“I think I knew, but I
forgot”
---------------
Two days later, the air
conditioning was still down, the pilots were still camping out on top of their
barracks, Asuka had cleaned out the base’s ice machines for the fourth time, and
General Petrenkovich had declared that no more Free Fire Days were allowed for
at least a week.
“Still bored,” Christy muttered, leaning back on the
parapet. “It’s no fun people-watching if I can’t shoot ‘em.”
“Do you
think he’d let us make an exception for Valeri?” Jay asked hopefully, peering
through her binoculars.
“He’d better, because I’m sure as heck
making an exception for Valeri,” Mel grinned. “Let me know if he shows up, will
you?”
“No sightings of Valeri yet... but isn’t that Sergei?” Dan asked,
pointing.
Duo blinked. “Why do I know that name?”
Christy snorted.
“He’s Trei’s cousin, and my stalker. Don’t try to ruin my mood, Dan. I’m too
comfortable to pound you properly.”
“No, I’m serious,” he
insisted.
“Not to burst your bubble, Christy old chum, but he does appear
to be right,” Jay announced. “We have a confirmed sighting of Sergei Kushrenada,
trotting into the admin building, looking like a man on a mission.”
Duo
rolled to the parapet and snitched Jay’s binoculars. “The guy with sandy blond
hair? Damn, Christy, you never said he was a looker! Somebody that fine
is interested in you and you’re letting him get away?”
“Letting him get
away, hell, I’m fending him off! Hide me,” Christy hissed, flattening herself
onto the roof. “No, on second thought, that’s only a temporary solution. Just
kill me.”
“Okay,” Mel yawned, pulling a pistol out of the back of
her shorts and shooting Christy three times.
*phut phut
phut!*
“Gee. Thanks.” Christy snarled, looking down at the pastel blue
paint splattered all over her t-shirt and exposed stomach. “You are so
dead if this doesn’t wash out.”
“Water-based paint,” Mel assured her,
snickering. “I was going to use it on Valeri if he showed up.”
“I thought
you usually got Valeri with indelible dye?” Trowa asked lazily, propped up on
one elbow and tracing designs on Quatre’s back.
“Yep,” Mel grinned. “It’s
gotten to the point where he just throws the uniforms out without even trying to
get them cleaned. I figure it’ll be funny if I let him throw away three or four
perfectly good sets of clothes before I tell him he doesn’t have
to.”
“You are an evil woman,” Wufei growled, eyes closed.
“I try,”
she told him. “Hey, there goes Sergei again. Looks like he’s leaving without
looking for you, Christy.”
“Huh,” Christy said, looking disappointed for
a moment. “Thank the gods for small favours. I think I’ll just stay down here
for a while in case he comes back...”
< < Pilot 2, report to the
General’s office. Pilot 2, please report to General Petrenkovich’s office. >
>
“...or then again I could wander out into the open where he can see
me.”
“Good luck!” Jay chirped, waving
bye-bye.
----------
Fifteen minutes later, Christy stamped back up
the stairs to the roof, clutching a large, rolled-up document in her cast-free
hand and swearing viciously under her breath.
“Eeek,” Duo yawned, peering
over his sunglasses at her. “She doesn’t look happy. Should we
hide?”
“Too late,” Dan muttered, surreptitiously leaning back over the
banana lounge so that a trickle of Asuka’s ice water ran over his forehead and
through his hair. “I think she sees us.”
Mel looked at the gold ribbon
and broken black wax seal dangling from the document, and started snickering
again.
“What’s the matter?” Quatre asked.
“I have to go be the
bloody Pharaoh,” Christy snarled, waving the scroll at him. Part of it unrolled,
showing elaborate hieroglyphs and gilding. “Stupid Alliance
anniversary.”
Mel kept snickering. Everyone else just looked at
Christy.
“You have to go be what?” Asuka asked, opening his eyes
to glare, then casually whacked Dan in the back of the head. “Go get your own,
Gaul.”
“Phaaaaa-raoh,” Christy repeated, drawing it out. “You know. Ruler
of Ta-Resu-Meht. Queen-type person. The dude in charge. It says so right here.”
She held the papyrus up and started reading from it. “‘Homage to thee, O
glorious one, beloved of the Gods, ruler of high and low, representative of the
Gods in the world above’--”
“Hold on!” Dan objected, rubbing the back of
his head and shooting a glare sideways at Asuka. “The Pharaoh of Ta-Resu-Meht is
some tattooed chick called Toot-something.”
“I’m getting to that,”
Christy said impatiently, unrolling a bit more. “Damn, these things go on
forever... blah blah blah... here it is. ‘Shed thy radiance upon us, O Pharaoh,
glorious Tutankanep. Life! Prosperity! Health!’” She snorted and dropped the
scroll, dusting her hand off on her boxers. “I swear, the first two feet of an
official papyrus is always the homage bit, and the gilt always comes off on your
fingers... Tutankanep is my reign name. It’d sound a bit funny if I got
announced as ‘Light of the Sun, She Who Brings the Yor into Flood, Beloved of
the Gods, Pharaoh, Christina!’ It doesn’t really go, does
it?”
“Not really,” Trowa agreed calmly.
“‘Yor’?” Duo asked
quizzically. “What’s that?”
“...It’s the ancient Egyptian name for the
Nile,” Quatre said slowly, staring up at the Theran pilot-slash-Pharaoh with
huge eyes. “Seriously? You really are a Pharaoh?”
“The Pharaoh.
Unfortunately, yes,” Christy grumbled, sitting down. “My mother was Neferhotep’s
heir, and I’m her only child, so now I’m stuck with it. I keep trying to give it
to my cousin, Mernetefnut-- he’s my Vizier-- but he won’t take it. ‘Beloved
Pharaoh, I am not worthy. Besides, my dear, I don’t want it’,” she quoted in a
stilted voice.
“Did anyone else know about this?” Dan asked, looking
around. “I didn’t know about this...”
“I knew!” Mel
grinned.
“I think I knew, but I forgot,” Jay said thoughtfully,
scratching her head.
“Well, it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything,”
Christy muttered. “As long as I’m underage, I only have to show up there once
every two or three months... And, Mel? I wouldn’t laugh too soon if I were you.
One of your Maoris was going in as I was coming out, and he had a nice little
courier pouch.”
“Bugger,” Mel winced, losing her smile. “If I’m lucky,
it’s just another nagging letter from my Aunt Ngaire. ‘Come home! Behave like a
proper princess! Get married to a nice full-blooded Maori boy, so your children
can inherit if anything happens to Hohepa! Act responsibly for once in your
life!’”
“I take it that she doesn’t know you’re a Gundam pilot,” Heero
snorted.
“Damn straight she doesn’t. She’s got way too many doubtful
cronies and toadies to be told anything important.”
< < Pilots 4
and 5, report to the General’s office. Pilots 4 and 5, please report to General
Petrenkovich’s office. > >
“What do you think the chances are of
this not being a summons to the damned Alliance anniversary shindig?” Mel
asked plaintively, standing up.
Jay concentrated for a moment, then
beamed at her. “Look at it this way... at least you get to play
dress-up!”
“In other words, no chance. I don’t like playing
dress-up,” Mel grumbled. “Well, yes, I do, but not in front of my aunt... it
makes her nastier. Ah, well, I’ll take the express route downstairs; maybe I’ll
break an ankle and have to stay in sick bay.” As Jay headed for the stairs, Mel
slouched to the parapet and stepped off.
“Any broken bones?” Christy
called after her.
“No,” she called back gloomily. “One-storey buildings
just don’t do it for me any more.”
“Heero, she’s getting more like you
every day,” Duo chuckled. “Jumping off buildings, regarding social events as a
fate worse than death... Next she’ll be self-destructing as much as Christy
apparently does!”
“I heard that,” Christy said calmly. “Just wait until
you see what you guys have to dress up in.”
“Us?” Wufei asked
suspiciously.
“Well, we are going to need attendants,” Christy
pointed out, “and things are a lot simpler if we have ones we know we can trust
and who know our ‘secret identities’ as Gundam pilots. We won’t have to watch
our mouths in front of you, and you’ll know what sort of trouble to keep your
eyes open for.”
“Christy,” Quatre cut in, frowning slightly, “how can you
be Pharaoh and a Theran princess?”
“Layered imperial
structure.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Christy waved her hand vaguely,
incidentally swiping Quatre’s bottle of sunscreen. “The Theran Empire has little
subordinate empires and kingdoms in it. Ta-Resu-Meht is one of them, ruling over
the Quabalic sheiks and minor princes. All the ruling lines marry back and forth
to increase Imperial stability... so, a lot of the subordinate rulers are also
Theran princes and princesses. Most of them, actually, though a lot are linked
to cadet branches of the family and aren’t actually in the line of
succession.”
“I see,” Quatre nodded, plucking the bottle out of her hand
and passing it to Trowa.
“Technically, on my father’s side of the family,
I’m in the line of succession for the Imperial throne. A long way down, but
still in the direct line. On my mother’s side, I’m smack dab in the bullseye.”
Christy sighed despondently and quietly stole Heero’s bottle of sunscreen
instead.
Jay bounded up the stairs, brandishing a parchment over her
head. “Tally-ho, chaps, and away we go! Dibs on Mort and Luke!”
“Not on
your life!” Christy yelped, jolting upright. “I want Deathboy and
Blondie!”
“Why?”
“‘Cause they’ll look great in pectoral collars
and kilts, that’s why! Besides, I’m the Pharaoh so I’m hosting this shindig -- I
should get what I want.”
“Ooo... they would look good, wouldn’t they?”
Jay went vague for a moment, smiling dazedly at her mental picture, then snapped
back into focus. “Yes, well, they’ll look damn good in Vaterean gear, wot, and I
have a morally superior reason for wanting them. They’re both nice to
me!”
“We could always pull names out of a hat, you know,” Mel said,
trudging morosely up the stairs. A thick embossed envelope was wadded up and
sticking out of one of her pockets. “Especially since I want Quatre,
too.”
“Well, I just decided who I want to go with,” Quatre
muttered under his breath to Trowa. “At least she uses my real name
occasionally!”
“Why do you want Golden Boy?” Jay asked
suspiciously.
“He and Woofers,” Mel said, balancing on the parapet.
“Think of the contrast value.”
Jay looked thoughtful, but Christy just
shrugged. “Let’s draw names,” she suggested, stretching out on her back. “It’s
either that or clone him.”
Dan leaned on the banana lounge, glaring
half-heartedly at the three female pilots. “Seven of us and three of you, that
makes two attendants each and one left over... so, does whoever doesn’t get
picked get to stay out of this?”
“Nope,” Christy said smugly. “Pharaoh
gets three attendants. You’re all doomed.”
“Yeah, if we can’t get out of
it, neither can you,” Mel told him, swinging herself over to stand on her hands.
“Misery loves company.”
“When is this little sock hop?” Duo asked dryly,
propping himself up on his elbows.
“The function is in a week,” Jay said,
scribbling names on pieces of paper, “which means we’ll have to leave two or
three days from now.”
“They didn’t want to give you much notice, did
they?” Asuka sneered.
“Hell, no!” Mel agreed, grinning upside down. “They
know us. They’ve probably told Pet to make sure we can’t fabricate a mission
before we fly out of here.”
“Aren’t your ‘secret identities’ going to be
in danger if you blow off an official function?” Wufei asked sarcastically,
rather annoyed by the ‘Woofers’ comment.
“Not mine! My public persona is
a bit of a delinquent,” she sighed. “It’d be completely in character for me to
wriggle out of this somehow. Unfortunately, I can’t.”
“Why not?” Jay
asked curiously, looking around for something to draw names out of. “...Oh, I
see. Bit of a handicap, what?”
“What?” Christy asked. “Scared we’ll come
after you and drag you back to suffer with us? ‘Cause we will, you
know.”
“No,” Mel said, lowering herself until her head touched the
parapet, then collapsing to lie on it. “My aunt Whina asked me nicely not
to.”
“Ahhhh.” Half of the listening pilots nodded
understandingly.
“Anyway, Aunt Whina can’t go, my mother has commitments
too, and my cousin Hohepa is only twelve. That means it’s either me or my Aunt
Ngaire, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let Aunt Ngaire represent
Aotearoa!” Mel crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue and made graphic retching
noises.
“Screw it,” Christy said suddenly. “If we’ve got to do this,
let’s have fun with it. For one thing, no air conditioning makes hanging around
here much less attractive; for another, I’m going to have to be out of the cast,
which means Pet will bully Dot into turning the bone-fusing thingamajigger up to
full for once, ha! I know a couple of great clubs in Waset; we can go dancing
before we get stuck with fittings and rehearsals and all that shit.”
“I
think that’s an absolutely spiffy idea!” Jay said delightedly. “Now, we
just have to pick escorts. Here, Trowa-long-legs, kneel up, would
you?”
Raising one eyebrow, he did; then his eyes widened in surprise as
Jay immediately stuffed her handful of paper scraps into the back pocket of his
baggy shorts. “Drawing time!” she announced, dusting off her hands. “You first,
Christy.”
Quatre made an indignant noise as Christy reached into the
pocket, and Trowa chuckled. “At least it’s not the front pocket,” he said
wryly. “Or just the front.”
“I say, I didn’t think of that,” Jay said
wistfully. “Bother!” Then she winked at Trowa and dove for her own piece of
paper.
Christy ended up with Duo, Quatre and Dan, and gloated quietly for
a while about getting her two first choices. Jay sulked until she realised how
good Heero and Trowa would look in Vaterean formal garb, and Mel was reasonably
pleased with getting Asuka and Wufei.
“This could be good,” she mused,
looking at them speculatively. “You two are sort of a match... you can both do
poker faces in a very threatening way, you both move like warriors, that sort of
thing. And it’ll really tick off Aunt Ngaire when she sees that you couldn’t get
much farther from Maori.”
“You seem to dedicate a lot of thought to how
best to annoy your aunt,” Wufei pointed out.
“Why not? She’s dedicated a
lot of her life to regarding me as not much better than a bug. Or a Pakeha,
which to her is the same thing.”
“Pakeha?”
“‘White eyes’.
Caucasian people. Only someone who has at least one-third Maori blood can
legally rule Aotearoa, and I’ve only one-quarter, so...” Mel shrugged. “Ngaire
conveniently ignores the fact that she’s half Pakeha herself.”
“So it’s
going to really upset her that your other aunt has asked you to represent
your country, not her?” Wufei queried.
“Got it in one,” she grinned.
“She’ll be there too, as my advisor.”
“Joy. What happens if I have to
defend you from her?”
“If she attacks me, I take your spear and
defend myself.”
He snorted. “I can live with that.”
Asuka snored
quietly on the banana lounge.
“Ah... I nearly forgot,” Dan muttered, then
leaned over and whacked Mel. “That’s for not telling us that Christy is
the Pharaoh.”
“OW! Jeez, Dan, it wasn’t my business to tell you!” she
yelped. “You wouldn’t appreciate it if I told people your secrets--
assuming I knew any of them, which I don’t.”
“Mel, Jay, remember the Fire
and Brimstone Club?” Christy called. “The one I took you to about three months
ago? Let’s go there. We’ll have to take our respective bodyguards shopping for
outfits, first.”
“Hey, I have clubbing gear!” Duo said
indignantly.
“Goth, leather and lace clubbing
gear?”
“Nnnnno.”
“Actually, anything sexy or fairly outlandish
will get you in there, but Goth is preferred,” Christy admitted. “I’m definitely
going to have to take His Blondness shopping and I haven’t seen Dan in anything
that would do, so you might as well come along. My treat, since I still have
that military pay account to play with.”
“Actually, I might have
something appropriate,” Dan mused, distracted from whapping Mel again.
“I
know I have something perfect,” Mel said, sliding out of his reach, “and
it’s going to be fun getting stuff for you guys... though we might have to trank
Asuka to get him into it.”
“Why do you assume we’re going to be going,
just because you want to?” Heero asked coldly, glancing sideways at Jay
as she visibly started mentally measuring him for new clothes.
“Because
we’re going to be walking our public personas around town, and our public
personas have bodyguards, and you are going to be those bodyguards,” Jay
said smugly. “And whether you’re bodyguards or not, you won’t be let into the
best clubs unless you fit their dress code. Therefore, shopping!”
“And it
looks like Duo wants to go...” Christy said slyly.
“Fine,” Heero
and Wufei snapped simultaneously. “We’ll go.”
“Avanti!” Jay cheered,
leaping to her feet. “Onwards! Let’s go pack!”
* * * * *
Two Days
Later:
“Christy,” Dan said dryly, peering through the early morning
twilight, “I thought you said it was going to be a small private
jet?”
“It is!” she insisted, flexing her newly un-casted arm a little
uncomfortably. “Well... by my family’s standards it is, anyway. Look, just get
in, will you?”
Jay nodded, trotting towards the stairs. “This one’s
much smaller than the Theran jet we took to our last little
outing.”
Smaller or not, it was still fairly large, gleaming dull silver
with a stylised jackal’s head on the tail -- not to mention semi-concealed gun
ports, and a rocket pod slung under each wing.
“Ever had to use those?”
Trowa asked, nodding at the rocket pod he was climbing past.
“A couple of
times,” Christy grimaced. “You know how good drivers really hate being a
passenger when the car they’re in gets into trouble? That’s how I feel every
time I get shot at and it’s somebody else’s turn to shoot back.”
The
stairs were pulled away as soon as the pilots were on board, the hatch closed,
and the plane turned and began taxiing towards the runway.
“In a bit of a
hurry, aren’t they?” Duo commented, then got his first good look at the plane’s
interior. “Woo, plush! No attendants, though? This thing’s practically crying
out for half a dozen attendants in cute uniforms, you know.”
“They’re
going to be getting on at Bubastis, which is where we’re going to
officially board the plane as well,” Mel told him, digging through her bag. “We
have to be changed and in character by then; we’re flying slow, but it’ll only
take an hour, and it’ll take most of that time for our tattoos to come
up.”
“Tattoos?” Wufei asked dubiously.
“Tattoos,” she confirmed,
brandishing a small flat tin in triumph. “The members of Christy’s family and
mine are traditionally tattooed; my lot when we hit puberty, Christy’s when they
take any sort of family positions.”
“I got hit by both sides of the
family,” Christy grumbled, rubbing absent-mindedly at her right eye.
“Again.”
“They would have been just a bit of a handicap when we went
undercover,” Mel continued, opening the case and taking two single-shot
injectors out of its padded interior, “so one of my family’s scientists came up
with switchable tattoo ink. Give us an injection, and the tattoos appear. Give
us another, and they go away again. Leg!”
Christy muttered something rude
under her breath, but leaned on one of the lounges and pulled up one leg of her
boxer shorts so Mel could jab her high on the upper thigh. “Ow. Your
turn.”
“No ‘revenge jabs’ this time or I swear I’ll stick the next needle
straight into a nerve,” Mel warned, tugging up the frayed edge of her
cutoffs.
“Any particular reason you’re sticking each other there?”
Dan asked, watching with interest. “Minor sadomasochistic ass
fetishes?”
“Ouch! No, idjit, we’d just rather not have needle tracks
anywhere visible for the media to photograph.”
“Ah. Boring
reason.”
“We weep for your short attention span, Dan sweetie,” Mel told
him, picking up her bag and heading for a door leading into the rear of the
plane. “Us girls are going to get into our glamorous gear now; you boys can’t
get into the boring bodyguard stuff until it arrives in Bubastis, so play nice
while we’re gone.”
“What ‘boring bodyguard stuff’?” Wufei snapped.
“We’re getting tired of you women only mentioning things to us after you’ve set
them up!”
“We radioed your measurements ahead yesterday,” Christy
informed him. “Don’t worry so much! Would we put you guys in outfits that would
make you look bad?”
“Not by your standards, perhaps, but--” The
closing door cut him off, and he almost growled.
“Well, it looks like
we’re about to take off,” Duo sighed, flopping onto a comfortable-looking couch
and stretching out, “so we might as well just sit back and relax while we’ve got
the chance, hmm? If we’re playing bodyguards, we won’t even be able to answer
back in public.”
Asuka scowled. “Hadn’t thought of that. I wonder if I
can find a parachute?”
----------
Bubastis was visible below the
plane and it was making its final approach when the door opened
again.
"About time!" Dan complained, twisting around in his chair to
glare. "What the hell took so-- Wow... magnifique..."
Christy ignored
him, walking over to a chair and sitting down, but Jay smiled and posed slightly
and Mel draped herself languidly against the doorway, yawning.
"I was
beginning to think you three didn't own any normal clothes," Heero said,
eyebrows shooting up. "Let alone attractive ones."
"I'm slightly
less worried about the 'bodyguard outfits'," Wufei admitted
grudgingly.
Jay was resplendent in loose, flowing, multi-coloured silk
pants and top, with matching silk sandals. Her hairstyle hadn't changed, but the
twin buns were now neat, her glasses were gone, and she was wearing light
eyeshadow and lip gloss. Most surprising of all, she seemed...
focussed.
"Bit of a surprise, eh, chaps?" she said cheerfully, walking
forward to take a seat next to Christy. "I don't believe we've ever had to do
the 'official' schtick in front of any of you."
"At least your
voice hasn't changed," Duo said a little nervously, watching as she sat
down and leaned back gracefully. No bouncing, no enthusiastic hand
gestures...
"Oh, it will," she said ruefully. "Try not to look too
surprised when it happens, eh what?"
Quatre was looking at her oddly,
aware of something different about the bright whirl of images he could usually
sense from her. The colours were less intense, and the fragments seemed to have
been pushed back, out of the way. "How long can you keep that up?" he asked
quietly.
Her smile froze for an instant, then widened. "As long as I have
to."
Wufei was staring narrow-eyed at Mel. "I see what you meant about
tattoos," he said; she had developed dark blue lines that outlined her lower lip
and formed swirling patterns on her chin and upper arms.
"The better to
piss off my aunt with," she smirked, one hand on her hip, the other playing with
her necklace. “I have warrior tattoos, but I’ve never done anything warrior-like
that she knows of, and the apparent ‘misuse of traditional symbols’
really crimps her posterior.” Her whole manner had changed, too, even more than
Jay's; she seemed to have a permanent bored half-smile now, and heavy-lidded
eyes. She wore a high-necked sleeveless top and slacks in sleek black fabric,
gold sandals with a matching belt and necklace, and her hair was loose and
rippling down her back in waves to below her hips.
It was Christy who was
really stunning, though.
The black tattoos that had appeared around her
right eye turned it into an Eye of Horus with two narrow chevrons above it.
Other tattoos were dimly visible on her upper arms through the short sleeves of
her wraparound white top. Matching loose pants billowed around her legs,
gathered in at the ankles above her own pair of gold sandals. Her hair was piled
up on top of her head in a vaguely Grecian style, with one long curl draped
across her shoulder and breast, and her only jewellery was a broad gold choker
with a winged scarab dangling from it.
"Stop staring," Asuka growled,
lightly slapping Dan in the back of the head.
"Asuka, mon cher," Dan said
softly, "if you are not staring, there is something wrong with you."
"I'm
not supposed to be staring at her. I have to stare at Mel."
"Guard,
darling, not stare at," Mel drawled, sashaying across the floor to drape herself
across a spare sofa.
"You even slink?" Wufei said
incredulously.
"All part of the act, beautiful," she murmured, examining
her gold nail polish for chips. "Get used to it."
"Isn't it a bit much?
If you forget yourself and move wrong--" One gilt-tipped finger stretched out to
tap his mouth gently, and he stuttered to a halt.
"I've been practicing
this act since I was five years old. I don't slip. Just like Jay, I can hold it
as long as I have to."
"I think I'm jealous," Duo muttered, watching as
she pulled her hand back and stretched. "I wonder if she'll give me
lessons..."
"None of us are going to slip," Christy said calmly. "Just
remember your parts. Call Jay 'Lady Jarvia'--”
“Eck,” Jay
muttered.
“--call Mel 'Princess' or 'Hine', and call me 'Lady Tutankanep'
or 'Pharaoh'."
"Other than that, just do whatever bodyguard-type stuff
you want," Jay chuckled. "Nobody's going to notice you unless you do something
jolly stupid, you know, because all eyes and cameras are going to be firmly on
us."
-----------------------
End of Warped Mirrors
Chapter
23
-----------------------
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