Touchdown: Earth
Since time immemorial man has tried to divine the future by looking
at the stars. In every culture across the world the movements of the
stars and planets have been studied and their courses charted. Man has
looked to the heavens and seen god, monsters, hope and wonder. Ever
since the first beings that could truly call themselves men walked the
Earth they felt the power of the stars. The stars called to them. And
man knew that he must answer this call. For somehow he understood that
the stars were his destiny.
On this day five new stars appeared in the skies above the Earth.
To most on the ground they were visible for only a few moments. But
these five shooting stars were to change the destiny of mankind forever.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
United Earth Sphere Alliance Space Tracking Station
Kingston, Jamaica
Captain Peter Zwanzig was hot. Hot, irritated and drowsy. Being
roused from bed in the middle of a sweltering Jamaican night tended to
do that to him. Zwanzig cursed softly in his native German as he
finished buttoning up his uniform. God, whose idea was it for these
Napolonic outfits to be UESA standard even for troops stationed in the
tropics? Cases of heatstroke were becoming annoyingly common among the
men under his command since winter had ended. Zwanzig made a mental note
to have a talk with the head of Caribbean Command as soon as possible.
His uniform now on Zwanzig muttered a few more curses before
leaving the small house that served as his private quarters. Rank did
have its privileges after all. As he crossed the compound the German
felt himself began to sweat. Mentally he cursed whatever gods had seen
fit to assign him duty in this place. To try and overcome the heat
Zwanzig tried to recall the feeling of a cool spring evening back in his
hometown of Düsseldorf. It didn’t help.
“All right, what the hell is so important that you had to get me
out of bed at this ungodly hour?” demanded Zwanzig in English as he
opened the door of the main Tracking Control Center. The Captain was
slightly pleased that everyone in the roomed turned to look at him with
worried eyes. Good. If the explanation for this intrusion into his sleep
wasn’t spectacular there would be hell to pay.
Lieutenant Oito, the Chief Operator, was the one to answer the
Captain’s question. “Sorry to wake you, sir. But every UESA tracking
station has just been put on yellow alert. It seems that five unknown
and possibly hostile craft have entered the atmosphere.”
“Do we have a location on any of these things?” said Zwanzig.
“Nothing fixed, sir,” reported Oito. “We’re having difficulty
locking onto them. Two seem to be headed for Asia and another for the
Middle East. Our branch in Dublin was tracking another one somewhere
over Europe but has since lost it.”
“And the last one?”
“It’s headed our way. Touchdown point is expected to be in or near
the North American continent.”
Zwanzig made an angry sound. Just what in the world was going on?
“All right, get a lock on whatever the hell this thing is. Once it lands
contact the Specials. Let’s make those overpaid bastards start earning
their keep.”
Oito gave his commanding officer an odd look. Zwanzig saw this and
gave the Lieutenant a smirk. “I know what you’re thinking, Oito. Why am
I letting the Specials handle this and not UESA troops?”
Oito nodded slowly.
“Very simple,” Zwanzig continued. “We’re dealing with an unknown
and possibly hazardous situation here. Better to have the Specials stick
their necks out than UESA soldiers. Besides, as much as I hate to admit
it, if the target does become hostile the Specials are better equipped
to handle it.”
“Sir! We’ve managed to lock onto the unknown,” informed one of the
technicians.
Instantly, Zwanzig and Oito were at his side staring at the radar
screen. “Where’s it heading?” demanded the German officer.
“Its telemetry indicates the northern part of the Gulf of Mexico,”
replied the technicians as his fingers danced across his keyboard.
“That’s not good,” said Oito. “There’s a large and powerful storm
brewing off the Gulf Coast right now. If the target comes down in that
area then there’s a high probability of the storm interfering with our
scans.”
“Damn,” hissed Zwanzig. “Very well, keep a lock on that thing. I
don’t care what you have to do, but do not lose it. If we lose that
thing all our heads will--”
“Uh oh,” gulped the technician.
There was dead silence in the control room for a very long moment.
“Just what do you mean by ‘uh oh’!?” snarled Zwanzig.
The beleaguered technician was now as pale a sheet. “Uh, well, sir,
the target suddenly put on a large burst of speed. From its position in
the, uh, atmosphere it was able to reach the storm in a few seconds. And
that’s were we, er, were we…”
“Where we lost it,” finished Oito lamely. His face had maintained
its color but Zwanzig could see the dread in his eyes. It was the same
feeling that was now creeping up the German’s spine.
“Captain?” called another technician. Zwanzig turned to see that the
newcomer held a portable phone in his hand. In all the fluster he hadn’t
even heard it ring.
“Who is it?” said Zwanzig as he felt his mouth going dry. He, of
course, knew exactly who it was.
“It’s General Septum, sir. He wants to speak with you.”
That was when Captain Zwanzig really began to sweat.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was times like this that made Nathan Olsen regret that he’d ever
joined the military. Less than an hour ago he’d been asleep in his bunk
back on the UESA aircraft carrier Relentless. He’d been jarred from a
very enjoyable dream about some of his more attractive female shipmates
by the braying of the ship’s sirens. Duty had decided to make a late
night call. And so it was that Olsen found himself with six of him
fellow servicemen in a helicopter over the Gulf of Mexico riding out the
worst storm he’d seen in all of his twenty-four years.
“God damn!” cursed Olsen. “Will you look at this storm. That’s a
damn hurricane out there!”
“Quite yer bitchin’, Nat,” teased Keys, one of the other crewmen.
“I grew up in Florida, so I can tell ya this ain’t nothing compared to a
real hurricane. This sucker isn’t even a tropical depression.”
“Thanks so much, Keys. I’ll find that very comforting when this
crate takes a swan dive and we all end up fish food,” snorted Olsen. He
then turned and cast a cold glance at the cockpit. “Hey, Alvarez!
Shreve! You two think you can hold this damn chopper steady? We’re
gettin’ shaken like a cheap martini back here!”
“Pipe down, Olsen, or I’ll come back there and jam a cork in you,”
threaten the co-pilot, Shreve, from her position behind the controls.
“And I promise you, I’ll stick it someplace you really won’t like.”
This brought a round of snickering from Keys and the other two
crewmen in the main section, Mwamba and Weaver. Olsen flared red for a
moment but decided to let it pass. The other member of the Relentless’
Ocean Search and Rescue team had been together long enough to know how
to punch each other’s buttons.
“I still don’t see why we got stuck with this job,” grumbled Olsen.
“This chopper wasn’t meant to operate in these kind of conditions. The
UESA should have sent in some mobile suits. They’re much better equipped
for this kind of weather.”
“But they don’t have our experience in search and rescue,” piped in
Weaver. This caught the rest of the team slightly off guard. The tall
blond crewman had a reputation for being the silent type.
“Weaver’s got a point,” added Mwamba, a wiry black man who spoke
with a vague East African accent. “But as we were loading up I overheard
some of the brass talking. Seems that Specials don’t want to get
involved until they know just what landed out here.”
“How much you want to bet the Specials know something about this
operation that we don’t?” asked Keys.
“No bet,” said Olsen. “If they aren’t going to come out here until
after we’ve risked our necks it’s a sure bet that they know something we
don’t. Besides, I doubt the bigshots would want to send out their
perfumed princesses when they’ve got grunts like us to do the dirty
work.”
“Speaking of work, it’s time to start doing yours,” called the
pilot, Alvarez, from the cockpit. “We’ve spotted something on scanners.
Could be debris.”
With that the other four crewman began to move with practiced
efficacy. Night vision goggles were pulled down and a variety of
hand-held scanners were removed from storage compartments. The four then
opened the helicopter’s main door and began to survey the churning sea
below.
“I don’t see anything,” shouted Keys, trying to make himself heard
above the storm and whirling of the craft’s blades.
“I’m getting something on this scanner,” reported Weaver. “There’re
are numerous objects down there. Metallic if these readings are right.”
“There!” called Mwamba.
Olsen squinted at the area Mwamba was pointing to. After a few
seconds he was finally able to see something. Amid the waves several
pieces of metal and other materials were bobbing about. “I see too!
Definitely metal. Maybe part of a rocket?”
“If it was a rocket or something like this there’s be more debris
than this,” said Keys. “I’d guess that this was an entry pod.”
“An entry pod?” muttered Olsen. “Just what the hell is this?”
“You got me,” shrugged Mwamba. “I was thinking that the brass might
be sending us out after some experiment that got away from them. Maybe
an new type of mobile suit. I’ve heard rumors about stuff like that.”
“If this was something like that the Specials would have been all
over this,” countered Keys. “The weather be damned.”
“A light has just appeared under the debris field,” informed
Weaver, simply.
The other men looked and saw two neon green lights glowing faintly
under the ocean’s surface.
“Now what the name of God is that?” said Olsen.
“Some kind of emergency lights?” ventured Weaver.
“Could be,” shrugged Mwamba.
“Damn things look like eyes,” grunted Keys.
Olsen was about to agree with Keys when the lights momentarily
flared brighter. The lights then suddenly rushed toward them. Moments
later a leviathan broke the ocean’s surface with enough force to send
thousands of gallons of water spraying into the air.
Now hovering about the raging sea was a mobile suit over six
stories tall. It was black and white with a bit of gold here and there.
In the suit’s right hand was a staff almost as tall as it was. In the
left hand was a shield about three quarters of the suit’s height. The
construct’s eyes were neon green. Said eyes were now looking at the
helicopter before it coldly.
“Christ!” screamed Alvarez from the cockpit. “It’s right on top of
us!”
“Pull back! Pull us back!” hollered Shreve.
Back in the main cabin the reactions were similar. Mwamba whispered
something in his native tongue that could have been either a prayer or a
curse. Keys let out what was most definitely a curse. Weaver boggled
slightly. Olsen, who had went slack-jawed, was the first to recover.
“It’s a mobile suit!”
Just then a arc of energy appeared at the end of the Gundam’s
staff, turning it into a scythe. A image of the Grim Reaper suddenly
flashed though Olsen’s mind.
In the cockpit of the chopper Alvarez and Shreve were still
shouting and trying to pull the helicopter back. Weaver, Keys, Mwamba
and Olsen just continued to stare at the behemoth before them. It was
then that the Gundam gave its scythe a playful twirl before turning on
the aircraft. With a speed and grace that defied it’s size, the mobile
suit brought its weapon around and slashed it though the heart of its
enemy. In the space of a few heartbeats, final heartbeats, the
helicopter was cleaved in half. The explosion than followed moments
later barely shook the destroyer.
In the control chair of the Gundam history would come to know as
Deathscythe, a young man smiled a grim smile. “Earth, say hello to the
God of Death. You and I will *not* be getting along.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Even in the year AC 195 Arizona’s Grand Canyon is still considered
one of the Seven Wonders of the World. In its history the canyon has
seen great geological change and played host to various indian tribes,
explorers, adventures, fortune hunters, lawmen, outlaws and tourists.
But tonight a new and strange visitor was due to arrive.
The silvery light of the moon shone down on the desert as the
Gundam Deathscythe appeared from the night. It stopped in mid-air over
the canyon and hovered there silently as if listening for something. In
the distance a coyote howled. Weather it was in response to the midnight
hunter’s call or not, the Gundam began to descend. Shortly it was
positioned between two cliffs in an area colorfully named the Abyss.
Once the machine was parked a hatch in its chest opened. From
within emerged a small figure in a red and brown spacesuit. The figure
stood on the hatch for a moment taking in the view of the canyon
silently. He then reached for his helmet. There was a hiss of air as the
suit’s seal was released and the Gundam pilot then removed his helmet.
The young man who called himself Duo Maxwell inhaled deeply and
then glanced at the sky. He was silent for several moments, simply
taking in all the desert night had to offer. “So that’s what the moon
looks like from Earth,” he mused. “It seems so small and far away. But
still beautiful.”
Duo then clambered back into Deathscythe, stripped of his spacesuit
and changed into his favorite outfit: black boots, black slacks, a black
shirt with a white priest’s collar and a black cap. These were the
working clothes of the God of Death.
The pilot then climbed up the Gundam until he reached the suit’s
shoulder. He then lay down, stretched and returned to watching the
stars. “Now this is a view I could get used to,” grinned Duo as he
looked up. “Those clouds rollin’ by are just something you don’t get
with your moon back in the colonies.”
Duo watched the sky a bit longer before a giant yawn escaped his
lips. “Damn, I’m more tired than I thought. Guess I should grab some
shuteye. I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”
With that, the young warrior pulled his cap down over his eyes.
Moments later he was asleep.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Duo awoke he was instantly on full alert. Long months of
training for this mission had made the Gundam pilot’s senses sharper
than most. There was a beeping sound coming from the cockpit of his
mobile suit.
“Now who could that be? I specifically told my secretary to hold my
calls,” said Duo as he skittered down the side of the Gundam. Inwardly
the pilot snickered at his own joke. He knew perfectly well who it was.
There was only one person it could be.
Seconds later Duo was in the suit's control chair pushing the comm
button. Instantly, a screen filled with the image of a shifty looking
man with a shock or gray hair and a very large nose.
"Hey, Professor G," greeted the pilot. "I wasn't expecting to hear
from you in person again."
The professor shrugged. "I suppose I must be becoming worrisome in
my old age. I just wanted to see that you were down and safe with my own
eyes.
"Right as rain, Prof."
"Did anyone see you?"
"Not anyone still among the living," assured the God of Death.
Professor G just nodded. "Good. Our spies tell us that OZ is already
starting to put things together. The fewer witnesses they have to work
with the longer it will take them to figure out how to deal with us.
That delay will be crucial if we're to win."
"Don't worry, professor," said Duo. "Anyone who sees me has got a
date with his maker."
"Excellent. It's that sort of attitude that will ensure freedom for
all the colonies." On screen the professor reached for a nearby keyboard
and tapped a few buttons. "This is an update I just received on your
first objective," explained the scientist. Another screen in the
Gundam's cockpit lit up and information flowed in at a frantic rate.
"This target is very critical, Duo. It's the largest OZ weapons plant
in North America. Destroying this facility will be a serious blow to OZ
and will demonstrate that we mean business."
As his teacher spoke Duo had begun to look over the information.
“Located in the desert about thirty miles from San Diego in a fairly
isolated location. The nearest reinforcements are at least a half hour
away. OZ may as well have painted a great big bullseye on this place.”
Professor G made an amused noise. “They wanted someplace out of the
way where they could do their dirty work in private. If it works to our
advantage I won’t complain. When will you be heading out?”
Duo turned to cheek yet another screen. A radar map showed a number
of dots moving toward the center of the screen. “Not for awhile,” the
long-haired boy reported. “Looks like a sweeper patrol of mobile suits
is headed for this area. You get three guesses as to who they’re after.”
“Duo--” began Professor G.
The pilot cut him off. “Way ahead of you, big guy. I’m secured away
pretty well. Those guys would almost have to step on me to find me. And
if they do see me it’ll be the last thing they ever see.”
The scientist nodded. "Very well, Duo. I'll leave this in your hands.
I'll be issuing you new orders as needed, but this will be the last time
we speak face to face."
"Gotcha."
"Good-bye and good luck," said the professor. "We're all counting on
you, Duo." The monitor then went dead.
Duo glanced back at the tracking screen and smiled slightly. The
patrol had turned and was now headed away from him. "Lucky boys. You
all get to see tomorrow."
The pilot then turned his attention to some of the suit’s other
controls. With machine-like efficiency he began a series of checklists
to confirm that his Gundam was in top shape. Soon the God of Death would
rise and cast his shadow over the Earth.
~*~*~*~*~*~
A tumbleweed drew across the desert. Rolling and tumbling,
completely unaware of the world around it and the hell that world would
soon become.
In the cockpit of Deathscythe, currently secreted behind a large
rock formation, Duo watched the tumbleweed pass by. "That's kind of
cool," murmured the pilot to himself. "Never thought I'd see one of
those things outside of a movie. Yes sir, the Earth is just full of
surprises."
As the morning sun's rise chased away the last vestiges of dawn Duo
studied the facility that lay a quarter of a mile away. Everything his
scanners had told him so far confirmed the intelligence Professor G had
given him. Even at this early hour the plant was working at full
capacity. The presence of the Leo and Aries mobile suits that served as
defense had also been confirmed.
Duo took a deep breath and then exhaled. It was time. "Okay, OZ,
it's time to fear the Reaper!" grinned Duo. The energy blade of
Deathscythe's weapon then flared to life. The Gundam's jets then roared
and the suit lifted into the air.
"The God of Death is coming for you, OZ!" shouted Duo. "Death is
coming for all of you!"
With a burst from its jets Deathscythe rocketed though the air. It
bore down on the weapons plant like an archangel about to dole out the
wrath of God. Indeed, death was coming.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“This is Duo. Primary mission completed.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"--authorities have yet to make any formal announcements, but
rumors of everything from a gas leak to sabotage have been running
rampant. At this point solid information is scarce as even one survivor
has yet to be found.
“ For those of you just joining us there been a massive
explosion at the--"
The screen blinked out cutting off the reporter in mid-babble.
Situated in Deathscythe's control chair Duo wore a self-satisfied grin.
"There's no better way to celebrate your first visit to the old
ancestral homeland then blowing up part of it,” he joked.
Since his attack on the weapons plant Duo had been monitoring
the local media to make sure no mention of him or his mobile suit had
gone public. Not that there was much chance of that. OZ would see to it
that some sort of believable cover story was given to the press. Duo
briefly wondered if someone might try to pin the blame on the colonies.
Whoever ended up with the blame probably didn't matter. OZ’s days were
numbered anyway. The pilot was sure that soon some official would
appear before the cameras, read some very official sounding lies and
then vow to bring those responsible to justice.
"Let 'em try," chuckled Duo. "Right now you'd have to be Captain
Nemo to find me."
The pilot's confidence was not misplaced. Thanks to its underwater
adaptations, Deathscythe was hiding on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean
about ten miles off the California coast. No one would be looking for
him here.
It was then that one of the cockpit's screens again came alive. As
before information rushed in and Duo waited patiently for it to finish.
Once the download was complete he began to read.
"New orders already," mused the young man. "Professor G sure doesn't
waste any time. Now, let's what we've got."
Our sources have confirmed a navel fleet containing some of the
UESA's most powerful vessels is currently on maneuvers near Japan. We
have strong reason to believe that many of the officers and crew are
loyal to OZ. Proceed to coordinates J35 A97 T20. Intercept and destroy
the fleet.
PS Congratulations on achieving your primary mission.
"Thanks, Professor," said the young fighter.
Duo then reached for his navigation controls and began to enter
the coordinates. “Japan, huh?” mused the pilot as he typed. "Looks like
all those foreign languages lessons the Professor shoved down my throat
are going to finally come in handy. What was that he said my name
translated to in Japanese? Oh, right, 'Shinigami'"
A small smirk played over Duo's face. "Shinigami. I like the
sound of that." It was then that Deathscythe's systems engaged. Jets
roared to life and all nearby sea life quickly found somewhere else to
be. Still held in the ocean's embrace the Gundam began its journey to
the Land of the Raising Sun.
In the cockpit Duo felt his resolve growing. "Beware OZ and
anyone else who stands in my way. Shinigami is coming."
The Beginning
Author’s notes: Well, I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. Even
as I was watching the first episode of Gundam Wing I knew that
eventually I’d be writing some fanfic for it. It was just that cool.
While generally pretty happy with this fic, in an odd way I’m sorry I
wrote about Duo. Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy. The way he acts and
cracks jokes makes Duo the type of character I like to write best. The
thing is that so much Gundam fic is about Duo. I’d really like to see
more stuff about Noin, Wufei, Hilde or my personal favorite, Dorothy
Catalonia. <shrug> But I guess you have to write whatever it is that
comes to mind. Who knows, when the stars are right maybe I’ll have some
ideas for those guys.
* One of the reoccurring themes in Gundam Wing is that people have
names which correspond with numbers. Just for fun I went along with
that. Oito means eight in Portuguese. This being a reference to the
comic book series DV8. Man, I miss that book. Zwanzing is German for
twenty. As in how old I was when I wrote this.
* Duo's "fear the Reaper" line was a reference to an old song by Blue
Oyster Cult. Yeah, I doubt few people AC 195 listen to 20th century
rock, but the song does seem to fit him and I thought was funny. :p
? If you didn't get it the bit where he says "This is Duo. Primary
mission completed" was the first time we see him in episode one. As
such, I didn't really see the point in doing a novelization of that
scene.
* That section of the Grand Canyon called the Abyss isn’t something I
made up. It’s a real place that I happened to see while I was visiting
the canyon back in 1998. Trust me, you could hide a 60 foot tall robot
in that place easy.
Hhhmmm, well, that's about all I have to say at this point. Stay
tuned, folks. I'm sure I'll be doing more with the Gundam boys sooner or
later.