That's Childish, So Childish...
Chapter Five: Of Youthful Follies And Changing Teams...
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Disclaimer: All I can claim is my name... um, that old fish, the teddy bear, and that I can, indeed, spell "Maganac"... according to the comics. Is it me, or do various names get different spellings in the series, movie, comics, and cards? And you thought /Zechs's/ many names were a pain... Ah well.
Warnings: Stuff blows up. Frustrated and confused GW characters. Sarcasm is always a hazard around me, with the occasional dry humor and gory medical detail.
Pairings: Okay, I heard a 6x2 suggested. Still debating. You see, I don't do 7-year-olds having that kind of relationship--thus, as I said before, nothing'll show until the end of this tale. They have to be consenting grown ups, or not at all.
Finally got the G-boys into this thing. Yay! Duo and Quatre and the Maganac Corps enter the picture. About time, I know, but hey, I couldn't rush things...
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They took fifteen minutes to get their act together, back at the base. On the other hand, they had sent three Aries after him. Zechs only had two missiles for that missile-launcher--that was the most he'd been able to cram into his makeshift backpack.
//Too bad the damn things can't be tucked into a boot...// The radar was beeping urgently, and Zechs sent the plane to a lower level before turning autopilot on. //Then again, if this damn thing flew like a fighter plane, I could make them shoot each other. But no--they had to design these things to fly like a catapulted antique bathtub...//
Grabbing his pack and racing to the back of the transport, young Milliardo knelt at the edge of the ramp to rummage through his equipment. Out came the chain of jump-ropes and the two armed and deadly remote-control planes. He frowned slightly at them and the spare missile... then hauled out a firecracker as well, setting the missile-launcher on the floor.
//Just how strong are these pyrotechnic thingies? I wonder... I just hope I can aim it well enough.// Grimacing, he glanced at his burned arm, which had begun to stiffen painfully, and flexed it despite the aggravation of the action. //Better alive and lightly crisped than being turned into fiery confetti for the lions below.//
No matter. Tying one end of the rope to his belt, and the other to a bar in the floor, he tucked the firecracker and two remote control boxes into his belt. Taking a deep breath, the boy hit the hatch button with his elbow and waited...
Slowly, the ramp lowered before him, letting in a hair-whipping turbulent wind that threatened to haul him out of the plane entirely. Bracing his feet and looping an arm in the rope, he cautiously picked his way out on the ramp's steps, eyeing the growing gleaming specks that were his pursuing Aries. They drew closer quickly, gaining fast on the ungainly, heavy transport plane.
Looping rope about his left hand until he was as solidly braced against the sucking wind as possible for his light body, Zechs tucked one plane under that arm to free the hand for taking a firm grip on the other. With his freed hand, he jerked the pins out of the attached grenades, tossing them over the ramp. Then he punched the controls on his belt for plane #1 to start its engines, shoving the small throttle on full power.
The toy began whirring and whining as the small propeller kicked into high gear, nearly pulling the boy off his feet. Zechs staggered with a gasp of surprise, wincing as the rope bit into the burns on his arm, and struggled to aim the surprisingly strong little plane.
//Who'd have known?!? I would have replaced the engines on this heavy monster if I knew these little things had so much lift in them!// Squinting against the bright blue of the cloudless sky and the whipping of his own long hair, he aimed for the Aries on the left... //I hope this works... I only get one shot each with these little toys...//
Then he let go.
The little toy plane was sucked out in an instant, a tiny dart that looked like it would splatter across the front of the target Aries like a bug on a windshield. Squinting carefully, wishing he could wipe sweat from his eyes right now, Zechs tried his best to maneuver the tiny thing through the worst turbulence with his free hand, to try and keep it on target... Not easy, with the wild crosswinds of his own plane's passing. But he just had to get it close to the target.
Then the target would do the rest.
//YES!//
The Aries's air-intake sucked the remote-control plane in like a jetliner sucking in a wayward bird. First a small explosion occurred as it hit the turbines and fragmented--then the entire side of that Aries bloomed bright orange as the grenades went off. Whistling like an animal in pain, the machine swayed and began spiraling down helplessly.
With a wild laugh, Zechs pumped his arm in a gesture of victory before ripping that control box off and tossing it overboard. He began priming the next plane...
One of the Aries tried to blare some message across the distance to him, but all Zechs could pick out was something about surrendering and "kid". The pilots seemed pretty confused about how he just took one of them down--and they were close enough for a visual pickup, which would reveal... a kid indeed.
//Brace yourselves--here comes the next! Aren't these buzzards a pain? We /do/ get warned about accidentally sucking one in...// This time he wanted the Aries on the right...
And the little plane took off, grenades at ready, rocketing for the Aries on the light like a furious hummingbird after an oblivious eagle. Another set of explosions, and that mobile suit also lost control, screaming as it descended.
This time, the remaining Aries pilot didn't bother commenting. He fired on the transport plane.
//Ahhhh!!!!!// Zechs yelped, flung off balance and sliding down the ramp as the transport plane shook violently. An engine bellowed on the right wing, streaming black smoke and fire, alarms and warnings screaming bloody murder, but he couldn't see all the damage from where he was sliding. Clawing at the ramp desperately, Zechs struggled to stay on board--then the ropes pulled tight...
Just as his legs dangled over the edge of the ramp. Kicking wildly, he fumbled about for something, anything, as the wind slammed him belly-first against the ramp, the wind whipping his lithe body about like a rag toy in a bulldog's mouth. But the stairs slipped from his attempts to hang on, and all that remained was the rope. The transport plane listed to one side...
Ignoring the pain of the bruising impacts, Zechs dragged himself up hand-over-hand as quick as he could, using the rope and steps to get at least most of the way up the ramp and out of the fiercest of the turbulent winds. There, at least, while they tugged powerfully at him, they weren't strong enough to literally fling him around like a soccer ball on a string.
The Aries's engines seemed to bellow louder...
Like lightening, Zechs whipped out the firecracker and lighter, cursing as he tried to light it, trying to protect the lighter with his hunched body. He could hear that Aries's engines as it drew closer and closer. //Is the fool going to try and /land/ in here? Heck--Miri, just fling the thing!//
The firecracker had finally caught, luckily before the next whip of wind ripped the lighter from his hands and off to the sands far below. Fire sparked, fizzed--then roared, fed by the battering winds.
//Ah! Damn!// God, was it hot! Silvery-pale hair singed, fair skin as well, but then he rolled onto his back to look up at the massive Aries bearing down at him and the ramp--and opened his hands.
Like a vengeful missile, the firecracker shot off right into the air-intake of the approaching Aries before either pilot could blink.
The resulting blast showered Zechs with shrapnel, then the mobile suit listed heavily towards the damaged side, flipping over as it began a chaotic descent...
Leaving the night sky clear.
A slightly skewed night sky.
Panting, bleeding, painfully singed, young Milliardo crawled up the ramp to the hatch-controls, slamming his palm on the closing button and fumbling quickly at the ropes with burned fingers. The ropes clattered to the floor even as the chaotic winds were cut off.
//The damage--how bad...? Got to cut out that damaged engine...// Exhausted and aching, he staggered for the cockpit to look out a side window.
One engine was visibly pouring black smoke, a shadow in the night sky despite the bright moon and stars. Bullet holes punctured the rest of the wing in a couple neat lines.
Crossing his fingers, Miri threw himself into the pilot's seat, hands expertly fluttering over the controls for Engine #2, closing the fuel lines, shutting down the engine, turning it off completely. //I hope this works... I don't want to go down near those three. We wouldn't get along. Lions would be nicer!//
The faint sputtering of the damaged engine cut off with a final whine and putter, then lay still. The smoke faded, slowly vanishing as the fires died. The alarms quieted as the danger passed.
Wiping sweat and grime from his face with his better hand, Milliardo relaxed in the oversized seat with relief. //Good... I hope they didn't hit anything else...//
//If they did, I'm in deep trouble...//
With a heavy sigh, he turned the autopilot off, hauling the heavy transport plane onto a new level trajectory before putting it back on and adding a warning for the machine to play to anyone in his way...
//There's /no/ way I'm diverting from this flight path... at least not until I wake up.//
But he was so tired, worn out... Leaning back in the seat again, he closed his eyes, letting his hands slide into his lap.
One hand accidentally knocked the radio-switch on the way down, turning it off as Zechs sank into an exhausted sleep.
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Something roared by too close for comfort, shaking Treize's personal plane as well as the escorts. He stood, supporting himself with a hand on the back of a seat, and started making his way to the cockpit.
//What the heck's happening?// he wondered as he took in the sight of agitated and angry pilots.
"Did you get that plane's number? Contact the base--he should be grounded!" the captain was snarling to the copilot. "Sheesh! He almost took out our left wing!"
"What happened?" Treize asked, eyebrows rising slightly, a touch amused--though definitely not pleased that someone had played chicken with him on board the involuntarily opposing flight.
The captain didn't even turn to look. "Someone almost hit us, Your Excellency. Some drunk pilot on a joyride, I'm sure... Did you raise him yet?" The last was flung sharply at the com-officer.
The young com-officer was frowning into space. "No sir--I can't get anything other than some set message."
Treize frowned slightly. "What does it say?"
Dutifully, the com-officer flicked a switch so everyone could hear it.
"Lead, follow, or get out of the way! This damn thing flies like a dead rhinoceros..."
Confused, the General of Oz arched a spiked eyebrow. //That voice... It's familiar, but I can't place it...//
The Captain groaned. "Dumb drunk flyboy! Raise the base, will you? He's a hazard to serious traffic."
"Ah... sir?"
"Yes?" both the Captain and Treize immediately asked, together.
"Um... All I can get from the base is kind of incoherent--a lot of people are talking, and it sounds like in the background... someone's playing Barney music?" The poor young officer looked at a complete loss.
///Barney/ music?//
The Captain and Treize exchanged worried looks. Shaking his head in silent disapproval and dismay, Treize trailed back to his seat, thoughts on trying to place that familiar yet unfamiliar voice...
//I /know/ I heard it before... But where? Who?//
It wasn't until they were touching down at the Romefeller Congo Research Base that Treize abruptly sat up in his seat and exclaimed, "ZECHS!"
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"Master Quatre, we've picked up an Oz transport plane flying low in this general direction," Rashid announced with quiet calm as he entered the room where Quatre and Duo were watching the world news via computer.
Duo sat up from where he'd lounged on a wicker chair, stiff and alert. "Just one?" //Damn, could they have found us? Is this the start of some massive assault?//
"Have you tried hailing them, Rashid?" Quatre asked, worried, from at the computer, looking up at the large Maganac.
Rashid nodded solemnly. "We only receive a message about a dead rhino in the airspace... A couple of the others think it's a warning that the plane is difficult to maneuver. Regardless, it seems to be losing altitude and spluttering. We think it may go down just east of the village, in the dunes."
Frowning slightly, Duo scratched at his head a moment. //Well, not an attack, then. But good guy or bad?// "Do you think it might be Heero or Trowa? I wouldn't put it past them to steal a transport plane."
Quatre shook his head firmly. "Trowa knows where to land here. He knows where the entrances to the underground base are. And he'd have no reason to stay quiet--he knows us... I don't know Heero, though."
Smiling wryly, Duo chuckled. //Heero /would/ stay quiet. But I don't think it's like him to crash in the middle of nowhere.// "He'd be quiet, but he usually sticks a lot closer to civilization. Lets him hack into money easier with a server around for his laptop."
Rashid cleared his throat. "I will go investigate the plane once it's down with some of the Maganacs, then, Master Quatre." He turned to go and make arrangements.
Scratching at his ear, Duo mused this new puzzle. //If it's a good guy, like that Chinese guy, we want to help him, but if not, we'll want him dead fast...// "I think I'll tag along--something about this is just too weird," he decided out loud.
The tall Maganac paused and looked over his shoulder at Duo for a long moment. "A Gundam would stand out."
//Wary guy, isn't he? But I like him on our side.// Duo laughed, gliding to his feet and pulling his gun from his belt, twirling it on his finger before tucking it back. "Hey, if I can manage to shoot Heero--the perfect soldier--I think I can take care of myself on foot. I just want to tag along. Don't worry--I'll leave most of the fun to you guys. It's your turf after all."
After a long pause, the tall Maganac nodded and smiled slightly. "Very well. And you, Master Quatre?"
Quatre considered the screen before him, then shook his head negatively. "Thanks, Rashid, but I know you guys can handle anything that comes up. I want to sort out a few things Abdul picked up off the radio waves and see how they fit into what's going on... It's as if something very big is going on, but just underneath our feet, so we can't see it, only feel it... like a tremor before a major earthquake. If anything comes up, though, let me know."
The tall man nodded again, then walked off. Duo hesitated, glancing at Quatre with concern--the blond pilot was frowning slightly at the screen before him in concentration. //Something really big? I'm not sure big is good, Quatre. Another military revolution's going to /really/ confuse the sides... It might end up a free-for-all!//
Crossing his fingers, the braided pilot whirled and ran after Rashid, calling, "Hey, wait up! How are we going there? By camel? Those darn things tried to bite me last time...!"
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A steady beeping finally hauled Zechs out of the warm depths of sleep.
//It's so cozy in the sun...// It has finally risen, and right in his eyes, too. Not that he had noticed, with one cheek pillowed against an armrest, curled in the seat like a cat.
Sitting up, he wiped at his eyes, wincing as burns and cuts and bruises protested every movement. Lights on the boards were flashing, the autopilot relentlessly demanding his attention. Something about the fuel.
He tapped the gage, frowned. //Looks okay. Says half full...//
Then he hit it with a fist.
The needle plunged to the bottom of the red as if trying to pretend it had been there--and telling the truth--the whole time.
//Aaaahhh! Damn it! They must have hit a tank!//
The poor mauled plane was riding on fumes, sinking slowly but steadily. The first--and last--engine spluttered and coughed even as Miri wrenched at the autopilot switch, taking the controls in his hands.
Then it died, coughing to a halt.
//Oh hell...//
Milliardo hauled on the controls with all his strength, eyes widening as he realized a small village lay ahead, not far below, a glistening blue pond nearby the center of a small oasis. Beyond lay a stretch of rippled sand, unknown terrain that threatened to fling tall dunes and gaping depressions in front of him in an instant.
//At least I'm not going down /on/ someone's home! Oh, hang on, hang on, a bit more, a bit farther! Come on, baby, keep your nose up!// Gritting his teeth, he put all his effort into keeping the nose up and the wings level, aiming as best he could for what was hopefully flat /firm/ sand... //Forget landing gear--it's safer to slide her on her belly... I hope it stays flat, though!//
Down, down, the transport plane drifted, bullet holes and open windows whistling faintly as if to warn animals out of the way. Then... a touch... and she was sliding, the friction dragging at her nose, making Zechs cry out in dismay as the controls flung /him/ forward into the panels with painful force, his light body unable to break that momentum completely--especially as he wasn't belted in.
The plane slid a long way on her belly, then the damaged wing dipped, was sheared off by the friction of the sands, and she slewed around drunkenly, almost spinning completely about before halting with a moaning creak.
Lifting his head from his arms on the controls, Zechs moaned a reply, reaching up to brush away a trickle of blood teasing the side of his forehead.
//Damn, that hurt... /Bad/ plane! Bad bad bad!//
Almost drunkenly, he staggered off the chair, and over to his blanket-pack. Slinging it over a shoulder, he scooped up his mask from the floor, and swayed over to the side-door, tabbing it open...
To fall two feet face-first onto the sand with a painful "Ooof!".
//Forgot... Only bases have the stair-machines...//
The sand was pretty warm, actually. Almost too warm, though the day had just begun. Crawling, he dragged himself and his things into the shade of the good wing, propping his back against the body of the plane, and leaning his head back with a soft sigh, closing his eyes.
//Okay... Now what, Miri?//
//I am /not/ driving those damn mobile suit trucks! Besides, I can't drive /both/... Heck, I'm tired... My head /hurts/...//
//I'll think later... I don't have the energy right now...// With a soft sigh, he simply savored the feel of that cold metal against his back and head, waiting for the throbbing pain of his newly-improved headache to fade.
It felt like only minutes passed...
Then he heard the faint swish of what could only be footsteps on sand.
//I'm too tired, and sore, and my head bloody hurts... I still have the paintball gun in the back of my belt, anyway... and the knife.// Zechs mused wearily. //I can escape later, if I have to...//
Faintly, Miri smirked, eyes opening, their pale blue depths full of mischief, having decided not to move but wait for them to find him. //Besides... I'm just a kid.//
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To be continued.
"You drift into
The strangest dreams
Of youthful follies
And changing teams.
`Admit you're wrong.'
`Oh no not yet!'
Then you wake up and remember
That you can't forget!" ------"Can You Forgive Her?" by Petshop Boys
Chapter Five: Of Youthful Follies And Changing Teams...
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Disclaimer: All I can claim is my name... um, that old fish, the teddy bear, and that I can, indeed, spell "Maganac"... according to the comics. Is it me, or do various names get different spellings in the series, movie, comics, and cards? And you thought /Zechs's/ many names were a pain... Ah well.
Warnings: Stuff blows up. Frustrated and confused GW characters. Sarcasm is always a hazard around me, with the occasional dry humor and gory medical detail.
Pairings: Okay, I heard a 6x2 suggested. Still debating. You see, I don't do 7-year-olds having that kind of relationship--thus, as I said before, nothing'll show until the end of this tale. They have to be consenting grown ups, or not at all.
Finally got the G-boys into this thing. Yay! Duo and Quatre and the Maganac Corps enter the picture. About time, I know, but hey, I couldn't rush things...
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They took fifteen minutes to get their act together, back at the base. On the other hand, they had sent three Aries after him. Zechs only had two missiles for that missile-launcher--that was the most he'd been able to cram into his makeshift backpack.
//Too bad the damn things can't be tucked into a boot...// The radar was beeping urgently, and Zechs sent the plane to a lower level before turning autopilot on. //Then again, if this damn thing flew like a fighter plane, I could make them shoot each other. But no--they had to design these things to fly like a catapulted antique bathtub...//
Grabbing his pack and racing to the back of the transport, young Milliardo knelt at the edge of the ramp to rummage through his equipment. Out came the chain of jump-ropes and the two armed and deadly remote-control planes. He frowned slightly at them and the spare missile... then hauled out a firecracker as well, setting the missile-launcher on the floor.
//Just how strong are these pyrotechnic thingies? I wonder... I just hope I can aim it well enough.// Grimacing, he glanced at his burned arm, which had begun to stiffen painfully, and flexed it despite the aggravation of the action. //Better alive and lightly crisped than being turned into fiery confetti for the lions below.//
No matter. Tying one end of the rope to his belt, and the other to a bar in the floor, he tucked the firecracker and two remote control boxes into his belt. Taking a deep breath, the boy hit the hatch button with his elbow and waited...
Slowly, the ramp lowered before him, letting in a hair-whipping turbulent wind that threatened to haul him out of the plane entirely. Bracing his feet and looping an arm in the rope, he cautiously picked his way out on the ramp's steps, eyeing the growing gleaming specks that were his pursuing Aries. They drew closer quickly, gaining fast on the ungainly, heavy transport plane.
Looping rope about his left hand until he was as solidly braced against the sucking wind as possible for his light body, Zechs tucked one plane under that arm to free the hand for taking a firm grip on the other. With his freed hand, he jerked the pins out of the attached grenades, tossing them over the ramp. Then he punched the controls on his belt for plane #1 to start its engines, shoving the small throttle on full power.
The toy began whirring and whining as the small propeller kicked into high gear, nearly pulling the boy off his feet. Zechs staggered with a gasp of surprise, wincing as the rope bit into the burns on his arm, and struggled to aim the surprisingly strong little plane.
//Who'd have known?!? I would have replaced the engines on this heavy monster if I knew these little things had so much lift in them!// Squinting against the bright blue of the cloudless sky and the whipping of his own long hair, he aimed for the Aries on the left... //I hope this works... I only get one shot each with these little toys...//
Then he let go.
The little toy plane was sucked out in an instant, a tiny dart that looked like it would splatter across the front of the target Aries like a bug on a windshield. Squinting carefully, wishing he could wipe sweat from his eyes right now, Zechs tried his best to maneuver the tiny thing through the worst turbulence with his free hand, to try and keep it on target... Not easy, with the wild crosswinds of his own plane's passing. But he just had to get it close to the target.
Then the target would do the rest.
//YES!//
The Aries's air-intake sucked the remote-control plane in like a jetliner sucking in a wayward bird. First a small explosion occurred as it hit the turbines and fragmented--then the entire side of that Aries bloomed bright orange as the grenades went off. Whistling like an animal in pain, the machine swayed and began spiraling down helplessly.
With a wild laugh, Zechs pumped his arm in a gesture of victory before ripping that control box off and tossing it overboard. He began priming the next plane...
One of the Aries tried to blare some message across the distance to him, but all Zechs could pick out was something about surrendering and "kid". The pilots seemed pretty confused about how he just took one of them down--and they were close enough for a visual pickup, which would reveal... a kid indeed.
//Brace yourselves--here comes the next! Aren't these buzzards a pain? We /do/ get warned about accidentally sucking one in...// This time he wanted the Aries on the right...
And the little plane took off, grenades at ready, rocketing for the Aries on the light like a furious hummingbird after an oblivious eagle. Another set of explosions, and that mobile suit also lost control, screaming as it descended.
This time, the remaining Aries pilot didn't bother commenting. He fired on the transport plane.
//Ahhhh!!!!!// Zechs yelped, flung off balance and sliding down the ramp as the transport plane shook violently. An engine bellowed on the right wing, streaming black smoke and fire, alarms and warnings screaming bloody murder, but he couldn't see all the damage from where he was sliding. Clawing at the ramp desperately, Zechs struggled to stay on board--then the ropes pulled tight...
Just as his legs dangled over the edge of the ramp. Kicking wildly, he fumbled about for something, anything, as the wind slammed him belly-first against the ramp, the wind whipping his lithe body about like a rag toy in a bulldog's mouth. But the stairs slipped from his attempts to hang on, and all that remained was the rope. The transport plane listed to one side...
Ignoring the pain of the bruising impacts, Zechs dragged himself up hand-over-hand as quick as he could, using the rope and steps to get at least most of the way up the ramp and out of the fiercest of the turbulent winds. There, at least, while they tugged powerfully at him, they weren't strong enough to literally fling him around like a soccer ball on a string.
The Aries's engines seemed to bellow louder...
Like lightening, Zechs whipped out the firecracker and lighter, cursing as he tried to light it, trying to protect the lighter with his hunched body. He could hear that Aries's engines as it drew closer and closer. //Is the fool going to try and /land/ in here? Heck--Miri, just fling the thing!//
The firecracker had finally caught, luckily before the next whip of wind ripped the lighter from his hands and off to the sands far below. Fire sparked, fizzed--then roared, fed by the battering winds.
//Ah! Damn!// God, was it hot! Silvery-pale hair singed, fair skin as well, but then he rolled onto his back to look up at the massive Aries bearing down at him and the ramp--and opened his hands.
Like a vengeful missile, the firecracker shot off right into the air-intake of the approaching Aries before either pilot could blink.
The resulting blast showered Zechs with shrapnel, then the mobile suit listed heavily towards the damaged side, flipping over as it began a chaotic descent...
Leaving the night sky clear.
A slightly skewed night sky.
Panting, bleeding, painfully singed, young Milliardo crawled up the ramp to the hatch-controls, slamming his palm on the closing button and fumbling quickly at the ropes with burned fingers. The ropes clattered to the floor even as the chaotic winds were cut off.
//The damage--how bad...? Got to cut out that damaged engine...// Exhausted and aching, he staggered for the cockpit to look out a side window.
One engine was visibly pouring black smoke, a shadow in the night sky despite the bright moon and stars. Bullet holes punctured the rest of the wing in a couple neat lines.
Crossing his fingers, Miri threw himself into the pilot's seat, hands expertly fluttering over the controls for Engine #2, closing the fuel lines, shutting down the engine, turning it off completely. //I hope this works... I don't want to go down near those three. We wouldn't get along. Lions would be nicer!//
The faint sputtering of the damaged engine cut off with a final whine and putter, then lay still. The smoke faded, slowly vanishing as the fires died. The alarms quieted as the danger passed.
Wiping sweat and grime from his face with his better hand, Milliardo relaxed in the oversized seat with relief. //Good... I hope they didn't hit anything else...//
//If they did, I'm in deep trouble...//
With a heavy sigh, he turned the autopilot off, hauling the heavy transport plane onto a new level trajectory before putting it back on and adding a warning for the machine to play to anyone in his way...
//There's /no/ way I'm diverting from this flight path... at least not until I wake up.//
But he was so tired, worn out... Leaning back in the seat again, he closed his eyes, letting his hands slide into his lap.
One hand accidentally knocked the radio-switch on the way down, turning it off as Zechs sank into an exhausted sleep.
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Something roared by too close for comfort, shaking Treize's personal plane as well as the escorts. He stood, supporting himself with a hand on the back of a seat, and started making his way to the cockpit.
//What the heck's happening?// he wondered as he took in the sight of agitated and angry pilots.
"Did you get that plane's number? Contact the base--he should be grounded!" the captain was snarling to the copilot. "Sheesh! He almost took out our left wing!"
"What happened?" Treize asked, eyebrows rising slightly, a touch amused--though definitely not pleased that someone had played chicken with him on board the involuntarily opposing flight.
The captain didn't even turn to look. "Someone almost hit us, Your Excellency. Some drunk pilot on a joyride, I'm sure... Did you raise him yet?" The last was flung sharply at the com-officer.
The young com-officer was frowning into space. "No sir--I can't get anything other than some set message."
Treize frowned slightly. "What does it say?"
Dutifully, the com-officer flicked a switch so everyone could hear it.
"Lead, follow, or get out of the way! This damn thing flies like a dead rhinoceros..."
Confused, the General of Oz arched a spiked eyebrow. //That voice... It's familiar, but I can't place it...//
The Captain groaned. "Dumb drunk flyboy! Raise the base, will you? He's a hazard to serious traffic."
"Ah... sir?"
"Yes?" both the Captain and Treize immediately asked, together.
"Um... All I can get from the base is kind of incoherent--a lot of people are talking, and it sounds like in the background... someone's playing Barney music?" The poor young officer looked at a complete loss.
///Barney/ music?//
The Captain and Treize exchanged worried looks. Shaking his head in silent disapproval and dismay, Treize trailed back to his seat, thoughts on trying to place that familiar yet unfamiliar voice...
//I /know/ I heard it before... But where? Who?//
It wasn't until they were touching down at the Romefeller Congo Research Base that Treize abruptly sat up in his seat and exclaimed, "ZECHS!"
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"Master Quatre, we've picked up an Oz transport plane flying low in this general direction," Rashid announced with quiet calm as he entered the room where Quatre and Duo were watching the world news via computer.
Duo sat up from where he'd lounged on a wicker chair, stiff and alert. "Just one?" //Damn, could they have found us? Is this the start of some massive assault?//
"Have you tried hailing them, Rashid?" Quatre asked, worried, from at the computer, looking up at the large Maganac.
Rashid nodded solemnly. "We only receive a message about a dead rhino in the airspace... A couple of the others think it's a warning that the plane is difficult to maneuver. Regardless, it seems to be losing altitude and spluttering. We think it may go down just east of the village, in the dunes."
Frowning slightly, Duo scratched at his head a moment. //Well, not an attack, then. But good guy or bad?// "Do you think it might be Heero or Trowa? I wouldn't put it past them to steal a transport plane."
Quatre shook his head firmly. "Trowa knows where to land here. He knows where the entrances to the underground base are. And he'd have no reason to stay quiet--he knows us... I don't know Heero, though."
Smiling wryly, Duo chuckled. //Heero /would/ stay quiet. But I don't think it's like him to crash in the middle of nowhere.// "He'd be quiet, but he usually sticks a lot closer to civilization. Lets him hack into money easier with a server around for his laptop."
Rashid cleared his throat. "I will go investigate the plane once it's down with some of the Maganacs, then, Master Quatre." He turned to go and make arrangements.
Scratching at his ear, Duo mused this new puzzle. //If it's a good guy, like that Chinese guy, we want to help him, but if not, we'll want him dead fast...// "I think I'll tag along--something about this is just too weird," he decided out loud.
The tall Maganac paused and looked over his shoulder at Duo for a long moment. "A Gundam would stand out."
//Wary guy, isn't he? But I like him on our side.// Duo laughed, gliding to his feet and pulling his gun from his belt, twirling it on his finger before tucking it back. "Hey, if I can manage to shoot Heero--the perfect soldier--I think I can take care of myself on foot. I just want to tag along. Don't worry--I'll leave most of the fun to you guys. It's your turf after all."
After a long pause, the tall Maganac nodded and smiled slightly. "Very well. And you, Master Quatre?"
Quatre considered the screen before him, then shook his head negatively. "Thanks, Rashid, but I know you guys can handle anything that comes up. I want to sort out a few things Abdul picked up off the radio waves and see how they fit into what's going on... It's as if something very big is going on, but just underneath our feet, so we can't see it, only feel it... like a tremor before a major earthquake. If anything comes up, though, let me know."
The tall man nodded again, then walked off. Duo hesitated, glancing at Quatre with concern--the blond pilot was frowning slightly at the screen before him in concentration. //Something really big? I'm not sure big is good, Quatre. Another military revolution's going to /really/ confuse the sides... It might end up a free-for-all!//
Crossing his fingers, the braided pilot whirled and ran after Rashid, calling, "Hey, wait up! How are we going there? By camel? Those darn things tried to bite me last time...!"
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A steady beeping finally hauled Zechs out of the warm depths of sleep.
//It's so cozy in the sun...// It has finally risen, and right in his eyes, too. Not that he had noticed, with one cheek pillowed against an armrest, curled in the seat like a cat.
Sitting up, he wiped at his eyes, wincing as burns and cuts and bruises protested every movement. Lights on the boards were flashing, the autopilot relentlessly demanding his attention. Something about the fuel.
He tapped the gage, frowned. //Looks okay. Says half full...//
Then he hit it with a fist.
The needle plunged to the bottom of the red as if trying to pretend it had been there--and telling the truth--the whole time.
//Aaaahhh! Damn it! They must have hit a tank!//
The poor mauled plane was riding on fumes, sinking slowly but steadily. The first--and last--engine spluttered and coughed even as Miri wrenched at the autopilot switch, taking the controls in his hands.
Then it died, coughing to a halt.
//Oh hell...//
Milliardo hauled on the controls with all his strength, eyes widening as he realized a small village lay ahead, not far below, a glistening blue pond nearby the center of a small oasis. Beyond lay a stretch of rippled sand, unknown terrain that threatened to fling tall dunes and gaping depressions in front of him in an instant.
//At least I'm not going down /on/ someone's home! Oh, hang on, hang on, a bit more, a bit farther! Come on, baby, keep your nose up!// Gritting his teeth, he put all his effort into keeping the nose up and the wings level, aiming as best he could for what was hopefully flat /firm/ sand... //Forget landing gear--it's safer to slide her on her belly... I hope it stays flat, though!//
Down, down, the transport plane drifted, bullet holes and open windows whistling faintly as if to warn animals out of the way. Then... a touch... and she was sliding, the friction dragging at her nose, making Zechs cry out in dismay as the controls flung /him/ forward into the panels with painful force, his light body unable to break that momentum completely--especially as he wasn't belted in.
The plane slid a long way on her belly, then the damaged wing dipped, was sheared off by the friction of the sands, and she slewed around drunkenly, almost spinning completely about before halting with a moaning creak.
Lifting his head from his arms on the controls, Zechs moaned a reply, reaching up to brush away a trickle of blood teasing the side of his forehead.
//Damn, that hurt... /Bad/ plane! Bad bad bad!//
Almost drunkenly, he staggered off the chair, and over to his blanket-pack. Slinging it over a shoulder, he scooped up his mask from the floor, and swayed over to the side-door, tabbing it open...
To fall two feet face-first onto the sand with a painful "Ooof!".
//Forgot... Only bases have the stair-machines...//
The sand was pretty warm, actually. Almost too warm, though the day had just begun. Crawling, he dragged himself and his things into the shade of the good wing, propping his back against the body of the plane, and leaning his head back with a soft sigh, closing his eyes.
//Okay... Now what, Miri?//
//I am /not/ driving those damn mobile suit trucks! Besides, I can't drive /both/... Heck, I'm tired... My head /hurts/...//
//I'll think later... I don't have the energy right now...// With a soft sigh, he simply savored the feel of that cold metal against his back and head, waiting for the throbbing pain of his newly-improved headache to fade.
It felt like only minutes passed...
Then he heard the faint swish of what could only be footsteps on sand.
//I'm too tired, and sore, and my head bloody hurts... I still have the paintball gun in the back of my belt, anyway... and the knife.// Zechs mused wearily. //I can escape later, if I have to...//
Faintly, Miri smirked, eyes opening, their pale blue depths full of mischief, having decided not to move but wait for them to find him. //Besides... I'm just a kid.//
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To be continued.
"You drift into
The strangest dreams
Of youthful follies
And changing teams.
`Admit you're wrong.'
`Oh no not yet!'
Then you wake up and remember
That you can't forget!" ------"Can You Forgive Her?" by Petshop Boys