Hollow Regrets—Ch. I
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You can't say civilization is advancing: in every war they kill you in a new way.
Will Rogers (1879-1935)
Now, now my good man, this is no time to be making enemies.
Voltaire (1694-1778), on his death bed, when asked by a priest to renounce Satan
They were on their way to a new school. Well, sort of a school. It was on the west coast of North America, far to the north, where it was bitterly cold, and the sun was just a glimmer on the horizon, never really rising for the day. The school had been set up as a hide out for aspiring OZ pilots, a basic education before they went on to bigger, better things, like Lake Victoria. They were shuffling all the "students" from installation to installation, trying to stay one step ahead of the Gundam pilots, but the higher powers in OZ didn't realize the loop hole they had given their enemy. Because they were moving the trainees around in groups and doing it at an almost constant rate, the Gundam pilots would be able to come in en masse without rousing a lot of suspicion. It had the potential to be an extremely effective operation, even more so than the Victoria incident, as they would also be in a position to discover the locations of many other trainee centers, giving them a piloting edge in the future. Once the pilots had discovered those locations, they would split up and continue on to the other schools, covering as many as possible. They would then destroy them in concert, neatly avoiding the severe intelligence measures expected to follow the destruction of just one installation. Also a benefit, the pilots would blend in with the few inevitable trainees escaping elimination, and, should all go according to plans, be able to slip out after the furor, during the transportation of said survivors.
They had traveled as a group to a checkpoint, (the only location their collective authorities had been able to unearth,) where they met up with a larger group of OZ trainees. Now, hidden within a group of twelve more similar teenagers, they were going to cover the remaining distance to the first installation in a converted semi trailer.
As they waited, the only thing that made the day bearable was the clear sunshine that came down unfiltered to flicker on them. Though they were already at the 45th latitude, they were all bundled up sufficiently, with the added support of the sun, to with stand the cold. Soon though, they would be at the 60th, with the meteorological hazard of coastal weather, and the temperatures would be dropping dramatically. Certainly, the two warmer blooded pilots were not looking forward to this mission, but even that had been thought through. Those two pilots were deemed better suited to leave once the first opportunity presented itself, to go to another trainee base. 05 would be the pilot to stay behind and eliminate the future threat in the second quadrant of the North American sector.
The truck pulled up outside of the train depot OZ had commandeered from its company, and the driver hopped out. He was a burley guy, with seamed features and a cig hanging out from the corner of his mouth. When he walked it was with a bandy-legged gait that screamed "Sarge'" to the five illegitimate teens. He ran an appraising eye over the group where they were huddled together, (though 01, 03 and 05 had shown what 04 called "a ridiculous amount" of reluctance to do so,) and snorted through his crooked nose, clearly expressing his personal opinion of what OZ was looking forward to.
"Well, lookie' what the cat drugged in." As one creature, the noble children of OZ stiffened to an indignant height, and glared daggers at this upstart who dared to insult such fine specimens of their social standing. 'Course, not one of the pilots did, in fact, 02's eyes began to shine with suppressed laughter, and 04 just looked startled. 05 puffed up just a little bit, but no where in comparison to the nobles, 03 had no reaction, and 01 just frowned a little, in puzzlement. Which didn't help with the 02 situation, whose mirth seemed to grow exponentially in relation to the depth of 01's frown. And all of this was caught by "Sarge'", whose own age-clouded eyes began to twinkle.
"Yep, thas' right, sweetums, I'm your commandin' officer from now 'til we reach the 'Port, where your 'commandant' will relieve me of my duty. Name's Lieutenant Oscar, but ever'one jus' calls me Worser, 'cuz I must be worser n' Satan for 'em to let me live wit' dis face!"
02 just couldn't help it anymore, and as his glee overcame his Olympian efforts of containment, the Lieutenant's face folded into a grimace, his own semblance of a smile, and the cig that he still had in his mouth began to move randomly, as though he were chewing on it with what were sure to be yellowed, uneven teeth.
"Liked that, did ya' kid? What's your moniker?"
Holding his stomach with one hand to assure nothing came loose while he vainly tried to regain control over his howling laughter, 02 stumbled up to the 'tenant, one hand raised in anticipation for his salute. He reached a semblance of standing as he came in front of Worser, and gave his snappy observance. "Sir, Trainee Donald MacEvens reporting, sir." That done, he put the last remnants of his hilarity back into his head, (a place to traumatize even his current jaded audience,) stood at attention, (that first of all military skills to be drilled into any troops, future officers or not,) and awaited remarks.
When the OZ officer just stared at him for nearly a full minute, then shifted his gaze onto the still huddled group behind him, even stalwart Duo became just a tad nervous. Fortunately for him, Worser's attention had been lifted from him.
"Hmph." He studied them all for a further minute then opened his mouth in a yawn, revealing that he did indeed have a very bad dental situation. Duo, though he had a front row seat, didn't flinch. "Well ladies, line up an' give me yer intros."
After looking at each other they scrambled into a rough line.
"Sir, Aaron Keller, reporting, sir."
"Sir, Daniel Gregory Allans, reporting, sir."
The lieutenant waved a hand. "Nah, start over; I wan' 'em in alphabetic by last name."
It took them about five minutes, but they finally did it. Actually, it would have taken them longer, but Quatre was kind enough to point out that their last names were posted on their uniforms. After that, it didn't take very long. Even "Donald" joined the queue, just to be safe. But this was, after all, a standard military procedure, and it took them barely any time at all to run through the actual duty.
"Ookay then. Now that's done, lemme give you the par-tik-u-leers." He paused for a moment, and when he began to speak again, his voice had transformed to clear and precise. "We're heading up the edge of Western North America, through what use to be the top of the Continental United States, into the similar area of British Columbia, and then back into the former United States, un-continental, Alaska. At this time, that is all you have been authorized to know, though you will be informed of your exact coordinates when we get within one standard hour of our destination." That said, he slipped back into his rougher speech. "And that, ladies, is 'bout 49 hours straight drivin' time down the road. Questions?"
One of the trainees, a red-headed boy that stood nearly a whole head above even Trowa, raised his hand. When Worser called upon him, his voice came out at a decided disadvantage to his frame, squeaking out a thready, changing tenor, which had somehow gone un-noticed when he had found refuge in the normal introduction—something which, if you had any brains anyway, all came out in a monotone from memorizing it, so you didn't even have to think about it, or how your voice would sound while giving it. "Sir, if it's such a long drive, why didn't we fly closer in? Wouldn't that have sped up the process by a considerable margin?"
"Ha, you'd think so, maybe, but that might also get you dead, kid. Those Gundam pilots 'ev been moniterin' the air ways somethin' awful, and the first few times we tried that, we lost 'bout fifty kids like yerselves, not to mention the installations they were comin' from and goin' to. So no, we drive. Any other questions? No? Well then, find a setta civvies, take 'em to th' head and we'll get this show on th' road. I'll brief ya' some more in the truck. Now move!"
When all the trainees clambered up the back of the truck, now dressed in their own clothes, (the pilots, thank god, had changed their usual "uniforms" enough to hopefully not be noticed on a description of them,) they were faced with their living quarters for the next few days: rough, nearly unfinished walls, sparse furnishings mainly involving the ubiquitous bunks, boxes of rations and piles of nutrition bars. Most interesting though was the enormous volume of heavy woolen blankets that were stacked in nearly every available space.
The head of the trailer carried the heaviest modifications away from standard. The entire rig had been re-designed with an umbilicus to connect the cab of the tractor with the trailer, allowing access while moving. This made it easier for driver changes, cutting the stopping time, and the only thing that would dictate those would be fuel consumption. The other major change was a co-pilot set up, where the drivers could switch while still in motion, with a short period of time on an auto-pilot to allow adjustments between drivers.
"Settle down, pick a cot and grab a blanket. Here's the deal: this is gonna be a rough ride. One, we're being looked for, so the civvies. Two, we're makin' tracks, so the only stops are gonna be fer fuel, and then, no bathroom. We're all gents here, so act like it an' use the head at the front, don't whine 'bout it like the kids y'are. And three, we're goin' farther North, so it's gonna get down right chilly. There're 'nough blankies ta go 'round, so no hoardin', tho' ya' might wanna sep'rate in ta' groups, an' huddle up fer heat. Tha's it, folks, so someone batten the hatch an' we'll blow this popstand." Worser went up to the hotseat, strapped in and put the idling diesel into gear while several of the boys pulled the rear end closed, hooked it secure, and locked it from the inside.
It took them all a while before they were used to the differences in the ride; it was bumpy, not as if there were no shocks, but more like they were designed for a much, much heavier load. Also, the noise of the engine was loud, a great rumble that was hard to resign to the background. Whenever anyone spoke it echoed off of the rough walls, and the whistling of air resistance whined through any conversation. But humans are very adaptable creatures, and soon all of the trainees were settling in for their trip. The five Gundam pilots sat together, and absorbed everything around them, all of them automatically cataloguing everything and anything new they came across.
It was an uneasy group, the crowd of teenagers that were hunkered down in that converted trailer. With the exception of the three pilots who grew up with no social status, or a level that could not even be considered an actual part of society, every single young man there had been raised with thoughts of the future, and more importantly, their families' place in that future, and those thoughts were constantly ruling their every action. For the most part, they were the second and third sons, and though they too had gone through the same training in leadership and business and politics as their older siblings, they knew from a very early age that the military was the only way they could truly make a difference, the only way for them to be taken on their own footing, rather than being cast in someone else's shadow. But now, they were running, literally for their lives, hiding to fight for the future, and that thought could only bow their heads with shame, and silence their attempts to form new friendships among their new comrades. So the atmosphere that pervaded the air was gloomy, full of doubts and half-formulated thoughts of failure. Even their escort, a group of nine OZ foot soldiers, was oppressed by it, and their normal diversions didn't emerge with the alacrity that was usually so evident in any group of bored soldiers.
But Duo could only contain himself for so long before his active mind began to rebel against the lack of purpose and the seemingly endless wait. They were on the road for only forty-five minutes before he was up and running. While his audience of four Gundam pilots, twelve aristocratic trainees and nine soldiers watched, he investigated every corner and box, sifted through the piles of blankets for nearly a dozen that met his exacting standards, (which, when he brought them to the other four pilots, seemed identical to any of the other blankets,) used the head, and stock-piled another couple dozen ration packets and nutrition bars, merrily humming off tune ditties all the while. But even this was only a very temporary diversion, and soon, he was once again sitting, extremely bored, between Heero and Quatre. After an hour and a half of driving, many of the passengers were settling down on the various bunks to sleep. They weren't the first to do so. Wufei was in a meditative position and had been almost from the beginning, and Trowa was sitting perfectly still, his back up against a pile of blankets, his head tucked to his chest and soft sounds of breathing issued forth in time to the slight rise and fall of the hair hanging in front of his face.
The other three were still sitting side by side, but they too were beginning to show signs of relaxation, a slight movement towards a more horizontal position, and a drooping of the eyelids. In fact, the only thing that seemed to be keeping 01 and 04 from sleep was the laborious sighs that Duo was exhaling every thirty seconds. When Quatre, who had been counting them in his own boredom, reached fifty, he decided to do something about it.
His voice, when he spoke, was still very quiet, but there was a thread of that particular brand of steel in it that revealed his annoyance. "Okay, MacEvens, that's enough. Either come up with something to do that won't disturb everyone, or go find somewhere and go to sleep."
Duo sighed again, "There isn't anything to do, 'cause they made me leave all my stuff. And I had that coffee, so I'm just not tired. I mean, I don't even have a pack of cards or music, just my clothes and stuff like that."
"Well, maybe I have something in my duffle. Let's check, 'k?" But that was to no avail, as Quatre, too, had been forced to stash any un-necessary baggage in one of Sandrock's compartments. They did find some paper and a few carbon pencils, so they vacated the cot in favor of the floor, where they made paper chess and checker pieces to play with, weighting them down with spare change so they didn't flutter around with every bump the truck hit. When they moved Heero promptly lay down in their vacated spots and joined the other sleepers.
They played checkers first, but Duo wasn't that great at it, and Quatre kept winning, and Duo was soon getting bored again. So it was only about forty minutes before they switched to chess, and Duo's boat really sank. It took him about five minutes to figure out how bad, but it was three games and two and half hours later before he decided he needed help.
Help came forth in the form of Heero, who had woken up and had been watching Duo's latest stubborn but futile attempt for ten minutes before Duo looked up and saw a slight glimmer of blue.
"Hy, you're awake!" Heero groaned: he'd been caught, and he was in for it. "Help me out here, Q's killin' me."
Quatre's mouth opened as if he wanted to protest, but his eyes narrowed a second later as he studied Heero's face. Duo, looking at him, could tell that he was thinking hard, because he had snagged his lower lip in his teeth and was worrying at one corner of it, which would have really disturbed Duo, but Quatre never did it hard enough to draw blood, it just always ended up looking like he'd spent the last few hours in some serious extra-curricular activities.
Heero, who had shifted around on the cot to hang over the other two, looked into Quatre's face, and raised his eyebrows in question. Coming to an internal decision, the young billionaire met Heero's eyes, and he nodded once, hard. "Fine, I'll play both of you."
"Hn." Heero's eloquent answer came a second before his hand snaked out, and he moved for Duo. "Really, Quinn, you'll find I'm a much more difficult opponent than him."
Quatre just smiled sweetly at him, giving that angelic appearance only tow heads seemed to be able to pull off with true success, and made his next move.
The game became a silent battle of wills, both the players moving with assurance as Duo looked on, trying to keep up, trying to assimilate a new skill into his repertoire. The game ended abruptly in only three minutes, when Quatre drove a strike into Heero's defenses in a risky but ultimately effective move. It was so cunningly done that not even Heero realized the game was over, not until Quatre broke through his concentration with a whispered "Check mate", and Heero sat there for a second, his hand already out-stretched to move his next piece.
Slowly a look of dawning amazement and what could almost be labeled as awe spread across his normally shuttered features. He just stared at the makeshift game board as his mind tried to catch up with time and when he raised his eyes to Quatre's, where he sat calmly beside the cot, his eyes were wide with his thoughts. They stared into each other's eyes while a small quirking smile crept across the blonde's face.
"Let's go again." Heero's voice was harsh, and his eyes had hardened.
Quatre, still smiling, nodded slightly, in acceptance of the stubborn challenge.
Duo, who had watched the exchange silently, moved quickly when Heero's attention shot to him, and the youth's eyes made a gesture to give up his seat. Oh, yes, Duo moved, but only to carefully wake the other pilots.
"Hey, Lin, Tristan, wake up." He paused for a second, looking at Wufei, still sitting there. "Well, whatever, but you guys have got to see this."
Wufei's lids snapped up, his hard black eyes glaring.
"MacEvens, go away. Some of us were perfectly content not seeing whatever new fickle form of entertainment has now caught your useless attention." His eyes closed again, the only body part he had moved, (aside from his mouth,) in his Duo-Dress Down.
Duo sighed, but knew that however much he might complain, he really would want to see this. So he said so. "Come on, just trust me, you have to come over and see what Quinn and Hy are doing."
A snarl chased its way across Wufei's countenance. "Fine! But after I've seen it, I'm going to pound your miserable hide into the floor!"
The boy who called himself Death nearly jumped in his glee. "Okay." He then turned to wake up Trowa, but there was no need. The circus performer had already taken up a position on one of the bunks adjacent to the silent chess combatants. Duo grabbed Wufei's arm and dragged him over too, ignoring the nearly animal noises coming from behind him.
But once he had gotten the Chinese boy close enough for Wufei to see what was going on, he no longer had to pull. Wufei sat down next to Trowa, and Duo launched himself into the other cot, sprawled out comfortably.
Luckily for them, Quatre had seen what Duo was doing, and had forestalled the start of the match, waiting for them to get settled. But they had barely been there for a second before the blonde moved his little "white" piece forward, and the two were engaged in a truly ferocious battle of dominance.
Had any of the other passengers paid any attention to them, they would have been amazed at the expressions on any of the pilot's faces. Quatre's usual animation had vanished, replaced by slits of eyes and thinned lips; Heero was completely blank, and his arm reached out in perfect motion, with not a single un-necessary movement. Trowa sat still, his eyes going back between their faces, as if he could send his piercing green eyes through to their minds, and see their next move. He watched them more than the board, but he studied all of it carefully. Duo's face had split into a manic grin, his eyes shadowed and his teeth gleaming in his parody of mirth as his eyes flickered constantly in motion, skipping like a grasshopper from one thing to the next, even moving over each of his fellow observers where they sat across from him. Wufei gave no attention to anything but the paper game board, his gaze so intense it was almost possible to think it was going to combust spontaneously in the next moment, gaining its momentum from his glare alone.
The battle waged on for nearly an hour, as each piece was carefully selected to join the intrigue of the game. Silence reigned and every creak and bump, every rumble of the engine, all the snores and whimpers from the people sleeping around them could be heard.
The tension built up as the game began to clear of pieces. Even Duo, with his lesser skills in the game, could feel the end coming, a feeling as if the solution to the war of wills was viable, a living breathing organism, fed by the competitive nature of the two boys.
It was because of their very silence that Duo was able to hear the faintest of scuffles, and catch such a small movement at the very edge of his vision. The others were concentrating so hard that Worser was very, very far within their senses' perimeter when Duo noticed him.
Before his thoughts could even begin to comprehend his instincts, his head swung around, his braid swept across the floor, right through the middle of the chess board, knocking the pieces out of order, and he rolled to his feet in an easy motion that took less time than a blink, but looked as natural as a breath.
"Sir! I thought you were driving." Standing as he was, halfway between at ease and a slouch, he was in a perfect spot to block any view the Lieutenant might have had of the floor in between the two bunks. The four others just blinked in astonishment as the object of their concentration was ruined. Not a single one of them said a word or moved once Duo had made his little maneuver. Certainly, they were annoyed with the braided idiot for wrecking the board, but it took them all a moment to refocus their usually able minds around something else, so involving had the game been. When they did manage to shift their collective attention, it was to look up at Duo's back and the 'tenant who stood over him.
"I was. Got a special set up, so's we can switch drivers without stopping." Worser stopped for a mere moment, that length of time that any accomplished evasion artist recognizes as the pause that's supposed to divert attention, and make unwary mouths flap. "So what'cha boys doin' ta' keep yerselves busy?" And he leaned his swarthy head a little to the side, trying to get an angle on the floor. "Play'n a game?"
But it would take a much more talented interrogator than the man in front of him to make Duo reveal anything. "Yup, poor man's chess, just like we used to play at home. I think my buddy Quinn here is gettin' his butt kicked by Hy. That guy is down right vicious."
The other boys, hearing Duo's little speech, all glanced at each other. For some reason, Duo was weaving a web of half-truths that were laced with little hints. Duo didn't have a home. He never had. And he didn't lie. And it had been painfully obvious before he had messed up the board that neither one of the players was "getting his butt kicked", that they had in fact been almost at a stand still. So what was Duo trying to tell them?
"Hmm. Yah, chess is like that. You can't hide in a chess game." Again, that infinitesimal pause. "Hey, I'm not too bad, maybe I could lend a hand?"
Duo didn't even pause. "Sure, maybe you could. Let's take a look." And he twirled around on the tips of his toes, moving aside to let the officer get a good look at the floor. But as Duo looked down, he gave a world class performance of someone disappointed and contrite.
"Oh, man guys, am I sorry. It's my stupid hair, I didn't mean to." He rubbed the back of his neck and his shoulders slumped.
"Well, that's too bad. S'pose I won't be helpin' out after all." The grimace that was his excuse of a smile spread across Worser's weathered face. "You guys can always start over, right?"
Quatre looked up with his face on full innocence mode. "Sure can. But I think I'll wait awhile before I subject myself to that again. Apparently I'm only a good player when I'm playing someone other than Hy here. 'Sides, I'm really thinking about taking a breather, maybe getting some sleep."
With the exceptional timing that made him such a good performer, Trowa let out an expansive yawn. "I think I agree with you there, Quinn." He made a further point by stretching his long arms over his head and his legs out in the aisle between the end of the bunks and the other wall of the trailer.
"Mn hmm, I'm sackin' out too." Duo looked at the two as yet silent terrorists, who, looking back at him, also joined into the act, nodding "sleepily", yawning, and making the motions of boys getting ready to find places to lay their growing bones.
Worser watched them with the falsely indulgent look of a superior officer, then, when it became obvious that they boys were really going to take advantage of the bunks, he turned around to walk away, but stopped at the last moment as Duo complained loudly about how cold it was.
"Ya' know, if'n ya' moved those bunks closer t'gether, you'll getta lil' more heat."
Duo's whole face brightened, giving a good impression of the kid he was supposed to still be. "Really?"
"Yep, works lik'a charm. And since you guys are gonna sleep, I'm turnin' down the lights." And with that last note, Worser really did walk away, to find his own place to rest.
Duo didn't stop fussing with the bunks and blankets until the OZ officer had disappeared back into the forward compartment, supposedly to a bunk he had up there. When his instincts told him the coast was clear, his muscles immediately relaxed, and it was only then that the others truly realized how very tense he had been, even beyond the clues they had gotten from his earlier behavior.
So after the bunks were all arranged to his liking, (which the other's noted as being the most defensible positioning available under the circumstances,) they cornered him where he was sitting on the edge of one. They ended up in a set up very similar to what they had had earlier, during the chess match.
"Okay, talk." Always to the point, was Heero.
Duo's violet eyes rolled around the guys sitting there. "I dunno, but something about that just ran up my spine, and I reacted, that's all." His voice expressed how much at a loss he was.
Even Quatre's usually relaxed face frowned in thought, but it was Trowa who broke the pondering silence.
"He did seem rather interested in the game, didn't he? Too interested for how casual he tried to act."
They all nodded. He had been more than casually interested in a game supposedly being played just to pass the time. After all, they knew that though they might have been concentrating hard, they could've been concentrating on anything, and even then, it really wasn't unusual for the average person to concentrate on board games under normal conditions.
Wufei voiced the thought on all of their minds. "He bears watching, that's for sure."
Again, they all nodded, and, reaching a silent accord, they began to move off, but not before Duo got in the last word of the "day".
"Especially if you consider the fact that he's just as noble as any other OZ officer out there. Remember, we all saw his file."
On that observation, four of them settled down into their rearranged bunks, and Trowa took first watch, as they all bundled up in several blankets to stave off the chill. Each of them had various weapons hidden about them, though they all fervently hoped that in the morning, when they were shaken awake, they wouldn't blow their respective covers by pulling any of them.
With all the traveling they were so very used to doing, it didn't take any of them long to be lulled into sleep by the rumbling movement of the truck, and soon all of the sleeping boys had slipped down that dark tunnel of dreams that gave these young men both terrors worse than their waking deeds, and hope of a future none of them could really believe in.