Even in the aftermath of victory, Zechs Marquise didn't have time to waste on savoring his success. He had only one person and one concern on his mind: Lucrezia Noin.
Seven months, ten days. That's how long it has been since we last saw each other face-to-face. And you knew it off the top of your head. Accurate as always, Noin. He sighed as he stared at a door, the numbers "420" emblazoned to its front. This is going to be difficult. How am I supposed to convince you to join my cause when my real agenda is something different? I'm not going to involve you with that one, certainly… it would be too dangerous for you. Then… what am I going to do?
He shook to clear his head, then knocked solidly on the door.
She opened the door for him. "First Lieutenant Zechs Marquise," she said graciously, smiling broadly. "We meet again, after far too long. Please come in."
"Thank you, Second Lieutenant Lucrezia Noin," he said, entering. He took a deep breath as he glanced around. The room was small, but had enough space to wedge a coffee table and some chairs in between the bed and the desk. He sat down, and found himself staring at himself—or at least a picture of himself.
Noin sat opposite him and smiled mischievously. "I took it at our commissioning. Though I have to say, I like your new red uniform better," she said gesturing at him. "It works better with the mask."
"Is that right?" he said. "I've worn the mask so long that questions like "what works with it" don't even enter my mind."
"They didn't then, either," she pointed out. "Anyway, I…" she hesitated, then pushed on. "I always liked your true face better."
Zechs inhaled sharply. He remembered. It had been the day after their commissioning. They'd been friends all throughout their stay at the academy. That day, he'd taken the mask off—just for a few minutes.
The next day, they'd been sent to different units.
That had been seven months and ten days ago.
There was silence as each person dealt with their emotions. Zechs finally broke the stalemate by changing the subject. "You fought very well today," he said.
"Thanks," she said, though not convincingly. "Even though you beat me again. I was really gunning for you that time. I wanted to beat you so badly."
"I could tell," answered Zechs.
"I mean, I knew your allies were going to finish me even if I won, but I just wanted to be able to say I'd done it." She smiled. "What is it with you? You're always finding the right people to help you on your way. At the Academy it was me. Now it's this Treize person."
Zechs gave a bare laugh. "You are a much better friend than Treize," he said. "Treize is…ambitious. We have an understanding. But you're my only real friend in the entire Earth-sphere."
"That's very flattering," she said mirthfully. "Sure, it's not something I'd brag about to other people—that I'm the friend of the man who's managed to achieve a reputation as both a brilliant pilot and a major nuisance. But it means something to me." She smirked again. "Still, it doesn't change the fact that you're always in a position to achieve success."
"I… never got the impression that you were ambitious," he said, his voice a touch remorseful. "I would have helped you if you'd asked."
"I'm sure you would have."
"It's just that you've always seemed happiest when you're helping others."
"Yes, that's true in general. But that's just the problem." Her face darkened. "I became an instructor here because I believed that I would save lives if I trained my pilots to be the best. It didn't matter that I was a low-ranking instructor if I was putting forth my best effort and making a difference."
Zechs nodded appreciatively. "I remember. That was the topic of your major paper our last year—"The Impact of Training and Preparation on Combat Performance", I believe it was."
She smiled wryly. "Which the instructors still liked less than your paper, "Definition of Duty in the Present Day", despite the fact that you managed to misspell 'dedication' at least once."
Zechs shook his head. "You still remember. I'm… embarrassed," he managed.
"But those memories are all Compton's going to leave me with," she said sadly.
"What does that mean?" said Zechs, growing suspicious in a hurry.
She sighed. "Didn't you know? Compton told us before the battle that if we lost it must be because the instructor corps is incompetent. He told us that if that happened, he'd revoke the piloting qualifications from every single instructor and transfer them out of mobile suits."
Zechs frowned severely. "You must be kidding."
"Do I look like I'm kidding to you?"
"No… but I doubt that anyone who sees the tape of your performance today will be willing to revoke your quals."
She shook her head sadly. "Zechs, your flattery is appealing, but your naïveté is not. You know the Alliance isn't a meritocracy."
"He means to do it?"
She nodded. "If that happens, I may just resign."
"That would be a tragedy and a waste," Zechs said. "But there is another way."
"Another way?"
"I can make sure you don't lose your qualifications," he said. "No, I can do better than that. You'll not only still be an instructor here, but I'd like to make you the head instructor, if you'd like to be that person."
"Is that right?" she said, raising an appraising eyebrow.
"That's right," he answered.
"And where did you get that much pull, First Lieutenant Zechs Marquise?" she asked.
"From Lieutenant Colonel Treize Khushrenada," he said. "He gave me free rein and his full support in our attempt to co-opt Victoria."
She folded her arms. "Really? "Co-opt"? Now I know there's a catch," she said.
Zechs inwardly grimaced. I could have phrased that better. "Don't get the wrong impression," he said. "I want to do this for you, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't benefiting from it. Your skill, dedication, and… trust… are why I knew I could talk to you about this."
As Zechs spoke, she stopped looking suspicious and started looking curious. "About what, exactly? Tell me more," she said.
He nodded. "Noin…" he began. He hesitated for a few seconds. Come on, Zechs. She has to know, and sooner is better than later. You trust her, don't you?
Of course. More than anyone else alive.
Then why hesitate? You showed her your true face that day, after all. You have no secrets more precious than that.
He steeled himself, and began speaking again. "Lucrezia, a new war is coming. You know how wretched the Alliance is. Well, a war is coming to overthrow it. It's all well planned-out and proceeding apace."
She nodded. "Go on. Don't tell me you're part of the war?"
"I am," he admitted—though a tinge of embarrassment entered unbidden into his voice. "Treize is the ringleader."
"And Specials is the cover?" she said, adeptly making the logical leap.
"Exactly. OZ—that's the organization behind it all—is planting agents throughout the Alliance. As far as I can tell, whoever wins or loses, the casualties will be catastrophic."
She winced.
"I don't know when it'll be, but it'll be soon. Within a decade, as near as I can tell. The point is, we're going to overthrow the Alliance."
"And replace it with what?" she said with eyebrow raised.
He gave a thin grin. "You know my skepticism better than anyone," he said. "I want to believe the things Treize says… he can be extremely persuasive, you know. But I'll be honest with you—I hate the Alliance more than I believe in Treize's vision of the future. I know that he'll do everything he can to make good on his promises, if that's any reassurance."
She smiled. "You know, Zechs, it's typical for preachers to have conviction in their cause before they go converting others."
"It's sad, isn't it? Normally I'm the skeptic, and you the one reassuring me. Either way, I have committed myself fully to achieving this goal. It gives me the freedom I need to accomplish what's really important. So I'm coming to you for help."
"Help? What can I do to help you?"
"Take my offer," Zechs said, voice growing urgent. "Become the head instructor here. Make them the best pilots you possibly can."
"And then induct them into OZ?"
Zechs nodded. "Yes."
She turned away from him. "You… really believe in this course of action, don't you?"
He didn't speak for several long moments. Then he bowed his head and said, "Yes. This is what I really want."
She nodded. "Alright, then," she said, her voice level. "I'll do it." She turned to face him anew. "You want to know why?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because I believe in you."
There was silence.
"And because you get to keep your quals this way."
"Don't cast aspersions on my motives!" she said, laughing. "Alright, I won't deny that that played a part in my decision making, but the fate of the world is more important than my quals."
"I just don't want you to feel that I forced you into it," said Zechs. "I'd feel too guilty."
"Well, if it'll make you feel better, you can do something for me," she said.
"Name it," he replied.
"Will you…" her voice died suddenly. "Will you… take off your mask?" He didn't speak, so she rushed to clarify, blushing fiercely. "Just for a moment while we're here."
"I understood you," he said, his throat dry for some reason. He took a deep breath. It's not like she hasn't seen it already… "Okay," he said. He reached for his head.
Carefully, with infinite hesitation, he grabbed the mask and lifted, squeezing it off of his head. His blond hair shook free; he tossed his head to air it out, blinking often.
Noin—Lucrezia—was staring at him, memorizing the details and facets. He stared back at her, viewing his own reflection in her eyes.
The sparkling blue eyes, long angular eyebrows, hair so blond it was almost white… the features no one else knew of, he revealed to her.
Thoughts and emotions swirled through his mind, one after another and all at once. He felt shame at being so exposed, but it was perversely thrilling at the same time. Part of him was relieved to finally be out from under the mask, glad that he could be himself at last. Another part was terrified at the risk of taking his mask off—in an Alliance dormitory, no less! And all of it mixed with the immeasurable intimacy of showing to her what he kept secret and hidden from all others.
They kept like that for minutes—how long, exactly, neither could tell. Then Lucrezia blushed and turned away suddenly. "That's enough," she said, her voice trembling. "That's enough. You can put it back on now."
He lifted it again—and, for some reason, hesitated. After all, who knew the next time he'd be able to take it off again? Now that it was off, it struck him how artificial it was, this mask of his. But there was no choice. He pushed it down over his face and head again, though it took much more effort to put it on than it had to take it off.
Noin didn't look at him. "I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be," he responded. He walked for the door. "I wanted to do that. Besides, having you as a friend is well worth it."
"It doesn't make sense," she said, somewhat bitterly. "For us to feel this way, despite our both being soldiers. With so many intrigues and conflicts flying around, and with the prospect of death over our heads constantly… for us to be anything closer than colleagues is… is…"
Zechs shook his head. "It's worthwhile," he insisted. "It's a way to remember that we're human. I, who have cut myself off from such things in the name of being a perfect soldier, in reality need them more than anyone."
He turned to her. "That's why I need you—in a way entirely separate from wanting to recruit you into OZ. An age of chaos and destruction is coming, Lucrezia. It's the environment where Zechs Marquise, the true soldier, fits in perfectly. But I resent this person; I resent Zechs Marquise. He is useful, but I do not like him. I don't. That's why I need you. With your help, I can remember."
He looked away. "You're right that, since we're soldiers, we may not be able to make something of this. Because we're pilots of mobile suits, it may be difficult—or even impossible—to interact outside of our other obligations. But know this much, Lucrezia. With you, I can remember Milliardo."
He opened the door and walked away. He dared not look back at her.
Treize showed remarkable discretion when he met with Zechs the next day.
"Is it done?" was all he said.
Zechs nodded.
"Is there anything you need from me?" asked Treize.
"I need permission to use some of the graduates from our base as assistants at Lake Victoria," he said. "And I would like permission to travel back and forth from our base to Victoria to ensure that everything is going well."
"Granted," said Treize simply.
And then he changed the subject.
Zechs' life became both easier and harder. Easier because he was no longer a primary instructor; harder because he was a secondary instructor to a great deal more personnel.
He was a very busy soldier.
He began to travel routinely between the Specials base and the Lake Victoria, supervising, offering advice, and testing both his students and his instructors.
His relationship with Treize grew stranger still. Even though Zechs was constantly moving, there were only so many places he could be. He was either at Victoria, at the Specials base, or somewhere between the two. But with Treize, there was no telling where he'd be from one day to the next. He made enough stops at Victoria and the Specials base to be revered by the soldiers, but aside from that he was totally unpredictable.
The only constant seemed to be that Treize never went to the space colonies. Zechs wondered occasionally why that was. On the other hand, he'd thought, there's no way to politely ask your boss a question like that.
That aside, though, his relationship with Treize was unchanged. As before, they spent hours discussing strategy and policy; and as before, Zechs' role was as much that of a secrets-keeper as a true consultant. Unlike before, they rarely met face-to-face, communicating remotely.
Noin was as reliable and hard-working—and, ultimately, effective—as Zechs had expected. She worked at least as hard as Zechs did, and the three of them—Zechs, Noin, and Treize—steadily built up the loyalty and dedication of those around them even as they built up their skills.
The cult of personality each developed corresponded, more or less, to the role they played. Noin was seen often as a mother figure, sternly but caringly developing those around her; Zechs, to his consternation, as the first among OZ's soldiers and the ultimate role-model; and Treize as the visionary leader with almost god-like status.
In Zechs' estimation, Noin's and Treize's roles suited them. As for his own, he disagreed. "Is that so?" Treize had responded. "Then name a better pilot for them to emulate."
Zechs hadn't responded, so Treize had continued. "Fine then, we'll do it the other way. Why should you not be a role-model?"
"The mask, sir," said Zechs. "Everything about me is duplicitous. I thought that, since we're trying to cultivate warrior virtues, my own divided loyalties wouldn't be a good ideal."
"On the contrary, they sympathize with you," said Treize, smiling. "Duplicity is not your nature, it's something the Alliance forced you into. The soldiers understand and respect that, for they feel that way themselves. All of OZ is a mask, a façade. Everyone in OZ has inner loyalties they dare not show to the Alliance. They, like you, wear masks, and so they, like you, anticipate the day they'll discard those masks. In this manner, you are once again the expression of the things they hold dear. As for virtues," Treize had smiled, "one of the reasons I chose you as my knight is because of your virtues. They would do well to emulate you in that regard."
Zechs had sighed. "Well, sir, mostly because I know of my own faults, and don't want my soldiers to copy them. I don't believe in OZ with the true conviction we're trying to instill in them. Besides, their high opinion of me makes me… uncomfortable."
Treize's smile had turned fiendish. "We all have our sacrifices to make, Zechs. You are the first among equals; you are my knight, the Arm of OZ. You have no choice but to be a role model, and it's healthy for them to model themselves after you. You're just going to have to live with the adulations of the multitude."
Zechs bitterly wished for the days when OZ could expand enough for him to slip out of the spotlight. He had enough pressure to deal with quite aside from being the "Arm of OZ".
He started work thinking of polite ways to ask Treize never to call him that again.