Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Reprieve ❯ Chapter 9 ( Chapter 9 )

Reprieve

Chapter 9

Trowa was unsure of the best course of action to take. Normally he would have done anything to alleviate his companion's apparent pain, but their current position made him wary. The ship was not exactly hostile, but it wasn't the circus either. There was a darkness to the Sweeper's territory he did not truly want to think about. It reminded him of…other places. Other faces.

Shaking his head to clear the unwanted thoughts, Trowa decided nothing was going to change if he just stayed on his butt and watched his friend suffer. Rising with an inherent grace he did not at the moment feel, he moved off to the main doors and hit the open button, only to be met with a rifle butt and the face of a very agitated guard. Trowa was almost amused. They were, after all, supposed to be guests, not prisoners. There was something in the guards face, however that made Trowa hesitate before knocking the man unconscious. Fear.

"My friend is ill. We need a doctor."

The guard promptly stuck his head I the door, took one look at Quatre huddled in the corner of his bed with his fingers tightly wound through his hair and nodded grimly at Trowa, dragging him out the door and locking it in their wake. Trowa again wanted to protest, but held his tongue. Something was…amiss.

"My name's Harry. You're pilot 03, right?"

Trowa didn't really want to answer that, but he wanted answers and the man did not seem the type to give away secrets quickly Besides, there was little harm in confirming what the man already knew. He nodded his head and despite the miniscule response he had a feeling Harry had seen it.

Harry was a small man, shorter than Trowa, but stockier with wide shoulders and thick legs, but he was not stocky. Rather he seemed perfectly in proportion. He would be a good mechanic…He wasn't a very good guard.

"I can't get a Sweeper's Doc right now; they're all in a conference. I can get you Major Po though. Don't worry, I'm starting to think she's the best there is. Saved that Chang kid's life!"

That Chang kid? Trowa let that play in his mind. Harry knew pilot 05, and apparently so did this Major Po. And what exactly was a Major doing on a Sweeper ship anyway? Were they with Oz? Had they actually walked into an Oz trap of some kind? Not likely…which meant Alliance refugees were on board. Trowa was not sure that was any better. A lot of the Alliance rebels would do a lot to get their hands on just one of the ships he had caught a glimpse of in the Sweeper docks. Let alone the Gundams in the ship holds.

They came to a fork in the corridors and Harry plastered himself against the wall before sticking his head around the corner. He must have decided it was clear, because suddenly they were sprinting down the far side and through a side door.

Trowa found himself standing in a laboratory full of Alliance military. It was not a large room, with three iron medical beds and limited medical equipment. Some thirty men had been crammed into the space, giving it a claustrophobic stench Trowa did not appreciate. He was about to leave the way he had come, regardless of the consequences, when a female member of the group paced her way through the men and glared at Harry.

"Is that…demon…still here?" She snarled, not like a caged animal but like a huntress who had failed to protect her cubs. She intrigued Trowa instantly. He found himself moving closer.

"No. He'll stay until he's downloaded everything off Scythe's systems, and probably the others since they're here. I think about another hour. Maybe two."

The woman looked even angrier and the pure fury in her gaze made Trowa's lips turn in a faint smile. This had to be Doctor Po.

"This is pilot 03. 04 needs medical attention. You're the only doctor the Professor doesn't know about. He won't check on you before he goes…"

The woman's attention snapped to Trowa's face the moment his identity was revealed. Trowa found he almost wanted to fidget under that gaze. He liked this woman; she was brassy.

"What's wrong with 04?"

"He's...different." Trowa was not sure how to explain. "He has a good heart. When others are in pain, he suffers with them."

"A space heart?" Po seemed surprised at the revelation, but not disbelieving. She looked, instead, rather thoughtful and began grabbing various objects from about the room, all the while mumbling about `some sick bastard' under her breath. In time she was ready to go and she motioned, silently, for Harry to lead the way. Watching them communicate with hands and fingers, Trowa knew them to be Alliance, but just how they had become involved with Gundams and Sweepers was a mystery to him. A mystery he didn't care to ponder while Quatre suffered.

It was as simple to return to the room they had left Qautre in as it had been to leave. As he hurried inside Trowa realized Quatre had moved only far enough to enable his body to fold further in on itself in its pain, one hand now clutched in the shirt above his heart, fine blonde strands of hair still clinging to the white fingers. Po hurried to his side, filling a syringe with something Trowa could not readily identify and plunging it into Quatre's thigh; the only part of his body they could easily access. Trowa watched the doctor prepare a second syringe as Quatre's body slowly unwound and the next needle entered his arm. Quatre's teary eyes slid shut, body limp, completely unconscious.

"What will sleeping do to solve the problem?" Trowa wondered aloud. He had brought the doctor to give Quatre help, not to avoid the problem!

Professor G is on board this ship," Po quickly explained. "He has given one of the other pilots a toxin. Were your friend to remain conscious as this toxin works its course I fear he could lose his mind. Better that he remain in a comatose state until the drug runs its course."

G? One of the Professors…Trowa shuddered. That was far from a happy memory. He knew any toxin made by them could not be good and now understood why Harry was so on edge. The only question that remained…

"But…which pilot?"

*

Wufei's head snapped back as another fist collided with his jaw even as a foot found the weakness in his knee joint. Pain flared through a myriad of points around his body but he refused to acknowledge any of it. Whatever he felt was nothing; pain did not exist. His world had narrowed to the dark air around him and the slim, sweating, shivering form in his arms. There was no awareness that anything else had ever, did, or ever would exist. At that moment, this was life.

Another fist broke free of his hold and slammed into his chest, directly over his heart, mocking the way he so often reached out to Duo as they slept, condemning his offer of friendship. Not that Wufei cared. What he held was Duo, and yet it was not. It was Duo's shell; his skin. And Wufei would hold onto it until Duo came back from hell.

Struggling to restrain the wayward limbs railing against the agony accumulating within, Wufei buried his face in the loose chestnut locks of hair tangled about him and tried to convince himself tears were not a weakness.

"Come back soon…Nataku, bring him back soon!"

*

"Interesting. Very interesting."

Howard watched the way G handled the new plans for Deathscythe Hell. The pencil markings over the drawing indicated a lot of things, including maximized performance, but…there was just something wrong with the picture. For now he would pay along with the good professor's game, but before they started any adjustments on the actual Gundam Howard intended to have every single one of his mechanics working on logistics of the new plans. Howard had a feeling pilot safety didn't even feature in this new model.

"Fascinating work on the frame…but this will have to go…" Howard watched G remove the readjustments they had made to Scythe's original framework; the very shell that had saved Duo's life when he self destructed and had to fold his arms over his chest to keep himself from attacking the Professor. This meeting was not going well, and it didn't help that Duo's screams kept echoing up the hallway into the bridge. Still, it would not do to show any sort of weakness or emotion that could be exploited while the good doctor was still about. Patience was the name of this game, and Howard had learnt to play it very well.

"That's all for now. I trust you'll get to work right away?" Professor G looked up from the papers spread out before him with a glint in his eyes that spoke of knowledge Howard did not even want to think about dreaming of.

"Of course. Should we expect similar updates anytime soon for the other Gundams?"

"I suspect Nataku's will come through over the system this afternoon, but the others…well, suffice to say we've all been a little busy lately. Changing the world takes a lot out of a man."

Howard did his best not to scowl, wondering what exactly the other doctors had gotten themselves into. He hoped it had something to do with one Heero Yuy, because as far as he was concerned this was all his fault. Had he just taken the damn mission everything would have gone perfectly to plan. As it was, no one seemed to have gotten a decent explanation as to why the mission had been forsaken. It was as if the boy had just…wanted a break!

"I will not be able to get away again for some time. I expect a video conference with 02 by the end of the week to discuss his next mission."

Howard wanted to know more but forced himself to just nod. He would see to it that G got his conference. He would also make sure it happened on his bridge, with him an arms length away to cut the connection if it got out of hand. Howard knew Duo would refuse G nothing. At least the old prick was not coming back for a while.

They walked to the cargo bay in silence and there parted ways. Howard was about to breathe a heavy sigh of relief when G's voice drifted back to him from where the old man was fast disappearing.

"You might want to get your ships ready for launch…I hear space is getting lonely."

Then the an was gone, and Howard found himself running back to the bridge.

"Howard?" His men were as shocked to see him back on the bridge and not in Duo's room as Howard was to be there, but he knew a warning when he heard one and the good doctor had just give Howard reason to fear.

"Log us onto the network. Patch us through Shenlong's systems."

His men did not question him, though they probably thought it odd he requested that Gundam and not Scythe. Howard did not want to risk G having tapped into their systems. Shenlong was out of his jurisdiction.

The screens came to life and the large flashing words `connecting to network' were oddly comforting to Howard. Then they were online and the ream of information starting flooding in.

"Run a search for points of interest in space."

His men were silent as they worked and he knew they were wondering, as he himself was, if they would soon find themselves in the vast expanse of nothing known as Space. They has not been skybound since they completed Deathscythe. That they might return to space now meant either that the war was coming to an end or that the doctors had a far more sinister goal in mind. Space was no place for battle…A wrong hit could destroy an entire colony…

The screen blinked to life with reams of information on newly constructed mobile suit factories, the primary host of which appeared to have been built on the moon. It appeared that Relena Peacecraft had recently taken a shuttle in the hopes of convincing them to cease the making of weapons. That did not bode well. Worse was a single accepted mission. The only details given were that the moon base had to be destroyed. How was up to whoever had a go.

"Bring up any available material on the moon base."

Several satellite images appeared and Howard studied the layout carefully. Even such a brief study was enough to tell him all five pilots working in tandem would find this mission difficult. One pilot…it was a suicide mission.

Not for the first time Howard wondered what the hell Heero Yuy was thinking. Lately his actions were too extreme, his missions too destructive. Something was wrong.

"Patch me through to the tower."

A communication window opened in the centre of the screen.

"Howard? G has left the building."

"Good. Prepare the Peacemillion for launch. Load the Gundams into the cargo bay. Assemble a screw; I want only the best of those who volunteer. We won't be home for quite some time."

"Yessir."

The window shut but no one spoke. Howard nodded to his crew and left the room. He had a lot of work to do.

"Get better, Kid. We need you. Heero needs you."

*

Wufei pulled his bloody hand free of the now slack mouth and winced as he flexed his slashed fingers. Duo was lying perfectly still, eyes glazed and fixed on the ceiling, mouth slightly ajar, throat constricted but silent, limbs trembling but no longer trying to kill him. It was as if Duo's body were waiting for something and Wufei found himself waiting with it.

"Fei…" The barest whisper of sound escaped, the lids blinked.

"Duo?"

"I think…I'm gonna be sick…"

Wufei didn't have the heart to tell him there was nothing in his stomach to throw up. Instead he watched as Do's skin flushed a faint pink and the bruises began to fade. Cuts began to stitch themselves together, grazes sank into clean, unmarked flesh. It was not possible, yet he watched it happen. It was a slow process and the whole while Duo swore he was going to puke all over him but Wufei made no move to get away, fascinated by what was taking place. It was not worth all that pain, and yet…That it could work at all marked a turning point in medical history. Duo possessed a gene that made such things possible…naturally possessed it!

Leaning down, Wufei pressed a hard kiss to Duo's temple, clutching him against his chest as tightly as he could.

"You're amazing."

Duo's only response was to prove him wrong (he did have something in his stomach) as he spewed a mix of bile and chemical into both their laps.

*

"Quatre?"

"Trowa…I had the strangest dream…"

Trowa smiled. Only Quatre could interpret all that had happened as a bad dream. And yet, it made sense that he see it that way. It was a more…innocent perspective.

The door suddenly opened to reveal a relieved looking Doctor Po. Trowa nodded to her while Quatre just looked dumbfounded. He was sure the doctor had been a figment of his bad imagination.

"Hello 04, I'm Doctor Sally Po."

"Please, call me Quatre. And this is Trowa."

"Oh, Mr. Barton and I are already acquainted. Now, if you think you're up to it, Howard would like to see you on the bridge."