Warnings: Yaoi/shonnen-ai, 1+2+1, weird little universe, AU!!!!!
Disclaimers: I do not own Gundam wing, I do not own the boys with which
I am playing, I do, on the other hand own the way in which they play.
Furthermore, I do not own the technology and magic of 'The Red Star',
of which this is loosely based. But damn, I wish I did.
Notes: Ooohkay. So this fic is continuing, and now I have no clue how
to end it. Non, >.<'''', so you will have to excuse this part, and
its rather dry and mediocre writing. I am uninspired, and the words on
this page were forced into writing through sheer force of will. Other
then that. Thank you so much to everyone that read the teaser, and replied,
this fic is for all of you. Misuzu, I owe you a picture. And I keep forgetting
to e-mail you, what did you want it to be of? Comments? Critisisms? This
fic is tiring to write, so if you guys find it boring, tell me... and
then it can join some of the other fics I was going to write, under three
feet of dirt in the backyard.
Bullets and Barrels + Part 1
actual melding of technology and magic has never failed to amaze me. Two
things, so conflicting, have been joined; have been molded into a frighteningly
effective weapon. After all, humanity has always searched for one more
power, to be one greater, more dangerous, and more fear inducing then
the opponent. The war between Romafeller and Oz, has proven this point
time and again. Already it has escalated to the point where both sides
are on the verge of Mutually Assured Destruction. MAD, something that
we last saw within the Cold war, and promised never to look upon again.
But that was a lie. Much like this war is a lie. Much like 'Dulce est
decorum est pro parti morti', is a lie. There is no honor in this war.
There is no pride. There is no beauty in our creations, as surely as there
is no beauty in weapons like myself.
~ Relena Peacecraft.
Sorceress, pure breed
Heero sighed, his breath ragged.
His mind gasping for the one point of ideal concentration, away from the
ever-present fear. He could die. He was expected to die, every time he
went out, every time he did what came naturally he pushed the statistics,
raised the average. Lowered his chance of surviving.
Raw space in two.
The heat was almost unbearable; he could feel his skin liquefy, the light
coming from beneath the thin membrane bursting through it, cracking it.
He chocked back a sob, and once more sought out euphoria.
He heard the metallic hiss of the isolation tube's gate as the main door
opened, raw space threatening to suck him out.
And there he found it. Like a single bright light in the sky, a star in
the heavens which spread out, endless, eternal, before his eyes, outside
of his cylindrical prison. His lips bent in a smile, before the whole
of his body dissolved into light. The I-field around him, bending and
twisting beneath the strain, holding in the sheer energy that radiated
at its center.
The field expanded towards the other ship, and pure light burst through
the tube, throwing the large ship backwards, all the while aimed for the
enemy, crashing through layers and layers of electronics, housing, and
life, and bursting out the other side. Leaving behind, a path of destruction,
as the light dissipated. It left nothing of its presence, but a tunnel
within the side of the Deathscythe.
The first thing his mind registered were the constraints at his wrists,
his freezing body, and the dripping of the coolant. He was shaking, quivering
like a leaf in an autumn wind, as the cool liquid ran off of his feverish
skin, his heart pounding frantically in his chest.
But he was alive.
The actual physics of the situation is complicated, but can be broken
down into a few main parts. The first is the sorceress herself, who manages,
through various protocol, to break her body down, and heat the air around
herself. She, or at very least the matter into which she breaks down,
becomes plasma. The rest is left to the I-field.
The field is the only thing
that keeps the blast contained. It lines the isolation tube, stretching
from the edges of the aiming ring. Where the I-field ends is where the
blast is most powerful, which is why it is always extended away from the
hull a minimum of 100 meters. This is also why attacks from 100-125 meters
are most effective.
Once the plasma reaches the
end of the field it moves through raw space in a straight line, towards
the target, which it also penetrates in a strait line. This is the doing
of the sorceress' consciousness.
Unfortunately the I-field generators
are extremely heat sensitive, a problem that has yet to see remedy. As
a result the intense heat of the plasma can destroy them, and such a fracture
can lead to leakage into the ship. Should a leak be discovered early enough,
the process can be slowed enough for the sorceress to be eliminated, if
not, then the ship must be abandoned, as the breach can be likened to
a direct hit by an enemy ship. From so deep within the Isolation Tubes,
this breach could potentially overheat the whole of the ship's weapon
and guiding apparatuses causing its destruction.
~ Professor O.
Inventor of the current Isolation Tube design.
"Body temperature 100 Celsius. We are keeping you in there for some time
"Understood" he whispered. His muscles spasming, and his eyes slowly focusing
on the room. He felt cold, but according to the statistics, his body was
still on fire. He breathed in once more. His lips pulling back from his
teeth as he grinned.
He was alive.
His head whipped up.
"Your heart rate is too fast, Sorcerer, you have three seconds to slow
He felt the bile rising in the back of his throat. Then felt the prick
of something in his arm, as his body was forced to relax. His body temperature
fell further, before rising steeply.
"Five... four... Attack terminated. Awaiting orders."
Heero took a deep breath, as the coolant began to run anew down his arms,
his body aching, heated, he could smell burning flesh, and knew it to
be his own.
"Surrender has been called. You have been requested to join both Captain
Winner, and Second Barton. Interrogation room, 309."
"Accepted" he rasped, when his mouth felt sufficient well to move.
Slowly the ring stopped rotating, quickly positioning itself flat, once
more, subsequently throwing Heero to the floor. The man rose slowly, aware
of the resounding footsteps of the engineers, as someone covered him in
a blanket. Briefly he looked up, staring at the safety-suited man that
held him on his feet. He could see no face behind the glassy goggles and
the black mask.
"What is the temperature?" he rasped.
"The room is at 80 Celsius, rapidly dropping."
"60." Someone called.
Heero frowned, as another shiver wracked his naked body, he could feel
his skin complaining, stretching over the muscle, tightening. He pulled
away from the man.
"Get me my clothing, and leave."
They retreated, leaving a neat bundle by the door, before it shut with
a metallic hiss. He straightened, walking up to the bundle, and shimming
into the leather, already feeling the skin on his arms crack, the blood
flowing in thin rivulets down is limbs. After all, that is why the sorcerers
wore leather. It hid the blood.
The process of cooling the body
is necessary for the continued well- being of the sorceress. When the
I-field calls them back into the tube, and they rematerialize, their bodies
are just below the temperature that would have caused them to degrade
once more. The coolant removes heat from the body at a rate of 100 Celsius
per second. For powerful sorceresses the procedure can take approximately
1 minute. Should the coolant malfunction; the sorceress within the ring
will burn up, spontaneously combust. Even pure breeds have human genes
in them, and as such are affected by the extremely high post-fire temperatures.
Of course, even proper cooling and protocol will not leave the sorceress
unscathed. The skin that split moments before the attack will be weak
in those places, and will tear, where it was too intensely pulled, after
the attack. As a result, most priestesses wear leather, which protects
the healing skin, while permitting a flow of air, to the damaged tissue.
Healer, pure breed.
Heero stalked into the room. Gazing coldly at the men seated around another
figure. The man could not move. Barton was making sure of that.
Stiffly he saluted to Quatre, who waved his hand, dismissively in his
direction. Formalities were left to the control rooms and hallways.
"How are you Heero?"
He shrugged in response, his lips thin, ignoring the burning pain of the
cuts beneath his clothing.
"We have before us a rather interesting specimen." Stated Quatre in monotone,
turning his gaze from Heero to the man slouched in the chair, dressed
in a black flight suite. Heero stiffened, as he felt a wave of pity for
the pale figure in the chair, to attack Wing was to face the wrath of
Quatre, which was hardly pleasant, seeing the effects that Wing's interface
had on the young captain.
"Who is it?"
"Shinigami himself. The idiot didn't recognize our ship, and attacked
us to loot it."
"It is you who must interrogate, Sorcerer, his power signature fluctuates
too quickly for me to keep him in any other state but this. And unconsciousness
has never been an effective interrogation tool." The words were a whisper,
cold in the room, and Heero shivered. Remembering, once more, why it was
that Trowa rarely spoke. He too was a sorcerer, but of a different class
all together, his skill had placed him in black operations, of what rank,
no one knew.
"Understood. Release him."
Quatre stepped back, a large spear coming unattached from his back, and
instead hovering above his right arm. "Do it."
Barton nodded, before stepping back as well. They could feel the field
around Shinigami fall, as the man slouched further, before trying to jump
from his chair. He never made it.
"Trap Protocol 301 11 beta 2. Radius: 2 meters."
Within moments Shinigami was suspended in the air, his body fighting against
the invisible restraints that held him aloft.
"Bastards, let me down and fight like men."
Quatre rolled his eyes, walking up to the figure suspended above the floor,
spread-eagle, and infuriated. "You are Shinigami, captain of the Deathscythe
Hell. Is that correct?"
"Whatever. I surrendered, so that your bloody witch wouldn't blast the
hell out of my crew. Shit head."
Heero sighed, causing the bonds on the other man to pull tighter, watching
as blood began to pour from where the invisible restraints bunched and
broke the skin. Shinigami did not flinch. He stared angrily, his violet
eyes roaming over the room, taking in their faces. Suddenly he grinned.
"Not that she will have another chance."
"The ship is gone, and I am no longer captain."
"REPORT!" Quatre's voice boomed through the room. A brief pause filled
with the crackle of static, as someone in the control center replied.
"The ship 098-BETA-3-ALFA custom, is no longer on our scanners. Checking
external video... negative. Ship is not on external feed. Checking heat
sensors. Negative. Checking for physical content." Wing shuddered as missiles
were launched in the general direction of Deathscythe. "negative. There
is no physical matter in a 100 km radius of 098-BETA-3-ALFA's last position.
098-BETA-3-ALFA custom, is missing. Searching possible escape routs, estimated
time for search. Three minutes."
Quatre's eyes closed, the spear floated back to its place at his back.
"Are you Shinigami?"
"Yes." The man managed, his grin widening. "The one and only, Duo Maxwell,
at your service, I'd bow, but I can't say that I'm in the position to
"Where is your ship?"
"Wherever Feifei decides to take her."
"Wufei Chang." Supplied Trowa. His eyes dark in the shadow of the room.
"Second in command. Wild."
Quatre snorted, stalking up to the man that hung in front of him "Are
you crazy? You have a Wild on a space ship?"
Maxwell laughed his head falling back, exposing a slender neck. "I wouldn't
talk Quatre, you've got one too."
Briefly Heero became aware of the smell of ozone.
"Someone shoot him NOW!" Quatre's scream pierced the air.
Already Duo Maxwell's skin was beginning to split, and he could see the
light cutting through the thick material of the space suit. "Don't...
if you kill him now, there will be no way to control him."
"Get out of the room, and seal off this area of the ship... hopefully,
we will only take out Wing's levels one through five, and not the whole
of it, now with all due respect, Captain, Barton, run."
My mother, when she found out
that I was a priestess, cried for hours. I never understood, as I was
but a child. I never realized that I was already dead.
The actual I-field can be created by the priestesses to a small extent,
great enough to determine more or less where the blast should go, but
never enough to control it fully.
Quatre nodded quickly. His
face softening for a moment. "Heero... " he whispered, his voice pained.
He could hear the ship groan, as the I fields began to pick up an increase
in power. Somewhere main doors closed. The metallic barriers closing off
the area within which the I-fields detected a spike in heat.
"You will kill us both at this rate."
"But you will not take out the rest of the ship."
A brief flicker, and Heero's own body began to glow, his entire form shaking
with strain. No sorcerer with half a brain tried to aim without an apparatus.
"Aa, but I am not after the ship."
Heero's head whipped up, and he stared in horror at Shinigami, the bonds
had come undone, and the figure quickly latched onto him, crushing him
to his chest.
"Protocol 9081-alfaD9, Hirde get me the hell out of here."
And the room went white.
Notes: I fields, are not mine.
Nopers, they actually belong in the Gundam Wing universe... or so my friend,
a Gundam connoisseur, tells me. >.<;; Basically the thermo- weapons
that the Gundams use are not thermo weapons in the traditional sense.
Rather the hilts produce plasma that is channeled into the shapes of the
weapons, through the use of an I-field.
[prologue] [part 2]
[back to Singles l - z]