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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"
Peacemission H65193P Sanc Registry In transit Time: 08:40 [ Sanc time coincides with Ship time] Howard It was inevitable the waiting would be extended and boring and blessedly interspersed with brief moments of activity. Some of those active times were somewhat frantic as they were dependent on set action within limited time frames. The one thing the vastness of space allowed for was adequate planning to cover as many scenarios as possible before the actual event took place. An imaginative mind could develop multiple scenarios and the required actions to ensure the desired result eventuated. It was, however, no proof against the far reaching interference of Murphy and his law. Prepare as you might you could not guarantee you could imagine every feasible mistake or circumstance that might eventuate. In all of his long years, if he had learned anything, it was to be on the alert for the inevitable appearance of Mr. Murphy and to deal with his chaos calmly. The legendary giver of misfortune would inevitable stick his big Irish nose into matters that did not concern him. Murphy seemed ideally suited to wander randomly through space and bring his particular brand of random opportunity to simple and complicated scenarios alike. Howard scowled at the nest of wires and circuit boards. Communications in space was vital to the survival of the human species. Lack of communications in the event of an emergency was invariably bad and of course, the fabled Irishman had to have a pet liking for fouling vital communications relays. The short circuit in the communications boards had come within half an hour of their communications window with the ships he had enlisted to aid in delaying the Wellington. He knew what was wrong with the system, the diagnostics were clear enough, it was just a pain to actually reach the exact circuit board which had blown and replace it. //Less than ten minutes and still no communications.// The Peacemission could, at this time, neither receive incoming communications nor send and he was due to issue instructions to his assistants. He had planned the complicated ballet required to delay the Wellington in the intermission since their last communication. It was Murphy’s sense of humor that saw it all fall apart when he was due to send the revised coordinates. //It is difficult at the best of times having to deal with the time lag making timing so vital a consideration when working out here. If I don’t get the instructions sent in a few minutes our placements will be off and the delay to the Wellington, while it will still occur, will not be as effective.// Space was so vast and radio waves were so slow the time lag involved in communication was inevitably bad for his teeth. He had a penchant for grinding his teeth while waiting. Having hours in which to plan every foreseeable detail was good but the action itself had to take place at exact time frames for the optimum effect. There was also the small matter of his need to establish contact with Raydon and the Sweeper Council respectively to be considered. He would really have to do something to improve their communications. //Perhaps I need to have a closer look at that proposed laser communications system. It’s high time something was done about the old-fashioned methods of communication we use. There is no denying light travels faster than radio waves and a decent communication system could mean the difference between success and disaster.// The proposal had crossed his desk some months ago along with a request by the Sweeper Council for him to explore the possibilities and potential as well as the viability of such a system. Why they wanted him to do the work he was not certain, as he had been more concerned with the completion of the Peacemission for her maiden run. The proposal had its good points but there had been little in the way of actual technical aspects for him to consider. Did they expect him to take the scrappy plans and make it work? Was he the only mechanical genius they had access too? //More likely they want to tie me up so they can keep a closer eye on my activities. Yes, the idea has merit and it could be feasible but it needs a hell of a lot of work and it would be damnably expensive … but it would give the Sweeper ships a hell of an advantage. I might take the matter up with Raydon when we meet face to face. After I tell the bastard off for this little fiasco he has set in motion I might get his view and see about weaseling some funds out of him. Station will need a decent and reliable communications system. // Around him the bridge of the Peacemission hummed with the mechanical music and the murmured comments of the crew added counter point to the rhythm. It was a music he could never hear enough of, the sounds of computers and flow of conversation backed by the throbbing pulse of the engines. He could feel more than hear the engines steady beat. It seemed for most of his life he had heard that song and it was a comfort. He had always felt uneasy when it was lacking. His gaze flicked back to the clock counting down the seconds to their communications window. Seven minutes to optimum distance. He was needed on the bridge to give the order for the instruction package to be transmitted, a matter requiring a few seconds only and they were facing disaster before they even began. If they did not get the spread right the Wellington would be able to barge right on through at her current speed. //We need to slow her down. Stopping her is too ambitious and doomed to failure but slowing her … that is another matter entirely. My calculations are exact and we have only a few minutes to initiate the dump to allay suspicions. She will be in sensor range in another few hours and a few hours after that she will need to dump speed to attain safe orbit around Mars. We have to disrupt her course or slow her down to force her to calculate a new orbital path.// He was tired, exhausted, but though he had tried there was no sleep for him. He was too keyed with the uncertainty of the situation and the events happening on the red planet involving one of his boys. He had made arrangements that no doubt would upset Raydon but he wanted the opportunity to have a few words with a certain individual and if Raydon had other ideas he could get his sorry butt across the millions of kilometers that separated them in days, not months. He resisted the urge to smirk. Though there were times he found himself wondering if Raydon and his people on the stations were indeed miracle workers he defied them to cross that type of distance and stop him from having his say. Besides, he wanted a full report on what had taken place on Mars and he needed to decide if he was to order his people out of harm’s way or engage in a very public song and dance about the raid. The survivors would need some form of protection from retribution as those involved sought to cover their backsides. There would be a fallout and somebody would have to be made the scapegoat. // Not my people. No Sweepers will be left exposed to their cover up. Raydon’s action I can understand. It separates his people from the identity of Raiders, giving them a legitimacy they might have taken years to gain if they had been silent after the size and brutality of this raid. I think he’s playing with fire moving the time frame up so far but I can understand why he did it. // “How is that repair coming?” “Two minutes.” The technician’s voice was a mumble, his head and shoulders partly obscured by the mess of wires and tools spread over the communication station. Two minutes would give him just enough time to confirm the locations of the ships to be involved in this operation. They should have sent confirmation of their locations and would be waiting for his response. Age had taught him the value of patience but it was still far from easy to stand on the bridge and give the air of casual nonchalance and infallible confidence one expected from the captain of a ship. Cool, calm and collected. That was his reputation and he had spent a lifetime crafting it. He would not allow it to crumble now because of a faulty circuit board. “Communications system reboot initiated.” He breathed a sigh of relief as the technician clambered to his feet and peered over the com officer’s shoulder, watching the screens with his hands on his hips. It would take almost a full minute for the system to reboot and until then he could not be certain he was back on his projected track. //None of this would be possible if the Wellington was in the usual space lanes. It’s only because she is coming in from an oblique direction that I can work this to look like a natural difficulty, and not one instigated deliberately. If Raydon hadn’t managed to pull his bully boys off the idea of attacking the Wellington we would all be in deep shit. The last thing I would have needed would be for them to turn up while I explained to the Wellington why she has to slow down. I hope no one else is off the space lanes.// “Green light on communication system. We are back on the air.” //Finally. Now to get this show on the road.// “Incoming communications.” The com officer leaned over the screen, one hand pressed to the earpiece and made fine adjustments to the array. The technician peered at the screen, reached to make an adjustment at an adjacent console and dropped to his knees to replace the spaghetti of wires in their respective appropriate positions. “Captain, confirmation two of the three ships are approaching the designated dump points. The Sandringham and the White Knight have confirmed projected arrival times.” //Finally. Something to do other than worry.// “Time communications was received into com database?” Howard turned to face the communication officer and resisted the urge to go over to him. With the technician and his nest of wiring obstructing the walkway it would be begging for a disaster to happen and he had had enough of entertaining Mr. Murphy. “Sandringham communication received at 08:28 and White Knight received at 08:31. Incoming communications from the St George.” Howard sighed softly, pleased with the contact with the third of the ships close enough and having the means already on board or near enough to hand to assist in the operation. He knew the captains of all three ships and knew them to be experienced and trustworthy. With their assistance they should gain the time they needed. “Confirmation the St George will be at designated coordinates in seventeen minutes.” Given the delay involved in communications by the time they received his next communication they would be in their designated places for optimum coverage. They would also have shaved up to a minute off the communication delays to two of the three ships and some thirty seconds from the third. It was not much of an armada with which to take on a ship of the class of the Wellington but Howard had always preferred the use of brains to brawn. His gaze flicked to the observation screen where a computer simulation of the current locations of the three ships was superimposing itself over his previous calculations. It was almost a perfect match and the remaining few minutes of real time involved in the communications would account for the slight anomaly. //You had better be right about this boy, or I will have a hell of a job explaining my involvement to the Sweeper Council.// “Dispatch high speed communication package containing the optimum coordinates for the dumps. Notify the ships captains to eject flotsam in scatter fields for maximum effect. They are to proceed immediately to the second designated deployment site. I will contact them again with optimum effect formation in five hours.” “Aye.” A flurry of fingers over the console. “Information package away. Formulating communication to ship captains now.” It was a novel solution and one he was rather proud of. The debris field he would be creating would be authentic by the time the Wellington arrived in the area and thick enough any captain with a care for his ship and crew would slow the rate of speed and adjust course and speed to effect safe transit. With his careful placement the drift of the field would be marked by the Wellington and the presence of a ship of the Sweeper fleet would be unremarkable. This debris field would be drifting dangerously close to a space lane frequented by the mining transports. “Sir.” He half turned and scowled at the young man stationed at the console to his right. He would have to have a few words with him in private about the deplorable habit of calling him sir. Unlike most other captains he did not like to be reminded of the grey hairs crowning his head. //God, that makes me feel old. // “What is it?” “Drone Alpha has detected a deviation to the projected course of the Wellington. She has passed the projected stage one deceleration point. New course and speed estimate places a projected time of entry into Mars orbit in approximately twenty-eight hours, thirty-nine minutes and ten seconds.” //Damn.// He sighed and nodded. //Not really a surprise her captain might try to shave off a few hours.// “She’s riding the edge of the recommended deceleration curve?” “Yes sir.” //Well, Mr. Murphy, you have not taken me by surprise. I expected this and I figured it into my calculations.// Howard studied the main screen and the overlying patterns of projected orbits, projected flight paths and debris drift and sighed. He had already sent the first sealed coded trajectories and ejection speeds for the debris to the ships. He would recalculate the second drop point to compensate and the adjustment would only be minor. He had the advantage of knowing exactly where the Wellington was bound for. He could project the perfect path. “How long before the Wellington hits the scatter field at its current course and speed?” A quick play of fingers over touch sensitive keys and the crewman glanced up. “Ten hours, fifteen minutes and thirty-nine seconds.” “Time enough.” He was satisfied with that. It was within the projections he had so painstakingly calculated. ”Alert me in nine hours unless her course and speed change drastically.” “Aye, sir.” He had sent out strategically placed drones to monitor the course and speed of the ESUN ship still out of sensor range of the Peacemission. Only the relay of drones allowed him to accurately keep track of the speeding behemoth and permitted him to carry out this deception. In five hours he would send the revised calculations to his cohorts and ensure there was a wonderfully large reminder of the war for the Wellington’s captain to negotiate. In nine hours time he would send an alert in his capacity of a Sweeper Ship on a salvage run to the onrushing vessel to reduce speed and adjust her course to avoid the debris field. To hit the field at high velocity would be to chance rupturing the hull and damaging critical equipment. This plan was not intended to damage the ship or kill anyone and he was thankful the captains allied to Raydon who had responded were willing to play by his rules. //A nice field of debris, an absolutely authentic leftover from the war and the destruction of Libra. I even calculated the speed and drift rate to reach this area in the time since the battle. All exactly as it should be. They will find unmistakable proof the debris is from the battle over Earth at the end of 195 should anyone think to investigate and take samples. The Wellington’s captain should howl loudly enough about the debris field not being included on the hazards charts. I suspect he may be very glad of an excuse for the delay and not push too hard into the field. I shall log the newly discovered hazard officially about an hour before the Wellington’s sensors come in range. Can I help it if the Dakkar system is down and the alert won’t be channeled to all appropriate departments in time for a general alert to circulate to all ships in the area? No, of course its not my fault, but by God I hope they find the asshole whose grand idea it was to take that array down and shoot him.// He returned his attention to the com officer and arched an eyebrow in query. “Message to the Sandringham, the White Knight and the St George is away, Captain.” The St George would not reach her designated position for another two hours by his estimates and he would have any adjustments required for optimum placement ready to send to her at that time. Her cargo of debris had been picked up from the Sleeper’s containment field furthest from Mars but an oblique orbit had permitted her to beat the Wellington to the region and she would lay the last of the field. Unless there were any delays or disruptions his calculations suggested the St George would lay the debris field and escape the Wellington’s detectors by as little as thirty minutes. //It is as well Sweepers are hoarders and we like to spread our salvage facilities at strategic orbits between Earth, Mars and the Asteroid Belt. It gives us handy access to any salvage material we might need. // “Incoming communication from the Phoenix Bell. Captain Marshall requests status report on the operation.” “You may inform Captain Marshall the operation is underway. First deployment of the debris field will take place in thirty-seven minutes. Warn him to keep his ships clear of the area.” Marshall and three other captains had contacted him following a directive from Raydon’s people and he thanked whatever deity held sway over space the men were sensible and willing to listen to reason. The plan had been to mine an area of space and succor the Wellington into it with the hope they could damage her enough and stage a raid, making it look like a Raider foray. Howard had liked the general idea though not the cost and come up with a variant which had met with the various captains’ approval. //There is more than one way to mine an area and this way no one gets hurt and ships do not receive expensive damage. Hmm, I wonder how much I can wring out of the Department for Space Environmental Safety for removing this newly discovered hazard to the space lanes. Unfortunately the course of the debris field will drift right across the main space lane and even threaten Mars in a matter of weeks. I’ll have to express my concern as to the urgency of the matter.// He was currently unhappy with that particular department so he could not immediately chastise himself for spreading the debris field in the first place. He would send an alert to the closest of the Sweepers’ actual salvage ships and ensure they gathered together to mark the threat to the space lanes. They would then begin the salvage operation before any innocent ships were threatened. The scout drones employed by all sensible ships captains would alert the mining freighters to the spreading debris before any ship made actual contact. //I could have wished there was time and opportunity to affect some other solution but when your options are limited you take the best that is available. It was the best solution and the odds are the bastard in charge of the Wellington will choose to chance blasting a path through the field. He’s on a deadline and even blasting away with every armament on the ship will not clear everything out of his path. He will have no choice but to slow his speed and adjust his course. We should gain enough time for the problem on Mars to be resolved, one way or the other.// The trap was being placed and now he needed to cover the Sweepers’ collective backside. They were the scavengers of the Earth Sphere. They made their living by removing dangerous obstructions to the shipping lanes and selling scrap metal. They had built their society and reputations on warning away those who might be endangered by debris floating in space and taking contract with the respective governments to remove such problems quickly, quietly and efficiently. “Com, get me the Cargo Master.” He would need to arrange for sufficient warning beacons to keep the space lanes operating at optimum efficiency. It was a rare week they did not get at least five or six ships traveling through the area. “What can I do you for Howard?” “Jane, how many buoys do we have to begin laying out a hazard warning field?” The woman’s head dipped over a hidden console and her shoulders moved as she typed in the request on the unseen keyboard. “We have three hundred operational buoys available, but it will be far short of the required amount to adequately cover the projected expanse of the debris field.” “Not enough to cover the debris field, no, but it will be more than enough to stake the Sweepers’ claim to the salvage. What ships do we have on the far side of the Mars orbit close enough to mark and claim the field?” Again fingers flew over the screen and after a few seconds the answer came back. “We have two ships close, approximately three weeks past Mars on orbital flight paths for the Asteroid Belt.” Howard nodded and turned to his second in command. “John, contact those ships and turn them around. You will need to arrange a fuel carrier to rendezvous with them at some point. I want them to mark the far edge of the field so get some computers working on the effect of the Martian gravitational well on the field. We will lose a fair mass of the field at Mars but I want as much of the rest as humanly possible.” “Working on it.” “Navigation, plot projected course for the debris field for sectors four and six of the Martian orbital field. Determine the time for interception with the debris field in those sectors taking into account full burn and optimal course with the estimated fuel of those two ships.” “When do you want the first of the warning markers deployed?” The Cargo Master drew Howard’s attention back to her. “It will be in approximately nine hours, give or take a little. I’ll come down in an hour to discuss the optimum use of our resources.” “Initial projections suggest the first of the ships could reach sector four in one hundred and sixty hours at full burn. Interception with sector six would be reached at two hundred and thirty-eight hours, fifteen minutes. Accuracy of projection given unknown factors such as fuel is estimated to be fifty two percent.” “Good enough, Brian. Adjust estimates as John relays details from the ships when contacted. Estimated time to the debris field entering the main shipping lane on the far side of Mars?” “Computers estimate initial contact with the shipping lane in sector five in approximately sixty-nine hours, thirty-seven minutes.” “Check on the registry and find out how many ships are within a week of that projection for crossing the debris field and how many are already within the area. The Dakkar system being down is going to make it difficult to contact them and warn them away.” Murmurs of agreement from his officers marked a renewed flurry of activity on the bridge and Howard sighed. It had been far easier to arrange the debris field than it would be to clean it up. At least Mars was not a living world like the Earth and there was far less of a population at risk from impacts. He wanted the colonists located and in safe zones before the debris began to fall. //I wish they had not taken out the Dakkar system. Have they destroyed it or just incapacitated it? Either way, its loss is going to endanger people’s lives. // He considered the problem for a moment before discarding unanswerable questions. He had enough trouble determining the best method of warning ships of the new hazards within the space lanes. Any captain worth his rank would have the drones out as long range sensors so he doubted there was any real danger of a ship being taken by surprise but in some areas the debris would be thick and some of the chunks were quite capable of seriously damaging a speeding freighter. The lanes would not be dangerous for a great length of time as once he could get enough Sweeper ships in the area they could gather the debris field in a matter of weeks. Gathering the required number of salvage capable vessels in the area would take more time than the actual salvage. They could concentrate their efforts on clearing the actual lane and gather the remainder up at leisure. It might well be that in transit ships would be required to break their journeys and lay over at Mars for a time. Refueling would take place in orbit and new windows would be set to speed their return to the Earth Sphere hub. He found it difficult to contain the somewhat feral delight in thinking about the reaction on Earth to the fallout of this Martian operation. //Someone is the ESUN Council is going to love this little crimp in their plans. It is going to cost time and a great deal of money to repair the damage done to Mars and to any ships caught up in the space lanes. A few resources being short in the hub might wake up a few people who seem not to have learned their lessons.// “Howard?” The com officer drew his attention. “Incoming communication from Preventer Patrol Cruiser Bounty. Registration E106.” Howard turned a thunderous scowl on the com officer who, as usual, was unfazed by his reaction. No Sweeper captain liked interference and Preventers always interfered. It was not exactly the best moment to have to deal with a Preventer captain. He needed his full attention on this present problem not on dealing with technicalities of law. //Damn. It’s probably relaying a message from Une demanding to know what I know about the Station Alliance and this meeting I am supposed to be arranging. Raydon, you are going to be doing some explaining, young man. She is hard enough to deal with at the best of times and this is not the best of times. // He admitted he had been somewhat concerned he had not received a communication from her some hours ago. It had been a blessing, making his plans that much less complicated but he supposed the peace just could not last. He was not particularly looking forward to a long distance call with the woman made all the more frustrating by the lag in communications. //Something is going on back on Earth for her to have delayed this long in getting in touch with me. That woman would never wait to be contacted so what is distracting her from annoying me? I have a feeling I should be worried.// It was hours since Raydon had made his announcement to the ESUN using the powerful transmitters of Station One. The Dakkar system being out of commission had not slowed down his actions and indeed it enabled the station signal to be less likely to be traced. The days of hiding were numbered, though, and Howard was not looking forward to the ESUN discovering the bulk of Stations personnel were displaced and previously homeless soldiers. The ESUN would find them more than a handful if they intended to discuss their independence with armed ships. He only hoped the pacifists would prevail and common sense would rule. “From?” “Preventer Agent Reaper.” The com officer grinned. “Duo sends his greetings and wants to talk off the record.” //Duo? What the hell is he doing on the Bounty? Last I had word he was in Sanc. He can’t have gotten wind of what I’m up to. // It would be good to see one of his boys after so long. He had to admit he missed the jovial gundam pilot and if he had the time he would try once again to interest Duo in returning to the Sweepers. He understood the young and restlessness was a part of being young but if Duo ever tired of fighting the good fight there was a place for him. “What class is the Bounty and where is she?” “Registration records name her as a long haul Preventer Cruiser. She is slated for a tour of the Asteroid Belt for a patrol, pirate hunting and general survey of law and order, the usual thing. The expected tour of duty is a one year swing past. She is currently out system bound from Earth orbit.” The com officer glanced up and waited for Howards reaction. Howard snorted. “A one year circuit? Now why the hell is the boy on board her if she is out system bound? I’ll take the call in the rec room. What is the projected delay on communications?” “He is using the high speed relay through the salvage system. The delay is expected to be no more than ten minutes and will fluctuate as the Bounty is increasing speed and our current heading is generally in system.” “Good enough. Send confirmation.” The delay would ensure he had time enough to think on the unexpected communication before he needed to speak with Duo. It would be good to speak to him again and learn how he had been doing over the last few months. They kept in loose communication but it could be anywhere from one to six months before they could speak to each other. They traded emails more regularly than they actually spoke. He was also curious about the mission the boy was on if he was on an outward bound cruiser and headed for the Asteroid Belt. //Is he trying to infiltrate a Mining Colony? From a Preventer Cruiser? It would be more likely they would rendezvous with another ship before they reach the mining colony.// He glanced around his bridge to find everyone intent on their stations and the Second Officer watching him expectantly. “John, you have the con. Call me if the Wellington alters her course or speed.” t.b.c.
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