Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Restless Peace ❯ Rookie ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: See previous part(s). Special thanks to Ami, Shawnie, and my siblings for their inputs.

Pairings: 3xMU and 13x11 mentioned

Period: January 30, 197 to March 6, 197

 

 

Restless Peace: Rookie

 

“The journey of a thousand leagues begins with a single step. So we must never neglect any work of peace within our reach, however small.” -Adlai E. Stevenson, U.S. ambassador to the United Nations in 1962

“If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.” —Susan Ohanian

 

30 January AC 197—Preventers' Training Building, Paris, former France

Nicholas Kedlin was not even a Preventer yet, but he had an assignment. He walked into the room and took his seat. There were five rows of five desks; all were facing one large desk. It reminded him of a classroom, and he supposed that was the idea. He listened carefully to as many conversations as he could. There was a group of young girls (could not be older than seventeen) who were discussing all the happenings of a recent party. A couple of young men, who were only a few years older than the girls, were placing bets on who would walk through the door next, on how close they could each throw paper in the trash bin, on what the proctor would be wearing, et cetera. Another group of men, around the same age, were huddled together whispering amongst themselves. Nicholas had recently discovered they were murmuring about a local sex party club. Most of the other people were quiet. They doodled on paper or read a book. Some even slept. Nicholas always found an excuse to get up and walk by them to get a glance of what they were writing or reading. A lot of times he did not have to be subtle as most of them enjoyed sharing what they were doing with him.

“All right everyone,” called the proctor as he walked in the room. He set his briefcase on the desk and stood behind it. “Now, you've all had a month to read up on the material. You'll take the written exam today. It's about, let's see….” He flipped through one of the test booklets. “It's about fifty questions long.” He gathered the booklets in his arms and made his way to the rows. Everyone took her or his seat and put everything under the desk. Then he started handing out the booklets. “You'll have approximately one hour to do the test. There are some multiple choice questions, a few true/false, a little matching, but mainly short answer. You're all required to stay in the room while the tests are being graded. All questions but the short answer will be graded electronically. If you get less than sixty percent of those questions right, then you may go home after that. For the rest of you, stay until the agents can finish grading your other answers.” A man in the back raised his hand, and the test administrator called on him.

“Who grades our short answers?” he questioned.

The administrator nodded his head, “There will be actual Preventer agents grading these papers. It's their day off, so they `volunteered' at Une's request to grade. Three agents will go over the answers, each giving his or her own grade. They won't be able to see whose test it is or what the other two give as a grade. At the end, a fourth agent will tally up the scores and hand in the final grade. We have many agents working on grading today, so it shouldn't take more than ninety minutes, two hours most, after you finish your exam.”

“We have to stay here two hours after we finish the exam? You mean we have to be here for, like, three hours?” questioned one of the girls.

The proctor turned to face her, “Yes, I mean that. You're not allowed to leave the room during the test. After everyone has turned in their test, I'll allow you to go get water or use the restroom in small groups. You may begin.” As the last word left his mouth, the shuffle of paper tearing sounded.

Using his pencil, Nicholas got the little stickers off quite neatly, and he was pleased with himself. The questions were not too difficult for someone with his training. He knew which gun had which fire power. He knew who the former leaders of Romefeller were and which ones were still living out their last days in freedom. He also knew where major battles had taken place in recent years as he was fighting in many of them and had friends in the others. As he got to the end of the test, he noticed a note on the last page: How's it going? -C. L. He looked up and studied the proctor more closely and realized who it was. The man felt someone staring at him and looked up then winked at Nicholas and returned to reading his book. Caught off guard, Nicholas quickly submitted his test and answer sheet then went back to his seat just as fast. As he waited for the hour to finish up, he recalled just how he got into this situation.

 

Nicholas had been in a blur that day. His former occupation had been in the military. He had started off in the Alliance and had switched to Specials just in time for OZ to take form and then later joined the Romefeller troops under Treize's command; at twenty he had always been either extremely old or extremely young no matter in which division he was placed. He had associated his luck with his family's relative friendliness to Treize Khushrenada's family. Many of his battles had pitted him against one Gundam or another; a couple times he even fought more than one! Again his luck followed him to the battlefield, but he was sure his family connections had nothing to do with a Gundam sparing his life. He would get buried under mobile suits or would barely escape in time as his suit would explode. He always managed to see the Gundam leave, believing there were no survivors. His Excellency, as he was still prone to call him, asked for many reports from Nicholas. He always praised him for his careful observations on how everyone around him reacted. Nicholas was not sure whether his reports ever made a difference or not, but he was still happy to contribute even a little. At the end of the war, he had found Milliardo Peacecraft, though at the time he only knew him as Zechs Marquise. He got the former lieutenant on his feet again, and that was the last time he saw him. Many of his friends had joined Mariemaia, but he had refused. Zechs had given him enough to ponder so that he did not want to jump into any battle soon.

Given his background, he had not been able to understand why the Preventers refused to grant him immediate agent status and insisted he go through the training course. He had met Lady Une on one or two occasions. They were not on sociable terms, but they had never had any animosity between them. His Excellency had even hinted that he was going to attempt to match Lady and he as a couple, that was before Treize took his own interest in Lady Une. He doubted she ever knew about the plan, so he knew she could not hold a grudge or anything about that.

During that day, he had contemplated what Une's reasoning could be when she had finally called him into her office.

“Nicholas Kedlin, hm,” she had glanced at the file in front of her, “It says here you were under His Excellency's service?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he had answered standing at attention. She had looked up at him and studied him for awhile.

“Ah, yes, I remember you. His Excellency always had praise to say of you,” she had said, “He even said you seemed to have as good of luck as the Gundam pilots did.” She had smiled and gestured for him to take the seat. Once he had sat down, he had noticed the other man standing in the room. His teal eyes were a bit slanted, and Nicholas had wondered if he might have some Asian blood in him. His short umber hair had been slicked back.

“I do not mean to complain, ma'am,” he had chosen his words carefully. He had heard her temper had calmed in the past year, but he had not wanted to raise it now. “I'm happy to be chosen to take the course, but I guess I thought I would start as an agent, not a trainee.” She had smiled and had asked Mr. Logan to explain.

“I'm sure you've heard about the attacks on Lady Une?” the man, a couple of years older than Nicholas, had asked. Nicholas had. “We don't have any leads. We know someone had to have an inside informant to know how to get the note where it would survive and how to get the package into Une's office. Lady Une and her allies hand chose the Preventers up until recently. Now there are too many new recruits for us to weed out and make sure none of them are more plants. We need someone to infiltrate the new recruits. They won't have seen you before because you've not been an agent. Lady and I believe you'll be able to get through the tests with a breeze, but we need you to focus on your classmates. They've already started a session for the first test, the writing test, but Lady has come up with a way to get you into the program without causing too much of a stir.”

At this point, Lady Une had taken over with a nod, “You cannot stick out among the beginners. As long as you mess up just as much as they do, they won't suspect a thing. We'll provide you with all that you need to know, and we'll keep agents in contact with you on a regular basis.” Then she had added with a smile, “I'm sure you'll do well. I always read your reports to His Excellency, and I knew you were just the man for the job when you applied.”

 

Thus, he was sitting bored out of his mind. Eventually the hour ended, and the proctor took up all the tests. He managed to pretend to have problems carrying all the materials and enlisted Nicholas' help in the matter. As they walked down the hall, he became anxious.

“Well? What do you want to know?” he asked with a hushed voice.

“So how do you think you did on the test?” Carson Logan asked with his voice slightly raised. Though, at first confused, Nicholas realized a code when he heard one.

“Oh, I did well,” he answered, “but I'm not quite sure about Cindy Lettis.”

“Oh? What about Miss Lettis?”

“She only cares about her boyfriend who insisted she take this job as it would be good for her. I think she's under emotional stress as her boyfriend's name is Drew Martin, and I'm afraid he's going to get her involved in his illegal activities,” he answered.

“What kind of illegal activities is he in?”

“Weapons manufacturing,” Nicholas watched Logan for any signs that he knew the name. So far Cindy had given out all the information he had said, so there was no real danger if anyone overheard. The agent seemed surprised about the information, though he barely showed it, and so Nicholas continued with a quieter tone, “He sells illegal guns and other weapons to anyone with the right price. He was small during the war, but he's expanded into larger weapons starting with bombs, and he hopes to work up to start production on mobile suits once more, though I don't know why.” Logan dropped off the supplies to the agents and headed back with Nicholas.

“Nicholas, is it? I'm thirsty, but I need to be back in the room. Why don't you buy me a soda from the machine?” He pulled out a bill then another one. “In fact, get yourself one why you're at it.” As the agent went to the room, Nicholas peered at the bills and saw a note with a time and place where he could give more information. He bought the sodas, quite sure Logan really wanted one, and came back to the room in time to hear Logan announce, “For those of you who make it past the writing test, you'll meet back in here in a few days. The days and time will be sent to you in the mail. The next exam will be the physical exams where you'll test your hand-to-hand combating skills as well as protection. If you pass that, you will proceed to the weapons exam”—a few young men hollered in excitement—“where you'll learn to shoot a `bad guy' and not an innocent bystander. Those who pass this exam will take the last test, the camouflage one. No, this does not test your ability to blend in with the forest. You'll go from room to room where you will have to integrate with your surroundings and extract key information before passing to the next room undetected. You'll have five rooms to go to, and you can return to any one when you wish. Your test will be to inform an agent, also hidden in one of the rooms, of the information. Anyone who can do that will become a full fledged Preventer.” Nearly every had gone up in the air. “Yes, you'll be trained before each test like you were for this one. Some of you who fail one test may get called back later for an opening in a position suited to you.” It seemed to Nicholas that he would be spending a long time doing agent's work before he actually became one.

 

08 February AC 197—Preventers' Training Building, Paris, former France

“I hope everyone is grateful to have him here. Mr. Chang is a busy man, and he has voluntarily come to demonstrate the physical aspect of your final exam,” explained the “instructor;” she was more of a guide, but she insisted on being called instructor. Lesley Selman, the guide, turned and saw another man then added, “It appears Mr. Barton is going to assist Mr. Chang today.” Nicholas peered and saw a short Asian boy; his black hair was pulled tightly back, and his dark eyes scrutinized the group. He muttered a comment to his partner who nodded. The partner, Mr. Barton, seemed just as critical as the other. He stood at least a head taller than Chang. His brown hair was short except for a large tuff jutting out where bans would be; it sparked Nicholas' curiosity: how did he get it like that? Both men were clothed in the Preventer standard for such an event: black, loose jogging pants and a mustard yellow t-shirt with black sneakers.

At the bidding of the “instructor,” Chang and Barton demonstrated different attack and defense moves, each taking turns being the attacker and defender. The “class” became quite impressed with their efficiency and silence throughout the demonstration, but Nicholas expected no less. The Logan man had informed him of the Gundam pilots and had shown him their pictures. After getting over the shock of his old enemies being children, he had respected them for their courage and determination. If he remembered correctly, Chang's codename was Dragon and Barton's was Mask. Apparently they had a weird sense of humor.

The group was put into five groups of two and three groups of three. They each took turns practicing the moves demonstrated. As agreed, Nicholas bumbled along, intentionally making mistakes, and paid close attention to the conversations around him. Chang and Barton informed the instructor they would stay and help her. Nicholas had a feeling they were eavesdropping as well. They corrected a few stances but kept scanning the room. Nicholas kept his gaze on them, thinking they would give him a signal.

“They seem to be coming along well,” Chang said so that everyone could hear. Many people smiled proudly at themselves and did their best in the following moves. However, Nicholas fell more. He tripped over others' feet as the Preventer agents inspected the room once more. Some cried out and told him to stop watching the Preventers and to focus on the task at hand. Barton and Chang glanced at each other and took him aside, away from the groups, which had morphed into nine groups of two; they acted as if they were going to reprimand him.

“So you're Rookie?” asked Chang.

“What?” Nicholas did not understand. The boys looked at each other, wondering if they had grabbed an actual clumsy person instead of their mole.

“Do you know who we are?” inquired Barton.

“Chang and Barton”

“Anything else?” one asked; Nicholas was not sure which one, he was intimidated by their scowls. A part of his brain told him this was quite amusing. Despite all his training and years of service, these two boys scared him this much. But then another part of his brain reminded him they were Gundam pilots, no matter what their age. Best to tell the truth.

“I know you were both Gundam pilots,” he struggled to maintain his soft voice so that no one could overhear, “and I know your codenames are Dragon and Mask, but that's all I know, I swear. Logan wouldn't tell me more!” The boys nodded.

“Did he tell you your codename?” asked Chang. Nicholas shook his head. “It's Rookie.”

“Rookie?” he questioned, “That's my codename? Who came up with a name like that?” He had gained most of his composure back.

Barton smiled, “I did. Lady Une and Mariemaia seem to have the same sense of humor as I do.”

“Right,” said Nicholas then turned back to the subject at hand, “Do you have anything for me? Or do you want information?”

“Both,” answered Chang, “first is a gift and information.” He got in a stance and acted out a punch, slipping a computer disk into one of Nicholas' pockets stealthily. Nicholas barely knew it, so he was sure the rest of the class, who watched them closely, did not see the action. Chang stood upright once more. “Tonight put all the information you've gathered so far onto that disk. Tomorrow, slip it into that same pocket, and then one of us will come and get it off you.”

“You'll pick my pocket, huh?” he asked, and he was starting to find the situation a little humorous, though he had no idea why.

“Something like that,” Chang responded. Barton kept silent, watching the class. “As for another thing, Une said I should inform you that you will pass each time, even if you fail the exam. However, she warns that she expects you to pass.”

 

15 February AC 197—Room 31C-8, Preventers' Trainees' Living Quarters, Paris, former France

Relaxing at home—even a temporary one—felt wonderful to Nicholas. He smiled as he lounged in his chair as he watched one of his favorite comedy movies on the television. He let his mind escape into the conversation and actions of the movie. As the movie kept playing, his mind started returning to his different classmates. Cindy, who was still in the class miraculously, was getting anxious about the next phase: weapons. Was she nervous because she had no idea what she was doing? Or, was she nervous because of her knowledge about her boyfriend?

Chris Honen was very aloof. His work was never exceptional in either direction. He stayed in the middle of averages, and sometimes it seemed he tried very hard to get that middle. The scores of the exams were kept confidential. Each student had a number she or he only knew, and grades were posted with the numbers next to the grades. A Preventer named Sophie Alan deciphered the numbers into actual names and also brought him the exams, on paper or taped, so that he could review them. Chris' written test had many correct answers scratched out as if he answered the questions he could and then went back and entered wrong ones to lower his score. During the practices for the physical exam, he would start to overpower an opponent and then seemingly surrender and allow his rival to tackle him. Why was he trying to stay in the middle, to be nobody special?

The woman Agnes Velum also prompted some questions. She appeared at least sixty, possibly seventy, but she could not be dismissed just for her age since there was no age restriction as of yet. She had passed the written exam with ease, but there had been skepticism about how she would fair during the physical exam. A few Preventers offered her a desk job, or at least one mildly active, but she refused and said she wished to try out to be a fulltime field agent. Despite her frail appearance, she passed the physical test, albeit just barely. As Nicholas was delivering a report one day, he had to duck out of the way quickly. Agnes had been there, practicing in the firing range. From what he could see in the glance, she had a pretty good shot, and he was sure she was able to extract information. The real question was: why did she want to be an agent? She gave no answers to it.

Then there was Ryce Toole. He was doing exceptionally well in everything. He was the only other person in the class besides Nicholas himself to get a perfect score on the written and physical exams. He glanced at his computer screen. No, the search was still going. He was investigating Toole for any background he might have had. He was sure that the Preventers had already done a thorough one on him, but they did not share their information with their moles. He was also sure that Une did not have two moles in the same class. Therefore, he was not certain as to why the Preventers would force a man who obviously had the qualifications of an agent to return to basic training. He was hoping to unearth some new information about Toole.

The computer chimed an end to its search, and Nicholas stood. He turned off the movie; he already knew what would happen. He sat in the chair and adjusted everything for his sitting there for awhile. The computer screen displayed all the sources the Preventers had at the top. He had the machine delete the original sources and any other duplicates. The number of sources dropped dramatically from a humongous number to a more manageable one. He smiled; throughout all the governments, bureaucracy was the main ruler, and each source appeared in triplicate. Each time a new government formed and took ownership of the source, they had each copy copied again three times, and so the number of times one government document appeared in a search could number one hundred easily. A rumor had reached him that Earth Sphere had started a temporary committee to gather all the copies, to assemble all the notes made throughout the years, to put them all on the original, then to destroy all the copies and to copy the original with the compiled notes—most likely in triplicate, thought Nicholas amusedly.

“Hey, loser, what are you doing?” asked Sophie as she entered the room. She dumped the pizza box down on the table and waltzed to him and glanced at the computer screen. “Ryce Toole? Une would not like hearing about this.”

“Lady Une will just not have to know then,” he answered clicking and reading, “She won't, or can't, give me the information, and so I'll just have to get what I can on my own. I won't let her know.” She was not sure this was the best path, but she let him choose his own. She sat on the couch and started the pizza, turning the television back on.

“This movie sucks,” she stated, watching the end of his movie.

“It's very funny,” he insisted, “You're not supposed to think too much.”

“It's stupid comedy. I like to think a little in movies, not have my brain turn to mush,” she said.

“You just don't know what it's about,” he shook his head, reading. “It could very well be the greatest movie of our time,” he informed with a serious act, though it was obvious he was not.

Sophie laughed, “Yeah right.” She sat up when he actually became serious. “What is it? Did you find something?”

“It's something from my personal files, so it's no wonder Lady doesn't have it,” he muttered, “It's an old file on Toole.”

“What is it?” she inquired, “What does it say?”

“Ryce Toole is a former Mariemaia soldier,” he read, “and his occupation before that…!”

 

18 February AC 197—Preventers' Training Building, Paris, former France

Shots, primarily wild ones, whizzed through the air. Nicholas shook his head and refused to watch, feeling shame for each student. He watched the remaining fifteen students attempt to hit the targets in front of them and did not want to think that these people were the future protectors of the new peaceful times, so did the firing instructor apparently. He said he could not watch this anymore and left, letting another instructor take his place. At first three took the place of the one. A blonde lady with twisted hair asked Nicholas to accompany her to another room. When they discovered they were one shooting range short, he had volunteered not to practice with his class as he was not sure he could fake the gunshots. The woman seemed familiar, so he agreed. The young man went with them, leaving behind the other lady. Nicholas recognized the young man as Duo Maxwell, another former Gundam pilot turned Preventer. However, he had not been able to see the full length of his hair in the picture, so the long braid surprised Nicholas.

“Preventer Rookie, is it?” Maxwell questioned. Nicholas nodded. “Know who I am?” He grinned.

“Duo Maxwell, former Gundam pilot,” he responded, “Codename: Inferno.”

“Good, I'm impressed,” he said, “Trowa and Wufei told me about their encounter with you, and Carson told me all he knows. You're like a sponge for information and your surroundings. I told Une that's what your new codename should be: Sponge, since you can't be a rookie forever. Know who this gal is?” He pointed his thumb back at the girl with twisted hair.

Nicholas studied her for awhile. “Sally Po? Former Alliance Major and Chinese rebel,” he guessed, “Codename: Water.” The woman grinned.

“Good guess,” Maxwell said, “but not quite. I know she looks like Sally, but this is Sally's little…stalker.”

“I'm not a stalker!” protested the girl.

“Whatever, you know you are. She's in love with Sally, not in the romantic way. She wants to be just like Sally, though I don't know why she just doesn't pick me,” he winked, still smiling, “This is Joelle Pearson, a former little girl who idolized her next door neighbor's kid, which happened to be Sally. Her codename's Frying Pan.”

“Frying Pan?” inquired Nicholas, somewhat confused about the alias.

“Yeah, you know like `out of the frying pan into the fire,'” the former pilot clarified, “She tends to make things worse.”

“Oh, I do not,” she teased and stuck out her tongue. Maxwell stuck his out back.

“You know you love me,” he hugged her tightly and pinched her cheeks. She responded by doing the same to him.

Nicholas cleared his throat.

“Oh yeah, we've checked out that information Trowa lifted off you and that guy Drew Martin,” Maxwell congratulated, “Good work, but we were too late. He's hooked up with someone bigger, a lot bigger, and they've cleaned up their tracks. It's going to take more.”

“Is that why Cindy is still in the class?” he inquired. The girl was a complete airhead, but she kept advancing.

“Yeah, well, she's a blabbermouth, so we figured we'd keep her near where she can tell us all the things without our having to leave the building. You know, keeping our friends close and our enemies closer, at least our enemies' girlfriends,” Maxwell smirked. He handed Nicholas a gun and protective gear. “Let's see how good you really are.” Nicholas took the gun after putting on the heavy earphones. He aimed at the target about five meters away. Taking five shots, he hit the head twice, the heart once, and two extremity shots.

The agent whistled, “Hey, you're almost as good as me.”

“He is as good as you, Duo,” Joelle argued.

“Ha, ha,” he tickled her side and told her to get out of there. She giggled and laughed as she walked out the room.

“Oh, and you'll get a surprise during your camouflage final,” Maxwell smirked as he head toward the door himself. A surprise was not what Nicholas needed right then.

 

01 March AC 197—Preventers' Training Building, Paris, former France

Nicholas watched anxiously as one-by-one each student was led to their own private exam rooms. Cindy Lettis was still with them, so he figured they had yet to get her boyfriend on anything. However, he was not currently worried about Cindy and her boyfriend or anyone else for that matter. Everyone was nervous about this test; it was pass or fail, and there was no going back. After this, you were either a Preventer or you were not one. Therefore, they all quietly waited, thinking about what they would do to get their information and slip in and out of the rooms. Nicholas worried about his surprise. He had never particularly well at blending in with different crowds of people, and this whole charade of being a trainee had stretched his limits of the skill.

“Kedlin, Nicholas,” called the woman, the real Sally Po. He stood and walked over to her where she directed him to his room. Preparing for the worst, he approached the door and braced himself. As he opened the door, he was not sure what he expected, but it was not what greeted him. There was no one in the barren room except for one. He shut the door behind him and gazed around the room. There were four off-white walls, a table, and two chairs. Sitting in the chair farthest from him was a man reading a newspaper. When he heard the door shut, he set the newspaper down and smiled.

“Hello, Nicholas,” the agent greeted and stood to shake his hand.

“Uh, hi,” he responded and returned the shake.

The man gestured to the other chair, “Please, sit.” He did as he was told. “This is one exam you don't have to take. Lady Une figured this whole ordeal was enough of an exam. You haven't been found out, so you pass! Congratulations!” The young man grinned.

“Thanks,” he said, still bewildered.

“That means you are now officially a Preventers' Agent. Oh, before I go into anything else, Duo says hi,” the blond man was still smiling, though not as much as before. Nicholas supposed the teenager was an agent, too, but he was not attired as one. He wore dark slacks and a white button-down shirt with the cuffs open and rolled up somewhat.

“You know Agent Inferno?”

“We're best friends,” the man replied, “I'm—” It struck Nicholas before he could complete the sentence.

“—Quatre Raberba Winner,” he finished, eyes wide, “Why didn't I recognize it before? I didn't know you were a Preventer? Wait, how do you know a Gundam pilot?”

“Well, I was one,” he replied almost sheepishly, “and I'm not allowed to be fulltime Preventer, too much liability for the government and agency. But I am allowed to help out on missions every now and then.” He seemed like he was cheering himself up. “Lady Une usually keeps me off the Gundam list, though I am on the really important ones, like `Who to Watch' and `Suspected Terrorists.' However, I don't think anyone who reads those really thinks I'm that much of a risk.”

“His Excellency spoke of you,” Nicholas informed. “Well, he spoke of all the Gundam pilots, mainly Heero Yuy and Chang Wufei, but he spoke of you in a way where you'd never know you were a Gundam pilot. Of course, he talked about the young heirs a lot, which includes Queen Relena. I'm sorry I'm rambling. His Excellency Treize seemed to think you were more of a risk, I guess, than most people gave you credit for.”

Winner flustered, “Yes, well, back to the reason for this. Heero and Duo are off on a colony taking care of a mob boss or something, so I was asked to come to talk to you. You're getting a partner, today in fact. She has...an interesting background. Lady Une wanted to me to introduce you two.” He stood and opened another door Nicholas had not realized. A girl walked in the room; she had to be around Winner's age. Her short black hair was in a ponytail, and her brown eyes roamed over his body as if analyzing everything about him, from his breathing to his gaze and his stance. She had already dressed in the Preventer attire.

“Nicholas Kedlin, I would like to introduce you to Jet Yuy,” he established, “Jet, Nicholas.”

“Any relation to Heero Yuy?” he inquired and kept his gaze on the girl.

“We haven't been able to ascertain any relation, and as far as we know, she's not related to him at all, but she refuses to say how she got the name,” Winner explained, “All she does say is that she got last name from Heero. Heero says he's never seen her before. So, good luck you two.” He grinned and left Nicholas with the angry-looking woman.

 

04 March AC 197—Preventers' Headquarters, Paris, former France

“So, our first assignment is what?” asked Jet. With the Preventers rapidly growing, they had to share a desk and a little office. They were lucky to have them, though. Some of the newer recruits did not even have a desk much less an office.

He looked at the paper. “It seems that we're supposed to inspect the local government in the former Iasi* Kingdom. We have a contact there, who's run out of ways to contact us safely, so we have to go in undercover to get her information. Think you can handle that?”

“I know I can. Can you?” she countered. She sat up in her chair. Nicholas knew she was an espionage expert. She had worked on her own agenda during the war, never serving one particular group or government. From what he could gather, she learned most of her skills from a woman named Midii Une, who also happened to be a girl friend of a Preventer, a former Gundam pilot in fact. Midii Une was from Earth, and Jet Yuy was from the colonies, so how they met, he did not know, and Jet was not inclined to explain. She still had not explained about her surname, and Nicholas had given up asking.

“My training is sufficient,” he answered. She shook her head, and her now blonde hair went wild. She grabbed the folders and stood. He inquired to where she was going.

“To IaÅŸi,” she informed him, “When did you plan on going?”

“After I packed,” he answered.

“You're not packed yet? You aren't ready?”

“Believe it or not, no I don't stay packed at all times,” he answered, “Give me a few minutes.”

“Une packed your things and put them on the plane,” she informed, “Come on.”

“What? Lady packed my things?” he asked, “When? Why?”

“I don't know; maybe she did it because you're too damn lazy to do it,” she speculated.

“I am not lazy. We only got the assignment today!” he protested. However, Jet would hear nothing of it and exited the room. He followed behind her, and she only accelerated.

“Ye need to be wary while in Iasi,” muttered an older gentleman. He wore a black pin-striped suit, a red tie, and glasses that slightly magnified his eyes. His gray hair only grew on the sides of his head and left the top bare.

“What?” he questioned, stopping.

“Thou strayest into dangerous territory,” the gentleman attempted to clarify, “Thou shouldst watch out for thyself and thy young female companion.” Before he could inquire more, Jet returned and grabbed his wrist, dragging him away.

 

06 March AC 197—Second floor pantry, Vysehrad Palaces, Burlok, former Iasi Kingdom

Iasi was very beautiful, though cold. The foothills of the nearby mountain chain created scenery of green rolling hills as if from a movie. The cold whipping wind whisked through the grass on the hills, producing the illusion of waves on the knolls. The people were bundled from head to toe to save their skin from the violent wind, but once inside, they dressed as casually, albeit a bit more modestly, as the rest of the world. Though the towns gave the illusion of a backwater, simple country, it was very sophisticated and hard to infiltrate. Many operatives were routinely found and killed. However, Lenore Valerii, Preventer Lyod, discovered a way to stay hidden. In a male dominated government, the female had uncovered a way to extract information and to stay hidden. Nicholas did not ask, but he felt certain she used her “feminine wiles.”

“We cannot stay long here,” Agent Lyod explained, “The king's advisor will notice and get apprehensive. He still does not trust me, though I suppose he has a good reason. There's a restaurant down in the town. From now on, we meet and dine in the Mountainside Flower Dew. I eat there all the time, and there are not many restaurants in the town. You will have a problem speaking the native language, so no one will think too much of us dining with each other.” She stood pressed against the wall to give them each enough room in the small pantry of the Vysehrad Palaces, named after the castle in The Moldau by Bedrich Smetana.

“So what do you have for us now?” asked Jet with a hushed voice. She was rather disgruntled with her required attire. She was not used to wearing long pants and skirts, long sleeved shirts, as well as pinning her hair up. The pantry was dank and was doing horrors to her hair, though she did not complain or even seem to notice.

“The king and his government held an election as is required, but the results were announced before they even tallied one vote,” she reported, “He has now been elected as king for life. He can appoint a successor, not a surprise as it's his son, and then the people vote on if they approve. When it comes time to hold that election, well, I am certain we could call the results right now if you get my drift. The main business and source of revenue for Iasi is supplying the wrong people with the wrong things. Now, I don't have any hard proof yet, but I have heard names dropped: Vincent Monticule, Gadi Dabir, Harley Damon, Irena Ragnar, and even your Drew Martin, Agent Rookie.” The last name sprung alarms in his head, but he still had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his codename. “Now something fishy is going on, or else they all use IaÅŸi as a shipping company because they always have `packages' and `supplies' for them, and I doubt they're using the country just for shipping.” A knock on the door interrupted the agents before they could say more. “Who is there?” questioned Lenore in the native tongue. A garbled reply which Nicholas could not comprehend answered. Valerii opened the door with a curtsy. “My lord,” she explained in English, “the guests got lost, and I found them. I was just trying to help their way.”

“Yes, I'm sure,” sneered the man, one of importance by his apparel, “Miss Lenore, go take care of Mr. Martin's shipment. I will attend to the guests.” Without hesitation, Valerii curtsied with a nod of obedience and hurried out. The man turned to the agents. “Where exactly were you headed?” He attempted to smile sweetly.

“I believe we found our way,” Jet replied acidly and promptly continued on her way with Nicholas on her heels.

“Must you do this every time we walk anywhere?” he asked. As they got to the door, palace guards blocked their exit.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Jet with the air of regality.

“Now, I want to know the real reason for your visit,” the man asked with a sinister look, “Tell me why Lady Une would send two Preventer agents.”

 

* pronounced yash or ya′shee