Chapter 3: Signs of Life

"Zechs, what are you so entranced with out there?" And not paying enough attention to me...

A stunningly beautiful, dark haired woman lets her long black bangs shade her laughing blue eyes as she continues drying off the freshly showered short-cropped hair at the base of her neck.

As if I didn't know you well enough.

Lucrezia Noin rests a familiar hand on her lover's wide shoulder, letting her fingers play loosely in his long, deathly pale blonde hair.

"Zechs?" Noin repeats the taken name of her companion, her partner, the love of her life. She knew behind the furrowed brows was a mind in turmoil again at the very sight of the blue star of his birth.

Oh, Zechs. Noin sighs to herself, knowing that the man she knew as Zechs Marquise was miles away from where he sat in the small shuttle beside her just minutes ago, playing their usual game of chess.

Chess was a good way to pass the time for a pair of star-crossed wanderers. But no, we're not wanderers anymore. Zechs and I, we're building anyone who dares come out this far on the new X-19444 Colony a new place to live, a new future to forge and new---home.

Home. Noin lets her own mind wander, realizing Zechs was not just suddenly going to grace her with his presence anytime soon. You know, Lieutenant, Noin smirks inwardly at her affectionate play at his old military rank, I've crossed the universe, moved my entire life to a new world just for you---just to be with you. And after all we've been through, after all the hardship and work we've done together---I haven't regretted it. Not any of it. Not the sweat we've shared breaking new ground, the living rough just to be able to claim a new world as our own. To be able to say "You, Zechs Marquise can be a free man whether you're Zechs or Milliardo." You can live your life out doing what you want to do. Not only as a "dead man", but as a living, breathing soul---and I want nothing more than to be at your side. Always. Because I love you, you silly man. That's why I married you, right?

Noin looks up from her reverie to find a pair of steely-blue eyes staring back at hers. If his eyes could smirk, they would be. Zechs knew Noin as well as she knew him. He knew his level-headed, take-charge female companion was not one for the reveries he so often found himself lost in.

"Noin?" He asks in low tones as she refocuses on him.

"Hmm?" Noin simply smiles back, no explanations necessary.

"I certainly hope that boy has some damn good connections in the higher ups to get us that okay for the mass shipment of supplies we need on the colony. Free---yes, generous to little known colonies, just starting on the other side of the galaxy? I'm not so sure of that." Zechs comments, rather sourly, over the reason for their trip.

"Don't you worry, Zechs." Noin massages her husband's tense shoulders. "I'm sure Quatre has a very good political connection. I'm sure he's handling everything beautifully."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Handling beautifully? Those would not be the words anyone would use to describe the way "that boy"--our young entrepreneur was handling this certain political "connection."

He had been standing stock-still at the window for over thirty seconds, eyes frosted over with fright it seemed and hands pinned to the glass window behind him. Rasid was glad this particular building's window structure was especially strong otherwise his young Master Quatre's stumble backward may have ended in a far worse fate---though Rasid himself couldn't imagine the current situation much more favorable an outcome.

The happy mood and sunshine had left both the room and his Master Quatre's face the moment that certain shadow had walked through the doors---HER shadow.

"D-d-dorothy Catalonia..." Quatre finally stutters with big, frightened eyes.

"Quatre Raberba Winner." The long blonde, evil-eyed woman seemed to hiss out his full name, with a pasty smile fixed upon her smirking face.

The presence of an evil viper.

Rasid can't help but let the thought slip in his subconscious. He had heard tales of this particular blonde vixen's treachery, though not a singular unkind word had been uttered of her from his compassionate master. Rasid had heard the rumors amongst his other Maganac compatriots that she was somehow responsible for that terrible wound that almost took his Master's life in that battle, a lifetime ago.

The presence of evil.

Rasid's eyes slit at the Catalonia woman as she takes a certain step forward.

"Why, I don't mind if I do. You're so kind to ask." Dorothy seems to be having a private conversation with an invisible member of the room. She boldly walks up to the desk and seats herself---not in the guest's seat, but on the edge of the stately desk. She arranges herself there purposely, toying with the papers and pens on the desktop before swiveling around with blinding speed. Her long, dark indigo velvet skirt swished as she spun. Standing, she plants a high-heeled, real gold buckled foot directly in front of Quatre until her flaming eyes and smirking mouth were mere inches from the befuddled Winner heir's.

She grabs his shirt collar, seeming about to choke him in an attack. All this occurs within the flash of a moment. Rasid's sword, readied at his side was now already half out of its sheath when he realizes that his Master was not truly in danger---not of the immediate type, anyway. This was just this strange woman's way of becoming "friendly."

"Listen. You need me and I need you. Let's say we make a deal, Raberba Winner? Do you agree to my terms?"

If Rasid was taken aback by this female's directives, Quatre was beyond confused. His aqua eyes blink, his cloudy mind was sure he was fuzzing out, that this sudden outburst was not happening. That Dorothy Catalonia's dark blue eyes, reddened lips and hot breath was not breathing fire on his red cheeks. That her long nailed, well-manicured fingers were not grasping at his similarly red neck. He felt that red blush creeping all the way around his body, starting at the top. Cheeks, face, ears, neck, and the red continues to creep down.

The two seem to stand there against the cold glass for an eternity. The blushing, innocent prey in the clutches of the cool-headed assailant. Aqua freezing under her ice-blue gaze. Someone had to do something. Soon. Or Rasid was afraid his thin-blooded Master might faint.

"Ahem. Terms? Will you kindly explain what sort of "deal" you are proposing, Miss....?" Rasid takes an imposing step forward, seeming to think his deep-throated voice and seven-foot height might intimidate the blonde vixen from attacking his Master any longer.

No dice. Quatre was the only one intimidated in this office...

"Yes, well." Dorothy seemed to take joy in hissing each word directly into Quatre's face, not lessening her grip around his collar. "It's come to my attention that you, Quatre Raberba Winner, are in need of an influential contact in the Senate of Commerce, willing to say a kind word in your direction---and sign a few important documents along the way." Dorothy's snake-like eyes glance backwards towards the very documents she merely seemed to have fingered idly when she entered the room. Rasid gave her credit for having sharp eyes---sharp as a razor knife.

"Giving support to shipments of millions of tons of Earth resources and manpower, as well as highly-explosive devices on transport means along weapon-free, sanctioned vectors of space." In the time of one breath, Dorothy Catalonia spelled out exactly what Rasid and his Master were planning to propose to the Senate Council for the past two months. They had readied vital papers and passes that needed important signatures. The goods and resources and even the human factor were not a problem---no, since the Freedom Act, men were free to go and travel wherever their means could take them. They could bring along the food and seed and natural resources, man-made computer networks, system and hardward, building supplies and tools. Everything a starter colony would require was permitted, as long as the people remained bound to certain laws of humanity. Nothing tyrannical, just simple, basic laws humankind needed to stay civil with one another. And one of those few laws upheld and sanctioned by the majority of political men and woman today was this:

The shipment of high explosives in excess of minimal under the law must be authorized and subsequently monitored by a ranking official of the government.

And the explosive count for the planned clearing-out of the underground traverse network of the new colony Noin and Zechs were planning required far more than the "excess of minimal" required.

"So, as a member in high-standing with the Senate, who has gone far above and beyond her call of duty when it comes to supporting the financial end of social and political occasions and of course, the campaign funds," Dorothy's high brows raise, insinuating that power and prestige still did have more than a bit of influence here and there. "I have come here to inspect your offerings and deem whether or not it's worthy enough to be a sanctioned transport--that is to say, bluntly, my end of the deal." Dorothy had an eloquent way of speaking that enthralled her audiences, making her newly found Senate career a successful one for this aristocratic daughter, much as other members of her elite family seemed to have had a certain power over the people.

"And our end of the deal, so to say, is...?" Rasid picks up for where poor, speechless Quatre could find no sound left to come from his timid voice box, even though Miss Catalonia's dealings were meant to be with the young Master and not the mere servant. Rasid, a good and loyal friend kept his "place" in gratitude and loyalty, but he felt that his "noblewoman" truly considered him an underling, beneath her class. She so much differed from his Master with a heart of gold to both servants and noblemen alike. Quatre always treated Rasid as an equal, with respect, and for that Rasid would always swear his own undying loyalty and respect for his dear Master.

"Your end of the deal?" Catalonia didn't even turn to look Rasid in the eye. She addressed only Quatre it seemed. Rasid was just a bothersome cog in the wheel she was spinning. "Oh, silly me? Hee hee hee..Didn't I tell you yet?" The grating, fake little giggle was the worst thing yet. Rasid tried to close his eardrums when he looks at his Master, trying to sense if he wanted the burly man to physically extricate the annoying creature from the room yet---only to find for once, Quatre's eyes not forthcoming. He seemed too timid to even raise them a bit higher than the floor panels they had remained fixed upon from the moment she came in.

"It's simple, really." Dorothy chuckles, finally at long last letting go of Quatre's collar. It did feel nice, though a bit damp with perspiration, poor boy. I do have that effect on men....

Combing the three tiny strands of loose hair on her forehead, she turns to perch on the desk again. "I look these plans over, examine the supply and explosive list carefully for the transport thoroughly. And all you have to do--one teeny, tiny little thing really is--"

Rasid grits his teeth, waiting for this grating-voiced woman to just spit out what she wanted and be done with it, to leave him and his poor Master alone on this supposedly happy day.

"---accompany me to the Peace Accords Ceremony today, as my escort." Dorothy smiles that evil grin, waving a flourishing hand up in the air.

Bomb dropped.

"Really, Miss Catalonia, this is an outrageous----" Rasid starts, instinctively shunning away the social aspect the woman seemed to be proposing. Many a gold-digging female had come his Master Quatre's way, but never made it past Rasid's watchful eye. But none--ever--could compare to the audacity of the scornful, evil one today.

"No, Rasid, no, i-it's fine." Suddenly a small voice trembles out of the silent boy's mouth. The look in his eye was something a shocked Rasid couldn't quite explain at the moment. It was the only thing making him stop from throwing the unpleasant creature out bodily, with a heartily certain "BE GONE!"

"Yes, uh, ahem. Yes, Miss Dorothy." Quatre catches his cracking voice, putting on a brave face and a business-like air. "Yes, we accept your terms. I would be more than glad to escort you to the Peace Accords today." He nods in assurance as if consigning himself to an unknown fate.

"Somehow, I knew you couldn't refuse, Quatre Raberba Winner." Dorothy suddenly whips out from beneath her business suit jacket and ruffled scarf tie a stack of papers, an inch thick and each and every one beginning with the Winner Foundation's crest and X-19444 Colony construction plan title, and ending with her signature.

Waving the stack in Quatre's face, she links her arm in his, dragging him forward with a victorious grin on her face.

"Here you are. Look over them carefully for errors." A high faluting air on her every feature, Dorothy slaps the papers flatly in Rasid's hands, though he was about to dissent to this arrangement.

She leads the poor young Master out of the office door, his eyes wide, looking much like the proverbial lamb being led to the slaughter.

"Ta ta, Ramid!" Dorothy makes a jab at the man and as she slams the door behind them, the tiny buildings and little skyscrapers, so well-cared for by the Winner heir on the model on the floor come crashing down to rubble.

"Oh, well. We accomplished our goals anyway, Master." Rasid glances down at the pile of documents in his big hands. Although their mission on behalf of honorable Miss Noin and her endeavor on a new colony was a success---Rasid somehow finds himself regretting this turn of events. For down on the bottom of each and every vital piece of paper in his hand was the flourishing, victorious signature of:

Dorothy Catalonia, R.D.I

Rasid had to suppress the urge to throw the entire stack into the eager paper shredder on the desk.