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

Ryua Malfoy: Of course it was longer!  And I maintain that there is nothing wrong with being something of a pervert…

Chapter 13: Discovery

Treize had summoned all of the senior officers in the Alliance to a meeting at Luxembourg.  That a mere commander could exert that kind of influence showed how much power Romafeller had in the Alliance.  All officers from the European Command had been summoned as well.  Zechs thought that the latter group would have to be uncommonly dense if they didn't realize they were in trouble.  There had obviously been a dramatic failure in Intelligence for the disaster at Pancevo to have occurred.  As Treize's assistant, Zechs accompanied him to the meeting and stood at attention a meter behind his chair, ready to take his orders.  He recognized Dalken Curzon when he entered the conference room because his eyes suddenly blazed with hate when they fell on Zechs.  For the first time, Zechs wondered if Treize was right, if hate alone would be enough to make Curzon turn against the Alliance.

There were not seats enough at the massive conference table for everyone, so the junior officers were left to stand around the perimeter of the room.  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 completely hidden.

"I called this meeting to discuss how we can avoid another shambles like Pancevo," Treize began without preamble.  "Information and intelligence were not getting into the hands of the people who needed it.  I would like to hear concrete suggestions on how to correct this failure."

General Oswald of European Command immediately bridled.  "Commander Kushranada, are you implying 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, Commander.  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."

"You don't find that even a little bit suspicious, General?"

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

Treize looked at him without expression.  "I was at Pancevo, Colonel 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 Commander 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, Colonel Curzon.  Your best cost us the life of General Catalonia."

Exclamations burst out around the table and 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, Colonel 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 for the past six months?"

General Oswald stood up, frowning.  "That is a serious accusation, Colonel.  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, Commander."

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.

"Commander 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."

- - - - - - -

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 three and a half 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."

- - - - - - -

There was a hint of winter in the chilly fall morning.  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.

"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 ice-rimed 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 glanced 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 needs our attention, Lieutenant."  He walked away without another word.

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

"Treize," he said, "now that you've killed someone to prove that we aren't lovers, if anyone finds out the truth, 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.