|
"The Locker Shock Incident "Written By: Asymphototropic
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing. Author: Asymphototropic (attracted toward the
light, but never quite arrives there) Email: asymphototropic@aol.com Rating: R Warnings: language, yaoi, violence Summary: Post EW Preventers. Maxwell undertakes a death defying shuttle flight to destroy a killer's alibi on behalf of Yuy's case. Merquise feels an unaccountable urge to protect Duo. When the assassin comes stalking, will the combined skills of Zechs and Heero be enough to save 02 from the deadly blade? Pairings: 1x2, 6+1+2
"The Locker Shock Incident " Part 8. "Watch out. Oh shit. Hellfire and damnation. Why did I think this was a good idea? Ooops. Ha, missed me. Maybe just a bit farther out. Hot damn, almost got me that time. Duo Maxwell gets a close-up view of L2 space barnacles. If they existed, which they don't. Think I saw some anyway. The press is scant and nerdish, all reporters bearing the required wire rim spectacles and multicolored pens in plastic pocket protectors. 'Doctor Maxwell, tell us about your discovery of Neoverruca colonensis. What was your first inkling that space barnacles existed?' 'Well, gentlemen, I was out cruising the exterior of L2 in my lovely, sleek Stargrazer, when I nearly...argh!' Whew, fuck, almost bought the biggie that time. Be still my beating heart. Fun in flight. Kids. Be the first one on your block to wrap your ship around a pylon." Sweating profusely, Maxwell eased the Stargrazer marginally away from L2's extrastructure. His terminal to terminal flight path was snugged as close to the physical entity as he could get without scraping up against it, deep in the colony's gloomy shadow. This route kept him well away from traffic, so that his flying the wrong direction, against the pattern, didn't put other shuttles in jeopardy. Although it was certainly placing his own sweet ass on the line, he told himself laughingly. But damn he was having fun. No two ways about it. He was flying as fast as he dared under the circumstances, achieving a fascinating view of the somewhat haphazard metallic exoskeleton that was the shell of his natal egg. Tunneling and swooping, curving and carving a weird curvilinear path throughout it all. Home sweet home. Warning lights winked and grinned at his daring, as he swept past, dusting their crevices with the glide tips of his vessel. Though he hadn't quite believed he'd make it to the actual event. First, there had been the hit and run. Curse them for slamming Yuy's face into the pavement. Poor guy. Like he didn't have enough scars already. Sally Po had made the sutures tiny, had fussed over his beauty like Heero was some film star. With Yuy all the while trying not to squirm out from under her care and run like hell. Duo grinned at the thought of his buddy's discomfort. That guy just hated medical attention, especially of the sympathetic feminine variety. But then it had come back to Maxwell, himself. Yesterday, Sally Po had refused to remove the clumsy polymer cast from his ankle. "If you think you can pilot while wearing it, go right ahead and try. Stick a wad of chewing gum on the rudder foot controls. I'm sure in hell not going to encourage this piece of madness." And then she had treated him to a long lecture on the risk of fat embolism in fracture patients who fly, lingering ghoulishly on all the gruesome details until Duo was ready to puke up his remaining guts. Finally it had been his turn for rebuttal. He had looked her straight in her lovely melting eyes. Coughed and looked away with a guilty expression. Damn she was good. "Two things," he had said, while staring at the wall of her office. "I'm going nuts, confined to quarters. Truly, totally psycho with a capital P. And when Une finally lets me go, which is inevitable, the bad guys will surely take another pot shot at me. And maybe take Yuy out, too, for good measure. Poor Heero Yuy. You want that on your conscience, Dr. Po?" She had cursed under her breath, and then released him for active duty, limited solely to this one flight. He had grinned at her, an expression that usually worked in his favor. In return, she had scowled, growled and formally dismissed him with a curt, military Commander to junior agent salute. Maxwell frowned. It didn't feel good, having Sally angry at him. He wondered how he could make it up to her. Then he'd had difficulty with the flight suit. Cramming the cast into it had proven impossible. He'd finally had to resort to consulting the engineering department. They'd put a reinforced fat leg and boot on a skinny suit and reworked the seals for him. The fabric colors were grossly mismatched, like something on a clown costume. Didn't he just look the ultimate fool, clumping along in that? With the damn reporters wanting pics of him, too. Which brought him around to Peacecraft and Brexten. That whole strange business. He'd almost gotten used to Zechs trying to avunculate him. Yuy's CO, Prince Blondie, His Royal Silkiness, who looked scarcely old enough to pass for a student officer in ROTC. And when Peacecraft got that restless yearning look on his face, like you had something you could give him and make him content, if only you could figure out what the hell it was? And by the bye, where was Brexten coming from? Maxwell had felt fairly blown away when Mister Monster suddenly had stood up against the reporters on his behalf. Yikes! Maxwell hastily dodged a rather prominent upright in the random assemblage of welded parts that was L2. He thought he'd better shelve his thoughts to a time when he wasn't so actively dodging colony parts. Maneuvering the craft was frickin' difficult under the circumstances. Still, his had been a damned clever trick, if he did say so himself. And so simple. What was Murphy's Law? The real genuine article from the wag flight engineer, way back when? Murphy had propounded, "if a part can be put in backwards, it will be." Too true. Maxwell had put Murphy's suggestion to the ultimate good use. With a metal worker's rasp, Duo had filed the safeties off the disposable fuel filter cartridge. Fastened the fuel lines to the cartridge, flipped the cartridge over into upside down position and crammed it into place. Now the rocket fuel usually used for launch was channeled into the Stargrazer's positional thrusters. And the thrusters' fuel ran to the launcher. Eureka! (this bath water is too hot). Instead of the usual volcanic thrust of take off from the colony, launch had consisted of a mere burp. One small belch, and the Stargrazer had barely cleared the exit, blasting off on the wrong fuel source. Which left Maxwell using the high grade rocket fuel for his positional thrusters. Talk about catching some gee's. Yawing was rather more vigorous than you'd like. Poor Stargrazer. She was accustomed to lithe pirouettes. Instead, her lovely mincing steps could now be equated to mastodon strides. It took every bit of piloting skill Maxwell had ever possessed to keep the poor girl from lumbering headlong into the L2 hardware. "Yuy must be laughing his head off, watching my oh so graceful piloting from on high," Maxwell reflected with a chuckle, as he grappled with the explosive energy of the thrusters. It gave the youngster a warm, safe feeling, knowing that his friend was watching out for snipers, guarding his backside. And laughing at him. He pondered the mental image of Yuy's smile. One of the rarest treasures of modern civilization, that smile, Maxwell chuckled cheerfully.
"Shuttle 01. Proceed to destination with all safe dispatch." Peacecraft sounded upset. As well his CO might be, since Yuy had failed in so basic an assignment as sighting the Stargrazer at launch time. Had failed to insure Maxwell's safety. Had left him to fend for himself, wherever he was. "Shuttle 01 proceeding to destination as instructed. Out." Yuy got Flight Control permission, then entered the pattern for landing at terminal 586. He had positioned himself strategically to be equally effective at defending the Stargrazer, and at landing in a safely expeditious manner. "Well, one out of two," he shook his head grimly. Maxwell was all right. That boy never fell but he bounced. Duo had not succumbed to an assassin's bombardment. His shuttle had not exploded into subatomic particles during launch. After take off, Duo had not crashed into a pylon. His flight suit had not failed, he had not strangled or been desiccated unto dust. He had not burned to death on late ignited rocket fuel, nor choked blue on its fumes. Duo was not writhing in pain, bruised, broken and bleeding. Maxwell did not need his, Yuy's help. He told himself. Then he repeated it. Duo is safe and sound. At this very moment, Duo is laughing out loud, having vanished, then reappeared like the magician's glossy dove. Leaving us all to gape, dumbfounded duds. Duo is okay. "He has to be, damn him," Yuy stated softly. No, I didn't mean that. Don't damn him, don't damn him. I never said that, never thought it. I'm sorry. Damn me instead.
Maxwell had expected something slightly more cordial. Polite applause, perhaps. A handshake or two. At least a smile and a commendatory nod from the Commanders. But none of that happened. The whole lot of them stood silently, quite still, gaping up at Duo Maxwell. Nervously, the boy ran a hand over his sticky face.
There seemed a bit of a roaring in his ears. He glanced down at his
sweat dampened hand. His damp hand, which now appeared to be covered
in blood. ~ * ~
|
