Trowa Barton glanced at his radar at the mobile dolls on his tail and sighed. He'd just finished raining bullets on their escape path – something that had backfired completely. So now here he was, fresh out of ammunition, with a dispatch of fully-armed mobile dolls hot on the chase. He had tried outrunning them, but they were just too fast – speed wasn't a Heavyarms kind of thing anyway. Trowa shook his head slowly, sadly. Why now? he thought. " Hurry up and shoot me, if you must, " he muttered without the least bit of bravado. He'd meant every word.
The mobile dolls were happy to oblige. They formed a circle around the disarmed Gundam, blocking off every direct escape route. All but one, Trowa realized, spying a weak point to the left of the mobile doll in front of him. He pushed ahead, rammed past the mobile doll, and headed full-speed towards the colony cluster, searching for somewhere to hide. L3, or at least what he could remember of it, had been a relatively nice place.
At that moment, the mobile dolls opened fire on him, and Trowa's train of thought was temporarily lost in a hail of bullets. He maneuvered his way around the shots, turning this way and that, still scanning for an abandoned colony – any colony – that would take him in. Suddenly there was an explosion, and it seemed as if every light in the cockpit was flashing madly. Trowa sighed again. He'd been hit, and critically too. He turned to his right, searching for the self-destruct button. There would be no regrets. He had been trained that way since he could remember. All in the name of peace, he assured himself. Then he closed his eyes and pushed the red button down.
Nothing happened.
Trowa sighed forlornly. Thank you very much, Fate.
He opened one eye and saw the open green expanse of a colony coming into view. He cursed silently and figured he could just crash into the colony as opposed to self-destructing. He checked his scanner again and realized that wouldn't be possible – this was an inhabited colony. He took Heavyarms' steering controls and pulled them sharply upward, hoping for a crash landing. Personally, Trowa would much rather have died. But at least now he might live to see OZ and their ruddy mobile dolls go down on his account.
Colony M-92837 – 2:57 AMIt was almost three in the morning, and Kiya Huit was nowhere near falling asleep. Given the fact that her township was less than a few miles away from an OZ base and sleep was rarely ever easy, but tonight for Kiya seemed different. There was a nagging anticipation within her that just couldn't be ignored. Something's going to happen tonight, she thought. She stared up at the sky, where a shooting star streaked across the inky blackness. I just wish I knew what it was. The girl reached for a brush and ran it through her long red hair, deep in thought. It doesn't matter, she continued, not like I'm going to be allowed to know what it is anyway.
Kiya's gaze returned to the window, and the first thing that caught her eye was the shooting star she had seen earlier. Except now, it wasn't a shooting star – it was a giant flaming something. And that giant flaming something was hurtling towards the colony. She gasped, frozen in shock as the fireball grew larger and brighter and finally hit the ground in an earth-shaking explosion that set part of the sky ablaze in orange and red light. She dressed quickly, pulling a thick black sweater and long skirt over her nightshirt, and climbed out the window. Then she grabbed her bike and rode full-speed towards the explosion.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the rubble before her. The ground had a blackened scar gouged into it that ran for miles, and at the end of the score was a flaming wreck. It was a mobile suit, but not like any suit she'd ever seen before. She thought she could make out the contours of a beam Gatling gun or two, as well as the slots where missiles must have been fired from. Kiya was beyond impressed. This suit must have had a formidable arsenal – at least until it ran out of ammo, which was likely what had happened to this pilot. As the smoke cleared Kiya realized that this was not the wreckage of a mobile suit; other than a large series of minor repairs, the suit was generally intact. " How in the colonies can anything survive something like that? " she whispered, awestruck. She realized that the pilot may possibly be alive if the suit had survived this, and braving the small flames that still remained she gingerly reached out to open the cockpit. She stilled her hand upon contact with the metal. " Why, this isn't hot at all, " she said to herself, surprised. " It's not even warm! What kind of suit is this? " She grasped the handle with both hands and threw the hatch open.
Strapped into the pilot's seat was a young man, not much older than herself. He was slumped forward over the control panel, his hands gripping the steering controls for all they were worth. Kiya put her hands to his neck and underneath the unusually long brown bangs that fell over his forehead. She breathed a sigh of relief at the faint pulse and the slight sensation of body heat. He was barely alive, but completely unconscious. Kiya disentangled the young pilot from the seat and hoisted him over the side of the hatch as best she could without falling off the mobile suit. Then she half-carried, half-dragged the boy over to her bike and somehow put him in the seat, head and arms slumped over the handlebars. Then she steadied the bike and began to push it towards home. It was going to be a long walk.