It was very easy, once she was away from Zechs and really thinking hard. Everything was a lot simpler when he was away and her mind was functioning the way she was accustomed to. Really, it was quite like another really hard question she had tackled during exam time, many, many years ago..Noin hit few more keys on keyboard, trying not to look at the figure sitted on the edge of the window, not daring to look at the figure. Finally he walked out of room all together, as if picking up her distress. You're pathetic, she thought wearily. Too pathetic for words. . .

Out of the more illegal things she considered doing in her life, this would be one of the more serious ones... she tapped at the computer again, methodically unravelling the first of the defense layers protecting the system. There was a brief sensation of air as the door opened and closed. Zechs had entered the room again, carrying a tray of tea. The silence was awkward.

She enforced a nonchalance she didn't feel. "Here's the plan, when I break in. As of eleven pm sharp this evening, all the security devices was going to be fooled for 90 minutes. All the doors will opened to manual force, all the electronic sensors looped on normal. In short, the building will be totally and completely defenseless to intruders for 90 minutes. All it takes now, is for us get past the guards." And if worse came to worse, she could distract them while Zechs infiltrated.

He place a cup of tea by her elbow. Then he was silent, a pensive look on his face, half turned away from her, considering something, his own cup in hand.

Picking up the cup, she took a swallow of the too hot liquid. It calmed her. She forced a smile. "It shouldn't be very hard to do; some of our exam questions were harder. Relax--"

Sudden he turned to face her. "Noin," he said, his voice grave. "You have my eternal gratitute for everything you've done for me so far..."

For a second, her eyes drooped, and Zech's voice sounded very far away. I must have been working too long at this machine, she thought. The moment faded.

"But I cannot let you risk yourself any further in my affairs...already you've endangered yourself too much."

Noin started to tell him otherwise, but suddenly the room spun. Alarmed, she rose on the edge of adrenaline that coursed through her veins, fighting the actions of the sophorific...

"I will go and kill O'Neguil tonight. And then I will turn myself in. I will tell them that I forced you. I beg of you, go along with the story...I'm sorry, Noin..."

But already the drug was winning, and the room spun. Unwillingly, she felt her body weaken, as her legs no longer able to support her weight. Zech moved, caught her as she collapsed. Gently, he lifted her to the bed. He counted her respirations. 12 to the minute, deep and regular. Pulse, 52 per minute, regular sinus rhythm... Good.

He stood back. "Forgive me, Noin," he said quietly. "I'm a useless fool, and I won't have you ruin your life because of me. You've already taken too many risks, risks that I shouldn't have let you take." But I don't think, do I. Or I can't think. I'm the selfish arrogant prince who can only ever look towards himself, or whine. I can hear my father: 'Weakling. Take responsibility for your own actions.' He smiled, sadly. "It would have been better for you if you had never met me. It would be better for you to forget me. I'm not a very good friend to have." Zechs walked to the window, touched his gloved fingers to the glass. He stared at her reflection.

He turned again to face the sleeping figure, his expression unreadable. Would I have met you as Millardo Peacecraft? Would I have met you on the battlefield then, as we fought for the future of Sanq?

Would I have killed you?

He bit his lip. Ignoring everything, he sat down in front of the computer, and began typing.

It was quickly done. Everything is easy when you finally grasp the key. A month's worth of thought in a proof can be written in ten lines.

Finishing, he took the bus to the site, climbed over the walls. Nothing more than an exercise OZ cadets were trained to do. Walked through the doors of the hacked system, avoided the guards who depended on the electronic eyes to maintain security. Calmly, perfectly, Zechs executed each step of his plan exactly as he thought it out. It didn't take him much time to reach the private study of the lieutenant general. Oddly, he felt no sense of trepidation. Calmly, he pushed open the door, and walked in. Raising the gun, Zechs leveled it to the back of the chair.

And General Treize Khrushenada turned to face him. Smiling cordially, as usual. "Good evening, First Lieutanent."

Ice blue eyes slammed open. And narrowed. He made no reply.

"Or should I say, Kroneprinz Millardo Peacecraft'?"

Zechs flinched. Trieze's lazy eyes observed the movement. And smiled.

There was a click, as the semi-automatic lever was depressed.

In German:"I don't deserve the honour of being killed by a prince. "

He replied in the ancient tongue. "I have no honour." Coldly. Without movement.

"Then, Prinz, consider your father's wish." Trieze stood up abruptly, bringing his eyes to level, his voice as cool as ever. He started, "'I wish that the Crown Prince of the Sanq Kingdom, Millardo Peacecraft, study this book carefully and learn the principles of governing first himself... '"

There was another flash of something unreadable in the younger man's eyes. Slowly, he lowered the gun. "What do you want with me?"

"A request. An offer. A chance to fulfill your royal father's vision."

Zech's voice was very cold as he answered. "My father's vision is but a fantasy. An illusion that all the world but he could see through. Are you, sir, an magician to conjure up a thrall to blind people's eyes?" He stopped, harsh. "For that is the only way true peace can live."

Trieze smiled, a dangerous smile, the light in his blue eyes unyielding. "What if I am?"

"Do not mock me, General. Do not!"

Languidly, Trieze stood, ignoring the gun aimed at him. "I hear both you and Lt. Noin studied philosophy extensively in your days at OZ. Therefore, you both believe that peace is hypocrisy. A paradox. And that is true. A soldier is once the defender of peace and the destroyer of peace. And to you, among all men, this brings the most grief. For you are a soldier, and you are heir to the throne of peace." His smile faded, and his voice grew harder, but still with that cadence that was himself. "Why is it that only violence can protect peace? Because it is death that makes an mark on heart and minds of men. The greater the violence the more lasting the mark. That is the purpose of war."

He rounded the desk. "Did you hear, First Lieutenant, of the new changes in the military? Pilots are expensive to select, to train, to keep-- why have them? They have developed a new system, a perfect fighting system, and the mind behind it is artificial. A pilot claims the suit is but an extension of his own body, but how can it compare to this? The suit and controller is one, and the one is a machine." Softer and softer grew his voice, as the distance shortened between them. "No more tears over a brother, father, uncle's death; no more worries as to how 'ethical' it is to send your men into danger. A war can be fought at arm's length, since you do not send your children. A trivial war." He came to a stop, barely a distance to the unwavering barrel aimed at his head.

"There is no threat in a battlefield of automatons. Where is the treasure held at stake? There is no drive to satisfy the other's demands. Only by death can you make a point. The only recourse it to kill civilians-- for there are no presented targets, no soldiers. You kill people who have not made their peace with death. An unjust war."

The younger man's expression was unreadable, and he made no movement. "What is the difference between a soldier and a terrorist? Only that one fights only other soliders, and the other kills civilians. The strong fighting the strong or the weak oppressing the weaker. A soldiers dies. What is the response? Anger, grief, denial. But muted-- for a warrior is resigned to death. 'It is better to think of me as already dead.' His family accepts the facts. There is no talk of revenge, once the war is concluded. But when a civillian dies, it is an outrage! A terrible price must be exacted, lest the peace of civilians be threatened! And what tools can we exact it with? Only the death of more civilians!"

Treize's voice dropped to a harsh whisper: "A perpetual war."

Zech's eyes widened. But he did not lower the gun. Mercilessly, Treize continued. "No, peace cannot be had by weak terrorizing the weaker. It is only a peace of the strong that can endure. A peace where everybody desires it, even if only because war is so much worse... So there must be war. A terrible war, to sear the tragedy of violence into men's hearts, into men's minds. To ensure that never again such violence will be wrought at the hands of man. 'A war to end all wars', and then an everlasting peace of the strong."

"This is the answer to your father's dream: that only the greatest war can engender the greatest peace." Treize smiled. "There, Prince Millardo Peacecraft of Sanq, is the answer to your paradox." Coolly, he tilted his head back the tinest fraction to gaze directly at the taller man's eyes, the unspoken question steady as a reflection: Will you join me, Prince, in this undertaking?

Unbidden, Zechs took a step backward. He opened his mouth open, closed it. Then, slowly, ever so slowly did the gun lower. The smile on the other man's face did not change one bit as the younger man broke away from the unbearably direct gaze. Finally, he spoke. "I cannot believe that men's minds can forever hold an impression. Wherever there are the strong, they will make war on the weak. This is the way of the world. Only in a world of lambs can there be no war. And I cannot abolish the strong. . ." He paused, voice quiet. I cannot deny what you say may be true.

"Very well," Zech said gravely. "I am yours to command." In one graceful movement, he offered Treize the gun, handle first. "Do with me as you wish."

Accepting the firearm, Trieze walked around to the table and sat down again. "My thanks, First Lieutenant." He clasped his hands and rested his elbows on the table. Conversionally, he asked: "By the way, what did you do with Lieutenant Noin? I was expected her to be here as well."

"Lieutenant Noin has nothing to do with this. I accept full responsibility for my actions." His voice was very cold.

"Hmm. The crack of the system was done by you then. I applaude." He smiled lazily. "You are a very amazing young man, First Lieutenant! I thought Noin did it, but it was not quite her style. Maybe you really did deserve the highest marks in Lake Victoria."

There was a further drop in temperature. "What do you mean by that, sir?"

Treize spun the chair to the side. "You didn't know, did you, that the examiners found some very strange errors in the Lieutenant Noin's papers? Admittedly, they were intelligient errors, so she could have in good faith really made them. The odd thing was, those minor faults were exactly enough to slide her mark under yours, First Lieutenant. After all, it was apparent to everyone that she had--"

Zechs' eyes had opened very wide.

"Yes," Treize said sardonically. "Exactly. Now, I happen to care very much about the fate of my former pupil. Where is she?"

"I didn't want her to get involved any further, so I put a mild sophorific in her tea." He glanced at the clock. "She should wake in another eight hours or so."

Trieze sighed. "You could have made things so much easier by letting her come with you. I had wanted the lieutenant as well as yourself--"

"No!" Leaning forward on the table to meet the older man's eyes, Zechs had never looked quite so intense before. "No," he said, more calmly, as he caught hold of himself. "I will not let her get involved in any dangerous activities because of me again." He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they were hard and blue. "Even you agree she's sacrificed too much for one such as myself already." There was a pause. "Sir," he added.

Nonplussed, Trieze said: "It is Lt. Noin's choice, and not yours, First Lieutenant." Even though his voice was soft, it carried with it the tone of authority.

"You will have my skills, and my life, as you wish. But Lt. Noin will follow me, not because she agrees with you, not because it will do her life any good. She will follow you, and kill people, because Zechs Merquise has chosen to follow you and kill people. Even if it goes against her morals, Lt. Noin will do as I wish. But for once, I'm going to do something for her sake." Again he caught himself, and forced the harshness from his words. "If you are to ask Lt. Noin to join, I will immediately forsake your cause."

There was a long dangerous pause. Trieze didn't like being threatened. Finally, he spoke, his words neutral, but with respect. "I will honour that... request. And," he smiled again, "I apologize for underestimating you, prince." He rose. "Well, this has been an interesting evening, First Lieutenant. I shall dearly enjoy becoming friends with you." He opened a drawer; lifted out a large box. "I will have to ask you to spare General O'Neguil for a while, though. I have my plans for him-- although I promise you that you will be able to enact your revenge soon. To cement our friendship, I have a gift for you."

With mock ceremony, he handed Zechs the box. Coldly, the younger man lifted the lid.

Inside lay a silver mask-helmet.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wear that for a long time, First Lieutenant. Perhaps as long as we are friends. Too many people can link you to the attacker of Lieutenant General O'Neguil and I have enough problems as it trying to cover that incident up. It would help if people didn't have to look at you all the time. I've already pulled as many photos of you as possible, but people remember a striking young prince such as yourself, even if you braid your hair."

Zechs stared at the mask. Then he it slipped it on slowly. It was unexpectedly light.

"You are free to leave. But I expect to see you at the military airport by 0800 tomorrow. If you remember, we were scheduled to attend the generals' meeting at New Singapore tomorrow."

Saluting, Zech turned and went towards the door.

Treize's voice rang out. "You will not reconsider, First Lieutenant, the role of Lt. Noin?"

He answer quietly, without turning. "No. It is better if there was neither Millardo Peacecraft nor Zech Merquise in her life."