Beneath the silver mask, Zechs scowled into the sunlit window. Treize. Knowing he owed the existence of his personality to him did not, of late, improve his opinions on the man. It only served to make him more conflicted. Where, indeed, did his loyalties lie? His commander had a gilded tongue which seemed to fool both his underlings and his superiors. Yet did he seek to free humanity from the AI once and for all? Or was he merely securing a position for himself, as a ruler of all men, a hand for the mechanized tyrant itself?
He shook himself out of such ramblings, absently brushed his hair back over his cloak. There was a supposed new aide assigned to him today. Within this small officer's suite in the JAP Point base, the boy was to be secretary and liaison for the main Alliance. Bah. He hadn't time for useless dogs scurrying for rewards from their masters.