19Celestial Beings – Origins
Book One : Tieria Erde
A Mobile Suit Gundam 00 fanfiction by: Cielo, 2008
Author's Notes : The last time I wrote – and actually published – fanfiction was back in 2002. Since then, I have grown, I have had garnered experiences, but lost the drive to write. Work practically bogged me down as fandoms flourished without me. Now, I come back – I have definitely missed writing fanfiction. Constructive feedback is MOST welcome.
Disclaimer : Mobile Suit Gundam 00/Kidou Senshi Gundam 00 characters, names and related indicia © Sunrise, Bandai; fiction and its contents © Cielo Maaliw, 2008.
Celestial Beings – Originsis a personal take on the past of some of the members of Celestial Being, an attempt at an illustration on how our beloved Meisters and their support crew act the way they do, do the things they do, and feel they way the do.
Chapter one of Book One lays out the ground for Tieria Erde's "origins". More notes at the end of the chapter.
CHAPTER 1
"Specimen 001-Y"
Celestial Being Orbital Laboratory, Jupiter
"Jameson, status update." A statuesque woman stood inside a control center, surrounded by control boards with levers, buttons, blinking lights and screens. Her unruly plum locks were held back by a skillfully twisted pencil, betraying a few stray white locks by her nape and temples. Eyes the color of vibrant burgundy beheld expertise, experience and a no-nonsense aura. Arms crossed over her chest, white lab coat draped over her an ensemble in the shade of pink old-rose, her stern features scanned her 3-man team of lab technicians, finally focusing on the multi-coated, one-way tinted glass spanning her field of view.
"Heart rate, normal. Blood pressure, normal. Nerve responses -" Jameson was cut by a sharp tap on his shoulder. Looking up, his plum-haired boss squinted her eyes, "Is he awake?"
After punching tapping a few commands on the touchscreen at his fingertips, he replies, "Currently undergoing Stage Four brain activity, madame."
"Dreaming, is he?" She let a small smile creep up her lips, "I'll go pay him a visit." She turned her brown Salvatorre Ferragamos towards a small compartment within the control room.
Shutting the door, she shrugged off her lab coat, a nameplate gleaming, "V. Thierry". She changed into a "sanitary suit", as the lab workers called it, a white cumbersome suit covering her from head to toe, clear plastic window allowing for a view of the outside. Its technology allowed for one to maintain constant body temperature, recycle it's carbon dioxide to turn into breathable oxygen, while the suit adopted to the room temperature, thus leaving everything surrounding it undisturbed.
To access the room at the other side of the glass, one had to pass through a different door. She punched in a confidential alphanumeric password - one mistake, and consequences are such that they were unspoken of - giving her access to a pristine white chamber. Upon stepping in, and locking the door behind her, a programmed voice prompt activated, "Voice identity verification."
"Véronique Thierry." Véronique was almost certain she was given such a task and position because of her French lineage - the French language containing such unique vowels and syllabifications that the Voice Recognition System could not be fooled, "Voice identity verified: Véronique Thierry," she smirked - even the voice prompt couldn't get her name right and sounded like, 'Vey-rro-nik Tee-ye-ree', "Voice identity confirmed. Biometric verification, start."
The French woman held up her hands as if in surrender. Blue lasers slowly came down from the ceiling. These can scan through the white "sanitary suit" and clothes to verify her DNA, hand prints, and iris pattern. Another torture she had to go through was to keep her weight and physique in check - dramatic deviations of Body Mass Index and muscle-fat ratio would trigger more undesirable and unspeakable consequences. "Biometric verification, end. Sanitizing, start."
This time, green lasers came down with the aim to "sanitize" the suit, killing all possible bacteria attached to it. These do not reach the wearer inside it however, as the suit's function is to contain a human's natural - and highly essential - "bacteria" in check. "Sanitizing, end. You may now proceed."
The sliding door in front of her lifted. Véronique sighed: she was willing to go through such complexities on a daily basis only because she loves what she is doing. About 3 meters separated her from her target object. A few steps in, she could be seen by her assistants through the glass - stark white against the dark interior. The room was otherwise illuminated by a single source: a coffin-like capsule, made entirely out of bullet-proof glass, held up by a black chrome block. Inside, slumbering in pink liquid, designed to resemble the amniotic fluid found in a mother's womb, is Specimen 001-Y.
She placed her hand on the capsule, and spoke in a delayed audio transmission to her assistants, "I've been working on this project for the past twenty years, and it still amazes me how 001-Y resembles me." Indeed, upon first glance, 001-Y's face, unobscured by any mask, did resemble Dr. Thierry's stern features, as she did twenty years back. She could make out through the liquid that his closed eyelids showed signs of Rapid Eye Movement, "I wonder what he's dreaming about..."
It was almost vanity on the older woman's part, as she looks at herself twenty years younger. Only difference is that Specimen 001-Y, as the "Y" in its codename indicates, was of the male gender. He did not have any navel, as he did not have any need for one - he was kept alive by a constant injection of specially formulated fluids directly into his bloodstream, and rejection of these through a tube discreetly attached to his abdominal area, giving way to a complex network in his digestive system. Finely measured electric signals were sent through fine wires to stimulate his nerves and muscles.
Specimen 001-Y had the same shade of hair as Dr. Thierry - a silky violet, grown down to his waist, gently floating around him as if a gentle breeze constantly stirred it. It is actually safe to assume that he is a direct clone of the woman standing by his capsule, and it would follow that his eyes would have that exact shade of burgundy she possesses. His lips were closed - not pursed - giving his face a very relaxed expression.
A few moments later, the black room came alive in a shade of warm red, splashing with random colors, flashes of light. It revealed that the room was practically spherical, save for the floor. Véronique had no way to see the exit, nor the control room window, as this was an activity she cannot afford to disturb. The suit blended into the background - doors cannot be opened at this delicate time. She kept her position, her breathing regular and measured her words delivered to her assistants :
"Looks like I'll have to stay here for a while longer. My baby's awake." She heard a collective chuckle, then heard Jameson's smiling voice, "I think you disturbed him once again, madame."
"Is Raymund there?"
A female voice answered back, "I'm here, Véro. Am I glad someone like you's assigned to that job and not me."
The two ladies shared a small chuckle, "And I'm glad I have a right-hand woman like you to help me, Adele. This might take a while."
"Catch you later, then. Tchüss!"
"À plus tard, ma grande."
Audio signals cut, and all she could hear was the whir of the chamber she was in. A "womb", her project personnel called it. The naked human eye can only see random lights - such as a badly arranged Christmas light display - on a sea of red. But she knows, that this was making sense to the seemingly slumbering young man inside the capsule - she confirmed as she detected the increased activity through the delicate skin of his closed eyelids and long eyelashes. His eyebrows and lightly pursed lips gave his face an overall expression of deep concentration.
'Tiens bon, Véronique,' She took in a deep breath, 'this will take quite a while.'
Notes:
Translations: Madame – As you all may have guessed, Dr. Véronique Thierry is French. She does not like being called "doctor" and would rather be called, "madame"; Tchüss – almost like "cheers" in UK English, a casual, "Bye!"; À plus tard, ma grande – "See you later!", ma grande being a term of endearment, like "girl", thus, "See you later, girl!" ; Tiens bon – literally, "hold on..."
For those who have seen the series, I am actually referring to the destroyed space station found floating by Jupiter, where the purple Haro owned by the Trinity's was found. GASP! But why is it destroyed? Find out as the fic progresses. ;)
Questions? Suggestions? Any form of constructive feedback is welcome.