The two unwilling roommates never discussed their altercation. Une seemed not to remember the incident at all…at least she did not retaliate as Noin expected. Both forgot the fight and Une's later kind behavior as they slipped back into their familiar routine of put-upon student and hated instructor. Noin received an unexpected, but all too brief, reprieve when Une was summoned to the Specials command in Brussels. She would be gone for 8 days. Noin plopped down on her bunk with an audible sigh of relief.

"Freedom," she murmured to herself as she drifted off to a well-deserved sleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lieutenant Une scanned the report in her hands, checking for accuracy, as she walked towards the Specials' main office. She was on her way to meet His Excellency, the newly appointed leader of the Specials and her direct superior. In her hand, the officer held a list of names, candidates for Specials training. The Specials corps, a front for the OZ movement, was populated with only the best and the brightest of the best and the brightest. Anyone considered for OZ training had to be beyond reproach and intensely loyal to the cause…and hate the Alliance with a vengeance.

Special preference was given to members of the nobility, though the group's membership was not restricted as such. It was, however, very difficult for someone of common birth to rise above the rank of lieutenant. Even Specials uniforms served to provide an easy visual clue to a soldier's status. Alliance uniforms were olive drab, one cut for everyone from the lowliest private to the most decorated general. Specials uniforms reflected the ancient ideals of birthright through complex trimmings and specific color designation. Higher ranked nobles wore blue or white, lower nobility were identified by the use of red. Commoners and cadets wore forest green uniforms of a simpler cut.

The new young leader, Duke Treize Kushrenada, took a personal interest in recruitment and all new recruits were approved or rejected by His Excellency. He insisted that all candidates be orphans. Anyone with a family was rejected outright, regardless of their other qualifications. The young duke did not want to compete with a loving family for the loyalty of his officers. The new candidates were also expected to be disciplined and highly intelligent. Most members of OZ scored at genius level or higher. Finally, and most importantly, they must have a personal motivation for rebelling against the Alliance. As a result of these new rules, most new OZ members were war orphans with huge chips on their shoulders. A sea of dispossessed children, looking desperately for something to believe in…and OZ gave them just that.

Lieutenant Une had yet to meet His Excellency, and was looking forward to the opportunity. His reputation as a charismatic leader preceded him and Une was anxious to judge the man for herself. OZ was her life, her mission. If its new leader failed to live up to the organizations standards…

"Come in, Lady Une."

Une stood in the doorway, hand poised to knock. The young man standing behind the antique oak desk did not look up as he spoke. He busied himself, not with paperwork as would be expected, but with a vase of roses adorning the credenza behind him. Une took the opportunity to glance at the papers on His Excellency's desk. On top of a stack of paper, right in the middle of the desk was her personnel record. He had been checking up on her. It was expected, of course, but Une found that she was slightly irritated anyway.

The lieutenant returned her gaze to the young man. She watched as the duke carefully removed and replaced several blooms, his broad shoulders slightly hunched. She stared at his back, unaccustomed to being kept waiting in favor of a floral arrangement. His Excellency fussed over the elegant hothouse flowers, arranging them to his satisfaction before turning to face Une.

Duke Treize was every bit as handsome as his picture, the young woman noted, but he was much taller than she expected. The ornate trappings of his uniform caught the sun streaming through the picture window, creating points of light that seemed to radiate from the man himself. His ginger-colored hair glittered in the morning glow, setting off his sky-blue eyes perfectly. All and all, he was a remarkable sight. The youthful duke would have impressed any woman. Lieutenant Une was not just any woman. She decided to reserve her judgment of the young man. Standing at attention, she executed a crisp salute.

"Please, Lady, I prefer that this meeting be free of such formalities." His voice was rich and smooth, fitting his appearance perfectly.

Treize walked around the large desk, extending his hand. Une responded to the unfamiliar gesture hesitantly. Most high-ranking officers, Alliance and OZ alike, were sticklers for protocol. It did not surprise the young woman that His Excellency had used her aristocratic title rather than her military rank--most members of OZ preferred the reminder of their noble status--but his expression puzzled her somewhat. The young man was peering at her intently, a slight smile brightening his handsome face as he gestured to a pair of chairs by the picture window. Une shook off her curiosity and sat across from the duke, handing him the file folder she brought.

"These are my recommendations for new recruits. They have all completed first level training and are fully prepared for battle testing."

Treize glanced over the contents of the file and asked, "You selected these cadets personally?"

"Yes. Each has demonstrated exceptional leadership qualities and piloting skills. I've listed them according to class standings."

His Excellency flipped through several papers and frowned. "The name at the top of the list…this cadet's history seems incomplete."

"Cadet Noin doesn't have much of a personal history, sir."

Treize looked up, smiling, "Please, call me Treize."

"As you wish, Mr. Treize." The young man's smile broadened at Une's insistent formality, then looked back at the list. Une continued.

"The Alliance found her hiding in a convent a year ago. Before that, she was living on the streets of Rome. No family to speak of."

"And no title…"

"I believe in such situations, a minor title can be conferred upon promotion to lieutenant."

"And that is your recommendation?"

Lieutenant Une paused briefly. She didn't actually approve of conferred titles, either one was a member of the aristocracy or not, but the cadet in question did indeed demonstrate great potential…assuming the girl could overcome her discipline problems. There was a deep seeded prejudice among the members of Romefeller against the initiation of cadets of low birth. The new commander could prove to be one of those narrow-minded men. Une admitted to being an elitist herself, but the young lieutenant truly believed Cadet Noin would prove to be an asset to OZ.  Une was, however, unwilling to jeopardize her own career in the organization on behalf of a street rat with an attitude problem.

Une understood Lucretzia Noin well enough to know the cadet would not remain with the Alliance willingly, certainly not fight for them. The girl hated the Alliance military. Noin might not accept an appointment to OZ, either, but it was worth a try. The old adage, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend," crossed Lieutenant Une's mind. Common foe, mutual goal. The cadet might welcome the opportunity to fight the Alliance. Une was not certain of any of this, however, and that made Noin a bad choice. The logical choice was to recommend the girl be transferred out of officer training all together, so the lieutenant was at a complete loss to explain why she was willing to risk her own reputation to help the other girl go to space. Sometimes one must act on instinct, not calculation. Une cautiously responded to the duke's question, choosing her words carefully. 

"I believe talent should be recognized where it is found. OZ's ultimate goals are paramount." She locked gazes with the young man across from her, "If we do not recruit her to our cause now, the Alliance will have another formidable soldier for OZ to contend with…it defeats our purpose."

"And what is our purpose?"

"I believe, sir, that the purpose of the Specials is to identify the brightest, most capable cadets and train them to serve Romefeller, is it not?"

 "One purpose, yes." The duke crossed his legs and leaned back in the overstuffed chair. He regarded the other officer a moment before speaking again. "I'll consider your recommendations and get back to you. I'm preparing to leave for space soon and…"

"Yes, Mr. Treize, I'm aware of your mission to colony x-18999. That is actually why I requested this audience."

"Oh?"

Une was relieved to see that His Excellency was not irritated by her interruption. "Yes, sir. I believe the cadets should accompany you on your training mission. Experience in routine colony defense would be the perfect opportunity to test their skill and worthiness."

"A trial by fire of sorts?"

"Yes."

"With the fate of a new colony in the balance?"

"The cadets in question are currently considered Alliance recruits, sir. Should they fail to live up to expectations, it is the Alliance who will bear the shame. If they succeed…"

"If they succeed, we make certain the public knows they are Specials recruits…brave young soldiers defending the new colony. Romefellar will have a public relations goldmine."

His Excellency looked at Lieutenant Une for a few moments as he considered her request. The mission to x-18999 was a routine defense exercise, or so he had been told. His personal sources on the colony informed him several hours ago that a coup attempt was eminent, most likely within a day of his scheduled arrival. It would indeed be quite an accomplishment for his Specials recruits to put down a rebellion. The noble knight of Romefellar leading brave young soldiers in defense of a colony. Even his uncle would be pleased. The young woman across from him shifted uncomfortably under his continued scrutiny. He had read Lady Une's file earlier and it was impressive, but Treize had to admit he would have been quite impressed with the lovely young lieutenant regardless of what her file stated. She was obviously an ambitious young woman, but idealistic as well. Just what an OZ officer should be…a zealot. The almost fanatical devotion of its members was what made OZ such a strong organization. Uncompromising devotion was what he expected of all of his officers, yet could not produce in himself. Lady Une seemed to have a surplus.

"Very well, Lady Une. I accept your recommendations. Have the cadets report to me three days from now, gear packed."

"Wouldn't you like to review their performance records first, sir? Discuss my selections?"

"I'm afraid I don't have the time. You have obviously given your choices a great deal of consideration, Lady, and I'm willing to take a chance with your recommendations. I believe in heeding the advice of my officers…especially officers of your caliber."

"Thank you, sir."

The officers stood. Lieutenant Une raised her hand to salute again, just as His Excellency offered his hand. Treize smiled as he reached up and pulled the young woman's hand down, grasping it in a handshake.

"It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Une. I look forward to seeing you again."

Une noted that odd expression again and was embarrassed to realize she was blushing. Releasing his hand, the lieutenant excused herself and quickly exited.

Lieutenant Une scowled as she left. The duke had accepted her proposal, but made it clear that he did so on her word alone. Her reputation as an officer was now on the line. If her recruits failed, her career faltered. She would not have her ambitions damaged by the incompetence of a cadet…nor could Une stand the idea of having Mr. Treize think badly of her. The cadets simply had to succeed. She had three days to ensure the cadets would not fail her. Three days to double their assignments and increase their hours in flight sims. Une picked up her pace as she made her way back to the return shuttle. She had cadets to train.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After Lady Une vacated his office, Duke Treize Kushrenada once again perused the list of names in his hand. They seemed to be perfect candidates…on paper. Treize had learned long ago that the true test of a soldier lay in the battlefield. All of the simulations in the world could not prepare one for the realities of war. Add to that the extreme youth of the candidates and the potential for disaster was great. The average age was fifteen. Treize was an experienced soldier by the age of fifteen, but he had been raised to it. His uncle, Duke Dermail, took over the youngster's political and military training upon the death of the boy's mother. Treize had been twelve. The same age as his young ward, Zechs Marquise.

Treize shook his head in amusement as he considered the boy's chosen pseudonym.  Zechs Marquise. Sixth Marquis. Clever. The young duke rose and walked back to his hopelessly ornate desk, pausing to summon his assistant on the intercom. The young lieutenant scurried in, listened dutifully to His Excellency's orders concerning transportation for the new recruits and scurried away. Treize glanced at the grandfather clock across the room and noted the time. He was late for fencing practice.

His Excellency ordered his car and returned to the Eighteenth Century mansion he inherited along with his antiquated title. It was an expansive structure, but not something he would call "home." His ward certainly would not. Treize entered the vast dwelling and went to his suite to change into his fencing outfit. The young man made his way through the impeccably furnished rooms and pristine marble hallways to the fencing room. Zechs was already hard at work, putting his unfortunate sparring partner through quite a workout. Treize remained in the doorway to watch the match…if it could be called that. The young count's opponent was certainly not his equal.

The boy had made a great deal of progress over the past year. His frequent mood swings and violent outbursts had become less frequent. His manners had certainly improved, due, Treize supposed, to the fact that the boy merely needed reminding. The two never discussed the boy's true identity or anything pertaining to the fall of Cinq Kingdom, but the subtle reminders were there. The boy's manner of speaking, his bow, all indicating the culture he was born into. All in all, the boy was progressing nicely. He was becoming every bit the charming young aristocrat he should be. In addition, he was already beginning to attract a great deal of female attention. Any nobleman visiting the estate was sure to arrive with a granddaughter or pre-teen niece in tow, all graciously welcomed. The boy played the part well, but Treize knew Zechs used his aristocratic façade to hide an obsessive need for revenge.

From the moment Zechs began his new life as Treize's protégée, his goals were made dangerously clear. He wanted to learn to fight, grow strong and destroy the Alliance. Every action, every lesson, every moment of the boy's life was dedicated to that one goal. If that meant enduring the nauseating chatter of bored aristocrats, he would do so without complaint. If becoming a skilled warrior meant playing the role of elegant nobleman to a host of blushing debutantes, Zechs would do so. No price was too high to pay for his revenge.

Zechs was passed off as a cousin of the young duke, a minor count from an obscure principality. It was a comfortable charade and the boy mastered it well. The natural grace and charm the boy inherited from his lovely mother were carefully cultivated. He played the dutiful ward to Treize at balls and parties, enduring the incessant and inane conversations common to such events. There was a constant flutter of young girls around the boy count--moths to a flame, as Treize put it—all politely attended to. Aside from the fact that the boy refused to take dance lessons, he was proving to be quite the little gentleman.

"You have the match, sir." Exhausted, Zechs' sparring partner, held out a congratulatory hand to the boy count and left with relief.

"You favor your right."

Zechs looked up to see Treize standing a few feet away, blade in hand. "You're late."

"Forgive me, but I was in a meeting with a particularly lovely lieutenant...punctuality didn't seem as important at the time."

Zechs rolled his eyes. He hated being paraded out for Treize's latest conquests. He was expected to play upon their maternal instincts, pointing out what a good man the duke was to take in a lonely orphan. Treize's lady friends adored the idea of the generous benefactor caring for the sad little boy. It was crap, but Zechs played along out of a sense of obligation. Treize had taken in the runaway, promising the resources and training necessary to become a soldier.  The young duke lived up to those promises and the boy was genuinely grateful. Zechs was learning everything he needed to know in order to defeat the Alliance. The former prince did, after a time, come to look upon the young duke almost as an older brother. He trusted Treize to a point, though Zechs could never bring himself to confide in the young man the way he had with Noin. The boy swallowed at the unexpected thought and gritted his teeth against the anger stirring inside him. He could never trust anyone like that again or allow anyone to trust him in turn. It would only get someone else killed.

"So will I have to meet this 'lovely lieutenant' or is she temporary?" Zechs gripped his epée, anxious for another match.

"Don't be rude, Zechs," Treize responded as he took up position, "Besides, you know I don't fraternize with my female officers."

"No, just noblemen's daughters...or wives."

"You're a bit young to make such an crass observation, don't you think?" Treize retorted in amusement. "En garde."

The verbal sparring ceased in favor of the actual duel. They fought for a while in silence, each concentrating on the movements of the other. Treize moved with the ease of a man accustomed to courteous duels, fluid and graceful. The younger boy, though equally graceful, showed none of the ease that marked his opponent's demeanor. He took everything much too seriously, Treize thought as they sparred. Zechs' only goal was to defeat his enemy. Fencing wasn't an exercise to the boy. It was a serious mission. What he lacked in gracious sportsmanship, Zechs made up for in intensity. Treize possessed superior technique and a height advantage. The younger boy had speed and focus in his favor, but in the end, Treize won the match…as usual.

"Good match, Zechs."

Treize smiled at the younger boy and offered his hand. Zechs was annoyed at yet another loss, but took his guardian's hand and complimented the duke's skill. Manners first. It was the mark of 'good breeding,' as Treize always insisted. It was one of the first and most repetitive lessons Zechs was required to learn under the duke's tutelage. Zechs had never enjoyed the inane ceremonies essential to royal life. Having spent half of his life free from such concerns, it was difficult to return to the old habits once adhered to so diligently. He preferred the life he had in Italy. There he was just like any other boy, or at least he had pretended as much for as long as possible. Zechs knew now, that he was not fated to a quiet life in a quiet town. He was destined for something much different. He rubbed his palm roughly, gazing down at the hand that had been too slow to save his best friend…the hand that had taken a life. He wished he had understood his true purpose sooner. Fate might have spared Noin if Zechs had not been part of her life. If only he had realized it earlier. His destiny was stained with blood.

Treize gave the frustrated boy a friendly pat on the shoulder and suggested they partake of some refreshment…wine for Treize, juice for Zechs. As they sat in Treize's study sipping their drinks, Zechs thought, not for the first time, how much the room reminded him of his father's study. The imposing desk, the impossibly valuable chairs…even an antique chess set in the corner. It wasn't his father's study, though, nor was this his country or his home. He had no home. He was a prince without a country. No…he was not even a prince. It had been many years since he thought of himself as a prince and he refused to do so now, despite his surroundings. At heart, in the darkest corner of his soul, Zechs knew he was nothing better than a murderer. Even if it were safe to do so, the boy couldn't possibly take up his title again. He couldn't bear the honor of the Peacecraft name. He deserved no such consideration.

"Would you like to have a game of chess?"

Zechs looked up, a bit startled. "Pardon?"

"You were staring at the chess set," Treize nodded to the hand carved game pieces lined up on the pedestal across the room, "I assumed you wanted to play."

"All right."

As they moved to the game table, Treize watched his young ward with concern. The boy always had an air of melancholy about him. Zechs never spoke of his life before Treize rescued him from an Alliance prison, nor did the young duke inquire. It seemed too much of an intrusion. In any event, the events of the boy's past were just that, past. He had a new destiny. Treize was grooming Count Marquise to be his right hand, the sword he would wield against the Alliance. Zechs was an apt and willing student, devoting himself to his training with a ferocity that seemed misplaced in one so young. Most children his age, on the other hand, had not had to give up a kingdom.

The boy's nightmares worried Treize the most. He was a tortured little soul and the young duke felt helpless to aid his young friend in banishing the ghosts. Treize knew those ghosts. They had haunted him as well on occasion.

During the day, Treize could convince himself that his sometimes unconscionable behavior could be justified. There was a greater good at stake. Might makes right and all that. Nighttime was different, especially those last moments of darkness just before the break of dawn. In the cold gray, the ghosts of those he had destroyed made their presence known. Five hundred and twelve lives. That was the number. At least, that was the number he took responsibility for personally. There were others of course, deaths that he had contributed to indirectly, but those five hundred and twelve lives were his burden alone. So far, Zechs was only responsible for one death--that young cadet named Karl—but Treize was certain the boy held himself accountable for the death of his family and the friend Karl killed.  It was too heavy a burden to be born by one so young.

They began the game and talked about the day's events. Zechs was in the process of preparing for his entrance exams to the Lake Victoria Academy, the only military academy operated exclusively by the Specials. Lake Victoria was the breeding ground for OZ's new young leaders and Zechs would soon join their ranks. The boy's tutors were complimentary of his work and indicated that the boy would soon be beyond their instruction.

The young count received special praise from his art instructor, who felt the boy had extraordinary talent. Treize encouraged the boy's art studies, believing that his artistic tendencies curbed the overwhelming feelings of repressed anger that Zechs struggled to contain. Earlier that day, Zechs had accompanied his art instructor to a special exhibition at the Museum if Fine Art in the city. Zechs relayed his opinion of the exhibit as they played. He and his tutor had gotten into quite a debate over the symbolism in a particular piece, resulting in an assigned essay detailing his opinions and reasoning. Treize was pleased to see the boy excited about his assignment. He generally showed little real enthusiasm for his studies. He was simply too anxious to begin his military training.

"Check" Zechs announced as he placed his knight.

"Well done…but not good enough I'm afraid…checkmate." Treize moved his bishop and smiled at the expression on his ward's face.

"Aw, heck," Zechs mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing…when do you leave for space?"

Treize looked incredibly amused by the timing of the question as he answered, "Three days."

"How long will you be gone?"

"Three months."

Zechs nodded. One could almost hear the wheels in his head spinning. He was growing annoyed with the fact that he had yet to defeat Treize in anything. Fencing, chess, billiards…Treize won at everything. The boy scowled at the chessboard, replaying every move in the game to determine where he went wrong. Three months to improve his skills. He would play everyday—against the computer if he had to. The next time he faced Treize in a chess match, Zechs was determined he would be the victor. Treize kept putting off Zechs' entry into Lake Victoria Academy on the grounds that the boy still had much to learn. Zechs was convinced that once he managed to beat Treize at something—anything—he would allow the younger boy to enroll and begin his life as a soldier. He had to beat him next time. He had to.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"The following cadets remain behind after class…Becker, Rolf, Lothian, Provsky, Noin. Everyone else, DISMISSED!"

The five cadets stood nervously, wondering what they had done to be detained. Noin knew, better than most, that Lieutenant Une was likely to have just chosen their names at random and singled them out for underserved punishment. Whatever Une had planned, Noin wouldn't have to put up with it much longer. She finally formulated a workable escape plan and had been preparing for the last two days. The cadet had stockpiled food and managed to use her scavenging skills to 'acquire' a few items to sell. She should be able to raise enough money to make it back to Rome. A few stolen wallets later and she might be able to make it to a spaceport.

"Follow me," Une commanded and the cadets dutifully fell in line behind the stern instructor. She led them around to her small office and lined them up, at attention, in front of her desk.

"These are your new assignment schedules."

Une walked down the row and handed out stacks of papers. Noin glanced over the schedule, noting the increase in flight training and battle simulations. According to the list, she and the other unfortunate cadets would be in classes from sunup to sundown and beyond. Twenty-minute breaks were allowed for meals, six hours for sleep and bathing. "That's it," Noin thought angrily, "this time she's gone too far."

"Look over your new assignments carefully and report to me tomorrow morning at five a.m. You will be reassigned to a new training facility in three days. Your orders are in your files. Until that time, you are still mine, cadets! Don't forget it! Dismissed!"

Une followed the bewildered cadets back out into the hall and walked towards the officer's lounge. She paused upon noticing Cadet Noin standing rigidly in the corridor. The cadet looked furious, her hands clenched the new orders tightly. She looked as though she wanted to say something…shout something, actually.

"Questions, cadet?"

Noin hesitated, deciding whether to have it out with the officer once and for all. Maybe she should just wait until Une was asleep and spike the officer's lipstick with red pepper. She wisely decided to let the matter drop, fearful that the instructor would confine her to quarters and preventing Noin's escape.

"No…ma'am."

"Then I suggest you read your orders and get some sleep. You have a long day tomorrow and it will start sooner than you think."

Une turned on her heel and walked away as Noin began flipping through her papers. The lieutenant turned the corner and stopped abruptly as she heard a girlish squeal of delight behind her and the patter of cadet boots running towards the dorms. Une shook her head at the undignified episode and walked on, relieved that she would finally have private quarters.

"Space!" Noin burst out of the building and yelled into the night air, "I get to go to space!"

She stopped and leaned heavily on a nearby tree, out of breath. The girl looked over her orders again, confirming what she thought she read moments earlier. Training mission. Colony x-18999. Leave in three days. Noin looked up at the star field above her and laughed. "I did it, Nana…I'm going to see the stars." She walked on to her dorm room, more lighthearted than she had been in almost two years. Free passage to space. Once there, she could run away, just as she had intended. She wouldn't have to wait now. She could find a place to live in space, make a home, grow up and come back for him…when she was old enough. She was sure she could find her best friend. She just had to grow up…they could go back to space together, where it was safe…no wars, just stars.

The next three days passed more easily than the previous three months for the young girl. Though her workload was now twice as heavy, she made it through relatively unscathed. As Noin packed her few meager belongings in her duffle bag, she tried to imagine what it would feel like to be weightless. Was it like floating in the bathtub as she had when she was a small girl? She had heard some people suffered from nausea in low gravity environments, but Noin was certain she would not be afflicted. As the girl walked to the plane, her mind churned with questions, all of which were about to be answered.

Back in the dorm room she once shared with Noin, Lieutenant Une sat at her dressing table to apply a fresh coat of lipstick. As she peered into the mirror, her eye caught the reflection of a tiny object lodged in the loose baseboard behind her. She rose and walked to the wall, kneeling to retrieve the object. Une held it up to the light. It was a tiny figurine…a couple dancing. How odd. The young woman closed her eyes, removing her glasses as she squeezed her eyes closed. She was beginning to feel strange. There was the hint of a song playing in her mind, a vaguely familiar tune…a waltz. Where had she heard that melody before?

Just as quickly as the feeling washed over her, it faded. Une stood and replaced her glasses. The figurine was not hers, so, logically, the lieutenant assumed it belonged to Cadet Noin. She left the room and walked to the tarmac, hoping to return the tiny porcelain figure to Noin before the girl left.

Cadet Noin was standing in line with the other cadets, waiting dutifully to board the plane to Brussels. As Une approached, the cadets all quickly turned their gazes to the pavement at their feet. No one wanted to risk the wrath of Une at the very moment of their escape. To the relief of the other cadets, Une called Noin out of the line. The younger girl walked rigidly to her instructor, jaw tight. It would be just like Une to hold out the hope of space to Noin, only to snatch it away at the last moment.

"I believe you left this in the room, cadet."

Une extended her hand and Noin stifled a gasp. It was the figurine from her music box. She quickly took the figure from Une.

"Thank you ma'am…I thought," Noin paused and glanced up at her instructor, "I thought I lost it."

"You have been given a rare opportunity, cadet…don't disappoint me, Noin." Une glared at the younger girl.

"Ma'am." Noin saluted.

"Back in line, cadet." Une turned and walked away, Noin's curious gaze following her. Instructor Une acting nice twice. Weird.

Noin boarded the shuttle and took her seat. She looked at the porcelain ornament in her hand, running a finger gently over the tiny couple before stowing it in her uniform pocket. She took a breath as the plane departed. Excitement, fear and curiosity melded together in her mind as she peered out of the window, watching the base grow smaller. The cadet had given little thought to her new duties, her main concern was the trip into space. It didn't matter to the girl what the Alliance expected her to do on this mission, she wasn't planning to stay long. Noin just wanted to bide her time until she could make her escape. She was on her way.

A few hours later, Noin and the other cadets disembarked in Brussels. They were met by a young officer in a Specials uniform who quickly gave them instructions and herded them to the temporary barracks. They were all given bunks in a row, no one seeming to notice that Noin was a female. There didn't seem to be separate quarters for female cadets and Noin made the best of her awkward situation. She waited patiently for the other cadets to shower and finish readying themselves for lights out before making her way to the communal bathroom. She showered quickly and changed into her uniform for the next day, reasoning it would save time and embarrassment to sleep in her uniform.

The girl straightened her shirt and hung the uniform jacket by her bunk. They had been given new uniforms for this assignment. She and her fellow cadets were expected to wear the green and white uniform of the Specials unit. Noin had heard of the Specials, all cadets had, but she did not know that much about the group. The Alliance regulars seemed to detest the Specials, a good reason to for Noin to admire them. Une was a Specials officer…a better reason for Cadet Noin to hate the entire unit. She didn't want to be part of an organization that would commission a woman like Une. Noin dismissed her idle thoughts. She was on her way to space. If she had to masquerade as a Specials recruit for a few hours, no big deal. It wasn't like she was staying.

Noin once again found it impossible to sleep, though it was a result of her excitement instead of nightmares. The night passed slowly and she filled the hours by running over her escape plan. She would stay with the other cadets until they received their duty station assignment. There would be time during the transfer for her to sneak away. If she timed everything correctly, she could blend in with the crowd at the spaceport and stow away on an outgoing shuttle to another colony. Home free…freedom. That's what drew her to space. The idea that she could be free of war and poverty, pain and loneliness. The stars were constant, space was peaceful. She would finally know what it meant to go home.

+++++++++++++++++++++ End Chapter 1 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I fully expect to get flamed for the "Uney Buns" thing, but the Evil Chibi thought it was funny, so I left it in.

WooHoo! I'm back! Thank you to everyone who sent suggestions for titles. I'm sending everyone a cyber lollipop (as soon as I can) because most of your suggestions will be used as chapter titles. I really appreciate your ideas. They were great! I appreciate all of the great reviews of the first part of this budding 'epic' and I hope you like part II just as much. The next chapter reveals more about what Zechs has been going through and introduces a new character.

Special thanks to Evil Chibi (stop reading this and go do your homework!), The Major and Johnny Rage for letting me bounce ideas off them and/or letting me rant. It helped a lot to brainstorm and get your opinions. Thanks!

And thanks for the coffee, Dwayne…@-@

The title I chose comes from a poem by Henry David Thoreau and here it is:

Still grows the vivacious lilac