|
"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 56
Base Dome Date: 1st March AC 198 Time: 17:29 MST [Mars Standard Time] Simpson Well, he reflected, he really could not be surprised about this. It was, while not exactly what he had expected to find, rather close to his assumptions. The woman, after all, had to have learned about the bombs from somewhere. She must have stopped the signal from being triggered by taking out the one person who was supposed to trigger the detonator. He had little doubt that she would have killed McIntyre and that he would find her body somewhere on the floors above. Simpson surveyed the bodies strewn about the foyer with deceptively casual interest. He noted that the two sleeper agents who had accompanied he and Frazier to the Control Tower, Evylyn Matther and Andrew Pickford, were almost trembling with rage. They had knelt over the two bodies near the west door, each cursing softly when their checks came up with no life signs. It was patently obvious that they were far from pleased to discover that they were now down two of their number. Why they even felt the need to check the bodies was beyond him. It was glaringly obvious that the men were dead. One look at the pools of blood and mess made of the heads of both agents made that a fact. If the group of Sleepers as a whole had thought themselves
invincible they now knew better. It should serve to make them more
cautious, if he was lucky. Thus far he had not He could not afford to waste time while they foolishly turned their back to the open doorway. He was disgusted that they had not even checked to see that they were clear of danger from hidden assault. It was unlikely that there would be a sniper or a shooter hidden in the building, that he did admit to himself, but it was not impossible. He had already learned that it was not a good idea to underestimate either Merquise or Noin. "Check the other rooms." he inclined his head to the doorway behind them ignoring the looks he received for his efforts to keep them alive and drew his own weapon. Frazier was already at the door to the stairs, studying the handle and framework for any indications of tampering. The Sleepers at least handled themselves in something resembling a professional manner as they drew weapons and turned to the task at hand. Noin would have been the initiator of this. He was certain of it. Matthers had said little about the confrontation that was taking place in the shuttle control room when he had arrived, but he had caught enough of the conversation to know that she had been here. She could not have learned what she had about the bombs placed around the base anywhere else but here. McIntyre was the one who had the responsibility of activating
the timer to set off the charges. No instructions to the Sleepers
issued recently, combined with the failure of the He glanced up as the Sleepers returned to the room and scowled at them at their casual saunter through the door. They had been undercover as civilians too long and lacked discipline in his view. "Clear." "Control room. Now." he barked. Matther glared at him, but in the absence of instructions from her designated superior, Shanna McIntyre, she was obligated to follow his orders. She did not like the man. He was pure hard core military and he had treated her and her partner with ill disguised contempt from the moment he had entered the shuttle control room. He obviously had a problem with dealing with non military personal. She exchanged a glance with Pickford and stalked to the elevator,kicking aside the block, that held the door, her partner joining her a moment later. Simpson snorted, disgusted at the lack of survival skills in that single arrogant move. He did not trust Noin. She could have trapped the elevator and he determined it was time to put some distance between his unit and the Sleepers. He had lost too many men to chance losing Frazier. "We split up and meet on the third floor. You check floors three and four for survivors, starting with four and we will check one and two." The doors slid shut on the couple and he shook his head, glancing at Frazier who eyed the elevator with obvious distaste. He knew that Frazier also expected a trap laid somewhere and considered the Sleepers reckless. "Stairs, sir?" "Stairs." a grunt of agreement. Frazier knelt by the door, checking for booby traps, not willing to be so trusting as the Sleeper agents appeared to be. He glanced at Simpson to discovering him standing at the west facing door, peering through into the adjacent hallway. He did not blame his commander for mistrusting the agents and having no confidence in their abilities. Thus far he himself had seen nothing that warranted such confidence be granted. "Sir? Door looks clear." Simpson stirred, one final glance into the doorway and down the hall and nodded, moving toward the stairs and Frazier. "Go. This floor has seen all the action it will see for a while." He scowled at the body of the security guard amid the pottery shards and plant remains and shook his head. Overkill. They seemed to have enjoyed their work. He was halfway to the door when his partner made his move. Frazier kicked the door open, weapon at the ready, sweeping the small space for visible danger before entering and peering up the stairwell. "Stairs clear, Sir." he half crouched, ready for trouble, eyes constantly moving for the slightest hint of trouble coming. Simpson slipped into the stairwell, trusting his subordinate's skills. they had worked together long enough for that trust to be automatic. "Go. Take it slow. Who knows what little gems the bitch left for us." Frazier set foot to the stairs, intent on checking each step to the first landing for any indication of tampering. He had every confidence in his commanding officer and understood the respect and anger Simpson had developed for their opponents. Merquise and Noin had so far proven more of a handful than they had expected, psyche reports notwithstanding. It was luck that they had walked in on the altercation in the shuttle control room. Luck that Simpson had quickly taken advantage of the situation. He had acted quickly and decisively to take Noin down, only too aware that she had proven herself to be an elite soldier. She had killed two of their number already and they had to respect that. It was purely survival on Simpson's part that she had not been given the opportunity to react. Simpson followed his communications officer, eyes constantly moving, three steps behind Frazier, attentive to every detail. He was tense and growing more agitated by the second. So far it was just too easy and that set off warning bells. He did not trust Noin not to leave a little present or two behind in her passing. Frazier halted, crouching to lean close to a step. After a moment he stirred, leaning back a little and half turning to face his officer. "Trip wire, Sir." "Surprises?" came the quiet response. He felt much calmer now. He had been right. The bitch had left surprises for anyone coming after her. He checked the edge of the stair where he had found the wire, tracing the trip wire carefully in the gloom. He had expected something of this sort from the start, since only every third light in the stairwell was operating, affording very poor illumination in the stairwell. The globes had been shattered, broken by blows that scattered shattered glass over the steps. "Automatic pistol rigged to fire at an angle and spray the stairs." Frazier straightened slowly, carefully, eyes scanning overhead as well as the stair banister and finally glanced over his shoulder at his commander. //Inventive bitch// Simpson reflected. It gave him pause, because it was not what he had expected, in truth. It disturbed him, as it actually went against the psyche reports he had studied. To stop and lay traps of this nature with the current trouble in the dome was what he had expected and feared. It was as well he had taken Noin down, because he suspected she was tripping out. She was not so adverse to killing as the psyche reports suggested, if she set this type of trap and took out the lights. In combination it was a very effective method of taking down anyone coming to investigate the control room. The trap could have been triggered by some poor bastard who was innocent of this entire fiasco. Simpson considered the darker blob at the edge of the stairs that had to be the business end of the trap. //Trouble. If she slipped enough to have it virtually impossible for a civilian to discover the trap, then she is more dangerous than I thought. I will need to watch her closely. No telling what she will do if she loses it.// "Disarm it, sir?" He was tempted to give the order, but he was very much aware of the Sleeper agents loose on the floors above them. They had shown no care for checking on little surprises and if she had left this trap, then likely there were others. //Well, they profess to be specialists. Lets see how well they were trained. Thus far I have not been impressed.// He inclined his head up, toward the upper floors. "Leave it. Go two steps above and check for a secondary trap. If its clear, go on to the landing and check the main hallway of the second floor." "Sir." quiet acknowledgement. Frazier negotiated the steps, carefully stepping high to miss the trapped step and pausing on the second step above, calling the all clear moments later. Simpson joined him as he edged open the door to the second floor, peering around, watching for any indication that someone alive was prowling. From above, echoing around the stair well came the chatter of automatic gun fire, muffled by walls and distance and accompanied by a bitten off scream. "Bloody hell." Simpson sighed. "Amateurs." Frazier nodded. "Third floor, I'd say." he commented, completing his survey of the visible hallway. "Check each room, Sir?" "Agreed, third floor. No, go up, Frazier. Someone should have stirred after that racket if anyone was alive here. Lock the access bar down. We may as well see what else she has left for us that our allies so graciously triggered for us." "Sir." a cross between an amused snort and a chuckle and the man resumed checking the stairs for any additional little gifts. Considering the package she already had left for them that he had found and the package the Sleepers had discovered the hard way, Frazier was careful to check thoroughly for further gifts. However he found no additional surprises and it was only a few minutes before Frazier burst through the door to the third floor, weapon at the ready, peering down the sights, finger poised over the trigger. He scanned the hallway, noting the fresh spray of blood slowly oozing down the wall opposite a door halfway down the hallway. Lying in the doorway was the body of Evylyn Matther, blood oozing from multiple wounds to the chest. To one side of the door the other Sleeper, Pickford lay, moaning softly, hands clasped to chest, blood pooling around him. "Clear, Sir. Looks like one down and one wounded." //Pity. I was hoping both would be dead.// Simpson motioned Frazier through the doorway proper, his own weapon raised and ready to fire, offering cover to his communications officer. "Approach with all caution." a low murmured instruction. "Sir." Simpson covered the hallway while Frazier moved first to the elevators, checking them before moving to each door in turn. Kicking open the doors, scanning the rooms beyond and moving on to the next one, until he came to the door to the control room. He was aware of his commander crouched in the doorway to the stairs, weapon raised and ready to take down anyone who might appear to threaten him. Flattened, back to the wall, Frazier glared down at the wounded man, assessing his condition by the colour of his skin and the amount of blood he was losing. He decided the prospects did not look good for Mr. Pickford. No doubt of the death of the woman. She had been hit multiple times in the upper chest. It looked like Ms Noin would scored another two deaths to add to her impressive tally. Bracing himself Frazier glanced over his shoulder to receive a nod from his commander who knelt, poised to fire at anything that moved. He blew air softly out of his lungs and then ducked his head around the doorframe for a quick peek, eyes widening at what he saw. Frazier sniggered, rolling himself back to his former position, stifling the sound before it escaped him. She was an inventive bitch, he mused. Vicious, but inventive. He only wished Noin had been on their team. He wished that he had a camera to record the event. He knew a number of people who would appreciate the set up. "Clear to door, Sir." Simpson scowled, detecting the underlying amusement in that assurance and curious he hastened to join his subordinate. He pressed his back to the wall beside Frazier and flicked a glance at the wounded man, choosing to ignore the pleading look in his dark eyes for the moment. From what he could see he doubted the man could be saved, but that was not even a consideration at this time. Now his priority was getting into that room. The wounded would have to wait. "Trap?" a low query, chin indicating the doorway. "Automatic rifle rigged to fire by the opening of the door." came the low murmur. "Ah." soft sigh. "Basic but reliable. She is very good. On three." "Sir." Frazier tensed, checking once again his weapon, poising as the count began. One. He half crouched, eyes flicking back down the hallway, checking their rear. The building seemed too quiet. Two. His eyes flicked over the wounded man who stirred feebly but had the sense not to try to speak and then centered on the door way. Three. Frazier bounded through the door, coming in low and kicking out to send the rifle on its make shift stand clattering across the floor. He swept the room with his gun following every movement of his eye, well aware of his commander covering him, only a half pace away, scanning the room for possible hiding places. He hustled, ignoring the source of his previous amusement, moving to check behind the computer banks, Simpson on his heels, covering him. What his commander made of this he dared not think, but he was sure the man would appreciate the view. The tension slowly left him as the room proved to be empty of threat and he glanced at his superior, just the hint of a smirk betraying his amusement. Simpson was not so kind. He grinned, openly amused by the woman writhing suspended above the communications terminal. He considered her for a moment, shaking his head slightly. He appreciated the set up, eyeing the overhead rafter from which the chain was strung, and down, the loop strung through the hand cuffs. He was thankful the gag was in place because he could just imagine what that irate redhead was now thinking and saying, if the muffled sounds were any indication. Her legs were bound together with electrical tape in a thick roll from ankles to mid calves, restricting any movement from the knees down. She was suspended a good foot above the communications computer bay, making it impossible for her to relieve her weight from her arms. "Now that has got to hurt." he commented. "Frazier, see to Pickford. I'll take care of Ms McIntyre." "Sir." a smart salute and quick grin and the man hastened out of the room. Simpson drew his knife, climbing up onto the communications terminal with care, noting the plethora of red lights on the consol. That did not bode well for the plans he had made. What had Noin done when she had come here? From the number of red glows she had disabled the majority of systems he would need to use. He knelt on the consol, working the knife into the tape binding her legs, taking his time to savor the moment. The cocky bitch had needed taking down a peg or two, he decided. She was so full of the prowess of herself and her team
and who was it strung up like a fat turkey ready for slaughter? He
chuckled softly at the thought. From the increased mumbles Incensed by his actions Shanna gyrated on her chain, struggling, furious and her eyes spat fire as he reached up and pat her on the rump. She could not believe it! The asshole actually had the audacity to pat her on the rump! "Now then, settle down. I can't cut you're bonds if your spinning all over the room, now can I?" he kept his tone neutral, mindful that he still had to work with the woman. "Sir. Pickford's dead." Frazier entered the room, wiping his bloodied knife on a scrap of cloth he had cut from Pickford's shirt. At the eruption of muffled screams and wild gyrations Simpson sighed and sat back, resting on his heels. Glancing at Frazier he eyed the knife and arched an eyebrow by way of a question. At his arched eyebrow the communications officer shrugged. "Quicker than it would have been with the damage done to him, Sir." Simpson grunted, knowing his subordinate enough to accept the man's judgement. Frazier was a good man and would not have performed a mercy kill if he had not judged it was necessary. Frazier was not one to kill needlessly. "Well enough. Find something we can use to cut the chain with, and these cuffs too." he ignored Shanna's muffled screams of protest at the death of her subordinate and continued to saw through the tape. When Shanna McIntyre finally set feet to solid ground she had intended to blister the ears of the assholes who had effected her rescue. She had had to hang suspended in the room and watch as her own team members sprung the trap she had intended to use and Noin had reinstated. She had intended to slap Simpson for his audacity to slap her rump and for the murder of her man. She had intended to demand they look immediately for that dark haired bitch who had strung her up and left her there to hang like a piece of curing meat. Instead she found herself gasping for breath, pain screaming through her body from long abused muscles and tendons now relaxed into more normal positions. Simpson had thrown her over his shoulder as Frazier cut through the cuffs and chain and it was all she could do to hold the scream as pain had blossomed. If she had thought it hurt before, it was nothing compared to the pain that now flared. As circulation began to return to her hands she moaned into the gag, unable to remove the offending tape across her mouth herself. She even forgot the indignity of being slung over that broad shoulder. She was barley aware of Simpson clambering down from the consol or of him setting her upright. She had no chance of forcing her body to remain upright on her own and his big hands steadied her. "Frazier. Morphine?" "Probably would help, sir." Frazier came closer. Inspecting the swollen, raw and bloody wrists Simpson held out to him. "Be black in a few hours with bruising. I would recommend no more than one hit of morphine for now, until she can see a doctor. You'll stiffen up and be pretty much incapacitated from the strain on your musculature." he informed McIntyre, injecting her with a morphine ampoule. "This will help, but only in the short term. You will still feel pain and it will do nothing to help relieve the muscle spasms. It will be days before your strained muscles and tendons can heal. Probably something like two weeks before the wrists heal." Simpson sighed and decided it was time for the inevitable. He really was not looking forward to this. For a moment he met her gaze, warning her with a look and with a single sharp tug he stripped off the gag. To his surprise she ignored the pain, green eyes spitting fire as she slumped against him. "I want that bitch! I will rend her limb from bloody limb and turn her guts inside out! I want the whore found and I want her disemboweled ..." "Ms Noin, I presume?" Simpson pasted a polite smile on his face, interrupting her listing of future torture she was intending to inflict on the absent woman. "Well, you need not concern yourself with tracking her down. Ms Noin is a guest of the ESUN at the present time, and as such she will be confined and treated according to the conventions. I will not tolerate my prisoner being accosted, despite the provocation, McIntyre. I have a use for her and I need her relatively healthy." "Where is she?" she snarled, rounding on the man, forgetting her current state and stumbling. She would have fallen to her knees had he not steadied her. She delivered a cold glare to which he arched an eyebrow, but made no comment. "Where the fuck is the bitch!" //Charming. You are so ladylike, my dear. As bad if not worse than Noin, I see. However, she is my prisoner and I have no intention of losing her to you. Nice bruise. // he admired the swelling and darkening bruise on the woman's jaw that had formerly been hidden by the gag. //She must have really put some force behind that blow.// "I do warn you that I can always have you returned to your former position, if your do not pull yourself together. We have a mission, McIntyre. The mission comes before personal gratification. Always. After I have Marquise and the children safely secured, you can take out your vexation on Ms Noin. Not before. I trust that is understood?" Shanna hissed at him, furious that he denied her. Glaring daggers at him before pain flared in her wrists as Frazier began to apply field dressings. She had no room for thought, her only awareness that of pain until he had finished and she could get past the pain level. She found herself propped in a chair and the commander ignoring her in favor of running a systems check on the computer. She snorted to herself. That was a waste of time, she knew. The commander was working on the computers, typing furiously on keyboards before turning to the communications array, a faint frown deepening as his every effort produced no results. He turned to glare at her, accusation obvious. "As per instructions from my superiors, Commander Simpson. Nothing more, nothing less." "Over kill." a quiet comment accompanied by a sigh, and he turned to face her. "You will need to find a secured location and wait until this is over. With the physical damage done to you, you are now a liability. We have established our base of operations in the shuttle control room and set up a independent communications array. We have already dispatched a message sent on direct beam to the Wellington. We should get confirmation in around fifteen minutes or so and an ETA." She bared her teeth in a grin that was far from seductive. If they thought she was going to sit out the action and take down of Merquise, they were fools. However, if she could find out ... "Is Noin in the control tower too?" "Forget Ms Noin for the moment, McIntyre. I have told you already that she is out of bounds. Our first order of business is to seal off access from the sub base to the upper dome to contain the situation. You will inform us of every possible access point that might be exploited to allow communications and movement between the two levels. I want Merquise isolated from any more assistance than he might already have attained. He is arrogant enough to wish to work solo, and that would be to our advantage. When we have secured all possible communications and access ways, you will then inform me when the exterior workers are due to return to the base. We need to contain them until the Wellington arrives."
|
