Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and all related entities belong to their rightful owners and creators. This is for entertainment only; no profit has been or will be made.

Summary: In a world where Operation Meteor is a success, Treize Kushrenada finds he has more to worry about than surviving the wasteland that earth has become. NON YAOI. NON ROMANCE.

******************

Chapter 10

*Countryside*

"Who were you speaking to?"

Miliardo watched Chandler lower her head in obvious shame and guilt. Marx and Otto sat on either side of him. According to Otto and several witnesses, the teenager was seen leaving the rear of an unoccupied communications truck. She then stalked into the woods--towards the road--and a strange individual clad in all black was waiting. The grenade was thrown when the mysterious person felt they were discovered. They escaped at Chandler's expense.

Also, it was not wise to hold a public interrogation as initially planned. Too many people felt negatively about the newfound situation, and were all too ready to take aim at Chandler. He empathized with them entirely, but violence against her would only complicate the matter more.

"I need to know who you were speaking to, Chandler."

"I just want to go home."

"Three people saw you stalk into the woods to meet someone, and they threw a stun grenade when they were noticed." He said as calmly as he could manage; he was losing his patience quickly. "You're fortunate it was only a stun grenade and not something more lethal. Now, tell me what faction they're with!"

She shook her head slowly. "I'm really tired..."

"Chandler, this is important. Answer the question!"

"...Can I be excused?"

He and Marx traded glances of disbelief. Marx leered at the teenager, who'd gone to rubbing her eyes with fatigue. "Chandler. My techs managed to get a look at the logs of the workstations you used before the incident. They clearly state you sent a communiqué to a Colonial Federation installation deep in the woods to meet you at the road. If this is true, then it means that you're in league with them somehow--"

"Which is why you're feigning exhaustion--" The pair froze when she yawned loudly with outstretched arms, and his anger got the best of him before he could quell it. "Are you even listening!? We could all be dead by dawn if you don't tell us what in the world you're doing making contact with the Federation!"

"Sir, this is going nowhere." Otto whispered into his ear. "Whatever incentive she has to keep quiet is greater than we can ever hope to give."

"It's also letting her play us for fools...which she's been doing for quite sometime by the look of it." Marx snapped. "So Chandler, what are you being paid in exchange for having us sit here and shout at you as if we're fucking insane?"

"...I'm sorry, Ma'am. But I'm not your subordinate and not really under any obligation to answer that."

What in the hell…? Something was wrong. The Chandler he knew was all too spineless, too compliant and docile to fire back so bluntly. "Chandler, she is a senior officer--the most senior this group! Answer the question!" Silence followed, which he took as confirmation of the growing suspicion that she was hardly his subordinate anymore than Marx's. "Alright, let's try something else." Miliardo leaned forward on the table. "Just how long have you been a member of the Federation, Chandler?"

"I'm not under any obligation to--"

An arm snapped outward and brought her to his eye level. She was gaping at him in shock--he barely heard Marx and Otto move to separate them, but whatever gesture he made forced the pair to keep their distance.

"This game of yours has gone on long enough! If you want to live, it would behoove you to answer each and every goddamn question we ask you."

"The Federation is going to win--"

"Continue to tell yourself that. Now answer the question: how long have you been a member of the Federation? Also, who are you and why are you following us??"

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"You're right; don't say a word. I could just kill you and be done with it OR, let the angry mob outside this building tear you apart. But considering you've played me for an ass for so long, ending your existence would be showing leniency. And you already know first hand that I no longer have the capacity for leniency. Make this situation easier for yourself and everyone here--"

Warm fluid struck his eye; with it unraveled every thread of restraint he had left.

She was thrown back into the chair and fell to the ground loudly. He was barely over the table when Chandler shot to her feet and leveled a pistol in his direction. Otto fired a shot into her shoulder, but she maintained her stance until Marx materialized from his flank. A small object left her hand and attached to the teen's side. The pistol fell from her hands instantly as she clawed at the device to no avail. She was soon on the floor, eyes wide and convulsing for several moments before finally becoming still.

Miliardo wiped the spit from his face and glared heavily. "Yet another goddamn lapse in my judgment. Treize would skin me alive if he knew of this."

"I think he'd be glad you were alive to be skinned in the first place!" Marx quipped as she knelt to retrieve the circular item. "What a bitch. And a Federation rat to boot, it seems."

"What did you hit her with?"

"One of the new 'toys' we took from the Feds: anti-personnel grenades filled with a cocktail of neurological toxins. You can either throw it by hand or fire it from a grenade launcher. They call it a "spider round" because of the way it attaches to the body and attacks your nervous system." She rose to her feet and toed Chandler lightly. "She's not quiet dead yet, but she will be in another minute. Once it gets to her heart, it's a wrap."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know to keep one with you?"

"When I was told this wretch was giving everyone else grief when she woke up. Said she was acting strange, trying to run off. They brought her in here kicking and screaming." she shook her head slowly. "The techs confirmed that she did contact a Federation base...I figured I'd give one of their toys a try on her if she got out of line with us. Looks like I did us justice; anything else and we'd be dead as she's going to be."

"This is a...rather nasty "toy", Marx."

"It's nasty, but effective. Her brain will be a puddle of shit in a few seconds."

Obviously. He thought as blood started to pool in Chandler's eyes. It hardly mattered, though. Whomever she was reporting to was fully aware of their plans up until they were discovered waiting for her in the trees. The possibility that Barton knew their exact location was becoming increasingly likely, since she did make contact with a Federation base according to Marx's technicians. There was also the chance that this individual was aware of their plans to travel to the detachment Marx overran.

"Do you believe she passed on any information to this base she contacted?"

"Not likely; it was more of a call to meet with her than a message. I'll double check with the techs." She frowned at the red-gray fluid that started to seep from the girl's ears. "In the meantime, let's get her out of here before she drips all over the damned place. Ugh, it's already starting to smell. Be careful not to touch that either. Skin contact is all that stuff needs to kill you too."

"We can't stay here much longer, Marx." He said strongly as he grabbed Chandler by the feet; Marx and Otto took her by an arm each. "If she's truly from the Federation, remaining here would be a fool's errand."

"We could leave for my base, but we'll have to do it ASAP." She swallowed hard as the stench intensified. "Or make a break for headquarters. Either way, they're going to have a fix on us and we're going to be followed."

"How many more of these spider rounds do you have with you?"

"There's enough to bring down about a thousand; the same for everything else."

"Then let them follow us." They heaved the decaying body through the foyer and past the mob. "Stand aside! You: dig a hole. Someone bring the lighter fluid. Hurry up. ...We'll use their own weapons against them; stop them in their tracks. How long before we reach headquarters?"

"With the vehicles, it'll take about four days. But you do realize we'll get there after Barton deploys his fancy mobile suits."

"I'm more interested in getting away from this place than racing Barton's mobile suits. We'll deal with them when the time comes." Chandler's body was thrown into the fresh ditch; kerosene was rained on her and a match followed. After a slow start light, heat, and the all too familiar scent of a charred flesh filled the air. "It goes without saying the plan was to keep us here long enough for the Federation to make their appearance."

"Yeah, well...I've got something for those sons of bitches if they show up anyway."

She led him away from the pyre and to the rear of one of the several vehicles parked in front of the building. She clamored inside and shoved her hands inside one of the crates blindly. Moments later she pulled out a short barreled rifle that by appearance alone surpassed anything considered "military issue". Marx gazed at it briefly, before turning and tossing it to Miliardo casually. He caught it and frowned.

"And this is...?"

"A pet project I'd been toying with since 192, but the concept dates back to the 20th century. ...It works by exciting matter, ionizing, condensing and firing that ionized matter as a beam or a midget version of a lightening bolt."

He raised an eyebrow at her in combined disbelief and skepticism. It was known that she was a weapons and ordinance specialist. But Miliardo knew nothing of the development aspect of her expertise. "And you built this because...?"

"I was asked to." She shrugged lightly. "Ammunition costs money. OZ spent billions a year to keep the weapons firing. We needed a more cost-effective yet strong enough means for our soldiers to engage in combat outside of a mobile suit. That weapon in your hands is a non-projectile weapon; it'll never need ammunition. It's infinitely more lethal than even your most powerful anti-personnel rounds, and more destructive. It's powered by cells that can be charged with a portable solar-powered unit that's trapped in the testing stage. You can get off about 400 shots with that, before you start to lose power."

"What sort of weapon is this?" He snapped and sighted the air around them. "This is out of a fairy tale, Marx; the technology is hardly available for it. It's hard to believe you've crafted this at all."

"Well, believe it because Treize sanctioned it. Personally."

Miliardo raised his eyes to her, hoping she was using him as an excuse, or telling the truth. Her face was set in stone; she was deathly serious.

"I thought you two couldn't stand the sight of each other."

"We couldn't. But business is business, and MY business is weapons."

There's more, isn't there? "And he ordered this fantasy weapon to be built?"

"It works, Merquise. It's no fantasy." She shook her head strongly. "You're holding humanity's first operational beam weapon: the Mayorga 100." Marx smiled thinly. "And you'll be the first to use it. Congratulations!"

*****************

*Luxembourg*

"Une has yet to return."

Noin and Treize moved quickly through the halls, carrying heavy rifles and nearly a dozen clips of ammunition each.

"While she can more than fend for herself, dark has fallen and she's not prepared to deal with these savages."

"That's if they even attack her, or us." Noin added strongly as they left the foyer and stepped into the cold air. It sent a shock of a shiver down her spine, but she made no show of it. "Maybe the note was a bluff. I highly doubt they have the cohesion, let alone experience or sanity necessary to even try to attack us."

"Perhaps, but it's no reason not to take every possible precaution."

"And that's why you and I are going out to fetch Une ourselves."

Despite his silence, the answer was a blunt "yes" as they stopped at a makeshift barrier and half a dozen soldiers standing at its opening.

"You all have your orders. If enough time has gone by and we haven't returned yet, do not come searching for us; continue to defend the compound at all costs. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"That's a bit extreme, isn't it Treize?"

"As I said before: we're taking every possible precaution." He narrowed his eyes. "The slightest hint that I am not present will send the message that OZ is for the taking. A constant and prominent defensive stance kills that illusion."

"For whom: the cannibals or Barton?"

"Both."

They had left the barrier in their tracks and the compound started to diminish in size as they approached the forest edge. Seeing Treize in this constant state of tension was nothing new. It was always like this in the past, just before a campaign of any level regardless of its location. Should he be personally involved, one could almost hear him grinding his teeth out of restlessness. Especially if Romefeller was at his heels, demanding that he return to his desk and stay there.

Noin was surprised Treize wasn't ripping his hair out at the fact that Barton had him--and the rest of the earth--in the palm of his hand.

After all, it was no secret that his family and the Barton clan had no goodwill for each other. The reasons for the conflict were only known to those involved. Noin never asked; dissent between nobles was a concept she was not familiar with. Her family was small, close-knit and had no rivals despite the slew of illustrious military and political careers in each generation. They were barely of the nobility, and were content to keep it that way.

But bloodlines, relations, and rank within the aristocracy were hardly an issue anymore. The nobility on earth for all it was worth was dead. Had she been of a more influential family, it wouldn't have changed her decision to become a soldier.

And it certainly would not have stopped Operation Meteor.

"Can't see anything in this shit." she hissed at the pitch darkness as she lowered the night vision visors over her eyes. The world was instantly painted in a scheme of monochrome green with clarity equal to that of perfect 20/20 vision. "Just how far is Sally's group?"

"Less than a quarter of a mile in, I'd say. It hardly took her long to be brought to us, and I doubt it took her any longer to get back to her crew."

"Just what happened during that conversation, if you don't mind me asking?"

She barely heard him snort in what seemed like irritation. "Besides her taking shots at me personally? Well, she offered to find Miliardo for us in three days. Though, I highly doubt she'll accomplish that in so little time with no leads."

"Apparently she thinks she can find him anyway, if she's gone on ahead."

"Apparently so."

"And what role does Une play in all this?"

Treize sighed mildly. "I sent her after Sally with half a dozen men to help her. Despite my skepticism and annoyance with her, I do have some measure of faith that she'll find him. OR, that the soldiers I assigned to her will find him should she be killed. Une was supposed to return after leaving them with Sally."

"I see."

"Is there a problem?"

"You mean besides just the two of us stalking into the woods and into whatever potential trap these thieves and-or cannibals have in store for us?" Noin shrugged. "Not really. If Sally fails, Miliardo can more than fend for himself; I'm hardly worried about that. What I am concerned about is how we can counter Barton's propaganda as we are. Especially since the populace is starting to willingly buy into it."

"I've been wondering about that myself. Without the necessary resources, it will be a trial. It could be years before we make any amount of progress in revealing the truth behind Barton's plans." A snicker of irony. "Believe it or not...I almost wish Marx was here."

Noin raised an eyebrow. "Why? So she could curse him into submission?"

"Hardly: despite her foul demeanor, she was an expert in her field. Such an expert, that when she finally made General, I ousted the previous commanding officer of the ordinance base in Siberia and put her in his place in 193." He shook his head slightly. "She was not only a demolitions specialist, but a researcher and developer of all levels of artillery and ammunition. Shortly after the change in command, the quality of our weapons increased dramatically. Combined with ties to the Sweepers--and thus, an infinite and free supply of materials--it spared me having to create more imaginative accounts to disguise any additional spending on her behalf. ...We broke even, and the arguments reduced to a minimum."

"That's quite generous; I thought you two hated each other."

"We did. But there's reason for that." Treize trailed off into silence, focusing on navigating the fallen limbs at their feet. Noin was poised to ask what the reason or reasons, but decided not to pry. Although she knew him fairly well, there was a great deal about him that she would never know. Not merely because she wouldn't ask, but because he would go silent the moment the subject went farther than he preferred. It was no different from before the colonies fell; Miliardo was the same way, to a higher degree. Even she was guilty of retreating when conversations became too personal to continue. It seemed a common habit among the leadership within OZ and the Specials in general, to shut down when too much of them selves were on the verge of being revealed. It was a defense mechanism made irreparable thanks to psychological conditioning by the military and a lifetime of war and violence.

Some things will never change.

"Treize, just how do you think she'll be of use?"

"...She could have laid out a minefield around the compound." He sounded grateful for the subtle shift in subject. "She could also assist in planning an assault on the minor Federation installations in the area. Strategy, leadership, combat experience; Marx's abilities are not limited only to explosives and weapons."

Noin offered a slight nod. "Maybe she's alive, then."

"Knowing her? Of course she's alive." he waved in mock dismissal. "That woman is indestructible. I would hardly be surprised if she was on her way here, armed with an entire lecture about failure to maintain a defensive--"

She saw what he heard, and they both jumped behind the trees closest to them. A group of six was a head of them, looking ragged, filthy and far from sane. They were armed with near archaic assault rifles; toys in comparison to their own. What made them lethal, however, was the fact that they lacked night vision scopes OR headgear. They were essentially blind, yet ready to fire at anything that fired at them.

"Be damned if we survive this."

"Have some faith, Lu."

"I have more concern than anything!" She snapped a round into the chamber and dropped to a crouch as she peered through the scope. They were far, but zooming in on the newfound targets made eliminating them easier. Maybe it was too easy. Noin was already a sharpshooter before this madness; picking off the rabidly insane one by one was equal to child's play. "They're in range. Ready when you are."

While the first bullet struck the leading target and sent them falling in a shower of blood and flesh, the questions were starting to become endless. From the nature of the feud between Treize and Barton, whether or not Miliardo would be found, and now to his connections to Marx--which were apparently deeper than initially perceived. Noin heaved a quiet sigh and rested her sights on the next target who was fool enough to try to run towards them. They were cut down at the knees, and then finished with a round to the chest.

The answers to her many questions would have to come later.

Reinforcements appeared in the distance.

****************

To those who are still with me, thank you for reading this far! No, seriously. Thanks! This is slowly becoming more epic than I initially arranged, and I'm all too happy to share it. Thanks again!

Priestess Mika