Alright. Those of you who know me and my website and those of you on TQML will instantly recognize this fic. Yes, it's an oldie but it's a goodie IMHO, so it'll start off my postings. Maybe some r&r will give me the motivation to actually finish the nearly dead sequel. Bring it on. I can handle flames. Thoughtful criticism is appreciated, and the one-line 'I luv ur fic' brings enough joy to keep writing. :P
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam W in any fashion. Don't sue me. I'm simply an E-5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.
BEGIN FIC
23:14 Hours --
Everything had started off well.
It should have been nothing but a simple recon mission. Something he'd done a million times before.
The floor was hard and unforgiving under his bruised, beaten body as he laid still, reflecting on just what exactly had gone wrong.
19:00 Hours --
A mission without Gundam. A mission on foot. A data retrieval mission. A mission that should be a piece of cake.
Such were the thoughts running through the soldier's mind as he glanced over his orders before deleting the file and erasing his mail logs to eradicate any archived information, such as the IP address, of the computer and person who had directed him to do this particular stunt.
Walking to his room, he hurriedly looked through his weapon arsenal, selecting his most favored firearms and the equipment that would be most necessary to him. A 10mm pistol. A 6-shot revolver. Five 15 bullet, filled clips. A handful of extra bullets. Motorcycle keys. An empty data-CD. A ziplock baggie with jerky for the road.
Quickly stashing his items upon his person, he turned to walk out of the room. Stopping momentarily in the hallway of the quarters he was currently lodged in, he turned towards the kitchen.
Arriving in the happily lit room, he glanced quickly over at the person stationed on the couch.
"Mission?" he asked softly, his steely eyes boring into him.
"Aa."
"Hn. Luck to you."
"Thanks."
Turning away from the young man, he lightly laid his fingertips upon the arms of the young woman who had previously been cooking and whose attention had been drawn to him by his conversation with the other boy.
"Cathy, take care of him."
"Trowa... be careful, will you?"
"Aa."
Trowa Barton walked out of the trailer, never stopping to look back at the injured form of Heero or the concerned face of Catherine.
21:51 Hours --
Trowa's fingers nimbly danced over the keyboard before him.
Numbers and asterisks flashed rapidly upon the monitor as he strove to break the security codes that safeguarded the information he was sent to retrieve.
For the ninth time that evening, Trowa mentally cursed the white gloves that were a part of the OZ uniform ensemble, the cap that didn't set right on his head, and the dead soldier that was stuffed under a bush half a mile off base for being a few sizes bigger than him, thus making his newly acquired clothing an awkward fit. His fingers tromped angrily over the keys.
For a few moments, Trowa's eyes widened.
The numbers were swiftly being deleted and new ones were being entered in their stead.
'This computer's on a network. You know that. Someone's caught you and is trying to lock you out,' he thought, grumbling. Cracking his knuckles, he swiftly attempted to fight back against the intruder who was successfully deleting three hard minutes of work.
It was absolutely no use. Every time he attempted to delete a newly entered number, fifteen more would appear.
Trowa hung his head. 'Mission failure, I suppose then. There's no way I can beat this guy. Whoever it is, he's a pro. And he's probably already alerted them to my location.'
With a nod, Trowa agreed with his inner voice that was screaming at him to make his escape and make it now. The data, after all, was not as important as the overall mission he was sent to Earth to accomplish.
His attention was drawn back to the monitor as it flashed, the CPU beeping cheerfully and loud in the empty, dark room. Turning sharply on his heel, he stared with disbelief at the screen.
The code he'd been working on had been thoroughly broken, and his download was underway.
Which meant...
'Which means that someone else from the Rebellion is here.'
Typing once more on the keyboard, his concern over typos from the gloves gone, he replied to the alert box, posting one over the network to the connected CPU that had sent the message: Identify yourself.
The response came swiftly: A friend. BTW, escape now. I've just tripped the alarm to give you the cover you need and I'll delete all evidence you were here. :)
'A friend...?'
Frowning, he noted that the download had been completed. Quickly, he attempted to go after the payroll registrar to identify who exactly was employed at this particular base. Tapping his fingers nervously upon the desktop, he watched as the download time popped up onto the screen. Six minutes. Not good.
'One more file. I just need this one final file. Please don't tell me that this mystery person has already done what he promised. Please let him wait six minutes...'
His thoughts were interrupted when the alarm suddenly blared, the hallway lights glared red, and the rumbling and yelling of alerted soldiers rang through the previously still atmosphere. Scrambling, Trowa attempted to stop all the other applications that were running on the computer to free more precious RAM and get the download to speed more quickly towards completion.
23:16 Hours --
Trowa's slim hands flexed against the bonds they had been tightly constrained in. He was attempting to bow his body so he could at least get his fingers in front of his stomach instead of behind him where they were of little if any use.
Unfortunately, his shackles enclosed his arms from wrist to elbow, completely immobilizing him.
His shoulders and elbows were beginning to ache from being hyperextend.
Frowning, he shoved the discomfort aside in his mind, and continued his reminiscing.
22:08 Hours --
The download had been completed in 5 minutes, 43 seconds. Precious time had been lost.
Trowa cringed, listening to the alarm continue its banshee scream.
Just as he was about to delete his activities from the computer to hide any evidence that valuable information had been stripped from the OZ system, yet another message flashed onto his screen: BAKA! Go! I'll finish up here!
He nodded at the screen as the message wiped itself out. 'The person who broke the code for me is still here, eh? Fine. Let him deal with it.'
He quickly stashed the data-CD in his pocket. 'I can't afford to be caught. Maybe I can use him to cover my escape.'
Trowa exploded into the hallway just as a group of soldiers rounded the corner. He stared, facing them, his brain quickly turning in his skull.
"The intruder's not in here," he quickly reported, saluting smartly.
The apparent leader of the squad nodded. "Good. That means that he's in Lab 14. Let's get a move on, soldiers!"
Trowa joined the crowd as they jogged down the hall, his mind working overtime to craft an escape route.
First, he'd wait until they reached a side passage. Separating from the group would be easy. From that point on, he could conveniently lose himself in the installation, proceed to the hanger, and make it into the clear.
He had his disk. He had his data. Mission accomplished. All he needed to do was escape.
He barely heard the order to split and head to the back door of the occupied laboratory. Turning with the group, he jogged towards the alternate exit from the lab.
Something was nagging at his mind, though.
The someone that these soldiers presumed was in Lab 14 had assisted him. It was a fellow soldier, sent here by the Rebellion presumably, on the same mission as he was.
'It has to be one of those other pilots,' his mind quickly worked out as he jogged, readying his 10mm along the way. 'One of those other pilots.'
'One of those pilots who has immense computer knowledge,' he thought, his lips turning into the slightest hint of a frown as he recalled that the other person had deleted three minutes of his work and replaced it with the corrected code in less than twenty seconds.
'But Heero Yuy is with Catherine, recovering from his self-destruct attempt. He's too injured to move.'
'It can't be that Chinese guy. He doesn't seem the type to do data reconasence. Doesn't seem like the kind to sneak around behind his enemy's back for a minor technical victory. He'd rather confront them fair and square.'
'Maybe it's that braided guy. What did Heero say his name was? Duo?'
He barely kept from running into the person in front of him as they pulled to a halt outside of the door.
"Prepare to surrender!" the leader of the squadron shouted before kicking in the door.
KABANG!
Trowa immediately ducked as the sound of a gun discharging filled the air. The captain and the first three men behind him fell, all victims of the same bullet. Immediately, the OZ soldiers before Trowa opened fire into the room.
Peering carefully, holding his gun cocked and ready before him, Trowa stared into the shadowy recesses before him.
Computers sparked and exploded as bullets riddled the room. The sound of glass shattering rang even as an electrical fire sparked and roared into being, casting an eerie orange glow over everything within.
The silhouetted form of their attacker stood confidently in the middle of the room and raised the dreaded gun again.
Just as Trowa was preparing to shoot and defend himself if necessary, the other door of the room flew from its hinges.
"DROP YOUR WEAPON!"
Turning sharply, the small form faced the newest enemies to appear.
And realizing the wretched situation, the intruder's gun hit the ground.
Trowa, meanwhile, was staring.
When the figure turned, there was no braid being flung. There were no unkempt long bangs hanging to the face's chin. The sleeves weren't cuffed before the elbow, but rather buttoned neatly at the wrists.
It wasn't Duo.
Walking in with his temporary comrades, Trowa approached the individual. Stepping in front of him, he looked upon the person who'd assisted him and who was now to sacrifice his freedom for his escape.
Trowa's heart nearly came to a stop.
"Quatre," his lips said entirely of their own accord, even as his brain screamed at him for being an idiot.
Crystalline sea-blue eyes stared back, no single shred of shock evident in their depths.
23:20 Hours --
Trowa groaned as he closed his eyes.
Of course, he'd given himself away.
Why had he done that?
'Maybe the shock. You haven't seen him since the battle at New Edwards.'
He shook his head at that thought.
'Maybe because he was sacrificing himself for your escape.'
Hmmm. Closer. Trowa's brain tried again.
'Because you never expected to see the person who'd given you room and board in San Francisco and protected you at New Edwards again. You never expected to see that frail, delicate blonde doing battle outside of his over-armored Gundam.'
Very, very close. Heck, boiling even.
'Because you care about him.'
'Because he is your friend.'
Bingo.
Trowa groaned as he pressed his head against the cold, hard floor.
tbc...