Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Taking Flight ❯ Absilo ( Prologue )

Prologue - Absilo

"…Unto thee I give this most precious gift: a chance that you might live."

***

Scarlet lights flashed rhythmically, casting their crimson glare and glancing off the polished chrome and steel of a dark and windowless hallway. Alarms blared, summoning hundreds of armed men from their solitary sanctuaries: the hundreds of oval doorways lining the spotless pathway. The sirens lured them inexorably forward like the mythical sea nymphs they were so ironically named after.

The torrent of men passed quickly, leaving the stainless steel hallway as unblemished as before; unblemished, perhaps, save for the vermilion liquid routinely spilt there so often, and ironic for that color being the only one currently visible down the now empty passage.

Outside the maze like complex, the British sun shone beautifully over the verdant isles, a rare sight considering the usually overcast sky. From the complex's exterior, what one could see of the structure didn't seem like its interior should be coated with chrome at all. In fact, the only remotely military defense the castle-like building sported was a 12-foot tall, stylized stone wall serving as a beautifully crafted defensive battlement. The lofty spires of the majestic palace sloped upward in exaggerated concave cones as if some aspiring artist had painted a castle directly from a fairytale, exaggerating her strokes until the towering spikes barely bordered on physical possibility.

Yet all the grandeur of its outer shell could not soften the bite of the steel blade within: the cold, indiscriminate, metallic truth that was SyeniCo castle's darkest, most closely guarded secret. It was a secret that one frantic escapee was desperate to see to freedom.

Armed guards rushed to and fro along the beautiful flagstone pathways of the lush garden between the outer wall and the castle's hewn marble. They searched among the bright flowers of every bed and within the trimmed, emerald branches of every bush, but to no avail. The desperate escapee they sought was plainly not among petal or bramble.

One ebony-clad guard man chanced to look up and caught the disappearing foot of a brightly illuminated figure fleeing over the stone wall. He gave a shout and a score of men nigh-instantly appeared with ladders and climbed to the top of the stone battlement.

From both sides, men in black uniforms closed in on the frightened figure of the fleeing woman. She appeared to be no older than her late 30's, yet the fearful expression on her face contorted it, making her look like a lady of her late sixties. She was dressed in ripped, nearly shredded garments that might have been white at one time, but now were splattered and drenched with dark brown, yellow, and grass-green blotches. The woman clutched an egg-shaped bundle of cloth to her bosom, holding on for dear life.

Would they kill her? The woman knew that no other escapees were allowed to live after they were captured; their deaths were publicly announced to discourage further attempts. Then again, she remembered, her execution would have been carried out this very day, regardless of her cooperation. It was for the bundle in her arms that she had made so desperate an escape. Though she could do nothing for the two others she bore in this hellish subterranean prison of steel walls, ceilings, and floors, she could at least try to send her second child into a different life. Any life would be better than one spent enduring the horrors of SyeniCo castle.

Guards continued to approach from both sides, slowly now as if already guessing her next move. A long time had passed since this woman had tasted fresh air, and she now inhaled it deeply, readying herself for that presumed move.

She arched her back, closing her eyes and holding her breath. Two three-inch, gleaming white claws pierced through the exposed flesh on either side of her spine, letting thin trickles of blood momentarily slide down from the claws' position near the top of her shoulder blades before the bleeding abruptly stopped. She felt no pain (save an uncomfortable shift in pressure) as the claws began to slide downwards, drawing twin red slits from her shoulders to the top of her hindside. This completed, the woman rolled her shoulders while flexing some strange muscles, and a pair of huge, feathery wings were released backward in a flash of black and white feathers.

Her wings were horribly out of shape. Half of the feathers were broken or missing and her once gloriously rippling muscles and strong tendons were wan from malnutrition. The black rim of feathers that covered the broad bones and area around the top wing joint weren't nearly as clear as they once had been, and the white of the surrounding feathers was marred by a sickening shade of gray. In this state, she might barely manage a glide or a painful, shaky flight across the plains, but that sounded much better at the moment than jumping blindly from the wall.

Clutching tightly to the bundle in her arms, the woman leaped and caught the air. She flapped several times to gain speed even as her ears were met with scores of gunshots aimed at her. Why hadn't they shot at first then? Of course, the lord of these vast acres would have much preferred her death to be at his own hands. She spat to his memory.

A sharp pain bit her right shoulder, causing her to shudder and lose precious altitude before being able to right herself just before she would have tumbled headfirst onto the grass. She flapped hard to rise and gain speed, biting her lip from the pain of her injury. The trees were only a few short seconds away; she needed only to fly until she reached their safety and cover. Only in the thickets and brambles could she give her wings a rest and instead rely on her legs.

Again, the biting pain of a bullet sliced to the forefront of her mind, and it was several moments before it registered which piece of her was so ailing. Yet in those brief moments it took her to discover she had been grazed along her side, she found herself rolling roughly across the ankle-high grass, wheeling between the clawing branches of several bushes and striking the bare trunk of a large oak upside down. Seconds later the woman stood shakily on her feet and was fleeing through the trees, the terrors she was running from serving as her greatest encouragement.

She knew not how long she ran in that red haze, unable to judge the exhaustion which plagued her limbs, or the rawness of her bare feet as one burning pain gave way and blurred into another. Several times a booming thrum, thrum passed overhead accompanying a flying machine, or a hoarse rattle to one side or another warned her to turn away from her current direction of travel, it being too close to the road and certain recapture. A few times she heard the shouts of men rising and falling behind her as she pressed on, gasping for want of air, but wouldn't have stopped even if both her legs had broken.

Was it minutes or hours that passed her by as she ran? She couldn't guess. All the woman knew was that before she realized what happened, there were no more trees to run under. A long stretch of concrete-floored area lay before her, upon which stood hundreds of flying machines; airplanes, she thought she had overheard them being called. Yes, these would help. What's more, a few were standing upright, nose pointed to the sky. Rockets or shuttles these were called, and they were heading to the human colonies in space.

Space… that would be her child's home. If she left him on Earth, he would certainly be found, as would she.

The woman never stopped running. Even as she thought these things, her feet carried her ever forward, wings folded behind her. She ran directly for one of the ships headed for space, a large cargo ship. It took her only a few seconds to reach it, then a minute or more to climb the stairs to the cargo entrance. Safely inside, she hid herself among the electromagnetically secured crates. The writing upon them was alien to her; it was human speech.

Each breath was thunder in her ears, each beat of her heart was a roar, yet as fatigue finally caught up with her and filled her benumbed limbs with fire, she did not drop her watch for a moment. Every creak of metal sent a gasp through her parted, sherry lips, whitening her flushed cheeks and sweat soaked brow. She set to work almost immediately, scouring her hiding place for a crevice to store her precious bundle in. One entered her peripheral vision, and she quickly stuffed the dirty cloth into it, squeezing it through into a larger, sheltered space beyond. Air left her lungs in a sigh both of relief and grief that the bundle had left her sheltering grasp, yet those arms of hers posed more danger now to the child than he could possibly discover alone.

Of course, she knew that she wasn't yet safe. They could still find her, find her and take her back, but they knew she was cunning. Being one formerly of so high a position among her race, she wasn't one to be taken lightly. They would expect her to hide the bundle elsewhere, probably back in the woods. They might even still be searching there, which would buy her some much-needed time, perhaps even enough for the ship to leave for space. She could hope, she could always hope.

Her breath caught in her throat as she heard the familiar, faint sound of shoes on metal. Had they found her… or was it some other human? She ducked, hoping to cover as much of herself as possible. Two steps, three steps, and the sound kept growing nearer. Four, five, six…. They passed the doorway and continued on. The woman expelled air in a sigh of relief.

All too soon, she was forced to inhale that air again in a sharp gasp. Voices resounded off the metallic walls in alarm as quickened footsteps turned back to her door and entered. She cowered, shielding her face even as she hid among the crates. The smell of fear and blood, of her fear and blood, hung heavily in the chilly, stale air.

"Over here!" a black-suited man in sunglasses yelled out the doorway. The woman didn't understand the words. Soon a second almost identical man stood in the doorway as well.

"Several workers said they saw someone run in here. The trail of blood ends at this doorway as well. Check the room thoroughly." The first told his comrade.

"With all the people who saw that little stunt of the wench, the Cleanup Department is really going to have a job this time." The second continued as he began to check the crates near the doorway.

The woman was on the verge of screaming in terror as she pressed herself low to the floor, covering her mouth with chapped hands. Her breath hissed rapidly through her fingers as she frantically sought a way out of this dismal prospect.

The door was open! Maybe, just maybe she could draw these men away in a wild flight for freedom, running down the hall as fast as she could. Perhaps she could escape again and somehow search out her child in space later. She had defied her slim chance of escape before; she could do it again.

Even as fear clutched her heart, a wave of hope and resolution washed over her. She whispered as quietly as she could muster, directing her words toward the unreachable cloth bundle she hid nearby, weaving a blessing to her dormant child in a strange and ancient language:

"Na aon sai ma noki aonai, ma habi sai autoi r^r^agana."
"Unto thee I give this most precious gift, a chance that you might live."

With a last, longing look into the darkness of the crevice, the woman leaped to her feet and, caution all but forgotten, dashed toward the metal doorway. For a few fleeting moments, her racing heartbeat was all that filled her ears as her entire will was bent toward the single goal of escape. Then, there was a shout, a scramble, and a shot rang out as she raced around the corner, the bullet ricocheting off the metallic doorframe. Perhaps one or two projectiles struck her in minor places from behind in that wild flight down the hall, but all hope ended too quickly for any pain to be realized. A man in black stepped out from a side corridor, leveled a gun at her approaching face, and fired point blank. When the bullet's shell was ejected from the barrel and a new one took his place, he lowered his aim and fired again. The woman's knees buckled, her eyes losing their focus as her lifeblood began to trickle down in slow rivulets from those two perfect shots. Even while the twin impacts of her head and knees hitting the floor echoed down the chrome and steel pathways, the man in his black suit and sunglasses placed his gun in its holster, turned, and wordlessly walked away. The silent scream that the woman's face told of in death was misleading. Those perfect, almost merciful shots ensured she felt no pain.

Sunna died instantly.

Days passed as days tend to do. Several men cleared the hallway of the bloody evidence to any occurrence that had taken place. Witnesses were assured that what they had seen was an animal of one sort or another that escaped from a local zoo, but the news never ran the story. Launch of the shuttle remained on schedule, occurring only hours after the incident, the lingering crates remaining unchecked.

SyeniCo sorely missed the bundle their escapee carried out, but they were late by more than half a day and wouldn't have caught up even if they had followed the shuttle directly upon realization of this fact instead of searching the entire complex and forest first.

Landing on a colony in space, the shuttle unloaded its parcels like on any other day; the same companies loaded their goods, the same customers bought surplus and the same poor children stole a nut or bolt where they could.

Stooping over a nondescript crate and peering into a promising crevice, one such talented young man happened upon a shard of what he believed to be plastic or porcelain. Fitting several small bits together, he commented lowly about how great technology must be to replicate egg shells using only petroleum byproducts and whatever other rancid chemicals modern industries came up with.

A gentle cough and a dainty cry from behind the crate startled the young man, his long, curly, golden locks flying into disarray around his surprised, and normally gamine face. Quickly checking that he hadn't been spotted by the supervisors yet, he pushed the crate aside with a grunt and found…

A child. There was a bright-eyed, softly mewling baby boy tangled in a dingy blanket on the floor and no one else around. Catching sight of the young man, the baby stopped whining and blinked his impossibly large, dark indigo eyes. Both parties were silent. A moment later, the baby coughed and sneezed, coating his lower face with mucus. The young man laughed and reached for the child's blanket, using the cleanest spot he could find to wipe the baby's face.

"You're a cute one, kid." The young man mused out loud. "And you're all alone too."

The child blew bubbles with his saliva.

"How long have you been behind there? Geeze. Who left you?" he mumbled, reaching down to lift the infant. "Well, up we go!"

The child squealed and giggled. "Go! Go! Bpbpbpbbb…. Ba!"

The young man smiled and laughed, turning to walk out the door. "You and me are going to be pals, I can tell." The infant burped in his older companion's arms. "I guess introductions will have to wait until you can speak. Don't worry, kid, I'll take care of you."

The infant giggled and put a piece of the young man's hair in his mouth.

He laughed. "Let's get you something better to eat, then…."

[End Prologue]

Random Latin:
absilio: (v[3]) rush/fly away (from); burst/fly apart

Random Dragyrnen:
Na: (pronoun) I
aon: (verb) to give (present tense)
sai: (pronoun) you
ma: (adjective) one
noki: (adjective) precious, with a very extreme connotation
aonai: (noun) gift
habi: (noun) chance
autoi: (adverb) may, to be possible
r^r^agana: (verb) to live (future tense)

r^r^: pronounced like a trilled purr.
R^R^: Whereas its capitalized version is pronounced like a trilled growl.