Prologue

AC 195

"Come."

The door slid open with a soft shush as it rubbed across the carpet. Treize Kushranada, former leader of OZ and the Earth, raised his head from his steepled hands as a flicker of light from the door ghosted across the room. He studied the young officer who was nervously fidgeting as he approached the desk, his hands swinging a manila folder back and forth restlessly. He was young (they all were these days or so it seemed), barely past shaving and clearly quite awed to be in the "great" General's presence. Treize sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The boy's deference should have honored him or at the very least, amused him. Instead, all Treize could think of was how much he missed Une. Missed her steady, quiet devotion. It was so much preferable to this blind hero worship.

But Une was not here. She was… missing in action. Trieze could not bring himself to dwell on the possibility that she might be dead. Not Une. Still, try as he might, he was unable to get any word on her present location or condition beyond the fact that the moon base had been destroyed and at last report, she had been on it. She had to have gotten out. After all, those two Gundam pilots had escaped and Treize was certain that if they could do it, then Une, too, would have found a way.

Treize returned his attention to the present, to this anxious young officer hopping from foot to foot. He frowned at this lack of discipline. Where were the real soldiers? What he wouldn't give for Zechs or Une or God help him, even one of those Gundam pilots on his side. With any of them, he would have rode into battle confident, if not of the outcome, then of the beauty of the fight they would have engaged in. Why did it seem that all he was left with these days were mere children playing at being soldiers? There was no real passion in them. They didn't care about the battle itself, only the outcome. They felt nothing-not joy or anger or any such emotion. They were all too content to rely on mobile dolls to do their fighting for them while they cowered in a base somewhere controlling them. It was disgraceful yet it seemed to be where the future of this war was heading.

Suddenly, Treize felt unaccountably old. As if the ocean of time had swept past him and he was adrift in alien and unfamiliar territory.

"Yes, what is it?" Trieze snapped then regretted his rudeness. It was unlike him to be so shaken. Maybe he was not as immune to the times as he had thought.

"The-the file you requested, sir," the young officer stuttered.

I can see that, Treize thought, watching as the boy tapped the manila folder against his thigh in a rapid tattoo. "Very good. Place it on the desk and you're dismissed, Lieutenant."

"Sir!" The boy snapped off what he must have thought was a fairly good version of a salute. Seeing it though made Treize want to wince though he kept his face devoid of any such emotion.

Treize waited until he was alone again before flipping his desk light on and pulling the deposited folder closer. Normally, information was kept on disks but Treize, ever the traditionalist, kept written records of his most important secrets. Disks could fall too easily into other people's hands while paper could be destroyed very easily. Especially when there was only one set of the aforementioned documents in existence.

The small white label across the front read 'Omega 194'. Even now, it brought a rueful smile to his face. He had thought at the time it was quite a clever name for the incident the folder contained. He ran a gloved hand across the smooth surface of the file. Until now, this file had been in storage in his personal library since its completion. A musty staleness caused him to wrinkle his nose as he opened the file with almost loving care. The contents of this folder contained one of his greatest triumphs-the deathblow to peace between the Colonies and Earth. Oh, the movement had lingered with fools like Derlian trying to resurrect it but the seeds of complete distrust had already been sown by then.

It was all here. The pages worth of commentary he had written analyzing the incident and the principal players. Those he bypassed; he remembered quite well what he had written. Besides, he had another purpose for having the file dug out and brought to him. Sliding past the paperwork, he found a bundle of pictures clipped together. With the utmost care, he slid them out of their confines. He paused, staring at the topmost picture. To an outsider, one unfamiliar with the details of the events, the photograph would have thrown them.

It was a young girl, a teenager of no more than fourteen or fifteen at the most. Long strawberry-colored hair curled around a pale oval face, playing at the curve of her neck as it spilled from a messy ponytail. Unaware of the camera, she was kneeling down to pet a dog, her face upturned towards the owner. Her face was a liar, he decided, tracing the line of her jaw. Her face was relaxed, smiling even, but her eyes… Those dark brown eyes were weary and sad. Treize felt a flare of recognition at the expression in those eyes; lately, he had seen it reflected in his own more often than he cared to admit. Was this how she had felt at the end? Tired, defeated, yet unable to bring herself to give in? Such a waste, he thought at the picture. You fought so hard and for what? Your hopes for peace and understanding have come to naught. The Colonies stride not as equals to the Earth but cringe as lackeys, subservient to the will of Romefeller. Your sacrifices, your pain-in the end, it meant nothing. You have been forgotten-as if you meant nothing. Your name is remembered only by a handful of people while I have achieved immortality. I should feel a sense of triumph at that but all I can think is that perhaps you were right after all, he thought. Is this your victory? Is it your victory that I should remember your name, he thought. It rolled around in the confines of his mind, a mantra, a condemnation, and a plea for forgiveness all in one.

Electra Cameron.

Electra Cameron, the granddaughter of the murdered Heero Yuy. Electra, I remember you just as I remember the names of all those I have thwarted or killed. Treize gently laid the picture aside then picked up another. And I do not think I am the only one who remembers.

Electra was also in the fore of this picture, surrounded by several important dignitaries such as the now deceased Ambassador Derlain but Treize looked past all of them, focusing instead on a figure mere steps behind the girl. A small smile touched Treize's face as he recognized the sinewy form and cold cobalt stare of Heero Yuy, Gundam pilot and now an outlaw in both Colonies and on Earth. I thought I had seen you somewhere before, Heero Yuy. It just never occurred to me until today where and why that might be, he thought.

That was the beauty of being stripped of his titles and having been under house arrest for so long. It had given him more time to think, to sift through the past. He had come across more ghosts there than he cared to admit. More regrets, too. Regrets that seemed to build until he felt bent by their weight. A soldier should not feel regret, not if he is to be perfect, Treize thought. Tell me,Heero Yuy, do you feel regret? Do you regret having failed her? Is that why you fight so hard for the Colonies? I had thought it was perhaps because it was your mission or because of the Peacecraft girl but now... Treize sat back in his chair, now I am not so sure.

***End of prologue