Chapter 3- Good Morning, General.
Location- Classified. Present day.
Quatre flipped through his clipboards contents. Coded documents regarding his gundam. The machine was incomplete, and he was surprised the back up system had enabled him to pilot it as much as he had. The new style frequency generator had been installed, along with the back up system, but the main system was missing several parts. He was going to have to fix it himself… or at least try to. He wasn't as talented as his sister had been with tools. DT at school was hard enough. He'd managed to break the band facer, a pillar drill and three coping saws in the first lesson he'd had. Duo had laughed at him. Trowa had patiently fetched him another saw and watched as he destroyed it… and Heero had quietly observed as he fixed up a perfect computer circuit for his moving toy project in five minutes. The delay had been due to the 'incompetent' technicians being slow bringing him his parts. Quatre smiled at the memory. That sweet period of peace. What a strange experience it had been. He had checked over the day's documents in the evening, which his sixteen secretaries and assistants had done whilst he was out, and by day he did his homework in the lunch hour, sat in lessons with fellow civilians and after school on a Thursday he'd go to orchestra. And as a bonus, every two weeks there would be a debating society meet. He was always asked to be a speaker, after the very first time he'd given it a try. He relished that time. Being liked, looking up to, admired by some, even. There had been that one girl… Elle or something, who sat at the back of the class and simply stared at him. She'd come to orchestra and play the piano, and she'd come to the debates and sit out in the floor, just silently watching. Flattery. How he loved it. There was a sharp clang beside him, and he squealed, jumping away.
"SORRY!!" Duo cried from high above, gesturing towards the dropped central piston.
"Careful, Maxwell!" Wu-fei chided from across the way as he sat in Nataku's cockpit, adjusting the controls, "that cost a bomb, and I'm not replacing it!" Duo winked at Wu-fei.
"Come on, Fei! It's made of Gundamium! It's hard as rock!"
"Actually it's a different alloy mixture than the stuff we're used to, Duo," Quatre said, kneeling down beside the enormous piston, "its more brittle, but fine once its greased and used a few times. But if you drop it, it could shatter due to the carbon content." Duo blinked and then cocked his head.
"Whaddya whaddya huh? Whered'ya hear that loada googah!?" Quatre smiled weakly.
"Kitty did a little work with pistons like these when she overhauled her jet last year. She told me about it…" Quatre suddenly trailed off, running a hand over the large cast component. Duo looked over for some comfort, but Wu-fei was hurriedly tapping away inside the cockpit. They all tried to avoid the subject of Quatre's little sister now. They'd all met her. The all knew her well. It was painful for most of them to think of her, and they all knew how upset Quatre could get over her. It had been two months since the accident now. All the news stations reported she was recovering well. They failed to report her sudden mood change from sweet, innocent, well brought up Kitty Winner to this prudent, obnoxious lump of vanity and pride that was, as Quatre termed it, 'the empty shell'. So of course, our poor misinformed pilots had no idea what was going on behind closed doors. The minicrane reached down and lugged the heavy piston back up. Quatre frowned and looked at the crate of parts waiting for him. This was impossible. Heero's trainers squeaked a little as he jogged down the corridor, wiping his hands with a rag. Quatre sighed.
"Heero!" he called after the boy. Heero stopped and turned.
"Yeah?" he asked. Quatre sighed.
"Can you do the parts refit to Sandrock? I'll pay you! Anything, honest!" Heero snorted and began to walk away.
"I'll do it, but while I'm at it, I'd better give you a lesson in mobile suit maintenance."
"Guys, get down the office, quick" Trowa's voice crackled over the line. Heero glanced at Quatre, before jogging off in the direction of the office. Quatre was soon after him, with Wu-fei Duo shooting down the support cables and catching up. The four boys burst into the office at the same time to find Trowa hovering over the laptop, hurriedly clicking and scanning the screen with his emerald eyes.
"What is it?" Duo asked. Trowa didn't look up.
"The NEA have made the first move. According to this report on their log files, they've appointed a new Commanding General, Marianna Kittenne. She looks pretty young to be a general, though." The other pilots gathered around the screen and looked on the picture. An attractive girl stood before then, a sweep of golden brown hair covering one eye, the rest of her hair swept up under a military cap. Her eyes were black, her expression determined and stern. Her lips, painted a subtle shade of red, were turned down in a solemn frown. She was underweight, thin and beaten looking. She had obviously borne the brunt of hard times. Duo's eyes flicked over the screen.
"Whoah!" he exclaimed, "she's just been brought in, and she's got full access! She decides which operations each soldier is placed on, which ships they use…"
"And she's only there to lead cargo trips? Bullshit." Wu-fei placed a finger on the screen under her job status. NEA covered all cargo going from earth to space. They were continuing to provide supplies at this time, but it was just a matter of time before they pulled the plug on the colonies' earth based resources. Heero frowned.
"Check background data," he commanded.
"Done that. Drawing a blank. She's just appeared out of the ashes, it seems. No records, no certificates of rank, no birth certificate…"
"She could have changed her name," Duo suggested. Trowa shook his head.
"She's probably some colony based criminal who wants a fresh start and's threatened the NEA leaders into appointing her." Trowa looked at Heero. The Japanese boy sighed.
"Then there's no threat. She'll flunk out pretty quick. If not, then we'll know we've got a problem. For now, I'd rather be worrying about fixing up that gundam…" Heero left the room. Duo stretched.
"Yeah… me too. Call me if there's a problem Trowa." He followed Heero out. Wu-fei pulled a post-it off the notice board.
"I'll re-fuel Heavyarms," he said, "you keep an eye on events." He promptly left. Trowa turned to thank Wu-fei, when he noticed Quatre. The boy, brighter than he had been, was perching on the edge of the desk, staring intently at the screen. His brows were draw tight, as if he were glaring at something he detested.
"You OK?" Trowa offered. Quatre jumped a little and looked up.
"Oh, it's nothing," he said lightly, "just deja vue, that's all." He got up and swiftly left the room. Trowa's gaze followed him. The taller boy sighed and sat back down at the keyboard and began his hurried typing again.
Location- NEA Space Centre BetaPrime, 12 Hours Earlier. God Bless time travel ^^
Commander Hiwatari leapt up from his seat, face blanched in fear at what the monitors showed.
"Mobile dolls 32 through 96 are not responding sir!" cried a grunt, hurriedly running the scanner programs
"Regiment Leo, regiment leo, come in, over!" cried the man on his left.
"We're suffering severe casualties sir!" The grunt swung around, his eyes wide with terror. Hiwatari glanced at the other four commanders, all but one far older than him. Their faces were set with stony expressions, knotted brows taught above darkened eyes.
"What is this magic?" Commander Oninetchi murmured, his thick dark lips barely moving. Solonne, a snivelling middle-thirties man, was mumbling under his breath next to him, eyes wide. Yamue sighed heavily, standing up.
"Stop this," he whispered.
"As you wish," said the woman silkily. A machine materialised, pressed against the side of the station, about to bore its way into the docking bays, now that the external defences were spent. The machine, about the same size as a mobile suit, pushed off the building, and its boosters kicked in, causing it to stop out by the third defence ring.
"A magnificent display," Yamue pushed his chair back and walking calmly towards the woman. Abarov swallowed hard, his pale eyes whirling at the knife blade pressed against his throat. The woman frowned and pressed harder. The young gentlemen yelped as the blade cut through the skin, and a faint trickle of blood snaked down his blanched neck. Yamue froze.
"What is it that you want?" he asked slowly, resting both hands on the solid mahogany stick he used to assist him in walking. "And in achieving what you want, why does my grandson have to die?" He took another step.
"Please grandfather!" Abarov yelped, before the blade flicked up and gashed at his cheek.
"Stand still and shut up," the woman commanded, glaring darkly at the four men at the table. Hiwatari, shaking hard, sat down with a thud and stared into his lap. Oninetchi whispered something to Solonne, who nodded slowly.
"Speak up," the woman barked. Oninetchi glanced up, malice in his glare.
"I said that you were probably a crack pot, escaped from some colony jail," he hissed. The woman smirked.
"I'm from earth," she replied calmly, her voice taunting. Half her face was covered with a sweep of golden brown hair, the rest tucked up under a beret. A bubbling, half healed scar eased its way out from under her hair across her chin and the bridge of her nose. "My name is Marianna Kittenne. I was born in Luxembourg by illegitimate father and prostitute. I was raised in an orphanage, which I ran away from at 14, and became a mobile suit pilot and a mechanic. Hence my little friend out there…" She nodded at the screen, displaying the odd form of the machine.
"Wh.. What is that thing?" Hiwatari piped up from the other end of the room.
"It's a new mobile doll, idiot boy!" Oninetchi snapped.
"Be quiet!" Yamue cried, silencing Solonne's consistent snivelling and Oninetchi's smart alec remarks.
"It's a customised mobile suit," the woman began, before smiling, "and so very much more. I built it myself, as part of a trilogy of ships- a mobile suit, a jet and a battle ship… or cargo freighter, depending on what jobs are available. I can command them mentally. They run on a system similar to that of the gundams…"
"The gundams?!" Hiwatari cried in disbelief.
"Be quiet, boy!" Yamue barked at his other grandson. "Continue Miss… Kittenne was it?"
"Yes," said the woman, "learn it well." The woman stared around the room with darkened eyes. Despite her diminutive stature, she gave off an air of womanhood, and great power. She flicked her gaze almost scientifically between the men in the room, Solonne cowered a little and sunk lower in his chair. Oninetchi averted her gaze proudly. Hiwatari, a far younger and stunningly handsome man, perhaps not even twenty, stared at her firmly, his deep crimson eyes burning with curiosity and his body visibly shuddering with adrenaline. Yamue stood, hunched with age and affliction, a pitted, ugly face, creased with knowledge and years of dirty dealing. She finally turned her head to the boy she held against the doorframe. He was a handsome young man, pale lilac eyes catching her attention and holding it momentarily. His hair was shorter than his cousins, but similarity between them was still there. His naturally pale complexion was blanched to an eerie, clammy luminescence of terror. The rich blood that now fell along his jawbone from his cheek and dripped onto his violet tie was bold against his skin. The woman smiled earnestly and pressed her lips against the other side of his chin. She began to speak again, carefully examining Abarov's fine features. "There's no value in explaining myself to you." She said louder suddenly. "It's a waste of oxygen, a valuable commodity in this desert you call space. Besides, you don't need to know. All you need to know is this: I'm taking over commands here." Oninetchi started and stood up, Solonne whimpering in his seat beside him. "All military operations go through me. I want an a command centre, lodgings appropriate for my social stature, three docking bays and a certificate of immediate Commanding General classification on my desk tomorrow morning. Clear?"
"She's out of her mind!" Oninetchi cried.
"Done," said the calm and calculating voice of Yamue
"What? You can't…"
"Be quiet Oninetchi, or I will have you removed!" Yamue barked. Oninetchi sank into his seat, mouth as a gaping hole in his dark face. Yamue watched him slowly sit, before turning back to the woman and his grandson. "You have a deal. You are head of commands, General Kittenne. The certificate will be on your desk tomorrow morning, as requested. Major!" A young man ran in and saluted, "take General Kittenne to the command centre in section D, and provide her with the key codes for Hangers 5 through 8."
"Yes sir!" The major replied sharply, saluting. Maria dropped the knife blade and pushed Abarov away. He dashed back to his seat beside Hiwatari, shaking violently, and began dabbing at his throat with a kerchief. The door slid shut with a click. Yamue walked slowly back to his seat and stared at the monitor. The small ship vanished again slowly and scanners lost its trace.
Location- Classified. Present day.
Quatre flipped through his clipboards contents. Coded documents regarding his gundam. The machine was incomplete, and he was surprised the back up system had enabled him to pilot it as much as he had. The new style frequency generator had been installed, along with the back up system, but the main system was missing several parts. He was going to have to fix it himself… or at least try to. He wasn't as talented as his sister had been with tools. DT at school was hard enough. He'd managed to break the band facer, a pillar drill and three coping saws in the first lesson he'd had. Duo had laughed at him. Trowa had patiently fetched him another saw and watched as he destroyed it… and Heero had quietly observed as he fixed up a perfect computer circuit for his moving toy project in five minutes. The delay had been due to the 'incompetent' technicians being slow bringing him his parts. Quatre smiled at the memory. That sweet period of peace. What a strange experience it had been. He had checked over the day's documents in the evening, which his sixteen secretaries and assistants had done whilst he was out, and by day he did his homework in the lunch hour, sat in lessons with fellow civilians and after school on a Thursday he'd go to orchestra. And as a bonus, every two weeks there would be a debating society meet. He was always asked to be a speaker, after the very first time he'd given it a try. He relished that time. Being liked, looking up to, admired by some, even. There had been that one girl… Elle or something, who sat at the back of the class and simply stared at him. She'd come to orchestra and play the piano, and she'd come to the debates and sit out in the floor, just silently watching. Flattery. How he loved it. There was a sharp clang beside him, and he squealed, jumping away.
"SORRY!!" Duo cried from high above, gesturing towards the dropped central piston.
"Careful, Maxwell!" Wu-fei chided from across the way as he sat in Nataku's cockpit, adjusting the controls, "that cost a bomb, and I'm not replacing it!" Duo winked at Wu-fei.
"Come on, Fei! It's made of Gundamium! It's hard as rock!"
"Actually it's a different alloy mixture than the stuff we're used to, Duo," Quatre said, kneeling down beside the enormous piston, "its more brittle, but fine once its greased and used a few times. But if you drop it, it could shatter due to the carbon content." Duo blinked and then cocked his head.
"Whaddya whaddya huh? Whered'ya hear that loada googah!?" Quatre smiled weakly.
"Kitty did a little work with pistons like these when she overhauled her jet last year. She told me about it…" Quatre suddenly trailed off, running a hand over the large cast component. Duo looked over for some comfort, but Wu-fei was hurriedly tapping away inside the cockpit. They all tried to avoid the subject of Quatre's little sister now. They'd all met her. The all knew her well. It was painful for most of them to think of her, and they all knew how upset Quatre could get over her. It had been two months since the accident now. All the news stations reported she was recovering well. They failed to report her sudden mood change from sweet, innocent, well brought up Kitty Winner to this prudent, obnoxious lump of vanity and pride that was, as Quatre termed it, 'the empty shell'. So of course, our poor misinformed pilots had no idea what was going on behind closed doors. The minicrane reached down and lugged the heavy piston back up. Quatre frowned and looked at the crate of parts waiting for him. This was impossible. Heero's trainers squeaked a little as he jogged down the corridor, wiping his hands with a rag. Quatre sighed.
"Heero!" he called after the boy. Heero stopped and turned.
"Yeah?" he asked. Quatre sighed.
"Can you do the parts refit to Sandrock? I'll pay you! Anything, honest!" Heero snorted and began to walk away.
"I'll do it, but while I'm at it, I'd better give you a lesson in mobile suit maintenance."
"Guys, get down the office, quick" Trowa's voice crackled over the line. Heero glanced at Quatre, before jogging off in the direction of the office. Quatre was soon after him, with Wu-fei Duo shooting down the support cables and catching up. The four boys burst into the office at the same time to find Trowa hovering over the laptop, hurriedly clicking and scanning the screen with his emerald eyes.
"What is it?" Duo asked. Trowa didn't look up.
"The NEA have made the first move. According to this report on their log files, they've appointed a new Commanding General, Marianna Kittenne. She looks pretty young to be a general, though." The other pilots gathered around the screen and looked on the picture. An attractive girl stood before then, a sweep of golden brown hair covering one eye, the rest of her hair swept up under a military cap. Her eyes were black, her expression determined and stern. Her lips, painted a subtle shade of red, were turned down in a solemn frown. She was underweight, thin and beaten looking. She had obviously borne the brunt of hard times. Duo's eyes flicked over the screen.
"Whoah!" he exclaimed, "she's just been brought in, and she's got full access! She decides which operations each soldier is placed on, which ships they use…"
"And she's only there to lead cargo trips? Bullshit." Wu-fei placed a finger on the screen under her job status. NEA covered all cargo going from earth to space. They were continuing to provide supplies at this time, but it was just a matter of time before they pulled the plug on the colonies' earth based resources. Heero frowned.
"Check background data," he commanded.
"Done that. Drawing a blank. She's just appeared out of the ashes, it seems. No records, no certificates of rank, no birth certificate…"
"She could have changed her name," Duo suggested. Trowa shook his head.
"She's probably some colony based criminal who wants a fresh start and's threatened the NEA leaders into appointing her." Trowa looked at Heero. The Japanese boy sighed.
"Then there's no threat. She'll flunk out pretty quick. If not, then we'll know we've got a problem. For now, I'd rather be worrying about fixing up that gundam…" Heero left the room. Duo stretched.
"Yeah… me too. Call me if there's a problem Trowa." He followed Heero out. Wu-fei pulled a post-it off the notice board.
"I'll re-fuel Heavyarms," he said, "you keep an eye on events." He promptly left. Trowa turned to thank Wu-fei, when he noticed Quatre. The boy, brighter than he had been, was perching on the edge of the desk, staring intently at the screen. His brows were draw tight, as if he were glaring at something he detested.
"You OK?" Trowa offered. Quatre jumped a little and looked up.
"Oh, it's nothing," he said lightly, "just deja vue, that's all." He got up and swiftly left the room. Trowa's gaze followed him. The taller boy sighed and sat back down at the keyboard and began his hurried typing again.
Location- NEA Space Centre BetaPrime, 12 Hours Earlier. God Bless time travel ^^
Commander Hiwatari leapt up from his seat, face blanched in fear at what the monitors showed.
"Mobile dolls 32 through 96 are not responding sir!" cried a grunt, hurriedly running the scanner programs
"Regiment Leo, regiment leo, come in, over!" cried the man on his left.
"We're suffering severe casualties sir!" The grunt swung around, his eyes wide with terror. Hiwatari glanced at the other four commanders, all but one far older than him. Their faces were set with stony expressions, knotted brows taught above darkened eyes.
"What is this magic?" Commander Oninetchi murmured, his thick dark lips barely moving. Solonne, a snivelling middle-thirties man, was mumbling under his breath next to him, eyes wide. Yamue sighed heavily, standing up.
"Stop this," he whispered.
"As you wish," said the woman silkily. A machine materialised, pressed against the side of the station, about to bore its way into the docking bays, now that the external defences were spent. The machine, about the same size as a mobile suit, pushed off the building, and its boosters kicked in, causing it to stop out by the third defence ring.
"A magnificent display," Yamue pushed his chair back and walking calmly towards the woman. Abarov swallowed hard, his pale eyes whirling at the knife blade pressed against his throat. The woman frowned and pressed harder. The young gentlemen yelped as the blade cut through the skin, and a faint trickle of blood snaked down his blanched neck. Yamue froze.
"What is it that you want?" he asked slowly, resting both hands on the solid mahogany stick he used to assist him in walking. "And in achieving what you want, why does my grandson have to die?" He took another step.
"Please grandfather!" Abarov yelped, before the blade flicked up and gashed at his cheek.
"Stand still and shut up," the woman commanded, glaring darkly at the four men at the table. Hiwatari, shaking hard, sat down with a thud and stared into his lap. Oninetchi whispered something to Solonne, who nodded slowly.
"Speak up," the woman barked. Oninetchi glanced up, malice in his glare.
"I said that you were probably a crack pot, escaped from some colony jail," he hissed. The woman smirked.
"I'm from earth," she replied calmly, her voice taunting. Half her face was covered with a sweep of golden brown hair, the rest tucked up under a beret. A bubbling, half healed scar eased its way out from under her hair across her chin and the bridge of her nose. "My name is Marianna Kittenne. I was born in Luxembourg by illegitimate father and prostitute. I was raised in an orphanage, which I ran away from at 14, and became a mobile suit pilot and a mechanic. Hence my little friend out there…" She nodded at the screen, displaying the odd form of the machine.
"Wh.. What is that thing?" Hiwatari piped up from the other end of the room.
"It's a new mobile doll, idiot boy!" Oninetchi snapped.
"Be quiet!" Yamue cried, silencing Solonne's consistent snivelling and Oninetchi's smart alec remarks.
"It's a customised mobile suit," the woman began, before smiling, "and so very much more. I built it myself, as part of a trilogy of ships- a mobile suit, a jet and a battle ship… or cargo freighter, depending on what jobs are available. I can command them mentally. They run on a system similar to that of the gundams…"
"The gundams?!" Hiwatari cried in disbelief.
"Be quiet, boy!" Yamue barked at his other grandson. "Continue Miss… Kittenne was it?"
"Yes," said the woman, "learn it well." The woman stared around the room with darkened eyes. Despite her diminutive stature, she gave off an air of womanhood, and great power. She flicked her gaze almost scientifically between the men in the room, Solonne cowered a little and sunk lower in his chair. Oninetchi averted her gaze proudly. Hiwatari, a far younger and stunningly handsome man, perhaps not even twenty, stared at her firmly, his deep crimson eyes burning with curiosity and his body visibly shuddering with adrenaline. Yamue stood, hunched with age and affliction, a pitted, ugly face, creased with knowledge and years of dirty dealing. She finally turned her head to the boy she held against the doorframe. He was a handsome young man, pale lilac eyes catching her attention and holding it momentarily. His hair was shorter than his cousins, but similarity between them was still there. His naturally pale complexion was blanched to an eerie, clammy luminescence of terror. The rich blood that now fell along his jawbone from his cheek and dripped onto his violet tie was bold against his skin. The woman smiled earnestly and pressed her lips against the other side of his chin. She began to speak again, carefully examining Abarov's fine features. "There's no value in explaining myself to you." She said louder suddenly. "It's a waste of oxygen, a valuable commodity in this desert you call space. Besides, you don't need to know. All you need to know is this: I'm taking over commands here." Oninetchi started and stood up, Solonne whimpering in his seat beside him. "All military operations go through me. I want an a command centre, lodgings appropriate for my social stature, three docking bays and a certificate of immediate Commanding General classification on my desk tomorrow morning. Clear?"
"She's out of her mind!" Oninetchi cried.
"Done," said the calm and calculating voice of Yamue
"What? You can't…"
"Be quiet Oninetchi, or I will have you removed!" Yamue barked. Oninetchi sank into his seat, mouth as a gaping hole in his dark face. Yamue watched him slowly sit, before turning back to the woman and his grandson. "You have a deal. You are head of commands, General Kittenne. The certificate will be on your desk tomorrow morning, as requested. Major!" A young man ran in and saluted, "take General Kittenne to the command centre in section D, and provide her with the key codes for Hangers 5 through 8."
"Yes sir!" The major replied sharply, saluting. Maria dropped the knife blade and pushed Abarov away. He dashed back to his seat beside Hiwatari, shaking violently, and began dabbing at his throat with a kerchief. The door slid shut with a click. Yamue walked slowly back to his seat and stared at the monitor. The small ship vanished again slowly and scanners lost its trace.