Tears of The Bloodstone

by Godshatter

non yaoi pairings; A mix of GW and some of my own imagination (NOT AU); A.C. Era, Releena gets word of Heero's possible death and goes to Mars with Hilde and Duo to see Dr. J (incomplete) ... PLEASE READ AND REVIEW

4. Tears of the Bloodstone Part IV

'May he go forth on the sunrise boat

May he come to port on the sunset boat May he go among the imperishable stars May he sail on the boat of a million years'

Book of Going Forth by Daylight

"From my mother's sleep I fell into the state. And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze. Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life. I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters. When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose."

- 'Death of the Ball Turret Gunner' by Randall Jarrell

Tears of the Bloodstone part IV

By: Godshatter





Blue night, yawning across an open sky like a giant bowl with tiny crystals of shimmering starlight spread out over the horizons. The air was still warm from the mid day's heat, and frequented by a cooling breeze from places north, while the night seemed to hang suspended across the rolling dunes of the Arab desert. Dorothy Catalonia sat on the front porch of the Winner Mansion, her head resting against a great marble pillar. Behind her a long reflection pool caught the rays of the moonlight and hurled them back against the many pearl colored columns lining its edges: casting aura like reflections. The wind came off the desert and drifted lazily through long strands of wispy blonde, Dorothy tossed her main back and let the wind catch her hair. The breeze meandered through the pillars and skipped over the reflection pool: its tiny winged feet tiptoeing over the glass-like water. The wind now long gone, the cool night air resumed its tranquil state. Dorothy closed her eyes and sighed contently, a half emptied crystal glass of red wine sat alone beside her- its intricately cut surface dancing in the moonbeams. She yawned and stretched her arms, running her hand through her hair she reached into the pockets of her khaki pants for her watch. Glancing down at the gold pocket watch, the one that had been her grandfather's, she noted the time at 10:40. Light footfalls sounded behind her, turning her head she saw that Quatre was making his way along the marble path from the reflection pool. "Is there word from the Halo yet?" Quatre nodded and sat down beside her as another cool rush of air came off from the desert sea, the breeze lapped at his white open shirt and its collar fluttered lazily in the wind. "Apparently Heero is early, Atlas Halo and Strategic Defense both tracked an unidentified mobile suit originating from a probable Lunar orbit." Quatre paused and took a sip of ice water and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Two frigates were sent to interdict, one of which fired a missile volley. Luckily President Une contacted the ship in time for them to activate the missile self-destruct. We don't think Wing Zero received any damage, but are very worried about Heero's probable condition, he hasn't responded to any attempt at communication." Dorothy frowned and leaned forward on her elbows, "Do we know when he is expected to hit landfall?" "The Halo estimates he will be in earth's atmosphere anytime within the next 25 minutes. I'm sending Rashid along with a small detachment of Maganacs to the coordinates that the Halo projected as an impact site. I want you to go with them. I'm also trying to make arrangements to have a medical staff flown out here." "So you think he's badly injured?" asked Dorothy, standing up as a crew of Maganacs drove up the circular driveway in front of the estate. "I don't know, but if he is I want to make sure he gets treated as quickly as possible." Dorothy nodded and zipped up her jacket, she was glad she had decided to wear longs sleeves, as it was becoming rather cool outside. Walking up to the lead land rover, one of the Maganacs hopped out of the backseat so that he could open Dorothy's door for her. Sliding into the front seat next to Rashid, she turned and waved at Quatre. He waved back and called, "Be careful Dorothy!" as Rashid gunned the motor. She smiled back at his receding figure as the small convoy muscled its way into the rolling ocean of sand. "Miss Dorothy, do you think Heero made it alive?" asked Rashid, shifting gears, causing the heavy vehicle to suddenly lurch forward. "Yes," she said, "I think he is alive." "I'm glad to hear that, I have a feeling that optimism is something we are going to need a great deal of." "What do you mean by that?" "It's just a hunch," he said, "One of those gut instincts." Dorothy nodded and glanced out the window, the desert was streaming by in a blurry wash of starscape topped dunes and waves of sand. Rashid upped the gears and the rover leapt forward, its wheels churning through the arid lake.

The cockpit of Zero was quiet: globules of blood floated amid the pieces of equipment and light debris that had been jolted free during the missile barrage. A partially conscious Heero was sporadically typing on the main console trying to re-orient Wing Zero for atmospheric aerobraking. The effort of piloting the heavy mobile suit into an acceptable trajectory was tiring and Heero's hand could barely move the joystick so that he could pitch Zero's heading down below Earth's ecliptic- if he were to drift too high over the plane the gundam would skip right out of the atmosphere like a stone over a river. "C'mon Zero, help me out here," he muttered, killing the vernier engines, behind him their dull roar died into the soundless vacuum of space. Entering a final string of commands into Zero's computer, Heero leaned back into the pilot seat and wiped a smear of blood out of his eyes. His chest heaved up and down as breathing had gotten much harder: his torso had swollen up around a number of broken ribs. Reaching up behind him he flipped a small red switch, turning on a transponder beacon. Heero computed a reentry burn sequence into the flight computer and allowed himself a few moments of rest while Zero re-oriented itself to face back towards the stars, all the while its inertia accelerating it earthwards. The vernier rockets howled to life, blue fire spewing out of their gaping throats. The verniers poured out their muscles at full tilt until the main fuel reservoir was depleted in an attempt to shed some of Zero's tremendous inertia. Heero, struggling to pilot the machine, fought the steadily increasing feedback against the control sticks as the atmospheric envelope of Earth leapt up around Zero- bathing it in a corona of searing heat as it fell through the sky.

Making their way through the desert, Dorothy and the Maganacs were making headway, closing in on the coordinates given by the Halo at a good speed. "Maganac contingent th- -s Atl- Halo -unintelligible- do -unintelligible- repeat, do you copy?" The static message came in over the reserved military frequency. Dorothy yanked the walkie-talkie off of its cradle on the dashboard. "Atlas Halo, this is Dorothy Catolonia, please repeat." "This is -las Ha-o calling Maganac c-tinget, switch to -unintelligible- 23, repeat, s-tch to emergency band 23." Dorothy reached over to the transistor mounted under the dash and turned the dial to 23. "Atlas Halo, this is Dorothy Catolonia, do you copy?" she spoke into the mouthpiece.

Lazily orbiting high above the Earth in one of the Halo space towers was Ensign Leol. He had been assigned to track the anomalous mobile suit by President Une herself. The Halo had been having a tough time tracking the machine since gundanium had a poor radar signature, luckily the pilot had turned on a transponder beacon- allowing Ensign Leol to more accurately predict the trajectory and eventual impact location of the mobile suit. "Miss Dorothy," the Ensign said into the radio microphone, "I read you loud and clear. I apologize for the interference, there has been quite a lot of unexplained electronic glitches here in the last day or so." "That's quite alright," came the reply. "Do you have any new information on Wing Zero?" Leol scanned his display board, "Yes ma'am I do, we are now projecting Wing Zero to hit approximately two and a half kilometers north of where we originally predicted. Also, our satellites are showing a significant amount of structural loss and damage being caused by the reentry." There was a pause of silence on the other end for a few moments. "Alright," said Dorothy after a minute, "Thank you for informing us." "Yes ma'am," he replied, "Atlas Halo, out." Ensign Savielly Leol shut off the communications link and went back to typing at his console- his fingers flew over the keypad as he resumed work on hacking the command and control line code for the SD network.

"Did you get that?" asked Dorothy, replacing the radio walkie-talkie on its mount. "Yes," said Rashid. "Two and a half kilometers north of the originally estimated crash site." Dorothy nodded and looked back out the window, scanning the sky for a burning red scar. Rashid managed to find a maintenance road and threw the rover into high gear, teari ff down the worn asphalt at a good 120kph. Dust and sand whipped about the windshield while rocks and pebbles buffeted the undercarriage.

* * *

Communiqué: P.R.A.I. - Band Circuit: Los Alamos, Mars / Mobius Halo To: Quatre R. Winner, New Arab Confederation; q-man@winner.inet Subject: Zero Subject Message Body:

Quatre, we need you to ship to us Wing Zero, its condition is irrelevant. ASAP.

Signed: Doctor J. - Research Division 2 Associate: P.R.A.I.

Quatre stood leaning against his desk in the study. The back window was open, letting in the cool night air. He had just gotten off the phone with one of his contacts, he had been assured that a medical staff was on their way from Cairo and would be there within the hour. They were being flown in by one of his private jets already in Egypt. The communiqué had been received a few minutes after Dorothy had left with Rashid. Quatre had read it after talking to his man in Cairo. Quatre sat down in front of his computer and started typing his reply to Dr. J.

Communiqué: N.A.C - Band Circuit: Atlas Halo / Los Alamos Array, Mars To: Doctor J, Phobos Research Associates International; J@prai.inet Subject: Zero Recovery Message Body:

Doctor J, I received your message and will do all that I can to get Wing Zero to you.

put ned: Quatre R. Winner - Mogul: N.A.C.

Quatre finished the email and submitted it to his outbox, a few moments latter a message box appeared and notified him that the message had been successfully encrypted and sent. Leaning back in his chair, Quatre turned his head to look out one of the windows in his study. One of the things he had always loved about living out in the desert was how the clear night skies were always full of stars, and rarely hidden by cloud cover, unlike the unnatural starlight of the colony glow tubes and the smoggy cityscapes of Earth. The antique grandfather clock standing sentry beside the door chimed 11 o'clock. Quatre's brows furrowed as he thought. He knew that Heero was at least an entire hour early, meaning that there was a higher chance of a critical failure during re-entry due to a much higher velocity than previously calculated. Closing his eyes he rested his head in one hand braced against the wooden desk while running his other hand through his hair- he knew there was nothing left that he could do for the moment, the rest was up to Heero.

High up in the atmosphere and falling like a stricken star, Wing Zero was lost amidst a torrent of steadily thickening air and increasingly stronger wind currents. Inside, Heero was tossed about his restraining harnesses, the badgering playing hell with his internal injuries causing him to vomit up more blood. Somewhere in the cockpit a critical warning light was flashing, pulsing red in the gory cockpit- Zero was desperately low on propellant. Outside the chemical rocket motors sputtered and coughed, dying on one final heave. Mobile suit Wing Zero was now in freefall.

The desert was vast and quiet, and there was no wind for the time being. Dorothy and the Maganac contingent churned through the desert in their rovers, leaving a long winding trail in their sandy wake. "Miss Dorothy," said Rashid as the vehicle powered its way through the shifty sands of a dune, "I think I can see Wing Zero." Saying this, Rashid pointed up towards the upper part of the windshield. Dorothy looked up from where she had been starring, glass-eyed, at the dashboard. "Do you see that patch of red in the sky over there?" Dorothy traced the path where he was pointing and peered out the windshield, trying find where he was talking about. "I don't see it," she said. "Its up there, its just a little below the top of the windshield, right about half way between the rearview mirror and the side of the car." Dorothy looked again, and found the light swath of hazy red high above them. "How long do you think we have?" asked Dorothy, still eyeing the patch of sky. "I have no idea," replied Rashid, "We are still some ways off from the site, we will in all likelihood arrive after Heero does. I don't think it matters anyways, we wouldn't want to be right there when he hits, Halo said that his vernier engines and chemical rockets were sputtering quite erratically when he entered the atmosphere, meaning he is all but out of fuel, if not all ready. When he crashes, it's going to be like a train running into a mountain with a thousand tons of high explosives strapped to it." Dorothy grimaced and looked away from the sky, and back out the window.

High above the Maganacs, in the upper reaches of the exosphere, 750 km above the surface of the earth, Heero fell. Unconscious and oblivious to the world around him, he sat, back against the pilot seat, strapped into his gundam; turned man-made meteor he shuddered in the torrential atmosphere as it swelled around Zero. Running on autopilot, the gundam attempted to keep on some sort of course by making small adjustments in its arms and legs so that it could steer itself much like a laser guided bomb- an adjustment of the left knee actuator here, wave the right arm at this angle with this amount of force behind it, a slight change of the wrist here, or maybe a gyration of the torso- all of these movements kept Wing Zero from tumbling completely out of control (really, there was nothing controlled about it, all these movements did was keep Zero from falling so violently that Heero wasn't battered to death). Roused from his unconscious stupor by the shuttering of his mobile suit, Heero's eyes opened and focused on the screen in front of him. One of the forward cameras had managed to remain functional through the atmospheric firestorm and was now displaying an image of the sweeping desert below. There were few clouds below him to hinder his vision, he could see for a thousand miles in every direction. Still too weak to manage the controls, Heero simply sat strapped against his pilot's seat watching the earth flow up to greet him. There were small patches of green sprinkled out about the vast expanse of arid brown and dune-swept shifting beige, along with the occasional vein of blue. The colors were muted by the starlight and swirled together at the edges under the soft glow of a watery pale moon. His eyes began to drift in their sockets, and his vision blurred into empty pitch colored nothingness as reality floated out from him. Sleep claimed his tired and broken body. Reaching an altitude of 12,000 meters, Wing Zero deployed an emergency parachute, the drag line caught and the heavy fabric of the chute billowed out into the wind- it held for a moment or two, then split open right along its axial seem. Though the emergency chute had failed, it still slowed wing Zero considerably. At 8,000 meters all actuators inside the joints extended to their maximum and filled their empty cavities with hydraulic fluid. Now braced for impact, Wing Zero ejected all of its outer armor; as shards of gundanium spilled out wildly into the night sky a short 5 second burst of the chemical rockets from an auxiliary fuel reservoir was the gundam's last ditch effort to shed both mass and downward momentum.

Dorothy thought the sky had caught fire. In front of her, rushing out of the heart of the desert, a pulse wave tore over the loose sands and ripped a hurricane from the throat of the night. Rashid mashed down on the accelerator and their vehicle hurdled into the buffeting blast of wicked air. Still 4 km from the crash site, the small convoy drove mindlessly towards their destination, while in front of them a pillar of flame leapt up form the horizon, and spilled out across the sky bathing the night in smoldering embers that fell like the bloody tears of a weeping goddess. Sand churning under the rough tires of the land rovers, the maganacs sped off at full tilt, their already beaten engines rasping in broken protest. Hitting a large rock hidden under the sand, the rover bucked upwards sharply causing Dorothy to smack her head against the window. Uttering a small curse, she looked at the cracked pane of glass: starlets of fracture lines crisscrossed its ruined plane of clearness, etching a spider web into the side of the door. Dorothy touched a small splotch of red leaking its way down the slick glass. Touching her hand to the side of her head she drew back with more sticky redness on her palm.

The cockpit of Zero was dark and smoke filled; a waterfall of sparks cascaded down from the overhead equipment while most of the internal compartments had been crushed. Lodged just past the foreshore of a small lake, its hulking ruin lay awash in a sea of steam and scorched ozone; the water of the surrounding lakebed had flash-boiled under the inferno of the heavy mobile suit's splashdown. A pool of hydraulic fluid lay forming immediately around the machine; in the split seconds during impact vents in the major joints had all opened, spewing fluid out onto the slagged ground, its release absorbing some of the shock of the impact. The under layer of gundanium armoring had melted and long dribbles of liquid metal had flowed down the armor shell, streaking its ghostly white coloring. Brittle streamlets of molten gundanium had leaked down across the cockpit hatch and dried, fusing the heavy door shut. Inside Heero Yuy sat strapped to the pilot's chair completely oblivious to the surrounding world, his head slumped off at an angle, unconscious.

"Bloody hell, it's fused shut." Abdul was trying to hotwire Zero's hatch to unlock. "It wouldn't matter if I bypass the emergency locks, we still wont be able to get it open." "Rashid, see if we brought one of the hydraulic clamps," said Dorothy, "Abdul, keep trying the security lock." "Yes ma'am," replied Abdul as Rashid handed his cutting torch to one of his compatriots and started walking back to the truck.

Weightlessness: Heero awoke to a sense of movement, and a sudden jolt of pain glared white behind his eyes. He tried to groan, or curse, or yell, but there was something blocking the sounds in his throat. He found his hands to be shackled and chained behind his back, and there was a foul taste of greasy metal filling his mouth. Sucking air in through his nostrils he forced his breathing to slow, and his heart rate to calm. Spinning his body so that he could face the ceiling he saw that there was no roof over the corridor, it simply let out into the open vacuum of space; a distant starfield rotated slowly across the open roof as the superstructure of the space station spun along its axis. There was very little lighting, but ahead of him he could see three spacesuit-clad figures pulling him along the sporadically lit hallway. Though the ceiling was open, there were not clean cut lines of separation or seems, but more like jagged holes blown out into space; the corridor was probably closed from space at one time. Along the walls, their dirty rust colored surfaces seemed to have a dark, murky looking substance coagulating in sticky pools of murderous brown, while vacuum corroded pipes crisscrossed and weaved about the walls like cancerous mechanical arteries. Floating about the corridor were various objects, objects of no particular interest except for the fact that they were very out of place in an open-vacuum corridor- there were a pair of tennis shoes drifting about close to one of the major pipe conduits, a tattered bandana, a man's work shirt- all of these items had various stains of long-dried blood. One of the men pulling Heero down the hallway accidentally nudged a pair of shiny platinum colored sunglasses and sent the object spinning slowly out the roof of the rotating station corridor, their reflective lenses glinting in the dim light of space until they drifted out of sight. As the station rotated, Heero could see a large cluster of lights flaring glitter into the passage from space. These miniature burning stars in the sky were the fusion torches of a one thousand ship strong armada. The diamond blazing drive tubes of the warship flotilla began to fall in on itself, its outer sparkles swirling inward towards the epicenter where a wavering event horizon disk collapsed, spewing light into space and melting the starfield into a wash of blankness. The event horizon flickered and exploded outwards faster than realization could compile inside Heero's skull.

Blinking tears away from his eyes, Heero tried to lift his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding 250,000-candle floodlight that spilled into the cramped interior of Wing Zero. "Heero? Heero, are you all right? Answer me Heero!" Heero coughed and groaned. Fiddling with his restraining harness he tried to unlatch himself so that he could stand up. Rising slowly to his feet, blood began to pour down his side and leak from a number of lacerations, bruises and various other injuries. Dorothy stepped through the ruined hatch and reached over to help steady the wounded pilot on his feet. "Jesus, Heero," was all she could say, his warm blood seeping down her own arms and staining her clothing as she tried to support his weight, helping him walk out of the wreckage of Zero. "Wait," he breathed into her ear just as they were making their way to the truck, "I have to get something." Letting go of Dorothy, Heero turned and stumbled back towards his mobile suit. "There is something that I need to get to Dr. J." Staggering back in the direction of the cockpit, Heero miss-stepped and lurched forward, collapsing onto the ground, his chest heaved up and down as he madly sucked air into his lungs. "Heero!" Dorothy sprinted back to her wounded friend. "Heero, what has gotten into you, we need to get you back to Quatre's so we can patch you up. What is it you need, we'll have Rashid get it for you." Heero regained his feet and reached out to steady himself on Dorothy's shoulder, "No, I'll get it," he managed to say. Staggering away from Dorothy, Heero pitched forward again, but she managed to grab him by his side and throw her arms around his waist, keeping him from falling. "You really are a stubborn ass, you know that Heero?" "Hn" "Grrr, Heero you're not a fucking machine!" Heero's hair was beginning to get blood soaked and was matted to his forehead, hanging down past his eyes, blocking his vision. Dorothy reached over and pulled his hair back to the side of his head and tucked some of it behind his ears, she was about to say something when she caught sight of the emotion in Heero's eyes. She had never seen anything beyond their cold armor of glacial blue. Heero shook his head and allowed his hair to fall back into his eyes, veiling the smoldering embers that kindled quietly inside of him.

"I can manage," he said, coughing for a moment. "I have to get it myself." "What is it that is so important? Why can't Rashid get it for you?" asked Dorothy. Heero didn't respond, he just continued to make his way back to the wrecked mobile suit. Reaching the cockpit, Heero steadied himself on one of the handles just inside the hatch and reached up over the pilot's seat. With a strain and a loud grunt he managed to rip a large black case from its bindings. "This," he said, "Is what is so important." Heero handed the weighty container to Abdul, who had come up with Dorothy to assist him, and began to shuffle back down the makeshift ramp that lead back down to the ground from the hatch. Abdul looked down at the heavy box Heero had handed him, down the ramp at the wounded pilot, and finally over to Dorothy, who just shook her head and trotted up next to Heero. Heero was slowly walking towards the rover, his head rolling about his neck like a broken accordion. Dorothy started to say something but stopped when Heero uttered a queer sound and reached up to grab his face as if he had been shot. He tried to say something but all that came out were gurgled words and sickly looking blood. Heero's hands dropped to his sides, he stood like that for a few moments until his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped forward, falling headlong into the desert sand. Rashid and Abdul rushed over to pick up the stricken pilot. Rashid picked him up and carried him over to the lead rover. Dorothy still stood beside the place where Heero had fallen, a large stain blotting out the ground like a lingering shadow under the glowing moonbeams.

* * *

Mars: the blood filled god of war- its red ironoxide surface certainly made it look its namesake. From the viewport on the P.R.A.I. orbital station Duo could see some of the city lights of the Martian capital, Boralis, their soft white glow shining dimly through the thin atmosphere of the shadowed nightside.

Ever since the Space War of A.C. 195 the Mars Terraforming project has been expanding at an exponential rate. Originally started in B.C.E. (Before Colony Era) 2130 it was more of a pet project of the U.A.C. rather than a full-blown operation. The project never got past the basic development of the planet. In its first few years the Union Aerospace Corporation constructed 27 some odd atmosphere generation stations around the equator and positioned 173 microwave satellites around the polar-regions. These microwave satellites used solar arrays to collect light and heat energy from the sun and direct it towards the poles to melt the ice in order to free water and various other trace minerals and gases. Seven years latter the project was abandoned for the Colony Project in 2140. In A.C. 185 the project was re-opened and in A.C. 190 it began allowing colonists from the general community, though colonization was extremely slow. However, after the war seemed to spark an interest in the general public and within 10 years from the initial opening in A.C. 185 the project had grown from 550 colonists under 2 pressure domes, to over 25 million people in 5 cities under an open Martian sky (though the atmosphere was only 70% Earth standard- similar to thin mountain air). However, the last 4 months had seen very little traffic, only a thousand colonists per month, only enough to fill a half dozen full starflights. Luckily the P.R.A.I. station wasn't a normal receiving platform for new colonists so the facility was somewhat more cheery than the colonization platforms orbiting the planet. Due to a fall in colonization, the Board of Directors for the planet had been forced to take cutbacks. The P.R.A.I. orbital gantries were the largest orbital stations around Mars, each spanning well over 2 kilometers in length. If one were to become unstable and impact the planet the result would be incredibly disastrous, so to provide as much warning and reaction time as possible in case of such an event, all seven of these station's held a geosynchronous orbit of at least 25,000 kilometers.

Duo's pager went off. "What the-," he had forgotten he had left it on during the flight. Stepping back from the binoculars fixed against one of the thick glass-polymer windows, Duo reached into his pocket and fished out his pager. "Who's calling, Duo?" asked Releena. "I dunno," he replied, making his way towards a public phone, "It just flashed a number, no message." Releena shrugged and resumed packing her book into her carryon suitcase. Duo managed to find a public phone that wasn't in use. Sliding into the booth he closed the door behind him. Dumping in the correct change he dialed the number recorded on his pager. The earpiece registered an electronic ringing while the screen in front of him flashed CONTACTING. After a few moments the other side picked up and the ever-serious mug of Dr. J materialized on the screen. "Well, well Duo, it seems that you made it on time and in one piece." "Heyas doc, so you're the one who paged me huh?" "Actually," said Dr. J, "It was my assistant Nadia, but yes, I wanted you to contact me. It seems that my- er, 'corporation' is conducting some onsite tests at the moment and will continue for an indeterminate amount of time. I want you and the rest to go on ahead to the surface, I'll have Nadia come and pick your group up. She will be assigned a private shuttle to take you up to the station." Duo scratched the back of his head and clacked his tongue against his teeth, "Sure doc, you have any idea when we might be expecting Ms. Nadia?" "Sorry Duo, not a clue." Duo nodded and just as he was about to hang up Dr. J remembered, "Oh wait, Duo, here, I'm faxing this to your payphone, it's a receipt for the Stanford Court Plaza, I have 2 rooms reserved for a couple of days. It's in the market district of Boralis." "Gotcha." "I'll see you in a couple of days, Duo." The transmission was terminated and Duo retrieved the faxed receipt from the dispenser below the screen. "The Stanza Court Plaza," Duo said to himself, "Sounds pretty classy." Stepping out of the phone booth he walked back to his friends.

"So who was it?" asked Hilde. "Dr. J," replied Duo, "He gave me a reservation for some hotel on Boralis."

"Well, at least that solves that problem," said Releena, yawning slightly. "I can get some more sleep, that flight felt like it took a week, not a day and a half." The group picked up their carryon luggage and meandered out into the main terminal. "I wonder where baggage claim is," asked Wade, "I'm kinda anxious to get down on the planet and rest up a bit, this interplanetary travel isn't so great for us older folks." Duo shot Wade a strange glance and shook his head. After they had been walking for a while, the group found a number of benches lined up together overlooking one of the terminals below. While the others were sitting down, Duo noticed a map screen on the far wall. "I'll be right back," he said, "I'm going to find out where the hell our gear is." Dr. Wade shrugged and leaned back on the bench and stretched his legs out, closing his eyes he folded both of his arms behind his head and yawned. "Dr. Wade?" asked Releena, stifling her own urge to yawn after the older scientist, "Have you ever been to Mars?" "Not for a long, long time," he replied, eyes still closed. "I was thinking on the flight here, I think I'm beginning to figure out what it is we might be doing." "And what might that be?" queried Duo, returning from the map. "Well," said Wade, "It's kind of hard to explain, but I think it might have something to do with some of my earlier research at one of the Mars stations." "I'm sure Dr. Wade will fill us in once we get to the hotel," for most of the trip Hilde had been very quiet, she had spent the duration of it leaned up against Duo's arm either listening to music and staring out the window or sleeping. Duo nodded, "I found out where we can get our stuff, there was a problem with one of the luggage conveyers, I don't know the specifics, the map computer didn't say anything else about it." The group stood up and gathered their carryon bags and followed Duo out of the terminal towards the luggage claim area. Luckily it only took a couple of minutes and a half-dozen rotations of the large carousel to bring out everyone luggage. Fortunately finding a shuttle down to Boralis wasn't quite as tricky as getting their luggage. Locating a flight to Boralis, the group made their way along one of the outer corridors of the station. The long arching clear roof of the corridor offered a superb view of the lazily rotating planet's night side below. The motorized handholds on the sides of the corridor sped the group off towards the shuttle boarding area, giving off a soft whir as the chain mounted grips hummed along towards either end of the station.

* * *

"What do the doctors say?" "They think he is going to make it, I haven't been in to see him though, and they aren't really talking much." Quatre and Dorothy sat alone in Quatre's living room. Dawn had long since broken, and Heero had been in surgery for the last 13 hours. Quatre had insisted on being in the operating room with his unconscious friend, but after being reassured that the doctors would do everything in their power to save the brutally wounded pilot, he was politely asked to excuse himself from the room (though secretly he was relieved that they had asked him to leave as he hated the sight of blood.) Evening was beginning to fall, and just as the red glimmer of waning daylight was filtering through the Egyptian cotton of the delicate curtains Dorothy was awakened by a gentle nudge on her shoulder. Quatre had stepped out, having to tend to his family's empire leaving her alone in the large room attached to the small medical facility that he had in residence. "Ms. Catalonia," said a man in a bloodstained lab coat, "Ms. Catalonia, would you please wake up." Dorothy blinked the sleep out of her eyes and looked about the room. Dusk had arrived and had splashed the room in a soft glow of orange. "Is Heero going to live?" she asked the doctor. The man nodded and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, "That person in there is quite the creation, I cannot understand why he is not dead." "Creation?" repeated Dorothy, her voice cracking ever so slightly, the remnants of sleep still circulating in her system. "How do you mean?" Shaking his head the doctor motioned for her to follow him into the operating room, "This is something you will have to see for yourself." The room had originally been a spare study attached to a few extra bedrooms that Quatre had converted into a small medical facility during the Eve Wars. Heero lay sleeping in a bed next to a large intricately cut glass window, his breath coming in shallow sighs. Leading Dorothy over to a brightly lit wall, he hung a few X-ray photographs up to examine, saying: "During his operation we had to repair a large amount of damage to his muscular system, but surprisingly there was nowhere near as much damage to his skeletal mass as we had expected. Of course there was some damage, 3 broken ribs, a telescoped spinal column, dislocated shoulder and various others fractures. But what really surprised us was the condition of his major bones, not only were none of them damaged, but they also gave a very peculiar X-ray image, as you can see here." Pointing to one of the photographs he continued, "The bones here give back a normal X-ray reflection, however, when we moved down to X-ray his major leg bones we found a much more solid image. The bones are dense, like a metal or some sort of indo-steel. We don't know what this means exactly, but 8 of his major bones have been replaced by this material. It appears to be far lighter than bone as well." "Interesting," was all Dorothy could say, she honestly had no idea what to make of this. "How is his condition at the moment?" she asked, "I know you said he was going to live, but how long will his recovery take." A nurse came in and changed one of Heero's IV bags and replaced a number of his bandages. "I don't know, physically his body will recover itself very quickly. During the operation we noticed that in his non-enhanced bones there was already a state of regeneration and repair that is not normally seen for two, even three weeks. Same goes for the damage to his internal organs. His body will be healed to 90% functionality within a matter of weeks. Anyone else in his condition would have died for certain." "What about his mental state?" asked Dorothy, a hint of apprehension lacing her voice. "To be honest," he said, "I never did receive much formal training on the intricate workings of the human brain and psychology. What I can cell you based on the CAT scans we have taken, and the amount of injuries sustained by the body, is that his mind has been severely traumatized. I do not know what happened to him, all I can say is that it might be a very long time until his conscious mind heals." Dorothy made her way over to the side of Heero's bed and leaned against the wall, staring down at the unconscious pilot. His hair had grown considerably and hung limp, sprawled about his head. "What are your recommendations?" she asked quietly. Shaking his head the doctor replied, "There really isn't anything you can do. I suppose some sort of stimulus might help bring him back to reality, but that is probably a long shot" "Stimulus?" "Yes, patients who are in a coma like state are known to be somewhat aware of their surroundings, recognize familiar voices, understand conversations. That sort of thing." The doctor removed his lab coat and hung it on a peg near the door, turning to Dorothy he spoke on his way out, "Sometimes they respond to physical touch as well." The doctor stepped out and the same young nurse walked briskly into the room, " 'Scuse me m'am," she said, "Would you mind stepping out? I need to give him a bath, he is dreadfully dirty." Dorothy nodded and left Heero in the care of the nurse. Night had filled the desert while a cool breeze crept up on the dunes.

* * *

Though the terreforming itself had taken a number of years, the true colonization aspect of the Mars Project had taken off with an energy not even the original developers would have imagined. Because of its lower gravity, on Mars buildings were constructed both rapidly and efficiently (and with no lack of buyers to fill building space.) Skyscrapers leapt to unheard of heights, some towered over a kilometer high. Colonization powered by a massive population both on Earth and in the space colonies, and fueled by corporate expansiveness and a desire for exploration, demanded large cities and new construction techniques. New materials were tested and industry started on Mars, (though for the time being a large portion of the Martion industry was energy corporations such as NovaCorp, which owned 90% of the atmospheric generation plants).

Nights on Mars were a sky watcher's dream come true. The thinner atmosphere and severe lack of moisture in the air allowed considerably more starlight to reach the ground. Hilde sat at the windowsill of the room that she and Releena were sharing, starring up into the sky waiting for nothing in particular to happen. Releena, Duo, and Wade had already gone to bed- the lengthy shuttle flight from the moon had taken its toll. One never could sleep too well on a shuttle, no legroom. High above her, the lights of the orbital stations glimmered; they drifted lazily along a black pond speckled with pinholes of light. Opening the window, she eased her legs over the edge and leaned out into the night. Even though she was 4 stories up, she didn't worry too much, the low gravity on Mars was only 70% Earth standard, (though it had been the cause for great concern in the early days of colonization/terraforming). Breathing deeply, the air was dry but cool, and it felt good in her lungs after the processed air of the shuttle. In front of her gleamed the skyline of Boralis, its trademark towers stretching high into the night sky. During the day, the glass embossed structures shone with a light that seemed to radiate outward from them, standing tall their outlines etched against a pale blue sky. The market district where the hotel was located was 7 kilometers from the city's spaceport, surrounding the hotel were shops and malls of all descriptions. For the most part it consisted of a grid of city blocks spanning several kilometers in all directions. The shops were made of a synthetic polymer designed to be easily molded and to look like stone, giving the place a slightly Italian/Romanesque look to it. The shops were clean, and the people were cheery. The department of colonization made sure every person had a job who wanted one. Crime was virtually nonexistent . The city lights were bright and soothing against the midnight sky. Closing her eyes, Hilde leaned her head against the windowsill and breathed contently. A slight breeze snuck into the room and swished the white embroidered curtains around behind her, whispering into her ears. Yawning, Hilde eased her legs in from outside and closed the window. Standing up she leaned forward and touched her forehead to the glass pane, smiling she looked out at the sleeping city. Returning to bed, she slipped quietly under her sheets and sank into dreams.

* * *

On board the Lancet class destroyer, Hood, Chang Wufei's alarm went off at 0500 hours. Grumbling to himself he reached over and switched[?ú the alarm. Sitting up in bed, he looked over at his roommate, Lt. Ives, who was still sleeping soundly. Yawning, Wufei stretched and got out of bed, padding in his socks over to the viewport where Jupiter's dayside was rising. Being assigned as a resident mobile suit pilot for the defense of the Jovian O'Neil Combine (O'Neil Chemicals merged with the newly formed Jovian Aerospace during the pioneering days of H3 mining on Jupiter; the company currently held a monopoly on H3 exportation to the Earth and her umbrella of colony clusters), he had found that he always enjoyed the sight. Though there was a strong military presence in the Jupiter Orbital Array, (often simply referred to as JOVE), there were very few mobile suits. All of mobile suit production had been reduced to a mere shadow of its former self in light or recent years. Modern space fighters were far faster than mobile suits (though nowhere near as maneuverable) and were a fraction of the cost. Because H3 mining was absolutely vital to interplanetary travel/trade, the Earth Federation, along with the colonies, constructed a large fleet for its defense. Though this fleet was of substantial firepower it didn't hold a candle to the fleets of previous space wars. The fleet was lead by the command carrier, Eisenmann (Iron Man). The Lancet class of destroyers was a novelty to the fleet. They were the smallest of all destroyers (essentially a destroyer powerplant/drive combination fused with an enlarged frigate body, giving tremendous energy reserves to the overpowered vessel). Because the powerplant output of a destroyer exceeds the energy consumption of a frigate by more than 3 times, the designers of the Lancet decided to put this overflow to use. Running almost the entire length of the ships spine was an ion acceleration ladder spindled into a double helix formation with vented plasma ducts crisscrossing the helix network every 5 meters. The idea was to draw ions from the plasma being dumped into the fusion torch and to accelerate them down the ladder. Once the ion stream passed over the plasma ducts that crossed the network in the form of large pipes, each with a bulging center with large vents gauged into it, the ion stream would draw plasma mass from the vent ducts and continue onward towards the bow of the ship where it would be projected into space by a specially fitted nozzle. The nozzle could be adjusted to generate a highly concentrated beam of supercharged ionic mass, or to disperse the energy as radiation in a conical region to act as an ECM (electronic counter measure), thus jamming most forms of telecommunication and sensor apparatus. Because the main weapon's acceleration ladder took up a large portion of the ship, the normal frigate's compliment of 4 mobile suits and 2 strike craft (or 1 bomber) was reduced to just 3 mobile suits and a reconnaissance vehicle (though her missile bays were increased to nearly a full destroyer's loadout). Even with the new power requirements of the PPC (particle projection cannon), the ships power needs were still far under the production capacity of the powerplant. Several beam cannons were added to the frigate's compliment of 3 bow-mounted batteries and a number of turrets in the rear (mostly providing anti-mobile suit protection). The resulting vessel was a powerful mix of anti-warship capabilities as well as considerable anti- mechanized defense, both of these increased to a standoff range by her compliment of cruise missiles and rockets, (the standard frigate carried only anti-mobile suit rockets and a handful of Polaris anti-warship torpedoes in addition to her beam cannons). Wufei turned away from the viewport and glared at his sleeping roommate. He reached down and picked up the pillow off of his bed and tossed it onto the head of the sleeping Lt., "Wake up," was all he said to the startled pilot. "Oi, can't a guy get any sleep around here?" grumbled Ives, "We're supposed to be on leave anyhow, we still have an hour." Wufei twisted his glare to show his displeasure. What "leave" was considered out in the Jovian Array, was 2 weeks repair in dry dock with one of the giant mooring facilities for maintenance. Other than the H3 miners and their families, there were precious few civilians out beyond the asteroid belt. "Right, right.." Said Ives, trailing off. Wufei snorted and gathered his clothes up and left for a shower. Even though he was only a command master chief (petty officer, equivalent to command sergeant major, 2nd highest non-commissioned rank) he had refused countless promotions and wished to remain as a non-com. He was allowed to use the officer's shower because of his pilot status. Stifling another yawn, he turned on the hot water and steam soon filled the small communal shower room. Standing under the stream of hot water, its heat flowing down his body, Wufei breathed in deep and slow, until his vision blurred ever so slightly. Resuming his shower he produced a small bottle of shampoo and began to lather up his hair. Behind him, the door to the shower opened and in came Lt. Ives followed by Lt. Commander Romanova. Lt. Com. Iria Romanova came from a long military lineage, her great grandfather had been killed in the space war of A.C. 095, and her grandfather had been a Major in the space war of A.C. 137. Her father was currently an Admiral in command of the 3rd Fleet defending the moon and Tranquility Halo. Ives walked over to one of the small storage lockers and opened the door, hanging his towel over his shoulder he stripped and placed his clothes inside. Whistling to himself he made his way over to the showerhead next to Wufei and turned it on. Water sputtered out of the cold metal pipes and pooled at his feet, seeping slowly into the drain in the side of the wall. "You know," he said, "You're the worst alarm clock I've ever had." Wufei snorted and rinsed his hair. "You two are always at it." Ives peered over Wufei's shoulder and glared at Lt. Com. Romanova, who had taken the showerhead on the other side of Wufei. She grinned at him and he rolled his eyes, water soaked into her auburn hair. Wufei finished his shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He walked over to one of the water faucets and began to fill the washbasin with hot water so that he could shave. He truly hated shaving, even though he only had to do it a few days out of the week out of necessity, he forced himself to go through the actions every day so as not to become slack and to keep up a consistent appearance. The crew slept, showered and exercised in the artificial gravity induced by the counter rotating wheels of the living quarters. The rest of the ship was null-G. The shower drains were connected to the side of the wall where it joined with the floor (as opposed to beneath your feet) in order to use this rotation-induced gravity to siphon down the water to be recycled into the system. Following his shower, Wufei always spent time in the ships small gymnasium (this exercise was absolutely crucial in a null-G environment, muscles will begin to atrophy after only a few days of neglect), for the most part he used free weights and resistance based mechanisms and stayed away from the electronic machines. Ives was not only his wingman, but was one of the few people he tolerated enough on the ship to befriend to some degree. They always worked out together. Though often times Lt. Com. Romanova would be present in the gym, she always conducted her exercises alone and in total silence, not even mouthing a grunt or a groan. Ives strolled into the room and began setting up one of the resistance machines so that he could work his upper back and shoulder muscles. Wufei pulled down a set of parallel bars from one of the wall dollies and began to stretch his arms and legs on them before lifting himself up by his arms and performing a number of exaggerated gymnast-like maneuvers (exaggerated by the lower gravity). Ives smirked at him and got to work with his resistance machine, a number of pulleys attached to the wall with wires running through them, attached to the wires were 2 large paddles. The user would fasten each hand to a paddle by a series of straps, and then sit with his legs out in front of him and secure his legs to the bench by another series of straps. The user would then moves his arms in a swimming-like motion. The resistance of the wire/pulley combination is what the machine was based on. While it was very difficult to "beef up" in null gravity (not that this is a bad thing, you don't want a lot of body mass to hinder your movements) it is easy to retain your already existing muscle mass and to strengthen it to some degree. After spending 20 minutes or so in the gymnasium Wufei would return to their room and change into his pit overalls and make his way to the hanger bay where he served as head mobile suit technician along with his pilot's role. Though he had very little in common with the other gundam pilots, one interest that he and Heero both shared was an uncommon knack for the understanding of machines and a love of tinkering. He spent many hours up to his elbows in grease, machine oil, and the oversized bulk of mobile suit parts. Often times Ives would lend a hand if there was something that absolutely required two people, but otherwise Wufei was the only full time mobile suit technician. The reconnaissance spaceplane was left in the hands of its pilot, Lt. Com. Romanova. In spite of his two roles onboard the ship, Wufei rarely minded the extra work, as patrol flights were only once or twice a day and weren't terribly long. The result was not much wear and tear on the machines and he got to toy around with them, both in the cockpit and in the hanger bay. One of the things he had been able to do once they had docked for maintenance was to load up on more spare parts for their mobile suits. The right elbow's actuator and gimbals on his Leo II needed to be completely replaced. Ives' mobile suit needed a total powerplant overhaul and for its mainframe to be reformatted and debugged. While he was trying to machine a new bearing for one of the various gimbals, Lt. Ives entered the hanger followed by a young ensign of about 25 and redheaded female who bore the 3 downward stripes under double stars of a master chief petty officer. "Hey, Wufei!" Ives had to shout over the noise of the lathe, eventually he and the ensign made their way up behind him and he tapped on Wufei's shoulder. Wufei turned around and regarded Ives for a moment or two and then switched his gaze over to the new officer. He turned back to the machine and turned off the power. "Wufei," said Ives, "I'd like you to meet our new mobile suit pilot, Ensign Freeman, he's on loan to us from the Isolder base in Siberia." The ensign reached out to shake Wufei's hand. Wufei frowned and pulled the heavy leather gauntlet off of his right hand and silently clasped Freeman's hand in his own. After a moment Freeman thought that the petty officer was staring over his shoulder so he turned on his heels and saw that the female chief had remained where the two had paused at the hatchway of the hanger. Ives noticed this a few seconds after Freeman and motioned for the woman to come over to them. While she was making her way over to where the three men were standing, Wufei turned to Freeman and asked quietly, "Sir, is this you're first assignment out of the academy?" Freeman blinked and seemed to not have heard him before he remembered the single gold bar on his shoulder setting him apart as an officer. He grinned sheepishly at having been called "Sir" by this imposing young petty officer. "Yes," he finally replied, "This will be my first assignment. Will this be a problem?" Wufei was about to reply but before he could the female petty officer strode up beside Ives and smiled weakly at the three men, feeling a little out of place. Ives introduced her as Master Chief Petty Officer (fleet) Sarah Bowman. She shook hands with Ensign Freeman and Wufei, though his apparent mood seemed to have soured somewhat. "Wufei," began Ives, "Is the Hood's 3rd resident mobile suit pilot. He may not be an officer but he is a damn good pilot, so don't let his rank fool you." "If he is a pilot why is he machining a new bearing? Isn't that a mechanic's job?" Wufei glared at the new ensign but before he could open his mouth Ives cut in. "He's a pilot, but he is also our chief mechanic as well. He's an ex-gundam pilot so we tend to trust his judgment when it comes to the machines." At the mentioning of the gundam, both Petty Officer Bowman and Ensign Freeman's eyebrows shot up. "Gundam?" they said in tandem. Wufei blushed ever so slightly and returned to his lathe. The machine began to whirr and a small trickle of water sputtered out from an overhead nozzle and encapsulated the sphere in the center of the machine. The bearing was about the size of a fist and shone with the noncolor of quicksilver as water slid over its surface. Ives turned back to his new crewmates and smirked to himself. "I guess this concludes our tour of the hanger deck. I'm sure you two will be spending enough time in here so lets continue on down to D deck.." "Wufei lost the tail end of their conversation as the trio left the hanger deck. To him it made no difference who he worked with and, to some extent, who he flew with. The new ensign looked competent enough, if not a little shy, but he had no idea what to think of his new assistant. She was pretty enough, he had always been attracted to red-heads. The smallest sliver of a smile slipped across his lips as he remembered the deep green of her eyes, they reminded him of someone. Outside Wufei was harder than gundanium, possibly even more armored than Heero, but inside he was a vast sea of warmth.

* * *

Duo's thoughts were blanketed in sleep. They ebbed and flowed in a quiet tumult of nothingness and eddied into small pools of occasional awareness. Then a stone was hurled into the middle of it. "Duo!" Hilde landed right on top of Duo as he lay sleeping. The pilot's eyes popped open and dilated to about 2 and a half times their normal size. A small yelp escaped from him and he bolted up in bed, almost smacking foreheads with the energetic German girl. Regaining his senses somewhat Duo stifled a yawn and looked down at the dark-headed pixie who had entangled him in her arms and was drowning him in kisses. "Oi." he said, rubbing the back of his head and trying to untangle the mass of hair that would eventually become his trademark braid. "It's hard to be mad at someone who misses you when you're sleeping." Daylight was peeping into the room through slits in the drawn curtains. Hilde kissed Duo quickly on the mouth and got up to open the curtains. "You need to get up honey, Releena and I are going to go out in a bit to see her brother and Noin." Duo sat up and rubbed his face in his hands and yawned. Hilde left him to get dressed. He tossed the covers off of him and stood up. Stretching, he glanced out the window to the newly wakened city. It was a new day and he had no idea what he was gonna do. "Hey, Wade, you know of anything interesting to do on Mars?" Wade mumbled something incoherent and rolled over in bed, drawing more of his blanket over the top of his head, the end of his gray pony tail was dangling just over the side of the bed. Duo snorted and walked over to his suitcase where he retrieved his shaving kit and a pair of boxers.

Wade opened his eyes and blinked. He heard water running in the bathroom and figured that Duo was taking a shower. He got up and walked over to the sliding door of their balcony, a slight hint of pain would creep into his knees every now and again. He unlatched the door slid it open letting in a warm breeze of dry air. It had been a long time since he visited Mars, or any of the PRAI facilities, or even been off the Earth.

Duo stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, being extra careful not to pull out any of his hair or tangle it anymore than it already was. Putting on a pair of clean cutoff jeans and a tan colored undershirt he opened the bathroom door, hair in hand, and stepped out ioughthe hotel room. He paused at the full body mirror hanging on the wall across from the bathroom door and brushed the long drapes of chestnut colored hair. Once he had gotten most of the tangles out he went over to the door that joined his room to the girls' room and knocked a few times. "You in there Hilde?" after a few seconds of quiet he rapped on the wooden door again, "Releena, is Hilde in there?" again, no answer. Often times Hilde would volunteer to assist Duo in braiding his hair. Though he was perfectly capable of accomplishing this on his own, he did not hesitate to call on her whenever he got the chance. Duo chewed on his lower lip for a moment and then sidestepped away from the door and plopped himself down on his bed, facing out the large glass sliding door of the balcony. Fiddling with the mass of hair behind his head, Duo adroitly formed a neat braid. When he was finished he let it hang limp down his back. Duo yawned for the Nth time that morning and walked out onto the balcony. The street below was coming alive with the bustle of life and the city was slowly waking up from the sedative Martian night. Smirking to himself Duo sat down on one of the white plastic chairs and pulled up a footstool. He propped his legs up and leaned back against the wall of his hotel room, looking out over Boralis. The city wasn't exactly massive but it did possess a number of peculiarities. The city of Boralis was built in one of the larger craters that made up a significant portion of the planets surface. The city was designed in a tiered fashion so that center districts of the city rose up, level by level, out of the bloody desert. Walkways and elevated highways jutted out in all directions to connect the superstructure of the central complex to its myriad of shopping districts, industrial sites and the elevated starpart that rested just at edge of the crater's eastern wall so that newcomers could look out over the city with relative ease. Hands behind his head, Duo glanced up at the hazy blue sky and wondered what there was to do now that Wade had slipped off and the girls had gone to visit Releena's brother and Lucretzia. After 15 minutes of silence Duo stood up and went inside to put on his boots. After he laced up the thick black leather combat boots he looked at himself in the mirror and chuckled at his appearance. On his way out the door he grabbed his pistol and shoulder holster and put a spare magazine in his left pocket. Though the holster slung under his left armpit was clearly visible he put on his Preventers' jacket and figured no one would pay much attention to the fact that he was armed. Even though Mars, for the most part, was a quaint little settlement compared to Earth, he has never much bothered to break his old habits of going everywhere armed (it was a habit that had saved his hide on more than one occasion). After closing the hotel room behind him, he put on a black baseball cap with the designation numbers for the ship he had last served on, FCS- 117, above the designation numbers was the silhouette of an old dreadnaught class battleship to indicate that she had been a ship of the line. Twisting the hat around so that the bill was angled behind his head and was pushed down on the back of his neck over his bread, he set off down the hall and stopped in front of the elevators. The doors chimed open and he stepped inside. The middle-aged couple already occupying the elevator car asked him if he was going to go to the lobby. Upon his reply the man pressed the "Ground" button and the lift shuttled its way down the shaft. On his way out of the lobby, as he was passing through the automatic sliding doors leading out to the street, Duo's cell rang. He pulled it out of his coat pocket and flipped open the receiver. The image on the screen flashed to life and the face of Dr. J's assistant, Nadia, sparked into view. "Hello Colonel," said the petite brunette woman, "I called to let you know that you need to have your gear ready to go by 7:30 AM tomorrow. I'm arranging to have someone pick you and your group up from the hotel to meet me at the spaceport by 8:00." "I see," replied Duo. Nadia smiled and just before she closed the link off Duo cut in, "Er, Ms. Nadia, I have a question for you." "Yes?" "Might you have any idea what it is that the good doctor wants to see me and the others about?" "No, Duo, I don't have the slightest idea. I'm sorry I couldn't help you." "Its alright," he said to her in turn. "Thanks for the heads up." Duo shut down the transmission and placed the phone back into his pocket. He continued down the sidewalk, peering into the occasional shop or restaurant. His stomach rumbled and he decided to grab a quick breakfast. The sun hang as a fulminating ball of white magnesium fire in the sky, its burning girth hovered in the sky at about a quarter to 10. The atmosphere on Mars was a good bit thinner than Earth, but still thick enough to allow for enough photon scatters to create a pale blue sky. The sun was also a bit brighter, if not a bit smaller. While eating a breakfast of Belgium waffles and eggs in a small café called the Planet Blue, Duo reached back into his jacket and produced the cell again. He quickly punched in the number for the phone directory and summoned the number for the no. 2 PRAI orbital array and supplied Dr. J's extension number when electronically prompted. The phone rang a handful of times before his voice messaging came on. Duo hung up instead of leaving a message. He paid and left a generous tip before wondering back out into the early Martian day.

At about the same time Duo was ordering his breakfast, Heero lay sprawled out under an outside pavilion on Quatre's estate. His bedroom upstairs opened up onto a large observation deck in the back of the mansion, a number of other rooms on the same floor also had sliding doors that lead onto the large marble shaded patio. There was a small fountain in the middle, right under a large domed skylight. Dorothy had gotten into the habit of wheeling Heero (still unconscious and bed ridden) out under the skylight to sit by the fountain. She hoped that the continuous sound of the flowing fount would stir the pilot out of his stupor. She would sit on the ledge of the water art (a large alabaster sphere with small pricks of clear silicone crystals dotting the entire surface of the sculpture, on the top of the artwork was an opening for water to pour out of and flow over the face of the sphere) and read a book. Next to her she would have Heero (still in his bed of course). This particular piece of water art was one of her favorites, if the moon was right, or the stars were bright, the light they shone in the sky would filter through the skylight above the fountain and the silicone crystals would echo the starlight and glitter under the organic ripple of water creating a mosaic of light and shadow on the roof of the patio. Dorothy sat next to Heero, reading a book of haiku's aloud:

warm fireflies float amid the midnight showers: blaze and drop, then gone.

iron cinders of stars cool in expanding darkness: too late for regrets

dragon in the dark, your eyes move across the stars, your breath warms the moon.

Next to Dorothy, Heero slept, his chest would rise and fall with small breaths. He never moved or made a sound other than the sigh of his breathing. Dorothy put the book in her lap and reached over to stroke the side of Heero's check and run her hand through his mess of hair. She whispered something in his ear and walked back inside to get another book.

Heero was being dragged through the end of the airless passageway and was roughly hauled through a large airlock door, the back of his helmet smacked into the rusted bulkhead of the far wall. One of the suited figured punched in a series of numbers on a keypad next to the airlock door and the mechanism cycled shut, musty air rushed into the chamber and filled it with atmosphere. The inner door cycled open and the 4 of them shuffled passed the door. Heero had had his helmet removed by one of the men and was now being led down another hallway, this one looked to be in an even worse state of decay (minus being exposed to vacuum of course). By the time they reached what felt to be the completely opposite end of the station the leather strap on the back of Heero's head was beginning to throb. The thick strap was attached to a large metal gear that was fastened against his front jaw, propping his mouth open. The gear tasted foul and had a pungent greasy residue all around it. His hands remained shackled behind his back and a thick metal rod ran up the length of his back that was attached to the belt around his head, and the binds on his arms so that if he were to struggle to get his hands free, the movement would pull on the gear in his mouth and possibly dislocate his jaw. It also provided a solid means for his captors to grab him in null-g. Finally they entered a large room that was completely dark except a small beam of light that filtered in through a large skylight in the roof. In the center of the lighted region was a bed with more straps. Heero was manhandled into reclining on the bed. His arms, hands, legs and ankles were all fastened securely to the bed. Above him he saw the system's red giant star. Every 27 minutes a small white burning ember would wing around the behemoth, a small red stream of flame would trail behind the immaculate flare and lap about it like thirsty tongues. It took a moment for Heero to realize that the smaller object circling the massive star was a white dwarf star. A single tablespoon of substance from the dwarf would mass many times greater than the Earth. Eventually the gravity of the supra dense white star would collapse the well and it would begin to devour itself, falling into a black hole of its own creation. The fact that there was such a station around the oddly paired binary star system spoke very highly of his captors ability to armor against radiation and other forms of energy based assault. The X-ray radiation being sprayed out into space would have been tremendous. Once he was secured to the bed/table (it was just a slab of metal with a white sheet over it), a thick vein analogous tube was attached to the head of the gear that had been jammed into Heero's mouth. After a moment a machine clicked on somewhere in the room and a thick vile fluid began to seep down his throat. He gagged at first but forced himself to suppress the reflex so as not to drown in his own vomit. The fluid filled his stomach and then, as if gauging that he had had enough, the flow suddenly cut off. No sooner had the flow of the thick mucus like oil been shut off, then a small machine descended down from the ceiling. The room had somehow become even darker than when he had first entered. Right below the machine danced a pair of tiny orange embers. Their brightness pulsed and they grew steadily closer to his eyes. They seemed forever away, right up until the moment they pierced his eyes and filled his brain with fire. The instinct to scream was launched down his spine. Just as it reached his lungs and vocal chords it was cut short by a collapse in awareness. The last thing Heero remembered seeing of that terrible pain filled room was the bloody red eye of the raging star and its tiny white neighbor. Darkness filled his vision and his consciousness wavered over a sea of black ice. Above the ice hovered Luna, her great white iris and surrounding eyelashes of the Halo lights. She blinked, and a starship burst out from the black center while blood poured out of her ashen white eye.







AN: okies. it took me a bloody long time to write this. Gomen.

Questions? Comments? Flames? Send them to dreamed_i_killed_god@yahoo.com or catch me on AIM, my screen name is ninepin56

Also, I need to give some credit to a few other authors. One of the haiku's was taken from a very good book called The Engines of God. The others were taken from a French sci-fi short story that I cannot remember the name of ( the name translates into "the cry of the heart"). Also, various other ideas/terms were influenced by a myriad of other science fiction works, too many for me to list.

Also, don't worry about what it is that doc J wants, it wont have too much bearing on the story (ive had a number of emails asking if I was ever going to get to that). Just let me have fun with my world building and ill do my damndest to come up with a good story.

I don't know how long it will take me to write the next part. hopefully not 6 months like this one.