The year is after Colony 203, with the breakdown of diplomatic relations between the ESUN and a number of its member states, now labeled as dissident states, the once promising world-government is increasingly becoming a symbol of global domination and control. The dismissals of the Preventers and Vice Foreign Minister Darlian in quick succession signaled to many the end of an era, public approval of the ESUN plunged to an all-time low in the weeks that followed. While tensions between the ESUN and the Colonies remain high, a peculiar account of the covert Operation Meteor appeared on the sub-web network, capturing the popular imagination.
.
"Our destiny is to achieve a secure, prosperous future for all humankind." President Ernst Davos spoke into the camera, stately and somber, "Those who advocate for separation stand in the way of progress, we must recognize the magnitude of the threat they present."
It was rare for the President of the ESUN to address the press directly, such occasions were reserved for international emergencies and times of crisis. Davos felt certain this was just such a time. "The sleeping pro-Union majority must awaken and mobilize to defend the values and hopes on which the ESUN was founded."
.
"This New Mobile Report is getting out of hand— gossip rags, talk shows, even local news picked it up as a novelty item." State Minister Yacovitch jogged to keep up with the President, "People are sympathetic toward the Colonies again."
"Dynamic silence is the best treatment of such drivel." Davos maintained his stride. "Don't acknowledge it."
"But Sir, the Blue Helmets we've mobilized for this operation-"
"They can be kept busy here on Earth," Davos pivoted them both and spoke so closely she could smell the mint on his breath, "We'll be justified to send our forces wherever we wish... Watch the Unification rally tomorrow, it'll be quite the show."
Long after Davos had gone, Yacovitch stood rooted to the floor, the proximity of a man in power gave her a rush like nothing else, and she wanted more.
.
Dorothy browsed through her gold-cased tablet, reclining on the love seat in her guest suite courtesy of the Winner family. Her calculated whisper in the ears of a few editors tipped off several well known gossip sites, their publication of the New Mobile Report generated millions of clicks for the e-magazines.
She was especially pleased with the illustrations that accompanied some of the serialized editions. Images of the young soldier and his princess was sure to set many hearts aflutter, and there was plenty of action to appeal to the more masculine minded. Already, network media churned out hours of criticism and speculation in an attempt to discredit the story, but only served as free publicity.
The title left something to be desired, but concessions had to be made when working with a stubborn guy like Yuy, she was impressed Relena managed to coax this much out of him. In any case, Dorothy had to admit calling the online memoir a report lent an air of seriousness to the improbable tale, especially considering what the final installment revealed last night.
A knock sounded at the door to her suite, it was still early afternoon on MO-VI, and Quatre was scheduled for a meeting with the colony workers union representative. Dorothy slipped off her perch and checked the hallway camera. She unlocked the door and was immediately enveloped in a hug around her middle, a blur of ginger hair tucked under her chin.
"Hello, little bird," Dorothy couldn't help the quirk of her lips as she returned the embrace, "What news do you bring?"
Mariemaia stepped back from her cousin and straightened her starched dress shirt, which had bunched up under a waistcoat, the girl really shouldn't take sartorial queues from Quatre. "There's a nasty rumour of mass layoffs making the rounds amongst the men."
Dorothy narrowed her eyes, "No wonder the labour rep wants a meeting so urgently, how pervasive is this rumour and who is the source?"
"We can rule out new hires, they don't have the social cred to be believed." Mariemaia rocked on her heels, "A majority of the miners and maintenance staff transferred from other Winner Corps projects, all good men."
Dorothy was about to speak when a mechanical tone shot out from the communications console in her writing desk, signalling a plant-wide announcement. The cousins looked at each other and Mariemaia shook her head with a shrug.
"Attention all hands," Quatre's voice boomed over the system, "Please assemble in the docking bay for an emergency company meeting at sixteen hundred hours, those who are on shift—"
They heard the sickening sound of an energy weapon, followed by a scuffle and a crash. The line went silent.
Dorothy bolted for the door, down the hall and descended the longest three flights of stairs of her life. A couple of security guards were already entering the meeting room with weapons raised, more men came rushing toward the scene, and Dorothy had to squeeze through them to get into the room.
One guard restrained a man she presumed was the attacker, his right arm hung limp at an unnatural angle. She realized with a start that it was the workers representative. The other guard was helping Quatre stand, an ugly burn branded the Winner heir's forearm, though there was little blood. He saw her looking and smiled reassuringly, but on his ashen, sweat-coated face, it was more a grimace. She heard someone in the crowd call for medic.
With his good hand, Quatre switched on the communications control, announced that he was unharmed, and ordered the crew to resume regular duties—the gathering crowd outside his office was already a safety concern.
"Hamza, your family has been with mine for generations," Quatre addressed his attacker, "Why have you done this?"
The man sat cross-legged on the floor, hands bound back, expression growing more wretched as he spoke, "They have my son, Mister Winner, my only son. They promised he'll live if I give them what they demand."
"And they demand my death?"
Instead of answering, Hamza looked away.
"There's a spy on site isn't there? Your handler?" Dorothy knew how these operations were run, "Who is it?"
Hamza shook his grey head, "My boy's good as dead, now."
"When was he taken?" Quatre could see the man was losing the last shred of hope.
"Eleven days ago, my wife called, she..." Hamza swallowed. Dorothy almost felt sorry for him.
Quatre scanned the room until he found Mariemaia by the door, their eyes met and she nodded at him, disappearing into the hallway. Quatre hissed through his teeth and clutched at his arm, the guard and Dorothy both reached out to steady him.
"I'm fine," He said, though the tendons of his neck were taunt with strain, "The mining drill cauterizes as it cuts."
Dorothy glared at Quatre for his pathetic attempt to be comforting, "If he killed you, I would gut him myself." She glanced over at the bound man, "Slowly, with a dull blade."
"My adrenaline is wearing off," Quatre leaned on her and breathed raggedly, his forehead felt slick and cold against her shoulder, "Infirmary, please."
Dorothy looked back at the guards and Hamza, the man seemed to sink into himself, "Lock him up for questioning later."
.
"Did you pick up the capacitors, love?" Duo's voice was muffled behind his welding helmet, when there was no response, he raised the tinted visor, "Hilde?"
The woman in question was absentmindedly putting away groceries in their little kitchenette, eyes glued to her handheld. "Mmhmm..."
Duo sighed, pulling off his heavy leather gloves, he left the workbench to stand by the kitchen island and waited to be noticed.
"Your goodies are in the bottom of the bag," Hilde whirled by and pecked the only clean spot on his face, "Now let me alone, I need to catch up with the forum."
"Heero's posts? I can't believe so many people obsess over his reports, it's gotta be more boring than a technical manual."
Hilde blinked and looked up from her screen, "Not at all. The bit about the crowning of Queen Relena is pretty exciting, and the part where Heero decides to not kill her..." Her eyes glazed over dreamily, "It's super romantic."
"What? How's that romantic? You women are craaazy." Duo whirled a finger at his temple.
"You don't get it. There's so much tension and yearning and the world just keeps them apart, oh it's like a fairytale."
Unnerved by Hilde's uncharacteristic swooning, Duo made a grab at her phone.
"No!" Hilde chased him around the kitchen counter, "Don't read it out loud."
Duo laughed and pitched his voice into a feminine falsetto, hopping in circles to keep the device above the reach of his squealing pursuer. "As Relena's speech to the heretofore unreceptive aristocracy came to an end, a familiar silhouette appeared in the darkest balcony."
"Shut up!"
"At last, he'd come to set her free from these shackles of gold." Duo clutched at imaginary pearls and made a kissy face.
Hilde grappled at his arm until she finally pried the phone from him, "Now your stupid voice is gonna get stuck in my head when I read."
"Babe, there ain't no way Heero wrote that."
"Obviously," She swatted at him halfheartedly, "Relena added the juicy bits."
"I have so many ideas for making fun of him right now."
"Don't you dare," Hilde emphasized each word with a poke in his chest, "Heero sacrificed his privacy for the good of the Colonies."
Duo cringed at the thought, "Yeah, not to mention his dignity, can't say I envy the guy."
.
Relena gazed out the window of their speeding jeep, the scenery took on a gloomier mood since they were last on the roads. Bare pollarded stumps of the trees that lined the high way stood starkly in contrast against overcast skies.
Since her expulsion from the ESUN, the two of them hunkered down for more than a week and focused on writing what Heero insisted was a "report," judging by the overwhelming reactions from both print and digital media, they succeeded in turning public opinion in favour of the Gundam pilots. This wasn't the first time she leveraged her notoriety, and it probably wouldn't be the last.
Heero waited until she finished editing the final chapter, offered a warm can of soup, sat down beside her and monotoned, "We found Zechs."
Relena nearly choked, maybe Heero was finally making good on his promise to kill her. Death by soup. She hurriedly swallowed the mouthful as gracefully as she could, "Where?"
"The Sanc Kingdom."
She wondered if Milliardo would be glad to see her, or if Noin was with him, but most of all, she wondered why her brother chose now to return to their fallen homeland.
.
The trouble with local anesthesia, Quatre observed, was the loss of motor control in that limb. He touched the numb, pink skin around the bandaged area, fascinated by the smoothness of the inflamed flesh.
"You should've listened to Trowa and kept up your combat training." Dorothy appeared through the curtains around his bed, the nurse had finally evicted the flocks of concerned workers from the infirmary and left the two of them alone.
Quatre feigned a hurt look, "I disarmed him and popped his shoulder, I didn't exactly lose."
"You're just lucky he only had a laser drill," she straightened his collar absentmindedly, "What if he came at you with a projectile weapon?"
"Hamza is a miner, there're no projectile tools in his kit." He could see Dorothy was skeptical.
"Pretty unprepared for an assassination attempt."
Quatre frowned, "He went through the trouble to spread rumours of layoffs, it must've been an opportunistic hit, he's desperate."
"But if he didn't plan to kill you..." She wrinkled her nose in thought.
The room quaked with a distant boom, equipments beeped their displeasure and the medicine cabinets rattled like crates of liquor. Quatre motioned for Dorothy to stay put while he flipped open his handheld.
"What's the situation?" His lips pressed tight as he listened, "I'll be right down."
"Are we under attack?" Dorothy asked.
"No, Hamza escaped in your shuttle."
The control room of MO-VI was packed with workers fresh off their shift, still coated in sweat and rock dust. The curious onlookers parted a path for their boss and his lady-friend.
"Was anyone hurt?" Quatre put a hand on the shoulder of the guard manning the aerial control console, who shook his head, "Good. Patch me through to the shuttle."
"I'm sorry, Quatre," Hamza appeared on the large wall display, in the cockpit of the civilian shuttle, he took the helmet off his normal suit, face shiny from perspiration.
"Return to dock, Hamza, that's an order."
The man smiled grimly, "This is for my son, who I will not meet again in Paradise. Let your anger and curses be on me alone."
"He's headed for the comm. satellite!" Dorothy pointed at the telemetry screens.
"Hamza, don't be a coward," Quatre's voice shook with unexpected rage, "What kind of a father abandons his son?"
The transmission was cut, the control room filled with quiet gasps as men watched the shuttle ram into the satellite. It crumpled like a frail metal bird as the nose of the shuttle plowed into its body, a small, soundless explosion enveloped the cockpit, then all was silent.
.
"Oh don't look so grumpy," Sally was clearly enjoying the discomfort of her friend, "The sweater vest suits you."
"We've been to six different protests now, if we come away empty handed today, I'm quitting." Wufei fumed quietly, it wouldn't do to draw attention to themselves in the streets.
Sally put on a girlish whine, "Aww, but who will fight the big bad separatists for me?"
The Place du Luxembourg was devoid of its usual dinner crowd of professionals and ESUN bureaucrats, instead the boutique shops and cafes were filled with friendly demonstrators, thirsty from bouts of sing-alongs to L'Internationale or some other folksy classic. On the outdoor stage set up for the presidential appearance, street musicians in shabby clothes took turns leading the crowd on their guitars, enjoying their moment of fame.
The square began to fill up in earnest as buses dropped off one group after another, and by five PM the square was filled with people waving the ESUN flag and displaying other Unionist paraphernalia's. Blending in had been easy, the slogans and chants were predictable enough that Sally could rattle off a dozen in her sleep.
Drones dotted the sky, taking aerial footage of the scene, Sally and Wufei kept their heads down and scanned the crowd. Une's orders were to gather evidence of suspicious funding, and identify leaders.
As the sun dipped below the skyline, Wufei checked his watch. "Ten minutes till the President is scheduled to speak, and these people are clueless as to who even organized this thing." He adjusted his flat cap with great annoyance.
"Say," Sally whispered into Wufei's ear, "Do those look like normal transit buses to you?"
Wufei squinted at the identical coaches parked along the one-way side streets surrounding the square, "Chartered for sure, and we're penned in."
"And there's scant police presence for a gathering of this size." Sally commented as she watched yet another bus pull up, thirty or so pudgy cheeked pre-teens poured out onto the street, some kids bounced with carnivalesque excitement, others rubbed their eyes and yawned from their nap on the bus. Two women who appeared to be the adult supervisors did a headcount and corralled the children toward the mass of people.
"They brought kids to this mess?" Wufei cursed as a commotion on the other side of the square caught his attention. Half a dozen security agents climbed onto the outdoor stage, followed by a wave of cheers from the crowd, the president himself appeared and waved at the people.
"Thank you for coming out to stand up for peace!" Davos launched his speech amidst much applause, he pitched his voice to address the back of the crowd, "I commend our young friends for participating in this meaningful event, we adults should all learn from your courage."
The children shouted happily from being acknowledged, hopping up and down with the energy of popcorn kernels. At the nudging of their chaperones they unfurled a long banner that made Wufei roll his eyes, it read: Peace through Unity and Love, and was decorated with colourful hand prints.
"These little ones are the future we fight for, we owe it to them to create a world without any conflict." The president laid his palm on his chest, pontificating with passion.
More drones buzzed around the square, each with the logo of a media company displayed on the casing, some have enabled flash photography as night descended. One flew so close to Sally she felt the breeze from its propellers.
"We cannot afford to be selfish, the spectre of a dark age hides behind the petulant desire for so-called independence." Davos continued, but Wufei was no longer paying attention, instead he tracked the movement of one unmarked drone that was doing figure eights above them.
Sally followed her partner's gaze and spotted the mechanical buzzard and its peculiar flight pattern, it wasn't equipped with photography lenses, yet the way it listed as it turned suggested a heavy load. It unceremoniously landed somewhere behind the row of young kids.
Instinctively, Sally stepped toward the children, she heard Wufei gasp behind her and felt him take hold of her elbow, tugging her back. The blast still took her by surprise despite her premonition, hot shockwaves knocked her off her feet and she collided into Wufei before they hit the ground together. Pain exploded in her right ear, thick smoke pushed into her lungs. All manners of debris clattered around them, and it was a long heartbeat before the hot wind stopped, somewhere in her mind Sally registered that she didn't hear her own coughing. She filed that fact away to worry about later, right now she needed to assess casualty and help the injured.
Legs shaking, Sally stood and walked forward, the ground tilted and rushed at her. Wufei caught her and attempted to drag her away from the scene, but as the smoke cleared she saw the carnage the explosion had wrought. She'd seen mangled corpses in the war, but these bodies were so small. She wanted to hurl. Sally tried again to reach for where the centre of the blast had been, perhaps some were still alive, even if she could only help save one...
Wufei dominated her field of vision and shook his head vigorously, mouth moving in silence. He gave up and fireman-carried her away from the site of the explosion, into the panicked throngs of a sweaty stampede.
.
Tbc...