Masquerade: Part 2
"I'm telling you what I saw!" Duo hissed. Trowa listened from the staircase to Duo's insistent voice. "Poor guy. Please don't get me wrong, but who really knows about him? He may have helped us out a few times, but who really knows? Maybe Wu-man has been right all along."
"Shut up, Duo. It's not like we have a detailed dossier on you either," Heero snapped. His voice was chilling in spite of the grogginess. "You exhibit all the signs of bi-polar disorder, but we still work with you."
"Please. We should respect Trowa's privacy," Quatre said in a matching scratchy voice.
"He could be dangerous to us. We need to keep an eye on him," Wufei said as Trowa proceeded to walk down the staircase and into the kitchenette. All four of them stared at Trowa with a variety of expressions on their faces.
Trowa sat at the table, nonplussed, and began to peel an orange. Wufei left for his private room, while Quatre went to make Trowa some pancakes. Trowa glanced over at Duo, who looked at his plate with an abashed expression. Heero got up from the table and turned to Trowa.
"I have a feeling you two need to talk. I'll go help Quatre," Heero offered.
"I'm really sorry! Please, Trowa, I told them because I was concerned for you..."
"You told them to take revenge on me for some reason you feel compelled to conceal from me," Trowa answered softly.
"Maybe. A little," Duo said, casting a look at Trowa cautiously. "But, at the time it seemed like they had the right to know. Now I see I made a great big mistake. I should have kept it under my hat. I'm really sorry."
"I admired the fact that you took the responsibility for gossiping. Minutes ago you made an argument stating that I'm not stable enough to be a Gundam pilot. Is that how you feel?" Trowa asked.
"I didn't think that it would really hurt the way they thought about you. I see I was wrong. I'm so sorry; you were right. Please forgive me," Duo pleaded. Trowa got up and limped back to the stairs.
"Trowa, please," Duo said.
"We'll talk after I've finished a new, personal assignment," Trowa said.
"Hey! You're wounded. You can't take another assignment," Duo said.
Trowa ignored Duo and went back to his room. He packed his belongings as Duo watched from the doorway. The American pilot's wide indigo eyes were filled with worry and guilt as he wrung the end of his braid. Duo said, "Don't leave because I have a big fat mouth."
"I'm not angry with you, Duo. There are things I've got to do, though. Tell everyone."
Trowa shifted the bag over his shoulder, fighting to stow the pain away. He pushed past Duo and walked through the living room. He noticed Quatre being restrained by Heero to prevent interference with Trowa's task.
He couldn't meet Quatre's bewildered look as the skillet with pancakes trembled. Trowa shut the door, knowing it would be a good thing to let them sort out their thoughts about his past. Meanwhile, he had the Red Impulse to investigate.
"Washio, Katerina. Age 38, Japanese. Graduated from the New Tokyo Girl's Academy. Occupation, Industrialist. No search returned on 'Red Impulse.' Try a new search?"
Trowa stared at the information on his computer screen and waited for the rest. Doctor S had urged him to investigate L-5's New Tokyo section for clues to this mystery woman and her organization. Trowa clicked on his dummy e-mail address and read the one entry.
"The Washio girl disappeared at the age of sixteen and reappeared two years later as a contractor to some descendants of the Zabi family. It would seem that the Red Impulse is the muscle for a group called the Crossbone Vanguard who made some ruckus seventy years ago about putting the Ronah family, Zabi descendants, in charge of the space colonies.'
"It didn't work out for them. From there, I have no information until about two years ago. There was some interest in anti-Gundam strategies in the Crossbone Vanguard group. No solid evidence, but I believe that the Red Impulse was agitating most of it. Within the last six months, we have seen four Romefeller executives die of suspicious causes. It's all very strategic to their cause.'
"Find the Washio woman and eliminate her, because we have enough to believe her to be the leader of the Red Impulse. I don't have to stress to you what a horrible blow to the space colonies it would be if a super solvent for Gundanium was created. Stop them at all cost, Trowa," Doctor S's email flashed.
Trowa typed in his assent and started his own research with limo rentals, school records, and the Washio family name.
Trowa had never been to Quatre's home world, but it was magnificent. The Winner's family home colony was an opulent world. He walk through one of the massive public hanging gardens and found a horse head fountain with a statue of the Greek god Pluto.
He leaned against the rail and waited for his meeting; his thoughts turned to L-3. He missed space as badly as Duo, but chains kept pulling the five Gundam pilots back to Earth.
Katerina Washio leaned against the railing of the fountain beside Trowa and smiled. She wore a lime green sun dress with oversize sunglasses that didn't quit hide a bruise on her high cheek bone.
"You've reconsidered my job offer? How do I know you won't have a change of heart?" Katerina asked.
"Yes. I want to defect from OZ and I'll deliver something you'll want. You looked over my file and confirmed everything?" Trowa asked, referring to the faked OZ files he had once submitted to Lady Une.
"I did. Our man in OZ confirmed that you were a top pilot until you were lost on the battlefield. He also was able to provide me with the last copy of the Gundanium solvent on a CD. I was annoyed at you for causing me such an inconvenience. Since I was able to get another copy of the disk, I'm inclined to consider your proposal. So what do you have to offer me?" she asked.
"A Gundam and its pilot," Trowa said. She turned to Trowa and leaned close enough for him to smell her lilac perfume and stale tobacco. He watched her delicate eyebrows quirk upwards. He looked away from her eyes and said, "Me."
"She'll need some work, but she's magnificent," Trowa said. He had always considered the Vayeade in feminine terms, unlike Heavyarms. She required a lighter touch and was quicker by far.
He found a slight flutter in his stomach at the thought of rebuilding her. A twinge of excitement he didn't expect. He also began to delve into his hazy memories of Colonel Une. He flinched back, realizing he missed her too. She had valued him, and he had responded to her more than he realized.
Trowa tried to concentrate, but guilt started to nag at his mind. He was using the Vayeade for a kamikaze run. Disposable. Just like the mutual respect and esteem Colonel Une and he had shared. He felt as though he was something to be despised, hiding behind a mask and toying with people. He did it for the space colonies, because his morals and wants were of less value.
"How much work?" Washio-san asked. He refocused on his shuttle piloting.
He had told Washio-san about the failed OZ Gundam projects Vayeade and Mercurius. He told her how he was hand picked by Lady Une to run both Gundam projects. He related the surface story without the background about Heavyarms, or that he knew Quatre and Heero. She didn't need to know exactly how treacherous he could be.
Trowa had told her he was loyal to OZ because he thought they were going to liberate the space colonies, but he reconsidered because space should be ruled by 'spacenoids.' He claimed that he was quietly discharged because of his failure.
Doctor S had arranged his records to cover his story, to make it look as if Lady Une herself had discharged him. It all looked too dramatic for Trowa's taste, but it gave him a great excuse to claim revenge against OZ.
"I have to look her over," Trowa said. He piloted the space shuttle to the last coordinates he could remember before he escaped the Vayeade and set himself adrift.
Trowa unlatched his crash harness and floated over to the computer near the back of the cabin. He removed the thick space suit gloves. He punched in the drift factors and other trajectory factors. Washio-san floated beside him as the computer figured out the direction the Vayeade drifted to. A beeping noise and a slight red glow from the monitor indicated it would be drawn to L-2 gravity mass.
"Good work. Let's go," Washio-san said.
"Yes, ma'am," he said. He got back to piloting the shuttle. Two hours later they were on the far side of L-2, looking at the gleaming, torn hulk of the Gundam Vayeade. "There she is. I'll go get her."
"Be careful. No funny business either. The Red Impulse knows where we are. Got it?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
He fastened his spacesuit back up and checked his gear before he pushed out of the airlock. Trowa made his way to the remains of the blue Gundam and put himself into the pilot's seat.
The Vayeade's hull was totally breached. The electronics were fried, but the mechanical parts were in sound shape. He gave the signal; he shot off the bright green flair. Minutes later, the retrieval arm snaked out and guided the Vayeade and Trowa in the shuttle's cargo bay.
Washio-san piloted the shuttle to L-2, Duo's old stomping ground, and quickly rented a private, zero-G warehouse with equipment. She let Trowa take the Vayeade to the zero-G warehouse after they covered the Gundam from prying eyes.
They both stared up in awe, before they pushed off the ground to drift in front of the Vayeade's crushed face. Trowa's heart skipped a beat, recalling poor Quatre. The Arab boy was so ill from grief that day. He knew he helped Quatre the only way possible, but there were still oceans of pain between Quatre, Heero, and Trowa that lay unaddressed.
"It looks like trash," Washio-san said, lighting a cigarette and turning to Trowa.
"I can have her mostly done before the end of this month," Trowa said.
"That's a long time," she said with a frown on her oval face.
"Not for this kind of repair. I will be working alone, which I recommend for security measures. I don't want to end up in a Romefeller jail. Besides, I'll need to hide out while you finish confirming my identity," Trowa said.
"Trowa Barton, hun? Serving under Lady Une of the Specials?" Washio asked.
Trowa nodded as she kicked off the Vayeade and slowly floated to the floor. She turned to Trowa as she grabbed the porthole. Her head nodded towards the other side of the warehouse and said, "Your room is over there. Don't leave this place without letting me know."
Trowa nodded and pulled himself over to the Vayeade, so he could prioritize the repairs.
"Are you ready to be transported back to Earth with your Gundam?" Washio-san asked. He nodded, unable to take his eyes off the azure machine. Other than missing Heavyarms' left-handed controls, it had gone well within the one month time frame.
"I can't outfit her for space without some more Gundanium, but she's Earth-worthy. When are we leaving?" Trowa asked, anxious to finish this espionage-sabotage mission and rejoin the others.
"Eight hours. Be ready," she snapped.
Trowa turned to watch her go with fascination. She had believed his whole cover story. She believed he was making sure Doctor Blesh and his information stayed property of the Romefeller Foundation to work his way back into OZ favor. Doctor S was a fantastic liar.
Trowa would try to get some rest. He hoped he wouldn't have that strange dream again. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, and it was affecting him, making him wary.
Washio-san had surreptitiously drugged him one night and tried to pump information out of him. He resisted it successfully, but had blacked out for four days. It was the only explanation he could conceive of to explain the hallucinations he had.
During that drug haze, he dreamed about a man with cold gray eyes that were more intense than Heero's. He murmured things to Trowa in a language he didn't know. The man would give him injections and whisper the one word Trowa understood: resist. The man would slip into the shadows and wouldn't show himself around Washio-san.
When Trowa woke up he told Washio-san about seeing a stranger lurking around the warehouse. She told him a strange story about the founder of the Red Impulse's son and his girl that occurred over three hundred years ago.
They had a Sicilian friend who had tragically died and came back from the dead to protect them. Eventually, the threats to world peace ceased, and they married and had a child. Soon afterwards the zombie friend disappeared and the child grew up to lead the Red Impulse.
It was always strange how their descendants never came to any harm, in spite of the dangerous line of work. All the Washios, no matter what, never came to any harm. They attributed their good luck to the ghost of the Sicilian, who they called 'Condor Joe.' Trowa was surprised such a sophisticated woman spun a ghost story instead of harboring concern about a breach in security. He filed the story away as interesting, but inconsequential.
Trowa snuggled in the Vayeade's seat and strapped in for a nap, when a rumble shook him. The warehouse doors burst open with flames and shrapnel to reveal Sandrock and Deathscythe Hell. Trowa let out a curse in his head and tensed up. He couldn't face Quatre in this Gundam. He had to get back to Earth with the Vayeade or his mission would be blown. He activated the controls and launched upwards as Duo began to hail him.
"It ends here, Trowa!" Duo said over his computer monitor; his expression was a sneer.
The Deathscythe firmly entrenched itself between Trowa and the hanger bay airlock. Trowa finished wriggling into his flight suit and clamped his helmet into place. Sandrock hadn't moved an inch or tried to hail him once.
Trowa had no choice but to fight his way into space and hope he didn't out-gas before he reached L-5. Washio-san had a shuttle waiting for him. Trowa had plenty of oxygen, but his flight suit wouldn't keep him totally insulated against the vacuum for very long. In addition, one good shot in space, and the Vayeade would explode.
"Duo, get out of my way. You don't understand what I'm trying to do," Trowa ordered.
"All I understand are orders," Duo said. He threw words at Trowa in an attempted to hurt him. "I'm suppose to blow that Gundam up with or without you in it. I suggest you get out of that Gundam. Um... tic-toc, tic-toc... time's a wasting!"
"Catch me," Trowa growled not in the mood to play with Duo or figure out the scientists' crossed orders.
He braced himself and kept an eye on Sandrock, ready to catch him. He blew the hanger bay door open with the beam rifle. The three Gundams were all sucked into space violently. Trowa felt Sandrock hit the Vayeade hard as he clamped the Gundam's hands together. He fired the Vayeade's vernier rockets and slowed them from hitting the L-2 salvage yard.
Duo's playground was the most deadly section of space to navigate in all the colonies. All manner of debris floated around in a loosely confined field similar to an asteroid belt. Trowa pushed Sandrock away from him and launched himself on the shortest coarse to L-5, through the salvage yard.
"You want to see who the better pilot is, eh? You won't beat me on my home turf," Duo said. He saw Duo deactivate his thermal scythe and follow Trowa.
"No! Stop this at once. Trowa! Duo!" Quatre shouted, his face on Trowa's monitor. Sandrock was far enough behind them to not make a difference. "Trowa, this Gundam has caused nothing but tragedy. Please abandon it at once. Professor G and Instructor H think this is not a good way to go about your mission! It will attract Oz attention! Trowa! You're out gassing!"
Trowa ignored Quatre's desperate plea. He brought the Vayeade's hands forward and pushed off a piece of sheet metal. He twisted left to avoid debris.
"Now we're rocking," Duo declared and mimicked Trowa's movements without hesitation.
"Stop it!" Quatre's scream ripped at Trowa's conscience. Trowa slapped the intercom off and focused on weaving through the scrap. Duo was in hot pursuit and threatened to overtake Trowa.
Trowa fired the reverse rockets and kicked a chunk of metal at the Deathscythe. Deathscythe swayed left and lunged for the Vayeade; he narrowly missed. Trowa slapped off his collision warning as well as his thermometer warning. Trowa watched Duo do a barrel role to avoid two hunks of wasted machine as he continued the pursuit.
Trowa pushed forward and dove, nearly missing a chunk of rock. Trowa saw Duo's vernier rockets burst suddenly. Deathscythe Hell caught the Vayeade by the waist, knocking them towards a hunk of sheet metal.
Trowa fired only his left rockets. It caught Duo by surprise because Trowa twisted him easily into a spin, causing Duo to release Trowa's Gundam. Trowa pushed off Deathscythe and hit the rockets full blast when Trowa spotted a slim opening. It was a gorgeous dance that Trowa hated to end; he cleared the field in sync with Duo. Trowa activated his intercom again.
"Go help Quatre," Trowa ordered, firing his vernier rockets towards L-5.
"What the..., Quatre, you little idiot! Are you trying to kill yourself!" Duo shouted.
Duo finally noticed Quatre making his way flawlessly through the salvage yard. Trowa knew that Duo would underestimate Quatre and go to his unnecessary rescue. Trowa saw the flair of Duo's verniers in the opposite direction and started to shiver from the growing cold.
Trowa seated himself in the space shuttle's cockpit and started the warm up. He had easily found the rented shuttle under his name and received Washio-san's orders. He was to meet her in Yutoland City, on the Japanese island of Yutoland. The rendezvous was scheduled at the Nambu Estate by the Sarruto Sea.
He noticed a reflection in the window. Trowa whirled, flinging a throwing knife. A white feather shuriken knocked it away in a flash. Trowa had his gun pulled seconds too slow. He looked into the most intense pair of gray eyes he had ever seen in his life. They belonged in his dream.
The olive skinned man replaced the hammer on the gun, but kept the barrel planted to Trowa's forehead. The man smiled slowly and rubbed his cleft chin as if trying to figure Trowa out. He looked a little older than Trowa, but his black canvas duster and auburn hair were hopelessly out of date.
"All I want is a ride back to Earth. I won't cross the line if you don't." His Japanese had a softer edge in spite of the low, gravelly quality to his rich voice.
"I'm not going to fight," Trowa said. He lowered the shiny, ancient gun and let Trowa float back to the pilot's seat. The man took the co-pilot's seat with grace and belted in. He crossed his arms and put all of his attention to the little blue Earth.
They were underway for a long time when the ghost story crept back into Trowa's mind. Electricity ran up his spine as he studied the man closer; there was something unnatural about him that wasn't obvious on the surface.
"You look like flesh and blood to me," Trowa ventured. The man's thick eyebrows arched.
"Katerina is a dreamer, Trowa. Dreamers tend to get sidetracked and miss the real picture. They rarely remove the rose colored glasses long enough to achieve their goals," he said.
Normally, being locked alone with a stranger that could get the drop on him would unnerve Trowa. Strangely, he felt as comfortable and safe with the man as he would with Quatre or Heero.
"She's very determined and excessively smart. She could succeed," Trowa said.
"If you weren't working against her," he said. They were silent once more as the Earth grew larger.
"Don't worry about me getting entangled in your little escapade. I don't give a damn what you and Katerina have planned," he said.
"Joe?" Trowa asked. His thick eyebrow arched again as he looked directly at Trowa. "Is that what I should call you?" He nodded. "Do you want to travel with me all the way to Yutoland City? I have a feeling you know the way."
"You trust me that much?" Joe asked with a wry smirk.
"We don't know each other. Best keep in plain sight on both accounts," Trowa said as Joe nodded his approval. "I have some friends I have to see before we go."
Trowa found the new safe house with the usual rigmarole the Gundam pilots used to keep each other safe. This time it was a country farmhouse outside Prague. It was the most picturesque place they had ever had, other than the Winner's Holdings. Trowa was struck by the thought that they were driving up to a scene out of Wuthering Heights or Madame Bovary.
Trowa looked over in the semi-cab to where Joe sat bolt upright with eyes firmly shut. He had been meditating the whole two hour drive through the evening, which suited Trowa. Trowa did admit a burning curiosity about the man. The drive to the tiny Japanese island of Yutoland would be incredibly long. Conversation would be inevitable, just like his travels with Heero.
Trowa watched Heero step out of the cabin and signal him to the canvas tent that had been set up to hid the other Gundams. On top of the canvas was a lot of foliage and small metal scraps used to throw off radar.
"Joe? Joe," Trowa called. His eyes flew open with a start. "I didn't mean to disturb your dream."
"I don't dream any more. Just a lot of dusty images that haven't learned to leave me alone. Where are we?" Joe asked.
"Outside of Prague. You ever been?" Trowa asked, turning off the semi.
"Yeah. Plenty," he replied. They hopped out of the cab. Heero walk up, eating a banana. He was dressed in an Oz uniform. He gave Trowa one of his 'you better have a damn good explanation for this' with his Persian blues. Whether it was for the Vayeade, Duo and Quatre, or Joe, Trowa had no idea.
"Joe, Heero. Heero, Joe," Trowa detested making introductions. They both nodded and postured like two tom cats getting ready to mark their territory.
"Barton. House. Now," Heero growled at him, casting a glance at what should have been Heavyarms under the canvas. He complied, knowing he had better curtail any more interference in this mission.
Obviously, the scientists had mixed their signals again. Trowa walked in the door and spotted the others at the breakfast table. Duo got up and stalked over to Trowa. He let the punch happen and fell back on his rump.
"You little scum. Where the hell do you get off, Trowa? I swear you really are working for the enemy!" Duo shouted.
"Duo, stop it! I'm sure he has a perfectly good explanation," Quatre said, rushing to help Trowa to the sofa.
Quatre quickly brought Trowa an ice pack and held it to his new welt as the other three crowded around. Quatre's hurt expression cried out to him for answers. Trowa owed it to him and Heero to explain about the Vayeade. Duo could take a leap as far as Trowa was concerned. As for Wufei, Trowa just wanted him out of his hair.
"Yeah, start with the lip flapping, Barton," Duo said, crossing his arms. Trowa told them a brief version of what had happened up until the race through the salvage yard. A shadow stretched over them. They looked to the doorway where the dark stranger leaned a shoulder against the door jamb and rested his hand on the other side.
"I can't stand it out there any longer. I'm not a fan of the sunlight," Joe explained. Trowa beckoned him in and drew a few drapes.
Joe removed his sunglasses and looked the others over with that uncanny, arctic gaze. Wufei stepped forward with a glare, Duo backed into the coffee table, and Quatre was swept behind Heero in a protective gesture. Those aqua eyes of Quatre's glazed over; his face clenched in a painful expression. Trowa knew Quatre's empathy took in something that shook him up horribly.
"Why don't you take this opportunity to get cleaned up, Joe. What room am I in?" Trowa asked, anxious to get Joe away from Quatre.
"You're in the single. Last on the left," Duo finally answered numbly.
"You can use my things. I won't mind," Trowa said, pointing down the hall. The moment he disappeared and the shower began to run, Trowa was besieged by Duo.
"Who's the cowboy?" Duo asked with a sneer.
"A friend. He's totally neutral in the war. He's harmless... at least to us," Trowa said, taking Quatre by the arms. He made Quatre sit beside him on the sofa; Trowa knew if he could convince the head of the coven, the body would follow.
Trowa looked directly into those eyes and found what he was looking for under the dazed expression: implicit faith. Trowa said, "Trust me. When have any of you not been able to rely on me?"
They were all silent as Quatre nodded and flashed one of his becoming smiles with hesitation. Something about Joe had really shaken him, but his trust in Trowa won out over his fear.
"How can I help you, Trowa?" Quatre asked.
"Quatre, the biggest help would be to stay away from me for another week or two. I should be finished with my mission by then. This Red Impulse group is a real threat. I don't need them spooked right now; I'm so close," Trowa said. He looked disappointed, but mollified. Heero sat beside Trowa with a quirky smile.
"Don't tell me you're beginning to follow my advice. Following your emotions?" he asked. Trowa nodded and stood up with a stretch.
"Just this once at least. Joe is... something different. I think we're a lot alike," Trowa said, losing his train of thought as Duo stalked off.
"Well, you can hang out with weird creeps if you want. I've got work to do," Wufei said, shaking his head at Trowa. He had always payed attention to Quatre's intuition. No doubt that was Wufei's reason for a hasty retreat.
Joe came out wearing nothing but jeans. They tried not to gawk at his excessively marred flesh. Countless old bullet wounds decorated his torso with massive burn scars across his shoulder blades and abdomen. Seeing him so unconcerned made Trowa even that more curious. Joe pulled on a red tee-shirt and went to the kitchen. Trowa got up and took his own shower.
He got dressed, trying hard to ignore the heavenly aroma coming down the hall. Trowa entered the kitchen to see four pairs of eyes glued on his guest as the man checked the stove for what smelled like Italian food. Joe had found the one weakness of all Gundam pilots, good food. What amazed Trowa was Joe and Duo conversing in a sing-song language he assumed was Italian. Joe laughed suddenly.
"Americans! All of you are crazy," Joe declared.
"Not me, man," Duo protested with a smirk. They had switched back to Japanese.
"I hope he just told you the recipe," Heero said, not removing his eyes from the stove.
"No. We were trading little, old nun stories. Sister Helen was a saint. But boy... he had it rough for about a year," Duo said, staring at the stove with rapt fascination.
"It was fair punishment. I stole a car, credit cards, and a gun when I was fourteen. When my guardian got me back from the police I cursed him in three languages," Joe said.
"What did he do to you?" Wufei asked, joining the group now.
"He slapped me. I was locked in my bedroom for three days before he gave me a choice. I went to the nuns. When I complied to his ideals, seven months later, he sent for me again," Joe said.
"Geeze, what a bastard," Duo said, watching Joe chop salad.
"Not really. He and my adoptive siblings were Japanese. I was going through culture shock and home sickness. I needed the time with God to sort things out and get to know the direction my life was to take. His punishments never really taught me much. I was still excessively disobedient for the rest of my life. There. What do you boys want for dessert?"
Duo rattled off a list in the same language he and Joe shared exclusively. Joe smirked and went back to the refrigerator. Trowa traded looks with Wufei, Heero, and Quatre at the odd way Joe referred to his life, as if it had been over for a very long time.
To be continued.