Chapter Two

Heero's hands moved over the controls without his even having to think about or watch their movements. His Gundam lurched to its feet and took off; it's metal body shining in the reflected light from far-off suns. Its human cargo gritted his teeth and scanned the monitors searching for any sign of Duo. He saw nothing. In the deep abyss of space, nothing stirred.

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Trowa peered into the darkness of the hanger that he and Duo had shared. There were two hangers in this area. Quatre and Heero used the other.

"Quatre!" he yelled suddenly.

"What?" Quatre jumped with surprise at the sound of the other's voice.

"It's gone! Heavy-arms is gone!"

"What?" Quatre looked in. Trowa was right; the huge machine had completely vanished. "But Death-scythe is still here," he realized. "Duo must have-"

"But why would he have?"

"Maybe to throw Heero off his trail a little? I don't know Trowa. But you'll have to take Death-scythe, or else ride along with me in Sand-rock."

Trowa had calmed down again, and was his usual deadpan self. "I'll take his, but when we catch up with him, I'm going to want an explanation."

Quatre decided that he was glad he wasn't Duo.

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Duo wasn't exactly very happy to be Duo at the moment either. He was starting to wish he had just taken Death-scythe, even though the com-link was broken. It had been a silly reason to switch. It wasn't like he was going to be using it anytime soon. He flipped on the monitor display and saw L2. Well, at least he would be going home.

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"There it is," Trowa announced. "Not very impressive, is it."

"And yet it may have just spawned humanity's destruction." Quatre's mind had been on other things when Trowa spoke. For a moment he wasn't even certain he had spoken the thought aloud.

"So we'll just have to save the day," Trowa replied with a levity he didn't feel. They landed in the docking bay and got out to survey their surroundings. There was no one around. They could hear their footsteps echoing with an unbelievable noise in the enormous room.

"Let's split up," Quatre said, almost whispering. The silence was more grating to his nerves than most noises would have been.

Trowa, who had returned to his usual silence, just nodded.

When he was gone, Quatre regretted his suggestion. It had seemed the sensible thing, and after all, the faster they completed this search, the sooner they could leave this eerie place. Perhaps it was the just the silence, or the sense of isolation, but he was starting to get a very bad feeling about in his stomach.

A noise froze him in his tracks. It hadn't been a loud noise. It hadn't even been a very suspicious sounding noise. It had just been the faintest of clicks, like someone typing on a computer a few rooms away, or the gentle shutting of a drawer. Quatre moved in the direction he thought the noise had come from. The door to one of the rooms was cracked open slightly. He peered through the crack.

A young woman was standing there, clipboard in hand, carefully examining something on a computer screen. Quatre looked intently at her, uncertain. He wasn't as amazed about finding another person on the satellite lab, indeed, it would have been strange if there hadn't been anyone. He was startled at who it was. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and entered the room.

"Sarah?" he asked, praying that he was wrong, that she wasn't who he thought she was, that he had just discovered a look-alike.

She whirled. "Quatre? What are you doing here?"

"I was just about to ask you that," he answered softly. "Tell me you don't work for OZ now, Sarah. Please say that you don't."

"I do, Quatre. I'm head of research on this satellite."

He stared. "But Father..."

"What about Father?" Her voice had a bitter edge.

"What about your people? You must know what this lab has been doing! Creating a disease for the express purpose of deliberate murder?" His anger rose quite suddenly to the surface.

"What about it? As if you can claim to have been loyal to your upbringing. You're as deliberate a killer as any virus. Worse, really, since you have free will, and claim to have a conscience."

He fell back as though stung. Brother and sister faced each other for the first time in over a year, as the final echoes of their words faded.

Shaking his head, Quatre finally said, "At least I'm trying to do something good, even if I don't always succeed. That's more than you can claim."

"At least I don't lie to myself about the relative merits of what I do. I know what I'm doing is wrong, and I accept it, along with a nice paycheck." She picked up a needle and began preparing a shot.

"So you sell your abilities to the highest bidder, regardless of anything?"

"You sold your abilities on the gamble that you would always be able to know what the right thing to do was. You seemed to have lost that gamble, Quatre."

He was no longer completely listening to her. "You seemed to have forgotten your Hippocratic Oath," he commented, watching her hands as they moved with deadly accuracy over the needle.

She had obviously done this before. The movements were practiced. It almost reminded him of the way Heero used the controls in his Gundam. Or the way he himself had played the piano. The hands would remember, and leave the mind free to think on other things.

"What?" She paused before quoting. "I will use treatment to help the sick according to my ability and judgment, but I will never use it to injure or wrong them."

He nodded. "That doesn't bother you in the least, does it."

"Not at all, nor does this." Her hand moved in a graceful arc, plunging the needle into his forearm.

He gasped with the sudden and unexpected pain. "What..." The world was growing rapidly dark and foggy. "What did you do?"

The satellite seemed to be spinning around on an insane orbit. He clung to the table, even as he felt his legs dissolve under him. Slowly he sank to the floor, the darkness catching itself around his eyes and forcing him into a nightmarish sleep.

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Trowa typed quickly on the computer. He slid with ease through various files, searching for any record of the creation of a vaccine. His hand suddenly spasmed, and for a moment he felt sick and dizzy. Then it passed, but it left him confused, and a little worried. He had never had any dizzy-spells or anything like them, and this definitely wasn't the time to start doing so. With a mental shrug, he continued with his search. A few more files, and then he found it.

Skimming through the technical jargon, he found that those who stood any risk of being exposed had been given a vaccine. Since that number was small, not much vaccine had been produced. However, the small extra that there was had been stored in one of the many labs that filled the station. He memorized the location, and went off in search of it.

As he passed by the docking bay, a sudden flurry of motion and noise caught his attention. A shuttle was just about to take off. A blond young woman was speaking sternly to a bored looking soldier. Trowa couldn't hear what she was saying, but he saw the soldier salute, and heard the crisp response of "Yes Dr. Winner, we'll take every precaution. We'll see that he gets there, and that we stay safe and sound."

The woman, now identified as Dr. Winner, nodded, and seemed to be bidding them good-bye. Trowa tried to sort out the situation. Could the last name possibly be some sort of crazy coincidence? Maybe, but Trowa didn't really believe in coincidence. And where was Quatre anyway? And who was this 'he' onboard the shuttle? It didn't take a rocket scientist to put the two bits of information together, but Trowa didn't like the picture they seemed to form.

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Duo stood on the pavement of L2 and rejoiced at just being there. He knew this colony like the back of his hand, better, really. He remembered every turn in the road, every crack in the sidewalk, everything. He also remembered that he hadn't eaten for several hours, and that there was a place less than a block away that served some of the most fabulous cheeseburgers he had ever known. He began walking towards it, slowly, drinking in the sights of all the familiar surroundings. He hadn't even realized that he missed this place so much.

He was just passing by the hospital, when someone called his name in a voice that was both incredulous and overjoyed. He turned just in time to see a pair of shining brown eyes and long dark hair before she had hugged him. Then she pushed him back and began studying his face.

"Why were you gone so long?"

He finally recognized his childhood friend. "Vincla!"

She laughed, and he saw that her teeth were still perfectly white, and that the one up front was still crooked, just the way he remembered her. That is, when he took the time to remember her. He felt suddenly guilty for not even thinking of her for close to a year, and they had been such close friends as children.

"Don't you know me, Duende?" It was her own special nickname for him, though she would never tell him what it meant.

He grinned and wrapped one arm around her shoulder. "I was blinded by your beauty," he replied extravagantly.

"It has been a long time," she commented as they walked. "It has been so quiet around here, without you and your laughter."

"There hasn't been a whole lot of laughter anywhere lately."

She frowned and shook her head. "We will not speak of such things. We must speak of happier time now." Her face brightened. "I am on my lunch break now! Let's go someplace to eat and to talk! Or, perhaps you are busy now." Her eyes dropped.

"Too busy to eat? That doesn't happen much. And the day I'm too busy to spend time with you, Vincla, I'll eat my hat."

She touched his hair lightly. "But you're not wearing a hat."

"Which is why it's a much safer thing to say! I'll race you to the old deli!"

And he ran, glad to feel the air rushing past his face. Perhaps they were both a little old to be racing up and down the streets, but at that moment, Duo couldn't have cared less. Of course, he started caring a little more when Vincla caught hold of his braid and gave it several sharp tugs.

He stopped and held his hands up in a mock surrender. "Okay, okay, you win."

She giggled and let go of his hair.

"Just kidding!" and he dashed into the deli. "I win, and winner pays for lunch," he insisted.

"I suppose that makes up for it."

"Makes up for what?"

She tugged her ponytail disparagingly. "Having nicer hair than me."

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Quatre forced his lids apart, although they felt like they had been sealed together. His whole body felt unbelievably heavy. Something was wrong with the gravity. He forced his groggy mind into action. This couldn't just be dizziness; it felt like the center of gravity had moved. "I must be on a shuttle or something," he realized. His legs didn't seem to want to move right now, and that was just fine with him. He was starting to fall asleep again.

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"So you work in a hospital?" Duo bit into a french-fry and savored the taste.

She nodded. "Mostly just making beds and things, but all work is important there. There aren't enough people to do the work, and of course those who are willing do not want to do the cleaning and suchlike."

He smiled. "That's my Vincla. The unbelievably important and precious one that no one notices. Someday, someone else is going to see how incredible you are, and then I'll lose one of my best friends."

Some of the light went out of her eyes. "You never called me the entire time you were gone, Duo. Am I truly one of your best friends?"

"Yes, and I just happen to be an inconsiderate jerk. I'm sorry." He put his hand, palm down on the table, an old gesture between them.

She paused, then laid her hand down on top of it. "I forgive," she replied. Then she suddenly noticed her watch. "Oh! I am terribly late! Duo, you know where the hospital is. Come by again sometime before you leave again and see me. I missed you."

Then she was gone, leaving only the feel of her small hand on top of his.