Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Ma Petite Mort ❯ Chapter 6

Ma Petite Mort / Naomi - part 6

O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O

The shuttle reeled from side to side through the debris field. Pieces of rock and metal twirled into its path, some colliding with another to create a chain reaction of shifting metal.

“MAYDAY! MAYDAY! Calling L2-OCSR! This is United Interstellar Flight One-Five-Zero-One-Five! Come in OCSR!”

Washed with a red light and flashing sirens, the cockpit was in a state of chaos. Various warning signs flickered over the control panels as hectic sounds of constant beeping ripped through the air. Radars went berserk while trying to keep up with the amount of UFOs headed towards the shuttle. One system crashed after the other, machines bleeping frantically as they failed.

One Mobile Doll, fused to another broken half of a Taurus suit, whirled towards the shuttle. In a desperate effort to avoid collision the Captain punched the directional thruster button, and the shuttle veered to the right. It clipped the two suits and the sound of scrapping metal echoed loudly through the hull. The right thruster ripped clean off and with only one thruster left, the shuttle careened out of control, twirling and spinning.

“We just lost our right thruster!” the co-pilot shouted, panicked, “I have no control!”

“THIS IS UNITED INTERSTELLAR FLIGHT ONE-FIVE-ZERO-ONE-FIVE CALLING L2-OCSR!” the Captain called again, his hands flying over the control panels. “Come in OCSR! Do you read me?! We are taking hits! I repeat! Flight UI-One-Five-Zero-One-Five is taking hits around the lunar orbit! MAYDAY! MAYDAY!!!”

BANG! A large metal leg hit the shuttle's nose, spider-webbing the windshield. Both the Captain and co-pilot recoiled in horror. The shuttle shook as it was thrust aside by the force of the impact. From the back, they could both hear the passengers scream.

The shuttle's roof collided with another broken suit. Scrapping metal could be heard as the ceiling dented in, dislodging the interior ceiling panels. Wires and electronic components lay exposed, sparking as they short-circuited. The cabin filled with smoke. System Monitors flashed off various warnings. Pressurization went to zero; Cabin Oxygen went to zero; Life Support went to zero.

“SWITCHING TO EMERGENCY PROCEDURES!!!” the Captain shouted over the P.A system, “PROTOCOL FI---!!”

A large beam canon smashed through the windshield, gouging into the co-pilot. Depressurization was instant as the air was quickly sucked out of the window. In a last effort to save the shuttle the Captain reached for the AIRLOCK lever. As both he and his dead co-pilot were sucked out through the windshield, his hand curled around the lever and it was pulled along with him.

Both were floating dead in space as the airlock doors closed throughout the shuttle.

 

At first, there was only silence, until Heero slowly came to recognize the sound of his own breathing. He was still alive and breathing into his oxygen mask. His ears rang loudly and ached with the sudden change of cabin pressure. The airlocks were down, his mind supplied him. Those were the sounds he'd heard earlier. They were safe, for now.

It was too dark to see, but he could hear the people around him. Coughing, breathing, panicking and shedding tears of both fear and relief. Sounds of life. He felt more at ease knowing that, in a certain sense, he was not alone.

He felt his way around the chair and gripped the armrest. Slowly, carefully, he stood up, his eyes searching the darkness.

A ray of light suddenly pierced through the cabin, scanning the rows of people. Heero squinted his eyes against the light and tried to recognize who was holding the flashlight. Whoever it was, he was probably in charge and Heero wanted to offer his help. He was not willing to sit quietly through this if there was a slight chance that he could help. He was determined to survive the ordeal and get to L2. The situation was only a minor setback before he will see Duo. He wouldn't have it any other way.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice behind the flashlight, a female, spoke, “Please remain calm.”

Heero recognized her voice as the attractive flight attendant who served him his meal earlier.

“My name is Trisha Kelly and I'm still your head flight attendant. I'm trained to deal with this situation but I need your cooperation!”

“What's going on?”

“What the hell happened?”

“Is the rescue on its way?”

“Where's the OCSR?”

“What happened to the Captain?”

“Is there enough air?!”

“What are we going to do?!”

“Don't just stand there!”

“Do something!”

“I have children with me!”

“Call the rescue forces!”

“Does the OCSR know we're here?!”

“ANSWER US DAMMIT!”

Panicked and angry voices called from all around the shuttle.

Heero pushed his way from his window seat towards the aisle. He stepped on a few feet on his way, earning a few cusses, but continued moving towards Trisha Kelly.

“People, please! I will answer everything so please calm down!” Trisha called, her voice desperate. She noticed movement a few rows ahead and aimed the flashlight in that direction. She caught Heero with her spotlight and he froze, looking at her intensely.

“Sir, I need you to go back to your seat.”

“I can help.” He replied calmly. The man in the seat next to him chuckled.

“Everything is under control, sir. Please sit down.”

“Yeah, kid, do us all a favor.” The same man snorted.

Heero aimed a blind glare at him, but remained quiet.

“The airlock doors are down and they're protecting the cabins.” Trisha explained to the crowd. “There are ten airlock doors throughout the shuttle, dividing it, so even if another section is hit, we're safe.”

“What if it'll explode?” A woman asked frightfully while trying to sooth her weeping child.

“The fuel tanks have been automatically ejected as an emergency protocol. There's a very slim chance of an explosion.”

“And the air?!” A man called in question.

Trisha sighed before answering. “Each air locked section has its own life support system. We are not dependant on the other parts of the shuttle.”

“Tch. I bet that first class have more than enough air...” someone muttered sarcastically.

“The air is divided equally.” Kelly explained. “But we do need to save as much as we can until rescue will arrive.”

“What if it won't?! Did someone contact OCSR?!”

“I'm sure that the Outer Colony Search & Rescue forces are on their way.” Trisha answered, smiling reassuringly, though her smile was obviously fake. “All we have to do is sit quietly and wait. Try to avoid any unnecessary movement or talking, to save air. If you need anything, simply press the service button on your seat and I will be there.”

“We need to save power,” Heero finally spoke up, “remaining silent is not enough.”

“Not you again kid!” the man next to him muttered in annoyance. Heero ignored him and approached the head flight attendant.

“I can help.” He pinned her with his gaze, trying to convey the importance of his request.

“No one is allowed to touch the computer system, sir. These are federal regulations.” Kelly replied smoothly, like a trained professional. “Please return to your seat.”

“We're 125,000 miles from L1 and at least 50,000 miles from L2. It'll be a long time before the OCSR can reach us.” Heero said slowly, calmly, his eyes begging her to understand. “If we won't make the modifications to save power and air, we won't make it.”

Behind him, a few people gasped in fright and began whispering among themselves.

The flight attendant glared at him angrily. “Listen, kid, quit scaring the passengers and go back to your seat! Everything is under control so sit down or I'll have you restrained!”

As the woman raised her voice, two men stood up. One was the man who'd taunted Heero a moment before, and the other was a large, burly man who sat close to the stewardess. Heero tensed as they both approached him, his body unconsciously taking a fighting stance.

“Just listen to me!” He shouted back, something he rarely did. Even during the war he found little reason to raise his voice. But the woman was too dense! She was going to get them all killed!

“I know what I'm doing!” His eyes were wild as he looked at her, almost begging her to trust him. It would do little good to use force and he was reluctant to do that. It was not the time or place. Couldn't these people see that?!

“Would you shut the hell up?!” The taunting man growled as he came to stand behind Heero. “She's a trained professional! You're just a damn high school kid! Now sit down before I make ya!” To emphasize his words, the man laid his large hand on Heero's shoulder, quite forcefully.

Heero jerked away, pulling his shoulder from the man's grip. He whirled around and glared at the man. “I wouldn't have offered my help if I didn't think I could do it!” He hissed angrily, his fierce cobalt eyes drilling holes into the man's skull. He could feel the other man, the burly one, take a stand behind him. He was trapped between the two men. Usually it wouldn't oppose as a problem, but he didn't wish to harm anyone. Not again. Not ever.

The people in the shuttle watched the event unfold with intent faces, gratefully distracted from their grim situation.

“Listen, boy,” Trisha tried again, calmly this time, “I know you're scared, being all alone out here, but we're going to make it. Everything will be all right.”

“No it won't!” He insisted, stepping away from the two men who cornered him. “Not unless you'll let me have a look at the computer! We might be able to save oxygen if we lower the levels just a slight bit!”

“That would kill us all!” The burly man shouted, looking down at Heero with an angry red face. “Now go back to your seat, boy!”

Both men grabbed Heero forcefully and pushed him down the aisle. He stumbled, almost falling, still reluctant to fight. Then the burly man kicked him and something just snapped.

His limbs gained a life of their own and began to fight back. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but reflexes were hard to control. He took the man down in less than thirty seconds, unaware of the frightened looks on the people's faces. When more men rose to restrain him, he begged his body to stop. It didn't. In an effort to save the people of the shuttle, he only ended up fighting them.

During the quarrel he suddenly realized that the physical effort was only robbing the people of their oxygen. Only then Heero finally managed to stop himself. Four men were lying at his feet, unconscious, but at least six more surrounded him. As he forced his body to still they launched at him all together. Before he could move away, he was pinned to the floor.

 

They laid him down at the front of the shuttle, between an empty row of seats and the lavatory wall. He lay flat on his stomach, hands tied behind his back by a leather belt. His ankles were crossed one over the other, also shackled by a belt. The metal buckles dug into his flesh, hurting him each time he attempted to move.

The man chosen to keep an eye on him was the same burly man who'd first attacked him. The man positioned himself on the boy's lower back, sitting on top of him to prevent movement. Heero's palms were trapped under the heavy man, making any attempt to move, unless he'd use lethal force, impossible. Each time the man shifted, even a slight bit, Heero's barely-just-healed ribs protested in pain. When he tried to explain his captor that he was still recovering from broken ribs, the man stuffed a piece of cloth into his mouth, telling him to “put a sock in it”.

And so Heero lay, for what felt like hours, restrained and gagged, unable to aid the people of the shuttle. He could rise if he chose to, but decided against it. There was no logic behind fighting civilians, even if they used force against him. Perhaps he had been out of line trying to offer his help. Perhaps not. It didn't matter now. All he wanted to do now was survive. Lying still, and breathing slowly, was the only way he could do that. The rest was up to the Outer Colony Search & Rescue teams. Hopefully, they were on their way. All he could do was wait.

The cabin became warmer as hours passed. Air was running out, slowly, becoming almost too heavy to breathe. People sat in silence, contemplating their lives in the dark. Once in a long while the silence broke by a small cough or a feeble sigh. If a person tried to speak, someone would shut him up. Even the children remained quiet. Most of them were probably out cold, embraced by their helpless mothers.

Time was running out. Disorientation spread like fog through Heero's mind. In a way, it was much like having one too many drinks. He was sure that Adele would have a laugh. She would probably say that he'd lost the bet, being drunk on carbon dioxide. It was a screwed up ending for his screwed up life. Fitting in a most ironic way. All of his life he'd been fighting in space, only to die in its black embrace. Not the kind of death he had hoped to find when he boarded the shuttle.

Duo. He would never see him again. Ever. Duo won't even know that he had tried to come and see him. He would never know how hard it was to come and tell him that... that...

He wasn't sure what, yet, but he wanted Duo to know that he was trying to find out. He wanted Duo to know everything, everything he kept hidden before. Every little thing he had denied before.

That didn't make much sense, Heero realized and chuckled at his own expense. The burly man grunted in annoyance and pressed his weight down on Heero to shut him up. His recently mended ribs protested again, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was too tired to move. His body felt ten times heavier. If he could have, he would have asked the man to get off him, it was so hard to breathe, but his mouth was still gagged. Any attempt to speak came out as muffled gibberish and Heero had given up hours ago.

It didn't matter anymore. He had nothing to say.

Slowly, his eyelids slid shut. There wasn't much point to keep them open anyway. He felt calmer with his eyes closed. Almost asleep. He wandered by the boundaries of a dream, floating peacefully over the shallow waters of his mind. There was a thick layer of fog hovering about the water, obscuring everything in gray. Sounds resonated in the gray vastness of his mind, echoes rippling through the shallow ocean. He listened, enchanted, as he lay sprawled on a wobbly wooden raft. His fingertips dipped into the cool water, trying to catch elusive waves. The resonance was enthralling, washing over him like waves. It was the sound of breathing, but it couldn't have been his own. The air in his lungs was solid, impossible to breathe. The sounds surrounding him were light as feathers, falling gracefully into the waters to create soft ripples.

He concentrated on the sound, letting it breathe for him. In, and out. Slowly. Smoothly. Calmly and gently as a wave upon the sand. In, out. In, and out. Inhale, exhale. Again. Slowly. Carefully. Inhale. Exhale.

Duo made it sound so easy, when it was so damn hard. Heero sunk into the rhythm of his breathing. They breathed together, as one, the sound guiding Heero as he sailed upon the gray water. In and out. It was that easy. In, and out.

Breathing brought life, sensation and warmth. It revived him. He was no longer lost in the fog. He was there, on that bed, with him. They breathed together, their voices echoing in the darkness of the small dorm. Ashley was never there. He had forgotten all about her. Hands moved, gliding over heated bodies. Flesh pulsing with life. A moist sheen of sweat. Salty, deliciously so. And his voice, rough, sweet, bitter, guiding Heero's each breath. In and out. In, and out. He clung onto Duo desperately. Just a bit longer, long enough for him to realize, long enough for him to tell Duo everything. He finally knew what he wanted to say.

He lost himself in Duo's embrace. Nothing else existed. If he was to die, it would be in his arms. There was no other place he would rather be.

 

Silent as a tomb, the shuttle drifted aimlessly through the debris field. With each hour that bled away into eternity, the shuttle blended gradually into the metal graveyard. But in the distance, a small glimmer of hope approached the drifting vessel. It came closer, engines roaring soundlessly through space. The shuttle vibrated as the glimmer drew near, but none of the passengers were conscious to feel it. A final shudder ripped through the battered fuselage as the other ship attached itself to the emergency airlock entrance. A few minutes later, rescue forces boarded the ship; dressed in fully geared, skin tight, space suits. Each was adorned with a colorful OCSR badge.

They were greeted by rows upon rows of lifeless figures; sitting slumped in their seats. Some unconscious, some dead. Emergency lighting was set up before the work began. Slowly, methodically, they began the arduous task of sorting the living from the dead. Oxygen masks were applied and body bags were piled. The men worked in silence, of the grieving kind, speaking over the com-link only when necessary. OCSR was a newly formed organization and it was not used to failure.

One of the men, slimmer and shorter than the rest, approached the two figures that lay on the floor at the front of the cabin. He stopped, cocking his head aside in wonder. The light from the emergency projectors caught on his helmet. It made the visor appear mirror-like so that it reflected the image of the two lifeless men. One - a large, burly figure - was lying almost on top of the other, smaller, person. It was an odd position that caught the eye.

Crouching next to the two, he reached for the first man and felt for a pulse. The man was dead.

He sighed heavily, loud enough to be heard on the com-link. “I need two more body bags up front.” The young man - judging from the sound of his voice - stated dryly. He pushed the burly man aside to reveal the person lying next to him, and gasped.

“What the hell?!” He called and jerked back in shock.

Lying behind the burly man was a young teenage boy, shackled, gagged and bruised. For a long moment the young man stared at the motionless figure, the teen's pale Asian face reflecting on his visor.

“What the fuck happened here..?” He wondered out loud. His gloved hand trembled as he reached to check for a pulse, almost afraid to touch the young man before him.

“Is he alive?” A deep voice asked over the com-link as another man, tall and well built, came to stand behind the younger rescuer.

“Barely, sir.” The other answered solemnly. He reached for the first aid kid that was attached to his knee and ripped it open.

His superior nodded thoughtfully. “Get him out of these restraints but make sure to put him under observation when we get back.” He ordered as he watched his younger subordinate snap the oxygen mask over the teen's head.

“Yes sir.” He hurried to answer, ignoring his superior as he left. His hand still lingered to the teen's pale face as he took a deep, shuddered, breath. “...thank God...”

 

Consciousness was a hard goal to achieve. He fought for it, tooth and nail, struggling to drag himself out of the gray swamp. At least a ton of weights were holding him down, refusing to let him rise. But there was wind, soft, cool and refreshing as it filled his airways. Blessed air filled his lungs, signaling his brain that he was still alive. Still alive. How and where he did not know. It didn't matter. Whatever the reason was, Heero was glad for it.

With great effort he ordered his eyelids to open. He imagined them creak and groan under the strain as they slowly lifted. Light poured into his sore eyes, forcing them shut again. Light was good. He was finally out of the darkness. Rescued? Could it be that something that good happen to him, of all people?

Sensation gradually returned to his body as he lay still, counting his breaths. He was incredibly thirsty. His mouth was so dry and his lips felt parched. He was willing to kill of a drink, but not of the alcoholic type, he hurried to tell himself. He was done with that. Although... no. He was done with that.

A second attempt to open his eyes proved more successful. Once again, he was laying in an empty, white, hospital room with no one to greet him as he opened his eyes. It was the closing of a cursed circle. One he was still determined to break.

He tried to lift his hands, but they did not move. Something was keeping them down. For a moment he panicked, flashing back into the war. The Alliance base hospital kept him restrained to the bed, bleeding. But that was in the past. It was years behind him now. His arms were probably too stiff and numb to move. Nothing was wrong, he assured himself.

Instead of moving his limbs he turned his head aside, towards the light. As he moved, he became aware of the oxygen tube under his nostrils. He took a deep breath, indulging in it. He was alive.

There was an open window at the wall he was now facing. Outside he could see the metal casing of a colony, hidden behind a forest of small skyscrapers. Had he made it to L2?

Looking down he saw a chair against the wall, empty as always, and a small table by his bed. His mind was still hazy from both drugs and sleep, and so he could only smile faintly when he spotted an open bag of tortilla chips lying on the table. It was nice that someone was thoughtful enough to leave him his favorite snack, but he was too thirsty to eat it. He'd rather have a drink; he mused as his eyelids slowly closed. Still, it was very kind of them to give him a snack. A small, content smile spread on his lips as he drifted to sleep. The snack was even Barbeque flavored. How considerate...

 

Thirst was what woke him the second time. His tongue felt swollen and dry. He needed water.

He must have made some sort of sound to indicate his thirst because a moment later a cup of cool water was served to his lips. He drank gratefully, gulping the blessed liquid down his sandpaper throat.

“I'm glad to see you're finally awake, mister Yuki.” A voice greeted him and Heero tensed.

...Yuki? Yuki?!

The name he used on his fake passport.

“Hiro Yuki, is it?” The voice, deep and confident, continued casually as the man behind the voice took the water away.

Heero groaned and sunk his head back into the pillow. He nodded slowly, his eyes still closed.

“I'm special agent Davis from the L2 Preventer branch. It's nice to meet you.”

Heero tensed even more, his numb body suddenly alert. He tried to move his arms, as he had done before, but found that he could not lift them more than an inch off the bed. Restraints.

He opened his eyes, blinded by the light. As his vision adjusted he could finally make the image of a middle-aged man standing over his bed, looking down at him with a stern expression. Behind him stood a worried doctor, eyeing him with concern.

“Are you lucid enough to have a small chat with me, mister Yuki?” The agent asked slowly and the doctor fidgeted.

Unable to find his voice just yet, Heero nodded.

Davis gave the doctor a harsh look and the man fled the room quickly. Heero watched the agent as he drew a chair to the bed and slowly sat down. He was still confused as to what a Preventer agent was doing in his room. He preferred the room to be empty, as always.

“This won't take long, mister Yuki,” the man assured him, flipping through his notes, “The doctors won't allow me to be here for too long.”

“What do you want?” Heero finally croaked, his voice rough with thirst. Davis handed him the water again, and since Heero's hands were restrained, he helped him drink. He then placed the water back on the table and Heero noted that the tortilla snack wasn't there anymore. Had it been a dream?

“Would you mind explaining to me, mister Yuki,” Daivs began, “what you were doing on that shuttle flight?”

His eyes still searching for the lost snack, Heero frowned. “...trying to get to L2.”

“That's odd, I would have thought differently seeing that the shuttle never made it to L2.”

Heero turned to glare at the man, his helplessness forgotten. He was ready to fight if he had to. “What are you implying?”

“Well, mister Yuki, there's some evidence to counter your statement.”

“I'm not lying.” He hurried to say, looking Davis in the eye. “You have no right to restrain me.”

“Did you tell that to the people in the shuttle?” Davis inquired calmly, raising an eyebrow, “When they restrained you?”

Heero looked away, refusing to answer. He couldn't find the right words to explain. He wasn't very good with words.

“Could it be, mister Yuki, and this is just a wild assumption, that it had anything to do with the fake passport you used to board that shuttle?”

Facing the other way from the man, Heero bit his lower lip. Once he realized what he was doing he stopped, wondering when and how he had picked the nervous habit. It was not something he had done before. Davis was not his first interrogator, though he had expected to have seen the last of those.

“Can you please explain why you boarded the shuttle with a fake passport, mister Yuki?” Davis tried again, leafing through his notes. “And, not to mention, carrying a one-way ticket. It's almost as if you... weren't planning to come back.”

“I had nothing to do with what happened to the shuttle.” Heero let out coldly and turned to face Davis. His eyes were harsh, unforgiving. Angry. He had enough of it all! First the people in the shuttle and now this guy! Couldn't people just leave him alone?!

“Is that so.” The agent muttered, unconvinced.

“I was a regular passenger, just like the rest.”

“And yet OCSR found you tied up and gagged when they boarded the shuttle. What did the people there know that I don't?”

“I didn't do anything wrong.” Heero mumbled, looking numbly at the wall behind Davis. “I was only trying to help.”

“You're lying again, Mr. Yuki. Our Preventer database suggests otherwise.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his notes.

“Call me crazy, but you look an awful lot like this guy here.”

He held the paper above Heero's face for him to see, studying the teen's face as he scanned the document. Not a hint of emotion flickered in the teen's eyes, but inside he was in turmoil. Agent Davis was holding an old OZ intelligence report with his picture on it. Gundam Pilot 01, code-name Heero Yuy. A terrorist. No wonder he was being questioned.

“Heero Yuy, is it not?” The agent asked, cockily, “Former Gundam pilot?”

Heero turned his head away from the picture. “This is just a misunderstanding.” He whispered, tired all of a sudden. He had spent two months escaping his past as a Gundam pilot and now it was thrown back in his face. Literally. He wasn't strong enough to face that yet. All he wanted was to see Duo... would they let him if he asked them to?

“Try to put yourself in my position, Heero Yuy. What would you think if you spotted a former terrorist on a shuttle flight gone wrong?”

Heero closed his eyes, refusing to listen any further.

“Two hundred and fifty people are dead. Which one was your target?” Davis pressed on.

“No one...” Heero whispered, his voice tired and bleak. “I was only trying to get to L2...”

“Well, that sounds far more plausible than what I was thinking.”

“I didn't do anything... I tried... but they didn't let me...” Heero mumbled, half asleep. He wished he hadn't said the words once he realized what they were, but he was so tired...

Davis leaned over the sleeping boy, a cold look in his eyes. “What did you try to do?” he whispered into his ear, but the boy didn't answer. He was out cold again.

With an irritated sigh, Davis gathered his notes. “Don't make this any harder on yourself, kid.” He muttered at the sleeping boy and made his way out of the room with determined strides. Two guards stood at each side of the door. They nodded at him and he acknowledged before turning to continue down the hall.

A figure came to block his way and Davis stopped, smirking down at the young man before him. A pair of ruthless violet-blue eyes pinned his gaze, seething with anger. Unmoved by the deadly look, Davis' smirk did not waver. He walked past the angry young man, feeling his glare all the way to the elevator.

O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O

To be continued...

O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O

UFO - Unidentified Flying Object. No, not flying saucers but debris in space!