AN: Okay, Zechs and Noin finally meet again, but don’t expect all daisies and sunshine. What? You thought I was going to have them run, slow-mo, into each other’s arms? [snorts at the mental image] Not a chance. I also tried my hand at writing [gasp, faint] Wufei, and I think I did okay.

AN 2: I made a minor change to the last chapter. I re-wrote the conversation the Commander had with his daughter. It isn’t hugely important now, but a few details will be important later to explain the Commander’s motives. You might want to re-read that part before you start.

AN 3: Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story through all the delays, site outages and bad spelling. Thanks to everyone who has recommended my stories to other Z/N fanatics. I appreciate all of the reviews very much and I’m glad to know the story is still holding your interest. THANKS!!!!!!!  Special thank you to Kei the Incarnadine Goddess for giving me a heads up about an annoyingly consistent misspelling. Yes, it should be ‘Pisces,’ not ‘pieces’ [grumble] damn spell check… speaking of which, I didn’t have a chance to have this beta read as I normally do, so it might contain several mistakes. If you notice anything, please email me with specifics. I’d really appreciate it.

 

 

Episode reference: Episode 4

 

 

Still Grows the Lilac

Part II of the Lilac Princess

 

Chapter 12

The Lake Victoria Nightmare

 

======================

 

~ Personal transport of Zechs Merquise, somewhere over Africa~

 

“So, we’ve lost him?”

“Yes, sir. The fifth Gundam vanished past the equator.”

Zechs Merquise frowned down at the report in his hands. Anyone watching would have noticed no great change in the young man’s demeanor and, with the obstruction of his mask, no change in expression, but the lieutenant was frustrated all the same. OZ had been able to track only one Gundam throughout the entire ordeal and then it, too, disappeared. The suit popped up again briefly near the continent of Africa, but vanished once more. That rebel pilot was obviously toying with them. If he could evade Alliance radar, he could remain hidden. The fact that the suit was detected only proved that the pilot was playing games, goading his adversaries. Understanding this didn’t make it any less annoying.

“Lieutenant Otto, you’re certain it is the same suit spotted in China?”

“Yes, the energy signature and movement patterns are identical to the Gundam designated 05.”

“He’s headed for Noin.” Zechs mumbled, glancing up in time to spot Otto’s raised eyebrows. Straightening himself up in his seat, Zechs cleared his throat and tried to explain the comment without actually acknowledging the slip. “The mobile suit training facility at Lake Victoria is a perfect target. I’m surprised it wasn’t attacked in the first volley.”

Otto shook his head. “The base commander there is being too imprudent. Every school child knows the new Taurus space mobile suits are manufactured at Victoria. Security there is too lax.”

“And now we’re on our way there. I understand your concern, but it is the only place I feel is secluded enough to complete the repairs to Tallgeese without risking discovery by the Alliance regulars.”

“You and Lieutenant Noin were classmates at Lake Victoria Military Academy, weren’t you sir?”

Zechs started imperceptibly, furrowing his brows beneath the safety of his mask. Personal questions put him on his guard on a good day, but coming from a man who could very well expose him to the world was decidedly unnerving. Despite this, Zechs managed to respond evenly. “I’m surprised you knew.”

“Every one in the Specials has heard of the two top scoring cadets of all time, sir. You and Lieutenant Noin are legends among pilots. You, especially, for having won top honors, though from what I understand it was a close race up until the very end.”

“Yes,” Zechs said quietly, allowing a moment of nostalgia to take over, “Noin was always challenging me to do better. We were quite competitive, but I learned more from her than most of the instructors.”

Silence fell once more and Zechs found himself lost in thoughts of his old friend. A year now. No, it was longer. He left Earth about three weeks prior to his eighteenth birthday and he was scheduled to arrive at Lake Victoria the day of his nineteenth. Zechs thought about that for a long time as the flight continued. Nineteen. Many of his contemporaries were just starting life as college students or being formally introduced into society in the old aristocratic way. He had worked his way through the ranks—albeit the upper ranks—of OZ to acquire his own command and lead soldiers into battle. He didn’t feel like a teenager, or at least what he assumed most teenagers would feel. Zechs couldn’t honestly say he ever felt young and at this point in his life, when everything should be fresh and blooming with possibility, he felt old, ancient and hard. He wondered vaguely if Noin felt the same. She had fought in almost as many battles as he, had led men to their deaths, but she spent the past year nurturing young people. She had never been like him in that respect. Noin was a person full of hope and compassion, qualities that gave her the capacity to reach out to a person like Zechs Merquise. A year out of combat may have dulled her soldier’s instincts. Still, she had always possessed an almost uncanny tactical aptitude, even before military training honed her natural abilities to razor sharpness. Her battle reflexes may have atrophied, but Zechs was certain Noin still possessed a brilliant strategic mind and he could certainly use a fresh opinion on the Gundam situation.

“Otto, send all of the data we have on the Gundams to Lake Victoria to the attention of Lieutenant Noin. Make certain the report regarding the location of this specific suit is the first transmitted. I want them to be prepared for an attack. Don’t use the comlink. Send an encrypted text message.” Zechs looked on as Otto began typing the message. A sudden and inexplicable wave of uncertainty washed over Lieutenant Merquise as he watched his subordinate prepare the message for Lucretzia Noin. “And Otto…don’t sign my name. Send it as a Specials general alert instead.”

“Yes sir,” Otto responded, frowning in obvious confusion. Perhaps it was a bit cowardly of him to send the information through the common network, but Zechs was certain that everyone stationed at LVA was already aware of his impending arrival. Sending personal communiqués to Instructor Noin might spark an unwelcome wave of gossip he was not in the mood to deal with just then. That plus the fact that he did not want to appear too forward. Noin was a congenial person, but also one who did not brook liberties taken at the expense of her reputation. It wasn’t something he had to consider a year ago, but things were different now and, though he had no intention of renewing their old camaraderie, Zechs also did not want to cause unnecessary offense. They were, after all, officers of OZ and that meant a certain adherence to the established rules of decorum. There was the possibility that the two would see little of each other while he was at the base. She was a busy instructor and graduation was looming near. He had Tallgeese to think about. It might be that they only met in passing a few times before his task was complete and he left to meet with His Excellency in Brussels. There. Simple as that. He was foolish to think there might be a problem.

As Otto sent the message, Zechs leaned back in his seat, mulling over the situation. A great deal had happened in the past weeks. Aside from the massive assault on Corsica and other military targets across the world, news had reached Zechs of a rebel pilot’s capture. During the effort to retrieve the first Gundam, the Alliance salvage teams were completely annihilated by the second confirmed rebel suit, which also managed to escape with the damaged 01. Apparently, the pilot of 01 had ejected before the suit plunged into the ocean and somehow made it to shore and evaded capture for at least two weeks before boldly attempting to blow up an Alliance munitions port. The rebel was badly injured in the assault and promptly caught. At last report, the pilot—a fifteen year old boy according to Zechs’ informant—was currently under the careful watch at an Alliance medical facility in Kyoto.

            Zechs had only been mildly surprised by his adversary’s youth, having been an accomplished fighter pilot himself by that age. What really surprised the older man was the fact that the pilot allowed himself to be captured alive. Given the force of the explosion at the port, it seemed likely that the rebel was unconscious at the time of his capture and that the effort to escape or kill himself would begin the moment he opened his eyes once more. That was certain to be quite a game, Zechs mused, and he did not envy the Alliance officers charged with the interrogation. They would, at best, be demoted for allowing the rebel to escape and, at worst, dead by morning. Either way, Zechs was certain he would have the chance to do battle with the young man again, but for now his priority was to complete Tallgeese to ensure he had a worthy weapon for that next time and so he was on his way to Lake Victoria Base, home of the best engineers in OZ.

            Of course this meant meeting Noin again.

            That was unavoidable.

            But, as he already established, hardly a problem.

            At least that was what he told himself as the young woman’s image continued to spring unbidden to mind. Zechs kept remembering the last time he saw Lucretzia Noin. Not at his official departure ceremony, but rather the night before. Noin, dressed in an evening gown that almost—but not quite—captured the color of her eyes. Standing abruptly, Zechs forcibly dispelled the image along with a host others and turned his attention back to the task at hand, more specifically, Tallgeese. He walked through the narrow passage to the cargo hold and gazed down at Tallgeese as he leaned heavily upon the catwalk railing.

            It was almost finished. Walker’s crew had managed to install most of the operating systems and bring everything on line. Zechs himself had completed the upgrades to the computer system, tweaking it to his own specifications and readjusting the navigational controls to his own preference. All that remained was to attach the primary navigational array—the head—and complete the mechanical connections to the suit’s limbs. He paced restlessly along the catwalk, then leapt over the rail, landing gracefully in front of his new mobile suit. He walked around Tallgeese, mentally checking off the list of repairs completed compared to those still needed. Two weeks, perhaps three…yes, three weeks and the graceful giant would be ready for field-testing. He looked forward to getting behind the controls of that suit. His mouth fairly watered at the thought. The idea that anyone else would pilot the suit was so absurd at this point that the possibility did not even occur to Zechs. No, Tallgeese was his and no one else. He felt connected to the suit in some way, an almost mystical pull from the first moment he laid eyes upon the machine. This was his destiny, he could feel it. Tallgeese would be the means by which Zechs could right the old wrongs that haunted him so incessantly.

            But first, he had to get the mobile suit fixed and for that he needed help. Not just engineers, either, he needed someone with the knowledge of an engineer and the instincts of a pilot. Walking over to the ship’s intercom system, he contacted the cockpit.

            “Otto, did you receive conformation that the last message was received?”

“Yes sir. It has been delivered.”

Zechs stood mute for a few moments, debating whether or not he should contradict himself so quickly.

“What is our ETA?”

“We should arrive at Victoria base in three hours sir.”

Zechs nodded. “Lieutenant, wait two hours and then place another call to Lake Victoria Base.”

            “Visual or audio, lieutenant?”
            “Visual…and patch it to this comlink when you have established the connection.”

            “Yes sir. Should I ask for the commanding officer?”

            “No,” Zechs replied, hesitating briefly before adding, “Ask for Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin.”

=====================

 

~Lake Victoria Academy~

 

            Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin, Lake Victoria Academy’s top flight instructor, stood silently listening to her best student respond to a particularly difficult question. Wylocek’s answer, Noin was glad to say, was correct. The young instructor had developed the question in her first few weeks of teaching as a way of determining the creative thinking of her students. Learning the technicalities of battle flight was all well and good, but the true test lay in how well one thinks under duress. The first step in determining if her students were ready for training in actual mobile suits was The Question, a pop test she sprang on her students just when they were least expecting it and naturally all of her students dreaded the day. Out of this particular group, only Wylocek had managed to hit upon the proper answer and Noin prevailed upon him to read his answer aloud for the benefit for his classmates.

            Noin never outwardly played favorites among the cadets, but she did admit to being particularly fond of Christopher Wylocek. He was a cadet after her own heart, not because the boy viewed her with a sort of awe-struck admiration, though Noin was flattered, but because of his unwavering tenacity in striving towards his ultimate goal: going to space. She understood that ambition well and, though her own dream had been all but thwarted, Noin still bore the same love for space that sustained her throughout those first difficult years in the military.

Cadet Wylocek completed his answer and earned a light nod of approval from his favorite instructor before the class was dismissed. Just as the last of her students trickled out towards the cafeteria, a messenger arrived from the base compound on the opposite side of the practice field. As it was a personal communication, Noin received the paper with a certain amount of alarm. The only personal messages she received were from her friends in Rome, Paolo and Sister Marguerite, and those messages were delivered with the regular post. This message was marked ‘urgent’ and for a split second, Noin had the sick feeling that it was an announcement that one of her friends had been hurt. To her relief, it was instead a warning regarding the five rebel mobile suits terrorizing the planet. She frowned, wondering why a general alert had been sent to her attention only, but then it dawned on her.

Zechs Merquise. She smirked to herself before reading the message. About time he condescended to send her a note. Despite her numerous duties with the Academy and the adjoining OZ base, Noin still managed to keep track of her oldest friend and knew he had been back on Earth for almost a month. Not that it was much of an effort keeping tabs. Everyone seemed to know about the Lightning Count’s exploits and not a day went by that she did not hear some small tidbit of news about what OZ’s favorite son, or second favorite at least, was up to and what new glories he brought to the Specials. In spite of her long association with the young officer—or perhaps because of it—Noin found herself growing more star struck herself. His accomplishments on Earth, though impressive, paled in comparison to his extraordinary achievements in space.

Her pleasure was replaced by a renewed sense of concern as she read the message. It was indeed a warning.  The OZ base at Lake Victoria was marked as a target by the mysterious mobile suits called Gundams. Noin had suspected as much when word reached the base of the unidentified mobile suits weeks ago. She spent the past few days trying to convince her superiors—with varying degrees of success—that the base was at risk and, through proximity, so was the small town nearby. Now, armed with Zechs’ warning, she decided to try again and headed for the base commander’s office. Noin was pleased to find the mayor of the nearby village, Mr. Otumba, already present. The lieutenant felt the both of them had a better chance if they presented a united front to the commander, Colonel Marco Petrovsky. Unfortunately, the colonel not only knew of the situation, he had been ordered to take only perfunctory action and seemed satisfied to follow the order without further thought. Noin proceeded to spend the next hour explaining the prudence of taking a few precautions, but had so far achieved little success.

            “But sir! You must see…”

“Lieutenant Noin,” Colonel Petrovsky cut in calmly, raising his hand to silence the young woman, “I understand your reservations and your cautious nature serves this base well, but Colonel Une herself issued this order. I have no reason to think that her security measures will be ineffective against these new mobile suits.”

Noin, on the other hand, knew the security measures would be decidedly ineffective and suspected that was the intent. To someone such as Colonel Petrovsky, a man with limited battle experience at best, the new orders seemed to be an effort to prepare OZ bases for possible attacks by the new terrorist threat. To Noin, a seasoned pilot and battle commander, it seemed more like an attempt to alert the Gundams, to Lake Victoria’s exact location. The base was being set up as bait, she was certain of that. What worried the lieutenant was the seeming lack of movement by OZ to create the expected trap. It was possible that the base was going to be sacrificed simply to garner public support for the already admired Specials. If the base successfully warded off an attack, then the credit would belong to His Excellency. If they failed—and Noin had the sickening premonition that would be the case—then they were martyrs to be held out as a rallying banner for Romefellar. See how bravely they died. Come join us and defeat the threat. Glory to OZ.

“Sir, at least consider the civilians in the town.”

“Yes, lieutenant, Mayor Otumba and I were discussing that very thing when you arrived,” Petrovsky nodded towards another man standing quietly to Noin’s right. The mayor of the nearby village was a tall, regal-looking man of about fifty. He and his family had lived in that area near Lake Victoria for centuries, long before European colonialism, through a millennium of war, famine and now Alliance dominance. If history taught Mr. Otumba nothing else, it was how to persevere.

“Yes, Miss Noin. The commander and I have discussed the situation and come to the same conclusion.”

Mayor Otumba nodded as he spoke, but Noin could tell from the man’s rather forced smile that the mayor was more inclined to Noin’s point of view. Seeing that he was getting no where with the short sighted base commander, the mayor chose instead to take his leave asking for Noin to serve as his escort to the gate. She brooded most of the way, annoyed with her lack of diplomacy in trying to convince Petrovsky to be more prudent. She had, after all, been trained in such matters in Rome. She should have had more success, but then she was up against Lady Une. Men like Petrovsky admired Une on many levels, as a noblewoman as well as a decorated field officer. Une had bloodline and seniority on her side. Noin had only her gut feeling and the warning from Zechs. Who was she compared to Lady Aneke Une? Nothing more than a war orphan of dubious birth, a mustang who was lucky enough to catch a break and make it out of the Alliance infantry.

The young officer had never enjoyed, much less approved of, the manipulations and duplicity so favored by OZ’s political wing, Romefellar. To most of the aristocracy, war was a beautiful chess game, to be won at all costs but played elegantly. Most of them, however, had no real experience with war. As the Alliance encroached on their kingdoms, most of the nobility surrendered without a fight, choosing collaboration over principle. There were very few kingdoms who followed the example of Cinq and fewer rulers who adhered to the teachings of the fallen King Peacecraft. Most resistance was offered by countries with a long history of democratic rule, and even so, it was violent resistance frowned upon by the pacifist monarch. Add to this, the lack of unity among these few defiant nations and the Alliance won its victories with relative ease.

Those who survived the massacres and destruction bided their time, pouring their resources into Romefeller and OZ. All of their resources, money, position, even their children. They believed, as a rule, that their day would come again, that the pendulum would swing back, as it did in all revolutions, and return to the power and prestige to which they were born. History was a cycle to them, always returning to the beginning. Eventually, they would regain their rightful place and if it meant the annihilation of their children, so be it.

As Noin walked beside the tall man, she allowed some of her apprehension to surface. “Mr. Otumba, it might be best for the citizens of the town if you ordered an evacuation, just temporarily, until we—until I—can be certain that these Gundams are not a threat to you.

“Thank you for your concern Miss Noin. I must admit to being uncomfortable with the lack of anxiety on your commander’s part.”

“It isn’t that he is unconcerned for your people’s safety, sir, just that he is a man who follows orders too blindly. If his superiors say that there is no threat, then he will believe them…right up until the moment the enemy holds a gun to his head. I’m so sorry that your town has to be caught up in this mess.

The mayor waved away her apology kindly.  “No, Miss Noin, please don’t apologize. I knew exactly what I was getting my people into when we contracted to build this base. We are a poor community. The jobs and other revenue generated by this base have been a benefit to us all, but I knew it might come to this one day. I’ll call a town meeting tonight.” Mr. Otumba paused, running a hand over his bald head and sighing. “I think we can have the entire town evacuated in two days…assuming we have enough vehicles to transport everyone.”

“I’ll requisition a few transport vehicles and have them brought to you tomorrow morning, along with whatever supplies I can manage to liberate.”

“You are very kind, Lucretzia.” Mayor Otumba suddenly smiled broadly, “Hard to believe that young snippet of a cadet who insisted on riding that motorcycle so wildly through the streets of my town has turned into such a accomplished young officer.” The older man smiled affectionately and shook Noin’s hand. “It has been a privilege knowing such a promising young person.”

“The privilege is mine, sir…and sorry about the wheel tracks I left in your flower bed.”

“That was you? I always thought it was the other one, that tow-headed boy you were always with…what was his name?”

“Zechs Merquise.”

“Ah yes! Another one who has gone on to glory despite a reckless youth. You two certainly kept us on our toes.”

“With the way we drove that bike, you had to be on your toes or get run over.”

They shared a hearty laugh at the memory as Noin escorted the mayor to the base check-in gate. They spoke a few moments on how best to evacuate the population of the town, then Mr. Otumba took his leave. Noin immediately headed for the motor pool to “borrow” a couple of transports. One of the few things OZ had in common with the Alliance was the obnoxious group of requisition officers—anal little bureaucrats who obsessed over every paperclip on the list. Noin had learned how to bypass this distasteful channel when she really needed something. A youth spent in refugee camps and on the streets had taught her to be cagey in such matters. Among her old comrades in the mobile suit corps, she was known as a top-class scrounger, able to get almost anything at almost anytime. Few knew that Zechs Merquise was equally adept at such things, but as the leader, it was not something he felt befitted his rank and so left the job to Noin. Not that she objected. She thought it was fun actually and it gave her satisfaction to outwit and outmaneuver bureaucrats, however insignificant.

Noin cracked her knuckles, tugged at her uniform and swaggered off to speak to the poor unsuspecting victim…err, requisition officer.

========================

 

~OZ safehouse,  New Zealand~

 

            To say that the Commander was angry would be an understatement of catastrophic proportions. He was beyond angry, he was cold with fury and just plain pissed. One of his well-trained, perfect soldiers was missing. He hadn’t just been cut off accidentally as was the case with the pilot placed with the Sweepers, nor had he been captured like Dr. J’s pet project. This pilot purposely defied all orders and attacked his own targets. At that moment, the project leader, Dr. J, was desperately trying to explain how one of their perfect weapons had managed to go rogue.

“His last words to S indicated that he would follow only Nataku’s orders.”

“Nataku?”

“Yes, it would seem he has even renamed the Gundam to suit his own vision of…”

“Where is he?” the Commander interrupted, his anger increasing rapidly. The doctor paused before slowly responding.

“He hasn’t been in contact with anyone since he left the colony.”

“What about his handler? Doesn’t he have the access codes to the suit’s communication system?  He built the damned thing didn’t he?!”

“Yes, he has the codes…he has been transmitting to the boy and all indications are that the messages are being received by the Gundam, but the pilot refuses to acknowledge any of us.”

“Find that Gundam, doctor,” the Commander leaned forward as he spoke in his cool, menacing way, “I won’t have that rebellious brat destroying what I have given my life and my blood to build, do you understand? If he can’t be controlled, then I will initiate the self-destruct sequence in his suit myself.”

“Now don’t be hasty, commander.” The doctor raised his good hand slightly, as though to ward off the anger radiating from his colleague. The commander had no intention of being calmed or convinced to give the boy any chance of destroying their carefully laid plans.

“I programmed the self-destruct sequences for all five suits personally, and I did that for a reason, doctor. I allow only as much latitude as I think appropriate. After that, if the pilot refuses to obey, I will not hesitate to use those codes to destroy the pilot and the entire Gundam if I deem it necessary to ensure the success of this mission. Have I made myself clear?” 

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“No you don’t. You’re simply concerned that one of your ‘remarkable feats of engineering’ will be destroyed. You don’t give a damn about that boy.” Once again the commander leaned close to the monitor, callous determination dripping from every word. “Get that brat under control, doctor, or I will.”

========================

 

~Lake Victoria Academy~

 

After making the necessary arrangements, or bribes depending on one’s point of view, on behalf of the nearby town, Lieutenant Noin started back to her quarters in the instructors’ housing complex. As she entered her comfortable two room apartment, Noin plopped down on a nearby chair and tugged off the knee high boots she was forced to wear. She never outgrew her dislike of shoes in general, but the stiff patent boots His Excellency insisted on were little more than torture devices with a high polish. Finally free of the offending footwear, Noin rid herself of her uniform jacket and under tunic, leaving her dressed in her white uniform pants and tank top.

“Home sweet home,” she mumbled to herself as she slouched sideways in the armchair, hooking her legs over the arm in a very unladylike manner. She kicked her feet and smiled wistfully to herself. Sister Marguerite would give her a disapproving glare if she could see her wild child sitting in such a way. So would Nana Ingrid for that matter. Thoughts of the two women filled her mind now, gradually leading her thoughts to Zechs.

Zechs was coming. One year, twenty-one days and, she glanced at the clock, fourteen hours. He would arrive on their birthday no less. The message she received was concise and professional, detailing what she needed to know about the threat to LVA, yet it was addressed to her personally, not the commandant. Zechs most likely sent it to her because he knew Petrovsky wasn’t likely to ignore previous orders from a superior on the word of a lieutenant, even one of his caliber, but she couldn’t help feeling that he was coming to see her, that Zechs needed her in some way. Perhaps she was flattering herself. After all, it had been over a year and not once had Zechs Merquise attempted to contact his old friend. Not that she had expected anything of the sort. She knew when he left that he intended to fling himself into his duties with a new zeal. She knew he was secretly glad of the distance because it was easier to accomplish his goal. No distractions. No laughter, or companionship, no stolen kisses when they fancied themselves alone. Nothing to divide his attention from the goal he set for himself at the age of eleven. Revenge.

Of course she hadn’t made his escape an easy one. She didn’t do anything silly like attempt one last personal farewell as he inspected his troops for the last time. She saluted and addressed him as ‘sir’ just like everyone else. No hint that she expected to see him again or that she refused to allow him to sever their ties so completely and irrevocably. She didn’t even mention the fact that he would miss their shared birthday for the first time in years. Noin just wished she could have seen the look on his face when Zechs opened that suit case and found her birthday present tucked neatly among his uniforms. Even now the thought made her snort. It wasn’t the gift itself that mattered, but rather the fact that she refused to let the holiday pass unacknowledged. She had made a present for him every year since they were six, not even giving up the tradition when it was likely that Zechs had been executed. Not once had she forgotten their birthday and Noin wanted her friend to know she never would.

Noin smiled, a little smugly, to herself. She had a present for this birthday as well, one she bought on impulse a couple of months previous, intending to send it to him in space. Now she could present it in person and enjoy the look on his face. It was definitely something Lieutenant Merquise would never, ever, buy for himself but exactly the sort of present he needed. A year of media canonization had to have taken its toll on even Zechs’ modesty. He always had a tiny streak of conceit and a so much praise heaped on him must have fed that latent arrogance. Noin’s birthday present was intended as a reminder. She wanted Zechs to remember where he came from and how far he had truly come in the past ten years…and that she had been by his side most of that time. It was her way of reminding him that no matter the distance or time separating them, she was always there.

Noin let her thoughts wander from that point, remembering other birthdays, her mind lingering over one in particular. This memory invariably brought a fond smile to her lips and drew her thoughts onward to another evening. The night they said goodbye to be exact. The frantic kiss goodbye, their first real grown-up kiss. Her face flushed at the sudden memory, as it always did when she remembered that last evening together before he left Earth. As a rule, Noin tried not to dwell in memories too much, for many reasons, but alone in her room, relaxing, waiting, she felt the need to replay those all too rare moments of her life when she felt safe and calm.

Her life at LVA was often hectic, sometimes lonely, and those memories were her private sanctuary. Not that she sat in her room at night brooding. She socialized with the other instructors. Being the youngest, she had difficulty fitting in among them, but there were a few younger instructors, no more than four years her senior, who asked her out regularly. She went to the movies once or twice a month one young man, occasionally going for coffee or dancing with another. Nothing serious, but she did know how to have a good time when she wanted and it was a relief to leave behind the stuffy uniforms and stuffier atmosphere of the base.

Noin hauled herself off the too comfortable sofa and headed for her bedroom. She had another class in thirty-five minutes and couldn’t afford to be late. Her third-years were practicing zero-g navigation in preparation for space assignments. This was the next to last lesson before graduation, the last lesson before Zechs arrived, and she wanted to make certain they were ready. It was her first graduating class and she wanted them to be the best. She changed into the pristine white under-suit worn beneath pressurized space suits and headed across the compound to the subterranean training facilities. This was her favorite course, just as it had been when she was a cadet. There was just something about floating weightless, suspended. Something reassuring, free and calming. It always reminded her of that safe, calm feeling she used to get when she was a little girl floating in the bathtub.

            She stood gracefully and watched her students from outside the practice chamber. Being able to stand, let alone gracefully, inside what amounted to a large, high speed elevator diving and rising miles below the surface was a feat in and of itself. Only long practice afforded Noin the ability to ignore the inertia. The observation room had the benefit of a limited artificial gravity which allowed anyone outside the practice chamber to at least remain rooted to one spot. Still, the constant motion, hours upon end, eventually caused even Noin’s stomach to lurch, so she ordered a break and gave her cadets a few moments to either gain their bearings or wretch, whichever gave them the most relief. Evidently, most of these cadets chose the latter. Noin covered her mouth in a valiant attempt not to laugh at her poor, green-faced cadets. The communications relay behind her suddenly crackled to life.

            “Instructor Noin?”

            Noin cleared her throat and sobered her expression before facing the screen and mildly responding, “Yes cadet?”
            “You have a call coming through from a transport en route to the base. Should I patch it through?”
            “Who is it?”

            “Lieutenant Zechs Merquise, ma’am.”

            “Patch it through.”

            “Yes ma’am. It will take a few minutes to complete the satellite connection.”

            Noin nodded and smoothed her hair back, absently tugging at her tunic. She stood straight, then decided that was foolish and relaxed but decided she might appear too casual and straightened up again. Frowning, she shook her head and rammed her fits to her hips. What the heck was she doing? It was Zechs for pity’s sake. Her old friend Zechs…Lieutenant Zechs Merquise…Lightning Count...The Lightning Count.

            She pulled herself back to attention and waited for the call.

=====================

 

~Mount Elgon, Near Lake Victoria, Africa~

 

The boy sat on the steep outcropping of rock on Mount Elgon peering down at the vast Lake Victoria Specials’ training complex. The complex was partially camouflaged by the dense growth surrounding it and only his perch atop the mountain afforded him any view at all. He studied what he could see but knew it wasn’t necessary. He memorized the map before he even reached the abominably uncultivated planet. His contacts were not due to arrive until just at sunset, however, and there was little else to do, so he sat staring out at the bleak landscape before him. Every moment that passed made him more uncomfortable. It was too wild here. No order or logic to the growth around the mountain, no attempt to create harmony. Rock, sand, brush, trees. No one cared where these things existed nor paid heed to how they fared. It was chaos and Chang Wufei hated chaos.

            As much as he despised chaos, the boy couldn’t say that he was any more prone to a strict adherence to order, at least not the brand of order Doctor S attempted to press upon him. Wufei believed in codes. A code of honor, the code of the warrior, his life’s destiny. It did not necessarily follow that order would result from a strict adherence to his code, yet neither would chaos reign as long as he followed the laws he laid down for himself. This was his war and he would fight it according to his own sense of right and wrong.

Wufei had cut himself off from the Doctor and his other self-styled benefactors all most at the moment he arrived on Earth. The Doctor had been necessary at first, a means to an end in acquiring the only weapon he felt worthy of a true duel. They called it Altron. He knew the machine as Nataku, the embodiment of the ancient goddess of war. His goddess, guiding him in his quest for righteousness. Together, he and Nataku would put an end to the chaos and restore order to the stars.

=====================

 

~personal transport of Zechs Merquise, north of Lake Victoria~

 

            Zechs Merquise idly thumbed through the thin pages of a small green book. The covers were soft and ornately detailed with gilt lettering and accents. It was written in Chinese, a language he was still learning but could read well enough to comfortably translate most passages.

 

If words of command are not clear and distinct, if orders are not thoroughly understood, then the general is to blame. But if his orders are clear, and the soldiers nevertheless disobey, then it is the fault of their officers. Translation: crap rolls down hill.

 

The last remark was an addition to the printed text, written in pencil along the border of the page. It was an unmistakable hand and an even more unmistakable attitude. Noin had made many such notations throughout the book, voicing her own views and interpretations along side those of her much-revered Sun Tzu. He closed the little green volume and shook his head. He had grown to appreciate the teachings of Sun Tzu if not take them to heart as Noin had so long ago.

He had ignored the book at first. One day, not long after having left Earth and arrived at his new command post, Zechs was unpacking and discovered a small, brightly wrapped package. He knew immediately who was responsible and why it was there, though he was hard pressed to figure out when she managed to sneak it into his luggage without being caught. It was their birthday and Noin, as always, managed to surprise him with a gift. He had hoped to slip away without having to deal with their annual ritual of exchanging presents, believing it would set back his plan to refocus himself on his objective and away from the softer feelings his friend always seemed to bring to the surface, but that was not to be, not if Noin had anything to say about it. As usual, it wasn’t an extravagant gift. As a matter of fact it was second hand. She had given him her copy of The Art of War, worn and dog-eared, written in and well-read. No note, no card, but the message was clear. Don’t forget. Well, he fully intended to forget completely and so put the book away, ignoring it for quite a while.

Ironic that she chose that particular book. No, he decided upon further reflection, it wasn’t that ironic. After all, they spent hours discussing, debating and down-right arguing over the precepts set down in that ancient treatise. Noin, though not a fanatical proponent of his teachings, did admire Sun Tzu and agreed with much of what he wrote. Zechs admired the work with a critical eye, but had his own ideas about war. Some of their best fights had been about that book. He missed that, the simple pleasure of having a friendly argument with someone who wasn’t inclined to wreck his future over a disagreement. No worries about damaged careers, political wrangling or insulting his betters. He missed being able to express himself freely, the luxury of saying precisely what he meant instead of measuring each phrase for suitability and potential for insult.

            The lieutenant glanced at the little book once more then stowed it in the bag by his feet, dismissing his idle thoughts in the process. It did no good to dwell on what he missed. That wasn’t his life anymore and never would be again. He was not yet so cold that he was incapable of appreciating those years of companionship, but it served no purpose to reminisce, so he simply didn’t.

“Lieutenant Merquise, I’ve set up a connection to Victoria Base. Lieutenant Noin is on the line.”

“It’s been quite a while, Lieutenant Merquise.”

            In spite of the poor connection, Noin’s image was clear enough for Zechs to note the hint of a knowing smile on the young woman’s face. She bowed formally and waited for acknowledgment. His gaze flicked over her quickly, a sudden sense of deja-vu creeping into his mind. She was dressed in white, just like the day he discovered his adversary for first place in Academy standings was indeed the little girl whose supposed death scarred his heart so deeply. Okay, so maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as he first thought.

“You’re looking fine as always, Lieutenant Noin.”

“I hear you’ve been pretty busy lately. Rumors of the Lightning Count even made it all the way down here to Lake Victoria.”

Zechs grimaced at the name, half expecting her to smile and call him Lightning Boy instead. She was trying to goad him into a friendly game of banter, exchanging mild jabs in the same way they did when they were children, but he would not give into the urge to fall into those old habits. They weren’t children anymore.

“I don’t appreciate gossip.”

Noin’s eyebrows furrowed momentarily before she regained her charming expression of reserved amusement. She straightened and turned to observe her students. Zechs peered around her and noted how hard the young men were working. No doubt they were all scrambling to earn praise from their beautiful instructor.

“I don’t know, lieutenant.” Noin commented casually, “Gossip has its place and rumors have a way of becoming fact. So…what kind of rumors have you heard about me?”

Noin still faced away from him, her arms held stiffly at her side. Her voice was playful, but her posture was ever so slightly rigid. Noin was worrying over what Zechs might have heard about her abrupt change of careers. Even after all this time, body language continued to give her away.

“I’ve heard you are an excellent instructor and a superior all-around soldier.”

“Hmm…is that all?” She turned back then, a little more relaxed and smiling modestly despite her smug words.

Zechs couldn’t help but return the smile, however slightly, before commenting, “I should think that was enough. Particularly in light of the fact that you always claimed to hate war.”

“I do…” Noin affirmed, suddenly serious.

“But?”

“But it is necessary to fight sometimes. I’ve always believed that. I love space…I love the serenity and the sense of possibility. Space represents the future and that’s something I’m willing to fight to protect.” A wistful, almost sad expression passed briefly over her face, a host of memories stepping forward and being pushed back. Forcing a sly smirk on her face, Noin commented,  “I’m flattered you seem to remember so much about me, lieutenant.”

Zechs felt the muscles in his jaw twitch at the comment. She was doing it again. He was trying to maintain a level of professional politeness and she was trying to draw him back into the comfortable camaraderie he had thus far managed to push out of his mind. He wished to remain aloof and she was having none of it. It was yet another duel to add to the list of challenges lobbed at one another throughout their lives, Noin herself being the most difficult challenge of all.

“Yes, well, I make it a point to keep track of officers I may find useful.”

Noin chuckled. “Glad to know I made the list.

His first instinct was to come back with some sly, coy remark of his own, but Zechs stubbornly refused to allow himself to be drawn into that old game. Instead he searched in vain for some professional remark, one that would not offend yet could not possibly be misconstrued as flirting. Growing increasingly uncomfortable under Noin’s gentle, unrelenting gaze, Zechs finally decided to end the call and give himself the chance to regroup before landing and having to face the young woman in person. He made a few more innocuous remarks, receiving various exasperatingly charming replies, then Zechs made a rather curt farewell and hung up.

This wasn’t going to be easy at all.

======================

            Lieutenant Otto Weir sat in the cockpit of the distinctive blue transport plane and tried not to intentionally eavesdrop on the conversation taking place between his commander, Lieutenant Merquise, and the young flight instructor, Lucretzia Noin. The communication array was at his fingertips and all transmissions passed through the main system, so it was unavoidable that he would hear some of the conversation, but many years of ferrying superior officers from one base to another had taught Otto how to grow deaf at the appropriate time. It wasn’t always easy, however, particularly when the two finest pilots in OZ history were speaking. It was one of those moments he wished he could be a fly on the wall. He thought of the insights those two could provide, the views on tactics and command. A wealth of invaluable information, just beyond his reach.

Any other officer would have been offended by the idea of taking orders from someone so much younger than himself. Otto Weir was about nine or ten years older than both lieutenants, but age was not something that concerned him much. Experience was what mattered. Experience and that indefinable quality that all great leaders seemed to possess. In Otto’s experience, leaders truly were born, not made as the Alliance had claimed. In his years among the blighted ranks of the Alliance regulars, Otto had seen many an unworthy man promoted for no better reason that he managed to survive longer than anyone else. As a result, the Alliance command was riddled with vapid, stupid men whose idea of victory was total annihilation of the enemy. To them, anything less was failure. No room for mercy, for compassion.

Otto cringed as a sudden wave of nausea hit him. He grit his teeth and breathed deeply, willing away the sickness that so often caught him off guard. It had been thirteen years since he had the unfortunate luck of being assigned to the invasion force sent to capture the kingdom of Cinq. Thirteen years since he participated in the massacre of so many hundreds of civilians. Old, young, male, female. It didn’t matter. Only victory mattered, even at the expense of innocents.

It was the children that got to him most. The memory of seeing that little boy and the baby girl, both terrified and bloody…

No.

Otto let out a harsh breath and wrenched himself back into reality. That was the past. The future was with OZ. He was in a position to make up for all the horror. He could make it right and was perfectly willing to die to see that happen. Otto was determined that such tragedies would not go unpunished, that the terrors of the past could never be repeated. People such as His Excellency and Lieutenant Merquise—true leaders, born to guide the world into a new era of peace—would ensure that such atrocities never occurred again. And it was Otto’s great honor to be allowed to serve them.

            An alarm sounded on the sensor panel and Otto quickly checked the ship’s radar, then alerted Lieutenant Merquise.

“Lieutenant Zechs, we’re receiving a warning that an unidentified transport was picked up on radar near here. The observation post is recommending we land until the ship can be identified.”

Zechs entered the cabin and glanced at the GPS readout.

“Very well, change course. There is a secluded airstrip five miles east of here. Reset the coordinates and watch for it carefully, Otto. It’s on the edge of bush country and mostly hidden by the dense growth surrounding it.”

Otto nodded. “That should be a perfect place to hide Tallgeese until the danger has passed.”

            They arrived at the secluded airstrip and landed within minutes. Otto taxied the massive plane close to the tree line, giving the transport the benefit of some limited camouflage.  Lieutenant Zechs disembarked to stretch his legs, taking his satchel with him, Otto noted. He was briefly offended that the lieutenant seemed to feel the need to take his possessions with him, but the affront passed quickly. He understood the younger man’s reserve, admired it actually. Otto had yet to prove himself to the other officer but was determined to do so. It was his greatest wish to earn the respect and trust of Zechs Merquise. Neither emotion came easily to the young count, Otto could tell, which made it all the more worth while to prove himself worthy.

            He stood in the cockpit, stretching a bit but not willing to stray too far from his post. They were not safe there by any means and he preferred to be ready to take off the moment the all clear was given. He performed a few minor diagnostics then turned his attention to the landscape outside. Most of his duty posts had been in space over the past decade. Prior to that, he had been assigned primarily to the European theatre. This was only his second trip to the African continent and he was struck by the uniqueness of the place.

Unlike most Specials officers, Otto had not attended the Lake Victoria Academy. He had been recruited directly from the Alliance regulars and received most of his training at Officer’s Candidate School in Brussels. Many of the nuances of etiquette and protocol that came so easy to Academy graduates were lost on him, but he strove to hold himself to the high standards set by His Excellency. For the first time in his life Otto took pride in himself and his work. War was war, messy and tragic not matter one’s cause, but he took comfort in the knowledge that he fought along side men and women who did not commit senseless acts of brutality simply because they could. There was honor in what he did and the life he led.

            It was precisely this sense of honor that Otto so admired in Lieutenant Zechs. Young though he was, Count Merquise was one of the most honorable men Otto had ever met. He followed that example to the best of his ability. Yet, despite the respect and admiration he had for the lieutenant, there was something about Zechs that troubled Otto deeply. It was a vague feeling, some sense of familiarity, but he could never quite put his finger on it.

            Otto shook his head, scattering the troublesome uneasiness and turned his attention back to the radar display. It didn’t matter at the moment. Whatever disturbed him about his commanding officer, Otto was sure to figure it out eventually. In the meantime, he had a job to do.

======================

 

~OZ safehouse,  New Zealand~

 

            The frightful image of Doctor J peered back at the commander from the safety of the commlink screen. He was fidgeting again, a sure sign that there were problems. There seemed to by a good many problems lately. Wing had been captured, Deathscythe was sent to retrieve his unknown comrade but had not checked in on time, Heavyarms and Sandrock had managed to damage each other’s suits and were currently making repairs. And now, Doctor J was avoiding the subject of Altron.

            “It was a simple question, Doctor. What is the status of the Altron?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Has the suit been damaged?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Has the pilot been captured? What?”

            “We haven’t spoken to the Altron pilot in two weeks. We were tracking him via the internal GPS systems on board the Altron, but…we lost contact forty-eight hours ago.”

            The Commander scowled unpleasantly, grinding his teeth and narrowing his eyes in frustrated suspicion. “What are you trying to tell me Doctor?”

======================

 

~uncharted airstrip, north of Lake Victoria~

 

He was an admirer of weeds. Particularly those weeds that had the audacity to challenge the accepted ideas of beauty by producing oddly-colored blooms. Weeds were Nature’s way of reminding humanity that we aren’t quite as brilliant as we thought, that despite all of our fine achievements, our buildings, our cities, one lowly weed could still break through, cracking the impenetrable. A single crack can grow and multiply until the whole wall falters. Nature asserting herself quietly through our lofty, smug layers of smooth concrete. No matter how thick the pavement, always, always a wildflower weed will find its way out, reaching for the light, straining to grow strong and straight despite the overwhelming odds.  Roses weren’t capable of that; at least not the hothouse variety so many seemed to prize, nor the temperamental orchid, the simple lily, the delicate camellia. Ornamental flowers required care and admiration to survive. Blooming wild plants required only purchase in the soil of Earth and the light of the sun, expecting no admiration, asking no more than to exist. There was a prettiness to weeds, despite the spiked leaves and peculiarly shaped blooms, a prettiness not readily seen by the casual observer. It took serious study to learn to see the wild growth as something beautiful. He was an admirer of the willful yet humble weed

There were no weeds in the colonies. Oh there were flowers enough as well as grass, trees, greenery of every other kind, but they were carefully cultivated by legions of Colony landscapers hired for that sole purpose. There were no spontaneous shoots springing through errant spaces between the better, prettier plants.  Things grew in the colonies because men willed it so.

            Rummaging through the satchel, Zechs eventually retrieved a small sketch pad with a well-used pencil buried between the pages. He did not indulge his passion for art so much as he would like. Indeed, he indulged very few of his passions at all, but he had kept the habit he developed in his Academy days of always carrying a small book with blank pages and a pencil. The pencil was generally much-abused, having been pared down with knives, or even teeth if necessary, and worn down to a pathetic nub of wood with only a fraction of a lead left with which to draw.

            With relatively few expert strokes, Zechs easily rendered the vague outline of the blooming plant, from the delicate petals of the oddly shaped blossoms to the thick, prickly stalk and its feathery leaves. Adding a detail or two, he then held the small page away from himself and compared the likeness with the original. Deciding it would look better with color, he once again ransacked his satchel, hoping he had thought to toss in the travel-size watercolor set he picked up on L2. Seeing that he had, the lieutenant gladly pulled it from its resting place and quickly set about coloring in the picture.

The color was not strictly correct, nor had he endeavored in earnest to make it so. Art was fluid and moving, images changing with the light as well as the whim of the artist. He stroked one color onto the petals then dabbed a drop of a different hue, watching as the wet paint bled along the page, dramatically creating an effect he could not and would not control. Light colors blending into dark to create shade effects he would not have imagined himself, but now could build upon to create a vision of what the plant meant to him rather than its actual appearance. There was a impulsiveness to painting that mimicked the plant’s own unpredictability. His entire life was regulated and fixed to a principle of conduct from which he never wavered, but in this one thing, Zechs placed no restrictions on himself, allowing instead the inspiration he so often locked away to take charge, if only for a few moments.

The small work finished, Zechs laid it aside to dry in the hot African sun. The heavy wool jacket so indicative of his rank had long since been discarded and the young man sat slightly sprawled on a smooth outcropping of rock at the edge of the airstrip. He picked up his pad and pencil once again and made more sketches, nothing interesting, just a few practice drawings to keep his skills honed.

After the mini-masterpiece dried, Zechs sat staring at it, a sudden thought causing his brow to crease beneath the obscurity of his mask. It was a stupid idea, he knew, but he couldn’t seem to shake off the thought. He carefully folded the picture perfectly in half, pulling out an expensive ink pen His Excellency given him and writing a short phrase on the blank portion of the paper. He added a subtle flourish at the end then initialed and dated the watercolor itself. It was stupid, silly, definitely unnecessary after a year, but he carefully tucked the image inside the breast pocket of his uniform coat, then shook his head, convinced he couldn’t possibly be so weak as to go through with such a childish plan.

            Another thirty minutes passed before Otto called to say that the danger seemed to have passed and the transport took off, once more headed for Lake Victoria.

======================

 

~Mount Elgon, Near Lake Victoria, Africa~

 

            “Finally,”  thought Chang Wufei as he walked towards an older man dressed in the distinctive green uniform of the Alliance. The older man was one of about one hundred moles carefully planted throughout the Alliance and OZ over the past decade. Rebel groups from the Colonies, including the resistance cell on his own home colony, had been preparing for this massive assault for twenty years. He had been trained to be part of that effort, but now that he was on Earth, Wufei felt the overwhelming pull of his own conscious. He would no longer follow the orders of those who claimed to fight for peace. Perhaps their motives were as noble as they claimed, Wufei did not honestly care. All that mattered was following his own path.

            He spoke briefly with the smuggler, who was ignorant of Wufei’s break with the main group, and paid in full for the massive quantity of explosives contained in the truck. “This should take care of it,” he remarked casually, handing over a valise full of cash.

The other man subtly counted the pay off and as his partner drove up and asked, “So, where do you want the cargo delivered?”

“Leave it here along with the truck. He’s paid enough for both.”

“Wait…you wanna leave this amount of explosives with a kid?”

“Mind your business,” the man barked,  “Just get out and give him the keys so we can get out of here.” Handing the keys over to Wufei he added a parting, “Take care kid.”

Wufei smirked as he climbed into the truck and drove off. “Thanks for your help.”

======================

 

~Lake Victoria Military Base~

 

When the transport landed and the Lightning Count disembarked, he was secretly pleased to see a small reception had been organized for his benefit. Since returning to Earth almost a month previous, he had received little welcome. Most of the bases he had visited were Alliance installations, most of the officers resentful and jealous of his fame, but here it was different. He was Lake Victoria’s most decorated graduate and it felt good to be appreciated after so many weeks of hostility.

He started down the steps to greet the Academy’s commandant and some of his former instructors. The greetings were formal, but also congenial. There were salutes and handshakes all around as he stopped to talk amiably with everyone, accepting congratulations humbly and expressing his genuine pleasure at being able to return to his alma mater, all the while searching for a dark head out of the corner of his eye. A very slight knot of disappointment forming in the pit of his stomach as it occurred to him that she might not have come to greet him.

            Zechs had spent the past few hours—and the past year, for that matter--convincing himself that he didn’t need her and he had proven that well enough, but took a step further and convinced himself that his affection for Noin had colored his perceptions in the past. He allowed a foolish and childish admiration for her beauty to distract him from his true purpose. A year apart had taught him that she was not quite the beauty he had believed in his boy hood, that her complexion wasn’t quite as porcelain as he always told himself, that her eyes did not mirror the night sky. He read far too much poetry back then and it showed. Noin was certainly attractive, he knew, but no more so, he was sure, than any other young woman he had met. Of course he believed all of this right up to the moment he caught sight of Lieutenant Lucretzia Noin waiting at the end of the reception line.

He wasn’t prepared for the jolt of seeing her standing there, at attention but with such a gentle expression. As he approached, Zechs took note of the subtle differences in Noin’s appearance. She had grown a little more, standing perhaps another two inches taller, but then so had he so their height difference remained consistent. A quick glance over her figure indicated she had filled out quite nicely as well, a fact that was obvious even through the mannish constraints of her uniform. Her delicate features, frustratingly hidden by a sweep of ebony hair, were still imbued with the light of an inner innocence that she somehow managed to nurture despite her life of military discipline and the harsh realities of war. And her eyes. Still the most impossible shade of violet, a color he could never quite capture with brush and paint.

A salute, one he returned a bit stiffly, a handshake and a few noncommittal remarks from them both then Zechs was swept away by the Colonel Petrovsky for a tour of the base. The colonel ordered Lieutenant Noin to oversee the transfer of the large mobile suit to the repair facility for evaluation, then she was gone. The next hour passed slowly as Zechs was led around the base by an over eager Petrovsky. No mention was made of an impending attack, but Zechs could see a few subtle security measures as they walked about. More soldiers stationed at certain strategic points, fewer mobile suits left idle on the proving grounds. Not the base wide alert he was hoping for, but as he spoke to the colonel, Zechs began to understand that the man had no intention of taking any precautions. The somewhat secretive measures he had noticed were most likely implemented surreptitiously by another officer.

The tour finally ended due to a call for the base commander and Zechs took the opportunity to see how Tallgeese was being handled by the engineering department. He entered the hanger unnoticed by the excited young technicians buzzing about the most impressive and unique machine any of them had ever seen. Zechs spied Otto on the opposite end of the hanger and made his way through the throng of eager scientists. As he approached, Zechs also caught sight of Noin hunched over the datapad with the statistical analysis of the mobile suit. Zechs stood at a distance, watching.

Otto eventually excused himself to check up on the young engineers literally crawling all over Tallgeese. Zechs approached as the older man walk away, frowning to himself, then turned back to find Noin peering at him suspiciously. Her eyes traveled from Zechs to Otto and back again. They stared for one long uncomfortable moment; Noin trying to peer beyond the glass of his visor while Zechs simply took in the lovely view. Noin seemed on the verge of asking something, but then appeared to think better of it and instead inclined her head towards the exit, raising her eyebrows in a silent question. Zechs nodded and followed his colleague out into the warm evening air.

======================

 

~Lake Victoria Academy, student dormitories~

 

Wufei stalked along the corridors of Lake Victoria Academy, smugly enjoying his private joke. With the help of expertly forged documents and a cadet’s uniform, he had driven his truckload of explosives right through the gates. The adjoining military base, as expected, was on alert, though it did not seem to be sufficient given the circumstances. He shrugged it off. The base was none of his concern at the moment. That wasn’t the target. Now, he walked the halls, blending in to a sea of green uniform. He had a gym bag casually slung over his shoulder, filled to the brim with small bundles of explosives. He had already planted his little surprises in the cafeteria and the three lounges near the dormitory. At that moment he was making his way along all of the corridors and from floor to floor of the two primary cadet housing units.

He ducked inside the laundry room on the third floor and placed another charge, completely unnoticed. His task complete, Wufei moved on, shaking his head as he passed dozens of cadets of various ages passing to and fro. He almost felt sorry for the pathetic fools. Almost. If they were not so very stupid, he might have spared a moment of regret, but he felt nothing. Fools deserved to die. Stupidity should not be rewarded with life. They were weak little fools, playing at war while he fulfilled his destiny.

Wufei finished laying the last of the charges and strolled back outside. The truck he used to enter the base was parked near the back entrance of the larger dormitory, still half-filled with various forms of explosives. He climbed into the back, being careful to check to see if he could be observed, then activated the remote receiver. Satisfied that it would work, he left the base, shedding the offensive uniform as he returned to his temporary shelter. All that was left was to wait for nightfall.

======================

 

~Lake Victoria Academy, south quad~

 

            “…and this is the new student union.”

Noin gestured broadly as she led Zechs through the double doors into a brightly decorated lounge, full of comfortable sofas, small tables and a rather large bar at one end. It certainly didn’t look anything like the student union he and Noin frequented during their academy days. It looked more like an old-style coffee house, just retro enough to be fun without falling into the tragically hip.

            Noin walked over to the jukebox in the corner, again in the style of the previous century, and punched a few buttons. A few seconds later the air was filled with an unobtrusive jazz melody. Zechs strolled among the various chairs and around the low tables before taking a seat on a particularly comfy looking couch across from the bar. He watched silently as Noin moved behind the counter, disappearing behind it briefly then standing upright with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Zechs rose to accept his goblet and returned to his seat, expecting Noin to follow. Instead she settled herself on one of the bar stools and leaning on the counter with her back to him.

            The conversation lulled, replaced by the ambient music. Zechs felt himself growing a bit uncomfortable. He had been worried that Noin would be too friendly, that his standoffish behavior would surprise and offend her, but to his relief—or consternation, he couldn’t tell which at that point—she seemed perfectly willing to let his behavior go on unchallenged. He crossed his legs, staring down at the rich, red liquid in his glass and struggled for some intelligent, yet neutral, remark to break the silence.

“When can you move the Tauruses?”

“By tomorrow morning, 0700 hours.”

“That will be close.”

“Yes, but it was all I could do to convince the colonel to allow that. I had to tell him is was a practice maneuver.”

“Yes. I noticed Colonel Petrovsky seemed uncommonly at ease.”

“He has faith in his orders.” Her tone of voice was just short of sarcastic and they both nodded sardonically at the foolishness of their superior. Taking a sip of her own wine, Noin finally turned to halfway face Zechs. “I've heard the Gundams do not show up on radar, so I've increased the number of personnel on watch.”

“I noticed your security precautions on our tour of the base. Good work particularly considering you were forced to go against orders. Wise decision.”

“Thank you for the compliment, sir.”

Zechs felt the muscles in his jaw twitch at the word ‘sir.’ She had called him ‘sir’ eight times since they left the hanger and ‘Lieutenant Merquise’ four times. Keeping their distance was one thing, but now she was just trying to annoy him.

“So…what do you think, Lieutenant Merquise?”

            It took Zechs a moment to understand what she was speaking of, caught up as he was in the fact that she kept calling him ‘sir’ and ‘Lieutenant Merquise.’ He hoped his cool demeanor would set the tone for this visit, but he found his success to be surprisingly annoying at that moment.

“Please, Noin, just call me Zechs.” He tried valiantly not to sound put out, but failed, so returned to her original question. “This is nice, but not what I would expect for an OZ installation. I would have expected more…” he paused, gesturing vaguely, groping for the proper word.

“More Louis XIV and family crests?” Noin supplied.

“Yes.”

Noin shrugged, glancing around. “My cadets are all very young and restless. I thought they needed a place to just be kids.”

They were hardly kids, Zechs thought. They were the same age as he and Noin when they attended. But of course that was probably her point. She knew what it was like to have childhood forcibly ripped away and replaced with the poor substitute of duty. There was also her obvious fondness for the students there. There was always that part of Noin’s personality that needed to reach out and protect. Call it maternal instinct or just plain compassion, but he could see that the stern, upright soldier he knew had been replaced by something closer to a camp counselor. A kinder, gentler Noin.

“Don't go getting too attached or parting will hurt.”

“Thank you for your concern. But my students are not trained to die. I believe the value of human life. They’ve been taught to be cautious.”

Cautious? Zechs took a sip of his wine to prevent a huff of contempt. War meant death. Death meant war. Being cautious only denied the soldier his true strength.

“I've sent many men to their deaths, Noin. I have to disagree with your philosophy.”

Noin set her glass down roughly and turned sharply, facing him fully. “Any kind of operation that intentionally risks lives should be considered flawed in the first place. I pity the soldiers who die needlessly.”

What followed next was a glaring match, on in which Noin was winning but could not tell due to her opponent’s mask. Just as the tension hanging in the air seemed too thick to cut, the phone rang. Noin swiveled around on her stool to answer.

 “This is Lieutenant Noin…yes. Hold on.” She held the phone out, her expression losing the angry scowl. “Zechs, it's Otto.”

Otto? When did she start calling him Otto? She spent half the evening calling him ‘Lieutenant Merquise’ and she’s already calling him by his first name? He set his goblet down on the bar and took the receiver, turning to face the wall as he listened to Otto’s report. The repairs were progressing nicely. Some structural details had been discovered suggesting the suit was far more superior than originally thought…

Clink.

Zechs glanced down, grabbing the hilt of his ceremonial saber to see what he had bumped into.

Clink.

He saw the tip of Noin’s saber steadily striking his. Shooting a glance over his shoulder at the back of Noin’s head, Zechs turned back to the phone.

“Lieutenant Zechs? Did you hear me sir?”

“Uh…yes, Otto. The suit’s construction is more advanced than we thought. Continue.”

“Sir, it looks like we can complete this sooner than expected. It'll still take about three weeks, though.”

“I see. That's good news. Thank you for all your efforts, Otto.”

            “Thank you, sir.”

Even after Otto hung up, Zechs remained as he was, phone to ear, back to Noin while she, still keeping a steady beat with their ceremonial sabers, simply sat on the stool and gazed silently into the wine glass held delicately between slender fingers.

Tap, tap.

It was her way of reminding him of the last time he tried to distance himself from her, the day they tied in a fencing match and rediscovered one another.

Tap, tap.

Zechs had failed miserably in his half-hearted quest to turn Noin away, but he was thirteen and only a boy, still needy and capable of warm feelings.

Tap, tap.

He wasn’t that boy anymore.

Tap, tap.

Then again…

Tap, tap

…maybe it wasn’t necessary to push her away completely. After all, they had been comrades once. What harm could really be done by a few days of nostalgia?

Tap, tap.

Of course, he wouldn’t allow himself to slip into the old habits, the old, long-dismissed craving for her company. They would talk, work together to repair Tallgeese and he would leave. As simple as that.

Tap, tap, tap.

Right.

At some point—Zechs was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice right away—Noin began humming softly. He recognized the tune immediately. Her favorite melody, her lullaby. He fought off the urge to sigh heavily at her persistence and instead hung up the phone, easing himself onto the opposite edge of the stool upon which Noin had perched herself. There they sat sharing the stool for quite a long time, back to back. One humming, one silent and brooding, both remembering. Uncharacteristically, it was Zechs who broke the silence first.

“Too bad I don’t have a harmonica,” he remarked offhandedly.

His answer was a light chuckle and a quiet, “Check your coat pocket.”

Zechs frowned, glancing over his shoulder quickly before patting at his chest and sides. His hands stopped at a small bulge at his right side breast pocket. Reaching in, he retrieved a small harmonica. He stared at the small metal instrument in wonder, trying to figure out exactly when and how she had managed to slip the harmonica into his pocket. Shaking his head, he recalled just how skilled a pickpocket she had become when they were living on the streets of Rome. In theory, if her nimble little fingers could liberate valuables from an interior pocket without detection, she could certainly do the reverse.

“Happy Birthday, Zechs.”

Her voice was quiet and warm. Undemanding, humble even. Nineteen years old that day. Almost every year since they met, Zechs and Noin managed to come up with some sort of trinket or homemade gift for one another. A light smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he reached inside another jacket pocket and retrieved a very neatly folded paper. On the front, written in an elegant, even script with just a hint of flourish, were the words, Happy Birthday, Noin. Inside, a delicately rendered watercolor sketch of a wildflower.

            Zechs casually passed it over his shoulder with two fingers, not bothering to turn as he said, “Happy Birthday, yourself.”

            The paper slipped from his fingers, followed by a quiet voice of appreciation. “It’s lovely, Zechs. Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome and thanks for the harmonica.”

            “You’re welcome,” her voice still quiet, now hinting at something deeper, “I’m so glad you haven’t given up everything…your art I mean. It’s good to know you still paint.”

            Zechs shifted uncomfortably at that, knowing exactly what she meant, “Everyone has to have a hobby.”

            “Even the Lightning Count?”

            “Especially the Lightning Count.”

Noin’s humming commenced again, subtly prodding the young man to try out his gift. He hesitantly obliged, concerned that he was too rusty and equally concerned that one of the young cadets would wander in and find the Lightning Count sharing a seat with Instructor Noin and playing the harmonica to boot. A few test notes to get his key and he launched into a haunting accompaniment to Noin’s lovely voice. His playing and her singing, intended as a warm remembrance, ended up sounding particularly melancholy, morose even with only a hint of subtle pleasure ringing through. Music, his mother was fond of saying, drew out the strongest emotions from the soul. Whatever you felt flowed through you into the music, whether you wanted it to or not. If his Mama was right, then all he and Noin had to offer that particular night was a sort of sad nostalgia wrapped up in the memory of happier times.

=====================

 

~OZ safehouse,  New Zealand~

 

“What are you telling me Doctor J?” The commander’s voice was calm and cold. He had suspicions as to the news of Altron’s wayward pilot, but he needed to hear it out loud, it was that unbelievable.

“He seems to be heading for the base.”

“Victoria Base.”

“Yes.”
            “The one target I specifically forbade.”

“Yes.”

            The Commander stared incredulously at the screen, seemingly too stunned to respond. Quietly rising from his seat the man reached to the shelf above his communications link and retrieved a small remote key pad. Calmly he sat and began punching in a sequence of numbers, diligently ignoring the alarmed prattle of the old man on the other end of the call.

            “You can’t simply destroy the suit, Commander!”

            “Yes, doctor,” the commander responded coolly, “actually I can. I did warn you.”

            “Yes,” the doctor agreed, struggling to sound reasonable, “but you must consider the situation. This base may not have been part of our original plan, but it is a military target nonetheless.”

            The Commander finished the first sequence of codes, activating the long distance connection to the Altron’s self-destruct program. He then began to enter the next sequence to set the count down.

            “Commander, I beg you to reconsider. Our mission is in jeopardy all ready. One suit is assumed lost, two more are temporarily out of commission. Altron and Deathscythe are the only Gundams we have left! If you destroy Altron—if we fail in this mission—then the Bartons will take over and proceed with their original plan to drop colony x-18999 on Earth!”

             The Commander paused, fingers poised to enter the last sequence in the code and blow the fifth Gundam to oblivion. He had every right. It was his plan, his mission, his rebellion. To have this brat so openly defy the most basic order threatened the entire operation…and it threatened a young girl he very much wanted to protect. But the doctor was correct. They could not afford to lose one of the Gundams. It had taken all of their resources to build those five. Once they were gone, there would be no others.

            And once the attack began, there was no protecting Lucretzia Noin.

            What now?

Save the mission or save the girl?

=====================

 

~Lake Victoria Academy~

 

            Noin had just stripped down to her tank top and pants, discarding her shoes and jacket, when all hell broke loose. The force of two explosions in rapid succession jarred her quarters enough to throw her off her feet. She scrambled up and out the door, following the crowd of other officers heading for…

            “Oh God…” Noin breathed in shock as she skidded to a stop. She had expected to see the mobile suit factory in shambles, perhaps the base complex. The last thing she expected was to see the Academy grounds engulfed in smoke, debris raining down upon the remains of what was once the cadet’s dormitories. She darted off again, racing towards the devastation with more haste now that she knew her students were in trouble. In spite of the confusion, a rescue team was on the scene immediately. Noin rushed into what was left of the west dorm, pointing the few shocked students capable of walking on their own towards the exit as she continued further in to look for survivors. Coughing through the haze, she stumbled upon the prone form of a second-year. She rushed to his side, gently turning him over and gasping.

            “Wylocek!” She put her fingers to the boy’s neck. He opened his eyes, staring up at her with a forlorn expression.

“I…I wanted…to see space, instructor,” Wylocek gasped, “…I just wanted to…”

Wylocek’s voice faded with the last rush of air from his lungs. It was a completely unique sound, a man’s last breath, a sound Noin was all too familiar with. She shuddered involuntarily, then squeezed her eyes shut to the pale, angelic face staring up at her. Cradling the boy’s head against her chest, she ground her teeth, a sob escaping in spite of her desperate efforts to remain calm. He was just a boy…just a little boy...

            The voices of others calling out for help shook Noin, breaking her moment of grief. She gently laid Christopher Wylocek’s body down and continued down the hall, calling for the rescue team to follow her. She aided the rescue team in unblocking a staircase and half-carried a young cadet back outside. Seeing the medical staff already at work, Noin sprinted back towards the base and the mobile suit hanger. Calling all of her able-bodied pilots along after her.

            An attack on the base, she was expecting. Bombing the mobile suit factory, logical. But why target the students? Mistake in targets? Not possible. There was no mistaking, even by an amateur, what those building were. Whoever was responsible for this attack was after the pilots. The pilots. Noin ground her teeth against the fury rising inside, saving it for the battle to come. She would need that anger to fuel her attack, to push her to her limit and beyond. She was the first into the Aries and the first to take off after firing off a round of orders to the rest of the pilots as well as the ground crew. Gunning the Aries to maximum speed, Noin set out like an avenging angel, determined to capture the cowards and bring them to justice.

=====================

 

~OZ safehouse,  New Zealand~

 

“You made the correct choice, Commander, you’ll see. The boy is not so far beyond our influence just yet.”

Ignoring the Doctor’s croaking voice and obvious relief, the Commander angrily slapped at the disconnect button and the screen was suddenly blank. Yes, he made the correct choice. In spite of the boy’s disobedience, he was still confining his reign of terror to logical military targets. He was still of use. With the fate of Wing unknown, the organization could not risk the loss of a mobile suit of Altron’s power. Sacrificing Victoria Base was the prudent choice. He could not, however, dispel the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of young Noin.

She was a well-trained soldier, more than capable of taking care of herself, but faced with the awesome destructive power of Altron, even she would find it difficult to survive. The rogue pilot was very thorough and took great pride in his ability to wreak havoc on those he considered his enemy. The base was most likely in ruins by now, casualties numbering in the thousands. If he was still capable of prayer, the Commander might have sent a silent plea to protect the girl, but he no longer believed in such things as God and mercy. He believed in very little, in fact, other than the idea that those who took his life twenty years prior deserved whatever hellish fate he could visit upon them.

            But the girl…she didn’t deserve any of this. The Commander slammed his fist down hard upon the small table, cracking it. He should have known better than to think he could offer her any protection. It was too late for her. It had been too late for her fourteen years ago when she was lost. She never had a chance. Even if she had not been taken from them, her life would have been the very same empty existence suffered by the others in the program. Her fate was set from the moment of her creation. At least, he told himself, at the very least, young Noin had been granted a few years to grow on her own and to become her own person. She had a few years of freedom and, the Commander hoped with all his heart, she had known love.

“Forgive me,” he whispered to the still air, “forgive me Lucretzia.”

======================

 

~Lake Victoria Academy~

 

It was over in eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes encompassing two catastrophic explosions, a chase, a decidedly mismatched battle and utter defeat.

Lucretzia Noin sat in her ruined Aries, completely defeated. Physically, morally, mentally beaten. By a child no less. What kind of monsters send a child to orchestrate a massacre? A massacre of other children?  The same kind of monsters who took her from Marguerite and made her a soldier She made fists, wanting nothing more than to rip that damned useless mobile suit to pieces.  The pent up fury she refused to let loose on that boy earlier suddenly came spilling out in a tirade of kicks, punches, and screams directed at the antiquated machinery. Stupid, worthless Aries. Stupid, worthless pilot. Her rage spent, Noin slumped forward, sprawled across the destroyed communications panel and impotent navigational equipment. As much as she would like to blame her failure to stop the Gundam from destroying that transport, Noin knew she could not. The Aries was only as good as its pilot. She had the vague nagging notion that she should get out and hurry back to base, but felt too cowardly at that moment. She wasn’t up to facing the devastation she failed to prevent, couldn’t bear the idea of seeing all of those poor dead kids being pulled from the rubble.

Instead, she sat limply in her ruined mobile suit and replayed every mistake she made in the past  week. In spite of the base commander’s insistence that their security was sufficient, Noin had surreptitiously ordered extra patrols, assigned additional guards and increased the number of lookouts at the various watch towers around the base. It made sense. It was a good plan, even Zechs said so. The problem was, the base was not the objective. The rebels targeted instead the adjoining training facility, the school. More specifically, the young pilots in training. Her students, her charges, her boys. God, she couldn’t even bring herself to speculate on how many lay dead beneath their crumbled dormitory, their deaths all the more tragic because they were caught in their sleep and were not even afforded the opportunity to defend themselves. She had witnessed death countless times, had lost soldiers under her command, but this was somehow worse than any bloody campaign she ever fought.

Don’t go getting too attached or parting will hurt.

Those words rang through her ears now mocking her. If her students had been killed in fair battle, perhaps it would not be so heart wrenching now. But they never had a chance. The image of two hundred sleeping faces suddenly engulfed in flame and pain seared itself into her brain. So tortured by guilt, Noin did not immediately realize that her suit was being towed back to base. Her communications link was still out, saving her the trouble of having to speak to anyone until the suit was set down.

“Noin?” She recognized the voice immediately and swallowed a lump in her throat. She sat mute, too ashamed to respond at first. The voice spoke again, the urgency betraying deep concern.  “Noin! Are you all right in there?”

“Yeah,” she finally responded, her voice quivering slightly, “Just a little bruised.”

Zechs, still holding onto the cable that hauled him up to the cockpit entrance, braced himself against the Aries’ right arm and used his foot to force the damaged door fully open. Kneeling at the entrance, he peered inside. Holding his hand out to Noin, he spoke in a calmer tone.

“I’m just so glad you’re alive.”

“Why?” Noin said as she sniffed the last of what must have been a torrent of tears. “Because if I died I receive an honorary promotion to colonel for my brave sacrifice and I’d outrank you?” She took his proffered hand as she eased out of the wrecked suit and even tried a smirk. 

Zechs let out a relieved breath, shaking his head. “I should have known not to worry, not with that sense of humor.”

Zechs guided her out onto the cockpit hatch and glanced down at the young woman’s hands, noting several discolorations beginning to form there. Those weren’t crash injuries, they were self-inflicted. Wounds of anger. He recognized such wounds, he had enough of those in his youth. Noin’s temper had gotten the better of her long enough for an outburst of supreme pain and fury. He resisted the urge to glance inside the cockpit to see how much damage she had rendered to the abused machine      

“You’ve got to let me fight with you, Zechs.” Zechs turned to face her silently, not knowing how to respond to her plea. “I know I’m not up to par for battle, but I can retrain and get stronger. I’m cleared on all the new mobile suit variations…hell, I helped design the space Taurus systems…Zechs…I have to do something. I can’t just sit on the sidelines anymore.”

Zechs nodded. That was something he could understand completely. In fact, he was surprised she had stayed quietly out of the fight this long.

            “I understand. After Corsica, I swore to get back at those Gundams, too. They’ve gotten away with too much. It’s time to go on the offensive and I would feel more secure with you backing me up, Noin.”

Noin smiled, squeezing the hand that still held hers. “Thank you, Zechs.”

Zechs nodded and helped Noin to her feet, gently slipping an arm around her waist long enough to steady the lieutenant as she descended the steps one of the cadets had wheeled to the edge of the mobile suit. They spoke little after that, both busying themselves with directing the salvage and rescue operations. Zechs casually insinuated himself into the lead for the mobile suit salvage, allowing Noin to concentrate on the part of the operation that concerned her most: tending to her wounded students.

            At some point, Noin managed to commandeer a uniform coat from a slightly built young man assigned to drive the ambulances. Noin was still barefoot, however, but if anyone noticed this fact, they very kindly ignored it and went about the business of cleaning up the rubble. They worked for hours, pulling bodies from mess, few having survived the destruction. The bodies were laid out in long rows, reverently covered with sheets, tarps, whatever could be found. They ran out of body bags within an hour, the base’s morgue and medical facility full. As the furor died down and dawn approached, Noin found herself wandering the halls of the medical unit, counting the dead, looking for one particular cadet.

            Eventually she ended up in the morgue and found who she was searching for. Christopher Wylocek. The first student she met upon arrival at LVA as an instructor, the boy who loved space as much as she. She gently pulled back the pristine white sheet covering his surprisingly undamaged face. All pain and fear gone now, he looked as though he were simply sleeping. Just sleeping.

Noin, took up the Wylocek’s pale hand, which was still soft and flexible. Clasping the boy’s hand between her own, she unconsciously began rubbing the chilled skin as though to warm it. She even went so far as to pull the sheet closer around the boy’s body. She could never stand the idea of a child being cold. She remembered what it felt like all too well, the cold, the loneliness. It tore at her heart to think of one of her boys being cold and frightened. She became vaguely aware of a stream of tears meandering down her cheeks, but ignored it believing that she was beyond unwelcome notice and it was safe to cry.

“I’m sorry, Christopher,” she whispered brokenly, “I’m so sorry…”

            Even if Noin’s senses had not been momentarily dulled by grief, it is unlikely she would have heard the door open or have seen the tall figure slip into the room, for Zechs had not desire to be noticed. His movements were silent and smooth as he settled himself into the shadows across the room. The last thing he wanted to do just then was disturb Noin. He knew if he spoke, he could not limit himself to a few words of comfort. Standing there, watching her weep over one of her students, Zechs was overwhelmed with the need to go to her, to hold her and make things right, but forced himself to remain still.  He knew, too, that Noin would be embarrassed to be caught in such a state, even by her old childhood confidante. He kept his distance, but stayed to watch over her, determined not to allow her to suffer alone even if he could not reveal his presence.

            There they stood, both keeping silent vigil for hours. Noin calmed eventually, covering the boy’s face again before proceeding to walk around the room, body to body, saying goodbye. Near dawn, she wiped away the last of her tears, straightened her uniform and turned to leave. Zechs remained still, waiting for her to exit before he slipped away himself, but Noin didn’t go out. Instead she walked right up to the shadow hovering in the corner.

            Strangely, Zechs wasn’t surprised that Noin had somehow become aware of his presence. He looked down at her tired face, more fragile looking now that the delicate skin was marred by tears. His hand twitched with the effort to remain by his side rather than wipe away those tears. Noin cocked her head slightly, peering around her hair and attempted a weak smile. It wasn’t a coaxing smile, not a playful or mocking expression designed to draw him into a flirtatious duel of words. It was a silent thanks. Thanks for being there.

            “I could use some coffee.”

            “Me too,” Zechs replied quietly, “I think the lounges on the base are undamaged. Do you want to see if they have anything?”

            “Sure.”

            With that, the pair walked out of the morgue, side by side, and started towards the eastern portion of the compound, beyond the mobile suit hangers. They took their time, neither paying much attention to the continuing efforts to clean up the ruble. Neither spoke, because there was nothing to say. Words seemed pitifully insufficient at that moment. Nothing said could lessen the hurt or change the outcome, so they walked on in silence, simply grateful to be alive and in each other’s company.

=====================

 

~Mount Elgon, Near Lake Victoria, Africa~

 

Wufei secured the last of Nataku’s camouflage and stalked away from the massive machine. He was restless or angry, he couldn’t tell which. He was having difficulty understanding just what it was he was feeling. The self-imposed mission was successful and he escaped. He could move on to the next target, but for some reason, he felt so….he felt…

“Get away from me you weaklings!”

…he felt like shrieking at the top of his lungs. He felt like tearing something to pieces, shooting down the moon, killing the stars that bore him. His shout echoed briefly, sending the pack of hyenas scurrying away to find some less menacing meal and Chang Wufei sank to his knees. For all of his talk of justice and honor, he knew deep down that he fought out of anger. The pain in his heart drove him mad with fury and he used Nataku, his eternal companion in war and destruction, to lash out at those responsible for his pain. Not their weapons, not their pathetic armaments, so inferior to his Gundam. No, he took out his anger on the people who made the weapons that attacked his colony. He cut at the men who sought to dominate his proud warrior race. His people, so bound by honor and tradition that they sacrificed themselves to escape the humiliation of enslavement. He wanted to annihilate OZ, every last member, until only one remained, just as he was the only living member of his clan. Then it would be a proper battle, one warrior against one warrior. One victor, one corpse. No more chaos. Then it would be over. Until then, he would kill and keep on killing, each success leaving him emptier than the last.

==================== End Chapter 12 =========================

 

Still awake? That was the longest chapter yet. Okay, so how did I do with Wufei? Let me know in a non-flame way. I really tried to portray him objectively and would love to hear opinions about my interpretation of his character. Just don’t give me grief about not mentioning his wife. I’m not using that in this story.

 

Disclaimer: I’m running out of clever disclaimers, so I had an idea [readers run away, screaming like frightened chibis]. No really, it’s a good idea. You’ll like it! Leave me a funny disclaimer in your review (or email one to me if you like) and I’ll pick the funniest to use at the end of the next chapter.