Nearly half an hour after the
Winner Enterprises shuttle had docked, a short, stocky man came out of the
personnel hatch, stamping hard enough to raise echoes and muttering Arabic
curses under his breath. Powdery white dust was smudged in several places across
his skin and clothing, and he had a tangle of multicoloured wires clutched in
one large fist.
"Excuse me!" he called, veering towards a man who was
loitering against the wall of the docking area, apparently having nothing better
to do than stand around watching who went in and out of the
shuttle.
"Y-yeah? What?" the man stuttered, looking uncomfortable.
Several other men, mostly large and with suspicious bulges in their clothing,
looked up from what they were doing and began to drift closer.
"This
satellite has a repairs and parts facility, yes?" the dusty man asked brusquely.
"Where is it? Is it well stocked?"
"Uh... segment C, on the dock level,"
the other answered, relaxing slightly and pointing. "Two segments that way.
There's a big sign, you can't miss it."
"My thanks." The dusty man nodded
quickly and walked off. Behind him, the loiterer discreetly waved most of the
other men back to their posts, but beckoned one closer.
"Follow him, see
what's up and report back," he said quietly.
----------
Inside the
shuttle, Jamal sagged in his chair, waving weakly at the screen in front of him.
The security camera feed from just inside the shuttle hatch was of excellent
quality, and right now was showing one of the loitering man's friends hitching
his various illegal and concealed weapons into more comfortable
positions.
"What does Malik think he's doing?" Jamal sputtered.
"He is only supposed to be establishing our excuse for staying here, not
approaching one of the known smugglers and nearly triggering their occupational
paranoia!"
"That was well done," Auda said cheerfully, peering at the
screen.
"What?!"
"We do not need to establish our excuse with the
station personnel, Jamal," Auda explained patiently. "We need to establish it
with the smugglers. Malik just made sure that at least one smuggler will
be right there watching him."
"And by making them momentarily suspicious,
he made them react," Trowa said quietly, leaning past Jamal's shoulder to watch
the screen. "He just confirmed the identity of every smuggler currently in the
dock for us."
* * * * *
Over in segment C, Malik walked up to the
counter of the parts facility and slammed his fistful of wires down on it,
startling the attendant away from his comfortable gossip session with a friend
at the other end of the counter.
"Uh... can I help you, sir?" he asked, a
little nervously. Behind Malik, a man in grease-stained coveralls drifted
casually around the corner and started examining a nearby public notice
board.
"I devoutly hope so," Malik said ominously. "I will not be at all
pleased if you cannot."
"Er... I'll, uh, certainly do my best, sir!" the
attendant gulped, eyeing the breadth of Malik's shoulders and the way the
sleeves of his shirt bulged every time he flexed his arms.
"No, no, I
assure you," Malik said hastily, "you are in no way responsible for my problems
and I will not be angry at you if what I need is not here! It is only
that I have just completed a work rotation that has kept me on a ferry run
between mining outposts in the asteroid belt for the last six months."
His voice darkened. "And now that I finally have the opportunity to go home and
spend some time with my wife, an excellent woman of great beauty and
charm--"
"Oh, I'm sure she is!" the attendant said, nodding
enthusiastically. "And I'm sure she'll be very happy to welcome you
home!"
"No, she will not be happy," Malik growled. "Because thanks to the
complete incompetence of the company that makes these," he waved the wires he
was still clutching, "I am going to be late! I am already late! Even if
you have the item I require, I will be even later by the time a replacement has
been installed and we can leave here and try to get a new re-entry window! Every
minute I spend here is a minute wasted, because although I am sure this is a
perfectly nice station and you are an admirable man, this station is not
my home and you, sir, are not my wife! How am I ever to
become a father if fate conspires to keep me away from my wife?!"
"Well,
sir, why don't you explain to me the precise details of your problem and we'll
see if we can get you back to your wife sooner?"
"While she's still
fertile," the smuggler snickered under his breath, pretending to read a lost
property notice.
"This is my problem," Malik told the attendant, opening
his fist to reveal two small white ceramic blocks. The hair-thin multicoloured
wires dangling from his hand all ran into one or the other of them. "When I
climbed into the wiring access ducts to investigate our difficulties-- and I
swear I will get some sort of revenge on Auda for skipping out on what is
properly his job-- I discovered that the main logic link between the aerodynamic
control surfaces and the directing computer systems had disintegrated." He
flicked pointedly at a smear of white dust on his sleeve, and continued.
"Company regulations forbid us from beginning a flight without at least one
spare for every major electronic part, and we have two of them so I thought
there would be no problem replacing it... until I saw that both of the spare
links had the same batch number as the one that failed."
"...That ceramic
doesn't look properly fused," the attendant said slowly, leaning in for a closer
look. "The surface is mottled gloss and matte... it's all supposed to be
glossy--"
"Exactly," Smiling grimly, Malik slammed the two components
onto the counter. When he lifted his hand away, there was nothing left but wires
and a pile of ceramic powder with tiny glittering bits of metal and crystal
poking out of it.
"Whoa!" The attendant puffed out his cheeks, looking
impressed. "When you guys have a component failure, you really have a
serious component failure, don't you?"
"If we had attempted
re-entry with one of those in place, I would return to my wife, all
right, as trace elements in the next rainfall! I intend to discuss this matter,
in person, with the quality control department of the subcontractors that
manufactured these items," Malik added, grinning nastily. "Now. Please
tell me that you have two, so that I do not have to fill out the seventeen pages
of forms required to justify flying without a spare."
"Well, I know we
have eight different types of logic link in stock, sir," the attendant smiled,
taking the slip of paper with the part number scrawled on it that Malik handed
him, "so you've got a good chance."
"Allah be praised!" the Manguanac
sighed, raising his eyes to the scuffed metal bulkhead above him. "Perhaps I
will actually arrive home before my wife encounters her time of the month!"
Behind him, the smuggler nearly choked trying not to laugh out loud, but managed
to turn it into a violent cough.
"Uhh... bad news, sir. We don't have
these. Sorry."
----------
"Eight hours!" Malik bellowed, stamping
back across segment E's dock towards the shuttle's personnel hatch. "Eight
hours at the very least before he can assemble and test a substitute for
that part! And then we must install it, and test it again! And I have to
do all the paperwork!"
Behind him, his shadower walked up to the
loitering man, snickering helplessly. "These guys are legit," he said
positively, grinning from ear to ear. "You can tell the boss we don't have to
worry about them. That poor schmuck is going to be spending all of his
time filling in forms and pining for his wife's charms, and I bet he's going to
make all of his friends so miserable that they won't have time to notice
anything that's a little off."
"Eight hours!" Malik's voice
drifted back to them.
Inside the WEI shuttle, Auda led several other
Manguanacs in a round of polite, quiet applause as Malik strode up to them,
breathing heavily and grinning. "I'd give that act a 9.5," he said cheerfully,
patting Malik on the back. "Perhaps you should consider an acting
career?"
"Only if Master Quatre decides to make a movie and asks me
himself," Malik laughed. "Where else but the Manguanac Corps could I act and
still get hazardous duty pay at the same time?"
* * * * *
Over the
next several hours, the Manguanacs moved freely in and out of the shuttle,
visiting several restaurants and generally acting like what they were supposed
to be; unusually well-behaved miners on holiday. Even those who normally
'cheated' slightly by following the exact wording of the Koran when it came to
alcohol-- avoiding 'fruit of the vine', i.e. some wines and beer, but still
drinking whiskey, vodka and so forth-- were properly observant for once,
politely refusing offers of drinks. The few smugglers who talked directly to
them found that they all had detailed stories of life on a mining station to
tell... and nobody noticed that they all began drifting towards very specific
locations as the station's clocks approached 10
am.
-----------
Wufei pointedly hauled his bag and laptop into the
station's communications center and sat down at the back of the room, watching
the screens that showed the approaching Preventers shuttle.
"I see you've
fixed your approach radar," he commented dryly, drumming his fingers on the arm
of his chair as the tiny dot of light inched closer to the center of the screen.
Apart from shooting uncomfortable glances his way, nobody responded, and he
snorted quietly.
In less than an hour, either this will have worked,
or I will be partially responsible for whatever harm the smugglers manage to
cause, he thought, half closing his eyes and glancing at the dock schematic
through his lashes. The symbol indicating the smugglers' ship looked just the
same as all of the others. Well... the basic plan may be mine, but it's up to
other people to execute it now.
I wish I could call Duo. He must
be worried... And I wish I could have discussed the plan with
him.
Even when I was trying so hard not to show my feelings during
the war, I preferred it when I could get his input on a plan or a mission. I
never encouraged it-- I certainly never asked him what he thought I should do!--
but sometimes he would volunteer suggestions or ideas. And I would pretend to
ignore it, but most of the time I took his advice.
I hope he
noticed.
Maybe... when this is taken care of, and I can go home...
I should talk to him about it.
Wufei continued to watch the radar
screen with a blank, neutral expression, his thoughts a very long way
away.
----------
"Are we going to get into the system in time?"
Auda asked, trying not to sound nervous. "The Preventers are going to dock in
five minutes, and we can't exactly call them and say 'We'd like to postpone the
attack because we don't know where our targets are yet'!"
"I have it all
set up and ready to go," Jamal said impatiently. "I don't want to tap into the
locater system too soon, in case the smugglers are monitoring it and notice.
Besides, we already know that most of them are in school at the
moment."
"We do want to protect them all,
Jamal!"
"And we will! Now shut up and let me work!"
"Auda, stop
distracting Jamal and come on," Trowa said, leaning in the door. "Everyone is
ready to go."
"I was just--"
"Now, Auda."
"Yeah,
Auda, listen to Master Trowa and stop bugging me," Jamal muttered quietly,
leaning forward and watching his displays intently, one finger hovering over the
'Enter' key on his keyboard. "Some of us have intellectual work to
do."
Auda was still grumbling quietly as he joined Trowa and several
Manguanacs in the corridor leading to the shuttle hatch, but then settled down.
"All right," he said quietly, running through one last weapons check and
shrugging to settle his light body armour. "Our assigned target is the station
control and communications center, to protect the people there from any
smugglers who may make it that far; but remember that some of the station
personnel may be smuggler plants. Just because we're protecting them doesn't
mean we have to trust them. Everybody got that?"
Several people
nodded, and he grinned. "Everybody ready?"
The nods were more
enthusiastic this time, and he turned to Trowa with a flourish. "Yours to
command, Master Trowa!"
----------
In the communications center,
Wufei glanced up slightly and Belle Anderson bit her thumbnail as a bored voice
crackled out of a speaker. < < Satellite B-7699, this is Preventers
shuttle M-17 on final approach-- > >
* * * * *
Quatre looked
at his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time, and sighed almost
inaudibly. "Well, they should be starting now."
Duo stopped even
pretending to eat dinner, got up and wandered over to the window, looking out
into the darkness.
"Would you like me to put your plate in the fridge for
later, Duo?" Relena asked gently. "You'll probably feel more like eating after
you find out how it all went."
"Yeah... Thanks," he said, preoccupied but
grateful for her unspoken assurance that of course he'd want to eat
later, because the news would be good.
Quatre looked down at his own
plate as Relena picked up Duo's, then grimaced wryly and put his fork down. "I
think I'll follow that advice myself..."
* * * * *
As the
Preventers' shuttle slid neatly into its assigned berth and locked its docking
clamps onto the station, Jamal hit 'Enter' and watched with satisfaction as
dozens of little lights appeared on his station map display, each indicating a
child wearing a locater beacon. Most were clustered in the station's small
school area, as expected, but eleven were not, and he quickly began tapping
keys, sending their coordinates to the closest Manguanac teams. Almost as an
afterthought, he found and blocked the smugglers' tap into the
system.
----------
"Boss, something's wrong," a woman said
urgently, pushing away from her console. "I just lost the locater
information!"
"Bad connection, or--?"
"Somebody locked me out,"
she insisted, pointing to the blinking red 'ACCESS DENIED' on her
screen.
"That Preventer," he spat angrily. "He was paying attention after
all! Well, it won't do him any good. We know he didn't get word out, and we can
take his friends in the shuttle before they know what's going on! Call the men
on the dock!"
"Already on it," another man grinned, switching on his
headset and speaking rapidly. "They're getting into position," he reported, one
hand pressing an earphone closer to his head, listening intently. "Shuttle hatch
isn't open yet... what?!"
"What is it? What's
wrong?"
"They're being shot at from behind! It's those damn
miners!"
----------
Rashid's comm clicked,
and Trowa's calm voice said < < We're moving. > > There was another
click, then silence.
< < Finally! > > Faheed transmitted,
able to break comm silence at last, and Rashid grinned as he pushed a button on
his control panel. Explosive bolts fired, and the cargo hatch was blown open,
venting its contents into space.
----------
"There's a
firefight on the dock in segment E!" one of the control room staffers
yelped, torn between horror and disbelief. "It's the miners from that WEI
shuttle, they're shooting at... at... he's a smuggler. I know him, so it's
miners against smugglers, I don't know why--"
A faint tremor vibrated
through the deck plates, and red lights started flashing on the dock schematic.
"Shit! The WEI shuttle just decompressed-- at least the cargo hold, I can't tell
if the living quarters went as well--"
"Did somebody shoot them?" Belle
asked nervously, leaning towards a screen that abruptly switched views,
displaying the feed from an external camera. "Uh... Agent Chang?"
Wufei
shook his head, watching the haze spread out from the open hatch, faintly
visible as sunlight glittered off of dust motes and flash-frozen condensation.
"So far, everything's going as planned... though it looks like somebody forgot
to put their playing cards away," he added, smiling faintly as a scatter of
larger objects tumbled into view.
----------
"Go after the kids!"
the head smuggler roared, watching the screen and clenching his fists as one
group of miners expertly shot at his men, providing cover for a second group who
charged straight from the shuttle into the main area of the station, ignoring
everyone who didn't try to stop them. His eyes narrowed as he saw a Preventer
uniform at the head of the group. "He did get word out! How the hell--
fuck!"
"Boss, the Preventers are coming out!"
"I can
see that!" The Preventers shuttle had opened its personnel hatch,
spilling out agents in light armour who easily disarmed and captured the
confused smugglers on the dock, who had only just turned around to meet the
'miners' head-on. "Get the kids, I said! If we have hostages, we can make
demands and get out of here with our skins intact!"
"I'm working on it...
I'm working..." The smuggler working the communications console abruptly swore,
ripping his headset off and slamming it down in frustration. "Those fucking
miners are all over the station, everywhere the kids are! There's a whole squad
guarding the approaches to the school, they're taking everyone out without even
breaking a sweat! We've got jack shit to negotiate with!"
"We've got one
card left to play," his boss growled, stalking towards him. "Give me that
headset!"
----------
< < I warned you what would happen if
you tried to get out of our little 'deal', > > an anonymous voice snarled
out of the speakers, blurred by static. The station vibrated slightly, and more
red lights began blinking on the dock schematic; this time, they were
accompanied by a buzzing audio alarm.
"They're firing their engines!"
wailed the same staffer who'd reported the firefight, rapidly approaching
hysteria. "They're gonna do it,
just like they said, rip the station open and
kill everyone they can--"
Beside him, another staff member was typing
quick orders into his console. "I've unlocked the station's clamps, but they've
still got theirs locked," he reported, sitting back. "If we're lucky, they'll
only decompress that dock."
"If they get the angle right, they can rip
the whole side of the station off and pop hull seams all the way to here!" the
other man screamed at him. "This station isn't big enough to have the sort of
reinforcing needed to stand up to what they're doing!"
"I hope you were
right when you said you had a way to stop this, Agent," Belle said quietly, eyes
fixed on the screen. "I-- where did they come
from?!"
----------
Faheed and Tariq skimmed just above the surface
of the station, jets blazing, and thermal blades clutched firmly in the hands of
their space Leos. They'd been chosen for this part of the mission because they
were the best out of all the Manguanacs at high-speed precision strikes, and
they proved their skill now, spinning sideways to fly between the station
and the smugglers' ship.
< < Port clamps gone, > > Tariq's
voice echoed in Rashid's helmet, followed a split second later by < <
Starboard clamps gone, > > from Faheed. The ship lurched and rose
abruptly, wobbling as its pilot tried to compensate for the sudden release, and
Rashid swung his beam rifle on-target, smiling grimly as the faint beeping from
the weapon's targeting computer turned into a constant tone. He waited just a
second more, tracking the ship as it rose higher, away from the station and the
other ships; then, he squeezed the trigger, and a beam of energy stabbed
straight through its engines, sending a scattering of molten drops of metal out
the other side.
< < All right, assholes, > > a cheerful voice
broadcasted, < < this is Preventers shuttle M-17. Secure any weapons you
have on board and surrender, or we'll shoot you next, and we won't be so
nice and precise. If we shoot you, you will blow up. --Nice work, by the
way, Manguanacs; the helping hand is much appreciated. > >
"You're
welcome," Rashid replied politely, swinging the beam rifle back over his suit's
shoulder as the other two Leos returned.
----------
"Not precisely
standard communications protocol, but it'll do," Wufei murmured, mouth twitching
slightly as he suppressed a smile. I've got to remember to tell Duo about
that line. He'll approve. He stood up and turned to Belle Anderson, nodding
his head in what was almost a shallow bow. "That part went well, at least," he
said calmly. "If you could give me access to an internal communications console,
I can hook this in--" he showed his wrist unit "--and start getting progress
reports from the other teams. In the end, we should capture enough smugglers
alive to identify any agents they have in your staff."
Most of the people
in the communications center looked happy at that thought-- even eager-- but one
man stiffened and spun towards Wufei, bringing a small gun out as he did so,
snarling, "If I'm going down, I'm taking you--"
Belle hit him in
the side of the head as hard as she could, both hands clenched together into a
double fist. The force of the inexpert blow spun her around and sent him
sprawling, gun skittering along the floor, just out of reach of his clutching
fingers. He scrambled after it and grabbed, hissing in triumph as he felt the
warm metal slide into his hand, then froze as he heard an ominous double -click-
from just above.
"Go ahead," Wufei told him coldly, glaring down at him
over the barrel of his automatic, pointed unwaveringly at the smuggler's head.
"Try it. You might actually manage to get your finger on the trigger before I
fire."
"You're right-handed," the man whispered, licking his lips and
glancing from the gun to Wufei's right arm, still resting in its sling.
Amazingly, Wufei smiled.
"As a very good friend of mine once said," he
told the smuggler, "in some things there's no point in being anything but
ambidextrous." The gun lifted a fraction, centering more precisely on the spot
between the smuggler's eyes.
With infinite care, the smuggler slowly let
go of his gun and raised his hands.
Less than a minute later, Trowa and
Auda's group of Manguanacs burst in the door to see a man lying on the floor,
being enthusiastically tied up by two other staff members, Belle Anderson
holding a gun dangling from her fingertips as if it smelled bad while she flexed
her other hand painfully, and Chang Wufei tucking his own weapon back into
concealment in his sling. Trowa raised one eyebrow at the other ex-pilot and
smiled faintly, nodding; Auda and the other Manguanacs grinned and
laughed.
"Master Wufei!" Auda called, flinging his hands out
dramatically. "It seems you have everything well in hand here, but I suppose we
should act as your protectors, anyway, until your Preventer bodyguard arrive.
Master Duo would never forgive us if we allowed any harm to come to you, after
all!"
"'Preventer bodyguard'?" Wufei asked dryly, tugging his sling
straight. "I don't remember putting anything about a 'Preventer bodyguard' for
me into the plans."
"You didn't really expect Quatre and Lady Une to let
you get away without one, did you?" Trowa smiled.
"Actually, I did,"
Wufei admitted, slightly sheepishly. "I see I need to rethink my assumptions a
little bit."
"Sir!" A small squad of Preventers ran around the corner
with Nicklaus Assink in the lead, skidding to a stop as they took in the scene.
Nicklaus blinked, then walked forward slowly, holstering his weapon as he looked
around at the bound smuggler, enthusiastic station staff, heavily armed
Manguanacs... "Well," he said calmly, coming to a halt in front of Wufei,
"I feel superfluous now."
"If you brought me a command comlink so
that I don't need to wire my wrist unit into a console, you
aren't."
Nicklaus snapped off a crisp salute, marred only by his grin,
and handed the comlink over. "Nice to see you so well, sir."
Wufei shot
him a sardonic look and activated the comlink, listening to the sporadic, brief
chatter as Preventers and Manguanacs sent reports back and forth. Waiting for a
lull, he hit the transmit button. "Yui, this is Chang. Any
problems?"
< < Not really, > > Heero's voice came back,
sounding a bit sour. < < A few minor injuries, none serious. >
>
"Judging by your tone... where did you get hit?" Wufei asked
mildly.
< < Left calf, > > Heero growled. < < Shrapnel
wound. > >
"Sorry to hear that."
< < I'm fine.
As for the smugglers, they have six dead and about fifteen with debilitating
wounds, a lot more with minor scratches and bruises. I sent McKenzie's team to
help the Manguanacs secure the school area, and I'm expecting to get a report
from her any-- > >
< < Yui, we've got a problem here, >
> Leah's voice snapped over the link. Wufei's hand clenched a little tighter
on the comlink as he heard children crying in the background.
< <
What sort of problem, McKenzie? > > Heero asked
sharply.
----------
"Nothing we can't handle," Leah said coolly,
keeping her gun extended, rock steady. Behind her, a Manguanac whisked the last
two children around a corner and out of harm's way, one still crying over a
forgotten stuffed toy. "The kids are all clear, but one of the teachers was a
smuggler plant; she's taken one of the other teachers hostage."
"Tell him
what I said!" the woman shouted, face distorted by anger and fear. The other
teacher, kneeling in front of her with his hands flat on the floor, winced as
she yanked his head up further by his hair and dug the muzzle of her tiny gun
into his temple. "Tell him what I want, or I'll start shooting pieces off of
this guy!"
"She's demanding safe passage off the station, with her
hostage," Leah informed Heero, not taking her eyes off the woman. "We haven't
changed our position on that sort of thing in the last five minutes, have
we?"
< < No. > >
"Didn't think so. I'll call you back
when this is resolved." She pushed the button to shut off the comlink and
dropped it into a pocket.
"What are you doing?! You have to keep talking
to him, pass on my demands or--"
"Try not to be any more of an idiot than
you already have been," Leah said contemptuously. "The Preventers don't give in
to terrorist demands, which is what this amounts to... admittedly, on a very
small scale since we've taken out the ship that was holding the whole station
hostage." She blinked in mock surprise at the woman's look of horror. "You
hadn't heard? They weren't waiting for you or your friends. They tried to leave,
and they were stopped. You don't have anywhere to run to any more, so why don't
you just let him go and surrender?"
"No, I... I... I've still got
him! If you do anything, I'll shoot him!"
"And then there won't be
anything stopping me from shooting you, idiot!" Leah snorted. "Think it
through, if you still have a few synapses working. You kill him, I kill
you. You harm him, I wait for a good opportunity and I still kill you.
You stand there dithering too long..." She smirked, cocking her head to the
side. "Think fast, moron."
"You bitch!" Tears of
frustration running down her face, the woman swung her gun up to aim at Leah,
finger tightening on the trigger. "See if you can still laugh at me around a
bullet--"
Leah fired, hitting her in the shoulder and knocking her
backwards, away from the hostage. The other gun fired an instant later, the
low-calibre bullet bouncing off the Preventer's body armour, leaving a slight
scar.
"McKenzie to Yui," Leah transmitted, stepping to kick the little
gun away to one side. "No more problem." Leaning forward, she looked down at the
woman, who was gasping in shock, not yet feeling the pain from her
wound.
"Normally, I wouldn't lower myself to do anything this petty," she
said conversationally, "but I hate it when people hide behind innocents and
won't come out and fight cleanly. So... Ha. Ha. Ha."
"I'm really glad
you're on my side," the male teacher said shakily, breathing
hard.
----------
Wufei let out a slow breath, closing his eyes for
just an instant as he allowed himself to relax slightly. "Report," he said
clearly, transmitting. "Are any teams still encountering active
resistance?"
< < Negative. > >
< < No, sir. >
>
< < No, Master Wufei-- er, sir! > >
< <
None, sir. > >
The responses kept coming in, all negative, and
Belle slumped into a chair, hands shaking. "Thank God," she whispered, examining
the bruise coming up on the back of her left hand with a sort of detached
interest. "It worked..."
Wufei was lifting the comlink to his mouth again
when Trowa plucked it neatly out of his hand. "She's right," the European pilot
said quietly. "It worked. Heero can handle any necessary clean up, I will call
Lady Une and report... which leaves you free to call Duo, and let him
know that you're alive and well. Now, before he worries himself sick
again."
There was only a second's hesitation before Wufei nodded
gratefully and turned to the nearest communication console.
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