Prisoners of War

Name: Natea <natea2x1@hotmail.com>
Title: Prisoners of War.
Rating: Pg-13-R
Warnings: AU, Shounen ai, Yaoi.
Pairings: 2+/x1, 3x4x3, 5x6.
Summary: Alternate Universe. Duo, a Flight Lieutenant in the L2 Air Force, finds himself locked up as a prisoner of war by Oz.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the G-Wing characters. I’m not making any money from this story.
Authors Note: I’m taking some liberties with this fic, for one thing there are no Gundams. That’s not to say there weren’t ever Gundams but for the purpose of this fic they no longer exist. It’s really freaky...I’ve been writing this for about a month now, playing around with different ideas...and yet on the night I finally decided to post the first part up what’s playing on tv but a brand new fictional series called P.O.W. I’m watching it right now lol.

Prisoners of War.

Chapter One.
A New Pigeon.

 
Flight Lieutenant Duo Maxwell one of the pilots of the infamous 666 squadron, known on L2 as ‘The Sweepers’ was beginning to feel his smile slipping. He’d been standing at attention for what felt like hours now, he was tired, he was cold, he was footsore, and he was most definitely hungry.

From his position he could see the prisoners’ barrack huts, slatted windows filled with warm, welcoming light, and every so often the chilled breeze would waft the scents of countless suppers in his direction. It was hell to see the comfort so close and yet not be able to move.

They’d been on the move since dawn that morning, marching from the one and only train station within thirty miles of the camp. It had taken them ten long, tiring hours to make the journey and the fun still wasn’t over. They had been searched on entry, a brief but still thorough investigation by large men with even larger hands.

Duo grinned a little at the memory, the hidden pocket he’d sewn into his greatcoat had gone unnoticed...his treasures were secure, wrapped carefully in a sheet of toilet paper and tucked away from view just below his left armpit. He had no doubt that others in his group had done similar things.

Stifling a yawn he glanced over at the barrack huts again. His good humour was definitely beginning to die now, he wanted nothing more than to be identified, catalogued and issued with a number so that he could finally get some sleep. He didn’t fool himself about eating, Oz wouldn’t log them in officially until the morning and so they wouldn’t have a food ration yet, the prisoners already here wouldn’t care to share what little food they had for themselves, he knew this and was prepared for it despite the protests of his stomach at the idea.

Sighing, he cricked his neck to the side a little, more out of boredom than discomfort. They were only waiting for their transport guard to hand them over officially to the camp’s commanding officer, just a simple matter of checking numbers and signing some forms and yet the process seemed to be taking hours.

Suddenly the soldier to his left, a tall, burly guy in his early twenties who was known as Curly for the simple fact that he had a buzz cut, nudged him with his elbow and nodded once in the direction of the guard house where the commander had disappeared an hour ago, “Activity.”

“Finally.” Duo breathed back, watching the guard house with interest as the man he recognised as General Dekim Barton stepped out with the surly guard who had been responsible for their transportation from the station. The guard saluted once and Dekim nodded, dismissing him, before walking towards the weary pack of prisoners standing in the camp circuit. He reached a small, fold away table that had been set up in front of them, placed his clipboard down on the surface, and smiled.

“Good evening Gentlemen, may I be the first to welcome you to Khush-Renada XIII.” His voice was neutral, there was no trace of the heavy accent that Oz was famed for. “My name is General Dekim Barton and I am in charge here, if you have any problems during your stay with us please feel free to address them to either myself or my second in command,” A young woman standing on the steps of the guard house moved forward at this and bowed stiffly at the waist. “Colonel Une is fair in her approach.

“Just a few points I feel I should make clear to you and then we can issue you with a home for the rest of the war.” He smiled...No one smiled back. “We are a high security prison as I’m sure you’re all aware and as such we do not tolerate disobedience of any sort. Any escape attempts are dealt with severely.”

The soldier next to Duo snorted at this. “The worst they can do is isolation,” he muttered. “They like you to think they have power but they don’t. I know my rights.”

Duo nodded in answer.

Dekim continued, not hearing the whispered comment. “It’s too late to show you around the grounds tonight and I’m sure you’ll find everything fairly easily. One word of warning though, you’ll find a wire suspended at a level of two foot around the inside of the camp. This is the perimeter wire and any prisoner setting foot over this will be immediately shot.“ He paused to let this sink in a little. “We don’t have any surveillance cameras in this camp. Please don’t take this to mean we are easy to escape from...we’re not.” He tilted his chin up a little, “There have been no successful escapes from this camp in it’s entire history; it’s pointless to even try so I recommend you don‘t.” This time it was Duo who snorted, like that was going to happen.

“Roll call is at oh six hundred and fourteen hundred daily, you are expected to be on the circuit on time and to stand in silence until the count is over. Rations are issued on a Monday straight after the morning call. We will make an exception for yourselves and food will be rationed out pro rata for the rest of the week tomorrow morning at the kitchens, until then I‘m afraid you‘ll have to make do without.” He stopped as a tall, blond man strode confidently across the circuit and saluted. He began a short, whispered conversation before saluting once more and stepping back to stand next to Colonel Une.

The General smiled. “Lieutenant Marquise has just informed me that your bedding is ready for collection. I believe most of you have brought your own clothing from your last camps but in case any of you are in need of this you can request items tomorrow morning at the food stores. Paper and pencils will be handed out then too so that you can write and inform your families of your location. The post is collected from a mail box by the guard house door every other day, it is read and censored if necessary before it is mailed out to the colonies. Are there any questions?”

Silence.

“Very well.” He picked up his clipboard and opened a wooden box roughly the size of a shoebox, which had been placed on the table. “You will approach when I call your name. Avery, David.”

The named soldier stepped forward. And so began the process of cataloguing.

.o.O.o.

“Maxwell, Duo.”

It took twenty minutes to get to his name. Duo grinned at the soldier on his left and stepped forward towards the table. General Dekim had already pulled his card from the box and was studying it intently when he stopped, clasping his hands behind his back in an ‘at ease’ position and waiting. Dekim looked up.

“Please state your name, rank and colony for the records.”

“Duo Maxwell. Flight Lieutenant. LaGrange two.”

Dekim nodded, ticking off the name on his clipboard.

“Identity number from your last camp?”

“Oscar, one, five, seven, zero, two, alpha, juliet.”

A smile. “You’ll find your number is a lot simpler here.” He slid some white card numbers into a black, rectangular holder and hung it around Duo’s neck using a piece of string attached. The card fell down to his chest and Duo looked down at it curiously, reading the upside-down numbers.

‘Zero, Two.’

“Look up please.”

There was a flash as his image was captured on a digital camera. He blinked a little, to remove the coloured spots that the light had left in his vision. A few seconds later a small machine on the table began to whirr and click and within a minute a new identity card had been processed, sliding out of the hole on the side of the device and pingping into a small basket, which had been placed there for that purpose.

Dekim picked up the card and studied it for a second before voiding the old card with a red stamp and stapling the two cards together. He placed the cards back the the box and stared at Duo intently.

“You are a pilot.” It was not a question.

Duo caught himself before he could let the frown form on his face. “Yes, Sir,” he answered, not entirely sure what Dekim was insinuating.

The commander nodded thoughtfully, studying every aspect of the youth from his short, slight build to the yard of braid that hung down his back. He seemed to pay extra attention to the gold stripes on Duo’s dusty, black L2 air force uniform but finally he seemed satisfied and nodded, marking something down on his sheet.

“We tend to keep the pilots housed separately from the others,” he remarked casually. “It’s for your own protection, some of the ground forces can be aggrve ave and we had some problems in the early days with pilots being assaulted; they seemed to be an easy target because of their slighter stature. You understand?”

Duo nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. I’ll inform Lieutenant Marquise and he can show you to your barracks later.” He didn’t speak again and Duo, taking this as a dismissal, strode over to Lieutenant Marquise to collect his bedding.

.o.O.o.

It took another half an hour to finish the cataloguing of prisoners and the weather had turned distinctly cold by the time Duo found himself standing behind the tall, blond Lieutenant at the entrance to one of the rustic looking wooden sheds.

“Zero hut. Otherwise known as the pigeon coop.“ Marquise informed him as he knocked brusquely, waiting for someone to answer, Duo blinked in surprise, he had expected the soldier to simply barge in. Catching his inquisitive expression Zechs smiled and shrugged.

“We respect you, you respect us,” he said quietly. Before Duo could answer the door swung open to reveal a slight man of definite Chinese descent. Marquise nodded in greeting, a faint smile on his face. “Good evening, Chang.”

“Marquise.” The Chinese answered with a small nod of his own. “You are early this evening, we’re still in the middle of cooking supper.”

Duo’s stomach lurched hungrily at the word and half forgotten feelings rushed back at him. Marquise looked please the the man’s cnt. nt. “Good. I hoped I would be in time,” he said, stepping into the hut confidently, “You saw the new intake arrive?“

The Chinese nodded, “The whole camp knows they’re here.” He cast an inquisitive look at Duo before continuing. “They’re screaming for news from the outside.“

Marquise smiled. “I have another conscript for your hut.”

“Another pigeon?” Chang sounded interested and flicked his eyes in Duo’s direction once again. Duo stepped forward at this, planning on introducinmselmself.

“Flight Lieutenant Duo Maxwell, Sweeper squadron, L2.” He said, saluting smartly and taking the opportunity to cast a quick glimpse around the inside of the hut. It was empty apart from the Chinese who nodded in greeting.

“Flight Sergeant Chang WuFei of L5.” he returned, “Although we don’t stand on ceremony here, rank is name only.”

Duo nodded in understanding. Next to him Zechs smiled.

“I’m sure he has a lot of news about the outside Chang. If you feed him well tonight he may even tell you some of it.“ He smiled a little at his joke and turned to Duo, “I’ll leave you to settle in. Roll call is at oh six hundred tomorrow as I‘m sure you remember. Chang will explain the rest.” He bowed his head to the Chinese, “I will see you tomorrow WuFei.”

“I look forward to it.” Chang’s eyes gleamed as the taller blond backed out of the hut, closing the door behind him. Duo watched as the other boy stared at the door for a while before glancing over at him. “You should choose a bed,” he said in a tone which implied he didn’t care if the boy chose a bed or fell down and slept where he stood.

Duo blinked. “Um...yeah...so which bunks are taken?” he asked, momentarily thrown by the quick change in attitude.

Chang strode over to the bunk that was lined up against the right wall of the hut and sat down on the lower bed possessively. He nodded towards the bunk directly opposite him on the left wall. “You have a choice of the top bunk of that bed or this one,” he said. “There are pros and cons to both. If you like warmth then this bed is the best...it runs alongside the only heating pipe in the hut. There is no window on this side though so if you favour fresh air then the other bunk is the choice to make.” He looked at Duo. “What’s your identification number?”

“Zero, Two.” Duo answered, dropping his bag and bed roll onto the floor casually. “Why?”

Chang nodded. “Zero is for the hut, two is for the bunk although we don’t really take much notice of that. Your assigned bunk is the top, left. Even numbers on top, odd on bottom. The one below you is Zero One, these two here...“ he motioned to the third and final bunk in the hut, which was lined against the far wall, “...are Zero Three and Zero Four. I am Zero Five and Six is, as yet, unoccupied. You can still take top, right if you pr.” H.” He looked unhappy at the thought and Duo smirked as he considered taking the bunk just to annoy the pilot. He didn’t like to be too warm though and it was this that finally made up his mind.

“Nah, top, left is fine thanks.” He picked up his bags and hefted them onto the bunk in question. A faint flurry of dust flew up at the action and he raised an eyebrow. “Sawdust?”

“It’s surprisingly comfortable after a while.” Chang commented. “You get used to it.”

“Mmm.” Duo wasn’t convinced. Stepping up on the mattress of the bunk below he pulled himself up onto the bed and began the task of unrolling the bed roll. The strong smell of camphor hit him immediately and he coughed.

“Jeez Man, where do they store these things?” He raised his hand to his nose and sniffed gingerly. Yep, it was all over his hands now. Great.

Chang smirked. “It will fade soon. Would you rather have a blanket with holes in?”

“I’d rather have a duvet and silk sheets thanks,” Duo answered, “But I guess this will do for now. Don’t we get mattress sheets?”

“Not necessary.”

“Great. Does this stuff itch.”

“Yes.”

“Even better.” He spread out the bed roll, noticing that there were in fact two blankets rather than one. They were both very thin though so they could only really be counted as a single covering. There was nothing else, no pillow case or under-sheet, only the rough, dirt-brown blankets. The pillow was an off-white colour, heavily stained from previous owners, Duo had no doubts in his mind it was crawling with bugs. With a sigh he jumped down from the bed and began to smooth out the cover. “Well that didn’t take long.”

“The others will be back from the kitchens soon. Zechs mentioned you may be hungry?”

“Zechs?”

“Lieutenant Marquise.” Chang corrected. “Are you?”

“Hungry?” Duo cocked his head to one side and thought. “It’s weird. I was earlier...I think I’ve gone past it now.”

“Hn.” Chang nodded, “You’ll feel hungry again as soon as you smell the food. We have a little to spare. It’s not much but it’s enough to keep you going until you get your own rations.”

Duo looked shocked. “Thanks. I didn’t think you’d offer.”

“We’re a small hut. We pool our resources here. I hope you will consider doing the same.”

Duo nodded, “Sounds good to me. In my last camp they always gave me instant coffee, can‘t stand the stuff.”

Chang smiled. “You’ll fit in well here. Barton can’t function without a cup, I’m sure he’ll offer you something in return. His share of the marmalade perhaps.”

Duo felt his mouth beginning to water.

“WuFei! Could you get the door? I can‘t turn the handle.”

Chang smirked, “Zero, four,” he said. “Dinner.” Opening the door he reached out and lifted a tin tray from the hands of a frazzled looking blond who was balancing another tray halfway up his left arm.

“Thank you WuFei.” He smiled, “I couldn’t turn the handle without one of the trays slipping--” He stopped as he caught sight of the unfamiliar face in the room before one of the largest smiles Duo had ever seen on a person spread over his face.

“Hi there.”

His smile was infectious and Duo found himself grinning back despite his weariness. “Hi. Duo Maxwell, L2,” he said.

The blond nodded, “Quatre Winner, Lagrange four.” His eyes gleamed, “You’re from another camp?“

“Yeah,“ Duo said, “I got kicked out of Mari-Maya XI trying to escape dressed as one of the women who came in to wash the bedding every month.“ He grinned.

Quatre smiled in return. “Are you a pigeon?”

Duo frowned a little. “Am I?” He looked over at Chang for confirmation. The Chinese nodded.

“The prisoners here are known as rats.” he explained, “We are pilots or pigeons...rats with wings.”

“Ah.” Duo smiled, “In that case I’m definitely a pigeon.”

“Wonderful.” The short blond seemed ecstatic at the knowledge. “Oz don’t seem to enjoy sending pilots here. It’s only been the four of us in the camp.”

“That’s right.” Another voice spoke up from the doorway, causing Duo to turn in surprise as he hadn’t heard anyone else arrive. A tall, thin boy with brown hair nodded curtly at him before stepping into the room and placing a pitcher of water on the chest of drawers that was the only other piece of furniture in the room. “Trowa Barton, no relation to Dekim.” He said in greeting, his voice schooled into a tone that indicated just how many times he had been asked the question.

“Duo Maxwell.”

“Duo hates instant coffee.” Chang said, smiling a little as Trowa looked at the newcomer with a sudden spark of interest in his eyes. Duo nodded.

“Can’t stand the stuff,” he agreed.

“You like marmalade?”

“Love it.”

“Good.” He reached up to one of the six shelves that lined the wall at the front of the hut...the only wall without a bed...and pulled down a handful of tin dishes, made by beating old tins flat and moulding them into shape using the edge of the cupboard and the heel of a shoe. Silently he began to pass these out to the others in the room, Duo included.

Quatre was busy scooping out servings of what appeared to be corned beef hash, a mixture of instant mashed potato and a tin of corned beef which had been placed under a grill to crisp up the top surface a little. It seemed a pitiful amount for five hungry, growing boys but they had little choice in the matter if they wanted their rations to last the week. When it came to Duo’s tin Quatre lifted out an especially large portion, ignoring the braided boy’s protests.

“You’ve been walking all day no doubt,” he said, “You must be starving. Now Eat!” And the sparkling aquamarine eyes turned forceful, so forceful that Duo swallowed his words and sat down on the lower bed of his bunk obediently.

“Where’s Yuy?” Chang took his own dish back to his bed and sat down indian style.

Trowa shook his head, “Helped out in the kitchen then wandered off as usual without a word. He’s probably doing the circuit one last time before the light gets too bad. He’ll be in before they lock the doors.”

Chang snorted.

Duo looked up from his plate at the words, only now noticing that there were indeed only four people in the room instead of five and that Quatre had left a small portion of food in the original tray. “Yuy?” He questioned, scooping up another mouthful of the hash hungrily.

“Yuy is Zero, one.” Chang said, “It’s his bed you’re sitting on.”

“I take it he’s not the most sociable guy in the compound?”

Trowa smirked, “Yuy is about as friendly as a crocodile with a sore tooth. Stay out of his way and he’ll stay out of yours...guaranteed.”

Duo glanced behind him at the bed, noticing the coin bouncing tightness of the blankets and the absence of any personal artefacts like photographs or letters. If he didn‘t know any better he‘d swear the bed wasn‘t occupied, only the fact that Oz didn‘t like to waste blankets on empty beds told him that there was someone who slept there. “Doesn’t sound like a fun way to live.”

Quatre shook his head, “It’s no way but he seems to like it. He doesn’t come into the room until lights out, never eats with us, doesn’t really speak unless it’s vital. He does his share of work though so we don‘t really question it.”

Chang snorted. “I’m sure he’d be delighted to know we’re talking about him.” he said, effectively closing the topic of conversation.

They fell into silence for a while, eating. Finally when they had finished Quatre collected the dishes and disappeared into the dark to “Wash them out under the water tap.” Trowa meanwhile, stood up and pulled down a battered looking tin from the shelf that seemed to hold all of their perishable goods. “Hot chocolate?” he raised an eyebrow questioningly in Duo’s direction.

“Please. If you’re sure.”

Trowa didn’t answer but dropped a loaded spoonful into a fourth cup. The powder was paler than the usual chocolate brown and Trowa poured the hot water from the pitcher into the cups, stirring them quickly before passing them out.

Duo took a sip and closed his eyes in bliss. Trowa looked pleased at the reaction.

“I mix it with powdered milk,” he said. “It makes it creamier than normal and takes some of the bitterness out of the taste.”

“It’s great. Thanks Man.” Duo took another sip feeling the exhaustion of the day beginning to wrap itself around him in comforting folds. He stifled a yawn which Quatre was just in time to witness.

“You should get to sleep Duo. Roll call is early in the morning and I’m sure you’re tired.”

“I haven’t told you the news from the outside world yet.” the braided pilot mumbled sleepily.

Quatre laughed. “I only arrived here myself last week Duo. I came here straight from capture so I probably know more than you anyway. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Get some sleep.” He took the drooping cup from Duo’s fingers and helped the tired pilot lift himself into his bunk. “Leave your clothes on,” he advised seriously. “It gets chilly of a night and you can shower in the morning and wash your clothes then. Besides, no one can steal them while you’re wearing them.”

“Mm..hmmm. Thanks.” Duo murmured, already more than half asleep.

The lights flickered off and on again suddenly. “Five minutes ‘till lights out.” Chang said, but Duo didn’t hear him.

In five minutes the lights did go out and ten minutes after that the door to the hut opened and closed quietly. The newcomer stood for a second, listening to the sounds of four sets of steady breathing. Satisfied that no one had woken, the shadowy figure lifted the remains of the corned beef hash and ate quickly and efficiently before quenching his thirst with half a glass of tepid water.

Approaching the bunk where Duo lay, he paused for a minute, running his hands over the mussed up covers of the lower bed and feeling the light fall of sawdust that had been pushed out from the mattress above with the weight of the braided boy’s body.

There was a slight growl of annoyance and then the strange crunching sound of the mattress being compressed as the unknown boy sat down on the edge and toed off his shoes. More noises as he moved to lie down and pulled the covers up, then a sigh before the room was silent again.

In the top bunk Duo lay awake, listening to the new arrival’s breathing as it evened out into sleep. There was a clunking sound at the door which he knew to be the guards locking them in for the night. He closed his eyes slowly, trying to slow his breathing down and get some sleep.

First night at Khush-Renada XIII, he thought, twitching his shoulder as the burlap sacking of the mattress rubbed irritatingly against his skin. First day of many.

The thought was not comforting.

TBC...