AN: I rewrote most of it with Gundam characters Wufei and Heero. Will update sometime this week or tomorrow after re-editing. Thanks for sticking with me, reading and reviewing! Most appreciated!

The atmosphere was tense! No one made a move. A loud silence reigned inside the dojo, that if a sound was heard, no one would have heard it - or even paid it much attention: They couldn't. The silence was deafening and the surrounding students tried, inconceivably, to solve or comprehend what had just happened.

Collectively, with bated breaths, the students feared uttering a sound would break the distinct moment and cause, most horribly, the world to shatter - and it did for some, breaking their own hubris, their misguided confidence in their abilities. It was this bold silence that resounded in the dojo, leaving its residue on the amazed faces of the students. They had just watched a brutal defeat, an effortless display of power from a prodigy gifted in the martial arts, one that came every decade and challenged the world, by turning it on its head, confused and shocked.

In the middle of the dojo, walled by kneeling students in black with white interloop tops and trim, Wufei Chang, former Gundam pilot and prodigious martial artist, towered over his fallen opponent. His hands were to his sides and, unlike the man on the floor, his uniform remained immaculate, free from sweat stains or scuffs. His black hair, as dark as a starless midnight, was severely slicked back into a ponytail that reached past the nape of his neck from his handsome face; his skin was pale yellow; and his dark and penetrating eyes were focused on the man's twitching face.

In a few swift moves he had defeated one of the Wu Kwan's top students. It was an effortless, almost dull win for Wufei. His opponent was predictable, and the way he telegraphed his movements when frustrated created an opening he needed to consummate his victory.

Like an angry bull, Wufei's opponent had barraged him with tenacious strikes, attacks meant to incapacitate on impact. The bull's charges proved futile as Wufei was the troubadour, possessing a brutal beauty in style, moving out of his opponent's reach, slowly wearing him down. His strikes weakened, his form deteriorated, and he began exerting conserved energy to hit the elusive Wufei.

Wufei never wavered, and remained relentlessly focused on his opponent, whose labored breaths alerted him to his decline in strength. Fatigue took hold, and Wufei could see how his opponent's guard was dropping, as if an invisible pressure weighed him down. Sweat drenched him, pooling under his arms, wetting his back, and falling, profusely, from his brow. His opponent was slowly falling apart.

A jab was thrown and another, this time longer and more careless, for it left his opponent open, extending past Wufei's shoulder, and Wufei, eyes flashing, countered in a takedown, wrapping his left arm around the man's right arm, locking under the armpit, then, with his right foot, kicked out his right ankle while simultaneously using his right hand to strike his chest, slamming the man harshly to the wooden floor. The echo of the slam struck the walls and rang like thunder in the students' ears. It was a dreadful sound that produced many involuntary flinches. The man had blacked out on impact, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Wufei stood victorious, though, he felt empty, like a small hollow in a lively tree, there was something missing, and he consciously could not discern the answer. The feeling lurked within him and continued to fester unabated. It crawled slowly into his mind, stifling him, infecting, until it swallowed him. The hole, the empty feeling, invoked a deep sadness that paralyzed him, and he could not find a way to resolve it like he usually did: through direct confrontation - the meeting of fists and bodies, a decoding of one's true nature in the purest and most brutal form. Ever since his victory over Treize, at the climax of the war, without closure, the young man seemed lost, trying to find his way in the world that had needlessly, now, tossed him aside. The world, which had brutalized him deeply, gnawing into his soul with piercing teeth, a relentless assault, brought him to the cusp of obsolesces.

Gundams were no longer needed – he was no longer needed. The world in the last two years had changed so drastically, it overwhelmed the heir to the Long Clan. The wars were gone, and soldiers, so numerous, so broken, were thrown away so callously – and casually - for this new peace. The soldiers were sacrificed for this peace, and their blood was repaid in dismissal.

This thought did not sit well for Wufei. He had finally acknowledged himself as a soldier, shedding ceremonial and physical blood and tears, a warrior's baptism in war. As he sank beneath the heavy water that seemed to push him downward to a bottomless abyss, he was slowly transforming – his ideals, his sense of justice, his integrity that he clung to when he charged to Earth as a righteous freedom fighter – into a sharpen tool for war. He could no longer follow Meilan's justice; he had failed her so. And, in doing so, he had shamed her pride. Meilan's integrity, her justice, relied on a black-and-white outlook, a desperate righteousness that declared those with evil intentions enemies to humankind. Meilan's integrity was only strengthened by the principles of his clan, which he now confronted and questioned, to find his own source of beliefs. The scholar in him yearned desperately, demanding him, to find his answers to justice. Meilan's justice judged OZ and Treize to be evil and cunning entities oppressing the weak. And Wufei had believed it so, he had seen it from ZERO, yet now, long after the war, was he still right? No. The truth had unraveled him and his preconceptions.

Wufei knew when he had confronted Treize, on Libra's surface, he would die. He expected to. Treize had outmaneuvered him, outwitted and outfought him. Wufei knew he could not win but he was committed to fighting Treize fair and square – no beam cannons, Dragon Fangs, or Vulcans – just close quarter combat match to the death. It was a match for a loser, a loser who had lost everything, a loser who could not live in peace. Yet, unmistakably, Treize understood Wufei's defeatism and, whether out of respect or, really, feeling the same way – that without war and conflict his existence ceased – engaged Wufei on the same terms.

Treize, he had thought, was the epitome of evil, a villainous, bloodthirsty warlord, seeking absolute power and war. He was a cunning manipulator who reshaped the world and the Colonies to his will. He made his dastardly ambitions a reality and enacted, with sudden efficiency, the demise of his enemies.

However, as Wufei fought Treize, his perception of reality changed: Treize was a hero seeking peace, a noble who had brought humanity near extinction to show how beautiful and how cruel humans could be. He sacrificed his life to end the war (though he sought peace, the man could not live without his beloved battles, in an era headed towards pacifism) on Relena's gamble of total pacifism. Treize, at his final moments, was a hero and a villain, and his era had come to a close. But: the war did not end for Wufei. He still breathed.

He was forced to live an existence, during this peaceful epoch, as a civilian, gradually warming to peace and finding new opportunities post-war that did not know where and how to place a person like him, who couldn't adjust – and wouldn't. He became a wanderer who held the war inside him, unfulfilled, living in perpetual torment, and could not acquiesce to this growing pacifism. And he was plagued with Treize's spirit, his noble sacrifice at the end of his trident. Wufei could still see Treize's pained face after his final thrust into his cockpit, acquitted in pride and surrender, still hear his final words echo in his ears, -" Thank you, Wufei. My eternal friend." - still feel the magnitude of his thrust and the hot tears of his shame and sorrow and shock that followed stream down his face.

Wufei snorted inwardly, dissatisfied with his current train of thought. Everything, his turmoil, revolved and returned back to Treize. They were inseparable, irrevocable, a chain that bonded their fate when OZ attacked his home colony and killed his wife. He was still fighting Treize, the OZ leader, whose aplomb smile followed him, forever haunting him like a beastly phantom. The heavens (or hell) for whatever reason, bonded Treize to him, his restless spirit still roaming about, looking for a new crusade.

Wufei's face remained a mask, an impassive wall, and his dark eyes, normally alive during the intense moment, were dim. Challenges were hard to come by, and a victory such as this, did not give him the fulfillment he desired. It was pyrrhic. None of the matches so far or his work in defeating men with evil aspirations, after Treize's death, gave him any form of accomplishment. They just fed the growing emptiness inside him.

He took this win as yet another empty trophy he did not need, as it did not fill the void of the Eve's War. It certainly did not bring him any comfort. He felt pathetic – to defeat this person so easily, was this all what the war had promised him? - A life of banality without heated confrontations or desires of his skills? Was this what Nataku wanted for him?

He would not accept it! His blood boiled for a warrior's battle. He deserved it! He had put so much into the war and had come away with absolutely nothing. Was this what peace had amounted to? A desolate hopelessness…?

He stared at his defeated opponent, watching the man heave himself up, though slightly disoriented from the takedown. He groaned, rubbing his buzzed head. When righted the man gave a short bow and Wufei responded back accordingly, bending smoothly at the waist.

"Winner: Wufei!" declared Shifu Li, raising his arm in Wufei's direction. The two combatants proceeded to bow to the man and took their place in the line; Wufei, to the right side, and his opponent to the left. Wufei kneeled, his eyes set on the next match, hearing the students around him squirm and shudder in fear. They were weaklings, all of them. They let fear rule in place of courage, which would, inevitably, for fear invites irrationality, and decays hope, weaken their resolve. A weak resolve could never surmount any challenges thrusted upon an individual. Experience had been a wise and brutal teacher for Wufei.

When the matches ended, the students formed three rows with Wufei at the top left. Shifu Li, his head as bald and shiny as the polished wooden floors, gleaming from the flooding light of the ceiling, stood across from them, deep brown eyes measuring them, studying them. His eyes roamed across the students until they landed on Wufei, peering at him not in superiority; no, this man never saw himself stronger than his students. He was a teacher retaining knowledge of the old ways on this colony, which was what attracted Wufei to his school – and he had also apprenticed under Shifu Long. He had learned they had had a long history together. Shifu Li had left Colony A0206 during OZ's space conquest, after the reopening of communications between the colonies. He ponderously watched Wufei for a moment that seemed to transform into hours, a torturous and revealing look, that knew of his hardships he had faced for the colonies, and all that he had lost. He too, as a former resident of his home colony had lost loved ones.

His steady gaze did not belie pity – it would have been an indignity to his pride as a fighter if it did. Indeed, the pride of a fighter, a warrior-turned soldier, was all that Wufei could cling to, when his sense of integrity fell short of the standard measured by his dead clan and Shifu Li.

Wufei stared back, watching the master's mouth thin, his wrinkles ostensibly deep like trenches on his old face. Shifu Li nodded subtly as if to convey he had done enough. Wufei subtly narrowed his eyes in return. Anger struck him. He curled his hands into fists. No, thought Wufei, he wasn't finished yet.

Shifu Li's eyes drifted back to the rest of the students. He promptly dismissed the class. Without muddling around, Wufei left before anyone could spare a vapid conversation. He needed air. Too many thoughts warred inside him, and he felt that he could not contain them anymore before they broke free from the confines of his mind. His restraint, these days, became more taxing.

Outside the doors, a light blue sky exploded over the colony, the air crisp to simulate fall. The artificial sky, today, was cloudless, and it seemed to anger Wufei as it contrasted with the feelings brimming in his soul. He exhaled deeply the manifesting feelings in one breath, a meditative technique he had been using too much as of late. His body relaxed. He looked out into the colony, seeing the city from the rolling green hills in front of him – the skyscrapers and storied-buildings congregated together for the sole purpose of human survival – a symbol of a thriving population untouched by the war. The colony was silent and calm. Everything was silent and calm, holding a tranquility that he, bitterly, desired.

He walked from the dojo, brown eyes drifting over the autumn colored-leaves that canopied above on the sidewalk - the vibrant oranges, startling reds, browning yellows, and a minutia of green which clung to the stems of their branches - waiting for that harsh wind - which would never come - to push them onto the ground, like meteorites burning in Earth's atmosphere, crumpling into dust and then nothingness.

The seasons changed, the winds changed, the colors changed, but he remained the same. He was still stuck in the war, its claws sunk in his flesh, ripping, and he bore the scars, invisible, that haunted him. Seasons' rebirth, but lives do not. His family, his wife, his righteous clan, they were gone forever, and those memories burned in him fiercely like Nataku's infernos - but he forcibly put it to the back of his mind; he could not get emotional, he was stronger than this. Or so he thought, when he reflected on his failures and doubts.

Wufei made his way into the city, entering a four-storied apartment complex. Walking up the stairs, he came to the third floor, and walked to the first door on the left, to an apartment facing the city and opened the door with his keys. He closed the door, looking into the small furnishings of his apartment - a small circular table surrounded by three wooden chairs, and a television in the right corner, sitting on a stand, a small kitchen – an empty house barren of novelties and luxuries except a laptop. The laptop sat on the table, the screen on but in sleep mode. He had bought the apartment shortly after the war, where he disappeared until the threat of the remnants of the White Fang, doing miscellaneous jobs. He had enough money to survive for a few years. He had survived, quite conveniently, over the last two years on the Long clan accounts. He had acquired, to his surprise, all remaining monies and properties (all physical properties were obliterated) of the clan before they were destroyed.

He set his gym bag by the door and walked to the cabinet. He took out a glass and filled it with water and took a deep drink. Relief flooded him as the cold water splashed against the back of his throat. His simmering anger and frustration lessened at each gulp.

A beeping noise drew his attention to the laptop.

He turned the screen on, setting his glass on the table, and wasn't surprised that he had messages via the Gundam Circuit. He had been ignoring the system, preferring to be alone and independent. He preferred solitude than close comradery. It was better that way; it was how he operated. He was never one for personal relationships, not after Meilan's death, and developing such interpersonal relationships was unnecessary: he found clarity in solitude, certainty in his own resolve to discern the concealed and entangled, and act, as ruthlessly as possible, to bring them to the light of justice, and extinguish all opposition.

Surrendering to the temptation, he accessed the Gundam Circuit and, bewildered, found messages from Heero Yuy. Heero had rarely reached out to him, his privacy comparable to his, unless for emergencies that required his presence. He had left him two messages. He perused the messages. His eyebrows rose and he leaned forward as the laptop screen reflected blue in his eyes.

Heero had left him detailed messages on traversing a wormhole. According to the messages, Howard and Heero had been testing the new limits of outer space travel for spaceships, and wondered if he wanted join in on their expedition. Howard had been monitoring this occurrence for a while, and sent a probe through the wormhole. It came back with positive pictures of another planet and, to his amazement, proof of extraterrestrials through passing ships in the region. There was no guarantee of coming back, so extreme discretion was advised.

Wufei felt something stirring within him, rising and swelling, a great emotion; was it anticipation? excitement? Yes, he thought, this was something he could do, instead of living a monotonous life. He sent his approval to Heero, whom confirmed right away. He would pick him up and then they would depart to the outer limits of the L-5 region. The idea was intriguing, and he was pleasantly surprised he did not have any reservations, this time, on meeting and accepting such a journey. He would not be missed. He did not have anyone left, after all.

Wufei smirked. This should be fun, he thought, attracted by this new goal. Maybe time was about to move its hands forward.

A new trial had begun.

He arrived at the spaceport earlier than the allotted time, duffle bag in hand, and walked to Hangar 8, where Heero was said to be waiting. Heero was a very punctual man; he disliked unnecessary tardiness. Wufei was sure if he was late, Heero would have left without him, feeling no remorse or guilt. The mission always came first in his eyes, except for that one girl. He would damn the missions for her.

He showed his identification to security personnel and entered the bay doors to the holding room, changed into his green spacesuit, and carried his helmet under his right arm. The conditions in the hangar were oxygenated but gravity, on the other hand, was reduced. He exited, the doors closing and locking into Hangar 8, a cavernous hangar filled with three civilian shuttles. There were people in queue on several platforms, waiting for entry for the two shuttles further down on his right. Above him, in the air, technicians whizzed by in a constant state of assiduous to their designated duties, their bodies propelled by small gushes from their pressurized packs, as they prepped the shuttles for launch.

Wufei jumped towards a large red space shuttle, its design sleek and resplendent, on his left. The shuttle had curved delta wings and was about 110 feet in length. At the propulsion engines, a young man wearing a green spacesuit motioned to him. Wufei descended, his pressurized gushes lowering him to the craft.

Heero Yuy had grown taller, Wufei observed, now standing six feet like him. His mop of unruly brown hair that always looked untamable, wild, like his persona, streamed down his face, his bangs kissing his nose and cheeks, and his blue eyes were as piercing and glaring as they were two years ago on his pale skin. They were sharp and stunning and brooding, like the waters of the ocean darkened by stormy clouds, holding a cool calculation. His face had matured, thinning and sharply triangular. He had grown very attractive. Wufei doubted looks ever mattered to Heero – there were always more important matters that took forefront to their lives, like staying alive long enough for the next mission. Heero's aloofness and guarded personality seemed to deter any sense of comradery – to those of the normal type of people anyways.

"Preparations are almost set. I need to take care of a few things," his deep voice cut his reverie. With that Heero took off, gliding to one of the technicians monitoring their vessel. Wufei walked to the flight deck, and entered the door.

He found himself a seat on the right of the pilot seat and placed his helmet in the empty space under the console. He made his way to the door behind the seats, and entered a white lit corridor which took him to their shared quarters – two hammocks parallel to each other, and two lockers. He inserted his bag into the only available locker. He returned to the flight deck and saw Heero, seated, prepping the ship for launch. He gave Wufei a glance then returned to work.

Wufei took to his seat, clipped his seatbelt, and readied himself. Heero flipped the radio switch. "Preparation: Done. Flight control, The Frontier is ready to depart," his deep voice said to the radio, looking at the time. It read: 0600.

"Flight control reads The Frontier. Area is clear, you're good for takeoff. Safe voyage."

"Roger that, flight control." Heero turned off the radio and powered the engines.

The engine jolted the ship, roaring like dragons at war. The vibrations were strong and the shuttle trembled under its power. The bay three doors opened and Heero guided the shuttle through the first door. The second door opened, revealing space. Gravity brought the ship to a float, and yellow guiding lanes shot out in from of them. The ship moved through colony and finally exited the colony to an ocean full of stars that glittered like stardust, in the expanse of space. The sight made Wufei all the more appreciative of his origins as a spacenoid. Space had never looked so free and mysterious and wild and even more treacherous: the dangers were great if one sought the mysteries that lay afar; and the pilots were set to measure how far the universe stretched on their expedition.

"So, why did you come?" Heero said suddenly, after hours of silence. His cold blue eyes were on his form, measuring and searching all in his silent disposition. He spoke with a frankness that left no room for ambiguity. If he wasn't talking, or refused to, Heero would greet one with an uncomfortable silence and a piercing stare. "You've been pretty quiet these last few years…"

Wufei knew this question was coming, and he was still unsure of his answer. "I wanted go beyond this realm, and I feel something drawing me to do this, like a meteor pulled to Earth's gravity. Perhaps a compulsion," and to find the true meaning of justice and peace in this universe, he left unsaid.

Wufei was surprised at his own candor. He didn't think he would admit to Heero pieces of confusion that weighed heavily on his mind. Did he trust Heero that much as a close confidant? No, Wufei realized, but he did feel vulnerable under his gaze, and that made Wufei angrier at himself. Weakness of self could not be tolerated.

"Change the stagnation," said Heero, his eyes still boring unflinchingly at Wufei.

Wufei smirked. Heero had an uncanny ability of intuition and perception too, though, Wufei's was more developed - he could see patterns and tactics ahead of his opponents. However, Wufei did wonder how much the ZERO System had affected Heero's cognitive skills. The ZERO System was an interface in the cockpit that gave the pilot efficient and calculated battle data and large amount of statistics to insure, tactically, absolute victory or total defeat. It was up to the pilot to guide the raw data to the correct path for future outcomes and predictions.

However, the intense strain on the pilot's mind had devastating side effects. The negative side effects included insanity from the stress of the raw and unfiltered data transmitted from the system to the pilot, strong hallucinations, and mind-altering consciousness that warped the mind even after turning off the system. If a pilot was strong enough in will and had the fortitude to "tame" the system, they would be granted greater spatial awareness and eidetic memory. Wufei may have been able to tame the system, but Heero had endured it more and forced it to his will.

"This epoch of peace brings nothing to me. We, as soldiers, are no longer needed here, and the peace, galvanized by Relena Peacecraft, has left its beneficiaries arrogantly complacent. I'm left uneasy" – and Empty, he thought with disdain – "of our role in the world," said Wufei, folding his arms.

"You're not alone in that type of thinking." Heero returned his view to space. "However, our roles as Gundam pilots have come to an end. Humanity is on a new path. We have to believe in the people, and their hearts."

Wufei turned to Heero, scowling. "Their hearts? Those that pursue power will want more power. Their hearts can't be swayed, for evil reeks in them. Evil never dies, Heero. Evil cannot be persuaded, only permanently silenced."

"Our battles have ended, Wufei," Heero said, a touch of exasperation in his tone.

"No. No… not yet. Mine hasn't ended yet," Wufei confessed, now a little agitated, his fingers digging into his biceps. He knew for sure his hadn't; he was convinced, for Treize remained a constant in his thoughts.

"Wufei…"

"I find it quite strange," Wufei said abruptly. He looked curiously at Heero. There was something bugging him, and he could not deny curiosity to this thought.

"Hm?" Heero replied, giving a cool eye at him, though his face remained blank to the sudden change in conversation. Heero was not a fooled and his eyes said as much.

"That girl you were so desperate to save back in the war, you know you're leaving her behind," said Wufei.

Heero was silent for a long time, and Wufei wasn't sure if he would answer – it was a very personal question to him. Heero was never forthcoming with his past. In his presence, Wufei had never heard anything personal. Wufei was the same way. The Gundam pilots had always kept their pasts and feeling to themselves, except when their actions, apparent in the heat of conflict, revealed their true selves. Quatre Raberba Winner was an exception. He wore his openness and kindheartedness on his sleeve.

"Relena's fine without me," Heero stated, finally. His face took on a faraway look as if he was no longer there in his seat. The present disappeared from his eyes. "She's been… she's come a long way. She'll understand."

"It's a one-way-trip, you might not see her again," Wufei remarked, frowning. He doubted she would understand. Relena was very much in love with him, he knew for certain. He had seen it in her blue eyes that overflowed admiration and trust, something he had seen from Meilan, only, in her final moments.

"Her feelings have changed; we both know it. She has her own life to live and I have mine. I left her a letter..." Heero said, airily, a small smile pulling at the edge of his lips of a hidden secret he wouldn't divulge. He suddenly turned to Wufei his blue eyes now firm.

"And also: I want to see what's beyond this galaxy. ZERO has confirmed this – vaguely – as my next step in life."

"ZERO?" Wufei furrowed his brow, leaning a bit closer. Now he was truly intrigued.

Heero nodded, and his blue eyes seemed lighter, relieved. "Yes. ZERO told me there was a greater future for me, and it lay beyond the Earth… and Relena. I wanted to see it for myself. It was the only path showed to me."

Heero became silent and the two, amid the burning stars and the loud silence, drifted into contemplation.

A few days later, they were in range of the wormhole, a cosmic distortion in space. The mouth, a vortex, that seemed to bend space-and-time and the stars into infinite white streaks, was larger than their ship, and it seemed to go a mile high. Wufei's heart hammered in his chest. This was it! It was now or never. Heero nodded to Wufei and he returned the gesture. They both buckled their seatbelts and dove into the vortex.

In an instant, the ship dashed through the passage becoming a red blur. Abruptly, and without warning, Wufei was slammed against the back of his chair. The G-forces were tremendous. He could barely move his head as the pressure felt like a wall squeezing the life out of him. He turned an onyx eye on Heero to see how he was fairing. Heero's blue eyes were wide and the jaws of mouth were clenched so hard Wufei could the grinding of his teeth. Wufei managed to turn eyes onto the window.

Outside, an iridescence of colors blended together, spiraling around them. Streaks of luminous colors rushed around them in brilliant radiance, the light bending in arcs, reflecting off of their vessel. The light was alive, and it arced and twirled around the ship, intertwining in orchestration. Rivers of reds, yellows, blues, oranges, greens, violets, loudly, streamed in the vortex.

The sight was spellbindingly elegant. Wufei had never seen such a spectacular display. If he could, he would have gaped in awe. Instead his face remained stricken.

As quickly as it started they were ejected from the passage, the stars returning to their natural state: pinning and glittering against the black canvas of space. The wormhole closed behind them, unbeknownst to the two pilots who released a loud sigh of relief, after being nearly thrown from their seats. Their safety belts saved them as they groaned against the seat, the fabric digging into Wufei's shoulders.

Heero looked out into space, into the array of unknown stars and to the glowing miniscule sapphire planet ahead of them. The pressure from the rush lessened and he was able to freely move in his chair. He hadn't expected they would pick up such speed, but it was mere inconvenience – the ship had survived its voyage. He did a quick diagnostic and all functions were optimal. He cracked his neck, feeling the tightness loosen.

"Is this the planet?" said Wufei, his tone curious. There was also an undertone of wonder.

"Yeah. We're on target," Heero confirmed. "Let's move closer."

Heero eased the red ship closer and closer to the turquoise orb. Something buzzed at Heero's senses. It was like a fly buzzing only in earshot – one knew it was there because the beating of its wings vibrated one's eardrums. He narrowed his eyes, seeing the outline of ships and transient yellow light from the flight deck window.

Wufei, too, noted something strange. "Do you think it's…" he trailed off.

Heero picked up on the implicit meaning. "Yeah," he said slowly, carefully, "it is a battle!"

Outside the flight deck window, the turquoise planet was now apparent and vividly clear. Large and vast oceans surrounded a large, glimmering continent. The planet's surface teemed and stretched towards capacity of its landmass, of cities overlapping each other in a fight of dominance; a metropolis so distinct that nothing else besides the cities – deserts, grasslands, arid – could be seen. It sparkled like an inviting jewel from afar.

But, presently, the most concerning matter was the battle that raged above, obstructing their passage to the planet. Fierce and electrifying, beams of green and red soared across space – and at each other - as space fighters lit the darkness up in explosions, the yellow and red balls of fire flashing in transience.

An overwhelming force of black starfighters shaped like stubby carriages with two long aerodynamic wings that opened, revealing two laser cannons at the tips of both wings, attacked a large (and badly damaged) hammer-headed battleship. The fighters were of a design the Gundam pilots' had never seen before, compared to their own mobile suit technology – they were sleek and agile, and they zoomed dynamically, evading enemy fire, and, in unison, devouring their enemies. The battleship's own gray-and orange-colored fighters tried, though outnumbered, to valiantly fight fend off this indomitable force… but it was useless: the ship was already sinking into the atmosphere, its three out of four engines dimming and exploding in a hail of fire and blue sparks.

The ship doesn't have a chance, Heero thought tragically, as it started to capsize and descend, falling into the atmosphere of the glowing planet below. The planet's gravity pulled the sinking ship relentlessly, and it could no longer put up a fight against it. They were close now and Heero, his blue eyes gleaming in urgency, watched helplessly as the space battle unfolded. An air of desperation arose from the orange-and white-fighters – what was left of them – and the black fighters could smell it, preyed upon it, cutting off their retreats paths and showering them with red beams.

"Does this ship not have any weapons?" Wufei said sharply, finding nothing in the operating system, as he continued searching the databanks. His dexterous fingers typed fiercely, ceasing only to read some operating specs then his lips transformed into a snarl of disdain.

"No," Heero declared bluntly, shaking his head, "Howard and I never thought to integrate any weapons to the ship. We didn't think we'd encounter any hostility." Our shortsightedness could get us killed! Heero thought angrily.

Wufei snorted in derision but said nothing. Heero was grateful for that; he didn't really need any of Wufei's condescending remarks. Wufei was never subtle in declaring his opinion, especially if it countered his own, and he carried a certain dogma when expressing his opinion, an assured righteousness and declaration of his morality that was as hard as stone. Logic, at times, couldn't override his obstinacy. Heero had found convincing Wufei difficult, for persuading Wufei was as challenging as taming lightning, for lightning, as ferocious as it was, was also unpredictable.

The thundering battle became chaotic as the black fighters, like a flock of vultures, descended upon the dying vessel, spraying deadly beam weaponry across the ship's starboard, leaving no metal unblemished. Melted detritus broke off, orbiting the ship, hot and golden. The ship turned, achingly slow, on its port, trying and failing to maintain stability in the atmosphere. Smoke billowed uncontrollably out of its wounds, and fire danced beside it, blistering, twisting, and melting metal.

Heero watched its portside eject escape pods. They burned through the atmosphere nearly unchallenged. However, as the escape pods entered the atmosphere, a black fighter appeared under the capsized ship, its beams hounding the escaping vessels. Tragically, a red beam crashed into a pod and seared its way into the passengers, incinerating flesh and metal. The resulting explosion sent scattered and flaming fragments at the nearest pod on its left. The fragments scraped and shredded the unsuspecting pod, leaving wounds that flared with fire. The pod fell into the planet, twirling uncontrollably, as gravity's invisible hand cruelly slammed it down. The chance of survival was minuscule at best. Two more pods, amid the torrent of red beams, descended to the planet below, finally, fleeing their attacker.

Heero recoiled from the deaths of the passengers inside the pods. He had never felt something so visceral in a brief moment, like cold water dousing him, chilling him to the bone. The brutal extinguishing of their lives left an empty but temporary hole inside him. He could not discern the feeling, but his awareness heightened at that incident, like he was inside the ZERO system. He looked to his right. Wufei looked unsettled, his dark eyes gazing at the remains streaming through the firmament. He then glowered, a burning rage swelling in his onyx eyes.

"They're attacking escape pods?!" Wufei growled. "What cowards!"

Another alarm blared, and Heero, recognizing they were targeted by multiple incoming vessels, opened the radio channel. "Calling all fighters, this is a civilian vessel. We are not part of the battle."

He repeated. Still, silence reverberated on the other end until a volley of red beams shot at them!

"So this is the enemy?!" Wufei called over the frequent shaking of the ship, his expression dark. "They did not even confirm our I.F.F.! I guess our taking notice has left them uneasy."

"To silence us, they'll want to destroy all evidence," Heero said calmly. "We'll have to make them work for it." His eyes swept to Wufei, and he understood, giving a knowing smirk. Heero grasped the controls and steered the ship through the hail of red lights.

Heero plunged the ship down, avoiding angry red beams. He guided the ship expertly, weaving through tumultuous hellfire. Two black fighters appeared behind them, firing at them point blank. The ship accelerated upward, dodging more beams, and barrel-rolled downward in-between the two, passing them. Then, with a greater distance between their opponents, the shuttle barreled-rolled over, as red light ran parallel to its port. Heero led two of the fighters in a game of cat and mouse, the black fighters trailing after the elusive ship that seemed to predict their movement. Heero had had enough and the chase reached its climatic end, when, unknowingly, their adversaries crashed into each other, as the ship ducked, with just enough time, between the two fighters.

The claxons sounded again. Heero noted more approaching ships on the radar. "More targets approaching," Heero reported.

Wufei narrowed his dark eyes. "Don't waver."

"I wasn't planning to," Heero replied.

Heero was forced to dodge several more beams as more opponents locked-on to their ship.

"They have to be coming from a source," Heero said, his face tightening in concentration. "There mothership should be somewhere in the vicinity."

Heero's gaze wandered space, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Where are you coming from," he murmured. A feeling of unbelievably dark in its nature encompassed him, threatening to vomit the contents of his stomach. He shivered, but felt not cold touch his skin, only his senses. It was like being in Antarctica again, the blistering wind and frigid temperatures ravaging his skin, and sinking to the bone. He regained himself, but….

What was that?

The darkness had a murderous intent to it, and clawed out, looking, drastically, for something; something that held power. It was vicious, seeking to rape and molest all purity from the world. And it fed hungrily – eating all fear and hatred of the combatants. The being was revolting, and it was to his far right.

There, floating and watching stealthily, against backdrop of the planet, and the stars bearing witness, hovered one of the largest ships Heero had ever seen. The silver ship, about 600 meters long, featured a split hull, one dorsal and one ventral. In shape, the ship reminded Heero of a sleek crab claw, ready to grab and crush all prey.

The ship powered by three main engines and four auxiliary engines waited in the darkness of space; its weaponry – twenty quad laser cannons, four turbolaser cannons, two ion cannons glittering along its surface – were aimed at the hammer-head vessel. Heero somehow knew that this enigmatic ship was the cause of this battle. He felt it in his very being.

"We need to find some way of escaping," said Heero, taking cautious glances at the ominous large ship. The ship, intimidatingly, like a judge foreseeing an execution, remained beside the planet.

"Can we travel back through the wormhole?" asked Wufei.

"We could if we can get away, but they're blocking our escape routes."

They were doing more than that. The enemy ships were trying to lure them to their mothership. Whenever he would charge, say, left, they were there, flanked by supporting ships – this time more coordinated in their offensives.

Heero shook his head. They needed time, but the more time he spent piloting the less fuel they had. There was no way that they could keep up this pace. And needless to say replacing fuel tanks took time, and relied, greatly, for the ship to be inactive. This put the pilots at a breaking point: should they land on the new planet or get a greater distance from the battle? And could they escape, with the massive and eyeing ship that lurked above the planet?

The ship lurched, and Heero knew they took a hit. A screen on one of the monitors displaying a digital diagram of the ship showed damage to the left elevon. A decision had to be made on their next course of action. Their lives depended on it.

"We need to land on the planet and find a proper spaceport for refueling and repairs," Heero decided.

"Is that the only option? Couldn't we avoid them by distancing ourselves? We can outrun them," Wufei argued. "I know your skills can do this."

"I've been trying to do that, yet each move we've made, they countered," Heero replied, noticing more black ships joining in the fanfare for their death, hot on their tail. He gave another look at the hammer-headed ship and narrowed his eyes. It wouldn't be long till the ship exploded and the enemy ships turn their attention on them. They would be hopelessly outnumbered. Death would come quickly.

"Fine!" exclaimed Wufei, "Just make sure you avoid more incoming fire."

Heero glided the ship through the volley of red energy, barreling and diving at insane speeds to the shining planet below. As the pilots soared closer to the dying hammer-head vessel, another escape pod ejected, plunging into the city. And not a second later, the vessel detonated in a shower of fire-filled debris and smoke, like a monumental firework in the nighttime sky. A lone remnant crashed into their ship, grazing the left delta wing.

Heero directed the ship in the trajectory of the lone escape pod while funneling smoke, its wounds sparking. The pilots, already strapped in their seats, braced themselves for the rough landing. Heero gripped the controls tightly, trying to maintain stability for their landing. The ship shook from the raging turbulence, and its wounds made its balance a struggle to maintain. The steering wheel juddered from under his hands; he gripped tighter.

Passing the fleshy white cumulus clouds, they neared planet's surface, the rows of towering spires like palisades of an enemy fortress, shining like liquid gold from the sunset, closed in on them. Heero could see a platform from below as they accelerated. The planet's citizens that were just mere faceless dots moments ago became faces of terror as they fled from the impending ship, howling through sky.

The ship crashed into a platform violently, sliding across the streets, screeching from the friction. The airbags immediately popped from the dashboards, slamming into the pilots, knocking all sense from Heero. The ship roared its way through monuments, shattering stone and metal. The vibration was tremendous and the windows cracked from stray fragments smashing into them. Finally, the ship stopped, on its back, through a gushing fountain. The pilots, unconscious, remained motionless, seemingly dead to the world. As Heero drifted in and out of consciousness, a loud squeak of grinding metal caused his ears to twitch. Then, rough hands grabbed him, yanking him out of his chair, and before Heero fell back into darkness, a voice yelled, "Hurry! We need to get them to Forn's!"

Second Chapter is on its way (again).