Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Victoria Base Affair Extended Edition ❯ Discovery ( Chapter 13 )

Note: Sorry, there's no sex in this chapter. I'm disappointed too. It's also kind of short. Sorry.

-o-o-o-

Chapter 13: Discovery

Treize organized a summit meeting at Luxembourg for all the senior officers in the Alliance Military to discuss the Battle at Pancevo. There was a fair bit of grumbling from many officers who outranked Treize that he, a mere Colonel, could arrange such a meeting and force it to be held at Luxembourg, his home base. But Treize wasn't interested in playing nicely at the moment. He used his position and influence in the Romafeller Foundation to ensure he got his way. It worried Zechs a little bit because it exposed how much influence Romafeller had within the Alliance, but it was obvious Treize didn't care. He was operating with a single purpose and he would let nothing stand in his way.

All of the officers from the European Command had been summoned to attend the meeting. Zechs thought the members of this group would have to be uncommonly dense not to realize they were in trouble. There had obviously been a dramatic failure in Intelligence for the disaster at Pancevo to have occurred. As officers began filing into the large conference room and taking seats, Zechs observed them carefully. He was attending the meeting himself as Treize's assistant and stood at attention a few meters behind Treize's chair at the head of the table, ready to take his orders. There were not enough seats at the conference table for everyone in attendance. Chairs were set up in neat rows on both sides of the conference room and at the rear for the overflow. Space had been left in back of the chairs for standing room. Zechs noted with interest which officers took seats at the table, which ones settled into chairs and which ones choose to simply stand against the wall.

Zechs wasn't sure he'd recognize Dalken Curzon. He had not seen him since the awards banquet after the alumni games his freshman year and that had been his only close association with the man. He studied the faces of the male officers as they entered, watching for someone vaguely familiar. But when Dalken Curzon finally entered, Zechs had no trouble recognizing him at all. Dalken's eyes suddenly blazed with hate when they met Zechs', before he quickly looked away. Brimming with self-importance, Dalken took a seat at the table and avoided looking at Zechs again.

For the first time, Zechs wondered if Treize was right. He wondered if hate alone would be enough to make Curzon turn against the Alliance.

As the last of the officers filed into the room and found places to sit or stand, everyone fell silent and looked expectantly at Treize. Curzon had a seat on Treize's left, about half way down the table. He looked calm and collected now; the flash of hate he'd shown earlier was completely gone.

When at last everyone was either seated or waiting expectantly, Treize looked around the room. He sat forward with his hands neatly folded on the table in front of him and let his eyes fall briefly on each of the officers seated at the table.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Treize said calmly, “I have called this meeting to discuss how we can avoid another shambles like Pancevo. As you know, I've spent the last few months at Pancevo reconstructing the base and rebuilding the Alliances forces and I have a few recommendations on how the new commander might want to organize the command.”

“Your recommendations are always invaluable, Colonel Kushranada, but I don't see why this required such a large meeting.” The speaker, General Oswald of European Command, was seated at the opposite end of the table from Treize. He was the senior officer present. “A rebel attack on this room would devastate the Alliance,” he added with a chuckle.

Treize grinned humorlessly. “Oh, I don't think we need to be concerned about a rebel attack, General Oswald. And my reasons for hosting such a large meeting may be found in the nature of my recommendations. For one thing, I think we need to abolish centralized intelligence distribution.”

“What?” General Oswald sat up straight. “Centralized intelligence distribution is the best way to ensure timely and uniform distribution of information.”

“If that's true, then I must be completely mistaken that Pancevo nearly fell because of a massive intelligence failure.”

“Colonel Kushranada, what are you implying?” General Oswald frowned. “Are you saying that my organization is somehow at fault?”

“European Command had intelligence responsibility for the Balkans, General,” Treize replied flatly. “How did insurgents assemble a force of over four thousand mobile suits and several large caliber guns and mortars without anyone noticing? How did they transport all that equipment into the region?”

Oswald frowned. “I have been investigating that, Colonel. I could find no evidence of rebel forces in that region, beyond the usual guerilla activity. There is no indication that anyone in my organization submitted reports that were ignored.”

“That doesn't worry you, General?”

“What do you mean?”

“The evidence seems a little plain. The battle happened. I was there. I have reviewed recordings of the battle and made an estimate of the amount of forces the rebels had to have had in order to inflict the damage they did. There is no way that rebel force could have been assembled and staged for that battle without any forewarning unless there was an extensive and consistent failure in intelligence collection and distribution.” Treize leaned forward and fixed his eyes on the General. “In my opinion, there are only two ways this could have happened: either our intelligence services are worthless, or someone was deliberately destroying intelligence reports.”

Exclamations burst out around the room, many of them angry. Treize let them babble for a moment before cutting them off with a sharp gesture. “Silence! Someone tell me I'm wrong!” He looked directly at Dalken Curzon. “Someone give me another explanation.”

“Why don't you just come right out and say it, Colonel Kushranada?” Dalken Curzon snapped out angrily. “You think someone in European Command is a spy for the insurgents.”

Treize looked at him without expression. “I fought in the battle at Pancevo, Commander Curzon. The insurgents were inside the Base perimeter before the fighting began. Tell me how that happens without inside help?”

“How can you blame that on bad intelligence?” Dalken looked smug.

“You were the Intelligence Officer at Pancevo under General Brigham.” Treize's voice was as cold as ice. “And now you're in the Intelligence Office at European Command. You served at Pancevo for three years. I would think you more than anyone would be sensitive to problems in that region.”

Dalken flushed. For an instant, his eyes flicked to Zechs and then back to Treize, before looking around the table. “There are probably a hundred different rebel bands in the Balkans. Tracking them all is no easy task. I've done my best.”

“Your best is far from good enough, Commander Curzon. Your best cost us the life of General Catalonia.”

Several people spoke out loudly in his defense as Dalken jumped to his feet. “You can't blame that on me!” he cried angrily. He pointed an accusing finger directly at Zechs. “If you hadn't been too busy fucking your aide, you could have gotten there in time to save him!”

Zechs didn't move as complete silence fell and all eyes in the room turned to stare at him.

Treize sat back, the fingers of his right hand drumming briefly on the table. “Are you accusing me of sexual misconduct, Commander Curzon?” he asked quietly.

Dalken lowered his arm and stiffened slightly. He looked as if he were trying to decide what to say next. “Do you deny it?” he said finally. “Do you deny that you've been fucking Lieutenant Merquise since he came under your command?”

General Oswald stood up, frowning. “That is a serious accusation, Commander. I am concerned by your timing and the circumstances under which you bring it forward.”

Without turning, Treize spoke to Zechs. “Lieutenant Merquise, the accusation implicates you as well. What do you have to say?”

Zechs came to full attention with his hands folded behind his back. “I don't know what he's talking about, Sir.”

Dalken flushed even darker. “He's lying, General! Ask anyone in their unit! Ask anyone at Luxembourg! Everyone knows!”

Treize stood up slowly. “The only people you need to ask are right here in this room,” he said coldly. “I unequivocally deny the accusation. However, I cannot allow this insult to my honor to pass. I demand satisfaction.”

Dalken went pale.

“Colonel Kushranada, this is a military matter, not a question of honor,” General Oswald exclaimed. “A military tribunal will settle the matter.”

Treize shook his head. “I think not, General.” He turned a fixed stare on Dalken Curzon. “The tribunal can determine if Curzon has been negligent in his duties. As a gentleman of Romafeller, I require that he prove his accusation on my body. We will meet at dawn tomorrow on the parade grounds. This meeting is adjourned.”

-o-o-o-

General Oswald was fuming. “Lord Kushranada, if Dalken Curzon is indeed a traitor and a spy, he should be facing a court martial, not a duel at dawn.”

The conference room was empty except for the two of them.

“General, there is absolutely no proof that Curzon is guilty. The worse we are likely to find is negligence.” Treize ran his fingers through his hair. “I have questioned more than a dozen prisoners and none of them has implicated him. If he is indeed a traitor, he has been incredibly careful. In fact, if not for one mistake, I might not have suspected him at all.”

“What mistake was that?”

“He tried to kill Zechs Merquise.”

Oswald frowned. “How do you know that? And why would that make you suspect him, if it's true?”

“Because about four years ago, when Dalken Curzon was a cocky young senior at the Victoria Base Academy, Zechs Merquise humiliated him so badly it cost him a post at Luxembourg.”

“A man doesn't turn traitor over something like that.”

“I know Dalken, General Oswald. He is the type to hold a grudge. And he is the only person I know who would have a reason to kill Zechs.” He smiled slightly. “Or to accuse him of being my lover.” He leaned on the table. “But that means he had the contacts inside the insurgency to arrange the ambush that nearly cost Zechs his life.”

The general's brow furrowed in thought. He studied Treize with pursed lips, clearly debating whether or not to go along with Treize's plan. “He's bound to file an appeal. There's no reason for him to show up tomorrow.”

“No reason but his own arrogance.” Treize grinned, but it was a ruthless grin. “He thinks he can defeat me.”

Oswald looked surprised. “No one's ever beaten you in a sword fight.”

“I know.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

“You set him up.”

Zechs leaned against the inside of the door, a properly respectable distance away from Treize, who was seated on the opposite side of the room.

Treize smiled. “That's why I wanted you there. I thought he might react without thinking if he saw you and he played right into my hands.”

“So the lie you planned for me to tell all along was about our relationship.”

“Yes.”

“But he's right, you know. I suspect over half the people on this base know about us.”

“Probably,” Treize conceded. “But those people are all loyal to me. They won't betray my trust, not even if they personally witnessed us engaging in sexual conduct.”

Zechs studied Treize thoughtfully. “I wonder if anyone in the Alliance Military realizes how dangerous you are. You could take over everything if you wanted to.”

“True, but I don't want to,” Treize shrugged. “What I want is an end to rebellion and disagreement so I have nothing better to do with my time than make love with you.”

Zechs smiled. “That is something to hope for.” Then his smile faded. “But what will you do if Curzon doesn't show up tomorrow? We don't have any proof of his treachery. At the moment, he's nothing but an incredibly bad intelligence officer.”

Treize frowned. “If he doesn't show up, I'll see to it that his career is over. I'll have him running a weather station in Antarctica. But I'm almost positive he'll show up. He hates noblemen and he hates Romafeller. I don't think he can resist the opportunity to show us up by defeating me in a duel.”

“He cannot possibly defeat you in a duel. He was dead the moment he opened his mouth.”

Treize's smile was as cold as the space between the stars. “He tried to kill you. If I could kill him for that, bring him back and then kill him again to avenge the general, I would do so.”

For a long time, they just looked at each other.

“We can't make love while all these people are on the base,” Zechs said.

Treize nodded. “But I can kiss you goodnight.” He stood up and crossed the room to embrace Zechs. “You'll be my second tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Meet me here an hour before sunrise.” He kissed Zechs warmly.

Zechs returned the kiss until he started to get hard, then he pulled his mouth away. “That's enough or we'll get caught proving Curzon right.”

Treize chuckled. “You're right. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Good night.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

There was a hint of winter in the chilly morning air. Zechs' breath plumed out in front of him as he and Treize walked across the parade ground. Several people were gathered in front of the grandstand, steam rising above them as they talked. The sound of their voices drifted across the open space, made brittle by the icy air. A heated argument was in progress. Someone saw them coming and leaned into the group to make a comment, pointing in their direction. The argument died away as everyone turned to face them. Dalken Curzon was at the center of the group. General Oswald stood beside him. The others were all from the European Command office.

“I didn't think you'd show up,” Treize said lightly as they reached the group.

Dalken bristled. “I may not be an aristocrat, but I won't take an insult either,” he snarled.

“I wasn't aware I'd insulted you,” Treize replied. “I only recall you accusing me of indecent behavior with one of my subordinates.” He held out his hand and Zechs placed the hilt of his sword, which he'd been carrying, into Treize's palm. Treize slowly drew the sword out of its scabbard. The metallic slithering sound echoed across the frosty grass. He stepped back and slashed the blade through the air.

Dalken turned and gestured toward one of the women standing behind him.

“Dalken…” she began, but he cut her off with a sharp gesture.

“Just give it to me,” he snapped. Reluctantly, she held out a sheathed blade to him. He snatched it from her and jerked the blade free, flinging the scabbard to the ground. “Get back! Give me room!” he shouted.

People hastily backed away, making space around the combatants.

Zechs touched Treize lightly on the arm. “Don't toy with him.”

“Never.” He smiled at Zechs. “This is a question of honor.”

Zechs smiled back and moved away.

Treize faced Dalken and drew himself to attention. He presented arms, his blade held upright before his face for three heartbeats, and then fell into his stance, his left arm folded behind his back and his sword pointing at an angle toward the ground in front of him. Dalken copied the salute, but he fell into a more traditional stance, with his left arm in the air above his head and his sword pointing straight at Treize's chest. They held that pose for the space of a breath and then Dalken charged. Treize sidestepped the charge, knocking Dalken's sword aside as he spun lightly on one foot and slashed Dalken across the back as he went by. He immediately fell back into his stance, waiting for Dalken to charge again. Dalken winced as he turned to face Treize. His jacket and shirt were sliced through and blood could already be seen seeping through the tear. He did not charge straight in the second time. He feinted low and then slashed high at Treize's head. Treize ducked under the strike and slashed Dalken across the stomach as he spun away. Dalken hunched over the cut for a moment, breathing hard. His face was flushed with pain and anger. Treize resumed his pose and waited.

“You said you wouldn't toy with him,” Zechs called out.

“Sorry, force of habit.” Treize's grin was wolfish.

A look of utter fury came over Dalken's face. “Fucking aristocrats!” he screamed. He charged at Treize, his sword flashing up and in, straight at Treize's heart. Treize barely moved. He turned sideways at the last instant, when Dalken's reckless charge left him no time to correct, and brought his sword up at the same time. Dalken skewered himself on Treize's blade, while his on blade skimmed harmlessly past Treize's chest.

Dalken didn't make a sound. His mouth fell open and he stared, first at Treize, then at the steel sticking out of his chest. A trickle of blood drooled from the corner of his mouth and he slumped to the ground, dragging Treize's sword with him. Treize released the hilt and stepped back, regarding Dalken calmly.

“I think this proves my point, gentlemen.” He looked up at General Oswald. “I apologize if this disrupts your investigation.”

Dalken looked up with glazed, unbelieving eyes. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment and then he collapsed onto his side, going limp. The officers crowded forward and one knelt down to check Dalken's pulse. After touching her fingers to his throat briefly, she pulled her hand away with a shake of her head.

Treize turned to Zechs. “We have business that requires our attention, Lieutenant.” He walked away without another word.

Zechs saluted General Oswald and hurried to fall into step beside Treize.

“Treize,” he said quietly, “I know you did this to avenge General Catalonia, but everyone who witnessed this fight thinks it was about us. They think you killed him just to prove we're not lovers. If the truth ever comes out, it will destroy your credibility.”

“I know.” His expression was unreadable. “We must be especially careful now.”

Zechs fell silent. Treize might not want to say it, but Zechs was not a fool. They had to be more than careful. They had to live the truth of the lie they'd told.