A Soldier's Thoughts

Heero Yui looked up from his kneeling position in front of the left stabilizer of the Wing Gundams's flight engine, momentarily distracted from the task of fixing a few loose connections by the sound of two OZ Aeries flying overhead.

Of course he had not to worry, his suit was very well camouflaged and the inferior sensors of the OZ Mobile Suits couldn't detect him unless they were directly making visual contact.

The pilot of 01 grunted nonetheless, he just couldn't shake off a certain feeling of uneasiness that had bothered him the whole day. After finally finishing the necessary repairs Heero climbed off the gigantic machine whose features could even bring fear to the toughest soldiers when they had to face this gundanium monster in battle.

Right now however the Wing Gundam stood perfectly still, his shiny armour underneath the camouflage net just slightly glittering in the moonlight, Although a weapon capable of destruction unmatched by anything mankind had produced so far, standing there in this spot, a clearing in one of the dark woods of northern Europe, it gave an impression of calmness and ironic as it may sound, peace.

One could think the silent sentry stood guard for his young master, protecting the pilot codenamed Heero Yui in one of the rare peaceful moments in this boy's life filled with war, terror and destruction.

Heero had started a small fire in a safe distance away from his Gundam so the heat wouldn't led any infrared sensors to his suit, but not so far away that he couldn't reach it in case an attack occurred during his small brake from the war. He had cooked a meal from dried rations and had made some coffee to stay alert while working on the latest battle data received while attacking an OZ base near Moscow.

His fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop with practiced ease while he still kept aware of his surroundings the whole time not allowing himself to let his guard down for even an instant.

After he had completed the report on his latest mission for Doctor J he was pretty much done for the day, that unusual situation leaving him time to think and evaluate the latest actions against OZ.

After the disaster of New Edwards he had needed something to occupy himself with, to keep his mind of the fateful mistake he had made. So he had chosen to attack some remote OZ facilities, which wouldn't draw to much attention to the public or the OZ officials. He had just left that night after diffusing the war heads set to explode and take the whole base to hell along with the Gundam pilots. He had not bothered to let anyone know what he was doing or where he was going afterwards.

He still couldn't fully comprehend the dimension of his failure. Failure, the word ringed inside his head, making him feel as if his skull would crack under the pressure. He, the trained assassin, who had killed his first man when five years old, he the living weapon Doctor J had created to destroy OZ by making him faster, stronger and immune to any physical or mental pain, he the perfect soldier who had been rid off all emotions, with only the one single goal in his cheap life to fulfil the mission and destroy his enemies, he had made an mistake so unbelievable stupid he almost couldn't bear the thought.

Why, why hadn't he double-checked the IFF responder data, why hadn't he seen through Treize Kushrenadas scheme, this infamous plot that had brought OZ on top of the world nations with a bang. With just one shot from his beam rifle he had ruined any last chance for the colonies and earth alike to gain peace.

Heero wished not for the first time he had ended his miserable existence long ago. He shouldn't be allowed to live, not after everything he had done in his life filled with bloodshed. He remembered the smile of the girl back on the colony were he had attacked that Alliance Mobile Suit base. Her high laughter and her obvious joy playing with the small puppy, erased, gone within the blink of an eye, because he had made another mistake. The memory still haunted him at silent, lonely nights like this.

"The Perfect Soldier", Heero thought of the first time when Doctor J had used this phrase to describe his role in the future war against OZ as well as the final aim of all the training he underwent since he was eight. He laughed bitterly, perfectionism, in a sense he had achieved it. He was probably one of the most dangerous persons on the planet; he could kill without a second thought, without feeling anything, even without thinking. He just did it. It was part of his instincts, a primal reaction, drilled in by years of fighting and surviving. 'Perfect at killing but failing at anything else, failing at living.' Heero stared at the moon above him, as if searching for some answers to the meaning of his existence.

Under the supervision and command of the five scientists, but mainly Doctor J, they had tried to make him something that killed without mercy, that took life without remorse, a living weapon, a soldier who lived to kill, and nothing else, who wasn't distracted by human feelings, ethics or morals. In a way they had succeeded, Heero thought of himself not so much as a soldier, a soldier was still human, a person who could love and hate, cry and laugh. No, he was a weapon, existing for only one purpose. To kill. But what about Releena, that strange girl who kept interfering with his actions, a liability to his missions, and yet he couldn't bring himself to kill her. And she wasn't the only one which had confused the way Heero saw himself lately.

The other pilots, he thought of them, how they fought and how their characters were so different and yet they all fought for the same cause yet because of different reasons. He had run a thourough background check on all the Gundam pilots. It had been a tough task and had taken quiet some time, but Heero Yui hated to be left in the dark, he wanted to know exactly with whom he dealt with and fought alongside. Of course some information had been easier to achieve than other and it had taken all his skill and resources to create detailed profiles on all the pilots, but he had succeeded nonetheless. If he had set his mind on something it was practically carved in stone, once he took on a task he didn't stop until it was accomplished, no matter what the odds were.

Heero looked through the files on his computer. The first one, who appeared on screen, was Duo Maxwell, the American pilot of the Gundam 02, Deathscythe. He had first met him that evening with Releena at the docks while he had tried to destroy Wing Gundam before it could fall in the hands of OZ. The boy with the ridiculous long braid had managed to shot him two times. Heero cursed under his breath, if he hadn't been distracted by Releena, that wouldn't have happened but he only had himself to blame for not killing her right away when he had the chance to.

Later Duo had "rescued" him from the hospital room where the Alliance had kept him after the explosion triggered by the torpedoes he managed to steal. He still didn't know if he should thank the "God of Death" for that or curse him, because he had ruined his chance of dying. "The God of Death." Heero grunted, how melodramatic can you get. Although he found Duos display of cheerfulness, his happy-go-lucky attitude, not to mention his talkative personality quiet annoying, he also respected the other boy for his skills. 'He may get on my nerves but i gotta admit he knows how to hold his own in battle'

His background check on Duo Maxwell had shown that the other boy was a real specialist when it came to breaking and entering and that he had a knack for electronics. Other than that Heero hadn't been able to detect any special features that would distinguish him as a Gundam pilot.

Duo had obviously lived on the streets in some kind of gang of war orphans, stealing everything he could to survive. When he was still a kid he had been taken in by the Maxwell church who apparently had given him his family name. After the incident that had been recorded for history as the "Maxwell Church Massacre" he had somehow become a part of the scavenger group around Doctor S.

In Heeros eyes Duo wasn't really a soldier, not in the traditional sense of the word, he considered him more as a streetfighter who had learned how to survive by using his talents on the streets as well as in space. What he had learned from his time as a ragtag thief and hotshot spacecowboy he now used as a Gundam pilot. Attacking when least expected, surprising the enemy and running off before the dust settled.

Heero guessed Duos motive for fighting was to prevent something like the massacre at the Maxwell Church which he had witnessed first hand, from ever happen again. So that meant he fought out of compassion for others, to prevent others from getting hurt or killed. Heero could understand that to a certain degree, protecting the colonies was after all the reason behind Operation Meteor.

Heero still hadn't completely figured out yet however, how the good natured and jovial boy he met between missions could transform into the dark figure of Shinigami in battle. Had he chosen this role to protect his inner innocent side or was it just his mark of distinction, his individual style mixed with a dark sense of humour. Perhaps it was both to a certain degree and not even Duo was entirely sure why he chose to fight as the "God of Death."

'Hmn maybe I should answer his call after all, the chances of success for the next mission would probably increase with a combined effort.'

Heero returned to his Gundam and played the recorded transmission from Duo he had received two days ago. After decoding and checking the coordinates of the position Duo had given for a possible rendezvous point once more he set a course and took off into the cool night's air with the roaring thrust of the engines of his Wing Gundam.


The Antarctica, endless artic wasteland an environment so harsh and unfriendly no humans could survive here without heavy protection and shelter. While not suitable for living it was a perfect place for dying. A battlefield so remote and silent it was the ideal background for the cruel scene which would unfold here soon before the few spectators of this godforsaken place in the middle of nowhere.

The duel of the two determined soldiers who would soon face each other in battle was only a few hours away. A fierce fight it would be, two enemies who had lost their cause and their reason to fight and now could only find satisfaction in one last showdown. The only thing left for them was killing each other and then vanish into nothingness. That was the fate of redundant soldiers.

Heero was currently inside de huge Hangar of the OZ base trying to get accustomed with the controls of the Gundam 03, Heavyarms. It was a different model from his Wing Gundam destroyed in Siberia after the threat of OZ to attack the colonies and the order from Doctor J to not hand over the Gundam.

The Heavyarms was not so much designed for speed and manoeuvrability like the 01, it was meant to simply crush his enemies by sheer firing power. Even Heero hadn't come across a Mobile Suit so far that packed such a huge amount of weaponry and ammunition inside its body. He could see why Trowa could fight so well with it. His individual style and the features of Heavyarms contemplated each other perfectly.

While Heero himself preferred a direct approach in battle, engaging the enemy in close combat or surprising him with a quick assault from behind with his beam rifle, Trowa fought from a more drawn back position on the battlefield.

Heero had never been one to rely on complicated tactical manoeuvres or detailed plans. Not one plan survived the first shot in battle anyway. When he fought he simply relied on his instincts to guide him through the fighting. He didn't care for the risks and when he had the chance he would always attack the enemy right away and at full speed, even allowing himself to actually enjoy the thrill of the kill and the rush of the adrenalin sometimes.

Trowa however was different. The silent pilot analysed strictly rational and without any emotion the actions of the enemy and predicted their next moves, after gaining an sufficient overview of situation on the battlefield he would cover the whole area in an seemingly never ending spray of bullets and missiles, cutting off any chance for the enemy forces to retreat and regroup. Not taking any risks in letting the enemy come to close Trowa would simply pin them down where they were, without giving them any further chance to escape.

That was only a rational decision because if he had to engage in close combat Heavyarms lacked a sufficient arsenal of beam weapons, yet Trowa compensated this by his lightning quick reflexes and unique acrobatic abilities which heapplied to his Gundam.

After having watched Trowa fight in battle a several times before Heero was positive that he had never seen anyone before who killed with such a cold precision, every move he made, every attack was thoroughly planned out and completed with just the necessary amount of force. It was in all his perfectionism almost beautiful to watch. In many ways Heero regarded Trowa to be his equal. If he had to choose to give the title of "Perfect Soldier" to anyone it would be Trowa Barton.

Heero finished a diagnose check on the condition of the gigantic gatling cannon of Heavyarms left arm and then returned to his thoughts about the regular pilot of his current suit which would soon have to face Zechs Marquise and his Talgeese in a duel to the death.

The pilot of the Gundam Heavyarms, Trowa Barton. Off all the Gundam pilots, himslef included Trowa was by far the most mysterious one. His name was obviously a codename like his own. The real son of Dekim Barton had disappeared under mysterious circumstances just shortly before the beginning of operation Meteor. Heero suspected that the boy now known as Trowa had replaced Dekim Bartons son because the scientist who had created Heavyarms had wanted to prevent the original Operation Meteor from being commenced, just like Doctor J had done with him and Doctor S with Duo.

Heero had tried to run a search a while back, using an image of Trowa, that the cockpit camera of Wing Gundam had made, but it had come up empty, except for one thing.

An Alliance report over the elimnation of an mercenary group five years ago had included a picture of some of the mercenaries standing by their mobile suits, standard Leos, the picture had obviously been taken by a spy who had succeeded in infiltrating the group. Now on the picture you could see a boy not more than ten years old standing a bit in the back, one half of his face hidden by a bang of medium brown hair.

The boy's face showed no emotion he just seemed to stare with an empty emerald green eye at whoever was taking this picture, while the other mercs were apparently having a good time smiling, or laughing or fooling around with their rifles. Heero was positive that this young mercenary who seemed so unattached to the actions around him had to be Trowa.

'I guess it makes sense', Heero mused while looking onto the screen before him, showing him the all the ammunitions for Heavyarms was loaded up and ready. 'Trowa is by far the most skilled and experienced of all the other pilots, he is just like me.'

Heero hadn't felt disloyal to Trowa by running this search, he just wanted to know who he fought with and what his motives were. But so far he just had come to the conclusion that Trowa was an outstanding pilot, with experience and tactical skill far beyond his years. His mechanical knowledge of Mobile Suits was even greater than his own and with his acrobatic abilities and quick reflexes he was also an considerable menace for every enemy, even without his Gundam.

A true soldier had to be able to fight in any circumstances and environment, to use any given situation to his advantage, the only thing relevant was the success of the mission. This professional attitude and determination was a result of years of training and fighting which both Trowa and Heero had in common. Trowa, who must have been a fully trained mercenary by the same time Heero was a professional assassin, was indeed such a true soldier. For this Heero greatly respected the quiet young man who only spoke when he felt the need for it.

His introverted personality might seem subdued and antisocial to others, but Heero understood that he just kept his thoughts to himself only reluctant to trust anyone and preferring to work alone, only relying on his own abilities.

And still Trowa had chosen to nurse Heero back to health, he had taken a great risk to blow his cover at the circus by taking him in and Heero still didn't really understand why he had done it. He didn't even know if he had done the same thing in return if the situation would have been the other way round.

And then after Trowa had tried to self-destruct it was almost as if the other pilot had felt inferior to Heero, as if he would like to apologize for his lack in determination. That was when Heero had given the other boy his mantra.

"The only way to live is to act on your emotions."

Ironically when you thought how insecure Heero was about his own emotions, but it was the only way he could think off to assure Trowa that even soldiers like them were allowed to feel, that they weren't just weapons to be tossed away when not needed any longer, or so he hoped thinking of Releena and how that girl had slowly changed his perspective on things.

Like himself Trowa had stopped to think of himself as a weapon, and also like

himself it was thanks to an annoying girl which simply refused to accept the fate that the two of them had already accepted a long time ago. But even if they weren't just weapons they were still soldiers which meant they hadt to fight until the bitter end.

Suddenly the hangar door opened and the lean and slender figure of Trowa Barton appeared in the doorway, after shortly looking over the room he walked slowly towards the parking position of Heavyarms. Always moving with an aura of graceful elegance he made absolutely no sound on the hard concrete floor beneath his feet.

"You should take a break, get some rest and I will finish here for you."

Heero gave a curt nod. "Appreciated."