*Sniff* I just finished watching Gladiator. That is such a good movie . . . but so sad. It's one of like two movies that made me cry [Chibi Mara: "Yeah, go ahead and embarrass yourself."] (and no, the other was not Titanic, it was Crouching Tiger). I downloaded that last little bit of music at the end, you know, the one called "And Now We are Free" and I'm sniffling again.
Okay, you know that was really sappy. I'm not normally a sappy person. In fact, I beat people up regularly (Only if they deserve it!), so normally people do not call me sensitive. That's why writing this fic's been so hard, I guess . . . or maybe I'm just becoming female. Who knows. Ack, PMS attack.
BACK TO THE FIC . . . umm, I'm really working on chap 15 to AC 207, but I'm putting a lot more work into it than I did to the first one. I'm also working hard on redoing AC 206, since it needs a major tune-up. For now, just sink a little deeper into the conspiracy:
AC 208: The Search for Truth (Part IV)
"The Trail of Blood"
Long, long ago when I was young, I witnessed the murder of a wonderful, undeserving man. My glory-days soon were gone as I was overcome with anger and a sense of abandonment, for this man had been close to me. Times declined, and I was all but forgotten. When we received an envoy from a place more exciting and in need of our services, we could only do so good as comply.
We thought we were so invincible. We thought we'd be doing you a favor. But we knew from the moment we saw him, Tallgeese was not one of us. The human mind devises things that even they themselves cannot handle. I once heard that as a whole the people of Earth had enough weaponry to destroy their own world a dozen times over, perhaps more. The beautiful, pristine planet could have been nothing more than vacuum.
I can no more deny your originality— or your courage— than I can deny my own existence. However, with such imagination comes a great potential for disaster. I admire your selflessness, little one, and I'm going to try like hell to keep you alive.
There is so much at stake, more than I can explain until you've come to realize that none of it was your father's fault. He was an unfortunate pawn with enough wits about him to turn things around to his advantage. His actions had a secret purpose, one I know you aren't ready to accept. He never could have wished his own death on himself unless it would have worked to your advantage.
He knew much more, thanks to Epyon—that rat!— than anyone had intended, and was the perfect example of how we had underestimated the earthen people. He tried so desperately to reach us, and it only ended in disaster. He salvaged what he could, but the one person he would have been willing to trust had already been snatched. With his death, he left a message that I promised I'd deliver one day. He's tried so hard to keep in touch.
Now, though, I fear that things are moving fast and when they find you, you will not be ready. Perhaps I've underestimated you, and I am known for being withholding, but I don't think my judgment has failed me on this account. I've come to you. I've never broken a promise yet, but I've found you worse off than I could have imagined you'd be. My rival is fresh out for my blood since he found out I'd trusted him so little, and my dearest friend is no longer so.
If I could do one thing for you, it would be to eliminate the pain that you feel, the pain that so blinds you to the truth. If I didn't know that the pain drives you, and that one day it will lead you to the truth, I would shelter you. I know how it is. Be assured, catling, all will be resolved in due course. There will be a time for you to know, and when that time comes I will be here for you.
I'm no longer so uncertain about you. I would not have traded this assignment for my true love back.
Cam read the note, wondering what it meant. It was intended for Marie, but Fortuna had given no indication that he wasn't to read it. He looked up from the paper, eying the gundam with a kind of pity. He had the feeling that it was from her. Fortuna's great hazel eyes looked strangely red, as if she was grieving.
Cam had always been one to accept things as they were, but dream of the future, which was uncertain. Treize had spoken of his daughter to him often, always with a wistful look in his eyes, but had often alluded to information that was killing him. He shivered, wondering what the man had known— and never had the chance to tell anyone else.
Of course, only Marie could talk to his ghost. She was still asleep, as she deserved this morning. He returned to her, laying the note gently on her nightstand, smiling as she, as was so rarely the case, slept peacefully.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Heero stayed and brooded to himself for a long while, reading with interest the exchange between Zero and "Mother Source." So Zero was a pessimist . . . he never would have guessed that. He chuckled dryly.
The cockpit door opened and Relena poked her head in. "Heero, we're going to leave now. Are you coming?"
Heero looked up, and knew she was trying hard to cheer him up. "I might as well."
"You okay, sweetheart?" She was concerned, he knew, and he supposed that she had a right to be.
"It's just . . . he's done such horrible things to them! I wanted so much for them to lead normal lives, Relena, and look what this damn war has done to our family! Shit, how can I do anything other than worry when Kik didn't even recognize me?" He shut Zero down and stood, hands still trembling in anger and shock.
"I know," she said quietly. "Don't you think I suffer too? The only thing we can do is keep looking, Heero. You know that."
"But there's something more," he admitted, taking his wife into his arms in apology. "I get the feeling that this all backtracks to me . . . and a history that is so shrouded in conspiracy that no one knows the truth."
"It wouldn't surprise me," she murmured, closing her eyes and leaning against him. This was so draining.
They packed Zero and Deathscythe back into the cargo compartment of the large shuttle, already checked out, and started off. They didn't get more than a few miles out, however, until a shuttle broadcasting an emergency signal came hurtling after them.
Duo answered the call, and his face was absolutely unreadable. "Quatre?" Their Arabian friend had been quite unexpected.
"I was afraid I was going to miss you guys." Quatre looked both relieved and concerned. "I have something for you, Heero, and I'd rather not talk about it over this connection. Can we connect airlocks for a minute?"
Heero assumed the controls (for he was better at the tricky maneuver), not arguing at all. It would cost them a few minutes, but Quatre looked very worried, and he knew the man did not exaggerate things.
The first thing Quatre did once aboard their shuttle was press a half-size CD in its case into Heero's hand. The label was smeared with what looked suspiciously like dried blood, but was otherwise unwritten on.
"I'll be brief," Quatre said as the others gathered curious to see what was so urgent. He looked like he was halfway into a guilt trip. "I was contacted by a woman named Cammie Exeter— I think it was a false name— who delivered that to me. Before she arrived at the Sanc Kingdom border she had been shot, and she died just a few minutes after she gave that to me. Nearly two dozen people have died for this information, she among them. She said it was for your eyes alone, but she said it will help solve some problems you've been facing, whatever that means. She said she's been trying to get in contact with you for years, but it never took. Whatever is on this disc has made some powerful enemies, Heero. I'm almost afraid for my own life now."
"Wait a second!" Duo peered at the tiny silver circle, eyes wide. "Who killed this girl?"
"I don't know. I just know she's dead, Duo, her and many others." Quatre studied all their faces. "I'll say right now that I don't like being a courier for deadly information, so I hope you appreciate this. I've got more than one death to sign papers for now, what with that woman I killed who was trying to assassinate your brother, Relena—"
"What?" Relena pushed her way past Sophie and Duo. "Someone tried to kill Milliardo?"
"I'm sure you'll hear all about it on the news."
"Boy, you're sure the messenger-boy, aren't you?" Sophie asked as Heero passed her in haste to plug the disc into his computer.
"Is there anything else?" Quatre asked wearily, rubbing his eyes.
"I hate to impose, but since you asked, could you take a message to my father?" Sophie asked.
"I suppose, if I can find time between my legal battles."
"Just tell him we're on track and he should be hearing from the lab soon."
"That's rather cryptic, but I'll tell him." Quatre made his way back to his ship. "I'll see you guys when you get back. Good luck."
"Thank you so much, Quat," Duo said, remembering how rarely the selfless man ever got thanks for his duties— and how bullet-ridden the gentile soul must have felt after seeing so much unnecessary death. "We'll be seeing you soon, I hope."
Quatre managed a smile. "You're very welcome. Bring those kids home safe, now."
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Ah, yes, it was all starting to fit together now. Heero stared at the screen with a kind of glee, going back and forth between the seven documents he now had. That CD had contained most of the missing bits and pieces.
What dark and depressing times, he thought, and how very conspiratorial things had been, as well. Of course, Fortuna had been able to help him a great deal, but even she didn't know more than her part and Treize's desperate attempts at salvation. This . . . this had everything anyone on Earth could ever have known. This was everything about the project— and the pitiful story of blackmail and petty competition started by his own master. Heero felt his disposition towards Dr. J turn as he read the true story of the man's sadistic mind.
Oh, it had been clever, in production for so long. Everything went all the way back to the year Before Colony '04. As Heero read though it, he started to pity poor Marimaia. If she only knew why she'd been subjected to such torture though Dekim, she'd probably feel much more at ease now.
I should have had Wufei wait a month or so, he thought. If I'd gotten this then . . .
It would have sealed Beliv's fate.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
"What was she doing?" Milliardo demanded. "And where have you been?"
"I had to give something important to Heero," Quatre said, giving up on trying to be clever and evasive. "That's what she was doing."
"What was it?"
"Important information pertaining to his past and the back-story of— what he thinks— is Operation Meteor."
Milliardo grimaced, staring out his window. "Why didn't she just give it to me?"
"You never had a part in that whole escapade, remember Shinobi?"
Milliardo paused. "Ah."
"Besides that, I think it has some stuff that deals with Heero privately. That's what she hinted at, and I wasn't willing to discredit her."
"She died, Quatre. Of a gunshot wound. On my property. In your company. How do you think the media took that?"
"I'm sure it's been horrible in the three hours I've been gone," Quatre said sarcastically. He was in no mood for this. "And I've got hundreds of papers to sign and hundreds of accusations to nullify. As soon as the details are straight, the Sanc Kindom will look like a refuge from the rest of the world."
He knew it was Milliardo's tendency to be overly worried about things, and subsequently he was often unable to see past the current situation. As the King's advisor, Quatre had felt fitting for the job because he had the ability to do that.
"And then we'll get criminals," he said. Being paranoid was often required of a ruler, just in case. He stared off to the horizon, as Treize had often done when cooped up in offices. How inescapable that man was!
"Perhaps, but it's too late to turn back now in any case. But even if the Sanc Kingdom falls, Sire, I think we may have accomplished our purpose."
~~@[~*,~]@~~
"Ah, how beautiful is life," Cam said, wrapping his arms around Mariemaia as she emerged.
"Sometimes I wonder," she said, still a bit sleepy. The note, obviously enough from Fortuna, had been disquieting to say the least. She'd assumed Fortuna was a newer Gundam, built lately and given to her after the war began, but she'd indicated that she was ages older than even Tallgeese. And, she'd said there had been others. Boy, conspiracy ran thick about this thing.
"Coffee, love?" He was concerned over what effect that letter had taken on her, she guessed. It had been enlightening, perhaps . . . but spoke of a darker side to the universe.
"I think I'm sober enough as it is. Why did you let me sleep so long?"
"You looked like you needed it." Which may have been true enough.
"And why aren't you training? There are battles yet to come, you know." She winced. She was one to talk.
"The sims are all booked up until later today. Everything's going so slow that I saw no need for you to wake, and Dennis told me to leave you alone."
She sighed and decided that it was probably better to just trust the judgement of her friends. It was easy to overestimate her limits sometimes. "Did you read that note?" she asked, feeling some apprehension. Fortuna was advocating exactly what he had been trying to get her to do for a long time.
"Yeah, I did. It was kinda creepy, Marie. It actually sounds like these things aren't . . ." he trailed off into an embarrassed silence. After a moment, he tried again. "It sounds insane, but she'd leave you to believe that she isn't from our neighborhood, galaxywise."
She laughed, better at ease knowing that someone shared her suspicions. "I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case, frankly," she said. "She speaks about 'us humans' as if she was comparing us to someone else!"
"God . . . aliens . . ." Cam said, looking dreamy. "You know, as a boy I'd always wondered if something else was out there watching. I thought that maybe someone advanced beyond our comprehension would be disgusted with our savageness, but Fortuna treats us like two year-olds!"
"We're still in a stage of learning, like children," Marie told him. "We can't be expected to know everything about the universe when we don't have any way of discovering it."
"True," he admitted. "But I can't help but wonder how they survived when they were our age."
"What do you mean?" Cam had a look on concentration on his face, as if he was fighting the urge to insult something. Marie stroked his hand protectively, trying to encourage him.
"How could they have survived this technological adolescence without killing themselves?" he asked. "Sometimes it feels like we've doomed ourselves."
"I don't know," she replied softly. How true that was, in light of the disasters they now faced. "But we can't give up hope, or we will doom ourselves."
He chuckled. "You're one to talk about hope, girl. You're preaching to the choir."
"Sometimes the choir needs inspiration," she replied softly, leaning against his shoulder. How could I have lived before without someone to support me like this?
And someone offered, perhaps you weren't truly alive.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Without her even quite realizing it, two years had slipped by since this had all begun. Everything seemed so far gone, as if she had slipped from sanity.
Une stood quietly on the bridge of her warship. The lights were dim, and only a few crewers were there, working the skeleton night-shift, but otherwise it seemed deserted and dead. It was hard to remember, now, how she'd gotten through all this time without him. Once the war had ended, she'd had little time to grieve, but now everything was so reminiscent of him that it was hard to keep control sometimes, especially whenever she saw Mariemaia. Her hair was so much redder than his had been, but her face . . .
She tried to force the thought away and failed miserably. She'd lived these last dozen years in a trance, unable to fully be happy. She would never forget his gentile hands, his strong face and confident words, though inside he suffered like a burn victim. Knowing that he'd really loved her was her only saving grace these days. He'd never felt confident enough in her to tell her everything, something he must regret now, she knew. His death had been so unwarranted . . . so useless. If only Treize had lived . . . perhaps nothing would be so futile now.
She hadn't known half of what he had, and if she had she wouldn't be here now, wishing he were alive quite so badly. She knew who these people were who had send their greatest success to Earth, but she didn't know why. She knew they were more than what they seemed, but she couldn't get hold of one long enough to figure out how they worked the way they did. She almost screamed with frustration. These outsiders were such a threat, and she only had enough of the story to know how big of one, nothing to negate her suspicions at all!
The one side of her said to take care of them while they thought they were still weak, but the other half argued that they would obviously be much too strong to post even a realistic chance of human victory. The easiest way would probably to bring Treize back from the dead.
The comm station she stood by buzzed, and a tech ran forward to take the message. Messages, even from headquarters, were rare these days, now that Beliv had retreated far back into his little rat's nest. She'd only last been given instructions to be careful around his ships in case they were carrying Heero and Duo's children. Naturally, she'd been a little upset about the development, but at this rate she wouldn't have to worry about being careful. She'd gotten the feeling that the Counsel didn't give a rat's ass if the kids lived or died so as long as their reputation wasn't in danger. Of course, Heero would turn an accusation on them without batting an eyelash, so they had to protect themselves.
"I have an urgent message to the General," she heard the caller say, and she laid a hand on the tech's shoulder.
"I've got it," she said, than turned to the screen in surprise.
"It has been a while, hasn't it old gel?" Broac Holdstein grinned widely, almost hiding his eyes entirely behind folds of fat.
"What occasion warrants this esteemed visit," she asked sarcastically. "Broac, you old scoundrel, what could possibly keep you up at this hour? She asked, knowing it must have been very late in Liverpool.
"Oh, you know, just called in for assurances that you were still sane, Lady." He chuckled to himself at a joke that she had never found particularly amusing.
"Don't fool around, Holdstein," she said gruffly. Being pulled from reminiscing was never the best time to catch her in a good mood.
"Then I'll get straight to the point, then, shall I?"
"I think you'd better," she'd threatened. She didn't know how he'd gotten through to her on this strictly military channel, but it must have been important. Broac, a private investor with a good fifty years under his ample belt, often had his hand in more information wells than Une considered possible. Despite his kindly-uncle appearance, Broac was sometimes ruthless and undiscerningly sharp.
"I suppose you've heard about the Yuy and Maxwell children, eh?"
"All too frequently. What have you?"
"I've gotten word that they've gone in search of them."
"Stop hinting, Broac, or I'll tear your throat out through the radio waves," she threatened.
"Well, if you're going to be that way . . . I'll say this: Word has it that they have more than we think they have, but not nearly enough. Word has it that someone else is going to get to them kids first." He winked to accentuate his italicized words further.
"Is that it?" Of all the useless information . . .
"I can't help you outright. You know that."
Which was the unfortunate truth. He was breaking enough laws as it was. "I suppose. I'll log the information."
"Right-o."
The screen flickered off and Une found a scrap of paper. Although she didn't particularly consider Broac a "friend" (he had probably been pulling a dump of their computer during the entire conversation), it was useful to have him on your side sometimes. Now, she set to the task of eliminating suspects for that "someone else" he'd talked about.
~~@[~*,~]@~~
Phailin opened the door a moment after someone knocked, tucking a stray strand of hair out of the way. She wasn't feeling very in the mood for visitors, having recently been struck with a bout of nausea, but Chatalerm's urgent expression was so unexpected that she didn't raise an argument. She closed the door quickly behind her and leaned against a post on her porch.
"I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, Phailin, but Jen woke me. You're the only one around here that speaks Chang fluently enough to know what she's asking for. She's hurt pretty bad, but she doesn't trust the doctors— not that I think she should after what happened. You might be able to understand. I just don't speak enough of the language . . ."
"All right, enough of that," she said gently. He was obviously worried about her, and even someone who had been less-than-decent to her in the past deserved some resolution. Besides, she hadn't known that he'd spoken anything other than the village dialect. "Do you know how she's injured. I might be able to guess."
"She won't tell me. To tell the truth, I think she just wants to talk to you, since we can't move in until she's healed, and that will probably take months." It seemed to Phailin that he'd become much more humble since she'd been to the village last. Stories she'd heard indicated he'd left soon after she and Wu had been wed, perhaps spending a lot of time soul-searching. She felt a twinge of pity for him, but only that much. It was about time he'd grown up.
The streets were lit with candle-lanterns, something she'd missed dearly while in the city. The light was lower than it had been in the evening, as it was nearing the dawn. Phailin wondered briefly if Chatalerm had delayed until Phailin would have gotten enough sleep instead of rousing her when it had first become urgent. That might have accounted for his tension (and was certainly kinder of him than she remembered). If that had been the case, though, he had wasted his energy with concern. She'd been up since about two anyway.
Chatalerm's house was likewise candle-lit. From years of living with one, she knew Changs tended to prefer them for healing. She was lying surrounded by blankets and pillows, although she'd cast them off in the stuffy room, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She certainly didn't look ill, though her slight body was covered with bruises and shallow wounds. Phailin could instantly tell she was especially weak, and had probably always been.
"Youngling," she said, and Jen's pretty dark eyes turned to her, projecting relief. "I'm here. What do you need?"
"Thank the stars. This pain is intolerable!" She replied, suppressing a groan.
Perhaps she'd assumed too much. "Are you injured worse than I thought?"
She smiled, though it was just a little upturn in the corners of her mouth. "Thank you for your concern, but it's only my nerves that are singing, not my body. I can make myself a poultice and some sleep aid— I need it desperately!— but I have no knowledge of the herbs in this jungle. I know there are some common between Thailand and China, but . . ."
Phailin searched her memory for the descriptions of the herbs. Wufei used almost all of them from time to time for his migraines, but you could find practically anything in Bangkok. "I may have to forage, but I can get most of them around the village. My mother has large stores of some of those you mentioned. I've been away for a long time. I'll see what I can do."
Chatalerm gave her a questioning look, somewhat distorted from worry.
"She'll be fine," she reassured him. "I don't think there's permanent damage at all, but it may be a while before she heals. I'll return as soon as I can."
To her pleasant surprise, she didn't have to wait to visit her mother's stores. Michael, now almost four, had been having nightmares and most of the lights in the house were on. Jason was sitting on the front steps, chin against his knees as he tried to catnap away from the racket. He waved his sister away with a yawn and told her to avoid their mother if at all possible. She wasn't in the best mood. Phailin crept carefully through the kitchen into the shed.
It was better than she'd expected. Phailin could find everything except the roots, but those were fairly plentiful in the jungle. She returned within the hour with everything Jen had asked for. The relief the girl showed was worth it, too. "Thank you endlessly, Phailin."
She was asked to stay and help prepare them. The recipes were fairly simple, but she couldn't help but marvel at how quickly Jen could remember them. All the while, the two women left alone spoke quietly. "So how did you make it all the way here?" Phailin asked. "My husband told me that few of your people survived the destruction of the colony." And besides that, most of them are dead from threatening the government, she added silently.
She sighed with what Phailin assumed to be remorse. "I was a child at the time. There were a lot of people who opposed the idea, you know. I sneaked onto one of the ships and an older couple helped me get by until was old enough to work. I'm glad I ran, although my father was probably furious when he found out. I guess my brother always preached about how the old ways were dying and I agreed. He was never the most 'honorable' of us, I guess, but I always saw it as the most logical choice."
Phailin snorted. "Commit suicide to make an impression. That's always so successful. I had a friend who almost tried that. Funny, it was his daughter who convinced him to get off his soap box."
Jen agreed emphatically. "But my brother was killed, and I've felt lost ever since until Chatalerm found me."
Which brought up something interesting. "And how exactly did you two meet? You don't speak our language, and he doesn't speak any other to my knowledge."
"I take it you've known him for a long while."
"We used to be engaged." Phailin said, hoping Jen wouldn't want to discuss it further. She didn't want to be too unflattering to her fiancé when he seemed to have changed.
She smiled. "He was looking for someone to tutor him in our language, but you're wrong about him on one account. He knows a more southern dialect of Chinese that I also speak to some degree. I think he said his mother spoke it. I don't know why he wanted to learn Chang, but it's been working out. I got to know him better, and we started depending on each other for support. He talked about you a lot for a while, I remember, but I know all about arranged marriages and how well they tend to work out. I felt so sorry for him, though. Your husband hurt his pride— not that I think that was necessarily a bad thing. Our meeting was just on of those twists of fate. My brother always believed in things like that. It's been about a year, I think, and one of the happiest of my life. He wanted to come back here to get married, but he said it might be delayed now."
Phailin nodded. "Well, you certainly have my blessings. I've noticed a great change in him. I have the feeling you may have your wish sooner than you think."
They worked in silence for a moment, digesting the new information. Phailin thought of Wufei again, though the feeling of emptiness was less of a gaping hole now. She'd found someone to talk to, someone like him to some degree.
"I heard you married a Chang, Phailin. Did your husband go through the same treatment as I?" Jen asked.
Phailin felt her heart wrench. She didn't want to tell her that Wufei had been fully accepted, but circumstances had been so different. ". . . he was met with great skepticism," she said. "But he earned the villages trust. They'll come around to you, too, Jen, it's just that the last murder in this town before the elders' was my father, and he was killed by a Chang we gave shelter to. To make matters more complicated, my father was the king's brother. We had royal guards breathing down our necks for years, and I was sent off to Bangkok to be schooled under intense security. I lied to my husband a bit about that, but what was I supposed to say? There was no use in getting him upset when he really tried so hard to be likeable."
She considered. "Phailin, you said you know who murdered your grandfather. Do you think you have most of the people here convinced of that? Here— don't put too much of that in."
Phailin stopped herself at the warning and nodded. "I've convinced all those who would try and persecute you. There will still be some suspicion, but that's just being human. Since I'm technically now the village ruler, no one will dare defy me." She chuckled dryly. "Yes, that's irony for you."
She blinked, not seeing the relevance of the statement. "Irony?"
Phailin laughed again and closed her eyes, the memories flooding back. "Oh, it's just that I used to hate your people with a passion. I killed a lot of Changs before I met Wufei. I almost killed him, too. I was so angry with you . . . but mostly I just hurt them. It's kill or be killed out there, you know."
She started at the name. "Wu Fei? Your husband?"
"Yes. Why, did you know him?" Phailin saw the surprise on her face and knew she'd guessed correctly.
"I thought he was dead," she whispered. "They told me he was dead."
"To your clan he is. He rejected your clan just after the war ended. I suppose being a woman, you wouldn't be involved in those affairs." Phailin took her arm, which was trembling. "Jen, don't strain yourself. Calm down."
"When— when is he coming back?" she demanded, the look on her face one of pain and anguish. "When?"
"I don't know. When his part in the war ends. I hope it's soon," she admitted. There was nothing more she wanted now than to be with him.
"But he will be here?" Jen's grip in her wrist tightened, surprising for one so weak.
"Of course." She wasn't even willing to address the possibility of his dying. It just couldn't happen.
She squeezed her eyes shut and Phailin saw a tear roll down the girl's face. "I— I need to tell you something," she said.
Phailin thought of so many things the girl could possibly say about her husband that her mind almost shut down. "Tell me," she said, almost afraid to hear.
"I haven't seen him in twelve years. Tell me he's fine. My brother . . . I miss him terribly."
She was his sister. Phailin almost wept with relief. Then, and only then, did she realize that Jen probably had it worse than she did. Wufei hadn't talked of his childhood much, but he'd once mentioned his dearest sibling, a little sister almost too weak to walk. But she'd been eight when he'd left . . . no wonder she looked so young! "Oh, child," she whispered. "He's all right, I promise. Wu's become a great man, and a great husband. We're happy. Don't worry for him. You'll see him soon."
"I knew he was alive," she said with conviction. "There was no way he could have died. I knew he'd make out okay. I knew he'd find a new love. You have no idea how assured this makes me feel, sister."
Phailin drew her into a gentile hug. Perhaps she wouldn't be quite as lonely as she thought. So she and Chatalerm would be related after all!
When everything was ready, Jen took her first doses and started to drift off into sleep. Before she could fall fully, however, she held out a bundle of herbs she hadn't used for anything. "Here, Phailin, I think you can use these."
"What are they?" They were the ones she'd retrieved from the jungle. They didn't normally use the plant for anything, but perhaps Jen knew more about it than the village people did.
"Soak a few leaves in boiling water and drink them after meals."
"Tea?" They smelled very bitter for tea leaves.
"They'll help with your nausea, I should think."
What? How had she known she hadn't been feeling well? "How . . . could you tell?"
"My mentor taught me well." She smiled gently. "Signs are subtle, but there. A trained eye spots them, especially one that's been taught since childhood. I hope you feel better."
"Thank you." Phailin felt just a little more respect for her. Despite her youth, she knew a great deal. But, as Wufei had said often enough, raised a Chang, you never really had a childhood.
"Oh, and sister?" She'd never had a sister.
"Yes?"
"They don't taste as bitter as they smell." Jen chuckled lazily before closing her eyes.
Preoccupied, Phailin missed Chatalerm perched beside the door. "How is she?"
She jumped, startled. "Oh, it's you. She's asleep, and she took quite a bit of that concoction we made. She probably won't be awake until well into the day or even possibly evening, and she'll be hungry. Feed her, as much as she asks— she'll be able to judge well enough, but make the food mild and easy to digest. No spices, plenty of plain rice, and definitely nothing my mother or yours will want to feed her! She'll need liquid, too. Keep a pitcher of water by her bed, and give her fruit juices. She'll need carbohydrates just as much as sugars; no milk, because that makes mucus thick . . ." She thought hard for something she could have missed. "I think that's about it. She's going to need someone around to help her move if she needs to, but try to keep her to bed and healing. She'll probably want to get around and move, but you have to keep her down or she might re-injure something. I'll be back tomorrow sometime, sooner if you need me. I've much free time now."
She thought briefly that Jen would probably be a good person to seek counsel for something like this. It was probably a good idea to get to know her sister in-law and give the pretty thing a little more information on she and Wufei's (mis)adventures.
The sun was finally starting to rise over the steamy jungle, and Phailin realized how much she'd missed the view. The dawn over Bangkok had its own urban beauty, but her soul was still in the jungle. That was why she tried hard to find some way to personify Shenlong. Everything had to have a soul
~~@[~*,~]@~~
+Connection Forced . . . Connection Confirmed+
::AH, MY LADY, THE ONE PERSON I SO LONGED TO TALK TO . . .::
::DON'T BE IMPERTINENT, DRAGONIS VIR. YOU KNOW VERY WELL YOU'D RATHER BE WITH ANY OF THE OTHERS.::
::ALL THE MORE WHEN YOU CALL ME THAT, ANCIENT ONE.::
::THUS MY JUSTIFICATION::
::DON'T GET SMART WITH ME::
::OH, I DON'T BELIEVE I HAVE TO PROVE MY INTELLIGENCE HERE::
::YOUR ASKING FOR TROUBLE::
::I'M IN CHARGE AROUND HERE, LITTLE ONE. DON'T FORGET IT.::
+Connection Terminated+
Don't get cocky. You've never seen real war. You don't want to, trust me.
****************************************************
Yuck, reading that I almost got lost myself. Everything's really vague right now, but I promise I'll elaborate more as time goes by.
Oh, and have you figured out who "Mother Source" is?
Actually, I still have a few pages to go for the next chapter, so maybe I'll elaborate on the conspiracy a bit more. Here's what I know is going on next:
Okay, a few weeks pass and Heero & all the others make it to that lab, where they get some information (and try to act on it). The Phantom Runners get caught up in the Colony Alliance's new prototype cloaking shield, and Marie and Fortuna face the greatest mobile suit threat yet: Dorothy and Inimicus. Also, Heero explains a bit of history of Operation Comet (Operation Meteor was a branch of it). There's a lot more in that than I'm hinting at, so you won't want to miss AC 208: The Hands of Fate (Part V): "Don't breathe."