Makar's Home (Part 2 of the Makar's Series)
Originally titled "Too Close to Home"
By Vigilanti Windwraith

These can be read independently but to get the whole picture…
Read Part 1 "Makar's Confession"
and keep an eye out for Part 3 "Makar's Destiny"

1. Introduction:

I am Naught the last of the Makar, the scientists and technicians responsible for the gundam program, which spawned Operation Meteor. The war is over now and a new age of peace encompasses the earth-sphere. The mighty mechanized battle suits the Makar created served their purpose with tremendous success. Relations between earth and the colonies had never been better. Now it seems apparent our war-machines have no place in the new era. The destruction of the Gundam's meant there were five less reminders of the war torn era quickly fading into history. But what of the living weapons we crafted to pilot them? By mission standards they too were obsolete…but intelligent beings are not easily cast aside…nor should they be.

I never intended to reveal myself to the five young men. I was convinced I could guide them from the shadows…dole out the contents of the intelligence files I collected about their training and performance during the war. I wanted them to learn about themselves…and each other in a measured and systematic way. I figured I could remain clinically detached, as I had been trained to be. It didn't happen.

I suppose it was the naiveté of the scientist in me rather than the practicality of the warrior that conceived such a plan. Despite what we had done to them…the five young men refused to sit contently on a microscope slide while I reassured myself they were adjusting to civilian life with moderate success. To assume such a thing was possible, or even advisable, was contrary to the very instincts Dr. J and the other Makar went to such lengths to instill in them.

I was discovered. And instead of demanding retribution for what was had done to them…they stipulated, what…that I care for them. Pilot 0-4 even went so far as to name me their legitimate 'parent'…ME, Naught, the technician whose duty was to sit back and watch as they were made into weapons, I was trained not to see them as individuals no, but as specimens, subjects for study.

The Boys said I lied when I told them my role with the Makar was insignificant…perhaps they were right. I never truly evaluated the ramifications of what I had done—and I certainly tried not to think about what had been done to me. But history has a way of shadowing the present and eventually—when you least expect it—it strikes, intruding on the future in ways you can not anticipate or control.

I had never been one to shirk my duty. But I had to remind myself that 0-1 was not the stoic pilot of the wing gundam anymore…he was Heero Yuy. 0-2 was more than the self-styled god of death…He was Duo Maxwell. 0-4, the diplomat was Quatre Winner heir of a very influential corporate family and 0-5 was last of an ancient warrior clan, Chang WuFei. Finally, the pilot I knew as No Name was nameless no more. 0-3 took the identity I had inadvertently given—when my hasty bullet removed the real Trowa Barton from the roster of operation meteor.