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"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 9. Return to depths, dark swimming. Ancient or novel. Hints of beings, others. Glowing articulations, animate action. Are here, you there. Which is which? Organic molecules mingling in murky swirls. Making maternal caresses in the life slime. Mocking? Take me back, don't leave me alone. Am yours, or not? If not yours, why exist at all? Life rock, alone in flight. Is depth insane height?Illusory water, vacuum to void to vicissitude. Endlessly dispersed. Spread extremity, scattered unto nonentity. Empty depths, murky swimming in nothing. Sweet glitter swirls, cannot be grasped. Mine. Not. Nor yours. Separation, identity, all one, and none. Roaring in his ears, ocean sounds, seashells, plastic disposable, floating, eternal entropy, vacuum, confusion. "Maxwell. You have a nosebleed." Hell. How embarrassing. The support, solid. Yuy, guarding his back. Comfort, warmth. Good buddy. Thanks. Maxwell, knees trembling. Blinked, a muddled view of a somber oldster. Offering a pristine square, cloud, white, glitter. His Honor. The Judge. Clean pocket handkerchief. Too clean. Maxwell shook his head. Improved the quality of the darkness, shed the glitters. Shit. Decision out of his hands. Pressed firmly under his nose. His Honor's handsome hankie. Hell. "The helmet...regulator filters...pressure...spread all over his face. Actually not that much blood...looks awful though." That's it. Explain away the embarrassment. On his face, in his hair, down his front. Hope nobody's getting this on camera. "Photography...now permitted." Brexten's voice. Asshole Brexten. Gonna kill that guy. Swear it. "Perhaps a chair...in order..." His Honor. Decent guy. "Bleeding...how long...minimal blood loss...be all right...soon." Yup. Soon. Deep breath, down his throat. Cough. Splutter. Yuck. Spittle mixed with coagulation. Lovely. "Forty nine minutes, twenty seven seconds." The Court Recorder reporting results stentorian style. "Forty seven minutes," Maxwell protested. The surrounding laughter sounded jovial. That's better. As the pleasingly intense oxygen of the terminal's breathable atmosphere restored his ability to think whole sentences, it occurred to Maxwell. This stellar class enterprise would be for naught if he now appeared incapacitated to the lawyers. Bedraggled was acceptable. Down for the count was not. Stir yerself, son, he thought. The assassin has to arrive at his destination on time, but also healthy enough to do the dastardly deed. Come on Maxwell, he told himself. Look wicked. You should be good at that. As his vision cleared, he found himself staring into Heero Yuy's Saint Louis blues. Duo chuckled, teasingly. "Hey, hot shot. How'd you get here before me? Thought you were supposed to be tailing me?" Uh oh. Must've said the wrong thing. Yuy looked mega upset. The hell? "I saw the launch flash. But I never sighted the Stargrazer," Yuy stated. "Oops. Ho, damn. Sorry about that, man. The first left turn was a doozy. Really hung some fast gee's. I musta got hidden in the shadows too quick for visual." "How close to the colony were you flying?" Heero scowled. "Close enough to hug the old biddy," Duo grinned. Yuy did not look amused. "Flight control couldn't track you either." Peacecraft made his presence known. He looked even less joyful than Yuy. "Structural interference. Electronic noise. Trackers' snow." Maxwell shrugged. Why did he feel he was in deep hot water? Again. He gulped, forcing a clot down his gullet. Then he coughed it back up, into the lately white handkerchief. The Judge's swipe. Oops. "Yes," Peacecraft agreed, stone coldly. "Electronic and structural interference. You disappeared, completely. Now you had better go make your deposition. It will be the only evidence that the flight took place." "Sir. Yes, sir. Sorry. I wasn't striving for stealth. Just didn't want to risk the other traffic. Safety, civilians, I mean," Maxwell's voice trailed off to silence. But then it came up again, albeit rather meekly. "Erm, sir? I don't think its a great idea to get photo'd. It wont help prosecution's case. Me, looking like something the cat dragged in." "Too late for that." Dickerson chuckled. "We couldn't hold the press back now for love nor money. Go on, Kid. Knock the Judge's socks off with your statement. You did it. Tell them so." Maxwell made his statement in front of the Judge, attorneys and court recorder. Duo stated for the record that he had, in fact, sealed himself into the Stargrazer at terminal 437 and flown the shuttle directly to terminal 586. Total transit time, 47 minutes. He swore that there was no new Preventers technology involved in his successful journey. He had utilized nothing unavailable to the public. Then he emphasized that there was no trick or illusion, he had actually made the trip. The Judge, with an irrepressible twinkle in his eye, asked Maxwell how his ship had disappeared. Duo apologized, replied that he had not meant to disappear. He merely had wanted to avoid civilian hazard when he flew against the traffic pattern. So he had flown very close to the colony's extrastructure, where shuttle traffic was absent. But in so doing, he had sunk into the deep shadows, thereby becoming visually obscured. And likewise into a zone of strong "noise" interference, rendering tracking impossible. Hence the appearance of disappearance. Prosecution next wanted to emphasize for the record that the shuttle pilot was able to walk, talk, and in general function normally at the end of his flight. Defense instantly and rather demandingly questioned the pilot whether he had experienced, and in fact was still feeling some rather dramatic ill-effects from the extreme exigencies of his phenomenal flight. Maxwell explained that he had experienced a simple bloody nose, the same as anyone might from time to time. It was an inconvenience, yes. But not a health impairment. It looked a heck of a lot worse than it was. This was because the pressure changes, and the suction associated with the vacuum filters of the flight helmet spread the mess all over his face and hair. Ghastly looking, and embarrassing when people wanted to photograph him. But it was not a major health problem. He had been so preoccupied with the flight details, he hadn't even noticed until afterwards, when folks pointed it out to him. Defense began to badger him about his credentials. Hadn't he become an experienced pilot at an extraordinarily early age? Didn't he consider himself an unprecedentedly gifted airman? Did he really believe any ordinary pilot could accomplish such a flight? Wasn't he, in fact, reputed to be the best pilot in the whole Earth Sphere and all of its colonies? The Judge verbally gaveled down the defense. Now was not the time for these arguments. Such questions were appropriate to the courthouse, not the shuttle terminal. Attorneys properly were to limit themselves to questions germane to the flight. Only those points that could not be settled later were to be addressed currently. Instead, the Judge proposed stepping into the shuttle to formally confirm that it was the same they had viewed an hour before at terminal 437. Then at last, the court proceedings were adjourned. As soon as the legal eagles let Duo go, the press wanted him. Peacecraft placed the young pilot firmly in a chair. Heero Yuy hovered watchfully, close at his side. Dickerson declared, "if you gentlemen are interested, Agent Maxwell will consider a few questions." And the press pounced. "Duo Maxwell, how would you rate the difficulty of this accomplishment? Compared to wartime action, how would you rank today's dangers? Were you afraid? Did you feel confident you could survive the terminal to terminal death flight? Do you feel the risk to civilian flyers and passengers was truly warranted? Were you ordered to fly, or did you volunteer for this mission? What are the chances now of bringing the alleged assassin Maelaport to true justice? Have there been attempts on your life? How does it feel working closely with Heero Yuy again? Did you two argue over which of you should make the death flight attempt? How have you adjusted to being under the command of a former wartime enemy? Are you friends with Prince Peacecraft? Do you still consider L2 your home? Think of yourself as a colonial? Any truth to the rumor you are dating a Ground Bounder? Dating a lady pilot? Dating an aristocrat with a large fortune? Do you think you'll start a more colorful fashion trend in flightwear?" Dickerson didn't seem inclined to intervene. Annoyed at the increasingly silly trend of the interview, Peacecraft abruptly shut down the session.
"Which should be very soon. We've got the defense in full blown retreat now," Dickerson stated complacently. "Let us hope so," Peacecraft's distant courtesy responded. In Maxwell's studied opinion, these two guys were unlikely to join the same bowling team any time soon. Maybe Dickerson was more enthusiastic because the Maelaport killing had happened on his home turf, so he was eager for a positive resolution? But it was Peacecraft's case, too. So maybe the officers just didn't know each other all that well? Otherwise Duo was at a loss to account for their uneasy interactions. It never occurred to him that the Commanders had disagreed over Maxwell. Words had been exchanged privately, which failed to clear the air. Dickerson felt it was prejudicial that Peacecraft lacked confidence in the L2 pilot's abilities. And Peacecraft found Dickerson's cavalier attitude toward Duo's safety absolutely unforgivable. So the two officers coldly parted company.
"Yuy? Are you pissed off at me?" Duo asked. "No." Heero had taken some sterile saline and two by twos from the aid kit, and was swabbing at the stubbornly encrusted blood lingering on Maxwell's face. The boy squirmed underneath his hands, as the gauze tugged strands of his hair from the dried mire. "Cause you're looking at me like I was a fly grub in your lunch noodles, y'know? You sure you're not mad?" "Why would I be?" "Dunno. Guess cause I shook your tail. You know I didn't do it on purpose. Hell it was all I could think of, grappling the shuttle out of trouble. I for sure wasn't trying to lose you. Anyway I wouldn't pull that kinda stunt. Leastwise not during a mission." "Of course I know that." "Cause you look like your mad as all hell at me." "I'm not angry at you." "But you look like yer pissed to pestilential perdition." "Get some sleep," Yuy advised Maxwell. "I'm not tired," Maxwell protested, immediately before he sank into oblivious slumber.
"Don't see that it matters how he did it. Mission accomplished. That's what counts." "Shows what you know. They're going to tear that flight to shreds in the courtroom, guaranteed." "They said it'd take 3 hours-something to fly that trip. Maxwell did it in under sixty minutes. Which totally toasts their alibi, in my book." "Yeah, but you're not on the jury. You've got to be an idiot to be chosen a juror. Those lawyer-types like their subjects persuadable." "Maybe. What's your point?" "It was Duo Maxwell that done the deed, my son. You heard them. Reputed to be the greatest pilot on planet Earth, in or about the colonies. All they've got to do is argue Maelaport isn't as great a pilot as Duo Maxwell. Who's going to disagree with that?" "Nobody. But just because Maelaport isn't as good, doesn't follow he's not good enough." "Hold on. You're looking for that level of logic in a legal proceeding? Not likely." "Besides. Nobody said that Maelaport had to take the low road. Maxwell just did that because he couldn't risk civilians, him being a Preventers agent. Maelaport wouldn't have given a damn about something like that." "Can't believe the Kid made it. What a stunt." "Of course he made it. Never doubted it for a second." "Then you're more a fool than I thought." This last was Brexten. Duo recognized the deep chested rumble. The man had been uncharacteristically silent up until now. "Who're you calling a fool, asshole?" "You. 'Never doubted it for a second'? That was a fucking impossible flight path. There's got to have been a cheat somewhere. The whole thing is just fucking impossible." "What do you mean, cheat? You saying Maxwell didn't fly the shuttle where he said he did?" "Oh he flew it, all right. Which is just impossible. I can't figure it out." "When did you get to be an aeronautics expert, Brexie?" "Idiot. It doesn't take an expert. Look at the facts. Maxwell took the Stargrazer through an automated launch sequence. Completed it. Half of us witnessed the damn event. An automated launch would have taken the shuttle a certain distance. Plain old fashioned physics. How the hell did he turn immediately into the L2 extrastructure? When the launched shuttle would have been nowhere near the colony by then?" "Reversed thrusters." "That wouldn't do it. Reverse them too soon and he would have just shaken the ship to bits. Reverse them later and he'd have already cleared the colony. Yuy said he never saw the craft, just the launch flash. And Flight Control lost the shuttle immediately into the snow noise. I'm telling you, its plain impossible. Which means there's a cheat somewhere." "If it bothers you so damn much, why don't you just ask the Kid? Since you're on such good terms with him and all, Brexie?" The taunt elicited a bout of laughter. Maxwell grinned, reflecting on events. Having foisted a fast one on his mates.
Peacecraft stood stolidly, arms folded across his chest, implacably looking down at the youngster. "The troop carrier has already departed," Yuy informed Maxwell. "If you don't ride in the ambulance, you will be walking." "Fine, I'll hitchhike." When Duo moved to step around the body block, Peacecraft's hand shot out to grab him. "What do I need with an ambulance?" Maxwell complained loudly. "This is ridiculous." "I'm riding in it," Yuy stated soothingly. "Fine, great. Just fine." Maxwell stormed past the gaping gurney guards and hopped into the vehicle. Yuy and Peacecraft, exchanging glances, followed after him. "Vitals? They're getting vitals on us? Wha' for?" Duo looked across at Heero, who calmly was allowing himself to be poked and prodded by the EMTs. "What the hell is this?" Yuy shrugged minutely. "Placating Po." "Oh. That." Duo reminded himself how angry Sally had been, the last time he had seen her. He settled himself with a sigh, twitching away from the tickle, while the tech tested his toes for capillary refill.
"Where's Yuy?" "Gone to his quarters, if he has any sense at all." "How come I gotta stay here?" "Twenty three hour admit for observation. You have yet to achieve twenty three minutes." "Observation for what?" Po quoted from his chart. "Patient with multiple long bone fractures, advised against flight, re: risk of fat embolism. Discharged from care against medical advice. Patient now returns to care, having piloted shuttle. Patient states he 'pulled some fast gee's' during flight. Prolonged epistaxis of greater than 60 minutes occurred during and after flight. Probable anoxic stress re: oxygen source fouled by clotted blood, ineffectual flight helmet filtration, etc. Following flight, patient was observed to experience difficulty breathing, nausea, confusion, disorientation, syncope and prostration. Recommendation. 23 hour admit for observation." "I'm going nuts here." "You have access to sedation, analgesia. Food, drink, television, radio, music, books, electronic games. There is absolutely no need to suffer." "I just want frickin' outta here." "No."
He crept to the door and peeked around the corner. The floor clerk was watching television. None of the medics were in view. Maxwell ghosted into the shadows and slithered toward the elevators. Considered that route of escape briefly, then discarded it. The floor clerk might be bored enough to look up if the lift made a noise when it opened. Maxwell arrived at the stairwell next. He hunkered down, out of view of the desk, grasped the door knob and gingerly twisted it. He inched the door open, whisper softly, gradually wider so that the glaring light of the stairwell didn't intrude on the clerk's visual field too suddenly. Duo slipped through the narrow opening, then eased the door gradually closed, released the tension on the knob noiselessly. Breathed a relieved sigh. He had successfully attained the stairwell. The gym locker room was on the next floor up. He opted for haste over stealth on the currently empty stairs, and clumped up them as fast as he could move his restrained limb. Duo sneaked into a cul de sac that featured snack food machines, and peered around a corner into the main hall. Various personnel appeared in the distance, going about business. Maxwell opted for brazening it out. He entered the hall, and stumped briskly toward the locker room, as if it was perfectly ordinary, sauntering about wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital gown, a polymer cast, and a roguish grin. Surprisingly, no one seemed to take note of him. It was that hour of the early morning in which people who were awake wished they weren't, and therefore ignored their surroundings. With a delighted chuckle, Maxwell went for his locker and pulled out his shampoo supplies. Hot shower. Yes. He steamed himself, writhing, stretching and scrunching under a torrential fall of water. Slathered detergent into his blood-bedraggled hair, scrubbing enthusiastically until he felt every single follicle upon his scalp had received individualized attention. He poured lavish volumes of conditioner onto his long tumult of hair. Brushed it out under the water. Gave his pits, personals and pinkies a modicum of lather, rinsed, and with a contented hum, wrapped a towel over the new improved Duo. It really did not take much to make him happy. Now if he had something street worthy? Socks and gym shoes. Check, even though he only needed one of each for now. J strap, check. Sweats and a hoody, both black. Perfect. Maxwell pulled up the false floor of the locker and donned a lovely set of balanced blades, at ankle, calf, thigh, waist, wrist. And of course, the usual hardware incorporated into his braid as he wove it snugly and tied it. A few bills secreted about his person and he was ready to dance. Duo Maxwell disappeared. No one at Preventers Headquarters noticed as he attained his freedom. Three and a half hours later, Commander Peacecraft received urgent
notice from Dickerson on L2. There had been a prison riot. Maelaport
had escaped from confinement. The dangerous assassin was at large.
And he was thought to be headed for Earth. ~ * ~
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