{{TRANSCRIPT OF DIALOGUE FROM BASE 231.8
STATUS: SECURITY LEVEL 1
DATE: 35.4.20
TOPIC: NEW MISSION FOR PROJECT TITAN


A: It's been over four years since One's first mission. Although not all of their missions have been successful, no one has ever come close to detecting them. Their talents are being wasted, working on minor assassinations, small strikes on the Rebel forces... They haven't been pushed to their limits yet, so they're a waste of the Alliances time and money. You have to give them this mission!


B: Hundreds of our agents have failed to track down the Phoenix. What makes you think your little experiment will succeed where they have failed?


A: Because all of your agents are human, Colonel. Project Titan was created specifically for these circumstances, where humans couldn't do the job. They're stronger, faster, and smarter than your agents. I'm willing to put all five of them on this one mission, to the exclusion of all else.


B: You're willing?! Director, if I decide to give you this mission for your little creations, you damn well better put them all on the case.


A: They can find this Phoenix person, if he really does exist.


B: So you've heard the rumors that the Phoenix is just a name for a group of leaders among the Rebels, or whoever happens to be responsible for whatever success they're having.


A: You must admit it's unlikely that one Phoenix is responsible for all of the strikes against us, all of the times our own strikes have failed.


B: It is unlikely, but we haven't ruled out that possibility yet. For now, though, I will be assigning your creatures to find out who the Phoenix is...


A: If he exists.


B: If he exists, and capturing him.


A: No kill?


B: No kill. If such a person as the Phoenix exists, we want them brought in for questioning. They would have enough knowledge of the Rebels that we could crush them with one blow. Besides, we may want them for other reasons...


A: You know something about the Phoenix.


B: Not really. It's just a rumor I once heard, years ago. I've already transmitted all relevant data to your computer. You distribute it as you see fit. All requests for supplies and clearance for missions should be routed through me, as usual.


A: Of course. I won't fail you.


B: If I thought you would, I wouldn't give you this mission.}}


---------------


Heero saw the red light on his consul flashing as soon as he entered their room. "We have another mission," he said out loud, and the quiet discussion that had followed him immediately ceased. They had been in another branch of the base, working in simulators so that they became proficient flying a number of different type of planes, shuttles, and other types of weapons.

"It's about time," Kan said, his almost white eyes gleaming. "We haven't been able to strike at the enemy in some time." There was an edge of excitement in his voice, and for a moment Heero paused, just long enough for Kan to get better control of himself.

"What is it?" Michael asked, tossing some of his shoulder-length hair out of his face and behind his shoulder. It had become fashionable in recent years to have slightly longer hair, and he had been chosen to wear that particular style. He put it in a ponytail at his neck when he was on missions.

"We've been ordered to find the Rebel known as the Phoenix," Heero read slowly.

"The Phoenix!" Herc exclaimed. "Finally, they're sending us after the big fish!"

"We're to start immediately. We are to have all the supplies we need, and all the data we require will be at our desks." Heero looked up. "Read through the information they gave us. In ten minutes we're going to have our first operational meeting, to decide on a preliminary course of action." Everyone straightened up or stiffened slightly as he announced the formal beginning to their mission. They all silently moved to their desks.

Heero read through the report in under five minutes. There wasn't much to it - the Alliance didn't have much information about its most dangerous enemy. The Phoenix, a leader among the Rebels, was believed to have taken control of most of the Rebels about a year and a half ago. A few intercepted phone calls led Intelligence to believe that the Phoenix was a male, age somewhere between thirty and forty, and a native of the colony. The recording could be used to identify him later, once they narrowed down the search. He was responsible for the destruction of more than one Alliance base in colony Alpha, which was also believed to be his current location, and he also appeared to be the head of a large propaganda assault, painting the Alliance as an evil organization that oppressed it's people. Heero clenched his fist as he read this part - everyone knew that the Alliance was only trying to bring peace to the colonies. They were too young, too sparsely populated to be able to control themselves. Everyone knew that.

But the propaganda had been beginning to take effect, and was generating sympathy for the Rebels, sympathy they had never had before because of a few selective strikes by the Alliance. Those people who died in those strikes were sacrificed for the good of the colonies, and for the Alliance as a whole. Mem had said so. The Phoenix dared to portray the Alliance as aggressors? They were protectors of peace!

Spies within the Rebels had failed to even catch a glimpse of the Phoenix, and spies without had fared even worse. There wasn't even enough evidence gathered to prove that there really was a single person who could be identified as the Phoenix.

Everyone had long since finished reading the reports by the time the ten-minute period was up. As it ended, Heero turned to Herc. "Two, what was in your file?" He doubted that Herc would have any information that he hadn't received, but it was best to check. As Herc started reciting the information that Heero already knew, his eyes flicked across the others. Arthur had a thoughtful expression on his face, and Heero decided to ask his opinion next. For all his shortcomings, Arthur had an uncanny way of understanding people's motives, and of gathering evidence from their briefings and forming it into actual information. He was almost always called upon to interrogate the most belligerent prisoners, and he always got answers. The fact that he felt no joy from completing such missions was always a source of confusion for Heero.

When Herc finished, he said, "That was the same as in my report. Was it the same in all of yours?" They all nodded. "Four," he said, and Arthur stiffened.

"One," he said, confirming that they were working on a mission by using his designation instead of his name.

"What do you think about all of this?"

Arthur closed his eyes for a second, then opened them. "The Phoenix is a real person. All of the attacks, the foiled strikes, and the propaganda message, they all have the same... the same feel to them."

Heero nodded, accepting Arthur's statement at face value, even though he hadn't seen it. That was why he had asked for Arthur's opinion. "What else?"

"I also think there may be something to the name that may help us identify the Phoenix. In mythology, the Phoenix was a firebird that rose from the ashes of its parent's body. The name may have significance to the Rebels, or to the Phoenix himself. For now, though, I recommend we pick up as many Rebels as we can, question them ourselves, so that we can be sure of the result. No human is perfect - someone must have seen the Phoenix, or heard a name, or something. We can continue from there as the circumstances dictate. There really isn't enough information here to do anything with yet."

"Four," Michael said quietly, "Can you tell us anything more about the Phoenix himself from this data?"

Arthur hesitated. "Three... I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?" Herc sounded disgusted.

"No, I'm not," Arthur said patiently, and Heero was surprised at the strength in his voice. Usually when Herc or Kan taunted him Arthur withdrew, studying at his desk or going to the practice room. He mentally revised his opinion of Arthur. "But this is my impression - I don't think we should trust the few intercepted messages we have."

"The ones that were used to tell us that the Phoenix is a male colonist?" Michael asked. "Why?"

"The Phoenix has be so careful with everything else - we don't even have any real evidence that he even exists, it seems very out of character that he would be so careless as to let his voice be captured on tape."

"You think it's a setup," Kan said seriously. Although he was as quick as anyone to taunt Arthur for his weaknesses, he also knew Arthur's strengths and respected them.

"That's what I'm not sure about. I'm pretty sure that he knew his voice was being recorded, but I don't know if it really is his voice. It could be that he sounds nothing like that, that he's from earth or mute or whoever knows what else. Or that could be his voice. In any case, I don't think that we should rely on being able to use that recording to identify him."

"I agree," Heero said when Arthur was finished. "Does anyone else have any suggestions? If not, I say we go ahead with Four's plan."

No one had any other suggestions, and he ordered them to search through all the files they had on the Rebels, to pick out likely targets who might know something about the Phoenix.


------------


Arthur surveyed the body language and face of the man he was interrogating, and judged that the man was about to break. He'd been in captivity for four days now, with few foods, all lacking in nutrition, no light, and no company. Earlier this morning Arthur had ordered him sent to the chamber, managing to keep his face serene as he did so, even though inside he alternately trembled in fear and cried because of what the man was about to go through. He left the man in for only fifteen minutes, but that had been enough for the man to confess that he was a Rebel, and to name a large number of his accomplices, many of whom the Alliance had no prior knowledge of. But Arthur wasn't done with him yet. He knew, through long experience, that there were ways of resisting the chamber. Even if one wasn't conditioned to it, there were ways to wall things off inside of you, so that when you gave in, you didn't give in everything. It was that information that he was looking for, the most well protected secret in the galaxy, the identity of the Phoenix.

He judged that a prisoner was weakest not when in the chamber, not even right after he had been removed, when he was betraying those closest to him. That crucial moment came several hours after, when the prisoner began to believe that he really had protected that inner knowledge. Then was the time to strike. The time had almost come.

Arthur had been in the room with the man for several hours now, waiting for the right moment. The room was darkened, with the only light shining directly on top of the man. He was bound in a chair with a blindfold over his eyes, increasing his sense of helplessness. Arthur wore a mask over his face and a device around his throat that changed his voice from the light child's voice that it usually was to something deep and growling. There was no way the man could know what his captor looked like.

The door slid open silently, and Heero walked in. He looked at Arthur, and his lips moved silently, but Arthur could read them, and saw him ask, "Anything yet?"

Arthur shook his head in the negative, then pulled the mask up high enough so that Heero could see his lips, and said silently, "It will be in the next few minutes. Then we'll know if he really knows anything."

Heero nodded and walked silently back out of the room. Arthur pulled the mask back down and went back to waiting. The man didn't know that Arthur had been with him all this time, didn't know his every movement was being observed. Suddenly the man, who had been slumped in the chair, supported only by his bonds, straightened up a little, raising his head from his chest and pushing his shoulders back slightly. Arthur moved forward. It was time.

He raised a fist and punched the helpless man in the stomach, then, as the man bent over as far as he could, winded from the blow, backhanded him across the face. "You stupid fool," he sneered, putting as much callous disregard and contempt as he could in those words. "You think you've beaten us, protected something, but you haven't." For a brief instant he saw a flash of panic on the man's face before he concealed it, and Arthur knew that the man had, in fact, hidden something. Forcing back the pain at what he must now do, Arthur forced himself to laugh in a low voice, and the man shivered. "You will be able to protect nothing," he sneered, picking up a hypospray. He put it next to the man's throat and injected him there.

Injections with hyposprays were usually given in the arm, where they could barely be felt. In the sensitive skin around the throat, there was no doubt that the man had felt it. "I've just injected you with a sort of truth serum," he said in a conversational tone, suddenly switching tactics. Keep him confused, off guard, and he'll be more susceptive to the strike. "Once it takes effect, you will no doubt tell me every secret that you've ever had in your entire life. We use it as a way to verify what was learned in the chamber, but it is far more comprehensive, a safeguard unless you managed to conceal something from us. I've been told it's quite painful if you try to resist, so please don't." Actually, Arthur knew from personal experience exactly how painful it was.

The serum he'd used did have all of the effects that Arthur had described, but, like the chamber, it could be resisted. But not if the subject was suitably prepared. By waiting until this moment, when the prisoner had almost thought that he'd escaped, Arthur had made himself seem almost like a mind-reader. By telling him part of the truth about the serum, he convinced the prisoner that this time there really was no escape. With that firmly in his mind, and still confused from other drugs, lack of sleep, and his earlier experience in the chamber, the man would believe he had no option but to talk. And so he would. Arthur slapped him again, keeping him off balance while the serum could take effect. It took less than a minute.

"What was it you didn't tell us before?!" he demanded, switching tactics again. "Tell me now!" Here was the crucial moment where Arthur found if he'd prepared the man properly, or if the man would see through his tactics, meaning months of interrogations to find this last piece of evidence, and possibly never getting it.

The man shook his head from side to side, his face creased in pain. Arthur hadn't been lying about the pain if the man tried to resist. "No no no no nononono!" the man murmured, shaking his head more rapidly.

"What do you know!" Arthur shouted, striking the man again, and felt something inside the man give. Not a bone or tendon, he was far too careful to do actual damage, but something emotional, a wall coming down.

"I heard..." the man gasped, still shaking his head. Now his entire body was shaking, tears running down his face at the pain he had to be feeling, still trying to resist.

"Yes? What did you hear?"

"Once, I overheard, it was an accident, I wasn't supposed to..." the man said, sounding almost as if he was talking in his sleep.

"What did you hear?!"

"I heard someone say the name Krace, and then..." he cut himself off again.

"WHAT?!"

"I heard that he... something about contacting the Phoenix."

"Krace is in contact with the Phoenix?"

"Yes," the man said, and broke down sobbing. Arthur backed away. There was nothing left. He opened the door and found Heero waiting there, also wearing a mask.

"What did you get?"

"A connection," Arthur said. "You'll want to study the tape for yourself before you hear my opinions."

Heero nodded his agreement of this, then his eyes flicked to the prisoner. "What about him?"

Arthur didn't look at the man he had reduced to a sobbing shell of who he once had been. The man knew that he had betrayed his deepest secret, knew friends and colleagues would die because of him. Chances were he would never recover emotionally or intellectually from that. "I recommend that he be sent to a work camp on Earth," Arthur said, aware that sparing the man's life at this point was somewhat of a wasted effort. But he still couldn't bring himself to kill when he had another option.

Heero nodded, and Arthur moved forward, closing the door behind him.

"Good job," Mem said, clapping him on the shoulder. Arthur nodded, raised his hand in salute, and saw a pleased smile on Mem's face.

Arthur made it back to their room. It was empty. He sank down onto his cot, trembling violently with suppressed emotions, and finally started sobbing himself. He cried silently, with no tears coming from his eyes. The only indication that he cried at all was the shaking of his shoulders and the deep, rasping breaths he took from time to time. I destroyed him. I didn't even kill him and I still destroyed him. Worse than that, I left him alive so that he will have to live with it. It would have been better to kill him and end it. He cried for several minutes, for everything he had done to that man, and everything that had been done to him. Finally he got control of himself.

"Are you all right?"

"Michael!" Arthur gasped, horrified that Michael had been standing there and he hadn't noticed.

"What's wrong?"

Arthur automatically looked into the corner, where the camera that always recorded them was located. The red light that signaled it was running wasn't lit, the way it had always been for as long as Arthur could remember.

"We have some privacy," Michael told him. "Real privacy," he added, glancing up at the light, where Arthur knew the second, hidden camera was located. Had Michael disabled that one as well?

"You shouldn't have done that," he said in a low voice. "They'll punish you..."

"What were you doing?" Michael asked again. "I didn't risk getting punished for you not to answer my question. Were you crying again?"

Arthur bit his lip to keep from starting again and nodded bitterly. "What's wrong with me, Michael? I want to serve the Alliance, I really do. I want to be strong, like you and Heero and the rest. What's wrong with me that I can't do what is necessary?"

"You do what is necessary," Michael reminded him. "Have you ever failed a mission?"

"No, but it isn't the same," Arthur said. "You know that. I feel things that I shouldn't - sometimes I don't want to complete my mission, and I've never felt pleasure after killing someone."

"You haven't?" Michael sounded surprised. "Never?"

Arthur shook his head. "I just... I just don't want to fight, yet I want to fight for the Alliance. Do you understand?" he asked, with no real hope that Michael would understand.

"No, I don't," Michael said honestly. "But that's because I don't feel the things that you do. I've been thinking about this, about your problem, and I think I might know, maybe, what it is."

"What?"

"You're just a little more human than the rest of us."

"What?!"

"Think about it. You feel something for humans, something that the rest of us don't. That something is called empathy. It's what humans feel for each other when one is hurt or upset. You feel it too, don't you?"

"It doesn't make any sense," Arthur said, not wanting to believe it. "I was created, just like you, and I was trained the same. I'm not human, any more than you are, or this bed is."

"I didn't say I understood it, I just think that's what it is. You've always been a little different, haven't you?"

Arthur suddenly averted his eyes, afraid that Michael would see something in them, the way Arthur saw something in the prisoners he interrogated. "It's true, isn't it?" Michael asked, watching Arthur closely. "What is it?"

Arthur looked at the ground, ashamed of himself. "I have dreams."

"You have what?!"

"Dreams, like the ones that our instructors described for us. Things that I think about during my sleep that never happened to me. Strange things that don't make sense. Not very often, only once every couple of months, but I've had them all my life."

"You must be part human."

"I'm not, and you know it. I am just bad inventory. They probably would have destroyed me, but there was so much time and money put into me that it would have been a huge waste. I'm just like you guys, only I'm weak, and I don't want to be. Do you have any ideas what I can do? I want to be able to work for the Alliance without any of these strange feelings, without ever hesitating to do what needs to be done."

"I've never experienced anything like what you describe," Michael said, and if Arthur didn't know better, he would have suspected a hint of envy in Michael's voice. "All I can suggest is that you always remember what's at stake. We are protecting humans by serving the Alliance, and when you have to kill, it's also in service of the Alliance, so you're still protecting humans. Just remember that whenever you start to hesitate."

Arthur nodded. It was good advice, and might help him to serve the Alliance better. "I'll do that."

"Good. Now what did you find out from the prisoner?"

"He said that he heard someone named Krace is in contact with the Phoenix."

"Not Ambassador Krace?"

"That's what I think. He's been known to have Rebel sympathies for some time, and he has strong ties with the colonies. He even adopted a colonist orphan for his daughter. He fits our profile for someone likely to go over to the enemy, and is in the position to send lots of information, valuable information about the way the Alliance operates, to the Rebels."

"I never would have suspected him."

"None of us did, which may be why the Phoenix chose him. But at least it's something to go on."

"It is indeed. Arthur, you may not be quite as good a killer as Heero or Kan, but you have your strengths, and they can be impressive."

Arthur wasn't sure what to say. He'd never received a compliment like that before. It was made even better by the knowledge that Michael's words were spoken honestly, without a hint of jealousy or deception about him. Arthur never knew what to think or believe when he was praised by his instructors, whom he knew had only their own motives in mind whenever they said anything to him, but Michael's praise he could trust. "Thank you, Michael."


------------


Heero stared through binoculars through the window of Ambassador Krace's living room, where he sat reading some papers. The papers were important documents signed by members of the Alliance Senate asking Krace for his opinion on the colonist's feelings toward a number of subjects that concerned the Alliance. As he watched, Krace started dictating responses to the letters.

Heero sighed. Several weeks of watching Krace round-the-clock had produced no results. The others, when not taking their turns watching Krace, had been chasing down every other lead they'd produced, with no results. It seemed the only real good lead they'd had was going nowhere. The ambassador rarely had so much as a free hour to himself, much less the amount of time it would take if he really was in contact with the most powerful person among the Rebels. Still they were keeping a watch on him, on the off-chance that there might be some connection they had missed.

Heero changed the circulation in his legs slightly so that he wouldn't get stiff, and went back to watching the house. A slight movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He immediately swung his binoculars around and observed a figure dressed in black climbing over the gate and moving silently onto the premises, slipping past the Ambassador's excellent security with an ease Heero hadn't been able to manage. The way the person moved signaled a great deal of familiarity with the system. Was someone trying to kill Krace? He doubted it was a member of the Alliance. Krace was too well known, a figure far too much in the spotlight to be simply assassinated. No thief would be stupid enough to try to get through this house when there were many others less well guarded with more to lure them. So who was it?

He watched the figure until they passed out of view around the corner of the house. Knowing there was no way he could get to a vantage point where he could see that side of the house before the intruder could get clear, he waited again for some response from inside the house. There was none for several minutes, until he was about to give up and report the incident to his superiors. But just before he did that, the ambassador's daughter came walking into view. She smiled and greeted her father with open arms and a kiss. Heero wouldn't have noticed anything but for one important fact - underneath the soft silk robe she wore, and above the fluffy slippers, he saw she wore black stockings.

It could have meant nothing, simply that she had worn the clothes earlier today and hadn't bothered to change out of them yet, but he wasn't ready to accept that as an excuse, not so soon after he saw a figure in black sneak across the grounds. He watched, holding his breath in anticipation as she said goodnight to her father. Before she went upstairs, she closed the drapes to the living room, cutting off Heero's view. He quickly switched to the infrared goggles, and saw her climbing the stairs. She walked into her rooms, where the drapes were already closed, and switched off the light. But she didn't go to bed - she walked into another room, one that was too far away for him to see using the goggles, and disappeared.

Heero waited another few minutes to make sure she didn't reappear, then gathered up his things and headed back to base.


---------------


"It's the daughter," Heero declared as he barged into their room. He had an expression of excitement on his face, and that alone would have been enough to draw Arthur's attention away from the recordings of other people's interrogations that he was supposed to be studying. He, Michael, and Herc were all reviewing their own leads. Kan was performing his own investigation - they hadn't seen him in almost a month, which meant that he must be deep undercover. It had happened fairly often on Umbra Space Station, most often with Heero or Kan, but all of them had disappeared without warning at least once.

"Whose daughter?" Michael asked.

"Ambassador Krace isn't the Phoenix's contact," Heero said, immediately seating himself at his desk. "It's his daughter."

"Rina?" Michael asked.

"Yes, that's her name," Heero said, typing rapidly. "I saw a figure dressed in black sneak all the way across their land..."

"Through their security?" Herc asked doubtfully.

"Yes, through the security, but I lost sight of them when they went around the corner of the house. No alarm was sounded, but a few minutes later the daughter came walking into the living room. She had on a robe and slipper, but under that I saw black stockings! She's got to be the contact, taking information from her father and passing it along to the Phoenix. We never caught her father doing anything because he doesn't actually do anything, he just passes it on to his daughter. She has the free time that her father doesn't - it's got to be her!"

"Wait a minute," Arthur said, calling up the girl's file on his terminal. "She's only fourteen. Still just a child. You don't think the ambassador's going to risk his daughter's life like that, do you? Humans don't do that sort of thing. The Rebels could have just given him a person in his household, a maid or something. Why would he risk his daughter?"

Heero paused. "I don't know, but we've already looked into the background of everyone in the house. They haven't hired anyone new in over five years, well before the Phoenix ever showed up, so that can't be it. You have to admit it's a possibility that the girl is the contact."

Arthur nodded. "There are historical precedents of a few young children participating in events like this. Very few, but those who do are often known to have tremendous impact. It's true that a child is less likely to be considered dangerous - after all, we overlooked her." He started looking through the file, aware that the others would be doing the same. There wasn't much about her, mostly notes from agents who had been assigned to watch her father. She was a colonist, adopted by the ambassador fourteen years ago from an orphanage on Alpha colony. Her school records were unimpressive - she was a bright girl, but nothing outstanding, a good athlete, didn't get in trouble. Few friends... but one of those friends was Julia Surd, the daughter of a representative that Heero had assassinated years ago. Hmmm. It was a possible motive. For centuries loyalty to friendships had been one of the driving motives for humans; the girl could have seen helping her father contact the Phoenix as a way to get back at the people who killed her friend's father. It was a weak link, but it was a link. He told this to the others.

"Four, you continue the surveillance on the father, and the rest of you keep following up on your leads. We can't afford to drop everything for this one lead - not yet. In the meantime, I'm going to start watching the girl. If she really is in contact with the Phoenix..." he turned to Arthur. "Can you break her?"

Arthur looked at one of the images in the file, one of the more publicized images of the girl, sobbing as she clung to her father after witnessing Representative Surd's assassination. Execution, he reminded himself. Surd was trying to hurt the Alliance and all of it's people. His death was necessary to protect others. Still, a lump formed in his throat as he nodded to Heero. "Not a problem. She's just a kid. It would probably take only a few hours, no preparation needed." He switched to a more recent photo of her - she was fourteen now, but looked younger. Apparently she hadn't hit puberty yet, because she still looked like a child of ten or eleven, with no sign of the changes that heralded the oncoming of her becoming a woman. He tried not to think about what would happen to her if Heero was right, and she was connected with the Rebels.

"Good. I want you to make preparations for that eventuality, in case I am right."

Arthur nodded again, then shut off the screen so that he wouldn't have to look at the face of the little girl he would probably have to torture.