Hi there
A quick note for those of you waiting for the next Alternatives chapter, I have to apologise for the delay. I've sort of lost a note book I need, so I'm having to go over old chapters to glean some infomation I've lost... and I am still hoping to find the lost notes. That would make life so much easier. The chapter is coming, its just going to be late.
In the mean time, I hope you enjoy Friends and Enemies.
Take care and sorry.
Karina
Bishi Pile Challenge:
Major challenge response: Information, Computer
Minor challenge response: Shadow, Virus
Word count: 2,743
Series: Friends 2: Friends and Enemies
Author: Karina
Pairings: Zechs + Duo, Trowa x Quatre
Ratings: M 15+ [In Australia] Rated in the event of bad language and violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters.
Warnings: No apology given for Aussie spelling, but fair warning given.
Character Challenge:
Chapter 7
Would her hands be cold or warm without the gloves? As if it made a difference. At least here the air was warm and he no longer froze in the back of the transit van.
Warmer as it was in the mobile operations unit he was far from comfortable.
He wanted to be out of here. The skin on his back was crawling with reaction to her every touch and the underlying expectation of… something. It was not quite the promise of violence, not quite that… at least not yet… but something permeated the air and set the ultra fine hairs at the nape of his neck rising. Something set the nerves just beneath the surface layer of skin tingling with expectation.
It was not an expectation of something good but something waiting to explode.
The chatter of the computers was a background noise he could not shut out. His senses were at peek, ensuring he noticed everything around him. Hyper aware, ultra sensitive to sound, movement, vibration… a measure of his mounting discomfort with his current situation.
She paid too much attention to the slashed wrist for his liking, but then he did not want to be where he was and any attention paid to him was too much in his view. He would not have minded her attention on the damage so much if the bastard had simply carved his name into his flesh, then at least he would have something to go on chasing the man down.
And it would be obvious he had not tried to kill himself.
It was a man, his would be murderer, he knew that. He could remember the bastard's voice, the malignancy in it. That one had wanted him dead, had craved for him to die in pain and ignominy and full awareness of his hate.
* "I want this to be slow, Peacecraft. I want you to suffer. It's snowing out there and the wind is rising. The cold might get you before you bleed out." *
The misguided bastard's own hate had given him the means to survive, slowing down the blood loss and giving the nanobots in his system time to seal the slashed blood vessels. He'd bled, but he had not bled out, as was intended.
* /If it should stop bleeding the cold will finish you. Just the one wrist and not too deep. You need to bleed slowly. I've waited too long for revenge to make this quick or easy. I want you to have time to think about why you are dying. I'd sit here and watch but I have places to go. People to see." *
He should be dead, despite the nanobots. Could even that miracle of modern science have kept a spark of life within his core had he remained on the mountain? They were clever things, nanobots, programmed to do specific tasks. There were millions of the microscopic computers within his blood and tissue working to maintain a certain degree of fitness and health… but against the cold, long term…
Well, he would not know if he would have survived or not, the point was mute. He had survived because a one time enemy had given him something he was quite uncomfortable with receiving.
No one had ever offered him mercy before.
Who with a background in OZ and the Alliance would expect mercy to come from a Gundam pilot?
That question too was redundant, unhelpful and meaningless to his present situation.
How far did he dare trust the people who surrounded him now? How far could he trust Marcus? He would trust Bradford about as far as he could throw him with one arm tied behind his back and the other tied to his ankle, which was to say not at all, but Marcus… Marcus might be different.
Marcus might well be on the 'disposable' list neither of them had witnessed but both firmly believed existed. There was no evidence of it but… Someone had wanted him dead and would not have been able to gain access to him if they had not had help from within the organization.
The unseen operations team surrounding this medical unit was on top of his 'not to be trusted' list. He was a paranoid bastard at the best of times and after recent events he could give an entire new meaning to the word. He was almost certain there were eight men on the team, not counting Marcus or Bradford, then there were at least three medics and technicians, seen and unseen on the vehicle, staffing the medical unit.
He might be able to rely on Marcus to help, but could the two of them together take down the rest? Certainly the medics and technicians they could, but the extraction team? Not cleanly certainly. It would have to be through stealth for the most part, working quietly and with deadly force. But was it, at this point in time, necessary? He still had no idea where they were or what was going down in the organization.
The technician was bent over his station's monitor, attention focused on the data streaming from the download from the nanobots reporting every nuance of his physical condition. There was no need to draw blood from him, the microscopic computers could provide instant data on his physiology in seconds, including a full blood work screening that would take hours to perform in a hospital.
Unfortunately they could also be reprogrammed to kill him instead of maintain his health.
It was hard to not flinch every time the man's hands hit the keyboard to enter information. Any one of those data entries might be the kill command. A certain measure of trust needed to be maintained between the medical staff, the nano technicians and the agent impregnated with the machines.
His wrist was healing well, but he knew that already. Maxwell made a fair field medic and kept an effective medical kit. Courtesy of the nanobots the wound might have been inflicted ten days ago instead of the few days it had actually been. Provided he survived long enough for the process to be completed there would not be so much as a scar to be seen in six months.
"Do I need to list you for a psyche evaluation?"
Ah, so there were rumours, were there? She did not immediately assume the wrist was self inflicted. What rumours might have been whispered around the organization during his absence? First Marcus had put in an appearance and now the medic did not jump to the obvious conclusion that he was just another field agent who had had enough and tried to top himself.
Unfortunately there were more than a few who had taken that road to escape.
This could be useful… there were those fingers tapping over the keyboard again… data request, not an input stream long enough to do harm to him. He had made it his business to have an intimate knowledge of the nanobot coding. He had learned early not to trust another when it might be to his detriment.
Ah, he could sing the joys of an agent's paranoia in seven different languages and in binary to boot. Of course, the coding was supposed to be known only to an elite few technicians, but any agent carrying the nanobots was an arrogant arse and a fool if he did not do something to cover his own backside if his handlers turned on him.
He had not worked with this medical team, but that was nothing new. He did have a regular team assigned to him when in the field and he at least had a modicum of trust in them. But there was nothing regular about this return from an assignment.
"No, but others might disagree. It was not self inflicted."
A quick note made on the clipboard just tilted enough for him not to be able to read what was written by the third attendant. He could guess well enough what would be contained in those notes, he was well aware of the physical damage he had sustained. The nanotech pushed away from his consol, stretching his shoulders as he watched a return stream of data complete into a diagnostics assessment Zechs was quick to scan through.
"The nano network is not compromised, though you have lost a few thousand units. I would advise an infusion of replacement units. Once activated and initialised it would effect a quicker return to an optimum condition. The series number for your units is on record as being stocked for this field unit, so I can apply the infusion immediately."
The man's dark eyes flicked to the medics in attendance as he made his way to a cabinet, pressing his thumb to the high tech lock and presenting his eye for a scan. Of the four people now in this medical bay only one of them could access that high security cabinet. Nano tech was jealously guarded by the organisation.
Did he want another influx of foreign nanobots into his system? Foreign, as in newly constructed and programmed with unknown data. Admittedly additional units could be helpful if he had to work fast and hard physically, which he would undoubtedly have to do at some point, but how well could he trust the integrity of the programming? There could be virus in just one of the bots and it would compromise the entire network, turning the microscopic machines into something he certainly did not want infusing him.
"Would you prefer blank slates? I can set them to pick up the programming from the master node as your system is not currently compromised by the lowered numbers of units. We don't have all day for me to do the programming, so if I set an assimilation program active the network should place the blanks to where your system is the most distressed by depleted numbers over the next seven days."
Now that had a greater potential. The new infusion would be programmed by his imbedded data and not by an outside source. He had entered safeguards over his personal node network being the paranoid bastard that he was, and no doubt every other field agent carrying the nanobots had set their own private controls in place.
His security program would scan all infused nano machines for conflicting programs and he could, once he got his hands on a computer system set up to enter data into the machines, set the network controller to flush any compromised nanobots from his system… if they could not be reprogrammed along the parameters he had set.
His wrist was dressed and the medic turned her attention to the other myriad of minor hurts the nanobots were well along the way to erasing. He was careful to keep the nanotech in sight and watch his every move. That, he judged, was his greatest danger, the insertion of the nano machines into his system. He was going to need to allow the tech to get up close and personal to perform the infusion, and it would take only one quick movement to take him down.
The injector was small, light and sharp. It resembled a miniature gun in the techs large hand, the load chamber pressed to the sealed unit, priming with a low hum to stimulate the nanobots and initiate the injection sequence. He was all too aware of the medic, the woman, pulling his hair back from his left ear and the cold wet swab swipe across his skin. He resisted the urge to shiver in reaction, but he had had it done a number of times before and so far nothing appeared… dangerous.
A glove was pulled over the techs left hand as the unit beeped, the needle point node glinted as the tech moved closer, into his personal space. He resisted the urge to catch the hand with the injector, to squeeze the wrist until the bones cracked. He was hyper aware, his shadow self on edge, looking for something to strike out at… and he was not finding it.
The tension was there, the team working with precision and competence, but with a tension rising from them that was setting his shadow awareness more and more into the danger zone with nothing specific to strike at. There it was again, that flicker of eyes toward the door as though they were expecting to be interrupted. His skin crawled the closer the injector came to his neck and the gloved fingers worked carefully over the area behind his ear, seeking the small hard node that marked the injection point, the nexus of the nano network.
The tech bent close, fingers isolated the node, massaged gently to stimulate the bio system, relaxing the muscles that shielded the node itself.
"Word came down you were dead." the techs breath was warm against his neck, his whisper barely audible. "Next generation blanks, activation code 'phoenix 562903'. Self replicating units. Hermes suggests you run. Olympus will fall."
Jesus.
What the fuck was going on in the organization?
The injection node nestled against the nexus node, a moment to hear the beep from the injector signalling the alignment was accurate and the compressed air fired the package into the nexus. He held against the flinch reaction caused more from the sound of the injector so close to his ear than the small pain as it pierced his skin. Flinching could mean a miss and that was not something he really wanted now.
There were booted feet beyond the tent flap and the tech pocketed the injector, moving to resume his seat. He glanced up as the woman pressed a strip of plastic to his forehead and Bradford shouldered past Marcus, thrusting the dark plastic flap separating the medical bay from the operations unit contained in the remainder of the trailer.
"Cut the crap, Bradford, or I'll give you something to be in a shit about."
Well, there was certainly no love between Bradford and Marcus, that was for certain. He could see the clash of aura's between the two, which had been held rigidly under control at the airport for the transfer. Now it was raw and obvious away from the Preventer agents. Marcus had been lounging at the entry to the medical bay out of his direct sight, no doubt watching and listening to the smallest of happenings around him.
Even, perfect teeth were bared into a semblance of a smile, a not very nice smile, Zechs noted, half expecting the Celt and Bradford to tangle but it did not happen. Bradford chose to ignore the offer of a confrontation and glowered instead at the medical team.
/You'd like to try us though./ Zechs had no illusions about what the man would like to do.
Bradford would have liked to test himself against a top class field agent. He must have had specific instructions against playing with them, Zechs mused, noting the tension around the thin mouth and the throbbing of a vein at his temple.
"How long?" The Commander tossed what Zechs took to be a set of neatly folded combat fatigues onto a cabinet top, glaring around the room.
"Almost done, Commander. Ten minutes."
She did not look at the man, Zechs noted, watching in the reflection of a cupboard across from him, but kept her attention on the plastic strip.
"Air evac in fifteen minutes."
No one bothered to respond and to his relief Bradford stormed out of the unit. Marcus took the opportunity to enter, ignoring the glares from the medics to make his way to the neatly folded clothing Bradford had brought. As Zechs watched he ran a hand scanner over every seam, button and zip, after a few minutes pawing through the medical equipment to filch a pair of tweezers and a scalpel.
The nano tech watched with a faint scowl before turning back to his consol, ignoring proceedings as Marcus worked the wire carefully out of the hem of the black sleeveless polo necked top and calmly chopped the wire into a dozen glistening pieces before running the scanner over the clothing once again, repeating the action with the device secreted in the collar of the combat jacket.
"There we go, my friend, all freshly laundered for you." Marcus smirked, crossing the room to drop the combat trousers, jacket and sleeveless top across Zechs's legs. "Just wait outside, will I?"
End
Karina Robertson 2010