"Begin!"
The boy punched a green square.
The scene shifted and abruptly he found himself in a forest of badly pixelated bamboo. He flicked a switch to open a map and his eyes widened. Assuming that his position was being marked as the little yellow diamond, the place was huge. There were green circles everywhere, some clustered five or six in one spot. All right. He'd start north and work his way clockwise.
As he throttled forward, he glanced at the little yellow diamond that moved along the screen, trying to guess from one point to another how long it would take. Maybe two minutes, give or take. He still had plenty of time. If he could judge how much time it would take to each point then maybe—
Suddenly he went past the bamboo forest and into a camp of green Leos lying in wait. Bullets rattled through the air and struck his suit. The boy jerked back, cursing under his breath, pulling backwards to get his suit back into the safety relative safety of the bamboo trees. The Leos continued to fire and the boy toggled the switch to activate the buster rifle. It began charging but three minutes was too long to wait. The boy toggled the weapons systems button. Saw the charge time for the buster rifle, a reminder that the beam saber, whatever that was, was offline, and ammunition for the shoulder canons. He activated the shoulder canons, pressing down to fire.
There was a Leo right in front of him, bearing down on him with a beam weapon. The shoulder canons took care of that, eventually. It was an inefficient method and the bullets didn't seem to be quite hitting where the boy thought they should go and by the time he finished there were even more. One Leo came too close but by this time the rifle was charged and he jammed it against the mobile suit's chest and fired. The white light blasted it apart and two others behind, the light seeming to bend slightly to brush one at an odd angle. The boy didn't have time to contemplate. For now the way was clear. And he moved forward.
He avoided the clearings from then on, able to see them on the map if he looked close enough, though the bamboo did slow him down. He finally saw his target, sitting on top of a hill. It looked like a communication tower, sticking out of a small walled military complex, blinking slowly green. It looked unguarded and the boy tried to pull information up about the complex and only got another view of his target. He was going in blind.
This time the boy made sure the buster rifle was charging as he went up the hill, the ground seemed patchy and uneven and the boy took note of it as he pushed forward. The uneven patches of ground rose up as he got closer revealing dark metal hallways and mobile suits. Lots of mobile suits. The boy got some of them with the shoulder canons, tried to activate the beam saber and had to do a bit of complicated maneuvering to switch the buster rifle to one hand as he activated the saber. Once it was activated though, he cut them down one handed, though it put him closer in range of their weapons and for some reason, he never hit where he'd intended. Maybe it was a glitch in the system or maybe he wasn't yet good enough at fencing but it was taking twice as long to destroy these units as it should.
Annoyed and trying not to be, the boy managed to clear the way and aimed for the tower with the buster rifle. Fired. And missed. A close shot but a clean miss. What? Alarms went off inside the base. One of Howell's Scorps climbed over the wall in a way no mobile suit should be able to do, tail charging. The boy barely managed to get out of the way a moment before it fired, leaving a large swath of burning earth. Gritting his teeth, the boy powered up the hill and caught a blast from a missile launcher located in its claw before managing to slice it in half but there was another one climbing over the wall and more mobile suits were coming out of the ground. The boy took care of the second Scorp with his shoulder canons and then the reinforcements coming in from the side. As soon as the buster rifle was charged again he took another shot at the communications tower and missed. Twice. Was his aim that far off? Maybe there was something distorting his perception of how close the tower really was.
He would have to go inside and try again. Hopefully that would work. It took some doing to get into the military installment and the boy realized it was probably not the best strategy as he was continually hammered by gunfire from mobile suits and mounted machine guns and the damned Scorp which took out half a wall with a shot the boy, again, only barely managed to avoid. Still he got to the tower, aimed carefully and caught it dead on, the tower exploding in a shower of multicolored sparks that looked so much like Howell's touch that the boy smiled in spite of himself before remembering he couldn't trust the man any longer. Pushing the thought aside, he moved on.
The next target was three minutes in the other direction. He reached the second target and quickly found out there were actually three targets close together, all heavily guarded. Maybe it was because he was unused to fighting like this, or there was something he wasn't getting, but the shoulder canons seemed to miss more often then not and he was forced to get in close, getting hit and knocked back on occasion as he tried to slice the enemy units in half with the beam saber. He needed to figure out how to fight the mobile suits more efficiently. This method took up entirely too much time.
He cut the seventh Leo away, the light as the suit sparking in the back of his eyes. The target, a strangely designed plane, lay just beyond. He fired at it from near point blank range. The shot from the buster rifle went wild, careening through the western gate and searing through the links in the chain fence. This wasn't right. Was he aiming to high? Did the rifle pull slightly to one side or another and he wasn't noticing? What was wrong? He waited for the rifle to charge again and fired a second time. The blast came closer this time, clipping the wing of the target but still bolting off in the wrong direction. Grunting in frustration he cut it in half with the saber and then the second and had to stop to fight off a handful of enemies. The third target was some distance against the opposite wall. The boy leveled a shot at it, knowing he wasn't going to make it and was surprised when it hit dead on. What was going on? Had he not been hitting the other targets the same way?
As the simulation progressed, the problem seemed to get worse. The boy would miss consistently, three, four, five, times in a row before finally hitting a good shot on the sixth. He managed to get off a few more good shots after that before he started to miss again. He just couldn't figure out what was going on. He knew his aim hadn't gotten that bad. So why did he keep missing? What the hell was wrong? Eventually it became easier to use the beam saber, weakening the enemies slightly, sometimes, with the shoulder canons before coming in and cutting them down. He quickly learned the best spots to hit and learned that an enemy mobile suit blowing up in the right place or a well timed dodge of a Scorp's blaster canon could destroy the target, or sometimes several, that much more effectively. By the time he had destroyed all of the targets on the first square, he had also learned that certain bases housed large ammunition rooms which, when hit just right, would also take out half the base, not to mention enemy units.
Still, it was a hard way to fight. Sweat dampened his forehead and stung his eyes and the boy's fingers hurt from being pressed so hard against the grips. But there were nine more squares to go. The boy took a deep breath, then another, and pressed another square. The ruined smoking aftermath of his last target disappeared; replaced by a blocky pine forest and it seemed even more green targets spread across greater distances. The boy double checked the map, checked his weapons and saw that his ammunition had been restored and his suit was back up to full capacity, decided a route and blasted forward, keeping his eyes out for unseen enemies.
Four targets destroyed, ten, twenty-five, thirty they blended into one another. The sound of bullets, his own and theirs, and the charging whine of the blaster seemed to echo in his ears even when he was simply traveling from one place to another. It was almost easier not to use the buster rifle now for shooting long range but he'd learned to take out multiple enemies in a single swoop by sweeping the buster rifle across rather than shooting straight ahead. He was also beginning to sense a pattern in the misses and hits of the rifle and was beginning to wonder if there was something in the simulation designed this way.
By the end of the fifth sector his fingers were numb; the explosions of traps and beam weapons seemed to have left permanent spots on his vision, faint purples and blues that would not be blinked away. His shoulders and back were stiff and he could feel his legs twitch when he was hit…but he was beginning to understand the rifle more. He could hit once and twice perfectly, then a miss, a hit, two misses, a hit, three misses, a hit. He knew this pattern, though he couldn't think of it, it was familiar somehow. He even started to use the misses, aiming for a cluster of enemies or a particularly large target when he was sure he was going to miss. He finished the fifth sector and pressed the button for the sixth, his fingers trembling slightly. The view shifted to a pine forest and a map appeared. Thirty targets here, he guessed. Thirty-five, but a shorter distance, it seemed, so it would be easier, quicker. He checked his weapons but found he couldn't bring them up. A glitch? Frowning, the boy pressed the controls forward but the forest around him remained frozen.
"If both parties are agreed," Kurosawa's voice sounded right in his ear, startling him badly. "There will now be a five minute break."
"No," said the boy, or tried to. His voice came out in a barely audible croak. He licked his lips and wet his throat and tried again. "No. That is not acceptable. I'm ready to continue." He couldn't stop now! He was so close to figuring out this pattern, what it meant. He knew he had seen it before.
"I understand your dedication." It was Dr. J this time and the boy found himself listening closely. "But if you don't take a break and get some fluids in you, I'm afraid you aren't going to last."
"No, I can make it! I know I can!" the boy said. This was a test. It had to be a test. They were just trying to see if he would stop, but he wouldn't. He wasn't finished yet! Another pause, and then:
"My boy, there is a fine line between strength and stupidity," Dr. J said, but lightly. "I suggest you take the opportunity to rest when it's given to you."
Stupidity? The boy bristled at that, his fingers clenching around the controls. He wasn't stupid. But…but he was thirsty and maybe…maybe Dr. J was right. After all he hadn't called him stupid really, had he? Just said there was a fine line. Anyway, Kurosawa had said 'if both parties were in agreement' which meant she wouldn't have any advantage.
"Fine," he conceded, annoyed.
"You may now remove your helmets," said Schtoltz. The boy did so, surprised to find his arms trembling and winced at the sudden harsh brightness of the room. It seemed strange to him somehow, the plain walls, the solid floor. He'd half expected trees and dirt and sky.
He set his helmet carefully on the stool and then began to peel off his gloves. Beside him, Mitsuyo was helping Hana with her helmet and her gloves, then shoved a bottle of water in her hands, but not before the boy saw him slip three red pills into her palm. A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see Dr. J, holding out a water bottle. The boy took it gratefully. At first his fingers were trembling too much to open it but finally he managed.
"Very impressive run, I must say," Kurosawa said, his voice sounding strangely hollow as it wasn't directly in the boy's ear. "Seven sectors, Mitsuyo-san," said Kurosawa and the boy stiffened. "Well done. Well done, indeed. Your aim could use a little work but your use of the beam saber is quite nice! So elegant! Such poise! It's a joy to watch you." Kurosawa looked at him then, hooking his bony fingers together as if longing for a clipboard to hold between them.
"As for you…er…boy, you are certainly quite unpredictable! Brilliant use of enemy units and blowing up ammunition storehouses was a stroke of genius, but you are behind I am afraid. The water that circulates through the rumor mill is that you were apprenticed, shall we say, to a certain Lowe-san." He paused in his rattling commentary as if waiting for an answer.
The boy drank his water and glanced away from Kurosawa. How he knew that and what he knew of Odin didn't matter. Whether or not the boy confirmed it would likely not matter either. If Kurosawa knew then he knew. If not, then the boy saw no reason for him to know. Even though Odin was dead, it still felt better to keep him secret.
"I didn't know the man, of course," Kurosawa continued after a moment. "But I heard, that is, they suggest, that he had superb abilities as a sniper. It's a pity none of that talent rubbed off on you." He laughed thinly, his voice echoing.
"Well he is just a child," Mitsuyo said. "You can't really expect any talent from him for another three or four years." A smirk crawled across the scientist's thin lips. Hana looked at him, then looked away, turning her helmet around and around in her hands. The boy narrowed his eyes. He had never trusted Mitsuyo but now he couldn't help but feel there was something going on. He glanced at Dr. J to gauge his reaction and the man tipped his head just slightly toward the door. The boy tucked his chin down a fraction in acknowledgment, then slid from the chair, taking a second to stretch. He needed to think of a good reason to go out into the hall without it seeming too suspicious.
"Can I go to the bathroom?" he said. He did faintly need to go and it would be nice not to be distracted by a full bladder. Kurosawa looked taken aback as if normal bodily functions were beyond him.
"Well…can it wait by chance?"
"No," said the boy.
"You should have gone before we started," Mitsuyo grumbled. The boy ignored him and raised his eyebrows at Kurosawa, shifting from one foot to the other to make a subtle point.
"Very well," the man said with a sigh. "You have three minutes."
The boy nodded and started toward the door. Dr. J started toward the door as well.
"Oh, I see," said Mitsuyo blandly. "How convenient, you going as well."
"I'm an incontinent old man, surely you wouldn't deny me the relief," Dr. J said without skipping a beat. The boy tried not to smile.
"It does seem a little…" Kurosawa said, wiggling his hands back and forth as if to indicate suspicious. The doctor shrugged.
"Unfortunately, the child has a small bladder and I a weak one. Don't worry; I won't slip him any energy pills while we're there." He seemed to look directly at Mitsuyo as he said this but it was hard to tell. Mitsuyo pressed his lips into a thin line and looked away.
"Three minutes then. Go and come back promptly," Kurosawa said, waving his hands. "And I certainly hope his bladder control improves should he get the Gundam!"
The boy ignored this as well and walked a little ahead of Dr. J as he left. Once they were in the hall with the door closed, he slowed to let J catch up with him.
"Dr. J," the boy started. "I think…I shouldn't have drunk so much," he said as J scratched his nose, briefly flicking a finger upward as if to indicate the security cameras overhead. Would Mitsuyo be able to access them so quickly? He didn't think so. Not with the simulation eating so much memory. But on the other hand there was no telling who else could be watching.
"I don't think I should have watched you drink," Dr. J said in a strained voice. "Let's hurry." It was a good excuse to pick up their stride. They reached the bathroom and the boy pushed the door open. Mike was standing at the sink, washing his hands and grinned at them as they came in. His grin faded as J jerked a thumb toward the door and the man nodded and left without even turning off the water. The boy twisted the faucet off and checked the stalls carefully for anyone who might be hiding.
"What's the problem?" Dr. J said, leaning heavily on his cane, his optics whirring softly as the lenses shifted. The boy wondered what he could see but quickly dismissed the thought. It wasn't important.
"Kurosawa said Hana's aim was off. How far off is it? Do you see any pattern?"
"None that I could detect. Of course I didn't focus solely on her so there could have been. However, she certainly landed more hits than you."
"I know I'm aiming right," the boy said, clenching his hand into a fist and lightly tapping it against the ceramic edge of the sink. At least this meant that whatever it was only happening to him which suggested more of a hack then a glitch. Whatever it was was slowing him down. She was a sector ahead of him already. He couldn't lose. He shouldn't be losing. If she got the Gundam, then… Then it would be a disaster. He knew it. He couldn't let her win. He couldn't lose this. He had never lost before. Not when it really counted.
"You suspect foul play?" J asked and the boy nodded. It had to be. He tried to focus on the pattern. It fluttered just on the edge of his memory. Where had he seen it before?
"Well Mitsuyo is not so technologically inclined," Dr. J said, squeezing his claw open and shut as if thinking. "And I am certain he doesn't have any of his personal staff here. Even those of mine with the skill that I might be able to believe were somehow bribed wouldn't be able to get so close to the simulation. The only person who could have done it is Schtoltz, but he's an incredibly honorable man."
"Howell?" the boy asked.
"Possibly," Dr. J's claw hand stilled and the lenses in his optics shifted again as if he was focusing on the boy. "I wouldn't blame you for suspecting him. He did work for Mitsuyo years ago and is too fond of that Domo boy. However, Howell was one of the first to recommend you for the Gundam so I don't think he would so easily betray you."
"He gave Domo the admin information for the network," the boy said. "Or Domo managed to steal it," he conceded, since there was really no proof Howell had given him anything. Just because they were friends didn't mean that he would, right? And if Howell had recommended him for the Gundam...maybe Dr. J was right. Maybe the only one to suspect was Domo. On the other hand, what if Domo was important enough for Howell to risk it? What if it was Howell that Mitsuyo had been talking to on the phone?
"In either case that is troubling news…" Dr. J said. The boy nodded, and since J didn't seem to want to say anymore, turned his mind back to the pattern. He took a leak since he was there and then went to wash his hands, turning the numbers over and over in his head. He had no more idea of what it could be as he turned the water off and together they went back out into the hall. The boy glanced briefly at the security cameras. Domo had access to them, too, he remembered. It had probably been Howell who had taught Domo the script for it, the boy thought. Howell liked to share what he knew with anyone who cared to listen. It was how the boy first started learning to program on Howell's…
Shooting game….
The boy suddenly remembered the code he'd found in Domo's files, the targeting coordinates…with the second algorithm that overrode the first one, that was where he knew the pattern from! And the second code only worked with green, the color of his targets! The boy's stomach clenched, though he was unsure whether it was from anger or excitement or both. Well, it didn't matter.
"Dr. J, what color are Hana's targets?" he asked, just to make absolutely sure.
"Red," Dr. J said, seeming startled by the sudden outburst. "But listen, my boy, this may be just a glitch—"
"Dr--"
"Or it may be a cheat designed as a glitch. If Howell did put it in there, he wouldn't be so obvious about it. He would find a way to hide it. If you point out the cheat and Schtoltz looks and finds nothing you are going to look even worse. He might find it if he cares to look again but by that time the damage will be done."
"So you're saying I shouldn't say anything?" the boy said. It was true what Dr. J said but…but what if he lost because of this anyway? What if he lost the Gundam? Could he really afford not to take the risk?
"It's your choice," Dr. J said, calmly. "Whether you risk it and fight or risk it and speak of your suspicions is completely up to you. The fate of the Gundam rests entirely on your shoulders."
The boy clenched his hands into fists, then folded his arms tightly across his chest, suddenly unsure. Could he take that risk? Could he win how he was? He was so far behind but could he find a way to make it? He had to make a choice and he had to make it soon but either option carried a big chance of failure.
"But what I would do," said Dr. J. "Is to try to find a way to beat the cheat and when the simulation is over, then voice your suspicions."
"But if I lose…" the boy started.
"Then don't lose." Dr. J grinned at him. "Win."
Without another word, the doctor went into the room and the boy followed him. Win. Could he win? The doubts nagged at him as he walked back into the simulation room. Kurosawa frowned at them.
"That was four minutes," he said.
"I had a blockage," said Dr. J. The boy glanced at Kurosawa, then Schtoltz. Should he tell them anyway? Should he make that risk? She was a sector ahead of him…a whole sector. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. No. This was an impossible situation but it wasn't the last impossible situation. There would be many more when he had the Gundam and he had to find a way to push past impossibility and succeed.
Butterflies danced in his stomach, feathery wings brushing his intestines. Mitsuyo said something but it wasn't important so he sat in the chair, taking one more sip of the water before pulling on his gloves, putting the helmet back on and settling his fingers on the grips. The piney forest surrounded him again. It wouldn't be bad. He knew the pattern. He just had to figure out a way to use it. He would win. He would win. He would win.
"Test recommencing in five seconds," said Kurosawa. "Four…three…two…one…" Losing was not an option.
The boy held the pattern in his head, testing it on the first few targets to see if it remained the same. Knowing it didn't make things efficient. Even if he could still hit something, if it wasn't the target then he was losing time. By the fourth target he suddenly realized that when he missed, he missed at the same degree each time. By the sixth target he had managed to adjust his aim so that he could hit even when he was slated for a miss. Then everything clicked into place. If he could hit whenever he wanted to, he wouldn't have to go so far into bases to begin with.
After that it became a matter of acquiring the target and destroying it, one after the other. He barely even took the time to fight the enemy units anymore unless they were in the way or interfered. Sometimes he didn't even have to go into the base. Target acquired, target destroyed, target acquired, target destroyed, one after the other after the other. Seventh sector, eighth sector. In the ninth sector the pattern changed, but once the boy figured out that it had simply reversed itself, he was back to speed. It was as if he had come apart from himself. He was only vaguely aware of the sweat on his forehead, the ache in his wrists. None of it was important. None of it mattered.
Tenth sector. Hana might be here. If she was still ahead she would be. If she destroyed even one target… He would worry about it when he got there. There were twenty-eight targets here. Twenty- seven. Twenty-six. Twenty-five. A munitions factory hit dead on took out three more. Twelve…eleven…ten… five...four …three…
The final target blinked green in front of him and the boy blinked back at it. It was a square, just a simple green rectangle floating in the clearing. The greenness of it slowly fading in and out. As he came closer he saw it looked almost like a door. The boy hesitated, then made sure his buster rifle was charging before pushing his mobile suit through.
The scene shifted. The blue sky turned black and became studded with stars, though there was a strange yellowy blob coming from the northwest which the boy couldn't identify. Otherwise a big roll of hill blocked his vision. The boy moved to the top of the hill and was looking into a valley filled with a city, the way the buildings followed the line of the hills made it look almost like a colony. A huge military base sat in the very center of the city. Four towers sitting around it were blinking green, as well as something in the center and something else, just beyond the base, half hidden by the jumble of buildings.
He charged down the hill, through the lines of dead streets and darkened windows. Lights came on in the windows as he ran, like his mobile suit was somehow charging the electricity. As he came to the base a wailing alarm ripped through the air. Enemy units boiled out of the gates, not even hesitating before firing. They were a little harder to kill and as he cut through the first one he caught a glimpse of a terrified face inside before the familiar explosion pushed him back. There were people in the other suits too as he destroyed them and screams sounded unrealistically from outside, as if people were peering out of their windows to look out at the battle and be terrified of it. Anyway he had killed too many pixelated people in Howell's shooting game to be really impressed.
It was harder, though. More mobile suits that had a complex mode of attack and some of their blasts actually hit and did damage. More than once his screen flickered and he lost one of his shoulder canons before burying the beam saber into the enemy unit's chest and ripping upward. The only thing that concerned him was the big flaming ball that was now burning its way through the—what was it called? Atmosphere. It was still at a distance but the boy could tell it wasn't blinking green. It wasn't a target that he was aware of. Maybe it indicated the end of the countdown but he had a good fifteen minutes left, enough time to take care of things.
The four outlying targets gone, the one in the middle taken care of though he hadn't been paying strict attention and nearly lost his buster rifle. That just left the one outside the base. The night scene was lit by the huge flaming thing that was coming in fast. It would take out maybe a quarter of the city when it hit but, strangely, if it kept going at the same speed it would hit long before the timer ran out. Maybe it represented a sort of sudden death. The recorded screaming got louder and mobile suits around him broke formation and began firing at it. The boy couldn't begin to understand what the hell this was all about but brushed it off and went toward the last target. It was a mansion with apartment buildings clustered around it. Even from here he could see faces peering out of windows, digital people running through the streets. Stupid. As if this could even compare to the real thing. He shot down his last target which exploded in a ball of savage red flames.
The simulation paused as if it didn't know what to do. The boy absently glanced at his weapons readout, seeing he'd nearly run out of bullets on his remaining shoulder canon. That was fine. He didn't need them much longer. In the continuing silence his ears began to ache, he became aware of the dryness in his throat and the damp clammy sweat in his palms having been trapped inside the gloves for so long. He shifted his weight in the seat, absently stretching out his legs. Just when he was starting to worry, another grid popped into the side of the screen. This one was red. If he stopped now there would be a tie but if he went onto Hana's grid, he would only need one target to win. He could do this. He would do this. The boy pressed the red square…
…and was transported back into the same place he had just left. The flaming thing was closer now, filling the cockpit with the flickering light. One communications tower remained to his left, blinking a hazy sort of red though it was hard to see through the glare and judging by the map, the house was there, too. There were screams here, as well, but over that, ragged breathing right in his ear.
"You…" Hana's voice. He couldn't see her on screen so he turned his mobile suit sharply and there she was. And in a way there he was. The firelight glinted off the familiar angles of her mobile suit, his mobile suit, Wing. The suit was damaged as his must be, seared and blackened in some places. This could be him…would be him, standing in the middle of all this chaos. His gut twisted, a strange nervousness in the pit of his belly. What was it?
"No! I won't let you win!" she screamed, hoisting the buster rifle. The boy saw the glow in the barrel and threw himself out of the way just in time, charging his own. The white light streaked past the place where he had been and something exploded. The red target for the communications array faded away. Damnit! There was only one target left! He started to turn toward it and suddenly she was right in front of him, beam saber arching through the air. The boy instinctively threw up the buster rifle to block it even as he pulled the mobile suit back. The beam saber cut through with a sharp searing hiss of metal and blinding light. He pulled away, the buster rifle started to whine, dangerously high. He threw it at her but she dodged and cut at him again and again, the beam saber sizzling through the air as she missed him, but she was getting closer and closer each time. Ten minutes were left.
A squadron of Leos seemed to notice them finally and bullets thudded through the air, ringing off his armor. There was a blip and he saw his second shoulder canon malfunction. Hana slashed the beam saber in a practiced upward movement and the boy just managed to pivot so the cut only just glanced off the chest piece.
"Stand still!" she snapped. He needed a distraction. He threw the remnants of the buster rifle at her and she cut it in half as if by instinct. It exploded. He took the moment to run right into the squadron and past them. Some of them turned and fired on him but he was fairly sure others were still firing on her, anyway, bullets didn't scare him. He pulled out his own beam saber. He would have to cut it down the hard way.
"Stop!" she screamed. And he did, twitching to the side as the blast of energy from the buster rifle tore up the road in great black furrows. He could see her, surrounded by Leos that had smaller beam weapons of their own that they were hacking at her with. The damage wasn't much and the way they were all clustered together, she could easily have taken out most of them with a swing of her own saber, but she hesitated. Had something in the suit malfunctioned? He didn't think so. After all the beam saber was raised but instead of striking she jumped back, tried to skirt around them. The Leos followed her. There was no time to be curious.
He headed for the target again, five minutes left. He caught a glimpse of the big ball of fire with something dark at its core a scant second before it slammed into the ground with the noise of a thousand cars crashing at once. The pain splintered in his ears.
Someone was screaming. He was pretty sure it wasn't himself even if his throat was raw. He opened his eyes, not aware he'd closed them and saw white. Was it over? His heart beat savagely against his ribs. Was the simulation over? Was he in a hospital? No…No he could still feel the gloves on his hands when he flexed his fingers. The controls were still there too. The screaming continued. Not him, then.
The screen flickered to life and he saw ruined buildings. The black core of the burning thing stretched into the sky a short distance from him, a curve of twisted metal that looked familiar somehow. He was still standing, the beam saber still clutched in his hands. The final target was still on the map. He had to get it before Hana did. He ran toward it, seeing the broken piles of rubble around him, almost smelling the acrid smoke that twisted through the air, the ash that looked like snow settling softly. It was just a simulation. As he came to the house, over the gate, he saw a pale young face staring at him from the upper window.
It was just a simulation.
He cut the house in half. The explosion caught him and he twitched instinctively. White again. Then black. He could still hear the screeching of the burning thing in his ears, the explosion; the screaming had gone though replaced by deep shuddering hitching breaths. He was content to stay in the black for a while but a warm hand on his shoulder made him spasm.
The boy took a moment, then uncurled his hands from the controls and slowly pulled the helmet off, squinting, feeling his hair plastered against his forehead and neck, damp with sweat. Dr. J patted him once on the shoulder and took the helmet from him. The room was silent, or maybe the boy just couldn't hear. He began to pull of his gloves, slowly, fingers numb and aching from exhaustion.
"No," Hana said. He looked at her and saw her hunched over; her hands fisted so hard her knuckles where white. Tears streaked down her pale face but her expression was livid. "No. No, it doesn't matter!" she looked at him, past him maybe to Kurosawa.
"It's…it's just a…simulation!" she said. I'm stronger physically than he is and I completed the st…stealth test and got more answers right on the test, you know I did!" She pointed a shaky finger at him. "You…you can't give the Gundam to a kid!"
"Exactly," Mitsuyo said. He folded his arms and tilted his head, the light glinting off his thick glasses. "My candidate is stronger than he is, physically and intellectually--"
"Though perhaps not mentally," Dr. J cut in. "The poor girl."
"Bah." Mitsuyo shook his head. "Anxiety jitters only that can easily be cured with the proper application of a sedative. As you can see the end results of my training program are--"
"Weak, over-medicated and easily manipulated," Dr. J said, sounding calm, almost amused. Why he should sound that way, the boy had no idea. But J was a scientist and, in the boy's experience, scientists were stranger than most. He settled back in his chair, spotting a bottle of water on the floor and picking it up, carefully twisting off the cap and watching blotchy spots of red appear on Mitsuyo's angular cheeks. Hana ducked her head down, keeping her fisted hands close to her stomach as if it hurt.
"That's slander!" Mitsuyo spat. "You've been against me since the day I decided to strike out on my own away from your ridiculous propaganda!"
"Since the day you decided to move from torturing animals with your chemicals to torturing children." Dr. J's voice was still light but it had gone flat. "But that is irrelevant. The fact of the matter is your candidate can't even begin to compete with mine and you know it."
"Ha you would like to think so!" Mitsuyo said, but he sounded more angry than confidant. "My program is flawless!"
"And have even one of your candidates spent any time out of your laboratory to see what the real world is like? To taste life for themselves outside of drugs and tests?" Dr. J's voice seemed to have an edge to it and the boy had the feeling this was starting to go past who had really won or not. He sipped his water and shifted impatiently.
"Gentleman, please—" Kurosawa started.
"Now who is being irrelevant?" Mitsuyo cut in. "The real point is; the point you are so cleverly trying to conceal is that that boy cheated." He pointed a finger at the boy for emphasis. His hand was trembling though, and his face, once red, went pale as if he knew he'd messed up. Hana clenched her fist tighter and her eyes narrowed as she looked over at him. The boy stood, putting the chair between them, just in case she tried anything.
"Oh really?" Dr. J said, with a smile. "I think you were the one that cheated, using Howell's affections for your lab rat to blackmail him into changing the parameters of the simulation."
"You…you have no proof!" Mitsuyo said.
"No, but I'm sure there is proof. I am willing to risk my reputation on it!"
"I demand a retrial!" Mitsuyo snapped, looking past Dr. J to where Kurosawa and Schtoltz stood. "It is the only way we will be able to determine who truly has the better skill."
"There will be no retrial," Schtoltz said in the flat tones of someone in charge. "If the boy did manage to cheat and bypass all our security measures without raising one alarm in the system, he is more talented than we knew and will be able to complete more difficult missions. Either way he won and he won impressively."
He'd won. He'd won. A feeling almost like anxiety twisted in his stomach. This was the last test, Kurosawa had said. The deciding test… So did that mean…?
"No." Hana stood, shakily, he saw a slight bulge in her shirt at her stomach and as she lifted it the glint of metal. "No I won't let him!" Hana made a sudden sharp movement. The boy shoved Dr. J out of the way and threw himself to the side as a gunshot exploded in the air. The bullet pinged off the floor somewhere. Hana found him, sighted and the boy dodged before she fired again.
"Stop this! Stop it right now!" Kurosawa screamed. It wouldn't do any good. The boy knew. He had to get it away from her.
"I won't let you win," she said, her voice raw. "I won't let it happen!" She swung the gun at him again. His hand reached back automatically but his own weapon wasn't there and he jerked himself to the side the moment he saw her finger twitch. This time there was a short scream and he looked back to see a spot of blood blossoming against Kurosawa's shoulder.
"Kurosawa!" Scholtz said, supporting the thinner man as he staggered back.
"I've been shot! I've been shot!" Kurosawa cried.
"Hana, stop this!" Dr. J said. Hana's eyes were wide, her entire body shaking. Mitsuyo said nothing. The boy wanted to see the scientist's expression but knew better than to take his eyes off Hana. She was still on guard. If he attacked her now he would be shot impulsively. He had to wait for just the right time.
"We have to get the medics! Someone!" Kurosawa is saying. Hana's expression changed, her mouth smoothing into a flat line, her eyes narrowing as if she recognized her own fate. As if she realized that now, she had nothing to live for. Shit. She glanced at him. He pushed off the floor and charged toward her. She startled and twisted the gun at him, firing off a shot that whispered across his arm. He slammed into her as hard as he could; knocking her into the chair she had been sitting on. The gun clattered somewhere on the floor.
He pulled himself off her to grab for it and she screamed and reached, digging her fingernails into his scalp and pulling his hair, jerking his head down. There was a sharp sudden pain as her knee slammed into his stomach, making sparks of white flash behind his eyes. He gasped and retched for breath, nearly falling as she shoved him away and went for the gun once more. He dove for it, slamming into the floor, and grabbing it away from her snatching fingers, then he wrenched around and shot.
Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open; blood trickled from her lip and streamed down her face from the hole in her head. Time slowed as she fell, gentle as a drifting petal, seeming to stare at him as she did, blue eyes pale as a summer sky, hands reaching out for him. Then in a blink she was on top of him, pressing him to the floor, head on his chest as if…as if she was using him as a pillow, as if she was just taking a nap with him. Something squirmed in him, twisted. He wanted to move and he wanted to stay at the same time. He gasped, coughed, tried to ignore the warmth that was seeping across his chest. The room was silent as if everyone had died at the same time and the boy had to look up to make sure…to make sure it wasn't true.
Dr. J was staring at him. Everyone was staring at him. He could feel their eyes but couldn't read their faces. He struggled to get out from under her but his strength had gone, disappeared somewhere and he whimpered hoarsely without even realizing it. Dr. J started for him but Mitsuyo cut him off, moving in front of him. The boy clutched at the gun, the unfamiliar grip resting awkwardly against his palm but the scientist wasn't even looking at him. The man knelt, reaching for Hana with trembling hands and slowly picked her up, cradling her to his chest and began passing shaking fingers through her blood soaked hair.
"My little girl," he whispered. "My little girl."
He had killed her. He had killed her like he killed everyone. It was a good thing, though, wasn't it? She would have killed him. Mitsuyo wasn't a bad man to begin with, right? Everything he put Hana through, Domo, Tatsu, that made him irredeemable. Still when the tears rolled down the scientist's face and he began rocking back and forth, the boy had to look away. How many other parents had held their children like that? Bad or good, people still…cared and it was his job to take that away… The boy got to his feet, leaving the gun where it was and went toward the door, one foot in front of the other, breath rasping, staring at the door—his goal. He needed to get away. To get out of here. To be anywhere else.
The hall was cool and silent as he went out into it and he walked down the long corridor, one hand against the wall, and listening to his own heartbeat in his ears. He needed to speak to Howell too and Domo as well. Would Domo care about Hana? He probably would. But…but it didn't matter. He needed to sort the threads of his life and cut them one by one so the Gundam wouldn't get entangled in it.
The boy stopped in front of the hangar and there was Wing, just how he'd left him, pinned to the wall, half done. The hatch was open as if it had been waiting for him. He rested his forehead against the glass, staring at it. Wing. With that Gundam…he could save people…but he would kill people, too, right? Wouldn't he have to? A hand on his shoulder and he started, feeling himself trembling and not knowing why. Dr. J looked down at him.
"Go on," he said.
"Bu…but…" the boy wanted to go and didn't want to go. The corners of Dr. J's mouth lifted.
"It's your choice, my boy. You can leave now or…" he looked up at Wing and the boy did, too. "…you can stay and fight."
"For peace," the boy said. The scientist nodded and after a moment, the boy went to push open the double doors. The hangar was empty except for two techies.
"Oh," said one of the techies, spotting him. It was Akira. The man adjusted his glasses and grinned. "Hey there, kid. We were just going to boot up the system and see how she flies with all the—my god is that blood?" The man started toward him, the boy stared at him, inwardly steeling himself for something though he wasn't sure what.
"Let it go," Dr. J said, gently.
"But," Akira started but J must have gestured because the techie backed off and with a final glance at the boy went back to his station.
"Might…might be the last time we get a chance for a while if what I hear about Heero's Army is true," said the other man with a nervous laugh as if he was trying to find something to fill the silence with. Heero's Army. The Hero's Army. The boy had a feeling he would have to take care of that, too.
But for now…
For now…
He looked up at Wing, which, slumped over as the Gundam was, seemed to look back at him. With a nod, the boy climbed into the cockpit. It smelled of leather and some sort of cleaner. He sat in the chair, which sank in a little, as if it was molding to fit him. His heart thudded dully in his ears.
"Ready when you are, kid!" said Akira.
The boy ran his fingers along the keys slowly, activating systems, the Gundam moaned, it seemed, as it began to flicker to life. He pressed the switch to close the hatch door and his heart jumped at the sound as whirred closed, a slight vibration trembled through the cockpit as it locked. A steady vibration began underneath him, around him, the machine humming a tuneless song that seemed to resonate even in his teeth and dance across his tongue.
He closed his hands around the grips as the main screen flickered to life. Gritting his teeth and bracing himself, he pulled back on the grips, feeling the slight change in pitch as the heavy arms of Wing rose on either side of him, working for him, working with him, together.
And he smiled, arms trembling, eyes wet. It was all right.
It was all right because had made it.
And he would keep making it until there was finally peace.
Because that was the ultimate goal, right?
No matter what happened.
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Disclaimer: グンダムウィングの貸与権があらないよ。 でも、たくさんお金があれば。。。
ウェストサイドはこのファンフィクを読んでくれてありがとう！ このファンフィクを読んだ皆さんもありがとうごじました！
Yes! He has Gundam! Let me show you it!
Is this the end?
No...
definitely not