Arabian Nights Part 7
The Dragon and the Scorpion
"May Allah and the stars smile upon you."
Wufei looked up from the place he had been sitting tensely, waiting for his contact. The merciless sun hung high in the bright sky, blinding. He looked and saw a young boy standing before him, not more than eight or nine, dressed in a nondescript, tattered, baggy clothing. His ribs showed easily, his chest bare beneath a patched, well-worn and expertly mended vest. His eyes were dark like the silt at the bottom of a cup of Panama coffee, solemn, calm and dangerous, with a glint of calculation and even shyness. The Shenlong pilot was reminded of Quatre, who could slit your throat while apologizing over it.
// It can't be. //
When he saw Wufei sitting silently, the boy repeated the English words, enunciating each of them with painstaking accuracy.
It was, obviously. The kid had said the passwords.
"And you, jackal," Wufei replied, cautiously, completely the key to show the kid that he was sent by Quatre, Rashid, and the Maguanacs.
The boy sat at the table with him, looking impossibly small and fragile, his eyes wide as he studied Wufei's face.
Finally, Wufei felt compelled to break the silence. "What's your name, boy?"
"Sham." The boy's face screwed up into a slight frown, as if he were thinking of something else to say. He reached up and touched Wufei's cheek, lightly, and Wufei didn't flinch. The look that was now in his eyes was amazement.
"You are Shenlong pilot?" he asked in a low, breathy voice, thick with accent.
"Yes," Wufei replied, sternly.
Slowly, Sham pulled a blindfold out of his pocket. "Put this on."
"Why?" Wufei asked, wary, his posture stiff and suspicious in the chair he was sitting in. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn't like being in a foreign city on his own, meeting with so- called allies he had never met before. After seeing the condition that Heero and Trowa had returned to the Maguanac camp in, battered, bruised, and bloodied, he certainly did not want to be alone in this country. But the information Quatre and Duo had uncovered in Khamis Mushayt made their mission that much more imperative. He touched the hilt of his katana, sheathed at his side, and felt a little better.
"We are going to a place you do not want to know how to get to, soldier."
Wufei did not like being called a soldier. He was a pilot, and always would be. He always associated the word soldier with the common thugs in national armies that rape, burn, and pillage for the hell of it. "I'm not a soldier," he corrected calmly, controlling his urge to bristle with indignation.
"I watched the ones at At 'if," Sham answered, just as sedately. "Your comrades. I saw them. They were ready to die. Soldiers." He held the black blindfold at Wufei, insistently.
Wufei scowled, unable to think of how the boy had seen Heero and Trowa in their attack on the mobile suit base, but he felt the blindfold shoved into his hands. "We go now, soldier."
Wufei hesitated, saw the look of earnest sincerity in the boy's face, and decided that he wasn't lying. The boy was serious. He took the blindfold and tied it around his head, covering his eyes. He felt the boy's hand, tiny and warm, take his. He felt himself led through the busy streets, felt people brushing up against him, heard the sound of a vehicle. Wufei was carefully led into the car. He felt a single moment of overwhelming panic when his hands were pulled behind his back and he heard the click of a pair of handcuffs, but Sham's soft voice was steady and soothing in his ear, comforting him, insisting in that gentle, serious tone of his that there was no reason to be alarmed or afraid, it was just precautions taken for the safety of al' Babi.
It seemed after an eternity, the car stopped. Wufei was led out, walking, walking. He felt himself led into a building; he could tell by the echoing quality of his feet on the floor, the way the ground beneath him had changed from the giving texture of sand into the hard texture of concrete. Sham guided him into a chair.
"Stay here, soldier. I will get al' Babi for you."
It was dark and cool in the room. Wufei felt a slight breeze against his face; air-conditioning.
He heard the echoing footsteps of the boy return, and the booted, heavier footsteps of who Wufei assumed to be al' Babi, behind him.
Sham reached up and pulled the blindfold from his face.
Wufei, despite his composure, let out an almost inaudible gasp of shock.
Al 'Babi, the Scorpion, stood before him. Petite but strong-looking, about five foot two, she had an immediate impact far greater than her size or her appearance could explain, as if she were surrounded by a powerful magnetic field that bent the world to her. Skin the color of antique bronze, though Wufei suspected the color was due more to the sun than her natural skin tone. Her hair was feather-cut in a boyish, choppy, uneven bob at her ears and tapering back to brush the nape of her neck; she had obviously done it herself. It was thick and naturally straight and so glossy black it almost looked blue. Her bone structure was all out of Arabia; smooth brow, high cheekbones, delicately shaped but mighty, haughty but radiant. She looked about five years older than Wufei, but a quality of wondering innocence and a faint aspect of child-like vulnerability in her strong, stern face made her seem younger than he was. Dressed in a mismatched, camouflage guerrilla uniform, she wore a soldier's beret cocked jauntily on her head and a pair of mirrored sunglasses that hid her eyes effectively. Wufei could see himself reflected in them.
"A woman?!" Wufei burst out, after a tense silence, disbelieving. All this talk of a lethal guerrilla terrorist that was fighting for the liberation of Saudi Arabia against OZ, and it turns out to be a twenty year-old woman?
"A boy!?" the woman answered in disbelief, looking down at Sham, her expression dubious. "I thought you said that these Gundam pilots were fierce warriors? This is a highschooler." Wufei's face colored as blood rushed indignantly to his face. // How dare this onna... //
"They are!" Sham insisted, a defensive note in his voice. "I saw them!"
The leader of the Saudi freedom fighters called the Scimitars walked forward and freed Wufei's wrists from the handcuffs. "So, boy... what's your name?" Wufei gritted his teeth; he was not used to having the same contemptuous voice he used towards women directed back at him.
"I am Wufei. Wufei Chang."
"Chinese?"
"Yes." Wufei's tone was clipped and insulted.
The woman nodded, as if satisfied. "Fine. I am Sheila al' Babi. I'm in charge here, and if you're going to work with us, you'll be on my turf for some time to come." Her English was not American, not with the rough urban underbeat of Duo's speech, but crisp and almost British, an Oxford accent. Her voice was musical and lilting, flute-like. She pushed her sunglasses up on her forehead, revealing intense, dark indigo eyes as hard to read as the portents of tea leaves. Wufei wondered absently who had gotten into whose harem.
"Sheila?"
The Scorpion's smile twisted slightly, reminded Wufei of Duo, sardonic and sad and slightly amused. "Right. Sheila. My mother was Arabian. My father was from London." She studied him closely. "You present a problem to me, you five pilots. My contacts in the Maguanac forces made it quite clear that it would be profitable to have you on my team. Otherwise, we may end up getting in each other's way. That could be fatal. To you."
The young woman cocked her head at him slightly, narrowing her eyes. "I don't like foreigners. But I have heard that your help could be significant in freeing our country."
Wufei glared at her irritably. "The feeling is mutual. But you're right. Our objectives here include getting rid of Sanaa, and disarming all nuclear forces in Saudi Arabia."
"You plan to assassinate him," she replied, her eyes inscrutable, her face as masklike and unreadable as Heero's cold expressionless façade.
Wufei let out a disgusted snort. "Arab terrorists--first thing they think of is murder." He was satisfied to see Sheila's face flush in sudden anger. Had she not been in desperate need of their help, she would have been insulted by the manner of this pretentious young soldier. But Sheila was a powerful influential figure among the resistance to OZ in the country, a faithful subject of Islam and the late Kadeem Winner, the assassinated leader of Saudi Arabia. When she had heard that his grandson was coming back into the country from the colonies to avenge Kadeem's death, she was all too eager to help. Though she carried the foreign blood of her father, she followed the teachings of Allah and was valued by Rashid as a loyal ally in times of need.
Before she could protest, Wufei stood, continuing. "And suppose you tell me exactly why we need your help, woman?"
She glared up at him, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest. "Only I have the PAL codes to disarm the nuclear missiles and keep the Ozzies out long enough for you and your compatriots to take the nuclear warheads."
"In other words," Wufei concluded, miserably. "We're stuck with you."
"I'm afraid so," she answered, smiling slightly as if the prospect did not bother her in the slightest. She made a rising gesture to him. "Follow me."
Sham grinned at him, tossing his head in the direction they were to walk. "C'mon, soldier! It's time to go!" He pulled Wufei down to him and whispered in his ear. "Don't worry about the Scorpion's insults. It is just her way of making friends." Before Wufei could question him further, the boy had winked at him and ran ahead already.
~*~
They walked silently down twisting dark halls, and though Wufei was usually fine in silence, the astonishing beauty of his new "ally" and the strange incidents of the day left him curious.
"So..." he started, not really knowing what to say, "how did you become a terrorist?"
Sheila let out a soft laugh. "You don't talk to women much, do you?" Before he could protest, she went on. "Well... I suppose you could say I was supposed to be born a Rockefeller in your country, but I ended up being born a destitute street fighter here. While other people contemplate the path not taken sadly, I'd rather saunter down a gutter full of blood, automatic weaponry, kicked asses, and people putting prices on my head. Nobody to blame, really. That's just the way it happened."
"Nobody to blame..." Wufei said, almost to himself, pondering the thought. He had never met a woman--or man, for that matter--who would charge down her path in life without wishing for something better.
"Well, maybe Sanaa's army," she replied, after thinking about it a few moments. "That damned army left me a squadron of dead comrades, a hearty hatred of military organization, and some nice training. Besides... my occupation is an interesting one."
"You must have a strange definition of the word 'interesting'," Wufei replied drily, still studying his surroundings warily. They were in a series of halls and rooms, and it wasn't until they had been walking for a while that Wufei realized the entire thing was underground.
"It all depends on your perspective," she replied cryptically. She stopped in a side doorway and came out with two djellabas, tossing one to Wufei. "I suggest you put this on. There's a sandstorm. Good cover for us, but not very comfortable to travel in." She slipped hers over her fatigues, wrapping the top of the robes around her head.
"Where are we going?" he asked finally, putting on his own djellaba.
She ignored him, still walking. They came to what seemed to be a large underground hangar. All around them, mobile suits, tanks, and armored wide-tracked personal carriers were being built and repaired. The woman rebel walked up a ramp alongside a parked jeep and pressed a large flourescent orange handprint identification device in the wall. The closed entrance of the hangar irised open, letting in a flurry of sand and hot, fiercely blowing wind. Instinctively, Wufei threw his hand up to protect his eyes.
"We're going to be driving in this weather? It's impossible."
She ignored him again, speaking in quick, fluid Arabic to one of the techs working on a nearby mobile suit. He nodded, giving Wufei a curious glance before going back to work on his suit.
"Are you stupid or deaf or both, woman?" Wufei demanded. "We cannot travel in this storm!"
"You've no right to talk to me that way," she snapped back at him, her eyes narrowed in an angry glare. "Have you never been taught any manners? Do you not have honor?"
Mute with frustration, Wufei could not do anything but sputter in an attempt to retaliate.
"Even if you're worried and afraid and anxious, you cannot talk to me that way. It isn't chivalrous and it isn't honorable."
"But I--"
"I will not abide rudeness from you."
Forcing himself to speak more calmly, speaking through clenched teeth, Wufei said, "I'm sorry."
She smiled at him. "You don't sound sorry."
"Well, I am," Wufei replied, sullenly.
"Well, you don't sound it."
Wufei heard a soft snicker from one of the nearby techs and resisted the urge to whirl and glare at him. Wufei thought maybe he would kill her rather than to wait for Sanaa to do it.
"I'm genuinely sorry."
"Really?"
"Truly, truly sorry."
"That's better," she said, her voice calm and tranquil. "Now let's go. Sham, come here!"
Wufei scowled. "But I still think it's unwise for us to travel in this weather."
"Are you a coward?" she asked, as the boy ran up to them.
"No!"
"Then what do you have to worry about?" She turned away from him abruptly before he could answer and got into the jeep at the entrance of the hangar. Sham jumped into the back, and she looked back at Wufei expectantly.
"Well?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Get in."
Resigned, Wufei grumbled and got into the passenger seat, crossing his arms haughtily over his chest, his chin and gaze high as he looked straight ahead.
"Put on your seatbelt."
Wufei looked over at her as she started the car. "What?"
"It's the law."
Bewildered, he obeyed, wondering how one of the most notorious guerrilla leaders in the country could possibly worry about being pulled over for not wearing a seatbelt.
TBC...
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