Pawn - Soul Forge Series Part 3 by Zooie
Standard disclaimers apply

Author’s Notes: This was the hardest part to write and I apologize for the time it’s taken. I’d brought Duo to a pivotal junction and had to tread very carefully. We’re all familiar with his character from watching the show. Let me assure you, spanning the significant gap between “Becoming Shinigami” and the first episodes was daunting. I’d drawn him through his life fully knowing the person he’d turn out to be and that had posed quite the challenge. Essentially, I was working backwards, deconstructing his psyche and then fitting it back together. In the end, I took the coward’s way out and ended the storyline roughly two years before the start of GW. I left Duo plenty of time to change and mature beyond where my interpretation ends.
I feel it’s worth noting that the version of GW you’ve seen will influence your opinion of this work. If you’ve seen the Cartoon Network version, undoubtedly you find Duo horribly OOC. If you’ve seen the unedited dubbed version, you will probably find he’s OOC, but will be able to go along with it. If you’ve seen the unedited subbed version, however, and read the duojinshi, I hope you’ll find he’s in character! If you don’t, I’ve done a very sloppy job.
I apologize for my writing style. As my professor put it, I “have the voice of five writers and speak enough for all of them.” Sorry if I’m a bit wordy.

I apologize as well for this lengthy introduction. On to the story!

---

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

-William Butler Yeats, “the Second Coming”

“Let go! Let me go!” The scrawny youth struggled with the ferocity of a wildcat, limbs flailing about with violent intensity, his boots scuffling for solid footing on the treaded metal floor. Caught in the solid grasps of two men literally twice his size, he seemed not to know that he fought in vain. Truth be told, he didn’t appear to be quite in his right mind. His actions were too frenzied, his struggles too animalistic. Though they maintained their holds stoically, the two men regarded their catch with wary eyes.

Go limp in their arms and then, when they think you’ve passed out, take advantage of their weakened defenses to break free, Duo’s good friend Experience instructed him mentally.

No, too predictable, Wisdom argued. Knee the taller one in the crotch and use the moment of shock to escape. The first will be too incapacitated to stop you and the second too surprised to do more than gape.

That’s the oldest trick in the book! Experience scoffed. It never works!

Of course it works! That’s why it’s in the book in the first place! Wisdom shot back.

Shut up, both of you! The best course of action would be to cease struggling and negotiate. Use words to win them over to our side, Reason contributed sensibly.

Damned pacifist! Experience scoffed.

Well, he might have a point... Wisdom reluctantly agreed.

Idiots! I’m surrounded by idiots! Experience moaned.

In the end, in the midst of all the caterwauling and complaints, it was the trusty pair of Panic and Profanity whose golden words won the debate: Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit!!!

Twisting and tugging in his captive’s arms, struggling with all the power his body possessed, Duo’s actions took on an air of desperation as he realized that he was not getting free. “I’m warning you! Let go ‘a me!” he threatened ineffectively, an edge of insanity tinting his words. He seemed to truly believe that he could fulfill his empty threats. As they retained their hold on the boy, allowing him to exhaust his resources, the two men exchanged glances and rolled their eyes at one another. They had known all along that this fight was over before it had begun, regardless of whatever strength the boy‘s mental stability (or lack thereof) might lend him. Determination only went so far in the face of brute strength.

“You’ve got a lot of courage kid, stowing away on our Sweeper’s ship,” one of the men informed Duo gruffly, not at all impressed by the outrageous display of childish audacity. He fights with a soldier‘s passion, but his eyes are squeezed completely shut, he noted with wry amusement.

Opening his eyes long enough to note his captors’ grim expressions, Duo felt a tiny bit of Reason tiptoe up alongside Panic, neatly insinuating itself in Profanity‘s place. Without his partner, Panic suddenly lost all courage, retreating back into the darkest corner of Duo’s mind. Reason had at long last won out and the only thought Duo could frame of a sudden was, Uh oh! You’ve really done it now, you idiot! Time to cut your losses! He slowly ceased to struggle, chest heaving from his exertions. He was vaguely aware of Reason’s approving nod as he willed his body to still.

“What’s going on here?” A mildly curious voice inquired of a sudden. The two Sweepers, reasonably certain that their hold on the prisoner was secure, chanced brief, backwards glances over their shoulders. Not surprisingly, they discovered the speaker was Dr. G, his eyes narrowed beneath his inane mushroom cap of hair. The physically-maimed, eccentric scientist was a genius of stealth technology and had long since earned widespread respect amongst the Sweepers. Though he had many talents that made him worthy of their admiration, not least amongst them was his uncanny ability to know everything that was happening in his orbits of interest. This was surely what had brought him to their side now, for the hall they occupied was one far deviated from the main flow of the ship’s inhabitants.

“A stowaway. He’s been stealing the food supplies!” the shorter man stated resentfully, relieved to see the scientist. His presence removed all responsibility for the situation from his shoulders. What fate befell the stowaway was no longer his concern.

“Hey, I wanna eat some decent food too, once in a while!” The kid’s sudden self-possession was remarkable. At the drop of a hat his residual rage had fled his body, leaving behind a jaded, sarcastic waif of a boy, a bravado of self-assurance shielding the jagged uncertainty in his eyes. Squaring his shoulders, he jerked in their grasp one last time, as though for good measure. “Let me go!”

Dr. G watched him with a glimmer of interest. “Let him go.” I might have a use for this one.

They eyed the scientist dubiously, positive that the second they loosed their grip the boy would disappear back into the bowels of the ship. “But-”

“It’s alright. He knows there is no sense in fleeing, now that we know he‘s here. Let him go. He has nowhere left to hide.” The words were spoken as much to the captive as to the captors. The scientist thought he saw a flicker of wariness in boy’s eyes as the Sweepers reluctantly surrendered their hold and stepped warily back, poised to lunge if the prisoner should attempt to run. True to his prediction, however, the brown-haired child stood his ground, making a show of rubbing the darkening bruises that marked where he had been held. Malnourished, if he bruised that easily, stolen food or no. Well, that’s fixed easily enough. The boy glared from under his thick bangs, muttering under his breath as he massaged his hurts. Resentment was written in every line of his body. It’s his attitude that concerns me. Such spirit, but such rage! A useful enough tool, he will be, but only if his mind is still malleable.

Dr. G eye the child up and down, seemingly conducting a survey of his unusual appearance, taking in the faded priest‘s clothes and the peculiar braid. He noted the now-fading signs of recent physical abuse, the healing cuts on an otherwise smooth face and the yellowy-green bruises mottling skinny lower arms. The remarkable pallor of his skin suggested that he had been either recently ill or was released from long-term confinement not many days ago. He observed as well the long-since-healed wounds on the youth‘s hands, a network of thin, white scars that bespoke a rough past. Though he had at first estimated the stowaway to be about ten years of age, a close examination forced him to revise his earlier conclusion. Unless he missed his guess -which he doubted- he would bet that the kid was older than he looked. Interesting. This boy is much more than he seems. I *must* have him!

Abruptly he became aware that, as he had studied the child before him, so had the child studied him. He found himself wondering what conclusions the stowaway had drawn. Judging from the expression on his face, the boy’s deductions were none too flattering. Cautious of a sudden. Good. He is aware that the situation has changed, although he is not yet sure how. He is precisely what this plan calls for.

Meeting suspicious blue eyes, Dr. G forced himself into calm indifference despite the sudden excitement that gripped his innards. Schooling his voice into a combination of casual respect and curiosity, he addressed the child directly. “Kid, I can’t believe you snuck onto my ship. I thought my security system was flawless! How did you do it?”

An offended look overtook the boy’s impish features, as though he had been asked to divulge the most precious of secrets. It seemed likely that he would refuse to answer, but then one of the Sweepers cleared his throat, reasserting his presence in the state of affairs. Though minutes ago the boy had seemed impervious to fear, one look at the man’s threatening posture did much to increase his willingness to cooperate. He realizes that with my arrival came a new set of rules. He suspects they are not so conducive towards his well-being as the old. The child hid his moment of fear with a bold pose, cocking one hand on his hip and raising the other to gesture airily towards the ceiling. He tossed his braid and arrogantly tilted his head, flippantly answering as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “That’s a professional secret, but so your pride isn’t hurt too badly, I’ll admit I had a hard time getting in.”

“Interesting brat...” Dr. G was delighted. He is perfect! Or rather, he will become perfect, with the proper training.

It seemed his words has once more roused the boy‘s irk. He glared at the scientist, eyes sparking indignantly. “I’m not a brat! My name is Duo! I run, I hide, but I never lie! Duo Maxwell!” The slim child thumped himself on the chest, as if to prove Duo Maxwell was not just an identity, but also a physical presence. Not just an idea, but a reality.

“Maxwell...?” Suddenly it all came together in his mind. The scars, the imprisonment, the attire, the braid. Just as I suspected! Ah, cruel irony! “Ha ha! Maxwell’s little demon, hn?” he guffawed, citing the name urban legend had given to the Maxwell Church Tragedy’s rumored survivor.

His words seemed to have breached a barrier of sorts, to have broken some unspoken taboo within the boy‘s psyche. There was a sudden change in Duo’s aura. Suddenly, he was no longer a cornered boy delicately skirting his breaking point. He was... something unearthly. Dr. G felt his blood run cold as a sickly grin spread across the boy’s face. Duo leaned forward, staring directly into his eyes with a gaze that bordered on inhuman. His lips parted and he took a step forward, as though about to impart a terrible secret. Dr. G found himself involuntarily shrinking slightly back. Duo caught his apprehension and his grin widened.

“Not a demon...” he whispered disconcertingly. Blinking his wide eyes innocently, he straightened with a jerk and threw his arms wide, tossing his head back to laugh without restraint. “I’m Shinigami!” he announced, as the three men watched aghast.

“Kid’s as wacky as he is,” muttered the tall Sweeper.

As Duo giggled manically, probably on the edge of hysteria, Dr. G knew beyond a doubt that this boy had not come to him by chance. I have been provided with all I need. The pieces have all been delivered. It just remains to put them all together. And nothing so captivated him as a challenge.

*********************

I never thought I’d actually come to appreciate diminished gravity. Duo drifted down the hall gently, correcting his course with a touch when his path took him too close to a wall. But this is actually kind of fun! His first few days aboard the ship had been spent in misery. His stomach was ill-prepared for the churning sensation produced by gravity far weaker than he was accustomed to. Certain... compromises had to be reached between his body and the ship, a process that had not proven especially quick. He’d passed the time curled into a ball in the cargo hold, sheltered by a plethora of wooden crates, silently begging his stomach to calm down.

By the time he’d been able to move freely about, he’d been weak from lack of food. However, he’d had the presence of mind to wait until the ship’s dark cycle began (artificial environments that duplicate natural cycles make adjustment to space easier for a ship’s occupants) before venturing off in search of the cafeteria. Ship this size has got to have a huge supply of food. No one will notice if I pinch a couple a ration bars off the top. However, the catacombs of the ship’s halls had proven far more confusing than he’d initially supposed. Shit, I’ve passed that sign three times already. I am *so* lost! He paused to get his bearings, allowing his feet to settle on the floor, face scrunched in thought. Let’s see... I made a left there and then... no, wait. It was a right... wasn’t it? Lost in thought, he was unaware that he’d begun tapping his boot in irritation against the metal surface on which he stood, creating a regular beat. The sound had lead the two Sweeper mechanics directly towards him...

Idiot, he chided himself yet again. You know better than that! Yet he really couldn’t bring himself complain that loudly. Since his capture, he’d been treated more than fairly by the ship’s crew, was given food and drink per his whim, had free roam of the halls. Hell, they’d even given him his own room, something he’d never had -unless you counted his prison cell, which he didn‘t. He supposed that calling it a room was a bit generous, though. It was scarcely large enough to hold a bed. And the only reason they put me there in the first place was so they could lock me up if they wanted. But still, it’s odd to have a place to call my own, even if it’s just for a little while. I kind of like it. Privacy was a new sensation for him and he reveled in it.

Yeah, this place is pretty cool. ‘Cept for that Dr. G guy. He creeps me out. I know I owe him, but I just keep getting this feeling that there’s more to him than he’s letting on. Head accountant, my ass. That guy is dangerous! Sighing, Duo floated to a halt in front of an ominous looking door. Yep, Hold 9. This is the place. Of course, it *had* to be the creepy looking one! Wonder what he wants? Eh, does it really matter? It’s time I finally start earning my keep. I hate being a leech. With a sudden eagerness, he rapped the door smartly.

“Enter!” Dr. G ordered sharply. Duo keyed the touch pad and the door slid open.

The world suddenly lost all sense. From the back of his mind, Profanity crept forward, a tentative offering in hand: Shit!

What the hell?!!! That’s a Mobile Suit! It’s huge! His feet moved him into the room of their own accord. He was propelled across the floor by fascination, never taking his eyes from the monstrosity before him, until he reached where Dr G stood, an amused glint in his eyes. “T-that’s a Mobile Suit,” he sputtered.

“I am aware of that, Kid,” Dr. G patiently watched, waiting to see what conclusions the boy would draw. He’s proven himself quite intelligent thus far. Let’s see just how much he can figure out on his own.

“But... It doesn’t look like the other suits I’ve seen. It’s... different,” Duo stared with awe at the machine, considering.

“Yes, it is very different. It’s quite unique,” Dr. G agreed. You don’t know the half of it, kid! But Duo’s next words forced him to reconsider his thoughts.

“It doesn’t just look different,” the boy observed thoughtfully. “And it’s not just made differently. There’s something about it that’s weird. It... it tries to trick the eye. It’s like it’s hiding.” He laughed suddenly, but the sound held no humor. “But that’s crazy! Something that big, hiding? Puh-lease, Duo!” He rubbed the back of his head nervously. “It’s impossible! Right?” he looked to the scientist for confirmation, his eyes begging for confirmation.

He has the wisdom to be circumspect towards what he doesn’t understand. Fate has truly delivered him to my hands. “Is anything truly unachievable? I thought it impossible that someone could penetrate my ship, yet here you are.”

“You can’t mean... but... Why do you have something like this? Where did it come from?” Tearing his eyes from the suit, the boy whipped around to stare at him with wide eyes. “What are you planning to do with it? And why did you show this to me? You can‘t possibly expect...?!”

“Very good, boy. You figured it out all by yourself. I wondered if you could.” He was more than pleased with his acquisition. He is worth the time and effort of training him. Now I just need him to agree to my proposal. “This is Deathscythe. If you wish, he could become your Shinigami.”

Impervious to the spectacular offer he’d just been made, Duo was proving himself to be in a less than agreeable mood. He‘d dropped into a slight crouch, skepticism radiating in almost tangible waves. “Stop speaking in riddles, old man! What the hell is going on here?! I‘m warning you, you do not want to piss me off!”

“Calm yourself, boy, there’s no need for anger. All will be explained,” Dr. G was practically cackling with enjoyment. “Oh, you have much to learn! I cannot wait to begin!” He spoke as if Duo had already given his acquiescence. The stowaway quite clearly begged to differ.

“No way in hell! There is no way I’m learning to use that thing until you tell me what you’ve got planned!” Jerking his head from side to side, his braid whipping through the air behind him, the kid was the picture of stalwart refusal. Ahh, but his refusal is not absolute. He has left room for acceptance, should my words please him.

Honesty was doubtlessly the best course to take. But even the truth can be used to manipulate. Raising his eyebrows in a parody of shock, he spoke as if he were surprised by Duo‘s lack of understanding. “What is my purpose? What do I seek to accomplish? Why, Kid, the same thing as you do. I seek to protect the colonies.”

Wisely, the boy was not so easily convinced. If anything, his answer had just raised more questions. Good. I would be distrustful of someone who switched sides so easily. “Protect them from what? And how?” Duo asked, tone sullen but with markedly less hostility.

“From those who would do them harm. The Federation. Oz. The Longfeller Foundation. And how? Well, that’s up to you, now isn’t it?” The snare is falling neatly into place. Ah, this is far too enjoyable. You‘re becoming callous in your old age, man.

“What do you mean? You’re going in circles! Just give me an answer, already!” The youngster yelped in frustration, his patience obviously worn to the bone.

Dr. G dropped all pretense. Moving to stand directly before the boy, his hands shot out before the kid could react. Locking the boy’s head in his grasp, he turned the face so they were staring eye to eye. Tension drummed through the boy’s frame as he willfully tried to break free. Dr. G ignored his struggles, locking the boy’s eyes with his.

“You, Duo Maxwell, will pilot this suit. You will use it to defend the colonies. You will be their shield. You will be their Shinigami. You will act as his hands in their name, damning those who would destroy them to the depths of hell.”

“B-but that’s crazy!” The youngster blinked rapidly, eyes darting nervously around. His struggles increased. Dr. G gave his head a rough shake, forcing him to stillness, before capturing his eyes once more.

“Is it so dissimilar from what you thought to do? Look at yourself, Kid. Look at where your plans have gotten you.”

“That’s different!” Duo closed his eyes, refusing to reveal anything to the scientist’s probing gaze.

“Really? I was under the impression that we both sought to achieve the same goal: to protect the colonies from harm, to remove the need for them to fight, to save them from themselves and what they do not understand. But you explain to me how your plan is different.”

“It just is!” The eyes remained stubbornly closed, the mouth scowling in aggravation.

“How?” Dr. G pressed without restraint against the boy’s will. He *will* bend! He *will* be mine!

“Because... because...” Sounding desperate, Duo stalled and seemed to weigh his options, trying to determine exactly where he stood.

“Because what?” Dr. G sharply reminded him exactly what ground he tread. “Answer me!”

“Because I was supposed to die!” A hissed admission, spat between clenched teeth. The pale cheeks flushed red. Dr. G had no sympathy for damaged pride.

“And now I’m offering you a way to achieve your goal without dying. But the question now is, boy, whether you have the strength to choose life.” He spoke evenly, frankly, not passing judgment upon the boy, but certainly broking his admission no excuses.

“Fuck you! I don’t have to take this shit from some ugly old loser like you!” Duo’s eyes shot open, filled with resentment and hatred. But beneath the virulent emotions, something more lay dormant. Pain. Fear. Hopelessness. Futility. This boy has been kicked more often than the lowest of beasts. It is long since time for him to assert himself in this world.

“Yes, you do, oh ignorant one. Just who do you think controls this ship? Whose benevolence do you think you have been enjoying? Refuse me, boy, and you won’t die a noble death for the colonies. You’ll be put down like a dog.” And that is precisely what you’ve been seeking to avoid.

“You’re insane,” Duo whispered in horror. Dr. G chuckled briefly.

“Perhaps. Or maybe I’m just ruthless. I have my cause and I choose to stand by it. I had hoped you would stand by my side...” This war leaves no room for kid gloves. I’m sorry I had to be so hard on you, kid, but this was necessary if the colonies are to have any hope at all. Gently, he released his hold and patted the boy on the head with odd affection. “Don’t worry, my boy. The time will come when you will play Shinigami. But first you have to agree to my terms, eh?”

“I...I.”

“I see you’re overwhelmed at the moment. Let’s make a deal, eh, boy? I’ll give you a week to decide. You can pilot for me or you can choose to curl up and die. I’m being very generous with you, kid.” He turned his back on the wavering youth, crossing the cold, echoing floor to stand beneath the mobile suit. Running a loving hand across the gundamium foot, he addressed the boy with a hint of hostility. “I suggest you decide quickly.”

“What’s to keep me from stealing a shuttle and leaving?” The words were more from curiosity than from any actual threat. He will think this matter over very seriously. And once he realizes there is no decision at all, he will surrender to my plan without qualms. But for now I’ll play along. Let him think he has a choice to ponder.

“Hmmm. I do believe you’d try. Interesting. Ah, well, no consequence. Constant supervision should thwart any escape plans you can come up with.” He chuckled without humor, his hand still resting against the massive foot of his creation.

*****************

Pia resisted the urge to rub her head in frustration. I am going to have a *colossal* headache later on. Goddamn stubborn kid. Who do they think I am, Mary Poppins?[1]

She was not in the mood for this right now. She‘d spent all morning cloistered in the accounting office, bent over the books, trying to discover just how 1,000,000 credits had simply up and disappeared. I’m going to have to have a word with Howard about the proper usage of decimal points.

No sooner had she left the office than Yossarion had intercepted her in the cafeteria and saddled her with the Kid, claiming Dr. G had had “urgent business” and was deferring the boy to her watchful eye. She’d been unable to come up with a valid excuse to avoid the responsibility and had found herself sitting across the table from a very puny, very bored, very discontent bundle of dissatisfaction named Duo Maxwell. Finding herself wondering why Dr G had taken the youth under his wing (this is no place for a child), she’d swallowed her complaints along with her lunch. Standing with a glare that dared the boy to disobey her, she’d then led the way to the spaceship’s gym, resolute that her schedule was not going to be disrupted by an unannounced visitor. She was a creature of habit, set in her ways, and if the Kid had a problem with that... well, she didn’t much care. Luckily, her charge had followed without comment, feet dragging and shoulders sagging. Like I was leading him to his execution, she’d thought with disgust. She’d gone through her normal workout, a routine that took the better part of two hours (it’s hard to keep your muscles strong in low gravity atmospheres) and the Kid had watched her dully, slumped against a wall.

At some point, her feelings had begun that subtle shift from irritation to interest. Well, he didn’t plan to be here, I’m certain of that much. But why was he allowed to stay? Why didn’t we dump his scrawny ass on the nearest space station and book it? From there it was only a matter of time before the interest turned into subtle observation. He certainly doesn’t *look* useful. Gods above, what is with that outfit? It’s as bad as Howard’s damned shirt! And that look in his eyes... that scares me. A child has no business wearing eyes like that. He looks... desperate. Lost. Worn. He’s so thin... Her matronly streak had then kicked in for some unfathomable reason (gonna get me in trouble one day), making her suddenly mindful of the boy’s underdeveloped frame. I suppose some exercise would do him good. He looks all at odds with himself and the world. Nothing like a good sweat to make things seem clearer. Dropping down from the chin press, she’d called over to the Kid, offering him the use of the equipment if he promised to be careful. Upon which he’d suspiciously agreed and, at her suggestion, stripped off his outer shirt. Upon which he’d inadvertently revealed the knife strapped to his upper arm. Upon which she’d been appropriately scandalized.

And I’ve spent the past three hours trying to convince this little prick that carrying a concealed weapon is *not* allowed on a Sweepers ship, especially when you’re a goddamn kid that nobody trusts!

“Kid! For the last time! I’m not arguing with you! Give me the knife!” She held out her hand impatiently.

The Kid (Duo, she reminded herself absently. The little brat has a name.) stood before her, said knife clenched firmly in his bony fist. At least he’s left it in the sheath. He had that much sense. From the way his knuckles were sharply pressing against his flesh, she would have bet he was not going to give up the weapon freely, even if she hadn’t already been struggling for three hours to attain that very goal. She’d tried everything, short of out and out violence. The Kid had consistently avoided her lunging snatches, skirted her surreptitious approaches, and resisted her wheedling requests. She was at the end of her patience. Thank the Gods that no one has taken an interest in our little... discussion. The last thing I need is for some loudmouthed, know-it-all mechanic to show up. Or, stars forbid, Dr. G... although I’ll have to inform him of this later.

“B-but I have to-” the Kid sputtered, his stamina finally wearing down. His logic, which had begun as impassioned, was now reduced to shreds, falling fast before Pia’s astute mind and sharp tongue. He refused to admit defeat, however, and Pia really hated that...

“Yes, yes. I know. And I know. And I know. Because you keep telling me!” Every two minutes for the past three hours. She mimicked his voice harshly, purposely pitching her tone to be high-pitched and squeaky. “‘I have to go to the Earth and get revenge! I have to go and kill every man, woman, child, pony, elephant, rosebush, mosquito, aardvark, emu, and amoeba that has even the remotest connection to the Federation! I am Shinigami and I will kill them all!’ Pretty damned conceited, if you ask me.” She snorted.

Instead of retorting with a jab of his own, Duo was suddenly on the defensive, not seeking to advance his position, but rather defend it. “Stop making fun of me! You don’t understand!”

And something in her snapped. I? *I* don’t understand? Oh, boyo, you have got another thought coming. She spoke harshly, her tone acid, her words biting. She met his eyes forcibly, leaving no room for misunderstanding or twisted meanings. He would listen. “Don’t understand what? How it feels to have everything ripped out from under you? How it feels to have lost all you know? To have nothing? Not even a reason to live?” She sounded suddenly tired, her vigor lost in the bitter reality of her words. Duo shrank visibly before her gaze. “Look, kid, what happened to you wasn’t fair. It wasn’t even right. It was a goddamn shame and I’m sure it hurts like hell. But how is causing more pain going to change that?”

He sputtered, all certainty destroyed. He looked as though he hung onto his beliefs by a thread. “But... if I destroy them, then they can’t hurt anyone else ever again! If I stop them, they won’t ever make anyone hurt, ever!”

She could not allow such unfounded, such idiotic, hopes to continue living on. There were certain realities that one needed to learn as soon as possible in life, lest one become a victim. And I am utterly amazed that Life has not yet taught him this lesson. Or is he, in spite of all that has been done to him, still that much of an idealist? Impossible!

“Silence! Listen to yourself! Do you really think that’s going to solve anything? If it’s not the Federation, it will be someone else. Always, it will be someone else. You could fight for an entire lifetime and never free man of his pain. You have to fight the cause of an evil, not the puppets it controls. Is destroying the Federation going to change anything? Are they really the ones you must fight against? Your heart is in the right place, but your thoughts are all wrong. Have you ever heard the expression, an eye for an eye and soon the whole world is blind? Is it not better to destroy the weapon than the eye?”

“Better blind than dead!” His temper flashed through his indecision. He held the knife more steadfastly than ever.

“Do you really believe that?” she asked quietly.

He was silent for a long time, unblinkingly meeting her even stare. Then, he lowered his eyes to his boots, looking suddenly lost and ashamed. “....No.”

Sweet, utter relief flowed through her. Even with all his stupid hopes and dreams, there is still some sense in that thick skull of his.

“I didn’t think so. Kid, come here. I’m going to explain something to you.” He refused to come, suspecting that an approach would mean the sacrifice of his knife. The niggling idea presented itself that this knife was more than a simple weapon to him. Hmm. A symbol, perhaps? No... A reason. A reason to get up each day. A reason to continue living. Her heart felt heavy and she longed to crawl into bed with some painkillers and a cup of tea, but she still had words left to say. And someone who desperately needs to hear them. “In this life, everyone has choices presented to them. Sometimes we choose rightly, sometimes we make mistakes. We never know for certain until we’ve already acted. Though we’d prefer to be in the right, it is often from our mistakes that we learn the most.”

“I know that!” He rolled his eyes, those huge blue eyes that held so much wisdom, but also an equal serving of ignorance. Goddamn it! I’m trying to help you! Unthinkingly, she lashed verbally out.

“I know you do! You’re alive, aren’t you?”

Silence. She’d pushed him too far. Unsolicited anger shot through her mind. Damn. Now I’ll never get that knife. Only... She admitted to herself that that wasn’t what bothered her, truly. Now I’ll never have my say. And if he gets himself killed... I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll always wonder if I could have somehow prevented it...

“I apologize, kid. That was uncalled for.” She took a deep breath. She didn’t care if he listened or not; she had to say this. For herself. She had her own demons. “Look, all I’m trying to say is, there are times when we know we’re making mistakes. The trick is to realize we know. Usually pride is the biggest obstacle we must overcome in order to see clearly, but I don’t think that’s the case with you,” she said thoughtfully. “I think it’s much more basic. I think you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid!" He sounded horrified at the idea. At least he’s listening. And did he...?

“Did you just lie to me?” she asked frankly.

“I...” He looked shocked, though she wondered at the cause. The lie or my observation of it? The former, I hope, for your sake.

“I thought so. See what I mean? You, Duo Maxwell, who runs, hides, does everything, but never lies. Your pride caused you to err in your judgment... only I don’t think it was pride this time, either. It was fear. You were afraid I’d think you were weak and vulnerable, something you learned the hard way is not a safe way to be perceived. Your fear of being hurt or taken advantage of caused you to make a mistaken judgment.”

“So what are you saying? That I want to destroy the Federation because I’m afraid they’re going to hurt me? Lady, that’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard! If I was afraid of them, I’d be running away from them, not to them!” He laughed in her face. She refused to be provoked. She would not be driven away like some ninny, brought to anger by a willful boy.

“Ah, but that’s where the distinction lies. You’re not afraid for yourself. You’re afraid for the others. For the colonists. You’re afraid of what will happen to them.”

Silence. She’d hit a nerve. That’s right, kid. You’re not as tough as you thought. I see right through that mask of yours. No use pretending with me!

“Thank you, Ms. Pia, for your invaluable assistance,” Dr. G’s stumpy form abruptly detached itself from the shadows gathered in the unevenly lit hallway, plodding its way to their side, making nary a sound even on the metal floors. What the-? How long has he been standing there? What’s going on here? She stared hawkishly at his gnarled face and something told her that she had just been used. A tool...? I am but a tool to him? And what of this boy? Is he a tool, as well?

Dr. G ignored her resentful glare and approached the focus of his concerns, the now-shaken stowaway. “You do realize that you’ve declared yourself the sacrificial lamb, kid. You’ve decided to martyr yourself for people who don’t even know you’re alive. That’s damned brave and damned admirable. But it’s also damned foolish.”

“Why?” Duo looked white-faced, shocked, aware that he was being assaulted on all fronts. He had backed himself into a corner and, unlike on the streets where he’d once lived, the knife would offer him no protection. The arena he occupied was far too large... the opposition far too deadly.

Dr. G looked rather amused at his question, a smile toying at the corner of his lips. “Because what would your death accomplish? You’d die for your cause, but what effect would your death have in the grand scheme of things? None. None at all. How could it? No one knows who you are. No one knows what your cause is. You’re just one person, kid. Just a skinny kid with a knife.”

“I don’t care. I don’t wanna be a hero. I just wanna do what I think is right,” he stated firmly, meeting the scientist‘s gaze before dropping his eyes once more. “I won’t do it, old man. I won‘t abandon what I believe in.” His words lacked strength, however, and he suddenly seemed to be asking a question rather than making a concrete declaration. He was pale, he was shaking, he was still clutching the goddamn knife, but he was coming around to reason. Pia nodded her head in satisfaction, despite her disapproval of Dr. G’s actions.

“No one’s asking you to give up your beliefs, kid.” The scientist sincerely assured him. He rubbed his protruding nose absently, as though scratching an itch that was more imagined than real. “Never that.”

“Then what’re you asking?” Duo seemed too tired to fully express his suspicion, his body drooping before their eyes. His shoulders dropped and he looked determined to shrink into himself. Pia became aware that a battle had just been waged and with his defeat the boy was surrendering something major. I just how he knows what he’s giving up. And why.

Dr. G stepped forward, holding his hands out to the boy as if to embrace him. His voice was candid, his manner open, his honesty plain. “We ask that you trust us. And let us help you. Let us teach you and make you strong. We’ll aide one another and work together to protect the colonies. We’ll make it so that even one person can change the universe.” His eyes blazed with pride.

“But...?” The boy did not look convinced.

“But what?”

“But what’re you asking me to do?” Tired. Resigned. He’s completely lost. He’ll give us whatever we ask... what *are* we asking?!

Dr. G stood directly before the shaken youth. Although he was careful not to touch the boy directly, the look that passed between them made it clear that some connection had been made. He... he *claimed* him. That’s the only way to put it. He’s claimed that boy’s life! And the boy agreed! What... what is going on here?!

But the mad scientist was speaking, his manner suddenly relaxed. Casually, he wrapped an arm around Duo’s narrow shoulders, drawing the boy close to his side. He met no resistance. “What do we ask? Your cooperation. Your trust. Your commitment. But first of all, your knife. You no longer have need of it.”

**********************

It was a huge adjustment, at first, accustoming himself to Dr. G’s strictly regimented days. He’d grown accustomed to regulating his own actions, choosing for himself what and when he did things. It was a bit of a shock to have someone suddenly take his autonomy away, but he’d dealt with it before, when he’d entered the orphanage. Only then, Duo recalled, he hadn’t accepted the loss of his freedom so liberally. Not that he was being so gracious about the loss now, either...

“Aww, come on, G. Just a little longer,” he pleaded from beneath the comfortable warmth of his blankets. “I just want another few minutes.”

The scientist scowled from the open doorway of Duo‘s room, displeasure obvious. “I gave you ‘another few minutes’ an hour ago. It’s time to train and it’s time to train now! I’m tired of your shenanigans!”

“When do I ever ask ya for anything? Come on, just this once!” Duo implored, twisting on his bed so he faced the scientist. The covers rucked across his legs as he grinned hopefully. “Please?”

“Kid...” Dr. G was exasperated. “We have no time for this! Put it down and get dressed! The day is wasting!”

“Jeez. Fine. See if I ever ask for a favor from you again,” Duo muttered, laying down the engrossing astrophysics textbook and climbing out of bed.

*****************

“What? Finished already?” Vern was amazed. He looked up from the cluttered work bench he was inspecting, an array of projects in various stages of repair scattered before him. As the head mechanic on the Sweeper ship, it was amongst his responsibilities to oversee all repairs being made, ensuring that they were executed correctly. Recently, though, Dr. G had added another task to his list of orders: to teach the stowaway, Duo Maxwell, all he knew of mechanics and repairs. He’d accepted the assignment without relish, not looking forward to the job at all. It was ridiculous to expect a child to absorb a lifetime’s worth of knowledge practically overnight. Still, Dr. G was Dr. G. He always got what he wanted. Who was he to refuse?

Their first session together had begun on a rather nondescript note; he’d shown the boy a number of electronic devices, explaining their construction, and then a set of tools, showing how they could be utilized to make repairs. He’d fully expected to be confronted with a barrage of questions and a confession of overwhelmed confusion. However, Vern had quickly discovered that as quickly as he imparted knowledge, Duo absorbed it. The kid seemed to have a photographic memory and he could remember with a glance exactly how something was put together. Vern had to show him but once how an item was constructed and the kid could build it from scratch. Pretty damned impressive, in his opinion. The boy was a natural mechanic. After two months of instruction, he could properly identify, build, and completely repair every piece of equipment the spaceship harbored. Vern recognized a valuable asset when he saw one and abandoned the pretense of lessons, instead allowing the boy to work in the repair shop alongside the Sweepers. Eager to prove himself, the kid had attacked his jobs with gusto, his fingers flying through each repair, unaware of the impossibility of his actions. Kid doesn’t even know he’s goddamn brilliant.

But this... this was just absurd. There was no way he could already have finished the tasks Vern had set before him, mechanical genius or not. The quick-fingered Asian frowned suspiciously at Duo’s nonchalant expression. He’d never known the boy to shirk his responsibilities; if anything, the kid was an out-and-out perfectionist, but there was a first time for everything. “You finished all of it?” he dubiously asked.

“Yep! Anything else ya need me to do? Dr. G is waiting.” The boy shifted his weight impatiently.

“Hold on a second, kiddo. Show me what you’ve done,” Vern ordered, fully expecting to discover the lad was attempting to skip out on his work. I gave him at least five hours work and he’s barely been here forty-five minutes. There’s no freaking way he could be done, not unless he did a half-assed job.

“Sure thing, boss. No problem.” Duo led the way through the maze of work stations until he reached his own table, marked by the tall stool that Duo perched upon while he worked. The table was uncomfortably tall for the boy’s slight frame and obviously had been designed for a much taller man, such as those who quietly worked around them. There were four other mechanics in the room and, although they appeared single-mindedly focused on their work, Vern knew it was a studied disinterest. They were well aware of what was going on.

Closely examining the montage of equipment neatly spread across the table’s surface, Vern felt his face go slack with disbelief. There was no doubt in his mind that each machine was repaired flawlessly. “But... how...” the black-haired man floundered for words. Coherence eluded him. He felt four sets of eyes slowly settle on his shoulders. The other men knew what the kid had done and didn’t want to miss his reaction.

Duo shifted restlessly, unaware that he was the source of Vern‘s stunned amazement, but knowing that he was suddenly the center of attention. “Can I go? Dr. G said to report back to him as soon as I was done, but if there’s something else...” Duo left his words hanging, ready to stay if Vern required his assistance.

“Uh, no. That was all.” Vern pulled himself together, picking up a complicated carbon fuser with reverent hands. Perfect... it’s absolutely perfect.

“Alright. See ya Friday, guys!” Duo departed, waving good-bye as he disappeared from the repair shop, obviously glad to escape the staring eyes of the Sweepers.

“Un-freaking-believable,” Vern muttered. He looked up, staring at the grinning faces of the four mechanics. “It’s just not normal!”

No one voiced disagreement.

*****************

“Goddamn!” He flung his hand out violently, dashing the black and white chess pieces off the checkered board. “Stop doing that! Play the game!”

Duo glared across the table at Reinhardt, ship’s navigator and the newest addition to his growing collection of personal tutors. The stern German was hard-bodied and muscled, with closely cropped blonde hair and ice cold blue eyes. He was the epitome of Hitler’s Wunder Mann, if Duo’s history lessons hadn’t been in error, and had a mind as keen as a well-sharpened knife. They had been working together for several months, meeting twice a week at a small table in the ship’s recreation room. While sometimes they would discuss the latest news clips broadcasting over the vid screens, usually their sessions were reserved for chess. Although Duo had thus far excelled at all of his lessons, it seemed that his weakness had finally been exposed. As Reinhardt was willing to tell anyone who would listen, the boy was hopeless at the strategic game. He’d yet to defeat the German even once and both were growing more than a little frustrated with his inability to grasp the game’s concept.

Today’s lesson was no exception. Duo had been playing badly as usual, seeming to give the board only half his attention and none of his intellect. He made moves without regard to their consequences, treating each of his pieces as an individual rather than a set. Reinhardt had told him his mistakes time and again and yet he persisted in repetitively making the same, invariable errors. Finally, the German had lost his temper and snapped, scattering the chess set from the table. The plastic pieces now drifted around the room, suspend in the air, their mass insufficient to counteract the weak gravity.

“That was the worst game you‘ve played to date, dummkopf,” [2] Reinhardt spat. “Why do you resist me? Why do you disregard my words?”

“Face it, Reinhardt! I’m just not cut out for this! My mind doesn’t work that way,” Duo shot back, bordering on insolence. “I can’t do it! Get over it!”

“Can’t or won’t?” demanded the blonde navigator. “You are far from stupid, young one. This game should be cream to your cat! [3] Forget what you know and learn to see the game for what it is!”

“Look, Super Man, I work alone. I’ve always worked alone. I operate on one setting: solo. I don’t look at all those pieces and see a set. I see a mess. I see liabilities. I see the weak being sacrificed for the strong. Why the hell is the Queen in the back, anyway? If she’s so powerful, why ain’t she out front, protecting the weak? I’m telling you, this game is a crock and I don’t like it! You got that?” It was obvious that Duo had made this speech many times before. It was also obvious that it had been as ineffectually delivered as it was now. His audience was not moved.

“Stupid boy! Do you still not see after all this time?! The pawn can defeat the Queen as surely as the Queen can defeat the pawn!” The German slammed his hands down on the table, half-standing in exasperation.

“Only if the pawn is goddamn lucky!” Duo rose as well, leaning forward across the table, blue eyes sparking with some unidentifiable emotion.

Aware that they were drawing stares from the room’s other occupants, Reinhardt lowered his voice when he continued. “And skill is not a factor? Can the pawn not use his wits to infiltrate the Queen’s defenses?”

“Only if there was a flaming miracle!” Duo snapped cynically.

Two pairs of blue eyes locked for an infinite second. Then Reinhardt dropped his lids with a sigh. Rubbing his forehead, he began slowly gathering the floating chess pieces. “This is getting us nowhere. I do not feel there is any point in continuing today’s lesson. I am tired of going around in circles with you. You refuse to learn. You refuse to see sense. You refuse to see that which is right before your eyes.” Snagging the last drifting piece -a white pawn- he turned back to Duo, facing the boy’s rigid form. “Please inform Dr. G that I will no longer be available for tutoring sessions. He will have to find another to wrestle with your stupidity.” He turned to go, leaving the chess set abandoned on the table.

“Reinhardt?” Duo hesitantly called after him. The tall man paused, cocking his head in the boy’s direction. “I... I’m sorry I can’t be better. But I can’t be something I’m not.”

“Are you so sure of what you are? Are you so confident that your perceptions of yourself ring true?” With those enigmatic words hanging in the air between them, Reinhardt left the room, his body moving with a grace strange to observe from a body so large. Duo watched him as he went, lip bit in indecision. Reaching over his shoulder, he drew his braid forward, clutching the plaited hair in shaking hands.

****************

Duo stood in the hall outside Dr. G‘s lab, shuffling his feet in uncertainty. His motions were fidgety, his manner indecisive. He appeared to be considering a matter of some gravity, twisting the end of his braid about his fingers and chewing on his lip. Sighing in resignation, he squared his shoulders and straightened his back, knocking hesitantly on the closed door before him.

“Dr. G? Can I come in?” he called, his voice a bit strained and high pitched.

“Enter!” the barked reply was muffled by the thick walls.

Keying the entrance open, Duo gently pushed off the floor and floated into the room, the door snipping shut behind him. Looking around the cluttered lab, he searched for his keeper amongst beakers, books, and datapads, all the physical evidence of the scientist’s ingenious mind. Despite several blazing Bunsen burners, the man he sought was nowhere to be found.

“What do you want, boy?” the voice spoke seemingly from nowhere, yet was paradoxically everywhere at once. Duo shivered and inwardly wished he hadn’t come.

“I.. I have to ask a favor!” he forced himself to say, willing his voice not to break.

“What is it?” Dr. G wasted no words, his tone suggesting that he was in the middle of something important.

“My clothes don’t fit and they‘re falling apart. I need new ones,” Duo reluctantly admitted.

“Fine. Tell Gwen. She’ll find someone’s castoffs. You can wear those.”

“Errrr... that’s why I need the favor. I don’t need just any clothes. I need these clothes.” He gestured to his frayed priest’s garb, which had long since faded to gray. The shirt was missing several buttons and the pants legs were far too short. The white undershirt had dulled to a grayish-yellow. It was obvious that the outfit had seen far better days.

“Don’t be absurd. You’ll wear what you’re given.” Dr. G snorted from his personal limbo.

Duo directed his stubborn frown to the room at large. “No. I won’t. I will wear these. Only these.” His tone left no room for argument. It was apparent that that if he did not receive new clothes, he would simply continue to wear the old ones until he could replace them himself.

There was silence for a long moment. Then-

“Very well. Report to Gwen. She’ll require your measurements.” A pause. “I assume you’ll need new shoes as well?”

“Uh, if it’s not too much trouble...”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to lower yourself and wear a common man’s boots?”

“No, that’d be fine,” Duo said in an embarrassed voice.

“Good. Because otherwise you’d be walking barefoot on some very cold floors. Now leave me alone!”

**************

“Well, Duo, you’re much more fit than you were a year ago,” Dr. Pollock concluded with professional approval. “Despite the ship’s gravity, your muscle tone is greatly improved, no doubt due to Pia’s excellent training, and your bone density seems to be increasing. You’ve also gained twelve pounds, though you’re still too thin.” He frowned. “And I’ve yet to determine exactly how much of your weight is contributed by your braid. Still, overall, you‘re coming along wonderfully!” He glanced down at his charts. “I think we’ve caught you up on your vaccinations, too, but I’m going to give you a tetanus booster just to be on the safe side. As skilled as I‘ve heard you are at repairs, accidents do occasionally happen.”

“So all systems are go?” Duo asked with a grin, leaning eagerly forward on the examination table. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

The physician returned his smile openly. “Looking good, kid!”

From where he listened unobserved, Dr. G nodded his head with satisfaction. “Finally, his real training can begin. Prepare yourself, Duo Maxwell. Between you and I, we might just save the colonies yet.”

*******

End Part 3

*******

[1] The legacy of “Mary Poppins,” I firmly believe, will never die.
[2] literally, “stupid head.” Just one German equivalent of “idiot.”
[3] I don’t know if this is a common expression, but my German teacher used to say it an awful lot.

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