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"The Best Laid Plans"Written By: Honor Disclaimer: Disclaimers: Not only do I own Gundam
Wing, I own beach front property in Arizona. I even own everything
Lois McMaster Bujold wrote. Rating: R Warnings: AU, sci-fi, language, violence, lemon,
death (bad guys, don’t spaz), crossover Pairings: 1x4 (maybe 4x1), 2+5 (implied) maybe
others, don’t know they haven’t told me yet Author’s Notes: The idea for this (and the
world it is set in) comes from Lois McMaster Bujold’s “Borders
of Infinity”. I can take no credit for it. And I probably wouldn’t
have written this if Quatre hadn’t popped up in my dreams and
plagued me until daybreak. Have you noticed that it’s always
Quatre who picks on me with new ideas? Why *is* that? Anyway…um…oh
yeah. I remember now. Dedicated to my kitten, Helen, who helpfully
thumped her tail against my keyboard whenever I got stuck. Sometimes
even when I wasn’t stuck. And to my two wonderful betas, Velvet
and Lucy. They did a really quick turnaround on this, and I appreciate
their patience with my impatience. *emphasized* //com or vidphone// /thought/ Summary: Admiral Quatre Winner of the Maguanac
Fleet has only one mission on Jackson's Hole. Go in, get a scientist
named Dr. G, and get out. So how does he wind up in a basement with
a sixteen-year-old supersoldier? Well, it all started when Lady Une
sent him an invitation to a private tête-à-tête... "The Best Laid Plans " Chapter Two: The Plan
He’d barely been able to contact the doctor and arrange to meet out here in the open. The man was rather paranoid. It was, in fact, why Quatre had chosen to meet him in person and away from the two Maguanacs that had followed him down. Out of everyone on ship, Quatre was the least threatening in appearance. Well, Duo might come in a close second, but he had his own concerns to deal with. Quatre wanted both of his captains to keep their ships primed to leave at a moment’s notice. The slight empathic sense that Quatre carried had been crackling with warnings ever since he had accepted this job. Being on Jackson’s Hole wasn’t helping matters in the slightest. Quatre turned on one heel, wanting to pace to warm up a little. It was then that his quarry came into view. If Quatre hadn’t already seen the man’s picture and read the file that came with it, he would have assumed that another experiment gone wrong had gotten loose and was wandering around. Either that, or Frankenstein’s grandson was coming to visit. The man’s appearance was just *odd*. “Admiral Winner?” Quatre nodded, making his smile affable and friendly. “That’s right. Dr. G, I presume.” “No names, please,” the doctor said hastily. “…fine.” Yup. Definitely paranoid. “When are you ready, doctor?” There, that question should be neutral enough. “There’s…a complication.” Quatre raised an eyebrow, trying to look encouraging. Really, he just felt like groaning. /What *now*?/ “What kind of complication?” “When—” he licked his narrow lips nervously, “—when I was contacted and offered the…change…I took the precaution of hiding my research. But the place that I have hidden it has since been taken out of my control and I can’t access it anymore. I’ll…need you to get it for me.” What was this? Sanc would take him stark naked and be grateful for it. “Doctor, whatever research you have cannot possibly be worth it—” “Oh, but it is,” the doctor assured him hastily. “They won’t accept me otherwise.” /Bullshit. What game is he playing?/ Well, Quatre couldn’t blame him much for wanting to take his life’s work with him. He would probably feel the same way, if their positions were reversed. Rubbing at his throbbing temples—the man’s anxiousness was playing havoc with his empathic abilities—he nodded. “Very well. Where is it?” “Ah…that’s the complicated part.” Oh boy. Why did he have a bad feeling about this? “I put it in an organism. An experiment of mine, actually, that I had planned on destroying before I left.” Quatre rubbed again at his temples. It didn’t seem to have any effect, however. “Why the hell didn’t you just put it in yourself? You couldn’t have lost it that way.” “Ah.” The doctor’s eyes lit with stunned surprise. “How elegantly simple. Why didn’t I think of that?” He cocked his head, gaze turned inwards. To Quatre, it looked as if he were searching for some kind of internal systems failure. “Hm.” Quatre did not shake the answers he needed out of the good doctor. He was, after all, a commander of almost five hundred men. A man of his position had restraint. “Doctor, my contract states that I will deliver you safe and happy. But I’ll settle for safe, and I think my employer will too.” The threat penetrated and shook the doctor out of his temporary paralysis. “Before I was contacted by…ahem…them, I was involved in a development project to create the perfect soldier.” Quatre’s stomach abruptly tied itself into knots. “The whole project was a nightmare. The customer—some fanatic group in the Libra system—wanted so many different factors. We began to research different animals to see if we could somehow splice those genetic traits into a normal human. I, in particular, because rather fascinated by the cheetah—” “The *point* doctor,” Quatre gritted out. They had designed a supersoldier? By *committee*? /Great gods, that’s a terrifying thought./ “Ah, yes, a man of practicality. Very well, the point. Only one subject of the experiment survived, and the project was dropped. Libra lost, you see. Funding was cut off, and the other nine subjects died leaving only the one.” G fidgeted slightly. “We designed it to have superior speed—that’s where the factor of the cheetah comes in, you see—flexibility, eyesight, hearing and memory. Unfortunately we were never able to figure out how to lower its metabolism…” “And what, may I ask, do you want us simple soldiers to do about it?” Quatre was getting twinges, warning of a headache incoming. “Go in there, collect the tissue sample, and kill it. A mercy killing. Quick and painless.” Not to mention stomach twinges. “I see. And where it is now?” “It was sold last week to Merquise.” Of course it was. Where else would it be but Kushrenada’s rival House? “And where is it in the…specimen?” This whole thing was not sitting well on Quatre. He had too many visions of what could go wrong. “The left gastrocnemius muscle,” G replied promptly. Quatre shot him a Look. “Ah, in layman’s term…the left calf.” Urk. Quatre could just imagine how this was going to work. In his mind’s eye he could envision chasing a supersoldier, some seven feet tall with fangs. Of course, this wouldn’t last long because the creature would turn on him and eat him for attempting such a ridiculous stunt. “Very well. I’ll contact you again in three days. And doctor…” G swallowed nervously. “Yes?” “We *will* leave in three days. Even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming onto the shuttle.” + “…and he refuses to come until we’ve retrieved it[,]” Quatre concluded morosely. As soon as he had boarded the Nataku he had called for an emergency conference. He now had Wufei, sitting on his right looking irritated and ready to go retrieve the erstwhile scientist barehanded if need be; Duo Maxwell, captain of the Shinigami on his left, appearing for all the world as if he were watching one of his beloved cartoons instead of sitting in front of his admiral; Trowa Barton directly across the table who was distinctly unhappy by this change of events; and finally Sally Po, the fleet’s doctor. Technically Sally didn’t have to be here, but Quatre had learned upon gaining the fleet that Sally possessed more than the usual dose of intelligence and common sense. He called her in whenever possible. “If he did inject it as a tissue sample, it wouldn’t have moved far,” Sally interjected thoughtfully. “Perhaps an inch, if that.” Quatre didn’t find that fact particularly comforting. “So,” Duo wondered, idly playing around with the end of his three foot long braid,“are we going to try the legal way first? Or do you want to just skip the pleasantries and snitch it?” “Legal way first,” Quatre replied firmly. “I don’t hold out much hope for that, but it would save us a great deal of time if we could just buy the creature outright. Trowa, while I attempt to reason with Zechs Merquise, I want you to come up with a Plan B.” Trowa nodded shortly. “Sally, give me a rundown on where precisely this tissue sample would be.” “Yes, Admiral.” Sally was already writing furiously on her personal computer. “Wufei, Duo, how much cargo do we have loaded?” “Not much,” Duo admitted. “I’ve got about a third of what I’m supposed to have.” “The same,” Wufei grunted. “Damn. Alright, try to hurry that along if you can.” Quatre rose to his feet. “Dismissed.” + It took roughly ten minutes to get the right section in Merquise’s Sales and Products. Quatre hadn’t been quite sure if he should go to Weapons or Biological Organisms. In the end, it had been weapons. A plain man of roughly thirty appeared on the screen. //May I help you, sir?// “I have heard that Merquise House has a specimen within its possession that I might have some interest in,” Quatre started smoothly. /I hope this works./ “A creature designed to be the perfect soldier. Is this correct?” //Ah, yes sir we do have such a creature.// “And how much are you asking for it?” //Forgive me, sir, but I’m not sure if it is for sale. Will you hold while I check?// Quatre nodded, smile pleasant and fingers crossed under the table. A ‘Please Wait’ screen came up, flashing in one second bursts. One minute passed, then two. Then three. Quatre was idly wondering if the screen was meant to hypnotize the potential buyer so that he would buy whatever he was suggested when another man came onto the screen. //I am sorry for the wait, sir. The creature in question is so newly acquired that we have to check with Merquise himself.// “Ah. I see.” /Argh! This is precisely what I *didn’t* want to happen!/ Quatre tamped down his anxiety. After all, no one would know the connection between the creature and Quatre’s real mission. There was still a chance this could be pulled off. Just so long as Merquise didn’t hold a grudge for when Quatre had ‘intercepted’ that ship headed to his House last year… “And when might you be able to tell me—” The screen split abruptly, and the next person to appear was Zechs Merquise himself. //I’ll handle this, Alex.// //Of course, my lord.// The other man appeared startled, but obediently disappeared. //Admiral Winner.// Zechs nodded politely, a faintly amused smile playing around his mouth. “Merquise.” Quatre returned the polite nod, groaning mentally. It appeared that he would not, in fact, be buying anything today. //You have strange taste for a run-of-the-mill mercenary, Winner. In fact, your interest in this matter is rather contrary to your nature, is it not?// Quatre gave a deliberate shrug. “I am always recruiting, Merquise. The rumor that I heard intrigued me.” //Then I hate to disappoint. The experiment is newly acquired. My own scientists have not had a chance to learn everything that they can as of yet. I’m afraid that I cannot sell.// “I quite understand.” The little admiral leaned back in his chair[,] face bland. “In that case, I’ll waste no more of your time. Good day.” //Good day.// The screen went blank. Quatre slipped his com unit back into his ear. “Barton.” //Sir?// “Plan B just became necessary.” ~*~*~*~ Honor: *rummaging around in music folder* dum-ta-dum-ta-dum
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