PART 6 - Centripetal Forces
There had been little out of the ordinary when the two container ships - indistinguishable from their civilian sisters - docked at Port Moresby, New Guinea. But at midnight there had been a great movement, green and white mobile suits of the crack 1st MS Division emerging from the cargo holds to line up under the starless heavens. If their arrival had been stealthy, their challenge to battle was not. In minutes General Galvez was alerted and he knew that he had somehow been betrayed. The grand coup he and Rourke had conceived would never be staged; here was Punishment - and its head took the form of a Gundam called Nataku.
The base was by no means weak. It had more than mobile suits at its disposal, and began the defence with its short-to-medium-range arsenal. Fishermen on their boats in the Gulf of Papua jolted awake as missiles lit the night, tearing its black velvet with the brightness of day. A few attacking mobile suits fell, smoking, but they continued their menacing approach with incredible speed.
By this time Galvez's own mobile suits were armed and ready for deployment, and they erupted from the armouries of the base in a sinister mass birthing, their immense swarm seemingly outnumbering the besiegers. For an instant, Galvez paused at the control room, thinking the enemy overwhelmed when the green 1st MSD machines disappeared into clouds of fire and smoke. Then... he saw crackling blue electricity wrap round his own mobile suits as they were decimated. Fighting in close quarters, they were no match for the 1st MSD, and Galvez knew why.
They had ANATEXIS - it was complete. He left the control room, heading for the prepared escape submarine.
Morning, and Colonel Chang Wufei surveyed the damage with a dispassionate gaze, with secretary Captain Yonoi trotting behind. This was the first time the ANATEXIS system had been used in real combat, though notably Altron had been the only machine not installed with it. As such the siege against Galvez's far larger forces (their opponents having the advantage of defending a fortified base) had lasted only four short hours.
Mariemaia had been right. The system's link to the suit and not to the brain was a virtue, while still allowing the pilot to achieve a godlike perfection in his fighting. Personal experience in the testing arena had told him so much. When he eventually coupled ANATEXIS with the new Gundam of his designated specifications, it would be well-nigh invincible. And till that pinnacle of perfection was reached, and there was no stronger fighting power existent, he would -
Something was nagging at him in the background, and frowning, he walked towards the sound of high pressure water jets. He intuitively knew that the men were having sport with the captured Galvez, which was unseemly. There was nothing honourable in baiting prisoners.
Under the tropical sun, four men were controlling hoses which were usually used for cleaning scum and barnacles off the hulls of ships. To Wufei's slight relief they were not his own men, but some of the General's own submarine crew who had given him up to the victorious 1st Mobile Suit Division. Still, the crowd that was gathered round laughing was composed of Wufei's men, and they immediately sobered up and looked guilty at their commander's arrival.
The hoses were switched off, exposing a shuddering, half-naked bulk of raw water-ravaged flesh flattening the grass. The once puissant General J Galvez was gasping for air, his eyes bloodshot, and Wufei could scarcely repress his contempt for a man so totally humiliated. This was the price of presuming to have ambition when one was weak. This was why Wufei never wanted to be on the losing side ever again....
The cornered animal still had strength for a rabid bite. No longer worried by the jets Galvez suddenly twisted up with unexpected swiftness, and cast himself full tackle at the Colonel, grappling him to the ground.
No-one was more shocked than Chang Wufei as the massive force hit him; he felt soil rub into the back of his head and the foul breath of the General panting down on him. And there were audible cracks as Galvez tightened his squeeze, just like the Colonel's body was full of knuckles. In the distance Yonoi's scream of "Don't shoot, you fool!" was vaguely amusing, but there was little air in Wufei to waste on sniggering.
Wufei suddenly hyper-relaxed his muscles, gaining two inches of space to move, and with lightning speed slipped an arm out of the killer embrace. The heel of his hand slammed into Galvez's windpipe once with crushing accuracy, and it was enough - the man rolled away like a spent tidal wave, and Wufei got up, dignity fully restored. The spectating soldiers avoided their Colonel's searing gaze as they would a white-hot furnace, awe and fear mixing in their breasts.
But underneath Wufei's violently competent aura he was shaking inside at the memory of the contact with Galvez; the revoltingly intimate feel of hard muscle under pouches of fat clinging to him; the bulk descending down on his own lean body. It was difficult not to seal the victory with a ruthless kick to the groin, but that would acknowledge that he was more affected by the attack than anyone knew. He had let his fury escape all those weeks ago in questioning the would-be assassin Edward Chase, and still felt sullied by it...
In the meantime Yonoi was displaying the uninhibited outrage that Wufei dearly wanted to, his gun drawn on the wheezing General. "How dare you assault the Colonel's person, you dog - "
"If I die," Galvez whispered desperately from his damaged vocal chords, "th- th... they die as well - "
With an eerie prickling sensation on his neck, Wufei's dark eyes stared down at the General. The man obviously had something his co-conspirator General Rourke had not mentioned at his capture and subsequent interrogation. What was this trump card he was trying to play to save his own life? How did he think he could avoid the death he deserved for planning a coup, for stealing the framework disks of ANATEXIS, for touching the 1st MSD commander's person..? Who were they?
Wufei motioned Yonoi to step back, and planted a foot on Galvez's chest. "Who will die?"
The General opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out - his face turned purple and veins bulged out on his temples as his collapsing windpipe shut off his oxygen supply.
Jaw clenched, Wufei instructed that Galvez be taken to the nearest hospital at once and that his life should be preserved. Once again, as with Edward Chase, the anger and frustration began to close in on his world. Everywhere, vermin were seeking to undermine the regime, everywhere. Galvez... Rourke... Chases's enigmatic 'leader'... Relena's accursed brother who refused to remain in his grave... Reports of breaches in security and break-ins to archives and administrative offices filtered in every minute - things were heating up.
The storm approaches. I need to achieve perfection, I need the answer...
A sneeze.
"Would sir like a hot coffee?" The waiter shuffled over in his incredibly ugly batik shirt. The monsoon season had come to Padangbai, and with it came rainy season colds and other ills. This time of year fewer people came to the beach resort, and so the staff could be more obsequiously attentive than usual.
Hot coffee in this humid heat? The waiter had to be joking - the weather was one large steamer! Zechs shook his head - and then sneezed again in embarrassing contradiction. After a pointed look, the waiter shuffled off to sulk by the coffee machine.
Zechs looked at the clock hanging next to a supporting strut of the cabana. Half an hour to go, which was just right. He wanted to affect the languid air of a tourist, and arriving on the dot to meet his contact would be unwise. Zechs only hoped that this 'Doc' character would be as reliable and worthy and ally as Benioff had assured him.
Benioff, or Boff, as most called him, owned a small chain of supply depots out in the colonies, and had been an early friend made when Zechs had worked on the cargo transports. With his discerning eye and cautious nature he had in a roundabout manner let on that he recognised the former OZ officer and Preventer - earning him a view down the barrel of a gun. Then he had sincerely offered assistance. Boff was acquainted with a number of rebels; they were always able to buy utilitarian items and fuel cells from him without any serious questioning.
"I don't usually act as a drop," said Boff with his customary put-upon air. "But you're never gonna achieve anything alone."
Alone. Yes, but great things could be achieved alone. And sometimes, great errors could be made... In a God-forsaken world, one walks alone until one finds one's opponent. A certain Treize Khushrenada had said that once.
There had never been a casualness between them. After all, the five year gap was wide when one was only six years old. An eleven-year-old was in comparison a man of the world... And as they grew up sometimes the gap widened, sometimes it closed, the friendship resonating on many levels. A distant kind of affection, a hazy hero-worship; patron, protege; sophisticate, initiate. Respect...
The biggest gap was when they were at the ages of twelve and seventeen. Of course by then Zechs was a distinguished cadet of the Academy ready to graduate with the highest of honours, but besides the difference in hierarchical status there was the added gulf of... of worldliness. A twelve-year-old, no matter how well he piloted, had little on his syllabus regarding alcohol and the fair sex, whereas a seventeen-year-old, particularly one surrounded by as many debutantes and socialites as Treize was...
Zechs wondered about it with increasing curiosity. Especially after the uprising at L3, where Treize was injured and hospitalised. Zechs recalled quite clearly the day when Treize had recovered sufficiently to take the rest of the recuperative period at home, and they had sat in front of the distractingly ornate fireplace. The ormolu glimmered in the blaze, and Treize's eyes stared past his long legs and black boots straight into the hypnotic flames.
"Milliard," he said, his reflective tone even more introspective than usual, "I've made a mistake."
Zechs looked up from his tiny noggin of mulled wine - all that Treize allowed him in one evening - in surprise.
"A terrible, wonderful mistake."
Zechs responded to this as a pure-minded young cadet would. "Can... it be corrected? Is there a contingency plan?"
Treize smiled, still gazing into the fire. "Can wavy blonde hair be corrected? Is there a contingency plan for lilac eyes?"
Zechs, finally confirmed in his suspicions of what Treize was talking about, looked embarrassed and began tapping the glass with his fingers. When he looked up again, Treize had turned his clear blue gaze on him, embarrassing him further, and his smile had disappeared.
"Indiscretions are overlooked. Lapses are forgiven. But a mistake... I have yet to know the meaning and the remedy for that. Let others learn from it, Milliard!"
Was that mistake Leia Barton? Did Treize know even then what it would give rise to? There were times when his vision was more than a flash of amazing foresight, and approached the quality of prophecy. The only problem was recognising the truth when it was still in the future; things were always apparent in hindsight.
Mariemaia. There were many who doubted her legitimacy as Treize's daughter, but Zechs was not one of them. While her red hair seemed far removed from dark gold, Treize's mother had been renowned for her flame-coloured tresses. Mariemaia's soft childish face too, that bore a resemblance to the OZ leader in his much younger days. And the characteristic that surely pushed all doubts away - her frightening intellect and ambition. Except that it had not developed under the first-hand experience of close combat, or appreciated the true loss of human life.
"Sir..."
Zechs' eyes narrowed at the military connotations of the word, and looked up at the waiter again. "Yes - ?"
"The rain is too heavy. We want to bring down the rattan blinds, sir."
"Of course, I'm in the way." He stood, moving to another table while the waiter untied the blind-pulls which had been secured behind Zechs' chair. He was about to glance at the clock again, but there was no need. In front of him was a face from his past, dark violet eyes framed by a sweep of equally dark hair.
"Noin - "
Her lip trembled, and her eyes seemed to fill with moisture, but finally she smiled, and it was as beautiful as in memory. Neither said a word more, neither made a move. In dreams there had been impulsive embraces, outpourings from the heart and overflowing sweetness. In reality happiness and disbelief enforced their own natural restraints.
"Shall we sit down?" Sally's voice was patient and reasonable as always, with a tinge of wistfulness. What brought Zechs and Noin together was imperfect, yet it transcended mundane attraction and was something Sally would not have refused, given the opportunity. "There is much to discuss, and I am glad it is you we've come to meet in the end, Zechs."
"You're known as 'Doc'?" was Zechs' first query, and Sally grinned.
"Let's not forget my primary training. You tend to earn people's trust when you mend their broken parts." She cast a small glance at Noin, who was silent but attentive. Then she cut to the chase. "Have you heard about the New Guinea battle?"
"It was made out to be a rebel downputting. I had hoped that it was not going to affect our meeting."
Noin shook her head. "Rebels, but it was an internal affair."
"Yes," continued Sally. "Two of Mariemaia's generals were planning a coup, it seems, and their stronghold, the New Guinea base, was levelled in a pre-emptive strike."
Zechs frowned. "I need not ask who commanded the pre-emptive strike. Mariemaia's hunting hawk himself, no doubt." He noticed how Noins's cheek muscles reflexively tightened at the reference to Chang Wufei. "He serves the girl well. All too well."
Sally's expression was pained. "I thought I understood him, many years ago. And up till the last war I still felt that his behaviour could be attributed to his confusion. Now, I am not so sure... He seems to have changed into something alien."
Noin's voice was gentle, but a slight tone of blame pervaded it. "After all that traitor has done, you'd still want to save him, Sally. That is something I cannot understand." They had obviously discussed this at length before encountering Zechs.
Sally steepled her fingers and sighed. "I don't deny that I do. But only if there is anything left to save." Then she pulled herself out from the subdued mood and turned to Zechs once more. "The conflict at New Guinea shows that there is dissension within Mariemaia's army, a very good thing. I believe Wufei is now the only one she truly trusts, and he can only be spread so thin before there are holes in their defence."
"Still, this successful strike will serve as a pointed example to others wishing to defy the girl." Zechs thought awhile. "If his 1st Mobile Suit Division took on an entire base... I wonder."
"I wonder too," said Noin. "I suspect he has a new weapon to use, and that it is a new Gundam, or at least part of it is. The consignment of gundanium ore that PK-23 handled was supervised personally by 1st MSD men."
"So he has a new Gundam, and we have nothing except ourselves," said Zechs. "Excellent odds." He pursed his lips.
Sally returned to the conversation with a small shake of her head. "We know ourselves. Wufei doesn't know exactly who his enemies are. If we are confused by his motives, we still have an inkling of his methods. And our numbers are growing. Aside from the very small rebel factions scattered across the Earth and the colonies, I can say that I know all the main players. Except - "
"Except...?"
"Except one very important player. The person responsible for the Christmas assassination attempt."
Zechs allowed himself a half-smile. "Relena thought that I was behind it. Yes, I have been in contact with Relena. She has... she has grown up. But she is still too soft-hearted to contemplate seriously removing Mariemaia. She is convinced that the girl may yet become a wise ruler."
"Poor Relena." Noin had arguably been closest to her in AC 195, even more so than her own brother. "To have stayed close to Mariemaia for all this time..."
"Who's to say that she isn't partially right?" Sally asked the other two. "Have we given enough thought to what will happen if we win?"
"Surely we must win first," said Zechs.
"Nations have been doomed in the past because they never gave enough thought to peace," said Sally. At Zechs' frown she hurriedly added, "I do not mean their protection against others, as with Cinq. What I meant was: who should rule in Mariemaia's stead, when she is ousted?"
The silence stretched out. Then tentatively, Noin said, "Relena - ?"
Both Zechs and Sally shook their heads.
"I don't find fault with Relena personally. But think. Is any living man or woman capable of taking charge of the entire World without resorting to iron military rule, as Mariemaia has? Will one ruler be a satisfy a humankind partitioned by ethnicity and geography?"
"Are you saying, Sally, that the world should be split into bickering countries again?"
"No. A perfect situation would involve some partitioning under one cohesive structure. But I don't pretend to know how it can be achieved."
"Then let us talk about how we intend to remove this regime first," said Zechs. Beside him, Noin nodded.
"First I intend to make some kind of contact with the unknown rebel leader," said Sally. "This must be a concerted effort. We have learnt from our previous errors in dealing with Mariemaia; too little too late amounts to nothing."
Wufei walked down the hospital corridors, his expression dark. The vague, ominous threat of Galvez's, that some nameless entity would die should he perish, hung over him. Too many enigmas - Wufei was sick of being haunted by unknown forces.
The hospital was filled with casualties from the attack, and many of them would die before they could be given treatment by the limited number of hospital staff. Even now, they were wheeling a body out to the morgue. Wufei saw that it was a woman and stopped the gurney.
Her black hair was burnt, and her face bore anguish that could not be erased - more emotional rather than physical. She had been killed by stray fire, it was easy to see, and her lab coat had made her seem like one of the hospital staff. But then he saw the tag still clipped to her lapel. She had authorisation to enter the base; indeed, her labs were within the grounds of the base, which would explain the civilian fatality.
"Have you finished, Colonel?" the nurse's bitter tone bespoke her opinion of the man who had caused so much carnage.
"Yes," said Wufei tersely. As they wheeled her away he caught a glimpse of something he had missed while preoccupied with her identity tag - in her right hand she was clutching something black - it looked like a cap.
"This way, sir," said the corporal beside him. "Galvez's room is just on the right."
The General had been rushed to surgery, and they had performed the reconstruction of his damaged throat. The doctors had sent a note through saying that he speaking was an impossibility, and any communication would have to be written. Wufei had accepted this wordlessly, and he saw why this was so when he entered the single ward.
The man had a huge brace round his neck, tubes feeding into it and out of it. The bruising from both the strike and the operation was visible up to his lower chin. He was awake, but groggy from the massive doses of painkillers, and the first scrawls from his pen looked like drunken spiders.
He had written: Can you guarantee that I will not be executed?
Wufei stared at him for a full minute, despising him more and more as the seconds ticked by. He already knew that the Dictator would want to milk as much information from him as possible to rout out other possible conspirators, and it was unlikely that he would be put to death immediately.
"The Dictator wants you alive," said Wufei. "But for how long, I do not know."
Only I have access code.
"What access code?"
To vault. My collection.
"Collection?" Once again, Wufei felt the prickling on his neck.
They will die if I die.
"Stop speaking in riddles, man, answer me! Who will die?"
Galvez scrawled desperately, and Wufei read the page as soon as it was torn off from the pad. "You ask me to see for myself? Very well, I will see. And bear in mind that treachery will only speed your path to suffering."
Galvez's head sank back on the pillow. The trump card had been played.
Galvez's private residence was a half hour drive from the base on the outskirts of Port Moresby. They entered using the access keys the General had surrendered to them, and made their way to the basement, as Galvez had directed. On their way down they saw a few frightened servants, but Galvez's wife and two daughters were nowhere to be seen.
At the thick steel and gundanium door, contrasting starkly with the neo-classic design of the house, Yonoi and the two other accompanying Captains were visibly nervous, but the Colonel was impassive. The access codes worked, and the door gave with a gentle push.
"Sir, we should have a party sweep the vault for traps," said one Captain, and the other two agreed, but Wufei shook his head, brooking no argument.
"The three of you will wait here. Do not enter without my permission."
"Yes, sir."
Alone, Wufei made his way into the dark room, the air very chill compared to the ordinary New Guinea heat. Galvez's basement - constructed like a modern bank vault - was obviously air-conditioned, and every so often little 'pffft' sounds of readjustment occurred. Wufei was reminded of a mountain temple he had once visited, with its cool clean air and dark peacefulness. For now, there was nothing menacing in the dull blue glow, and Wufei wondered if he would find a case full of rare - but dull - botanical specimens at the end. But then, Wufei had not heard the rumours surrounding Galvez's obsessions.
He reached a railing and metal stairs leading down to the blue glow, and there he saw them, the tanks. Cylinders of glass they were, and strange forms were silhouetted in them. Wufei froze at the sight: on the left, helmets, uniforms from a bygone age, a few weapons. And on the right - in a macabre shrine to long dead flying aces, there were remnants of the pilots themselves. Wufei's mouth went dry as his eyes quickly scanned across the shrunken and disembodied portions. But this was not what Galvez had set so much value on.
Passing to the next segment, Wufei saw five tanks, three of which were empty. By now he was tempted to simply return to the warmth above and abort his tour of Galvez's vault. Still, a fey curiosity had him in its grip and he scorned to go back to his Captains empty-handed. He stepped down, pupils dilating.
Don't look don't look don't look
The air hissed thorugh his teeth, and his vision flickered for an instant as if a flash of lightning had blinded him. Despite the desperate pumping of his heart his blood seemed to have coagulated, flowing too sluggishly through his veins to keep him standing upright. Chang Wufei clenched his fists and sagged against the wall, his sweat-soaked shirt bunching at his back -
In the tanks - suspended and lighted like lanterns in blue monotone - dark strands of hair wafting ever so slightly in the upwelling nutrient gel - expressions eerily peaceful.
There they were, forever seventeen.