Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency, Bandai
Studios, and TV Asahi. Sainan no Kekka and all
original characters and plot copyright 2000 by
Quicksilver and Gerald Tarrant. Please ask permission
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SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING
SAINAN NO KEKKA
ACT VIII, PART II
****************************************
Scene V: The Valkyries' Dance
"But I just can't be
The girl that you want to see
I'm who I am
What else do you expect from me?"
--Matt Murphy, Tale of a Daughter
****************************************
They finally managed to land the plane after a
stopover in Lyon due to a terrorist attack somewhere.
Milan, she thought they had said; she hadn't really
been awake enough to pay attention. Dorothy had
ranted and raved at how impractical it was to stop the
flight, but the stewardess had gently informed her
that all inbound traffic for Geneva had been
suspended. It would be three hours before flights
resumed, and would she please go wait in the visitors
lounge? Maybe a cup of tea would help her pass the
time?
The look she gave as an answer had sent the
stewardess scuttling for safety.
After two coach flights in a row, Dorothy's infamous
temper was just below the boiling point. The seats
had been cramped, and on the trans-Atlantic flight, a
crying baby had been right behind her. No matter what
the child's mother did, it refused to be calm, and
Dorothy had been about ready to offer to euthanize the
thing to put it out of its misery. Her plans on
catching up on her sleep just weren't feasible because
of the brat. She really wished that they had bumped
someone in First Class- really. Either that or she
just should have chartered her own plane.
The unexpected three-hour layover did little for her
mood. She considered renting a car and driving the
rest of the way, but she realized that in the long
run, it would still be quicker just to wait it out.
Still, as she reboarded the plane to continue her
journey, she was ready to strangle the next person who
irritated her.
By the time she arrived in Geneva, all she wanted was
a decent meal (airline food would not pass her lips to
save her life), a hot shower, and to sleep at least
once around the clock- not necessarily in that order.
She wasn't a fan of travel, and whenever she arrived
at her destination, she was always cranky and tired.
Dorothy hired a cab to take her to one of the many
townhouses that the Catalonia family owned across the
world. It was actually part of her estate, and while
not the largest or most elaborate, it was a favorite
of hers. Her father had spent a lot of time there,
due to its location. Geneva was the world's
political hotbed- it had been for centuries.
Sometimes she thought she could almost feel his
presence there, and it was comforting to a girl who
had grown up almost as an orphan. The small house was
elegant and contained a salle, which was all she
needed.
That and a wonderful water heater.
As she pressed her hand against the palm lock to let
herself in, she started to fantasize about the shower
she'd be taking shortly. Reaching up, she dragged the
hair tie out of the remnants of her ponytail, and
shook her head, finger-combing some of the worst
knots. Her nails caught easily, and she winced,
dreading the inevitable battle she would face with a
comb. She was vain about her hair, but the long
blonde locks carried a price.
Most people would have been ravenous or exhausted and
seen to those needs first, but Dorothy felt grubby.
She was dirty, and she simply couldn�t stand being
that way. Cleaning up would obviously take priority.
She wouldn�t be able to do anything as long as she
could feel the dirt against her skin.
The lock beeped as it recognized her fingerprints,
and she sighed with relief as she swung the
door open. �Swenson!� she called. �I�m here- do me a
favor and have one of the maids get me a bathrobe
while I duck into the shower, okay? And burn the
outfit I�m wearing.�
�Yes, my Lady!� a voice echoed back, not questioning
the unusual request.
�Well, at least that�s one good decision,� she head
someone else say, and she spun around with a feeling
of dread pooling in her stomach. She would have
recognized that voice anywhere.
�Mother.�
Duchess Emily Khushrenada Noventa looked her daughter
over with a raking glance, one that stripped Dorothy
to the bone. Her eyes noted the worn uniform, messy
hair, and dirty face, and narrowed. �I must say that
I don�t approve of your wardrobe. Really, Dorothy.
What were you doing with the Preventers?�
The contrast between mother and child was dramatic.
Emily was her usual perfectly groomed self, with her
hair swept back into an elegantly braided crown
accented by pins decorated with precious jewels.
While she wasn�t entitled to a wear a tiara, the
complex hairdo gave her the appearance of royalty
without overstepping her social bounds. Her long
flowing dress was a deep red, one that accentuated her
pale gold hair. She looked every inch a lady, and
Dorothy was self-consciously aware that her clothes
had seen better days.
She ground her teeth. �That�s really none of your
business. If you�ll excuse me, I need to get a
shower.�
Uncharacteristically, Emily stepped aside, gesturing.
�I couldn�t agree more. You smell a little rank
from the downwind side. I�ll have Swenson tell the
chef to get dinner started, and we can have a
discussion while we eat.�
Dorothy barely refrained from wincing. She hated
�discussions� with her mother- they always ended up at
each other�s throats. �What are you doing here?� she
asked.
�Until you turn twenty-one, I am your guardian. I
have the right to go to whichever of the Catalonia
estates I want to. And right now, Geneva is the
place to be. Things are� interesting. But we�ll
talk about that after you�ve cleaned up. I�ll even
be nice and have dinner delivered to your sitting
room- that way you don�t have to dress for it� though
even your nightgown would be a vast improvement to
what you are wearing right now.� She sniffed
derisively and started for the stairs.
�Mother�� Dorothy called to Emily�s retreating back.
Emily paused on the stares, turning around gracefully
in a carefully studied movement of dignity. It was a
pose designed to draw attention, but Dorothy had seen
it before. �Yes?�
�Is he here?�
She didn�t need to elaborate further. Emily�s
current husband, who was her seventh, was not one of
Dorothy�s favorite people. Duke Nicolas Noventa had
always struck her as weak and wishy-washy, and she
detested spending time in his company. He was a
dandy, and while he was the perfect consort for
someone as ambitious as her mother (rich, nobly born,
handsome and connected), he had little to recommend
him as a person. She considered him an airhead; he
considered her an inconvenience. The mutual
antipathy made Emily�s life trying at times, for the
fights between the two people who were supposedly
closest to her could erupt in a moment's notice, and
were notorious for being ugly.
�Yes. And I will thank you to be courteous. He is
your stepfather.�
�One of many,� Dorothy muttered, heading for her
suite.
The hot water from her shower did much to ease the
tension in her muscles, and gave her time to regroup.
She hadn�t been expecting her mother�s presence- she
had been planning on merely getting some clean
clothes, a decent night�s sleep, and a hot meal before
heading off to see Relena, for Relena was undoubtedly
involved in the political fray. Now, though, the
equation had been changed, and she was sure it wasn�t
a good thing.
She stayed under the hot spray for a good forty-five
minutes, until her skin started to wrinkle. Her hair
had been washed three times, and she�d scrubbed her
skin until it turned red. She wanted A007 off her
body permanently.
Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a plush towel
around her slender body and headed to her dressing
room. To her relief, a satin set of pajamas had been
set out with a matching silk kimono to go on top. It
slid onto her exhausted body easily, and she
luxuriated in the sensual feel of the smooth fabric on
her skin. For a moment she contemplated skipping
supper and headed straight to bed, but avoiding the
upcoming confrontation would only serve to annoy
Emily. And lord knew that this was going to be
difficult enough without Emily feeling like she had
been slighted.
Dorothy pulled the bell rope to summon a maid.
Normally she did her hair herself, but today the
effort of managing it was simply too much for her in
her current state. Besides, she had servants to pick
up her slack, and they were well-paid to do so. To
her relief, it was Rosalie who answered. Rosalie was
one of her favorites- a forty-something woman who had
served as her nursemaid, confidant, keeper, and now
lady�s maid. She was confident and had a tart
tongue, but could keep anything secret even under the
pain of torture- and her loyalty was to the
Catalonias, not Emily. Rosalie had always disliked
Dorothy�s mother, considering her an interloper, a
gold digger who had traded on Leon Catalonia's love
for her shamelessly.
�Could you do my hair, please?� Dorothy asked.
The woman nodded, picking up a silver comb from the
dressing table. She tsked reprovingly when she saw
the state of Dorothy�s hair. �What have you been
doing to your poor hair?� she asked as she liberally
doused it with a heavy-duty detangler.
�The question is what I haven�t been doing,� Dorothy
admitted. �I haven�t had time to deal with it
properly lately. I�ve sort of been just knotting it
back.�
�If I�ve told you once, I�ve told you a thousand
times- if you�re going to have knee-length hair, you
have to take care of it. Otherwise cut it off.�
Dorothy pouted playfully. �I don�t wanna!� she
declared, putting her hands on her hips the way she
had when she had been five years old.
Rosalie laughed and started to work on the ends.
�In all honest, you need a trim. The split ends are
horrid. If you want, I can arrange to have Georgio
come over with his scissors later this week.�
�Could you please?�
�In a couple days, then.� She was silent for a
minute as she pulled through a particularly nasty
snarl. �Have you been keeping up to date with your
family?�
�It�s been hard. I�ve been a colony away,� Dorothy
admitted. �From your tone I�m guessing my
much-respected mother is up to something?�
�You could say that. She�s fallen in with Fatima
bint Narish- that women�s even been over here a few
times, if you can believe it,� she said, her tone
scathing. �Her Grace has officially declared her
support for the Winner trial, and has even gone so far
as to suggest that the Preventers be disbanded and
replaced with a more� reliable military force with a
non-military commander as the Commander-and-Chief.�
Dorothy could read between the lines better then
most. �A military under the control of the World
Nation?�
�Yes. Needless to say, she wasn�t happy when she
heard that you were with Colonel Peacecraft. Luckily
the newsies didn�t find out, or else they would have
been crawling all over the house. You and your
mother�s political philosophies don�t mix that well.�
�Teach me to suck eggs, why don�t you?� Dorothy
muttered. Rosalie gave her hair a warning tug.
�Sorry, Rosalie. It�s just that I�m tired, cranky,
and in no mood to put up with my mother.�
�When are you EVER in the mood to deal with her?�
Rosalie asked. �Though I can�t say I blame you. That
woman could try the patience of a saint.�
It took another fifteen minutes to finally run a comb
through smoothly, and then they decided to braid it
back. When it was done, Dorothy couldn�t help but
reflect on Duo Maxwell. A small part of her gloated
that her braid was longer then his had been.
�I�d better go,� Dorothy said reluctantly.
�I�ll turn down the bed for you,� Rosalie said.
�Chin up, child. You�re ten times the woman your
mother is.�
Dorothy smiled in thanks for the compliment and
headed to her sitting room.
Emily was sitting on a chair, her skirts carefully
arranged around her. She set down the delicate china
cup she had been sipping from and studied her
daughter. �Much better,� she approved after a glance.
"That horrid uniform did nothing for you." She
gestured at the table, white was set with two platters
covered with silver lids. �I had Swenson get us
something refreshing for mind and body- you need it.
Have you been eating?�
�I eat when I remember to,� Dorothy replied, taking
the chair across from her mother. All she really
wanted was to collapse into her bed, but Emily wasn�t
about to let her do that. So she might as well make
the best of it and eat.
�You�re looking thin,� Emily said, daintily wrapping
a bit of pasta around her fork.
�I have a high metabolism,� Dorothy answered,
deciding to start on the soup. She was starving, but
she doubted her appetite would remain. Her mother
had a way of making her forget about things like that.
Emily nodded, and they were silent as they ate for a
while. Finally Emily broke it. �I�ve been patient
long enough. Would you please explain to me why you
were the Preventers?�
�Because a friend asked me.�
�Milliard Peacecraft?� her mother asked. �Still
chasing after him like a bitch in heat?�
Dorothy clenched her fist. �You�re one to talk.
I�m not the one with five ex-husbands.�
�Six,� her mother corrected calmly. �Tea?� She
held out a teapot.
Dorothy accepted by offering her cup, wondering if
she could get away with slipping a little arsenic into
her mother�s. Surely no one could blame her for
committing matricide� �Five. Papa died, you didn�t
divorce him.�
The Duchess nodded and continued to eat her pasta.
After swallowing, she said, �I must compliment you on
your taste. He�s well connected, rich, handsome, and
royalty to boot. A little bit strong-willed for my
liking, but he�ll make a wonderful ally on the
political field. I was beginning to despair of you,
you know.�
�Nothing will come of it. We�re merely friends,�
Dorothy replied as she added a little pepper to her
soup. Emily liked bland foods, but Dorothy had
acquired the taste for spicy foods- the hotter the
better. Much like their respective taste in men.
She wondered if Milliard even considered them friends
anymore. She would like to be his friend... maybe.
She had so few of them.
Emily sighed. "Then what were you doing?"
"Classified."
"You can't even tell your own mother?"
"Not when she's one of Fatima's allies. Really,
mother," she said in an uncanny mimicry of her
mother's earlier irritation, "I thought you had
better sense then that. Fatima is one of Une's worst
enemies. We need the Preventers now to keep things as
stable as possible."
"When they're part of the problem? Right now the
general public views them as scapegoats, and
supporting them is political suicide." She watched
her daughter dip a bit of bread in the soup, frowning.
"That's disgusting," she said.
"Tastes better this way," Dorothy retorted as she
swallowed, ripping off a larger piece and dunking it
with deliberate slowness. "Just because it may not
be popular doesn't mean it's not right."
"What do I care about right? It's not good
politics..."
Dorothy dropped her food. "What do you believe,
then? Personally?"
Emily shrugged. �What does what I believe in
matter? I�m siding with the winner.�
The two women glared at each other, neither willing
to back down. Emily�s lack of principles disgusted
Dorothy, and Emily couldn�t understand her daughter�s
ideals.
"What about what's right? What about doing what you
believe in? What about standing for yourself. You
have so little principles that you let that bint
Narish chit dictate what you think?"
Emily's gray-green eyes flashed dangerously. "I
don't let anyone "dictate" what I think... I think for
myself. Right now Fatima's star is ascendant, or
else I would have nothing to do with her. When she
falls, I will be there, and I'll scoop up the remains.
I've been waiting for an opportunity like this for
years- now that the Federation and OZ are gone, the
field is wide open for new players."
Dorothy felt rage wash through her. "So it's a
game, is it? What about the people who are dying?"
Emily sensed her daughter anger, but didn't
comprehend how deeply it ran. "I have nothing to do
with that. People die all the time, whether through
war, or famine, or old age. I'm not holding a gun to
their heads; I'm merely taking advantage of the
situation."
Dorothy had to swallow the bile that rose in her
throat. "Don't you care?"
Emily's knife cut through the tender veal on her
plate like it was made of butter. She chewed on a
small piece delicately before washing it down with a
sip of wine. "Of course I'd prefer them not to die-
I'm not completely heartless, you know. But since
they do die, I am merely being an astute politician.
Politics is a fascinating game, one you must use every
advantage you can find to get ahead. You should know
that, dear. It's why I keep telling you to get
married- Duchess Dermail will be much more influential
then Lady Dorothy Alicia Veronique Catalonia."
"Whatever happened to marrying well? Working behind
the scenes? I thought that was your strategy?"
Emily snorted almost rudely. "Nicolas isn't the
brightest bulb, but he's exactly what I need right
now. A docile husband with a title. The fact that
he's handsome doesn't hurt, but I could cope with him
even if he was ugly. This time it's going to be me
in power- I'm not hiding behind anyone anymore. I've
had enough of that. Besides, I'm not getting any
younger. You're old enough to make me a
grandmother."
Since Emily had pretty much just confessed to
Dorothy's own opinion of her, Dorothy couldn't find an
argument. Still, having such a conniving,
unscrupulous mother infuriated her. "You're a bitch,
you know that?"
Emily shrugged. "That makes you a bitch's daughter,
and everyone says children learn what they are from
their parents."
"I hate you!" Dorothy hissed, unable to think of
anything more damaging then that.
"I don't like you much, either. Just because you're
my daughter doesn't mean liking goes along with it. I
honestly can't understand where you got some of your
ideas.... I honestly shouldn't have let your
grandfather have you for so long. He warped you."
"If it means I'm not like you, then I'm glad," she
retorted, setting her plate aside.
Emily picked up her teacup again and calmly took a
drink. "You're too much like your aunt. Every time I
see you, you look more and more like Alicia. That
woman got herself killed for those pointless ideals
that your grandfather brainwashed you to accept. Not
only content to ruin his own daughter, he had to warp
mine as well."
It all came together for Dorothy at that moment.
For the second time in less then a week, she had been
compared to a woman she had never met, but one who had
had a profound influence on her life... one whom she
resembled more than she had realized.
/The dead live on through the children of the
living.../
An epiphany... a realization of something she'd been
denying for so long that she hadn't even been aware
that it existed. "I am not your daughter," she
stated.. "You may have given birth to me, but that
means nothing. You did not raise me; you instilled
none of your beliefs into me. I am a Catalonia,
something you can never understand. Catalonias
understand honor and duty... and know that power must
be used for the betterment of all, rather then the
service of self." She rose to her feet, leaving Emily
searching for words as she headed for her bedroom.
Rosalie was waiting for her. "My Lady, are you all
right?" she asked with concern as she help Dorothy
slide out of her kimono and into the bed.
All of the sudden the fatigue of days caught up with
her, and she realized she was on her last legs.
Still, even that knowledge couldn't stop her from
smiling. "I'm all right... in fact, I couldn't be
better." Then her eyes shut, and she plunged into
the most restful sleep she had had since Operation
Meteor began.
****************************************
Scene VI: Acceleration Towards Destiny
"All I wanted was a piece of the night;
I never got an equal share."
--Jim Steinman, Original Sin
****************************************
It was down seven floors through two locked doors and
more security alarms that had been set to trigger if
someone with the wrong genetic structure even
attempted to pass through. When he had been younger,
Milliard had wondered about the Khushrenadas' seeming
obsession with security, but he was glad of it now. No
matter what happened to the mansion, even if it was a
nuclear holocaust, whatever was stored down in the
lower basement levels would survive.
Whether the owner survived to claim those items was
another matter.
He passed the last barrier and placed his hand on the
auto-lock mechanism panel beside the heavy lead door.
It beeped gently, twice, and there was a click as a
lock sprang open. Taking a deep breath, Milliard
removed his hand from the identification panel and
gave the door a gentle push.
The space behind the door was dark and as the door
slammed shut with a resounding bang, he couldn't help
feeling a little tingle of fear rush down his spine.
The pitch black lasted only for a second. With the
sound of the door slamming, there was a humming sound
and the automatic lights flickered on with a harsh
snap.
He was standing in what could only be described as an
underground hangar. The walls and floor of the
cavernous space were of cement, and steel beams
crisscrossed the high ceiling in a dizzying pattern
with various hooks and pulleys attached at regular
intervals. Walkways lined all four walls and the
hangar doors were set into the middle of the ceiling.
Not as large as a regular military hangar, certainly,
but it was large enough to comfortably house at least
ten mobile suits, or even four or five Gundams.
But he wasn't concerned with any of that now. He
hadn't been down here since after the war had ended.
He had hoped he wouldn't have to.
It had been almost a week since his fever had broke
and he had awoken in his childhood room with the old
Greek servant by his side. Dimitrios had been with the
Khushrenadas for years, Treize had told him, long
before Treize's parents were married and Treize had
been born. As the majordomo of the estate he was the
one to turn to if anything went wrong, and both Treize
and Milliard had grown to trust the old man immensely
with any number of important tasks and even secrets.
When he'd gotten up this morning, knowing what he had
to do, he had considered telling Dimitrios. The old
servant had no access to the underground hangar, but
perhaps it would be good to let someone else in on
what was about to happen.
/Dimitrios?/
/Yes, Master Zechs?/
/Where is my Epyon?/
The old servant hadn't known, of course, but Milliard
hadn't exactly been in the best state of mind. Every
day, when Dimitrios had come into bring him meals or
change his bandages or to give him his medicine, he
would ask that question.
/Dimitrios? Where is my Epyon?/
And Dimitrios would reply, as if talking to a small
child, /I don't know, Master Zechs./
Like most everyone else, Dimitrios believed that
Epyon had been destroyed in the last battle of the
war, and there was no reason to believe otherwise.
Milliard had kept his own survival a secret from the
entire world until he'd felt he was ready to show
himself, after all. For all anyone knew, his Gundam
could have been destroyed along with him.
Three months before he returned to Cinq and Relena,
when he had finally decided to go back and see what
had become of the mansion that he had inherited from
Treize, it had been close to falling into total
disrepair. Treize had dismissed all the servants in a
fit of�something a few months before the end of the
war and had locked up the house and moved out
completely. When Milliard had unlocked the gate to
enter the grounds, he'd found that the rose bushes
that Treize had so loved had grown almost up to the
gate, effectively blocking any entry. While it was
comforting in the fact that it would deter any
would-be-thieves, it was also a damned inconvenience
for him. He'd resorted to using his sword to whack off
the largest chunks of rosebush so he could squeeze
past the gate, leaving them lying like discarded
rubble on the entry path.
The grounds inside the walls weren't much better, and
neither was the inside of the mansion itself. The
front door's hinges had rusted and as he entered, he
could have sworn he heard the pattering feet of rats
or mice scurrying off back into their holes, suddenly
evicted from the domain that had been theirs for the
past year. All the furniture and the floors were
covered with dust and rat droppings, and there were
holes in the sofas and bedspreads and curtains where
various vermin had unraveled loose strings and carried
them off to line their nests.
In the dining room, on the long, mahogany table,
there was a single cup of coffee. Someone had drunk
half of it and then left it there, and there was green
and white mold growing on what was left of the brown
liquid inside.
Somehow though, looking at that coffee cup, Milliard
had felt that Treize was right there with him. Perhaps
that coffee had been Treize's last meal here.
He'd spent the next month fixing up the mansion. He
wasn't particularly fond of home improvement or
gardening, but he knew enough about it to be decent,
and most of it simply involved tearing down and wiping
off, or, in the case of the wild garden, snipping and
whacking. At night, he'd build up the fire until it
crackled high and bright in the fireplace, and then
he'd sit in one of the overstuffed armchairs with a
stack of selected books he had taken from Treize's
overstuffed library, and read the night away, stopping
only when he was so tired that he couldn't hold his
eyes open anymore.
It wasn't exactly an ideal life, but he was happy
there, and it kept his mind off other things.
Such as the war.
Such as the kingdom that he'd betrayed and the sister
whom he'd left.
Such as Lucrezia Noin.
Such as the man who had started and ended everything.
As far was he was concerned, there was only one man.
Strange�they'd only been a few years apart in age,
but Treize had always been like the father he had
never had.
But the most important thing he had done during that
month was hidden in the massive underground hangar
that lay under the Khushrenada mansion. The hangar had
been there, Treize had said, as long as he could
remember, and no one had ever used it. He knew that
Treize had stored Tallgeese there for a few weeks
during the war, and that was what gave him the idea.
In this age of peace, Epyon was useless�but
destroying it would be to rip out a piece of him that
wasn't quite dead. So he did the next best thing.
He hid it.
He hadn't told anyone, not even Dimitrios, whom he'd
decided to seek out during the last week of his stay
there. The old man had taken the news of his
mysterious survival calmly, though Milliard could see
that he was a bit bewildered, and perhaps even a
little convinced that he was seeing a ghost.
/Will you look after the house for me,/ he'd asked,
/while I'm gone?/
Dimitrios had loved that house, and Milliard of all
people could only imagine how the old servant had felt
when Treize had dismissed him. There were a few other
servants that Milliard would have liked to call back,
but he had not the time, and he'd told Dimitrios to
look them up.
He didn't say a word about Epyon.
So it was no small wonder that the old man thought
that perhaps the incident on A007 had injured Milliard
more than it appeared, for him to be asking so
insistently after something that didn't exist anymore,
but as the fever came and went, he knew that it was
here. The memory was not, however. Everything that had
happened before A007, everything that had happened
before she had died was fuzzy and indistinct, growing
fainter and fainter the farther he tried to go back.
The only thing he could see was her face and the
burning rubble of melted and twisted metal.
He'd awakened on the fourth day feeling well enough
to get out of bed, and as he had paused beside the
door, his hand on the doorframe, he had remembered.
And because his mind was clear now, he knew what he
had to do.
Milliard had come close to telling Dimitrios at
breakfast, and then during the interval afterwards
when his wound was being dressed with the day's fresh
bandage. But somehow he couldn't. He'd look at the
kindly, wrinkled face, open his mouth, and then feel
the ghosts of Treize and Noin looking down on him,
staring at him accusingly.
This was something he had to do alone.
He took a deep breath and crossed to the right side
of the hangar, where a number of various sliding metal
doors, closed and locked, were built into the wall.
There was another control panel in between the third
and fourth doors, but the standby light on this was
unlit. Stopping in front of it, he stared at it,
burning the image of it into his eyes until he could
memorize every crack of the metal scanning board,
every curved and straight line that ran up into the
mechanical framework underneath the smooth, deceptive
covering of the device. Raised his hand slowly and
placed it firmly on the panel.
The panel hummed and the light blinked red and then
green. He felt a flash of heat under his hand as it
activated and then it fell silent.
With a slow grinding, the doors began to open.
He closed his eyes, seeing the image of her face
imprinted on the surface of his eyelids. Seeing her
smile at him.
"I'm sorry, Noin," he said. "Forgive me."
The grinding came to a halt and he opened his eyes
slowly, as if afraid of what he might find, but behind
each open door there were only crates and metal boxes
and chests upon chests of�something. He sighed.
Might as well.
Most of the crates and boxes were on automated carts,
but that required him to start the carts and drive
each of them out into the center of the hangar floor.
He'd forgotten how much trouble it had taken him to
store all of them inside the doors, and when he had
finished, he looked out at the mess of boxes and
wondered if it was worth the trouble.
/Without you, Zechs, OZ ends up allowing worthless
actions by worthless people./
/What do I do, Treize?/ he wondered silently, staring
at the carts and boxes and crates as if their contents
would spill out and magically rearrange themselves
back in the order in which they were meant to be.
/Where do I go? What have I become? Who am I?/
/Open up, Zechs. You're hiding far too many secrets./
The memory of her was like an open wound, still
bloody, still too fresh even to fester. He'd never
even told her that he loved her, and she was gone.
/If�something happens to me, I don't want you to
grieve. To regret�anything. That's happened between
us./
His words to her, and yet they'd come eerily true .
He heard her voice on the comm, between the bursts of
fire and the explosions, say just one word. One word,
before she'd headed into the inferno which had become
her grave.
/Zechs./
"I did love you, you know," he said to the empty
hangar. "I loved you, Lucrezia. I did." Hearing the
echoes of his voice come back to him. "I did," he said
in a small whisper, feeling his knees give out beneath
him and he fell to the ground, staring at the blank,
gray, concrete, as if it would somehow comfort him.
/Zechs,/ she had said, not knowing that she would
never have the chance to tell him anything else, but
that in itself spoke volumes.
/Is that my name?/ he wondered, as he pushed himself
to his feet, carefully unpacked the ancient tool chest
he'd found in the back of the storage unit, laying the
tools straight, parallel, side by side. /Treize, help
me�/
He straightened, went to the first crate, and pried
open the top with a crowbar. It was full of metal
scraps, as was the next one, and the next one, and the
next one. He wondered why he'd ever even thought of
taking Eypon apart. He could have left it here in the
hangar, whole and safe, awaiting his return.
/Because I thought that maybe�maybe there was the
chance I wouldn't need to use it again./
The largest box was a steel container set upon a
large flatbed mechanical sled, and he had to pry that
one apart with the mechanical drill, making the
incisions at the right point so that when he released
his hold, the front side of the box simply dropped
away and fell to the hangar floor with an
ear-splitting crash. He'd almost been afraid of what
might have happened to the contents of this container,
even though there was no possible way anything could
have touched the inside in a sealed environment such
as this, but�
It was almost with a shock of relief that he looked up
and saw the great head of Epyon silently staring back
him from inside. The rest of the Gundam was in pieces
in the crates scattered around the hangar, but this he
had kept intact. He held the drill in his limp hand,
staring at the haunting features of the machine which
had become almost human to him, and then hesitantly
set it gently down on the floor, reached out and
fiddled with the wiring, pushing the small emergency
switch on the side of the box.
The green eyes of the Gundam lit with a sharp pinging
noise, and the green luminescence flooded the hangar,
a tiny room compared to the vastness of space.
/As long as mankind exists in this world, there will
always be war./
"Is that true, Treize?" he said, placing a hand on
the side of Epyon's face, wondering at how dwarfed,
how small, how insignificant he was compared to this
machine of mass destruction, and wondering just how he
had come to be here.
/The value of life versus war is something you can't
even compare!/
Which one was right? he wondered. Noin or Treize? The
angel or the devil? Or perhaps Treize hadn't been so
much of a devil after all.
"To me," he said softly, "you were angels. Both of
you."
And he looked straight into Epyon's glowing eyes and
took a deep breath.
"I'll do it, Treize," he said, feeling very much like
a traitor returning home, asking for forgiveness.
"I'll go back�I'll finish what you started. Can I�can
I still do that? Even after so long? You believed in
me�I failed you. I failed you both."
/I won't let your deaths be for nothing...I'll take
back what I threw away. When the Libra was destroyed,
I should have died. Milliard Peacecraft should have
died./
He saw that now, that there was never a Milliard
Peacecraft, that there never had been, because
Milliard Peacecraft had died in that last battle in
space, along with Treize Khushrenada, and all that was
left was the mask. But that didn't matter, because he
was a ghost now just like them, and they were counting
on him to set things right. That last battle, which
should have accomplished so much, meant nothing at all
in the grand scheme of time. There would be continue
to be war, and people would continue to die. And he
wouldn't let that happen, because they had believed in
him, and he couldn't let them down.
They had believed in Zechs Merquise.
/I'm sorry, Relena. I couldn't be what you wanted me
to be after all./
Epyon seemed to stare accusingly at him, and he
squared his shoulders, picked up the mechanical drill
from the ground and addressed the Gundam.
"My name is Zechs Merquise," he said. And smiled.
"It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
****************************************
Scene VII: Phantoms of the Waking Day
"Maybe there's a God above,
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you."
--Rufus Wainwright, Hallelujah
****************************************
Helena had been asleep for at least half an hour
against Shinobu's right side when he finally got up
the courage to gently place her head back on the
headrest behind her and stand up to stretch and use
the restroom. Across the shuttle, Hilde and Duo were
also asleep. The young pilot, who was so vibrant in
waking, was slumped bonelessly against the seat back,
exhaustion showing in the lines of his face. Hilde was
snuggled up against him, but she looked peaceful.
Safe.
He looked down at Helena. Her mouth was slightly open
and there were red marks on her cheek from where he
face had been pressed up against his shoulder. Wisps
of fine blond hair fell across chin and fluttered in
the slight exhale of air from her lips. He almost
reached out a finger to brush them away, then realized
what he was doing and snatched his hand back, heading
to the back of the shuttle, closing the door of the
bathroom and leaning against it to stare up at the
ceiling.
/What was I thinking?/
He'd always considered himself a noble person, had
tried to be, no matter what his family had said. There
was more to life than the scheming and the squabbling
and the occasional feuding that went on with the
cartel, and that was why he had left L1. Cliffside had
been a breath of fresh air, and he would have been
content to stay there forever. Compared to the Breaks,
the little dramas between students were like heaven to
him, and he had vowed never to go back to the Black
Diamond. That he would do everything in his power to
sever the ties between him and that organization that
called itself his family, that he would grow up and go
out and make an honest living.
He'd broken his promise when he had asked his
grandfather for help.
Granted, Duo had needed that information, and there
wasn't any other way he could have gone about getting
it, but it burned at him. It was like stooping to a
criminal level. He knew his grandfather had been
surprised. Their last parting had ended badly, and it
had been almost two years since they had spoken, and
he knew that his grandfather would ask something of
him in return for the information. And he did it
anyway, because Duo was his friend, but still, it
burned.
And now here he was, having spent a few days close to
a pretty girl who he hadn't even really known before
all this happened. A pretty girl who happened to be
someone else's girlfriend, who was still grieving for
the loss of the boy she had loved and who would never
look at him in that way, even if he were to tell her.
He wasn't even sure when it had happened�perhaps he
hadn't even realized it when he'd started thinking of
her like this. All he knew was that this was happening
too quickly, and it frightened him.
This was even lower than crime�it was like petty
thievery. Chronic petty thievery, because he couldn't
get her out of his mind.
When he emerged out of the bathroom, he found that
Helena was awake, staring out the window at the sunlit
clouds out the shuttle porthole, and he sat down by
her wordlessly. His stomach did a little flip when she
turned to smile at him.
"It's beautiful outside!" she said. The sunlight
accented the blue of her eyes and he could barely
restrain himself from blurting out something he would
regret. Instead, he nodded and looked out the porthole
and the scudding clouds beneath.
Footsteps sounded from the cockpit and Sally emerged,
looking tired. "We're almost there," she said. "A few
more minutes and we'll be over Geneva." Gesturing to
Duo and Hilde. "You might want to wake those two up."
"I'm awake," Duo said in a deadpan voice, though his
eyes were still closed and he hadn't moved since the
shuttle had taken off.
Shinobu expected Sally to say something in response,
but she simply turned as if she hadn't heard him and
slammed the door to the cockpit. Duo's eyes opened and
he stared at the door. "Geez, what's wrong with her?"
he wondered.
"It has been a long journey," Shinobu said quietly.
"She is maybe tired."
"Definitely tired, you mean," said Duo, reached out a
hand to shake Hilde softly awake. "Hil? Hey love, time
to get up." Hilde mumbled something and buried her
face a little deeper into Duo's chest, making him
laugh softly. Shinobu turned away.
Ridiculous�he wasn't jealous of Duo and Hilde. He
couldn't be.
A soft hand on his shoulder made him jump. "You ok?"
Helena said worriedly.
"Yes," he replied shortly. "Fine."
"Are you sure?"
He allowed himself a nod, then gently shrugged her
hand away from him. "We should put on our seatbelts,"
he said. "We are landing soon."
"That's my man," Duo said, grinning. "Always
prepared. So serious. But I guess he's got a deadly
side too, huh?" Shinobu made a non-committal grunt,
and Duo grinned even wider. "You know," he began, then
a spasm crossed his face and he fell silent.
"What?" Hilde wondered groggily, and he patted her
absently.
"I was just gonna say that Shin reminds me of
someone."
"Who?" Helena said, now interested.
"I forgot," Duo said roughly and pushed himself to
his feet. "I gotta go use the bathroom."
As the bathroom door slammed, the three of them
looked at each other, and Hilde sighed.
The click of the intercom brought them out of their
thoughts, and Sally's voice filtered into the cabin.
"We're approaching Geneva. When we drop down out of
the clouds in just a moment, you can see the city out
the windows. We'll be landing at the Preventers' Base
in about ten minutes, so be sure to buckle up. Duo,
get out of the bathroom. You've been in there for five
minutes."
Helena and Hilde were still snickering when an
affronted-looking Duo emerged back out into the cabin,
water dripping from his hair and face. "Hey, a guy
needs his beauty prep time, you know?"
Shinobu turned to look out the window, feeling the
shuttle drop in altitude. As they passed through some
clouds, the sunlight vanished for a moment and then
reappeared. Beside him, Helena made a little "ooh!"
sound of wonder.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Duo said, sounding impressed.
"Oh, look! That must be the base."
Shinobu and Helena hurried over to peer out of the
portholes on Duo's side of the shuttle. The city of
Geneva lay beneath them, not sprawling and obese like
most large cities, but surprisingly neat and compact,
almost exquisitely refreshing in its layout. Shinobu
guessed that the square block located a little
off-center, with what looked like a large tower
jutting from the middle, was the base.
He knew he was right when the shuttle banked a little
to the left and began to descend. Landing pads and
buildings came into view, tiny at first and then
larger, condensing from square building blocks and
pieces of cardboard into large, imposing structures
even from the air. They could hear the pilot from
inside the cockpit communicating with the radio
control tower. The shuttle flew in low and fast,
circling once before settling with perfect precision
onto the landing pad.
"There sure is a lot of security here," Hilde
observed. Shinobu peered out the window again, for the
first time registering the light armored vehicles and
uniformed personnel that stood armed and silent in a
ring around the pad.
The cockpit door slid open again. "This is it," Sally
said. "Let me get off first, and when I signal, Duo
comes first and the rest of you follow."
"Why me first?" Duo objected, "These guys need to get
out of here�it's me that those guys are here for,
right?"
"Which is why," Sally said, "they need to see that
you're indeed you before any of the others get off. No
objections?" Duo opened his mouth but she ignored him.
"Good. Don't do anything stupid while I'm out there."
The hatch opened and sunlight flooded the compartment,
and then it slammed shut again.
Duo blew out a breath. "Mattaku."
Shinobu smiled, then blinked as Duo tapped him on the
shoulder. The two girls were absorbed in staring out
the window, and he didn't object as the American boy
pulled him to one side. He felt something cold and
smooth being pressed into his hand, looked down and
saw it was a pistol.
"Take this," Duo said in a low voice in Japanese. "It
might come in handy."
"You don't trust the Preventers?" Shinobu wondered.
Duo gave a short laugh. "At this point, Shin, I don't
trust anyone."
He nodded and tucked the gun into his boot with
expert ease, noting the lack of a surprised expression
on Duo's face. Obviously, Duo had picked up on the
fact that Shinobu was definitely not what he seemed,
and he seemed to be fine with that. Shinobu smiled at
him reassuringly as they rejoined the girls at the
window.
They watched as Sally was greeted by an older man with
general's stars on his shoulders. The minutes ticked
by and the four inside the shuttle began to lose
interest in the proceedings as Sally and the general
stood there, apparently having a heated discussion of
some sort. Duo yawned, starting to turn away from the
window, and Hilde slapped him lightly.
"Pay attention, baka! She'll be calling you out in a
minute."
"I hate politics," Duo mumbled, just as the
conversation seemed to come to an end and Sally
gestured over her shoulder. "I guess that's me."
The hatch slid open and they watched as Duo
reappeared outside and walked over to the general,
then Shinobu stood and followed him, grabbing his
bags.
It was very warm but not hot, a few degrees cooler
than it had been the last time Duo had stepped outside
in China to look for Wufei, and there was a pleasant
breeze. He could hear Duo conversing pleasantly, if a
bit shortly, with the general. Sally watched as the
three of them came across the landing pad in a huddle,
then waved them over.
"This is General Brown," Sally said, gesturing to the
tall, white-haired general, who bowed. "General,
friends of Duo's. Hilde Schbeiker, Helena Rosenbaum,
and Matsuura Shinobu."
Shinobu saw the general arch an eyebrow when she
mentioned his name, but there was no other reaction in
his face except for a friendly smile. "Pleased to meet
you," he said pleasantly. "I get the feeling you'll be
seeing a lot of me in the near future."
From the corner of his eye he saw Sally frown at the
general's words, but at that moment, Duo jumped in.
"Oi�I'm sure this is nice and all, but didn't you say
that the rest of the gang's here? Heero and the rest?"
Brown nodded, and Duo crossed his arms in front of
him, looking stubborn. "I'd like to see them, before
we do anything else."
"I�m afraid that's impossible, at least for the time
being," Sally said. "We need to figure out what to do
with your Gundams."
Duo set his jaw and Shinobu knew that meant the
beginning of a long and exhausting argument, but
before the other boy could open his mouth, Hilde
crossed over to Duo and touched him lightly on the
shoulder. "Sally's right," she said. "This time I'm
the one to say it�you need to make sure your Gundam
and Wing Zero are safe before you do anything else. We
risked so much to get them."
He stared at her for a second, then nodded
reluctantly. "Fine." To Sally, "where are we storing
them?"
She nodded at General Brown, who offered Duo a
sympathetic smile. "It was short notice, but we
managed to commission one of the smaller hangars for
you. It's classified, of course." He gestured around
at the security personnel. "All these people are
specialized security maintenance crews who normally
work on our state-of-the-art classified projects.
They'll be taking care of your Gundams."
"Taking care?" Duo echoed.
Brown nodded. "Well, your Gundams have been neglected
on the Colony for more than a year now, so before we
store them away, I think it's best we do a maintenance
check on them. We need you on hand to help out."
"Maintenance check?" Duo said, now sounding a little
stunned and not at all pleased. "But Deathscythe Hell
and Wing Zero have been through a lot worse and come
out fine�they haven't even been used at all. I'm sure
they're-"
"As a precaution," General Brown said. "It's standard
procedure here, and you are on a Preventers' Base."
Once again Hilde nudged Duo. "You better do what he
says," she whispered.
"How long will this�'maintenance check' take?" he
wondered, sounding suspicious.
Sally sighed. "Duo, I swear that your friends are
safe and sound on base. It's not a trap. We need these
Gundams stored safely away in perfect condition so
that they can be activated at a moment's notice. It's
not a game anymore, Duo�this is war all over again.
You of all people should know and accept that."
"Wing Zero is Heero's Gundam," Duo persisted
stubbornly. "Shouldn't he be on hand to supervise it?"
A shadow crossed over Brown's face and he exchanged
looks with Sally. "That wouldn't be�advisable right
now, I don't think."
"What do you mean?" Duo demanded. But Brown had
already gestured to some of the personnel, who were
moving towards the shuttle and the cargo compartment
in the back. "Hey! I want an answer!"
"Duo!" Sally said sharply. "Show some respect, to him
as an elder at least, even if you don't respect his
rank!"
But Brown shook his head. "It's all right, Sally. If
I were in his place, I would be thinking the exact
same thing."
"I doubt it," Duo muttered under his breath, and
Hilde elbowed him warningly, then turned to Brown.
"General�if it's all right, I'd like to go with Duo
to help check out the Gundams."
"That's a good idea," Sally said. "Brown, take Hilde
with you. She could be of help."
Brown nodded and motioned to them. Shinobu watched as
the Gundams were lifted out of the cargo hatch by a
crane and then transported carefully to flatbed trucks
and covered. "All right then. Hopefully this won't
take more than a few hours, and then you can go find
your friends."
Duo waved a despondent goodbye and climbed into one
of the trucks with Hilde tagging along behind him, and
the engines roared to life, swinging off the landing
pad and onto the road beyond. Shinobu glanced at
Sally, who seemed lost in thought, then to Helena, who
looked frightened.
"General Po?" he began, but Sally's eyes focused and
her head shot up.
"Who's in command here?" she called out to the
remaining security troops. One of them stepped forward
and saluted.
"I am, ma'am."
"Kindly send two of your troops to escort the young
man and young lady to their guest rooms." She fixed
Shinobu and Helena with a glance that, while not
threatening, was not kind. "You two, under no
circumstances are you to reveal why or with whom you
came here. You got that?" Helena nodded frantically
and Shinobu longed to put an arm around her to calm
her. Outwardly, she was calm and composed, but he
could tell that she was scared.
He had hoped to catch her alone after they were shown
to their rooms, but Helena had bid him a good day,
saying that she was tired and needed sleep. The guard
that had taken them to their quarters had given them a
map of the base, an intercom number to call in case of
emergency, and a mealcard and schedule of mealtimes.
If they needed anything else, he said, they were to go
to the front desk of the building they were in, and
someone would help them.
Shinobu took a long-awaited shower and then sat down
on the edge of his bed, staring at the curtained
window. He had thought that being on a military base
would be an adventure, but so far it wasn't turning
out to be much of one. Sighing, he slipped his feet
into his old tennis shoes and headed outside. They
hadn't forbidden him from going anywhere, and he was
going to take advantage of the freedom that he had.
Turning left from the front door of the lodging
building, he headed down the sidewalk, his thoughts on
Sally and Duo. He hadn't known Sally for very long,
but even he could tell that her demeanor had shifted
suddenly when they had landed. It was as if she was
impatient about something, or perhaps worried, the way
she had kept throwing glances at Brown. Perhaps she'd
gotten new orders that she hadn't told them about?
He almost smacked himself mentally for that thought.
Of course she'd most likely gotten orders that they
knew nothing about. He and the other members of
Cliffside were just civilian teenagers, after all, and
military secrets were military secrets. He thought of
Duo, thought of the shadows in the violet eyes and the
strange fate that had led their paths to cross each
other.
The sun was setting and he was growing hungry, and
according to the map, the dining hall was just a block
away. He crossed the street, glancing around him at
the base, so clean and new, as if the entire thing was
a sculpture made of white stone. Were all military
installations like this? he wondered. The design was
linear and spare and almost austere, but with an
underlying noble beauty. He'd always loved
architecture, had even considered it as a career while
he was at Cliffside.
He'd never be an architect now, but it was still a
fond dream.
Entering the dining hall, Shinobu stuffed the map
into his pocket and set about ordering food. The hall
was built along the lines of a school cafeteria, so he
found it easy to navigate, and the people behind the
counter waited patiently as he mulled over the
English-labeled menu choices. His English was much
better now than it had been even half a year ago, but
ordering in English still proved a challenge
sometimes.
He'd gotten his meal and was turning away from the
drink fountain carrying his glass of water over to his
tray when he felt someone collide into his left side.
His hand shook and dropped the glass. It fell to the
ground, shattering, and he jumped, backed up a few
steps, looking around for the culprit.
The boy was about his age, with dark skin but
decidedly Asian features, slim almost to the point of
frail thinness, but there was a strength and agility
about him that belied that assumption. "I'm sorry,"
Shinobu offered, seeing that the other wasn't going to
be the first to offer an apology. A young airman
emerged on the scene with a broom and dustpan,
motioning for them to step out of the way while he
swept up the mess, and the dark-skinned boy shook his
head an muttered what seemed to be something along the
lines of "It's ok."
"I am new here," Shinobu began, wondering what a boy
like that would be doing on base, but the boy shook
his head at him in confusion.
"No English," he said, and Shinobu blinked. That was
a Japanese accent if he had ever heard one.
"You speak Japanese?" he asked in his native
language, and was rewarded with a nod. He grinned and
stuck out his hand. This might actually not be so bad.
"Nice to meet you. Matsuura Shinobu."
To his surprise, the boy glanced at his outstretched
hand as if it were a snake waiting to bite him, then
shook it guardedly. "Call me Darkflight," he said, and
Shinobu raised an eyebrow.
"Darkflight?"
"Yeah."
He didn't seem to be very talkative, but he spoke
Japanese, was probably the only person around who did
so at the moment, and Shinobu wasn't about to let him
go that lightly. "So where are you from?"
"L1," the boy called Darkflight said shortly. "Just
got here yesterday."
Shinobu laughed lightly. "I just arrived this
afternoon, myself. Where in L1 are you from?"
"Nosy, aren't you?" the boy said darkly. "If you must
know, I'm from the Breaks. That help any?"
Shinobu froze. "The Breaks?" he said, cautiously.
"That's what I said the first time. You deaf?"
"You don't have to be so angry," Shinobu said, trying
to stay calm. Perhaps talking to this boy was a bad
idea. "I was only being polite."
"Well, save it." The boy's dark eyes were angry, the
mixed African and Japanese features grim with an
emotion he couldn't name.
African and Japanese?
A nagging suspicion crept into his mind, and he put
on hand on the boy's shoulder. "Where in the Breaks?"
Darkflight's shoulder muscle tensed, and for a moment
Shinobu thought he was going to start a fist fight
right there in the dining hall, but he only shrugged
his shoulder out of Shinobu's grasp and walked away
without an answer. Shinobu stared after him as the
door swung closed behind him, then grabbed his tray of
food and sliding into an available seat without really
paying attention to what he was doing.
There were few people of African descent in the
Breaks, fewer even with mixed blood of any kind, much
less mixed African and Asian. Of course, there was
always the odd immigrant or two, but all in all, it
was rare. Except in one certain case.
Shinobu finished his dinner in ten minutes, gulping
down his water and dashing out of the dining hall.
Back at the front desk of his building, he asked if
there was a computer lab he could use.
"Certainly," the lady behind the counter said in a
kind voice. "Straight down this hallway, the first
right turn. It'll be the second room on your left."
"Thank you," he breathed, heading down the hall in a
brisk trot.
The computer was a decent one loaded with only the
most basic programs, but that was no obstacle. He was
on the network in less than a minute, flying past
various level one Holes and Bugs set in place by
low-level hackers. Shinobu didn't consider himself to
be an expert in the field, but he was good enough to
usually get what he was looking for, and in this
instance, what he was looking for could only be found
on the Black Diamond Cartel's private network.
His grandfather wasn't a believer in storing vital
information in places where anyone could access them,
but his father had convinced the stubborn man that in
certain cases, it would be beneficial, such as to
agents who needed information quickly but had no
access to a proper communication terminal. The network
was still virtually inaccessible to other hackers,
even top-level hackers, though there had been
break-ins once or twice, but it wasn't really a worry.
There was no classified cartel information stored on
the network, but there were certain things on there
that could be of use.
With a few strokes of the keys, he was in. Hopefully,
he would be in and out before the server managed to
unravel the encryption code he'd placed on the
computer. If that happened, it would leave an
identification stamp on the network, indicating access
from an unauthorized computer, though the stamp would
point to a military computer and not to Shinobu
personally. Still, better safe than sorry. He scrolled
down, tapping keys quickly and quietly, hoping no one
would come into the lab and catch him at work, though
there was little chance of repercussions even if
someone did, because the information on the network
was all in Japanese.
/Got it!/
SHIONJI KOUHITO, the text scrolled down the screen.
AC ? - AC 173. There was no picture, but Kouhito's
features were easily recognizable to every last member
of the Black Diamond cartel. Shinobu scrolled past the
few statistics that the network had on the man.
Kouhito had been the brother of the last Shionji
Cartel leader, Shionji Toburo, and he'd also been the
one personally responsible for the downfall of the
Shionji drug empire. Shinobu hadn't relished
memorizing the cartel history when he had been
younger, but now it might actually be of use.
TOKAGAWA MALAKANI, SECOND WIFE, the text read. MIXED
AFRICAN-JAPANESE DESCENT. DECEASED AC 163.
He bit his lip, then hit the keys to instruct the
computer to run a network search. The box came up on
the screen and he thought for a moment more, then
typed carefully. OPERATION ARES PROTOTYPE TESTING
The screen went blank and then blinked. NO RESULTS
FOUND.
Shinobu sighed. It had been worth an effort, but he
should have known that they wouldn't place that
information on the network. Shionji Kouhito had been
involved in the genetic superman testing that the
Black Diamond cartel had sponsored back in the 130's,
and though the project had failed, the Black Diamond
Cartel had long suspected there had been some
survivors. It was only after the project's failure
that word had leaked out that it had been sponsored by
the colonial resistance group that called themselves
Operation Meteor. With that in the open, the cartel
had drawn back, breaking any ties they ever had with
the project and denying their involvement. When he had
grown a little older, his grandfather had imparted to
him the basics of the project, warning him never to
become involved with the military in any way, shape,
or form.
/They'll as soon cut your throat as take your help,/
Seki Hikaru had warned him. /Remember that, or else
you'll end up dead. /
But that was not the reason he was searching for
information on the project now. The myth circulating
among the members of the Black Diamond was that the
Shionji cartel had fallen because it had impure blood.
Because one of their members had married an outsider,
a non-Japanese, and had bred impure heirs. As a
result, they had been destroyed. Shinobu wasn't one to
believe in ethnocentric fairy tales, but Shionji
Kouhito /had/ married a mixed African-Japanese woman
as a second wife, and he had had two children by her.
Neither of them had been in direct line for the
succession of the cartel, but the eldest, a girl, had
been killed by her siblings when the succession
quarrels broke out in AC 173, and the younger boy had
disappeared years earlier.
It was the boy he was concerned about.
Shinobu put his fingers to the keys, eyes hardening.
If his hunch was correct, which he suspected it was,
it might lead to some interesting times. The boy
Darkflight was from the Breaks, L1. He'd said that
himself. He was gaunt and underfed and had the
telltale marks on his arms, which meant that he'd been
living on the streets for some time. He was obviously
not pureblood Japanese. Of course, for all Shinobu
knew, there could be hundreds of homeless
African-Japanese drug addicts roaming the streets of
the Breaks since he'd moved out, but he doubted it.
Besides, why else would such a boy be here, in Geneva,
at this time?
Something was going on, and he was going to figure
out what before anything worse happened. He didn't
necessarily love his family, but it was his duty to
protect them, and it was his duty as a friend to
protect Duo. This Darkflight was far too young to be
the missing boy himself, but if he was even a
descendant of the son of Shionji Kouhito, he would
have to be�disposed of.
He put his fingers to the keys, but before he could
begin typing in the next search, there was a rustle at
the door. He froze, then was out of his chair and in a
combat crouch in the next second before he could even
think, gun in hand with the safety off, pointed up.
"Don't move," he growled, "or I'll kill you!"
He heard a startled gasp and then looked up to see
Helena backing out of the doorway, a hand to her
mouth.
"Wait!" he shouted, as Helena made a sound like a
strangled sob and disappeared from view. "Helena!
I-!"He could hear her running footsteps down the
hallway and swore, lapsing back into Japanese,
flinging himself back into the computer chair and
logging off, picking up the gun and dashing into the
hallway.
"Helena? Helena?"
She must have run outside, he realized, and cursed
himself for not thinking, for being so involved in his
work that he had forgotten his surroundings. Her best
friend was missing, perhaps dead, her boyfriend had
deserted her, and she was alone in an unfamiliar base
with unfamiliar, even frightening circumstances. And
the one person who she had remotely trusted had just
threatened to kill her.
He should never have let Duo give him the gun.
He was out the door of the building and halfway down
the front walk when the explosions began.
****************************************
Scene VIII: The Diamond Age
"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's
end."
--Semisonic, Closing Time
****************************************
She'd checked that the security camera was still off
before donning the goggles, but she couldn't shake the
feeling that someone was watching her.
She'd finished her work early that day, and Une was
in another staff meeting, so she wouldn't be bothered.
Yet as Li maneuvered carefully past some of the
top-level Holes in the system, she wished for once
that she wasn't on the network. This time her task
wasn't to set a Bug or collect information or even to
patrol the area. This time her mission was linked
irrevocably to her own position in the non-virtual
world, and she didn't like that.
Data connection ports and blinking boxes signifying
security keyholes moved past her at a slower rate than
she was used to while traversing the network, but she
was taking her time, as if on a leisurely stroll
through the virtual domain that every good hacker this
side of the galaxy knew that she owned. Though of
course, they knew her by another name. Still, it was
good to know that she was still in fine form. No
upstart young computer genius would be taking her
title away from her anytime soon.
She skated past several Bugs designed to trap any
unsuspecting young acolyte, placing her mark on them
in passing to warn whoever had set those that it was
not to be tolerated. If they were still there the next
time she came through, there would be no mercy. A
virtual network on this plane, she maintained, was not
for fun and games. People who were here because they
had nothing better to do needed to take their
simulations and petty revenge elsewhere.
A message drone flashed by, searching for someone's
IP address to deliver a message. Li watched curiously,
wondering if it was perhaps a message for her, but it
passed her without a second glance and she sighed.
Things had been very quiet around here lately. She had
to wonder if it was the current Gundam crisis that had
suddenly caused the network rats to become extra
careful about the footprints they left. Whatever the
case, many of the most active Holes had suddenly gone
into hibernation, and some of them had disappeared
altogether.
Which was not making her job any easier.
Wearing the goggles while surfing the network was an
interesting experience, since the visualization mode,
usually programmed exclusively for work within Holes
and not out of them, could be tampered with to produce
some unusual effects. Li had worked on hers for months
until she'd come up with a visualization option that
made it seem as if she was underwater in a sea of
transparent liquid mercury. Holes were giant sparkles
of silver light, while Bugs were dark spots, quivering
black holes. Data transmissions were beautiful diamond
bubbles rising and falling from the surface of the
mercury ocean to the endless abyss beneath.
Li usually preferred to tread the middle ground in her
ocean of mercury, though sometimes if she was feeling
particularly ruthless, she'd venture down several
levels into where the ocean became deep and dark,
where the scum of the earth and the colonies dwelt and
dealt their private business of life and death far
beneath the shimmering universe of a normal hacker.
Today was one of those days. She wasn't feeling
ruthless or even adventurous, but work was work, and
she'd been given an assignment.
She just hoped that someone would be crazy enough to
take her up on it.
The waters were quite dark and murky by the time she
had gone down far enough levels to be sure that the
people here had what she was looking for. The Holes
were no longer shimmering pools of light but skeletal
structures placed upon floating platforms, pyramids of
bone-like fragments topped with grinning skulls,
crooked, crumbling buildings around which Bugs flitted
like bats. It was hard not to be impressed with these
structures, which had obviously been constructed with
the visualization goggles in mind, advanced to the
point that their visualization matrices superseded and
neutralized those of her own goggles, making her see
what they wanted her to see.
She'd only spoken with the inhabitants of the
Dungeons, as they liked to call their home on the
network, a few times before, but they'd always been
very helpful, even polite, which she hadn't expected
from people like them. They held disdain for the term
"hacker," preferring to be called "splicers" or
"runners," referring to their real-life counterparts
who made their living in the narcotics trade. The
Runners' drug was the network itself, more powerful
and addicting and deadly than any solid substance.
Li slowed her pace and then stopped, looking around
at the encircling Holes, each smiling mockingly at her
with empty eyes, wondering which one was best for her
first gamble. She'd taken two steps towards a smaller
one on her right when she suddenly saw digital streaks
of light flash before her eyes, which meant that
someone was Pulling her, hacking her goggles and
trying to force her into one of their Holes without
her permission.
Ridiculous�she hadn't been Pulled since her first six
months on the network years ago. Before she could even
begin to figure out what had gone wrong and how anyone
could have found a weak point in her already enhanced
goggle system, the black mercury ocean had disappeared
and she found herself in Hell.
It wasn't really Hell, but a realistic enough
simulation of Hell to make her think for a second that
she'd somehow dropped into a storybook. The jagged
ground, a nightmare mass of ridges and craters,
appeared to be solid enough, but shone as if coated
with a sheen of the same liquid mercury that made up
her network ocean. Walls of fire roared from the
ground up, changing direction midway through the air
and suddenly shooting sideways or diagonal, creating
shimmering distortions of reflection onto the wet
rock-like surface beneath her feet. At first she
ducked whenever a tongue of fire spiraled her way, but
after a few attempts, she found that the flames
crackling around her were curiously cool to the touch.
She walked forward cautiously, changing her appearance
several times, debating whether to be human or android
before settling for a cybernetic-type body
visualization, complete with headgear and a deadly
looking gun tucked into a holster at her hip.
"Hello, stranger," someone said from behind her in
Japanese.
She spun around to see a monstrous spider-like
creature waddling towards her on sixteen legs, bulbous
eyes fixed on her with a beady stare. Resisting the
urge to grimace at the sight, she took a deep breath.
"I'm looking for Masamune," she said.
The spider peered at her. "And who might you be?"
"Tell him," she said quietly, "that Aidoru wants to
speak with him."
The spider waved one antenna but otherwise made no
other sign of recognition at the name. She watched as
it scuttled off, wondering what in the world would
make anyone want to choose a visualization like that.
The hellfire cast strange glows on her metal bodysuit
and she reached behind her to smooth down her hair,
finally giving up and making it disappear with another
quick command.
"Aidoru," a voice said gravely.
This time when she turned around, she found herself
staring at a sixteenth-century Japanese samurai in
complete battle gear, standing with his arms crossed.
The flickering firewall behind him made for impressive
contrast.
"You are Masamune?" she said.
The samurai nodded. "I have heard much of you, though
I must admit it is a little startling to meet you in
person. Or as in person as we may achieve here." He
laughed softly at his own joke and she stared
impassively at him. If her stare fazed him, he didn't
show it. "How may I help the lord of the network
domain?"
"I'm hardly that," she said mildly, amused by the
fact that he, like all the rest, had never bothered to
question the assumption that Aidoru was male. It was
an old assumption from when she had been an amateur
hacker and one she had never bothered to correct,
preferring to remain safely enigmatic. One more puzzle
for the cyber police to crack. "More of a�patroller."
"Well, aren't we all?" he said. She was aware that he
was testing her, wondering if she was going to give
away anything in the first five minutes of her
conversation. She stood her ground. If there was any
bargaining to be done, it would be done on her terms.
He stared at her for a moment more, as if hoping she'd
take the bait, then nodded. "I see. Come with me."
The trip over the cratered landscape took less time
than she expected, probably because Masamune or one of
his cronies had adjusted the visualization matrix in
order to make it seem as if the Hole was bigger than
it seemed. It was a common practice, and Li had done
it herself once or twice. That was a long time ago,
though, and she had since grown good enough to
increase the size of her networks without any
artificial means. It was all a matter of skill, a
matter of art and beauty just as much as pure
programming.
That was why she was the Aidoru, the Idol, with an
almost meteoric rise to fame, or infamy, as it were,
dancing through a maze of zeros and ones with balladic
grace. But like her namesake, she recognized the
success for what it was, a quick jump to stardom that
could leave her crashing down in the middle of nowhere
if she wasn't careful.
She'd joined the Preventers to test her abilities. To
see if she was capable of transforming an idol into
something more permanent.
So far, she hadn't found an answer.
Masamune stopped and she almost bumped into him, then
found herself teetering at the edge of a vast pool of
lava. Flaming bubbles rose to the surface and popped
with an oozing , squishing sound, and little crimson
lizards crawled in and out of the lava, apparently
unaffected by its temperatures.
"All right," he said, turning to her, his voice hard.
"What do you want?"
Li pursed her lips in approval. This Masamune was a
hard dealer, just like they'd said. "You must be
pretty good, to Pull me in here. I haven't been Pulled
in years. Anyone else would have said it was
impossible"
"I specialize in the impossible," he deadpanned.
"I need an assassin," she said, not bothering with
any formalities. Simply laying it down on the table.
"A few, if possible. Very very good ones. I pay well."
He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed." A datapad appeared in
front of him and began inscribing the conversation.
She ignored it.
"I have a big fish to catch and you're the one I
trust to provide me with the assets to do it right."
"How big a fish?" he wondered.
"Big," she said. "I'll leave it at that for now."
"I can't get the people for you if you won't tell
me."
"Find me the best there are," she said. "And we'll
talk."
They stared at each other for a moment, neither
willing to back down, and finally he nodded
unwillingly. "Fine." Turning, he fiddled with
something and a tiny panel opened in the ground, a
control panel emerging and floating up to Masamune's
hands. He grabbed it, pushed a few buttons. An image
of a screen appeared in front of him and she could see
he was typing, though in some kind of language that
she couldn't read.
"Code language?" she wondered.
He smiled, showing his teeth. "It's called Scat."
Paused. The lava pool boiled, and a particularly large
bubble popped with a squelching noise. "The best I can
offer you for a job like this is a team called
Shadowwing. Ever heard of them?"
Li hissed between her teeth. She'd had a feeling he'd
say that. "No good," she said.
"Oh? You don't trust me?"
She almost laughed. "No, I trust you implicitly. It's
just that Shadowwing is�absent at the moment. They
won't be able to do the job."
He frowned. "I haven't heard anything about this."
"It's true," she said. "Trust me. I need someone
else. Someone with the same level of talent."
Masamune shook his head. "There are no other groups
with their level of talent. You're asking the
impossible."
"I thought," she said, favoring him with a disdainful
glance, "that you specialized in the impossible."
It was his turn to hiss between his teeth, and for a
moment she thought he would walk away from her. But he
held down his temper with an air that spoke of long
practice and the tension vanished after a second,
leaving him the calm, collected man of a few moments
before. "Give me two days," he said.
"I need this by tonight," she said. "It's urgent."
"Tomorrow afternoon," he countered.
"Tomorrow morning." Fixing him with a hard glare.
"Like I said, I pay well. When the job is conducted
according to my standards."
He considered, then shrugged. "Deal."
She was about to reply, to give further instructions,
but suddenly her vision blurred and the fire and lava
and moon-crater ground turned into indistinct
pixellated blobs of matter, and she had the sensation
of falling before everything turned black and the
network was just a pair of goggles fastened around her
eyes linking her to a world that had suddenly
disappeared.
Cursing, Li removed the goggles, her mind racing
rapidly, wondering what in the hell had caused the
network to go down. Only a total on base network
failure would cause something like that to happen, and
there had never been a total network failure. The
connection icon on her computer was blinking, and she
clicked it, keyed in the password.
"The network is not available," the computer said,
and she cursed at it, throwing the goggles onto her
desk and massaging her temples. The sudden
disconnection had left her with a headache and a vague
sense of distortion and weightlessness, along with a
queasy stomach, and she wished she had some medicine
with her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath
to calm her nerves-
-and nearly jumped out of her skin when the alarms
went off, twisted around in her chair to see that the
alert light installed in her office was blinking a
violent red. "What the fuck?" she snarled angrily,
springing out of her chair and hurrying to the window.
If this was someone's idea of an evacuation exercise,
it wasn't funny.
A large cloud of smoke was rising from one of the
outlying buildings at the southwest entrance to the
base. As she watched another puff of smoke appeared,
then another. Smoke bombs. It had to be smoke bombs.
Before her stunned mind could grasp the entire
concept of why smoke bombs would be going off at the
entrance to the base in the middle of the day when no
exercise was planned, the intercom squawked and a
voice filled the room. Une's voice, calm and
commanding.
"Attention all personnel. Evacuate the building
immediately. We are under attack. Repeat, evacuate
immediately. We are under attack. This is not a drill.
Repeat, this is not a drill."
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