Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Reprieve ❯ Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Howard glared at the people moving across the screen, like ants after the anthill is destroyed. It sickened him to watch, if only because the inside of his ship were no different. They were well trained soldiers, this group of Alliance military, but there was something nagging Howard as he watched them set up camp. The medical tents went up first and a soft yellow glow emanated from within as the sun began to submit to the night. Medical tents rarely went up first…But Howard knew why.

"Howard?"

He didn't turn to look at his men, simply putting out his hand to receive the hot cup of coffee. Nothing more was said, whoever had handed it to him moving away as quietly as they had come. He was grateful, but doubted they moved in such ways knowingly. It was reflex, their own desire to be alone reflected in their actions.

It was taking too long. Three hours…

Howard forced his gaze back onto the camp before him and realized the lights were lower, the glow distracting his thoughts from his inner turmoil. He was almost glad for the distraction. Then he saw it…

"Bring up the Gundam on the main screen!" Before the words were out of his mouth the picture came into view, bright lights glaring off the gundanium alloy. Howard cursed loudly as he saw the crippled suit shift to the side. If the Alliance men continued to move it in that way they would render it useless. Already he could see the weakened metal at the knees bending dangerously. If it fell, it could kill.

Cursing colourfully, Howard collected his own small team of salvagers and headed for the doors. No words needed to be spoken. Ever since they had landed the ship a hundred yards from the Alliance camp his men had been waiting for the call. The Alliance had ignored them, letting them know they were aware of them but otherwise pretending they did not exist at all. They were busy. Had been busy for three hours…

Stalking down the charcoal ditch left by Shenlong's fall, Howard noticed the camp guards moving in, but held up his hands and walked straight past their raised guns to the men surrounding the gundam.

"Not like that you fools!" He bellowed and was slightly surprised when they all stopped to look at him. He scanned the faces around the camp and his breath caught. "Harry! Tell these morons to listen to my men!" And that was that. Howard turned sharply on his heel, heading straight for the medical tents and leaving his men to deal with the Gundam.

The guards around the tent didn't try to stop him as he held his hands high and empty, glasses not revealing the steely glint of his eyes. They did not know who he was, this madman in a bright pink Hawaii shirt and it was better that way. For now. He nodded to the one he knew was the captain before ducking under the low entry into the yellow light he had observed from the ship.

The tent was larger than it looked from outside, and held very little. Five doctors worked around a high field gurney, several familiar looking contraptions between them and the still figure on the bed. They were discussing something as they scribbled notes on a clipboard and twisted tubes. A heart monitor beeped out a steady response.

"Are you just going to stand there gawking or do you have a point being here?"

Howard smirked as he studied the back of the only doctor whose mouth he couldn't see. A female, she seemed tired, annoyed, but yet also a little amused. When she received no reply she turned to face him and Howard had to admit she was an attractive thing, blonde with pale eyes…Her uniform marked her as a major. Howard, realizing this woman was probably in charge of the whole camp, moved in, and finally got his first good look at the figure on the bed.

Crisp. White. Ashen. It looked like a ghost lying mummified before him, but the chest rose and fell with the labored sound of machines, screaming to any would listen that it was not over, that life yet remained. That it would endure. Howard felt his knees goes weak at the sight. Were they really any different?

"The pilot?" He asked in a voice that shook, beyond his control.

"His name is Chang Wufei," the major replied, removing the field scrubs hat and tossing it with the rest of the doctor's uniform in a bin by the bedside. She was looking at him, waiting for any explanation he was willing to give. Howard felt his insides clench at his heart and he knew he wasn't ready to talk. Not yet. He was, however, ready to make a deal.

"You can't stay here. OZ are on their way."

"We can't move him. Traveling in his state will kill him."

"Traveling by road, I don't doubt you. Traveling by ship he won't feel a thing."

"Are you offering us a ride?"

"Yes." Howard had no idea why he was making the offer and he certainly wasn't about to give it any amount of serious thought. The kid on the bed had everything to do with it, and he just wasn't ready to go there.

"What are your terms?"

Howard looked at each of the doctor's faces before letting his gaze rest on the pilot. Chang Wufei.

"You will give Shenlong over to my men. You will do everything in your power to see the boy is comfortable and lives. You will stay away from all areas of the ship I say are `out of bounds'. That's all."

"I can't give you his Gundam," she said firmly, shaking her head, eyes firm with resolve. Howard let his brows rise over his shades.

"You don't want us to repair it?"

She was visibly surprised by this and Howard knew she was trying to find a catch. No one offered this kind of assistance to a stranger. Especially not in a war.

"Why are you offering this? Who are you really? What are the Sweepers?"

Howard couldn't help it; he laughed. He was beginning to think it might actually be fun having her onboard. She had fire, and the kid would love her…The kid…His eyes fastened on Wufei again. Wufei…Howard wondered at what point during the conversation the pilot had become `Wufei' within his head.

"The Sweepers are salvagers, everyone knows that. My name is Howard and I own this salvage business. I'm offering this because I'm a Sweeper, and Sweeper's salvage lives." Simple. At least, Howard thought it was simple. Sometimes it took a little more than that to explain. Luckily, blondie was cluey and not really interested in answers, just results.

The Major strode past him, stuck her head out the tent opening and spoke softly to the guards without. Howard heard the words `ship', `move' and `gudam' several times and smiled, pleased the woman was coming on board. New blood was always a bit of a novelty among the Sweepers.

"I'm Major Sally Po," she said when she returned, holding out a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Howard agreed, taking and shaking the offered limb, a little surprised when she didn't let go.

"Is he alive?" She asked, eyes boring into his own knowingly. Howard shuddered at the reminder.

"I don't know." It almost killed him to admit; he just didn't know.

Sally Po simply nodded, as if she understood, before patting him gently on the shoulder and leaving the tent. Her medical crew followed her out. As he stood there, alone in the tent with only the sound of the heart monitor for company, he realized the trust she was showing in him. She left him alone with her prize…with her friend? Perhaps.

"Kid…"

*

::TRANSMISSION: 06:47: From Shenlong: To Network: Download to Sandrock at 07:10::

Quatre skimmed the transmission, taking in the flawless data stream and filing it away to be processed later. His mind was already turning to the uneasiness in his heart, his tactical thoughts giving way to emotional. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He ran the transmission over the screen once more and realized what it was.

"There's no report…The mission is complete, but there's no status report…" He mumbled to himself, sweating in the hot confines of the cockpit hidden strategically in the desert. "Where's the damn report!"

Scowling darkly, Quatre reconnected o the network the doctor's had set up between Gundam's and downloaded the recent mission logs. There were so many…Deleting his own, Quartre looked first at those accepted by Heavyarms. No mission had been accepted for execution this morning and the small blonde breathed a little lighter before turning to the only other pilot he was aware of. Wing had accepted a mission…for execution at dawn with two other pilots…Quatre's eyes caught on a second mission accepted by Wing, to be executed at 05:00 on the opposite side of the world. It was not possible for the pilot to have done both…

Eyes scanning the mission file he had downloaded, Quatre's gaze caught the name of the sender.

"Shenlong…" He knew nothing of this Gundam. It was included in their logs, but there were scant few reports that read anything other than `accepted' or `complete'. They had never been within a hundred miles of each other and Quatre was curious. He scanned missions accepted by the Shenlong pilot and grimaced. So many. But only one today…at 06:30…The locations were what was getting to him. Quatre glared at the two missions accepted by Wing and knew the pilot could not have completed the first mission and made it to the second on time. Nothing could move that fast, not even a Gundam.

Curiosity now out of control, Quatre downloaded the first mission from Wing's computer and skimmed through the detailed pages. These were nothing like his own missions…so much detail, every minute of the mission planned out, allowing for no input from the pilot, as if he were just a machine…It was not right. Then Quatre's analytical mind kicked in and he focused on those details and his heart froze.

"This mission isn't even finished…it's still going…" Quatre knew in the depth of his heart the Wing pilot had never intended to complete the second mission. He checked the acceptances for each mission and noted the first mission had been accepted after the second and his blood turned cold. Wing's pilot had not sent the notification to say he could not longer complete the mission he had originally accepted. Fingers now moving like lightening, Quatre brought up the mission details for the mission he now knew had gone wrong. Complete, certainly, but still wrong.

"Three pilots…" He whispered in horror as the details flowed before his eyes. The first pilot was to arrive by stealth at 06:15, get into the base, download the information and infect OZ's computers with a virus. The second pilot was to arrive at 06:30 and provide backup. The third was meant to arrive at 6:40 to create a diversion so the others could escape. There were over five hundred Leo's on the base…

Cold gripped his heart as he realized Wing had not arrived at 6:40, that two gundam's had had to face off against five hundred enemy suits. The pain wrapped around his chest was only intensifying.

Quatre didn't hesitate any longer. Booting up Sandrock's external systems he sent a quick message to Rashid before heading for the coordinates of that last transmission. He might be late, but he would complete the mission. There would be a report, even if he had to die writing it.

*

::TRANSMISSION: 07:25 : From Heavyarms: To Sandrock: Received at 7:26::

I'm coming. See you there.

*

::TRANSMISSION: 07:28: From Sandrock: To Heavyarms: Received at 7:33::

How…no…thank you…It hurts Trowa…my heart hurts…thank you for coming. Trowa…are there five gundams?

*

::TRANSMISSION: 07:47: From Deathscythe: To Network: Download to Sandrock at 07:48: Download to Heavyarms at 07:48::

G: The corn was rotten. The tractor's bust. Reaper down.

*

Quatre stared at the screen in amazement.

"Guess that answers that…" He read the transmission again, wondering what it meant. Some kind of code, obviously, and G was no doubt another scientist. Deathscythe. The name rolled around his tongue as he forced his Gundam to go harder. Faster. His heart ached.