A Better Tomorrow

Alektra Maria von Loewenherz and a man known as "Eugene Valentinus" are old comrades from the original Libertus, each carrying their own scars. But with the arrival of an exiled princess, hope for a new revolution looks like it's beyond the horizon. With the same goals but differing methods, can the two compromise what they view as necessary actions? With one of them desiring vengeance regardless of cost, and the other fighting struggling to maintain his morals and ideals in his pursuit of freedom, can each be the support the other needs?

Can the two of them, with the aid of their comrades, bring to fruition a dream of A Better Tomorrow?

The alarm clock ceased its beeping as firm fingers came down and hit the button, the high-baritone grumbling quickly subsiding. The man wasn't a big drinker—hell, he had nothing last night—but he felt badly hungover and had a bad headache. The cafeteria on the base might not have the most luxurious food, but the coffee was incredible.

He gave the figure sleeping next to him a light nudge.

"Hey, Jill?"

"Ugh…what is it, Eugene?"

"It's time for us to get up. I'm going to wash up, get the coffee and all that. Want me to bring you anything?"

Jill rolled over to look her second-in-command in the eye. The smile on her lips was subtle, but there.

"I'll get it myself when I'm ready, Eugene. You understand that, soldier?"

"Heh. Ma'am, yes Ma'am," Eugene chuckled. "Just trying to look out for you, Jill. You're my oldest friend, after all."

"Appreciate the concern, but I'm fine."

"I hope so," Eugene said as he stood. As far as Jill was concerned, his body said more about him than words ever could. It was riddled with scars, mostly from fragments of metal from scrapped para-mails. Even the best pilots have a bad sortie once in a while.

Now, he acted as Jill's second in command, as well as Arzenal's training facilitator…much to his chagrin. Being the sole man on an island consisting entirely of women tended to make him eye candy for everyone, regardless of the age difference between him and the rookies.

In a typical storybook, you'd never find anything bad to say about him. He was practically the subject of schoolgirl fantasy.

It didn't help that Eugene was also the poster child of a well-groomed man who focused on maintaining a professional appearance: a man who was always clean-shaven, short-cut, with nary a wrinkle on his uniforms. Straight-laced as you'd expect at first glance.

Of course, he also looked out of place among the residents of Arzenal when wearing something like this.

His cropped brown hair required little maintenance, and he didn't have a lot of stubble to get rid of. The military dress uniform was formal, but not overly elaborate like you'd see on an imperial prince. The shine on the black shoes was evidence of the meticulous care Eugene took in keeping them polished.

With everything except the uniform's coat (to keep it clean) on, Eugene took off to the cafeteria. There was nothing special being served this time around—just the plain bacon and eggs. The barebones of a good breakfast diet…perfectly fine with him. He took a seat alone, like usual, at least until Zola decided to check in with him.

"Major!" she started. "So, what brings an officer and gentlemen like you down to eat with the rest of us?"

"The most important meal of the day—that's what," Eugene said, before adding a sly remark. "Officers need energy, too, Captain. Not that you have ever had a problem with energy. Besides, you know I don't like eating in the command center."

"Yet you take your coffee there with you," Zola said. "Hypocrisy at its finest—for shame, Gene. Imagine what would happen if you spilled it on your nice dress uniform."

"Gyah!" Eugene groaned as he palmed his face. "You nudged me too hard that time—gloomy morning just like this. I turn my back to you for all of two seconds and that happens. Took me the better part of thirty-six hours to get it all back into pristine condition."

"You're so uptight. You need to loosen up—better yet, get laid," Zola licked her lips. "Like that one time."

Eugene has not gambled ever since that "one time".

"Why do you keep on trying to get laid with me…again? Isn't your harem enough?"

The thought of being part of Zola's harem was irksome to Eugene. Hell, Zola's hedonistic lifestyle was off-putting to him. He never once thought that his protégé would take up such a hobby—lots of days in a simulator, on the shooting range, and disciplinary training and this becomes her idea of "bonding" with her subordinates?

"You're the only man on the island, not to mention the only other person here with a replacement eye…"

"…which is the only thing we have in common, Captain."

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of three more trays being sat down on the table, and he had an almost preternatural awareness of their rumps hitting the chairs. They were a pair of red-heads (with the second closer to orange) and someone whose hair was light blue.

"Hilda, Rosalie, Chris…morning, all," Eugene greeted each respectively. "I hope the captain here is not tormenting you too terribly. Then, by my position as second-in-command, I'd reserve the right to discipline her."

Zola mock-pouted at the remark.

"No problems, Dad…" Rosalie said, the last word being sarcastic.

"Now you've gone and hurt my feelings," Eugene put his hand over his heart, like his heart was wounded. "I practically raised you all for the last decade, you then give me sass. I thought I raised you all better, my girls. Must be the hormones acting up."

"Sarcasm is strange, when it's coming from you," Hilda said.

"Only when I'm on the clock, Hilda," Eugene said before checking his watch. "And speaking of which, I should get going. Ahem…attention!"

When Eugene spoke, all people within earshot listen, regardless of rank. Everyone in he canteen from the ladies next to him to the cook on the other side of the room stood rigid at the posture.

"Hope you all had good sleep. You know the routine: keep ready at all times for any detected singularities. First Troop, you have a short patrol scheduled this morning; wheels up at oh-nine-thirty!" Eugene announced. "Everyone, you'll be notified of any changes in routine directly from me, as the base's executive officer. As you were!"

Dismissed from attention, everyone returned to what they were doing. Eugene took the quiet afterwards to get his uniform's coat on and buttoned up, picking up the mug of coffee and taking off.

"Don't spill, Major!" Zola called after him.

"Stow it, Captain. Consider that an order!" Eugene called back.

Eugene always valued speaking and behaving with one-hundred-percent professionalism. Subordinates like Zola, more so than any other, really stretched the limit of what he can take.

She really tempted him to "loosen up"—ideally, with a fist to her face rather than his head between her legs.

Stop it, Gene! Calm down. Think like a professional. You're the base's Executive Officer, damn it!

His internal fight had not gone unnoticed by the bridge staff or the human investigator assigned to Arzenal.

"Bronson…" Eugene greeted.

"Major…" she replied.

Eugene and Emma didn't get along on a personal level, primarily by reason of his tendency to socialize and befriend the Norma of Arzenal in the off-hours of the day. Technically, as a male who can't use Mana, Eugene should be kept watch on by Bronson at all times—at least she had a tendency to fail horribly at this, since apparently "only" Norma (all female, in case that wasn't clear already) cannot use Mana and are worth keeping an eye on.

"I don't suppose anyone here has new news…" Eugene said.

"Actually, we have received a copy of a transfer order," Pamela said.

"What or who is being transferred to or from here?" Eugene asked.

"Honestly, Gene: you should consider dropping unneeded distinctions," Pamela said before standing, and holding out a clipboard. "The details are right here."

Eugene set his coffee mug down and took the clipboard. Ange…formerly Angelise Ikaruga Misurugi, now Norma #1203-77…formerly heir to the Misurugi Empire. Age…

"Aged sixteen? How long did she go before her…uh…status as Norma was revealed?" Eugene asked.

"No idea…I'd assume her family was in on the fact…"

"At sixteen years of age and a princess…these older transfers are always problematic. Thrust into the field before they ever have a chance to come to terms with the fact, and usually getting themselves killed because of it," Eugene trailed as set the clipboard on the table, sighing. "Just like the last one I tried to ease into the fact."

Olivier swiveled in her chair to face him, knowing that that sortie was also the one that resulted in his removal as an active pilot. "Losing Rita wasn't your fault, Gene. I don't care how much you tell yourself otherwise."

"She was eighteen, Olivier—already of age when she was brought in. Once you're in the back half in your teens, you tend to be set in your ways," Eugene said. "The younger ones have much better luck adapting and excelling in the long term. Besides, you already know my policy when it comes to flying with others."

"Yes: the team survives, however dire things get…"

Eugene sighed and reached for his mug, only to find that it was missing. "What the-? Bronson!"

Emma was right there, holding his mug in her fingers.

"What? I need to deal with all these things, too! For that I need to wake up!"

"Well, swallow your pride and get some coffee from the cafeteria yourself," Eugene spat.

"It's hard enough touching something you drank out of, Norma-lover," Bronson retorted. "You expect me to go in there with all those…things?"

Eugene took a deep breath as he struggled to calm down, his amethyst-colored eyes refusing to break contact from Emma's sunset-orange ones. Emma was yet another person who grated against his temper. So early in the day and he was already arguing with Emma Bronson. He'd hoped to go an hour at least before the yelling started.

"Those 'things' you're referring to are our soldiers—brave ones, too. And yes, I do," Eugene stated bluntly. "I think you could stand some exposure to them and their day-to-day lives. We have this argument all the time, Bronson. The least you could do is spend one day with them."

"Stand down, Major," Jill's voice spoke as she walked into the command center.

"Yes, commander," Eugene acknowledged.

"Anything to report?"

"Yes. A transfer order came in," Eugene said, picking up a clipboard and handing it over. "Have you seen this one before?"

Jill's eyes followed along each line of the order. "No… Major, I've already decided that this one is going into the First Troop."

"You're putting her in with Zola right from the start? Respectfully, I have to call that decision into question—remember what happened to the last one who was put in ahead of orientation completion?"

"You're still dwelling on that?" Jill asked. "We can't be picky with who we deploy."

"But if we deploy nothing but new meat, we're just spinning our wheels," Eugene said. "Before we know it, we'll have no choice but to field the preschoolers-or call the older ones back into active duty."

"What's your recommendation?"

"I have psychological experience with older recruits—you know that," Eugene said. "I'm asking for a minimum of one week of disciplinary education, physical training, and orientation under my direct supervision before her first sortie with the First Troop. And no: I'm not under any illusion that this will be a guaranteed success."

"Let's assume that I do approve this decision…" Jill started, staring at him, pointedly. "What's your logic?"

Their personal relationship with each other had no bearing here. At present, Jill and Eugene were a commander and executive officer pair, off-duty feelings be damned.

"Respectfully, Zola is a hardass," Eugene said. "I may have taught her myself, but she's developed her own teaching methods—whenever she's actually focused on teaching rather than her hobbies. And quite frankly, with a formerly privileged and entitled princess, all that can do is cause more damage. People of the recruit's age have a strong sense of denial that they're Norma, so they are likely to run for it the first chance they get on their initial sortie. This recruit needs a stern, but fair regimen. She needs to be fully aware of her circumstances, the impossibility of leaving, and the consequences if others die due to her actions—and you know I've gotten results with my methods. And Bronson? I'll need your help to get my point across."

When he glared at recruits, he could get them to shut up without raising his voice at all. Eugene prided himself on not having to be sexual or loud to get newcomers in line, unlike Zola.

"It's your call, commander: fast training with extreme risk, or somewhat slower but more thorough work," Eugene concluded.

Jill thought long and hard about the options her old comrade from the original Libertus gave her. She knew the newcomer was of royal blood, and knew she carried a royal ring, which also meant she had the potential to pilot Vilkiss…and she was eager to get her in as soon as possible and start the second Libertus. She thought Eugene was being overly cautious, but he wasn't necessarily wrong, especially if hasty deployment ended in Vilkiss's destruction.

Still, it's an open secret that Eugene and Zola have stopped seeing eye-to-eye since she was given command of the First Troop.

"Eugene, we've known each other for years, so I'm willing to compromise," Jill started. "I value your opinion, so I'm going to put the recruit with you for training and set her in reserve. If, however, I'm dissatisfied at any point in the week on your progress, I'm moving her to the First Troop under Zola. We cannot afford to be so cautious that she never sees action, and we can't have you being too emotionally invested with each other that she underperforms without your presence. Is that understood?"

Jill was hasty. Eugene knew this. But she did have a point that going too long would get the recruit too attached to him to effectively fight alongside an entirely alien group to her. The resolution to that would be that he be reinstated as flight leader of the First Troop…a request that Jill had repeatedly turned down over the last year.

"I'm not going to get a better deal than that, am I?"

"No, Eugene," Jill said. "That's my deal. Take it or leave it."

Palming his face, Eugene exhaled sharply through his teeth.

"Very well, ma'am. I accept the deal," Eugene said, regaining his formal tone, saluting sharply. "When is the arrival?"

"Two hours. I expect you to make it happen."

A/N: This is just a goofy experiment that popped into my head after watching the anime. I'm willing to take constructive criticism, and hey, if anyone wants to collaborate on DocX and help me refine the story, I'm all for it. I'm under no illusions of being able to get very far on my own.