Wild Roses – First Blood
Chapter One
Early June AC 191
Lake Victoria Military Academy
Instructor Treize Khushrenada leaned his slender body back against the cool plaster wall of the Academy Great Hall and scanned his eyes around the room idly before flicking them to the elegant little pocket watch he was holding in his hand.
Spread across the space in front of him, arranged in neat rows and columns more than an arm's length apart, a sea of heads were bent over small, square desks, hair of every hue known to the human race shining in the sunlight pouring through the skylights above. Lithe bodies in identical uniforms shifted and fidgeted in the wooden chairs, giving some clue to the state of their owner's thoughts as they sweated over the papers in front of them.
It was warm in the Hall. Treize had long since discarded his uniform cloak and was wishing he could do the same with his heavy wool jacket. The cadets had to be feeling the same, but he doubted that was why they were sweating.
Most of them probably hadn't even noticed the rising temperature of the room as they worked.
Treize shook his head fondly, scanning the room again in approval of the level of concentration his students were showing, unusual at this point in the schedule. It had been brutal few weeks for the cadets as they faced their final evaluations. They'd all been pushed harder than they had even dreamed possible and they were all utterly exhausted.
The redhead wondered what the reaction would be from his charges if they knew their teachers were scarcely less worn than they were. Each cadet, after all, only had to worry about themselves and their friends if they were generous. They prepared, they showed up where and when they'd been told to, they were assessed and they were dismissed to fall into bed.
The instructors, on the other hand, had to worry about every cadet and all the logistics that made the testing possible, besides. Even tonight, when the cadets were celebrating the final exam being over, the instructors and staff would be working, frantically marking papers, compiling results, comparing transcripts and making decisions that would affect the lives of their students for years to come. Grades had to be awarded, promotions requested, assignments and recommendations considered. In two days time, each cadet would meet with their personal tutor for a confidential interview and their options, plans and dreams would be discussed. Two days after that, they would graduate the Academy as officers.
For three weeks, the entire Academy had eaten, slept and breathed the final evaluations. The lower classes had been dismissed in May as they always were and only the seniors had stayed on – to suffer through a whirl of medical and psychological exams, invasive and meticulous, followed by two weeks of brutal practical assessment and finally a week of rigorous theoretical exams. Treize had barely stopped long enough to grab a coffee as he chaperoned full physicals, supervised and marked practicals, offered revision classes for the theory and dealt with the human cost of such pressure in cadets who sickened, cried, and found they couldn't sleep. He'd dispensed support, reassurance and advice until his throat hurt, along with aspirin like toffees, tissues by the forest load and the occasional cup of hot chocolate.
He glanced at his watch again, and then let his eyes seek out one set of cadets in particular. Seated as they were, alphabetically by surname, several of those Treize was particularly involved with were grouped together slightly behind and to the right of the dead centre of the Hall.
The strong summer sunlight brought out highlights in hair of three distinctly different colours as the cadets in question shifted in place. Otto, easily the most fidgety of the three all through the exam, was chewing the end of his pen worriedly and the jerky movement was making coppery glints flash from his chestnut curls. Treize suspected the boy was vain enough to have hated it if he'd known, but the teacher had little sympathy. The same sun would be turning his own hair to a fiery halo.
Besides, if Otto wasn't careful, he was going to chew straight through his pen and then he really would have something to worry about. Ink all over his paper would not do his final mark any favours.
The instructor had gotten to know Otto reasonably well since the end of the autumn term, finding him dependable and good-humoured, if not particularly outstanding, and he knew why he was so nervous.
Otto's cumulative average up until the final assessment series had put him just within the top twenty of the class and he was desperate to stay there. He had definite ideas about what he wanted for his first active post and cadet folklore had long rumoured that the top twenty cut pretty much got to choose their own. There was a certain amount of truth to it – but Treize had already decided it wouldn't matter in Otto's case. It was therefore sweet but totally unnecessary for the boy to fret so.
The two cadets sitting directly in front and to the right of Otto had no such concerns.
Black hair flared blue and blond, pure white but the only movement from either student was the steady left-to-right progress of their writing hands across their pages. Their concentration was so absolute that from the moment the exam had begun, neither had stopped writing long enough to crack open the regulation bottle of water each cadet was allowed at their desk. The only time the pair had even looked up from their papers was to reach for the data-books provided, or their calculators, and neither of them had needed those very often, either.
As Julian Larkspur had said aboard the Aquarius, Noin and Marquise had been ranked first and second in the class from day one, switching only ever with each other. They'd come into the final assessments with averages only hundredth's of a point apart and had battled relentlessly for the edge all the way through. They were so closely matched that no-one, not even the instructors, would know who had finally come out on top until absolutely all of their marks were tallied. It had already been decided that each of their evaluations would be scored or marked twice to be certain of the result.
In March, Treize had been sure Noin was going to win – she had just an edge of talent as far as the instructor was concerned – but in the past few weeks he'd found himself not quite so sure. Zechs had changed in the last couple of months, developing a poise Treize would never have predicted and a focussed intensity even greater than he'd already possessed. Something in the boy had settled into a surety and self-confidence that complemented the sudden stage of physical development he'd hit. Treize was almost used to meeting his childhood friend's eyes directly now, and he was rapidly learning to enjoy the sense of equality in his interactions with the younger man.
Looking at him now, Treize was glad Zechs would never wear his cadet uniform again after the exam – it didn't suit him anymore. It was a child's costume, and that was something Zechs no longer was.
As the instructor watched, Zechs sat back in his chair, closed his paper, set down his pen and reached for the bottle of water. He twisted the top free, downed half of it in three easy swallows, and set it aside to give his head a little shake that made his ponytail dance across his collar. A moment later, he opened his paper at the first page and began to read swiftly.
Treize gazed approvingly at this evidence of exam technique and found his scrutiny returned across the Hall when Zechs looked up from his checking, set the paper aside a final time and met his gaze.
The instructor was invigilating the exam and it was a technical breach of protocol when he raised an eyebrow speculatively, as good as silently asking, 'Well?'
Zechs shrugged so slightly it was barely there and then smiled as he gave a confident nod.
Treize smiled back warmly. He'd known Zechs would do well - even if they hadn't spent endless hours in the last few weeks drilling all the theory and formulae the boy was likely to need - but it had been a tough paper and the teacher was glad to know his student had coped with it.
The blonde's smile warmed to match before he broke the eye contact to lean back in his chair and reach for his water again.
Treize huffed an indulgent breath and returned his attention to the rest of the cadet's.
Slightly behind Zechs, catching his movements out of the corner of her eye, Lucrezia Noin looked up in time to see his silent communication with their teacher. She smiled herself at the affection in the exchange and subconsciously finalised a decision she'd been mulling over for quite some time. Almost without thinking, she let the sentence she was writing slip slightly away from its original textbook perfection, stopped, re-read, and then continued the essay with an air of satisfaction.
On the far side of the Hall from Treize, Liliya Valadin watched her pupil's actions knowingly. She was about to make a very great deal of money from her fellow officers, and all by simply being a good judge of other women.
The exam finished some fifteen minutes later, to the great relief of everyone in the Hall.
Although every cadet was long too disciplined to move without permission, there was still a subtle wave of relaxation that swept across the room as the papers were collected; a little fidgeting and rustling to disturb the silence as Treize supervised the shuffling and depositing of the papers into the secured boxes he was monitoring.
There were no names on them – cadets were identified by randomly assigned numbers for each exam to prevent any cheating in the marking. Even so, the papers were still resorted into a random order, so that each instructor would receive a cross-section of the room and wouldn't be able to guarantee the marking of a favourite by deliberate selection of an area of the Hall. The same thing happened with the computer-based exams, with the master machine randomising which instructor received which answer file.
Zechs watched absently as the boxes were sealed shut and Treize authenticated the lock with his signature, idly curious about the way Valadin and the other supervising officers were deferring to his friend. Treize was Major Khushrenada now, true, not Captain as he had been for all of Zechs's training but the promotion was less than a week old, so new that he probably hadn't had to polish the new rank pins on his uniform yet. With one exception, every other officer in the room still had either rank or seniority in their favour and yet they were acting as though it were the other way around.
It made him wonder what they knew that he didn't. Even Vlad the Impaler was doing it and that was damning proof that something was going on all on its own.
Tracing thoughtless patterns on the rough surface of his desk with his fingertips, Zechs sighed softly and thought over what he did know.
He knew Treize had been expecting the promotion – he'd been pleased by it, but not surprised – and he knew the older man was leaving the Academy at the end of the term next week, just as Zechs was – he'd been packing his rooms up for days.
From several other clues, the cadet could also take guesses that Treize's new assignment wouldn't be nearly as sedentary as his teaching had been. The older man had been ruthless in what he packed for shipping directly home rather than to his next base, discarding a lot of the creature comforts he'd acquired over the last three years and paring back even his most personal items to bare essentials.
He'd been tightening his self-discipline lately as well, being as strict with himself as he had been in his sorting of his things. Zechs knew from a dozen shared meals over revision that the older man was watching what he ate, and he'd encountered his friend several times in the simulator suites or the training rooms, both alone and with other officers. Zechs had never thought Treize one inch out of shape but he hadn't needed Otto's admiring comments to notice the changes the regime had wrought. Treize was bringing himself back to the same peak of fitness and training the cadets had been honed to, and there had to be a reason for it.
There were the rumours, of course. Zechs had ignored them at first but they persisted, and in every retelling they grew more informed and determined. Rumour suggested that Treize wasn't just going to a headquarters post somewhere, as would have been obvious, but to active front line combat as no less than a full Wing Commander.
The blond cadet couldn't decide whether he wanted that to be true or not. It seemed unlikely, given everything, yet it was the explanation that fit Treize's behaviour best and it had both pros and cons that Zechs still hadn't weighed up.
Without a shadow of a doubt, Zechs knew that he himself was headed to a combat piloting post when he graduated next week. If Treize was about to become Wing Commander somewhere, then there was the chance that Zechs would get to stay with him but there was also a chance, a very real chance, that the older man was setting himself up to be killed.
Wing Commander was an incredible promotion from Academy Instructor, especially for a man who, despite all his merits and decorations, had never seen an actual field rank higher than Flight Leader, with responsibility only for a small sub-formation within the much larger squadrons that made up each Wing. It was a level of authority on an entirely different scale, requiring entirely different skills and abilities, and Zechs had studied more than enough history to know that no officer had ever achieved it so early in their career before, not in either the Alliance regular forces or the Specials. It meant a jump to a position within touching distance of the highest echelons of command, and represented a stunning opportunity if it had been offered – but Specials officers led from the front and Wing Commanders, accordingly, weren't known for their survival rate.
No, Zechs decided as the instructors conferred for a few moments about something, the rumour mill was wrong. Perhaps in other circumstances Treize might have gone for it but not with things as they were. He wouldn't take such a dangerous post with so little background, not with Leia and Marie in the balance; his life wasn't only his to gamble with.
Of course, Zechs hadn't been with the older man when he'd flown to Moscow for a few days in the Easter break – he'd remained at the Academy to give husband and wife vital time alone to come to terms with Leia's recent miscarriage – and by staying behind, he'd missed overhearing the first full-scale argument Treize and Leia had ever had. If he'd been in place to hear some of what they'd been arguing about, the cadet might not have been as quick to decide Treize wouldn't take the risk.
The officer in question broke Zechs from his thoughts a moment later by turning in place at the top of the room and letting his gaze roam the space. He gathered attention just with the gesture and waited until he had the eye of every cadet there before he spoke.
"Cadet class will come to parade rest," he ordered, his voice carrying without effort, and Zechs, like every other cadet in the Hall, stood from his chair and snapped to the posture required in the blink of an eye. He locked his hands behind his back and kept his eyes on his officer.
There was a pause whilst Valadin came to stand on Treize's right, Larkspur on his left and the other officers in a line either side, an action a little unusual. Zechs would have frowned if discipline hadn't held him.
Treize appeared to exchange glances with the Russian woman before he gave the next, expected, order. "Cadet class, dismissed," he said, his tone exactly as it always was.
The hall full of cadets relaxed, bodies drooping with relief and tiredness. Zechs reached to gather the few things he'd brought into the exam with him, hearing Otto's noisy sigh of contentment behind him with the first twinges of a smile.
Perhaps now he'd find the time to actually celebrate the fact that he'd turned sixteen on the 1st of May.
Treize halted the thought in its tracks by speaking again. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, pitching his voice to cut through the hum of noise. He had everyone's attention again immediately, all of them wondering what he'd forgotten to say.
The obvious, it turned out.
"Congratulations, cadets," the teacher intoned formally, making the hum swell in appreciation.
Treize paused for just another heartbeat before smiling with true warmth. "Congratulations," he repeated, "officers. And welcome."
Discipline or no discipline, Zechs couldn't help but gape in shock as every instructor in the room came to perfect attention in one fluid movement, saluting their students with parade ground precision.
The blond was halfway to returning to the salute before it dawned on him that it wasn't just the instructors who'd invigilated the exam standing in the line, it was every instructor, every officer, the Academy had on staff and that – though he somehow hadn't noticed it earlier – every last one of them was in full dress uniform.
And they were right, he realised, feeling stunned. God, but they were right! It was done, it was over! In a week, the class would have graduated and joined the ranks of the Specials as its newest officers but the passing out parade was only a formality. As each cadet had finished their paper, they'd also finished their training and that meant they were no longer cadets! There were no retakes on the finals and no one took them who wasn't going to at least scrape a pass. The moment Treize had dismissed the class from the exam, every one of them had made the jump from cadet to officer.
Zechs stared across the room at his friend, finding Treize looking back at him with a world of pride and affection in his eyes. He smiled as the officers broke their salute, raising his eyebrows in a silent question for the second time that day.
The younger man again gave a single nod as his answer, then found himself laughing helplessly, joyfully, as the room exploded into whoops and cheers as his classmates realised what he had.
In seconds, the ordered discipline of the Hall had dissolved into the excited chaos of celebrating teenagers, and the men and women who'd spent three long years drilling that discipline into them stood and watched it happen, most of them chuckling at the sight.
Movement from his right made Zechs break his gaze from Treize's so he could turn in time to catch Noin as she threw herself at him. She ended up a good foot above the floor as he swept her up and returned the exuberant hug.
"I can't believe it!" she squeaked into his ear, her voice driven high by excitement. "Did you know they were going to do that?!" she demanded.
Zechs shook his head. "I didn't have a clue, I promise," he answered, as he set her down and gazed at her fondly. She'd mussed her hair in her leap at him and her eyes were bright with pleasure, enhancing the unusual colour. She looked, he thought, very, very pretty. "Happy?" he asked, and Noin beamed at him.
"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, then glanced beyond him as Zechs felt a touch to the small of his back. He twisted to look over his shoulder, then turned with a grin when he caught his roommate's soft brown eyes. They were sparkling with joy, too, and it was Zechs who reached for the hug first this time.
Otto returned it in a less dramatic fashion than Noin, but it was no less warm. "Fuck me," the dark haired boy sighed in relieved emphasis and Zechs laughed all over again. He knew Otto had been more stressed by the finals than either Noin or himself and had probably struggled with the paper they'd just sat – it was nice to see he hadn't suffered too badly.
"Later, maybe," Zechs whispered, feeling the mischievous streak Otto encouraged in him rise. "If you ask me nicely."
"Oh, promises…," Otto purred as he pulled away. He caught Noin's arm as he disengaged and tugged at her before she could react. "Come here, you," he ordered and Zechs watched as they hugged each other eagerly, any trace of enmity between them forgotten in the moment.
Footsteps behind him and the touch of another warm hand to his shoulder made him turn a third time, and Zechs bit his lip at the sight of his adopted brother. Treize had shucked his dress-cape again, carrying it folded over one arm easily as he smiled at the blond.
"Is it safe to interrupt, do you think?" he asked impishly. He looked as cheerful as Zechs felt.
"I don't know," Zechs replied, grinning as he looked over his two friends. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear Otto was taking advantage…," he drawled
There was a horrified yell as his words carried, followed by Otto and Noin letting each other go with unseemly haste. Treize chuckled at them, gave them a moment to compose themselves, and then offered his hand to each of them in turn. Otto he congratulated with a friendly pat on the shoulder, saying something in the boy's native German that made Zechs blink in incomprehension and surprise. He hadn't known Treize spoke the language. Noin, in her turn, received a gallant kiss to her cheek that made her blush bright red, much to the amusement of her male classmates, and a comment about 'hoping she would forgive the difference, since they weren't on a battlefield.'
Zechs, not quite sure what to expect when Treize finally turned to him, found that the older man simply used their handclasp to pull him into his arms.
"Congratulations, Illia," he murmured, his tone carrying all the pride that had been in his eyes, all the love that was never spoken of but always there. He, more than anyone else, knew what this day really meant to the younger man and the knowledge of it let Zechs sink into the offered embrace willingly.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, Zechs felt utterly content. Now, he promised himself, things could really begin.