A New Chapter
By Angie Tempete
Things to know: As you might be able to tell, I decided to revise the story. I couldn't write more chapters when things were bugging me from the earlier ones. So I'm going to try this again. For anyone who didn't read the original version, …um… I hope you like this. I don't own any part of Gundam Wing and any characters that weren't in the series I made up by picking names out of the phone book, but I still consider them mine, so don't use them without my permission. Here we go again. And please tell me what you think.
Prologue
September 15, AC 199
Location: Northern California
It was one of those unbelievably gorgeous moments. A chilly breeze whipped the grass on the sand dunes back and forth and the ocean reflected red-gold from the sun that sat on the horizon. Foaming waves crashed onto the beach and raced along the sand before being pulled back. The roar of them was rather calming, when compared to the roar that would have been heard almost four years ago. Ironic that this place used to be an Alliance training facility.
The area would show the evidence of that for decades, no matter how hard environmentalists worked to restore it to the national park it once was. Their budget didn't have enough money or manpower to replant all the destroyed vegetation or replace the native wildlife. However, in one of bureaucracy's little quirks, it seemed they'd been given enough of both to turn the tiny old base into the guide center and gift shop it once was; well, the surface portion anyway. The underground barracks and hangers had already been sealed off. That had been the first part of the project; trying to erase a past that was painful for everyone.
Alex Malone gave a wry little smile. They'd need one big eraser to get rid of that giant crater just outside of the small town of Harmony, a few miles north along the coast. That entire incident had been pilot error. The pilot had used idiotic judgment, didn't fully understand the operating systems of the test fighter, and didn't seem to have enough intelligence to use a compass. He shouldn't have even been allowed near the thing in the first place and every one of the engineers and pilots knew it. But the brass didn't buy it; the pilot had been the nephew of a general and now he was dead, therefore pilot error was not a possibility and the higher-ups were demanding a sacrifice. In a matter of days, they'd concluded it was sabotage and had sent a little unknown underling who used to clean up the mess hall to his death by firing squad. For heaven's sake, the kid had only been 14!
He shook his head; better not to dwell on it. He'd gotten out after that. Worked off his obligatory term in the military as a lowly engineer, then made a beeline out of California with his fiancée, a medic, right beside him. They'd been barely 18, broke, with no family on either side and wildly in love. And they'd made a damn good life of it if he did say so himself.
The two-year-old that wrapped herself around his leg made him laugh. With practiced ease he tossed her in the air as she shrieked with laughter. He was settling his daughter on his shoulders when a small blonde woman ran up to them, her rolled up jeans nearly soaked and covered with sand.
"Alex," she said in a warning tone, though she was nearly out of breath, "I wish you wouldn't throw her around like that."
He grinned. "But she likes it so much, isn't that right Sara?" he asked looking up. Sara giggled happily and smacked him on the nose. "Violent little monster, aren't you? I think she's going to be exactly like you, Sylvie."
His wife hit him playfully on the shoulder. "Well when you practically let her get away with murder, what do you expect? You're going to spoil her rotten you know."
"Our little angel? Never," he said with fake seriousness.
Sara began squirming to get down, and the instant she was on the ground, she dug her hands and feet into the sand.
"She's going to be ESUN's first female President," he continued in the same tone.
"She's going to drive us both crazy is what's going to happen," Sylvie said with a grin. "She's probably going to give you heart attacks when she hits her teens."
Alex deadpanned. "Sara's not going to be a teenager. She's going to stay a little girl until she's thirty and then she's going to be President."
Sylvie doubled over with laughter.
Sara lost her interest in the sand at that moment and tugged on her parents' legs. "Pway! Pway!" she pleaded, then raced towards the waves. The sun turned the air to molten gold, reflecting in the ocean, the sand, and the clouds.
A flash of light glanced off the camera lens. The photographer turned the viewfinder to another angle, hoping to find a new way of looking at the scene. A rustle in the background warned of a gust of wind, and the photographer dropped to the ground, heedless of the sand that flew up, to catch a shot of the sunset, blurred, with the waving dune grass silhouetted in stark focus and a shadowy figure kicking up shining drops of water.
"The sun, the sea, the sand and the sky. Perfect," the photographer decided, with a grin on her face as she returned the camera to its bag and simply lay on the warm sand for a moment. That was it. The picture she had been waiting for. She had known it, even as the shutter had clicked. That would be the shot that would dominate her photo essay of this sphere of the restoration program. There would be other pictures of course, but that was the embodiment of this little piece of the continent, as she had come to know it.
For the project in the Arizona desert, it had been single drops from a thunder storm pounding the desert floor as a cluster of saguaro blossoms provided the only contrast in an endless see of green and brown. In the foothills of the Rockies, it was a white picket fence along a worn dirt road, in a little springtime valley with the staggering height of the snowcapped mountains drawing the eye, again and again. And along the Gulf coast, it had been little Sara, fearlessly laying on the boardwalk in a coastal marsh to watch an alligator glide underneath as her parents crouched beside her.
She'd first met the Malones on that same project along the Texas coast. Sylvie had taken an avid interest in the new program being implemented by the North American region's government, and the family had been active participants even in planning. They were considered invaluable and irreplaceable by everyone, except the politicians who were funding the program.
She sat up, tucked her legs under her and grinned as Sara dodged the waves then chased them back out again. Alex was threatening to dunk Sylvie in the ocean, and she defended herself with a wet glop of sand that left a nice sunburst design on his shirt.
As she shifted, a tumble of things fell out of her jacket pocket. Keys, nail file, pocket knife, hair tie, ace of spades, napkins... 'Why am I carrying an ace of spades?' she wondered vaguely as she brushed damp sand from her ID. Anne Gardeskie. DOB: April 5, AC 182. Height: 5'9". Hair: red. Eyes: brown. She smirked. That was a very boring description, and not really accurate. Her mother would have been horrified to hear it. Estelle Gardeskie had always declared that her daughter had gotten the perfect blend of features. Anne had the same height and willowy frame as her mother. The wide amber eyes of her father were almost too large for the sharp planes of her face.
Looping the camera strap over a shoulder, she pulled out what was left of her braid. The coastal winds had played havoc with it all day. Not like it was anything resembling neat in the first place. She ran a hand through her hair, a mix of Dad's coal black curls and Mama's sunset locks. At the moment, the thick mass resembled the fiery-gold fringes of the clouds. When it was dark, it would take on the hue of smoldering ashes.
Sylvie screamed bloody murder as Alex scooped her up and walked knee-deep into the waves. Sara shrieked excitedly as another wave rushed around her current seat on the sand. Anne grinned and picked up the camera.
Click.
Splash!
Sylvie came up sputtering. Alex was already backing out of her reach.
Click.
Anne was barely managing to hold her camera steady. It was hilarious to watch a grown man be chased by his pixie of a wife (who, by the way, was trying to call him as many foul names as she could think of without actually swearing), and the end of the line was brought up by a waddling toddler in soaked overalls. Anne was nearly falling over from laughter.
"You'd better watch it, Annie dear!" Sylvie yelled over her shoulder at the girl on the sand dune. "Once I'm done with this wise guy here, that film will never see the light of day!"
Anne grinned cheekily. Sylvie Malone had almost frizzy bright blond hair, big baby-blue eyes, and was barely four-foot-ten.
Click.
Alex just managed to dodge his wife yet again. "Get a close-up of her face," he yelled. "Her expression is priceless!" He stood at five-foot-seven, with dark blond hair and pale green eyes. Alex seemed to be the perfect complement to Sylvie, both in appearance and personality.
Sara seemed content to lie in the wet sand and kick her feet in the air while she giggled. She was the image of a blonde, blue-eyed angel with a perpetual smile and endless energy. Altogether, Alex, Sylvie, and Sara Malone made the picture perfect family.
Click.
Anne's smile faded just a little. She'd once been part of a family like that. The Gardeskies had been the most well known and well-liked people of Marina; in Anne's opinion anyway. Until that stupid truck had destroyed her family. Now she was the only one left.
'Stop thinking about it,' she told herself. 'They wouldn't want you to think only about the end.' She took a deep breath and cleared her mind. Her father, Chris, had been a relatively successful photographer with his own studio, Gardeskie Photography. She'd gotten her love for the art from him, as well as the talent and the technical knowledge. Her mother, Estelle, had been a small time model for a few years before Anne was born. After that, she'd done mainly volunteer work for orphanages or hospitals. Anne could have wished she had her mother's caring, gentle nature, but she'd resigned herself to having her father's more moody temperament.
Anne liked to think she'd gotten a mix of her parents' most unique features. Her father's eyes, her mother's face. And since both of her parents had been tall, the decent height of 5'9" was expected. Of course, her sister was still taller.
After giving off one last blinding ray of light, the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Soon the stars would be visible again and Anne smiled up at the darkening sky.
"Hi up there," she whispered.
AC 187
"Nana!" cried a young girl as she ran through the house, "Nana!" She at last found her Nana in her favorite chair on the back porch, sleeping. "Nana wake up! I haf ta ask you something!"
"What is it Anne dear?" she asked sleepily, brushing snow-white hair out of her face.
"It's Nikki!" Anne cried.
"You mean that young lady who lives down the street?" the old woman asked, more than slightly confused.
"Of course!" Anne said with exasperation. 'Like there's another Nikki!' thought the five-year-old. "Nikki's sad. She just told me her grama died. I know she didn't wanna cry in front a me, but I could tell she was gonna as soon as I left. I don' like it when she cries. Can you help, Nana?" she pleaded.
Nana smiled, "You know I could never tell you no, Anne dear." But she thought to herself, 'I'm not sure about that Nikki girl. She knows too much about the wars for a young woman, not to mention that depressed view she has. And no one's even seen that uncle she supposedly lives with. But then again, Anne might do the girl some good.' Out loud she continued, "I'll tell you what my mother told me and you can tell it to Nikki, okay?"
"Okay!" Anne smiled brightly. She loved to hear Nana's stories.
"Look up at the sky, angel. You see all the stars up there? Those are holes in the floor of heaven. When someone dies, they go up to heaven and they watch over the people they knew through those stars. They're always there to share the good times and the bad with you, so while we may not see them, our loved ones are always with us, no matter how long they've been gone."
"I miss you Nana. I know you and Mom and Dad are watching over me, but I still miss you, all of you."
Anne was brought out of her conversation by the roar of a car racing down the Coast Road. Anne grinned. Only one person she knew of would drive a sapphire convertible at that speed down a winding, twilight-lit road. She grabbed the large black bag near her feet and leisurely made her way down the sand dune.
The car came to a halt right in front of Anne without so much as a squeal or a jerk. Anne smiled and waved. Nicole Hines always made an impact when she arrived, and she didn't even have to try. She was a slender six-foot-one; had satin-smooth, dark gold hair that fell to mid-back; and had shocking eyes the dark purple-gray of thunderclouds. Someone had once compared her to a Greek goddess, though Nikki didn't take too kindly to that. People generally took one look and decided she was an airhead supermodel and refused to believe any of her looks could be attributed to genetics. Nikki was big on the philosophy of don't judge a book by its cover.
Anyone who bothered to get to know her could quickly come to the conclusion that her IQ ranged somewhere above genius-level. She was generally calm and level-headed, but that was mainly because she'd spent all 26 years of her life trying to keep her explosive temper under control. It didn't always work. She was extremely loyal and overprotective toward her friends and especially her sister.
"I thought you weren't going to show up until tomorrow?" Anne asked.
"I decided to drive up early," Nikki said nonchalantly, giving her adopted little sister a hug. As she leaned back, she noticed Anne's narrowed eyes and continued, "What? I'm not allowed to do anything spontaneous without causing suspicion?"
Anne sighed. "Nikki, if you're worried about the jerk-"
"I've got a right to be worried when it concerns my own sister, Angel. Guys like David Ryans-"
"I can handle him," Anne cut in.
That conversation ended with Sara squealing, "Ni-ki! Ni-ki!" and attaching herself to Nikki's leg.
She laughed and scooped the little girl up onto her hip. "Hey there, you little imp. Look at you, you're soaking! What havoc have you been causing lately? Hi Sylvie, Alex. Take a swim?" She smiled in greeting. "You guys have done an amazing job with the restoration so far."
"All we really need is you to install the computer systems in the center and we'll be done with that. The dirty work starts next week," Alex said.
"Have you seen Hurst House yet? What'd you think? Is the red paint too bright? You think we need something not so colorful? Has anyone been trampling the plants? I didn't get a chance to check today." Sylvie continued on like that as the others regarded her with amusement, wondering just how long she could talk without taking a breath.
The Hurst House had become Sylvie's pet project. When Mrs. Hurst had offered the house on the edge of the park nearest Harmony, the few surrounding acres and a sizable donation of money, the restoration project's leaders had jumped at it. Of course, Mrs. Hurst had wanted a legally binding guarantee that the house would never be torn down, but instead be turned into a bed & breakfast she could operate for as long as she liked, with most of the profits going to the park. Strange stipulations, sure, but they'd jump at just about any contribution. Most of the workers were going to be housed there while the park was restored and even after, seeing as the house was four stories and rather sprawling. Sylvie had fallen in love with it for some strange reason, and had begun battling with Mrs. Hurst over little details.
"I think if we just knocked down that one wall on the second floor, we could have another two-room suite. But of course Hurst won't let us touch her precious house. We barely managed to get the old bat to agree to expand the kitchen! She takes the opposite on any idea I come up with. You know what she says?! She says her grandmother would turn over in her grave if she ever heard the things I wanted to do to her house! All the old woman does talk and talk and talk and never listens to any opinion except her own!"
"Sounds like someone I married," Alex mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear. Sylvie smacked him on the arm and glared. He rubbed his shoulder and grinned. "Hey look! She stopped talking!" Sylvie's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"I think you're gonna have a black eye if you don't stop talking," Nikki pointed out. "Anyway, the old bat, as you say, wouldn't even let me see my room. She ordered some guy four times her size to take my luggage up and sent me to find you four with orders not to return until I did. Are we sure she wasn't a general or something?"
"No kidding," Sylvie chimed in again. "She runs me ragged. It's like she thinks up these things just for me. No one else, only me."
"Well you also seem to be the only person she trusts to do anything right," Anne said. "If anyone else tries to do one of your jobs, she won't have it."
Sylvie twisted her face into a grimace. No one really believed she didn't like Mrs. Hurst; Sylvie didn't hate anybody, unless they were really rotten. She hated David Ryans.
"Well General Hurst has got the entire crew waiting for all of you so we can go out to dinner in Harmony. Her treat. She said it's tradition. I have no idea what she means." Nikki looked up and down the road. "So where's your car?" she asked Alex.
"We walked."
"Walked?" She sounded absolutely amazed. "But its gotta be three miles!"
Anne smiled at her sister. "Only one and a half if you take the trail."
Nikki shook her head. "You people are weird."
The ride back to Hurst House was uneventful. Sara had, for once, run out of energy and was sleeping peacefully in her mother's arms. Sylvie was leaning against her husband and smiling at her daughter. Alex was just staring at the both of them with his arm around his wife, like he couldn't believe they were his.
Nikki smiled at them as she glanced in the rear view mirror. She had only complained once about her car being flooded and covered in sand. They really were the sweetest family she'd ever seen.
Curled up in the passenger seat, Anne looked almost twelve instead of seventeen. In Nikki's mind, she'd grown up far too fast. Anne had graduated high school when she was fifteen, surprising everyone. Not that she hadn't been smart before, but acing early graduation test only a week after her parents had died, and especially after two and a half years…
Nikki shook her head. That span of time didn't matter. It was over and done with. Besides, Anne didn't even remember, so there was no point in thinking about it.
When Anne heard about her parents, it was like someone had taken a knife to her soul. She'd cried for days, barely even ate. Nikki didn't want to think of what would happen if Anne knew just how bad it had been; or even worse, if she knew where they had been going.
Nikki had been the one to suggest early graduation. She had hoped it could take Anne's mind off her parents, and allow Anne to get away from a town full of memories, not to mention curious people who didn't have any tact. Nikki just didn't think about it. Things from that time were so long ago and didn't have any bearing on the present. She wouldn't let anything hurt her little sister again.
Anne and Nikki had always considered themselves like sisters. And it was pretty much true now since Nikki took legal guardianship of Anne after the accident. She didn't have much competition for the title; Anne's only relatives were distant cousins in Ireland that she hadn't been in contact with since she was three. And it had only taken a little… persuasion on Nikki's part to have the matter settled within days. She had taken Anne away from that past and they had spent the last two years in no one specific spot. Anne had never questioned it and for that, Nikki was thankful. She couldn't lie to her own sister.
She liked to move because staying in one place made her uncomfortable. Like she'd get caught.
After her own parents had died, Uncle Jason had been the only one willing to take her. She hadn't figured out why until she'd understood the reasons behind her parents' deaths. It was simple. They had been rebels and they'd died in an explosion they'd engineered. They'd also managed to take an entire military base in Sicily with them. So she was the daughter of two known "terrorists" and none of her relatives could hide her from the Alliance. Except her uncle. Because he was already on the run.
He'd picked her up even before anyone knew about her parents; she'd never asked him how he'd found out. She'd been seven, and he'd calmly explained to her exactly how they would be living from then on. They couldn't talk about their pasts. They couldn't talk to any old friends. No one could be trusted. No place was home. No place was safe.
She'd always been smart; smarter than any child/teenager/young adult had a right to be. Uncle Jason had used that to her advantage. He'd trained her in just about anything he could. She'd always thought that crazy geniuses ran in her family.
On the eve of her 18th birthday, she'd found out, through a few sneaky measures, just what her uncle did that had the Alliance on his tail. To say she was astonished was an understatement. But to even mention it would have been disastrous. The next day, she packed her things and left, never to see Uncle Jason or any of her family again. Except her little sister.
Nikki had been 14, Anne had been 5. Nikki had been lost, lonely, and on the breaking point with her life. Anne was a child too innocent and naïve to be touched by war and death. They'd both found someone to stand by and protect them.
That was all Nikki had ever wanted in her life. Anne was her family, no matter what genetics said. And as long as her little sister was happy, all was right with the world.
Stairs are notoriously unreliable. Whenever absolute quiet is necessary, they always manage to make noise. When the wooden step creaked, the figure on the stairs let out a shriek and jumped, nearly tumbling the rest of the way down. Biting her lip and praying no one had woken up, she took a few calming breaths before continuing down to the ground floor of the of the darkened house.
The night had been full of the usual happenings that accompany a group of twenty-some-odd people invading one place. The highlight of the evening was when Mrs. Hurst shocked everyone and offered Sylvie a job as assistant manager of Hurst House once it opened. Alex had accepted for her while Sylvie picked her jaw up off the floor.
The corners of her mouth twitched up at the thought. They'd all had fun tonight; last night really considering it was probably around three in the morning. Too bad it had to be ruined by another of her nightmares. Whatever it was about.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she started down the hall toward the kitchen and caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Muffling another scream, she staggered back against the wall, trying to discern who had snuck up on her. All that caught her gaze was a 17-year-old girl with dark red hair wearing blue pj's.
She let her hand drop and gave a nervous laugh. 'Get a grip,' she thought to herself. 'You definitely shouldn't be jumping at shadows.' Waving at her reflection, Anne moved on toward the kitchen.
As usual, she'd woken up nearly running out of her room. She wasn't sure what it was about her nightmares that made her heart race like a jackhammer; she could never remember them. She assumed it had something to do with her parents' deaths.
Anne only hoped Nikki didn't realize she was still having bad dreams. They'd worried her sick for months after the accident. The only reason she didn't worry anymore was because Anne stopped mentioning them.
Rain pattered lightly against the window above the sink. It was normally a comforting sound, but after finding that the lights weren't turning on, Anne wished desperately for the clouds to disappear. 'Calm down,' she told herself. 'Someone probably just hit a wire today.' Still, she needed light. Recalling the layout of the kitchen, she found a flashlight above the sink, and then a glass she filled with water.
A sudden flash of panic made her turn around. Water sloshed over the rim of the glass onto the floor. The flashlight met nothing in the night that wasn't supposed to be there and she let out the breath she had been holding in a whoosh. On her way to the table, the phone rang and she picked up the old-time cordless as she sat down.
"Hello?" she asked, wondering who on earth would be calling in the middle of the night.
"Anne?! Is that you?" a man's slightly panicked voice came over the line, the roar of a car engine in the background. "You have to get out of there now! He's crazy! He just cracked!"
"Mik? What the hell are you talking about? Who's crazy?" Anne tried to be heard over the ranting, but to no avail. It was very un-Mik-like.
Suddenly, he stopped. No yelling, no car, no breathing, not even a dial tone. The phone was dead.
"Mik? Mik! Mik are you there?! Oh come on! I really don't need this right now. Mik! Is anyone there? Hello!"
There was no answer. This could only turn out badly.
That thought was confirmed by the sound of a wet boot on the tile. The phone clattered to the floor and the glass tipped over as Anne pushed back from the table, already leaping up to make a run for the door.
Two strong hands pulled her back into the chair. A voice that made her shiver whispered in her ear. "Don't scream, doll. Unless you want all your friends to leave in body bags." A small gray cylinder came into her view, along with a rough hand that made the object almost microscopic by comparison. "You see this," the voice said at her ear. "It's a detonator. I had a friend set everything up for me. All I have to do is press the little red button on top and this shack and everyone in it gets blown into the next county. Understand?"
Well. This explained what had Mik so worked up. "What do you want, David?" she hissed between her teeth, her eyes never leaving the destructive little toy of his.
His other hand on her shoulder slowly tightened its grip. "With your lack of respect, you're lucky I'm giving you another chance," he said menacingly.
"Who says I want one?" She would have spit in his face if she could turn around. "I've already told you, I'm not interested."
The hand on the detonator tensed, nearly crushing it. His thumb moved almost spasmodically to set it off. Anne resisted holding her breath. She would just have to rely on the hope that he wasn't insane enough to kill himself. She didn't give any reaction when his hand relaxed.
"You're going to regret those words," he stated with any eerie calm. "I'm a key member of the Red Soldiers."
"Oh, yes, I almost forgot about your little secret club," she said with scorn. "So what? Did they make you treasurer or something?"
His hand fisted around the detonator slammed onto the table in front of her. "Do not mock us!" he yelled, obviously not realizing he might wake someone up. "Your pacifist princess has turned everyone into a bunch of scared rabbits, but we're going to lead the world back to its warrior's glory! The Red Soldiers are going to change the world!"
He let go of the detonator with the intention of turning her to face him. He barely heard her murmur "bad move" before her elbow jammed into his throat. Staggering back, he choked on air as well as surprise. He'd never thought for a moment that she'd actually fight back.
For her own part, Anne was just as surprised. Where the hell had that come from? She only let herself dwell on it for second, though, before she spun around to grab the detonator and bolt out of the room. But apparently, that second had cost her. David managed to grab her and fling her across the kitchen like a rag doll. Her back slammed into the counter and she crumbled to the floor.
Everything blurred into slow motion. At sometime, the flashlight must have rolled from the table to the floor, and now it was shinning in her eyes. She could see David's feet come toward her, could hear the thud from his boots. Her back seemed to be throbbing and numb at the same time.
She noticed detachedly that the rain had stopped. How ironic, at a time when thunder and lightning would have fit the situation. A pounding came from somewhere above her, like a small stampede. Cool air floated in from the back door.
And her fingers were still curled around the detonator. Well she couldn't let him have it.
And time sped up again.
Ignoring the pain that nearly blinded her, she pulled herself up and raced to the knife block a few feet down the counter. She gripped a knife between her fingers and whirled to face David again in one move.
And she gaped as David fell unconscious to the floor. A broken chair landed a second later as her eyes darted up to the man standing over him. Tall, blond, blue-eyed; definitely one of the Marren twins, and since Richard Marren was David's best friend, she was going on a hunch as to who her savior was.
"Mik?" she asked in a small voice. His gaze shot up from David. His eyes were terrified. "Mik, what's going on?"
He seemed to stare straight through her. "They'll kill me." He dropped his head again.
"What?" she asked quietly. She started to move toward him, when she realized she still held the knife above her head. Looking up, she stared at it. The blade was positioned between her index finger and her thumb, like she had been ready to throw it. Well, of course, that was ridiculous. It just proved how panicked she had been, to think she could actually throw a knife with any kind of accuracy.
Anne collapsed and the knife clattered across the floor just as Nikki rushed into the room, with Alex and Sylvie right behind her. Nikki took one look, whirled back, and yelled, "Someone call an ambulance! And the police!" before she slammed the door. She rushed to her sister just seconds after Sylvie. "Alex, watch those two," she ordered, pointing to Mik and David. "Sylvie, go to the door. Don't let anyone in."
"I'm the medic here," Sylvie stated, examining Anne for any injuries. "You guard the door." Nikki hesitated only a second before standing up.
When her back was to the door, she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Mik. "What happened?"
"I came in for a glass of water," Anne said from her position on the floor. She had already tried sitting up and decided the pain wasn't worth it at the moment. "The unconscious one is David Ryans. He surprised me. We didn't get to what he actually wanted. The one in shock is Mikael Marren and I'm pretty sure he just saved our lives."
With a little difficulty, Anne managed to pry her fingers open to reveal the detonator in her hand. "David said he had someone wire the house to explode."
Sylvie gasped, terrified, and shot to her feet. Alex wrapped his arms around her. "Could anyone else be around to finish the job?" he asked.
"No," Mik spoke up. "David came alone. Bragged that he'd call everyone from Cancun in a few days. With Anne."
Nikki obviously resisted the urge to pulverize the body on the floor. Grinding her teeth together, she said in as civilized a tone as she could manage, "And just how do you fit into all of this Mr. Marren?"
"I came to warn Anne. When I got here I… I had to stop him." His head finally came up. He met the others eyes pleadingly. "They'll kill me. If they find out I stopped David, that I went against a superior, the Soldiers will execute me for treason."
As the others stared at him, trying to find a response, Anne pushed herself up enough to lean against the cabinets. "Then you weren't here," she stated simply.
"What?" Nikki asked in disbelief.
Anne looked at her sister. "Mik was never here. Someone else hit David with the chair. He just saved our lives. The least we can do is this one favor." Her gaze went to Mik again. "You'd better leave now. And if I were you, I'd stay away from the Red Soldiers, whoever they are."
Mik waited to hear some opposition to this, but none came. As he headed out the door he mumbled, just barely loud enough for the others to hear, "It's not that easy."
Location: Unknown
The tension in the room was palpable. The uniformed youth couldn't resist the urge to tug at his collar. He really wished someone would say something, anything. He especially wished they'd just dismiss him. The men in this room always gave him the creeps. Luckily, at the moment, all four seemed to have lost interest in him.
The one leaning against the wall in the corner had closed his eyes, thankfully. He had these almost unnatural piercing green eyes that always seemed to be watching from behind a curtain of stringy, black hair. He never talked, and his face never showed any expression except solid granite. No one seemed to know anything about him, not even his name.
That wasn't true of the second young man sitting in a chair with an almost bored air. He was Mark Proski, and he looked and acted completely insane. Most of his features were unremarkable, except for giant pale blue eyes ringed in amber. He'd also made it known that he liked to blow things up, even if they were living; sometimes, especially if they were living. It was rumored that he'd grown up in a weapons testing facility and that the fumes and explosions had fried a few choice brain cells.
Along with David Ryans, they were the only ones in the Red Soldiers to hold the rank of Lieutenant Commander, the third highest rank in the Soldiers, though no one was really sure why. They never seemed to do anything. There were whispers going around that the Lt. Commanders were part of some secret plan, but there hadn't been anything to back it up, and no one dared ask.
The comparatively normal looking, brown-haired, brown-eyed man standing near the desk at the front of the room seemed lost in thought. Second Commander Luke Marske was starting to look more calculating of late, and he always seemed to be on edge. He had a well-known temper and at times seemed rather strange, but he also seemed human, which made most of the Red Soldiers more loyal to him than the mission.
As for Supreme Commander Victor Lazarus, he sat leaning back in the chair behind the desk with what had to be the most unaffected expression in the Earth Sphere. His hair was slicked back from his face, his eyes were a crystal shade of blue, and he was always completely calm. In fact, he could have been a black-haired Treize Khushrenada. Except where Treize had always had some kind of knowing and remorseful air, Victor just didn't seem to be all there.
"Ryans is a moron!"
The outburst from the Second Commander caused the young Soldier to jump. The others regarded the SC with disinterest.
"Calm down Marske," said Lazarus. He spared a glance at the fidgeting boy near the door, before returning his gaze to the emblem on the wall. "You're dismissed, Major Rowen."
The major let out a sigh of relief before he could stop himself. He snapped off a salute, turned heel, and nearly ran out of the room.
'Scared kid,' Luke thought, before turning his attention back to the situation. He stated again, "Ryans is a moron. And so is Proski, for that matter," he said, glaring at the blond.
Proski's eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you don't have anything nice to say, you shouldn't say anything at all."
Luke didn't even blink at the weird comment. The man was crazy and that was that. "You rigged that house with explosives for Ryans. Do you have any idea how many problems this has caused? You attempted to murder at least twenty people!"
The Lt. Commander merely shrugged and stretched out his short, rail-thin frame. "People die in wars."
"We're not at war yet," Luke growled.
"Both of you, stop," Lazarus commanded calmly. "We are all on the same side here. Lt. Commander Ryans is one of our best. His passion and loyalty made him an excellent choice for the project and the mission. However, he has acted extremely irresponsibly and will have to be disciplined."
'He sounds like he's talking about a disobedient student,' thought Luke with something close to amazement. What had happened to Vic? The young soldier he'd known had had spirit, even if he was somewhat confused. But then, Vic had been sent out to fight for OZ again, and Luke didn't have contact with him for over a year. And then Vic had seemingly dropped out of the blue and offered his old friend the position of Second Commander in a secret army he claimed would change the world. Apparently, a lot could happen to a person after a war and a year.
Returning to the present, Luke asked with barely suppressed sarcasm, "What about the project? We just lost one of the key players. Should we count on Ryans not participating?"
Lazarus contemplated this a moment. "No. Continue with the project as planned. And implement plan 3-7-9. Inform Danielle Ryans that she has been promoted to Lt. Commander."
Luke resisted the urge to grind his teeth together. "Yes sir."
"Regardless of Ryans' loyalties, with the Preventers being called in, our existence has more than likely become known."
The calm, unfeeling statement from the man in the corner caused Luke to jerk. Very few people managed to make him nervous, but Drake Wickham had topped that list upon the very first meeting. There were so many things about him that just didn't seem right.
Drake continued, "We can't be sure how much information the Preventers already have or will obtain."
"I see," Lazarus commented. "What do you recommend we do?"
The reply was instantaneous. "Kill Ryans."
"Can I do it?" Mark asked. The question was not meant as a joke.
"No," the Commander said evenly. "We shall not draw more attention to the situation than necessary. We shall just wait and see."
"In that case," Luke spoke up, "you may want to inform the Soldiers in the area to leave Ryans' victims alone. We don't want any more trouble."
"See to it at once."
Not seeing any point in continuing the conversation, Luke left without a word or glance at any of them. As he made his way down the deserted hall a small smirk appeared on his face. Ryans may be a moron, but the moron was starting to get his work done for him.
When he'd first been approached about the Red Soldiers, he hadn't wanted anything to do with the organization. He hadn't wanted anything to do with fighting or anything remotely resembling what he considered his unforgivable past life. But Vic hadn't stayed long enough to hear it and only left a number for Luke to call if he was interested. He'd nearly shredded the paper before he'd realized one startling fact.
Even if he didn't join, Vic would just continue in his plan to "change the world" and that idea didn't sit well with Luke. The world was already changed for the better and this was just the way he liked it. Because it was just the way she would have liked it. He couldn't let someone destroy her peace, even if she wasn't around to enjoy it. She wouldn't…
Luke stopped and closed his eyes tiredly.
She wouldn't want him to just sit back and let it happen. She'd want to stop the Red Soldiers. And he was going to make sure that they were stopped.
He started resolutely down the hall again.
It was time to implement the half-formed backup plan that had been circling his head for the past weeks. He was lucky suspicions hadn't been raised about him already and he wasn't going to rely completely on luck. Of course, Rose knew what was going on, but he needed someone else on the outside capable of protecting the world just in case he failed. And at the moment, ESUN's defenses wouldn't have been enough to stop even 1/4 of Vic's forces.
Which left him with a problem. Civilians couldn't be trusted or believed, by him or the authorities. The bureaucrats would more than likely panic, and the media would go into a frenzy if they got this information. He needed someone to beef up security without doing anything rash. Which meant he'd just have to go straight to the top.
Luke smirked. He'd have to be careful, but he knew just the lady to call. Vic should have known better than to ever bring the Rogue into this.