Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Gundam Wing: A New Threat
By: timaru2003 (Revised by HeeroYuy1995, a.k.a. Matt-chan)
Chapter 13
Myth Island – Fuji Islands region, Pacific Ocean
Matt was walking down the hall towards the medical wing of their base to check on Tim. It was 2 weeks since the last battle in Afghanistan, and he wanted to ask Tim about what had gone wrong in the second stockpile. He caught up with Sally Po as she walked around the corner.
"So how is he?" Matt asked.
"Well to tell you the truth, I've seen far worse; but as for his injuries, I would say it's on par with what Trowa said about Heero when he self-detonated, the only concern I have is the hit he apparently took a blow to the head and it took some of his short term memory, so he doesn't remember what happened," Sally answered.
"Can he have visitors?" Matt asked.
"Sure, Dorothy has been in there everyday, though I think he's starting to milk it… you know, the whole 'wounded solider bit,'" Sally answered with a smile.
"Yeah… it's his funeral if she finds out. Well I'm out, see ya," Matt said as he headed for Tim's room.
Matt walked down the hall noting as he passed Dorothy as she left Tim's room that she had a small smile on her face.
"Man, you are one slick mother… you are really milking it," Matt exclaimed as he entered the room.
"Milking it like a cow," Tim shot back as he sat up in his bed. "You get one little scratch doing something heroic and every girl within 100 miles feels that she has to comfort you while you mend. Dorothy hasn't let me move from this bed without her consent, but that has have advantages."
"Like a little face time," Matt said with huge grin on his face.
"That's one of them; I was referring to the cash I won from her playing poker when I started to feel like I was a Vegas dealer," Tim retorted.
"So when do you think you can leave the lap of luxury and join the rest of us working stiffs?" Matt asked.
"Well between Sally and Dorothy I'd say anywhere between 2 weeks and 2 months, but even then without my Gundam or Spectersuit, I'm pretty much useless," Tim returned.
"So did we get Osama?" Tim asked.
"Nope, which means that when you get out and Q rebuilds your Gundam, you get first dibs on kicking his ass," Matt said.
"Wouldn't miss it for the universe," Tim said as he laid back.
Somewhere…
Admiral James Pickett of the Imperial Remnant hated surprises. The Yuuzhan Vong had been a surprise, and they nearly conquered most of the galaxy. Thankfully, they had been defeated for the lack of a better term to describe how they had left the known galaxy. His promotion from Captain to Admiral was another surprise; he had been given a task force, which was all well and good until he learned it was a Joint task force with the Alliance military. And what was worse was that his mission was to patrol barely habituated and mostly uncharted space looking for Vong holdouts and piracy. At least they had been kind enough to give him an Imperial class star destroyer that was fully armed and manned, and the alliance had presented two Defender class star destroyers to represent them.
The mission had gone reasonably well, until the latest surprise showed up. The task force had entered a uncharted system and was investigating a large metal structure that was orbiting the third planet of the single star solar system. The third planet showed signs of an ongoing nuclear winter, likely from a cometary impact; this was concluded after several large impact craters were located. The fourth planet of the system showed signs of terraforming, though it appeared that the planet was reverting to its natural state. The task force was preparing to leave orbit of the fourth planet when an unidentified craft appeared out of thin air directly in front of the Warsprite. If the crew hadn't of spotted it, it would have ended up like so much space junk.
They had brought the craft aboard and discovered it was of a fighter design that was unknown in any database. The pilot, which was the greatest mystery, was no more than 18 to 19 standard years old and was wearing a type of body armor more sophisticated than the Stormtroopers under his command. The pilot was in sick bay after being treated for radiation poisoning and what appeared to be exposure to a crude biological weapon. The craft he had arrived in was the most mysterious. It had no Hyperdrive and yet had appeared out of hyperspace. The navigation system was primitive to say the least and there was no visible shield system or any modern naval appliance anywhere. The documents found were written in some strange language and the computer system was beyond comprehension in its obvious antiquity. Even the weapons found on board were ancient, old slug throwers of high caliber appeared to be the weapon of choice, and even the missiles loaded were of a solid fuel type. There at least was a crude beam weapon system, though the engineers could tell nothing of it.
Admiral Pickett had yet to inform his superiors but had decided to get some answers from the pilot before he sent in his report… "If the pilot wakes up that is," he thought.
Warsprite sickbay…
Tim woke up with a splitting headache- as usual.
'Ok what have I gotten into this time, the last thing I remember is about getting ran over by, a star destroyer… what the hell! Since when did the empire show up around earth, it just isn't making sense, and where is the Titan? I hope it's alright. Damn this floor is cold,' Tim thought as he leapt off the bed he had been lying on. He took a look around the room he was in; it was the usual white room but had several instruments that were alien to him. Tim then took stock of himself and was not surprised to find he was not wearing his Spectersuit- he had grown so accustomed to wearing it that it felt like a second skin. Instead he was wearing a simple hospital gown, but saw that his jumpsuit and combat boots were sitting off to one side.
Moving quickly, Tim swapped his gown for his jumpsuit and boots, checking that his boot knife was still in his boot, which it was. "Either sloppy or just lucky, I'll take it," he observed as he placed the knife back in it's sheath. The sound of a door hissing open sent Tim into the shadows. A single human came walking around a corner oblivious to the fact that the patient had moved and disappeared. Seeing that the person was obviously a doctor and as such unarmed, Tim slide up behind him and put a sleeper hold on him. After he was unconscious Tim moved towards the door that the doctor had come in. Before he could completely get to the door, it slide open revealing the form of 2 white armored Stormtroopers escorting what had to be a officer in gray.
Seconds earlier…
Admiral Pickett was heading down to sickbay to see if their visitor had awakened before he went into a meeting between himself and the captains of the alliance ships, and the two Jedi - a master and his apprentice that had been assigned to the mission. All parties were interested in who their guest was and where he had come from. He was walking down the corridor with his formal bodyguard detail that was assigned to flag officers and hadn't noticed a slight sound that had emanated from the other side of the door to the sickbay. When the door hissed open he noticed that the patent had moved and now was standing on the other side of the door, dressed and armed, and definitely looking pissed off.
Tim didn't wait for the troopers to bring their blaster rifles to bear on him when he ran and slide between them, coming up behind the officer and bringing the edge of his knife to his throat. The two troopers stood there rifles at the ready, waiting for orders.
"You speak my language?" Tim asked his captive.
"Yes, I speak basic," came the hoarse reply form the officer, British accent included.
"Ok then tell you white friends to lower their weapons and I'll lower mine, cause I'm not looking for a fight," Tim ordered.
"Do it," The officer ordered.
After the troopers had laid their weapons down Tim lowered his knife from the officer's throat and took a step back. He opened his mouth to apologize and to try to rebuild some bridges he had definitely burned when he suddenly felt a presence and his instincts sent him into a shoulder roll to his right. By the time he finished his roll, he had brought out his knife and spun into a defensive position wondering who had joined the party, and how did he know he had incoming. A snap-hiss and the smell of ozone filled the room even before he had finished scanning the room, telling him his day had gone from bad to really fucked up.
He was now facing not one, but two Jedi.