Chapter Twelve
Mid-October AC-190
Lake Victoria Military Academy
Zechs knocked lightly on Treize's office door half an hour later, then pushed it open when the older man's voice bade him enter.
Dressed in a light t-shirt and casual pants, Treize was sitting behind his desk, reading something off his computer screen. He looked up at Zechs as the boy closed the door behind him and smiled. "Sit down a minute, will you? I just need to finish reading this."
Zechs dropped into the visitor's chair on the other side of the desk, and tilted his head a little to see if he could work out what Treize was so engrossed in. The screen was a flat white, containing only line after line of text that appeared, as Zechs leaned a little closer to read it, to make absolutely no sense.
The older man noticed what he was doing and turned the laptop with a grin. "Curious? Go ahead and see if you can read it."
Surprised that Treize would be so open, Zechs started at the top of the screen and stopped before he got more than half way through the first line. The text, though it seemed familiar from somewhere, was a nonsense.
"Confused?" Treize asked.
"Uhm, yes. What is that?"
"It's a code currently being used by the higher levels of an underground resistance network. Alliance Cryptographers have been trying to break it for a couple of weeks now, but they haven't got anywhere so it's been sent out to everyone on what they call their 'watch-word' list."
Zechs raised his eyebrows behind his glasses. He'd heard about that – and been fascinated by it ever since.
The cadet had run across the name originally when it had been mentioned in one of his Higher Mathematics classes in his first year. As part of the required curriculum, Zechs and his class mates had been introduced to the subject of codes in their first term at the Academy, being told at the time that it was necessary for anyone who ever wanted to hold a command post to be able to decipher simple algorithms so that data could be passed securely.
The entire class had felt very proud of themselves when they broke the simplistic codes the teacher had given them within a matter of minutes, certain that they were all born cryptographers until she had laughed at them all and gone on to explain that they'd only just begun to tap the world of code-breaking.
The instructor had spent the rest of the class proving that point and then had finished off by saying that she'd be holding a seminar on the subject later in the term if anyone wanted to know more. Zechs had attended – on Treize's advice, he recalled now – and had been instantly taken by the subject. Breaking codes was just like solving logic puzzles, something he'd always enjoyed doing.
The teacher had smiled at him indulgently when he said this to her, and suggested that he should wait until he graduated and then apply to be on the 'watch-word' list if he was still so interested, quietly explaining what it was when Zechs looked confused.
It had turned out that although the Alliance had a team of crack code-breakers permanently in place, so many of the officers who should have been on it were tied, by the same skills that would have made them valuable there, to being in other places. It was a big organisation and personnel with the facility for the high-end logical reasoning and mathematics skill needed were all too often already working as tactics specialists, engineers, Staff officers, programmers and a myriad of other posts that were just as vital.
The list had been started when a cryptographer – despairing of ever breaking a particular code – had shown it to his engineer roommate, only to have the man break it in a matter of seconds because he'd recognised the base of the code as a machine language he used every day.
From that moment on, the Alliance had kept a secured list of names of people who had shown a facility for cryptography but who were unavailable for permanent assignments to the role for various reasons, and to be on that list had rapidly become a real marker of prestige. Membership was strictly limited to those the Head of the Code-Breakers thought could be useful, and he was brutal in his selection criteria.
The exact roster of members changed almost daily and their identities were a heavily guarded secret but totalled together, the 150 or so people on the 'watch-word' list made up one of the single biggest networks of Human Intelligence ever assembled – a frightening amount of raw IQ and focussed genius.
Zechs looked at Treize, surprised. "Did one of the other instructors give it you to look at or something?" he asked curiously.
Treize chuckled softly. "Did they?" he replied. "You don't think I'm capable of it, then?"
Zechs shrugged, realising that Treize had answered the rather tactless question the only way he could – and had probably still broken half a dozen regulations in doing so. If he'd answered 'yes', Treize would have been – in addition to lying, Zechs suddenly recognized – telling the cadet that one of the Academy staff was a member of the list. If he'd answered 'no', he'd have been telling Zechs that he was, something he was absolutely forbidden to do.
Zechs nodded slowly. "Probably," he answered eventually, admitting that it was no more than truth. Treize had always displayed ability for maths and codes. The BSc degree that he had gained during his training at the Academy – an achievement demanded of every Specials cadet so as to fulfil the Alliance's officer education requirements – had been a dual major in Aerospace and Computer Sciences.
More than half the simulations Treize subjected cadets to during his classes he wrote himself in his spare time, and he'd already had over half a dozen design ideas for the Mecha they all piloted accepted by the Engineering Branch – most of them dealing with the coding of the suit AI's.
"Well, then," Treize quipped with a small grin, breaking Zechs from his train of thought. The instructor tilted his head as though something had occurred to him and then hit a few buttons on the keyboard, standing up as the small printer tucked out of the way under his desk whirred into life. He neatened the few sheets of paper it spat out into a stack, slipped them into a folder he retrieved from a drawer and handed it across the desk to Zechs, who took it warily.
"Treize?"
"I thought you might have fun playing with deciphering the code – I know it's something you enjoy. Just don't tell anyone what that one is or where it came from."
"I won't," Zechs promised, then smiled. "Have you broken it?" he asked curiously.
"Very nearly," Treize told him with a small smile. "But I'm not telling you any more or I'll give too much away." He reached to shut the computer down and gestured to Zechs with one hand as he made for the door. "Come on."
*******************************
"Where are we going?" Zechs asked as he shifted against his seatbelt. He was strapped into the passenger seat of Treize's staff land rover and had been since the older man had directed him to it and then steered the vehicle out of the Academy gates some fifteen minutes before.
"Just for a walk along the lake. I thought we could both do to get away from the Academy for a few hours."
"Oh." Zechs glanced out of the windscreen, and scowled. "Any particular reason why?" he asked quietly.
The instructor flicked him a glance. "Yes," he replied, but he didn't elaborate. "I'm sorry if the idea doesn't appeal," he added a few minutes later. "I've always found the lakeshore a good place to think things through, that's all."
"No, it's fine," Zechs returned, then, knowing he risked a searing put-down for his trouble, asked, "What is it you need to think about?"
Treize sighed softly. "You." He turned the vehicle into a little car park, and killed the engine.
"Me?" Zechs asked, suddenly alarmed. He freed the seatbelt as fast as he could and scrambled out of the door to watch as Treize collected a little rucksack from the boot and shrugged it onto his shoulder. The instructor handed the cadet a scale-map and then led the way down the dusty dirt path that led from the car park down the shore of the lake itself.
"Treize? I don't understand?"
The older man glanced down at his companion as he marked their starting point on the map he'd handed over. "There's not much to understand. I simply wanted a chance to talk to you."
"Oh." Zechs glanced down at the map, at his wrist-watch and then at the sun and fixed the direction Treize was heading off at in his head for future reference. He matched the teacher's easy, ground-eating pace, biting at his lower lip. "What… what about?"
"There's no need for you to sound quite so timid, Zechs. What do you imagine I'm going to do to you?"
Zechs felt himself flush bright red as the older man's innocently teasing question triggered all sorts of inappropriate lines of thought. Dressed as casually as he was, the proper, model Officer was banished and Treize was nothing more than an obviously physically fit and healthy, attractive young man. Zechs's better-than-average imagination could envision the teacher doing all sorts of things to him in a spot as deserted as the one they were currently in – most of which Treize himself probably didn't even know were possible.
Hopefully hiding his face by ducking his head to look down at the floor and making his too-long bangs fall over his eyes, Zechs muttered, "I don't know."
Treize chuckled. "I meant only what I said, Zechs. I rather think the two of us need a chance to talk some things through."
Zechs nodded. "Maybe. But why out here?"
"Because I think it needs to be just the two of us, and not the Instructor and Cadet." He shrugged. "You're free to disagree of course, but I thought it might help. I'm not able to ask you half of what I want to when I'm in uniform without crossing the line of acceptable behaviour, and you certainly can't answer me as honestly as I would like you to."
The younger man cringed. "I don't know… I, uh, managed that all right last time," he admitted slowly.
"That's true, I suppose." Treize shot the cadet a rueful glance. "That was actually one of the things I wanted to talk about."
"I said I was sorry!" Zechs broke in, lifting his head to look at his companion.
Treize nodded. "Yes, and it might be worth more if I thought for a second you actually meant it, and weren't just apologising because Liliya made you feel guilty."
"That's not true!" Zechs protested, stung.
"Really?" Treize asked. "Then it's just co-incidence that had you knocking on my door straight after the first class you had with her, obviously having spoken to her? You had over a week and a half to come to me before that – but you didn't." He shook his head. "Forgive me if I'm the only one who finds that rather telling."
"Valadin didn't have to make me feel guilty!" Zechs spluttered. "Do you really think I wasn't already? I would have come to you sooner except I didn't know you were even bothered until she told me I'd upset you."
Treize raised an eyebrow. "Really? It was a fair assumption to make, Zechs. You should have noticed that much from the way I was talking to you and Mr Maxillian in my office."
Zechs shrugged, but it wasn't a light gesture. "That was before I shouted at you. I'm not sure that I have anything to apologise for before that," he muttered.
Treize hesitated, scowling at the pretty scenery as he thought about that. "I disagree," he answered eventually, "but we can get to that in a minute. It does help my case though – If you really thought you owed me an apology you would have found me long before Liliya fed you her sob-story. What did she tell you, anyway? Just so I know what to rake her over the coals for when I see her next."
"I didn't come and find you because I wasn't feeling…." Zechs cut himself off mid-thought and changed what he was going to say. "Well, that doesn't matter, but Valadin saying she'd never seen you like that had very little to do with it. Please don't be angry with her. She made a lot of sense of some things for me, actually."
"Did she now?" Treize asked, wondering if he was misjudging his old friend – it was possible that she'd genuinely been trying to help and had decided to show Zechs the kinder side of herself so few ever saw. "Like what?"
Zechs coloured and looked down at his feet again. "Just… things. She was really quite amusing, sort of, but I don't think you'd get it."
"Which almost certainly means I was the subject of her jokes, but never mind." Treize shrugged his bag more securely onto his shoulder and sighed softly. "Let me ask you this: Do you stand by what you said to me in my office? Do you really think I was being hypocritical? Think about it before you answer me," he added quickly, before Zechs could speak, "and forget any notions of propriety. I want the truth, whatever that is."
Zechs suddenly went from rather flushed to very pale, and he riveted his gaze to the ground again. "I…suppose so," he murmured.
"You 'suppose so'? Do you or don't you? You meant it or you didn't, Zechs."
"I meant it," Zechs admitted. "I'm not sure I had the right to say it, but I meant it."
"Would you still mean it now?"
"If… if you were to say the same things to me, yes."
Treize stopped walking and turned to face the younger man. "Why?" he asked.
"Sorry?"
"Why? Lils agreed with you – it was almost the first thing she said to me when I'd done telling her what had happened – but I don't understand it."
Zechs stared at the older man, wondering what to say. "Are you serious?" he managed after a moment or two, then shook his head. "That didn't come out right." He sighed. "It's just… Treize, you sat in my room that morning and told me that what happened in your bedroom and who it happened with were none of my business, but then seemed determined to make what happens in mine, yours."
Treize shook his head. "There are differences in the circumstances," he countered.
"I thought you might say that," Zechs acknowledged, interrupting before Treize could finish what he'd been about to say. "Try this then: You told me at lunch in that restaurant that you were younger than I am now when you lost your virginity, but apparently I'm too young to know what I'm doing – 'barely more than a child' you called me, which isn't true and we both know it!"
Seeing Treize about to open his mouth to object again, Zechs carried on in a rush, hitting the point which had really galled him. "You think it's okay for you to carry on an adulterous affair with Valadin – which could have disastrous consequences if it were discovered by the wrong people – but you still have the sheer nerve to lecture me on my behaviour because I happen to enjoy a few casual encounters with an acquaintance of mine! I'm single, Treize! I've given my word of honour to no-one! How can you make that all right in your head? Why can't you see that hypocritical was the least of what I could have called you?!"
Treize's midnight eyes had widened noticeably as Zechs spat the last of his speech at him and, as the boy came to a finish, the officer shook his head dazedly and sat down rather heavily on a nearby tree-stump. "Do you really see it that way?" he asked, stunned. "What is it you would have called me, then?"
Zechs closed his eyes, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."
"Yes, I rather think it does," the instructor disagreed, but he sounded far from as though he meant it. "Oh, ouch, Illia," he added softly a moment later, revealing more with the slip into his old play-on-Russian childhood nickname for the pilot – unused for years – than he intended. "When I said I wanted you to be honest…"
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I asked you to tell me. You're entitled to your opinion, just as I am. I simply wasn't expecting you to think so little of me, that's all."
Zechs gave a bitter little laugh. "Oddly enough, that's pretty much how I've felt for the last week or so. When did you start thinking so little of me? What did I do?"
Treize watched the other boy warily, alarmed by some of the shades in his tone of voice, and wondered how to answer him. He well knew how much damage a careless reply could do.
Liliya had made the point, when Treize had finished pouring out what had happened to her, that both he and Zechs seemed to idolise the other to some degree, often using each other as a yardstick against which they measured themselves, and whilst Treize could privately admit that was certainly true, he had been surprised the Major had noticed.
It was, he supposed, somewhat obvious in Zechs's case. Treize was the measure against which he judged his success or failure as a soldier, Treize's the achievements he set himself to beat. Prince Milliardo had patterned his alter-ego, Zechs Marquise, on his rescuer's son, seeing in the confident, clever older boy an antidote to the defenceless, terrified child the fall of the Sanc Kingdom had left him as.
In Treize's case though, things were more subtle. Almost four and a half years older then his friend, Treize had always been ahead in terms of academic accomplishment and the progress of his career and likely would be for some time to come. For him, Zechs represented a more elusive, yet more vital gauge – a standard against which Treize could judge his own personal integrity. Faced with the ruin of his life, Zechs had found the strength of will – not only to survive – but to retain his identity, his perception of his own royalty and the requirements that entailed, his unswerving drive to right the wrongs dealt to his country. It was against that unbreakable child-King that Treize set the standard of his own nobility, against Zechs's that he judged the quality of his own mettle and make.
An accusation of dishonour from just about anyone else Treize would have dismissed as not worth his attention, but from Zechs – though he hadn't actually said it aloud – it stung, and badly.
Still, Treize knew there were things that Zechs didn't understand, factors the boy was too young to comprehend that would undoubtedly have affected his judgment had he known them, nor was it as though Treize had been unaware that his affair with Valadin made him less than true to his marriage vows. Zechs's words had wounded his feelings, perhaps dinted his pride a little, but it was hardly a crippling blow.
"Treize? Is it that bad?" Zechs asked, forcing the little laugh that accompanied it.
Treize blinked at the question, jerked from his line of thought. "I don't think that little of you, Zechs," he reassured warmly. "I certainly never intended to make you think that I did. I was simply… worried about you, frightened for you – perhaps a little disappointed with you, if I'm entirely honest – and I… reacted badly. Blame it on surprise, if you like, or shock, on top of a very tiring day."
Zechs kept his head bowed but Treize caught the tremor that passed through him. "Thank you, Treize," he started, apparently accepting the teacher's words. "That's what Major Valadin told me you'd say." He looked up abruptly, and Treize could see his eyes were stormy. "But I thought we were out here so we could speak the truth to one another?"
