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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"
Chapter 181 Mars Colony Base Dome 2nd March AC 198 Time: 4:25 [Approximate Sanc Time 02:16] Noin “Murderer.” They were all around her, shuffling closer, dead eyes staring, calling her names; accusing her. She needed to gain distance from them; put distance between them so she might think and not fear for her life while she considered her situation. “Why?” “Murderer.” She needed to put something solid at her back. With something solid behind her she need only guard three sides, not a great improvement on her present situation, but an improvement none-the-less. “What did I do that deserved this?” The closest building which might serve her purpose was Hydroponics Dome Three, and to reach that she must expose herself to more of them; running the gauntlet before she could reach its relative safety. The dead were between her and it in ever increasing numbers, and she had to wonder how many had died this day. Behind her and to the left lay the Main Control Tower, a little further away than the Hydroponics Dome, but there were not so many zombies between her and it. They were her choices and she would need to decide. The dead were uncomfortably close, and if she did not move soon they would hem her in from all sides. “Murderer.” “Am I dead? I can’t be dead.” Bolting and making a direct run for either the Tower or the Dome would not be wise. She would need to work her way carefully through them, watching them. They had cut her off once and she would not permit it again. If she aimed for the Tower she could lock herself within it, and lock the dead outside. The Shuttle Control Tower might be a possibility too. It was a little further from her current position, but three options were always better than two. “Why?” She must be certain none of the dead could come at her from behind. Hydroponics Dome Three was the closest though she was facing the wrong way and would need to run in an arc. Instinct screamed run, but something cautioned against it. If she bolted she knew they would have her. These two in combat fatigues were too alert. They moved normally, not the shuffling, lost stumble so many of the other dead used. They would have her, be on her before she could fend them off. How did one kill the dead? //Am I dead?// The towers might be her better choice. If she ran in an arc and slipped through the ever closing knot about her, she would be almost half way between the two towers. If the dead moved to close her off from the Main Control tower she could fall back to the Shuttle Control Tower and still gain shelter and time. “Did you give no thought to us having lives?” If only they would shut up and stop asking her the same questions over and over again. They were all speaking, all whispering, all of them. “What will my son’s life be like because you killed me?” She never wondered if they had family. You did not do that if you were a soldier. “Specials only think of themselves.” To consider your opponent as a person was to make yourself vulnerable. They had been taught to not see the enemy as human, though they must acknowledge it was a fellow human they fought against. It was contrary, but it was what Specials had been taught. “Murdered.” “Murderer.” Put that safe distance between you and your opponent and you would be more likely to survive. Remember always a combat situation was kill or be killed. Those had been her instructions. “Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue?” A quick dash was all it would take and she had had enough of them stalking her; playing with her. Her body was heavy and weighed her down. Her feet refused to lift from the ground. The harder she tried to run the more solidly she found herself planted to the concrete. They circled her, grinning like death itself, but they did not come for her. She almost sobbed. Her feet remained planted to the ground and she could not run. The Hydroponics Dome and the towers were there, within easy running distance, but she could not move. “What did you think? Did you assume there would be no accounting?” “We all have an accounting. Sooner or later. All of us dead.” “I’m not dead!” She was a Specials Officer and she was no one’s toy. She felt like bursting into tears, defying them and denying them. She was not dead. There was too much for her to do to be dead. They were playing with her, these two. One shifted forward, smirking and she wanted to move back from him, just slide a foot slowly backward and shift away from him. They were trying to work her into the open, encircling her and pushing her into the wide open space. Those who had been work colleagues were shuffling aimlessly, mumbling and looking lost. Some were beginning to display emotion, or what she assumed was emotion. On some it looked like confusion leading toward anger. The lost ones who had no understanding at all simply shuffled in circles. Those more aware seemed to be gravitating toward her. “What is it like to be dead? Personally I am not impressed by it. I was not ready to die.” “Neither was I, but I’m dead. We all are dead.” “Thanks to you.” They were playing with her. Something shifted. Cold, hard. Evil, her mind named it, even as her common sense claimed that to be stupid. Evil and good were not defined by something you could not see and touch, that flickered on and off like a light switch. But it was out there. Something… hard. Something… thirsting. Her head snapped back to find one of the soldiers had ventured closer, grinning; malevolent. “It would be better for you to surrender to us. We would be kinder.” The bloody light in the dome flickered, darkening. Her foot moved. Tentatively she took a slow step backwards, away from him and there was no resistance. Hope surged and she leapt forward, intending to run… and her feet remained on the concrete. The malevolent ‘thing’ seemed stronger. Wherever she looked the despair and confusion of the dead seemed to be growing. They were slowing too, barely moving. Some already had come to a stop. She could not run. Whatever this place was she could not run from it. It was a trap, she understood that, but she could not name the trap. It had something to do with the growing cold, and the lights were definitely dimming. The soldiers who walked slow circles around her were as affected as the other dead. The constant whispering was dying, silence rising, and with it fear. What would make the dead afraid? No one whispered ‘murderer’ to her now. No one spoke in their emotionless whispers. It was all quiet and they were still, as though they listened to the cold darkness slowly filling the dome. What ever it was that stalked her, the dead feared it. It was something that belonged in the dark and burning places best left unmentioned. It belonged away from the light and the living. Evil was a word that sprang to mind and she could not dismiss it, though she had never before considered the concepts of good and evil as physical forms. Somehow this was physical. Even the dead feared it. “It is our right.” The soldier to her left whispered, but his words sounded more like an appeal to her than a demand. He feared it. She could tell. He and his companion were wary. They had a certain respect for it, but they feared it. It was not just her who sensed the growing darkness, the oncoming malevolence. The dead knew it was there. That did not make her one of them. She was not dead. She was not. The soldiers looked hesitant, the fire in their eyes dimming. They did not move, though whether they could not, or chose not to, she did not know. If she had a choice she would be running as fast as her legs would carry her. Anywhere, any direction, so long as it was away from the oncoming ‘thing’. “You took our future.” He who claimed to have family moaned. “You killed me. I had the right to live.” “We had the right.” They looked confused and the confidence was less in their stance, and a note of unease was betrayed in their voices. They edged toward her and there was no threat in their action. Looking about her she saw the dead were moving again, though this time not as they had been before, hunting her. This time they seemed drawn to her, each one shivering as though in a chill. Each one whispering, moaning in distress; coming toward her as though they expected her to protect them. That was idiocy. Their distress chilled her. There were no whispers of murderer now. No questions or accusations. The whispers were moans of fear. “We are dead. Damned. All of us.” The soldier with family pressed hands to his eyes. “What will they do without me?” “They will go on. We all do what we have to do.” She whispered, looking hesitantly around at the gathering dead. “You did not have to kill. You are no better than them.” “They are bad enough, a horror, evil.” Them? “They are insane and you set them loose.” Them? What ‘them’? She had progressed from being named murderer, to being accused of setting something loose. Something evil. “Lu?” “This is the Base Dome? It looks… strange.” “Why…? Blood? Why am I covered in blood?” The dead seemed more aware. The nearer they drew to her the more coherent they became. The more fearful. “What happened? Are we… dead?” “What happened to me?” Forlorn wail in the growing gloom. “I don’t understand.” “Why do I have blood on me?” She stumbled, hands held out before her, dead eyes pleading for answers. “Am I dead?” “Why can I not wipe off the blood?” As if she had answers. She had no idea what was happening, and why were they looking to her as though she knew? “I do not want to be dead.” The ruddy glow was dimming, darkening. The dead were all around her. It was a strange darkness. Not really blackness, more a change in the quality of the light. The bloody glow was more pronounced, deeper, colouring everything. She could see them moving, see and hear their shuffling steps, and she knew they were all coming to her. They were coming directly to her, drawn like moths to a flame. There was no where to run. Even could she convince her feet to move. “We have the right of retribution!” The shouted appeal originated from the dead soldier to her left. She glared at him only to find his attention was not on her, but directed over his shoulder. At what, or whom she could not see, so dim was the light. “Is it not enough it ended badly? Must we have no recourse to revenge?” //What ended badly?// The thought startled her. “What is going on? I have to wake up.” “Fool. You think this is a dream?” He glowered at her, spitting a wad of blood at her. “You think this a nightmare?” “No nightmare.” His companion whispered, staring off into the darkness. “This is real. This is all there is. This accursed nowhere… and Them.” “I don’t understand. What ended badly? What is this place? Why are you here? Why am I here?” They laughed. Low and bitter, and of all the dead shuffling toward her, only they found anything amusing about her question. At the end, they seemed almost to be crying. “What ended badly? We did. We ended badly because of you.” Not real. It could not be real. It had to be a nightmare. If they were real then she was… no, she would not think it. She would not acknowledge it. “Is this not a nightmare?” A nightmare, nothing more. “You are dead.” “We all are dead.” “Even Them. Even Her.” She did not understand. She was not deeply religious, nor was she an atheist. No, there might well be something after death, but it surely was not this cold dark representation of the Base Dome. She had spoken to soldiers who had had near death experiences, and some had been described to her. They were nothing like this. “I am not dead. This is a nightmare.” Presences moving about her, shuffling. She flinched; almost certain hands were reaching for her, though she could not see anyone close enough to touch. A rising murmur threatened to send her screaming at them all to be silent, to give her a chance to think. “My son has no father because of you.” “Why would I be dead? I was planting flowers.” “I want to live.” “I was watering plants. How can I die from that?” “I want to live.” “I am not dead!” “I can not be dead!” “No. No! This is all wrong.” “I can not die here. I have family… I must return to my family.” “I am not dead. I am alive.” “You are dead. We all are dead.” A wail rent the air, a lament from the dead, by the dead, for the dead. None of it made sense. She must be dreaming. A nightmare, and a bad one at that, but nothing more than a dream. “You might wish.” A sibilant hiss from deep within the gathering gloom. The light was darker now, the colour of old blood. Darker, more menacing. “No dream, Miss high and mighty Specials. No dream for you to escape our retribution.” The voice came from somewhere amid the dead. It was low, vile and poisonous. The shuffling of the dead stilled. The air seemed to ache with the silence. Fear was becoming a tangible thing. Even the two soldiers were silent, waiting. “I am alive. This is a dream. Nothing more than a nightmare the like of which I have had a hundred times in the past.” Not exactly the truth, she admitted, but only to herself. She had had nightmares before, but nothing quite like this one. It did not matter though, she was not going to allow anyone to play her for a fool. Not even in a dream. “It’s time to pay the Piper.” Whispering rasp from somewhere to her left. “Everyone has to pay the Piper. Eventually.” Sing song whisper, female and was that a shape, flitting between the dead? “It is time you understand what you have done. To us. To them.” Though there was no movement from the dead, and none spoke, still she could recall their wails and questions too vividly. They were lost, perhaps more lost than she, and something needed to be done. She needed desperately to wake from this horror, to get past it and weep for the dead. She would probably weep for the living as well. “I have done nothing!” “You have killed us! Old blood darkness surrounded her, obscuring her vision. A charnel house reek became stronger, growing in the gloom; the scent of old blood and death. Blood and hate. The earmarks of war. She had fought in the war to end all wars. She had played her part in the horror to ensure there would be no more wars to rend families apart. Her part in that play could not have brought her to this. “Who did not fight in the war?” Someone amid the darkness scoffed at her. Had she spoken her thoughts aloud? Could the dead now read her very thoughts? “We fought too. We bled.” “Did you? Did you bleed?” “We survived the war.” The soldier pressed a hand to his face. “We fought the war for a better future and you killed us.” “You alone did not survive the war.” His partner stared at her, not now with accusation, but with an honest question. “What did you fight for?” “Peace.” She had fought to bring about peace. That was what the war was all about, teaching everyone the horrors of war and removing the weapons of mass destruction that they might know peace. She had thought she had lost everything that meant anything to her in that war to end all wars. He had come back, with the rise of war once more he had come back to see how well the lessons he had sought to teach had been learned. He? He who? “Everyone fought for peace. Everyone and no one.” The words escaped her before her thoughts could catch up with her mouth. “Why were we fighting if everyone wanted peace?” “God the dead are pathetic.” The voice was laced with wry amusement, dark and wretched. A sibilant hiss in a females tones. There was something seductive in the amused drawl. Something seductive… and terrible. “Take not the Lord’s name in vain! Blasphemer!” Someone in the field of silent dead stirred; someone who trembled and just for an instant Noin thought she saw movement beyond them. “Will you pass on already, you righteous berk? You know you are dead now, so get the hell out of our way.” “You are nothing to us; pass on to whatever hell awaits you.” Hell? Did they honestly expect there to be a Heaven and Hell? Nightmare. It had to be a nightmare and it was getting progressively worse, progressively weirder. In honesty, it had progressed to the weird stage when it could be nothing other than nightmare, and she would surely wake from it any second. “We all fought for peace, we all fought to live.” A mutter from somewhere amid the gathered dead. “Here they come, the moralists; the religious idiots and the just plain stupid.” The snide comment was accompanied by a derisive chuckle. There were other amused sniggers, snide; terrible in their honest amusement. That dark malevolence was not one entity, but many. She was sure of it. “Stupid bitch. Look at you. Lucrezia Noin. Stupid, self righteous, sanctimonious bitch. It is your fault I am here, listening to this drivel.” One of the soldiers, but he made no move to approach her nor to leave her vicinity. “They are here because of you! They are drawn to you.” The gathering darkness surged. She flinched, trying not to cower before it. Something wholly malevolent was near. The whispers amid the dead fell silent as it grew more defined. The silence was more terrible than their wailing and moaning had been. “She is coming.” “She has cause to hate you. More cause than we, I suppose, though you killed us just as you killed her.” His voice come from further away than she expected, and the gloom grew thick about her, hiding the dead from her sight, though it offered no comfort she herself might be hidden. “She is insane.” “It would appear we are to be robbed of our vengeance.” “No satisfaction, even in death.” Whispers in the darkness. She could barely see her hand before her face now and the light was more black than red, but there was that reddish element to it that so disturbed her. She had never seen a light like it. Or darkness, she mused. “Who will care for those we leave behind?” “I was not ready to die.” “I left things undone.” “I am not dead.” She firmly stated her denial, more to herself than to any who might listen. “We all are. All of us. Dead.” “Blood stained hands. We have blood on our hands, all of us. Our own, if not others.” “You sound so… bitter.” Did she sound as bitter as he? “Of course I am bitter. Look what I have lost.” “Who would not be bitter? Do your job and see your reward.” “Recon. We were looking, placing people and faces. Why should we not be bitter to have died as we did? We were not there to fight!” “No contact, the Commander said. Look only.” She stared into the darkness, but there was only the red gloom. She could not see them or feel them, only hear them. “Recon. Non hostile base. Keep away from Marquise and you. Yes, I am bitter.” “You had no cause to kill us.” She scowled into the gloom. “I do not kill innocents!” “We were doing our job and did not attack. You attacked.” “You would not know innocence if you fell over it.” He scoffed. “We should know. You fell over us.” Wry amusement coloured the whisper. “This is a dream and I will wake up now.” The darkness grew, the red deepening, and it seemed she floated in blood. She could breathe, she could feel warm liquid against her flesh; she could smell that unique copper scent of blood. It was all around her, but she could breathe. Fear. She must not allow the darkness to enfold her. There was an urgency awakening within her to awake from the dream. An awareness of danger growing stronger. “Bitch!” About her the blood rippled. All became still, the soldiers who had been close seemed distant now, fading into the blood that stained her world. They were afraid. They feared what was coming and fled before it. What made the dead fear? “Bitch! I know you are there!” Something terrible, unholy. Evil. “I can feel you.” Something insane. “She is coming.” His voice; he who had family. “Time to go. No retribution, no revenge. Nothing.” Flutter of movement somewhere in the liquid darkness. Her senses strained to hear movement, to hear whispers, to detect anything… They were leaving her. Leaving her alone in this blood with the insanity drawing near. They were leaving her to deal with it. “I want my turn at her.” If she could feel her lip no doubt it would be curling in disgust. That harsh whispered snarl had reminded her of something dirty, oily and smelly. “Insane. That is what they are. Insane.” The soldiers whisper, fading. “Who is?” She knew there would be no answer, and if there was it would be unsatisfactory. The darkness enfolded her. Silence from the barrier surrounding her. It was warm, liquid and almost peaceful. It could be beautiful to lie here, floating in warm blood, if not for the discord approaching. She could feel it coming closer. “Who is coming? Who is insane? They? Who are they?” Nothing. No voices now. No whispers of the dead. No moaning. No soldiers who at least spoke to her with intelligence. She was alone. “I can see you. Can you see me?” Not quiet alone. “Noin.” Low throaty chuckle. “Lucrezia Noin. I have been waiting for you.” She sensed movement near her and recoiled, but nothing touched her. It was there though, she knew it. Hate flavoured the very darkness. A cold, vicious all consuming hatred. She would wake up now. “I will rend you limb from limb.” She would wake now! “I will skin you alive, tearing strips of flesh from your bones.” Now! Closer. It was coming closer. Just out of her sight. Just out of her reach. “Have you nothing to say to me?” She tried to resist the shaking. She would show no fear. She was better than that, to be spooked by a lack of light and a few muttered threats. She was better than that. “I don’t even know who you are!” “Ah, but you do. Oh yes, you do.” There was something… about the voice… “I am coming for you. I see you. I see you trembling with fear. You will know what fear is when I have finished with you.” Something about the voice… She was insane. “I will have my revenge.” She. “I want you to hurt. I want you to hurt the way I hurt. I want you to be humiliated the way you humiliated me.” She wanted blood. More, she wanted pain and to assert her superiority. “Noin the Bitch. Noin the Slut. Noin the Fool.” From somewhere in the darkness, further away than the insane ramblings of whatever, who ever, stalked her, there was something else. Something low, rhythmic. An odd beeping sound, repeating again and again. She was certain it had not been there before, but it was there now, and it was monotonous. It was distracting her from the threat. You are dead, Noin. What does it feel like to be dead?” Dead? She thought she had answered that already. “I am not dead.” “Oh, but you are. You are dead and you are mine.” Was that noise fading? The beeping. Was that the low hum of a machine? “Dead, Noin. Dead. Dead. Dead.” “I am alive!” She was heartily fed up with listening to the rambling. It was torture of a most annoying sort to be circled by this insane entity that was so familiar, yet she could not name. “You failed and now you are dead and I shall get to play. I’ll make certain your death is, indeed, hell.” “Go to hell yourself.” Where was that humming coming from? She hated mysteries, and the disembodied sounds were far more intriguing than the annoying woman who snipped at her with useless words. Woman? “It was all because of you. The deaths. The reason They came. All because of you.” “Don't be stupid.” She denied responsibility, denied the accusation. Pain lanced into her, for an instant clawed fingers; nails dripping with blood, raked through her arm, and maniacal laughter rent the bloody darkness. “I have not, and never will be, stupid. Noin. I thought we knew each other better than that. We used to tell each other confidences after all. You never knew I was lying, did you?” Bloodied hands pushed through the darkness to hover, disembodied before her. A clawed fingernail delicately ran down her nose and deftly avoided the swipe of her hand. “You don’t remember? Ah, pity. I suppose it does not matter. I will enjoy torturing you whether you remember why you are in pain or not. You deserve it for what you did.” “I don’t… I… am alive.” “You are dead.” The beeping was gone. The hum of the machine was gone. Her certainty of life was faltering. The hands with their claw like nails danced around her, catching in her hair, pulling gently, once, twice… a third pull, designed purely to inflict pain, sudden, sharp and vicious. “Dead, Noin. Dead like me. You can not escape me now. You can only kill me once.” Fear clawed at her gut. For a timeless moment she did not understand why she feared. It was not the pain; it was not the darkness, or the viciousness emanating from the darkness. It was the voice. She knew that voice. “No one does that to me and gets away with it. No one.” She knew the voice. The hands dripping with blood she recognized, the nails with their blood red polish, darker than the blood dripping from them. She knew those hands. “Especially not you, bitch.” “I beat you before. I can beat you a hundred times.” “Dead, Noin. Remember?” “I am alive!” “How can the living defeat the dead, hmmm? If you are alive how can you hurt the dead?” No. That was not right… was it? No, she was… alive. Why did she dream of the dead? Somewhere in the bloody darkness there was a sound she must find. A sound she must find and cling to. It was her life line, her surety of escaping the nightmare. How could she have failed to understand and let it go? She had to find it again. “I will take great delight in clawing you apart. I will drag you down to hell, piece by piece. We can take a thousand years to do it, you know. It will be wonderful, just you and me.” No. No there would be no defeat. She would not permit herself to weaken and fall into the trap. “I am alive.” “Dead, Noin.” “I. Am. Alive.” She spaced each word carefully, putting in all the conviction she could into each word. She would thumb her nose at the bitch yet again, proving who was the stronger; who was the better. She was alive. There would be no defeat. She would survive this battle as she had survived before. This terror had a name and she was not about to lose to a fear she had already conquered. Somewhere, some when, some how, she had escaped and in the escaping she had killed. “I defeated you.” “You killed me. Don’t you remember? You killed me, I don’t understand how, but you killed me. I’m dead and so are you. We can play forever, Noin. We can play as many times as I like, and you will die and die and die!” Her insane laughter shattered the stillness of the darkness, sending ripples of light through out the bloody gloom. There had already been an accounting. She remembered… didn’t she? A tower. A room… fear and anger. The certainty she was going to die. “Oh, you will die. In a thousand wonderful ways, you will die.” She had won once. The second time? There had been a second time. Hadn’t there? “I won’t let you get away from me this time. I don’t care you killed me. I don’t understand how you killed me, but I will not allow it again. This is your hell. Your own personal hell. After I’m finished playing with your body I will let you rest. For a while. While you rest I will drag Him down into hell, and you can watch as I take him.” Something chillingly cold slithered down her spine. A cold, terrible dread. It was followed by a rising surge of anger. Him. Oh yes, she remembered. Him “Zechs.” “Again and again I will make him scream in pain and in pleasure. I will show you how to make a man such as him a slave to your every need. His pleasure will make you scream more than his pain.” Zechs. The name swam into her awareness and with it a came a cold stabbing terror. “Zechs.” “He’ll be mine. I will make him mine in front of you. I’ll make him scream for you. Just to show you how a real woman pleasures a man. It is a lesson I look forward to.” Zechs. There was no way she would leave him to this bitch. She had to go back. It was not over. “You are dead, Noin. When will you remember that?” She would face an eternity in hell if she had to for her past sins, but she could not leave matters unfinished. “Why do you insist on struggling? You are dead. Don’t you understand? DEAD!” “I am alive! ALIVE!” She could feel claws reaching out toward her, but that was alright. She understood now. She could hear it, the life saving beep and rhythm of the machine. It was there, beyond the dark bloody world that was her personal nightmare. She was alive. She WAS alive. She had no time to linger here, when there was so much yet to be done. “Rot in Hell, Shanna. Alone.” ———————————————— 2nd March AC 198 Mars Colony Base Dome Emergency Medical Shuttle Time: 04:56 [approx Sanc time 02:47] The shrill screaming of the alarms gave way to the beep they had worked hard to achieve. Shaking hands raked unsteadily through tousled dark hair and he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyeing the monitors even as he dared to hope. One minute and the rhythm remained stable. The spark of hope strengthened. Waiting. He ran a careful eye over the monitors, adjusted a medication control and glanced at the clock. Two minutes and still the readings remained steady. He shifted his feet and winced at the rustle of paper underfoot. The entire team dispatched to locate and bring this woman to the Medical Centre were treading on reams of paper. The deck of the shuttle was covered in page after page of medical readout, issued in response to crisis after crisis with the patient. He would need to copy the record of the computers treatment of the woman, as he was not intending to gather up this litter covering the deck. For now, he could get one of his assistants to download the record while they prepared the survival unit for transfer to the Medical Centre. When Noin was installed in the Intensive Care Unit it would take a team of doctors to evaluate the results of the data. Three minutes and still stable. “Sir?” He hesitated, eyeing the readouts and wondering if the simple act of releasing the deck clamps would be enough to kill her. She should already have been dead. Likely a human physician would have given up and allowed her to go, but the computer had repeatedly resuscitated her, stabilizing her time and again. He did not understand what it was he had done in the last few minutes that had saved her. From the few readouts he had read since arriving in the shuttle, she had died and been resuscitated continually by the computer. Somehow she kept responding to the medication and stabilized. “I want the full medical record downloaded while we prepare her for transfer to the Medical Centre. Prepare to unclamp the module. I’m not sure how much longer she can last.” t.b.c. Karina Robertson 2007 —————————————- Hello Just wanted to wish everyone a Happy New Year. I hope 2008 is kind to you. It's not Agency, sorry, but I am making progress with that one, but here's an Alternatives for you by way of a New Year Present. Sorry the chapter is not betaed but Dulin has other commitments at the moment so I am posting up unbetaed for a time. All the best for the New Year. Karina
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