Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Road To OZ ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )

The Road to OZ (1/?)

by Anne Olsen

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) - PG13 - Action, drama, angst. Gundam Wing/Stargate SG1 xover.

Pairings: - Gundam Wing: 3x4, 1x2, 5+S.
- Stargate SG1: Non specific (at this stage although this may change as the story progresses.)

Summary: When a gateway is unintentionally opened, two unrelated missions become one desperate struggle for survival. SG1 and the Gundam pilots must join forces to take control of a weapon that could affect the future of both their worlds.

Archive: http://www.angelfire.com/ab7/shadesandechoes/gw/GW.html

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any broken bones or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Stargate SG1 are owned by Stargate (ll) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Products.

Thanks to the beta team: Bast, Hex, Haraamis, Gina, Meg, Spaceseeker and Anon.

Comments to: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

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Chapter One

"How much longer do you need?" Trowa asked, retrieving his throwing knife from his leg holster. He'd already drawn his gun.

"I'm nearly finished, " Quatre confirmed. "I have a bad feeling about this." The whole mission had gone too smoothly for his liking, and it had been surprisingly easy to locate the nearest computer terminal and hack into the system.

Trowa nodded. "It's too quiet," he confirmed. "I'm going to check the corridor again while you finish up in here."

"Be careful." Although Quatre knew the warning was unnecessary he couldn't help but give it anyway.

"Always." Trowa closed the door behind him quietly as he left the room and Quatre returned to the task at hand.

He'd only just removed the CD when there was the sound of gunfire from outside the room. "Damn," Quatre muttered, pulling his own weapon. Slipping the CD into the protective case in his shirt pocket, he gripped the gun in both hands and headed for the door.

Opening the door, he shut it again quickly as several shots were fired in his direction. What little he'd seen had been enough to show him that he and Trowa were in trouble. Although Trowa was holding his own, he appeared to be greatly outnumbered, and only had limited ammunition.

The radio crackled and Trowa's voice sounded in his ear. "04, I could do with some help out here."

"Affirmative, 03," Quatre replied. "Any chance of covering the door so that I can at least get out of the room?"

There was a moment's silence. "Working on it." Several more shots were fired, followed by silence. "Now!"

Quatre opened the door again, dived through and rolled to come up beside Trowa. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem." The corners of Trowa's mouth twitched. "I don't think they were expecting the knife, and certainly not from up there." He pointed to the pile of packing crates above their heads. Trowa's experience as a circus acrobat came in useful at the most unexpected moments.

The two Preventer agents ducked as bullets whizzed over their heads. "It was nice while it lasted," Quatre sighed. He surveyed the area behind them. Going forward was out of the question. "Any idea where that door leads to?" he asked, noticing the steel security door to their left.

"It wasn't on the original plans for the resource satellite," Trowa said. "But we're running out of options."

"If we can get through that door and out of the range of their weapons long enough to call for back up, we might stand a better chance of surviving." Quatre frowned and rubbed at his chest. Something wasn't right; he felt uneasy, a cold finger of dread touched his spine, and he wasn't sure why.

"Quatre?"

"I'm okay." Quatre gave Trowa a tiny smile of reassurance and pushed the feeling away. He'd worry about it later; their immediate concern was getting out with the information without being caught. According to Lady Une, her informant had discovered that remnants of OZ and the White Fang organisation were working together on a weapon with the potential to disrupt the peace they'd all worked so hard to create. "If I cover you how long would it take to get that door open?"

"Two minutes," Trowa replied. The alcove framing the door would provide limited protection from the gunfire as long as their enemies weren't able to get any closer than they were now.

Moving into position immediately, Quatre fired several shots at the enemy to allow Trowa safe passage. Ducking down behind the crates again, he reloaded his gun and glanced behind him to check on Trowa's progress.

One minute, fifty.

Using the crates as cover, Quatre began edging towards the door. The corridor was suspiciously silent but he didn't dare give his position away by taking a visual check. Either they'd gone for backup or were rethinking their strategy.

Two minutes.

Trowa removed his lock picks, placed one hand on the door handle and tested it. Signalling that he'd been successful, he waited for Quatre to join him in the alcove, and together they entered through the door.

Hunting for something to barricade the door, Quatre grabbed the only chair in the room and jammed it under the door handle. "It won't hold them for long, but at least it's something," he told Trowa as he surveyed the rest of the room.

The chair he'd used had been in front of a computer console; it was covered in dust and looked as though it hadn't been used for quite some time. The rest of the room was in the same state. A storeroom of some sort, he figured, or a holding area for discarded or worthless items.

Unfortunately, the door they'd come through was the only way in or out of the room; it would only be a matter of time before their sanctuary became a trap. They'd backed themselves into a corner.

"Someone's blocking the radio transmission," Trowa's voice was grim as he interrupted Quatre's thoughts. "We're on our own."

Loud noises sounded from outside the room, and the chair shook. "Even if we could get through, they wouldn't get here in time," Quatre shook his head. "I'm sorry, I guess my brilliant plan was slightly less than brilliant."

"It was the only option we had left," Trowa reminded him, his eyes scanning the room. He frowned.

"What?" Quatre could feel his curiosity.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Trowa pointed to the short chunky podium to their right. It appeared to be made of stone; the red button in the centre was surrounded by two circles of square buttons, upon which appeared to be symbols. "Are those hieroglyphs, or," he looked more closely, "maybe something Arabic?"

"Not Arabic," Quatre walked over and peered at them. "I don't think they're Egyptian either. Japanese?" He twisted his head to examine the squares from another angle.

"Whatever it is, it's the only cover we've got," Trowa said, as the pounding on the door grew louder.

He was right. The computer console was too open, and the rest of the room was full of smaller items stacked on metal shelves…Quatre stopped. What on earth was that? "Trowa, look at this." He indicated the huge stone circle positioned against the back wall. "The symbols are similar to what's on the podium." Could these have something to do with the weapon they'd been sent to investigate?

"Down!" Trowa hissed, pulling Quatre behind the podium. The chair gave a sickening crack, and the door flew open. Whatever the symbols and the artefacts were, they'd have to worry about them later.

Several men stormed into the room, their guns trained on the podium. One moved to the front of the group, and Trowa gave a sharp intake of breath. "Nichol," he muttered.

"Mr Barton, Mr Winner. Give yourselves up. You're surrounded," Nichol smirked. "Come now, I thought you Gundam pilots had better manners. It's not polite to turn down our kind offer of hospitality."

"Hospitality?" Quatre snorted. He had no intention of being captured without a fight. The odds were against them, but that was nothing new.

Nichol had addressed them by name, rather than their designated code numbers; the identities of the Gundam pilots were classified information, even now, three years after the war. This whole mission had been a very well designed trap, and they had walked straight into it.

Sighing, Quatre laid a hand on Trowa's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Trowa nodded, and cocked his gun. Hopefully, Une wouldn't send the others in after them. OZ didn't need a complete set of Gundam pilots to play with or execute.

"Surrender and you have my word that you will come to no harm." There was a pause. "Providing you co-operate."

"You're going to have to do better than your word," Quatre called out, trying to buy some time while he frantically searched for a way out.

"Oh like what?" Nichol's voice was silky and polite.

"Lower your weapons," Quatre answered. "If…" He stopped, frowning as the earlier feeling of unease returned. It felt familiar, yet…Quatre shook his head, trying to clear it.

"If I tell my men to lower their weapons, what's to stop you firing on us?" Nichol countered.

"I'll give you my word," Quatre replied, throwing the man's earlier words back at him.

Nichol laughed. "Throw your guns out, and I'll consider it."

The two pilots exchanged glances. At least if they surrendered they'd still be alive; capture was always the better option than death. But…

"I don't trust him," Trowa shook his head. He pointed to the door, moved his finger in a circular motion and then looked up towards the ceiling. One minute, he signalled.

Chewing on his lower lip, Quatre worked out the distance between the podium and the door. Maybe…Trowa would need a distraction. Even if only one of them was free, they still had an advantage. Handing his gun to Trowa, Quatre leaned in to give him a kiss. "Good luck," he whispered. As their lips brushed, Quatre slipped the CD into Trowa's pocket.

Trowa shook his head again, and Quatre glared at him. Raising his hands, he began to rise to his feet. "I'm coming out, and I'm unarmed," Quatre called.

Slowly, he walked around to the front of their hiding place, counting down the time in his mind. If he could keep their enemies' attention focused on him, it would allow Trowa to make his move.

"Sensible move, Mr Winner," Nichol smirked, giving a slight nod of his head. The man to the left of him raised his weapon, his finger tightening on the trigger. "But unfortunately we need both of you, and…"

"Cat! No!" Trowa dived towards Quatre, tackled him, and they both hit the floor. Something whizzed past Quatre to hit Trowa in the shoulder.

Grabbing Trowa's gun, Quatre fired at the man who'd shot his partner, grasped Trowa around the chest, and dragged him back behind the podium. "Shit! Shit!" he exclaimed. "Bastard! I should have…"

"Drugged," Trowa's eyes began to glaze over and his grip on Quatre weakened. His eyes searching frantically for the entry wound, Quatre pulled out a tiny tranquilliser dart. "Cat…get…" Trowa's head lolled forward, and he went limp in Quatre's arms.

"I surrendered!" Quatre yelled at Nichol.

"I only promised that you wouldn't be harmed." The assuredness in Nichol's voice made Quatre's skin crawl. "And that I'd /consider/ it."

"Go to hell!" Quatre leaned back against the podium, Trowa's head still cradled in his lap. He was supposed to be a damn strategist, why couldn't he think of a way out? It was no small comfort that Trowa was unconscious rather than wounded. Nichol had planned this all along; if Quatre surrendered now, he knew he'd join Trowa in unconsciousness within minutes. Whoever was behind this, they'd thought through the scenario carefully. Their intention was to capture, not kill, but the thought of what they might do to him or Trowa while they were out and unaware wasn't something he wanted to contemplate.

There had to be a way out. There had to be.

******

"Daniel, get that gate open!" Jack shouted, taking out two more Jaffa with his zat.

"I'm working on it," Daniel hit the last co-ordinate on the DHD, ducking to avoid the blast of a staff weapon as the shot went over where his head had just been.

The Stargate roared to life, the wormhole gushing out like a waterfall out of control before settling back into the familiar blue. "Go, go go!" Jack yelled. "Carter, Teal'c! We're retreating now!" He grabbed the GDO from his belt and activated it. After getting this far, he didn't want to complete his day by going splat against the iris. After all the titanium barrier was there to stop the bad guys, not a team diving for the home plate after a mission had gone sour.

"On it, Sir." Carter turned, fired her weapon at something past Jack's shoulder and then ran for the gate. She dived through into the wormhole, Daniel on her heels.

"Teal'c!" yelled Jack. "Stop clowning around, we're moving out."

"I am ready to depart, O'Neill," Teal'c replied, firing his own staff weapon at the Jaffa heading towards him. The Jaffa hit the dirt, and Teal'c and Jack ran for the gate.

******

"Talk about…" Jack's voice trailed off he exited the wormhole and took in his surroundings. Instead of the Gateroom at the SGC, they were in what appeared to be a storeroom of some kind. And to boot, they appeared to have taken a wrong turning plus exchanged one set of pissed off bad guys for another.

"This isn't Kansas," Jack raised an eyebrow, and his weapon. Carter and Daniel already had their guns out, and Teal'c had his staff weapon poised and ready to fire. "And someone obviously forgot to tell the munchkins here that they're supposed to be friendly."

The man he'd addressed rolled his eyes and snorted. "I don't know who the hell you are, but you're surrounded." He waved a hand, and several of his companions focused their weapons on Jack and his team. "Throw down your weapons and surrender or I'll tell my men to open fire."

"Thanks for warm welcome, but no thanks," Jack replied.

"I told you to lower your weapons," the man repeated.

"And you need to work on the whole friendly greeting thing." Jack glanced around the room. What the hell had they interrupted? Although the men weren't dressed in any recognisable uniform, Jack could still spot military at one hundred paces. That, and the guy's subtle attempt at friendliness, made Jack reluctant to obey the man's command. If he wanted them to lower their weapons he'd have to come up with more of a convincing argument than because I said so.

"Jack," Daniel coughed, "maybe if we explain to him why we're here he might lower /his/ weapon." He took a step forward. "Hi, my name's Daniel. We come in peace and don't mean you any harm. You see we were…" The man glared at him, and Daniel adjusted his glasses, his voice trailing off.

"Daniel…" Jack warned.

"What?" Daniel shrugged. "Would you have preferred I opened fire instead?"

"Did I say that?" Scanning the room for the DHD, Jack caught a movement from behind it and placed a warning hand on Daniel's shoulder after the guns trained on them shifted back to the DHD.

"I wouldn't lower your weapons unless you have a death wish," a voice said dryly. "Nichol's already broken one promise today, it wouldn't take much for him to do it again."

"Winner, I've already told you…"

"Told me what, Nichol?" the voice continued, in a resigned tone. "That you won't shoot if I surrender? I'm nearly out of ammunition, my partner's unconscious; I'm not exactly the threat you seem to perceive I am." Winner grunted, as though it was a struggle to pull himself up, and rose to his feet, his hands above his head.

"For crying out loud," Jack exclaimed, "you're hunting a kid?" The boy couldn't have been more than seventeen, his blond hair hanging in sweaty bangs around his face, huge turquoise eyes pleading as he met Jack's gaze.

What the hell was this place? Jack gave Nichol a glare. A kid this age shouldn't be in this situation, he didn't care what the set up was. There was no way he'd just sit back while this guy played hunter; had Nichol been kind enough to give the kid a head start as well as the limited ammo?

"Please," Winner said. "You have to help us. Nichol shot my friend when I tried to surrender."

Nichol snorted. "Don't even think about it. I'm under orders to bring these two in; and don't try the innocent routine, Winner."

"Innocent routine?" The blond boy looked at Nichol with a puzzled expression. "I'm merely telling the gentleman here what happened. I attempted to surrender, and you shot at me."

"Carter," Jack directed. "Go check on his friend." He swapped his gun for a zat and fired it up. "Any one of your goons shoot her, and I'll shoot them. Comprende?" As he expected, Nichol held up one hand and gave his men a nod. Nothing like a healthy fear of the unknown to give the desired result.

"Let her go," Nichol said. "But don't try anything."

Winner shot him a glare; Jack noticed he was watching Carter carefully. "It's okay," she said, kneeling down behind the DHD, just out of sight. "What's your friend's name?"

"Trowa," Winner replied. "He was shot with a tranquilliser dart."

"He appears to be unconscious, Colonel, but his pulse and heartbeat seem okay." Carter reported after a few minutes. She frowned. "He doesn't look more than eighteen...sir."

"Where the hell do you guys get off hunting kids?" Jack took another step forward but Nichol didn't move.

"This doesn't concern you, and you're outnumbered. Whoever you are, you haven't a clue what you've walked into. I won't tell you again - lay down your weapons and surrender."

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, and this does concern me." Jack caught Carter's eye and gave her a nod. "Kid?" he asked Winner.

"Quatre, sir. My name is Quatre Raberba Winner."

Well-mannered kid too, Jack noted, reaching a decision. While he knew appearances could be deceiving, there was no way in hell he was prepared to leave these kids in the hands of this Nichol. They were moving out and taking them with them, to hell with the consequences.

"Jack," began Daniel, his brow creasing into a frown. "We don't…"

"Not now, Daniel," Jack rolled his eyes. "We're getting out of here."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. And fired his weapon above Nichol's head.

"Don't piss off the big guy with the staff weapon," Jack told Nichol. He fired his zat and several of Nichol's men collapsed, sparks of electricity surrounding them as they went down.

"You can't do this!" Nichol protested. He aimed his gun in the direction of the DHD where Carter was shifting the weight of the unconscious teenager over her shoulder. "Take one step further, lady, and I'll kill you."

There was the loud click of a gun cocking before Quatre spoke in a cold voice, his weapon aimed at Nichol. "Kill the lady, and I'll kill you."

"Kid…" Jack began, noticing the complete turnabout in Quatre's tone and body language. Had the boy been playing him for a fool?

"Colonel, do what you have to do to re-activate whatever that is," Quatre pointed to the Stargate, and his grip tightened on the gun. "We haven't got time to argue. Nichol's called for backup and they'll be here shortly." Quatre's expression softened for a moment. "You have to trust me, please."

Jack shoved his reservations aside. The kid's action was going to simplify their escape route, and Jack wasn't in the mood to take on more bad guys. So what that the kid had had some training; it still didn't change the fact that he and his friend needed their help. Once they got to the other side of the gate, they'd sort out the details. One kid against the SGC wasn't going to get far and that scenario was a damn sight better than this one.

"Daniel, dial us home," he ordered.

"Shoot him!" Nichol screamed at his men. They raised their weapons, but hesitated as Quatre moved closer to their leader and wrapped one hand around his throat, his gun still pointing at the man's temple.

"Daniel, move it!" Jack yelled. Nichol's men were hesitating; it was only a matter of time before one of them got trigger-happy, and all hell broke loose.

The first chevron moved into place, followed by the second.

"You idiots! They're getting away and taking the Gundam pilots with them!" Nichol kicked Quatre in the stomach and knocked the boy to the ground. They rolled around the floor struggling for control of the gun.

Third chevron. Fourth. Fifth.

/Damn it, kid, move out of the way!/ Jack thought, unable to get a clear shot.

Sixth chevron. Seventh.

Quatre gasped and lost his grip on the gun. One of Nichol's men took aim at Carter as she headed for the gate.

"Carter, get down," Jack yelled. She dived for the ground, protecting Trowa's body with her own. Moving to assist Carter, Teal'c shot the man who had attempted to take her out.

"Oh boy," Daniel took a step back from the DHD and stared at it.

The eighth chevron locked into place followed by the ninth, and the wormhole roared to life.

"What the hell?" Jack exclaimed. "Daniel?"

"It wasn't me!" Daniel insisted, taking cover behind the DHD to avoid being hit by gunfire.

Several more shots fired in the direction of the now open gate, and Jack ducked. As long as it provided a passage out he'd worry about it later. Activating the GDO, he sent the signal through the wormhole, hoping like hell that the powers that be knew what they were doing.

"Quatre, move!" Jack fired the zat at Nichol as Quatre rolled. The boy's eyes were glazed over; although he'd obeyed Jack's command, he seemed slightly out of it. "Daniel, help him, I'll cover you."

Supporting Trowa between them, Teal'c and Carter stepped through the wormhole. Jack took up a position by the event horizon and waited for Daniel and Quatre. Daniel helped Quatre to his feet; the boy shook his head and said something in a low tone before the two of them ran for the gate.

Just before they reached the wormhole, Daniel cried out and stumbled. "Damn," muttered Quatre. He grabbed the gun from Daniel's belt, turned and fired two shots in rapid succession.

Jack blinked at Quatre's quick recovery time before adding a couple of shots of his own to cover them. Catching Daniel as he collapsed, Jack removed the dart from the side of his friend's neck. The archaeologist's eyes were closing, his body going limp, as the drug from the tranq gun entered his blood stream.

The door to the room burst open, more soldiers filling the room. "04!" someone yelled. "He's getting away."

Quatre stumbled, his hand going to his shoulder as he went down. Pushing Daniel through the gate with a muttered apology, and hoping he wouldn't hit the ramp face-first, Jack went back for Quatre. The kid had helped them; there was no way he'd repay that by leaving him behind.

"Go, please…save…" Quatre struggled to his feet.

"Like hell!" Jack swung the protesting boy over his shoulder and dived into the event horizon.

Hammond was going to love this.

******

End of Chapter One

TBC