot get fired off inside the hold. If he did it would be the end of the shuttle and Zechs, not to mention himself too.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Trowa grabbed the controls and pushed the heavy mecha forward, torn muscles screaming in protest as they were forced to work. Heavyarms responded admirably. For a large machine, it was quite agile and it shot forward taking the Orion completely by surprise. The two collided with a loud clang, Trowa managing to push the other suit back and off balance it. The Orion toppled and then skidded back down the ramp.

Trowa took advantage of his Gundam's superior speed and maneuverability, firing the thrusters to their limit and colliding again with the other suit. The right arm came forth, knife at the ready as Trowa waited for an opportunity and opening to strike. The Orion fought back, large arms grappling with the other mecha and doing its best to keep the knife away.

Heavyarms was a heavier suit and Trowa used the weight to force his opponent further back down the ramp and onto the satellite surface where they continued to wrestle with each other, no mean feat on Trowa's behalf as he only had the use of the suit's right arm and legs.

Casting nervous glances from time to time at the battle below him, Quatre felt the fear rising in his chest. He could feel Trowa, sense his desperation and he wanted nothing more than to go to his husband's aid. Unfortunately he was dealing with a few too any suits himself to be able to do that right now. All he could do was continue to fight and hope his lover would be okay.

Zechs could also see the position Trowa was in. With an evil smirk, he toggled the beam rifle and lined up the target. “Barton, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear Zechs, but I'm a little preoccupied right now.”

“I know that. Listen, when I say duck I want you to drop your suit to the ground.”

“Eh?”

“Just trust me and do it.”

“Roger that.”

Zechs followed the movement of the pair, rifle trained on the Orion. Then, he had his chance. “Duck!”

Trowa wielded the controls, Heavyarms responding and dropping to the ground. Once the red suit was falling, Zechs opened fire.

The beam shot forth and caught the Orion right in the chest. Taken completely by surprise, the suit was sent flying backwards with the impact. It collided with another suit and the pair exploded with a spectacular shower of sparks.

“Thanks, Zechs.” Trowa brought his Gundam back to a standing position and once more started to head for the ramp.

“No problem.”

Above them Quatre and Wufei both breathed sighs of relief.

* * *

[Approach to Earth]

“Captain? Sorry to disturb you but the coordinates for the landing have come through.”

The captain of shuttle one raised his head from the notes he was studying. “Thank you. I'll be on my way in a moment.”

“Yes, sir.”

Standing, the captain tucked the report away and set off for the cockpit. Arriving a few moments later, he took in the sight. Out the starboard window he could see the blue planet spinning slowly on its axis. A small smile graced his lips as he thought how peaceful it looked from out here in space and how that look was deceptive. He knew there would be panic and anger awaiting them once they landed, but the panic would subside, the anger would be directed at the ESUN and Preventer and the troops were simply there to make sure it happened.

“The coordinates?” he asked the first mate.

“Here, sir.” The mate moved to the side of his console so the captain could see the screen clearly.

Noting the longitude and latitude, the captain brought up the stellar maps and combined with the earth maps, pinpointed the place they were to land. “Program it all into the computer,” he told the first mate.

“Yes, sir.”

The captain moved aside and approached the communications officer. “How is the link with shuttle six now?”

“Not good, sir. I've tried everything I can from here to assist them, but I think the problem lies within the on-board computer itself.”

“I see.”

“I can't be certain, but I think the computer on shuttle six has problems with the Firecell that Barton released. The files and system do not want to respond the way they should. I'd even go as far as to say the file system is corrupt, sir.”

“Hmmm.” The captain rubbed his chin in thought. “Then if that's the case, there isn't a lot we can do.”

“No, sir.”

“Okay, you've done all you can. Contact the other shuttles and confirm they have their coordinates for landing.”

“Yes, sir.” The officer turned back to the communications system and began to transmit. Within a minute or two, he'd had all shuttles report in; all except shuttle six.

“All shuttles except six have confirmed they now have their coordinates and have transferred the information to their on board computers,” the officer informed.

“Thanks. Please connect me to the other shuttles; I need to speak with them all.”

“Yes, sir.” The officer returned to his console for a moment then handed the small headset to the captain. “Frequency is open and ready for you to broadcast.”

The captain took the headset and slipped it on. “All shuttles, this is lead shuttle. All of you have your coordinates logged into your computers. In ten minutes begin your descent through the atmosphere and to those coordinates. Once all shuttles are safely on the surface, report in your respective positions and wait for further instruction from there.”

“Roger that, shuttle leader. Shuttle five out.”

“Shuttle two, acknowledged. Will report in after landing.”

“Shuttle four here. Will contact after landing.”

“Roger, shuttle eight will comply.”

“Shuttle three. See you all on the ground.”

“Shuttle seven copies.”

“Shuttle six? Did you receive transmission? Repeat, shuttle six, did you receive transmission?”

The airwaves remained silent for a moment, then a short burst of static. “Sh... ix... ackno... Will ... ur... bes...”

The captain frowned as the shuttle report came through. He didn't like the idea of one of the fleet having these problems, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. “God speed and may all of you have a safe landing. Shuttle leader out.” The captain handed back the headset to the officer and gave a deep sigh. “Thank you. Let us all hope we pull this off.”

The officer nodded and slipped the headset back onto his own head.

“Coming into the atmosphere now, sir,” the pilot announced.

“Good.” The captain came over and took up residence in the pilot's seat, the current pilot sitting in the copilot's position. “Let the computer take over and bring her in.”

“Yes, sir.” The pilot leaned forward and pushed a few buttons on the flight console. Lights flickered, some went off and some came on. The computer took over and the shuttle began its descent to the earth surface.

In the bellies of the respective shuttles, the soldiers that made up Barton's army all settled into their seats and strapped themselves in. The excitement was felt in the air, each man ready to do what he'd joined up to do - take down the ESUN and make a better place for the colonies.

It wouldn't be long now before they got to put their skills to work and stamp out any resistance they may come across.

Several shuttles began to break through the atmosphere; heat shields were pushed to the limits as they skimmed through the invisible barriers and finally broke through. The surface of the planet appeared below and the shuttles dropped steadily in height, the computers guiding them in and following the programmed flight paths to their respective destinations.

Pilots kept a close eye on the navigation systems, each ready to intervene should it become necessary. Slowly but surely, seven shuttles made it to the surface and landed without detection.

The eighth shuttle: shuttle six, met with the earth atmosphere and bounced lightly before managing to break through, the angle not quite right. The heat of the entry tore at the fragile craft, managing to damage some parts of the heat shields. Alarms went off in the cockpit, the pilot struggling to cope with the data being fed to him from the computer. Deciding he didn't want to trust the artificial intelligence after the problems they'd been having, he took the yoke back and switched to manual control.

The systems were on line, the damage report showing the heat shields were barely holding together, some were starting to crack under the extreme pressure of the angle they'd come through at. In the belly of the craft, those in the back section were feeling the heat as the temperature began to rise. The fluid in the hydraulic lines started to bubble and then boil, the heat causing some of the lines to rupture.

The surface of the planet was fast approaching and the pilot started to hit various buttons, plying the engines to slow down and raising the wing flaps for more drag. The flaps began to move and then stopped as the hydraulic fluid spurted from split hoses. Engines screamed, the pilot desperately trying to slow them down and keep the craft level.

Wheel doors jammed, fuel lines started to rupture and all around was the oppressive heat. The belly of the shuttle began to glow, first orange, then yellow and finally white. The soldiers in the rear section were beyond help, the intense heat incinerating them within seconds.

The fuel tanks were scorched, the heat resistant material finally succumbing to the force of the flame and splitting. The gases that propelled the shuttle exploded, engulfing the shuttle in a ball of fiery red, blue, green and white flame. The large craft shattered, breaking into pieces ranging in size from a microchip to chunks that of a car.

The pieces rained down to cover the surface of the earth it had intended landing on in clumps. Parts scattered over a large area and setting small fires in their wakes.

Aboard shuttle one, the captain watched, helpless, as one of his fleet disintegrated before his eyes.

“My god,” whispered the officer behind him and averted his eyes.

Lowering his own eyes, the captain said a silent prayer for the hundred odd souls on board.

* * *

[Satellite XRB 23 Surface]

Heavyarms limped into position in the belly of the shuttle. Once the mecha was in position, Trowa again began to power down the suit. With Heavyarms now in standby mode, Trowa allowed himself to slump in his harness. Emerald eyes closed and he let go a soft sigh of both relief and pain.

Drawing on what little strength he had remaining, he fumbled with the harness, the muscles of his left shoulder complaining loudly with the effort. After a couple of futile attempts, he gave up and let his head slip back. He closed his eyes and fought to stay conscious.

“Another one bites the dust,” muttered Wufei as he sent another Orion to oblivion. Spinning Shenlong around, he raised the trident and took out another suit. A beam rifle shot caught the Gundam in the upper leg and knocked it off balance. Wufei did his best to bring forth the dragon arm to fight off his attacker when a slice of green fire tore through the suit and split it in half, revealing a gold and black Sandrock directly behind.

“Thanks, Winner,” Wufei breathed.

“No problem, Wufei.” Quatre turned and with a spin of the shotels, sliced through another suit. “To quote Duo: Are we there yet?” Quatre asked as he paused the large mecha and took a look around.

“I think we might be,” replied Wufei. “Zechs, can you see any more of the assholes?”

“Scanning now.” Zechs watched the screen carefully. “All clear,” he announced with a sigh.

“Thank Allah for that,” came Quatre's soft tone.

Wufei took a moment to take a look around the satellite surface. Scattered as far as the eye could see were the remains of Barton's mobile suits. Wufei gave a soft sigh. Quatre also took a look at the carnage left behind and noted that the majority of the decimated suits still had the cockpit intact and that gave him a small measure of comfort. The death toll could have been a lot larger.

Here and there the pair could see a pilot scrambling from his suit and hightailing it back across the surface towards the sanctuary of the domes.

Yes, the loss of life could have been a lot greater.

“Let's return to the shuttle and take stock,” Wufei stated.

“Roger that, Fire. Right behind you.” Quatre was fidgeting in his harness with his need to get back to the shuttle and check on his husband.

“Wind, do you copy?”

“Wind here, Fire.”

“Agent Space and I are returning to the hold. Once we are inside could you close the hold and re pressurize. Once the all clear is given we will extract Agent Air from his suit.”

“Roger that, Fire. Will be on standby and awaiting your confirmation.”

“Fire out.”

“Wind out.”

The two large mecha picked their way across the landscape and found the ramp to the shuttle. Quatre had to remind himself to take it easy as he walked Sandrock up the ramp and into its place beside Heavyarms. He reached forth with his empathy and gasped as he felt the pain and lethargy rolling off his husband. Fingers flew over the console as he powered down the suit. “Thank you, Sandrock,” he whispered and ran a loving hand over the controls. Was it his imagination or did the suit's console glow just a touch in response?

Wufei brought Shenlong up the ramp and into its resting place. Powering his suit down, he also sent a silent prayer to Nataku for keeping them relatively safe. “Suits are in position, Zechs.”

“Roger that. Closing ramp now.” Zechs had switched the shuttle's weapons to standby and flipped the switch to close the ramp to the cargo bay. Steadily the hydraulics brought the ramp up and sealed it off from the outside atmosphere.

“Trowa?” Quatre opened the comm link to Heavyarms. “Trowa? Are you okay?”

A soft groan came back down the unit. “I've been better.”

“Hang on, Trowa. Won't be long and we will have you out of there.”

“I suppose asking for a long vacation on a remote beach is too much?”

Quatre laughed. If Trowa still had his sense of humor then he wasn't too badly off. “I'll see what I can do.”

“Cargo bay sealed. Starting depressurization now.” Zechs pushed a few buttons on the console and the cargo bay began to even up the pressure. Gases hissed out as the shuttle hummed softly

“Pressure equalized,” came Zechs' soft voice. “All clear to exit Gundams. I'm on my way.”

Quatre wasted no time. The hatch to Sandrock hissed open, the blonde quick to release himself from his harness and grab the wire. He shot to the ground, landing next to the foot of the large mecha and was instantly running towards Heavyarms.

Alongside him, Wufei was similarly exiting Shenlong. “Barton! Open the hatch,” Wufei yelled.

Hearing the communications and Wufei's yell, Trowa managed to lean forward and release the hatch. He also had the thought to send the wire down.

Grabbing the handhold of the wire, Quatre shot up and landed on the open hatch, immediately releasing that wire for Wufei to follow. He stepped inside the cockpit and took his first proper look at his husband. “Oh, Allah,” he cried and reached forward to undo the harness.

Trowa was looking pretty banged up. Dried blood was on the side of his face, matting his bang. The tall man held his shoulder at a slight angle indicating how sore the muscles were. Bruises were here and there and Trowa's right foot was sitting at an awkward angle.

“It's okay, I'm here, Trowa,” Quatre whispered and pressed a tender kiss to his love's lips.

“Hurts” whispered Trowa. The tall youth gave into the pain. He didn't care if he sounded petulant, he deserved a little fussing over and he knew Quatre would do just that.

“Come on, let's get him out of here,” Wufei stated.

Between the pair of them they managed to get Trowa out of the pilot's seat and to the hatch. With Trowa's good arm across Wufei's shoulders, Quatre had the injured one tucked against the Latin's side and wrapped his arm around Trowa's waist to support him. Zechs appeared below and motioned for them to send the injured pilot down.

“Can you hang onto the wire?” Quatre asked.

“Yeah, I can manage,” replied Trowa and did his best to half hop, half limp to where the wire was waiting. Putting his good arm through the hold, he managed to take his weight on it and the wire lowered him steadily to the ground where Zechs was waiting.

“I've got him,” stated Zechs and pulled the youth's hand and arm from the hold so as to send the wire back up for the other two.

Moments later, Wufei and Quatre were both on the ground.

“Status?” questioned Wufei.

“Injured?” replied Trowa.

Wufei gave a low growl. “I know that. What is the damage?”

“At a guess, I'd say the ankle is fractured, shoulder muscles torn and one hell of a headache.”

“Good.”

“Good?” questioned Quatre. “How the heck can that be good?”

“He's just told us the exact same injury list as earlier, that means no concussion.”

“Ah.”

“Come on, let's get him to the medical bay and sort him out. I'm expecting Heero and Duo to make contact again shortly,” Zechs told them.

With Trowa supported between the three of them, they made a slow procession to the medical bay.

* * *

[Satellite XRB 23 Main Dome]

Duo waved for Heero to slow down, Heero flattening himself against the side of the corridor and slipping into a doorway.

“What is it?”

“Control room up ahead.”

“Aa.”

“Plan of attack?” Duo asked.

“Not sure.”

Duo rolled his eyes. “Great, just great. Looks like we're flying by the seat of our pants again,” he muttered.

~ * ~

tbc...