Strike Force Five Part 10
Past and Present
Trowa was not the only person who could read body language. From the east patio Wufei watched Quatre and Trowa's edgy encounter. Even though Wufei had not outwardly shown his concern he, too, had sensed the changes in his friend.
Seeing Trowa's departure as chance for his own probe into Quatre's mental state Wufei made his way to the lilac hedge. He found Quatre sitting beneath a palm tree. His legs were bent to his chest, his upper torso slumped over and his forehead rested on his knees.
With Quatre's internal resources depleted from his brave struggle to hide his guilt and pain and exhausted from his tearful release Quatre was not aware of Wufei's presence until the Chinese man knelt down in front.
Under normal circumstances Quatre would have been embarrassed to be caught in such an out of control condition. Right then, though, he didn't care. If someone other than Wufei had found him Quatre would have reverted back to his restrained composure but he and Wufei had been through too much for Quatre to deceive his friend's shrew judgment. They had known each other too many years for him to fool Wufei's ability to sometimes understand Quatre better than Quatre understood himself.
"Are you all right?" Wufei asked with genuine respect and concern sounding in his voice. Crossing one leg under the other he settled on the ground.
Without a hint of shame Quatre looked directly into Wufei's ebony eyes. It didn't matter if his face was wet, his eyes red and puffy or his voice choked with emotion. "I will...be." he sighed as a shiver trembled through his words.
"Want to talk about it?"
Quatre leaned back wearily against the tree. "I don't know where to begin."
"Is it something that happened while you and Trowa were at the compound?"
Quatre sat up sharply, "How did you know?" he asked, his eyes widening in surprise.
"I've known you long enough to figure that it would take something major to put you this far under."
Quatre wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before tilting his head to gaze up through the frilly palm fronds. In halting sentences interrupted by sobs Quatre related his and Trowa's close call with the Security Drone. He poured out all the guilt, "By my selfish insistence I put Trowa in jeopardy." he stated realizing that his lack of field experience could have gotten his lover killed. "That was not the first time that my foolish pride almost cost Trowa his life."
Wufei nodded to encourage Quatre to continue.
"I was so happy when Trowa and I became lovers. It was as if the fates had finally smiled on me. He was my saving grace during the darkest days of my life.
It was less than a year after my parents died, after Heero had been rescued and Trowa decided to stay. I didn't know it at the time but Trowa believed that the plane crash was not an accident. It was no secret that my father had supplied money and resources to the Colonies and therefore he had made many enemies.
Trowa's tedious investigation centered on a Colonel Treize Khushrenada who was the commander of an infiltration unit during the war. After two months Trowa found proof that Khushrenada had issued the orders to kill my parents. I will never forget the day that Trowa came to me with the evidence and my entire world fell apart.
Blinded by rage I swore on my family's honor to avenge my mother and father. Trowa urged me to let him put together a team to seek out and capture the murdering bastard then turn him over to the authorities. Trowa insisted that his evidence would be more than enough to have the Colonel charged with war crimes. But there was no court system civilian or military that could give me the satisfaction I desired I wanted the man dead.
Two days later Trowa's contacts learned that Colonel Khushrenada was preparing to leave for Earth and I knew that I couldn't wait any longer. Accompanied by an elite unit handpicked by Trowa we took out the guards at a private airfield and made our way to the hanger where a military transport was being readied to leave."
*********
Flashback
Standard three-dimensional block print spelled out "INTRUDER" across the transport's side. Identification numbers were also printed in the same red trimmed black letters. Condensed vapor droplets hissed from the enviro-system's cooling vents set at six foot intervals along the aft section. The fine clammy mist sprayed in measured bursts sending out a forceful stream.
Trowa and Quatre crouched behind a series of storage containers on the hanger's opposite side. "You stay here." Trowa whispered out the order.
"But I want..." Quatre began to protest.
"I need to see if the Colonel is on board." Trowa stated steadying his pistol on his bended knee. "Either you promise to stay here and wait or we will leave now. I don't have time to argue with you."
"I promise."
Trowa gave his lover a quick kiss, "I won't be long and if the Son of Satan is in there I will call for backup."
Trowa snaked his way among various equipment finally pulling up some twenty feet from the Intruder. He stayed low skirting the tri-alloy-plated hull to be as obscure as possible and to avoid the release jet's stinging expulsions.
The last jet marked the mid-section. Towering two stories the Intruder's Center Conning Shaft dwarfed Trowa. Three retracted beam cannons guarded either side of the towering protrusion. Shielding his eyes from the bright blue framing markers Trowa hurriedly studied the silver-gray fuselage for any sign of a hatch.
Pressing his pistol to his chest Trowa continued his search for a way inside the massive ship. Footsteps from somewhere behind him hastened his pace. Jerking his weapon into a ready position Trowa slid his back along the cold hull plating debating the best place to bolt, hopefully undetected, for better cover. A few more steps and he would be clear to make the dash.
Suddenly a sliding hatch broke the ship's solid side. Making himself as small as he could the trespassing "Guardian of Quatre's Heart" drew up under the limited space between the fuselage and the floor.
Two tech-support crewmen, their gray jumpsuits almost matching the ship, stepped down from the doorway. The pistol came up. Luckily for Trowa and the crewmen their paths did not cross as they turned in the opposite direction. It took only moments for the pair to reach the ship's blunt nose and disappear around its front.
Unfortunately the extra time spent waiting out the tech's exit closed the gap between the approaching footsteps and Trowa. The striking of boots on the concrete floor grew louder. Ending his debate over projected escape routes Trowa slipped his hand through the hatch's side grip gracefully swinging his body inside.
Vertical columns of indented light squares, dimmed to one-third shutdown power, ran from deck to ceiling at regular intervals. Their reduced capacity created "blind spots" half again as dark as the corridor's center. Trowa tucked inside one nook taking advantage of its murky shade waiting for the boot's owner to pass.
A male and female stopped even with the hatch. Their gold and crimson high collar jackets blocked the outside light lending Trowa additional gloom in which to hide. He couldn't make out many of their words but right then he didn't care what was being said. Right then it was all he could do to slow his racing heartbeat and pray that they would soon move on before other members of the Intruder's crew put him in the proverbial position between "the rock and the hard place".
Finally the pair started forward. "Good." Trowa muttered to himself. But his racing heart was given but a brief respite before it became clear that the pair intended to come aboard.
Retreating further into the ship was not what Trowa had in mind. As an uninvited guest the intrusion would not only be looked upon as incorrect etiquette but trespassing as well. The infringement of privacy, Trowa was sure, would neither be graciously accepted nor condoned by his hosts. Under the circumstances, however, he was left with few options. He managed to disappear down the dim passage just ahead of the crewmen.
Now Trowa's goal was finding the nearest exit. An intersecting hallway presented yet another problem. No matter which route he chose Trowa knew it would draw him deeper into the Intruder's bowels. If he could find a secure hiding place perhaps he could wait out the "parade" then double back the way he came.
The last thing Trowa wanted was to become lost in the labyrinth of corridors and dead end maintenance access tubes. No better to hold his ground while he still had his bearings. "But where to hide?" he asked looking first one way then the other.
A sharp click that sounded suspiciously like a triggering mechanism being set echoed from Trowa's right...or was it his left? The repeated snap bouncing off the bare walls gave no discernible direction as to its source. But the guessing over the exact site was overruled as the noise was immediately followed by a shout.
"Halt! Stay where you are!" The order boomed through the vacant hallway.
Trowa momentarily froze startled by the reverberating command but his immobility was short lived. Setting his weight on his left foot Trowa pivoted reacting purely on his battle-tempered instincts. Dropping to one knee he fired two quick shots. None found a mark. One struck against the far wall, the ricochet sparking blue-white in the gloom. The second bullet ripped down the corridor's middle expiring with a faint "pop" somewhere beyond his vision limits.
Trowa's defensive discharges must have had mystical powers for the outline of a Security Officer's ebony uniform and matching helmet abruptly materialized from thin air. The apparitional faceless form's stationary stance blocked Trowa's desired retreat path as its sudden metamorphic emergence caught him full exposed in the passage's barren vacuum.
The helmet tilted at an angle. Refracted light shone in distorted color bands curving over the smoky-gray tinted face shield. A steel-blue gleam glanced along the assault rifle's barrel as it was leveled into a firing alignment.
Fully aware of his absolute vulnerability Trowa also leveled his pistol's blackened end counting that his reflexes were better than the Officer's was. Even though the already sited weapon had the upper hand Trowa had to say the hell with the odds and play the hand through to the end.
The Officer's reciprocal response came as a nuzzle explosion filled the stark space with blinding brilliance. Dodging the flash Trowa slid to one side rounding the corner. Again the hall divided, Trowa darted to the right. The Security Officer's boots striking the metal deck plate encouraged Trowa along. He skidded up fitting clumsily into an alcove formed by the hull circle.
"How do you get yourself in these messes?" Trowa thought as he checked his pistol's clip. Four bullets were all he had left.
Suddenly Trowa was acutely award of the stillness. No sound traveled down the corridor. No footsteps. He knew that the Officer had not called off the pursuit. A troubling scenario was unfolding. A tense waiting game with no rules and only one winner.
Trowa inched, step by step, hugging the gradual curve where the mid-section hull rounded outwards. He was keenly aware that each step could be carrying him deeper into the Officer's lethal range but there was no turning back.
Stopping short where a narrow walkway followed the semi-circle bend Trowa reasoned the width change marked the section's connecting link with the main body. Taking a moment to regroup he paused to slow his rapid panting. He was sure his breath's throaty resonance rattled loud enough to give away his position, at least it seemed that way to him.
Each heartbeat hammered hard inside Trowa's chest. He took a chance and closed his eyes struggling to hear his inner voice. He needed it to tell him what to do, how to escape the Officer's deadly stalking. To give some direction, some way back to Quatre.
Trowa knew that his intuitive council had not abandoned its duty but that it was the blood rush roar from his throbbing heart that filled his ears making them deaf to its audio guidance. Tingling nerve endings under his skin radiated in an accumulative sensory reaction until a bone-chilling shiver encompassed his entire system.
In past tense situations Trowa had been jittery or nervous and, as much as he hated to admit it, sometimes frightened. But in this case something menacing had a good hold. And unlike his temporarily muted council the ominous message was loud and clear foretelling of immediate danger. The Officer was near, Trowa could feel him.
In the desolate void of the enemy's lair, in the severance from his lover's aide and comfort, Trowa was truly alone. His eyes flew open. His heart's deafening pulsations suddenly vanished leaving a soundless sensation as though every part of his body held an anticipative breath.
Then every nerve ending jumped at once. "WATCH OUT!" his inner voice screamed.
A muzzle flare tore through the corridor. Something with lightning force twisted Trowa's body slamming it hard against the bulkhead. Those merciful seconds while the nervous system decides what has happened gave Trowa time to wonder about the damage as the question of where the shot impacted slipped into his mind. Then the pungent coppery smell of rent flesh provided the answer.
Breath caught in his throat. White light flashed over his vision. His shoulder burned hot as a wave of nausea washed over. Resting his head on the cold metal surface wall, Trowa closed his eyes to stop the spinning. The attempt to halt the numbing lightheadedness took all of his concentrative effort.
For a moment everything went cold. Quatre's face floated just beyond Trowa's perceptive range. Fragmented, his lover's translucent countenance flowed in wavy images. His azure eyes held Trowa fast in a warm glow. Quatre's lips parted. "I love you." Trowa heard the words but not the voice.
A thud somewhere nearby produced an adrenalin rush. Trowa's eyes snapped opened reality replacing his pain-dazed visions. The surge gave him enough strength to push away from the wall. Retreating back into a group of cross-section support beams consumed what energy reserves were left. Staggering into the crisscrossed framework threatened to buckles his knees.
Carefully testing his arm to see if it would move Trowa realized that he couldn't feel the pistol in his right hand. He transferred the weapon to the other hand holding the barrel at the ready beside his clammy cheek. The butt was slick with crimson matching the steady stream gathering on his right fingertips.
Trowa did not have to look to know the extent of the injury as his arm hung limp at his side. Constricting tightness wrapped around his chest. Each labored breath came with reluctant hesitation. Twice his vision blurred; twice he blinked it back. Trowa knew he was losing the battle to stay conscious but, again, giving up was not an option.
A shadow elongated conforming to the corridor's bend. Trowa firmed up his grip on the pistol trying to control his shaking hand. A figure framed in a backwash of muted light hugged the turn radius with its body. Trowa drew in a steadying breath at a painful cost, set his jaw and waited.
The outline shape moved closer, paused, listened then cautiously started forward again. "Come on you bastard, just a few more steps." Trowa willed the ghostly figure to continue.
Trowa had to have a sure shot. In his condition he knew that one was all he was going to get. He shifted his weight forcing his rubbery knees to cooperate. "Come on." he repeated with the urgency of someone fighting to keep shock at bay. "Concentrate...don't lose it now." he ordered himself. as only sheer willpower kept him from succumbing to the blood loss and pain.
Facial contours emerged from the shadows. The Intruder's Security Officer had discarded his helmet to better his field of vision. His rifle's blackened barrel loomed just in front of his body as the Officer took one more final, fatal step.
"NOW!" Trowa's mind commanded.
With a tottering sideways motion Trowa sprang from the framework's concealment leveling off at the Officer's middle. The dizzy spinning returned completely upsetting what equilibrium remained. The pistol slipped from Trowa's grasp hitting the deck plate with a hollow clang.
Now all Trowa could do was prepare for a lethal blast from the Officer's rifle. Reconciling himself to his fate Quatre's fair features were envisioned in Trowa traumatized mind but this time his lover's angelic face brought an unexpected peacefulness. "I love you, too" he whispered knowing that somehow his lover could hear.
At least, Trowa consoled himself, the end would come quickly. The Officer took one more step; faint light danced on his weapon. Trowa showed no fear as his eyes met the victor's with an unwavering glare. At the end he wanted his burning stare to be something the Officer would never forget. He wanted his determined sight to be forever etched in the Officer's memory and revisited in his nightmares.
The rifle raised in line with Trowa's head. The Officer did nothing to hide his delight. "I am going to enjoy this." he sneered, "Are you ready to go to hell rebel scum?"
Trowa lips poised to answer but he decided that the Officer didn't deserve a reply. Stony silence was all that could be heard in the cold vacancy of the enemy's liar as Trowa stared down death.
A loud bang reverberated. A chill lanced through Trowa to wash the color from his face. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead before everything went black and he crumpled into a boneless heap at the Officer's feet.
*********
Wringing his sweaty hands Quatre struggled with the memories. "Trowa didn't feel the thud as the Officer hit the floor. Trowa didn't see the man's ashen face, the blood seeping from his nose and mouth or hear the raspy wheeze as he was drowning in his own bloody fluids. And he didn't see me standing over the lifeless body holding my smoking pistol. But I could see, I could hear. I could...." Quatre's voice choked on renewed sobs.
Wufei leaned closer laying his hand on his friend's arm. "You don't have to finish."
Quatre shook his head sending stingy blond bangs over his reddened eyes, "I had never killed before that day. I had seen death during the war but there had always been a safe separation...a nameless, faceless division. I never had to watch the fallen bodies go pale, go lifeless."
Quatre sucked in a deep breath to slow his words, to keep his sentences from running together. "It hurt like hell when I did it but I had no other choice. Please tell me that I didn't have a choice." Quatre begged Wufei to confirm that he was not a cold-blooded murderer.
"I understand." Wufei answered moping back the hair from fretted friend's eyes, "You did what you had to do to save Trowa and you should not feel guilty about that."
"But you don't understand. Just like last night if I hadn't insisted on having my way Trowa would not have been put in that dangerous position. Trowa almost died became of my damned pride. Does the pain ever go away...Wufei...does it?"
Wufei didn't have a ready answer. In fact he had his own demons that had never been put to rest. All he could do was empathize with Quatre and let him know that he was not alone in his guilt and pain. "I'd like to tell you that in time you'll forget the past but I won't lie. The pain will ease and the guilt will subside but you will never completely forget. In all these years I haven't forgotten the lives I have taken." He said lowly with a heavy exhalation.
With cumbersome effort Wufei stood up then took Quatre's hand helping him to his feet. "We all have our demons to fight." he confessed.
"Khushrenada is my demon." Quatre proclaimed stifling back his sniffles. "I was supposed to be on that plane with my parents but my father persuaded me to stay behind. My fear is that one day Khushrenada will return to finish what he began with my father and mother's deaths.
*That explains why Quatre has turned his estate into an armed camp.* Wufei's inner voice unraveled the riddle.
Wufei locked his sight on Quatre's angelic face, "Have you told Trowa about your fear?"
Quatre nodded "no".
"Trowa already knows that something is wrong and he may very well think that "something" is his fault." Wufei stated, "You know how much he loves you. Tell Trowa the truth he can handle it." Wufei advised placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Go on and tell Trowa the truth. Who knows maybe confession IS good for the soul." he smiled to hide his own hurt. A somber expression replaced the smile. "Let Trowa help then the healing can begin."
*********
Quatre and Wufei parted company at the top of the stairs. Wufei stripped off in the dark and crawled between the cotton sheets. Lying in the midnight silence he mentally replayed Quatre's tale concerning Colonel Khushrenada. "Tomorrow I will ask Trowa if we can reopen the file." he decided, "Together we will track down Khushrenada and put Quatre's demons to rest."
TBC...
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