Chapter 19: Apprentice
Slim, nimble fingers
move over the array of electronic equipment in the perfect darkness, checking
the transmitters one last time. Once she
is inside the colony’s administration building there will be no opportunity to
turn back. Either the transmitters will
work or the mission will have to be aborted.
The latter is not an option.
As each device is examined it is also named. Fifteen transmitters. Fifteen colony administrators. Fifteen personal computers. The information necessary to the mission is
buried within the circuitry of those machines—machines which are wisely not
connected to the network. The
transmitters provide a priceless service: allowing remote access to the host
unit. Although the devices create the
door through which a hacker can manipulate a system, they do have their
drawbacks. Two drawbacks, actually. They are only able to transmit the data
encased on the host hard drive if the host unit is receiving power. And that data can only be downloaded manually
to a remote location.
Working alone means the operation must be carried out in
two phases: first, install the devices, and then wait for the users to log in
to their computers before downloading the information required.
Carefully, each transmitter is packaged in the
inconspicuous duffle bag. As each device
settles into the bag, a location is recalled, a route mapped to it in
silence. Posing as a deliveryman earlier
that morning had provided the opportunity to locate each of the offices
containing the machines soon to be victimized.
The bag is zipped closed. One
hand peels back the snug, black sleeve to check the glowing face of a wrist
watch. It’s almost time.
Green eyes
momentarily shift their focus to the living room clock. It’s almost time. But Trowa is in no hurry. He stands at the window, looking out over the
colonyscape, not really seeing it. He thinks back to that evening in the music
room.
“Beautiful...”
She had looked into his eyes as she’d murmured it. Had she been complimenting him or the
song? Both, he decides.
“And sad.”
In that moment, she had told him something that had given
him strength. She had assured him that
she is aware of his imperfections. Aware
and accepting.
He had drawn in a breath.
He had been ready to tell her everything. But then Yokaze’s fingertips had settled over
his lips, halting his words.
“Don’t.”
He’d gazed at her in quiet curiosity while her thumb
had rubbed slowly over his skin.
Soothing. Her voice had been so
soft. Reassuring.
“There
are things I will never speak of. Not
because I don’t trust you. Not because I
believe it will change your opinion of me.
But because they are my dark things.”
Everyone has at least one dark story, one event that had
irrevocably changed the course of their lives.
Having lived through and participated in the war, Yokaze is just as
aware as Trowa of how deep a soul’s dark shadows can go.
After a long, still moment, Trowa feels himself fall into
his.
It is his fault. The deaths of his fellow mercenaries. The death of his captain. He had brought destruction upon the only
family he could remember. He had
betrayed them. How long had he known
that the girl he’d saved is an Alliance spy?
He can remember the exact moment of his epiphany. She’d been perched on the mobile suit he’d
been repairing, playing with a small electronic device at the end of her
necklace. It had looked harmless. An electronic game of some sort. But he had not been fooled. She’d crossed his path a little too
conveniently, had come with him back to home base a little too willingly.
He had
known about the transmitter.
He had
done nothing.
And
when the dust and blood and debris had settled... in the end... he had been the
only one left of the company. She’d gone
back to the Alliance, to her sick father and brothers. And he... he’d turned toward the night
sky. “I’m not Nanashi...
I’m a traveler looking for a place to go home to...”
Outer
space had called to him. He had
considered trying to get himself hired on a merchant ship, had considered
working his way to one of the many colonies, but had dismissed it. There are too many factors he cannot control,
too much risk. He knows there are only
two kinds of people who would hire a child... those with the urge to protect an
innocent and those craving to exploit him.
He knows he must make arrangements for his own protection before he can
embark on that particular quest. At the
very least, he will need a means by which to protect himself. He will also need cash, just in case he must
escape... or bribe. Only a fool blindly
places his welfare in the hands of another.
Before attempting a journey to outer space, he must be self-sufficient. At the moment, he has the clothes on his back,
an empty ache in his stomach, and nothing else.
His
gaze moves over the buildings lining the pockmarked street of the small
town. It seems a peaceful enough
place. Safe enough. He turns back to the darkened shop window and
the notice taped to it.
“Apprentice
Wanted. Room and board available. Inquire Within.”
He
studies the shop. Perhaps this will be a
suitable place for the first stage of his plan.
Perhaps he will be able to gather resources here.
Trowa blinks, breaking the flow of the memory. He stares at the clock. 9:07.
He’s late. He plucks his shoes up
from beside the door and sits down on the couch to lace them up. As he does so, he spots the assortment of
small notes scattered over the coffee table.
A small grin nudges at his mouth.
He re-reads his lover’s chaotic penmanship.
The morning before, he’d found a note in his usual coffee
mug: Hot stuff.
And inside his shoe: Nice.
Taped to his laptop: Touch
me.
Wedged next to his shampoo bottle: Lather up.
Resting on top of a dish of left-overs
in the fridge: Yum... oh, and the food’s
good, too.
By the time he’s finished with his shoes, he’s smiling. He stands and moves toward the door; Quatre
is probably waiting breakfast on him.
Taki has many strange
rituals. One of which is to visually
document each setting in which she and her lover have... enjoyed each
other. Half-dressed, Wufei watches her
as she eyes her current predicament. The
chair they had thoroughly abused the night before crumples once again as she
attempts to prop it up. Toweling his
hair dry, a thought occurs to him. He
glances at the clock. Perhaps there is
enough time before Winner’s farewell breakfast.
He strides over to her.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“Inferior ergonomic design,” she grumbles.
“Anything I can do to help?” A tiny smile tugs at his mouth as he waits
for her to stumble across the idea he’s already discovered.
Her hands still. Her
gaze roves to his. She smiles. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”
He smirks. “Just get
the rope, Taki.”
Her expression turns feral.
“Yes, dear.”
“Hey, Jas!” Duo
leans out of his bedroom doorway, brush in hand and calls up the hall, “Let’s
go, buddy! We’re gonna
be late!”
A motion in the hall diverts Duo’s attention. He spies Heero, dressed and ready to go,
staring at him from beneath the kitchen archway.
“What?” Duo asks, noting Heero’s thoughtful
expression. Well, in all honesty, most
people would call that look a glare, but after years of friendship, Duo likes
to think he can discern a confused-glare from a thoughtful-glare from a
homicidal-glare.
“You’re going to Quatre’s this morning?” Heero counters.
“Yeah. Is that a
problem?”
Heero shakes his head slowly. Duo struggles with the last of the tangles in
his hair. “I didn’t think you’d want to...
not after the other day...”
Duo sends a sheepish expression at his friend. “Er, yeah, well... I did, um, overreact. Quat and I have,
ah, worked everything out.”
Heero blinks.
“When?”
With a shrug, Duo tosses his brush in on the bed and starts
plaiting his hair. “Yesterday. At lunch.”
“Hn.”
“I’m ready, Duo.”
Duo glances down at Jaspien, his hands still working
methodically through his hair. “Cool,
man. Let’s go. I can braid on the fly.”
Heero listens to Duo prattle on about the people Jaspien is
about to have breakfast with while he locks the kitchen door behind them. As they begin the moderate hike toward the
academy, Heero trails behind the man and boy, watching Duo’s slim fingers mold
the still-damp tresses.
A frown creases Heero’s brow as the mass of hair before him
is pulled over Duo’s shoulder and out of sight.
Inexplicably, he wonders about Duo’s confessions the night of the
party. Had it only been a week ago? Heero shakes his head. Yes, only a week. But it seems like so much longer. Yet, in that week, Duo has not given Heero
any indication that he’d meant what he said, that he’d even meant to kiss him. Perhaps his inebriation that night had
allowed him to confess an old attraction.
Perhaps Duo has since moved on, no longer feels that way.
At the thought, something inside Heero’s chest tightens and
aches.
“Hey, Heero, you still kickin’
back there?”
Heero snorts. Duo
tosses his now finished braid over his shoulder and Heero’s reflexes assert
themselves. He grasps the tail before it
can smack him in the face. Giving Duo’s
rope of hair a tug, he growls, “Pay attention to where you swing this thing.”
Duo grins mischievously over his shoulder. “I was
paying attention.”
Somehow, Heero’s replying glare isn’t quite up to par. He follows Duo and Jaspien up the steps of
the academy and through the heavy doors.
Less than a minute later, they find themselves being pulled into
Quatre’s apartment. Duo settles Jaspien
at the table next to Heero and glances around the room.
“I suppose Wufei hasn’t arrived yet?” he says to the room
at large.
“I haven’t seen him yet,” Cathy answers.
“Hm.” Duo bends to
nudge Jaspien’s shoulder. “Hey, I gotta go find Wufei.
You watch Heero for me, okay, Jas-man?”
At Jaspien’s other elbow, Heero smirks in silence at Duo’s
request. Jaspien nods solemnly.
“Be back in flash,” Duo says, slipping back out the door
and into the hall. He jogs up the stairs
and raps a knuckle on the door before him.
Wufei’s muffled voice invites him in. “It’s open.”
Duo twists the knob and shoulders open the door... and
stops. Of all the things he could have
imagined seeing on the other side of the door, this is... not one of them. “Wufei?”
Duo notices that his voice sounds a bit... strangled.
Calmly, Wufei looks up from the book in his hands and over
the rim of his reading glasses at his friend.
“Yes, Maxwell?”
Duo takes a moment to assure himself that he isn’t
hallucinating. Yes, he decides after a
long moment, that is Wufei and he is tied to a chair. He examines the ropes around Wufei’s chest
and ankles. “Am I, um, interrupting
something?” Duo inquires cautiously.
Expression perfectly bland, Wufei says, “Why would you
think that?”
“Er...”
“You wanted something?” Wufei prompts, finding it
increasingly more difficult to hide his mirth at Duo obvious discomfort.
“I, ah, just wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
Duo grins wryly, momentarily forgetting the fact that his
friend is half-naked and bound to a rickety chair. “For verbally kicking my ass yesterday.”
Wufei allows himself to grin. “My pleasure, Maxwell.”
Duo nods. “Um, yeah,
well... Do, ah, you want some, er, assistance... there?”
Duo gestures to the ropes.
“No thank you,” is the courteous reply.
Duo hesitates in the doorway. “You are coming downstairs for breakfast,
right?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, then.”
Pause. “See you there.”
Wufei watches the door close and finally allows himself to
smile.
“What the hell are you grinning at?” Taki says amicably,
emerging from the bedroom with her favorite pencil and sketch pad in hand.
Wufei informs her, “We just weirded
out Maxwell.”
Taki blinks at him then turns to a fresh sheet of
paper. “We did? How the hell did we manage that?”
Wufei smothers a chuckle.
Only Taki would find nothing amiss with this picture. “I have no idea.”
She surveys her lover and the chair he is holding together
with a critical eye. “It must have been
the book.”
Wufei arcs a brow.
“I’ve never known the sight of Lao-tsu’s
complete works to frighten anyone.”
“Scares me,” she says flatly.
And Wufei can’t help himself. He laughs.
The sound filters out into the hall where Duo, having run
into Trowa, pauses. At the odd look on
the other man’s face, Trowa addresses him, “Something wrong?”
Duo sends an apprehensive glance at the closed apartment
door over his shoulder and shudders.
“Man, you have no idea.”
Trowa arcs a brow.
If the semi-traumatized look on Duo’s face is any indication, he should
be glad to have no idea.
Duo turns and flees down the stairs.
Heero surveys
the crowded room. He’s mildly curious
about Duo’s slightly flushed face, but is more interested in Trowa’s
arrival. He’s alone. Heero keeps an eye on the door and
waits. Approximately fifteen minutes
pass before the door opens again and Taki and Wufei enter. Duo’s blush darkens and Wufei looks entirely
too amused.
“Shall we eat?”
That, from Quatre.
Trowa, wordlessly, takes a seat. Heero can contain his question no
longer. “Shouldn’t we wait for Yokaze?”
he asks quietly. For as soft as his
voice is, it somehow manages to cut across the conversations that fill the
room.
Lifting a brow, Trowa tells him, “That might take awhile.”
“What do you mean?”
Trowa gives Heero a small frown. “She’s not here.”
“Where is she, then?” Heero manages to growl. His heart starts pounding in his chest.
“L1. Something to
negotiate with NW’s label.” There’s a
telling pause. “She didn’t tell you,”
Trowa observes, his entire body still.
Duo speaks up. “She
called the other day and said she still had some research to do. She didn’t say anything about...” One by one, the faces in the room change as
they realize they’ve been duped.
Taki moans, dropping her head into her hands. “Not again.”
Heero meets Quatre’s wide eyes. “I need to use your computer.” And Heero’s voice, more than Yokaze’s lies,
communicates the urgency of the situation.
Quatre gestures toward the machine. As Heero slides into the chair behind the
keyboard, Duo loops and arm around Quatre’s neck. “Quatre, dude, your breakfast parties are
acquiring some seriously disturbing karma.”
Heero dials the first of the numbers he’s memorized and
waits for Jarret to answer. Silently he scowls and prays, Please don’t let me be right...
~End of Chapter 19~