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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 54
Mars Colony Base Dome Date: 1st March AC 198 Time: 18:46 MST [Mars Standard Time] Zechs He was very conscious of the man who clambered over the pipes ahead of him. Giles was around average sized, solid bodied with short cut black hair and hazel eyes. A good looking man with a genial smile and work roughened hands. He was no stranger to hard work, Zechs mused, but then, everyone on Mars knew how to put in a full days work. He appeared to be agile and quick, Zechs noted as he followed him over the pipes, then squeezed his way around a pump station and over yet another cluster of pipes. He went with more care as he threaded his way through a maze of electrical conduits that fed and regulated the power to the solar lights. //I wonder how good this Haydan Giles is? Raydon would not have set him here if he was not reasonably competent at his work, but investigating trade potential is a far cry from fighting. I know the King of Raiders enough to know that he would judge his men well, but just what are his limitations? How much can I trust to him? How much can I dare to rely on him?// He hissed softly, careful not to be heard by Giles as his shoulder was scraped along the ice cold pipe he was sliding over. Hurt though it did, this was necessary if he was to stay alive and maybe make a difference. He would not advertise his weakness. He did not know this man enough to trust him with that kind of knowledge. Giles grunted, crawling under a cluster of pipes, where three sets of pipes inter joined in a complex knot. He glanced back at the blonde who followed at a careful three paces behind him, knowing full well that he was not, as yet, accepted as an ally. For the moment his presence was tolerated, not accepted. That he could not allow to stand much longer. If they were going to survive, they would have to trust each other. However, he could not blame the blonde for the distrust. He had a fair idea what this entire mess was about, but suspected he knew only the surface of the trouble. He had been sent here for the purpose of checking on trade potential and become the bodyguard of the Prince of Sanc. Not that the prince of Sanc knew it. He began to breathe heavily, twisting and winding his way over and around and beneath pipes and conduits. It was a horror maze and he wondered if they spent more time moving away from their destination than toward it. The pace was beginning to tell on him and he was growing tired of the cold distrust of the eyes that constantly pinned him. He hunkered down behind a knot work of pipes and conduits, motioning for Zechs to join him, offering the chance to take a breather after crossing a large section of the bulk of the dome. Below their perch high in the scaffolding now were fruit trees, not the fields of golden grain. They chose now, or rather he offered and Zechs, after surveying their surroundings, had chosen to accept the rest before they made the attempt to get down off the roof scaffold and make their way to the maintenance shed. Zechs had a cold knot of certainty in the pit of his stomach that they were watched. He had no doubt that they had been shadowed across the bulk of the dome. It might have been a friend, uncertain if they dared to approach if they had witnessed the slaughter in the dome. It was far more likely to be a Sleeper who followed, waiting for the right time to strike. Waiting for a opportunity that would produce the desired results, and not a wasted opportunity that might lead to his or her death. A Sleeper, Zechs mused, who took the time to study his or her prey. Someone not foolish enough to attack without first observing and evaluating prey they knew would be far from easy to take down. So was the watcher afraid of Giles and his unknown skills, or were they leery enough of Zechs and his known record to hang back and take their opportunity when they were certain of success? "You were in the military?" he supposed this was the perfect opportunity for him to fill in the background of the man. He needed to know how well he was suited to this business. "I served a couple of years with the Alliance as a grunt and then a shuttle pilot, before I was discharged due to an injury. The prognosis was that I would heal but be unsound for full service, so I was patted on the back and invalided out. I was ornery enough and pig headed enough to thumb my nose at them, and convince myself I would not be what they termed unsound. I healed when they said I would not. Instead of reenlisting in the Alliance, I joined the security service for the Patrice Mining Corporation, before they amalgamated their services with other corporations, to form the Mining Consortium Security Service." Zechs nodded faintly, blue eyes carefully surveying the maze of pipes around them, picking out their next path toward the ladder down. He was very much aware of the vicinity of some unseen watcher and from the way Giles was frowning as he scanned their immediate surroundings, he knew the man sensed their company. He considered what the man had told him to date and decided that Giles would be fairly adequate if he was ex Alliance. The man would at least know how to fight. "What was your expertise in the Alliance?" "Primarily a Space Jockey. Shuttle pilot. I did have a year in covert ops, so I'm not useless defending myself, don't worry about that." he knew what the questions were for and he could not blame the man. It was understandable that he needed to know if he could fight if, when, the situation demanded it. "Raydon saw to some extra training when I joined his group." he hesitated a moment and then decided to plunge. He needed to suggest this and let the man know that he was both observant and a professional. "Need me to strap your shoulder?" at the glare in those blue eyes suddenly directed at him he grinned weakly. God, the man could freeze your blood with a look. "Hey, I have some medic qualifications and I carry a first aid kit. I couldn't help noticing that you favor it. What happened?" Brooding eyes glared at him, assessing the threat level, but the man just grinned, though his eyes did display his unease at being subjected to such scrutiny. The crystal, glacial glare finally swept away from him and resumed the survey of their surroundings. No answer was forthcoming, however and Giles sighed softly. He only hoped the man did not take his head off his shoulders, and he had no doubt that Marquise was more than capable of doing so, injured as he was. "Look, I know you don't know me. Hell, I don't know you either, but we are here, together and who else can we rely on, hmm? I need to know if I have to compensate for..." "Shoulder kick in steel capped boots. Bruised. I can compensate." Giles blinked, stunned that he had gotten a response, even if said response was almost spat out. "Okay." He hesitated, finally fumbling around in a pouch he wore at his wide belt. So far he was alive, unhurt and not quite trembling in his boots. God, the man could chill your blood so effortlessly. There had been no sign of this version of Zechs Marquise since he had arrived on Mars. It gave him a new respect and insight into the man. Now he was beginning to suspect how this man had been capable of threatening to destroy the Earth. The man crouched in front of him, hair tied back and ice eyes scanning the area, was not the blonde who had caressed delicate baby skin so gently. He had layers and right now Giles could see that he was royally pissed. "Let me strap it then. Give it some support. It will make it a bit more comfortable to climb down from up here." "I need full use of the shoulder." a low rumble of denial to the offer. Giles sighed, exasperated and tried another tack. The man was military. If the reports were to believed, elite military. If he appealed to the soldier he might have more success. "Look, man, I only want to brace the shoulder. I know that in our situation we need all the movement and strength we can get out of our bodies. Any loss of movement by the strapping will be compensated for it being that much stronger. It likely will hurt a lot less too. I'll be careful not to do the bandaging too tight and restrictive. I even have the new elasticized bandaging, see? Plenty of give in it." Zechs glared at the man, silently cursing his luck to get saddled with the talkative, caring type. Why could he not have come across an agent of the Raiders who didn't give a shit if he was hurt or not, but would follow orders and get on with the job? Namely getting to that hidden cache and finding the transmitter. He noted that the hazel eyes now had a decidedly intense green look to them, and Zechs shook his head slightly. He was so unused to having this type of partner. //Partner? When did I start thinking of him as a partner? God. I'll have to watch myself. I can't afford to make mistakes.// "You're a persistent sort, aren't you?" A cheeky grin spread over his amiable face at his success, and he nodded, understanding that tactic permission had been given for him to see to the injury. He wriggled around the larger mans bulk, careful to take up a position side on to Zechs, not daring to get directly behind the man. He doubted that Zechs would allow him to be at his back, that was too trusting a position for their so brief acquaintance. Helping Zechs to ease the shirt off he winced and hissed in sympathy at what he found under the damp, stained cloth. "Jesus. He left quite an impression of his boot on you, that's for sure. That's gonna hurt for a long time. You sure its not broken?" "Reasonably sure. I can't afford for it to be broken, put it that way." Giles understood the unspoken part of that well enough. Too much to do for that type of handicap to be considered, however, before he could strap the shoulder he had to make a few tests. If it was broken, he would have to be extremely careful how he strapped the man. A grunt escaped the blonde, followed by a hiss as Giles pulled and pushed at the shoulder, testing for movement before settling down to bind it with the elasticized wrapping. While he worked at the strapping he noted Zechs shrugged out of the shirt entirely and blanched when the man slipped a throwing knife into his hand, eyes constantly moving. The military man in Giles approved that action, even as the medic winced and the man himself fervently prayed that he did not hurt him enough to warrant becoming a target. The shirt could not be allowed to become a hindrance to free movement, if it was not hanging on him and the throwing knife was fast and silent, and the blonde looked as though he knew how to use the weapon. He worked quickly, testing that he had not restricted movement too much, after every few circuits of the broad chest. He was only too aware that he should have strapped the shoulder much more tightly than he had, but this situation was not the ideal and they did need free movement. There was, too the fact that he could just see the irritating blonde strip off the strapping if he felt that it restricted him too much. While he worked he took the time to study the man who had caused such a change in Raydon's policies and time tables. He had joined with Raydon more than two years ago, just after the One Year War, and he had been inspired by the man. If there was one thing that was obvious it was that Raydon was no common pirate. The man was nobility, both to look at and in his every action and word. Yes, he had seen him get down and dirty with the worst of the Raiders, but that was not who he was. That was just what he sometimes needed to do to reach the diehards. There was class to Raydon, real class and he found it echoed in this too beautiful blonde with the creamy golden skin. He knew that Raydon had been courting the Prince of Sanc, after the man had recovered from the injuries he had received in the explosion of the Libra. He also knew that Raydon had chosen to let him go, back before the Barton Incursion, soon after Raydon had begun to court him. The Commander of Station One had been certain that Marquise would return to Station and the silence after the fight on Earth had worried Raydon. Raydon's agents had learned that Marquise had been taken into custody after the Barton Incursion, by the Preventers and whether or not he would have returned to Raydon was not his concern. That was going to be between Marquise and Raydon, when this fiasco was dealt with. When he had arrived on Mars and seen the man, he had wasted no time in sending word off to Station One, reporting the Prince's confinement. Raydon had sent back firm instructions to be discreet and to guard the mans back and wait. Looking at the silver white cascade of hair, ever so faintly kissed with gold, even snarled and knotted as it was now, and the cream and gold kissed skin, smudged and dirty, he could not fault the King of Raiders taste, though he himself preferred women. This was an uncommonly good looking man and anyone who preferred a male as a partner in sexual pursuits could not help but look twice. Hell, he was as heterosexual as you could get, but he enjoyed the view. A ten year time table had been condensed down to six years after Raydon had met Marquise. While a tightening of the schedule had been made, it was still very much manageable and no one of the inner council of Station One had raised a serious objection. They wanted recognition of Station One and the two orbital space stations being constructed in secret in the asteroid belts shelter just as much as Raydon did. Giles wanted a sense of belonging and free license to come and go at will within the Earth Sphere, an acknowledged member of the Station Alliance. He had no doubt that Raydon could pull off the formalities and get the stations recognized as independent Trading partners with the ESUN. Mars had been only the first step in those trade agreements. "Are you done?" He wrenched his thoughts back to the matter at hand at the low growl, mentally chastising himself for getting side tracked. Such foolery would get himself and possibly Marquise killed. There would be time enough later for wool gathering. "Just about." he adjusted the bandaging and secured the elasticized length carefully. It would not do to have the bandaging loosen or unravel. "How does it feel?" A series of testing movements followed. Giles admired the view as muscles bunched and relaxed and a satisfied grunt was his only answer as Marquise slipped away from him, handing back to him a water bottle. It was not until he had taken a drink, recapped the bottle and watched Marquise slip back into the shirt that he noted the easing of tension on that handsome, fine boned face. Yes, Marquise had been in pain. A lot of pain. "Better. Thank you." He was surprised and nodded mutely. The acknowledgement he had not expected to receive for his work took him by surprise. He passed the bottle back to Marquise who absently hooked it to the utility belt he wore. For a moment Marquise subjected him to a penetrating look, then drew an odd shaped gun from the back of his belt and offered it to Giles. //God, I hope I am right to trust him. I won't be turning my back on him, but still, it's a risk. I have to trust someone, sometime, or I have no chance of changing things. Still, I don't ever recall seeing him in a vision. Is that good, or bad?// "Here. You might need this. I don't know just how effective these things are, but you should be aware that they are not very nice weapons. They have very nasty side effects and some of them were known to blow up in the users face. I assume they have fixed that little problem, at least." Giles took the squat, blunt nosed weapon from the man and studied it curiously, noting the variable settings and that it seemed to consist largely of some type of power pack and glanced at Marquise, curious. He'd never seen such a device and he had noted how gingerly his partner handled the weapon. "What is it?" "Shock gun. Generates an electrical shock. Nasty bloody thing. At the lowest setting it just gives out a mild shock, enough to stun for a few seconds. As the grading goes up it gets progressively worse. Until you reach the highest setting." "What does that do?" hesitant. He could see the look in those blue eyes and he did not like what it suggested. "Do you know what an ill adjusted electric chair can do to you? They put the cap on you, making sure your head is wet to conduct the current and make it quick. If you are dry, its not a pretty death. It can take a minute or two to kill you, but it fries you in the end. These have something like that effect, only nastier." Giles looked suitably sickened and stared at the gun, after a moment offering the device back. "I don't think I really want this." "I don't either, but its already come in handy for frying the transmitter that was to detonate the bombs they have stationed around the dome." Hazel eyes widened even more and he froze. "Bombs? They were... Blow the dome? They were going to blow the dome?" "Yes. That's the kind of people we are dealing with, Giles. Very nasty, very professional killers." "Christ." the breath of a whisper. Marquise nodded and motioned to their left, finishing the last of the buttons on his work shirt, choosing to leave the top two buttons undone. He was hot and even the damp shirt did not serve to cool him off. He was concerned that that heat could be dangerous, a sign of sickness, but he could not deal with that now. He was not running around the dome naked because his clothes were wet. Likely it was only a lingering reaction to the intensity of the visions. "That way. We should be able to work our way around to the ladder and when we get there we can deal with the problem of our tail." Giles looked up from studying the shock gun, still holding it gingerly by the grip between two fingers. He really did not like the idea of the weapon. "What kind of side effects?" He slipped under a series of pipes and then clambered over a section of scaffolding, well aware that now that the blonde had armed him, that he was at once more accepted and yet more feared. Zechs really had no cause to trust him. He was taking a chance to give him this weapon but not fool enough to turn his back on him. The gun weighed heavily where it was tucked into his belt, and it even made his skin crawl. Fantasy, he knew, but he could not rid himself of the sensation that he was carrying a bomb. Zechs allowed him to get through before himself squeezing his larger frame into the gap. He was well aware of the weapons he carried, tucked in his belt and in one of the larger pouches of the belt he wore. He knew that Giles was not going to like what he was about to hear. It made him like the man a little more, his obvious distress at carrying the weapon suggesting that this was a decent man. Still, you could be a decent man and still work for the ESUN. "Unpleasant ones. The pain as the body comes out of the shock charge is intense. The higher the intensity of the shock when you are hit by the beam denotes just how bad the pain will be while you recover. People have been known to die of heart attacks attributed to the intensity of that pain." he grunted with the effort of pulling his frame through the narrowest section of the pipes, now thankful for the strapping of his shoulder. "I know of one case where the test subject was left blinded and suffered from intense headaches in the aftermath. He went insane in the end." Giles stared back at him, shaking his head in denial. "God. That's sick. That's so sick. Who would invent something like these monstrosities?" Zechs regained his feet, absently rubbing at his lower back. He hated small, tight, cramped places. It seemed there were a lot of such places around and he specialized in finding the things. "Oz prototypes designed by Romefeller scientists. Kushrenada had the production of them stopped when he found out. He loathed the very idea of them. Quiet. Just move."
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