It was another boring day at the Roxenburg House for the guards. First of all, this place was a only a tourist attraction, so all they really have to do is dress in the formal garb of the Alliance military and look sufficiently militant for the people taking pictures. All in all, it was considered a plum job: you really didn't have to do anything.

Or so most of the display guards thought. Some select few, however, knew that this was favourite place for the higher up to meet in private, discreetly. After all, no one really looks at tourist attractions. And of course, while the tourists were a headache to the department of security, they served as great camouflage. So, while the mansion was decorated up with colonial furbishing of a bygone empire, it really served to disguise state-of-the-art monitoring equipment.

Which, to certain tourists, was certainly very useful. State-of-the-art meant electronic, and electronic meant bypassable, if you really knew how. People, being only mildly efficient, were much harder to get pass.

When the janitor returned to his cleaning cart, he found a tall young man standing beside it. A cursory examination revealed that this boy wore a large pair of cover-all shades, and carried a red-tipped white cane-- he was blind. The janitor felt a twinge of pity-- this young man was rather well-built, and probably handsome, save probably for his eyes. He wore a baseball cap. When he approached, the young man stood up, turned to face the direction of the footsteps. "How may I help you?"

The young man smiled. "Excuse me, sir, but are you the janitor?"

The janitor nodded, and then stopped, feeling foolish. "Yes, do you need something?"

"I think something's wrong with one of the bathrooms. One of sinks, it's backing up--" Here he started coughing. "--Excuse me."

"Oh. Could you show me where it is?"

"Certainly."

They went down a flight of stairs, the young man's cane tapping on each step, and entered a particularly crowded tourist area. Down a hallway and then to another secluded corner with washrooms. The men's were marked with a sign, "Out of Order". But of course, the blind can't read.

"Yeah, there's a sign reading that it's out of order on the door." He turned his cleaning cart around. He sighed. "But if the sink's backing up I suppose I better go check on it." He entered the bathroom. Several seconds later the young man also entered.

"Hey--" A single chop to the back of the neck is what it required. The janitor slumped and the young man lowered him to the ground gently. And then methodically began striping him and putting on the janitor's uniform over his own clothing. Finally he took off the baseball cap. A long braid of silver-gold hair fell out. He coiled it back and hid it under the janitor's cap. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, pale, unsmiling. A single strand of hair shook loose, fell into his eyes. Automatically his left hand came up; brushed it away. It shook. Alarmed, he brought it in front of him. Coward.

Zechs crunched the hand into a fist.

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The Lieutenant General Diego O'Neguil proceeded towards the conference hall. A statuary guard of two men followed as his protection; they were in a cleared area. Thus, theoretically, they should be safe from attack. His mind wasn't on the meeting. It was merely an inconsequential gathering of high up officials, interested in knowing that the world was as it was yesterday: unchanged, unthreatened. Instead: a little girl, black haired, pretty, smiling...

A sound of something heavy being pushed towards him at the intersection of hallways. The guards at his back automatically turned towards the source, alarmed. Nothing but a janitor. Waiting respectfully for the Lt. General to cross first. They stepped out into the intersection--

The cart rammed into the party, surprising the party. Zechs vaulted over the obstruction, slammed into the nearest guard, a punch directly to the solar plexus. The other guard fumbled with a gun-- dropping, he swung a leg for the back of the knees; as the man fell, elbow to head. He charged for the surprised general, the concealed razor in hand--O'Neguil grabbed the blade, in a desperate attempt to defect the weapon.

For a second, the world spun and Zech nearly blacked out. He lost control of his body.

O'Neguil shoved him off, and he crumpled. He couldn't move properly. What is this weakness, his mind cried and with more a will of effort, he staggered upright. But too late, O'Neguil had already drawn his pistol, prepared to fire--

I failed--

"Hey, general!" shouted a voice. O'Neguil didn't turn, too well trained to fall for this type of trick, but he did pause. An object sailed in a falling arc for them, thrown lazily. A shot rang out, knocked the pistol out of the general's arm. The world exploded in smoke.

I failed, thought Zechs Merquise, as the world blurred and faded.

Admist the fire alarm, the sprinkler system, a figure dropped down beside him, grabbed one arm and tried, rather unsuccessfully to hoist the body up. "You're horribly heavy, Zechs..." she murmured, muffled by the gas mask she wore. After two more tries, she got the body fireman style on her shoulder, and staggered out of the building admist the panicked rush of tourists.

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She heard the testimony of the men. Their families sat in the bleachers. The court was quiet, waiting for the juries to come out and announce the verdict. Not because everybody did not know what it would be.

The stare of the prisoners' families were on the cadets. They drilled a hole into her. Noin refused to wilt under their gazes. But the stare of the little girl in the front row bore on her heavily. I cannot bear this burden, she thought. Beside her, the other cadet- Zechs Merquise- was silent, oblivious.

'I have a little girl at home too. I'd hope that if she called for help, someone would come running...'

No, she screamed silently, in the confines of her head. These were the men that had killed her family, her mother, her sister, her brothers, her father! They were the evil ones, they could not be spared. Revenge of family is only proper. She had meant to kill them, to longed to kill them, like how they murdered her kindred... But the other little girl in the row. She flinched.

"Why are upset, Cadet Noin?" Zechs asked, his voice even and calm and collected. "They are certain to be sentence to death. Your family, at least, will be avenged."

There was a moment before she answered. "You misunderstand. I--" She could not find the words to continue. Only that she could not look at the audience.

Zechs met the gaze of the little girl calmly. "Certainly you remember the death of your family? Is it not correct that the perpetuators of this crime suffer, in an as such as you did?"

"But what of the others?" she said softly. "But what of their families?" She swallowed hard. This was treachery, to the memories of her father. "I wish--I wish that these men will not be given the death sentenc. I don't want their families to suffer, because--I know of the loss..."

He turned to her silently, something unreadable in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "I admire your generosity, Cadet Lucrezia Noin. I cannot be so forgiving." His voice was harsh here, but she was too sunk in her misery to notice. He smiled, but bitterly. "My father would have been proud of a daughter like you." And in his eyes, there was the unmentioned: unlike me. Gently, he added, "You are a person of peace, Cadet. May I ask why are you in the military?"

It was her turn to smile sadly. The fights with her father seemed so far away now. "You're right. I hate killing people. I hate violence and violent people. But I love space, and the endless freedom it represents. I hate being bound to anything, even this world. But, as foolish as it seems, the military is what traditionally my family joined. My brothers did, my uncles did, my father did. All of them died in service of this world. And I... I wanted to show my father I could too..." she bit her lip, trying to suppress the tears that threatened. "In the end, though, it seems I'm worthless as a soldier. I hate killing people." She changed the topic. "What do you think of General Noventa's proposition? What do you make of it?"

"I am not surprised." There was only acknowledgement in those words. He added: "I will accept. There is no purpose to my life anyway." He turned to her, a hint of smile in his eyes. "Will I have the pleasure of your company, Cadet?"

There was warmth in the request. Recklessly she wanted to say yes. His attention was like the warmth of the sun. "I... I don't know," she hedged. "I haven't decided yet. However," she started, smiling, "any way I choose, I would be more than honoured to have you as my friend, Cadet Zechs Merquise."