The esteemed engineer, Dr. Rouche Aiyme, tried and failed once more to stifle another emetic breakdown as she dashed in her bare underwear towards the safety of her bathroom.

"...why didn't they give me pills..."

After a particularly long vomiting session, she looked up from the sink into the image of her own reflection in the mirror. It was a haggard, frustrated Aiyme that greeted her, so very different from the cold, determined face that usually greeted her every morning. Her light-green hair was strewn about in bedraggled tufts, some draping over her face to obscure the emerging wrinkles.

She sniffed as she rubbed her abdomen, the source of all her problems. If it wasn't for this thing here, she thought as she rubbed it fiercely, I wouldn't be having this predicament! If only -

Suddenly, nothing else happened of note as she returned to lie back in her bed. She had been recommended to take extensive amounts of rest during the initial stages by the physicians that had been assigned here. However, that did not stop her from continuing her work while in bed, condition be damned.

The esteemed engineer lifted the laptop, one of the things she had pilfered off of General, and placed it beside her on the bed to continue the work that had been interrupted. On the screen was a collection of special action reports from hundreds of operations that the Morgana had participated in. Each of these would be necessary in evaluating the model's performance, as well as to-

She flinched when she sensed the danger signs coming again. The woman had already grown used to it and had learned to anticipate it when it came.

Abruptly, the whole world seemed to turn on its side as the facility around her groaned and creaked like some wounded whale. She rose from the bed, bringing her laptop with her as she walked to the nearby table, swaying all the while to retain balance.

As she held on to the table for support as the room seemed to literally fall sideways, she once again cursed the "facility", the so-called technological marvel that allowed clandestine projects to operate in international waters, free from the country's laws that would have governed them otherwise.

Only a few of its kind had been made, as they were expensive to manufacture, requiring literal trillions to be funneled to create this imposing "floating laboratory". At first she had been fascinated at this invention, a leviathan made from science's hands, but she soon got rid of that ill-conceived thought as she spent the past four years experiencing the crippling effects of severe motion sickness.

Although the facility did not need to move all the time, as she had experienced during the first two years of its operation; the time when the subjects had begun their operations had necessitated all these frequent trips over the sea - the first of which had been straight over the Atlantic to that long-ago first mission in Africa.

Now, the gargantuan vessel was braving the Pacific Ocean, making for the coasts of Area 12, another one of the Britannian Empire's conquered areas. Along the way, it had run through one of the storms that would occasionally crop up from this vast ocean, a storm that Portland obstinately wanted to pass through.

Although Aiyme and some others had lodged their formal complaints, those had still come to nothing as the corpulent chief issued the orders to charge like some misguided captain. With that, the entire crew was now braving the raging, turbulent sea, causing much grief to Aiyme as she rushed to relieve herself once more.

The goldfish flopped silently as it slowly died in the open air, broken free from its bowl in one of the constant turns the room had taken.

The man known as Valdez sprang up to life, abruptly awakened to consciousness by his own assistants after a failed experimental attempt.

Valdez furiously waved off the entreaties and concerns from his assistants as he rose to regard the smoking vessel that had once been an experimental weapon. It had taken all of three months to develop (although he had done other required things all the while) and three seconds to utterly destroy.

The man muttered furiously as he checked his datapad once more, adjusting some things with an impatient tapping. After he was done, he began pacing, kicking aside the failed creation as he did so.

Several hours later would find the man's assistants screaming hopelessly as they were given their latest orders from the eccentric: orders that needed to be carried out, or risk facing disposal much like other personnel had suffered over the years.

"Yep. It just needs to be bigger...how stupid I was to start small." The man snorted as he laughed heartily, a jovial and boisterous cackle.

Duran sat silently in his workroom, blind once more as the Mind's Eye system disengaged around his vision. He had been testing the Mind's Eye, the latest in a series of maintenance protocols he was required to do.

There was nothing important however, for him to note. The Mind's Eye as it was in its current version was perfect, functioning exactly as he'd planned it to be. It was a resounding success, the culmination of almost ten years of labor. He had even developed a portable version of the device now which, although a breakthrough at this point, was a mere sidegrade nonetheless.

But the man felt as if there was something more that could be added: perhaps a certain feature that needed to be explored, or a way for the radius to be expanded, allowing the user a vision that was vastly superior to even those who could see? Such ideas swirled in the man, though he could not act on it, limited as he was to the scope of this project.

The man knew that although the Mind's Eye was his brain-child, he would never be able to fully explore its capabilities for everyday living, in light of its birth having been facilitated by this project, whose aims were not of a peaceful manner.

Briefly, the man's thoughts dwelled on the subjects, most especially the girl whom he had not seen for almost two years - a very long time indeed for a man like Duran, who thought of his condition as something that lasted for a lifetime.

The cool Pacific breeze beat softly on Nunnally's face, making her ample brown locks sway gently with its touch. The sounds of the waves crashing noisily upon the place were the only ones that could be heard over the incessant humming that the facility emitted.

Here she sat, on a platform overlooking the city, her legs swinging freely over the edge. And here was her brother, hugging her from behind as his legs did the same.

It was "free time", as the voice had described it, a quiet period for her and her brother, temporarily free from the rigors of their servitude.

Her brother had told her that she was wearing a bright, yellow jumpsuit, thick enough to ward off the night chill. It certainly did its job well, as she visualized it, but she knew, as she leaned back smiling into her brother's warmth, that all the warmth she could ever want was right here.

Gently she touched the hands that were crossed in front of her, feeling the rough and callous surface that were the marks of her brother's service. Yet despite its deformity, they were still her brother's kind hand, so near yet so far.

"Lelouch?"

"Hmm? What is it, Nunnally?"

And there was that other thing too. Slowly, she felt herself and her brother changing, seemingly growing bigger with each passing month. It did not just start with her brother's gradually deepening voice; the changes were felt within her too. She felt herself growing, little by little, in tune with her brother who seemed to be experiencing the same. There were also those pain periods that the doctors had taught her about, how she would be getting those almost every month now - the times when every day she sat in the cockpit was a grueling exercise, causing her to scream loudly every time. (Out of her brother's earshot of course) These episodes would pass, but they were something to dread looking forward to, nonetheless.

She knew about all this, these had been taught to her before, but it was a disconcerting change nonetheless, assuring her with utter finality that the door to childhood had been irrevocably closed.

"It's nothing...just thinking about stuff." She turned her head to snuggle into her brother's neck. So warm.

She wanted to preserve these moments for as long as she could before the inevitable, terrible summons would come, before she would be forced, once again, to take on the role of a killer. And that was something her mind didn't want to dwell on for long - an iron willed, steadfast rejection.

The city had joined the many that had burned, as its inhabitants scurry to flee like mice from the conflict, from the juggernaut's destructive path.

"Operation complete!"

A cold, snowy place. Somewhere in the mountains, a group of rebels and their Knightmares are crushed, buried deep in the unforgiving snow.

"Operation complete!"

An ash plain that had once been a sunflower field. In the center was a heap of burnt slag, the remains of a once proud battalion of pilots. They did not even have the grace of prayer as they burnt agonizingly inside their coffins.

"Operation complete!"

They fall like boulders from the cliff, their weapons trailing behind them. Those that don't explode on crashing to the bottom are unceremoniously buried under huge boulders sent down by the towering behemoth perched on the cliff's edge.

"Operation complete!"

The Britannians never knew what waited for them in the forest. Foolishly, they tried to ascertain the source of that devastating artillery barrage, not knowing the fate of the camp they left behind as it was methodically demolished by unidentified entities. They advanced proudly, without fear, without knowledge of the event that would rob them of their brief lives.

"Operation complete!"

The rebels did not think that they would be discovered in their seaside base, a simple fishermen's village. The Knightmares buried in the clear sand slowly emerged, a swift response to the alarm. Yet they were not prepared for that thing that emerged from the Pacific water, like some terrible sea-creature, that started to belch forth a hot destructive breath.

"Operation complete!"

A hundred battlefields, flashing before him. An endless stream of blood and fuel seems to flow before him like a grisly river. The screams of the few innocents who had been involved, screams forever silenced, valid all the while. Throughout it all he had sat, his mind burning, his eyes a deep void, mirroring the harsh and bitter dullness that -

Lelouch was broken from his thoughts by his sister's call. He remembered where he was, sitting on an external platform with Nunnally during one of their "free times", an event that obscured that obvious reason of there being nothing to occupy that man's interests for now.

He watched his sister lean back closer to him, wearing a look of contentment in her face. He was grieved to see her show this kind of face, on Nunnally the Devicer of the Morgana. It pained him secretly to see his sister smile joyfully at him after every other operation, seemingly oblivious to the ugly fact that stared them in the face. Was it a fierce denial she was practicing? Living in a sad illusion, a simulacrum of normalcy?

But Lelouch was satisfied to live with that illusion, with the lies that were inevitably part and parcel of their continued existence here. It was, the boy concluded as he stared out over the darkened waves, their new fact of life.

The youth smiled as he lightly poked his sister's cheek. She grows more beautiful each day-

He flinched as he heard a distinct click behind him, signifying someone's presence. Was "free time" over now?

His eyebrows rose slightly when he saw who was leaning on the railing behind them. It was the hunched, squint-eyed man, holding a lit cigarette between curiously bandaged hands. The man bowed his head slightly. Unconsciously, the boy tightened his hold on his sister.

"Greetings. A coincidence meeting you here."

"What do you want?" the boy asked in a low, threatening tone.

The man said nothing, rubbing the burning stick between his hands while staring out at the water with veiled eyes.

For Lelouch, one of the facility's major unknowns was this hunched man, one who had constantly hounded him for chess games every other day before his reunion with Nunnally. During those times, the boy had reluctantly shared his private thoughts and ideas, things that the man somehow silently took in. Over time, he'd lost the guarded tension around the man, preferring to think him as an oddity of sorts.

He would not be meeting the man for a time since being reunited with Nunnally, something which might have been beneficial for him at the time; but ever since they'd both started their hateful operations, he'd then started to get used to meeting this man every other operation.

The man tended to appear out of thin air, as he'd once did when he was first introduced to Nunnally. He'd be unexpectedly waiting in their extraction point in one instance, or be literally sleeping near their camp in another. Because of this, his sister had somehow developed the notion that this man was a jolly, helpful sort, a refreshing difference from the rest in the facility. In a sense, he was probably just that.

Lelouch on the other hand, knew far better than to trust this man completely. He had recalled the man's many empty encouragements and pointed questions in their sessions, all spoken in a way which the boy saw as condescending.

Presently the man slipped the stick into his mouth and took a hit, coughing lightly as he exhaled. "Condition. Passable?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because," the man flicked the cigarette between his hands, "Usual entertainment. Need to know how far I can go. Against you, of course."

"Even so, why does it have to be me?"

"No fighter of your caliber here. Didn't I say before? No?" The man sighed dramatically.

"...What happened to those?" Lelouch deflected as he looked at the bandage-covered hands.

"This?" The man placed the cigarette in his mouth and raised the hands for emphasis. "Required to do something offshore. Area 12 is a tempestuous place. Got into embarrassing situation. Had to use...force."

Lelouch raised his eyebrows at the mention of the "embarrassing situation". Deciding to be curious, he asked, "What kind of-"

"Classified. Sorry to say. But assured, nothing concerning you.", the man was the man's blunt reply, though he then started muttering something indistinct to his side.

Feeling the boy's confused gaze, the man straightened somewhat comically. "Curious question." the man said as he flicked away cigarette ash, "Aside from previous one. Satisfied with life?"

Again, he asks these kinds of things. The boy thought seethingly. The boy frowned as he replied, "Oh yes, we just fine here being your playthings and all." He laughed softly. "Just fine..."

The man paused to think as the cigarette's end smoldered. "No. Too obviously insincere. Those cannot be your true thoughts, Lelouch Lampe-"

"Will you stop it!", the boy had raised his voice. "All these questions you ask, as if you didn't know the answer already! Yes, we're fine! Why? Because we're fine as long as we do your bidding. Yes, we're satisfied! Why? Because," his voice broke, "because at least we're together even as slaves. Ironic, isn't it, even if we don't like it, we're still happy - we're happy even if it's sad! So, I ask again, is this another test? If so, then I am sure that I have already failed many times, yet the fact that I am still here with Nunnally tells that it is not. What then? Are you just here to test my reactions? To fill your amusements with our plight, to objectively look down on us like one of your chess pieces? If so, then stop fooling around! We have enough, more than enough to occupy us better than to listen you ramble on about how we might be able to - "

"Lelouch?", his sister had woken up, most likely from the high volume his voice had reached. Glaring silently at the man as he breathed heavily, he placed a hand on Nunnally's head and said in a subdued tone, "I'm very sorry for waking you, Nunnally."

"What's wrong, Lelouch? Why were you yelling just now?", Nunnally asked worriedly.

"No, it's nothing Nunnally. Just...", he glanced at the man again. "Saying stupid stuff..."

"I feel someone behind...who's that, Lelouch?", his sister frowned behind her.

"Greetings, Nunnally. Me. It's me." The boy disdainfully noted the man smile warmly at his sister.

"Oh, it's good to hear you again! How have you been, Mister?" As the man had not named himself, Nunnally had settled on calling him that instead.

"Fine. Just here to enjoy night wind. And to trade words with your brother." The man seemed to disregard the boy's dagger-like glare.

"What were you talking about, Lelouch? Was that thing earlier because of that talk?"

"Probably just a little bit, Nunnally.", Lelouch replied, still glaring at the bemused man. "But it's nothing now, like I said, they were just stupid stuff."

"Mister, if I learn that you've been upsetting my brother, then you'll have me to answer to!", his sister declared in a half-serious, half-jesting manner.

"Dear lady," the man drawled, ignoring the boy's wrathful face. "Assuredly, assuredly. 'Twas just stupid stuff, like brother said. Just a question. Perhaps you might be able to answer?"

"Eh? What question is it?", the girl asked curiously.

Don't tell me, Lelouch thought as the man locked stares with him.

The man tapped off the large pillar of ash that had accumulated on his cigarette on the railing before saying, "Condition here. Satisfied?" He blew off another puff of smoke before continuing, "Your brother says he is. In a sense. Is the sister of same opinion?"

"Yes! As long as I'm with my brother, everything is just fine!", the boy heard Nunnally reply without hesitation.

Lelouch was surprised by this declaration. So they were of the same opinion after all? I see, Nunnally...Like me, you are -

Apparently the man was also thinking the same as the boy as he next said, "Answer like brother's. But this time, sincere. Nonetheless…" The man closed his eyes as the smoke drifted lazily from the remaining end of his stick. For a brief second, Lelouch saw the man's hair being lifted in the wind, exposing a contemplative face.

"Allow me another talk. Things in this world. Changeable."

"Changeable?", came Nunnally's puzzled question.

"Yes. Changeable. What may be true in this moment may not be so in the next. That is why there is no such thing as an enduring concept. A persisting existence. Even for just a little bit, it changes." The man coughed, after which he tossed the cigarette butt mightily into the drifting waves. Lelouch watched it disappear in an instant, the waves already competing to overwhelm the place where it had been.

"And that is why," the man concluded as he looked at the two once more, "I will wait. For the right 'answer'."

Nunnally could only nod in confusion. Lelouch, however, seemed to ponder this for a moment as he stared forlornly into the moonlit horizon.

"Expected result. Years of 'breaking' has come very far."

The man had already left the two in his own silent way, rubbing his injured hands as he went. He'd slapped himself mentally again for forgetting to don a jacket.

The man leaned for a moment on the wall opposite the door leading to the outside which he'd just left, concentrating so hard at the sign overhead as if willing it to fall. After a while, the man shrugged as he resumed his hunched frame and started to walk away.

For a moment, the man sees the two in his mind, mere youths who already hid fresh and old scars within themselves. Their tense, haggard look worries the man for now: the boy's dull eyes and the girl's rigid denial, but as he'd said so pompously back there, perhaps things might change?

"A possibility. Things do change."

The man slowed his bowed stride when a ringing sound started to echo in the empty corridor, said sound apparently coming from the man's comm-phone as he lifted it up to his ears and listened.

The man's expression did not change as he heard the frantic voice coming from the other side, nor did it shift as he quickly ran back to where he'd left the two. The loud, jarring alarm klaxons that struck him with its sound as he opened the door didn't even faze him as he ran over to the dazed siblings.

"We are under attack."

Daily Diary:

....there is a point that must be raised during the next meeting.
It is a fact that I have discovered from analyzing the reports from the data received in the Action Reports.
Consistently, the accuracy rating for the weapons Valdez placed on the Morgana has always been credited to the auto-aiming system onboard the Merlin module.
Normally, it is not something to fret over for now, but I believe it will become vastly important for the girl in the future.
There may come a time that the two will be separate, leaving the girl to pilot the Morgana by herself.
She would then be hard-pressed if she were to fight long-ranged combatants, with shooting skills bordering on the mediocre.
Although the Morgana was designed for close-ranged combat, it cannot possibly last long when faced with a determined ranged attacker.
As such, I will recommend we start administering shooting aptitude tests to see how the girl fares, and begin lessons should it prove...

Dr. Rouche Aiyme