"...mythical geometry
sucks..."
--------------------------
NOTE:
Okay, so
(as you'll find out) the music and pop culture of Firma (our world) bears a
strange resemblance to that of the Gundam Wing world in the late 20th and early
21st centuries. In other words, it's what you're watching and listening to now.
Why? For one thing, because if we had to make up all the quotes and songs, it
wouldn't be half as funny and would drive us insane. For another, because WE are
the gods of this world, and WE SAY SO!
----------
Somewhere in the southeastern
corner of the North American continent:
"We've got a mission," Heero
announced. "All five of us, together."
Duo whistled, raising his eyebrows
in surprise. "Whoa! Must be a biggie. What's the target?"
"There's a
large mobile doll factory in North Africa," Heero replied, turning his laptop
around so all of the pilots could see the map on the screen. "It became
operational nearly six months ago."
"Six months?" Quatre
exclaimed. "How did they keep it hidden this long?"
"OZ has been cracking
down on communications security and need-to-know, so the number of leaks and
message intercepts we've been getting has been steadily going down.
Also--"
"Guess they got tired of us busting their factories before they
could get them finished, huh?" Duo grinned.
"Also," Heero
continued, glaring, "they haven't tried to move any of the dolls out of the
factory. They've been storing them onsite, building up the numbers until they
have enough to swarm us under."
There was a short pause.
"So...?"
Duo prompted. "Do they have enough?"
"No."
"Oh
good!"
"Not quite," Heero amended, deadpan.
"Uh-oh. I don't like
the sound of that..."
"How much 'not quite' are we talking about?" Wufei
interrupted impatiently. "And how reliable is this information? If the factory
has been kept secret from us for six months, I for one doubt that we've
miraculously obtained perfect intelligence on it in the nick of
time!"
"Orders are orders," Trowa said blandly.
"As if you've ever
hesitated to disobey orders that you thought were stupid," Wufei huffed, folding
his arms.
"It may be a trap, certainly," Quatre put in, "but can we
afford not to act on this information?"
"According to the data we
have, there's only a two week window of opportunity before they'll have
constructed enough dolls to give them a seventy-five percent chance of
destroying two or three of our Gundams in a pitched battle," Heero said flatly.
"Our orders are to obtain transportation, get to the factory and take it out.
I say we go."
"Yeah, what the hell. It's not like we've got
anything better to do," Duo said, balancing his chair on its two back legs.
"Damned if we do, double damned if we don't!"
Trowa nodded; Quatre smiled
and said, "I'm in."
Everyone looked at Wufei.
"Fine!" he snapped,
throwing his hands in the air. "If you four are so determined to commit suicide,
I might as well join you. I certainly don't intend to be left behind to defend
the world alone!"
Duo blinked uncertainly, wobbling precariously.
"Wufei... Did you just make a joke?"
The Chinese boy stared haughtily
down his nose, raised an eyebrow a millimetre and said, "Yes."
The
wobbling chair went over backwards as Duo collapsed in laughter. He was saved
from a potential concussion by Heero, who caught it on the way down and heaved
it back upright.
"Baka. I've plotted out a route for us to take,
assuming we steal transport planes; it avoids known OZ bases and sensor
installations, anything that might detect us coming in."
"Of course,"
Trowa muttered, leaning closer to inspect the track Heero brought up on the map.
"We're going to need surprise on this one."
"Seems fine to me,"
Wufei said, frowning slightly. "Except... why are you giving this base such a
wide berth?"
Heero looked where Wufei was pointing and shook his head.
"It's not the base; it's the OZ fleet that's on patrol
there."
"Ah. I have no objections, then."
Duo looked
uncomfortable. "Um... how about we go around here, like this. Loop further
south?"
"There are bases here and here," Heero said, highlighting them.
"It's too much of a risk."
"Okay... what about north instead, like
this?"
"There's a cluster of spy satellites that pass over that area
regularly. There isn't enough of a gap in their coverage for us to get through
undetected."
"Really north, then, over the North
Pole!"
"We'd run out of fuel, Duo, or do you think we could stop
off at one of OZ's arctic bases and borrow a few gallons?"
"Okay, then,
how about--"
"DUO!" Heero yelled, exasperated. "This is the optimum
route! What is your problem with it?!"
"Mrmerbrmbl," Duo mumbled
under his breath, looking embarrassed.
"What?"
"That bit, okay?"
he said defiantly, pointing at a patch of ocean. "That is my problem. The
bit where it goes through the Bermuda
Triangle!"
*blink*blink*
"Duo... that's a myth," Quatre said
gently.
"Oh! Sure! Ask the people who've disappeared there, they'll tell
you it's not a myth!"
"Duo, be reasonable," the blond insisted. "You're
getting upset over nothing, really!"
"A bad feeling like the one I have
now is not nothing," Duo said stubbornly. "I do not want to go
through the Bermuda Triangle!"
"Planes and ships have accidents and
disappear everywhere," Wufei pointed out. "There's no scientific reason
to believe in mysterious regions--"
"Yeah, well, science can't explain
everything! Scientists proved that it was aerodynamically impossible for
bumblebees to fly, but I don't see the little buzzers walking everywhere,
do you?"
"The flaw in that proof was found over two hundred years
ago, Duo," Wufei said in a slightly pained voice, rubbing his
forehead.
"...Oh. Well, that's not my point! My point is that one
hell of a lot of those planes and ships disappeared
there!"
"Coincidence," Trowa offered.
"Statistical
clustering," Heero corrected; the unibanged boy shrugged.
"Same thing,"
he muttered.
"But--"
"Duo, this is the optimum route and unless
you can come up with a logical reason to change it, it's the route we're
taking! Alright?" Heero said sharply.
"Fine. Do what you like," Duo said
sourly, getting up and walking out.
The other four pilots looked at each
other with varying expressions of surprise and concern.
"That's
really not like Duo," Quatre said, eventually.
"I'll go talk to
him," Wufei muttered, pushing away from the
table.
----------
Wufei found Duo in the hangar, packing his
personal gear into Deathscythe's storage lockers.
"Duo... I'm pretty sure
you've flown through that area before," he said quietly. "I know I have. What's
so bad about this time?"
Duo paused for a moment, head and shoulders
inside a compartment; then he backed out and closed it slowly.
"I don't
know," he said softly, turning around to look at his friend. "I don't
know! I have flown through there before," he admitted, pushing his
bangs back from his face, "and it didn't bother me a bit. I even remember
thinking 'Bermuda Triangle, cool! Maybe something weird will happen...' but
nothing did. But this time, I... I have a really bad feeling about
this."
* * * * *
Sitting in the co-pilot's seat of the transport
plane carrying Heavyarms and Sandrock, Quatre looked sideways at
Trowa.
"Duo's really taking this badly, isn't he?"
"Hn." Trowa
flicked a glance at the radio, which under normal circumstances would
have been receiving a steady stream of chatter from Duo's plane. "It's quiet,"
he said, lips curling in a faint smile. "Too quiet."
The blond Arabian
giggled, then sobered. "Do you think he'll get over his, ah,
concerns?"
"He'll be fine once we're through the Triangle and nothing's
happened."
"... I'm sure you're right."
-- -- --
Over in
the second plane, Wufei glared at his silent radio. I should have insisted on
Duo flying with me, he thought angrily, and flicked the 'TRANSMIT'
switch. "Duo? Everything all right over there?"
There was a long pause,
and then Heero's voice answered. < < We're fine. > >
Oh,
that's so reassuring. "Roger that."
-- -- --
Settling
back in his seat, Heero shot a sharp look sideways. Duo was sitting in the
co-pilot's seat, arms wrapped tightly around his ribcage as if he was hugging
himself, staring straight through the windshield at a couple of puffy clouds in
the distance.
I'd lean over and slap him out of it, if it weren't for
the fact that he isn't sulking, Heero thought, beginning to feel seriously
concerned. He's honestly frightened.
"Duo?" he asked
tentatively.
"Just fly this damned thing," Duo said coldly, not
moving.
They flew on in silence.
Five minutes later the fog began
to roll in.
The radio crackled. < < Heero? > > Quatre said,
voice elaborately casual. < < I don't remember fog being listed in the
weather report. > >
"It wasn't."
< < Ah. Just
checking. > >
"Stay close," Heero ordered, hands tightening on the
controls. "It's getting thicker."
< < We can see that, Yui,
> > Wufei said sourly.
The fog seemed to curdle around the three
planes, thickening and darkening with alarming speed, until the pilots could no
longer see beyond their own wing tips.
<< We're going to
have to increase separation, > > Wufei said tensely. < <
Radar is fine for avoiding big lumps of ground, or seeing planes coming at a
distance, but it is not good enough for keeping formation this tightly! I
could fly right up your tailpipe and you'd never see it coming. >
>
< < Maybe we can climb above it, > > Trowa replied. <
< I'm going up. Give me thirty seconds to get above you before you follow.
> >
Heero was just opening his mouth to admit defeat -- 'who else
thinks we should turn around?' was on the tip of his tongue -- when a blast of
static erupted from the radio and all the instruments went crazy.
-- --
--
"Shit!" Trowa hissed under his breath, suddenly fighting the
controls as the plane dropped its flaps and landing gear without any such
instructions from him. Quatre watched, wide eyed, as digital readouts
flickered, needles swerved over to one side or another of the dials, and the
compass needle made lazy circles; then he swayed and clapped a hand over his
mouth as a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him.
-- -- --
Wufei
swore in Chinese as his plane's engines all hiccupped, stuttering and
coughing as if they were running out of fuel. Some instinct made him slam the
controls forward, going into a steep dive, and he paled as one of the other
planes appeared out of the fog and zoomed past, just above.
-- --
--
The engines died, the cabin lights went out, and the controls abruptly
went slack in Heero's hands.
"Fuck!" He was vaguely aware of a sudden
pain in his thigh as he flipped switches and stabbed at buttons, but it was
far less important than trying to restart the engines. Total
electrical failure, no pressure in the hydraulics-- I can't even do a controlled
glide!
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the nose of the plane tipped
downwards.
"Duo, we're going down," Heero said tersely. "Go in the back
and get into Deathscythe." We should be alright-- if the Gundams haven't been
affected by whatever this is!
Duo didn't move.
"Duo? Get to
Deathscythe now! I can't hold the damn plane up by thinking at
it!" Still frantically trying to restart the engines, Heero took his eyes away
from the control panel long enough to shoot a glance at the braided
pilot.
Duo was rigid and hyperventilating, staring wide-eyed out through
the windshield. As Heero stared at him, he felt the plane's nose drop a couple
more degrees, slowly inching towards a fatal dive.
Oh, shit.
He's not going to snap out of it in time-- Duo does not panic, this
shouldn't be happening--
What the hell am I thinking? NONE
of this should be happening!
I'm going to have to drag him back to
the cargo hold and put him in Deathscythe myself. But I'll have to leave the
controls... ha! As if it still makes a difference!
Heero reached for
the buckle of his seat harness and the engines purred back to life as if nothing
had happened. A couple of seconds later, the lights came back on; the radio
crackled with static for a moment, then was silent.
-- -- --
Wufei
drew in a shuddering breath, hands relaxing from their white-knuckled grip on
the controls as the roaring static on the radio cut off and the engines stopped
coughing. Swallowing, he gently pulled back on the yoke and gained a little
altitude. Not much; just enough so that the highest waves were no longer
throwing spray onto the windshield.
"Well," he muttered, then cleared his
throat and tried to pretend that his voice hadn't cracked slightly. "That was...
interesting."
The radio crackled to life as he was reaching for the
switch. < < Wufei, Trowa. Check in. What's your status? >
>
"Nearly very wet," Wufei said acidly, feeling almost giddy with
relief. If Heero's alright, then Duo... "One of you two almost hit me and
I had to dive. Then I couldn't go up again, because I was having engine
trouble. I think I almost hit a dolphin," he added sarcastically.
<
< Sorry about that, > > Trowa's voice cut in. < < We're fine...
or we will be, once Quatre stops throwing up. > >
-- --
--
Trowa flicked the switch to cut transmission, then gently reached over
and rubbed the back of Quatre's neck. "Finished?"
"No," the blond pilot
moaned, hunched over an airsickness bag. "Ooooh... Allah save me, is this what
motion sickness is like?"
"Can't tell you," Trowa replied laconically,
transferring his hand to Quatre's back. "Never experienced it
myself."
"Me neither. Ugh..." Quatre spat a couple of times, trying to
rid his mouth of the taste, then slowly pushed himself upright. "That was
weird..."
"No kidding. Especially since this--" Trowa tapped the
compass dial "--isn't magnetic. It works on gyros. It shouldn't have spun like
that unless the whole plane was spinning."
"And it
wasn't?"
"Right."
"I'll take your word for it. It felt like
it was spinning to me..." Quatre swallowed determinedly and took a firmer
grip on his sickbag.
Trowa was opening his mouth to reply when Heero's
voice came over the radio. < < Duo? > >
Pause.
<
< Duo, you can let go now. > >
Pause.
< < Duo, I
need my leg... > >
Quatre and Trowa blinked at each
other.
"Heero forgot to switch his transmitter off?" Quatre
queried.
"Seems like it."
< < Duo, are you alright? >
> Wufei added, sounding concerned. There was a pause, then Heero answered,
voice dry.
< < Duo's fine, but my leg may never be the same again.
> >
< < ...Uh-huh. > >
"I think Duo's rubbing
off on those two," Trowa mused, smirking. "They're developing senses of humour.
Are you feeling better?"
"Almost. I just..." Quatre frowned, rubbing his
chest. "I keep feeling as if something's not right. As if something's missing...
or something new is there, and I just can't pin down what."
* * *
* *
Somewhere, a teenaged girl looked up, blinking behind smudged
glasses. "I feel a disturbance in the Force," she muttered, looking up and
around. "Obi-Wan? Is that you?"
A moment's pause, then she shrugged and
pushed her hands back into the pockets of her bathrobe. "Where was I? ...Ah,
yes. Coffee! The bally old mess has got to be around here somewhere,
what?"
* * * * *
Heero sighed, switching the transmitter off. Duo
had finally reacted, slowly turning to look at his left hand, which was clamped
onto Heero's thigh with a vise-like grip. Unfortunately, he wasn't doing
anything about unclamping it. Finally, Heero switched over to autopilot
and pried Duo's hand loose, finger by finger.
"I told you so," Duo
whispered, so softly that Heero almost couldn't hear him.
"...Fair
enough. You did. But we're all still here, Duo. Whatever that was, it's
gone, and nobody vanished."
"I still have a really bad feeling,
Heero," Duo said quietly, starting to shake.
< < The fog is
clearing, > > Trowa reported.
< < Good, > >
Wufei snapped. < < I'm staying low until it's gone; if that... effect...
hits again, I want to be able to put this hunk of junk down in a nice gentle
pancake landing, not dive into the water at a fifty-degree angle the way I
nearly did last time! > > He paused, then continued in a softer voice.
< < Duo, if you ever again want to change a route to avoid a mythical
geometric figure, I'm siding with you. > >
"Too late," Duo
whispered, huddling into his seat.
----------
Half an hour later,
Wufei called the other planes.
"Heero? Trowa? I've been monitoring local
radio traffic, and... hm. Switch to channel 57 and tell me what you
think."
The calm male voice he was listening to continued. < <
...formal invitation for Glacis to take up full membership in the OZ Alliance
was extended today, in an official statement by the Aotearoan Ruling Princess,
the Theran Emperor, and the Vaterean Matriarch. Glacis's response has not yet
been released, but the general consensus among political observers is that they
will politely refuse, again. > >
< < In other news,
Theodorian warships were sighted near the northern islands of Dai-Nippon... >
>
< < It's got to be a code, > > Quatre said, sounding
confused. < < I mean... 'OZ alliance'? 'Glacis'? >
>
"It's a lot more imaginative than OZ's usual codes, then," Wufei
commented. "'Dai-Nippon' means Japan, doesn't it?"
< < Not...
exactly, > > Heero said slowly. < < It's 'Dai-Nihon', or just
'Nihon'. 'Nippon' is a foreign mispronunciation, and it fell out of use about 50
A.C. > >
< < If it's a code, who are the people it mentions?
> > Trowa asked. < < The Emperor, and the Matriarch, and the
Ao-whatever Princess? > >
< < Treize and Une? > >
Quatre offered, tentatively.
< < The names don't have to mean
anything, > > Heero pointed out. < < They could be camouflage.
Trimmings. 'Politely refuse' could be a code-phrase, meaning... whatever this
week's codebook says it means. > >
"If that's it, why would they
make the camouflage message so insanely meaningless? Why not something that
would sound like a normal news item?" Wufei asked, frustrated. "Hidden
code-phrases are supposed to be hidden in something innocuous. This is
positively screaming for attention!"
< < We can work out what it
means later, > > Heero said. < < Let's just get this mission over
with, first. We're almost at the landing zone. >
>
----------
They put the planes down on the biggest area of
flat ground they could find, and draped camouflage netting across them. They
were the best way back out of the area, after all, but wouldn't be of any use if
an OZ patrol found them first.
Duo seemed to have recovered from his
funk... partially, at least. He was moving around, and unloaded Deathscythe
himself, but his expression was closed off, strained, and he was ominously
silent.
"Are you all right?" Quatre asked, worried.
"I'm fine,"
Duo replied flatly, not looking at him.
"...If you say so, Duo." He's
not fine, Quatre thought unhappily, walking away, but I can't
exactly say 'No, you're not'! And he certainly has reason to be
upset...
Wufei collared Heero on the other side of his plane, out of
Duo's sight. "Is he all right for this mission?"
Heero shrugged,
grimacing. "Your guess is as good as mine, but do you really want to leave him
behind? He wouldn't take it well. Besides, we can't leave him out of
this! If we go up against the numbers we expect with only four Gundams, we have
a damn good chance of getting slaughtered." He snorted softly, almost a
humourless laugh. "You didn't want to be left to defend the world alone;
I doubt Duo would like it."
Wufei sighed, running his hands back over his
hair and tugging at his short ponytail. "We'll just have to keep an eye on him,
then, and be ready to bail him out if he needs
it."
----------
They had flown around the target to reach a
landing area that wasn't right next to a small town, so they were approaching
the OZ factory from the east. After nearly half an hour of travel through sand
dunes and over rocky ground, without Duo's normal comments and complaints ("I'm
boooooored! When are they gonna find us, so we can break something?"
would be typical) over their scrambled personal com channels, the other four
pilots were wound tighter than clockwork.
I never realised how much
his chatter relaxed me, Heero thought wryly, flexing a hand that was
developing cramps from his too-tight grip on the controls. I knew I missed it
when we were on separate missions, but...
Should I say
something?
Heero was reaching for the com when Quatre spoke up. <
< Um... guys? Something's coming. > >
Quickly checking his own
instruments, Heero frowned. "I'm not getting anything on Wing's
systems."
< < Nothing on mine, > > Wufei
confirmed.
< < No, it's not on the sensors, > > Quatre said
unhappily. < < I can feel it. It's not nice... and it's not happy,
either. > > There was a pause, and he continued in a defensive voice. <
< I know it sounds stupid, but-- > >
"After Duo's 'bad feeling'
and what happened in the fog, I'm listening," Heero assured him. Quatre's
always had 'feelings', but he's never relied on them for tactical information
before. If it's strong enough for him to even mention it, his head's probably
ringing like an alarm clock! "Where is it?"
< < Coming from in
front. I'm not sure of distance, but-- > >
< < The world is a
cold and lonely place, > > a flat, unemotional female voice said over the
com. < < Let's warm it up. > >
On top of a slight rise
just ahead, the air rippled like heat waves; then the curved blade of a
black thermal scythe seemed to rip it apart, and a looming black Gundam
stepped out of cloak.
< < Jesus H. CHRIST! > > Duo screeched,
barely getting his own scythe up in time to block the first blow. Music blasted
out over the new Gundam's external speakers, and four more swooped up over the
rise as if that had been a signal.
'Crawling in my skin
These
wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is
real...'
----------
Wufei swore viciously as he lashed out at
his opponent and was parried. "Gundams!" he yelled. "They weren't building
dolls, they were building Gundams!"
< < They look just like
ours! > > Quatre blurted out. Sandrock and a black-and-gold newcomer
warily circled each other, shotels out and shimmering hot.
< < What
are you talking about, chaps? > > a British-accented voice drawled.
< < Your Gundams look like ours, not the other way around.
We were here first, after all! > >
"They're women!" Wufei
exclaimed, sounding mortally offended.
< < No! Really? > > a
new voice cut in, and a com window opened up in one of Wufei's screens as
somebody switched to video transmission. A brown-haired girl with a plait winked
at him, then pulled the neck of her T-shirt out with one hand and peered down
it. < < AAAA! He's right! I've got TITS! > > she howled, looking
horrified.
The Wing-like Gundam facing off against Heero patted at its
metal chest with its free hand, making a loud clanging noise. < < I
don't have any, > > a male voice grumbled. A com window opened, showing a
boy with short hair and glasses.
< < You've got something
else to play with, Dan honey, > > the braided girl said soothingly;
then she grinned and flicked her right hand, and her Gundam lashed out at
Nataku, proving that it, too, had a telescoping right arm.
< < Hn,
> > Heero snorted.
< < Hn? Hn? What are you grunting about?
> > the strange boy -- Dan? -- said. < < Oh yuck. Speaking of
something to play with... you aren't wanking in your COCKpit, are you? >
>
< < This from the man who called his Gundam
'Starthrasher', > > the British girl's voice called
cheerfully.
< < Love you too babe, you can play with it later, >
> came the retort.
Heavyarms and its black-and-red double were
fighting silently, too close to use their giant Gatlings; they'd both dropped
them and were grappling hand-to-hand.
< < Can we finish this fight
some time today, people? > > the flat-voiced girl said as another
com window opened, showing her to be auburn-haired and expressionless. < <
I have an appointment with the shrink this afternoon. > >
< <
Are they all nuts? > > Heero muttered.
< < You could
say that. > >
< < Yes. > >
< < Hn. >
>
< < Fair cop, chaps! > >
< < Yup! And proud
of it! > >
------------------------------
end 'Warped
Mirrors' chapter 2
------------------------------
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