On L1, Green-shirt, the boy who would soon be known as Heero Yuy, stood under his capsule.  Something wasn’t right.  He had an uneasy feeling.  He walked up the ramp to the door of the Gundam.  He pulled the lever and the door came open with a clank.  He stepped in and sat down.  The uneasy feeling continued to plague him.  He scanned his cockpit.  Wait!  Did he leave that training disk right side up? He did!  He remembered doing it clearly!  Someone had been here.  Maybe they were still here.

He jumped from his seat and ran out of the capsule. Only he and the scientist were ever in this warehouse.  He hoped it was just one of the others checking things out, but something told him it was not.

He pulled the gun from his spine holster.  Clicked the safety off, and walked to the center of the warehouse.  Maybe, they were still here.  He thought he heard something to the left.  He swung himself towards the ammo crates and began to scan them.

“What is it, boy?” Doctor J asked, walking over to him.

“Someone is here,” replied Green-shirt.

Doctor J scoffed. “If someone was over there, I’d see their heat signature.  Those crates are as cold as the ammo in them.”

“I heard it,” said Green-shirt in monotone.

 Peter, Middie’s younger brother, choose that moment to call her on her ear mike receiver/transmitter. “Middie, what’s happening? Are you alright?”  But Middie didn’t dare answer.  Green-shirt couldn’t possibly hear Peter, but he could hear a whispered response.

“There.  I heard it again,” said Green-shirt.

“Go investigate if you wish, boy.” Doctor J went over to the computer terminal near the capsule, dismissing Green-shirt’s suspicions.

Could he hear Peter? Middie asked herself.  Impossible.  But as she watched, he turned and started right towards her hiding place.  What kind of boy is he? She asked herself as she disabled the ear piece.  Her heart began to pound as she watched him approach, for Middie thought about that soldier and that bloody knife.  He would find her.  There was no way out of this spot without exposing herself. The next closest shadow was at least ten feet away and her climbing rope was three times that distance.

She had to think fast.

The thunderous report of Green-shirt’s gun filled the silence of the warehouse.  The edge of the crate over her head exploded in a rain of wooden splinters.

“That’s a crate of ammo,” said Green-shirt’s cold voice.  “You don’t want to be there when my next bullet hits.  Come out.”

Something came sliding through the darkness at Green-shirt’s feet.  He jumped back and looked down pointing his gun.  It was a badge. 

“Flash,” a female voice called.

The button exploded in a blinding flash of phosphorous, and Green-shirt was looking straight at it.

Middie made her dash.  She ran for her rope, she did a flying leap into the air, flipped and snapped the rope into place.  Instantly, she was soaring for the ceiling.  She reached the cross wire, snapped on and pushed off for her escape wall.

Doctor J ran over to Green-shirt. 

“Listen, boy,” He called. “She’ll be at bearing 40 and 50 degrees in three seconds.”

Green-shirt’s gun arm pointed even as he rubbed his painful eyes.  Three. Two. One.  He fired.

Middie felt the wrenching pain sear her shoulder.  He hit me!  Blind!  Her arm dropped in pain and she bounced off the wall with it, unable to stop her glide.  More pain raced through her as she hung there stunned.

Voices from her training years surfaced in her head.

“Pain is a tool of your enemy.  They will use it against you.  Only you have the power to let them.”

She remembered the pain trainings.  Her instructors used both virtual and actual pain.  This was minimal compared to that.

Her bloody hand reached for the wall line.  The shoulder wound screamed at her.  She ignored it.  She could hear pounding feet below her.  Soon they would have a clear shot.

She snapped the line in place and began to ascend.  Once she made it into the darkness of the wall, she’d be home free.   As she squeezed passed the first floor, bullets hit the cement near her.  Her arms moved like things detached from her—slide, pull, slide, pull.

She couldn’t go out the way she came in.  They would’ve already seen that light in the wall.  They’d be waiting for her.

She remembered her earpiece.  She turned it back on.

“Sis, please report!  Sis!  What’s happening? Oh God! Sister!”

“Brother.  I’ve been shot.  I’m in the wall, heading up.  Can’t make it out on my own.  Begin escape plan Sierra Delta.”

“Roger, sister.  Hold on.”

Escape plan sierra delta meant she had to get up to the third floor bathroom wall and over to the handicap stall.  Peter would meet her there and cut an escape hole.  They would slip out using a disguise.  She’d just cleared the main floor, when she heard sounds of pursuit.

“She’s in the wall, this is her entry point!”

“Stand aside.” That was the unmistakable sound of Green-shirt.  She heard him begin to climb in the wall.  He was free climbing!  She pulled herself quickly up into the second floor.  Just one more.  Then it was up to Peter.

Concentrate Middie.  Slide. Pull. Slide. Pull.   Hurry Peter!

Another shot rang out.  The wall in front of her face exploded.  She felt something graze her head.  Blood began to run down her face.  He was free climbing in the pitch black, and shooting at her!  Inhuman!  How could she win against that?

She would soon be dead.  She’d finally lost.  Tears she couldn’t control seeped from her eyes. Slide. Pull. Slide. Pull. Gulp, sob. Slide. Pull.

She reached it the third floor and pulled herself by.  This one was the narrowest by far.  She wiggled and scrapped and twisted.  She was in throbbing pain by the time she got through.  She swung over to the handicap stall plumbing and braced herself there against the wall.  Now her fate was in someone else’s hands.  Although she hoped otherwise, she knew it would be Green-shirt’s.  He was climbing too fast.  He was that good.  He was the real weapon on L1, and that knowledge would die with her.  She could hear him struggling with the floor she just passed.  Please, don’t let him see me, she thought.

Another shot rang out.

It missed her entirely.  She tensed.  He would not miss a second time.  The wall behind her crumbled.  Strong hands and arms wrapped around her and pulled her out onto the third floor bathroom.  Peter!  Through blurry eyes, Middie looked up to see herself looking down at her.

Then, all went black.

No alarm sounded in the Winner Mansion. Simon stopped mentally kicking himself long enough to realize he could hear the gentle voices below him in conversation.  They talked of maintenance and tactics on the battlefield.

They hadn’t noticed him!

Thank goodness!  What the hell was the Winner heir doing down there anyway?  Surely the proclaimed number one pacifist of the colonies, wouldn’t allow his own heir to be involved?  Besides, Quatre seemed so kind and friendly.  Not only that, but he befriended Ensign Simon Thompson of the Alliance Military Force!  He just didn’t add up.  These Winners were definitely not turning out as expected.

Simon attached an extender to his micro-camera.  He slowly raised it over the edge and snapped a few pictures of the mobile suit.  He could see through the viewfinder, that Quatre and the other man weren’t even facing this way.

He was too damn lucky for his own good.  He removed a bug from his vest and carefully attached it under the counter for the terminals.

Carefully, Simon crawled back towards the door.  He knew now that they could see the door move if they looked this way, so he only opened it enough to slip out.

The metal stairs creaked and groaned again, but he did his best to move silently on them.  Using his mirror under the door, he checked the hall.  Empty.

He slipped out.  He walked quietly back to the bathroom, entered it, flushed, and noisily came out.  Perfect.

He checked his watch.  Six minutes.  Not bad.

Maizah was waiting for him with a smile.  “Okay?” she asked.

“Yes,” he patted his chest.  “Remind me never to do that again!”

She giggled.

Green-shirt climbed out of the hole of the third floor bathroom.  Blood was everywhere.  It was an easy trail to follow.  He’d hit her twice. That he was sure of.  She would not get away.

The trail of blood led to the sinks.  There were bloody paper towels on the floor.  She must have tried to stop the wounds.  But she was in a hurry and a small trail of blood still led out the door.

He opened the door quickly.  Scanning both directions.  Empty.

The blood trail led to the left.   He followed it.  It stopped at the elevator.  Hmmm, that was obvious not the way she went.  Nobody would get into an elevator like that.  She couldn’t go down, there were men down there, she’d be a sitting duck. Going up would trap her more.

He turned and scanned the hall.  At the opposite end, a janitor’s closet stood open with a cleaning cart in front.  There!

As he neared it, he heard running water and the soft sound of music playing.  As he peered inside he saw a blond girl filling a mop bucket.  She was listening to headphones.

The tiny room smelled sharply of way too much bleach.

Two gunshot wounds.  This couldn’t be her!  He looked at her short sleeves, his target had been wearing a full-body suit.

Except, this girl had the right size and shape.  It could be her.

One way to find out.  Hiding his gun, he placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.  Nothing but bra-strap.

“Oh!” said the girl, turning around.  She slipped the headphones down.  “You scared me!  Was there something you needed?”

“I’m sorry.  Please clean the top floor first today.”

“Um, okay.  I can do that.”

He turned and walked out, then he ran for the elevator.  It was the only possibility left.  Maybe she was that stupid.

Peter dressed as Middie watched him get onto the elevator with a satisfied smirk.  He looked at the cleaning cart with worry on his face.  Time to get Middie out.  He pushed it toward the service elevator.

Fifty minutes later, Middie came-to on the hard surface of a table.  She felt a large bandage encircling her head, and someone was messing with her shoulder.  Pain caused her to gasp and her body convulsed.  She cried out.

“Middie!  Middie!  Calm down.  You’re out, we’re safe, but you gotta let me clean this wound,” Peter’s voice assured her.

“Peter!” Middie gasped.  “I thought I was dead, Peter.”

“Well, you’re not.  Now hold still.”

“No!  Send the data, Peter!  It’s a hot-potato!” Middie cried.

“That’s the first thing I did, now calm down.” Peter was pushing her arm into the table forcibly.   Middie relaxed.  With the data gone, they were neutral again.   If you had the data, you could still be killed for it.  It was, as the agents called it, the proverbial “hot potato”.  Once it was gone, you could still be killed but it would be pointless slaughter.  Remove the motivation to track you down, and the enemies were less likely to waste time on you.  Only slightly less.

Boy, had she underestimated the colony resistance!  They had trained a Robert, a child assassin, only Green-shirt was ten-times the killer Robert was.  He could shoot blind.  He could hunt her mere minutes after looking directly at a phosphorous flash!  He could free climb and shoot in the darkness of a confined space!  He was inhuman, unreal, a truly powerful weapon.

Middie wondered if all five of the pilots were like Green-shirt.  Following closely on the tail of that thought was…

“Simon!” Middie gasped.  She’d sent him into one of there lairs without Peter there to pull him out!  “Peter!  Call Simon, tell him to get out.  These people are dangerous!  He has no back up there!”

 “Oh Shit!  Simon!  I forgot about him!”  Peter ran over to his computer terminal and grabbed the mic.  “Brother, come in Brother.  Please report!  Sister says get out!  It’s too dangerous, Brother, do you copy?”

Simon heard all right, but he was too busy doing a very important task.  Kissing Maizah Winner.

He’d spent a very pleasant evening with Maizah and Quatre.  The dinner was fabulous and the singing was fun.  Both of the Winners had beautiful voices, and they complemented his enough to assuage his fears.  He left at the same time to meet the curfew.  Maizah had been sad to see him go, and also to learn that he shipped out that next morning.  He promised to write, and they exchanged contact information.

Simon had almost disappeared down the street, when he heard pounding feet coming up behind him.

“Simon!” Maizah called.

He turned to see her running up to him.  Breathless, flushed and beautiful.

He smiled at her.  “Did I forget something?” he asked.

“No…It just I…well, I…” she stammered. She stepped in closer and look up at him.  The signal was clear.

“I’m not very good at this,” Simon lied to her. Kissing a woman well was something both he and Peter were taught on their third mission by an older female spy, Gret.  She thought teaching them was entertaining.  He was glad of it now.

“Neither am I,” whispered Maizah.

Just like he was taught, Simon reached up and stroked her cheek with his fingers.  He let his eyes scan her face with just the proper amount of wonder on his face.

He carefully leaned in and placed his lips on hers.  She closed her eyes and moved her lips into the kiss.  It felt wonderful to Simon, even better as he watched the reaction on her face.  She flushed and her eyes moved behind her eyelids.   He was really starting to enjoy himself when Peter’s message killed the moment.

He moaned to cover the noise, in case she heard Peter.  Their heads were close together after all.   He pulled away and stepped back.  It was too soon for her.  She moved toward him.

“Maizah, stop.  Or I’ll never leave.”  He looked at her then, deep into her eyes.  He let his body language say the want he had for her.

She flushed even brighter.  She seemed to glow with happiness.

“Good bye, Simon.” She stepped back and put her hands behind her.

“Good bye, beautiful Maizah.” Simon backed away, then turned to walk up the street.  He turned to look back at her three times as he left.  She stayed there, watching him leave.

When he was finally out of sight, he leaned against the building and sighed.  He was going to have to leave the wooing of women part of spying to the movie star spies.  It was way too complicated and hard on the young male system.  Gret was right though, women respond well to that style of kiss.

Peter had stopped talking, when he heard Simon’s lusty plea to Maizah.  The earpiece had remained silent for the last ten minutes.

“Brother, come in Brother,” Simon said.

“I’m here.  Sister’s been shot.  She’s okay, repeat, she’s okay.  I got her out, but she was worried about you.” Peter’s voice was distant but clear.

“Tell her, my side went smooth.  The link is in place.  I got digital art to transmit to you this evening.”

“Make it as soon as possible, Brother.  This one’s a hot potato.”

“Roger.”

Peter turned away from the microphone and returned to Middie’s side. 

“He’s fine Middie, said to say his mission went smooth.” Peter picked up the disinfectant. “In fact, I think I interrupted him kissing!”

Middie smiled, then grimaced as Peter began cleaning her wound again.  “That’s not fair.” She clenched her teeth. “Next time I get kisses and he gets bullets okay?”

Peter chuckled.  “Well, we’ve still got three more mobile suits to find.”

Middie frowned. “You know, I underestimated them.  I screwed up big.  These next three mobile suits…we must be cautious.  I learned a lesson here, I’m not going to forget.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”  Peter folded up two sterile pads and began to secure them over the wound.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”  Middie looked out the window to Henson Towers.  She’d nearly died today.  It would not happen again.  Not to her or either of her brothers.

--The End--