All the pilots sat before Treize and Zechs; everyone, Treize and Zechs excepted, in their piloting uniforms. Zechs sat by Treize's side; Treize had the microphone. "I've been very impressed by all of you," he said. "Your performances have been exemplary and your skills are awe-inspiring. You have all improved by leaps and bounds since your arrival here. You are an elite class, and as such, you are now authorized to wear the new Specials uniform."
He pointed to a display case. In it was the new uniform. In some respects it resembled the normal Alliance uniform, but there were differences—most noticeably, whereas normal Alliance uniforms were olive drab, the Specials uniform was a smart black with white pants.
"This new uniform, of course, is to let you and the rest of the Earth-sphere know that you are a special breed of pilot. All of you have demonstrated sufficient skill to graduate from this school and become full-fledged members of the Special Mobile Suit Corps. We have a variety of possible assignments for you—some of you will be cycled back out to the main Alliance forces, and some of you will stay here and become instructors for the next class of pilots."
He smiled. "However, you all still have one final test to undergo. This test will determine your class rankings, and give you the opportunity to show off all that you have learned."
Treize paused for a good while. "I am delighted by the patience all of you have had—and I am further delighted that OZ has such talented individuals filling its ranks."
That was it, then. The façade, for a while at least, was lifted; OZ could be open with itself now that Treize had allowed it.
"Some of you will be going back undercover amongst the units of the Alliance, to await further instructions. To those soldiers, I wish the best of luck and the greatest patience. You, unfortunately, should abstain from wearing your new uniforms to avoid drawing attention to yourselves. Anticipate the day you'll get to show the world how strong you really are. To those of you who are to stay, you are the caretakers of the greatest mission of OZ: to inspire future classes to join our cause. You will stay on as junior instructors under your favorite soldier, Zechs Marquise." There was some cheering at this point, which caught Zechs totally by surprise. His mask failed to contain his whole reaction, but he contained himself rapidly before turning angry eyes on Treize. Treize somehow managed to smirk at Zechs without taking his eyes off the crowd.
"But regardless of where you go from here, know that your time here has made you stronger. If your dedication and commitment has risen along with your piloting skills, there is nothing you cannot achieve. Now prepare for your final test, and good hunting!"
The final test was a series of Leo-on-Leo engagements, with the pilots having to apply most every lesson Zechs had taught them during those two intense months. Not only the piloting techniques, but the mental and emotional preparation as well—all were in grand display.
"They've improved so much," said Zechs, watching them. "It's hard to accept that I helped them improve like that… that I had anything to do with it."
"I can say with some certainty," responded Treize, "that you did have something to do with it. You should be proud of your accomplishment."
"I'll hesitate to take credit for this," said Zechs, shaking his head. "Wasn't it Socrates who said that humans start with all knowledge within them, and a teacher simply awakens it? That is how I feel—they all had the potential to be great pilots, they just needed to realize it." He paused for a moment, watching Amos defeat another pilot in dramatic fashion. "And you, sir? How do you feel?"
"I feel paradoxical," said Treize, sipping small amounts of wine.
"How so?" asked Zechs.
"It's true that the improvements to their abilities give their fights a kind of beauty. Such a great expression of skill is itself beautiful," he said, setting his glass down. "Yet that only appeals to me abstractly. These battles don't have the same kind of emotional affectations that real battles lend."
"What do you mean?"
"The most beautiful thing in the Earth sphere is a soldier with no fear of death in his heart, who can confront his own death directly and come to terms with it. This only truly occurs in a real battle, when death is staring the soldier in the face. These simulations bring out some of that feeling, but in the end no one can fool themselves completely. No matter how immersed in the exercise a soldier becomes, he can never shed the knowledge that it is just a game; he can't die. So the deepest feelings aroused by battle fail to surface, and I watch these matches with a puzzling detachment." Treize dipped a finger in his wine, then brought the finger to his mouth and drank the wine from his finger.
Zechs turned his attention back to one of the current matches, then let out the slightest of sighs.
"Was that Otto?"
Zechs grimaced. He'd brought Otto with him when he'd joined OZ, and Otto was always eager to look at Zechs as a mentor. "Yes, sir, Otto just lost his match, 3 to 1. To your Major Une, no less." To have his protégé lose to Treize's pet viper was doubly bitter.
Zechs stood. "Will you be ready for our match, sir?"
"I wouldn't disappoint you, my friend. I'll be there."
"In that case, I need to go prep for my first match. With your permission…"
From inside his Leo, Zechs watched several monitors as they displayed the last few matches as they occurred. After the overall class winner panned out, that winner would fight against Zechs. It was mostly a symbolic battle, but it was also entertaining to everyone involved. Also, it would be a good way to show how much the winner had improved since the embarrassing evaluations at the beginning of the training.
Of course, Zechs had no intention of going at anything less than full strength against whoever the winner might be.
The last match resolved, and Zechs groaned. "This can't be right. It's just too ironic."
The winning Leo tromped to face Zechs in his arena, and its pilot was Major Une.
I have to graduate HER at the top of her class. Treize won't stop smiling for weeks to come.
A refereeing voice came over both their comm. systems. "Let the student-versus-instructor match begin!"
Zechs watched her carefully as she raised her weapon and fired her first shot. He knew before she fired that the shot would miss him on the right, but as he watched, he could see her tracking towards him, sweeping bullets ever closer to him.
Zechs almost subconsciously checked the terrain layout and saw that, if he simply tried to dodge away from the bullets, he'd end up pinned against a wall. In that case…
He moved slowly to his left, encouraging her to sweep her fire towards him faster, then in-between her bursts of fire he hit his thrusters and dodged through her firing arc. She fired instinctively, of course, but missed, and Zechs returned fire as soon as his Leo was stable.
Blank bullets impacted with her Leo, exploding in a cloud of chalk.
"Halt!" shouted the announcer. "Point: instructor. 1-0. Pilots ready? Begin."
This time Zechs fired immediately even as he fired his thrusters to maneuver. Major Une responded in kind, dodging instantly while firing back. Both their shots went wide, but neither stopped to settle down; Zechs continued to maneuver and fire simultaneously, forcing Major Une to keep moving. At the same time, her fire was close enough to force Zechs to maneuver to avoid it.
The two danced, dodging and twisting while keeping enough fire in the opponent's direction to keep them moving. It was a question of endurance. How long could they keep up an accurate enough fire to be threatening while still keeping out of the enemy's line of fire? The loser would be the first one to make a serious mistake, the first to loose a round of gunfire inaccurate enough to allow the enemy to settle down and fire precisely.
Zechs was enjoying himself. It wasn't that tossing around inside a crazily maneuvering mobile suit was fun—though it was, despite the bruises—but the fun was in pushing Major Une as far as she could go. Zechs had enough of a skill and speed advantage to overpower her if he wanted to, but it was much more rewarding to press Une until she was piloting better than she'd thought possible.
Blank bullets impacted constantly against the walls of the arena until it was a challenge to determine which places had not been hit by stray fire. And still Major Une stayed in the game! Much as I dislike her, and much as she distrusts me, the truth is she has improved enormously; she has all the skills. I don't know how much combat she'll see as Treize's agent, but if she ever does have to fight I believe she'll acquit herself well.
Zechs picked up a growing impatience in his opponent's movements. Zechs considered whether or not Major Une could tell that he was purposefully keeping the battle even. Either way, she was pressing much harder now, firing more often and more wildly in the vain hope of forcing a hit through sheer willpower.
"Stay calm," Zechs admonished her, though of course she couldn't hear. "Take your time, keep your balance, don't let the suit control you. Oh, Major, don't take your frustration out on your controls!"
It was in vain. After several more seconds of increasingly desperate piloting, Major Une landed wrongly; her shot was way off-target. Zechs planted his Leo's feet and took aim.
To her credit, she recognized her mistake instantly and went full evasive. But no one ever escaped when Zechs was firing with full accuracy. She managed to keep away from him for over five seconds, but his bullets caught her eventually.
"Halt!" cried the mediator. "Point: instructor. 2-0."
Zechs fiddled with his comm. circuits and sent a message directly to Major Une. "You've impressed me. In the first round you showed me that you're thinking during your fights, that you understand how to use your head to defeat your opponent. In the second, you demonstrated sound fundamentals and strong mechanics."
Her tone revealed she was not happy. "So you say after taking a two-to-zero lead! Don't mock me, lieutenant!"
"On the contrary," he responded, "I am honored to fight with you. It's clear that you earned your spot at the top of your class." Now, Zechs thought, only one more thing to test you on. He signaled the all-clear to the mediator.
"Pilots ready? Begin!"
Zechs was moving on the 'b' of "begin". He closed the distance to Major Une so rapidly she could only get off a few shots to defend herself, and at that speed even minor evasive maneuvers on Zechs' part kept him safe.
Your final test is: how do you react to the unexpected?
She fired again at point-blank range. Zechs ducked his Leo under the shot, then planted his Leo's shoulder into Major Une's Leo.
Metal screamed as Zechs crashed into Major Une. Inertia tossed both pilots against their straps. Somehow both pilots managed to keep their suits upright, struggling with the many tons of titanium and steel that wanted so desperately to return to the Earth.
Major Une tried to bring her gun to bear on Zechs, but he used his own to knock both the gun and Une's Leo's right hand off to the side.
Major Une brought her Leo back a step, then lashed out with her left hand. Pride swelled in Zechs' chest. I may not have taught you that, specifically, but you've learned all that I could teach you. Even as he thought this, he used his Leo's thrusters to make a short jump backwards, barely ahead of the incoming punch. As soon as he landed, his gun snapped up. Although Major Une was trying the same, Zechs was just a touch faster; his shot hit home the slightest bit before Major Une could fire back.
"Halt! Point: instructor. 3-0. Instructor wins."
Zechs undid his straps, then hit the toggle that opened the Leo's cockpit. He stepped out into the sunlight and saluted the immobile Leo opposite him. After several seconds, Major Une appeared in the corresponding position on her Leo, but refused to return his salute. Zechs had his comm. open, and spoke to her, "If this is how strong you are after several matches, I have nothing but the utmost respect for your skills."
"I thought I told you not to insult me," she snarled. "Perfect proficiency is what we must demand of ourselves if we are to serve OZ properly. The fact that you beat me so easily reveals that I am sorely lacking, regardless of what you say. Complimenting me serves only to boost your ego. Stop it!"
She turned from him and reentered her Leo. As she tromped off, she shot back at him, "Compliment me only when I've done something truly worthwhile. Anything else is just a waste."
Zechs gave a sigh of disappointment. I'm glad she's on our side. She's so dangerous.
"Are you ready yet, Zechs?"
It was Treize's voice over the comm. Zechs reentered his cockpit. "One more moment, sir."
"Very well. I'm entering the arena now."
Zechs turned his attention to the Leo entering the arena and once again marveled at Treize's skill. The Leo was moving smoothly, naturally—with a kind of beauty.
Zechs knew that this battle would demand everything out of him—and at the same time, he knew that he didn't have all his faculties. He'd spent a lot of focus and strength on dispatching Major Une, meaning he was lacking some for this battle with Treize.
That was the handicap they'd agreed upon—due to Zechs being much more in-practice than Treize, Treize got to fight a Zechs who was at less than full power.
But, Zechs reflected, it will be so much fun!
He turned to the control tower and attuned his comm. to the general circuit. "I regret that I didn't have time to teach you more about melee combat," he said. "It's unfortunate, because the power of melee combat is so much more than the Alliance will admit. If you hit a Leo with a spray of fire, you may or may not take him out of the battle. Hit him with a beam saber, and he's done."
Zechs cast aside his Leo's rifle. "To give you an idea of the power of melee combat, I will now engage Lieutenant Colonel Treize Khushrenada with nothing but my beam saber."
Besides, random chance plays a much larger role in ranged combats. When you take a beam saber into a battle against another pilot, a pilot's strength—and only the pilot's strength—will lead to victory.
Treize fired a few symbolic shots with his rifle, then dropped it and went for his beam saber. As soon as he began moving, saber in hand, Zechs charged.
As Zechs had come to expect, even in such a clumsy machine as a Leo Treize's movements were smooth, almost hypnotic. But Zechs had such concentration that he was able to focus on minutiae in Treize's motions, and so determine where he was going.
When they were almost within striking range, Zechs pulled his charge up short and swung down-left. He knew he wasn't yet in range—the swing was a feint. Without waiting, he took another step with his left foot, pulled up close to Treize, and swung back up in the opposite direction.
Treize saw it coming!
He'd seen the initial strike was too short, and he'd sent a straight attack at Zech's chest. Zechs had no choice; he changed his up-right swing from a slash to a parry. He was barely able to deflect Treize's attack, though by doing so he lost his own chance to strike.
Treize's Leo was now perpendicular to Zechs, and neither of their sabers were in position. Treize fired his thrusters, seeking to slam his Leo's shoulder into Zechs and bull him over.
Zechs was no longer there.
Titanium groaned as Zechs forced it way beyond its design limits, carrying his machine to safety through sheer force of will. Both Leos stumbled as their pilots sought to regain balance.
As soon as Zechs had both feet under him he extended the arm with the saber, keeping Treize at a safe distance. He circled slowly, looking for an opening. Treize kept his Leo shifting back and forth, ready instantly to attack or defend.
You said you're rusty, Treize? Not so far. Let's put you to the test.
This time he attacked with a downwards swing. Treize parried it easily and made a swift riposte, aiming directly for the cockpit.
As if I'd fall for that!
Zechs continued the motion from Treize's parry and twirled his saber counterclockwise. This allowed him to finish with a counterparry that deflected Treize's attack. Zechs moved to counterattack, but Treize disengaged; with a blast of thrusters he leapt backwards in a tall arc.
You won't get away!
Zechs rushed after Treize along the ground. He wouldn't give Treize a chance to recover, maneuver or get away. As soon as his foe landed, Zechs would strike and finish him. There!
Treize landed, using a controlled thruster burst to cushion the impact. His saber wasn't in position; it was behind the Leo's body. Zechs smiled—this was it! He continued his charge directly at Treize, and boosted it with a strong thruster burst. Every bit of speed the Leo was capable of Zechs was using. He was moving like lightning—victory was imminent.
Wait! Wait!
There was no way Treize was that rusty. That arm was behind him intentionally. Treize was preparing a parry, the perfect parry—a parry that would leave Zechs totally exposed, since Zechs was throwing so much energy into this one attack.
But, if I can see where it's coming from… I might could… it's possible.
Zechs lashed out with his saber, aiming for his foe's heart.
Now!
With blinding speed Treize swung his saber. The blow came over his shoulder and down, adding the force of gravity to the full strength of the Leo. Treize's parry connected with Zechs' attack and blew it away. Had that been Zechs' only attack, Treize certainly would have won. But Zechs had, at the last, seen the parry coming, and so it played into his hands.
Zechs had planted his right foot to launch his thrust. Now that foot served as the axis for a pirouette. Zechs accepted the power of Treize's parry and made it his own. Zechs took all the momentum of his run, the strength stolen from Treize's parry, and another burst of his thrusters, and spun around completely.
As he came around again, he launched a second attack with all the power and fury he and the Leo could muster.
The g-forces were intense; they squeezed out the war-cry Zechs had meant to shout and nearly knocked him unconscious. But they had no effect on his attack. Zechs transferred every scrap of energy into it and slashed.
Treize was no fool. As soon as he felt Zechs give way he'd recognized his subordinate's technique. There was no time for a counter-strike, so he hurried to get a second parry into place.
The two blades of energy met, crackled, screeched. Zechs' blade forced Treize's back, its tremendous power coming through.
Treize's parry had been a good one, but compared to the strength in this attack, it was worthless. First Treize's saber, and then his entire Leo were knocked aside by the blow. There was no ambiguity; Treize's mobile suit was finished, but good. If the sabers had possessed any cutting power at all, his Leo would have been in pieces; because this was an exercise, Treize was simply on the ground.
Zechs finally inhaled, gasping in air to relieve the tension in his chest. He ignored the sweat gushing from every pore, ignored the proclamation of the announcer and the cheers from the gallery. He simply breathed, and stepped back to admire his handiwork. As he stopped hyperventilating, a bare smile flickered across his face.
Once he'd recovered, he again toggled the switch to open the cockpit, stepped out, and saluted Treize. Treize had reactivated his Leo and stood it up, allowing him to face Zechs at an equal footing. He then exited the Leo and returned Zechs' salute.
"Congratulations, and well-done," said Treize over the comm.
"Thank you, sir," said Zechs. "It was a bare thing."
"Second place counts for nothing in war. You should know that."
Zechs smiled wryly. "Are you going to make my victory bittersweet too, sir?"
"Certainly not," said Treize. "You just vindicated my faith in you. You've just proven, again, why I was right in choosing you as my knight. Your skills are continuing to increase. I am very thankful to have you as an ally and friend, and I am certain your students are thankful to have you as their instructor."
Treize then turned his attention to the gallery. Major Une had strong-armed the other pilots, and now all were standing and saluting their commander. Treize switched to his Leo's loudspeaker and addressed them. "This is but a demonstration of the power of melee combat. Its real purpose is to show you the potential of melee so that you will pursue it on your own. Only by practice and refinement can we realize our ideals. I have faith that all of you will remain dedicated to our cause, and that inspires me. Glory to OZ! You are dismissed."
Then, over a private channel, Treize said, "Meet with me afterwards, Zechs."
"Yes, sir," said Zechs.