That's Childish, So Childish…
Chapter Nine: Ask Yourself: Can You Even Deliver…?
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Disclaimer—Okay, so I got a new fish. It's still not worth suing me for.
Warnings—Eventual 2x6, yes, that means shounen ai (whatever), man + man, etc. Not that you'll see much. Maybe a kiss at the end. But the end is so far on the horizon, you need binoculars to even know it's out there. Otherwise, there's the usual hazards (sarcasm, etc). And for once, minor swearing! Oooo…
Zechs gets the run of the Maganacs' base—which has its good points and bad points for all concerned. Heero and Trowa are in luck at the first checkpoint. Treize, on the other hand, is feeling his luck running thin and begins setting up his coup de tat.
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Duo leaned on the railing of the service balcony, looking up at Deathscythe with a thoughtful smile, letting his mind wander. It was easy enough. Plenty to wander through, after all. Especially after Zechs's revelations during that first talk, so early that morning.
//Though I bet the kid—it's so hard NOT to think of him as a kid!—is getting breakfast with Quatre right now. I know we promised him the run of the place, or rather a tour, or rather… /Quatre/ did… But he'd hardly be up at this hour. Too early. And I know sedatives take a bit to get out of your system… He was dozing off and on throughout our chat, almost, poor guy…//
Dark blue—almost violet—eyes shifted over to the two mobile suits recently set on their feet beside Deathscythe and Sandrock: familiar old Wing Gundam, still needing a few minor parts, and a white monstrosity. The behemoth of mobile suits drew his attention, changing Duo's smile to a thoughtful frown.
//How does that thing even get into the air? It looks pretty darn heavy—though those engines on the back look like they stand a chance of moving the thing… Must be ungainly as hell to maneuver, though. Bulky.// Duo scratched at the back of his head idly, contemplating the engineering behind the unusual suit. //Engineering folly… Or is it?//
Some instinct made Duo glance to his left along the service balcony—but it turned into a double-take.
Zechs.
He'd taken much the same position as Duo, leaning bandaged hands against the railing, though the railing was almost chin-height to him. Icy blue eyes were riveted to the white suit, as if by will alone he could command it even from here. A faded loose blue shirt and pants the same pale shade as his long hair had been given to him, donated probably by some villager at a Maganac's request. And sandals, though just /how/ Zechs had gotten to his current position in those without making any noise stupefied the Gundam pilot.
//Sandals just don't… How?!? I swear, I've tried to walk quietly in the darn things a hundred times, and yet… But he's managed to do it. Yeesh, I give up.// Chuckling softly, Duo straightened and strode over to the pale figure.
Zechs didn't so much as stir a hair, though he must have heard Duo's footsteps echoing closer on the flimsy flooring.
//One'd think that white monstrosity hypnotized him,// Deathscythe's pilot mused, amused.
"So what's the thing's name?" Duo asked cheerfully, taking a position leaning on the railing beside the blonde.
"Tallgeese." It was almost a whisper. Zechs's mind was obviously somewhere else, his gaze… more concerned and calculating than anything else, fixed on a point actually beyond the mobile suit, now that Duo was close enough to tell the difference.
//Tallgeese? Guess they weren't sure about it when they made it, either! Just like nobody was sure the Spruce Goose would ever fly. Probably expected it'll flop. Hard to believe it fought Wing and almost won… Or was that more the pilot's doing?// "Strange name… Sounds like the engineers were making fun of it."
Ice-blue eyes shifted to look at Duo, focusing immediately on his face. Though Duo continued to look up at the white machine, he could catch the movement from the corner of his eyes. "It's easy to underestimate the Tallgeese. It almost killed me the first time I tried it."
Duo pulled back, shifting to lean backwards on the railing and frowning at that news. "How? It looks safe enough. Unless you fall off the landing—that's a bit of a fall at that height!"
Zechs's eyes flicked to the cockpit, the side of his mouth quirking slightly. "That wasn't it… The sudden shifts of G-force tend to be of bone-breaking intensity, is all."
Wincing, Duo shook his head, looking from the ex-Oz boy to the mobile suit and back. "Nahhhh… You're kidding me!"
Smiling slowly, Zechs kicked off his sandals, and began clambering between the railings. "It broke my ribs… Then it gave me a heart attack."
//Hey, wait a minute! What is he—what does he think he's—!// "Hey!" Duo reached out to grab a loose blue sleeve, but missed. Too late.
Zechs jumped from the edge of the service balcony to the shoulder of the white suit, nimbly tabbing the hatch open and the landing down before bouncing down the surface of the Tallgeese to the cockpit.
//I'll believe that heart attack bit—he's nearly giving /me/ one!// Vaulting over the railing, Duo followed suit, feet thumping onto the landing at the entrance of the cockpit in time to glimpse a pale blur of a boy slipping inside into the seat.
"Hey, if the engines are as strong as you're saying they must be, don't start that thing up down here—it'll shake the houses apart above us like an earthquake!" Deathscythe's pilot tried, hoping to dissuade the young pilot from taking off.
Zechs simply shook his head negatively, pale eyes glinting with sly mischief, and powered up the monitors, looking over the controls and indicators. "I'm not. I don't care to try the Tallgeese yet… Not unless I must."
//Phew! At least he's still sane…// "Good… I mean, hey, I believe you can do wonders with the thing, but… you're a kid now. It's not the same—it /can't/ be the same!" Duo tried honestly, offering an apologetic smile and shrug. "You're with /us/ now… and we don't like our friends getting hurt."
The solemn youth had been frowning a bit at the monitors' display, and those eyes now slowly closed, that pale head bowing.
Duo's heart constricted, forcing a sigh from him. "Promise me you won't take off in this thing. Heck, if it almost killed you as an adult, it most definitely will as a kid! Just promise me…" //I feel like I'm trying to make him promise to pull his own teeth… But it's for his own good! I can't stand to—to see him dead.//
For a long minute, Zechs didn't stir, head bowed and pale blue eyes shut… then… "Very well. I promise I won't take the Tallgeese flying."
"Good," Duo breathed in undisguised relief, stepping back on the landing. "Well, I'm off to breakfast, then…" //I bet he wants to be alone with it for a bit, then… so I'd best give him privacy. That's not an easy promise, after all—but I had to get it out of him. For my own sake and Quatre's as much as his own!//
The blonde youth nodded silent acknowledgement, eyes still shut, as Duo tabbed the descent line and took it to the floor far below.
Hopping off at the bottom, Duo watched the line retract, heart feeling much lighter… yet a slight nagging suspicion bothered him. //You know…//
//If it were me, I wouldn't have agreed…// Stifling a groan, Duo shook his head and headed off for breakfast. //I'd better tell Quatre and the Maganacs to keep an eye on him anyway…//
//Just in case…//
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Up in the cockpit, Miri… smiled.
//Of course, /taking/ the Tallgeese flying and flying /it/ are two very different things…// Slowly, pale blue eyes opened, flicking back to the readings on the monitors, the status of the old machine.
//She's set to go, my pale beauty… The buster rifle's recharged, the vernier rockets are primed, fully fueled… My lovely Tallgeese.// He sighed softly with pride. //You would never fail me, Tallgeese…//
//Only /I/ can fail me…// A twinge of despair swirled through his body, and he looked at the open hatch by his feet.
A pale, bandaged hand reached up to tab off the controls slowly, leaving only cockpit lights on. Icy eyes glared at the seating and armrests, which were pretty wide for someone of his stature—and quite uncomfortable where they had previously fit him like a glove.
//I'm too short to get a good view of the main screen, and I need longer legs at the same time. Only Oz engineering could leave this kind of problem! Next time I get in here, I'm going to need a few things… Like a crate to sit on and additions to the bottom of my shoes!// Unable to escape the image of using a broomstick and bricks to wield the controls in Tallgeese's variable G-forces and the likely painful consequences of so much stuff flying around with every sudden turn, Zechs started chuckling…
Chuckles turned to chortles and progressed to laughs, which carried the youth out of the cockpit, tabbing off the lights and closing the cockpit before taking the line down to the floor far below.
//I wonder what my horoscope says? I'll die of flying bricks, perhaps? Impaled by a broomstick?// he wondered as he bounced off the line and looked back up at the service balcony—and his sandals, forgotten—high above. //Things are finally looking up… for now.//
A slight smile remained with him as he dashed back to the ladder and back up, his pale eyes glinting with mischief.
//I think I'll worry about the future when it hits me… for all that it tends to strike like a load of solid concrete when it /does/.//
Kicking his feet into the thongs, Miri silently dashed off again, this time /with/ his sandals, practically flying down the ladder again with a reckless disregard for personal safety that most children that age display.
//Somehow… I feel like I've more energy now than I've had the past 5 years as an Oz Colonel! And I know /just/ how to spend it… I'm probably out of practice, though…// Surely they had what he wanted around here somewhere…
His laugh echoed softly, distantly, throughout the hangar, a wordless promise to the world that it didn't know just what it had just spawned…
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Trowa didn't glance over at Heero as the first checkpoint rolled up, though the urge to do so was quite compelling. Instead, he silently handed their papers through the truck's window over to the waiting Oz soldier in his crisp red uniform.
The nondescript soldier frowned at the forms, then groaned. "Oh shit… Major, you may want to see this…"
Trowa couldn't restrain an eyebrow from slipping skyward, and gave into his urge. Heero's dark blue gaze met his own impassively, and Wing Gundam's pilot shifted his better shoulder up in a slight shrug.
"What the heck?!?" the Major complained, stalking back towards the truck and waving those pages in his hand. "What the heck is the guy /doing/!? Is the Colonel /insane/?!?"
Green eyes blinked as papers waved in close enough proximity to Trowa's face to threaten some nasty paper-cuts. "Sir?"
"He's already /got/ that old museum-piece, the Tallgeese—/and/ had that Gundam almost in one piece for a good bit, and God only knows what he's having built for him /now/—but they're not like trading-cards, damn it! With half Oz and a good portion of Romefeller for that matter looking for him—you'd think that damn Colonel of yours would know better than to go collecting /more/ mobile suits!" the man ranted irately.
Trowa's eyes widened slightly, but he resolutely made no sound.
"What is he trying to do, start a damn collection? This is the bloody /army/! Not the Air And Space Museum!" continued the Major sharply, pulling up proudly as if to prove himself a more responsible specimen of the military.
"Where are you headed, anyway?" the soldier who had first taken the papers piped in hopefully. When his own superior officer glared at him, the younger man shrugged and leered. "I heard Lieutenant Noin was looking for him, too…"
Heero and Trowa exchanged cocked eyebrows. The Major muttered under his breath some scathing comment that if Lieutenant Noin wanted to catch the Colonel's attention, she should have wings attached to her shoulders and a gun in hand.
Finally, Heero murmured, "It's classified… With so many looking for him, it would be stupid to reappear and get swamped."
The Major grunted, making a face and looking back down at the papers a long moment. Then he snorted and half-tossed, half-handed the papers back through the truck window in a dismissive gesture. "Get on with it, then, get out of here… before I impound the Colonel's latest toy just for the sake of it! I swear, the man must be losing his mind… and why His Excellency lets him get away with it…"
Still muttering, the man wandered back inside the station. The soldier who had mentioned Noin shrugged sheepishly and reached for the button to lift the flimsy gate.
"I bet you're off to Cairo Base to collect the Raven Transporter Plane for that thing…" the fellow sighed, smiling wryly. "It beats sitting around here, though. And I bet the Colonel's got something up his sleeve—he always does!"
But he abruptly leaned in conspiringly through the truck's window before Trowa could slam on the gas pedal, startling Trowa into jerking back in the seat. The Oz soldier glanced about warily through the corners of his eyes, then whispered hastily, "Watch out for a tail—Romefeller's /really/ out for his blood and not above spilling that of anyone in their path. Keep him safe—for His Excellency and good old Instructor Noin. The Raven's in Corsica Base."
Then, suddenly, he leaned back and winked slyly, leering again. "Give the girls there a kiss for me, eh?" Then he waved them on through.
Trowa nodded silently, and edged the truck through, driving on in thoughtful silence…
"Stop at the next internet café after losing the tail. We need papers for Corsica Base," Heero murmured grimly.
Trowa nodded slowly. "Then we will go to Africa?"
Though Heero didn't nod, his voice carried a hint of approval. "If we can get a coordinated attack while Oz is disorganized, we might accomplish something."
"You're hoping Quatre might have rejoined his allies there."
Silence was the only reply, but Trowa nodded again—answering himself, though it wasn't really a question.
The truck rumbled on determinedly… aware that a jeep pulling into traffic behind it had become an unwanted rear escort.
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His Excellency was pouring through satellite pictures grimly, driven by instincts he didn't know he had until now.
//I never thought of myself as the paternal type,// he mused, pausing for a sip of red wine before taking up the magnifying glass and squinting at yet another expanse of sand. //But I swear, if they so much as touch a hair on that boy's head before I can find him, I'll… I'll…//
Treize paused, frowning, trying to think up a punishment suitable for such a crime.
An evil light touched his sapphire eyes. //I'll lock them in a room full of Barney pictures and repeat that damn song over and over until they go insane…//
Then something caught his eye, and he squinted harder at the picture before him. It looked like… No, that wasn't a normal dune. That couldn't be, in the middle of flat sand.
A covered plane. But a warped one. One wing gone?
//Has… Has he crashed? But then—/someone/ must have covered up the plane afterwards! Someone else in the area? Did they capture him, or help him? Be safe, Milliardo, be safe… Perhaps you escaped into the village there…//
A shudder tickled the General's spine. //Perhaps whoever covered the plane's in the village, too.//
Tapping the intercom, he summoned one of his searchers back, gaze drifting back to the photo as he waited for the young loyal soldier to report.
//Be safe, old friend…//
//Or I'll be forced to cause a lot of pain to someone… or several someones!//
The response was swift. The young solder popped in and saluted smartly, as eager to please as a young puppy, and barely older than one.
"Sergeant Greyston… What forces are—or rumored to be—in… or near… ACP Point 150?"
Frowning slightly, the Sergeant scratched at an ear, trying to recall. "Well, Sir, we know that somewhere in that sector is a rebel force calling themselves the Maganac Corps… They're considered a freedom-fighting force of the Arabian nations, Sir—some fairly high-up and wealthy backing, which is why they're still about."
Setting down the photo, Treize steepled his hands over it, leaning forwards over his desk. "The Maganac Corps," he mused. //There may be no love lost between them and the rest of the nations—and nationalities. I hope they're friendly to similar causes, though, Milliardo—for your sake.//
Snapping his fingers, the younger soldier brightened abruptly. "That reminds me, Sir—we just overheard orders for Commander Girald to finish them off at their home base. Seems he thinks he knows where it might be…"
//Commander Girald…? He's practically another Acht—an ex-Alliance trying to impress Romefeller by doing little missions for Dermail!// Had Treize not been raised as the perfect gentleman, he would have spat out the foul taste that name left in his mouth.
Then something clicked.
"Is he in this sector right now?" the General demanded sharply, tapping the photo with an elegant hand.
The young soldier before him tilted his head a bit to the side. "Not yet—but that could be a target, Sir. We don't know where the Maganac Corps's main base is, Sir. It could just as well be right there."
A thrill of alarm flashed through Treize's body. //If there's weaponry, I bet Zechs is there, too! Damn!!! Commander Girald won't listen to me any more than Acht would. We have to do something!// He lunged to his feet, chugging down the last of the wine in his glass—and ignoring the astonished expression on the young man's face. "Get every loyal—and quiet—man we have. Get them armed and ready for action. We have to stop him."
Sergeant Greyston saluted—perhaps it was habit for confused soldiers around Treize to snap salutes whenever confused, worried, or caught off-guard, the General mused. "But Sir—we can't possibly get there in time! The battle'll be over by the time we get there!"
Frowning at the photo, Treize paused beside his desk. "We have to try."
//I won't abandon you, Milliardo. You've done me favors time and again, stuck by me through more than anyone else can imagine—now it's time I repay the debt.//
Striding for the door, he commanded grimly, fiercely, "Have my plane readied. And make sure it has an Aries for me as well. Also have someone to see to… evidence of our stay. We might not return here."
//We might not return at all.//
//World peace be hanged! This is not a good time to pursue absolute peace, not with the world powers as they are currently. /And I do NOT abandon my loyal friends!!!///
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It wasn't Quatre's day. It couldn't be. Some higher power must have made a wide decree that this day was to be an Anti-Quatre Rabera Winner Day.
And Duo couldn't help laughing about that, so he must have been there for the announcement.
Rashid loomed in the doorway even as Duo chuckled at yet another sudden plunge of the stock Quatre had just recommended he invest in… and the large Maganac looked like he'd swallowed something distasteful recently. Not the best sign. Rashid never scowled—he just looked grim, or even dark at times. Now was one of those times.
//Why me?// Quatre wanted to groan, his empathy telling him that something—while it hadn't made Rashid angry—had brought the leader of the Maganacs here and away from overseeing the repair of the Gundams and completion of Wing Gundam. //This can't be good. He wants… a mediator, or a favor of some kind, that's all I can pick up… from /him/…//
There was something suspicious about Rashid's stance…
Well, even Duo must have felt something, because he stopped teasing Quatre about the stocks and turned to look at the Maganac—laughter dying. "Hey man—what's wrong?"
Rashid looked down at the Gundam pilots as if gauging their mood—so he could break some bad news gently. Or was he simply trying to find a good way to phrase something? //Most unlike him to hold back…// "What's wrong, Rashid?" Quatre tried, concerned.
"Have either of you some free time to help out?" Rashid's voice carried a plaintive note—almost desperate.
//Great Allah—what's gone wrong?// "Is someone hurt?" Quatre asked, jumping to his feet.
Duo's eyes widened in alarm. "We're free—but why?"
"This happens to keep getting underfoot…" Rashid stuck out an arm with a fistful of blue and silvery-white…
//Zechs?// Now what Quatre had been picking up from Rashid's direction made a lot more sense.
A sheepish, bedraggled and familiar boy smiled weakly at the pair as the huge Arabian held him out like a lion cub on display—by the nape of the neck and a generous handful of shirt and pale hair. His feet dangled a good three feet above the floor, weighted with… metal? No, some scrap metal concoction concerning wheels set in lines…
"Hey, cool—rollerblades! I never thought of using spare gundanium for them before!" Duo burst out eagerly, eying the makeshift footgear.
Quatre stifled a groan. //Just what we need—/two/ of them whirling around the hangar on those things!// "Duo," he tried wearily.
The black-clad pilot sighed, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet. "Yeah, yeah… So, what happened?"
Rashid continued to hold the boy out to them as if waiting for one of the pair to take Zechs out of his hands in a literal sense. "His whirling around made Auda dizzy enough to knock over a pile of outer plating; he scared the heavens out of Abdul by popping up literally under the nose of the forklift; Ashish thought he was a ghost and now refuses to enter the hangar without some kind of anti-ghost charm—"
//Oh my!// Quatre closed his eyes and sighed, listening to Rashid list a string of mishaps and close calls. He could feel shame and silent apology—with a touch of irritation—radiating from the boy as the list continued on. Rashid, on the other hand, was actually amused and simply trying to scare the youth out of repeating the performance—easy enough, when the man bore such a grim aura about him on a regular basis. No way Zechs, who hadn't known the man long enough, could guess Rashid's true mood under the bluster.
"I was in no danger," Zechs piped in quietly, confidently, reassuringly—the source of his irritation, as he was certain of his own skills and because of them, his own safety
Rashid stopped listing mishaps and looked down at the boy dangling from his hand like a sorry cat. His lips quirked slightly, hinting his amusement. "It was not /you/ I was worried about! They weren't getting anything /done/!"
Quatre chuckled mischievously. Duo laughed at Zechs's surprised expression—and the slight shy smile that the boy ducked under those long bangs.
"So, what do you want /us/ to do, Rashid?" Duo asked, grinning broadly, hands on hips. Quatre could feel that he had been worried for the younger—older?—boy pilot as the listing began, but Rashid's words had eased that.
Rashid paused.
Quatre didn't need his empathy to know what was coming. //Oh no, he wants us to babysit…!//
Zechs must have guessed, too, because resentment boiled up. "I don't need nursemaids!"
Duo groaned.
Rashid shook his head firmly, as if to refuse to let them back out. "/You/ both need occupation," he pointed out at the Gundam pilots. "/He/ needs occupation—/away/ from the hangar! You can help each other out. Pick his brain about Oz bases nearby—play a game—or go show him the village—just keep out of our way if you want working Gundams again. There is a celebration tonight, as well—perhaps you can find out where exactly in the village it will be held. We Maganacs at least intend to make the most of it…"
Zechs sighed. Quatre could feel that the boy was resigned to whatever he and Duo decided to do, though a spark of interest and curiosity was fueled by the idea of exploring the village and joining the celebration. //It sounds pleasant… and I think it'll cheer us all up after that last disastrous battle… I think we all need it…//
"Hey, a celebration? I'm all for that!" Duo decided without hesitation.
//I'm not surprised,// Quatre mused. //When you have the opportunities to enjoy the world around you, Duo, you never turn them away. You make the most out of the life offered you… And I'm trying to do that, too, though I don't think I'm as successful at it as you.//
"Well, maybe we can help the villagers set up for it," Quatre tried, smiling hopefully. //It's something new—and we can contribute something that way.//
Even before he got vocal responses, Sandrock's pilot could feel the solid eager agreement of the other two pilots.
Rashid held up his free hand in a halting gesture. "One rule, however…"
A chorus of groans echoed through the room.
The Maganac Corps' leader ignored it. That free hand swiftly unlaced the makeshift rollerblades from Zechs's feet—and the boy moaned. "But I spent a good /hour/ making these!"
"No using these in the village," the tall Arabian stated firmly.
Duo chuckled and Quatre giggled behind a hand at Zechs's resulting embarrassed and woe-be-gone expression as he was de-skated. //He seems much more open than I imagined he would be,// Quatre observed. //Could that be why he used to wear the mask—to hide, to keep his expression and eyes from giving away too much?//
"There. /Now/ you can go." Rashid smiled, skates in one hand and boy in the other, looking, for the moment, like a smug father who had managed to derail some young prankster's newest plan.
Zechs sighed, then looked up through a mass of wild pale bangs to give Rashid a wry—and yet content and accepting somehow—smile. "Could you put me down, then, finally?" he asked, half-laughing. "I'm not a 'Pine Forest' air freshener… though the Tallgeese could use a new one!"
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To be continued.
I'm having too much fun with this thing! :) And if you think Zechs's reserved demeanor is cracked in this, you're right—he's regressing a bit.
Chapter Nine: Ask Yourself: Can You Even Deliver…?
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Disclaimer—Okay, so I got a new fish. It's still not worth suing me for.
Warnings—Eventual 2x6, yes, that means shounen ai (whatever), man + man, etc. Not that you'll see much. Maybe a kiss at the end. But the end is so far on the horizon, you need binoculars to even know it's out there. Otherwise, there's the usual hazards (sarcasm, etc). And for once, minor swearing! Oooo…
Zechs gets the run of the Maganacs' base—which has its good points and bad points for all concerned. Heero and Trowa are in luck at the first checkpoint. Treize, on the other hand, is feeling his luck running thin and begins setting up his coup de tat.
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Duo leaned on the railing of the service balcony, looking up at Deathscythe with a thoughtful smile, letting his mind wander. It was easy enough. Plenty to wander through, after all. Especially after Zechs's revelations during that first talk, so early that morning.
//Though I bet the kid—it's so hard NOT to think of him as a kid!—is getting breakfast with Quatre right now. I know we promised him the run of the place, or rather a tour, or rather… /Quatre/ did… But he'd hardly be up at this hour. Too early. And I know sedatives take a bit to get out of your system… He was dozing off and on throughout our chat, almost, poor guy…//
Dark blue—almost violet—eyes shifted over to the two mobile suits recently set on their feet beside Deathscythe and Sandrock: familiar old Wing Gundam, still needing a few minor parts, and a white monstrosity. The behemoth of mobile suits drew his attention, changing Duo's smile to a thoughtful frown.
//How does that thing even get into the air? It looks pretty darn heavy—though those engines on the back look like they stand a chance of moving the thing… Must be ungainly as hell to maneuver, though. Bulky.// Duo scratched at the back of his head idly, contemplating the engineering behind the unusual suit. //Engineering folly… Or is it?//
Some instinct made Duo glance to his left along the service balcony—but it turned into a double-take.
Zechs.
He'd taken much the same position as Duo, leaning bandaged hands against the railing, though the railing was almost chin-height to him. Icy blue eyes were riveted to the white suit, as if by will alone he could command it even from here. A faded loose blue shirt and pants the same pale shade as his long hair had been given to him, donated probably by some villager at a Maganac's request. And sandals, though just /how/ Zechs had gotten to his current position in those without making any noise stupefied the Gundam pilot.
//Sandals just don't… How?!? I swear, I've tried to walk quietly in the darn things a hundred times, and yet… But he's managed to do it. Yeesh, I give up.// Chuckling softly, Duo straightened and strode over to the pale figure.
Zechs didn't so much as stir a hair, though he must have heard Duo's footsteps echoing closer on the flimsy flooring.
//One'd think that white monstrosity hypnotized him,// Deathscythe's pilot mused, amused.
"So what's the thing's name?" Duo asked cheerfully, taking a position leaning on the railing beside the blonde.
"Tallgeese." It was almost a whisper. Zechs's mind was obviously somewhere else, his gaze… more concerned and calculating than anything else, fixed on a point actually beyond the mobile suit, now that Duo was close enough to tell the difference.
//Tallgeese? Guess they weren't sure about it when they made it, either! Just like nobody was sure the Spruce Goose would ever fly. Probably expected it'll flop. Hard to believe it fought Wing and almost won… Or was that more the pilot's doing?// "Strange name… Sounds like the engineers were making fun of it."
Ice-blue eyes shifted to look at Duo, focusing immediately on his face. Though Duo continued to look up at the white machine, he could catch the movement from the corner of his eyes. "It's easy to underestimate the Tallgeese. It almost killed me the first time I tried it."
Duo pulled back, shifting to lean backwards on the railing and frowning at that news. "How? It looks safe enough. Unless you fall off the landing—that's a bit of a fall at that height!"
Zechs's eyes flicked to the cockpit, the side of his mouth quirking slightly. "That wasn't it… The sudden shifts of G-force tend to be of bone-breaking intensity, is all."
Wincing, Duo shook his head, looking from the ex-Oz boy to the mobile suit and back. "Nahhhh… You're kidding me!"
Smiling slowly, Zechs kicked off his sandals, and began clambering between the railings. "It broke my ribs… Then it gave me a heart attack."
//Hey, wait a minute! What is he—what does he think he's—!// "Hey!" Duo reached out to grab a loose blue sleeve, but missed. Too late.
Zechs jumped from the edge of the service balcony to the shoulder of the white suit, nimbly tabbing the hatch open and the landing down before bouncing down the surface of the Tallgeese to the cockpit.
//I'll believe that heart attack bit—he's nearly giving /me/ one!// Vaulting over the railing, Duo followed suit, feet thumping onto the landing at the entrance of the cockpit in time to glimpse a pale blur of a boy slipping inside into the seat.
"Hey, if the engines are as strong as you're saying they must be, don't start that thing up down here—it'll shake the houses apart above us like an earthquake!" Deathscythe's pilot tried, hoping to dissuade the young pilot from taking off.
Zechs simply shook his head negatively, pale eyes glinting with sly mischief, and powered up the monitors, looking over the controls and indicators. "I'm not. I don't care to try the Tallgeese yet… Not unless I must."
//Phew! At least he's still sane…// "Good… I mean, hey, I believe you can do wonders with the thing, but… you're a kid now. It's not the same—it /can't/ be the same!" Duo tried honestly, offering an apologetic smile and shrug. "You're with /us/ now… and we don't like our friends getting hurt."
The solemn youth had been frowning a bit at the monitors' display, and those eyes now slowly closed, that pale head bowing.
Duo's heart constricted, forcing a sigh from him. "Promise me you won't take off in this thing. Heck, if it almost killed you as an adult, it most definitely will as a kid! Just promise me…" //I feel like I'm trying to make him promise to pull his own teeth… But it's for his own good! I can't stand to—to see him dead.//
For a long minute, Zechs didn't stir, head bowed and pale blue eyes shut… then… "Very well. I promise I won't take the Tallgeese flying."
"Good," Duo breathed in undisguised relief, stepping back on the landing. "Well, I'm off to breakfast, then…" //I bet he wants to be alone with it for a bit, then… so I'd best give him privacy. That's not an easy promise, after all—but I had to get it out of him. For my own sake and Quatre's as much as his own!//
The blonde youth nodded silent acknowledgement, eyes still shut, as Duo tabbed the descent line and took it to the floor far below.
Hopping off at the bottom, Duo watched the line retract, heart feeling much lighter… yet a slight nagging suspicion bothered him. //You know…//
//If it were me, I wouldn't have agreed…// Stifling a groan, Duo shook his head and headed off for breakfast. //I'd better tell Quatre and the Maganacs to keep an eye on him anyway…//
//Just in case…//
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Up in the cockpit, Miri… smiled.
//Of course, /taking/ the Tallgeese flying and flying /it/ are two very different things…// Slowly, pale blue eyes opened, flicking back to the readings on the monitors, the status of the old machine.
//She's set to go, my pale beauty… The buster rifle's recharged, the vernier rockets are primed, fully fueled… My lovely Tallgeese.// He sighed softly with pride. //You would never fail me, Tallgeese…//
//Only /I/ can fail me…// A twinge of despair swirled through his body, and he looked at the open hatch by his feet.
A pale, bandaged hand reached up to tab off the controls slowly, leaving only cockpit lights on. Icy eyes glared at the seating and armrests, which were pretty wide for someone of his stature—and quite uncomfortable where they had previously fit him like a glove.
//I'm too short to get a good view of the main screen, and I need longer legs at the same time. Only Oz engineering could leave this kind of problem! Next time I get in here, I'm going to need a few things… Like a crate to sit on and additions to the bottom of my shoes!// Unable to escape the image of using a broomstick and bricks to wield the controls in Tallgeese's variable G-forces and the likely painful consequences of so much stuff flying around with every sudden turn, Zechs started chuckling…
Chuckles turned to chortles and progressed to laughs, which carried the youth out of the cockpit, tabbing off the lights and closing the cockpit before taking the line down to the floor far below.
//I wonder what my horoscope says? I'll die of flying bricks, perhaps? Impaled by a broomstick?// he wondered as he bounced off the line and looked back up at the service balcony—and his sandals, forgotten—high above. //Things are finally looking up… for now.//
A slight smile remained with him as he dashed back to the ladder and back up, his pale eyes glinting with mischief.
//I think I'll worry about the future when it hits me… for all that it tends to strike like a load of solid concrete when it /does/.//
Kicking his feet into the thongs, Miri silently dashed off again, this time /with/ his sandals, practically flying down the ladder again with a reckless disregard for personal safety that most children that age display.
//Somehow… I feel like I've more energy now than I've had the past 5 years as an Oz Colonel! And I know /just/ how to spend it… I'm probably out of practice, though…// Surely they had what he wanted around here somewhere…
His laugh echoed softly, distantly, throughout the hangar, a wordless promise to the world that it didn't know just what it had just spawned…
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Trowa didn't glance over at Heero as the first checkpoint rolled up, though the urge to do so was quite compelling. Instead, he silently handed their papers through the truck's window over to the waiting Oz soldier in his crisp red uniform.
The nondescript soldier frowned at the forms, then groaned. "Oh shit… Major, you may want to see this…"
Trowa couldn't restrain an eyebrow from slipping skyward, and gave into his urge. Heero's dark blue gaze met his own impassively, and Wing Gundam's pilot shifted his better shoulder up in a slight shrug.
"What the heck?!?" the Major complained, stalking back towards the truck and waving those pages in his hand. "What the heck is the guy /doing/!? Is the Colonel /insane/?!?"
Green eyes blinked as papers waved in close enough proximity to Trowa's face to threaten some nasty paper-cuts. "Sir?"
"He's already /got/ that old museum-piece, the Tallgeese—/and/ had that Gundam almost in one piece for a good bit, and God only knows what he's having built for him /now/—but they're not like trading-cards, damn it! With half Oz and a good portion of Romefeller for that matter looking for him—you'd think that damn Colonel of yours would know better than to go collecting /more/ mobile suits!" the man ranted irately.
Trowa's eyes widened slightly, but he resolutely made no sound.
"What is he trying to do, start a damn collection? This is the bloody /army/! Not the Air And Space Museum!" continued the Major sharply, pulling up proudly as if to prove himself a more responsible specimen of the military.
"Where are you headed, anyway?" the soldier who had first taken the papers piped in hopefully. When his own superior officer glared at him, the younger man shrugged and leered. "I heard Lieutenant Noin was looking for him, too…"
Heero and Trowa exchanged cocked eyebrows. The Major muttered under his breath some scathing comment that if Lieutenant Noin wanted to catch the Colonel's attention, she should have wings attached to her shoulders and a gun in hand.
Finally, Heero murmured, "It's classified… With so many looking for him, it would be stupid to reappear and get swamped."
The Major grunted, making a face and looking back down at the papers a long moment. Then he snorted and half-tossed, half-handed the papers back through the truck window in a dismissive gesture. "Get on with it, then, get out of here… before I impound the Colonel's latest toy just for the sake of it! I swear, the man must be losing his mind… and why His Excellency lets him get away with it…"
Still muttering, the man wandered back inside the station. The soldier who had mentioned Noin shrugged sheepishly and reached for the button to lift the flimsy gate.
"I bet you're off to Cairo Base to collect the Raven Transporter Plane for that thing…" the fellow sighed, smiling wryly. "It beats sitting around here, though. And I bet the Colonel's got something up his sleeve—he always does!"
But he abruptly leaned in conspiringly through the truck's window before Trowa could slam on the gas pedal, startling Trowa into jerking back in the seat. The Oz soldier glanced about warily through the corners of his eyes, then whispered hastily, "Watch out for a tail—Romefeller's /really/ out for his blood and not above spilling that of anyone in their path. Keep him safe—for His Excellency and good old Instructor Noin. The Raven's in Corsica Base."
Then, suddenly, he leaned back and winked slyly, leering again. "Give the girls there a kiss for me, eh?" Then he waved them on through.
Trowa nodded silently, and edged the truck through, driving on in thoughtful silence…
"Stop at the next internet café after losing the tail. We need papers for Corsica Base," Heero murmured grimly.
Trowa nodded slowly. "Then we will go to Africa?"
Though Heero didn't nod, his voice carried a hint of approval. "If we can get a coordinated attack while Oz is disorganized, we might accomplish something."
"You're hoping Quatre might have rejoined his allies there."
Silence was the only reply, but Trowa nodded again—answering himself, though it wasn't really a question.
The truck rumbled on determinedly… aware that a jeep pulling into traffic behind it had become an unwanted rear escort.
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His Excellency was pouring through satellite pictures grimly, driven by instincts he didn't know he had until now.
//I never thought of myself as the paternal type,// he mused, pausing for a sip of red wine before taking up the magnifying glass and squinting at yet another expanse of sand. //But I swear, if they so much as touch a hair on that boy's head before I can find him, I'll… I'll…//
Treize paused, frowning, trying to think up a punishment suitable for such a crime.
An evil light touched his sapphire eyes. //I'll lock them in a room full of Barney pictures and repeat that damn song over and over until they go insane…//
Then something caught his eye, and he squinted harder at the picture before him. It looked like… No, that wasn't a normal dune. That couldn't be, in the middle of flat sand.
A covered plane. But a warped one. One wing gone?
//Has… Has he crashed? But then—/someone/ must have covered up the plane afterwards! Someone else in the area? Did they capture him, or help him? Be safe, Milliardo, be safe… Perhaps you escaped into the village there…//
A shudder tickled the General's spine. //Perhaps whoever covered the plane's in the village, too.//
Tapping the intercom, he summoned one of his searchers back, gaze drifting back to the photo as he waited for the young loyal soldier to report.
//Be safe, old friend…//
//Or I'll be forced to cause a lot of pain to someone… or several someones!//
The response was swift. The young solder popped in and saluted smartly, as eager to please as a young puppy, and barely older than one.
"Sergeant Greyston… What forces are—or rumored to be—in… or near… ACP Point 150?"
Frowning slightly, the Sergeant scratched at an ear, trying to recall. "Well, Sir, we know that somewhere in that sector is a rebel force calling themselves the Maganac Corps… They're considered a freedom-fighting force of the Arabian nations, Sir—some fairly high-up and wealthy backing, which is why they're still about."
Setting down the photo, Treize steepled his hands over it, leaning forwards over his desk. "The Maganac Corps," he mused. //There may be no love lost between them and the rest of the nations—and nationalities. I hope they're friendly to similar causes, though, Milliardo—for your sake.//
Snapping his fingers, the younger soldier brightened abruptly. "That reminds me, Sir—we just overheard orders for Commander Girald to finish them off at their home base. Seems he thinks he knows where it might be…"
//Commander Girald…? He's practically another Acht—an ex-Alliance trying to impress Romefeller by doing little missions for Dermail!// Had Treize not been raised as the perfect gentleman, he would have spat out the foul taste that name left in his mouth.
Then something clicked.
"Is he in this sector right now?" the General demanded sharply, tapping the photo with an elegant hand.
The young soldier before him tilted his head a bit to the side. "Not yet—but that could be a target, Sir. We don't know where the Maganac Corps's main base is, Sir. It could just as well be right there."
A thrill of alarm flashed through Treize's body. //If there's weaponry, I bet Zechs is there, too! Damn!!! Commander Girald won't listen to me any more than Acht would. We have to do something!// He lunged to his feet, chugging down the last of the wine in his glass—and ignoring the astonished expression on the young man's face. "Get every loyal—and quiet—man we have. Get them armed and ready for action. We have to stop him."
Sergeant Greyston saluted—perhaps it was habit for confused soldiers around Treize to snap salutes whenever confused, worried, or caught off-guard, the General mused. "But Sir—we can't possibly get there in time! The battle'll be over by the time we get there!"
Frowning at the photo, Treize paused beside his desk. "We have to try."
//I won't abandon you, Milliardo. You've done me favors time and again, stuck by me through more than anyone else can imagine—now it's time I repay the debt.//
Striding for the door, he commanded grimly, fiercely, "Have my plane readied. And make sure it has an Aries for me as well. Also have someone to see to… evidence of our stay. We might not return here."
//We might not return at all.//
//World peace be hanged! This is not a good time to pursue absolute peace, not with the world powers as they are currently. /And I do NOT abandon my loyal friends!!!///
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It wasn't Quatre's day. It couldn't be. Some higher power must have made a wide decree that this day was to be an Anti-Quatre Rabera Winner Day.
And Duo couldn't help laughing about that, so he must have been there for the announcement.
Rashid loomed in the doorway even as Duo chuckled at yet another sudden plunge of the stock Quatre had just recommended he invest in… and the large Maganac looked like he'd swallowed something distasteful recently. Not the best sign. Rashid never scowled—he just looked grim, or even dark at times. Now was one of those times.
//Why me?// Quatre wanted to groan, his empathy telling him that something—while it hadn't made Rashid angry—had brought the leader of the Maganacs here and away from overseeing the repair of the Gundams and completion of Wing Gundam. //This can't be good. He wants… a mediator, or a favor of some kind, that's all I can pick up… from /him/…//
There was something suspicious about Rashid's stance…
Well, even Duo must have felt something, because he stopped teasing Quatre about the stocks and turned to look at the Maganac—laughter dying. "Hey man—what's wrong?"
Rashid looked down at the Gundam pilots as if gauging their mood—so he could break some bad news gently. Or was he simply trying to find a good way to phrase something? //Most unlike him to hold back…// "What's wrong, Rashid?" Quatre tried, concerned.
"Have either of you some free time to help out?" Rashid's voice carried a plaintive note—almost desperate.
//Great Allah—what's gone wrong?// "Is someone hurt?" Quatre asked, jumping to his feet.
Duo's eyes widened in alarm. "We're free—but why?"
"This happens to keep getting underfoot…" Rashid stuck out an arm with a fistful of blue and silvery-white…
//Zechs?// Now what Quatre had been picking up from Rashid's direction made a lot more sense.
A sheepish, bedraggled and familiar boy smiled weakly at the pair as the huge Arabian held him out like a lion cub on display—by the nape of the neck and a generous handful of shirt and pale hair. His feet dangled a good three feet above the floor, weighted with… metal? No, some scrap metal concoction concerning wheels set in lines…
"Hey, cool—rollerblades! I never thought of using spare gundanium for them before!" Duo burst out eagerly, eying the makeshift footgear.
Quatre stifled a groan. //Just what we need—/two/ of them whirling around the hangar on those things!// "Duo," he tried wearily.
The black-clad pilot sighed, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet. "Yeah, yeah… So, what happened?"
Rashid continued to hold the boy out to them as if waiting for one of the pair to take Zechs out of his hands in a literal sense. "His whirling around made Auda dizzy enough to knock over a pile of outer plating; he scared the heavens out of Abdul by popping up literally under the nose of the forklift; Ashish thought he was a ghost and now refuses to enter the hangar without some kind of anti-ghost charm—"
//Oh my!// Quatre closed his eyes and sighed, listening to Rashid list a string of mishaps and close calls. He could feel shame and silent apology—with a touch of irritation—radiating from the boy as the list continued on. Rashid, on the other hand, was actually amused and simply trying to scare the youth out of repeating the performance—easy enough, when the man bore such a grim aura about him on a regular basis. No way Zechs, who hadn't known the man long enough, could guess Rashid's true mood under the bluster.
"I was in no danger," Zechs piped in quietly, confidently, reassuringly—the source of his irritation, as he was certain of his own skills and because of them, his own safety
Rashid stopped listing mishaps and looked down at the boy dangling from his hand like a sorry cat. His lips quirked slightly, hinting his amusement. "It was not /you/ I was worried about! They weren't getting anything /done/!"
Quatre chuckled mischievously. Duo laughed at Zechs's surprised expression—and the slight shy smile that the boy ducked under those long bangs.
"So, what do you want /us/ to do, Rashid?" Duo asked, grinning broadly, hands on hips. Quatre could feel that he had been worried for the younger—older?—boy pilot as the listing began, but Rashid's words had eased that.
Rashid paused.
Quatre didn't need his empathy to know what was coming. //Oh no, he wants us to babysit…!//
Zechs must have guessed, too, because resentment boiled up. "I don't need nursemaids!"
Duo groaned.
Rashid shook his head firmly, as if to refuse to let them back out. "/You/ both need occupation," he pointed out at the Gundam pilots. "/He/ needs occupation—/away/ from the hangar! You can help each other out. Pick his brain about Oz bases nearby—play a game—or go show him the village—just keep out of our way if you want working Gundams again. There is a celebration tonight, as well—perhaps you can find out where exactly in the village it will be held. We Maganacs at least intend to make the most of it…"
Zechs sighed. Quatre could feel that the boy was resigned to whatever he and Duo decided to do, though a spark of interest and curiosity was fueled by the idea of exploring the village and joining the celebration. //It sounds pleasant… and I think it'll cheer us all up after that last disastrous battle… I think we all need it…//
"Hey, a celebration? I'm all for that!" Duo decided without hesitation.
//I'm not surprised,// Quatre mused. //When you have the opportunities to enjoy the world around you, Duo, you never turn them away. You make the most out of the life offered you… And I'm trying to do that, too, though I don't think I'm as successful at it as you.//
"Well, maybe we can help the villagers set up for it," Quatre tried, smiling hopefully. //It's something new—and we can contribute something that way.//
Even before he got vocal responses, Sandrock's pilot could feel the solid eager agreement of the other two pilots.
Rashid held up his free hand in a halting gesture. "One rule, however…"
A chorus of groans echoed through the room.
The Maganac Corps' leader ignored it. That free hand swiftly unlaced the makeshift rollerblades from Zechs's feet—and the boy moaned. "But I spent a good /hour/ making these!"
"No using these in the village," the tall Arabian stated firmly.
Duo chuckled and Quatre giggled behind a hand at Zechs's resulting embarrassed and woe-be-gone expression as he was de-skated. //He seems much more open than I imagined he would be,// Quatre observed. //Could that be why he used to wear the mask—to hide, to keep his expression and eyes from giving away too much?//
"There. /Now/ you can go." Rashid smiled, skates in one hand and boy in the other, looking, for the moment, like a smug father who had managed to derail some young prankster's newest plan.
Zechs sighed, then looked up through a mass of wild pale bangs to give Rashid a wry—and yet content and accepting somehow—smile. "Could you put me down, then, finally?" he asked, half-laughing. "I'm not a 'Pine Forest' air freshener… though the Tallgeese could use a new one!"
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To be continued.
I'm having too much fun with this thing! :) And if you think Zechs's reserved demeanor is cracked in this, you're right—he's regressing a bit.