Duo had no time to think about Hilde. His mind had been occupied by the four fighter planes deployed on his tail, which were presently firing on his mobile suit with abandon as he maneuvered above the city. He had already made the decision against shooting them down, not out of fear of killing military personnel, but because the debris and the crashing planes would most certainly cause civilian casualties, particularly in such a densely populated area. So Duo flew onward, always keeping Quatre's mobile suit in sight and always dodging the shots of his pursuers.

Quatre's communication feed remained open, though they exchanged no words between cockpits. Duo could hear Sally and Quatre's frantic gasps, their rapid breathing, and Quatre's occasional cries of desperation as the pursuing planes' rounds ricocheted off his mobile suit's hull. Sally, standing unrestrained in the space between the back of the pilot's chair and the cockpit wall, yelped several times herself, especially when Quatre jammed the throttles or over steered. But this was predictable noise, and it reassured Duo that all was well on their end. As long as they were making noise, they were alive, and that meant that all of them had a chance to make it out.

The remainder of Duo's six cockpit monitors displayed a panoramic outside view, obscured only slightly now that the rain had begun to cease. The bright city lights cast an eerie glow over the earth below, but Duo could see a cutoff: The lights ended in the distance.

"Quatre," Duo commanded, and he did not wait for a reply. "You get your mobile suit to the hotel to assist the others. Contact them ahead of time if you're able on an alternate frequency."

"Roger," Quatre said shakily. "You?"

"I'm going to lead these planes into that field over there," Duo replied flatly. "I'll take care of them and follow you as soon as the job is done."

"Roger."

Duo watched as Quatre's mobile suit banked hard to the left, executing a hairpin turn that put it on course toward the heart of the city. But the planes did not follow. It seemed that Duo was their sole target, at least for now.

"Be careful, Duo."

"You, too."

And so ended the conversation, and Duo's mind focused fully on the task at hand: Dispatching the four jets as efficiently as he possibly could. And now he didn't have to watch out for Quatre and Sally, he could work to his fullest potential.

As soon as Duo cleared the city limits he began planning his escape, figuring that he may even be able to do so without killing any of the pilots. And once he deemed himself a comfortable distance from any vulnerable structures, he set to action.

As the field rushed toward him Duo reset the lower left monitor to display a rear-facing field of view in which he could see clearly the four jets moving into an offensive position. It was as close to a V as they would be able to form with an even number, and the two in front flew nearly wing-to-wing. They continued to fire.

This would prove easier than Duo thought, providing his mobile suit could withstand the impact.

With a deep breath, Duo jammed both left and right throttles forward, halting his mobile suit on the spot and driving it instantaneously into reverse. He flexed his legs and chest on instinct and heard a reflexive hic as the G-forces hit, and then he braced for impact.

As Duo predicted, the jets in the front could not react quickly enough, and within seconds of his reversal Duo's mobile suit gave a tremendous lurch as the planes collided. Metal squealed and screeched as the wings of the planes contorted, and then they were all falling.

Duo's engines had failed.

Eyes opened again, watching the ground rush up at him, Duo focused all of his attention on the throttle controls. No damage indicator alarms had sounded; no warning lights were flashing. It seemed he had simply stalled. It seemed this suit was more durable than he'd thought.

"Power down..." Duo urged the suit as he input the command. And then for the tiniest moment the cockpit went black. He could hear the wind rushing past the chassis, could feel the free-fall. And then he input more commands and uttered to himself, "Power on..." And as if on cue, the lights flickered back to life, and his engines restored.

Duo did not know how close he'd been to the ground when he reengaged the engines, and he did not care to know. But he did see the planes' impact with the earth, where they exploded into bright red-orange fireballs that smoldered and burned with brilliant light. He wondered briefly if the pilots had ejected.

But Duo could not think about that for long. There remained two enemies to contend with, and now they had watched him make such simple work of their colleagues, they would be harder to dispatch.

Duo flew back toward the city lights, hoping to buy himself some time. Certainly they would not shoot him down over the city. They would have to be concerned with civilian causalities just as much as he was.

A communication query flashed on his rightmost monitor, and Duo opened it at once.

"Master Sergeant Duo Maxwell, stand down!" called the voice-only communication, which Duo reckoned was coming from a pursuing aircraft. "You're under arrest!"

Duo did not reply. He didn't have much to say to them.

"I repeat," the voice said again, "stand down or we will open fire."

"Open fire, then," Duo replied curtly. "It'll be the last thing you do."

As soon as Duo force-closed the communication feed, the jets began to fire again, the city below either forgotten or disregarded entirely. But for its worth, Duo considered this action to be an open invitation: If they felt it appropriate to fire upon him, he would fire right back.

With deft control, Duo maneuvered the mobile suit, executing a flawless spin which faced his weapons toward the following planes while maintaining his momentum forward. He locked on and fired the vulcan guns, but they were ineffective against the planes' armored hulls. This dismayed Duo slightly: He had hoped to shoot down the planes in such a way that would allow them to emergency land, to stop pursuit, for the pilots to live. But this seemed an impossibility.

Through the hail of gunfire Duo raised the beam cannon and began its cumbersome charge, and as he did he opened a public line of communication that had his voice projecting from the mobile suit for all to hear. "Eject now," he commanded. "Eject now if you value your life. You've got ten seconds till my weapon is charged."

There came no reply. No parachutes deployed from the planes. Duo wondered if the enemy pilots believed he was bluffing. But he charged the weapon all the same, locked on target. And at the same instant Duo fired the weapon, his body gave a great heaving twitch and his mind blanked into alternating visions of Helen and Hilde, dead and lifeless and bleeding. And a fraction of a second later, when Duo's mind came back to him, he noted that the shot had grazed the wing of the far plane, sending it careening toward the skyline. It was spinning too fast for the pilot to recover control or escape. There was no hope for him.

Duo gasped for breath, his mind racing now with anxiety he could not hold back. He could not say what had triggered the response: He'd been handling himself so well. Now it seemed to be all he could do to maintain control of the suit, to frantically reposition it on course and maintain altitude. He had to focus. He had to dispatch the other plane.

He raised the beam cannon again, locked on to the remaining target, and opened the communication line.

"Retreat!" Duo cried desperately. "You can't outmaneuver me! I'm locked on! I'll fire!"

The plane banked hard to the left and ceased firing, apparently in surrender. But Duo knew that the reprieve would not last long, as that plane was likely off to get reinforcements or check on its allies. He only hoped the break would last long enough for him to calm down again, for the panic attack to subside.

ф

Quatre knew there was a problem long before he attempted to call. He could see hundreds of bodies swarmed around the outside of the hotel, but whether they were military personnel, evacuees, or news crew he couldn't tell from such a height and distance. All he knew was that the situation had turned ugly and there would be no way for him to land without drawing too much attention. He'd already probably drawn too much attention simply by flying by.

It was at Sally's request that Quatre began the calls, first to Heero, who did not respond, and then to Relena, who was likewise quiet. Trowa and Wufei were the same. By the time Sally suggested contacting Noin, Quatre had begun to panic slightly himself, his mind running wild with possibilities. Last he'd heard, Heero had been seriously wounded. He wondered if the others had fared any better.

"Quatre?"

Relief flooded in as Noin's voice filled the cockpit. Sally, who'd been standing in the tiny cavity between the back of his seat and the wall of the chassis, leaned low over the chair and spoke in his place.

"Noin, status report," Sally said.

"Heero's wounded, not breathing well. He's unconscious and has been for a while now but Zechs thinks he's stable. Relena's a basket case. Otherwise we're all fine. Trowa managed to help everyone into one room using the balconies. Where are you? What's your status?"

"Where are you?"

Noin's voice took on an air of uncertainty. "At the hotel. Second floor, toward the center of the building. We're room 235."

"Flash the lights," Sally ordered.

Sally and Quatre noted at once the room in question, as its dim lights flickered off and on, off and on, off and on. Quatre nodded that he understood, and Sally continued the call.

"What's happening in there?"

"We've got a standoff situation here," Noin continued. "I don't know how you plan to get in, but exercise caution."

"I don't think that'll be necessary. We'll see you in a few seconds," Sally said, and she reached down and pressed the button to close communication.

Not a minute later, Quatre gently touched down at the rear of the building outside of the room with flashing lights. He sat in the cockpit for a long moment, catching his breath and steadying his head, before he brought its arm around and laid Hilde's body delicately on the balcony. He could see Trowa and Wufei staring out at the mobile suit, looking rather impressed, but when they caught sight of the injured their expressions changed.

Quatre opened the cockpit and looked out. The suit had been almost perfectly sized: His cockpit door stood about two meters from the balcony railing, and the body of the mobile suit blocked out everything behind. He'd managed to secure at least one exit for the lot of them.

Sally jumped from the cockpit first and Quatre followed. The balcony door slid open.

"Get her inside, now," Sally ordered, and Trowa and Wufei complied. "We need to get her stable and get out of here as fast as we can."

If the reaction of the room was any indication, it seemed that Quatre and Sally had stormed in with a veritable army, and the way they carried themselves left no question that there was urgent business at hand. Noin and Relena, curled together in the corner opposite, stared slack-jawed at them. Milliardo and Howard, both of whom presently bent over the bed tending to Heero, wore expressions that seemed a mix of concern and admiration.

"Where'd you get the suit?" Milliardo asked, standing straight. "What's the story?"

"And where's Duo?" Howard added.

Quatre was motioning Trowa and Wufei to lay Hilde on the bed beside Heero, who looked no better off himself. "Duo was giving us cover. We lifted these suits from the base." As soon as Hilde was down he began assessing her wounds. The bullet had fully pierced, entering her torso below the ribs and exiting below the shoulder blade. Blood soaked into her shirt. Things did not look good. "He should follow us soon as long as he knows where we are."

"Why?"

"Let's talk about this later," Sally said commandingly, and she gently moved Howard and Milliardo away from the bed. "We've got more important business to attend." She began fussing over Heero. "One of you boys needs to get in that suit and make sure we've got cover, check to be sure we won't have more military company coming after us. Monitor the scanners. Someone else needs to secure the rest of us a ride out of here as fast as possible."

The lot of them exchanged glances.

"Keep in mind, whatever transport you get will have coverage from two mobile suits, once Duo gets here. It's got to carry bodies, not be fast. Get moving!"

It took another few moments for the orders to sink in, but once they had, the room sprang into motion. Trowa raced to the balcony and jumped into the suit's cockpit, and Wufei followed to the balcony.

"I'll find something and get it out here below the balcony," he said, and then he jumped into the open palm of the mobile suit, which Trowa lowered to the ground. Wufei scampered off and out of sight.

"Things don't look good," Trowa announced from the open cockpit minutes later, as he entered commands into the system. He seemed to be watching something on the inside. "I just brought up a few news feeds. Seems we're being labeled as conspirators and terrorists."

"Conspirators?" Quatre gasped, and he rounded. "To what?"

He could see Trowa shrug. "Don't know. But I guess we're working in coordination with some rebel colonists..."

"What's going on in there!" Shouted a voice from outside.

"They won't open fire on us as long as Relena is in this room," Milliardo interrupted. "We've established that. We know they're after her."

"Duo told me that they tried to assassinate her," Quatre said, turning back to Hilde. Though she still breathed it was shallow. She seemed a lost cause. Talking helped calm Quatre's nerves as he worked. "He said that he overheard some soldiers talking outside of his cell. They tried to assassinate Relena but ran into Heero instead."

Noin nodded and got to her feet. "That's right," she said.

"Heero opened the door," Relena added shakily, her voice hoarse from sobbing. "They stabbed him and he...I don't know what he did. There was a man lying on the ground, bleeding from his head when we ran."

"We have to figure out why all of this happened..." Quatre said.

And then, from the balcony, Trowa shouted an interruption. "I've got a call from Duo!"

"Take it!" Quatre shouted back. "He might need backup!"

And then Trowa fell silent for a time, his conversation lost.

"We've got to get moving," Sally said. She rushed to the balcony and peered over, waiting and watching for Wufei to return.

"Duo's going to be flying by shortly!" Trowa called. "He's got company, so we need to be ready to go!"

"Okay," Quatre said, mostly to steady himself. Then he stood in commanding posture and addressed the room. "Here's how this will work: Zechs and Howard, you get Heero. I'll get Hilde. Noin, you're with Relena. We're going to have to take turns getting to the ground via the mobile suit. It'll have to be a quick process. Let's move."

"Wufei is back!" Sally shouted from the balcony.

The movement was coordinated, if chaotic. Each group moved to the balcony in turn, waiting in queue, watching while Trowa lowered the others to the ground. Wufei had found a functional, if cumbersome vehicle: A large bodied delivery van emblazoned with "Fiona's Flowers" on the side. He presently stood in the back, shoveling loads of pots and bags of dirt out of the cargo hold.

Suddenly Trowa started to fire. Military vehicles had begun to appear around the back of the building. He hit several, knocked them back, flipped them over, and men with guns poured out.

"Go!" Sally cried, and she pushed the rest into the back of the van. Quatre followed her and Wufei slammed the door behind, leaving them all cramped and blind in the darkness.

ф

Duo's hands trembled on the controls. He'd been right: The retreating plane had brought reinforcements, and none that Duo felt comfortable tangling with. Half a dozen mobile suits and another five planes tailed him now, and it was all he could do to outmaneuver them. There would be no return fire this time, not without backup.

He'd been calmed somewhat through speaking with Trowa. Something about Barton's unwavering, inhuman calm always caused Duo to relax, and he desperately needed to relax.

"I've got eleven," Duo said as he pulled left on the stick, darting out of the way of a missile. "They're firing. Heavy weapons."

"I'll send you my coordinates," Trowa replied. "We're on the move to a nearby spaceport."

Duo dove right, up, down, watching the screens both to track enemy movements and to identify the coordinates. The numbers flashed red in the corner of his main display, and Duo changed course with a flourish. A hard bank set him on the correct heading and bought him a few seconds as the pursuing vehicles followed. Even if he was outgunned, Duo could rest easy that he was more skilled. He could outmaneuver them any day.

"Duo, you ok?" Trowa asked. "I can hear you breathing through the com."

Duo nodded, but he knew Trowa couldn't hear the affirmative. "Advise," he ordered without ever considering that Trowa might not understand the command.

"Ah," Trowa breathed. "Well we've got ground coverage coming after us; I'm holding them back with suppressing fire..."

"What do you want me to do?" Duo shouted. The panic was flaring up again. "Orders!"

"First, you need to breathe. I'll get Wufei to slow the van and we'll wait for you to catch up. Even when you see us, you don't let off the throttle. How powerful is this beam cannon?"

"I don't know the specs," Duo replied, breathing deeply. He jammed to the left again and nearly collided with a building, rolled immediately back to the right. He did not like flying in the city. "It's powerful enough to down a couple planes in one shot."

"Good," Trowa replied coolly. "You blow past us as fast as you can get your suit to travel. I'll hang back and catch the enemy aerial units off guard. I'll flank them, but you'll have to provide suppression for the ground units in my absence."

"Roger," Duo said. "Two minutes until I reach the coordinates you sent. Call it five till I get to you."

"Can you hold out for five minutes?" Trowa asked.

"Let's hope so."

Duo left the feed open, a constant reminder to breathe slowly and evenly, and continued evasive maneuvers. As long as he could keep moving forward, he thought, he'd be okay. The bullets striking the suit's metal body sounded far scarier than they actually were. If he'd not been hit yet, he wouldn't be hit. All of these things he repeated inwardly to himself, coaching his mind to be calm.

Three minutes later a red box flashed on his main display around a white speck in the distance. The line of pursuing military-marked vehicles let Duo know that it was the target.

"I've got eyes on you," Duo said to Trowa. "Or on the vehicle."

"I see you coming," Trowa replied. "I'm to the left of the road."

"Charge your beam rifle; it takes about twelve seconds for a full shot."

"Roger."

Duo pushed the throttles forward, driving the engines to maximum capacity and throwing the suit ahead. The gap between him and his pursuers widened. The gap between him and the military ground vehicles lessened. He fired the vulcan guns at the ground, which served to blow a few cars off the road. He did not see Trowa anywhere.

But then came a mighty blast from the side of the road behind him, and a massive explosion rocked the earth. Three of the planes and four of the mobile suits went up in flames behind him.

Duo wanted to tell Trowa that it'd been a nice shot, but his suit had been caught up in the shockwave. Thrown off balance, it pitched hard to the right and collided with two of the vehicles following Wufei, and the right shoulder box scraped loudly against the road.

"Duo, correct course!" Trowa shouted.

"Working on it," Duo replied through gritted teeth. The sudden turbulence jerked him violently against his restraints. He killed the left engine and drove the right to full, and the suit rolled half out of control past the van. Safely clear of the vehicles, Duo reengaged the left engine and equalized their power. Then, he landed the suit and faced the oncoming traffic.

Duo unloaded the vulcans as the van drove between the mobile suit's legs, dispatching car after car after car, and those that were not hit swerved aside, temporarily disabled. But the ground vehicles were not the end of the troubles. The remaining aerial forces followed, apparently unfazed by Trowa's guerrilla attack.

Duo charged his own beam cannon and fired without warning, destroying two more mobile suits that had been flying and firing in tight formation.

"Duo, go!" Trowa called. "Don't overdo it!"

The mobile suit absorbed the impact of two missiles, and Duo's head smacked against the headrest. Slightly dazed, he whirled about and fired the engines again, following Wufei as close as he dared with his cameras to the rear.

He saw Trowa emerge from the roadside behind the enemy units, and Trowa fired at will. The last of the planes disappeared in bright orange fireballs. And then Duo heard the calls for retreat, and the remaining suits banked off in surrender.

"They'll be back," Duo panted as Trowa's suit drew up beside him. He touched a hand to the back of his head. A lump had risen and it was tender to the touch, but it remained bloodless. "Be sure of it."

"Doesn't matter if we get out of here soon enough," Trowa replied deadpan. "I'll take point and clear a way into this spaceport for us. Let's hope we can secure a mobile suit carrier or we'll have to ditch these."

"Yeah," Duo replied, and he watched Trowa's suit race ahead.

The remaining ride to the spaceport was uneventful, and even their entry onto the tarmac did not cause any conflict. It was too early in the morning, and the place was clear of activity.

Duo watched as Wufei and Quatre darted about on foot between the various hangars, investigating and taking stock of available methods of escape. And then Quatre came rushing back outside, his arms waving, beckoning Trowa and Duo forward.

"Carrier!" Quatre yelled up at them, and he pointed back at the hangar. "Fueled!"

"Well that's convenient," Duo said. "You load your suit and get the others in position. I'll stay here as cover and dock before we break orbit."

"Roger."

Duo stood sentinel, watching as Trowa maneuvered his suit toward the hangar, exited the cockpit, and followed Quatre inside. Within five minutes they had the door open, the carrier rolling slowly out. They were in the midst of loading the crew when military reinforcements arrived.

"Hurry up!" Duo cried through an open feed, and he drove his suit back to action. "I'll steer them clear of your position as long as I can!"

He didn't wait for a response before taking to the air again. He was too antsy for that. With a twitch, the engines fired, and Duo set off to meet the reinforcements.

The gunfight seemed as a blur to Duo, even as he exchanged fire. Four mobile suits had arrived to stop them, and their pilots called commands through the intercom as if they actually expected Duo to respond. Instead, Duo fired and fired, accepted hits from nonlethal rounds, and continued to be amazed at his mobile suit's durability. Even through it all, only two cameras had been disabled and its right arm moved sluggishly, but Duo supposed that that was a result of his earlier impact with the ground.

"Duo!" Quatre's face appeared on screen. "We're getting ready to take off! Disengage!"

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Duo replied, his voice steadier than he felt.

"Be safe! I'll see you in a few minutes."

The feed cut out, and Duo continued the fight. He would have to destroy the enemies outright before he would feel comfortable heading toward the carrier. So he raised the beam cannon.

It would not charge.

Duo swore. No doubt the thing had a maximum number of charges, and considering the force of its output he couldn't be surprised at how low that number turned out. He threw the rifle aside and fired the vulcans, buying time to bring out the dual beam sabers.

As they flared to life, the world ahead was cast in an eerie green glow. The sabers were shorter than Duo recalled for standard, but they would function.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Duo forged ahead and into danger. He swung the right sword at the first suit he came across, severing its left leg at the knee, and he let his own engines die to fall beneath it. With the left saber he stabbed upward and into the enemy chassis, and the resultant explosion propelled Duo's suit into the ground.

Dizzy and winded, it took Duo a moment to react. He righted the mobile suit with finesse, but it seemed he'd done so at just the wrong time. A missile connected with the main camera in the mobile suit's head, rendering him all but blind in the cockpit and sending the suit staggering backward.

Duo felt his heartbeat quicken, his breathing came in short, desperate gasps. The cockpit was too dark. It was too much like the stasis chamber. He thought of Helen. He thought of Hilde.

Rounds connected with his suit, and now they seemed to be close enough to pierce through. He heard the sounds of warping metal clearly, the sounds of hundreds of impacts with his hull.

"Duo, get out of there!"

He didn't know where Quatre's voice had come from, but it called him to action immediately. With all speed Duo turned the suit about and popped the cockpit door. If his cameras were out, he reasoned, he'd have to fly manually. He heaved the throttles and the suit plunged forward, airborne again. Frantically, breathlessly, he made his way toward the carrier. Its cargo bay was open wide, waiting, and he could see someone manning the door.

A missile jerked Duo's suit and his left throttle died. He'd been hit, and hit hard, and his suit had been thrown off kilter. He felt its body wobbling, dangerously off balance, but he was too close now. Momentum would carry him into the carrier.

Duo braced himself for impact, flexing every muscle his body would allow. With one last inhale, the suit connected with the bottom of the carrier door, showering him with sparks and jolting him about. And as the suit slid sidelong with dangerous speed into the cargo hold Duo thrust the right throttle backward. He heard the single engine firing, felt the suit slowing. He could see the floor whizzing past slower, slower, slower. And then the back of his suit thumped against a wall with just enough force to rattle Duo's teeth, and the suit came to a full stop.

"Duo!"

He scarcely heard the voice at all. His chest was too tight. His heart pounded too fast. His forehead dripped with sweat. The only thought in Duo's mind was escape: He had to get out of that cockpit.

With quaking hands he released the harness and fell sideways against the console, rolled down to the open cockpit door, and with his hands clutched around his head he fell to the carrier floor.

"Duo!"

Duo staggered to his feet and watched blankly as Trowa came rushing toward him. But Duo held up his hand. He didn't want Trowa to approach. He needed space. He needed air. He needed to breathe. He couldn't catch his breath. His right knee gave out and he slumped. He felt himself hyperventilating, in full-blown panic.

"Calm down," Trowa urged, apparently unheeding of Duo's warning. He wrapped Duo's arm around his shoulder and guided him to his feet. "Just breathe. Let's walk. Come on now."

Duo felt his chest heaving even as Trowa ushered him up the stairs toward the passenger cabin. He felt his legs wobbling, as if they had gone too weak to carry his weight.

"Just breathe," Trowa repeated. "Just breathe."