Title: 02 - Quicksilver
Pairings: None
Warnings: Language - some colorful metaphors.
Author's Note: This is the second of what I hope to be a series of five stories originally written for the Before the Beginning Challenge. As that challenge now seems to be dead, I'm posting them here. Each story will be told from the POV of one of the Doctors (J, G, O etc), and show a (hopefully) different perspective on each of the young pilots.
Disclaimer: Don't own GW. Don't own much. Please don't sue me. It will be profoundly not worth the trouble.
Duo Maxwell eats like a prisoner. He sits, hunched over his bowl, one hand cupped around the edge, the other shoveling food into his mouth. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. His clothes are big, too big not to be stolen. His hair, though braided neatly to his waist, looks like it hasn't seen a comb in some time. His wrists are thin. He wields his grin like a weapon. The manic smile is enough to hide his flaws, but only when he focuses it on you.
I eat slowly. I can't say I know what to stay to my stowaway. I am not, by nature, an extrovert. The scientists of such gregarious temperament tend towards universities, tête-à-têtes where they can cozy up to the higher ups who then line their pockets with accolades and cash. I've never been sociable in that way. I don't know how to make small talk with adults, let alone children, especially those who claim to be the God of Death.
His spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. He looks up, grin in place. "Where are we headed anyway?"
"You don't know?"
He shrugs. "Anywhere out of the L2 cluster is an upgrade."
"I see." But I don't. Not exactly. "There are safer ways to travel from one colony to another."
"Maybe. But most need proof of age. Or money."
Judging from his appearance, he doesn't have either. I'd be surprised if he's over thirteen. Then again, I shouldn't be surprised at his age, or his poverty. The poor are only outnumbered by the destitute on L2.
He wipes his sleeve across his forehead and asks, "So, what are you going to do with me?"
"Do with you?"
"Doubt you wasted good food just to chuck me out an airlock."
"Maybe I believe in a last meal."
"Maybe." He drags his spoon in a circle around the bottom of his bowl, then licks it, slowly. "Course, you could let me look at the faulty vent on deck three instead."
"Faulty vent?" That is a surprise to me. I run a tight ship, hire and pay the best and I expect them to do their work effectively.
His smile freezes for a second, more offended than afraid. "I don't lie."
He meets my eyes, straight on. His are a deep blue, almost purple, and totally without fear. For a moment, I can almost believe he really is Maxwell's Demon, the only survivor of the Maxwell church massacre. I stand. "Show it to me."
"You're not going to finish that?" His gaze darts to my bowl, then he jumps to his feet with an air of affected indifference. "I mean, it's your food."
A tablespoon of dehydrated eggs and porridge, he acts as though I'm rejecting a feast. I am a scientist and a freedom fighter, working to overthrow an oppressive regime. Now my morals are challenged by the adolescent thief who hitched a ride on my ship. Still, I take my spoon and in two quick bites finish the rest. "Come on. Show me this vent."
He keeps up a stream of casual conversation as we climb the ladder to the third deck. Dull throbbing pain settles in my temples. He moves quickly, even as he talks, and I find myself struggling for breath as I follow. Like any of the colony born, Duo has a basic knowledge and paranoia about environmental systems. He says he chose my ship in part because it listed five extra EVA suits. That and the security.
"The better someone's security, the less they pay attention to what's going on inside." He explains with approval and a hint of pride.
Duo knows my ship well. He moves through it with the casual confidence of one who has learned the halls from tip to stern. He knows the habits of my men and women, and knows how to avoid them. But when he pulls open the hatch to the third level, the stream of conversation stops.
He jumps onto the deck, his head cocked. After a few seconds, he says, "It's gotten worse."
"What?"
"That hissing." He walks to the end of the hall, kneads his fingers along the base of his braid and pulls out a tiny screwdriver. In less than a minute, the cover to the vent is off.
"Where'd you last have this refitted?" He asks.
"L4."
"They screwed you." Duo pulls out a black square filter. A cloud of dirt rises from it as he lays it on the floor. He coughs and leans into the vent opening. The air seems thick. My head is pounding now. I feel anger rise in me. I'm usually a fairly phlegmatic man, not much ruffles my calm. It's a poor freedom fighter who lives at the whim of his temper. But this angers me. Fills me with rage. Only a fool ventures out into the void of space with substandard equipment. When I find the techs at the L4 yard, I will be bringing them more than a customer complaint.
I walk to the intercom and punch the all ship frequency. "Ian, Regina, report to Deck 3."
Regina is my environmental engineer, Ian my engineer. They don't know it yet, but both will spend the next few days going over this ship with a fine toothed comb. First a stowaway, now a bad filter.
"This can't be right!" I hear Duo's voice echo from inside the open vent.
"What?" My skin is clammy with sweat.
"Does the air seem stuffy in here?" Duo asks.
There's a clunk behind me, and the hatch opens. "Doctor, you needed us?"
Ian huffs to stand beside me. He's heavy for a spacer. His face is splotched with red, his eyes sport dark circles beneath them. Regina, in contrast, shows little effort for the exertion. Her hair is cropped to the side of her head, her eyes a calculating brown. She carries a basic toolkit in her left hand.
I ask. "Who supervised the L4 refit?"
"L4?" Ian stares at the ceiling for a second. "That'd be me I guess."
"You guess?"
"We've had three other maintenance calls since L4, Doc."
"I don't care how many maintenance calls we've had since L4. Or since the colonies were built for that matter. How about one of you explain this?" I kick the soot filled air filter. It slams against the wall. A dark cloud puffs out from the top and sides. It leaves a trail of black as it slides to the floor.
Ian's eyes widen. "What? Those are supposed to be new! That wouldn't even pass a routine inspection."
"Exactly."
Regina steps forward. "I believe L4 changed all of the filters on this deck. We have some spares in engineering. Come on Ian. We have work to do."
"Did L4 do your recyclers too?" Duo crawls out of the vent. A line of soot runs across his check and forehead. His hands are almost black.
Regina turns. She asks, "Who are you?" at the same time Ian exclaims, "Didn't know we had a stowaway."
"He only came to my attention in recent hours."
"Listen, I ain't your problem. Someone screwed up your environmental settings. The CO2 level is almost 1,000 ppm and rising fast."
"What?" Regina shakes her head vigorously. "Can't be. We'd be getting alarms all over the ship."
"Yeah. Should be. But someone's screwed with it. Bad. Lights are all green, but if you check the levels manually, the oxygen – carbon dioxide balance is all out of whack. If I didn't know better, I'd say someone wanted all of us dead." He says it casually, but the kid is far too perceptive.
"Right." Regina steps forward, grabs Duo by the wrist. "Just how long have you squirreled away on our ship?"
"Squirreled away?" He steps back, twists his wrist and wrenches away from Regina. "Get off a me. If I was crazy enough to want to kill a ship full of people I barely know, I wouldn't be stupid enough to stow myself aboard afterwards."
Regina meets my eyes. "Who knows what other surprises he's planted on our ship?"
"It ain't me."
"Right."
"I don't lie."
"Of course not." Regina sniffs.
"Maybe you did it yourself."
"What?"
"You're awful fresh. Bright eyed. I bet you've got a squirrel of O2. Bet the air doesn't bother you at all."
"I don't have to stand and be insulted by a common thief."
Duo laughs. "I ain't a common thief. I'm an exceptional thief. And I'm not careless."
"I suppose you think crawling through our ducts makes you an authority…"
"Be quiet." I hold up a hand. "Stowaway or no, young Maxwell has a valid argument. In fact, were it not for Duo, we would not be aware of the problem at this point at all. Which leads us to the true point, what can we do to repair the current problem?"
"Depends on how badly the system is damaged." Ian steps between Regina and Duo. His breathing is fast, I'm not sure if it's due to the air or his nervousness.
"I couldn't jimmy it from the secondary system on this deck. We need to take a look at the main hub."
"I will not have that child 'jimmying' anything else on my ship." Regina sets her thin lips in a firm line. "In fact, all we have is his word that something's wrong at all."
"You want to wait until your lips turn blue?" Duo shoves his hands into his pockets, his near purple eyes narrowed with rage. "Or you can always go in and check it yourself."
"After you." Regina waves a hand towards the open vent.
Duo shakes his head. "Just 'cause I'm from L2 doesn't make me stupid. You go first, or go alone."
Regina glares at the boy for a few seconds, then shrugs, "Fine. Ian, you too."
"We will all go." I say.
"Are you sure doctor? You know your knees bother you, especially in space." Ian says, "Better you stay here."
"I'll be fine."
Regina looks reluctant but falls to her knees and crawls into the vent. Duo follows. Ian grabs the tools and jumps in next, and finally myself. My knees do not enjoy this gallivant through the bowels of my ship. I'm really going to regret this when I attempt to stand again. Further, the faulty filter created thick a layer of dust that is kicked up as everyone shuffles along. My eyes water, my nose is stiff.
"Here goes." Duo leads us to another ladder, climbs down a couple of rungs to a landing, and points to a square box that holds our auxiliary monitor. He's correct, none of the values register as abnormal, but the CO2 level is well above normal. More disturbing, the oxygen levels are lower than they should be. Not dramatically, but enough.
"This isn't right." Regina says, hostility lost in a tone of concern. She starts to take the cover off of the unit and fiddle with some of the wires.
Duo leans over her shoulder. "See, I tried that one, but those two don't belong at all."
"This is deliberate." Regina says. "And recent. I check these visually at least twice a trip. Ian, come take a look at this."
I almost miss it. A shadow splashes the wall in front of me. Confused, I turn, and the wrench grazes my head instead of smashing it in. I fall to the floor. There is a crash as the wrench dings the metal wall.
"Ian!" Regina fuzzes in front of me. I see two of her.
Another swing. Duo jumps. Regina freezes. It hits her square in the side of her ribs. She falls.
I don't see Duo anymore.
"You should've picked another ship kid." I hear Ian say from behind me.
Duo laughs. "What can I say? I like redundant backup systems."
"I don't have enough spare oxygen for the both of us."
"Don't worry about it." The laugh is hard edged. It turns my stomach with something akin to fear. "I'm Shinigami. If anyone's walking out of here alive, it's gonna be me."
"Right."
"I don't lie."
"Kid, everybody lies."
My headache, bad as it was before, now hammers my skull. Still, I refuse to allow my cause to end here. It is my fault. I checked Ian thoroughly when I signed him on. He served ten years in resistance cells before joining us. "Ian?" My voice sounds like a croak.
"It's not personal, doc. Romafeller pays more. Ideals are all good, but they don't fill your belly."
"Ain't that the truth." Duo says, his tone all cynicism.
"Not so close kid."
"Come on, with all the extra suits on this ship, there isn't one more for little me?"
I've made it to my knees now. The pain is sharp, sharper than I expected. Then again, I didn't hit the ground too gently. The urge to hysterical laughter rises in me. I fall again, facing the other direction. The floor tilts. Still, I can see Duo standing barely three feet from Ian.
Duo wears a grin. Since it's not focused on me, I am able to see the knife in his hand.
Ian laughs. "You are a funny little shit. God of Death."
"We can't all of us be saints."
"Guess not." He raises the wrench.
Duo moves. The kid's so fast, I don't know he's done until I see the blood. The pipe clatters to the floor.
"Fuckin' kid." Ian falls. "Fuckin' lied to me." He sounds betrayed. It's ironic, almost.
"I never lie." Duo kicks the pipe away. It slides towards me. He whispers, "Ideals don't fill your stomach worth a damn. They feed your fuckin' soul."
He steps over me, and leans over Regina. "I'll get help."
"Deck 2. Find Dr. Ursis." I say.
He nods and runs to the ladder. A few seconds later, he's gone.
Insane or not, I like the kid. He's perceptive, intelligent, strong willed, and about the right height. If he's truly Maxwell's Demon, he has experience piloting at least one mobile suit, as well as the correct attitude towards the Alliance. Perhaps, if we survive this, I will offer him a job. I could use a Shinigami to pilot a machine of death.
End.