SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING

SAINAN NO KEKKA
ACT I, PART III

 
 
Scene X : Arguments of a Futile Nature

 
Sally Po, former revolutionary, sat behind a desk in the Preventers' Headquarters in Geneva, up to her elbows in unwanted paperwork. If people had told her two years ago that she was going to be a bureaucrat, she would have laughed in their faces. Now she might slap them if they reminded her of her duties. She was a woman of action, or she had been.

How quickly things change, she thought, picking up the black ball point pen and scribbling a few notes to her secretary. And I'm not sure that's a good thing. I joined the Preventers to maintain the peace, but how can I do that if I'm not at peace with myself? I'm not happy with the person I'm becoming.

Her thoughts had been much along the same lines ever since she had accepted the commission. Lady Une had argued long and hard to get her to agree, telling her that many people still followed her lead, and that if she joined, many former revolutionaries would join as well.

Having no clue what else to do with herself, since she had been military all of her life, she agreed, believing Une would find some kind of appropriate medical position for her. To her surprise, Une made her Deputy Commander instead.

The argument that had followed had been intense, yet oddly polite. Neither woman raised her voice, yet the passion was there.

Sally had been moving her belongings into her newly acquired apartment in Geneva. She had been loath to leave her homeland, but consoled herself with the thought that her family was less then five hours away by shuttle. At least she wasn't on one of the colonies, like Noin.

The messenger had arrived late morning, wordlessly handing her a thick vellum envelop with a wax seal that had been imprinted with the elaborate series of triangle that represented the Preventers before hurriedly departing. Breaking it open, she hastily perused its contents, then bolted for the door, ready to do battle.

She must have set a record, for it took her less then fifteen minutes to find her way to Lady Une's office. Pounding once on the entry, she threw the heavy oak door open and started in, tossing the message on the cherry wood desk.

Une hadn't been surprised to see her. Frank brown eyes assessed the Chinese woman before Une spoke. "Is something wrong, General Po?" she asked in a mild voice.

Sally tried to keep from flinching, but failed to do so. "That's just it! Brigadier General? My Lady, I am a doctor! When I accepted, I was under the impression that you would find somewhere that needed someone with my medical talents, not an administrator!"

Lady Une raised tired eyes. It had been only about a month since Treize Khushrenada had died, and her love for him was already legendary. It was doubtful that she would ever fall in love with anyone else; the memory of Treize was too powerful. So instead, she worked to maintain what he had fought to achieve. "Sally, you know I would love nothing better then to put you in a medical position. I need more medical professionals, but you're famous, and I need to put you somewhere noticeable even more. There are a lot of former soldiers from all sides who need to be shown that the healing of our world is taken place. We need to unite."

"I'm not a bureaucrat!" she protested.

"We all must do what we can," Une replied.

Sally decided to take a different tact. "But General? I'm only an ex-Colonel from the long deceased Federation Army. How can you possibly justify giving me that much of a jump in seniority?"

"You were a General already when you fought against OZ," Une returned without rancor or resentment. "I'm merely giving you the rank you deserve."

Sally stubbornly shook her head. "No!"

Une sighed and rubbed her temples. "It's too late. I've already appointed you, through all the legal channels. If you resign, you'll create a problems and instability."

Her eyes widened. "You trapped me!" she accused.

Une looked at her, and for a second Sally would have sworn she saw the familiar glint of light across glasses, which was ridiculous since Une had had corrective surgery on her retinas. "I did what I had to do," she said with quiet strength.

Sally spun on her heel and left, shutting the door with deceptive gentleness. It had taken her months before she had forgiven Une for her duplicity. Sometimes she was still angry, yet recognized now why Une had acted in such a fashion.

Une was using the Preventers to keep the peace they had all fought so hard to achieve; a peace that was as tenuous as a fiddler on a roof. Squabbles broke out daily and Une was constantly sending out teams to put out those fires. Sally herself often was one of those people; with her ties to the Resistance, she had been instrumental in defusing two such situations so far.

Still, that didn't make her happy. She felt she could do a lot more good if she was stationed in the field, healing lives one by one, rather then trying to keep fixing the system as a whole. Une was trying to bandage a body that needed surgery, and Sally was the one of the ones most capable of performing that much-needed work. Still, she was stuck behind a desk, only making calls to her contacts when a crisis arose.

Sally remembered the party after the war. It had been a time of celebration, yet great sadness as well. She had been so happy when hostilities had ceased; so naive in her faith that everything would be okay now that the threat Libra had represented had been eliminated.

Not everyone had been so optimistic. Noin had found a corner and quietly drank by herself, rebuffing the occasional Maganac who offered his company. Sally kept an eye on her, but understood. Noin had just lost the man she had loved, and she needed time to readjust her worldview alone. Sally would check on her later.

Wufei, though, had been of more immediate concern. He had sat quietly, glowering at Duo, who was busy trying to organize a game of "I Never". Wufei had already rebuffed the incorrigibly cheerful American's invitation, but that didn't stop him from muttering curses under his breath in Mandarin.

Many people didn't understand what he was saying, but Sally would have bet her Doctorate that the rest of the Gundam pilots did. Quatre's pale skin blushed whenever the Chinese soldier got particularly descriptive, Trowa would occasionally turn an interested ear his way, Heero would break out of his brooding to smirk slightly, and Duo would become more and more provocative the more Wufei swore at him.

Sally winced as Wufei let loose a exceptionally vulgar epithet, and decided to take matters into her own hands. Feeling like she was walking unarmed into a heavy barrage of mobile suit fire, she approached where he was sitting and tapped on his shoulder with a gentle hand.

Wufei hadn't been drinking that evening. His left hand reached up and caught her wrist, twisting it lightly. He obviously didn't like people coming up from behind, and she cursed herself for a fool. Biting her inner lip, she caught a pained gasp before it could escape. "I guess I should know better then to sneak up on one of you pilots, shouldn't I?" she asked.

Wufei let go of her, turning his black eyes onto he face. "What do you want, woman?" he snarled in Japanese.

She frowned and answered in Mandarin, which was their native tongue. "How many times do I have to tell you? My name is Sally."

His eyes showed no acceptance. "What do you want?" he reiterated.

She raised a hand and ran it through her hair. She had let her braids loose this evening, and the honey-colored locks tumbled freely around her face. She had forgotten how pleasant it was to literally let her hair down. It was freedom. Wufei's hair was still tightly pulled back, and she wondered, not for the first time, if it was partly responsible for his grumpy attitude towards life.

"It's a party, Wufei. Can't you at least pretend to enjoy yourself? You're dragging down the atmosphere," she teased, leaning close to him. She was tempted to tweak his nose like a child who was misbehaving, but realized that he would most likely hit her hard if she did such a thing.

"There's no reason to celebrate," Wufei said in his usual brash fashion. "Don't any of these people realize how much work lies ahead of them? They're celebrating like all of their problems are solved!"

Sally looked at him, and sensed the confusion and sorrow inside. Looking around, she saw the other pilots were all occupied with the joyous climate that surrounded them, though Heero's eyes would go vague now and then as he brooded on his own problems. "How about we go somewhere and talk?" she suggested.

He nodded, wordlessly rising to his feet. She led him to the main hangar, where all the Gundams were stored. Wordlessly he used the Zero G to propel himself up so he was sitting on a somewhat battered Shenlong. She followed him, cautiously taking a seat beside him.

"What's really bothering you, Wufei?" she asked gently.

He looked into her eyes. "It is not a matter that a woman can understand," he said with his usual stubborn pride.

"Wufei, we fought together," she said. "At least give me some credit."

He looked her over, and she could feel him weighing her. She must have measured up to whatever invisible scale he required, for he looked down at his clenched fists, speaking slowly and carefully. "How come those people don't understand?" he said with fierce intensity. "The war isn't over- it's just beginning."

"Oh?" Sally said quietly. "What do you mean by that?"

One of his hands reached out and caressed the side of the Gundam. Sally had found that all of the Pilots seemed to take comfort from being near their machines. She had even overheard Quatre talking to his at one point. Wufei was no different; if anything, he relied upon his Gundam more then the others did upon their own. "There is no such thing as peace," he said. "It's an elusive dream."

"Then what did you fight for?" she demanded.

"I fought because someone had to. I fought for the Colonies. I fought- I fought because there was no other way. I know nothing else."

Sally looked at him and barely refrained from sighing. "Be honest with yourself, Chang Wufei. Why did you fight?"

He looked at her angrily and started to get up.

"Scared?" she teased lightly. "Chang Wufei afraid of the truth?"

"I fear nothing!" he declared, rounding on her. He hovered in the air, and Sally lightly propelled herself towards him, so they were within arm's distance of each other. "I fought for Nataku!"

She looked at him thoughtfully as he glared at her, as if her closeness was invading some invisible private space around him.

"Wufei? Who is Nataku?"

She saw the look in his eyes change abruptly from anger to deep pain and then bitterness and then the anger was back.

"None of your-" he began, but she stopped him.

"I'm not asking who Nataku was. Obviously whoever or whatever it was, it was something close to your heart, and I don't want to...intrude. But who is Nataku? Now? To you?"

"She's-" Wufei said, then stopped. Sally waited for him to continue, but he simply sat there, silent.

"She...she's more than a Gundam, isn't she?"

"Shut up, woman," he returned, but the words held no sting. They were simply empty.

"Wufei-"

"I fought for her," he said at last, quietly. "I fought for Nataku. She was my reason for battle."

"No, you didn't," Sally returned calmly, knowing she was hurting him. But it was the only way she could make him understand. "You fought for penance. You're not a fighter, Wufei. You're a scholar- or you were. Now, you've made yourself into a man who walks two worlds."

He looked at her with eyes that were far too old. "So?"

"So, no matter what you do, you will be searching for your place in this life. What I'm worried about is that you won't find it."

They were quiet. She knew Wufei was watching her, but she sat looking straight ahead, waiting for a reaction.

Finally, Wufei's hand reached out and touched the side of the Gundam again, as if the metal were the face or hand of a lover. Then he vaulted off Shenlong's shoulder, disappearing into the darkness of the hangar.

He did not look back.

That was the last time she had seen him...

Sally snapped out of her flashback and looked at the papers she still had to go through. At least then, she thought, I knew who the enemy was. Now, the enemy may be myself.

 
Scene XI: A Soldier, not a Politician

 
Quatre looked over the papers on his desk, trying to refrain from sighing. His shoulders were cramped from the many long hours he had spent poring over the papers, and he was starting to squint at the squiggly black lines that were supposed to represent words. As head of the Winner Group, he had endless amounts of paperwork to take care of.

Looking up at his secretary (personal assistant, he reprimanded himself firmly), he handed the pen over. "That's all for today, Mr. Bartlett," he said in his sweet voice.

Frances Bartlett looked at the slender young man who sat in front of him, having a hard time believing that Quatre Raberba Winner was possibly the most powerful man on the entire colony. The seventeen-year-old was slight, with long feminine lashes and huge blue eyes, and he was so soft spoken that sometimes Bartlett had to lean closer to hear what he was saying. Still, he had inherited the family empire, and he was doing his best to maintain -even expand- it. A respectable goal.

Still, Quatre wasn't one of Bartlett's favorite people. The boy had everything, and he was weak. He had run away from home when he was thirteen, only reappearing in time to have a few spectacular rows with his father (which no one knew the cause of) before the elder Winner had died. Then he had disappeared in the confusion of the war, finally surfacing when peace had been achieved. It gave him an aura of mystery the girls adored, since he was refusing to tell where he had been, but Bartlett had an idea.

The boy had been hiding. The war had probably scared him witless, and like the sniveling coward he was, young Winner had hidden for all he was worth. But now the prodigal son had returned, and must be treated with respect.

Quatre looked up at Bartlett, sensing a sudden wave of hostility. Raising pale blond eyebrows, he tilted his head inquiringly. "Is there something else?" he asked politely.

"No, Mr. Winner. I'll go send these off." The older man turned on his heel abruptly and walked out, leaving the teen to himself.

Quatre finally released the sigh he had been holding in. Dealing with Bartlett wasn't his favorite thing, but the man had been his father's assistant for as long as he could remember, and he was good at his job. A lot of the older employees resented him coming back and taking up the reins of the Winner Group, but it wasn't HIS fault. He wanted to get back to a normal life and enjoy the peace he had fought so hard to achieve.

Rising to his feet, he slowly stretched, feeling his muscles pull slightly. He'd been spending too much time behind a desk. He needed to get back into shape- after all, who knew? The next fencing match might be a rematch against the somewhat unpredictable Dorothy Catalonia.

Wincing at the thought of her, his hand reflexively went to the scar on his abdomen. He had been crazy to crawl back into Sandrock after it he'd been stabbed. Still, he'd done worse.

Sometimes at night he would wake up, trying to remember where he was. Dreams of the Zero System plagued him, and he cursed himself for being stupid enough to build the thing in the first place. Still, he remembered the feel of it- it was like becoming one with the universe, being in complete control. Even worse, in the still hours before dawn, he longed to know that feeling again.

He felt apart from everyone else; no one could understand the terrible toll the Zero System had imposed on him, except the others. Yet the other Gundam pilots were scattered, disappearing into the populace as suddenly as they had emerged.

Quatre realized that he had the resources to attempt to track them, but doubted that his attempt would get anywhere. Heero had the technical know-how to become a different person, Wufei had always been unreachable except when he wanted to be found, and Duo was most likely out on the colonies, where records and people changed daily.

Surprisingly, it was Trowa who would be the easiest to locate. Trowa's heart belonged to the circus, with his sister, Catherine. It was funny that he was the one who had returned to family; Quatre was the only other one with any family left, yet he wasn't close to any of his sisters. He didn't want to be.

Family was something that Quatre longed for, yet he didn't dare let himself get too close. He had been terribly hurt by his father's death, and Iria's as well. She had died saving him, and he hadn't forgiven himself for it. She had been a healer; he was a killer. It had been such a poor bargain.

As he walked out of his office, he glanced out of his window, looking up at the sky, where he had fought so many battles before. His real family was out there... the only ones who could ever understand who he was.

Shutting his eyes, he remembered one of the few times they had all been together on the Peacemillion, preparing for the final battle.

It was like all the times before- Duo was bouncing like a three year old who had just been introduced to the wonderful world of pixie stix, and Heero was trying to decide the most efficient methods to dispose of him. It made for interesting listening, and a good distraction. None of them wanted to think of the battle they would shortly fight.

CRASH!

"I told you NOT to touch my computer!"

Wufei paused, holding one of his weights mid-curl.

SLAM!

"If you have to jump on the bed, use your own!"

Trowa stopped reading his book for a second, an eyebrow lifting a minute degree.

BAM! BAM! BAM!!

"DUO!"

Quatre looked up from the financial papers he was reviewing. "Can't we get some peace and quiet around here?" he asked no one in particular. The fights were so common that the other pilots were able to predict exactly what would happen.

Wufei made a noise. "Duo must have done something even more annoying then usual, if that's possible," he said in an irritated voice. "Anyone want to take a bet on how much longer it is between Heero starts threatening to kill him?"

"Two minutes," Trowa said.

"Thirty seconds," Quatre said.

"Now," Wufei said, just as Heero bellowed out something intelligible, accompanied by the crash of something heavy.

Quatre sighed as the door slammed open. Duo careened around the corner, laughing madly, agilely avoiding every one of Heero's attempts to grab him by the braid and strangle him.

Quatre knew that Heero was supposed to be the best soldier among them, but for some reason, Duo always managed to get away with whatever mischief he created. Duo dodged around Trowa and started to run in a circle around Wufei, still laughing like a loon. Heero finally managed to corner the self-proclaimed God of Death, who looked like a better name for him would be the God of Trouble. Duo gave him his patented puppy-dog look, but Heero was having none of it.

"Can't you, for once in your pitiful life, just act your age? You're a Gundam pilot, for God's sake! If you don't grow up REAL soon, you're going to get someone killed! If you're lucky, it'll be YOU instead of some more vital member of the team!!"

Everyone stopped what they had been doing, stunned. Duo just stared for a moment before taking off, out the door before any of them could do anything about it. Heero watched with an impassive expression, but the other three turned to glare at him. "That was uncalled for, Heero," said Quatre in a slightly reprimanding voice. "Duo is childish sometimes, but you can't find any fault in his skills or devotion to the mission."

Heero just stared at the closed door for a second before shrugging. "I have work to do."

It had been that way. They hadn't been close, had always fought and disagreed, but in the end, they had learned to rely on each other. Each of them brought something irreplaceable to the team, no matter what Heero had thought at the time.

That was how they had won the war. They had finally worked together, and in doing so, made the whole more then the sum of its parts.

"I'm thinking of you," he whispered to absent comrades, then turned back to his public persona.

 
Go to Quatre story Homecoming

 
Scene XII: Ghosts From the Too Vivid Past

 
She still wasn't prepared for the sight of him as he appeared behind the glass door that led into her office. It had been a year since Treize's death; a year since the Lightning Baron's treachery and the throw of OZ into ruin, and seeing him even now brought back waves of memories into her head that she could live without.

The uniform of the Preventers looked good on him, but hell, anything looked good on him. He was just one of those men who had been born to please the human eye, and he didn't even realize it. She knew he didn't realize it, because he had cut his hair. Those long blond tresses were what every female officer and common soldier of any rank in the Specials had dreamed of for years. She had been there herself, before Treize took her under his wing. Zechs Merquise, the Lightning Baron, with hair the color of gold and eyes the color of the deep sky, as beautiful as an angel and as strong as any god that had ever walked the heavens.

That was what he had been once.

Now he was just another officer, waiting behind the door to her office to see her because she had ordered him to, beautiful face blurring behind the shadow of another that he had betrayed. She had gotten over girlish fantasies long ago. The war had changed her, made her older and wiser and more aware that life was too short to waste on fantasy and wishes.

At first she had lived under the impression that to get something done, she would have to do it herself. But that wasn't what Treize had wanted. She still wasn't sure what he wanted, after all this time.

Elegance, Lady, she heard him say as she closed the windows on her computer and reached in her drawer for the briefing documents that she would give to the man who was about to come into her office. Be elegant.

He was the one who had given her that title. She was no lady. She hadn't been fit to serve as his right hand. She had wondered why he hadn't picked Zechs Merquise.

The figure outside the glass raised his hand to knock, and she beckoned to him.

"Enter."

The door slid open and he marched in with perfect arm swing and timing, stopping two paces before her desk. The eyes that watched her beneath the impeccable salute were hooded.

"Ma'am, Colonel Peacecraft reports as ordered."

"At ease." She waved to a chair. "Sit down."

She watched as he moved to sit, gingerly perching on the edge of the chair. Short cropped blond hair glimmered in the light. He had put gel or something in it, and it looked hard and unnatural. A military haircut wasn't for him, not the flamboyant boy with the fire and the vision of galactic revolution.

He looked a bit like Treize, with a weary look in his eyes.

"Colonel, have you any idea what I'm about to brief you on?"

A brief shake of the blond head, a small smile. "I have no idea, General. I hope it's something exciting."

"Anything is more exciting than paperwork."

He smiled. "That is true." Even the smile looked haggard.

She leaned forward across the desk, papers in her hand forgotten for a minute. "Zechs, are you all right?"

The face hardened, the mask slammed shut. She had never known anyone who could assume a mask as quickly as he.

"General, my name is Milliard Peacecraft. Zechs Merquise is dead."

She closed her eyes, sighing, pushing the papers across to him. She had been about to ask him about the articles in the tabloids today, but she had already contacted him about it, and he would respond when he was ready. One did not push Zechs...Milliard Peacecraft. Not that she was worried about the articles being true. He was an honorable man, unlike many of those in the media.

"As you wish."

He took the papers from her, reading silently, his face betraying nothing. She watched him as his eyes scanned the paper. If he tried...if he only tried...he could help them shake the world.

He had tried once. Maybe that was the problem. They were all so tired, and it was too late to start over.

"Lucrezia Noin?"

She nodded, not taking her eyes off of him. For some reason, she had known that would be the first thing he would say, had known that the name would jump off the page at him as if it had been highlighted. "She was the first Preventer officer who was sent on the mission. She-"

"-hasn't returned. Yes, I just skimmed that section. So this is your 'scouting' mission. Did you order her to go?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me."

He watched her. She resisted the urge to squirm in her chair, not knowing why the blue eyes made her so nervous. It wasn't like she was lying to him...more like, twisting the truth. It was like an art to her, an elegance that Treize had admired. The only elegant thing about her, apparently. She felt for a second that he was the superior officer and she the offender, caught in some dishonorable act.

"All right, Z-Colonel Peacecraft. Yes, I ordered her to go, but she had requested a hard mission. And this one was the hardest I could find."

"Apparently," he grated, throwing the papers down on the desk. He hadn't even gotten halfway through the stack. Blue eyes glared.

"Major Noin was a perfectly capable officer who had the qualifications, the experience, and the talent to handle a mission of this sort. I don't regret sending her."

"Was? Had? Is she dead?"

She debated several answers, and then decided that shrugging would be the best option now. "I don't know. I haven't heard from her. It says in the briefing."

His shoulders went up and down in a brief sigh, the uniform which covered them looking plain and poor compared to the ones he used to wear in the days of his glory. "I-I'm sorry, General. I don't mean to question the actions of my superiors."

The office was quiet for a minute as she looked at him and he looked at the table, and then she laughed.

"You have every right to. You know that."

"I don't want to."

"To be perfectly honest, Milliard," she said, taking the papers back and throwing them in the drawer under her computer, "I wish you would."

His head came up and that, and he frowned at her. "Why is that?"

"You ask me why? Such a question from Treize's protégeé?"

One hand came up to rub his eyes wearily. "I was never Treize's protégeé. He wanted to make me into...into something I didn't want to be. That's why I broke away in the end. Well, part of the reason," he amended.

"And the other part?"

He didn't answer. She hadn't expected him to.

"You have been in more engagements than I ever have. You know more about war than I ever will know. You went to the Academy and studied with Treize Khushrenada. You're a valuable man, Milliard. If things were going the way they should, you should be running the Preventers, not I."

A shadowy smile crossed his face. "Well then, I'm glad things aren't going the way they should." She started to say something else, but he raised his hand. "My fighting glory days are over, Lady. I'm just a soldier now, like everyone else. I don't want to be treated any differently. I..." He stopped, then sighed. "I'm tired."

"You had a vision, Zechs-"

"Milliard!" he snapped, the mask again falling into place.

She said nothing.

"Treize had a vision too," he finished. "A grand one."

She looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said in his turn, after a minute. "That was uncalled for, Ma'am. I apologize."

She flicked the computer monitor on, darkened the room with a flip of the lights. Unshed tears stung the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them away. Not here. not now. The conversation was closed. In the light of the computer screen she saw him looking at her, wondering, but she didn't have the strength to enter into another sparring match with him.

Why did speaking with him always have to be a battle?

"Colonel Peacecraft, I have called you here to brief you on your mission to the A007 Colony." It was an effort to roughen her voice into the distant briefing voice she had been so familiar with just a year ago. It was her mask of protection, and as long as he had his up, she would have hers. She did know something about human relations. The projector screen flickered and showed a small moon, brown against the black backdrop of space, then flickered in closer to show an actual picture of the colony. It was like any other colony in any other part of space: sprawling, spider-like, metallic and ugly.

"A007 is a mining and test colony site settled mainly by peoples from Terran South America. It produces many kinds of ore that are shipped back to Earth and its closer colonies. Approximately eighty percent of the traffic out of A007 at this point is composed of mining transports and other ore carrying vehicles."

She briefly explained the uprising to him, knowing he had skimmed that part in the briefing notes and feeling no need to go over the Preventers involvement in the whole crisis. It shouldn't have happened, she knew. And she knew he knew. It had been a mistake on her part, one that Milliard Peacecraft would not have committed had he been head of the Preventers. So many things...

"The Preventers sent Major Lucrezia Noin and a team of specially trained commando troops to the A007 colony six months ago. We received their last transmission approximately two weeks prior to the present date. At this moment, Major Noin is missing, presumed dead. Less than half of the Preventer force remains."

"Now," she said, flicking a switch, and she heard him draw a breath at the image that appeared on the screen.

"The A007 colony has apparently acquired OZ Mobile Suits from an unknown source and are using them with great effectiveness against Preventer and government troops. With Mobile Suit production suspended in the Terran part of solar space, it is impossible for any of our troops to acquire them in time to match fairly against the rebels."

"That's an Aries," he said, sounding stunned. "And a Leo. How the hell-?"

She switched off the projector, sitting back in her chair and relaxing a bit. Wondering if he had dropped the mask. Turning up the lights slightly, she watched him. He looked puzzled.

"We have no idea. They're apparently getting them from some smuggler groups somewhere out in the territories who have escaped government attention. Since the Federation and the Romefeller Foundation fell apart..."

"It's been hell out there. Yes, I know."

She nodded. He turned back to the desk, expression serious.

"When do I leave?"

She blinked.

"I do believe, Colonel, you are the only man alive who is capable of catching me off guard."

"When do I leave?" he repeated, tone never changing. "I'm going. You know that. How many troops will I receive? What types of weapons will I have access to? How is communication between here and A007?"

Suppressing a smile, she held up a hand and rummaged through her hard copies for a printout of stats she had acquired from Intelligence at the briefing a few weeks ago, the last time they had had any contact with Noin.

"I wanted to give you the same kind of soldiers Noin had, but we don't have too many trained commandos. Our organization is young, and most of our trained personnel were..." She swallowed, not finishing. "There is a record of solar storms and strong solar winds interacting with Jupiter's outer magnetosphere. The colony itself is having a hard time with their solar shielding, and everything I have on it indicates the high temperatures make it a less-than-pleasant place to live, unless you're a Maguanac. Success of communication depends on how heavy the solar storms are."

He nodded. "I see."

"I can't give you much more information than that...they don't tell me much. I'm just the commander." She attempted a smile, and he attempted one in return. "I will tell the Intelligence executive officer to get in touch with you later on this week about details. A transport is being prepared, and you need to contact personnel to get some paperwork and to organize your forces. Weapons and supply will need to contact you as well."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll contact the required people and let you know. When you leave depends on how much preparation is required."

The look on his face was cryptic. "How much time do I have?"

"Preferably no more than a week. Why?"

"I..." he murmured, then flicked a glance at her. "You said we were in need of specialized soldiers?"

"Yes I did." She frowned as his expression grew even more cryptic. "Milliard, what are you thinking?"

He blinked, then looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure yet. I'll get back to you on that one."

"Milliard!"

He rose from the chair and bowed swiftly. "With your permission, ma'am, I'll be on my way. I have some errands to run."

"I can't win with you," she said. "Zechs."

"Milliard," he ground out, and the mask clicked back into place. "Don't make me tell you again. Lady."

He turned on his heel and strode through the doorway, the automatic door barely sliding open in time. If he had gone any faster, he would have walked into the glass. Not that it would have been a problem. Knowing him, the glass would have parted to let him through.

It was he who should be the head of the Preventers. It was apparent to everyone but him. Most things were, she had realized. Zechs Merquise saw what he wanted to see, and right now, all he saw was Milliard Peacecraft.

He hadn't even seen all the data before he had accepted the mission. She had files to show him, documents and printouts and slides and disks full of pictures, and she hadn't even started before he had said yes. And from the look on his face, he already had some tricks up his sleeve. She wasn't surprised. He had learned from Treize, the best tutor in the art of war and treachery, and it was only fitting that he would carry on the legacy. She wondered, if Treize could see them now, if he would be proud of the men and women they all had become.

She wondered what would happen if indeed Noin was still alive, and if Milliard did indeed find her, and all she could see was Zechs Merquise, who he said was dead.

Would Milliard Peacecraft die too?

 
Go to Une story While You Were Sleeping
Go to Treize story Dreams

 
Scene XIII: The Secrets that were Thought Lost

 
His name was Muhammad Ali Banks, and he was destined to shake up the world.

From birth, he had been different- tenacious, a fighter; his father had been fond of boxing (which most people considered to be a barbaric sport, preferring the grace and speed of fencing), and had named his son after the most legendary of all boxers, hoping to inspire the same spirit and drive that made people remember, and question.

The name worked. Banks had the fair complexion and coloring of his Irish forbearers, and a temper to match. He was a Christian with an Islamic name, and that set him apart. The world wasn't kind to him, so he wasn't kind back.

He fell into investigative reporting almost by chance, yet he took to it like a dog with a familiar bone. Here was something he could succeed in, reveal the truth (hard and cruel though it may have been) and force the world to look at itself. It was thrilling and dangerous, yet he never shirked from the challenge. Now, at the tender age of twenty-seven, he was about to stumble upon the story of the century.

The war had made for excellent stories. He had covered many different aspects of it, starting with the ruins of the Lake Victoria Base after the cadet barracks had been bombed. He hadn't been able to believe the destruction that had resulted. Attempting to get an interview with Lieutenant Noin, one of Federation's head instructors and commandant of the base, had proven impossible. He had had to settle for the cadets themselves, and the confused stories they told made him angry at the terrorists who had attacked people -some of them no older then fifteen- while they slept.

He had made it his personal crusade then to get to the bottom of who the Gundam pilots were and what their motivation was. Terrorists usually saw themselves as freedom fighters, and he, remembering the long history of his homeland, was torn between the desire to expose them, and the desire to understand. The reporter in him won out; he was going to have the story.

Then General Noventa was killed by the self-same warriors. He remembered watching the footage with horror- the Federation brass had never stood a chance against the war machine people called 01.

Five Gundams, seeming to operate with separate orders. Sometimes they fought besides each other, sometimes they fought one another. People wanted to know where they were going to strike next. Children began to have nightmares about the Gundams coming to get them. Families began to prepare bomb shelters, not that it would do much good.

Gradually the mystery unraveled. The Gundams had been sent by factions in the Colonies that wanted freedom from the rule of the Federation. Little by little information was unveiled, though no one ever seemed to be able to answer the question that burned in Banks' mind:

Who were the pilots?

What motivated the pilots to take the risks they did? Where were they from, what were they fighting for? Did they have families? Who were their allies?

Events happened so rapidly that people were still sorting out the mess. Zechs Marquise was revealed to be the long-lost heir to the Cinq Kingdom, but yielded the throne to his younger sister, Relena Peacecraft. She became the so-called Queen of the World at bequest of the Romafeller Foundation, but was quickly deposed by Treize Khushrenada. Banks had always considered himself an intelligent man, yet he was as confused the dizzying display of political maneuverings as the next person.

Then White Fang emerged, and the Gundams prevented them from destroying the Earth, making themselves world heroes in the bargain. Still, Banks refused to forget those young soldiers who had died at Lake Victoria. He wanted to know the Gundam pilots- it had become an obsession.

In his pursuit of the truth, he had final come to a crucial decision. The law didn't matter anymore. Someone knew the identities of the pilots, and that someone most likely would be Lady Une, the leader of a new task force called The Preventers.

Lady Une was an enigma. She had been unpredictable throughout the entire war (he had seen her before and after she went into space, and was hardly able to believe that she was the same person), and afterwards had settled down to create a force to protect the peace that was so hard won.

Still, she had been in the thick of the battles, commanding legions of OZ. She would know. Many former soldiers had found their place in the Preventers, such as Lucrezia Noin and Sally Po, the head of the Chinese rebellion against OZ. Perhaps the Gundam pilots had managed to find their way into those ranks.

What Banks had decided to do was risky. He was going to break into the personal files of Lady Une, undoubtedly some of the best guarded secrets in the world.

It had taken a while for him to get here. First he had to join the Preventers, which had taken six months. After managing to be assigned to Headquarters, he had to wait until he found a chance.

That chance had come. He had been assigned to guard the offices during the night. With a regretful sigh, he had tranquilized his partner and hid her sleeping form in one of the low-security offices. Realizing that there was no going back, Banks went to Une's office. He would likely find himself in jail for this stunt, but it would be worth it. He would know.

Using his key, he entered cautiously, worried about possible traps. Carefully he worked his way over to her desk, and jimmied open the lock on one of her doors.

Hard copies. Lady Une didn't keep any of her truly personal information in a machine, as a skilled hacker could access it. Pulling out the files, he started to rifle through them until he found what he was looking for.

His green eyes widened in disbelief. This couldn't POSSIBLY be right. The thick files laid out all the information in crystal-clear detail. Yet his mind refused to accept it.

The pilots were CHILDREN.

Still, he couldn't argue with the facts. Securing the files on his person, he walked out of the office, locking the door behind him. If he were lucky, he would be able to give the information to his editor before he was arrested.

Fortunately for him, he made it. Unfortunately, he actually printed it, causing a storm of debate as hadn't been seen in decades. The article that graced the front page of his newspaper would be the first real threat to the fragile peace that had been established:

AND A CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM? GUNDAM PILOTS REVEALED!

 
END SAINAN NO KEKKA ACT I

Act I Part II | Act II Part I | Back to Sainan no Kekka