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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 ShenLong for volunteering to beta this. //... // thoughts
"Alternative Directions: Options" Chapter 200 2nd March AC 198 Colony L1-0025 B [La Grange point 1. Serial number 0025 B ] Shuttle PS 330AT Time: 15:30 [approx Sanc time 14: 29] Trowa He would have felt better if he could have slept for a few more hours. Another hour, or better another three, would have wiped away the lingering exhaustion and placed him in a better frame of mind for what lay ahead. At least the sleep he had managed to garner had been blessedly free of the echoes and horrors of nightmare. He had feared giving in to the need to sleep, much as his body had been desperate for it, worried it would prove his downfall and be a mistake he would awaken from screaming. That would have been embarrassing, to put it mildly. The Preventers single persons quarters was overrun with bevies of scrambling operations teams, harried office staff and excessive quantities of security personnel installing additional security measures. Due to the need to designate, find, and set up accommodations for the officers and internal departments deprived of their usual stamping ground; their usual accommodation no longer serviceable due to the explosion. It would have been just wonderful if he had awoken screaming his head off. That would have attracted unwanted attention to him. He almost laughed at how much of an understatement `unwanted' was. He was not inclined to explain to anyone, least of all office workers who had no concept of the after effects of high adrenaline action, why he was screaming his head off about fire, bodies in alleys and Christ only knew what else. Somewhere in that panicked moment between waking and sleep there was sure to be a glimpse of long gone Gundams, long dead people and… No, best not to dwell. Pressing a hand that seemed too cold for his temperature controlled environment to his eyes in hopes of blotting out the sight of the cabin, he rested his head back against the seat rest and considered trying to get comfortable enough to gain just a little more sleep in transit. Now that he was on the shuttle in time for departure there was really no need to remain alert. He had some free time in which he could indulge himself as he saw fit and resting seemed like it should be right up on the top of his list of priorities. His body ached worse than ever, the chance to lie down and sleep earlier having given already sore muscles the chance to stiffen to the point where waking brought him to the realisation of just how much his abused body did not want to move. Even the prospect of a steaming hot shower and languishing beneath the pounding, massaging hot jets was barred to him, and he would have given anything to have enjoyed such a shower before he had settled to sleep. It might have helped ease the pain and loosen up his muscles, but the regen gel and the dressings covering the more serious of his wounds were not waterproof. For the next few days at least, perhaps for as long as a week, he would need to content himself with a thorough wash down of the parts of his anatomy he could comfortably reach. It would have been much more fun having a hand wash down if Quatre had been the one doing the scrubbing for him. Just another reason why he was unhappy with the events of the past 24 hours. Perhaps, if Quatre could find the time, he might join him? //Who am I kidding? There's shit hitting the fan there no less than it is here. Even Quatre can't stop the wind from blowing.// It was as well he healed relatively quickly and the regen gel on his back would speed along the healing of his wound. He had the distinct feeling he would not have a long time in which to indulge sore muscles and scraped skin, and he could only hope his feet would recover quickly. He just hoped whatever he could feel coming had nothing to do with fire. He had had enough of fire haunting his dreams. "Chameleon." Well, there would be plenty of time for him to rest once they launched. It would take them upwards of five hours to reach the L2 cluster and his destination. He lowered his hand, opening his eyes and inclining his head just enough to enable him to observe the agent crouched in the doorway to the cockpit. The man was watching him with an expressionless face, well aware of what had occurred during the early hours of the morning and why he was the one piloting the shuttle and not Trowa. Truth be told, Trowa would have preferred to pilot the machine himself, but he was a realist. Why put himself through that trial when there were others who were more than capable of doing the job for him and, therefore, allow himself to rest while he could? The investigation to come would require all of his attention and resting on the flight to the L2 cluster made a great deal of sense. Besides, Griffon had been adamant he rest while he could and his medical report had still been on prominent display on the man's desk at their last meeting. Trowa prided himself on being smart enough to know when not to rock the boat. "We will be launching for the L2 cluster in ten minutes. Griffon sent a message to say he will forward additional information during transit, as it becomes available." "Understood." The agent inclined his head and retreated back into the cockpit, leaving Trowa to his own devices. Once the shuttle was in transit he would open the mission file and review the available data. All he could do was hope he could find something he had not recognised as being of importance on the first, second or third read through of the report. He knew precisely the information contained in the written report and what data was on the disc… and it was not enough. It would fall to the investigation team to fill in the copious quantities of gaps in the data and make sense out of chaos. They lacked so much information and what they did know was seemingly insignificant and full of dead ends, but it was all they had to go on and all he could do was hope Griffon and his team could come up with something else to help. If this was all they could glean from the evidence awaiting detailed forensic examination then the investigation would go nowhere fast. To him, and he knew he was prejudice, the whole thing stank of Romefeller. The kind of expertise required to leave so little in the way of viable evidence and clues spoke of a frightening efficiency. It was very professional in its simplicity. Simple. Neat. Thorough. The more thought he put into the matter the more it seemed to him there was a link between the young man murdered in the alley and the assassin who had blown apart the building in which that young man's body awaited detailed examination. All he needed to convince himself to speak his suspicions as to the cause behind the incidents was the confirmation of a single computer chip to be found within the body of the assassin or the murder victim. Just one of them would be proof enough for him, but if they found a chip in both… If both of them proved to be chipped… The body of the young man, whilst being damaged in the explosion and resulting fire, had not been destroyed beyond use. Why would Romefeller be hunting their own? Had Preventers lost such a perfect opportunity to gain inside information on what Romefeller was doing manipulating the genetic make up of the human race? Had they come so close and unknowingly lost their link? Was Romefeller all about genetically modifying the human species to craft the perfect soldier and if so… was there another plan afoot to gain control of the Earth Sphere? There were no Gundams this time around and who was the enemy anyway? He had no proof, he could not point a finger at any individual and say `You'. Who the hell were they supposed to fight? He was afraid he would, in the coming days, learn there was more to what he had assumed Romefeller to be than he had ever thought. It was too easy to underestimate a person let alone an entire organisation that existed largely in the shadows. What he did know was that there was more to Romefeller than the very public group of politicians the world knew. Ignorance could be bliss, but it was a dangerous thing. Ignorance and innocence. While the bulk of the ESUN could enjoy the luxury of indulging in both conditions, Preventers could not. There was no choice, Preventers had to know. It was their job to stand between the people and those who sought to dominate their society. It was Preventer's job to protect the peace and you could protect nothing if you knew precisely nothing. Glancing at the slowly but relentlessly moving hands of the clock set above the cockpit door, he sighed softly. The assassin's body was due for a detailed autopsy in another thirty minutes. Griffon's medical team had had to wait for the use of the colony's Medical Examiner's facilities and the Preventer's Chief had not been happy with the delay. With each passing minute the trail they sought to piece together grew progressively colder. With each hold up dealing with bureaucracy and petty bitching from other organisations Preventer needed assistance from… it must reach a point where they would be unable to continue the investigation effectively if, indeed, Romefeller were involved in the incident. If the trail grew too cold. How many Romefeller operatives or affiliates had been involved in the delays that had occurred in Griffon gaining access to the facilities they needed to further their work? There was sure to be one or two Romefeller minions across the board, causing just enough trouble, just enough delays, to allow them to bury any links they might have needed to hide from scrutiny. //Shit.// He was becoming a paranoid bastard! It was, in effect, only a few hours after the disaster and the law enforcement agencies of the colony had their own cases that could not simply be summarily dismissed to make room for Preventers to use their facilities. Everything else did not stop for the convenience of Preventers at the drop of a hat. There didn't have to be anything sinister involved in the delay other than overbooked facilities and overworked people. The men and women in charge of the genetic laboratories discovered on Earth had proven efficient at covering their trail. The Preventers team investigating the accidental discovery had learned their opponent's efficiency the hard way. There had been very little information gleaned in that investigation, just enough to ensure that Une put out warnings to all of her branch heads and to certain agents working directly under her control to be on the look out for any possible links. Une would be after every iota of information they could gather on this incident if he could prove a link between the boy in the alley and the explosion of their branch on the colony mere hours later. He was sure the link was there, but he needed to keep in mind the possibility that there might not be an actual link… and he could not tell her he had dreamed the link. The woman could be open minded if she chose, but that open minded? He doubted it. No, he needed physical, tangible evidence. Scrubbing his hands over his face he stifled a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was going around in circles again, wearing himself out over his inability to fess up to what had happened. But there was only one person he would admit that to and Quatre was not present. He was not inclined to get himself included on the medical sections `to be psych tested' sheet. His destination was the L2 cluster, not Earth. While it was not his ideal choice of destination, what little in the way of clues they had gathered pointed directly to the cluster. Specifically to two colonies, L2-0397 and L2-0013. The contents of the bag stashed at the shuttle port had provided them with little information that was, at this time, productive to the investigation. They needed forensic examinations and testing to be performed to help them understand what they had found, and what they could not see initially. But there were a few things they could work on whilst waiting for the forensic unit to find them the hidden clues. In an envelope in the base of the bag they had found a ticket in the name of Harold Arness for a shuttle flight which had been due to depart the colony within forty five minutes of the explosion at Preventer Headquarters. Trowa had no doubt that had been the intended departure of the assassin had he made it to the shuttle port. He could have waited out the chaos that would have delayed the flights of all shuttles departing from the colony… he would have had sufficient time to return to the shuttle port following the hit, even with the delay Trowa's interference had caused he would have made the check in in time. They had also found a ticket stub for a flight that had arrived at the colony from L2-0013 a little before midnight of the night of the attack, thereby clearly indicating the L2 colony cluster to be of interest to their investigation. The name on the ticket purchased on L2-0013 had been different but subsequent investigation had proven the passenger's identity. Griffon had called their L2 offices and ordered the security footage for the flight from L2-0013 be forwarded to him for examination. Whilst they had been waiting they had checked the footage for the flights arrival on L1-0025. When the L2 footage had arrived they had confirmed the identity of the passenger they had been interested in as their assassin in disguise. The bag had contained three sets of identity papers and disguises to match the appearance of the provided false papers. Simple disguises in the guise of hair pieces, make up and contact lenses to change eye colour. Handling the false identity papers, Trowa had been forced to wonder if the documents were, indeed, forgeries. Someone as resourceful as Romefeller's administration could easily acquire legitimate documentation for their operatives without resorting to expensive forgeries in dark and nameless corners of the colonies. The papers were very well crafted indeed and a false identity was much more believable if the papers were legitimately produced and approved government issue. Romefeller had their fingers in the right places to manipulate such a subterfuge. Then there was the disguises themselves. Two sets of trousers, boots and shirts that were hopelessly generic, off the rack purchases freshly laundered in one case, the second set of clothing worn though not dirty or shabby. That set of clothing matched the set of clothes worn by their man as he arrived on the colony. Folded in the worn shirt they had found a small optical case, custom designed to store three sets of contact lenses. There was some small hope that they might find some record of the manufacturer on at least one of the sets of contact lenses. Trowa decided he would not hold his breath but he would never the less hope for some small break in the investigation arising from it. The green and blue sets were designed simply to change the wearer's eye colour to facilitate a disguise, but the third set of lenses… Trowa was hopeful they might be able to track down the maker of those specialist lenses. The lenses were a complex piece of optical engineering involving nano technology that was not available in most laboratories. The rarity of the tech was their greatest hope of finding the source, and so rare was the tech that Trowa, at first, had not believed he was seeing `those' lenses. It had taken a demonstration to get Griffon to believe him and to convince himself that he was actually handling the rare items. The lenses were clear, as one would expect for a prescription set of contact lenses, but it was only when worn did one begin to understand the significance of the lenses and the tech involved in crafting them. This was technology rigidly controlled and were it not for his rather colourful past he might not have realised the significance of the find. The sensor chip in the base of the optical containers had given him the key and he had connected the dots and not wanted to believe his own supposition. No one, not even Griffon had believed him when he had initially floated the idea. They had not wanted to believe it, particularly Griffon who had more than an inkling as to how rare these items were and what the significance of the find meant. A simple test had proven the point though and they, including himself, had to believe. He had donned the clear lenses, attaching the micro ship behind his ear to activate nanotech and make the connection to the circuitry embedded in the lenses. He had hardly dared to breathe when before his eyes, and only to his eyes of the three other men in the room at the time, the grid had materialised. He had known then he was not mistaken and it was a simple matter to get Griffon to meet his eyes and for the lenses to `read' the optic pattern of the man. Trowa had then used the optic recording to open sealed files of the man's computer, deceiving the optical scanner on the machine that the authorised user was requesting access. The lenses could scan, `read' and duplicate the unique configuration of something as complex as the human eye. The wearer of the lenses would be passed through any security feature that relied on optical scanning. To Trowa it was another indication they were dealing with Romefeller and, if not that organisation that had featured so strongly in the past war, then with another organisation equally as powerful and perhaps more dangerous given its unknown designation. It would be another three, perhaps four hours before he would receive the results of the post mortem on the assassin he had failed to take down. He would review the contents of the bag in detail, trying to find anything, no matter how small it might be, that he had perhaps missed initially and which might lead to a clue. It did not matter if he read the list a dozen times, it had to be done and it would give him something to do on the flight to L2. The ticket stub from L2-0013 and the unused ticket to L2–0397. Those tickets were leading him to the L2 cluster and there might be more to learn once forensics were finished with their painstaking examination. There had been a checklist, a computer printout, generic type set, neatly ticked off in black ink and containing every weapon they had found in the assassin's possession. To go with that list there had been a variety of antistatic bags used for the storage and safe transport of weapons containing microchips and electronic circuit boards generally classed as `delicate'. The three sets of identity papers were possibly, or not, forged. The optic case with the three sets of contact lenses and control chip folded neatly amidst the generic clothing. A small, unmarked metal key that, curiously, was found to be magnetically charged was found in the very base of the bag. He was curious about the key, but he would have to wait on Griffon's team and hope they could find a match amidst the thousands of keys contained in their data base. Was there a reason the key was magnetically charged, or was it just an accidental charging acquired somewhere in transit? Had the key passed through a strong enough magnetic field to pick up the charge and, if so, where? Was it significant or not? There was an assortment of credit chips, the kind that were generally given as gifts and were useable at specific department stores, which had possibly paid for the generic clothing found in the bag. A blank com device still in its packaging, indicating the pre paid system so popular in the poorer colonies was yet to be activated. They could try to track down the place of purchase but it was possible they might not learn much. If purchased on L2 the records of the purchase might never be found, given book keeping on some of the L2 colonies was notorious for its inaccuracies-if any records were kept at all. There was no receipt, of course, but the serial numbers might provide them with something useable. Personally he would not hold his breath on even a quarter of their clues leading them to a resolution. //The ticket stub indicated he came in on the shuttle from L2-0013, and the security footage confirms that. It's a surprise, really. That colony is a decrepit piece of trash that has been condemned for the last thirty years. Condemned, but it hasn't been evacuated of its citizens as yet, though it is long overdue to be sent into the moon.// And was that, in itself, a clue? Was it possible Romefeller were using the old colony for their clandestine work? L2-0013 was pretty much a forgotten colony, though it still boasted a limited shuttle service. Trowa had performed a quick preliminary check on the status of the colony and learned its listed reason for the delay in scrapping the colony was the continued outbreak of the past wars and dissension between Earth and the Colonies. The records stated the colony was condemned as unsafe and had been slated for demolition, the first stage of which was to deport and relocate its citizens. The second stage was to strip from the colony any recyclables and finally the third stage would be to set the colony on a course to impact on the dark side of the moon. His checks on the status of that listing revealed the colony had been listed for demolition for more than twenty years and a series of reprieves had kept it in service to present day. Delays with the demolition process due to protests from citizens objecting to being relocated, errors in paperwork, interference from the war effort… all worked to see the condemned colony in use to the present day. He supposed it was not really surprising or overly suspicious. During the war who had had time to consider wrecking a colony when there were other more important matters to attend to? And of course the citizens might have objected to being forcibly relocated and worked actively to stop the demolition and their deportation. Court challenges might have gone on for years. //Not surprising, I suppose. Not exactly suspicious. But I wonder if that should not have been my first destination?// Where had the assassin come from? L2-0013? Or had that been merely a stop over? A contact point, perhaps? It would require his attention at some time and if L2-0397 proved to be a dead end, as well it could, then he would move on. Griffon had decided his point of investigation should initially be the unused ticket to L2-0397. The assassin would have been going there for a reason, whether it was to go to ground in the slums or to move on to another job, or use the colony as a stepping stone on another leg of his escape plan… well, that remained to be seen. He would investigate as best he could and, if the trail appeared to be cold, then he was to make his way to L2-0013 and see what he could find under whatever rocks he might find there to turn over. The shuttles engines were rising in power, a subtle vibration making itself known. It would not be long now before they left the colony and he gripped the folder a little tighter as it slipped in response to the vibration. //There has to be something in the bag that will lead me to the source.// The requisition form listed the weapons for the hit, all neatly listed in alphabetical order, all neatly ticked off, ammunition included. Just the names and specific type of the required weapons, nothing more. No details on the weapons origins for Preventer to follow; that would have made life too easy… and been too careless for a professional hit. //And this was a professional hit.// The forensics unit assigned to the case would work on every individual item found in the bag, from the dust bunny caught in the lining to the clothing brought from some nameless store. Just a partial fingerprint might be enough to lead them somewhere. Perhaps a hair or eyelash fallen into the bag unnoticed would be enough for them to work their miracles. He could hope, but he would not hold his breath. These people were good enough to make very few mistakes. The assassin had damn near killed him and had got the shot off to succeed at his assigned task despite Trowa's best efforts… and he had put in his best effort in trying to stop the man. There was no reason to believe those who backed up their killer, who provided him with the means to be so effective, would be less professional than the killer himself. There had been a few letters and numbers scrawled messily across the back of the ticket to L2 0397. The arrangement of numbers and letters had the potential to be a code, and if it proved to be so, then it would hopefully be broken by the agents in decryption Griffon had tossed that bone to. Hopefully they would come up with something. LA 226 L9 LI3 DS Just one more thing for him to puzzle over while he waited to arrive on L2-0397. At one point in his investigation he should visit the stores for which the credit chips had been issued on the colony. Griffon already had agents working on that, but he might try his own hand. It might help to get a feel for the areas frequented, if not for the man himself. Trowa had, after all, the best idea of the assassin's psych set. He was the one who had tested himself against the man and that insight into the assassin and his reactions might give him an advantage; but he would not hold his breath on it proving materially productive. Someone else, on the set up or back up crew, might have done the purchasing. //Too many variables. That is the problem with the lack of material evidence we have to follow.// All in all, there was not much to go on, though the list of possibilities at first might appear to be hopeful. It was only when one sat down and considered the available information that one realised just how lacking they were in tangible evidence. These people did not leave them much to go on. //But we have leads and being defeatist early on in the investigation will serve no purpose. I'm tired, irritable and I ache. That does not lend itself to clear thinking.// To be honest, other than the possible code there was not much. Their biggest hope might be the contact lenses, though given how rare they were the organisation that acquired them would be sure to cover their tracks. But the intricacies involved in manufacturing the lenses to scan another person's eye print and project it for a scanner to perceive was their best bet. There might be something to be gleaned from the shuttle terminals, he certainly would not be holding his breath on that though. There might be a name to be gleaned for the purchase of the credit chips, but he highly doubted that would produce results-any names would be sure to be false. //L2-00013. That is the odd point in the list of possible links that might lead us to something useful. It could well hold the key. Heading to 00397 might have just been to catch a shuttle to another destination, its one of the busiest shuttle ports in the ESUN and it would be easier to pass unnoticed there. No assassin worth his salt would make it easy to chase him down and there is nothing like a big terminal full of generic clothing, or a busy shuttle port with decrepit old freighters coming and going all the time in which to lose oneself.// The possibility of fingerprints or DNA samples from the bag had to be held in hope. All it would take was an eyelash, a piece of hair, flakes of skin… something from a human body. For the next few hours he was going to be incapable of any action other than keeping off his feet… blessed delight!... and reading over the report yet again. Some quality sleep would help matters along nicely. His beaten up body was happy enough with the prospect of a lack of physical exertion. Resting would allow the regen gel to work without him pulling at his wounds, that would make the medics happy, and he would have to get his back checked before he made the trip to L2-0013. The sooner he could get this matter dealt with the sooner he could get his backside Earthside and renew his relationship with his lover… who would not like to see a raw wound and would only worry if he did. Oh yes, Quatre was infinitely more pleasurable to dwell on than hunting assassins, Romefeller and illicit genetic laboratories. //And Washington?// Yes, Washington was something he would need to give some thought to. Just who was Washington and what was his significance to the assassin and the entire mess? Perhaps the name of the genetic laboratory he was convinced was out there, somewhere in the colonies? A person or a place, perhaps even a ship. It held significance to the assassin and therefore it held significance to the investigation. He tilted his head back as the vibration gained power, listening to the rising whine of the engines. On the panel above the cockpit door the warning light flashed amber and from reflex Trowa checked his seatbelt, ensuring the restraint was secure and tucked the folder behind his back until they were clear of the colony. Final clearances would now be exchanged between flight control and the pilot of the shuttle. He should leave a message for Quatre explaining he would be delayed returning to Earth once they were underway. There was no hurry as communications were still sketchy with northern Europe. The storm had been devastating from the reports he had managed to catch and the clean up would take weeks. He only hoped Preventer could repair their communications relays with all speed. He was sure he would have news for Une regarding genetic laboratories and Romefeller. Another few hours before he heard the report from the autopsy. Then he would know for sure. //It would be nice if Quatre was free. I could do with some company.// t.b.c
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