Characters: Heero Yuy, Mr. Winner, Quatre
Word Count: 500
Summary: What if Lowe's shot didn't kill Yuy? Written for the "What if...?" challenge (prompt colony) on gw500.
by Arabian Princess
"Sir, Duke Dermail is still waiting for a response. If you don't return his calls soon, I'm afraid he might kill us in the media," an aide fretted.
"Leave Dermail and his wretched family to me," President Yuy assured.
"He says you're harboring terrorists!"
"I can deal with Earth's families on my own terms. If you're in need of work, go find out where exactly Dekim has his troops," he suggested acidly. The aide nodded and left, shutting the door.
Heero sighed and ran a hand over his face. Governing the colonies was getting harder. The attempts on his life had hurt his closest advisors, Dekim and Quinze. After a few years, they had left his side and hid themselves, building an army. Rumors still spread that Dekim's daughter had produced a Khushrenada heir during one of the young man's visits to space. Heero thought Dekim was spreading the rumor to save face for his unwed daughter.
"Mr. President," came the soft voice of his secretary. "There's someone here to see you, sir."
"I can't take any visitors right now."
"It's Mr. Winner, sir."
"Send him in, Taylor."
A moment later, the wealthiest man in space entered. Heero stood shaking the man's hand. "Mr. Winner. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Recent events," Winner admitted. He took the seat indicated. "I've heard Dermail's ultimatum, and I know most if not all of Barton's 'grand scheme.'"
"Oh? The press is not always the best source, but I don't have to tell you that."
"I have a different source, an inside source."
"Who?" asked Heero, very intrigued. He knew the Winners had connections, but he had believed that when it came to the Bartons, he, not Winner, was the more informed.
"My son," said Winner. He called over his shoulder in Arabic—or at least Heero assumed it was Arabic. A young boy entered the office.
Mr. Winner explained what had happened with some Instructor H and reported on Dekim's "grand scheme."
"Dekim wouldn't be that foolish," Heero asserted. "If he tried to rebel, the Alliance would send troops up here in an instance! They'd disrupt communication between the colonies, and only God knows what would happen then."
"My son attempted to run away, to help in this misguided effort." The boy snorted but kept his tongue. "I know where Dekim Barton is hiding out."
Heero sat straighter. "Where?"
Mr. Winner looked to his son, so Heero turned his attention to the lad. The boy squirmed and bit his lip.
"Quatre, now's not the time to be trying my patience," warned his father.
"Son, if you know where they are, you must tell me. We have to stop Dekim before he hurts the colonies anymore. Assaulting Earth will not solve any of our problems," Heero added, hoping the boy wouldn't withhold information just to spite his father. The fate of the colonies possibly lies on the shoulders of this boy, he realized.
"He's on Earth...making a deal with Duke Dermail."