The micronetwork glimmered just under his fingers, fine threads of gossamer fiberoptic strands spread out like the complex web of an intelligent spider. He held them gently apart as Mike gently screwed a tiny controller card in among the nest of cables. The magnifying goggles were so high powered the boy could see the tiny Z etched in into the controller card's surface marking it as the latest and greatest in Alliance Military technology, so he'd been told. Everyone seemed to be amused by it, but the boy couldn't help but think about how much trouble had gone into capturing this piece of technology.

"Now," Mike said, putting the screwdriver carefully back into the special compartment in his belt. "We get to attach all these pretty little wires to the controller." He produced two small tweezers and handed one to the boy. "Try not to press to hard or you'll bend something. The wires have colored bands right at the end, do you see them?" When the boy nodded, he continued. "Now ideally there'd be matching colors on the controller too but this one is refurbished so we don't have that luxury. Just remember, red, green, black, right to left."

"I understand," the boy said, he leaned back to wipe a beading of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, then crouched over the open skull cap, switching on the tiny light on the top of the goggles so he could better see what he was doing. He should leave after this. He'd been out of his room too long and they could come and check on him. It had been three days since they had first started the tests. He supposed the scientists had wanted the timing of the tests to seem random but the boy had been able to discern a pattern. Three tests spaced out in three half hour intervals, followed by a two hour wait, followed by a six hour wait that seemed to last through dinner time and followed by an eight hour test that went through the night. Right now they were about four and a half hours into the six hour cycle.

"Oh, this is going to be so great," Mike was said, putting the last little cable into its slot and straightening. The boy was still working on his second. The cables were proving difficult to maneuver. "You'll have access to live broadcast feeds, ultra secure communication channels to the home base, maps of the area, infrared, tracking systems, not to mention with this little betty you can connect to the interspace linkup, linkup access anywhere on Earth, the whole Beluga."

"Beluga?" the boy said, working the last wire into it's place. He cocked his head, listening for the soft click, then straightened, pushing the goggles up to rest on his forehead and rubbing briefly at his eyes.

"You know, whale, giant fish thing that lives in the ocean." Mike spread his arms as if indicating the size. The boy raised an eyebrow at him. Mike was short, for an adult, and rough looking with more dark hair thatching his arms than seemed to be on his head. Despite his name and his appearance he had been born and raised on one of the larger colonies in the L1 cluster and spoke more Japanese than he did German which was supposedly his parent's language. How his being here was covert at all, the boy didn't know, but then it wasn't his concern right now.

"Now let's see if this works," he waved a big hand at the technician on the ground controls, indicating they should turn on the power.

"A whale is a mammal," the boy said absently as the Gundam hummed to life. He could feel the vibrations of the machinery on the floor of the lift. He rested his fingertips against the outer plating of the Gundam's head, feeling it there too, like a pulse without a beat.

"Pretty sure it's a fish," Mike said, rubbing at his blocky chin with the side of his finger. The fiberoptics began to glow, feeding little blue beads of energy into the controller card. "Nice, nice," Mike said, nodding. Then he called over his shoulder: "Anything?"

"Seems to be integrating fine," replied the technician from the ground.

"Won't know for sure until we do a trial run." He grinned at the boy. "Bet you're looking forward to that, eh?"

The boy shrugged. He was in a way but there were more important things to concentrate on now. Just then the hanger door opened with a bang and the boy looked down to see Mizuki bursting in, sliding a little in her haste, out of breath. He tensed. Under attack or...?

"F…f…" she panted, then looked up. "Phase II, good time to start phase II."

That meant that someone was coming. Someone who should not see him up there. Mike cursed and hit the switch that would pull the lift from the Gundam and lower it. The lift moved with agonizing slowness and the boy tapped his fingers impatiently against the railing, considering the probability of breaking his leg if he jumped. At the moment it was still pretty high.

"How much time we got?" said Mike. Mizuki looked over her shoulder and hesitated. Cutting it too close in other words. The boy waited until he thought he could make it and jumped, Mike and Mizuki protesting even as he was in midair, he landed and stumbled, tucking himself into a roll to reduce the impact then, lacking a place to sufficiently hide in the time he was given, ducked behind Wing's drooping arm.

The door opened again. The boy rested his head back against the arm and controlled his breathing to keep it quiet. It was doubtful that whoever had arrived could hear him, but it was good practice.

"Phase II?" that was Dr. J. The boy debated the possibility of coming out of hiding but quickly decided against it. He wasn't sure if this was something that the doctor would approve of. "And just what is this phase II?"

"Um…" Mizuki faltered. "The second phase?" The boy rolled his eyes. He was glad she was a technician. There was silence then and the boy wished he could risk a look and see his expression, but if he could see Dr. J than Dr. J might be able to see him. There was no telling his range or ability of vision with those optical implants.

"Indeed," was all Dr. J said. The boy heard the uneven clicking of his gait as he came closer. There was a whrr from above as the lift lowered, giving him more cover. "How are things going?"

"Well we have all the controllers in place. Now they just need to be integrated into the system," Mike said. There was a soft clank as he closed the gate of the lift railing. "But we still have the virus problem."

There was a virus problem? What kind of virus problem? The boy looked over his shoulder, unconsciously glancing to where Mike would be and instead saw the smooth metal plating of the Gundam. They should have told him if there was a virus problem. What if it wasn't just a problem? What if it was someone hacking into the system? The boy hated not knowing-- and not being kept informed was somehow even worse. But it wasn't his Gundam, the boy told himself. It wasn't his yet, he corrected. So for now he would let it go.

"Howell and I are working on a solution," said Dr. J. "In the meantime, try to keep the system off line unless absolutely necessary."

Howell? The boy didn't know that Howell had such a high clearance level. Did he actually have access to the Gundam's computer? The thought unnerved the boy a little. The more people that had access to the system the more people could compromise it. But he had no reason to distrust Howell so for right now he would try not to worry about it.

"Mizuki," Dr. J said. "I've heard you've volunteered for the mission."

"Yes, sir," she said, sounding stiff. She was going on a mission? No one had said anything to him. Another twinge of irritation went through him but quickly dismissed it. After all, it wasn't as if Mizuki was part of his life anymore. She was just another technician.

"I didn't think you would. I know how strongly you feel about the rebels."

"Yes, sir."

"May I ask why?"

"Toshi is going, sir." There was quiet a moment. "He needs someone to watch his back, sensei." Her voice was quiet.

"I see. Well good luck. Don't forget to say goodbye to the boy before you go."

Say goodbye to him? Why was that important? He supposed it wasn't much of an effort but it didn't seem necessary.

"Yes, sir," Mizuki sounded relieved and the boy wasn't sure why. It wasn't important to understand, though and the boy brushed it away. He was running short of time. He heard Dr. J start to walk away, then stop when he was some distance across the room.

"Oh, and the boy has a test coming up in about ten minutes. Make sure he gets back to his room before then."

There was a small crash that sounded like Mike had dropped his tool belt. The boy blinked. Had Dr. J really been able to see him through the gundanium of the arm? Or had it just been a lucky guess? He wanted to ask, but if it was just a guess, he didn't want to blow his cover. Not that he thought Dr. J would particularly care, judging by the light tone he'd used when he'd said it, but it was good practice in any case.

"Isn't he already in his room?" Mizuki said, sounding a little stiff. Dr. J said nothing but the boy thought he heard him chuckle before the door closed with a thud behind him. The boy ducked out from under the arm. Mike had indeed dropped his tool belt and Mizuki was helping him pick up the scattered pieces. She looked up as the boy came nearer and greeted him with a small smile, though there was a worried furrow between her eyebrows.

"I guess you heard that," she said, fiddling with a small half moon wrench. "The rebellion here is getting heated and we…Toshi and I…have to stop it before it goes to far."

The boy frowned.

"You shouldn't speak so openly about it," he said. Even though everyone in this room might all ready know about it there was no telling who else could be listening. Dr. J had been vague enough about the rebels and the boy could have guessed the details himself.

"Oh, you're right." The smile got tighter and she stood, pocketing the wrench without seeming to think about it. He still hadn't decided whether she was just absent minded or a tool based kleptomaniac. "Well I…I guess this is goodbye." She rubbed the back of her neck and looked at him as if she wanted to say more. The boy didn't have time to listen. There were other more important things to worry about and saying goodbye was silly in any case.

"I need to set the cameras," he said, going to the computer terminal. The second time he had snuck out, Toshi had taught him how to use the computers from this room to set the cameras on a loop so that anyone watching would just see an empty corridor while he was making his way back to the room. The room camera was on loop now too, and anyone watching would think he was asleep. It wasn't the best situation and full of flaws but he hadn't had time to perfect it yet. The boy wasn't happy with it at all but right now he had to work with what he had. Mizuki had come to stand over his shoulder and was practically breathing down his neck as he typed in the commands and then double checked quickly to make sure they were correct.

"Will you be all right here?" she asked as he keyed in the final sequence, then jogged toward the hangar doors, then stood on tiptoes and peered cautiously out the small square windows to see if anyone was in the hall. "I mean, do you need anything?"

"No, why would I?" he said.

"I just thought…" she started. He looked at her and she blinked and hesitated, nervously pulling at her hair. A sort of half-smile twitched the corner of her lip and she shook her head. "Never mind."

The boy nodded to her because he thought he should and went out into the hall since the way was clear. He didn't understand her and he didn't think he ever would. Some things were just not meant to be understood he guessed.

It was always a risk, sneaking out like this, and any minute he expected to get caught as he moved rapidly but quietly down the corridor, socks whispering against the floor. It was stupid, really. He imagined this being some sort of capture scenario, but who in their right mind would repeatedly return back to their cell? Who in their right mind wouldn't try to escape? He just didn't get it sometimes. At least it was relatively easy. He would only get caught if they looked at the video too closely or he did something really stupid.

Reaching the door, he keyed in the pass code and slipped inside. Then began doing stretches and rolling his neck to ease the stress of peering into the cranium of a Gundam for the past half an hour. After a few minutes he heard a muffled beeping from outside and turned. Dr. J stood there along with the clipboard man who was flipping through a wad of paper. Dr. J cleared his throat and reached up a hand to tap his head. The boy stared at him, knowing it was a code but not getting it. Dr. J tapped his head again. The boy reached up and his heart jumped as he encountered the cool metal rims of the magnifying glasses. He whipped them off and held them behind him just as clipboard man looked up.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine," said the boy. The man grunted and wrote something.

"Follow me," he said and began to walk away. The boy followed him, slipping the magnifying glasses to Dr. J on his way out. Though he'd been out of the room numerous times before, it was always relaxing not to have to sneak down the halls. Two techies that specialized in thruster control were chatting in the corner and seemed to want to wave at him as he passed but they checked themselves and just smiled and nodded. The boy didn't acknowledge them.

Clipboard man went down the side hall that dead ended into the larger break room. They hadn't been this down this hall before in the tests and the boy went through a mental inventory about what he knew was down this hall. Bathrooms, a storage closet for cleaning supplies and break room, monitored by two security cameras mounted on either side of the hall and a handful of others secreted away. Was there something significant about this hall that he'd missed? The clipboard man seemed to be heading directly for the break room, yet still the boy was surprised when he pushed open the door. The low busy sounds of conversation rolled into the hall. Clipboard man went inside and the boy followed him, smelling fried pork and his stomach knotted and grumbled at him. The clipboard man started toward the far end of the room and the boy followed him, finally noticing Hana sitting by herself at a small round table, underneath a malfunctioning fluorescent light that flickered continuously. She looked up as they came closer, her chin setting in a firm line. She looked pale in the light and there were dark smudges under her eyes. There was only one other plastic chair at the table and the boy sat down feeling a brief flash of annoyance as his feet didn't quite touch the floor.

"I'm sure it's been an arduous time for you," clipboard man said in a flat tone. "It certainly has been for us but rest assured the trial is almost over and the results should be very interesting indeed."

Hana was watching the man speak, her face blank but she picked at the table with ragged nails. Clipboard man took two thick booklets of paper from his clipboard and flopped them on the desk so that Hana startled. Something was wrong. So far she'd been pretty emotionless this entire time.

"You have twenty minutes to complete this," said clipboard man, reaching into one of his numerous pockets and scattering a handful of short pencils over the table. "Answer all the pertinent questions. Any mistakes or questions missed will result in a penalty."

"Twenty minutes?" Hana said, incredulously. Clipboard man nodded.

"Just so." He pushed back his sleeve and glanced at the thick black watch strapped to his wrist. After a few minutes he said: "You may begin."

The boy pulled the thick stack of paper to him and picked up a pencil, then flipped the booklet open. Complex math problems were scrawled across the page that the boy only barely understood the concepts of, let alone knew how to solve. Hana sucked in her breath through her teeth, but soon there was the rapid sharp sound of her pencil against the paper. The boy flipped through a few more sheets of glancing at something that looked like trigonometric equations. There was a catch. There had to be. Maybe a genius could solve all this math in 20 minutes but it didn't take a genius to pilot a Gundam. Five pages in there was a picture of a mobile suit, not a Gundam but it looked like a modified version of the leo he'd attempted to pilot once. The directions were to label the arrows that pointed at various parts of the suit. The boy filled in what he knew for sure and then went back and hazarded a guess what other parts might be called or do, drawing on what he knew of the Gundam.

The next page began with aerospace dynamics questions. The boy tried to read through them and the conversations around him seemed to grow louder not to mention the wonderful smell of the food. The break room was part of the challenge then, to be able to concentrate in the middle of all the noise. Knowing what it was didn't make it any easier and the boy lost his focus a few times as he tried to muddle through the thick questions. Which of these were pertinent? He couldn't even be sure. He could almost feel the minutes slipping by and frustration knotted in his throat. It was taking him too long. He needed to find the questions that mattered. That was the important part. But how could he know?

A group of people burst into laughter in a nearby table and a sharp snap startled him. Hana had broken her pencil. Her mouth was set in a thin line but she didn't look up as she grabbed a fresh pencil, tucked her head down and continued to work. After reviewing a few more questions he realized they all seemed to pertain to fighting in space, trajectory and thrust and fighting in four dimensions. But unless the Alliance had some really good space fighters he didn't know about, most of the battles would be ground based and since it wasn't feasible to use a Gundam to its full capacity on colony—at least without causing massive damage—they must be going to earth. The boy flipped through more of the pages and found a few of what he supposed were earth based fighting questions, as well as a simplified diagram of the Gundam where they were to label the different parts.

The work was intensive but not impossible, still the boy found himself looking up every few minutes to stare at the blank white wall of the lunch room to try and gauge how much time he had left. Hana had begun ruffling through the papers to, wrinkles forming on her forehead in what seemed to be desperate concentration. The boy looked away from her when she looked up and moved to the very last page, wondering if they'd put important questions there just so there was a greater chance of him missing it. There was only one question there at the very top of the page.

Are you prepared to die?

It was a simple enough question but the boy found himself blanking on the answer. What did they mean exactly? Was it some sort of subtle threat? Was it asking him if he was willing to risk his life for the mission or were they going to order him to commit suicide when it was over? Before he could think of anything, he heard the door to the lunch room open and the talking quiet down as footsteps rang out across the linoleum. Clipboard Man came up to the table and whipped the tests away.

"Follow me," he said shortly. Hana cursed under her breath as she stood and began to follow Clipboard man. Why were they leaving? All this mystery was more than a little annoying. With a sigh, the boy slid from the chair and followed them. A knot of techies clustered by the door grinned and waved at him, a man whose name he couldn't remember even gave him the thumbs up—as if they were all in on this somehow. That wasn't surprising and the boy couldn't be too annoyed. After all that had been the nature of the test.

As they came out into the hall he saw the door to the men's bathroom click closed as if someone had been watching them and ducked out of sight. The boy glanced at the door, tempted to go inside and find out who it might be, but quickly changed his mind. Even if someone did manage to get in that wasn't allowed, the boy wasn't doing anything worth spying on. Hana lifted her hand to her mouth and worried her nail with her teeth until he could see spots of blood underneath it.

The boy leaned against the wall in Dr. J's office, his arms folded against his chest as he watched the tail of the cat clock switch back and forth. It was an odd addition in the otherwise sterile environment. It had always been a curiosity to him but he'd never asked and Dr. J had never offered to explain. Hana sat in the room's only other chair, one leg folded tightly over the other, foot jiggling restlessly. Even her hands were busy, right hand gripping the ancient wooden arm of the chair while the other was at her mouth as she bit away at her nails. At Dr. J's desk, Clipboard man rustled through the test, occasionally stopping to scribble notes onto the paper at his elbow. The boy wasn't worried. He hadn't passed but he was sure Hana hadn't passed either so at least they were more or less even.

"Well then," said Clipboard man finally. Hana straightened and the boy unfolded his arms to stand straight. Even though he wasn't worried, anticipation knotted his stomach. "It took you quite a while to catch on, Mitsuyo-san," he said, looking at Hana. "But I have to say you are mathematically brilliant."

"Thank you, sir," Hana said, threading her fingers together and hooking them around her knee.

"Were you self taught?"

"Father helped me and…D…Domo." His name seemed to catch in her throat. That could mean anything, but her face seemed to pale as she said it.

"I see. Fascinating. As for you…" Clipboard man hesitated a moment, flipping through his clipboard before shrugging lightly. "Boy. From what we've heard about you, you certainly live up to your reputation. However unfortunately, neither of you completed the most pertinent question." Here he steepled his fingers and his narrow black eyes flicked between the two of them. "Are you prepared to die?"

"Yes," Hana said, at the same time the boy said:
"I don't understand the question."

Both Clipboard man and Hana looked at him, seeming surprised. The boy suppressed a sigh.

"It seems sufficiently worded," said Clipboard man.

"But it isn't," said Heero. "Do you mean am I prepared to die accidentally in the mission? Prepared to sacrifice myself? Or do you just mean to risk my life?"

"Death comes in many forms, boy. You should always be prepared."

"No one is ever prepared to die," the boy said. Even when they knew it was coming, the moment between life and death was filled with fear. And after it, there was quiet, heavy seeking quiet, buried under the rubble and seeing a rounded spot of blue. The boy blinked the strange memory away and shrugged. Hana looked away but Clipboard man was staring at him with an expression the boy couldn't read.

"But," the boy said. "If it comes to a choice between the mission failing or my death, I will die." Prepared or not. Clipboard man stared at him for a long moment after until even he was starting to feel fidgety.

"Indeed," the man said. Clipboard man nodded, then in a sudden burst of energy began to gather his papers together, tapping them on the desk so they were even. "In any case, you both failed this test. By a slim margin but a fail is still a fail. I must admit I hadn't anticipated it but que sera sera and all that. Now as things stand, you are both fairly matched physically, with Mitsuyo-san-" he nodded to her. "At a slight lead, but when you grow into yourself, boy, you'll no doubt surpass her by quite a margin. It must be some strong vitamins J-sensei is feeding you, am I right?" And then he smiled—or at least the boy guessed that's what it was he was attempting but it looked as if he was severely constipated.

"No…" the boy said, feeling a little off balance. "I—"

"It was a joke. A joke-" Clipboard man cut in, sounding irritated as he snapped his papers to his clipboard. "Anyway where was I? Oh yes. With your background, boy, I'm surprised you failed the stealth test abysmally."

Stealth test? There had been one? The boy felt his ears redden. He must have been meant to sneak out… But he had several times so how had he failed? Maybe the cameras hadn't synchronized properly. Damnit. And he'd been so sure!

"The cameras—" the boy started.

"Were a good first attempt," Clipboard man cut in again. "But amateurish, really. And you kept returning to your room. I had a chuckle about that one. What kind of prisoner returns continually to their cell? Yes. You have a lot of learning to do. This is where Mitsuyo-san shone, I have to say. She disappeared from her room and we only found her what, once, twice? And yet she always managed to show up where she needed to be at just the right time. That, my dear is pure poetry. I applaud you. Excellent work hacking into the communication logs. We barely found you, so I've heard."

"It seems like I'm the better candidate," said Hana, her voice suddenly frosty.

"You are not," the boy retorted, sounding more testy then he wanted. He was beginning to feel out of his depth. She'd disappeared? In a place this small? How? It didn't even seem possible! And what was she doing in the communication logs? What was she looking for? Why was Clipboard man okay with this?

"It seems to me you are. You're young and stupid," she spat out the last word, unfolding herself from the chair, pose rigid as she crossed her arms. "You wouldn't have survived if Domo wasn't bottle feeding you the whole way. My father would have killed you."

"I wasn't bottle fed by anyone," the boy said. Or was he? He tried to think back. So far he'd gotten everything on his own…hadn't he? Most things. Domo had helped him out once or twice but he'd gotten most of the way on his own, right?

"Of course you weren't. Father said you were training with someone before you even got here. So you were never alone, were you? You don't even know how to be."

Odin didn't count. Well maybe he did—but it didn't matter. Being alone or not being alone in the past didn't matter. What he was capable of now was all that mattered.

"Do you? If you run out of those drugs that Mitsuyo forces in you, what will you be then?"

Hana came at him, faster then he thought capable. Her fist flew at his face. He managed to stop it with his hand but suddenly her other hand slapped into his forehead, slamming his head back against the wall. Sharp white flashed before his eyes then again as she snapped his head back. He snapped his heel into her knee and she yelped and let go long enough for him to jerk forward and drive a fist into her stomach. She wheeze and doubled over but her cold hands jumped around his neck, pulling tight. He clawed at her.

"Now now," Clipboard man was saying, distantly. The boy couldn't breathe, a soft buzzing noise filled his head and the edges of his vision were going dark. He jabbed his fingers at her eyes. He got her left one, feeling it give before she shrieked and stumbled back, covering her face with her hand. The boy rubbed his throat, breathing hard and glaring at her. Her eyes, or the eye that he could see was wet and her brow was furrowed. A reaction to pain?

"Now wasn't that silly of you?" said Clipboard man and there was a sound as he shuffled his papers again. "Now you're both hurt. Now we must be civilized about this. We are on the same side after all, fighting for the same goal, i.e. liberation of the colonies from earth control and what not. As it happens there is one more trial which will commence in week's time. Until that time, both of you are to stay away from each other and the Gundam." And here he looked at the boy pointedly. Or at least he seemed to. "If any of these rules are violated I will see to it the perpetrator is disqualified and, I warn you, this is not a test of any kind." He snapped the papers in his clipboard and rose, but seemed hesitant to leave –as if he was afraid to pass through them. Hana straightened and dropped her hand from her eye which was squinted and watery but not bloody. He was relieved in a way that he hadn't damaged it.

"When this is over I will kill you," she said softly, then limped from the room. The boy stared at her retreating back, rubbing his neck.

"Don't make me have to kill you," he murmured, but not so she could hear. He didn't want to. The thought of it— She had hurt him. She was a definite obstacle. She would be even worse once he got the Gundam so he would have to. One shot between her eyes and she would be dead like everyone else. He would die for the mission and he would kill for it, too, and that's just the way it was.

Don't own, naturally. Yada yada, etc etc

Many thanks to West_Side, Byrony and the many wonderful people over at Safehousing!

Now the next chapter coming up is really long (like 35 pages give or take) so it's going to be broken up into two parts. I just want to say this now so no one freaks out at an evil cliffhanger and then having to wait a few years for the next part. No sir. We are going to finish this, precious.