A/N 1: This chapter is by the original author (Andy Lomelli - the rest of his works are archived on the homepage he and I built together, which I currently still maintain with his intermittent assistance), who I spoke to concerning this fic – as he's lost the motivation to write anything more, he's given me his detailed plans of where the plot was going. This story was originally to be a prelude that he wished to write before the story proper, which was to be a cooperative fic between the two of us. We started this over five years ago, and it simmered and died while we got on with life.
Upon reading this first chapter of the planned 6 chapter prelude story, I decided that it had enough potential to resurrect. He agreed, but didn't agree to write it. So now it's mine with his permission.
This first chapter is entirely his – I just did some light editing. I hope that you R/R and give me the motivation to continue with this work that came so very close to death. It, later in its planned form, is very AU and fun, featuring plenty of humor, strange aliens, horribly complicated political structures and racial interactions, detailed worlds and colonies that are all original, and (to my vast terror) real science backing up most of what seems to be utter fiction dominating this thing (I'm using the same science I've been researching to write my original novel, which has been stalled for a like amount of time).
Enjoy, and please review!
-BEGIN NOTES (from original author)-
((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Gundam W or Gundam F-91. I simply use the characters for my stories. These are entirely non-profit (like anyone would pay me for 'em… (laughs)), and are created solely for the enjoyment of myself and those who are willing to read my ramblings. Therefore, please don't attempt to sue me.
ADDITIONAL NOTES: For those of you who don't know about the Gundam F-91 setting, it follows the setup presented in the 0079/0080/0083/etc. universe. HOWEVER, don't consider this grounds for going "Oh gee, I'm not gonna understand any of this" and not reading the fic. I'm writing this as a GUNDAM WING fanfic, NOT a Gundam F-91 fanfic (as Gundam F-91 was too much of a suck-ass bomb to bother ficcing), and therefore everything that you need to know will be explained in due time. I just liked the artwork, nearly unbeatable animation, battle scenes, and mecha design in F-91 which, frankly, were fuckin' incredible – pity it didn't make up for the rest of the movie, which was so sad I don't even want to include it in my anime archive. (Thank god I rented it and didn't waste my money with the purchase.)
EXTRA WARNINGS: This, of course, is an Alternate Universe fic – mostly for the F-91 bit. Gundam W bit doesn't count as AU as it's placed in 198 AC and pretty much follows what all happened before without fluxes or variations. FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO KNOW F-91, let me now explain where I get the AU dictate. We all will remember the MA I'm going to be using. If you don't know what MA stands for, you haven't watched anything other than Gundam W, so please don't pretend to understand (grin). Anyway, what if this MA in addition to the spiffy, unique and overly powerful neo-psycommu system that it holds also held one helluvan A-I system (like XXXG-01SR did in GW) that just never allowed to surface because ol' (ahem… you expect me to give away the pilot name now? (VEG) Dream on. Read the fic.), our resident villain and hard-ass jerk, was the pilot? And, instead of being destroyed in its conflict with the infamous (heh… I'll tell you the name of the MS later), was actually damaged heavily (leaving convincing amounts of debris to support that it'd been destroyed) but managed to fire every rocket it had (think about the number of thrusters and how much power they flaunt – we're talkin' fuckin' flyin' away in the blink of an eye, dude) and escaped into space/time, somehow being warped across dimensions? (blink blink) I know I just made next to no sense, or made perfect sense. (VEG) And… what if that artificially-intelligent neo-psycommu system sporting MA drifted for countless years, its pilot having been killed by the blast that "destroyed" it (at least according to official FFSNRI records on the other side), in the GW universe…?
Yes, I'd had a bit to drink when I came up with this psychotic idea. But it stuck with me through the next day, meaning it was a worthy fic idea – at least in my own mind, that is. (grin)
And on with the story!))
-----
Begin function: Update ship log
Run log
Program initiated
Begin data input
Date: UC 0154.07.14
Location: Unknown
Ship: XMA-01
Ship condition: 03.001 operational
Pilot: File 0498 NT (Karozo)
Terminate log entry
Log entry termination verified
Log saved successfully
The dome of the cockpit dimmed as the blue screen before the dead pilot's face flickered out of existence. After a few moments, light blue letters flared to life before the man's wide-open eye-sockets upon the blackened, cracked glass that was the heads-up display.
New information acquired
Habitable planet located
Distance to planet: 2,005,921.779 km
(1,126,932.065 mi)
The letters remained upon the screen for a few moments as the cursor blinked. They vanished, replaced by another message.
XMA-01 suggestion to Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)): Dock and inquire about nearest Crossbone Vangard installation location
The letters remained for a few more moments before fading and being replaced once more.
XMA-01 operational status (adjusted): 02.989 operationalHull breech located
84.000 tentacle rods destroyed – replacement necessary (105 TRs destroyed)
65.000 remaining tentacle rods damaged –inoperable, reparable (13 TRs damaged)
100.000 mega particle cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (5 MPCs damaged)
80.000 mega beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 MBCs damaged)
25.000 beam cannons destroyed – replacement necessary (1 BC destroyed)
50.000 scattering beam cannons damaged – inoperable, reparable (4 SBCs damaged)
55.000 apogee motors damaged – inoperable, reparable (22 AMs damaged)
50.000 remaining apogee motors damaged – operable, reparable (9 AMs damaged)
WARNING: Firing 9 damaged operable AMs may result in irreparable damage to AMs
Danger – fuel level at minimum (0.013)
Danger – generator damaged
Danger – generator output decreasing (current output: 0.940)
Danger – generator output decreasing (current output: 0.921)
Danger – generator output decrease will result in life-support termination
Danger – life-support termination estimated to occur in 171 seconds
Danger – generator output and time until life-support termination recalculated
Danger – new time until estimated life-support termination: 83 seconds
Recommend docking immediately
Reason: severity of damages reducing operational capabilities of XMA-01
Reason: severity of damage risk to continued existence of Pilot (File 0498 NT(Karozo))
Awaiting pilot command
The report remained for a minute, then flickered away. The crack in the screen widened and lengthened as the temperature within the cockpit changed with the emergence of the floating, lifeless ship into intense starlight and warmth.
The ship's computer hummed softly as the dome of the cockpit lit with gentle turquoise light.
Life support system inoperable – reparableOxygen level of cockpit: 1.003 (10.000 recommended minimum, 40.000 preferred)
Bio-scan of Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)) initiated
Heart rate output from Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)): 0.000
Breath rate output from Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)): 0.000
Brainwave output from Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)): 0.000
Psychowave output from Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)): 0.000
The cursor blinked for a few moments.
Data analyzed
Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)) deceased
Reason: Bodily fluid boiled due to overheating
of cockpit from enemy assault
Reason: Bodily fluid levels low due to
dehydration – rations/liquids low (0.000)
Reason: Starvation from calculated 31 years in
space without rations/liquids
Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)) status updated
XMA-01 error recorded (Pilot status must be
kept current)
XMA-01 adjusting programming
Adjustment completed: New parameters installed
New parameters initiated
New parameters: 1. Scan will be performed
daily rather than upon pilot inactivity
New parameters: 2. Scan will be performed at
00:00 before automated backup is run
The message erased. A chart depicting the surrounding space outside of the ship flashed into being, along with arrows and numbers.
Generator output rerouted to CPU for CPU
preservation
Generator output to life-support system
terminated
Reason: life-support system damaged –
inoperable, reparable
Reason: Pilot (File 0498 NT (Karozo)) deceased
Course calculated
Course trajectory to be determined by
gravitational pull of planetary objects
Computer system backup initiated
Backup complete
XMA-01 shutdown initiated for energy
conservation
Pilot confirmation required
Requesting confirmation for shutdown procedures
OK?
The cursor blinked for a few moments as the computer awaited confirmation before blacking out. The cockpit fell into darkness as the monitor screens which till this time had been displaying the surrounding stars and the steadily approaching blue planet ahead turned off.
The beaten, battered ship floated without direction or power.
Somewhere, deep within its processors, one computation remained lividly burned upon its boards: Lonely.
-----
The year was After Colony 198. The day was November 23rd. It was a bright and glorious Monday.
The peaceful atmosphere that was achieved and formed at the end of the Mariemaia/Dekim incident and the kidnapping of Ms. Relena Dorlain was holding strong, supported by the Preventer Intelligence Agency and the citizens of the Earth Sphere United Nation. Things were pleasant and clear everywhere – being the middle of fall (or spring, depending on which hemisphere and which colony one was inhabiting at the time), the weather was nice. Not to hot, not to cold. Everyone was living peaceful, happy lives. Trade was going well. The economy hadn't seen such wondrous health in eons. Business was going stupendously well for most everyone.
And on this gleeful day, a beautiful silvery shuttle was blasting its way towards the X-18999 colony construction site at LaGrange point 3.
The inhabitant of that particular shuttle was staring out the window, his brows furrowed despite the general happiness of the situation the world and universe were in at the moment, his lips turned in a frown, his mind cursing the nauseating narrative of how wonderful things were these days that continuously poured from the TV monitor ahead, dribbling from the anchorwoman's lips like drool from a bulldog's mouth.
Quatre Raberba Winner, for some reason, was not a happy camper.
Business was going well enough. Indeed, his sisters had managed to do naught but increase the already ridiculously formidable wealth of the Winner family's private estate and business. Operations were going smoothly. He had no reason to worry about things on the home front.
He hadn't had to do anything so far as the Preventers were concerned in over a month – no treatise negotiations, no terrorist threats, no investigations, no playing the "shoot me; I'm your target-practice. I'm a peace negotiator," game. No problems there.
So what could be troubling him?
His eyes narrowed as he caught site of what had been roosting itself upon his brain, and he hissed quietly.
"So they weren't exaggerating."
The large crumpled mass of what may have once been a bright red ship rested firmly in the middle of the construction site ahead, glittering in the sunlight. Workers were already milling around, pointing at the ruby-colored lump as the Winner's shuttle drifted into view, apparently signaling that they couldn't do any work with the debris present. Others were clambering all over the mound of scrap metal, peering over it with curiosity.
There was no feasible way that anything productive would be happening any time soon.
Quatre shook his head, quietly asking Allah to give him the patience he'd need to get through the removal of the obstacle without ripping someone's head off.
Setting the shuttle neatly down upon a hastily cleared landing pad, Quatre grumbled quiet cursed to himself as he pulled his airtight flight-suit's helmet into place and flipped the switch on the oxygen machine strapped to his back into the 'on' position. Taking one step towards the door, letting the lack of gravitational pull upon the still colony's surface take him upon his journey, he closed his eyes and punched the button to open the airlock. Stepping free of the shuttle, he drifted towards the erected lifeline and grabbed onto it. Shimmying down to the surface of the colony, letting the magnetic bottoms of his flight-suit's shoes grip the metal flooring, he marched purposefully towards the foreman of colony construction, a sour look upon his face and what could only be described as murder in his eyes.
The foreman gulped as the shorter man approached, then bowed politely. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Quatre-sama."
Standing before the man, Quatre sighed and plastered on as happy of a face as he could manage. "No problem, Frankie. So, why…."
"Your sisters told me that you would be the best person to assist us with this."
"Oh really?"
"Hai, Quatre-sama."
Quatre frowned. "But I'm not…"
The foreman nodded. "I know you've left the business in the hands of your sisters. However, they informed me that this would be Preventer business rather than simple debris removal, due to the fact that we don't know what this thing is or where it came from, and that you of all Preventers would be most sympathetic to our causes, as this is your family's business…."
Quatre nodded. What the foreman was saying was quite true.
Continuing, Frankie sighed. "They told me that you would be the best person to take care of this as you not only have affiliations with the Preventers but also have pull with the community around Winner Industries. Lady Une supported such when I spoke with her. I do apologize for removing you from your prior tasks…."
With a shrug, the Arab sighed. "Doesn't much matter. Just monitoring the Terreform project. Zechs can watch that while I'm away." Then, glancing over at the wreckage, he sighed. "Just give me an hour or so to get the paperwork for recording this faxed to me. Get me into your office. I need to make a few phone calls."
"Hai, Quatre-sama."
-----
All was still within the ship.
That is, until the silvery shuttle had landed and its inhabitant exited the craft.
The whir of the damaged computer's attempt to restart filled the cockpit. With a few clicks and rattles, the hard drives finally spun.
The cracked main monitor flickered to life, displaying the outside world around the vessel.
Begin function: Update ship log
Run log
Program initiated
Begin data input
Date: UC 0154.07.15
Location: Unknown
Ship: XMA-01
Ship condition: 01.023 operational
Pilot: File 0498 NT (Karozo) (deceased)
Fuel tank breech located
84.000 tentacle rods destroyed – replacement
necessary (105 TRs destroyed)
75.000 remaining tentacle rods damaged –
inoperable, reparable (15 TRs damaged)
60.000 remaining tentacle rods damaged –
operable, reparable (3 TRs damaged)
WARNING: Using 3 damaged operable TRs may
result in irreparable damage to TRs
100.000 mega particle cannons damaged –
inoperable, reparable (5 MPCs damaged)
80.000 mega beam cannons damaged –
inoperable, reparable (4 MBCs damaged)
25.000 beam cannons destroyed – replacement
necessary (1 BC destroyed)
33.333 remaining beam cannons damaged –
inoperable, reparable (1 BC damaged)
50.000 remaining beam cannons damaged –
operable, reparable (1 BC damaged)
WARNING: Using 1 damaged operable BC may result
in irreparable damage to BC
50.000 scattering beam cannons damaged –
inoperable, reparable (4 SBCs damaged)
15.000 apogee motors destroyed – replacement
necessary (6 AMs destroyed)
50.000 remaining apogee motors damaged –
inoperable, reparable (18 AMs damaged)
55.555 remaining apogee motors damaged –
operable, reparable (10 AMs damaged)
WARNING: Firing 10 damaged operable AMs may
result in irreparable damage to AMs
Danger – fuel level at minimum (0.000)
Danger – generator damaged
Danger – generator output decreasing (current
output: 0.811)
Terminate log entry
Log entry termination verified
Log saved successfully
The log entry vanished from the screen. The computer clicked and whirred. Moments later, a series of red lines began to flow over the shattered monitor screens, slowly and steadily creating a linear pattern overlaying the world that surrounded the battered ship.
Scanning surrounding areaThe screen flickered as yet another crack widened. The image of the outside world became still as the computer snapped the shot for study.
Life forms identifiedHomo sapiens sapiens
The screen flickered again, and the image was lost. The monitors crackled and split. A hazy image appeared on the beaten screens, displaying the outside world once more as relayed by the ship's cameras. People were crawling over the massive red heap, using blowtorches in an attempt to cut the vessel apart to more easily remove it from the construction site it had slammed into.
Danger eminent Threat to XMA-01 identifiedEngaging ion shield
As the men outside screamed and dropped their tools as they fell into spasms and convulsions from the large surge of electricity that shot through their bodies, the ship resumed its scanning.
Location unknownCross-referencing star charts for location identification
No match with star charts found
Star charts invalid
Scanning corresponding planet
Cross-referencing Planetary identification files for location identification
Match found: Earth
Scanning dock
Cross-referencing Registered Dock List for dock identification
No match with Registered Dock List found
Dock not registered in Registered Dock List
Cross-referencing Side maps for location identification
No match with Side maps found
Side maps invalid
Scanning personnel
Cross-referencing Personnel Registration files for identification
No match with Personnel Registration files
Personnel Registration files invalid
Scanning personnel uniforms
Cross-referencing Uniform Issue files for identification
No match with Uniform Issue files found
Uniform Issue files invalid
Conclusion reached: Personnel are not Crossbone Vanguard employed
Conclusion reached: Dock is not a Crossbone Vanguard installation
Conclusion reached: Location is planet Earth
Conclusion reached: Planet Earth is not located in known space
Conclusion reached: True location unknown
The computer remained silent for a few moments as if attempting to analyze the data it had just printed. The cursor overlaying the image of the outside world blinked as the ship pondered as best as it could ponder what it had recorded.
Problem: Planet Earth is not located in known spaceProblem: Dock is not a Crossbone Vanguard installation
Problem: Uniforms of personnel are unknown
Problem: Organization of personnel employment is unknown
Problem: XMA-01 location unknown
Hard drives whirred. The crackle of a loose, bare wire connecting with metal shot through the still atmosphere. The smell of hot titanium filled the air.
Problem: Pilot (File 0498 (Karozo)) deceased
Problem: Pilot unable to question personnel
located on dock
Reason: Deceased
A small spark burst into life in the cockpit, but quickly vanished.
Solution: XMA-01 needs to communicate with
personnel located on dock
Problem: XMA-01 designed to communicate with Homo
sapiens newtype
Problem: XMA-01 contains no input devices for Homo
sapiens sapiens
Problem: Homo sapiens sapiens can not communicate
with XMA-01 CPU
Reason: CPU communication media Neo-Psycommu
System
Problem: Homo sapiens sapiens can not use
Neo-Psycommu System
Solution: Locate Homo sapiens newtype
The monitors flickered again. The image became distorted and fuzzy.
Problem: –
generator damaged
Danger – generator output decreasing (current
output: 0.585)
Generator will not support CPU activity once
output is below 0.500
Problem: CPU activity necessary to scan for Homo
sapiens newtype
Problem: XMA-01 location unknown
After a few moments, all the monitors save the main one in front turned off.
Generator output to monitors rerouted for CPU
preservation
Generator output to monitors terminated
Danger – generator output decreasing (current
output: 0.564)
The cursor blinked as the message vanished. One mysterious message flashed across the singular live monitor.
Worried
-----
Quatre grumbled as he hung up the phone for the seventh time that afternoon. Glancing over at the fax machine, he suppressed a sigh as yet more paperwork flowed from it.
Picking up the cover sheet, he sneered as he read the message.
'Dear Quatre, please enjoy this little task. I'm certain you can have it finished by this evening, riiiiight? Identify the ship if possible, along with make, year, and weaponry sported if any. Thanks, babe! Lucrenzia Noin.
'PS: Don't blame me. It's Lady Une that wants all this information."
He groaned quietly.
"Geez. All of this for one wrecked ship? Fifty three pages of ridiculous paperwork."
Sighing once more, he picked up the first sheet and looked it over.
"Vessel identification number. Vessel length. Vessel type. Vessel coloration. Sketch of vessel. Vessel name. Vessel pilot. Vessel specs. Vessel weaponry. Vessel thrusters."
Groan.
"Location of vessel. Include street name and lot number? Oh, give me a break!"
Grunt.
"Vessel configuration? Vessel plan map? Yeesh! It'd be easier to pack it into an envelope and mail it to headquarters!"
Roll eyes.
"Allah, give me patience…. Allah, give me patience…. Allah, give me patience…."
Stomping out of the office with the first ten sheets of paper in his hand, he grumbled.
Stomping back into the office, he grabbed a pencil and his cell phone.
Stomping back out of the office, he lifted the cell phone to the port in his helmet by his ear as it rang, quickly connecting the wire that ran from its mouthpiece to the small plug at the front of the device that saved him from the vacuum of space.
"Hello, this is Quatre."
On the other end, a chipper voice rang. "Ya ho! Duo here!"
"Hey, Duo."
"So, where the hell are you?"
"X18999."
"Checking out the wreck?"
"Yep."
"By the thrusters?"
"Um… yeah. Where are you, by the way?"
"By the cockpit door. Come and meet us, will you?"
"Hai, hai."
With that, Quatre hung up the phone and sighed.
He was getting more annoyed by the moment.
First, stripped from his original duties and the free time he was planning to have that evening to spend with a particular someone. Next, given a stack of next-to-needless paperwork to record next-to-worthless information on. And now, Duo was here.
Not that he minded that last observation, of course. At least not usually.
However, today was just the kind of day where anything and everything got on Quatre's nerves.
Snorting, he stomped his way around the wrecked ship, glowering at his paperwork. Doesn't Lady Une trust me enough to complete this myself? Nooooo, she's got to send Duo. And by that little reference to 'us' that he made, I'll bet anything that Heero's here, too. Shaking his head, he continued to stomp on, his mind only partially on the paperwork in his hands. And Wufei, too. And probably Trowa… For a moment, he closed his eyes in concentration. Yep. Trowa too. Probably don't trust me to finish this up myself… gah… when will they learn that I'm an independent, able human being that doesn't need to be babysat for his entire li… hold that thought. There they are. Happy face time. Quatre lifted his face, opened his eyes, and flashed his typical ambiguous smile. "Konichiwa, minna-san!"
"Hey, Quatre!" Duo called, waving from his place beside the figure that, by his stance and the fact that the helmeted head was turned to face the damaged craft along with the bounding violet eyed teenager, Quatre identified as Heero.
"So, he finally arrives," a nasal voice snorted, though the tone was less condescending than it was humored.
"Hello to you too, Wufei," Quatre replied, turning slightly to face the Chinese pilot.
"Any idea what this thing is?"
Looking up, Quatre found himself smirking as his gaze fell upon Trowa who was hovering right above one of the open flaps of the ship, holding himself in place with a lifeline that had been installed for the workers who were previously attempting to dismember the craft.
"Actually, I was intending on asking you the same question, Trowa."
The green-eyed boy jerked himself along the line, sending himself floating gently down to the ground. Clicking down with his magnetic boots, he stood beside the shorter blond and returned his gaze to the vessel.
Duo, meanwhile, walked over, arm slung around Heero's shoulders. "So, you get Noin's fax alright?"
"Yeah, all fifty three pages of it," Quatre sighed, waving the first few before his friend. "It'd be easier just to haul the thing to headquarters and examine it there."
Marching over, Wufei arched a brow as he listened in to the conversation. "May not be a bad idea. Do you want me to relay that to Une?"
"Sure, go right ahead."
Nodding, the Asian tapped the communicator control band strapped to the wrist of his suit and changed frequencies.
Quatre, meanwhile, had turned his attention back to the ship. "Huh. Identify the ship, eh?"
"Can you make heads or tails of that thing?" Duo questioned, his eyes slightly narrowed. "I thought I knew my space crafts. I have no fucking clue what this thing is, though."
"Looks almost like Mobil Armor, save that it's far too large…" Heero muttered.
"Mobil Armor…" Quatre repeated.
"Hai. Like the transformed mode of Epyon, Wing, and Wing Zero."
"Heero, I think Quatre knows what Mobil Armor is."
"Hn."
Quatre ignored his companions. Instead, he stared at the vessel. Mobil Armor… wonder if Heero's right. If he is… what is it doing here…? And who sent it?"
Wufei cut in on his thoughts. "Lady Une said that if you wish to have the craft transported, you can't include it as a Preventer charge. And you must confirm that it's vacated."
"Hm. Very well."
Trowa nodded as Quatre voiced his consent. "Only thing is, Quatre, that thing is electrified. A good number of the workers who were attempting to dismantle it received serious shocks."
"Really?" Glancing over, Quatre arched a brow.
"Yep," Duo chimed in, shaking his head. "Weirdest thing I ever did see. They were cutting away just fine without difficulty. Then, next thing you know, there's this 'ZAP' and they all topple off of it like flies off a bug zapper, twitching and spazing."
"It was almost as if the ship was attempting to defend itself," Trowa muttered, rubbing along the rim of his space helmet right below where his chin would have been if the headgear hadn't been present.
"Such would require that a CPU be activated and a pilot be present to give the order," Heero grunted.
"Or it has an automated system that could activate a shield upon detection of a possible attack," Wufei commented with a shrug. "Which would mean that there wouldn't have to be a pilot present."
"But the ship's computer would still need to be active," Duo stated, nodding.
"Of course," Quatre confirmed with a sigh.
"Which leads us to the problem of confirming whether or not a pilot is present," Wufei sighed, shaking his head. "Getting into that ship is going to be tough if there is indeed an electrical shield around it."
"Can't you just wear an insulation suit?" Duo questioned, arching a brow.
"Might work," Heero said with a nod.
Quatre simply walked over to the vessel and stared at the door. "Even with a rubber suit to be able to touch this thing, you'd still need an access panel, control pad, key slot, or something to open this door. There isn't one here."
"What?" four voices rang in unison.
"There's no way to open this door from the outside," Quatre clarified.
Trowa walked over to his side, and stared with amazement. "He's right, guys. There's no way to open this door."
"Then how the hell is a pilot supposed to get in there?" Duo quipped.
"Who the hell knows," Quatre grumbled, rubbing his head.
-----
The computer whirred as the five Gundam pilots came into view on the cracked monitor screen. Red lines criss-crossed over their images.
Bio-scan initiated
The red lines vanished from over Heero, Duo and Trowa. Wufei and Quatre, however, remained illuminated.
Psychowave scan initiated
Psychowave output analyzed
Suitable psychowave output registered
The image changed, zooming in on one person. The computer circled the one helmeted person.
Homo sapiens newtype located
Opening cockpit
The sun's light slowly filled the cockpit as the door cracked open.
Quatre's image remained emblazoned on the screen.
To Be Continued
now in the hands of Wends...