Credibility—Ch. I

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Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live.
Mark Twain, (1835-1910)

This isn't right. This isn't even wrong.
Wolfgang Pauli, (1900-1958) on a paper submitted by a physicist colleague

The lecture hall was as shabby as the rest of the building. The cheap fabric of the seats was frayed and ripped, showing foam underneath the puce-green exterior. The carpet wasn't much better, and the wood of the podium looked ready to disintegrate from age. When I looked at the computer system though, I let a small relieved sigh escape. They hadn't cut the corners there, and the equipment was of good quality…and I could actually use it. I don't know why I let Une—and Sally, don't forget her—talk me into this. Maybe it is getting me out of the office, and maybe I'm getting paid; but I still have real work to do. This hardly constituted as something that would further my ends.

I booted the computer, waiting the requisite minute-and-a-half that it seemed to take all computers to come on-line, and when the screens were up, plugged the various disks I'd brought with me for graphics into the different slots and ran through them, double checking to make sure none of them had corrupted in the time since I had last touched them. They tended to be locked up in a very secure place for the majority of the time, never being seen, touched or used.

While I did the nearly mindless task, I had to wonder about why I was here, when Duo could have done it just as well as I—if not better, what with his fascination with machines and engineering.

While I was involved in my own little world of computers and lecture notes, students, noticed, catalogued and nearly dismissed, began to filter in, a sure indication, (backed up by the clock, though the thing was six minutes off, when checked against the computer time, and then my cell phone,) that the beginning of class was closer.

They scattered like rice across the many seats, some of them talking, some of them pulling out massive notebooks, but I ignored them all, keeping them on the peripherals of my senses, as close to "zoning them out", as Duo would put it, as was possible for any of us.

I wondered if they were speaking about me, whether they even thought I was the lecturer, or if they thought, from my age, I was an assistant instead. And that made me wonder if, had they realized me as the lecturer, they would have stopped talking, stopped enjoying their lives. When I thought of it like that…no. I wouldn't venture down that twisted path again, and chose then, just as the time moved over the hour mark, to look up and focus on the class before me. I wondered how long it would take them all to realize who I was.

That was certainly a major downside to my job. Perhaps I still took pride in the fact that I had never hidden me or Nataku away, but no one had known me, and I was used to slipping in and slipping back out, just as the others were. The spotlight meant, then, that we had failed, that we had been captured, that someone was going to use ourselves against us. It made me uncomfortable, this fame that came, where I couldn't even hope to stand in front of a group of my supposed peers, (for all that most of them were older than I,) and have them not recognize me, or my name.

My watch blinked at me, the digital reading changing every second. One minute. I looked up at the room where it tiered above me and began to rapidly count the students already there—a skill I'd picked up in the war. I'd been finding more and more lately that many of the skills that were so important to my survival in the war carried over into peace. It just required a different application.

There was a decided lack of surprise in me when I swept across the top row only to see Duo sprawled in one of the seats. I let a small smirk creep over my face as he raised his hand in salute. Well, if he was going to be there…I would use him. Especially if I had to go through this. He must have gotten wind of the new bike.

The clock hit nine, and I minimized the program screens, hitting the power button on the projector to "prime" it as well.

Then I pulled out the electronic signature pad and squared myself off against the room.

"My name is Wu Fei Chang. This is the course on internal electronic systems used in mobile suits, and, more importantly, the application of those systems in other areas." I pulled out my reading glasses as I opened my gifted textbook, the one I'd received after Relena had heard about it, so all of us could make sure nothing too revealing was in it, and put in my last words of the introduction. "This lecture is by invitation only, and you will need to verify your agreement of the non-disclosure statement on this." I held up the pad and took the few steps necessary to give it to the closest person.

They were still scattered, though, and I decided that I didn't like it. "Also, next time, everyone in the first three rows. There are enough seats there, and I have no interest in raising my voice at all." I could hear a flash of laughter from Duo in his last row seat.

The pad slowly passed from person to person as I went on, each student pressing his thumb to the screen as it went.

"For the most part, the systems we will be going over will be from the Gundam suits, as they were—and, since there are no longer any suits anywhere, still are—the most technologically advanced. We will also be going over a few others, most notably the Tallgeese I and II, the Mercurius and its brother, the Vayeate, and the mobile doll, Virgo. If you would open—oh, I forgot the Serpent. We'll also be looking at those. Now, if you would open your texts to the contents, you'll see that the book has been laid out in much that way." I paused. "Read the book, but remember that this author is a civilian, and so did not have access to some of the necessary information. There are discrepancies. For the list, check the database. The majority of them are there."

The pad had made its way back to Duo, who was in a small argument with the student trying to hand it to him. Finally, he gave a huff and pressed his thumb to it, showing a look of triumph to the startled student as the pad began to screech loudly.

I started up the steps towards them. "As you can see, had any of you not been on the list, you would have set off the alarms." I came even with the smirking Duo. "Maxwell here, is not on the list." Duo just grinned at me, and punched in his security clearance code and the hellacious sounds stopped. "However, since he will be assisting me somewhat, he is authorized." Oh, but that brought an evil glare from him. I put my hand out for the silenced pad, glancing at the tally of names. Three present hadn't signed.

"I'm missing some people here. If you haven't signed, you need to do so, otherwise you need to leave." Two students grabbed their bags, heading for the doors, and a guy got up to come over and sign.

"Good. Now we get onto the actual work." I took the steps two at a time down, and slid the pad back into my briefcase.

Clicking on the first minimized program brought it up to the overhead screen, and pulled up Wing's computer boards, and showing some of the coding that had made it run. "This is Wing, Gundam 01. As you can see, the coding system for the on-board computers is somewhat different than the one detailed in your texts." I looked at them myself, blown up over my head, seeing the differences from Nataku. "Because of the systems needs to stay up to the stress margin, the actual boards had to be laid out in a different manner than what we normally think of as being possible."

Looking at them again, instead of the electrical schematics showing the weak and strong points of the system, I saw them all watching me carefully, and taking equally careful notes. Meeting Duo's eyes, I couldn't help but see that we were having matching thoughts. Hopefully, I wasn't giving information to people who would become as our trainers were, down into the future.

Approximately thirty-five minutes were spent on Wing's computers, going over mostly generalities with a few pertinent details, until there was only five minutes left of the class. Then I wrapped it up, skipping over various points of Deathscythe, intimating that it would be wise to see what was in the book as far as that suit was concerned—which I found amusing, since no one really understood that machine, except Duo, and he'd refused to tell anyone why it worked the way it did, he and his trainer having done an amazing amount of modifications to the general suit designs to get it to where it was. So there wasn't much that could be explained about the system, since none of the diagrams were complete. I could see Duo smirking in my mind as I thought about having to go over the sketchy details so briefly.

When the hour ended the students piled out and Duo hopped the seats, not bothering with the crowded stairs, to get down to where I was. I timed the student's exodus; only two minutes, three seconds for everyone to disperse out the doors, but as the doors closed behind them I glanced up, and saw one girl still sitting at the edge of the sixth row.

Duo, per his style, began talking as soon as he got to me. "So, the new one's in, huh?" The girl was still there. I nodded. "We'll have to do something interesting with it."

He rattled on, but I chose to ignore him as I packed my stuff up, pulling out the disks and shutting the computer system down. When I was done, we started up the stairs, and I paused by the girl, cutting Duo off-mid word. She was, to all appearances, studying.

"Are you going to stay in here?" Dark eyes flashed upwards from notebooks filled in with neat capital lettering.

"Yes." My eyebrows rose just a little as I got a good look at the notes—history. Her voice was sure as she continued with a shrug. "No one else is going to be in here for nearly three hours, so it's quiet."

Ah. I gave a short nod, and began climbing the stairs to Duo, where he was waiting by the door. Her voice stopped me short, and I started to get annoyed. "Actually, professor, I have a question."

As I turned around, I muttered some nasty things about Une under my breath. "Don't call me that. I'm not a professor."

Duo, being himself, and completely against standing for any period of time when he didn't have to, plopped bonelessly onto the top step, merrily humming one of his old songs under his breath.

She stood up carefully, watching her stack of books and papers as they threatened to spill. Looking me full in the face when she'd succeeded without any disasters, she swept the light hair out of her face. Her raised eyebrows were clearly visible, even in the dim light. "Well, what would you like me to call you? Mr. Chang, Captain Chang?"

There was a snicker from over my shoulder, and I shot Duo a glare, swinging back to her as I ignored his bright grin. "I don't care, just don't call me professor." I couldn't keep my slight sulk out of my voice, and it mingled in there with the annoyance at my commanding officer.

All she gave up to me was a shrug. "Anyway, I was just wondering about the stealth system that the oh-two Gundam was rumored to have. Are we going to be going over that?"

That stopped me. No, we wouldn't be, because…well, if I looked over my shoulder, I could see the reason why. I didn't, though I could almost feel the grin leaving his face.

"No, those schematics have never been released. They will stay that way; the only parts open ever to this course will be the ones already mentioned, and the ones that I'll be going over next lecture."

She nodded at my scrambled-together excuse. But it was the truth. Duo hadn't told anybody, so he was the only one alive who knew the secret. He said it was best if those systems stayed a secret as long as possible. All of us agreed with him, but Lady and Relena had thought otherwise. Duo is much more stubborn than they are, though, and his wishes had prevailed.

As she nodded, she gave a sigh, followed by a bright smile. "Somehow, I knew that would be the answer. Thank you for taking the time to actually confirm it." She turned away from me, and did a repeat performance with the books, this time carefully sitting back down. I nodded to her as I re-hefted my own pile of stuff and finished the climb to the now somber Duo. I knew he must be thinking about his Gundam, and the secrets it had held, but he smiled and leaped to his feet when I drew even to him, snagging one of the cases I carried.

"So, what's this new bike?"

I pulled my own mind from those machines of war and gave it over to the machines that made up my hobby.

"Quatre paid for it, so it's beyond what we would have seen. Apparently, he's going to buy five of them for us, and this one is for Trowa…" That got an appreciative whistle. "I have some tentative ideas, but, of course, I'm sure you'll expand them."

"Oh, yeah? Does the fact that the first one is Trowa's have anything to do with the certain anniversaries that are coming up this summer? Like, one year up on L4 for him, or…" The area wasn't secure to go into the other anniversary that was in the fall, so he had to let it trail off, both of us all too well aware of the insecurity of our surroundings. Then he grinned at me, as I could see from the corner of my eye, and went to a safer topic. "Or do you just think it's because of Trowa?"

"Probably a bit of all three of those, knowing how Quatre works." Duo snorted, and we continued onto the parking lots.

We walked the hallways, part of the world, but not like the people around us. We were nineteen, and knew more and had done more than people twice, even three times our age. How could we ever fit in with these innocents around us? But as we reached bright sunshine, I shook the constant questions off, and relaxed in the company of my friend as we discussed the motorcycle modifications and what our other friends were doing.

Two days later Duo came right down to the front of the hall with me, and helped set up the equipment. Then he pulled out the small projector-pen he'd set up for the bike, and we passed the time until the students settled—in the first three rows—going over some of the final points, determining that we could order parts that night and start stripping the bike in my garage in preparation.

That day we did the a little more on Deathscythe, as much as was able, and did an overview on Heavyarms and Sandrock, finishing just as the five minutes came up before the end. Duo would interject a few choice comments, usually interrupting me to do it. I think he did it just to annoy me. At the five minute mark, I gave the passcode to access the diagrams I was using, which were different than the ones in the book, so they could access them on the database.

Again, as everyone else filed out, the blonde girl stayed behind, spreading out across several seats in her studying. Duo and I ignored her as we used the connection on the desk's computer to begin the parts ordering, knowing that it would take less time than one of us setting up either of our laptops there, or running to my house. We were in the middle of a discussion—or argument, if you'd rather—over brands for some of the more integral parts we were changing when the girl's voice issued from behind the monitor we were bent over.

"I would recommend the PF30's." When we looked around the monitor, she was back to her books, the picture of a concentrating student. But she wasn't going to get away with that, not if she'd been listening, eavesdropping on our discussion.

"And you would because?" I moved around the small desk/podium to look up at her where she sat at the edge of the second row. Her book dropped to the little pull-out desk as she let out a sigh, as if she regretted saying anything. She crossed her arms across her chest before she started.

"Hysen's a good company, they have a good warranty and they offer quality products, but the PF30's have a better time-integrity than they do, as well as being easier to integrate with other parts from different manufacturers. The interface is also a lot better with the basics than with the Hysen, if you're going to be doing anything involving computers, which is what it sounds like." Finished, she began to go back to her books, but I interrupted her as Duo, still behind the monitor, let out an "I told you so."

"So you've done some work with both of these brands before?" It stopped her actions towards her books, bringing her eyes up to mine. All that I could tell in the relative dimness is that they were dark under her light lashes and the fair skin of her eyelids.

"No, I haven't." I was about to ask her what she'd know about it then, but she went on, making me swallow the words. "My brother does. He's rather obsessed with cars and 'cycles, he does all sorts of things with them, and I hear about it, exhaustively, from him and his friends, who all have opinions about everything; but the general consensus is that the PF30 is better in the performance area. So yes, I've had experience with it, though I have managed to avoid any actual work with either company's products." Another pause. "Now, I apologize for entering my unasked for opinion. I won't do it again."

This time she did go back to her books, and I decided abruptly that I would look up her file later, after I was out of there. Right then, I just went back to the computer, and let Duo order his choices for parts. I hadn't really needed her interjection, because Duo always ended up with his own way, but still…I wouldn't have expected her to have an opinion of any kind. Hell, I didn't even know who the hell she was, other than someone who was almost certainly an engineering major of some kind, to be sitting through the lectures. The majority of the students were computer, electrical, manufacturing and mechanical engineers, though there were a few more mundane technicians who were there to give them ideas for developing new systems on the colonies—where most of the technologies used in the Gundams were going to end up.

It didn't take us very long to finish with the ordering, and we were reassured by the fact that the parts would be in soon, the first arriving at the end of the week. So when we were done, we left the hall, where she stayed behind, intent on her pile of papers and books. Duo left me at the entrance, walking off as if he owned the world, and everything in it, and I threw my cases into the passenger seat of the sensible little car I kept for running around in. As was to be expected, they made me park in the commuter student parking lots, since I wasn't going to be there forever. The college wasn't even paying me, so why give me a precious parking spot closer? The whole thing was a pain, and I again wished that Lady had found someone else to do this favor. I had things that needed to be done on my desk at headquarters, I didn't need to be spending two days a week giving some lecture about systems that we all thought would be better kept under wraps. I pulled out, only half seeing the things around me as I did everything automatically, my mind focused on the annoyance that was circling around through my head when ever I really thought about this silly "assignment".

Two years. I had been working for Preventers for two years already. I had bought a house a year ago, when my cycle collection had grown to six complete bikes, and the house I had bought had a large garage, as well as another shop in the back of the yard. It was odd, to live in a house that wasn't in the colonies. The ridiculous salary I was paid would have let me afford a much larger one, in a nicer area, but I liked the seclusion of the edge of town, and I liked the fact that it was the right size for me, just two bedrooms, one of which worked as a general office/library. Yes, it was small, I suppose some could even call it quaint, but it was mine, something that I earned with money that wasn't from what my clan had left, and wasn't from the blood money they'd tried to offer at the end of the war. I felt a derisive snort rise in my throat. As if any of us would have taken that money. None of us would accept money for "our services" during that war. We paid and were paid in blood, and money has no value against that.

I pulled into the driveway, leaving the car there, but taking the briefcases in, because of the sensitive papers and diagrams. Those would stay with me or in my bedroom until they went back into the vaults at headquarters. It really was such a pain to do this favor. As I went through the house, checking every door and window for signs of a forced entry, a habit I didn't think I'd ever lose, I set the cases beside the bed on my way through the bedroom, heading ultimately for the office, where I could remote access the computer on my desk at headquarters, and actually get some real work done in the latter half of the day. So I hit the power on the computer before running to the 'fridge for a glass of cranberry juice. When I got back to the office, and sat down at the desk, the first thing I did was pull up the student files for that class.

She was the fourth file I came across. Her dark blue eyes stared back at me from the screen, her hair all around her face. For a second, she reminded me of Quatre, she had the same fierce look in her eyes. Her name was Samantha Lee Dowldon. I might have read further, and gone on to all the details of her life, but something stopped me. Perhaps it was the look in her eyes, daring me to, daring me to dissect her life, the life stored on paper. It stopped me, whatever it was. I didn't read it then, and I remember thinking about it much later, when I did read it. Instead, I shut down the files, and opened the Preventers e-mail, to see what new things plagued my empty desk, a desk I would see tomorrow, but surely tomorrow wasn't soon enough. I was having enough trouble keeping up without giving in to the desire to be out in the garage, stripping that newest bike.

Work the next day was surreal as I slogged through the paperwork that I had somehow agreed to do two years ago. I really should've taken a completely field agent position. I hate all this. But no, Lady thought it would be better for me to juggle both the desk job and the field work, to keep me in shape. So here I was, writing press releases and setting up an infiltration, all on the same day. Hell, I hardly ever left the van in the field. It was an endlessly sore point with me, the things I had to do, the publicity, the interfacing with the population, all of this ridiculous dance. I sighed as I sent the release to Lady's desk, for officiating, and sent for the agent I had chosen for the infiltration.

I was just connecting to Duo when my secretary called to say the agent I'd sent for was there. I thanked her, then mentally turned to Duo.

"I've got a job for you."

"What, officially?" I could almost hear the smile in his voice. "What is it this time?"

I shrugged, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "You're just opening the door. A drug ring, you and another agent."

There was a pause. "A partner? How big a deal is this thing?"

I rolled my eyes as I thought of the stubborn American. "It's not that big, but we've already got it primed for a joint op, two agents." I knew what he thought of partners, he'd done enough freelance for us already. "Really, you could do it alone, but we'd have to wait a while for this to go down, then set it back up for a solo, and that's just not feasible. So you get a tag-along."

I could imagine the grimace on Duo's face. He hated having partners, but still…the money was always good, and even though he didn't really need it, he still carried some scars from his childhood. And he was good at it, the whole thing.

"I have to have a partner." It wasn't really a question, so I didn't answer. There was a sigh on the other side of the phone line, and his voice came back over. "All right, I'll do it. When do you want me there?"

"How far away are you now?" He always asked, and I always asked in return.

"Uh, I can be there in maybe, uh, twenty minutes?" You could hear him moving in the background. "Who'll I be working with?"

"That's why it'd be good to get down here. You don't know him, but he's waiting outside my office." The phone was muffled a second while he apparently pulled a shirt on. "Make it eighteen, and we'll be even."

"Okay, eighteen minutes it is then." He dropped the connection, and I called Marcia, telling her to let the waiting agent in.

He entered, slipping past the secretary I had hand-picked for her glare alone, and sat down, straight backed in one of the chairs pulled to the front of my desk. I gave another sigh—internal this time—as I looked at him. Agent Davies had always resented the fact that I was younger than him and so far over his head. So he treated me with the absolute respect he felt I didn't really deserve. I'd asked Duo about it once, and that's what he told me, without ever having set eyes on the man before me. Well, he'd dislike this even more than he did me, once he got a look at Duo.

"Davies, I have an assignment for you." I almost winced to myself at that. Of course I had an assignment for him. Why else would I call him in? "There's a drug ring that has been expanding beyond the capabilities of the local police. We need it infiltrated before we can make any move: there simply isn't enough information on it to justify the launch of a complete operation."

He gave a short nod, no verbal acknowledgment. The guy could push it a little far sometimes.

I pulled out the two slim folders, identical to each other, representing the entirety of the intelligence we'd been given by the department local to the operation.

"This is what we've got to work with. Your partner for this mission will be here shortly." I'd found a long time ago that the more short you were with Davies, the better it would go. "If you'll begin getting yourself acquainted with that folder, he'll be here in about," I glanced at the clock, "ten minutes."

Another short nod, but this time he actually said something, though it was only: "Yes sir." He opened the folder and began to carefully read through it. He was really going to hate Duo.

I went back to the other paperwork on my desk as we waited for Duo to get in. I had actually made a dent in one of the piles when I heard Marcia through the door, giggling—I swear, she giggled—and knew that Duo had arrived. Another glance at the clock showed that he was two minutes early. A smirk passed across my face. He must be really bored. I think that's why he did all the contract work, like he was staving off boredom. Marcia's still-giggly voice came over the intercom.

"Sir, Mr. Maxwell is here. He says you called him?"

I reached forward to hit the send button. "Yes, Marcia, I did. I forgot to tell you I was expecting him."

"Oh, that's okay, Mr. Chang." Her happy parting comment echoed out from the outer office as Duo swung the door open.

"Hey, Chang. Sixteen minutes." Davies was watching him as he jauntily took the few steps to the other chair, and dropped down into it. "That's dinner."

I just ignored him while motioning to Davies. "Agent Davies, this is Special Agent Black." That got a look from Davies as he stood to shake Duo's hand. It took a lot to get that Special, and even more to get the code name rather than just using his last name. But, of course, Duo was my age, and so was much too young. Davies was only five years older than us, but he was constantly trying, (at least in my case,) to act like the gap was wider.

Duo, much to my relief, actually stood up to shake Davies hand. Maybe he recognized the agent from the time I'd asked, because he sent a sly eyebrow at me before he sat back down. When he did, I gave the other folder to him. "Davies has been going over the file, so you'd better catch up—but later. I'll give you a quick overview now, then you can go requisition whatever you're going to need." Duo still flipped open the folder, and ran a quick eye over it. I raised eyebrows at him when he gave a quick bark of laughter, getting a strange look from Davies.

"What is it, Maxwell?"

"We're going to be in White's town."

I could feel my eyebrows get higher. "Really? I didn't know you'd located him." A nod, brief, as we were both aware of our passive audience.

"Well, you'll hardly need to contact him." I closed the subject. "Here's the basics on the file;" and I launched into the briefing, familiar enough footing after two years.

They left together, and I could only hope that Duo would know how to handle Davies, and keep him out from underfoot while he worked. But then again, that's why we could trust him. He knew how to handle people, and he knew how to do his job.

I put it all out of my mind as the day came to a close, giving way to evening as I pulled out of the lot on a bike, heading towards home, and hopefully, my latest shipment of books. I was slowly working my way through the "classics" as they were called, from each culture group, and got in a crate every month. It gave me something to do in the evenings, something relaxing, with no relations to work or anything that might come forward from the past to haunt me.

It was my third lecture, and Duo was already gone, so I was alone in front of the class. But I rambled on with only half my mind, the other half on both work, and, to my surprise, Miss Dowldon, sitting in the same place as last time, her head bent over her papers. Every once in a while, she would give a little snicker, as if whatever I were saying she found amusing.

When the lecture was over, I was extremely glad that there were only the three in the next week. Then the actual professor who was supposed to be teaching it would be back, and I could go back to work. Really, this whole thing is just a waste of time. But then the hall was empty, leaving only the girl and I, as she started studying, and I packed up. It was as I was walking past her that her slight laughter came back to me, so I stopped next to her seat.

"Why were you laughing?"

She looked up, startled, her eyes wide, she'd been concentrating hard enough to forget me. A gentle blush lit across her features as she looked up at me where I stood. "Um."

I just looked back at her, knowing that eventually, my stare would prevail.

It did, and she looked away as she answered. "It's just... Well, you." She paused and bit back a smile. "You sounded like you were quoting something—or someone—every once in a while, and it sounded like the person had a very dry humor, that's all." It came out in somewhat of a rush.

I frowned, and thought back over what she might be referring to. Today I'd gone over Nataku and Tallgeese, and I tried to recall exactly what I'd said. I did figure it out, and realized that she was right, I had been quoting—Master O. And he did indeed have a "dry humor". It made me smile, just a little, as I thought of the lectures he'd given me about Nataku. When I came out of the memories, I saw her looking at me strangely, with a look on her face that I couldn't place. It was questioning, and maybe a little piercing, with a little of something, the thing I couldn't place, making her eyes very dark in the already shadowed hall.

"Yes, sometimes I was quoting, and yes, they did have a rather harsh sense of humor." Though how I'd transferred those phrases and sentences from Mandarin subconsciously, I would never know.