Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Ghandrah ❯ Part 2 ( Chapter 3 )

Part 2

The air was stale, cold from the endless recycling. It was almost moist, the computers needing the humidity. Eventhough the hall was comfortable in temperature, the gleaming metal of the walls and floor remained cool to the touch. Harsh echoes of various footfalls were flung back from the sterile walls to assault the ears of the passerby. The faint hiss of recycled air seemed to be everywhere, following every movement, appearing behind every turn in the endless corridor. There was only one hall; it circled through the entire ship, gradually turning inward, each turn slightly smaller than the last. The design helped spread the heat from the star evenly throughout the ship. The walls were smooth; titanium plating over the various heat-transfer ducts that dutifully followed the twisting hall. There were doors, evenly spaced, opening into cramped rooms. All rooms had two doors, one opening to the larger portion of the hall, and the other to open to the same hall, farther down its circling path. People walked quickly, with purpose, to whatever destination they were heading toward. All people had something to do, somewhere to be, even during their time off. There was no mindless wandering of the ship, there was only work and rest. Heero glanced at the papers in his hand, memorizing them, filling the information away in his head for further reference. He was heading toward the Control Center, the innermost room, and also the only large room in the entire ship. The Control Center was where all of the navigation as well as observation occurred. His duty there was to report on the status of the ground base. He actually worked on the planet surface, taking readings of the planet as its star continued toward its death throes. Every week, he boarded a shuttle and ascended to the main ship to give his report. Every week it was the same. He leafed through the papers once more before entering the Control Center.

"Yuy."

"Aye." He approached the rude grunt, neither showing nor feeling any surprise when it proved to be the head scientist. Heero inwardly groaned; he hated Dr. Aminoff, hated him with a passion.

"You have my report."

"Aye." Heero waited for the gruff doctor to ask politely for the information, instead of just barking at him like he was a common slave. Aminoff's eyes narrowed.

"Well? Go on. I don't have all day." Heero sighed. That was about as close to polite as one could get from the doctor. He stepped forward to place the papers on Aminoff's desk.

"There remains no change on the planet's surface in terms of terran change. Water is still abundant if you know where to look for it, and the minerals are still fairly easy to get to. No earthquakes, no volcanic activity. There have been no recorded geyser eruptions, although there is a buildup of pressure just under the surface. As for atmospheric change, there are increasing storms, most likely due to the increasing activity on the star's surface. We are measuring moisture in the air, so it is likely that a future storm will consist of rain. There is lightening now accompanying the storms, where there didn't used to be electrical discharge before. We are measuring an increased amount of tidal change in the oceans, and the Aurora has begun to be visible during the day over the northern pole." Dr. Aminoff leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he listened to Heero's report. He nodded occasionally as though some of the information matched with his own observations. Heero remained standing, silent after his report was finished. The doctor could read the little details. Long moments passed and Heero resisted the urge to shift from one foot to the other. Dr. Aminoff finally leaned forward, his elbows resting on the shining surface of the desk.

"Good. Good." Aminoff rustled through some pages, searching for something. Heero waited, anxious to be back on the surface. He liked the desert. He had grown up in one before he had joined Interstellar Scientific Administration. His time in the ISA had certainly been interesting, but when they had arrived at HR 3094, and he had landed on the scorched planet, he had felt acutely homesick. He didn't really care for the sickly red sunlight, but being back in a desert, even if it was on a different planet, still felt like he was close to home.

"Your readings, Yuy, back up our readings up here." Aminoff continued, a satisfied exhalation of air as he found the document he was looking for. "Yes, yes, yes. Increased surface activity of the star, resulting in thicker and faster solar winds(1)." Aminoff read from his paper, his voice distant as he immersed himself into the study of the dying star. "I think," he looked up at Heero, "that we may only have a few more months before the star becomes unstable enough to warrant our retreat."

"What about the remaining people on the planet?" Heero asked, his mind calculating the amount of time needed to pack up their supplies, evacuate the observatory stations and round up the remaining native population so they could be relocated. Aminoff absently scratched at his white stubble.

"We'll have no problem." Heero's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"But, doctor, we'll have to scour the entire desert to find all of the natives." Aminoff jerked away from his study of his pages, sitting up straight, his hard eyes boring into Heero.

"Leave them. They don't want our help anyway." Aminoff's eyes drifted back to the information clenched in his hands. He waved an absent hand, returning to his study. "They wouldn't understand, nor would they care. They are primitive, Yuy, primitive. They will pray for their gods to save them…if they even know what is coming."

"But--" Dr. Aminoff cut him off angrily.

"But nothing. We don't have the time or the manpower." Aminoff waved an impatient hand. "Now be gone. I have work to do." Heero turned sharply on his heel and stalked out of the Control Center.

He had once been proud to work for ISA, but ever since their arrival at the dying star system, his opinion of the organization had been crumbling. He checked himself, it wasn't all of the ISA, it was just the Directors of this specific mission. Dr. Aminoff and Dr. Jeordin to be specific. Dr. Aminoff was in charge of the orbital station, observing the star outside of any planetary atmosphere. He was a dickhead, thought Heero frowning. But, he had to concede, he was a smart dickhead. Dr. Jeordin, on the other hand was actually a very nice person, but he had absolutely no tolerance…of any kind. Dr. Jeordin was in charge of the surface stations, observing the changes in the planet as the star fluctuated in the beginning of its death throes.

Heero was just a worker bee. His boots clicked against the shinning floor rhythmically as he worked his way outward from the Control Center. If there was anything he hated more than Dr. Aminoff it was the layout of the ship. What would take about five minutes to get from the Control Center to the Docking Bay actually took close to a half an hour, slowly spiraling out. He fought with himself to not cut through the various rooms the littered the nautilus hallway. He still burned with embarrassment at the dressing down he received from Dr. Aminoff one of his first visits to the observation ship for cutting through the rooms.

"Those are sensitive laboratories Mr. Yuy! Just think of what you could have disrupted in your mad dash through them. You aren't in school, Mr. Yuy. You are a professional -- act like one." Dr. Aminoff's face had been purple when he had barked at Heero for cutting through those rooms. He hadn't walked into any sensitive laboratories that day or any other day, but Aminoff had jumped at the chance to shove his precious experiments down somebody's throat, and Heero's had been convenient.

So, he trudged through the spiraling hall, hating every step. He had never liked the ISA spaceships. He thought that they were sterile and inhuman. He preferred the earthy décor of his home planet, soft browns, gold's and burgundy's. All of the colors native to the desert, warm colors of the day, and cool colors of the night. All of those colors were absent on an ISA ship. But all of those colors were present in the planet-side desert the ship was currently poised over.

Heero had a longing to trek out into the foreign desert; to explore its mysteries, to let its purity cleanse him, restore him. It wasn't that he felt unclean, per se, but he felt unshaped, unpolished, as though he had lost his sheen, and the desert sand could rub off the dust and oxidation that had gathered on him and restore him to his formal glory. Okay, not that he was glorious before, but at least he would get rid of the perpetual out of shape feeling he had. His trek into the desert would be like getting back into shape. It was something he craved.

So far, he had managed not to give into his desire, but it was becoming ever more difficult as he was bated every day by the tantalizing sands as they shifted according to the wind. He had had help, though in resisting his urge. All of the department heads warned him not to go, plus, the brutal attacks from the natives had also served to keep his distance. Ever since they had landed on the desert planet, the natives had been attacking them. Heero understood, after all, the ISA had technically invaded their planet. But what Heero didn't understand was how a group of people could be so incredibly brutal.

Five years ago, a group of natives -- from different tribes by their varied colors -- had approached the observatory that Heero was working at, peacefully. The workers at Alpha Observatory had welcomed the envoy in, thrilled at the aspect of actually meeting the natives. Things had seemed to be going well, the two groups -- native and ISA -- communicating with hand signals to make themselves understood. But then something had gone wrong. Heero was able to tell the exact moment when the natives' demeanor had changed from friendly to vicious.

The natives, as one, had risen from their chairs, drawn their weapons and had moved like an avenging wave through the observatory cafeteria, cutting down anyone within reach. Heero had been lucky, as he had been squeezed into a corner with his friend Wufei as they had watched with interest the first meeting between the natives and ISA. He was also lucky that he had not been carrying any of the traditional weaponry from his homeland for he would have jumped into the fray, probably having earned himself a battle scar or two, or a burial barge home. He and Wufei had been sitting enough out of the way, that by the time security had responded -- mowing the natives down with their advanced weaponry -- the natives hadn't even gotten halfway across the room. He could only think at the time that he was very glad that the cafeteria was such a large room.

Security, with permission from the Directors and department heads, posted a warning to the rest of the natives, erecting the bodies of the envoy in front of the observatory -- a move that had made Heero sick. That was when Heero began to lose respect for the ISA.

Almost a hundred burial barges had to be sent back to the Coalition after that incident, and he had watched as desert vermin had swarmed over forty hanging corpses, devouring the flesh under the light of the vivid Aurora. Heero had had nightmares for weeks, each tiny detail examined in stark contrast. He had envisioned beady black eyes, rotting breath, sharp and jagged teeth. He could hear the vermin chewing, he could hear dried flesh ripping. He could hear the sun sizzling, the flesh burning. He could smell charred flesh.

He had woken up that first night in a mad dash for the toilet, his digested dinner already climbing his esophagus.

He had strongly disagreed with the decree to display the envoy to the empty desert, but he was only one of a few who understood the consequences of such an act. Though his people were by no means nomadic, they certainly were not a true technological society, either. He did not grow up among spires that scraped the sky. His house had not been made out of steel and glass. The cities were not concrete forests, stretching forlornly along ribbon-like highways a kilometer wide. They did not have personal vehicles that could fly like the hover-cars the ISA employed. His homeland was simple. They were industrial, but they had not integrated technology irreversibly into their everyday lives.

Those people who were too removed from their nomadic heritages didn't understand that a display such as the one they had erected outside Alpha Observatory would incite violence, not smother it. The display was meant to be a warning, but Heero knew it would be taken as a declaration of war.

Unfortunately, he had been correct. The natives had attacked almost immediately, before the desert vermin had consumed the supports the bodies had been displayed on. And then, six months ago, they had attacked once more. They had concentrated all of their effort on Alpha Observatory. Though they had not managed to break completely through the protective walls, they had broken through the outer most walls, accessing the gardens and outside testing devices. The natives had killed a number of scientists, injuring even more.

And then, as suddenly as they had come, they left. And they scattered. No trace of the natives had been found for six months. Heero was sure that they had retreated into the desert where the scientists refused to go.

Heero shook his musings from his head. He was rounding the final curve before he reached the Docking Bay. His foul mood lifted, slowly peeling back as he neared his escape. He couldn't wait to get off of the sterile ship and drop back down to the surface, feeling his feet sinking softly into the desert sands.

Though the entire planet wasn't desert, Alpha Observatory was just inside the sandy edge as the desert finally surrendered to the short grasses of the semi-arid climate zone that covered the rest of the land mass. Half of the planet was ocean. Ninety percent of the land was desert. There were no forests. Evidence suggested that at one time, probably when the ice caps still existed, there were forests and tropical forests. The land would have been lush and fruitful. But the sun's upcoming death had slowly burned away the vegetation, and the deserts had slowly inched across the land(2).

Heero turned into the Docking Bay. Wufei was leaning against the Lander, arms crossed, looking bored. He looked up as Heero approached.

"What did the old hag say?" Heero reluctantly managed a glare and mumbled his reply.

"You shouldn't call him that." Before this particular mission, Heero would have not hesitated to call Wufei for insubordination, chastising him for not having respect for his elders. But that was then, before he had met Dr. Aminoff. Now, he managed the bare minimum response just for show. Wufei just re-crossed his arms, huffing at Heero's automatic reply.

"So what did he say?" Heero sighed, leaning against the Lander beside Wufei and crossing his feet at the ankles.

"Same old shit." Wufei snorted.

"I'm glad that you have to report to him and not me." Heero slowly and deliberately turned a glare upon his friend.

"Remind me later that you are glad to march me into the torture chamber. I'll be sure to reward you for it when we return." Wufei smirked.

"Yeah, whatever. Your threats mean nothing to me, desert boy."

"You were raised in a desert, too."

"Yeah, but mine was at least civilized. It wasn't as damned hot!" Heero broke into laughter as their age old taunting played itself out.

"Civilized my ass, Wufei. Yours didn't even have sand in it." Wufei shook his head proudly.

"Nope. We just didn't have rain."

"Pathetic." Heero pushed off the Lander's hull, striding up the gangway. "I bet you that you couldn't even get a decent tan in your desert." Wufei remained silent. Once again, cheered Heero, I won. He took his place in the pilot's seat, Wufei slipping into the co-pilot's chair.

"I'm glad, though, to be getting back to the surface." Heero nodded his agreement to Wufei's words. Heero began his pre-flight sequence, warming the shuttle up, preparing it for flight.

The Lander was a simple shuttlecraft, capable of launching up to an orbiting station and returning to a planet's surface. It could hold twenty people and two pilots, or it could hold a month's worth of supplies and two pilots. The Lander was currently holding the latter. Once the pre-flight checks were completed and he had procured permission to leave his docking cradle, Heero gently eased the Lander out of the Docking Bay and into space.

"We'll enter the atmosphere in an hour and fifteen minutes. We'll land in two and a half hours." Heero announced.

"Roger, that."

Footnotes:

(1): All stars have solar winds. The more luminous the star, the stronger the solar wind. Massive luminous cool stars, such as red giants, slough off dust and particles from violent surface activity. Particles carried by the solar wind become trapped in a planet's magnetic field. These trapped particles can escape their confinement (especially during times of high solar surface activity) and they react with the atmosphere. When they collide with atmospheric molecules, they create the vibrant auroras near the poles.

(2): When a star runs out of hydrogen in its core to fuse, the star becomes unstable. Its core begins to collapse while a shell of hydrogen fusion continues to burn outside of the core causing the diameter of the star to increase substantially. The core collapses in on its self, eventually becoming dense and hot enough to incite the nuclear fusion of helium. After the Helium Flash, the surface temperature of the star increases, while luminosity remains the same.