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"Alternative Directions: Options "Written By: Karina Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely
boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me.
I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you. Rating: Deffinately PG in Australia, at the moment,
but probably safer to say R for later chapters. Not sure about international
ratings Warnings: It will be 6x2, even though it does
not start out that way. After all, Zechs and Duo never met in Gundam
Wing and only spoke briefly over a com line in Endless Waltz. I've
tried to keep them in character as I saw them in the series. A bit
of language creeping in under stressful conditions. Pairings: eventual 6x2, past 2xH, 2+H,6x9, 1+R
Summary: Directions is set post Endless Waltz
and roughly 2 years have passed. Zechs and Noin are on Mars and Duo,
after spending some time with Hilde in a relationship leaves L2 to
join Preventers. Hilde was not happy about his decision. I guess enough
said. Here t'is, and I hope you like it. This is also AU for the standard
setting, as well as the series and Endless Waltz. Spoilers: Gundam Wing Series and Endless Waltz Many thanks to Dulin for volunteering to beta this. //... // thoughts
"Alternative Directions: Options"
Mars Colony Base Dome 2nd March AC 198 Time 02:09 [Approximate Sanc time 23:59] Simpson His fingers curled around the door knob and he caressed the metal lightly, sensitive fingers tingling to the sensation of cool metal to warm skin. There was something there. Something that had the medical staff on tender hooks but none of them had made a move to get Frazier away from the room during his absence. His eyes flicked to the tech watching the hallway leading deeper into the medical unit. The man was relaxed or as relaxed as the situation warranted which undoubtedly would see a lesser man run screaming down the hallway like a gibbering idiot. He flashed a quick glance at the hallway himself, satisfied it was deserted and his attention shifted back toward the entrance to the medical center and to the doors between and he sighed. By the independent headcount both he and Frazier had taken on the arrival of the Emergency Response Team those four rooms should now be deserted. He was, of course, working on the assumption that all of the medical staff had left to perform their duties in preparing for the surgery but did he dare turn his back on the rooms without making certain his field of operations was clear? Could he ignore the question mark now at his back to investigate the question mark that hung over this room? He had good instincts and those instincts had thus far kept him alive in what was a rather colourful and traumatic career. He was a career soldier and he made his living by being one step ahead of everyone else. Did he really dare leave a possible enemy at his back? With a low sigh he straightened, his hand falling to his side and he met Frazier’s arched eyebrow with a low growl. He was not about to make what could be a stupid blunder. He planned on retiring in good health not coughing out his life on some floor somewhere and he was determined that that somewhere would not be on this frigid dusty ball of rock. “We check the wards to make certain we are alone. I’ll do a quick recon, you stay put and watch the door.” Frazier nodded brief acknowledgement of the instruction and resumed his former place affording the best view of the hallway and its doors. With a glare at the door and silent curse for the necessity of being thorough Simpson moved at a quick pace to the nearest of the wards. He was being honest with himself when he admitted that he was not expecting to find anyone in these wards but he was not of a mind to be a dead idiot either. Fools had never entertained him for long and he was not willing to be labeled amid their number. There were just too many question marks over this mission for him to relax his guard now. There were Sleepers running loose in the Base Dome above and he had enough evidence to know they had been loose in the medical center. It was more than a possibility that there were more lurking in other areas of the sub base and he needed to ensure that he did not lose any more of his own people. Frazier was the only operative he had available to him capable of taking action and he needed to preserve that resource. He would not leave his man’s back exposed any more than he would leave himself vulnerable. He paused to one side of the opened door to listen for any hint of sound. Any suggestion that someone might be moving in the room and this caution was warranted but only silence greeted him. A quick glance to Frazier who had his automatic in hand and was ready to back him up though he would not leave his assigned post unless his Commander signaled he needed aid and Simpson slipped himself sideways through the door, presenting as small a target as possible. He hissed softly as his gaze swept the room. Time was an element that he was only too aware of and he needed to be quick and efficient but the bloodied walls of the ward were enough to give anyone pause. The emergency response team had made some headway in cleaning but the room still resembled something out of a nightmare or a bad B grade horror flick. The blood smeared walls and floor of the room were the worst of course and the neatly piled blood soaked bedding with the mattress leaned against the wall lent nothing to the imagination. Carnage. The coppery stench of dried blood and death permeated the air and he wondered if he would ever be able to forget the smell. He was more than accustomed to the stench of blood and death but there was something about it on this occasion that threatened to turn his stomach. “Sick bastards.” he grunted and moved to the toilet and shower facility, scanning the small cubicle quickly before he checked the locker. The room was as he had expected it to be, empty and bloodied and he wondered briefly as he crossed the hall to the opposite ward if he was not needlessly complicating matters. The headcount, not just his own but Frazier’s as well, had met the estimates they had made but erring on the side of caution was all to the good if it kept them alive. ———————————————————— Frazier He missed his computers. That was the worst of this assignment, he decided, the need for him to abandon his beloved electronics and take part in more physical action than he was comfortable with. Simpson vanished into the ward in which the medical staff had seemed to cluster and he wondered if perhaps his head count had been off. While he was not one hundred percent certain about the Emergency Response teams numbers he was certain of the head count he had taken for the medical personnel working around him. He did not think his commander was in error over the need to check on the rooms. He was not a combat specialist but a technician and computer’s man. Electronics were his forte, not fighting hand to hand or getting himself involved in shootouts though he was certainly capable of keeping his own hide intact. He had been assigned to Blue Squad as a part of upgrades by some insightful body who could see which way the political winds were blowing and what changes needed to be made to retain the squad as a functioning unit. While many of his squad mates were capable of taking rough and tumble to the extreme he preferred to keep himself low key and out of direct action if at all possible. Give him some electronics to play with and he was content. Some days were better than others and he did not need to ask himself a dozen times an hour what the hell he thought he was doing remaining with these men. He had been leery of the reputation of the squad on his assignment and many of the men had not impressed him. During that first year he considered some of them to be little more than rabid animals but improvements had been made with the inclusion of Simpson into the squad. Even as a subordinate Simpson had had a code that had driven him to take action repeatedly against the excesses of their teammates and with his promotion to Commander the squad had seen some polishing and winnowing of the dross until the team was to Simpson’s liking. There was no doubt in his mind that Simpson had been assigned to the squad to clean them up and make them an acceptable unit to the somewhat nicer sensibilities of the pacifist government. At least under Simpson’s watchful eyes Frazier no longer felt the need to grow eyes in the back of his head to keep his own hide safe from his teammates. He flicked his gaze from that boringly empty hallway back to the area behind him just in time to see Simpson slide into the third ward. With a small nod he checked his watch and smiled. If you admired nothing else about the man you had to admire Simpson’s efficiency. Three rooms in under two minutes. Not long now before he would be back and they could get on with this distasteful business. ————————————————- Simpson “Now what …?” There was something odd here. This room above any of the others disturbed him. His eyes scanned over the room taking in the decorated walls and their bloody testament to the insanity of man and to the blood pools on the floor and the occasional boot print from a footstep that had passed through still damp blood. The room was almost a carbon copy of the other three wards but what drew his attention was the fact that the bed had been moved. The men assigned to clean up the room must have shifted the bed as it was away from its set station where all of the monitoring equipment could be applied to monitor the needs of a patient. He had expected to find the bed stripped down to the frame work as the bedding was piled outside the door and the men had walked the mattress past him not three minutes ago. What he had not expected to find was a bed moved almost to the middle of the ward. He scowled at the bed as he eased around the walls of the room, careful not to brush his back against the bloodied walls. That was stupidity, some voice deep inside whispered. It was just blood and dried blood at that but the room was oppressive and he had the sense that something vile lurked here still. A quick check of the locker and the toilet facility and he was once again looking at the displaced bed. It bothered him. //Why move it? There was no need … blood?// He had expected to find blood in abundance and finding some on the bed was to be expected. What took him by surprise was that the blood was the clearly defined stamp of a boot sole. Someone had stood on the frame of the bed to … His eyes flashed up to the ceiling and he swore. Two screws held the grill in place but there was the lightest smear of bloodied fingerprints at the rim of the vent. //Shit!// He was moving before conscious thought caught up with his body. Someone was in the vents and he had already had experience with Sleepers using the ventilation shafts to move around the medical center undetected. Two men had come out of the ward casual as you please, even nodded to him as they passed and gone into the center. //Were they aware of this? Did they move the bed or was it moved before they entered the ward? A Sleeper could have moved the bed to gain access to the ventilation shaft long before they turned up on the scene but … // He was out of the ward and on his way back to Frazier with the strong suspicion that somehow they had been circumvented in their control of the situation. He did not like the thought at all that someone had managed to get past Frazier and even now could be moving freely in the center without their knowledge. Worse still it was possible that someone had managed to elude them and escaped the center and was now free to wreck havoc in the sub base. One or more people unmonitored could mean disaster. //Were those last two men involved in this or not? Did they help someone get past Frazier and if so why? Who?// The door to a particular room sprang to mind but he and Frazier had been standing before the door before the emergency response team arrived so how could they know anything was odd about the room? Of course the very fact that Frazier had not moved from his position there was noteworthy and could arouse the curiosity of people who dared to cross purposes with Blue Squad. //Merquise? No, there is no way he was one of those men who came in through that door. Someone else? Barker is at the Alpha Dome so I doubt it’s Preventer-related. Someone else who thinks they are good enough to take us down? Damn. Too may questions and I have no time to work it through. There is no more time left as far as I’m concerned. We have to get through that door and get on with this.// Frazier had tensed the moment he saw his commander racing down the hallway and with a quick glance behind him he took a step toward Simpson who held up a hand to stay him from moving. Simpson did not want that door unguarded and he was confident that the rooms around them were empty but he had more reason now to think that the treatment room was of interest. //Perhaps they are trying to get into the treatment room. Something in there that they don’t want me to find … or someone? Is it … possible? Merquise? Broadham tried to turn my attention from the room earlier and succeeded well enough. He wouldn’t go out on a limb for just anybody. Not too many of them would suspect our presence here would be for more than an official check on the man but … Would they try to cover for him? The only reason Blue Squad would have a reason to be on Mars is to check Peacecraft is still aware of his status as a prisoner. Has he been that close all this time?// Breathing hard not from exertion but anger he moved past Frazier and took up position by the door. Pressing his ear to the surface he strained to hear the smallest sound, aware that the tech was watching him with concern. He could not blame Frazier for any of this if his suspicions were true. The man had done his job and he could ask no more of him than that. He was, however, going to enjoy tearing Broadbham into little bloody bits when he had Merquise secured … if he was behind this door, of course. He glanced once at Frazier who cocked his head in silent query and himself glanced at both ends of the hallway. Still silent and deserted and he was not going to wait any longer. He fingered the gun in his hand and considered the layouts of the wards. It was possible that there would be a bed almost directly opposite the door and if Merquise was injured then he should be in it. Dare he holster the weapon? He wanted payback but he had his orders and he needed the man alive. In the man’s favor he suspected it was Merquise who had gone to so much trouble to keep his people healthy which was more than a surprise but the evidence was there. //He could have killed the women and those two men in the maintenance room. He didn’t and it would have been easier to take them down permanently that simply render them unconscious.// It was Lucrezia Noin who rightfully incurred his wrath for killing his people and not Merquise but he could not help wanting a piece of the blonde menace. He had heard too much of the prowess of the Oz pilot over the years to not want a showdown with the man if it was on offer and he had hoped it would come to that. A physical testing of who was the best was eagerly anticipated but would he get it if something had happened and Merquise was injured? He snarled at the very thought of not getting the much anticipated fight. If he had to he would have to take his temper out on dismembering the remaining Sleeper agents. No doubt it was one of those who might have done enough physical damage to warrant Merquise being hospitalized. Or was he simply hiding in there waiting for an opportunity to act? If so, why not use the vents? Or had he used the vents already and long escaped them? Frazier shifted to the covering position and he tilted his head enough to meet the man’s gaze. The tech would not have been his first choice for this but he was the only resource Simpson had at this time and he was trained to preserve his hide in a fight. Any one of the other members of his team would have been better but Simpson was a realist and that being the case he decided it was best to keep the man well informed. He didn’t want a helpless Merquise shot by accident if the tech got rattled in there. “The most likely scenario is that the room is empty but I have found evidence of someone using the ventilation system. There is also the possibility that Merquise may be in there and we need him alive. We take no chances and we go in hard and fast.” “Sir.” The acknowledgement of the command was softly spoken but firmly voiced and the man’s eyes showed him there was no hint of panic and that settled him. He had little in the way of concern that Frazier would fall short from his expectations when he set his hand to the door handle . “If it is Merquise we need to take him down and if he is already injured that is to our advantage. He may be walking wounded and if he is I expect him to be trouble. His reputation suggests he might be more dangerous cornered and hurt than under normal circumstances.” Frazier nodded his understanding of the caution and centered his gaze on the door his fingers gently caressing the butt of the automatic he held. The tech stood half a stride behind Simpson, not so close that he crowded his commander and chanced fouling them both when they could least afford distractions but covering his back, tensed and ready. Did he dare to fling the door open and charge through in the hard and fast action his gut instinct said was best or should he take note of the more moderate voice that whispered the sneaky and slow silent entry would be more appropriate. Considering what he knew of the methods of the Sleepers and the possibility, slim though it was, that Merquise might be involved he was not about to presume he could somehow slip into the room. Someone would be watching and he was not going to try crawling though the bloody vents. Enough was enough. Too much thinking about the possibilities was going to get someone hurt and it would not be himself or Frazier if he had his way. He hated this assignment. The metal of the knob was cold under his palm and his fingers twisted quickly. Taking a steadying breath, eyes narrowing and adrenaline pumping he pushed the door. Seconds only to see the interior and take action. Everything happening fast, moving through the door and knowing Frazier was on his heels pumped and ready. A quick glimpse of a largish room neatly ordered and full of equipment ready to hand for the medical personnel. Side cabinets flanking the bed, monitoring equipment on one side and on the other the tall form half bent over the bed wearing a white coat he automatically catalogued as a doctor and a wealth of the palest flowing blonde hair spread over the raised pillows. Unmistakable trade mark locks of hair. Reaction was instant. Hyper aware of the opportunity presented to gain the winning hand and get this unsavory business dealt with once and for all. He was moving fast, determined to secure the situation before his luck deserted him and Merquise could react to his presence. “Merquise!” He snarled the name, almost spitting it as satisfaction welled within him. Everything was suddenly moving in slow motion around him and he was out striping Frazier in his single minded determination to get his hands on Merquise. He was vaguely aware of the sound of Frazier’s voice but he could not sort out the words shouted but something within him screamed Frazier would take care of the doctor and Merquise was all his. He was more than halfway across the room before his mind registered the white coated man was dressing his targets wounds, just securing a bandage around the left hand and forearm of Marquise. The man’s eyes were widening even as he turned toward him reaching for a kidney dish set on the bed beside his patient but Simpson’s attention was focused tightly on Merquise and his right hand which was moving impossibly fast in this slow motion world. He would not give Merquise even a second to take decisive action against him. The man had too much of a reputation for pulling of the seemingly impossible for him to allow him even a second’s respite. That hand was moving fast for a scattering of objects on the blankets covering his lower body. Gleaming dark metal stars. Seemingly innocuous and startling was the hollow tube on the bed and it was this, not the stars to which the man’s hand was reaching. He snarled a denial. Merquise might be injured and some would presume down because of the injuries he might carry and he had noticed the heavy bandaging on the man’s left shoulder but he was not going to presume he was helpless. That right hand had a finger to the tube and sudden memory of the surgical nurses comment on sedatives and darts crossed his mind. Simpson threw himself forward as his brain finally made sense of what Frazier was screaming. “On the floor! On the floor now!” ———————————————————— Time: 02:10 [approx Sanc time 00:01] Polnar He shifted his shoulders against the incessant itch that seemed to want to drive him to distraction. He needed to concentrate and time this for best effect. If they could return to the hallway before Simpson and Frazier made their move they might be able to give Barker a few added minutes to reach Marquise and Giles and perhaps devise some plan of action. When Simpson went through that door everything would happen very quickly and he needed to be there or close enough to have any chance whatsoever of featuring in the event. The itch would not stop distracting him and it was an itch he had felt before, during the war. The itch that said he would very soon be seeing action that could be his last. Every trained soldier who had seen combat developed that itch if they wanted to stay alive. It was survival instinct and it served to remind them that they were alive and wanted to remain that way. “I don’t feel right about this.” Polnar leaned his hands against the wall and glowered in the direction from which they had come. “Bad feeling itch playing up too?” Carter glared around the small room they had found, leaned his end of the mattress against the wall and moved to the door. After listening for a moment he peered out into the hallway and then ducked his head out quickly, scanned both ends of the hallway and ducked back into the room. “No one around.” Polnar forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths. He needed to be cool calm and collected if he was going to come out of this alive. Going off half-cocked was dangerous not only to his own well-being but to his partners as well and Carter had thus far been a good man to have at his back. “I think it’s about time we made a move.” Carter shrugged considering the door with quiet contemplation. He was a man who was willing to be led but not at the expense of his life. He believed in considering the situation before he leapt off the deep end of the pier into unknown waters. That was one thing that worried him about joining Preventers if Barker should make the offer. He had worked well as a part of a team since coming to Mars but there was too little known about Preventers to make the decision easy. He needed to ask questions before he agreed to anything and those questions had to wait on the outcome of this day’s events. Barker had pegged Polnar as something other than an ex-soldier caught up in the situation and he had been right, not that Carter himself had not been suspicious that Polnar was more than he appeared. The Preventer’s handling of the situation had reassured him of the man’s integrity and given him to believe that the Preventers might not be just another branch of the government that had presented them with the problem of Blue Squad and an unstable unknown number of Sleeper agents to deal with. Polnar was in no way his superior in this situation but up until now he had been content to follow the man’s lead as their intentions had coincided. The man had offered him an opinion, not instructed him that they were going back now and he appreciated the man’s insight and acknowledgement of his independence at this time. Polnar wanted his opinion on the situation and their position and he was quite willing to give it. “We’ve wasted enough time I would think and if they are still in the hallway we have the excuse of that bundle of bed clothes to deal with.” “Yeah. We might be able to buy Barker more time to get some sort of action plan worked out with Merquise.” “It’s possible. I just hope if Simpson or Frazier did a quick recon it was just that-quick. If one of them noticed what we were up to in that room Barker and Merquise could be in trouble.” Polnar winced. “We never moved the bed back, did we?” At Carter’s shrug he sighed and pushed himself off the wall. Done was done and they could do nothing about the oversight. “Come on. I need to see what is going on before I go stir crazy.” He like all others who made their way to Station One had been tested for any trace of psychic ability. The consensus was that he might have had a modicum of talent but it was not sufficient to demand training but would he like to be trained to develop what they suspected might be there? No, thank you for the offer, he would not. What they suggested might be an underdeveloped Psi talent he simply called a soldier’s instinct and was content to leave it at that. A well developed sense of timing and the ability to know when to act though not why he needed to act was the extent of his talents and as he had told the Training Master who tested him any soldier who survived combat had that ability. Nothing psychic about it. While he knew his name was on the roll of potential psychics in pre break out he firmly believed he was not a member of the Gifted. If human survival instinct was a psionic ability then why was the world so ignorant of the benefits of the abilities of an awakened mind? //Jesus, Polnar you stupid bastard, this is hardly the time or place for that.// He needed to focus on the needs of the situation and not on a conversation that had happened nearly two years ago. He was on Mars for a reason and that reason had surely been foreseen by Raydon, despite his earlier denial, else why would he be here and not on assignment closer into the hub of the Earth Sphere? Raydon had personally chosen him to back up Haydon Giles and bodyguard the Prince of Sanc. The leader of Station One had chosen him, personally requested he consent to the assignment stating in his opening comments that this was not a compulsory mission and he had the right to refuse the placement. That alone had piqued his interest and he admitted it had worried him a little. Raydon had gone so far as to apologize for the fact that he could not offer him much in the way of instructions considering the nature of the assignment before they had sat down to discuss the actual details. Certainly there had been no insights into the mission granted by the Gifted at the station with the ability to foresee future events and he admitted that worried him. Usually agents sent from Station One had the benefit of their mission briefs being bolstered by pre known event. Visions from one or more of the Gifted on the stations or working in the ESUN would be included in the mission briefs as warnings of what agents might expect on assignment. That had been singularly lacking from his mission brief and he reflected that it was not the first time the Gifted had seemed blind to events involving Merquise. Was it possible that not one of their Gifted Seers, Raydon included, had received not even the most obscure warning that the Prince of Sanc was in trouble? He nodded to Carter and peered out into the hallway ensuring that they were, at least for the moment, on their own. He did not wish to drag any of the medical staff into the altercation that was brewing. He and Carter would be enough for what was to happen or it was all over and they did not need anymore dead than necessary. He had the nasty feeling that if they did not carry this off they would be dead and not caring about anything other than meeting their maker. It seemed odd to him that the resources the Gifted represented to the stations had failed them. Warnings concerning Merquise and his activities were few and far between before the Libra incident and warnings of the outcome of that little altercation had become clouded and obscure after Merquise had left Oz. Something in that time period had seemed to block the Gifted of Station One but something seen by someone must have caused a fuss because Raydon had taken off in one of their ships mid way through the war and arrived at the final battle just in time to pick up a severely injured Milliardo Peacecraft from the wreckage. He remembered overhearing a conversation soon after his arrival on the station between two bridge officers. They had been speculating why Raydon would be so intent on securing Merquise for the stations and it had been soon after that he had learned that Raydon had more than the usual aspirations of acquiring skilled personnel for Station in Merquise. There had been a comment or two that Merquise had taken fright and bolted from the station but Polnar had to ask himself what, after fronting the entire Earth Sphere and rubbing their noses in the gory brutality of war, could possibly send the man running? There had been rumors of visions surrounding what had become known as the Barton Incursion and since Merquise had featured in that he assumed the man had left Station One to take a personal hand in defending the peace he had featured so strongly in crafting. He would have expected the Gifted to gain fair warning through their visionary abilities of where Merquise would end up after the Barton Incursion and being in the intelligence service of the Stations and often paired with the Gifted teams, he should have heard any rumors concerning the love of Raydons’s life. The silence on Merquise’s whereabouts had produced unease on the Station. If the man was capable of the Libra incident what else was he capable of doing? That resounding silence on the subject had made him uneasy and when Raydon had asked him to bodyguard the newly located man he had been torn between abject curiosity and the impulse to run as far from Raydon and Merquise as he could possibly get. Since stealing spaceships was frowned upon on Station he had sat down and listened to the man and now here he was, walking down a hallway with a perfect stranger to back him up and the Commander of the infamous Blue Squad ahead of him. Some days were just so perfect you could cry. //One thing I have learned from my association with the Gifted is that you can not take the benefits of working with them for granted. It does not do to presume that they are always right or that what they say they see is actually what they saw. I’ve been warned about the potential inaccuracies not of the visions themselves but of the interpretation of the visions often enough not to doubt the danger. We are only human and the Gifted are as human as everyone else and we all make mistakes. I think the current saying on Station One is to err is human but to err badly is the prerogative of the Gifted.// Carter moved freely at his side attentive to the slightest sound that could mean company approaching or trouble ahead of them. They were moving quickly and quietly toward where the hallway began its gentle curve that hid Simpson and Frazier from their sight and he hesitated a moment, debating on their best method to continue on. Should they keep up the jogging pace they had adopted and attract the attention of the men if they were still in front of the door to the emergency room or would it be safer to slow to a walk and approach on a more casual basis? The picture of innocence might get them further than running and finding the men standing there quietly twiddling their collective thumbs. //I hate ambiguous orders. It leaves too much to chance.// He wasn’t sure what it was that alerted him but he was aware suddenly that something had changed. He could not place his finger on what it was that alerted him to trouble but suddenly a chill was racing up his spine and his feet seemed to have a will of their own. He was racing down the hallway even before the shout split the silence and doused his nerves in ice water. “Merquise!” Simpson’s voice! Carter’s muttered ‘Oh shit’ was barely heard over the drumming of his racing feet and the thunder of his heart trying to escape the confinement of his ribcage. “On the floor! On the floor now!” Frazier’s repeated shouts sent a chill through him. Giles. Giles was in that room and he had to get there as fast as was humanly possible and here he was stuck out in the hallway and the room seemed miles ahead of him. “Shit. Shit! Shit!” He was running and Carter was just behind him but he was too far away and he had to get there. There was the door and it was open and time seemed to be odd around him, slow and an impossible invisible barrier was holding him back so that he had to fight for each step closer to what lay beyond the door. He was unaware that he began to draw away from his companion as panic lent additional speed to his flying feet and he was reaching for his knife before he was even at the door. Some part of him retained enough awareness of the area around him to note that the hallway was deserted and there was no additional danger to complicate matters. From within the emergency room there came an inarticulate shout followed by the crashing of furniture and as he came abreast of the door he heard with tinny clarity the sound of something small and metallic hitting the floor and bouncing. He was going to be too late, he knew it but there was nothing he could do. Surely only seconds must have passed since Simpson had acted and if he was fast enough and Simpson was distracted with Merquise he would have a good chance of taking the Commander down. He needed to get to Simpson before he could recover from whatever he needed to do to take the men down in the room and that was going to be his one and only chance to affect the outcome. Merquise was not alone in that room. Giles was in there and would do his best to defend the man but there was not just Simpson in there. Frazier was shouting and Giles could not deal with two of them at once. Could he take down two of them? He would have to manage or the Stations were going to lose two members of the Gifted Elite Security Force this day. That would be guaranteed to piss off Raydon. It was only seconds and he could run like the wind if he had to and by God, he had to now or Raydon would lose valuable resources, not just a potential lover. t.b.c.
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