Garma sat at the desk in his bedroom in the royal residence, staring down at the open blue notebook in front of him. Degin Zabi encouraged all his offspring to keep journals, deeply aware as he was that they had made Spacenoid history by being the first monarchy in space. Garma knew that Giren kept a lengthy online journal, although Garma had never read any of it, and in his opinion if Giren thought it was important enough to do, it probably was.

The entries between the morning he left for the Academy and his return home were largely reconstructed from the letters he'd sent his father, with his own later thoughts interspersed. He hadn't brought his journal to the Academy and he didn't plan to this semester either. Whether he would or not for the winter semester would depend on how safe he felt in his privacy.

So this afternoon found him at his desk, wearing his grey uniform with the jacket removed and hanging over a chair. He tapped his pen against the paper, thinking about his last entry before leaving once again.

Finally, bearing firmly in mind that this was for posterity, he picked up the pen and started writing.

August 31, 0077

It's been a great vacation, especially after the horror of summer semester. It's been great being with Dad, the family, and especially my music. I thought to check this time, and no, I still can't have my guitar with me in the dorms. Beginning with second year I can so I have to resign myself to another three and a half months without playing music daily.

He paused, looking crushed. He had spent the evening before with music as if it were his spouse, playing his guitar and piano for hours. Degin rarely came to his rooms, but he'd asked to come over and had sat on the couch in Garma's small living room, listening to him play.

For all I've enjoyed being back with the things and the people I love, I'm also looking forward to being with my platoon-mates. I'm pretty sure that I'll have Char again as a battle buddy. Dozel said that he lived with his until senior year when they finally got their own rooms. Being home with the beloved and familiar has made me miss him daily. He was curious about my music; I wished I could see him at one of my band's shows. We talked about what it meant to be a Spacenoid and the philosophy of Zeon Deykun; I wished he could meet Giren who actually knew the man. We've been sending each other e-mail, but it hasn't been all that frequent because I gather he's as busy as I am.

It's going to suck being back in the DFAC this evening for dinner, but I'm still glad to be doing it. Not only to see Char but because this is the first academic semester and I've been looking forward to that. More to follow.

He closed the book, locked it in the top drawer of his desk and picked up his jacket.

In contrast, Char Aznable had no ambiguity about returning as he rode the Academy bus from the shuttle terminal at Zum City. He was impatient to return out of sheer boredom. Entrenched in his alter ego as he was, Char Aznable had no real relatives or friends on Side 3, so he'd been staying with the same family of Contolist sympathizers that relayed his letters back to France. He'd spent the break making sure not to attract any attention to himself and avoiding any areas or events he knew Garma Zabi frequented or might frequent. The family lived in a simple middle-class part of the city, and he restricted himself to that location, reading, going to the cinema at a nearby mall and working out at the gym there. The family revered him perhaps too much as the son of Zeon Deykun and remained deferentially polite, never daring to have a conversation with his august self.

Char would normally begin to say that that suited him just fine, except that this time, it didn't. He wanted to talk to someone and share experiences, no matter how banal.

He surprised himself by looking forward to seeing Garma Zabi.

While Char took the bus by himself, Garma once again rode in one of the family limos, accompanied this time by his father alone.

"Is going back going to be as difficult a time as you had when you first arrived?" Degin Zabi asked. He was trying to sound conversational, but Garma could hear the tension and dread in his voice.

"I asked Dozel. He said yes. Don't worry, Dad, I'm tough and it's all a mindgame. I'm not looking forward to this evening, but it's nothing to stress yourself over."

The old man's brow furrowed. "Forgive me for experiencing distress at the idea of my beloved youngest child subjecting himself to torture."

Garma looked out the window for a moment. "It's all right, Dad, really. I survived my hellish first week once, and this'll probably just be a hellish night. After that it'll get boring. I'm looking forward to school, though, so it'll be all right. Hey, Dozel made it."

"Dozel was already 6'6 and 300 lbs. I never had fears for Dozel."

The limo turned down the exit for ZeFA and Garma felt the same apprehension he'd felt the first time he saw that road sign. No, tonight wouldn't be pretty, but it would end and school would start, and he'd see Char.

This time they weren't met by any ZeFA brass. Garma and Degin were just another student and his parent saying their goodbyes by the entrance to his barracks. There was a desk set up with some cadre who were inprocessing returning students. Garma gave his father one last kiss on the cheek, grabbed his bags and got in line. He scanned the crowd for a glimpse of straw-blond hair and his good mood returned when he saw it. Garma hauled his bags to the back of the line to wait with his friend.

"Hey battle, glad to be back?" he asked Char.

"Actually, yes," Char said, smiling a bit. "I don't have a lot of money, being an orphan and all, so I didn't have a whole lot to do over break."

"You should've called me. I'd have picked you up and we could have hung out at my place. Money's not an issue for me."

There were moments when it was easy for Char to remind himself that Garma was the enemy. "How nice to know," he said sourly.

"Ah, don't be that way," Garma said as they all lifted their bags to move them forward as the line advanced. "I like sharing. Ask anybody."

"Maybe later," Char said.

Within a few minutes, they were inprocessed and ordered up to their room, which was the same one they'd occupied during the summer, As they went in past the CQ desk and up the stairs, they immediately noticed that the building was far more occupied. Their room was on the top floor and while the other two floors had been vacant and locked off during the summer, now the doors entering them had lights on behind them and senior cadets going in and out, calling out to each other with familiarity. As they went through the doors for the fourth floor, Garma noticed a few of them lurking at the floor guard's desk. They were talking softly and chuckling in a way he didn't like.

"Okay, so fill me in, what does Dozel say happens next?" Char said as he opened his empty wall locker and started filling it from his suitcase.

"You know me too well. I'm betting those guys at the desk are the cadet cadre. They're seniors who are going to be our zookeepers for the fall semester or so. Hope you've been stretching."

Within an hour, they heard the sound of several someones going down the hall, striking doors and calling out, "Ten minutes, in the courtyard, battle dress! 9 minutes, 50 seconds, in the courtyard, battle dress! 9 minutes, 40 seconds, in the courtyard...."

Char and Garma started pulling off their greys the second they heard the order spoken the first time. Garma had been ready with a battle dress uniform on top of the other contents of one of his suitcases, but they had to dump out Char's duffle in order to get to one of his, causing them to lose precious seconds. Once they were changed they joined the stampede for the stairs, and on the second flight down, Garma's boot heel slipped on the edge of the step. Immediately and with almost superhuman speed, Char's arm was around his chest, keeping him from slamming backwards onto the stairs in the way of the crowd. Char said nothing, and all Garma found himself thinking was that he was grateful and that Char's eyes were remarkably blue.

"Get in formation! Stand behind someone! It's not that hard, you pogues!" were the words greeting them as they tumbled into the courtyard. Char and Garma found themselves in the first rank, which hadn't filled up yet. They got their distance and waited at attention for their classmates to take places behind them. Char surreptitiously observed the three cadet cadre. There was an Asian female whose name tape identified her as Park, a male who was also Asian and whose name was Lun and lastly a tall European man whose short dishwater-blond hair was going grey.

Char didn't need to see the name tape of this last senior. Behind him he heard an awed whisper of, "That's Gato. Oh my God, Gato's one of our cadre!" Char wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

As soon as the occupants of the fourth floor were down and still fumbling into formation, Cadet Lun picked up a bullhorn. "At ease! Stop moving, stop talking! You can breathe, and you can blink, but I better not find you doing anything more than that!"

"What part of 'at ease' did you not understand?" shouted Park a few moments later.

"We are your student cadre," Lun continued through his bullhorn, which Char and Garma later agreed he liked a bit too much. "You will respect us and obey us as you did your cadre during the summer."

"I believe," Gato spoke for the first time, "that they think you have no smoke, battle."

"No smoke?" Lun exclaimed into the bullhorn again. Gato winced and touched his ear, so he lowered it. "I guess we better show them otherwise." The bullhorn went up again, though pointing away from any of the cadre. "Attention! Half right, face! Front leaning rest position, MOVE!"

"Yeah, baby!" someone behind Char exclaimed. Char didn't like to make unnecessary noise and Garma, he knew, dreaded these sessions far too much to make a sound.

"The pushup! In cadence, exercise! 1-2-3, One! 1-2-3, Two..."

The cadet cadre kept up the smoking for half an hour, alternating exercises between them. Lun was a traditionalist, liking pushups and flutter kicks. Park preferred immobility in difficult positions, such as sitting without anything to lean against. Gato was a lower-body workout man, long legged as he was. Finally the sweating and pained first-year cadets were allowed to recover.

The class was divided up into three platoons with Char and Garma in Park's. Char was relieved not to be in Lun's, because that bullhorn was going to be intolerable by the end of the week, if not the evening. He was, however, very curious about why Cadet Gato was such a celebrity.

They were allowed to go to dinner, after which they had a briefing in the day room from Cadet Park.

"I'll be your platoon leader for the semester," she told them. "After that, we'll determine which of you will move into student leadership for winter term, because Cadets Lun and Gato and I will be getting ready to take our last exams and graduate, so we're not going to have time to waste on you. Tomorrow you'll be given your list of classes and I'll march you to the bookstore where you will obtain books and supplies only. Sunday’s your time. Classes start Monday, so if you want that quiet Sunday you won't piss me off."

Finally, they were allowed an hour and a half to finish unpacking, set up their beds and shower. "So who's this Gato guy?" Char finally asked as he lay tightly-rolled underwear in one of his drawers.

Garma's eyes were wide. "You joined the Mobile Suit Corps and you don't know who Anavel Gato is?"

"If I did, I wouldn't be asking, would I?"

"He was in the first class of cadets to be Mobile Suit Corps, and he's very, very good at it. Possibly best we've got. Cadet or no, he was a team leader in the liberation of Side 6 this past April, so he's already got a combat patch and a Liberation Force ribbon. My sister was the brains behind the whole mobile suit movement in weaponry so she talks about him quite a lot. Plus I think she might have the steaming panties for him."

"Your sister must have a fetish. That guy's as much a robot as the Zaku he pilots."

"Picked up on that already, did you? Yeah, I’ve seen him on TV and he's pretty dogmatic. I'm not sure if I'd want him as a platoon leader."

The next day was exactly as Park had described. They spent the morning in silent lines as they collected their books, which they did not have to pay for, and their supplies, for which they did and which Garma ended up partly funding for Char. They were issued Academy e-mail addresses and told to log in from the terminals in their rooms to be sure they worked.

"Motherfucker," Garma swore as soon as he fired up his account.

"What?"

"Check your e-mail."

Char did. "Motherfucker," he swore.

"So much for Sunday being our day to be left alone."

They both remained in silence, first contemplating the fact that for five classes, they had a minimum of fifty pages to read for each one, then the fact that Park had of course known perfectly well that this was going to happen when she said that Sunday would be their time.

"So do we start with Introduction to the Zaku or Universal Century: A Military History?" Garma asked.

"I was thinking we should start with Applied Geometry myself, then the Zaku class and history class because I'm actually interested in those subjects, and save English 101 and this Guidebook For Zeon Officers for last. Those are easiest and we'll be tired."

Garma slid his chair over to Char's desk. "Then let's get started."

***

There were twenty cadets in Char’s and Garma’s platoon the first morning they all sat down in Introduction to the Zaku class. Ten days later at dinner, Cadet Ma whispered to the five other students at his table, “Guys, I don’t know if I can stick this out.”

“You giving out already?” asked Van Kamper.

“It’s the lack of study time, man,” Ma told them as he pushed some carrots around his plate. “I mean, three days a week when I should have my best study time I have to go do mandatory athletics, or I have CQ runner duty. I get two hours of lights-on time a day and I’m already totally sleep-deprived. Math was always my best class all through high school and the geometry should be a piece of cake, but today in class I completely blacked out when I was asked to solve that proof.”

“What’s giving you the most problems?” Garma asked.

“Introduction to the Zaku. The mechanics aren’t gelling for me at all.”

Char looked at Garma. “We’re both really good at that. We could always do a study group half an hour an evening, every other night.”

“I’d be down with that,” said Van Kamper. “It’s hardest for me too, but the other classes are easy so I haven’t been having too much of a problem.”

They fit the study group in starting an hour before lights out in case things ran long. Things seemed to go well, but when they lined up for PT on the Monday morning the week after they’d begun, Cadet Ma was gone. One afternoon a week later they had a test about the construction of the Zaku’s leg. Cadet Rodriguez came out of it trying to suppress tears and after dinner, she too was gone.

Dear Giren,

The weeks are rushing by faster than either my roommate or I expected, fueled by the pure frenzy of our day. 0500, PT. 0630, breakfast. 0800, room inspection. 0900 to 1600, classes. Dinnertime varies based on if we have athletics but, we’re in our room studying by 1900, faced with a 2100 lights-out, after which we still do schoolwork in bed with booklights and laptops. Were any of your PhD’s this tough?

Love,

Garma

****

Dear Frater Minor:

No, it was my first master’s degree in economics that drove me into primal scream therapy. Having classwork and a thesis was quite the balancing act. Nothing like what you’re going through of course; my workout consisted of shooting hoops when I felt like it, which was at odd moments when a sentence wasn’t coming out right. Hang in there; you already know the parts of a mobile suit and the hands-on is coming up this week, right?

Love,

Giren (Frater Major Tuus)

***

At week 5 of their 12-week semester, the remaining cadets did a final exam on the Guidebook for Zeon Officers . Char came back from the supply closet where he’d been picking up some bathroom cleaner and told Garma, “Male Morgan, Female Hsiu and Ronaldo all are packing to leave. They didn’t pass the exam today.”

Garma looked up from his laptop where he was carefully reviewing a schematic of a Zaku cockpit. “How the hell could anyone have failed that loser class? We keep getting stopped in the hall by cadet cadre and drilled on it.”

Char took the cleaner into the bathroom and placed it carefully in the regimented line of cleaners arranged shortest to tallest in the cubby beside the shower stall where they kept their ironing board (stolen once and recovered from the thief), mop and broom. He returned to the room and said, “Maybe they’re afraid of tomorrow. Instead of learning military courtesies and table manners we switch to what it is we’ll actually get paid for.”

Garma shook his head. “Why would anyone be scared of the Zaku? Scratch that, it was a stupid comment to make. They are challenging machines. But Char, they are so much fun.” He grinned in recollection. “Winona and I used to—“

He cut off what he was going to say. Char leaned against the desk and looked quizzical. “Winona. Who’s Winona?”

Garma still smiled, but shook his head. ‘You’ll meet her. My girl is here at the Academy.”

“You dog.” Char clapped him on the shoulder and went to get his PTs out of his locker so he could get ready for bed.

A girlfriend. Shit. Garma Zabi had a girlfriend and that was the last thing Char needed. Things were going so well in the project to make himself the center of Garma’s universe and gain an inroad to the royal family. If Garma were already involved Char would have to find his way to Princess Kishiria and that would be unlikely for a few years.

Things became more confusing for him the next morning. As they were cleaning their room after breakfast, Anavel Gato appeared in their doorway.

Char and Garma immediately went to parade rest. Gato ordered them to at ease. Then to their gasps of shock, he went to one knee in front of Garma.

“Your Highness, your presence is required on the flight line. It is my honour to have been ordered to escort you.”

Char realized his mouth was hanging open and he closed it. Garma, however, had slipped easily into his role of “prince” from his role as “cadet”.

“There’s no need to kneel before me, Cadet Gato. That’s only required in the presence of my father the sovereign. Please stand.”

Gato did, only to go to attention. Garma collected his computer and one spiral-bound manual they’d all been issued. “Let’s go, Cadet Cadre.”

The two left the room. Char picked up the dusting cloth he’d been using and shook his head as he went back to his cleaning. He remembered being a small boy and adults talking to him with great solemnity. He hadn’t really stopped to consider what would have happened and how he might have been treated if his father hadn’t died when he was ten.

He remembered standing on the lawn in front of their house in Side 3 waiting for a ceremony of some kind to begin. His sister Artesia, now called Sayla, was twirling in a blue dress. Their father, tall, blond and bearded, came out to collect them; Char for some reason particularly remembered the laugh lines around his eyes.

Char stomped down on that train of thought and concentrated on the tidiness of their cleaning supply area.

***

In the meantime, Garma and Gato were shuttling in an EZ-Go across campus to the mobile suit flightline. They rode in uncomfortable silence, Garma holding insecurely to his school materials as Gato drove. At last they parked outside a large hangar where Gato slid a magnetized card for entrance.

Once in the door, Garma said, “Cadet Gato, is there a place where I could speak to you in private?”

Gato nodded and walked him to an alcove with doors on all three sides, presumably leading to maintenance closets. “Sir?”

Garma looked up at the older man. Gato was a good five inches taller than Garma and Garma thought he looked so much more like what a Zeon officer should be. A war hero at 20, he reflected. “Cadet Gato, I appreciate you remembering my situation as a member of the royal family. However, it puts me in a bit of an awkward position.”

Gato frowned. “Sir?”

“Right now, I’m not in a position to be called ‘Sir’ or ‘Your Highness’. I’m just Cadet Zabi. And that’s not false humility or noblesse oblige on my part either. If I’m not Cadet Zabi and treated like everyone else I’m not going to learn how to be an officer in the Mobile Suit Corps. Not correctly, at any rate.”

Gato frowned even more. “Sir...I mean Cadet...I don’t understand, sir. I’ve worked with your sister and I’m treating you as she wanted to be treated, and as she said I should treat you.”

Garma exhaled deeply and concentrated on a nearby doorknob for a few moments, composing himself. No anger, Garma. This is not his fault. “Cadet Cadre Gato, I am not my sister. Kishiria and I have different philosophies about being officers and we will have different command styles once I take command. She is more like our brother Giren whereas my role model is my brother Dozel. Are we understood?”

It had sunk in. “I understand, Cadet Zabi. Should I not have brought you here in advance of the other members of your class?”

“No, given the task at hand, that was completely appropriate. I’m in an odd position with this class to begin with. Now, set me up before the others get here. Is there a senior instructor or are you it?”

“I’m it. This corps is still small, and the other mobile suit pilots are stationed elsewhere, training other pilots. Since I’m a cadet and know as much as any of them do, TRADOC decided that they’d kill two birds with one stone and have me be the instructor. I’m glad to have you to assist me.”

Garma nodded. “Well let’s get started.”

***

Char had resolved at the beginning of the semester never to ride on a bus again, but given that he’d never had a chance to learn to drive, he’d immediately but grudgingly admitted that this was probably impossible. Now he found himself loaded with the rest of the platoon onto one of the ubiquitous white buses that shuttled them around whenever they needed to go to a site in a hurry. Introduction to the Zaku was a normal class, although one that would take half their school day from here on out, so a twenty minute march to class every morning would not be productive.

The bus pulled up in front of an enormous steel hangar. They came off the bus and moved into formation on autopilot. Every cadet’s attention was drawn to the open metal doors at the end of the hangar and the four metal giants standing motionlessly within.

Char felt his heart skip a beat. He’d been reading about these all semester. Footage of the liberation of Side 6 had been on every television screen in the colonies, but on Earth it had been censored. Still he didn’t know if seeing Zakus on the small screen would have been adequate preparation to being in the presence of one.

The platoon moved into the hangar itself to a set of metal bleachers that, like the buses, were a constant detail of Academy life. As soon as they were in place, every eye was fixed on the Zakus. These had been used in combat, Char noticed. He could see gouges in the metal that had been painted over and scorch marks which had not.

Without warning, he was blinded by red light. For one horrible and irrational second Char thought he’d been found out and vapourized by some unknown weapon until he heard the gasps and screams of the other cadets around him. Then he heard two male voices laughing at them from a PA system above their heads.

The light from the two mono-eyes vanished and they were left blinking in pain. “I do apologize, but neither of us could resist,” Anavel Gato’s voice spoke from the Zaku on the right. Char could only know that by sound; he was still half blind.

“Don’t believe him, he’s not sorry at all,” Garma’s voice followed.

A moment later, as their vision was returning, the cadets heard the whirr of motors as the cockpit doors of the two Zakus opened. Garma and Gato each stepped onto the movable lift that was parked between the Zakus and descended to the cement floor.

“Welcome to the hands-on portion of this course,” Gato told them as Garma looked on. “You’ll be here every morning until you graduate. If I could have my own way I’d simply sleep here, which in the past I have had to do, but the Academy insists I spend the other half of my day on other academics. I’ve taken top marks in mobile suit engineering and piloting since I started here in 0074 and as I suppose most of you have heard, I actually flew this Zaku when Zeon liberated Side 6. That experience and the knowledge that as a cadet I was able to free a country that had asked for our help was so far the proudest moment of my life, and the kind of thing that you have to look foward to as well. Lt. Col. Davies is the officer in charge here, but I will be instructing you as will Cadet Zabi.” He gestured at Garma to step forward.

Garma did. “I can see by your expressions that nobody was expecting to see me up here. I’m actually going to be instructing as well, but on a more limited basis than Cadet Gato. I don’t have the combat experience he does, so he’s going to be taking the lead when it comes to use of the Zaku in combat. However, I’ve been flying Zakus and experimental mobile suits since my sister Princess Kishiria asked me to a couple of years back*. They needed someone with good manual dexterity and the ability to multitask on various instruments. I’m a musician so they thought I might do all right and I did. So ask me about picking up the machine gun and moving it around and ask Cadet Gato how to actually use it. By the way. This Zaku here,” he stepped backward and patted the tip of the giant foot, “is the first Zaku prototype, called Winona. She’s seen combat, but not with me as pilot.”

“Any questions?” Gato asked. “All right. Follow me to the classroom and we’ll start prepping for the simulators.”

***

“Winona was a mobile suit?” Char asked disbelievingly that night back in their room. “You had me convinced she was a girlfriend.”

“Rebound romance,” Garma commented. “I’d just broken up with somebody and that left me with plenty of time to work for Kish doing some test drives.”

Char nodded. “Harder to fuck up your own life in a rebound relationship with a fifty foot robot. Be hard to resist the urge to use it for revenge, though.”

Garma shook his head. “It wasn’t that kind of a breakup. She went her way and I went mine is all. We didn’t even fight; it was one of those end of high school things where you’re not going to be able to share a future for the next four years. Test piloting sure took my mind off my problems though. I can’t wait to get back in the cockpit and knowing we won’t until next year is absolute hell. At least I’ll be instructing during the simulator phase and not having to go through it like I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Char shook his head. “You are full of surprises, Garma Zabi.”

Garma smiled and executed a small bow. “I do try.”

***

Midterms were the next ordeal. The normal practice at Zeon colleges and universities was to take a week off during which students were expected to start research on term papers, but this was not the case at the Academy. Still, during the free afternoon the cadets had after their last exam on Friday, Garma was called to the commander’s office. Since policy required he be accompanied by another cadet, Char gamely tagged along.

Garma reported to General Vanderwyck and remained at attention until the general assured him he wasn’t in any trouble and told him to stand at ease. “I’ve been contacted by the palace,” he said. “They’ve informed me that you’re going to be needed on occasional weekends. Therefore I’m going to be issuing you weekend passes from time to time so that you can make appearances on behalf of the royal family and carry out duties related to the monarchy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Zabi, you’re the third of your family to come through these gates and I must say you’ve impressed me very favourably. I was expecting you to be pampered and used to getting your own way, and for that I have to apologize. You’ve more than met standards and from all reports you’re not only competent you’re extremely professional. Given these passes, I expect you to continue to uphold those standards when you’re given freedom. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your first one will just be Sunday, so your father has asked that you be released at about 1600 Saturday evening, returning you 1900 Sunday. I believe you’ll be addressing a Jewish troop of Scouts Zeon. Any questions or concerns?”

“My grades, sir.”

“Your grades? I understand they’re very good.”

“We cadets have organized study groups. We do a lot of intense studying on weekends. I’m hoping that being away from them won’t hurt my grades.”

“You have three brilliant siblings. I’m sure they can help you.”

Knowing that contradicting the general would be disrespectful, Garma merely answered, “Yes, sir,” again. Kishiria had her own work and social life. Dozel was off on a ship for several months. Giren was still dubious about the value of mobile suits, largely because he hadn’t been the one to dream them up.

More to the point, he wouldn’t be with Char.

“You can reach me through the Academy intranet,” Char said. “You can log into it from the outside world. I just can’t contact you until they take the blocks off our Web access next year.”

Garma nodded as he packed packed his study materials into a bag. “Would you believe I’m actually scared to go home? I’ve gotten so used to being here in this tiny cloistered little world that suddenly going out into the normal world of freedom is kind of freaking me out. I wish I could take you with me.”

Char came over and lay a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I’m just an e-mail or an online chat away. I won’t let your GPA sink.”

Garma laid his hand over Char’s. “Thanks.”

Garma rode in a typical house limo back to the palace. He was told to immediately change from his grey cadet’s uniform and meet his father in Degin’s private dining room.

Accustomed now to obeying swiftly, Garma grabbed clothes out of his closet and was in his father’s quarters in minutes. Degin, who was also in street clothing, rose to his feet slowly, assisted by his cane as usual.

“My dear boy!”

“Hi, Dad.” Garma strode over quickly and gave his father the biggest hug he could. “Didja miss me?”

“They say there are no stupid questions, but they are wrong,” Degin answered. “The palace has been like a grave without your sound and fury.”

“I write all the time.”

“Letters don’t make noise. You seem well. I worry about you constantly.”

Garma took his father’s hand as the walked toward the dining room. “I’m fine, Dad, really. I’ve got a good support structure and there are people who rely on me. It’s hard at school but for the first time in my life I’m really part of something. When I need help, someone can give it, and since I’m what passes for a mobile suit expert, I end up being able to help out other cadets and I love that.”

“Yes, well you’re needed for Team Zabi as well.” Degin grunted slightly as he lowered himself into his dining room chair. A servant quietly placed green salads in front of them. “I know what you’re thinking. Dear old Dad has an excuse to call you from the Academy so he does. You’re needed here, at least part time. Dozel is off on ship duty. Kishiria is starting to make inspection tours of all the military bases. It’s down to Giren and myself to do public appearances and you know that Giren doesn’t always do well at that. Zena is doing what she can but her niche is small, women’s charities and such.

“We’ve divided the labour. Giren speaks to higher-level groups who welcome his kind of delivery, the Zeon Bar Association, anything involving scientists or medical professionals. Zena speaks to women’s groups. You’re going to get the youth group requests and anything requiring a good public face.”

“Me?” Garma blinked in surprise.

“You. You’re handsome and personable, Garma, and you’re the best face the family has to put forward. You start tomorrow, and it’s quite simple. You’ll be given your speech in the car. Review it and read it. Knowing you, you’ll be able to improvise speeches very soon, based on a few notes, but please, walk before you run. You’ll do well, I have every confidence in you.”

The salad dishes were removed and replaced by main courses.

“How often am I going to be doing this, Dad?”

Degin shrugged. “Frequently, most likely. The family business is shorthanded.”

“Like I told General Vanderwyck, I’m worried about my grades. My marks are only good because I spend most of my time studying and working with other cadets. Cutting me off from that for weekends could really hurt me.”

Degin looked at him with understanding. “We’ll work something out. I’m not going to set you up for failure.”

After dinner, Garma fetched his bicycle from the underground garage and lit out into the twilit streets. Zum City had an extensive system of paved bike trails through the many acres of forested greenspace common to most Lagrange-style colonies and he happily breathed in the smell of the trees as much as he did the atmosphere of the stores and restaurants of the neighbourhood into which he arrived. His destination was a square of three-story stone townhouses facing a small park. The square was part of the area called Republic Park, home to high profile politicians, heads of corporations and people associated with the palace.

One of these was Giren Zabi, who opened the front door for his younger brother. “Garma! We’ve been looking forward to seeing you. Glad to be out on parole?”

Garma rolled his bike across the black and white marble floor and leaned it against a wall before hugging his oldest sibling. “It doesn’t feel real. It won’t last long either; I’m giving a speech tomorrow afternoon and then back to the coal mines with me.”

He followed Giren into the library where Giren’s partner Cecilia was by a food-laden table, lighting some candles. Giren and Cecilia had an odd household together. Giren didn’t like seeing servants, so they all left soon before he came home. He and Cecilia would do whatever was necessary in the house themselves. Giren was still legally married to another woman, but woe betide anyone who referred to Cecilia as his mistress or anything that might possibly denigrate her status in his life. Garma didn’t find that complicated. Instead, he thought it resulted in his brother’s home being cozy and reassuring.

“Garma, you’re back!”

“Only for this one night,” Garma said, kissing Cecilia on the cheek. “I have a bunch of rules I have to follow, like not wandering off into town instead of staying with family or palace staff.”

“Bet you’re not allowed to drink, either,” Giren said.

“Nope.”

“Well, good thing this isn’t alcohol, then,” Giren responded, holding up a bottle of wine.

Cecilia had set out plates of bread that she had no doubt baked herself, fruit and cheeses. Giren uncorked the wine and the three of them shooed the cats off the overstuffed sofa in the middle of the room so they could sit. The conversation was a variant on the same one that Garma had been having with everyone he’d encountered since he left school, about the Academy and how things were going. With Giren and Cecilia though he felt free to talk more about the things he and the other cadets went through.

Eventually the candles burned down, the first wine bottle stood empty and he and Cecilia were settled on either side of Giren, who had one of his arms around each of their shoulders. Giren seemed on the verge of nodding off and Cecilia asked the very usual question of whether or not Garma had met anyone interesting at the Academy.

He shook his head. “No. What’s the point? Dad’s just going to hook me up with someone anyway.”

“Oh, you’ll fall in love. I did,” Giren said, waking up and taking an interest.

“I hope not, because I know I’ll end up falling for the most wrong person I can find,” Garma told her. “I’ve got the common sense of a pork chop.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Giren told him sternly.

“I’m not going to let Dad fix me up with the first person who comes along, though,” Garma said. “I mean, he should have realized you weren’t going to be able to live with Ingrid. Not having you around gives her that much more space for her shoe collection.” He snorted. “Ah, I shouldn’t be so hard on the woman. Her crass consumerism keeps the Zeon economy afloat. Tell her to buy another Maison Genevieve designer original, will you? My squad needs a new guidon and the rest can go for an orphanage or something.” He took another slug of wine.

“I dunno, Garma, you talk an awful lot about your roommate Char,” Cecilia said with a grin.

“Use Occam’s Razor. I see him every day and he’s my battle buddy,” Garma responded, but some pinkness had risen in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the fact that he was drinking.

Garma looked up at Giren for validation. Giren had a strange, sad look on his face and his arm tightened convulsively around Garma.

“Giren, don’t squeeze me so hard!” he exclaimed.

Giren released him and hastily changed the subject to the doings of their sister. Garma put the incident out of his mind and had enough wine that he ended up sleeping on the couch. A staff car brought him his uniform the next morning so that he could join his father for church. After a late breakfast, he went off to his first public appearance before a troop of yarmulke-wearing Scouts Zeon.

Returning to his barracks room was a strange feeling after 24 hours in the real world. Char wasn’t there, so Garma remained in his grey uniform until he found Char with Van Kamper, about to head out to dinner.

“Miss me at study group?” Garma asked.

Char and Van Kamper looked at each other. “We were the study group. We lost more people and now the Mobile Suit Corps class of 0081 is down to 18 people, including the three of us.”

Garma blinked. “That’s the perfect mind-bending ending to a mind-bending weekend.”

Van Kamper grinned. “You partied that hard?”

“No, but I spent time with my family and that’s weird enough, thanks.”

The evening passed according to routine once they were at dinner. They returned back to their room where Char spent his own free time with Garma reviewing material for the next week.

####

8 November 0077

Dear Char:

Your aunt and I are delighted to hear that you do well at school and that you’re excelling in your mobile suit courses. I’ve told you over and over how important it is that you know this subject, and I am glad you agree that it’s going to be key for our long-term future. I was utterly stunned to discover that your roommate is already a pilot and is assisting the instructors. This is a very fortunate turn of events, and one I had not anticipated. You absolutely must do all you can to maintain this friendship. After all, the friends you make in the Academy are the ones that will influence your career for the rest of your life.

Best regards and love from your dear little sister.

Uncle Jean

####

Char read his uncle’s letter and sighed deeply as he looked over at Garma. Garma was sitting at his desk, silently working on math problems as he had been for hours. It had become steadily more and more difficult to keep Garma chatting with him and engaged since he’d started having to sacrifice weekends to his “family business” as he called it. He’d leave on Friday or Saturday, come home Sunday before dinner chow, then talk to Char only enough to catch up on what the various study groups had been doing.

Garma’s reaction to touching Char after the pushup competition had confirmed to him that the other cadet had a physical attraction to him. Char had been playing that angle a bit, but faced with the possibility of the friendship cooling, it was looking like he’d have to raise the pressure on it.

Cadet uniforms had to be dry cleaned, and theirs had just come back from the cleaners. Char took the two plastic bags and said, “You’re busy. I’ll fix up your uniform since I’m doing mine.”

“Thanks.” Garma put down his pencil and starting typing formulas into his computer.

Char got their name plates and pin-on insignia from a drawer and placed them with some help from a slide rule. Garma didn’t look up as Char slipped the hanger with the uniform over the open door of his locker.

“You really are that worried about your grades,” Char observed.

“Mm?”

He pulled up a chair. “My chatterbox friend Garma has been replaced by a homework machine.”

Garma tapped a final few keys. “Helping my dad out is making my life a lot harder. I get some work done over the weekend, but face it, home is full of distractions. I can’t deny my father his time with me, and I do like to see Giren and Cecilia. Plus I have friends over and there’s my music.” Garma held his fingertips against the desk as if it were a piano keyboard. “Just this past weekend I think I spent two hours at the piano and another two on my bass and acoustic guitar. All the time I knew I should be studying but damn it, I had to get that out of my system.”

“I haven’t heard you play an instrument yet,” Char told him.

“Come to church with me on a Sunday when I’m here and you’ll get to hear me play piano. I always get to do one hymn or interlude.”

“That means getting up at six on a Sunday.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, ask me if you need any extra help, because I’ll bet everyone is telling you to relax and that you’re going to do fine, with none of them knowing a damn thing about what it is we do here.”

“You called it.” Garma rubbed at his eyes wearily. “Look man, I think I can hold out until the end of the semester. Finals are three weeks away. Keep me going that long and I’ll have time to think up some manipulative youngest-brat-child trick to use on my dad for January.”

“Okay but you know me. I’ve got no family to waste any of my time on, outside the uncle who writes to me sometimes. And I am pulling down a 94% average in my classes so I think I can spare a little of my time to help out my roomie.”

“Thanks, Char. You’re a true friend and I wish there was something I could do for you.

“Like you said, you’ll think of something.” Char squeezed Garma’s shoulder reassuringly. He didn’t think Garma realized that Garma’s expression changed from tense to blissful almost immediately.

###

Dear Dozel:

How’s life on the ship? I’m not surprised that you’re going to be out in space over Christmas but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. We’re reviewing for finals this week and despite my fears, I think I’ll do okay. My class formed a really efficient team when it came to academics. We had as many dropouts as predicted, but this course and way of life isn’t for everyone. All but one moved into other MOSs.

As for the picture you sent me. I’m sure reactions to it will be interesting.

Not much else because I have to go finish this history paper. I’ll talk to you over Christmas break.

Oooah,

Garma

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious!”

“Quit bogarting it, battle, let me see that thing! Holy crap it is him!”

Garma grinned as the photo he’d printed out the night before went from hand to hand. True, they were in the mobile suit hangar and yes, they really were supposed to be studying their manuals while Cadet Gato drilled teams of two on the cockpit of a Zaku. This meant that the senior cadet was out of range inside a mobile suit torso as they examined the picture.

“You sure this is such a good idea?” Char asked. “I mean, you’re the one who practically cries every time we get smoked.”

“Dozel sent it to me to show to others. Far be it from me to disobey the orders of a superior officer. Besides, it’s a photo from the proudest moment of our instructor’s life.”

Char watched as the photo changed hands again. It was a shot of Cadet Gato standing at attention as Dozel Zabi pinned the Zeon Medal of Honour Second Class to his white Academy dress uniform. What made the picture was that Gato was clearly about to burst into tears or throw up, possibly both.

What struck Char most about it was again how huge Prince Dozel was. Gato was easily six feet tall himself and Dozel dwarfed him.

Montoya and Zhou, the two cadets who had been in the Zaku torso, returned and two others set out. “That was pretty brutal,” Montoya said. “I swear, Gato knows the name of every spring in the pilot’s seat.”

“I think the last guy who sat in it was farting,” Zhou commented.

“Thank you, cadet, I don’t think any of us could have lived without that little editorial,” Van Kamper said.

“He probably did it,” Char said, pointing to Garma.

“I don’t know what ‘it’ is, but I’m going to find out,” said an unexpected voice. They all jumped as Gato appeared like a ghost from behind a tool locker. “So tell me, what’s more interesting than studying for your exam? I’m practically spoon-feeding you little idiots this information. You could at least help me out a bit by doing what you’re supposed to.” He turned his cold gaze to Cadet Deng, who cringed. “Deng, you’re not doing so well in this class that you can afford to be giggling at something unrelated. Now, what is it?”

The photo was handed over. Char glanced over at Garma, who he expected to be stricken with fear but who instead seemed quite calm.

“Well, this is interesting,” Gato said when he finally had the printout in his hands. “Not a good picture of me, is it? There’s a reason they didn’t use this one in the news.” He crumpled it up and flatly ordered them, “Fall in.”

They rushed into a quick formation of three rows of six.

Gato’s tone of voice didn’t change as he went on, “Open ranks, march. Half-right, face. Front leaning rest position, move.”

They didn’t get any further studying done because the last twenty minutes of the class period were spent with the cadets doing pushups, flutter kicks and duck-walking around the class space. At the top of the hour Gato had them fall in again and dismissed them.

“Not you, Cadet Zabi. I’ll drive you back to the chow hall because we have to have a little talk.”

Char had no choice but to ride back with the others, who were bitching quietly about what a troublemaker Zabi was, and how he must have thought his position would protect them all.

“No, he’s actually a pretty good roommate,” Char answered when asked about the petty betrayals they reasoned Garma must have inflicted on him. “His brother told him to show that photo off in class, and I don’t know why.”

Garma re-appeared as they were starting their meal. “Dozel wanted me to show it off,” Garma said. “I thought it was going to be some kind of joke between him and Gato but apparently it wasn’t. Gato and I had a talk about it, which is why I wasn’t here at the beginning of lunch.”

“Don’t tell me Dozel did it to humiliate him.”

“Looks that way.”

“Dozel hates Gato? Not much of a way to treat a hero of Side 6. What’d Gato do?”

“No, Dozel likes Gato just fine, but Gato told me that Dozel said he needed to be taken down a peg and when he least expected it, to expect it. I just got to be the messenger who got shot, and you guys got shot with me.”

“Garma, your family are assholes.”

“They can be. You won’t find me disputing that. Nobody gets to power without being one, which is one thing that worries me about the military because I don’t think I have it in me.”

“I think you’ll find that’s an easy skill to learn. Comes naturally to most people.”

Garma paused to actually get some forkfuls of food into his mouth. “I’ve heard some

horror stories about my dad, and I bet they’re all true.”

Char decided to slide the knife in and see if it hit anything vital. “Even the one about him murdering Zeon Deykun?”

Garma snorted. “There’s stories about my dad being an asshole and there’s wackjob conspiracy theories. My dad murdering Deykun is definitely the latter. Anyway, I apologized to Gato and said I’d talk to Dozel because I know there was a reason for that.”

Char didn’t hear the rest. So Garma did know the rumour, and the nonchalant way in which he mentioned it made Char wonder if it was familiar on Side 3. He hadn’t grown up there, so he had no way of knowing. He wondered what Jinba Ral would have said at that moment. He probably would have taken it as a sign of Zabi hubris. Char resolved to ask him about it through coded messages he’d be able to send at the winter break.

The conversation had moved in another direction so Char had to redirect his attention. He felt as if his reality had been pulled a foot to the left and he remained in that state for much of the afternoon.

He got through his remaining classes, returned his school materials to his room and marched with the rest to dinner chow. After that was the last gymnastics team practice of the year, so Char’s attention had to be maximally focused to keep his body spinning properly in the air over the gymnastic horse that was his main event.

He showered and went back to his room. Garma was nowhere to be seen and the lights were off except for Garma’s desk light. Char shrugged and removed his PT jacket and pants, leaving himself in the t-shirt and shorts he wore to sleep.

“Char? Is that you?” Garma’s voice was muffled.

“Yeah, where are you?”

“Um…I’m in my locker, could you come get me?”

“What’s the combination?”

Garma told him. Char swung the door open to reveal Garma, still in his daytime grey uniform, hanging from his tunic from a hook inside.

“I’ve been here for an hour and a half,” Garma said.

“Hold on.” Char wrapped his arms around Garma’s waist and slung him over his shoulder, lifting him off the hook and pulling him out of the locker at the same time. Garma was thin and wiry and weighed very little in his arms.

Once he had Garma down on the floor, Char asked, “Who did this to you?”

Garma took off his tunic and surveyed the damage. “Everybody. I got everybody smoked today so after you left they swarmed in here, picked me up and hung me in the locker.”

“Let me get dressed, we’ll go report it.”

Garma stared at him, a huge grin on his face. “Are you crazy? This is the happiest day of my life. It means they think of me as one of the cadets, not as a member of the royal family. I belong, Char. I don’t have to worry about if I’m normal or not here. All the same, I’ve lost time on homework. Can you help me?”

Char blinked. “Of course. I promised you, didn’t I?”

***

Exam week came and went. English and history were the easiest subjects, and after turning in their term papers and taking a final that wasn’t terribly challenging to either of them, they were done. There was a practical exam on drill and ceremony and a classroom geometry test. Then there were two days on mobile suit technology. Since Garma was an assistant instructor, he received grade of “pass” as opposed to a letter grade, then assisted Gato in administering tests to the others.

He would have liked to have been the one giving Char the practical exam, which had to be done one at a time, but since Char was his roommate Gato took him.

That day ended at lunch, which was unusually loud with uniformly cheerful voices for a change. Afterwards, Garma immediately pulled his luggage out of his locker, where his bags had been sitting mostly packed for days. As he started to change into a pair of jeans, a button down shirt and a sweater he looked at Char and said, “Aren’t you going to pack?”

Char shook his head. “I have permission to stay here. I don’t have anyone to stay with over this break.”

“Oh.” Garma looked around himself guiltily. “You could get out to a hotel or something for a few days.”

let me go begging for anything. Besides, I’m an orphan and Christmas just isn’t a big deal for me. When’s your car coming for you?”

Garma looked at his watch. “They should be here any minute. They’ll call me downstairs when it arrives. Char, I don’t feel right about abandoning you like this.”

“I’ll be all right. Trust me on this, I’m a big boy. Listen, why don’t you just leave your uniforms here and give yourself only one bag to carry home?”

“I need one uniform for Christmas day when I’m on tv.”

“So unpack one and take the rest.”

There was a knock on the door. “Zabi! Your staff car is here.”

“I’ll be there in a second!” Garma turned back to Char, then reached for a pen and a notebook that lay on Char’s desk. “Look, this is the number for the residential section of Zabi House. You have to give the operator your name and she’ll connect you to my apartment. Call me every day so I know you’re all right.”

“I will. Garma, you’re cute when you fret.”

“Well…Dad’s always trying to impress the idea that being the royal family means we have to take care of our people. We serve them, not the other way around.”

Char put his hands on Garma’s shoulders. “You’d better get going.”

Garma put his hands on Char’s. “Okay. Take care.”

They stood like that for a moment before Char pulled Garma to himself, inclined his head slightly, and kissed him.

Garma’s body went hot and cold with shock. His paralysis only lasted a moment. He slid his arms around Char’s ribcage, holding him closely as the kiss continued. Char’s lips were firm and forceful against his own and he tasted slightly of cinnamon from the cookies they’d eaten as dessert. His body was hard with sculpted muscle.

“Zabi! Your car’s here!” a voice called from behind the door.

They broke apart. “Coming!” Garma grabbed his overcoat and threw it around his shoulders, buttoning it up and grabbing his bag. “Char…I…that was….”

Char smiled. “You need to get going. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Garma stepped over to him and placed a quick peck on Char’s lips. “I’ll see you later.”

He disappeared out the door. Char’s smile didn’t fade. Garma really was very adorable, and it wasn’t at all fair that an accident of birth was going to turn him into a tool of vengeance.

Then again, life had taught Char in no uncertain terms that life wasn’t fair, for anyone. The smile faded and he turned to his room, which looked half ransacked. As he tidied, he mentally lined up things to do while he was alone. It was going to be a long two weeks.

*See “Eaglet of Zeon”.