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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: Definately 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"
2nd March AC 198 Time: Shuttle PS 330AT [18:15 (shuttle time is as for departure point, Colony L1 - 0025 B) / 17:14 Sanc] Trowa Napping had never been difficult for him. He had learned early in his life to take the opportunity to rest wherever, and whenever, it presented. The life of a mercenary required that any quiet time be taken advantage of, before any potential storms might break. Of course, it helped that he was sore and tired from the events of the night and early morning. Despite the dull throbbing of his feet, and constant ache of his other hurts, he was well able to enjoy the opportunity to doze that the shuttle flight to the L2 cluster presented. But it was just that, dozing. It was not a deep and restful sleep. His mind too restless to settle for that, constantly circling around the plethora of facts and the wealth of supposition. The assassin, the hit man, whatever they wanted to call him, had been good. Better than good. The man had succeeded in his designated mission despite Trowa's absolute best efforts to stop him. He had done everything he could think of to stop that man from accomplishing his mission, yet despite his every effort, it had simply not been enough. It seemed a long time since he had last failed a mission, be it self appointed or not. It was no official order, no assigned mission, but that was totally beside the point. It was what one did, reacting to the circumstances as they presented, and he could not help but look on it as an undeniable failure on his part. When all was said and done, an encounter out of the blue or not, he had failed in his goal. He had not even succeeded in taking the man down after the hit had been successfully initiated; it had to be a sniper who accomplished that feat. He had an uncomfortable feeling that the assassin would have been more than capable of taking him out after successfully firing off that rocket. The man was just... too much for him to handle and it... shamed him. It was not something he wanted to recognise, but to survive one had to face the unpalatable truth on occasion, and Trowa prided himself on being a survivor. One had to acknowledge one's own weaknesses. He had been unable to contain the assassin, he had been unable to take the man down. If it had gone on much longer he had no doubt it would have been him dead on that roof, and the assassin would have been the one to walk away. The only saving grace in his view was that he had managed to successfully issue a warning and delayed the hit long enough for others could act. He had to be content with that. He did not need to sit here and fret about unsuccessfully adding a mark to his kill count. That list was high enough without adding more to the tally, present sense of failure or not. Time to get over it. With an effort he brought his mind away from his own shortcomings and turned to the aftermath of the incident, the ongoing investigation. Washington was a problem, of course. The name presumably of a person, or a place. Just the name, nothing more known. The origins of the hit man was another question with potentially too many answers and little in the way of means to whittle supposition down to fact. The assassin, and perhaps more importantly, his employer and/or controllers. The possibility he was a chipped product of secret Romefeller laboratories was still the highest option on his list of questions and possible solutions and, presumably, that was going to be the easiest question to answer. If the answer came in the affirmative, then Une would want to know more and, since he was one of the few field agents in Preventer authorised to know about the genetic laboratories, it would fall to him to investigate. He did not need to speak to her to receive her official sanction to know what her orders would be. Washington, the questionable origins of the hit man, and some obscure coordinates they had no reference points for were his primary clues for this case. Any relation between the youth who had died in that alley and the hit man would need to wait, like so many other things. He needed to exercise patience and wait on other people, even if it did tend to grate a bit on his nerves. He liked simple solutions, not that he was graced with many opportunities for that working with Preventer. That note consisting of letters and number, possibly coordinates with their break up. Further investigation there would be required to determine if that was indeed what they were and then one needed to determine `where' they were. If coordinates, did they relate to Earth, perhaps Mars, or a colony? Some point in seemingly empty space...? Hell, they could even be for the moon for all he knew. Or they could simply be a random set of numbers, something to delay any investigation in the event something went wrong with the hit. Or perhaps the password to... some place, or potentially an archive of information... He groaned. //Thinking too much on unknown variables. Unproductive.// It was perfectly plausible for it to be a code, of a high degree of difficulty. The actual coordinates, should they indeed indicate a meeting place, might not be those that glared at him from a pristine piece of paper that he had the annoying urge to shred. It was unlikely the co ordinates for a rendezvous would be written neatly and clearly for anyone to see without some method being utilised to disguise the actual meaning. One thing he did know without a shred of doubt, was that these people were professionals, and that seemed a stupidly amateurish mistake to make. Something so simple and straightforward in plain sight? Doubtful. It was likely to be a designated area for some obscure place in the middle of nowhere. There was a high probability that it was a potentially coded jumble of numbers they might badly misinterpret and send themselves off the space lanes into innumerable delays and misunderstandings. The more he thought on it the more he convinced he became that it was an encoded message or a deliberate attempt to look like map co ordinates. Well, they actually would be coordinates, but designed to send any interloper on a long chase to nowhere. Too many variables and he was over thinking things for the little information that they had thus far. He, they, knew too little at present, but Preventer had pulled through in the past with less information to work from and a decent dollop of luck. He could only hope it would be so again. If he was right, there would be an encoded computer chip surgically implanted in the assassin. The man was, he was sure, the product of genetic experimentation on a human being. If those suppositions were indeed fact, then it was possible some clue might be derived from the information they were sifting through from the earlier raid on the laboratory on Earth. There were encrypted files lifted from computers from that raid that Preventer was still working on. It might be possible the cryptic code on that scrap of paper could lead to a breakthrough in relation to those files on Earth. Anything was possible, right? Or perhaps something they had already found on Earth might offer a clue to deciphering either the code, or offer some reference point to a particular map reference. Perhaps the location of another genetic laboratory? Green eyes flicked to the digital display flashing above the cockpit door. Time dragged when one was having fun, he mused, closing his eyes immediately after and wishing he could advance the march of that relentless force mankind never would truly understand. Time. Man could measure it, in his own fashion, see the results of it surrounding him, but man could never actually master it, merely segment it. There, a whole five seconds had marched past. Trowa snorted softly. //How productive.// With a heavy sigh he drew himself up and stretched his shoulders carefully, mindful of the pulling of his wounds. He was not keen on another round of poking, prodding and `mending' when he reached L2 because he had pushed his body too far too soon. Stretching his long legs out into the aisle he savoured the luxury of having the entire cabin to himself; he rather enjoyed the rare moment to indulge a comfortable slob. But a few minutes of slouching in the seat, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the ache in his wounds and watching the digital clock flash was as much as he could take. He was bored to tears... and he needed to pee. And, ah!, the joys of peeing in zero G never failed to thrill him. But he really did need to empty his bladder and sprawling here grumbling to himself about such petty inconveniences was going to serve no purpose. At least he didn't need to empty his bowels. Now THAT was a joy in zero G. "Hnn." He really was bored if he had fallen to rehashing inconveniences he had become accustomed to years in the past, but he released his seatbelt and pushed himself out of his seat, heading for the aft of the craft. First the necessaries needed to be gotten out of the way, and then to prepare a coffee. Out one end and in the other made perfect sense to him. He settled once more into his seat a few minutes later with a sealed cup in hand, sucking on the mouthpiece and hissing at the heat. Damned instant shit, that was all you could ever get on a shuttle. Using his tongue he nudged the lip plug into place and set the cup in the custom designed grip beside his seat, reaching for his laptop. He might as well get some use out of the time remaining. They had learned so little in their investigation of the genetic laboratory on Earth, and there was no guarantee that any of the coded files now in their possession might give them more information. But it never hurt to hope. He would need access to whatever information they discovered to assist him, if the assassin proved to be the product of Romefeller tinkering. He could not really see Une objecting to that request, not if she wanted to sort that mess out. He retrieved the cup after initiating his laptop's boot sequence and lightly gripped the lip plug with his teeth, easing it aside and sucking in a mouthful of coffee. Watching the machine complete its boot up he jammed the lip plug back into place when a chime and blinking envelope informed him he had email, and he set the mug in its cradle, leaning forward slightly to click on the envelope. Duo. He grinned, forgetting for a moment that he had hoped it might be the autopsy results. It was always good to hear from a friend. ~/Hey T If you find yourself stopping over on L2-0397 at any time, call in and see Hilde. She has a precious package I'd like you to see. Best surprise present I've ever had. Luck with your chase. If I can help in any way let me know. About to get the long legs on and hurt for a bit. Definitely need to catch up with you. D /~ He glanced at the time stamp and with a quick mental conversion estimated Duo must have been under acceleration for a good three hours plus. Close to three and a half hours, he surmised, wincing at the thought. Long haul spaceflight required massive acceleration bursts to cut down travel time, and he did not envy his friend the claustrophobia of having an invisible giant sit on him, particularly on his chest, restricting just how much air one could suck in at any given moment and equally making it hard to exhale. No, it was not something he cared to do. Duo had a surprise for him on L2-0397? Something he had left with Hilde? //Interesting.// Curiosity aroused he determined to make the time to visit with the woman. It was not as though he would not be going to the colony, after all. Nice coincidence that, he could mix a little pleasure into his work day. The breakup between the two had hardly surprised him. He had found in the past that personal relationships in their kind of work could be more of a hindrance than a help... until he had met Quatre, of course. There were always exceptions to the rule. Whilst Hilde had been ex military, she had not become a Preventer agent in the aftermath of the war. She had wanted out of everything to do with fighting and intrigue, and Duo had not been ready to settle down and play happy families. He was the perfect Preventer elite agent, and the long hours and level of commitment required by their work was not designed for personal relationships to thrive, let alone develop. Duo was married to his work, then and now. About the only one who had not realised it had been Hilde, but it was not his place to comment on his friend's success or failure with personal relationships, past or present. He would reply to Duo soon, wishing him the best for his hunt. Whatever was going on out there he had the feeling his friend was going to have to stay alert. The attack on Mars was all over the news in the colony, and speculation was rife over this Khushrenada who had suddenly leapt onto the scene. Khushrenada's, he knew, were born already schooled in politics and reared at their mothers breast on manipulation and strategy. The last thing they, as Preventers, needed was the rise of a new rebellion out in the middle of nowhere. The grab for territory so far from Earth really did not surprise him. What did surprise him though, was the surprising lack of rumours before this sudden announcement. There had been whispers in dark corners, of course, he had kept his ear to the ground intending to know what was going on in dark and secret places, hoping to quash trouble before it began. That was what Preventers did, after all. But there had been surprisingly little scuttlebutt about a grab for what would no doubt amounted to the bulk of the asteroid belt. No clandestine purchase of ex war merchandise, no increase in scrap from the yards handling the disassembly of mobile suits and weapons. No whispers of recruiting the disaffected soldiers who found little in the way of aid and employment. It had been... normal, really, for want of a better word. You always had talk, but this talk had not had any meat behind it, but now... Well, done was done and now they had to deal with the situation. The conglomerates and corporations that mined the asteroid belt were not going to sit quietly for a group claiming territorial possession of their favourite hunting grounds. A new power out there in what had been considered to be `free space' would demand its own tariffs and taxes, and the Earth Sphere government would demand its own payments in turn. The price of resources would skyrocket and private business coffers would diminish as costs escalated. No one would be happy who needed those resources for their own ventures. //Duo will find himself mixed up in that.// Une would want her best on the spot before it escalated into full scale confrontation, and Duo was already heading out into the deeper solar system. Trowa could see the Bounty being diverted, her mission reshaped. The constant raids by pirates had been top priority, that and, more recently, what was happening on Mars. But the circumstances happening on Mars would be over long before Duo even left the Earth Sphere's hub. Hell, it was most likely already over. Pirates raided and then skipped out, leaving chaos in their wake. In and out fast. Why Une had sent Duo to Mars... It was so clear that there was nothing he could do about what was happening there. Even the clean up would be long over before he reached the planet. Had Une had wind of the emergence of this so called new power out in the Asteroid Belt? Why else had she packed off someone of Duo's versatility and skill base? The chime and flashing of the envelope icon on his screen alerted him to the arrival of another email. Clicking to close the message from Duo, determining that he would reply to his friend after reading the reports on the autopsy, he frowned as he stared at the index of his inbox. The email alert indicated that the email was in the secure inbox, one serviced by Heero Yuy regularly. Anyone trying to access it would spark a round of security features that could leave the hacker with a fried computer... and a please explain down the barrel of a Preventer issue gun held in the hands of Yuy himself. He had expected a Preventer email in his Preventer account, not... this. On this secure server he expected to find emails from only a select few individuals, namely four specific individuals. What he did not expect to find was an email listed as `Unknown006'. Sucking in a slow breath through clenched teeth Trowa initiated a security scan and trace, sipping on his coffee in deep thought as he waited for the results. Computer hacking was not his forte, but Heero devised this system they were using and it had a few features not to be found in other operating systems. A chime alerted him to a result and he glanced down at the popup... Negative in the way of bugs implanted in the message and... Oh lovely, a relay loop for the origin of the email. He chewed on his lower lip for a long moment before he clicked to open the email. He would learn no more if he did not. "What the...?" ~/ Looking for the General? LA 226 ** *** ** /~ "Fuck." The connotations could not be mistaken given the events of the past day. It was a surprise, to put it bluntly, to find those Times New Roman scripted words. Just four words and his attention was secured. Whilst he was no history buff, he was still well versed in history, particularly military history. He had lived and breathed it during his training in the mercenary camp where it was expected he learn not only how to stay alive in battle, but how to plot and plan one successfully. Given recent events there was a more than an excellent chance the `General' referred to would be General George Washington. Washington, rearing its head yet again and this time with more questions than he cared to consider attached. But that could not possibly... be... Unknown006. He wanted to find out just how much the mystery sender knew. It might be co incidence, but he was not a great believer in that. Washington, any clue to that... And LA 226. That was recognisably the code, or a part of it, they had found on that scrap of paper, and if he took note of the spacing of the stars... The other missing letters and numbers would fit. Trowa sat back in his seat and glared at the screen, not even acknowledging the stab of pain as his back pressed to the seat. What was he supposed to do now? It could mean anything but... //How the fuck did someone find out about this email address?// Someone was stalking him? Was someone, other than his government stalkers, watching events play out and, for some reason unknown to him at the present time, had made the decision to contact him? No. No, that was wrong somehow. It did not fit nearly neatly enough, but what else could it be? He was confused, and he was probably over thinking things, but what facts there were was undeniable. This was some contact with someone who knew something. A link existed somewhere to what had happened on the colony to the sender of this email. It was not something he could simply let go, and he would have to warn the others that their secure server was not as secure as they had assumed. //Damn, Heero will be pissed about that!// Taking a deeper breath he hit reply, staring at the screen for a long moment before deciding how to respond. The starred instead of numbered and lettered spaces in the email suggested to him it was an invitation for him to fill in the missing letters, so... ~/ L9 LI3 DS Who are you? /~ He hesitated before he hit send, considering the safety of the system and how many other people might be monitoring what they had assumed to be a secure server. He needed to know who they were and where they worked from. Smirking he attached one of Heero's `special' features to the email, determined to find out what he could of the sender; hoping any information he could find might improve Heero's mood when he found out. The `bloodhound' he attached would lurk in the coding, and he could track the email to its destination. Settling back in his seat, this time minding his injured back, he watched as the server acknowledged the email had been sent. Pulling the laptop a little closer and adjusting the service tray it was resting on for easier access, he pulled up another window, initiating the trace program. Worst case scenario was that it could take hours, he knew, to run what was sure to be a convoluted course and arrive at a destination. Who was it? Where were they operating from? What organisation were they a part of? How did they know about the secret secure email server? Hero had designed it from its initial theory session when they had discussed exactly what they wanted it to do, and they had not discussed it in a public place. How did they, whoever `they' were, know HIS personal address used only on that particular server? How were they involved? They were all paranoid bastards and never used their, or anyone else's, information on the net or in other forms of communication. His eyes were focused on the tracer, watching the collection of binary numbers, 0 and 1 en mass, cycling over the screen... And he sat bolt upright as it all simply vanished. It seemed as though time had stopped as he stared at the black screen and the pop up that informed him the trace had been lost due to an unknown error actually managed to drop his jaw. Perhaps ten seconds later the computer announced a newly arrived email, sender `Unknown006'. He was almost afraid to open it. ~/ A word of warning, 03. If you go, there will be no turning back. /~ //Shit, shit, shit! How are they...? There was no real time, not nearly enough time, for the email to get anywhere and be read, let alone replied to!// He scrubbed at his face, pressing both hands to his eyes, trying to ignore the flourishing headache and the rasp of bandages. It was like something out of the twilight zone. Rational thought, rational thinking. He could not, must not, panic where there was no real need to. So it was weird shit, but he supposed Heero was more than capable of performing such feats with a computer. They were just good with electronics that was all. Very good with electronic and had a powerful enough machine... Not important though. Think calmly and rationally and target the most obvious clue. 03. That was the important thing. That was the obvious stand out in the email. 03. That was the designation given to him and his Gundam during the war. A designation assigned by Oz. Someone who was ex Order of the Zodiac, or Romefeller. It had to be. That narrowed down the field from unknown amidst billions of people, to a more manageable set of numbers at least. One item of information he did not have before. //If I go, there will be no turning back? Do they mean that literally? Or figuratively? Until the investigation is done there will be no returning to... To where? From where? Is it on a colony somewhere? Sounds... remote? No, not quite right.// He contemplated the screen as he chewed the though over. No turning back. It sounded ominous. Almost... Fatal. As though he would never return alive, to the life he had known. To Quatre. He shoved the thought away from him, unwilling to contemplate it. Idiocy. That was all that was, his longing to return to Earth and see his lover. Which showed that the warning actually worried him. It had a decidedly permanent feel to it, but he was not, and never had been, one to shirk his responsibilities. He had never walked away from a challenge. Lives could hang in the balance and he was no slouch when dealing with undercover work, infiltration, investigation and a straight on fire fight. He could handle himself. He could handle himself. He... No matter how many times he repeated that though, now there was doubt. There was the assassin and his inability to bring the man down. Was there the potential to run into more like him? He wanted to go back to Earth, to be with Quatre, but... There was his duty to Preventer. With the level of social unrest at the moment, with the appearance of first the youth and then the assassin... And the appearance of a supposed Khushrenada as a new player in the politics between Earth, the Colonies and the Asteroid Belt... Did he dare not move forward and investigate this link? Quatre knew how seriously he took his work, and how delicate a balancing act it was to maintain the peace. How hard it was to maintain the peace they had fought for. It was, at least, peace. And he would definitely return as soon as possible to his lover. A single deep breath and his fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard. ~/ Who are you? Where do I find Washington? /~ It would be useless, he was sure of that, but he tried again, attaching a hound to the script message and sent it on its way. How long had it taken last time? All of maybe a minute for him to receive that second email? So fast, impossibly fast. How long this time? He found himself counting the seconds in a whisper, needing to hear the sound of his voice. The shuttle seemed too quiet, too isolate, too much the target. Just him and the pilot, and the thin shell of metal grounded by the muted rumble of well maintained engines. Travelling at a relative snails pace in the middle of the space lane between L1 and L2... at the mercy... You have mail. Unknown006 He sucked in a breath. Thirty three seconds. The trace was dead, as he had expected. He would go through what information both unsuccessful traces had sent back before he had lost them later, hoping to garner some general idea of what was happening. He clicked on the envelope and stared at the screen. ~/ Think about it, 03. Be sure. Be very sure. Are you curious enough to move forward from here? Determined enough? To learn about Washington you need to understand. If you chase this thread nothing will ever be the same again. Nothing. Decisions will be made that you can not envision, and the resulting consequences can not be changed. Understand that you will have regrets. Whether there will be a reward... That is for you to decide if it was all worth it... If you see the end. Take thirty minutes to think about it and think carefully. /~
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