Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ War Story ❯ Chapter 11
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Vinyl-Koneko 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Drama / Angst / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.01.2003 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 377 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Drama / Angst / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.01.2003 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 377 | Status: Completed
+ Title: War Story - Part 11
+ Author: Vinyl Koneko (Emily), roguegirl@att.net
+ Rating: R
+ Couplings: 1xR, 1x2, 3x4
+ Warnings: AU, WWII era, minor het, yaoi, historical fiction, drama, no Wufei
+ Archive: Want it? Take it. Just give me credit, please.
+ Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. If I did, well, let's just say the 1xR and 2xH fans wouldn't be so happy...
+ Comments: // Written //, *emphasis*, 'thought', [ flashback ]. Heero POV. This story was written solely for the 1x2 AU Novella 25,000 Word Fic Challenge. Inspiration hit watching PBS on a lonely Saturday night and wouldn't let me rest until it was done. ^_^
+ Summary: The year is 1942. Heero Yuy, a pilot for the United States Air Force, gets send to command a squadron in London. There he meets a literature student by the name of Duo Maxwell, and he learns sometimes it takes another person to figure out everything about yourself.
*~**~*
Major Yuy was jolted out of the bed to the sound of a klaxon outside. He could feel the room trembling around him, and before he could even begin to think about what was going on, instincts kicked in as he hurriedly forced himself awake and into his flight uniform. Most of the other men met him in the corridor en route to the main hangar. All were halfway dressed and rubbing sleep out of their eyes. Heero was pleased yet surprised - whether it was the hour or the situation, they were acting gravely.
"The bulk of the attack is in the northern end of the city," Quatre began when he joined the group, managing to look chipper for three in the morning. "Citizens are reporting that they aren't trying to destroy anything and just want to shake people up. Colonel Marquise thinks it could be a diversion or they're scouting for something."
"What could they be looking for?"
Quatre shrugged. "It's just a theory."
Heero did a quick headcount when they reached the hangar, seeing that all the pilots were present and accounted for. "You're going to fly in pairs. Keep an eye on each other, and know where everyone in this squadron is. There should be no excuse for friendly fire. Don't try anything fancy - it's dark out and if you lose track of which way is up you could end up crashing into the ground. Shoot to destroy, and only use call signs over the radio." He hesitated, wondering if there was anything else that he felt needed to be said. "Good luck," Heero added as an afterthought before heading to his own fighter to start the preflight sequence.
"This is Two. If we take a course of thirty-seven degrees we'll be amongst them in approximately five minutes."
"One acknowledges Two. Squadron will set course for thirty-seven degrees." Ten replies of "copy" followed the order. Slowly but steadily the blips of the enemy bombers showed up on the targeting radar.
"Seven, here. There's only half a squadron of them - this should be a piece of cake. We're faster and don't have to coordinate with a gunner."
Heero eyed the radar suspiciously. 'Something isn't right here.' "Two, how many bombers were reported?"
He heard Quatre swear faintly through the radio. "Reports were contradictory, One."
Heero cursed Zechs and his heritage in every way he could think of. 'How could he not get confirmation on such key intelligence?' "Be careful, Eagle Squadron. Brace yourself for anything."
There was about three kilometers left between the British defense squadron and the Nazi planes when six more dots suddenly appeared on the radar. 'What the hell is going on here?'
"This is Two. I just radioed into the alert station and they're picking up six bombers with six fighters just joining, probably to ward us off long enough for the bombers to escape unscathed. What do you suggest One?"
"Flights One and Three will stay to take care of the fighters. Flight Two will try to get around and see where the bombers came from. Stay under their radar. Return to base when your fuel gets below half and no later. Understand?"
"Yes sir," called in Eagles Five through Eight and Heero watched them maneuver away from the rest of the squadron through the glass of his cockpit.
"We need to stay awake here," he addressed the remaining two flight groups. "One slipup and you can end up dead."
Seconds later the six Nazi fighters were on top of them. They clashed with the roar of screaming engines and the cacophony of the machine guns being fired. Heero caught sight of his target, pulling up on the throttle to put himself on the fighter's tail, and let loose a round. The enemy swerved from side-to-side, trying to evade the rounds, but Heero predicted this movement and soon the bullets cut half the port wing clean off, sending the fighter into a spiraling descent into the ground below.
Heero heard a scream and several harsh words through the radio. "Report," he demanded, unable to tell where the cries were coming from.
"This is Nine. We can't shake the son of a bitch on our tail." The metallic pattering of gunfire was heard over the radio, and an explosion was heard. "Shit, he got Fitzgerald! That son of a *bitch* just blew him up!"
Heero cut the radio. He didn't want to hear Lieutenant Farland's lamenting over the loss of his wingman. This was war. It was bound to happen to someone sooner or later. He could picture Fitzgerald's face, but he had never spoken to him directly. 'So then why does it hurt? I distanced myself - I hardly knew the man - but it still hurts.' All of a sudden his first commander's words came rushing back to him.
[ "A commander will always remember the first and every man that died under his command, whether they were on friendly terms with each other or not. To the commander, the death of a soldier is a personal disappointment that marks him as a failure even though death to a soldier seems inevitable. Try not to get killed out there, not today nor any other day." ]
Heero took a deep breath before switching the radio back on. "One, watch my back," called Quatre, and the major moved his fighter back for his wingman to take the lead. He followed as the other man climbed and dove after the Nazi plane, using his ammunition efficiently as he only fired when he was guaranteed a hit. He scored by breaking through the fuel tank, flying through the spectacular explosion that resulted. Heero checked the radar, noticing nine blips on the screen - seven from his squadron and two enemy fighters remaining.
"One, this is Three. My stick just jammed." Boyd's voice squeaked with panic.
"What do you mean it jammed, Three?"
"It just got stuck! I can't move it at all! I can turn and accelerate, but nothing fancy and definitely nothing evasive!"
Heero searched the sky, immediately finding Boyd's plane and O'Malley still following even though his wingman was flying an injured bird.
"Did you try putting grease on it?"
"I…" Boyd was stuttering nervously, and Heero swore inwardly when he saw one of the remaining Nazi fighters turn in Boyd's direction, seeming to sense that he was in a prone position. "I never stocked more. I didn't think it would be important." Heero heard him swallow. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"
Heero chose not to answer. If the Nazis didn't take him out first, he was going to be severely reprimanded in front of the rest of the squadron for his carelessness. "Eagle Squadron, get rid of the last two. Three and Four, head back to the base now!"
"I'm sorry I screwed up, One."
"Just get back to base, Three." Heero looked out the cockpit, and frowned when he saw Boyd turn around. "Three, what are you doing? Three, respond."
"One this is Four. I think he turned off his radio."
'What the hell does he think he's doing?' Heero watched as Boyd flew towards the approaching pair of Nazi fighters, allowing himself to be shot at as they flew closer and closer. The enemy planes seemed to realize what Boyd was trying to do, but not until it was too late. They tried to maneuver out of the way, but Boyd flew straight into them, colliding and exploding in midair, destroying the last of the fighters by sacrificing himself.
"Everyone return to base," Heero reached forward, switching off the radio to fly back in silence. He forced himself into soldier-mode, blocking out emotion of any sort. The odds had been in their favor and they lost two men - one in battle and the other to his own carelessness and stupidity. And that was assuming that Flight Two didn't run into any unexpected surprises while tracking the Nazi bombers.
Heero arrived in the main hangar last, and the other men were silent when he climbed out of the cockpit. He saw that all of them were there, Flight Two having returned long before Flights One and Three, it seemed. The atmosphere was somber. In no way could what had gone on be considered a victory. He made eye contact with Quatre who nodded at him knowingly, even though Heero himself didn't understand the message they just shared. He walked out of the hangar, unsure where he was going to go but knowing that he just needed some space for a little while. Quatre could take care of things while he was gone.
When he got half a mile outside the base he was passed by a double-decker bus that suddenly stopped and let off a passenger, who immediately assaulted him with a hug. Heero tensed to throw off his attacker but relaxed when he recognized the voice.
"Thank God, Heero, the radio is saying the Nazis killed two from your squadron."
"You…you took the bus." Heero was stunned. 'Hadn't Duo said that he never took public transportation?'
"I just wanted to make sure that you were okay." Heero could feel the other man sigh into his back. "You know, the raids didn't bother me that much before you came along. I didn't know anybody here, and they were never anywhere near me, so I felt safe. Now I know you and that you're fighting them and I get scared because I know something could happen and you could end up dead."
"You have nothing to worry about. The ones that die are the ones that are careless or aren't good enough. I'm good enough, and I don't make mistakes." Heero winced at the tone of his voice, but it was a voice he recognized - the one he bore after every battle.
He felt Duo release his hold as well as the other man's indigo eyes trained on his back. "You don't feel any remorse?"
Heero turned around to face the longhaired American. "What do you want me to say, Duo? That I will mourn their deaths because they were great pilots?"
"No! That you will mourn their deaths because they were great people! It doesn't matter how great of a pilot they were, Heero. Their heart was in the right place, that's what mattered! They volunteered for a cause they believed in and went through with it at the risk of their lives. You don't feel even the tiniest bit of sorrow?" They looked at each other, Heero's gaze daring him to find a shred of guilt over the lost lives. The more he suppressed it, the faster it died, and the easier it would be to return for the next battle.
Duo looked away quickly, and in his expression Heero identified a mixture of sadness, disgust, and another emotion that he couldn't put his finger on. "How can you be so cold when people around you - people who are more than just face but have names - are dying?"
"I guess that's the difference between me and you," Heero replied matter-of-factly, turning back around and heading off into the morning as if Duo wasn't even there, getting farther and farther away.
*~**~*
End Part 11
+ Author: Vinyl Koneko (Emily), roguegirl@att.net
+ Rating: R
+ Couplings: 1xR, 1x2, 3x4
+ Warnings: AU, WWII era, minor het, yaoi, historical fiction, drama, no Wufei
+ Archive: Want it? Take it. Just give me credit, please.
+ Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. If I did, well, let's just say the 1xR and 2xH fans wouldn't be so happy...
+ Comments: // Written //, *emphasis*, 'thought', [ flashback ]. Heero POV. This story was written solely for the 1x2 AU Novella 25,000 Word Fic Challenge. Inspiration hit watching PBS on a lonely Saturday night and wouldn't let me rest until it was done. ^_^
+ Summary: The year is 1942. Heero Yuy, a pilot for the United States Air Force, gets send to command a squadron in London. There he meets a literature student by the name of Duo Maxwell, and he learns sometimes it takes another person to figure out everything about yourself.
*~**~*
Major Yuy was jolted out of the bed to the sound of a klaxon outside. He could feel the room trembling around him, and before he could even begin to think about what was going on, instincts kicked in as he hurriedly forced himself awake and into his flight uniform. Most of the other men met him in the corridor en route to the main hangar. All were halfway dressed and rubbing sleep out of their eyes. Heero was pleased yet surprised - whether it was the hour or the situation, they were acting gravely.
"The bulk of the attack is in the northern end of the city," Quatre began when he joined the group, managing to look chipper for three in the morning. "Citizens are reporting that they aren't trying to destroy anything and just want to shake people up. Colonel Marquise thinks it could be a diversion or they're scouting for something."
"What could they be looking for?"
Quatre shrugged. "It's just a theory."
Heero did a quick headcount when they reached the hangar, seeing that all the pilots were present and accounted for. "You're going to fly in pairs. Keep an eye on each other, and know where everyone in this squadron is. There should be no excuse for friendly fire. Don't try anything fancy - it's dark out and if you lose track of which way is up you could end up crashing into the ground. Shoot to destroy, and only use call signs over the radio." He hesitated, wondering if there was anything else that he felt needed to be said. "Good luck," Heero added as an afterthought before heading to his own fighter to start the preflight sequence.
"This is Two. If we take a course of thirty-seven degrees we'll be amongst them in approximately five minutes."
"One acknowledges Two. Squadron will set course for thirty-seven degrees." Ten replies of "copy" followed the order. Slowly but steadily the blips of the enemy bombers showed up on the targeting radar.
"Seven, here. There's only half a squadron of them - this should be a piece of cake. We're faster and don't have to coordinate with a gunner."
Heero eyed the radar suspiciously. 'Something isn't right here.' "Two, how many bombers were reported?"
He heard Quatre swear faintly through the radio. "Reports were contradictory, One."
Heero cursed Zechs and his heritage in every way he could think of. 'How could he not get confirmation on such key intelligence?' "Be careful, Eagle Squadron. Brace yourself for anything."
There was about three kilometers left between the British defense squadron and the Nazi planes when six more dots suddenly appeared on the radar. 'What the hell is going on here?'
"This is Two. I just radioed into the alert station and they're picking up six bombers with six fighters just joining, probably to ward us off long enough for the bombers to escape unscathed. What do you suggest One?"
"Flights One and Three will stay to take care of the fighters. Flight Two will try to get around and see where the bombers came from. Stay under their radar. Return to base when your fuel gets below half and no later. Understand?"
"Yes sir," called in Eagles Five through Eight and Heero watched them maneuver away from the rest of the squadron through the glass of his cockpit.
"We need to stay awake here," he addressed the remaining two flight groups. "One slipup and you can end up dead."
Seconds later the six Nazi fighters were on top of them. They clashed with the roar of screaming engines and the cacophony of the machine guns being fired. Heero caught sight of his target, pulling up on the throttle to put himself on the fighter's tail, and let loose a round. The enemy swerved from side-to-side, trying to evade the rounds, but Heero predicted this movement and soon the bullets cut half the port wing clean off, sending the fighter into a spiraling descent into the ground below.
Heero heard a scream and several harsh words through the radio. "Report," he demanded, unable to tell where the cries were coming from.
"This is Nine. We can't shake the son of a bitch on our tail." The metallic pattering of gunfire was heard over the radio, and an explosion was heard. "Shit, he got Fitzgerald! That son of a *bitch* just blew him up!"
Heero cut the radio. He didn't want to hear Lieutenant Farland's lamenting over the loss of his wingman. This was war. It was bound to happen to someone sooner or later. He could picture Fitzgerald's face, but he had never spoken to him directly. 'So then why does it hurt? I distanced myself - I hardly knew the man - but it still hurts.' All of a sudden his first commander's words came rushing back to him.
[ "A commander will always remember the first and every man that died under his command, whether they were on friendly terms with each other or not. To the commander, the death of a soldier is a personal disappointment that marks him as a failure even though death to a soldier seems inevitable. Try not to get killed out there, not today nor any other day." ]
Heero took a deep breath before switching the radio back on. "One, watch my back," called Quatre, and the major moved his fighter back for his wingman to take the lead. He followed as the other man climbed and dove after the Nazi plane, using his ammunition efficiently as he only fired when he was guaranteed a hit. He scored by breaking through the fuel tank, flying through the spectacular explosion that resulted. Heero checked the radar, noticing nine blips on the screen - seven from his squadron and two enemy fighters remaining.
"One, this is Three. My stick just jammed." Boyd's voice squeaked with panic.
"What do you mean it jammed, Three?"
"It just got stuck! I can't move it at all! I can turn and accelerate, but nothing fancy and definitely nothing evasive!"
Heero searched the sky, immediately finding Boyd's plane and O'Malley still following even though his wingman was flying an injured bird.
"Did you try putting grease on it?"
"I…" Boyd was stuttering nervously, and Heero swore inwardly when he saw one of the remaining Nazi fighters turn in Boyd's direction, seeming to sense that he was in a prone position. "I never stocked more. I didn't think it would be important." Heero heard him swallow. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"
Heero chose not to answer. If the Nazis didn't take him out first, he was going to be severely reprimanded in front of the rest of the squadron for his carelessness. "Eagle Squadron, get rid of the last two. Three and Four, head back to the base now!"
"I'm sorry I screwed up, One."
"Just get back to base, Three." Heero looked out the cockpit, and frowned when he saw Boyd turn around. "Three, what are you doing? Three, respond."
"One this is Four. I think he turned off his radio."
'What the hell does he think he's doing?' Heero watched as Boyd flew towards the approaching pair of Nazi fighters, allowing himself to be shot at as they flew closer and closer. The enemy planes seemed to realize what Boyd was trying to do, but not until it was too late. They tried to maneuver out of the way, but Boyd flew straight into them, colliding and exploding in midair, destroying the last of the fighters by sacrificing himself.
"Everyone return to base," Heero reached forward, switching off the radio to fly back in silence. He forced himself into soldier-mode, blocking out emotion of any sort. The odds had been in their favor and they lost two men - one in battle and the other to his own carelessness and stupidity. And that was assuming that Flight Two didn't run into any unexpected surprises while tracking the Nazi bombers.
Heero arrived in the main hangar last, and the other men were silent when he climbed out of the cockpit. He saw that all of them were there, Flight Two having returned long before Flights One and Three, it seemed. The atmosphere was somber. In no way could what had gone on be considered a victory. He made eye contact with Quatre who nodded at him knowingly, even though Heero himself didn't understand the message they just shared. He walked out of the hangar, unsure where he was going to go but knowing that he just needed some space for a little while. Quatre could take care of things while he was gone.
When he got half a mile outside the base he was passed by a double-decker bus that suddenly stopped and let off a passenger, who immediately assaulted him with a hug. Heero tensed to throw off his attacker but relaxed when he recognized the voice.
"Thank God, Heero, the radio is saying the Nazis killed two from your squadron."
"You…you took the bus." Heero was stunned. 'Hadn't Duo said that he never took public transportation?'
"I just wanted to make sure that you were okay." Heero could feel the other man sigh into his back. "You know, the raids didn't bother me that much before you came along. I didn't know anybody here, and they were never anywhere near me, so I felt safe. Now I know you and that you're fighting them and I get scared because I know something could happen and you could end up dead."
"You have nothing to worry about. The ones that die are the ones that are careless or aren't good enough. I'm good enough, and I don't make mistakes." Heero winced at the tone of his voice, but it was a voice he recognized - the one he bore after every battle.
He felt Duo release his hold as well as the other man's indigo eyes trained on his back. "You don't feel any remorse?"
Heero turned around to face the longhaired American. "What do you want me to say, Duo? That I will mourn their deaths because they were great pilots?"
"No! That you will mourn their deaths because they were great people! It doesn't matter how great of a pilot they were, Heero. Their heart was in the right place, that's what mattered! They volunteered for a cause they believed in and went through with it at the risk of their lives. You don't feel even the tiniest bit of sorrow?" They looked at each other, Heero's gaze daring him to find a shred of guilt over the lost lives. The more he suppressed it, the faster it died, and the easier it would be to return for the next battle.
Duo looked away quickly, and in his expression Heero identified a mixture of sadness, disgust, and another emotion that he couldn't put his finger on. "How can you be so cold when people around you - people who are more than just face but have names - are dying?"
"I guess that's the difference between me and you," Heero replied matter-of-factly, turning back around and heading off into the morning as if Duo wasn't even there, getting farther and farther away.
*~**~*
End Part 11